work made a slave out of me

If you’ve been deeply affected by reading “My Family’s Slave” here are some general concrete things you can do.

1) Understand and tell other people that this is not only something that happens in the Philippines. It happens in many other countries. Probably on every continent. For example, in Haiti, they’re called restaveks. Across South Asia, many child slaves work in the textile industry. Don’t treat this as an individual personal failing done only by a few bad people when it’s a vast economic system that thrives in secrecy and which many of us indirectly benefit from.

2) There’s no true ethical consumption but you can at least not support industries, companies or entire economies heavily involved in modern day slavery. Cut out visiting Dubai, for example (although I don’t know anyone that rich).

3) Support transnational unions of service and domestic workers.

4) If you or anyone you know employs domestic workers, talk to them discreetly and compassionately. Ask what they need and how you can support them. Ask who takes care of THEIR kids. Keep your eyes open.

5) Look at any local laws that passively encourage these exploitative relationships and work towards changing them. Immigration law is a huge issue in this area. Undocumented workers scared to come forward because they don’t want to be deported, for example.

6) Fight for feminism and disability rights because women and disabled people are especially vulnerable. I remember in the 90s there was a vast Mexican slave ring that enslaved deaf Mexicans and made them beg on the subways in NYC for money. I gave money to some of these people not knowing that they were kept as slaves and had to turn all their money over to their slavemasters at night, and it shocked the hell out of me. Private charity doesn’t work - these people need living wages, independence, legal advocates. All fixes on a systemic basis.

i'm not even gonna say rest in peace because it’s bigger than death. i never met the man (i was too nervous the one time i saw him) and i never saw him play live, regrettably. i only know the legends I’ve heard from folks and what i’ve heard and seen from his deep catalog of propellant, fearless, virtuosic work. my assessment is that he learned early on how little value to assign to someone else’s opinion of you.. an infectious sentiment that seemed soaked into his clothes, his hair, his walk, his guitar and his primal scream. he wrote my favorite song of all time, ‘when you were mine’. it’s a simple song with a simple melody that makes you wish you thought of it first, even though you never would have - a flirtatious brand of genius that feels approachable.  he was a straight black man who played his first televised set in bikini bottoms and knee high heeled boots, epic. he made me feel more comfortable with how i identify sexually simply by his display of freedom from and irreverence for obviously archaic ideas like gender conformity etc. he moved me to be more daring and intuitive with my own work by his demonstration - his denial of the prevailing model...his fight for his intellectual property - ‘slave’ written across the forehead, name changed to a symbol... an all out rebellion against exploitation. A vanguard and genius by every metric I know of who affected many in a way that will outrun oblivion for a long while. I’m proud to be a Prince fan(stan) for life.
Tips to Stay Motivated

I always have people telling me, “I wish I could study like you do, I don’t have that kind of dedication”, or “I wish I was as smart as you.” REMINDER: I work really hard for my grades, and it isn’t something I was born with. So, for anyone telling themselves that they aren’t capable of having that kind of dedication, here are some tips that I used to go from an average student to exceptional:

  1. Don’t compare your progress to anyone else’s. Those pictures you see on Instagram, those people talking about studying for hours and hours, they started right where you are. So don’t worry about what other people are doing, and just focus on your own goals and improving a little bit every day.
  2. The most important step is telling yourself to just do it. I would say about 70% of my study sessions start out with me procrastinating and watching Netflix, before I get down to work. The hardest part is always starting, and sometimes you just have to force yourself to start. Tell yourself you’ll just study for five minutes, then ten. Small progress is still progress.
  3. Find a routine that works for you. That being said, don’t become a slave to your routine. This year, I made the mistake of sometimes becoming so consumed with my studies that I didn’t have a balance. Find what works, set time aside for the things that are important to you, and commit yourself to success.
  4. You have to be patient to see results. Don’t expect to suddenly be able to sit down and study for hours, or have perfect handwriting. You have to stay focused,  make goals, and work towards them. Don’t get discouraged and don’t give up, the results will come.
  5. Make goals. Not just big, long-term, I-want-to-be-a-doctor goals, but things like studying 3 hours on Friday for an exam the next week, or finishing all the little busy-work items on your to-do lists. Sit down and make a list of your big life goals, and then make a list of your smaller goals to help you get there.

These strategies might not work for everyone, but I just hope everyone knows you CAN work towards your goals and achieve them :)

Power Saver

Part 1:

Keith was so sick of Lance and his superior attitude.
Ever since he met the prince Keith knew they would never get along.
He was just so loud, so judgmental, so annoying.
They were currently sat in a strategy meeting trying to figure out how to get Shiro back.
He had been badly hurt on their last mission and was captured by Zarkon.
The clock was ticking and while everyone was offering helpful ideas, Lance just wouldn’t stop cracking jokes.
It wasn’t just Keith that was getting annoyed.
He could see irritation written all over the faces of the other Paladins.
Even Allura seemed to be getting tired of her little brothers jokes.
“Maybe we could offer a trade for Shiro?” Pidge suggested.
“Yeah I’m sure I’m worth more to them then him.” Lance suggested quietly and Keith just lost it.
He dove across the table and punched him in the face.
Lance fell to the floor shock on his face as he held his throbbing nose.
“Keith what the hell!” Lance asked.
Hunk was holding Keith back from delivering another blow to the princes presious face.
“Don’t you care pretend you don’t know why! Your not worth more then Shiro!” He yelled struggling against Hunks strong arms.
“Just calm down dude.” Hunk whispered and despite how much Keith wanted to stay angry he just couldn’t when he looked back at the scared expression on both Hunk and Pidge’s face’s.
“Lance are you ok?” Keith turned his attention to Allura to see her helping her younger brother to his feet.
“Yeah I’m fine.” He lowered his hands to give her a trademark smile only to show his nose was bleeding badly.
Keith stared as Allura quickly produced a handkerchief and tilted his head back to stop the blood flow.
Keith felt a pang of guilt, he hadn’t meant to hit him so hard…
“I’ll tell Coran to get a pod ready!” Hunk said as he ran off.
Allura sighed “Pidge go stop him please, a pod will not be needed.”
Pidge nodded and ran after the yellow paladin.
“Why doesn’t he need a pod? His nose could be broken.”
“Oh it is” Lance winced as he snapped his nose back in place. “The pods arnt really safe for me to use.” He shrugged.
“What do you-”
Keith was cut off by Coran over the loud speaker saying he needed Allura’s help immediately.
She sighed as he left the two alone.
Lance jumped up to sit on the edge of the table. He patted the space next to him as a signal for Keith to join him.
Keith hesitantly sat next to him trying his best not to look at the blood.
“You want to know why I can’t use the pod right? Well I want to know why you hit me. Fair trade?”
Keith nodded “it’s just… it didn’t seem like you cared Shiro was captured. And you always act like your so much better then us and well I get you lost your planet but before that you had the easy life of a prince and you couldn’t begin to understand what Shiro means to me and how he saved me.”
Keith expected and apology not for Lance to start laughing.
“What’s so funny.” Keith asked crossing his arms.
“Nothing, nothing. It’s just I understand better then you could imagine.” Lance wiped a tear from his eye his laughter dying down. “I can’t use the pods because I’m only half Altean.”
Keith stared in shock “so Allura’s only your half sister?”
Lance shook his head “nope. See Alfor adopted me when I was ten, I don’t have a drop of royal blood in my body.”
“B-but how then?”
Lance grinned “in the early days of the war Zarkon enslaved Altean colony planets. Including mine. He turned my mother into a slave, forcing her to mine minerals for him. My dad was from a people known as Voiders… they were made of pure energy and the Galra used them as battery’s. They wiped them all out by draining the life from them.”
Lance was quiet for a moment and Keith couldn’t bring himself to speak.
“My dad survived being drained somehow and was sent to work in the mines where he met my mom… one thing led to another and well here I am.” He gestured to himself as he placed down the bloody handkerchief.
“But when Alfor tried to free my planet, Zarkon ordered all the slaves to be executed…. I don’t really remember much. Just what Allura told me years later. I erm.. I was found in a pile of bodies in my mother’s arms. I was like really close to being dead. Like so bad that I was in a coma for a couple months. When I woke up they told me what had happened and Alfor adopted me.”
Keith stared in shock, he had always assumed Lance lived an easy life before the war, that he was a pampered prince. “But why can’t you use the pods?”
Lance shrugged “Voiders are made of pure energy and so am I, how I am know my physical form of really delicate because my energy keeps trying to burst out. The pod fills your body with quintessence and mine just can’t handle it. I would literally break apart.”
“How can you be so casual about that!” Keith asked standing up and glaring at him. “If you can’t use the pods then why the hell are you allowed to fight!”
Lance just smiled like he heard the question a 100 times already “because blue choose me. She’s mine and I’m hers, nothing can change that.”
Keith looked at the ground “I’m sorry I punched you… I was just so angry.”
Lance stood up and placed a hand on his shoulder “it’s ok I get I can be pretty annoying… I was just trying to cheer everyone up.”
Keith groaned, of course that’s what Lance was doing. He’s always the one to think about his teams well being and lighten the mood when everyone was too close to the edge to see the void just beyond.
“I’m a jerk.”
“Yeah you are, but we love you anyway.” Lance laughed as he put an arm around Keith’s shoulders.
Just as Keith was about to make a joke about a bonding moment Pidge ran in.
“Get to the bridge fast! It’s about Shiro!”
The two exchanged a look before they followed the green paladin.

Soon as they entered the room they were greeted with the sight of Haggar on the screen standing over a very pale Shiro.
“Shiro!” Keith yelled.
“Ah finally the others have arrived.” Haggar smirked as she pulled up Shiro’s undershirt to show his wound that was swollen and oozing yellow. It didn’t take a genius to realise that the wound was infected.
“Your precious leader won’t last much longer.”
“Then I offer you a trade! Me for him.” Allura stepped forwards.
“Sister no!” Lance tried to stop her.
“I am the first for the throne and the pilot of the castle of lions, so let him go and I will come willingly.”
Haggar was quiet for a moment clearly thinking over her options “without the head Voltron will fall.”
“Well then what about the leg!” Lance stepped in front of Allura “you take me and we still can’t use Voltron and you get the Prince of Altea.”
Haggar looked him over before laughing “why would I trade the leader for Alfor’s little disappointment of a son?”
Lance flinched but kept eye contact “b-because…” he looked round the room and made eye contact with Keith and Keith knew what he was going to do but was unable to stop him.
“Because I’m not his son. But I am prince of Altea and the blue paladin… and I am the last Voider in existence.”
That stopped Haggar laughing. She peered closer at him. “Prove it.”
Lance didn’t hesitate to move over to the crystal and place his hand on it.
No sooner had his skin come in contact with the cool surface did his eyes light up a powerful blue, blocking out all but the blue light. Cracks began to appear by his eyes working their way down his face pulsing with power.
“L-Lance stop please.” Allura begged.
“I can see…” he mumbled.
“See what?” She asked as she moved slowly towards him.
“Everything…” Allura pulled him away and the light faded away. Lance collapsed in her arms breathing heavily.
They were all so focused on Lance that they forgot Haggar had seen it all.
She had believed the Voiders had been wiped out completely. A single one could offer them more power then and entire Balmera.
“I accept you deal. We will make the exchange shortly.”
With that the screen turned black and everyone was left in stunned silence.
Allura looked down at her little brother as he opened his eyes. “Oh Lance… what have you done.”

An hour later they were ready for the exchange.
Lance was in his paladin armour and was trying to put on a brace face.
“Don’t worry guys, I trust you to save me.” He grinned but like the others he had tears in his eyes.
Lance you idiot… why?“
Keith asked as he pulled him into a hug.
“Because mullet… I have more time then Shiro does. You saw that infection, he needs a pod soon as possible.”
“He’s right… this was a smart decision.” Allura looked pained to even admit it.
She had lost so much to the hands of the Galra and now she was giving them her little brother… the only family she had left.
Lance pulled away and closed the air lock.
“Took me sacrificing myself for you to finally admit I was right about something.”
He laughed but it came out more as a scared sob.
The others could only watch as he jetted over to where Shiro was being held by a guard.
“L-Lance?” Shiro asked. Through his fever induced haze he saw how Lance smiled sadly at him.
“Don’t worry buddy, your going home.”
That was the last thing Shiro remembered before he fell out of the healing pod a couple days later.


“I’ve loved you since the first time I saw you. I think I was twelve. It took me three years to pluck up the courage to speak to you. And I was so scared about the way I felt, you know, loving a girl, So I learned how to become a sarcastic bitch to kind of feel normal. I screwed guys to make it go away, but it didn’t work. When we got together it scared the shit out of me. Because you were the one person who could ruin my life. I pushed you away. I made you think things were your fault. But really I was just terrified of pain. I screwed that girl, Sophia, to kind of spite you for having that hold on me, and I’m a total fucking coward because I got these tickets to Goa for us three months ago, But I, I couldn’t stand… I didn’t want to be a slave to the way I feel about you, can you understand? You were trying to punish me back and it’s horrible. It’s so horrible, because really… I’d die for you. I love you. I love you so much, and it’s killing me.”

work for me ||

Originally posted by jimin-bts-trashs

#22: Did you just hiss at me

#34: You work for me. You’re my slave.

Pairing: CEO!Taehyung x Secretary!Reader

Genre: Smut

Words: 573

A/N: OKay this is my first ever written smut and it’s like really bad I had to go and read some smuts to try to figure out how to write this and honestly you need to be very descriptive and so idk how long a drabble is supposed to be but I made it short so…idk about its quality sorry !!

Keep reading

My chink pig mother had a change of heart!

So as you know my chink pig mother was kicked out of my white stepdad’s house because she wouldn’t allow me to have sex with my stepdad, and she was furious when my stepdad wanted to turn both of us as his sex slaves, so he made her work in a run down massage parlor in Flushing–it’s right off main st.–and she had to stand on street corners and beg Mexicans to fuck her, for just 60 dollars, and all her money was confiscated by the police when she got arrested, LOL! Anyway, she felt she was punished enough after she spent like 2 days in jail and she decided to come back home, but of course, my stepdad won’t just let her back in. She had to beg. And most importantly, she had to do the one thing that she refused to do, and which my stepdad had demanded her to do before she got kicked out, that is, to have a lesbian sex show with her own blood and flesh chink daughter–me! LOL! Which I don’t mind actually. I think it’s very sexy and it’s very progressive. I am at heart still very liberal. But my mom is such a prude chink with her old-ass traditional Confucian values. Anyway, but she had a change of heart! She decided to do it! She said this is better than jail. LMAO! And my stepdad videotaped it! So now both me and my chink pig mother are once again back together and now both of us are openly serving our white master, my stepdad, together!
And my stepdad said I should post the entire video online, but tumblr doesn’t allow explicit videos, so I just took some screenshots, but in the future, I think I will post it on patreon and I will give it out for FREE to those of you who brought a copy of my book! Well, I shouldn’t say it’s my book anymore, because it’s really our book. This is the sexy diary of my mother and me ^_^
So once again, this blog is now maintained by both me and my mother. This blog will be a diary of the training and transformation of a chink pig mother and her chink daughter under the guidance of their white master! =D
note: my mom had been arrested once for prostitution and you can literally find her mugshot on the internet, so my stepdad said that I should probably black out her face both in the screenshots and also when I upload the video. So I will be busy editing it!


What if I can’t make my momma run with me? She pretty settled in her ways. So was mine. She was meant to wait out her bondage. She was always telling us how we was term slaves. We be free at 45. When I was younger, I thought that made us special. The promise of freedom if you just work harder. That’s how they get you. My brother believed in that. And when the lie was exposed, and she learnt she was meant to be a slave forever, by that time, well, it was too late for her to take the journey by foot. But I put her on a carriage up north anyway,

You Look At Me Differently-Ubbe Ragnarsson x Reader Part 1

(A/N: And yet another fandom to add to the list 😄. This is just going to be a two part imagine.)

Summary: (Y/N) is a princess who saw her kingdom be destroyed at a very young age. Her father decided that she would be safe growing up with their allies in Kattegat alongside the young princes. Now much older, they face the responsibilities of adulthood, including marriage.

Characters: Ubbe Ragnarsson x Reader, Ragnarsson’s x Reader (platonic), Aslaug Sigurdsdottir x Reader (platonic)

Meanings: (Y/N)= Your name

Warnings: Swearing


“Ivar, just ignore your brother.” I scolded for the millionth time that day.

As usual Sigurd and Ivar were at each other’s throats, not literally this time, and it was I who always had to calm them down.

“Yes Ivar, listen to (Y/N). You always do what she says.” Sigurd teased.

“You as well Sigurd! Both of you just shut up and get on with your training.”

They stared each other down before going their separate ways; Ivar practicing his axe throwing as Sigurd battled with his other brother Hvitserk. Sighing, I picked up my recently forgotten bow, wanting to return to my own training.

“You’ve always been able to settle their arguments. You’ll have to teach me your ways.” I heard Ubbe say, turning to face him.

I had grown up very closely to these boys. My kingdom was attacked, almost destroyed when I was very young, my father deciding that it would be in my best interests to grow up somewhere that was not in ruins. Our neighbouring village was Kattegat, a very strong, noble and popular place. We were good friends with them so it was no surprise that they took me in. Father attended to his own kingdom, trying to fix all of the problems whilst I led a happy life here. He would come visit me whenever he could, never forgetting me. Aslaug became the mother I never had, treating me as her own though always reminding me that the boys were never my brothers, a strange thing to keep in enforcing, even to this day.

“Must be the charm of a woman.” I giggled as I approached him.

“Must be.” he smirked, pulling on the string of his bow.

I watched as he released the arrow, flying straight into the dead deer’s eye. Ubbe and I had always been close, perhaps because we were near each other in age and were more responsible overthis brothers. I was glad that I didn’t have to look at him as a brother; all of the boys had grown to be handsome men but Ubbe was special to me. Although I missed my home I could never imagine myself living anywhere else besides Kattegat.

“Did you hear what mother said this morning?” Hvitserk asked as he and Sigurd took a break from training.

Everyone shook their heads.

“She wants us all at dinner tonight, says that she has an important announcement.”

“Do you know what it is?” Ivar questioned, casually twirling the ace in his hand.

“If it was so important she could have told us earlier.” Ubbe suddenly snapped.

I was surprised by his tone of voice.“What’s wrong with you?”

Sigurd chuckled.“He’s got a scheduled fucking with his woman tonight.”

“Sneaking off again Ubbe?” Hvitserk smirked.

“Woman? What woman?” I was confused.

“This woman we are talking about has a name, Magrethe.” Ubbe pointed out.

“She is a slave girl, it does not matter if she has a name or not.” Ivar sneered.

“Well then perhaps I should free her.” Ubbe mocked, preparing his bow again.

Hvitserk sighed comicly.“Well I am sorry brother, Magrethe will have to wait another day.”

The conversation ended there. Jealousy started to encircle my mind. I always knew nothing would happen between us, even though we were taught to never think of each other as blood related, he probably saw me as a sister. The way he spoke about her, his tone of voice, it seemed as if he cared, she wasn’t just a woman he was sleeping with.

I tried to not talk in spite.“You never told me about her.”

Ubbe furrowed his eyebrows.“And why would I tell you?”


Dinner arrived sooner than expected. I had left training early, claiming that I wanted to start preparing for that night. I had sat in a bath tub for over an hour, letting my fingers wrinkle as I thought about Ubbe fucking a slave girl. He had suggested freeing her, was he serious? He wasn’t in love with her was he? I had never seen this girl before but I bet that she was beautiful and charming. I may have been a princess but that didn’t matter to Ubbe.

After bathing for longer than needs be, my servant helped me to dress and braided my hair. She commented on how quiet I was, not my usual talkative self, though I made up the excuse that I was tired from the training. She didn’t question me further.

Surprisingly I was the second one to arrive to the table. Hvitserk was usually following behind his mother, he loved food too much. Aslaug greeted my with a hug along with a kiss to the cheek, nothing out of the ordinary. We dabbled in small talk, waiting for the others. She seemed overly cheery and I wondered if this has anything to do with this announcement. I remember when Ragnar was here, she was happier than now. Once he abandoned her and his sons, she fell into a depressive state until I came along; maybe I was the change she needed, something to focus on.

Ivar was next to join, Hvitserk and Sigurd a few minutes after. Ubbe was no where to be found and I feared that he was with that slave girl. It must have only been ten or so minutes later that he came, looking flustered with some of his clothing not on properly. It wasn’t hard to guess where he had previously been.

Although everyone was anxious to know what Aslaug has to say, no one questioned her. She was waiting till the end of our dinner, acting normal throughout. We all tried to forget, thinking it was a regular meal. Ubbe was unusually quiet, not participating in any conversation. I saw the way his hair was touseled, some recent love marks peeking out from under his collar. It broke my heart a little. It was when the servants took away our last plates did Aslaug speak up.

“I wanted us all together tonight as I have something very important to say.” she started, grabbing everyone’s attention.“You are all coming to the age where you should either already be married or start to think about it. And sometimes, marriage is not just about binding two hearts together but two kingdoms.”

Where was she going with this?

She was smiling ear to ear.“Which is why (Y/N)’s father and I have decided that she and Ubbe will be married.”

There was complete silence at the table. No one was drinking, moving and it was as if no one was breathing. I didn’t dare look at Ubbe, there was no telling how he would react. My mouth was agape, unsure of how to react. Yes, I thought that I was falling for Ubbe but this was a whole other thing; this was marriage!

“No.” was all I heard from him.

“No? Ubbe you cannot disagree, it is arranged.” his mother argued.

His words were stern.“I will not marry (Y/N), I am in love with someone else.”

That hurt.

“You do not have to love her. Marriage isn’t all about that.” she shrugged.

That hurt too.

“Do neither of us have a say? Are we not allowed to speak for ourselves?”

“Not in this desicion.”

Ubbe leapt to his feet causing the chair to fly back. He stormed out of the room, throwing his cup angrily at the wall. I flinched at this, still in shock. No words were spoken for a couple of minutes until I excused myself. This was too much. It was no surprise to me that Ubbe was in love with another, but hearing those words made it seem all too real. As I picked up my skirts to run away from all this, I spotted two figures embracing in an alleyway. It was obvious who they were, Ubbe and that slave girl, trying to work out what they were going to do. I had been staring for too long as they both noticed me.

She was beautiful. She had long, platinum blonde hair, her face was small and dainty with soft features with a slim figure. If she was dressed in finer clothes you wouldn’t have guessed she was a slave. I couldn’t bare to look any longer, rushing away from them.

It had been hours since Aslaug told us of the engagement. I had fled to the cabin owned by the prince’s just outside of Kattegat, wanting to be away from everyone. My heart had ached and my eyes were aching from the floods of tears spilling out. He didn’t want me, I couldn’t have him. He would rather run away with a slave girl. As I tried to take control over my emotions, the door rattled open, causing me to jump from my seat in front of the fire.

“You shouldn’t be out here alone.” Ubbe stated as he walked in.

I ignored him, sitting back down. I had lost the blanket previously wrapped around me after being startled but before I could pick it up again, Ubbe beat me to it. It was like he had stung me, I tried to not flinch. He sat beside me, pulling his furs closer.

“You did not need to be so harsh with your words.” I mumbled.

“I am sorry if I hurt your feelings. But I had to say them.” he answered, not looking at me.

I scoffed, but caring about manners anymore.“She’s a slave girl that has probably slept with most of the men here. Why do you want her?”

Ubbe whipped his head around to face me.“That is not true! Do not speak of her in that way.”

“I will speak however I want, it’s not like I’ll have a husband anytime soon to keep me in my place.”

Ubbe kept his eyes on me for a moment before looking back at the fire. Reaching over to the table, I took the jug of ale, pouring myself a large cup; I chugged it back, knowing that the memories would come back when dawn broke but for now they could disappear.

“Don’t do that. Please don’t resort to that.” Ubbe quietly begged.

“I want you to leave.” I demanded as I stood.

“This is my cabin. You leave.”

“I am not going back. Not yet, I’ll be humiliated.”

“Is that all you care about? Don’t you want to find someone you love to settle with?”

What an ironic question. How was I supposed to answer that? Ubbe would never accept the proposal, he would either find a way around it or end up running away with the girl. Wait, this was Ubbe, son of Ragnar, he couldn’t leave, he wouldn’t. But there was no doubt that he wouldn’t look at me the way I wanted him to.

“You don’t understand. You’re a man, you won’t have the pitiful stares thrown at you as you walk the streets.”

“People will understand-”

I raised my voice.“Exactly! They’ll see how a slave girl overthrew a princess and think that I am not fit to receive love from someone who has the same ranking as me.”

“I cannot change how I feel.”

“Neither can I Ubbe!” I collapsed onto the bed.“Neither can I.”

“(Y/N), you do not mean…”

I turned on my side so I wouldn’t have to look at him.“Yes Ubbe, I care about you. And not as a sister or a friend, much more than that. I was was stupid to believe that we could be anything.”

I was expecting him to say something, something along the lines of a rejection. Instead I was met with the sound of the door slamming shut again. Ubbe had left, Ubbe was leaving me.

What Happened (In the Room Where It Happens) part four


Warnings: Swearing, (lowkey and highkey) humiliation, daddy kink, thomas jefferson, thomas cant cook and hes insecure about it, one lil spanking, alexander is a slut and wants to be used
Word count: 5284

Part One Part Two Part Three

Chapter four: Sunsets in New York

Hamilton awoke shortly before Jefferson, the afternoon light seeping through the windows, illuminating the room as Alexander slowly opened his eyes to see Thomas cuddled next to him, mouth slightly open as he breathed slowly, still sleeping. Alexander placed a light kiss to the Southerner’s jaw before peeling himself away, sad to leave Thomas’s side, he stood by the bed for a moment, watching in awe as his chest gently rose and fell.

Smiling, Alexander walked to the study where his and Jefferson’s clothes had been tossed around the room. Collecting his clothes, which were beginning to feel grungy after the last day of use, he pulled them on, smoothing his vest as he went to the kitchen.

“Good afternoon, Mister Hamilton.” Joanna said to him, noticing his presence in the room as she washed a dish that Thomas had neglected to take care of.

“Good afternoon, Joanna!” He said cheerily, meeting her by the sink. “Thomas and I spoke, he decided to give you the next few days off to show his gratitude. Paid, of course.”

“Mister Hamilton…” Joanna said, drying the plate then returning it to a cabinet. “Are you sure?”

“Thomas insisted. You work so hard for him, you deserve the next few days–three, to be specific– off for yourself.” Alexander began meandering around the kitchen, shifting through Jefferson’s cabinets.

“Thank you, Mister Hamilton. Tell Mister Jefferson I said thank you so much for his generosity.” Joanna thanked the Treasurer before bowing out of the room.

Finishing his search, Alexander began to go to work in the kitchen, fixing the two of them a nice meek as he waited for Thomas to wake. go go go go!

Thomas blinked awake, squinting as sunlight filtered in through the windows. He groaned, rubbing the gunk from his eyes as he rolled around for a moment. The Secretary slowly pushed himself to a sitting position. Half the day gone and he slept through all of it. Hopefully Joanna has been cleaning what I didn’t. He thought as he slid out of the bed.

He looked around for his clothes, then paused as he noticed that Alexander wasn’t in bed with him. He did hear clattering in the kitchen, so he assumed that was where his partner had gotten off to.

“Humph.” He snorted, finding his trousers. He chose to only pull on his pants and his shirt, not bothering with the frills and layers. He wasn’t going anywhere, so why get dressed?

He shuffled into the kitchen, trying desperately to tame his unruly dark hair. His brows furrowed in confusion upon seeing Alexander alone, rummaging in the cabinets.

“What are ya doin’?” He asked quietly, looking around. He still didn’t see Joanna. “You don’t need to fool with that stuff, Alexander. Joanna can handle it.”

“I sent her home,” Hamilton responded without missing a beat, not bothering to look up at Jefferson as he poured two glasses of water, pushing one to Thomas. “I told her that because you were so grateful for her service, you had decided to give her the next three days off–paid.” He spoke nonchalantly, harsh emphasis placed on paid, as he turned to check the stove.

Thomas’s confused expression snapped into one of shock, then anger. “Are you kidding me?!” He exclaimed. “You can’t just fork out money to my maid if she isn’t working, much less dismiss her in the first place! That isn’t your role here, Hamilton.” He snarled, grabbing the glass of water harshly.

He looked towards the stove, then glared back at Hamilton, “You’re overstepping your boundaries. I know you don’t like slaves, but she’s only a maid.”

Hamilton didn’t even raise his eyes to look at Jefferson as he fumed, he instead focused on the sandwiches baking on the pan– a meal Lafayette had made him many a time. “You seem to have an excess, and with all your slaves, it won’t hurt you to pay a little extra to the one worker you do pay.” He took a sip of the water. “And besides, you don’t need her, making a few meals a day and cleaning up after yourself is nothing.”

Jefferson awkwardly shifted, walking to sit on a stool. “I need my money to produce cotton, Alexander. You don’t understand.” He sniffed, then sipped on his water. The Secretary of State looked back to Alexander. “I’m too busy. I need her to do the simpler work for me.”

Alexander cracked an egg over each sandwich, flipping them to cook, attentively watching them. “You don’t pay for your slaves Thomas, these few extra dollars to Joanna won’t hurt you. And, besides, she works hard for you. She does all your cooking and cleaning, she deserves to take a break. Thomas,” he finally turned to Jefferson, his eyes locking with his, “you’d be less busy if you stopped concerning yourself with matters in which you have no place.” He turned back to the stove, watching the food cook.

“I could say the same for you!” Jefferson spat, slamming his glass down. “You come into my home at my invitation. You are my guest, yet you act as if you own the place! You had no right to let her take off!”

Hamilton smiled when the food was finished, sliding a sandwich onto each of the two plates he had pulled out, turning to Thomas, he gently set it down before the man. “Croque Madame.” He said, pointing to the dish, “I’m sure you had it many times when you were in France.”

He sat down next to Jefferson, placing his own food in front of him. “I don’t remember so much of an invitation so much as it was a contract, remember, Thomas?” He teased, smiling to himself. “And really, you don’t need her all the time. If you reward her now, she’ll work harder later. But, Thomas, she already works very hard. She’s very dedicated to this job. You should show your appreciation.” He took a sip of his water. “Do you like the sandwich?”

Jefferson gazed at the sandwich and nodded. “Lafayette used to make these for me.” He confessed with a halfhearted, far away smile.

“It was a contract you consented to, so you’re my best and thus have the same rights as any slave, by contract.” The Virginian countered firmly. “I do need her. By rewarding her now, she will become expectant of such things that she will never receive.” He huffed.

Thomas looked back down at his sandwich, then lifted it and took a bite. He closed his eyes, memories of his life in France flooding his mind. “Yes,” he mumbled, “it’s good.”

“Well,” Hamilton said, looking up at Thomas through his eyelashes, “maybe you’re not as great of a slave master as they say, hm?” he prodded before taking a bite of the sandwich. “Thomas,” Alexander laughed, “you don’t need her. You can cook for yourself just fine, can’t you?” He asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“I need all of my slaves.” Thomas countered, glaring at Hamilton. “I would much rather not break a sweat.”

He went quiet for a moment, taking another bite of the sandwich. He chewed thoughtfully, then took a long swig of water. “Sure I can. I cook just fine.”

A smirk grew on Hamilton’s face as he sat the sand which down in the plate. “Thomas, can you not cook?” He teased.

The southerner held his sandwich tightly. “Of course I can! Everyone can cook!”

Alexander shook his head, his jaw going slack. “Oh my gosh, you need Joanna because you can’t cook, can you? No wonder mac and cheese tastes so bad!” He laughed before taking another bite of his sandwich, shooting a playful wink at the Virginian.

“I-I can!” Thomas exclaimed. He put his sandwich back on his plate and pushed away from the table, heading to the living room. He searched for the morning newspaper and huffed, finding that it wasn’t there. “Must I do everything for myself?” He shouted at Alexander before stomping to the front door and opening it, grabbing it from the porch before returning indoors.

Softening, Alexander stood up to meet Thomas at the door as he walked in, leaving his sandwich at the table. “Thomas,” he said, looking up at the flustered Southerner, “it’s only three days without Joanna, you’ll live.” He placed a hand on Jefferson’s shoulder, gently  rubbing a circle with his thumb, taking the newspaper from Thomas, he led him back to to the table, setting the newspaper down at his seat. “You hardly do anything for yourself, Thomas,” he poured more water into the Virginian’s glass, “it’ll be good for you to take a few days to learn how to do that, or at least give Joanna a break.”

The southerner’s mouth parted and then closed again, trying to find something to say. He finally sat down and sighed, “What are you, my mother?” He grumbled, but grabbed ahold of Hamilton’s shirt. He slowly tugged Alexander closer, taking the pitcher and setting it on the table.

Thomas gently pressed a soft kiss to the other man’s lips, then slouched so he could press his forehead to Hamilton’s chest. “I like it when you touch me like that. On the shoulders, all…. comforting, but in charge.” He admitted softly. “And…. you can cook for the next three days. I can't…”

Hamilton let out a small grunt when Thomas kissed him, then wrapping his arm around Jefferson, looking down at him as the Southerner curled against his chest. Stifling a laugh, Alexander nodded, “I can cook for us, don’t worry, pretty boy.” He used his free hand to take Thomas’s jaw in his hand, lifting his face so that his gaze was locked on Hamilton. “It’ll all be okay,” he murmured before gently kissing Thomas, his arm still tightly wrapped around the Virginian.

Jefferson sighed contentedly against Hamilton’s pouty lips, enjoying their soft texture. He pulled away gently and smiled, brown eyes bright. “Come on, finish breakfast with me.” He said, reaching for his sandwich. He began eating once more, pausing to sip at his water and read the paper.

Sighing, Hamilton nodded and moved to sit down across from Jefferson, watching as Thomas enjoyed the food he had made for him. “Is there any important news?” He asked, reaching for the newspaper, taking it from Thomas, skimming the headlines, “maybe something about my debt plan…” He smiled a bit.

“The vote is Thursday, Alexander.” Thomas smirked. “All the papers are doing is mulling over whether it will pass or not.” He shrugged and finished his sandwich, then gulped down his water. “Can we go… relax for a while? In the living room?”

“It better pass,” Alexander mumbled, finishing his water. “Of course,” he said, standing up, extending his hand to help Thomas up. “I’d like nothing more.” He cooed, a content smile on his face.

The Virginian accepted the man’s hand and stood, going to the couch. He pushed Hamilton down into it gently, then settled down along with him. “Lay back,” Thomas whined, shifting down and stretching out so he could put his head on Hamilton’s chest.

Hamilton did as he was told, relaxing into the couch as Jefferson cuddled on him. He moved his arms to evelop Thomas, one thumb rubbing small circles into the Southerner’s bicep as he slowed his breathing, settling in with Jefferson. “Are you okay?” He asked, a bit concerned by the dominant man’s sudden docility. He moved one hand to Thomas’s hair, gently pushing it behind his ear in attempt to soothe him.

The southerner shrugged and nodded. “You just… you tire me out so quickly. I need time to just relax. And you’re very soft, so… this is nice.” He murmured, pressing his nose against Alexander’s clothed chest.

Alexander’s muscles relaxed, allowing him to more comfortably hold the larger man. “What do you mean, ‘I tire you out’?” he pried gently, sighing contentedly as Jefferson drew nearer to him. His eyes fluttered closed, feeling as Thomas seemed to cling to him, enjoying the quiet moment.

“Your arguing, and the sex drive you have….” Jefferson groaned. He laughed lightly and shook his head, gently stretching his arms upwards so tangle his hands in Alexander’s hair. “You’re so young… I guess I’m just realizing that I’m not as young as I used to be.”

“I’m not that much younger than you,” Smirking over the comment about his sex drive, Hamilton adjusted himself, allowing Thomas to fist his hands in his hair, pulling the Southerner closer to him, humming quietly as his warmth floated onto his skin. “Don’t worry about it, okay?” he said, placing a kiss on Jefferson’s forehead, comforting the man as he tangled his arms around him, holding him close.

The Virginian shrugged and nodded, looking upwards. “Speaking of sex drive…” he tugged gently on Alexander’s hair. “How bout we get goin’?” He smirked, shifting upwards. He rolled his body as he pushed himself closer to Hamilton’s face, looming over him. His hips slotted easily between the immigrant’s thighs, grinding against him. “What all do you like, Alexander?”

Letting out a soft moan as his hair was pulled, Alexander looked up at Thomas, his chest heavy at the sudden change in Thomas’s demeanor, instantly craving to be used by the Southerner. “Fuck… Thomas…” was all Hamilton could manage as he felt Jefferson’s growing erection rut against him.

“Tell me what you want me to do.” Thomas murmured, leaning down to brush his lips against Alexander’s. His erection throbbed as he rolled his hips against Hamilton’s once more. “How should I claim you today?” He asked, chuckling lowly. Jefferson nipped at the Treasurer’s lip, then pulled away. “Or maybe I shouldn’t, and we can keep cuddling.”

Taking a sharp breath in, Alexander pressed his hips against Thomas’s, trying to gain more sensation. “Please, Thomas, use me. However you want.” He whimpered, moving his hands to fist in the Southerner’s hair, “please, let me be good for you.” he begged.

The Southerner let out a ragged breath, diving back down to roughly slam his mouth against Alexander’s. Thomas practically growled, the muscles in his arms twitching as he hastily removed Hamilton’s clothing. “You’re going to be my good little slut, do you understand?” He hissed, biting the man’s lip a little too hard.

Letting out another whimper at Thomas’s words, Hamilton bucked up his hips against Thomas’s. He nodded quickly, the Southerner’s bite stinging his lips as the pain radiated through his body. His hands found Jefferson’s shirt, making quick work of the buttons as he threw the shirt off of Thomas, hands now exploring the Virginian’s chest.

“I want an answer, whore!” Jefferson snapped, pulling away. He smacked Alexander’s ass, which he assumed was still sore, then grasped the man by his dark, Silky locks. “Answer daddy,” he commanded huskily, his brown eyes dark with lust.

A scream escaped Hamilton’s mouth as Thomas’s hand landed on his ass, the impact causing him to shake as his hair was pulled, craning his neck backwards. “Y-yes, Daddy,” he struggled, suppressing a moan, “I’m your good little slut,” he echoed Thomas’s words, staring into the Southerner’s hungry eyes, shrinking beneath his gaze.

The Secretary of State smirked and released Alexander. He stood, shucking the remainder of his clothing, then settled back on the couch to kiss his lover. “Good boy,” he praised, cooing softly. “So much for you taking care of me, huh?” He teased, allowing his hard cock to rub against Hamilton’s. “Why don’t you go to the bedroom and fetch the oil, then come back?” He suggested, but his tone conveyed that it was an order.

Hamilton melted at the praise, letting himself kiss Thomas as he felt the friction of Thomas’s cock against his. He kissed the Southerner once more before standing up, allowing his hips to sway a bit, giving Jefferson a show as he approached the stairs. “Yes Daddy.” he said eagerly, his footsteps heavy on the stairs as he ran up them, rushing for Jefferson’s bedroom to find the oil they had used earlier. In a short moment, he found it, heading back down the stairs with the jar in hand, stopping in the doorframe, his gaze meeting Thomas’s. “This one?” he asked, holding up the bottle slightly.

Jefferson had been lazily stroking his hardened cock as he waited on Alexander. When the younger man returned with the oil, he smiled. “That’s it. Good boy, Alexander. Come here,” Thomas praised and beckoned Hamilton

Taking a shaky step forward, Hamilton neared Jefferson before dropping to his hands and knees, electing to crawl to his lover, holding the oil in one hand as he looked up to Thomas submissively. Once he reached the Southerner, he stopped and rocked back to sit on his knees, his eyes meeting Jefferson’s.

“Damn, Hamilton.” Thomas whispered, spreading his thighs. “Do you want a taste, slut?” He reached out and grabbed the oil, setting it beside him. He then reached for Hamilton again and gently ran his fingers through the man’s dark, soft hair. Gogogo

“Yes please, Daddy,” Hamilton breathed hungrily. His chest fell heavily before he stuck out his tongue dramatically, opening his mouth wide, gently wagging his tongue at the Southerner. “Please, anything you’ll give me, I’ll take. Thomas, I need it.” He continued, craving to taste the Virginian’s thick cock as it throbbed in front of him.

The Virginian gently pulled Alexander forwards, shifting so his cock reached Hamilton’s mouth. He gently rubbed the tip along the other man’s lips, smearing precum across them. “You’re such a good little whore,” Jefferson murmured, finally resting the head of his cock on the immigrant’s tongue. “Go ahead,”

Hamilton let out a muffled whimper as he closed his lips around Jefferson’s cock, flattening his tongue against the other man’s girth as he begs in to bob is head up and down, saliva pooling in his mouth and dripping out the sides of his mouth. He pulled off for a moment to lick a stripe across the bottom of Thomas’s cock before returning to his bobbing motions eagerly.

The Secretary groaned and shifted his hips slightly, tugging on Hamilton’s hair. “Not too much, darlin’.” He warned, gazing down at Alexander. His abdomen was taut, muscles twitching as Hamilton blew him.

Grunting, Hamilton slowed down at Thomas’s words, steadily fucking his face onto the man’s cock as he felt his own cock throb. He watched Thomas through his eyelashes, admiring the way his face contorted with pleasure at each movement.

“Fuck,” Jefferson whispered, his eyes closing and his mouth parting slightly. He gently thruster his hips into Hamilton’s mouth, then pulled him away. “Enough.” The Virginian murmured. “Oil my cock and climb up here.”

Hamilton was removed from Jefferson’s cock with a gentle popping noise before he reached for the oil, pouring some onto his hands before beginning to work on Thomas’s cock. “I can’t wait for you to fuck me,” he mused, attentively massaging the oil onto the Virginian’s throbbing election, “Love when you use me like your good little whore.” He finished with the oil, climbing onto Jefferson’s lap.

Jefferson smirked, taking the oil from Alexander and spreading some on two of his fingers. He hummed as he gently worked them into his lover’s hole, his free hand kneading Hamilton’s ass. “You know I’m going to use you like the little fuck toy you are,” Thomas murmured, kissing Alexander’s chest.

Moaning obscenely, Hamilton’s mouth fell open as Jefferson pumped his fingers into Alexander, stretching him. “Fuck, Daddy…” Alexander moaned, using a hand to grip onto Thomas, steadying himself. “Please, use me, use me to pleasure yourself, please.” He begged, pushing himself against Jefferson’s fingers.

The Secretary of State let out a soft groan, his cock twitching. “Nah-ah, my little slut.” He removed his fingers and shifted, pushing Hamilton onto the couch. He moved the man to the armrest, placing one large palm on the skin between his shoulders, “You want me, whore?” He asked, positioning his cock at Alexander’s entrance.

The New Yorker let out a grunt as he was manhandled, pushed over the couch as he was forced down, Thomas’s cock teasing his entrance, taunting him. “Yes, please,” he responded, feeling his erection throb, “I need you, Thom– Daddy, please.” He shook a bit in anticipation.

Hearing Alexander’s mistake, Thomas spanked his ass and growled. “That’s right. You better call me Daddy.” He then grasped the immigrant by his hips and slowly slid his cock inside him, groaning. “Ah… you’re so tight…”

Alexander bit down on his lip to muffle a moan at the impact of Jefferson’s hand on his ass. He pushed himself back onto Thomas’s cock, feeling it fill him as bliss ran through his veins. “Fuck,” he grunted, trying to adjust to Jefferson’s large size, “tight for you, Daddy, only for you to use.” he babbled, his hands gripping the couch.

“Damn right. It better only be for me.” The Southerner moaned, leaning back as he slowly tugged his cock in and out of Alexander’s asshole. The oil made it slick, but still allowed them some friction. He dug his fingers into the soft flesh of Hamilton’s hips, finally thrusting harder.

Hamilton let out a small scream at Thomas’s cock being pumped in and out of him, the slight friction causing him to yelp with each hard thrust. “Yours, only yours,” Alexander promised, moving a hand down to wrap around his own cock, giving him the much-needed sensation.

“Ah ah..” Jefferson scolded, swatting away Hamilton’s hand. He leaned over, still thrusting, and grasped Alexander’s cock. He gently pumped it, panting as he multitasked. “Fuck…mine…”

Eyes screwing shut, Alexander began letting out small yelps with each of Thomas’s thrusts. He moved his shooed hand back to the fabric of the couch, giving him support as Jefferson slammed into him, each thrust catching him off guard. As Thomas’s hand worked his cock, Hamilton’s breaths became shaky. “Yours,” he promised again through a moan, “your whore, your depraved little slut,” he degraded himself, getting off on it as he enjoyed Jefferson’s thrusts.  

“Good boy… talk like that some more. Tell me about how much you like my cock.” Thomas muttered huskily, leaning down to bite the treasurer’s shoulder. He shortened his thrusts but made them harder, causing the couch to shake. “Tell me how you want me to cum in you, fill you up with my seed.” He said, the head of his cock slamming into Alexander’s prostate.

Hamilton shook at the new sensation, letting out a loud scream as Jefferson’s cock hit his prostate, sending a wave of pleasure through him. “Fuck, so happy to be used by you, by your thick. big cock,” he mumbled, his thoughts incoherent “I just want to worship you, your cock, for hours, make you cum again and again, covering and filling me with your seed.” He fantasized aloud, “I love how big it is, I feel so– fuck– full.” He became louder as Jefferson’s thrusts remained relentless. “Please, Daddy, mark me,” he turned his head slightly to look at Thomas. “Please, I promise I’ll be good, Daddy,” he shuddered a bit, “fill me up with your cum, claim me, fuck, make me yours.” He breathed heavily, trying to maintain what dignity he had left.

Thomas’s eyelids fluttered shut at Alexander’s words. He pulled Alexander up, so both of them were on their knees, and began thrusting faster. “Good little slut… your hole is mine to ravage, mine to breed, mine to cum in.” He hissed, biting down on the juncture between Hamilton’s shoulder and neck, sucking harshly. His hand stroked the immigrant’s cock, squeezing. “Cum for me.” He murmured in Hamilton’s ear.

Screams now were freely from Hamilton as he was held up by the Southerner, his cock thrusting deeply as he shook. “Yours, Daddy…yours… yours…” Alexander yelped as he began to cum, his whole body shaking as he writhed in Thomas’s grasp, the man’s cock still thrusting, hitting his prostate. Spilling, Hamilton’s cum dribbled down Jefferson’s hand as his own mouth fell open, moving as though to say something, silenced by the overstimulation of Thomas’s thrusts.

With Hamilton’s ass tightening around his thick cock, Jefferson stilled his hips and came hard inside Alexander. He let out a groan, muffled by his lips on the treasurer’s skin. He gently sat back after a moment, pulling Hamilton with him. “Lay still, I’ll go get a rag.” Thomas murmured, sliding off the couch and stumbling to the kitchen.

Hamilton did as he was told, his body resting against the soft couch as he watched Thomas. “T-thank you.” he half whispered, still coming down from his intense orgasm and letting himself come down from the intense subspace he had been in.

Thomas returned with a damp rag and a blanket, setting the latter to the side. He gently wiped Alexander down with the rag, cleaning off all the semen and sweat. He cleaned himself next, then clambered back onto the couch with Hamilton and wrapped up with him in the blanket. “Did you have fun?”

Hamilton smiled at the question, regaining his liveliness as he curled against Jefferson. “Mmm, yes.” He said, looking up at Thomas. “Was I good?” He asked hopefully, wanting to make sure Thomas had enjoyed him.

“You’re always good,” the southerner laughed softly, stroking Alexander’s side. “You can sleep if you want. I’m going to relax, I suppose. It’s a shame I left my newspaper on the table.” He shrugged and chuckled, kissing Hamilton’s cheek.

Hamilton smiled happily, leaning into Thomas as he was gently petted. “Let’s cuddle now,” he demanded, “like we were before, like you had wanted.” he pulled himself against Jefferson, tangling his hands into Thomas’s hair, humming softly as he gazed up at the Southerner.

“This is the opposite of how we were before,” the Virginian countered with a chuckle, smooching Alexander’s forehead. He did gently continue running his hands along the man’s sides, trying to comfort and soothe him.

“Not the opposite,” Alexander murmured, burying himself in Jefferson’s chest as he cooed quietly st the feeling of Thomas’s hands stroking him, helping him calm down.  “We’re just naked now,” he said matter-of-factly, it became evident that any tact he had once possessed was clearly gone as he spoke. He hummed at Thomas’s touch, his previously manhandled body thankful for the gentle touch and Alexander was more than happy to just be with Thomas.

Thomas shook his head. “I’m holding you now. That’s an opposite.” He murmured, gazing down at Hamilton. He proceeded to continue cuddling him and began to gently run his blunt nails along Alexander’s sides. “Does that feel good?” Gogogo

Hamilton nodded slightly, looking up to return the Southerner’s gaze. “So good…” he mumbled, nuzzling against Jefferson. “I could hold you, if you’d want,” he offered, noting Jefferson’s comment as he shifted up slightly to meet the Virginian.

“No no, stay right there. I’m comfortable,” the southerner shook his head and pushed Hamilton back down. He rested his forehead against the top of Alexander’s head, eyes closing. “I really don’t want to sleep. We could go for a walk?”

Letting out a calm breath, Hamilton nudged Thomas’s chest with his nose as he was pushed down. “That would be nice,” he said happily, lifting himself up to look around the room, looking at the messy piles of clothes on the floor. “We need to get dressed though,” he sighed, reluctantly standing up to put on his clothes.

Thomas chuckled and nodded. He rose and pulled on his socks, pants, and shoes, then headed to his room as he tugged on his shirt to fetch the rest of his magenta clothes. When he was dressed, he returned. “Ready to go?”

“Yeah,” Hamilton said, smoothing out the front of his white shirt, deciding to skip his green vest and jacket. He stood up and smoothed out his hair, pulling it into a ponytail at the back of his head, trying to fix his post-sex hair. “Look okay?” he asked, approaching Thomas.

“No,” Jefferson smirked. He walked over to Alexander and fixed his hair, smoothing it into place. “There you go.” He headed to the door, sighing. When he opened it, the light of the sunset entered the house, and Thomas had to squint. He stepped outside, knowing Alexander would follow.

Hamilton blushed red as Thomas fixed his hair, leaning into his touch. “Thank you,” he smiled, following behind Thomas as he stepped outside the door, closing it behind him, admiring the way the sun was setting, but more than anything, he was captivated by how each ray of sun hit Thomas’s face, illuminating his features and as the Southerner continued walking, Alex took small steps behind him, a bit paralyzed by the other man’s stunning beauty.

“You’re welcome,” the Secretary of State smiled and looked away from Alexander. “Come on, catch up.” He said, but slowed down his walk anyway so he matched Hamilton’s pace. He gazed around, watching the townspeople wall by and wave. Thomas smiled and shook his hand back in a friendly manner, then continued walking towards the small park around the block.

Snapping out of his daze, Alexander caught up with Thomas, watching as he charismatically greeted the people. Hamilton spoke to a few as well, but, people were much more interested in speaking to Thomas. For a moment, he considered reaching out to hold his lover’s hand before remembering the gossip that would arise from them being out on the town with each other acting civil, much less holding hands.

Jefferson was having the same thoughts. He occasionally glanced at Hamilton’s lips and hands, but he was sure that they’d be lynched as soon as their fingers brushed. He looked down at the ground a moment as they walked, then nudged Alexander as they turned the corner to get to the park. “What do you say we watch the sunset?”

“Please,” he breathed, “I’d love that.” He followed Thomas to the park. “I’m surprised you’d want to go out in public with me,” he wondered, “we’re supposed to be enemies.” He reminded Thomas, smirking a bit as they walked a quiet spot.

“If people ask, it’s a civil meeting.” Jefferson joked, approaching a one bench with an open view of a medium sized creek. “It’s a shame I can’t hold you,” he mused, reaching the bench and sitting on one end of it. It was small, so they could sit shoulder to shoulder.

Hamilton laughed, shaking his head as his eyes raised to watch the creek, light reflecting in the clear water. Following, Alexander sat down next to Jefferson, resting his hand on the bench next to Thomas’s, his pinky finger looping over Jefferson’s in a discrete display of affection. “I know,” he sighed wistfully, “me too.”

Thomas looked down, gently intertwining his pinky with Alexander’s. His chest warmed; a light airiness that he had never felt before filling it. He returned his gaze to Hamilton’s face, smiling fondly, then looked back to the small section of water before them. “We can return home soon.”

Alexander’s eyes remained fixed on the creek before he was snapped out of his focus by Thomas’s voice. “It’s nice out,” he commented before turning to face Jefferson, his own lips slightly parted, eyes darting down to notice Thomas’s own plump lips. “But, we should head back soon, you’re right.“ Thomas inhaled slowly, as if he were trying to absorb the dying rays of sunlight. “Alright.” He smiled, releasing Alexander’s pinky. He rose, waiting on the shorter man. They returned to his home together, ready to settle in for the night.

PSA for Requesters

I take pride in my work. I love making my art and I love making that art for other people.

But there have been some people who have just REALLY ticked me off.

I will not call anyone out on this, but if you think this post is about you, it probably is.

1. Reblog the art you request. Likes are just the *seen* notification. It’s depressing.


3. Giving away other people’s art as gifts, even if the piece was made for you specifically, is stealing and it’s wrong.

4. Some artists are stuck in an awkward phase where the only people who are giving them the attention they need for their work are the slave drivers like the ones mentioned above and they can’t say “no” to them because without their requests, they may never get noticed in the art world as a professional artist who gets an income of some sort.

I know I’ll be stepping on some toes with this post, but I have had enough. This is MY ART and what you are asking of me is UNFAIR. If you don’t like it just remember that I am not an art producing machine in your computer. I am a human being who has a life and would like to pay the bills.

Serpents Armor (Part 2)

Originally posted by historyvikings

Pairing: Floki X Helga, Reader step sister to Tanaruz, Friendly Reader X Ivar

Word Count: 1400

Warning: it’s all fun and games until your son gets jealous (none)

-Part 1- -Part 2-

While Floki has found his way to accept you, now only struggling to show it, Ivar has his own views on the shift in attention.

The clap of a hand on your backside startled you into nearly dropping the bowl of prepped food. You looked down at Ivar smirking savagely. Knowing he was a prince had you too cautious to snap at him. Surprisingly you didn’t have to.

“Ivar,” Floki chided. “I know you’re mother taught you to be more respectful of guests.”

You nor Floki acknowledged his save. There was a heavy denial that hung around him when it came to you, like the idea Helga made a good choice in taking Tanaruz was embarrassing. So instead you let him pretend he never did anything nice for you, though he did all the time.

Ivar scoffed. “You said she was like a slave.”

Floki twitched when he was uncomfortable, like he could somehow crawl his soul out of the situation. “… it’s not like that anymore.” he mumbled.

Keep reading

Damon Salvatore-Song:Count me in-Early winters.

You walked into the Salvatore house confidently, desperate to hear the soft chatter of your best friends next to the fireplace.
But you were met with silence, your eyebrows furrowed together as you hesitantly made your way to the living room.

“Damon?“you called out.

"In here"the Vampire answered immediately.
Relief washed over you and a smile made its way onto your face when you saw your best friend standing in front of the fire.

"Hey what was the urgent text about?"you asked confused.

"We have a problem"Damon sighed quietly. Normally when there was a problem in Mystic falls Damon would rage and make mistakes that you would later have to clear up. But this time he seemed more composed and quiet.

"Right we have another problem"you repeated sighing, you rubbed your hands on your jeans before sitting down next to Damon.

"Where are the others?"you questioned, looking around the room.

"Out there living their lives"Damon replied solemnly.

"Do they know that we have a pr-

"No, they don’t and they aren’t going to know this is to do with me. Just me"Damon spoke out.

"Damon what’s going on?"you were starting to get scared. You were surprised because whenever there was a problem with Damon he would make it everyone else’s problem.

"It’s Katherine, she’s back and the bitch wants me dead or alive preferably dead"he stated before taking a glass and filling it to the brim with alcohol. Your heart sank when he said those words.

You and Damon had slaved away for years trying to get rid of Katherine, and when hell finally opened their doors you both took the chance to shove her down there. For good. Or so you thought.

Now Katherine was back for revenge.
"Why isn’t she after me? I mean we worked together to get rid of her"you pointed out as you took the glass from his hands, downing the last of his drink.

"I made a deal with the devil"Damon explained.

"You did WHAT?!"you almost choked on your words.

"I made a deal with Cade, that if Katherine was to ever escape hell then she would only remember my part to play in her downfall"He stated.
Your mind started to spin.

"Are you crazy?! Why would you do that?!”

“To protect you"Damon smiled up at you sadly, his hand gently hovered over yours.

You glanced down and slowly lifted your hand into his. Your fingers intertwining together.

"Damon I knew what I was signing up for when I became your friend, I’m going to help you with this"you demanded.

"No y/n-

"Damon you wouldn’t have called me here if you didn’t want me to be involved, I think I would have been livid if you didn’t tell me"you said softly.

"I had- I have a plan. It’s stupid and it’s dangerous and I should never have come up with it especially when it could get us both killed it was selfish of me to think that you would want to do it"Damon shook his head.

"Look, just tell me the plan"you quickly said.
Damon took half an hour explaining the plan, and after he was done you looked at him with widened eyes.

"You really think it will work?"you bit your lip curiously.

"I’ve thought about it so many times and if we pull it off, this could be it. Katherine free for the rest of our lives”


"Y/n, just hear me out you’re my best friend and you know that I would do anything for you, I would go to the ends of the earth for you. I would die for you. When I heard that Katherine was back I was ready to just surrender because I didn’t want her back in Mystic falls near you. But then I thought of this plan and I knew that if there was any chance that I could live and spend the rest of my days with you then I would take that chance"Damon explained, He was pouring his heart out to you and you were speechless.

"I would take that chance because I’m in love with you y/n y/l/n and I wouldn’t want to die or live for anyone else… well apart from Stefan"he gripped onto your hand as he confessed everything.

"Damon I love you too, and this is the most stupidest plan you’ve ever had I mean it’s practically suicide but count me in, damn it count me in because your the only thing I care about and if Katherine does manage to get the better of us then I’m glad we get to go together. The way it’s always been"your heart exploded in your chest, you were happy that you could finally spill your emotions.

Part 2?

“I’ve loved you since the first time I saw you. I think I was twelve. It took me three years to pluck up the courage to speak to you. And I was so scared about the way I felt. You know, loving a girl. So I learned how to become a sarcastic bitch to kind of feel normal. I screwed guys to make it go away, but it didn’t work. When we got together it scared the shit out of me. Because you were the one person who could ruin my life. I pushed you away. I made you think things were your fault. But really I was just terrified of pain. I didn’t want to be a slave to the way I feel about you, can you understand? You were trying to punish me back and it’s horrible. It’s so horrible, because really, I’d die for you. I love you. I love you so much, and it’s killing me.”

Skins (2007-2013)

Dear fellow writers and readers,

Recently, there’s been some confusion in the writing community amongst writers relating to original ideas and “stealing ideas.”

This may come as a shock to some of you, and some of you may have already witnessed this happening.

If you have no idea what I’m talking about, then consider this a very informative PSA because I’m about to break this down for everyone.

As writer, we are tasked with the different duty of constantly coming up with new ideas and reinventing plots and stories based off of characters you already love.

If that wasn’t hard enough, we have to try to set our writing apart from one another by creating a unique style and voice of our own to make our stories enjoyable to our audience.

Now, imagine that you have a great idea that you worked hard on, and someone took it away from you. After all of the hard work and effort you put into it, someone took it from you and made it their own. How would you feel?

How would you feel knowing that the 20K+ word fic in your drafts that you’ve spent hours preparing and slaving over can’t be posted now because someone you confided in stole your idea?

Now, don’t get me wrong, there is a difference between writing the same topic as another writer and flat out stealing their idea.

For example, I write for the teen wolf fandom. A few broad topics I could choose to write for would be Alpha!Stiles, or Domestic!Stydia, maybe if I wanted to I’d write Singledad!Stiles if I was feeling it.

Those are topics that are universally open to everyone that no one has the write to claim as their own.

Now, if I wrote an alpha Stiles smut that is parallel to the ones I’ve seen floating around on here, that my friends is stealing an idea because I used someone else’s plot for my own story and thought I could get away with it.

Characters and broad topics are those of the creator, not your own. There is a difference between being inspired by a writer and taking their idea.

Just because someone else wrote a fic where Stiles is a beta, for example, doesn’t mean that nobody else is allowed to because that’s such a broad topic that can be expanded on and sculpted by many wonderful minds until they make it their own.

Writing is such an incredibly hard task as it is and the people that steal our ideas make it harder to produce quality content for our followers.

At the end of the day all I’m trying to say is be mindful. Write your own original ideas because I’m sure they’re amazing and don’t steal your “friends” ideas that they haven’t written or posted yet and pass them off as your own. It’s immature and childish.

I hope this cleared up any confusion floating around our community and gives you a boost of confidence to post something you’ve been afraid to out of fear of being criticized for it.

anonymous asked:

Mo! Omg I miss your writing alot but I hope you're doing well. I've been looking for some other writing blogs to keep myself busy until your triumphant return lol. Any recs? :)

Anon! Hello. I am truly grateful for your patience, you have no idea lol. I am deeply sorry life has gotten in the way and I haven’t been posting as much. I will make a return soon (I hope). Anyway, you want recs? I’ve got a few lol.

@kpopfanfictrash ~ Okay. You know my obsession with Shan. And if you don’t, I must not be promoting enough lol. This brilliance of a human being has posted her writing time after time and I am so in love, it’s ridiculous. She’s also insanely stunning and incredibly witty and has made me mad for her Jimin smut ‘No Strings’ so. There’s that. You can find her masterlist here and I hope you can find something to your liking. 

@seoulscapes Em’s masterlist can be found here and she writes not only GOT7 but BTS, Seventeen, Monsta X, and some Blackpink as well. She’s a lovely human being and quite talented at that so please do peruse the masterlist because there’s alot on there I’m sure you’ll be drawn to! ALSO. She loves Nam Joo Hyuk has much as I do so really, what more do you need?

@yeol-stole-my-soul now I don’t read very much EXO (idk why I’m a bit ashamed lol) but when I’m looking for it, Maria is definitely my stop. Her masterlist is here and I’m sure you will become as obsessed with ‘The Sound of Music’ as I was when I read it because yanno…Sehun’s not my bias or anything. Idk what you’re talking about. And I patiently await an update for ‘Never Ever’ because that shit has me squealing so…yeah. And I’m not going to get into Park Chanyeol. I try my hardest to stay away from him and remain faithful to my wrecker, the perfect Byun Baekhyun, but it’s cool. Really. (And though we’ve never actually spoken, she seems absolutely lovely.)

@the-porcelain-doll-xo so Fal is a new follow, I’ve been reading her work for a few weeks now, and I guarantee her masterlist is gonna drive you insane. It’s too much I tell you, IT’S TOO MUCH. A warning: do not read while on the subway, the train, in a classroom, out in the hall by your classroom, waiting in the car, the grocery store, a friend’s place…look. Just read in a space where you can yell freely and maybe cry a little. That’s what she does to me. Does…does she not do that to anyone else? Just me then. Because I freak out when I get notifications from her lol. Like ‘Beautiful Stranger’? Kill me. I don’t bias Park Jinyoung I DON’T OKAY? And I have not read everything Mark Tuan on there. I haven’t. I promise. Maybe. 

And as always, I have to mention @parkjinyoungology and @engraved-in-the-moonlight and @yves-saintlaurtuan and @venjaeance because they’re one of the first writers I discovered when I made my way back onto tumblr a few months back. While I was slaving over my own work, theirs kept me motivated and fangirly as I threw out idea after idea and re-wrote chapters of my own. So please do check them out because they’re talented (everyone I mentioned are insanely so) and they deserve your likes and comments and reblogs and love. 

Hope this helped anon. Happy reading~

Originally posted by ceohan

Vibrations - Deaf!Michael

thank you to unlostmgc for submitting another fic!

Michael had been born this way; when I met Michael, he couldn’t hear a thing – no voices, no music. He couldn’t hear the crash of cymbals as Ashton slammed his drumsticks against them, or the delicate twings of strings as Luke plucked at his guitar. He couldn’t hear Calum’s bass as he slapped against the fretboard, or my keyboard as my fingers danced across the keys. Even though Michael’s ears didn’t quite work, he still found it in him to enjoy music. Michael hadn’t missed a single session.

I didn’t know when it was that I knew I’d fallen in love with him; maybe it was the first time I’d seen his fingers trace the criss-cross pattern of a speaker as Calum played a bassline just for him. It could have even been that time I’d watched him touch his fingertips to Luke’s throat as he went through tuns and adlibs. Then there was that other time, when he’d sat with his back to Ashton’s bass drum so he could feel the beat in his bones.

There was no one that appreciated music as much as Michael. He heard it in a different way to everybody else – though vibrations that set his body alight. You could see just how much it meant to him, his cheeks tarnished a shade of crimson, and his just-as-dark lips spread over his teeth as he grinned with his forehead pressed to the speaker. I had never known Michael to be too far from the vibrations.

Luke and Michael had met at The Deaf and Dumb Institute when they were both sixteen. The place had opened as a school for special needs kids back when special needs wasn’t known as special needs, and Luke tutored there on Wednesdays. They’d clicked pretty much instantly, and after a couple of months Luke introduced us to Michael. We became our own little group, and he became the heart and soul of us all.

I remember thinking that Michael couldn’t have possibly been more beautiful; back then he hadn’t started to experiment with self-expression just yet, and he had blonde hair that fell across his face in a fringe that I remember describing as ‘absurd’ until it inevitably grew on me. Nowadays, Michael had dark stubble and his hair was a shade of red that matched his lips, and fuck, he’d somehow gotten more and more beautiful as the days went by. Broad shouldered, with toned arms and long legs and the collarbones with the dips.

He was the epitome of beauty.

Sitting across from him, I wanted to write songs about how the twist of his cherry lips made my blood pulse in my veins. I wanted to write songs about how just a single touch of his skin against mine made wildfires burn in my stomach. I wanted to write songs about Michael.

I revelled in the way he watched me as my fingers stroked across the black and white keys, my eyes fluttering closed and my tongue peeking out to rest on my lower lip as I played. The way his eyes followed my fingertips made my skin feel like it was covered in flames, burning like nobody else could make it burn. I would give up everything to have Michael watch me like this, forever.

This song was the one I’d been working on for almost a month now, that I just couldn’t get right. As much as Calum had offered to help me write the lyrics, this was the song that I wanted to finish on my own. I’d slaved over it for hours and hours at a time, on the verge of pulling my hair out in frustration. It was toxic, but had too much potential for me to simply throw away.

He was still watching me, even as I huffed, puffed, and started again over and over. It was almost like he was taunting me, his eyes taking in my frustration as I tried to put his essence into notes on a piano. The progression I had was too rough, too hard-edged, and it was becoming a paradoxal jumble as I tried to fit in softer notes.

Letting out a soft grunt, he righted himself before he shuffled slowly towards me. My fingers left the keys and I tilted my head to watch his every move. I felt my entire body become warm as he got closer, my blood beginning to burn as he turned to straddle my piano bench. Even my ears were hot, and I couldn’t imagine how pink my cheeks were.

“Are you okay?” He signed, and I was grateful for the distraction as I watched his hands move in simple gestures. I loved his hands. I loved how his fingers were so small, his palms vast and his fingertips callused from plucking at Calum’s bass. I couldn’t imagine how they would feel against my skin.

I nodded, looking away from his hands and up to his big, green eyes. His jaw was shaded with just the perfect amount of stubble, his skin ever-porcelain and almost crystalline and his tousled, red hair falling across his forehead. Long eyelashes fluttered as his pink lips turned down in a frown, and concern laced his features as he cocked his head in a ‘why are you lying to me?’ kind of way.

“I’m fine, I promise.” I gestured, but his frown didn’t waver as he leaned forward to press a kiss to my temple.

I hated when he did this. He kissed my forehead and wrapped his arms around me and held me to his chest like I was a porcelain doll that he needed to protect. He would cuddle into me and trace the curve of my shoulder and act as if he reciprocated the feelings I had harboured for years. It was torture in the most poisonous of ways.

Michael let out a soft grunt that sounded an awful lot of like the first syllable of my name. He’d been trying that lately; studying how our lips moved when we spoke our titles, and trying to mimic the sounds until we gave him affirmation. The only one he’d gotten perfect so far was Luke, though he’d gotten extremely close with Ashton. It was more “Shtn,” but the twenty-one year old had appreciated the gesture.

I sighed breathily, my eyes closing as Michael dipped his head down to lean against my shoulder, his arms wrapping around me so I couldn’t escape. Neither of us moved, his breath fanning across my neck and his lips so close to my skin that I found myself never wanting to leave his grip. I wanted Michael to hold me every second of the day, because I felt so warm and at home in his arms.

“I’m in love with you.” I said aloud, and he must have felt the vibrations in my neck, his head lifting to look at me in confusion.

When I shook my head, he let out a short puff of air that brushed against my cheek, and my head turned slightly. It was almost like my soul was leaving my body as my nose brushed against his, and he didn’t even make the effort to move as my breath hitched in my throat. My lip quivered as his forehead pressed against mine, and I felt my arms become stormed with goosebumps.

I wanted to kiss him. I wanted to know if his lips were as soft as they looked, or if his hair was as coarse. I wanted to know if his tongue tasted like bubblegum. I wanted to know if he would get as kiss-bruised as I thought he would. I wanted to learn about Michael. I wanted to kiss him.

He didn’t move an inch as I threaded my fingers through the thick locks at the nap of his neck, his eyelids slipping closed as he pressed closer. I could feel the warmth of his skin as his nose knocked against mine, and I let out a shaky breath as my lips enveloped his top one. He flinched, plump lips parting as I suckled gently, before abruptly letting go.

I panicked, shoving him back to create a space between us and in turn pushing myself off the bench. Landing with a thud, my breathing started to pick up again as Michael slid himself down the wooden seat to look down at me. He looked a little startled; with cheeks that were ever-reddening, but it made me all the more embarrassed.

I couldn’t believe I had risked our friendship for a petty little kiss.

“I’m sorry,” I signed quickly, probably getting the gestures wrong in my fervour as I clambered towards my bed. I was going to scream into my pillow for being a pathetic little creature that couldn’t handle her feelings.

I was halfway to the headboard when I heard the patter of Michael’s feet against my wooden floors, and then the bed dipped and squeaked with his weight as he crawled towards me. It was slow, and I looked back at him over my shoulder before I cowered down into the pillows, curling myself into a ball as he leaned to hover over me.

“St-” He sounded out, a little smile teasing at his lips as he gently pulled my legs away from my chest, straightening them just enough to nestle his hips between my thighs. My heart kicked up a storm in my chest, thundering against my sternum and jumping into my throat as my blood pulsed through my arteries. I felt like I couldn’t breathe, Michael’s hands making swift gestures that I read as; “Don’t say sorry.”

My eyes widened in shock as his lips made contact with my cheek, and I sucked in a breath as he snuffled at my jaw until he was leaving tiny kisses against my chin. I could feel gentle puffs of air against my neck as he let out little giggles, the nerves that had once made me completely nauseous dissipating with every one of his breaths.

I was still playing dead, my eyes unblinking and my arms limp at my sides, but this only seemed to make him more amused. Michael stopped his little affectionate assault on my face, but only to capture my wrist between his fingers and move my arm to loop around his back, placing my hand at the nape of his neck before he slipped his fingers in the slots of mine and moved our hands into the thick hair at the back of his head. He didn’t let go until my fingers were tugging gently at the strands, and he pressed that palm into the pillow at the side of my head before he used his other hand to pull my other hand up to tangle in his hair, too.

Michael stilled for a moment, his tongue dipping out to lick his lips as his eyes fluttered closed, and he took a few seconds to revel in the feel of my fingers pulling at his locks. His reaction was a reason to live, his hips wiggling slightly as a shudder rippled down his spine, and his head dropping down so that we were temple-to-temple and his body dropped down so that he was on his elbows. His breathing evened out, soft, almost inaudible whines leaving his lips and my frozen wasteland of a body defrosting like I’d been shoved in a microwave.

I listened to his breathing until mine matched, running my fingers through his hair and watching him as he moved his head so that my fingers caught and tugged a little harder. It was unfathomable how much he liked it, even as I softly scratched my nails against his scalp. He shivered, the quake vibrating through my chest as he wiggled slightly.

He didn’t pull away when I turned my head to nuzzle into the hinge of his jaw, sponging a kiss into his stubble before I gently tugged his head back. I wanted his lips, and he did nothing but comply as I softly connected them with mine. His nose pressed into my cheek as he sucked my bottom lip into his mouth, and I felt every molecule of unease leave me as I relaxed beneath him.

Maybe I hadn’t risked everything for a petty kiss.

His lips were plump and warm, and moist in a nice way. They had a softness to them that was mesmerising, and left me aching for more. There were heavy breaths caught between us as we tilted and rotated to get closer, wet, soft kisses becoming deeper, more feverish. My mind was whirring, my lips parting and a moan rolling through my vocal chords as his tongue dipped into my mouth. Without thinking, I pulled roughly on the mess of thick locks at the nape of his neck, and he groaned gutturally into my lips as a shudder ripped down his spine, and his hips jolted forward.

I was reduced to a moaning less, my head falling back against the pillows as his belt buckle pushed up against my jeans in all the right places. He didn’t blink an eye, his hand moving to grip my throat and his palm soaking up all of the right vibrations as he rolled his hips once again. A strangled breath was pushed out of my mouth as he dropped his head down to the column of my neck, sweeping his lips across the skin and laving warm, relaxing kisses into my flesh.

He made a soft noise as I twisted his hair between my fingers, lifting my knees enough to cradle his hips as they rutted in a half-rhythm that had the both of us panting. His face was hot, and his cheeks were flushed red when he came up from my neck, freshly littered with love bites. I moved down to give him the same treatment, my lips enclosing around his Adam’s apple as he ground gently against me. Shaky breaths fanned my hair as I nipped and sucked on the column of his throat until he was marked pink and red, and he was moaning softly into the pillow as the denim of his jeans came into contact with mine.

He wasn’t fazed in the slightest when I slipped my fingers underneath his shirt, Michael’s back muscles twitching as I trailed my fingertips across the skin, dragging the t-shirt with me. Pulling away, he wrestled with the shirt until it slipped over his head, and then his hands moved down to my hips to rid me of mine. I wriggled out of it, and he threw to the floor as if it offended him. His fingers immediately went to my belt, tugging at the leather until it was free from the buckle, and he moved back slightly as I lifted my hips to get the denim down to my thighs. He tugged at the elasticised material, pulling it haphazardly over my feet and dumping it off the end of the bed before coming to hover over me again. I made fast work of his jeans, pulling his belt loose and popping the button, pressing my chest against his as I reached around to push the material down over his ass.

He latched onto my neck, his teeth grazing the flesh and his fingertips pressing into my jugular while I tried to get his jeans off. They were tighter than mine and not elasticised, and I barely got them to his calves before he was shoving them off and gently sinking his teeth into the new mark. I clawed at his hair in retaliation, tugging just hard enough to make his palm enclose around my throat just a little tighter, and his hips to push just a little harder.

I could feel the ridge of him with every gentle thrust, brushing against my mound in the most torturous of ways. I’d imagined sex with Michael hundreds of times over, but I could never have imagined that it would ever happen. But I could feel him, and he was definitely as invested in the moment as I was. It was real.

He let out a soft squeak as I knocked out his arm, taking advantage of the lack of support from one side and rolling us so that he was on his back. The movement caused his lips to detach from my neck, and he almost looked confused with what to do with himself as his hands dropped down to my hips.

I watched his expression, his head melting back into the pillows, and his mouth popping open in a soft gasp as I flattened my palms against his shoulder and gently moved my hips in a rhythm that was half as slow as the one he’d set. He was still tucked away in his boxers, pushed to the side but ever so visible beneath the material. Michael shot me an incredulous glance as I trailed my palm down his chest, smoothing over the soft flesh of his stomach until I could slip my finger beneath his briefs, careful not to stimulate him too much as I lifted the waistband away from his stomach. His cock moved of its own accord, straightening up to lie flat against his stomach, twitching fervently as the elastic of his waistband snapped back against the underside of it.

Where he wasn’t long, Michael was thick. There was a perfect column on the underside, streaked with little blue rivers of veins that all flowed right to the tip, that was flushed a colour not unlike cherries. Creamy beads of pre-come slicked the head, leaving it nice and wet and I couldn’t wait to get my mouth on him.

But I wanted to tease him, fitting his covered cock right between my folds. His eyes were locked on the space where our hips met, the head of his cock peeking out from beneath his boxers and oozing more and more pre-come as I rocked my hips. The fabric of his boxers wasn’t doing much for me, my clit throbbing with every tentative stroke, but my body was alight with sparks that would shoot straight down to my clit and make me wetter and wetter.

I moved to press my palms back against his shoulders, arching my back slightly with every teasing roll of my hips. His breathing was messy, his fingers pulling at my hips in a desperate attempt to get me to move faster, but I daren’t. I wanted him to come like he deserved. He deserved a strong, mind-blowing orgasm.

I looked back down to his cock, leaking droplets across his stomach and growing harder still, and I decided that I wanted to hear him keen. He tried to keep a hold of my hips, confused as I moved to put my knees on the inside of his and slowly shuffled down the bed a couple of inches. His hips lifted straight off the bed when I pulled at his boxers, tugging them down his legs and throwing them behind me.

He gripped the wood of the headboard as I licked the little puddles of pre-come from his stomach, and he let out a painfully erotic groan as I wrapped my lips around the tip. He threw his head back, letting out a grunt when it smacked against the headboard, and one of his hands snaked down to grip at the sheets. I could feel his pulse on my tongue, hot, and he was so heavy in my mouth that I couldn’t even fathom how I was going to fit the rest of him in. He was so thick that I could barely stretch my lips over his girth, and he was harder than concrete as he slipped slowly into the warmth of my mouth. My hands ran over his hips, keeping him still as my tongue traced the ridge just under the head of his cock, that place I knew would drive him insane.

Casting my eyes up his body, Michael was the most beautiful creature I had ever seen. His eyelids fluttered as he tried to keep them open, trying to find mine as I took him down, and his jaw was loose and hanging low as soft, kitten-like mewls fell from his lips. His cheeks were already flushed a shade of red that rivalled his hair, which was sticking to his forehead like plaster.

He whined lowly as my lips popped off him with a wet suck, and his head rolled forward to watch me as I traced the map of veins that streaked across his skin like little lightning bolts, my tongue flicking over each one. Wet, open-mouthed kisses were trailed from the head of his cock, to the base, paying special attention to the spots that made him purr and the places that made him whimper. Under my tongue, Michael Clifford was a mess.

His fingers relaxed and he tried to catch his breath as I sucked generously on the dip between his balls, gently rolling my palm across the two of them like they were dice, and he was my favourite game to play. Chastely, I left the same, tongue-filled kisses on his shaft, and I licked a gentle stripe back down, and then up again, curling my tongue over the beads of pre-come that were dribbling from the head. I kitten licked at him, looking up the expanse of his body to meet his hooded gaze as my fingers wrapped firmly around him. I continued to lick, humming against his skin in a song that made him groan aloud, before his hips lifted and his cock breached my lips.

Head rolling back, he didn’t even try to hold back the sounds he was making, long, low moans rumbling through his chest as he held himself up on his elbows. His Adam’s apple dipped up and down as he swallowed, his throat looking ever so perfect with the shade of stubble contrasting against the dark, purple bite I’d left on his jugular. Simpers and keens ripped through his chest as I began to suck in long, hard pulls that hollowed my cheeks, and my fingers began to twist and tug to match my lips.

I went slowly and deeply, the hand that was in the sheets moving to tangle in my hair as his cock filled my throat in the most glorious of ways, and my hand met my lips three-quarters of the way down as his body started to tense. My eyes flicked up at him again, watching him as his tilted his chin towards the ceiling and squeezed his eyes shut. The fingers that were gripping the headboard had long since gone white, but his hold only seemed to get tighter the further I took him in my throat.

Agonising and torturously slowly, I let him rut against the back of my throat, rolling my tongue over the column of his cock with every gentle movement. I gently tugged at the base of his cock with my palm, following the path of my lips as I slowly lifted to suck adoringly on that flushed head, before he was anchored once again in the back of my throat. His thighs began to shake, and almost immediately Michael’s hands were clawing at my jaw and he was pulling me away from him before he could coat my tongue in ribbons.

We were a mess; my spine slammed against the mattress and my knees against his ribs; his fingers twisted in the pillows and his lips against my chest. From afar we would have looked like a knot, limbs entangled and sweat slicking our skin, with Michael’s hair a mess of spikes and curls and my hands clutching at the skin of his back. We were a mess, but a beautiful mess.

Michael’s biceps were still quivering, even as he lowered himself down onto his elbow and leaned to one side. His eyes flicked over my face, gauging my reaction as he trailed his fingertips down the expanse of my torso, before slipping his hand beneath the fabric of my underwear. I sucked in a breath when his thumb traced its way across my throat, relishing in the vibrations that were yet to come.

He paid very little attention to my clit at first, sliding his fingertip right past it to the slicked up part of me we were both excited for him to fill. I could feel his eyes on me, flicking down to watch my hands as I hastily pulled my underwear off, letting my legs fall open so that I could feel every sensation. Michael’s fingertip did nothing but tease, rubbing across my entrance in gentle strokes that built the anticipation for what was to come.

Hopefully, me.

He traced the ring of muscle another time before he finally dipped in, rolling his fingertip gently in a circle to stretch me out. It didn’t feel like much to me – I wasn’t a person that responded to penetrative stimulation – but I knew that whatever was going to take place afterwards, would be worth the patience.

Michael’s little teasing session continued, but I became more enamoured with his lips as he dropped his head down to my neck. He sucked a wet kiss in the space below his thumb, his hair tickling my chin as he sponged slow kisses into the pillar of my neck. Tiny, stinging sensations were muted with a soothing swipe of his tongue, and I knew that when I woke up in the morning that my skin would be tainted with hickeys.

His thumb brushed against my windpipe as I let out a soft moan, pressing his face into the flesh of my chest as he nipped meekly at the swell of my breast. He breathed out heavily, both in relief and content as I unclasped the hooks on my bra and let the cups fall to the floor. Another moan reverberated through my vocal chords as his lips enclosed around my nipple, and that one finger became two.

Tingles ignited on my skin as his teeth grazed across the peak of my nipple, his tongue flicking out to create sparks as he suckled gently on the skin. I loved the way his tongue worked; tracing the bumps that rose on my skin, and following the desperate bud in swirls and little tickles that were driving me to the brink of desperation.

My back curved into Michael’s chest as his fingers pressed further into me, scissoring slightly as he explored a new part of my body. It was less teasing and stretching now, and more pleasuring, his fingertips searching for that one point that would make his palm quake with new vibrations. Crude, wet noises filled my ears as he moved his hand, thrusting them through what felt like pools of arousal.

He nudged against that one spot, and my hands flew to his hair. His lips detached from my breast with a moist suckling noise, before he was leaning back over me with one intention, and one intention only. Michael’s hand wrapped around my jugular, and his eyes were set on my face as I tugged on the roots of his hair, and his fingers pistoned slowly into that spot until I was soaking the sheets and was more than ready for him.

I leaned away from him, reaching for the old Converse box beneath my bed, whimpering quietly as he slipped his fingers out of me. I turned away to look through the box, but not before catching a glimpse of his fingers breaching his lips. As I was rifling through, Michael made it his mission to get my untainted nipple just as bruised and swollen as the other, catching it between his lips and laving his tongue across it like it was his favourite sweet.

He flinched when a strip of condoms hit him in the forehead, and he pulled away to tear one away from the rest before dropping the spare ones on to the bed next to us. I looked back to him to watch him take the corner between his teeth, tearing the foil carefully and pulling the latex from the packet. I grabbed a little bottle of lubricant, just in case, before sliding the shoebox back under my bed, and looking back to Michael just as he dropped his head down to my chest, a long groan tearing through his throat as he tugged himself through the rubber.

He licked his lips, snapping out of whatever reverie he had fallen into as I smacked my palm lightly against his chest. His eyes flicked over my hands as I gestured the words “I want you” in a jumbled mush, but he seemed to understand as he reached for the little red bottle that sat atop the sheets. You could never be too wet.

I knew he liked when my hands were in his hair, and they immediately found their home in his crimson locks as he dribbled a little bit of extra wetness onto the both of us. It was warm, distracting me from the initial objective of its use as it slipped slowly down my skin and onto the bed sheets. It was messy, but I had an inkling that, without it, he wouldn’t fit. He may not have been big, but he was thick.

He dropped down onto his elbows, one hand dipping under my head to tangle in the once-neat strands of hair that fanned across my pillow and the other tracing across my collarbone until his fingers were parallel with the column of my throat. His index finger was awfully close to my lips, catching the currents of air that brushed through them, while his thumb took its normal place across my windpipe.

Soft kisses were shared as I trailed one hand down his back, following the curve of his hip to the thick muscle that brushed against my mound with every movement we made. His tongue slipped delicately into my mouth as I lined him up, becoming the distraction I needed as he pressed his hips forward. He pulled away to rest his forehead against mine, watching every tweak in my expression as I grasped a handful of his ass and opened up around him. Slow, tender kisses were placed across my cheeks as he sank forward inch by inch, and his eyes flicked down to watch himself disappear inside me.

His moan broke, cracking to silence as he pulled out. He might’ve been too concerned to feel all of the sensations when he pushed in, but as he slid back out, his jaw clenched and his fingers tightened just a little more around my neck. I intentionally tightened my muscles, revelling in the sound of his broken whimpers as he felt the little contractions around the root of his cock.

Michael Clifford made the most beautiful noises, his lips ever-parted as he rolled his hips in circular gyrations that were slow, yet tactful. He filled me up like no one ever had, his pelvis flush against my mound as he pushed deep, deep into me. Just thinking that this was Michael’s cock buried to the hilt was enough to make my blood turn warm and my pussy to clench adoringly around him. It was Michael. My Michael.

I lifted my legs to wrap them around his waist, the tops of his thighs pressed against the backs of mine. He was so close to me that there wouldn’t have been a mere millimetre between us. I could feel his cock, pushing deep, but there was nothing more pleasurable than Michael’s moans as he leaned down to rest his temple against mine. He was a cacophony of whines and grunts that I only wished he could hear himself, each and every sound sending a rush of warmth to where we were connected.

I jolted, pulled roughly at his hair as he repositioned himself, the head of his cock brushing against that spot he’d discovered with his fingers. He nipped at the skin of my ear in retaliation, making me hiss in pain, but it was overwhelmed with a loud moan as he nudged against that spot again. My fingers weaved their way through his hair, silently telling him, “there.”

His breath was in my ear, fanning across my shoulder as he huffed heavily in effort. His slow thrusts had morphed into something different, his hips angled to hit that spot in an ever-increasing rush to get to our orgasms. Michael’s hand moved further up my neck, and I gasped in surprise as he thrust two of his fingers into my mouth. He wanted vibrations.

I started to really moan, relaxing into the mattress as I let myself release all of the noise I was holding back. Soft moans turned into long, erotic whines with every hurried thrust, and I pulled at his hair just the way he liked. His once-quiet noises began to match mine, and mixed with the wet, crude slaps of his cock burying itself between my thighs, it was better than any fantasy I’d ever imagined.

Desperate whines and subtle glances cast downwards told me that Michael was close. He’d been close when I had my lips wrapped around him, and there was no way I would expect him to hold it any longer. I was nowhere near finished, but watching as Michael’s teeth sank into his bottom lip and his hand clutched at my neck was enough to satisfy me forever. Loud, cracking, high-pitched groans filled my ears, and his biceps started to quake once again as his hips slammed forward with a haphazard force that I knew was Michael chasing an orgasm that was right within his reach.

His hips slowed down, his forehead coming down to rest against mine as he sucked all the breath from my lungs. His mouth fell open in a silent moan, his shoulders tensing and his thighs shaking as he held eye contact, and I felt my body fill with warmth as he spilled into the condom. He worked himself through it with slow thrusts, his mouth moving down to cover mine in a sloppy kiss that was broken and sloppy and filled with breathy moans.

When his hand unfurled from around my neck, he leaned down to press a kiss to the space that had held his thumb, and he slid out of me slowly. I had never felt so empty, and almost desperately, I wanted to have him back inside me again. Panting softly, I assumed it was over, letting my head roll back and dropping my hands from his hair. I didn’t expect him to continue his little trail of kisses down my torso, swiping his tongue over that first nipple before he sponged love marks into the softness of my stomach. My hands immediately went back to his hair, and anticipation started to bubble in my veins as he grasped at my thighs.

He cast his eyes upwards, and a gasp slipped from my mouth as he enveloped my clit with those pretty lips of his. He treated it like he treated my mouth, with tongue-filled kisses and sucks that set my body alight. There was tingles and sparks and rushes of warmth to my toes and back. Two fingers were pushed into me before I could even contemplate it, and the gentle presses of his fingertips had me on the edge in seconds.

Michael looked absolutely glorious between my legs, crimson hair sticking up in all directions and glistening green eyes holding mine as his jaw flexed. He was all tongue and lips, flattening the muscle and delivering fat licks to my nub like it was a field day at an ice cream parlour. It was torture, his eyes watching me as he wiggled his tongue through my lips, gathering as much wetness as he could before bringing it back up to my clit.

His fingers were moving agonisingly slow, but he’d figured out that my clit was my ultimate weakness, his lips wrapping around it and sucking in the most tantalising of ways. He kitten-licked and teased and wiggled his tongue until I was writhing on the sheets, both of his hands moving to hold my thighs as he dipped his tongue down to my cunt. I let out shallow moans as he sucked and slurped, his nose pushing against my clit and his chin against my taint.

I could feel it building up in my stomach, the knot.

He licked and he sucked, moving back up to my clit. I wanted Michael’s tongue on me forever, tracing these same circles into my buttons every day for the rest of my life. Circles, just circles, but they were sending swift electric shocks all the way to my toes and back again, and I knew I was close to cutting the ties that seemed to be pulling my bones into my stomach.

My back arched high off the bed, my hair falling into my face as I gripped at his, my toes cramping as they curled and my thighs shaking as an orgasm tore straight down my spine. There were little electric explosions with every bone-shaking lick to my clit, and looking down at him, I could see that he was slicked to the nose with wetness. He didn’t let up until I was pulling a little harder on his fringe, giving me one last lick from taint to clit before he was hovering over me again.

I pulled the condom off him, tying the end in a knot before dropping it into the bin beneath my bedside table. He teased at the duvet covers, getting them out from underneath me, and then pulling them up over us. A little laugh fell from his lips as we were plunged into darkness, and his arms wrapped around my waist as he searched my face for my lips.

if you smile, i smile

pairing: reader x wonpil x jae

genre: fluff, angst?

word count: 2,030

note: another addition to fic wars, a continuation of how can i say, tagging my war bud @wonpillows & also @day6grams , @jaechicken , @staticfiction thank you guys for your previous comments.

He left your life as quickly as he entered it and the heartache still managed to linger for months.

Three months to be exact, that’s how long it’d been since Jae cut you deeply with his words. You felt foolish to think he had the same amount of interest in you as you did with him. You cursed yourself for being blinded by a ludicrous love that promised no happy ending. Jae had quit your job the next day after your night together, with an excuse to your manager that he found a place that would pay him better.

His departure was so sudden, there was no doubt in your mind that he left because of you. You didn’t think the situation would make him that uncomfortable, that he felt the need to escape.

Keep reading


In the cast commentary from 7x05 Emilia Clarke says that her reunion with Ser Jorah:

🔸"It’s one of the most tender moments that you will see from Daenerys this season.“🔸

Made me think…. No more ‘tender’ moments left for D@ny for s7…. Hmmmmmmm….. None left for poor ol’ Jon Snow? No more 'chemistry’ left in the tank? 🤔😏

Also Kit mentions that Jon was trying to work out the complexity of who Ser Jorah is….. from his initial belief that he was a no-good slave trader to why does D@ny have him by her side. ❎ No mention of 'JEOLOUSY’. Jon simply wants to scrutinize the enigma of who Ser Jorah really is because as KITN, on a mission to save humanity, he needs to know who his allies are.