its just hilarious to me that fit has been the one whos escaped any kidnappings but, technically, he hasn’t been a free man since the beginning. and by hilarious i of course mean devastating
just came off my shift as an election judge and I honestly think we should make people do this. I support abolishing the draft, and I even think that jury duty can get complicated, but everyone in the country should be forced to learn about election procedure, then have to sit around for 14 hours and practice being customer service for democracy. I think that would fix us.
the real core of the american tma au for me is that it gets me ever closer to my personal truth of jonathan sims being american rock band fall out boy’s strongest and most loyal soldier
lol neuvillette just sucking ur nipples or smth is enough to have u going a bit insane right??? RIGHT????
Giggling so hard rn
Warnings: breast worship/play, dry humping, mentions of masturbation, mentions of penetrative sex; previously established relationship.
If there’s one thing Neuvillette is, it’s thorough. You ask him about one of his trials after he returns from the Opera Eclipse, and he’s talking for hours about every piece of evidence in the case; you shyly ask him to brush your hair and he’s producing several combs and brushes and an oil to massage your scalp; he decides to take you on what humans call a date, and you’re trekking through the purple fields in the countryside to the most darling little picnic spot and dining on pastries until dusk, and then returning to the city to stroll about the fountains and gardens arm in arm with the promise of a mightily thorough kiss at the end.
And he’s no different when playing your body like a fiddle. He's got you folded into his lap, office door locked, blinds only half drawn but there's no danger of anyone looking in, not when he's so wrapped around you that it's hard to seen even a glimpse of your bare skin. It started as a visit for tea, the leaves you brought from your village in the Vale fresh and still warm from being dried over a fire, chatting idly in the way you two did that Neuvillette found so refreshing and simple. Then it led to you shyly asking for a kiss, having missed him so dearly and so wantonly, shown in the way you gripped his lapels and leaned further into him with a questioning sigh and an answered grunt. And now, you're half dressed spread over his thick thighs, his coat strewn next to the two of you and his gloves somewhere with it.
"Let me taste you," he murmurs against the column of your throat, hands running up the length of your back and down again, squeezing your hips into a dizzying grind. Your breasts press deliciously against the cotton of his shirt, nipples slipping and rubbing over his chest and every time you shudder with pleasure, Neuvillette basks in the way you arch harder into him like a cat. You feel wonderful, writhing over his groin and trying not to let your darkest desires overtake you like you so often did. The precious little tea farmer he'd befriended and then courted and then decidedly and silently pledged himself to; you're full of dirty secrets and filthy wants that has him spiralling into territories he'd never even thought about before. And your tits were one of them, to put it frankly.
He's fucked you before, numerous times, to your hearts content and more often than not, to your dictation and command. It wasn't surprising that your precious Iudex wasn't particularly well versed in human seduction, and you bravely stood up to the task you had completely made up, of showing him everything you desired and introducing him to everything he desired. But today, in the secrecy of his office, the knowledge that just outside the doors, people mill about and wait for an appointment with him; Neuvillette steps away from his duties and demands the feel of your supple skin against his teeth.
"I admit," a hand grasps the fat of your breast, squeezing roughly with the whoreish rhythm you have going on with your hips, "I've been thinking often about having you like this, desperate and desiring me all from the touch I give you here," fingers pluck at your nipple before he dips his head and takes it into his mouth. He's done this before, too many times to count, but with him being fully dressed and you an absolute mess in his lap; it feels different, raw and unfiltered in the wavering sanctity of his office. You can feel Neuvillette's tongue flattening over your nipple, swirling and curling like he does between your legs and it sends you arching into him, further into his reclined figure and deeper into his lap. A dizzying moan leaves you chest when you feel the hot, hard press of his cock through his trousers, confined in such a way that it's mind numbing when you grind against it. He pulls back for a second, looking up at you with hair strewn about his face, cheeks red and ears redder, panting hot and wet against your skin.
"Don't stop, please," he doesn't care for your politeness, doesn't care for your request, doing as he pleases with your body; one hand gripping your bottom and urging you to grind against him, and the other grasping meanly at your tit. Neuvillette seems positively ravenous this afternoon, though it should have been obvious in the way he allowed you to push him over to the settee and mount him without asking.
"I'm plagued with thoughts of you during matters that I should be attending to, important matters that garner my fullest attention and yet -," he suckles a bruise into the swell of your breast, held firm by his hands, squishing them together and nuzzling into the crevice between, breathing deeply enough to shudder, "All I can think about is you, what I want to do to you the next time we are alone, the next time you allow me to have you in such undignified ways," you're shaking when he regains his focus and takes your nipple into his mouth, tugging and nipping and gnawing like he does on his bottom lip when he's concentrating, suckling hard before letting go with a pop - allowing you to take a gasping breath and to look down at how positively enthralled he is at he taste of your doughy flesh,
"You don't need to be so formal while you're playing with my tits Neuvillette," you've always been more straight forward, more brash and crude, than him; having grown up in the countryside, in another nation, a whole other life to the one he leads. He leaves a wet trail from his tongue over your nipple, catching it between his sharp teeth and tugging enough to make you whine lowly, "I - can't stop thinking about you too, 'specially when I'm on my own," the implication is implicit but Neuvillette surges up into you, hips strong and knocking into yours with a grunt. He's filled suddenly with images of you writhing in your bed, hand stuffed between your thighs, fingers wet and slick in your cunt - the same he can feel pulsing and purring over his lap.
"Tonight, I've cleared my last appointment so I can spend it with you," he gasps, lips swollen from their assault on your breasts, eyes unfocused and pupils blown wide with want "After supper, after I spoil you like I have promised; you are showing me everything you do when you are alone and desperate for me,"
I'll teach you to jump on the wind's back and then away we go.
- J.M. Barrie, Peter Pan
‘Those who don't jump will never fly’ is a dictum drilled into me from an early age. It’s one I took literally when I learned when parachuting and then later dabbled in sky diving, well before I went into the British army as a combat pilot.
Skydiving provides a unique combination of adrenalin-fuelled exhilaration and perfectly calm tranquillity. While in free fall it's all about the rush - but once the parachute opens and your heart rate steadies, you'll take a moment to gaze around you and see the whole world in a new light. It's beautiful up there, and the experience is about as close to actual flying as humans can actually get.
To the skydiver, ‘flying’ in a plane is akin to ‘swimming’ in a boat. As someone who has flown helicopters I would quible with that simple characterisation but eventually I’m okay to acknowledge there is some truth behind it.
As someone who used to parachute and sky dive as a recreational past time, I can empathise with those skydivers who live for the wind whipping past as they plummet toward the earth during free fall, and the thrill of floating on the air currents once their 'chutes are safely open. They live on the edge, though not in danger - amid the elements, but not at their mercy.
In skydiving, it is the fear response that gradually weakens. During the precipitous descent, the amply tested parachutist can savour the thrill rather than endure the panic. You may never get rid of the butterflies, but you can teach them how to fly in formation.
I love you smile lines and worry lines and grey and white hair and wrinkles and purple spiderweb veins and the process of aging and living in a body that is standing the test of times. I love you experiences that make you wiser and stories that make you laugh, and every little process that happens to get to the point where you have so many memories because you have the fortune to be here and be so radiant
some sketches for an old au of mine, where Maeglin survives Gondolin and flees from Morgoth’s forces hunting him. He has a run in with the Feanorians in one of the elven cities and is recognized as an Angband thrall/spy. To save his own life, he bargains with his ability to recreate Angrist and to share what plans of Morgoth’s he’d been privy to.
Vibes partly inspired by this track from Rurouni Kenshin
"Do you miss it? The Order?" "I miss... the idea of it. But not the truth, the weakness. There was no future there." OKAY, THIS MAN MISSES THE ORDER SOOOOOOOOOOO BAD IT MAKES HIM LOOK STUPID
I'm serious. He's carrying the husk of his long-ossified grief so obviously. It is evident in everything he does and says that he was a young knight absolutely ripped to shreds by Order 66 and its lonely, dark aftermath. He allowed despair to be his comfort, convincing himself there's nothing to mourn because it's easier than dealing with the loss.
((I love the people who tag my posts with "The Scottish Play." Like. Macbeth Macbeth Macbeth!!! The play Macbeth!!!! Macbeth by William Shakespeare!!!!! Macbeth (not the character)!!!! Get scared get scared get scared!!!!!!!!! Woe sandbag be upon ye!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Anyway happy halloween y'all :) Hope you had a good time tonight))