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starryeyedjanai · 4 months

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bad boys do it better

rated: teen | @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt: modern au tags: dating apps, innuendo, bad flirting read on ao3

✿

Eddie finally opens Tinder after downloading it in a fit of desperation.

He's tried everything but these stupid apps—bars and clubs and pottery classes and rock climbing—trying to find someone he can connect with.

But he's mostly found guys that string him along with whispered sweet nothings and half-promises they don't intend to follow through on.

So he makes his profile and then promptly fumbles and drops his phone because— no fucking way.

There's no way this is real life.

There's no fucking way the first guy to pop up is Steve fucking Harrington, his unfortunate and longest lasting crush in high school.

He picks up his phone and sees Steve's face staring back at him, unassuming, a bright, cheery smile on his face.

Steve, 28 2 miles away "Hope you like bad boys because I have it on dvd and vhs" Interests: baseball, basketball, live music, movies

He taps to get to the next photo and lets out a shaky breath—the shorts of what can only be his Halloween costume are so short, exposing hairy thighs that Eddie wants to sink his teeth into.

The next photo is a snapchat picture of him grinning wide, cradling what might be the world's ugliest dog, the text across the screen reading my nephew is so handsome 🤩🤩🤩.

The last is an obligatory shirtless mirror pic, not showing off washboard abs, but the soft, toned skin of his stomach.

He closes the app, sets his phone down, and breathes through his nose.

This can't be real, right? In what world would Steve be the first person in a sea of profiles in San Francisco of all places?

Eddie expected him to chase after Nancy Wheeler when she went to Boston, but he didn't stick around long enough in Hawkins to find out if they ever rekindled their will-they-won't-they relationship.

Maybe he's just visiting. Maybe he found his match and just forgot to delete Tinder. Because there's just no way Eddie has this kind of luck.

He opens up Instagram and searches for Steve and finds him right away because they're probably still Facebook friends.

He scrolls through his profile and deflates a little, because all of the pictures on Tinder are from his Instagram. Which means it's probably much more likely that someone is catfishing using Steve's pictures.

Because the Steve from high school wasn't into men. And he's hot enough for someone to use his pictures to scam people or whatever.

He opens up Tinder again and his thumb is swiping right before he thinks about what he's doing.

It's a match!

Okay, now he knows it's a catfish. Or maybe it's a bot.

There's no world in which Steve Harrington would swipe right on him in the twenty minutes it's been since he created his account.

He types a message to "Steve" saying so are you a bot or just a catfish?

He doesn't get a response right away, so he clicks out of the messages, looking at profiles of what are hopefully actual people he can connect with.

His phone buzzes when the message from Steve comes in.

Hi3 Eddiems, cl!ck th3 linkin my proffile to . achat I am waitin9

He rolls his eyes and goes back to perusing profiles. It's not like he thought it was really Ste-

His phone pings with another message and he clicks back into the chat immediately.

That was a joke. There's not even a link in my profile

Eddie's heart beats a little faster, his fingers typing out a response.

So a catfish then?

Why do you think I'm a catfish?????

Because I know the guy in those pictures and there's no way hes into men. That guy was a jock extraordinaire in high school and very straight

You're awfully judgey for someone who was so anti-conformity in high school. Whos to say I haven't changed?

Or like, learned new things about myself?

Eddie's breath stutters in his throat.

Also you didn't really know me since we never talked.

Okay, I mean. It's pretty easy to guess that I was counterculture in high school by looking at me. So I'm still on the fence about the catfish thing

How about we meet up then? So you can see me in all my nearing-30 glory

And watch bad boys on dvd and vhs with you?

Dude, I am not inviting you to my house on the first date

That's a third date kind of thing

Oh yeah? Is it a back-to-back feature? We start with the vhs then move to dvd?

He can't believe he's entertaining this. A catfish wouldn't offer to meet up unless they thought Eddie wouldn't call their bluff. He kind of wants to see where this is going.

No see, we start with the dvd playing in the living room and then when we inevitably start being bad boys🥵 in the middle of the movie, we can pick it back up on vhs in my room later

To be clear, we stop the movie, right? I'm not sure bad boys has a soundtrack meant for the kind of activities we'd be doing

Oh for sure. I'd even put on my "let's get it on" playlist. As a treat.

Eddie can't help but grin. Even if this guy is a catfish, this is maybe the most fun he's had talking to someone in a long time.

Are you serious about meeting up?

Uh yeah, I can't have you thinking I'm a catfish forever

What's your favorite brewery?

Cellarmaker

Wanna do tomorrow afternoon at like 2 when it's not busy?

That sounds perfect

He isn't sure if it's really Steve or if he's going to be met with someone else or stood up, but at least he'll get to drown his sorrows if it doesn't work out.

Well—he's unsure until he gets the 'stharrington started following you' notification on Instagram a few minutes later.

He screams into his pillow so loud his neighbor thumps on the wall.

#steddie #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie drabble #steddie ficlet #steddieholidaydrabbles #st ficlet #janai.doc

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sacutilihoq · 2 years

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Nokia bh 213 mode d'emploi samsung galaxy trend

jour, Mon Samsung galaxy S6 est bloqué. J'étais en train de faire un Sudoku. J'ai en visuel ma partie commencée, mais je ne peux plus rien faire .

TRANSMETTEUR FM CHARGEUR VOITURE BLUETHOOTH 2 PORTS-iHOWER. Référence H213. État : Nouveau produit. CHARGEUR VOITURE BLUETHOOTH. 2 PORTS. Marque: iHOWER.

Écouteurs vraiment sans fils TW200 avec étui de charge; Bluetooth 5.1 : portée de 10 m; Autonomie en lecture : 4-5 h; Autonomie en veille : 120 h

https://rohovokoj.tumblr.com/post/694358006417293312/offre-demploi-architecte-montpellier, https://rohovokoj.tumblr.com/post/694358545833115648/mode-demploi-samsung-galaxy-s9, https://rohovokoj.tumblr.com/post/694357748250542080/formation-facebook-ads-pdf, https://rohovokoj.tumblr.com/post/694357498824638464/bluetrek-surface-sound-duo-mode-demploi, https://bupenononis.tumblr.com/post/694359101014147072/rta-b742-pdf.

#http://vk.cc/c7jKeU #  <center>NOKIA BH 213 MODE D'EMPLOI SAMSUNG GALAXY TREND >> <a href= rel="nofollow # #   Total TTC. Continuer mes achats Commander · contact · plan du site. Rechercher. Catégories. > ETUI #25 avr. 2019 Tagged: 5 #d'emploi #de #Efassor #l #l'iphone #mode #oreal d'emploi samsung galaxy trend Pyrolysis four whirlpool mode d'emploi iphone 5c.#Nokia bh 213 mode d''emploi samsung galaxy trend. The astronaut''s wife trailer Pizza bonici st orens de gamesville catchup.#For example: Your order confirmation email; Your address change confirmation email; Your payment confirmation email; Your order delivery no #PAL-BH #PAL-DK #PAL-I #SECAM-L. le mode d'emploi fourni par le fabricant de votre.#Bon

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marko-dwight · 2 years

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5 plus grosses erreurs à éviter lors de l'achat d'un smartphone

5 plus grosses erreurs à éviter lors de l’achat d’un smartphone

Lors d’un récent voyage dans un centre commercial, j’ai entendu quelqu’un dire: “J’aurais aimé choisir un téléphone avec une meilleure caméra selfie.” Le geek en moi voulait avoir une conversation rapide avec la personne mais j’ai contrôlé mes émotions et je suis passé à autre chose. Mes lecteurs me parlent sans cesse des mauvais choix qu’ils font lors de l’achat d’un téléphone. Je leur dis…

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#comment choisir quel téléphone acheter #conseils d&039;achat de téléphone #erreurs d&039;achat de smartphone #erreurs d&039;achat de téléphone #erreurs de smartphone #quel téléphone me convient #Smartphone à éviter

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mesachatstemu · 7 months

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Ce lot de 240 bandes auto adhesives pour relever les paupières est à éviter absolument ! Les bandes sont trop minces et elles collent mal sur les coins. Aucune explication en français, il faut aller regarder les photos sur TEMU qui sont peu explicatives. J'ai testé car il coute seulement 1,79 euros. Alors je n'ai peut être pas la bonne méthode ( j'en ai essayé plusieurs) mais en tout cas, sur moi, cela n'a AUCUN effet ! Ma note est de 1/10

#temu #mes achats #mon avis #bande paupière #adhesif paupière

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lesbiaeneas · 9 months

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[image description: the following lines from the a.s. kline translation of Aeneid 10:

Aeneas spoke to faithful Achates: "Supply me with spears, those that lodged in the bodies of Greeks on Ilium's plain: my right hand won't hurl any at these Rutulians in vain."

/end description]

the way it is literally the same set of weapons used in the trojan war. it is the same weaponry it is the same war history is a washing machine cycle of the same blood being spilled over and over

#max.txt #aeneidblogging #aeneid daily

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thefloweredblade · 4 months

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My favorite lesser seen depictions of the Goddess :)

💗🐚🪻💗🐚🪻💗🐚🪻💗🐚🪻💗🐚🪻💗🐚

In order

Astarte Syriaca by Dante Gabriel Rossetti

Venus Verticordia by Dante Gabriel Rossetti

Venus Wringing the Water From Her Hair, Standing At the Water’s Edge by Marcantonio Raimondi

Venus At Her Birth Attired By The Three Graces by Benjamin West

Venus and Cupid by Evelyn de Morgan (filter added by me)

Aphrodite by Gustave Moreau

The Birth of Venus by Paul Joseph Blanc

Venus by Alexandre Cabanel

Terracotta bust of Aphrodite Pandemos

Aeneas and Achates Meeting Venus by Warwick Goble

💗🐚🪻💗🐚🪻💗🐚🪻💗🐚🪻💗🐚🪻💗🐚

#lady aphrodite #lord aphrodite #aphrodite deity #aphrodite goddess #aphrodite worship #aphrodite #helpol #e offering #art #Venus #Astarte

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quietlyimplode · 10 months

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Welcome to Black Widow Fest 2023.

Usually I’ve been posting this a bit earlier but it’s been a bit of a scramble to get this ready given all that’s been going on. This year has had an intense start with hospitals, follow ups, and family stuff. I wasn’t sure it was a feasible thing- but I’m glad it’s going ahead <3

For those who are new, Black Widow Fest runs for the 5-7 days before (or after) the 9th when Black Widow aired in 2021. It’s a week of fic centred around Natasha.

You are 100% welcome to join in (just tag #bwfest2023) and I’ll try and reblog all I can. Otherwise it’s just me and the following (links will be added as we go):

2nd July - Ask Game - Send in the first line of a story (and a pairing) and I’ll finish it off with a short drabble/fic

anguish, regret, sorrow and woe (Natasha and Yelena)

Thunderstorms (Clint/Nat)

safe. guard. (Natasha and Tony / Clint/Nat)

nightmares (Clint/Nat)

Achates (Pepper and Nat)

broken pieces floating by (og avengers / Clint/Nat)

swing and a miss (og avengers/Clint/Nat)

hide and seek (Clint/Nat, Yelena)

Debrief (Tony and Nat)

Siblings (Wanda and Natasha)

3rd July - The Aquarium (Clint/Nat)

4th July - Leave Everything but Your Bones Behind (mini sequel to this fic)

5th July - Solemn - Pepper and Nat

6th July - Wild Geese - Black Widows (cruelty is easy)

7th July - Some Advice (Clint/Nat)

8th July - Mirror Mirror (Natasha)

9th July - Kiss The Dread Update - chapter 7 now up (story here if you want to catch up before the update)

Black Widow Fest 2021

Black Widow Fest 2022

It will be cross posted to ao3 at some point.

Lastly; as always, your words and encouragement and community always means so much. <3

#bwfest2023 #natasha romanoff #black widow #my fic #natasha romanoff fic #black widow fic #clintasha #clintasha fanfiction #clint barton #bw2021 #hawkeye

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woeswrites · 1 year

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Fidus Achates

Capulus

To his team, Spencer has only ever been treated as an encyclopedia. Only when they're at a loss do they search through his pages. He is used and used, but is never once appreciated. Maybe that is what motivated him to seek a confidant. Someone who can sympathize with him and see him for what he truly is; a person and not just a machine spitting out facts (though he can do that too).

Or... Spencer Reid seeks out a therapist and realizes he has some boundary issues, to say the least

Pairing: yan!Spencer Reid x male!OC

Word count: 1,031

Notes: Don't expect quick updates to this. I'm a very inconsistent writer. Editing constantly

"Hello, this is the office of Dr. Ward, correct?"

A well-kept and most likely middle aged receptionist took a break from her string of typing to look up. The nameplate displayed front and center on her marbled counter read “Karla Thompson, Front Desk Representative”.

"You’re in the right place, name please."

She held a tight (yet appropriately polite) smile on her face. She didn’t appear displeased but it was evident she had a lot on her hands.

"Spencer."

The woman held eye contact expectantly.

"Oh right- uh, Spencer Reid". She punched in something before responding.

"It seems your new here. You'll need to fill out these-" Just before Karla could finish grabbing a stack of forms to drop on him, Spencer reached into his leather satchel.

“-Actually…” Reid slipped a standard folder labeled ‘WARD’ out of his bag and onto the countertop. "I filled them all out already.” The woman was a bit surprised but reached over nonetheless. “I can get pretty busy so I figured I would do all this desk work prior to coming in. It has been shown to save up to…" His words began to fade as he realized he was going off again. "Sorry." Karla nodded and opened up the manila casing. She seemingly glanced through the materials.

"You're lucky, our doctors have been running ahead of schedule today. Doesn't happen very often." She shook her head at her comment. "Listen, you'll need to head down to the last door on your left." The long acrylic pasted to her index finger directed Spencer toward the nearest hallway. "The doctor should be waiting for you in there." Spencer gave a curt nod as a formality.

Before he had even left the desk Karla was typing away again. The clacking was audible all the way from the nearly empty waiting room to the mahogany door inscribed with the name 'Malakai Ward'. Spencer lifted his hand up in a loose fist before rapping his knuckles against the wood. A muffled voice granted him entrance.

Spencer hadn't planned for the sudden wave of dark roast that hit his nostrils. It wasn't particularly on brand for a doctor's office, which he usually associated with more of a soap-like aroma, but he'd be lying if he said it didn't help soothe his nerves a little. Spencer was latching on to any bit of familiarity her could around here.

"Oh hello! Dr. Reid is it?"

"Huh?" Too entranced in his senses Spencer completely missed the figure standing in front of him. A tall caucasian male, approximately 27 years in age and 6 feet 3 inches in height.

‘Definitely young for someone in his profession, so there’s a high probability for an above average IQ.’

"Oh yes. Though, I would prefer if you just called me Spencer." Being addressed by that title in this situation felt a little odd.

"Alright, Spencer it is. It is very nice to meet you."

"Uh, yes, it is nice to meet you too Doctor." He was not the type to physically greet people like this, but he was unsure of exactly how he should be approaching this situation.

As a profiler, it’s not uncommon for Spencer to take in the appearance of those around him. In fact, it would be far more strange if he ignored the attributes of someone before him.

As such, all of the man's features were quickly being jotted down and stored in his mental files. Dr. Ward wore a brown curled haircut, a pair of metal-framed reading glasses, and some light stubble. His general attributes were pretty common, but a closer look reveals an amalgamation of attractive features.

Dr. Ward smiled and reciprocated the gesture. He definitely seemed more comfortable than Spencer during the interaction. The later retracted his hand in a calculated way (trying not to focus too much on the skin to skin contact) and stood awkwardly. "I believe I mentioned on the phone the reason for my reaching out to you."

"Yes, I believe you did. It's not every day that an FBI member contacts me after all." A polite laugh was exchanged as Dr. Ward motioned for the two of them to take a seat on his office chairs. "I remember finding it strange that you sought an outside professional instead of contacting a therapist whom you work alongside." Spencer took a seat on the surprisingly comfortable chair across from the doctor.

"Well, that was my intention really. I wanted to be able to speak to someone who wasn't affiliated with my... work situation."

"So, to my understanding, you have come to me in order to find someone who will listen-" Dr. Ward glanced down briefly to his notes before continuing “As you believe many of the people in your life are not willing to. Did I get that right?" Hearing those words out loud stung a little.

"It appears so..." Spencer adjusted his sweater vest at the collar.

"Don't worry, it is a relatively common occurrence in this field." The doctor offered a smile. "And I am more than happy to help you with that Spencer. You will always have my undivided attention while you are here."

Spencer's eyes widened slightly from the sincerity of the response but he quickly returned to his normal composure. This whole situation was more than embarrassing for the young wiz kid so it was comforting to know that someone wasn’t judging him for making this move. The opposite actually.

“Before we begin, have you ever had a therapist before me?” Spencer shook his head no. “That’s alright. I’m just going to briefly ask you some standard questions to help me further understand how I can best assist you throughout this process. Is that okay with you?” Spencer looked around the room for a second, gathering small bits and pieces as he did.

'Dog person'

'Hockey fan'

'Big on literature'

All of this information helped Spencer gather a better sense of who this person was behind his doctorate. It helped soothe his nerves a little knowing that, he too, was a normal person with hobbies, likes, and dislikes.

Spencer nodded, allowing the doctor to proceed.

"Alright, well lets get started then, shall we?"

#he/him #criminal minds #cm #the bau #spencer reid #yandere spencer reid #male oc #spencer reid x oc #yandere #yan #possessive love #yandere criminal minds

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wovenstarlight · 8 months

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and another rant i have built up over jinjae is their everything around food. the first instance i can remember is the courtesy chocolates SHJ brings HYJ after the Babar dungeon, when he's in the hospital (chapters 80/81), which he says is for HYJ due to the stress he must be feeling over HYH. and then immediately kills any goodwill in the very next sentence by going Wowww you're so useful and i'd love to acquire you etc etc. HYJ's not even the one who accepts them from SHJ, that's BYR, and later HYJ says he only eats them because he has nothing better to do (no other option than SHJ, huh...) and even then the Dokkaebi ends up eating half the box. gift that's barely accepted.

the next instance i can think of is post-human trafficking auction in chapter 127 where SHJ makes him eggs, but. well. literally as he's cooking they have this exchange:

(this got so fucking long i had to put it under a cut. takes your hand come with me on this journey)

[SHJ] “I’d like for you to stay unharmed until I grow bored. Mentally, I mean.” [HYJ] “And my body doesn’t matter?” [SHJ] “If your bulk decreases, you’ll be easier to carry around.”

so "i'm making food for you" but also "i don't care if your health deteriorates and/or you lose weight, as long as you're useful". an interesting combination of messages to send, given that HYJ's also struggling in this scene to figure out what SHJ wants from him, what with seemingly looking out for him and his loved ones by lending Sillekia to BYR for fighting HYH, but also still continuing with this "my item" shit and only looking at him for his usefulness. but this instance IS notable in that it's the first time SHJ cooks for HYJ. a slight turning point in their relationship...?

it does seem so cuz after that... HYJ becoming sick of orange- and apple-flavored mana potions because he chugs them so often, and SHJ responding to this in chapter 185 (birthday arc, before HYJ admitted he stole his memories) by acquiring swiss chocolate-flavored mana potions for him. already he's started with the little treats.

and then. sorry i'm feeling the 216 feelings. 1 minute. Okay normal. and then. yes once again it's chapter 216, when SHJ first starts making readably genuine attempts at kindness towards HYJ, starting the entire interaction by making him a drink that "looked like it was just juice, but it was actually sweet. Tasty." normal behavior from SHJ to rent out the entire rooftop pool and bar to show off his bartending skills to HYJ btw.

then the VR dungeon arc, where SHJ can't see HYJ until he installs the first disc, but the moment he does he starts being absolutely unbearable, the relevant part being when HYJ's reached Achates and is stressed out over HYH's treatment to the point of losing his appetite, at which point SHJ sends him the "Must Eat Well" quest to coax him into eating, rewarding him with chocolate-flavored mana potions, which HYJ himself admits remind him of SHJ:

‘But why are they chocolate-flavored?’ It made me think of that person. It had tasted good.

we're told in chapter 249 that SHJ needs to expend tremendous effort to give HYJ quest rewards and that whatever he gives usually gets cut down (he's talking about point conversions there but i suspect it applies to other rewards as well). so to specifically seek out two potions, especially ones he knows HYJ will prefer more than the common fruit-flavored ones... [puts on my large jinjae-shaped sunglasses like that shit they sell for new years]

and ok i jumped ahead to 249 for the rewards thing but come back to 245 with me and look at that series of cooking quests SHJ sent HYJ to guide him through cooking dinner for himself and HYH. copying over my discord messages from when this chapter dropped for this part of the analysis:

ALSO SPEAKING OF SHJ that chain of quests at the end. he is driving me crazy but yes the cooking quests. like. okay. I mentioned before [...] that I considered this a jinjae scene chapter because. the layers of it all right. he sees hyj wants to cook for his brother but can't decide what to make/how to make it cuz the decision paralysis is hitting after the longass day he's had. so he goes ahead and picks a meal and gives him step by step instructions. overly specific so hyj doesn't hit some dumb roadblock like "idk where the spatula is" and lose it for real. it took multiple quests to give the instructions it might've been easier to give him a prepared meal from whatever store he's picking these rewards from but he spent that time anyway because I'm pretty sure going through the process soothed hyj. normality after the Everything of it all. and then at the end of it because he Knows hyj is prone to not eating when he gets stressed he baits him into eating with rewards. like. Bro. Bro like. OUGH. he cares. he cares.... AND ALSO THAT LAST FUCKING QUEST "made with a spoonful of your partner's love" IS NOT SOMETHING THE SYSTEM WOULD SAY SHJ I KNOW YOURE LEANING INTO "OH NO THE SYSTEMS ALTERING MY MESSAGES DW" AND LETTING YOUR FEELINGS SHOW. YOUR PAPER THIN MASK overemotional over cooking. god. god and even after the cooking thing knowing that hyj would freak upon waking up and not seeing hyh and so keeping an eye on hyh and sending him a quest to tell him where he is.... like fuck dude. FUCK!

ok that's enough of that excerpt this is starting to derail from food analysis. wait hold on actually 249's point about the cost of sending quests and rewards makes the cooking quest series even more impactful because how much did SHJ spend to go to that level of detail and care for HYJ!!!

anyway back to food analysis. 256 where HYJ dies to the inscription process and SHJ purposely serves him bitter tea and sweet cookies to point out that he shouldn't take rewards that come at great costs. SHJ you really love communicating things to people through food, huh? but the fact that the second he's understood SHJ takes away the bitter tea and replaces it with something less bitter and more savory. the fact that when the scout finds him, the last thing SHJ does, even after draping his coat over HYJ to protect him from the shards of falling sky, is refill his teacup. the fact that HYJ drinks it and thinks about how it's warm.

GOD!!! do you see my vision. do you see. SHJ and HYJ and cooking and eating as an act of caring. an act of love.

#star.txt #my sranks #jinjae #han yoojin #sung hyunjae #nsglb #im probably gonna put these in the queue so i see them again later in case i remember something to add

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author-morgan · 11 months

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Title: Pleasures of Politicking Rating: M Pairing: King Ecbert x fem!Reader Summary: Sometimes, you’re the only one King Ecbert desires to see. Can be read as a sequel to The Best Laid Plans. Part one of the planned birthday fics for wifey: @mrsragnarlodbrok. 🎁❤️🍻 Happy Birthday!!!

THE PROBLEM OF the Northern invaders weighs heavily on his mind —and the crown upon his brow is a heavier weight still. Ecbert may only be the King of Wessex, but he shoulders the weight of all England. None of the other petty kings have his strength and will, not even Ælla of Northumbria, for all his pride and bloodlust.

Lesser lords, nobles, and smallfolk alike fill the great hall of Wincestre —all come to voice their concerns and woes. Most are piddling requests to appeal to and stroke Ecbert’s ego. Others have come with calls for justice against supposedly broken oaths, unfaithful spouses, and stolen sheep. It’s dull and tiresome and wears on the king’s patience. He loves his subjects, as all good kings should, but one can only endure so much yapping over insignificant squabbles in the face of the pagans who have come to murder, rape, and plunder riches from Wessex and the entire English countryside.

Ecbert lifts one of his hands from the throne’s armrest and shakes his head, cutting off Ealdorman Wulfstan’s declared grievance against his neighbor and known political rival, Leofric. “I will hear no more today,” he announces —the morning court has worn on his nerves enough as it is.

Whispers of indignation rustle through the hall, even amongst the nobility and gathered clergymen. It is not like the king to end court so soon and after hearing so few of those who have traveled far to reach Wincestre. “All of you” —Ecbert looks over those gathered, anger stirring in his gut— “leave.”

The doors of the great hall open wide, letting people shuffle out and to the courtyard. Æthelwulf stays, lingering after most have cleared —he does not understand the cause for his father’s short temper this morning. He steps to the dais, and Ecbert’s gaze falls upon his son —his only son. “This includes you, Æthelwulf.” There are protests on his son’s tongue and lips, but Æthelwulf quells the extempore thoughts and bows low before leaving too.

You step from the shadows near one of the great stone pillars —gaze lowered in piety. “What of me, my king?”

King Ecbert almost laughs —it’s an absurd question for the one he considers his closest confidant to ask. No, right now, you are the only person he wishes to speak with. The only one who truly understands the inner workings of his mind and heart. “Never you, my dear,” he answers, extending his hand toward you. “Come,” he beckons, motioning to the space beside him on Wessex’s throne. “Sit with me.”

You go to him and take the space at his side. Ecbert swore never to marry another after the death of his wife, but there are times when he wonders if such an oath is worth breaking or if you should both carry on as you do now —as king and fidus Achates. If nothing else, marriage would finally make the bishop and priests’ woeful complaints of his sinful ways out of wedlock null. But even without ceremony, you are the Queen of Wessex in all but name —everyone knows it, and nobody with half a mind would dare say otherwise.

He draws you into his side, arm draped over your shoulders as you both look ahead at the empty hall. “Did you hear?” Ecbert inquires —his hand slipping from your bicep to the nape of your neck. “Ragnar Lothbrok and his band of pagans have left our shores.” The news reached him in the early hours of the morn, and he had not wished to wake you so early for such affairs. Where once there were ten longships anchored on the river, now there are only two and a handful of lingering tents. The scouts watched from the forest for hours, but Ragnar Lothbrok was gone with his dark raven banners and shields.

“So suddenly?” You were there when Ecbert made his offer to Ragnar Lothbrok, not but five days past —an exchange of land for the help of the Northmen in strengthening Wessex. It seems a strange thing that such a fearsome and capable man as Ragnar would tuck tail and run after coming to treat with King Ecbert. You cannot imagine what drove him and his kin back across the sea with so little to show for their travels.

“A smaller party remains,” he tells you —twisting a lock of hair around his ring finger and tugging on it every so lightly, just enough for you solely focus on him. “Though, it does raise the question of what is to be done.” He’s thought of summoning the most senior of those left to treat with, but that will only serve to anger the lords and residents of Wessex even more.

“We cannot trust these Northmen.” It’s obvious, of course. In truth, it is likely foolish to put any trust in Ragnar —or any pagan. An oath not sworn to the Father or on the Holy Book is hardly an oath at all. Ecbert smiles and nods his agreement. “Nor should we entertain their presence and whims.” Their supplies are not endless. Soon they will turn their gaze to villages and towns to plunder. Such behaviors cannot be tolerated.

“No,” Ecbert concurs. “That is why I am sending Cuthberht and a score of men to remedy this.” To either drive them back across the sea or slaughter them. He hopes it will be the latter. A slaughter will be cleaner —no loose ends. You nod. It is a sound choice, an easy one too.

Still, even with one encampment eliminated, more will return —of this, you are certain, and so is Ecbert. There has been no peace since the first raid on the monastery at Lindisfarne, and now their gaze has turned southward. But England will not be able to fend off the Northern invaders if every petty king is at each other’s throats as they are now. With Northumbria, Mercia, East Anglia, and Wessex divided, England will have no choice but to fall into ruin. “England must be better prepared for the future when Ragnar and other Northmen return,” you advise.

“Yet we cannot unite amongst ourselves,” he sighs, reaching for your hand, thumb running over your knuckles —and the bare spot on your finger where he’s considered putting a ring too many times to count. Perhaps that should be his ambition —to become the King of all England and finally crown you as his queen. Ecbert lifts your hand and presses a lingering kiss on your knuckles.

You twist your hand in his grasp, threading your fingers with his, and fall silent as you ponder what can be done, what should be done. “If you could bring Mercia under heel and yoke.” It is not the first time you have considered such measures, but it is the first time you have spake of them to Ecbert.

He shifts on the throne. His curiosity piqued by the proposition, and his hand slips from yours and to your thigh, fingertips pressing into your flesh through the linen and silk of your dress. Ecbert always enjoys listening to your ploys. Often, they are taken to heart and implemented too. If you’ve a plan to unite England, he will hear it. “How would I do that, my dear?” He asks, brow raised. “Since Offa’s death, there are no less than a dozen claims to the Mercian throne.” Mercia would sooner tear itself apart than cooperate —a large host of Northmen may even be able to take the kingdom for themselves and instill Dane Law.

“Ælla.” Ecbert smiles at the mention of the boisterous King of Northumbria. Mercia lies between Wessex and Northumbria. The two kingdoms could serve as pincers and bring the unruly lords of Mercia to heel. “Ally with King Ælla,” you tell him, reaching for the golden pendant set with a polished black onyx resting on his chest, “and quash this petty rivalry among kinsmen.”

The King of Wessex goes quiet, a hand stroking over his beard while he thinks over everything you’ve said and what he’s long been considering. “Split the kingdom?” He proposes. A fair bid to share the land of Mercia, so long as it's divvied equally.

“Or install a puppet ruler,” you supplement, tugging on the pendant to draw him nearer.

Ecbert shifts again, and this time he gathers you in his arms, pulling you across his lap. The smile beneath his golden and silver-speckled whiskers twinkles in his steel-grey eyes —as do the golden flames of the candles burning in their wrought iron candelabras. “Sometimes I believe you are crueler than even I am,” he muses, one hand squeezing your waist, the other cradling your cheek. It is not the first time your advice has led to bloodshed. “And then I thank God you whisper in mine own ear and not another lord or king’s.”

You smile for him, reaching to comb your fingers through his beard, and he leans toward you, closing the distance. His lips are on yours before either of you can think further about the consequences should someone decide to barge into the great hall and see such sinful deeds. You answer his kiss, slowly at first, then with more fervor when you settle your hands on either side of his neck, drawing yourself closer.

Parting, you press your forehead against his and meet his heated stare. “Surely you have already considered such things, though.” You refuse to believe this is the first time he’s considered such actions.

“Perhaps,” he professes —one of his hands slides over your long skirt and then under it, his fingers running over your ankles and calves —masked from his touch by wool stocking— and finally to your knees and thighs, bare and warm. His palm is hot, resting against your inner thigh, his thumb rubbing distracting circles. “I do so love to hear you speak of politics,” he admits, his voice suddenly rough with want.

You shiver under his touch and burning gaze. “Ecbert,” you chide, doing your best to keep a stern tone and countenance —you cannot deny your desire for him, but here of all places to commit such sacrilege? You’ll not be able to look upon the throne of Wessex the same afterward. Ecbert cares little, though. He is king, and he would gladly take you at the foot of a church altar were you willing.

He knows how to play you like the court bard does his lute, and he kisses you again, but this time he catches your bottom lips between his teeth and gives a light tug, pulling a muffled cry from your throat. A final detrimental crack in your resolve, and then the tips of his fingertips stray farther, brushing against the damp folds of your cunt, and you shatter completely, caving into him. Ecbert makes a strangled noise of approval upon finding you so ready and willing for him.

Resignation passes over your expression, alas, and Ecbert’s lips twitch upward —another victory, even if it is small compared to winning a battle or kingdom. A gasp and weak moan escape your lips as the pad of his thumb circles around your clit, his other fingers slipping through your slick folds —teasing. “Shh, my dear.” He hushes you with his mouth as he strokes his fingers through your heat, feeling your muscles tense and flutter and his cock twitch —already straining against the ties of his britches. Ecbert nuzzles his face into your neck —lips dragging over your pulse, the beard on his jaw scraping against your skin. He’ll see you come undone by his own hand before taking his fill.

Nimble fingers fill you without warning, first one, then two. He bites his lower lip, twisting and scissoring his fingers deeper inside you, making you squirm, then repeats the same motion —this time slower, ensuring you feel the torturous drag of his knuckles. You can’t help but softly moan as Ecbert curls his fingers inside you, sweeping repeatedly over just the right spot for your vision to blur and your limbs to tremble. Ecbert watches your face twist and the warmth rise to your cheeks, his name a hushed whisper on your lips.

He curls his fingers again —moving faster— his thumb pressed tight against your clit as you rock your hips, trying to increase the friction. “Ecbert!” You plead, a little louder and breathier than before. The coil in your stomach tightens, and when you gasp aloud, he presses his mouth to yours, swallowing the noise as a man starved does a warm meal.

But his impatience wins over —he needs to be sheathed within your warmth— and Ecbert withdraws his fingers, letting you up. He fumbles with the laces of britches once your rise, just enough to free his cock, and you quickly ruck up the skirts of your dress and straddle him fully. He’s so hard and warm beneath you, cock twitching —aching— all for you. Ecbert’s cheeks are flushed in the summer air, fighting to keep his regal and temperate composure. But you hold an obscene amount of power over him —even without sitting astride his lap with a hand lazily stroking his cock, guiding him into your cunt.

Ecbert helps lower you onto him, grabbing handfuls of your thighs and bottom, and as you sink onto his cock, you clutch at his back, nails digging into the rich-blue fabric covering his shoulder blades. He sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth, groaning as he slowly slips into you, inch-by-inch, letting you reacquaint yourself with every vein and ridge of his cock dragging along the walls of your cunt. When your hips meet, you both still —a moment to adjust. But then he rocks his hips against yours, urging you to move too. His thrusts soon meet yours, hips rising from the throne. You squirm atop him, the head of his cock striking that place deep inside you with every roll of his hips.

The coil in your stomach tightens again, and this time you’ll have your end —you can feel it build inside you like a million sparks racing through your veins. “Ecbert,” you whimper, the fire in your core burning brighter, stomach fluttering with each husky grunt rumbling through his chest. He lays his lips on your neck, and you know he’ll leave more than just a small mark there —you’ll have to conceal it at mass so as to not draw more scrutiny from the bishop. Sighing into him, you direct one of his hands to your clothed breast, silently begging him to touch you there. He obliges a merciful king, indeed.

You balance yourself better with a hand on his shoulder, sliding your other hand between your bodies, but Ecbert pushes your hand aside, replacing it with his own. He tussles around, moving your skirts out of the way, and presses the pads of his fingertips against your clit, rubbing tight circles. The friction draws a long, drawn-out moan from your parted lips that you do your best to muffle against his neck as you cling to him.

The falter of your pace causes you both to fall out of rhythm, but it doesn’t matter. Not with how your cunt is clenching around his cock with each thrust. Ecbert makes a noise, halfway between a grunt and moan when your fingers twine into his gold-silver hair, tugging lightly at the roots, then your name spills like a prayer over his lips, and you can’t help it —between the smooth grind of your hips and the little whimpers and groans betraying both your lips— you press your mouth to Ecbert’s, feel the warmth of his tongue against yours. He relinquishes beneath you, giving himself over wholly in a surge of heat.

Ecbert ruts up into you thrice over, fingers still rubbing at your clit until it's too much. The warmth of his release, the friction, the tightness in your gut. Your head lolls back, eyes closed, and lips parted, and only when you are descending does he pull his hand from between your bodies. He wraps his arms around you, drawing you flush against him. You rest your head against his shoulder, labored breathing slowing in unison with your beloved king’s.

He presses his cheek against the crown of your head —all the annoyance and ire he felt earlier during court is gone. Perhaps he will be more amicable now should he invite the leeches and lepers back into the great hall to continue the morning’s affairs. He’ll have to reconvene at some point anyways.

But his thoughts stray from duty to desire again —though there is no reason why those cannot be one and the same given some circumstances. Ecbert runs his hand up your back, under a veil of hair, and comes to rest on the side of your neck, his thumb stroking the edge of your jaw and cheek affectionately. You lift your gaze to meet his, smiling lazily, but his expression is one of curious intent. “How would like to become Queen of Wessex?” Ecbert queries.

All you can do is kiss him —and it is both an answer and a promise.

[Vikings taglist: @ahotmesswithprivilege / @alicedopey / @angeliod / @charming-merlin / @darkravenqueen98 / @erzsebetrosztoczy / @gearhead66 / @gossamarnie / @gxorg / @hc-geralt-23 / @katie007123 / @ksziggy / @midnightmuze / @mikariell95 / @moonlightsspirit / @mrsragnarlodbrok / @n0sferatus / @naaladareia / @queenyalo / @savagemickey03 / @xiakahazou / @xinyourdreamsx / @xxdearlybeloved / @yalos-writing ] if your name is italicized, tumblr would not let me tag you. if you’d like to be added to my Vikings taglist, or any other taglist, just let me know with this Google Form!

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homomenhommes · 2 months

Text

saga: SOUMISSION / DOMINATION 101

Samedi matin.

Je suis le premier à ouvrir les yeux. Jimmy dans la nuit est venu coller son dos contre mon ventre, en cuillère. Ma bite raide du matin tape contre la base du plug. Avec une main, je tire doucement dessus. Le plug coulisse bien je le sors totalement, ce qui fait frissonner Jimmy. Je ne laisse pas le trou se refermer et enfile ma queue raide à la place. Elle entre toute seule profitant du reste de la graisse du plug. Je ne bouge pas. Il ne se réveille pas. Très lentement je fais quelques aller et retour avant qu'il ne se réveille. Il tourne la tête vers moi et ouvre un oeil. Je lui prends les lèvres et nous nous roulons un patin.

Nos mouvements s'amplifiants, nous finissons par réveiller Marc qui nous mate jusqu'à ce que je me vide au fond du cul. Je me retire bascule Jimmy pour qu'il présente son cul à la vigueur de Marc. Mon homme le prend alors dans la même position que moi, couché sur le coté. Jimmy tire ses jambes sur son torse pour améliorer l'accès à son trou. Je mate à mon tour. Après mon limage, il se prend sans soucis les 22cm de Marc. Il gémit doucement que c'est trop bon de se réveiller pareillement. Marc accélère et finit par se déverser en lui. Alors seulement, Jimmy porte une main à sa bite pour recueillir les quelques millilitres de sperme qui en sortent. Comme il ne voit rien pour essuyer sa main, il la lèche pour la sécher.

Quand nous descendons, une bonne odeur de café sort de la cuisine. Samir et Ammed sont déjà debout, en uniforme (shorty cuir moulant). Le café est prêt et des viennoiseries fraîches sont sur un plateau. Jimmy saute au cou de Samir et je l'entends lui glisser à l'oreille un -merci tonton, c'est trop bon de se faire enculer.

Nous les remercions et Marc prend un pot à biscuits vide et place de l'argent dedans pour les besoins de la cuisine et divers. Il avise nos nouveaux employés que c'est à leur disposition pour ce genre d'initiative.

Je pars donner mon cours de gym / muscu suivit de l'enculage en règle de mon boss, pressé de rentrer à la maison retrouver Marc et Jimmy.

Après le déjeuner, avec Jimmy collé à mon coté, je commande sur internet une bonne 20aine de slips, jocks et shortys à sa taille. Puis nous allons " à la ville " l'équiper pour maintenant. Passage chez Slipissimo ou nous trouvons de quoi couvrir ses fesses avec quelques Calvin Klein et deux maillots de bain, au magasin d'équipement de sport, je lui prends deux jocks et nous terminons notre tour chez mon concessionnaire moto pour lui trouver un casque à la taille de sa petite tête. Après bien des essayages c'est chez Shoei avec un XR 1100 Conquista qu'il trouve son bonheur. Quand il voit le prix, il veut refuser mais je lui faits remarquer que sans casque pas de moto et comme le printemps arrive les transports seront plus souvent moto qu'auto. Je me laisse tenter et pour changer de mon propre Shoei, je m'achète la nouvelle version du mien soit un X Spirit II Martyr.

Nous rentrons avec nos achats. Il court les montrer à son " tonton ". J'entends ce dernier lui dire qu'il faut mériter toutes ces attentions et bien obéir à Marc et Sasha. Jimmy lui promet qu'il fera tout ce que nous lui demanderons. ; Merci Samir !

Avec l'accord de Marc j'appelle Eric pour qu'il vienne nous aider à formater Jimmy. Il me répond qu'il passera en soirée après ses cours de conduite moto.

En attendant, nous passons l'après midi dans l'eau. Il adore ça Jimmy. Son maillot mouillé le colle comme une deuxième peau et on peut carrément voir tout les détails de son anatomie. Nous chahutons ensemble et j'en profite pour lui passer la main sue son sexe. Il bande continuellement. Bientôt, il me demande quand est ce qu'on va l'enculer de nouveau, il aime trop ça ! Je l'attrape, le colle contre moi et je passe une main dans son maillot, poussant mes doigts jusque sur sa rosette. Elle est là palpitante de désir.

Je me décide à le préparer pour Eric. Je crie à marc que nous allons au donjon. Il me répond qu'il nous rejoindra avec Eric.

Jimmy est intrigué et se demande ce que cache ce mot. Nous traversons s la cour et je le pousse dans les tentures pour entrer. Il fait encore noir. A tâtons je trouve les interrupteurs et déclenche quelques spots. Jimmy est bloqué. Il regarde partout essayant de deviner ce qu'il y a dans les parties obscures de la salle. Je le pousse jusqu'aux sanitaires pour lui faire un lavage interne. Un peu de gel sur la canule et je l'enfonce dans son cul. Remplissage, vidange, remplissage, vidange, jusqu'à ce que sorte une eau aussi claire qu'elle est entrée.

Je lui dis de me suivre et l'installe dans un des slings. Je règle les menottes pour ses poignets et fait de même avec ses chevilles. Je descends l'ensemble pour que sa tête soit à la hauteur de ma bite et le cul beaucoup plus haut. Je m'approche et il aspire ma queue dès que mon gland touche ses lèvres. Je me penche un peu et j'ai accès direct et à la bonne hauteur à son trou. Quelques crachats dessus et je lui enfonce mes deux majeurs. Je fais des va et vient, rajoute de la salive. Bientôt son anus se détend et quand j'écarte les mains, son trou s'ouvre et je crache direct dedans. De son coté, il me tête comme si sa vie en dépendait. J'accompagne sa bonne volonté de coups de rein pour l'aider à me prendre en entier.

Il m'excite grave et je dois sortir de sa bouche pour éviter de juter. Je calme le jeu. Je tire su les chaines de suspension et remet le sling à l'horizontal. Avant de l'élargir pour Eric, je veux me le faire. Autant j'aime me faire enculer par les mecs plus âgés que moi, autant j'adore enculer une jeune salope.

Je me graisse la bite et pose mon gland sur son oignon. Je résiste quelques instants à le pénétrer mais je ne tiens plus et m'enfonce dans son intimité. Les sensations son trop bonnes. J'ai juste mis ce qu'il fallait pour glisser mais pas plus. Je me concentre sur mon sexe et je ressens ma pénétration comme jamais. Son boyau colle à ma bite. Je pose mes mains sur ses épaules et d'un coup plus sec, l'empale jusqu'aux couilles. Il gémis de plaisir tout au long de ma progression. Comme mon torse est arrivé un peu près de lui, il tend la tête et attrape un téton avec sa bouche. Ça lui vaut quelques millimètres de plus dans le cul ! Je me redresse et les mains sur ses cuisses, je balance le sling pour limer son trou.

Il aime ça ! Son visage montre le plaisir qu'il prend à la chose. Merci Samir pour cette bonne salope ! Je le lime jusqu'à ne plus pouvoir me retenir et lui envoi tout dedans. Je me couche sur lui, les jambes momentanément coupées. Il en profite pour m'embrasser le front, les joues, les yeux et pour finir il me roule un patin à croire qu'il a fait ça toute sa jeune vie.

Je me redresse et sort de lui. Il serre els fesse et garde tout. Je lui dis que ce soir un ami à nous va venir le tester et que nous devons se préparer. Je lui détache les membres mais lui dis de rester sur le sling. J'approche un tabouret et prend un pot de graisse chauffante. Assis, les yeux à hauteur de son trou, je peux commencer le travail de dilatation. Après mon enculage, les deux indexes et majeurs de chaque main entrent facilement. La graisse chauffante qui les enduit commence à faire son effet et le petit trou rougit bien. Il se tortille sous mes doigts et je remplace les 4 doigts par trois de ma seule main droite. Je les fais tourner tout en faisant un mouvement de va et vient pour faire entrer la graisse. A ce stade je passe au gode. Direct celui de 22cm, après tout e vient de lui enfiler mes 20. Il prend vaillamment le morceau de plastic. J'augmente progressivement la taille du jouet que j'enfonce dans son cul. Pas un mot de refus, pas un cri, mon ptit beur accepte la domination avec un naturel qui force mon admiration. Je soumets son corps une progression rapide de dilatation mais il accepte sans rechigner.

Je m'arrête au gode de 23 x 5,5. Il faut bien qu'Eric ai encore un peu de travail à faire et je sais surtout qu'il aime les anneaux qui le serrent encore.

Je n'ai pas vu le temps passer et c'est la main de Marc sur mon épaule qui me prévient qu'ils sont là.

Je m'écarte et ils peuvent admirer Jimmy. Pendant qu'ils se mettent nus, je rattache les poignets et les chevilles en haut des suspentes et retire le gode pour que son anus se referme un peu.

Marc le premier s'enfonce dans son cul. Il le trouve un peu large, normal ! il cède la place à Eric après que ce dernier se soit kpoté. Je demande à Jimmy d'être forte et de se laisser faire (comme si il pouvait s'échapper !). Eric place son gros gland contre son anus et commence à pousser. Vite, je fais passer le flacon de poppers sous le nez de Jimmy. Sans douleurs, il se laisse empaler sur la bite noire de 26cm. Pour prendre les derniers cm (les plus larges), je lui repasse un peu de poppers. Il en profite pour me dire -merci c'est trop bon.

Marc veut lui faire la gorge. Je règle les hauteurs et fait descendre sa tête.il la rejette en arrière et Marc s'enfile en lui.

Le spectacle est superbe. Ce petit corps imberbe soumis à deux mecs virils. Je le caresse sans toucher à sa petite queue. Ma main sur ses abdos, je sens la bite d'Eric aller et venir. Il faut dire qu'elle ne doit être qu'à 1 ou 2cm sous la peau. A son oreille je lui chuchote qu'il est superbe, qu'il me rend fier de lui, qu'il sera une bonne pute à l'avenir.

Après un limage en règle d'une bonne demi-heure, Eric se lâche dans sa kpote alors que Marc qui s'est retiré de sa gorge lui jute sur le visage. Jimmy ouvre grand la bouche pour en avaler le plus possible. Excité moi aussi, quelques coups de poignet et j'ajoute ma crème à celle de Marc. Jimmy avale le tout. D'un doigt de pousse le sperme déposé sur ses joues jusqu'à sa bouche, il me le suce avec avidité !

Eric sort bite. Il se tourne vers moi et me félicite pour ma nouvelle pute. Ça faisait longtemps qu'il ne s'était fait un trou pareil. Quand je le charrie en disant que parmi ses élèves de scooter ou de moto il devait avoir le choix, il me répond qu'effectivement il ne manque pas de jeune mec à mettre sr sa bite mais que Jimmy est une pute née. Il a senti pendant tout l'enculage son anneau palpiter et le serrer régulièrement. Ses élèves ne lui ont jamais fait ça avec autant de naturel et sans qu'il le demande. Je caresse la joue de Jimmy et lui dis qu'il m'a fait honneur. Il rougit et me dit merci.

Je crois que Samir m'a trouvé la perle rare. De plus à son âge, sa croissance est terminée et il devrait garder cet aspect juvénile un bon nombre d "années.

Nous rentrons à la maison où nous attend un diner préparé par nos beurs de service.

(Pour éviter un élargissement trop constant, je le plugge avec l'engin d'exercice et lui dit de serrer son anus dessus. Ça m'a bien réussit, y'a pas de raison que ça fasse autrement avec lui).

JARDINIER

Valentine's approved

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