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@ofmagicallonging
Hi I'm Kaela, the mun behind this blog. This is an 21+ indie rp blog. I have a range of orignal characters available for all sorts of interactions.
If you're interested in rping, feel free to send a meme, reply to a starter or message me to plot. Please look at the links below for more information.
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@lostcndfound asked ❝ the ‘am i gay’ quizzes are a gateway drug. ❞ - Tory to Romeo?
Romeo had only recently discovered the online quizzes. He'd gone from a simple Google search to going down the biggest rabbit hole. He was staring at his phone intently as he tried to complete the latest quiz he'd ended up on. He looked up at Tory with a frown before holding his phone up. "It says I'm a bear. I don't think I'm a bear. It doesn't seem right. I'm going to try again cause clearly its glitches or something."
THE FLOWER SHOP II @ofmagicallonging
"Robin's going to be mad," these were the words that the vampire mumbled to himself as he looked at the ruined garden. Cornel had not anticipated the hail storm. Heck he would have known had he watched the television, but like with everything modern he struggled to even turn it on without it being on the wrong port.
Now he was standing in the mud that was caked to his shoes, debating whether there was any way to gather the ruined peonies and hydrangeas that they needed for the commission. A wedding no less. Still he got to work gathering what he could, hoping that the blonde man could work some magic even with some not so perfect flowers. Maybe hide the ruined petals?
The amount that he managed to scrounge was almost half of what they needed. Not enough, but hopefully enough to make it work. Cor made his way with some flowers that were protected by the greenhouse and the best of the ruined ones to the flower shop the two had opened.
Once he had the building in sight it had brought back the memories of the two of them actually meeting by accident during the flower festival few towns over. He was trying to find someone to sell the flowers to while the taller male needed a supplier. Everything worked out in the end - even to the point where after getting to know each other they developed a little more than a business relationship.
That however didn't diminish the feeling of frustration and guilt as he during the soft patter of rain made his way inside the shop itself through the back door. "Robin! Precious we have a situation here!" There was definitely not enough time to regrow the flowers that were ruined - despite the reserves he had made.
This particular bride had been the bane of Robin's life recently. Every couple of days she changed her mind or wanted something more extravagant than what he was capable of. He had been stressed for weeks because of her. But he knew the pay was going to be worth it if he could just get through the rest of the week.
He'd been on the phone to her that morning, only to have to negotiate her down from changing everything for the millionth time. He managed to get her to agree to some of the original plans so he could still manage with the order. But it hadn't been pleasant and left him fuming. He was pacing the shop as he angrily stripped some flowers ready for a bouquet. Normally he'd been so careful and precise with what he did. But there was leaves and stems everywhere as he tried to get his anger out. Unfortunately his magic was reacting and causing the leaves to be floating around, so he was just glad no one had came in.
Then he heard the door and had to quickly stop the magic , causing the mess to only get worse. He looked up at he heard the one voice that could probably calm him down right now. "You're right we do! You must be telepathic or something.!" He instantly started to ramble as he continued to discard leaves on the floor. "She called again. She wanted roses and sunflowers and lavender which don't work together. Those scents wouldn't work nor would they look pretty. Then in the same breath wanted lilies and dasies and baby's breath. Which would look cute if it weren't for the fact she wanted them as her flower arch. Which wouldn't work..lilies can't be used like that. Then she wanted orchids. A hundred orchids. Then water Lillie's. She can't make her mind up and I feel sorry for the bloke who's going to be stuck with her." He got more and more irritated as he spoke and was paying less attention to what he was doing. "I just can't with her."
Harley was still finding what he liked in the world with freedom. But he knew for certain how he liked it in the bedroom. There was still opitions to explore and he would. Though he knew nothing would compare to be treated roughly, being covered in marks that his partner made and being made to feel everything. He adored it so to.finally get Matt on the same wavelength was more intoxicating than anything he could think off.
The snarl went through him and straight to his cock. It was exactly what he had wanted in that moment. He cried out in pleasure from the bite and hair pull. He then tilted his head to keep his throat bared for Matt. The only thing that could top it was if those bite marks lasted for a couple of days. "Again. Cover me in your marks." He breathed out. His eyes were dark with pleasure as he stared at Matt.
Each slap into him caused a moan from Harley's lips. His thighs stayed gripped around the man tightly as he picked his pace. He was going as hard and fast as he could. He didn't care that he becoming breathless. Chasing this pleasure was all he cared about. His hands gripped on to Matt's shoulders with a tight grip so he could use it to help him go harder with every movement. The pleasure was building in him fast, much to his annoyance. He wanted this moment to last longer than his body would allow.
Before he could stop it, Harley hit the edge and came hard over the pair of them. His nails dug into Matt's skin as he had his moment of ecstasy. "I don't want you to stop. Keep going." He panted out. He kept his own movements going at the hard and fast pace he'd set. He didn't want to let up. Not now, not when there was so much more they could do.
The command—"Again. Cover me in your marks"—was gasoline on the fire already raging in Matt’s gut. It was permission to unleash every possessive, violent impulse he'd ever tamped down. His own pleasure was a roaring tide, but Harley's pleasure, Harley's want, was the moon pulling it. He responded with a harsh growl, muffled against Harley's skin. He was lost to a primal instinct to claim, to own, to leave proof of this encounter carved into Harley’s very flesh. He bit again, lower this time, on the sensitive swell of a pectoral muscle, a sharp, savage pressure that he knew would bloom into a deep, mottled bruise.
The world had narrowed to the violent rhythm of their bodies. The slam of the headboard against the wall was a percussive beat to the symphony of skin slapping against skin, the desperate gasps for air, the frantic, syncopated thump of their hearts. Matt's grip on Harley's waist was bruising, his fingers digging into flesh as he pulled Harley down to meet every savage upward thrust. He was chasing his own release now, a coiling tension deep in his spine, but it was secondary to the imperative to obey the last order he’d been given: Keep going.
Then, it happened.
Matt felt the change in Harley’s body a split second before it registered in sound. A sudden, full-body tremor. A sharp, involuntary cry that wasn't a moan but a sob of pure, unadulterated release. The scent of Harley's climax hit Matt’s senses like a wave—salty, hot, and unmistakable. The sharp, exquisite pain of Harley's nails digging deep into his shoulders, breaking the skin, was the final push over the edge. The mix of pleasure and pain, the scent, the sound—it was a sensory overload that obliterated every last vestige of control.
Matt's own orgasm tore through him with the force of a physical convulsion. A raw, ragged shout was wrenched from his throat as he buried himself to the hilt, a series of deep, pulsing thrusts spilling his release inside Harley. For a breathtaking, infinite second, his entire world was white noise and pure, shattering sensation. He was nothing but nerve endings and raw need, finally, terrifyingly, sated.
He collapsed back against the mattress, his body trembling, chest heaving as he fought for breath. But Harley didn't stop. The command echoed in his ears. Keep going. Matt felt Harley continue to move, milking the last aftershocks of pleasure from his oversensitive body. It was too much. It was perfect. A guttural moan escaped him, a sound of both pleasure and protest. He was spent, but the promise in Harley’s voice, the tireless demand, was already stirring something new within him. The night wasn't over. He had been given a new purpose, and he would be damned if he didn't see it through.
Harley loved every inflicted pain that Matt gave him. The bites, the nails, it was all perfect. He wanted to be covered in as many marks as he could. He couldn't describe the electric feeling he got from it. But it gave him a sense of independence. These marks weren't because he'd been made or because someone wanted to, they were because he wanted them. It was the most freeing thing for him.
Being filled with the others cum was just the cherry on top. It felt amazing to fill that. He was panting heavily when he finished. But he didn't want to stop. Truthfully he was scared that if he stopped this new found freedom would be gone and he'd never get it back. He was scared he'd be tossed aside and forgotten. If the moment didn't end then that couldn't happen. "Please, I don't want this to end." He whispered.
He finally slowed his motions. But only to peppering Matt in as many kisses and bites as he could. He was leaving a trail along his chest and neck while he remained straddling the man. "Please. This can't end. It just can't.." he pleaded. He stilled completely as he looked Matt in the eyes. "I just want to be at your mercy so badly and covered in your marks." He couldn't explain how nervous he was. "I can wait if you need a break.....but i don't want tonight to end."
SEXUALITY AND GENDER IDENTITY THEMED PROMPTS FOR PRIDE
❝ i guess i always kinda knew? it just wasn’t that important until i got older. ❞
❝ it never mattered to me like, what form people came in. i love souls, the body is just kinda like pretty packaging. it’s nice but it’s not what’s important to me. ❞
❝ oh yeah i did the whole ‘massive crush on my best friend’ thing. wouldn’t recommend it. ❞
❝ today my gender is kinda of ‘meeehh?’ ❞
❝ yeah of course i’m only into women, have you seen them? ❞
❝ i think i had a harder time accepting myself than my family ever did. ❞
❝ i’m pretty sure everyone else knew i was gay before i ever realized it. ❞
❝ i have a hard time talking about it, even now—i’m not ashamed or anything like that. i just, don’t really know…how or what to say i guess. ❞
❝ i think i’m ready to actually come out to them. ❞
❝ i really want to tell them but i don’t wanna do it alone…could you help me with it? ❞
❝ the ‘am i gay’ quizzes are a gateway drug. ❞
❝ would you mind using [insert pronouns] for me now? i’m trying to see how it feels. ❞
❝ they’re right actually, i’m gay and i do have an agenda to make everything gayer. ❞
❝ ever since i told them i’m gay they keep pointing to every slightly attractive man and asking if he’s my type. ❞
❝ me? no i don’t think i’m—i mean. yeah sometimes i think about what it’d be like to kiss girls/guys but i’d never…come on, everyone thinks about it a little bit right? ❞
❝ at this point the closet is literally made of glass. ❞
❝ actually, i’m [insert identity]. ❞
❝ it’s all ‘i wish i was into women it’d be so much easier’ until you find out about the lesbian drama. ❞
❝ i’m bisexual and confused. not about being bi, though. just like…in general. about life. ❞
❝ i just need a nice bear to throw me around for a few hours, i think it’d do more for me than therapy. ❞
❝ i would trust any stone butch with my life. ❞
❝ sappho would be so proud. ❞
❝ i’m still figuring myself out. i know i’m not straight, that’s a start. ❞
❝ i finally figured out my sexuality and then boom here comes a gender identity crisis. ❞
❝ i’ve just…never really been interested in the whole sex thing. ❞
❝ anyway, if neither of us find our true loves in the next five to ten years, wanna have a lavender marriage? for the taxes. ❞
❝ you wanna come to pride with me? ❞
❝ this is my first pride actually, i’m kinda nervous. ❞
❝ well, this seems as good a time as any to come out. ❞
❝ no one can know about this—it’s just between us okay? ❞
❝ i’d never tell anyone. ❞
❝ you don’t owe anyone ‘coming out.’ it’s personal, do things at your own pace. only tell the people you want to. ❞
❝ you’ve always made me feel safe so, i just knew i could tell you about it. ❞
❝ everyone’s hot and i’m a disaster who doesn’t know how to ask anyone out. ❞
❝ i’m not sure i wanna fuck them or be them. ❞
❝ i’m just experimenting i guess, trying to figure out what i like. ❞
❝ she said she didn’t see us working out but then she brought me a potted plant so i guess it’s still up in the air. ❞
❝ i want to be one of those bold, unapologetic people but i’m still just terrified. ❞
❝ she’s so pretty i think i’m gonna die. ❞
❝ oh, no he’s got a great smile too. i’m in deep this time. ❞
❝ how did you know? like for sure that you were into [gender]? ❞
❝ do you mind if i ask you a question about being [identity]? ❞
❝ thank you for trusting me with this. ❞
❝ it’s okay, take your time to put it into the right words. i’m not going anywhere. ❞
❝ wait, you think i’m [identity]? what makes you say that? ❞
❝ i’m here, i’m queer, i wanna leave. ❞
SPICE GIF BASED PROMPTS / MEMES PART TWO.
spice and nsfw roleplay meme based around gifs detailed different situations. send a number and a couple (ff / mm / fm), receiver will write a starter based around the gifs sent. this meme is nsfw and contains graphic sex*al content, do not interact with this if you are a minor. gifs were found on google images and searches.
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Peyton List and Tanner Buchanan as Tory Nichols and Robby Keene in Cobra Kai S5 EP10 - Head of the Snake
@dracuulea asked 12 mf
Satsuki wanted to please the man but she never had been any good at blow jobs. She gagged as she pushed herself down around the cock. She had to pull herself up shortly to give herself a break. This was how she then continued. Pushing down for short time only to then pull up for a little bit. The entire time she made sure ro keep sucking. She even made sure to use her hands to make up for her lack of skill.
New Muse
Like for a starter from Satsuki
Or message to plot
"Do you want me to have malleability for them?" asked softly. He was intrigued by what the older man had planned there. He always had an interesting look on it, and it made Bronte eager to know. "I have the story already. Youngest in the line of a successful sport career family. With a father and brother in a successful football career, sister with a althelics career and then me with mine in skating. Plus being one of the youngest competitors previously." Bronte knew full well the press were aware of his family and thier various careers. The moment he took up skating that light had been on him. "Then we have the fact they expect me to move to doubles or retirement soon since I am at the age where that becomes expected."
Bronte couldn't help but giggle at the conditioning they were going to be doing. He both loved and hated the idea. "So very similar to the training I used to do. Its merely the pleasure and your presence that is new." He pulled up his bag to search for a snack. When he found one, he carefully opened the small pack of sweets to enjoy. "Though I'm sure it'll be more fun with you, daddy. And less in a harness spinning till i lose the world."
Bronte thought for a moment as the words from Arron settled on them. "If they all want a piece of me, are you going to share me with them? Or are we going with they can only want but never have?" He understood how this all worked. It came with the career he choose. "Or is my tribute only for the man i share the space of this car or is it for the attention of the world." He picked out one of his sweets and held it up to Arron's lips for the man to take.
Arron's gaze remained fixed on the ribbon of asphalt unspooling before them, but his entire consciousness coalesced at the point where Bronte's fingers offered the small, brightly colored sweet. The gesture was one of profound intimacy, a throwback to a childhood neither of them had truly shared, yet it was laden with the complex architecture of their relationship. It was a test. A surrender. An offering.
He did not take the candy.
Instead, with the car cruising at a steady, unhurried pace, Arron turned his head. His black eyes, unreadable in the shifting city lights, locked onto Bronte's. He let the silence in the car grow heavy, pressing down on the hum of the engine, until the only thing that existed was the space between them and the boy's held-out hand. The unasked question hung in the air, shimmering with vulnerability.
"Your story is a cage, Bronte," Arron said. The sound was low, resonant, seeming to vibrate through the leather seats. "A pretty, gilded thing built by your family's legacy. They have written your history for you. The youngest son. The prodigy. The one expected to follow or fall." He let out a soft, humorless breath. "It is predictable. It is safe. And it is a lie."
He lifted a hand, not to take the sweet, but to gently close Bronte's fingers around it, enclosing the offering in the boy's own fist. His touch was cool, firm, a deliberate rejection of the simple, childish gesture. "We are not going to sell them a lie they have already bought. We are going to sell them a truth they can never comprehend."
His thumb brushed over Bronte's knuckles. "They will see the malleability you ask of, but it will not be for them. You will be supple as water, bendable as reed in the wind. They will see your resilience, your fire, your art, and they will believe it is something they can capture, something they can direct. They will want to own a piece of it. They will see a star and want to put it in their pocket."
He paused, letting the image settle. The car slowed, turning onto a quieter, more exclusive street lined with manicured trees and imposing iron gates.
"But they will never have it," he continued, his voice dropping to a near-whisper, a velvet murmur that was more dangerous than a shout. "Because your tribute is not for the world. It is not for them. It is a performance for me. Every ounce of your malleability, every drop of your sweat, every flash of the cameras... it is all a stage play. A grand, intricate illusion designed to funnel power and influence to one single audience."
He finally released Bronte's hand, letting it fall back to the boy's lap. "They will want you, Bronte. But they will only ever be able to want. They will stand at the gates of your fortress and beg for an audience. And you, my beautiful artist, will be the sole keeper of the keys. And you will answer only to me."
He turned the car into the sweeping driveway of a modern mansion, its dark glass and steel façade absorbing the moonlight. As he pulled to a stop in the silent garage, the heavy door rolling down behind them, he finally spoke again. "Your body is the canvas. Your pain is the paint. And I am the only one who gets to see the finished masterpiece."
He cut the engine. The sudden silence was absolute. He turned in his seat to face Bronte fully, the dim light casting harsh planes across his strong, masculine features. The power in the small space was suffocating, intoxicating.
"Now," he commanded. "Get out of the car. Go to the bedroom. I will be there in five minutes. And when I arrive, I want you on your knees. Understanding your role is the first lesson in your new conditioning."
Bronte was a little sad that Arron didn't take the offering. The rejection stung a little. But he didn't focus on it. That wasn't the lesson right now. The importance was understanding where they were going to take him. "It's not a full lie, daddy. It is a truth. Just not the whole truth." He said softly. He hummed a little as he began to listen and absorb the words being told to him. "Will you be there when they try to own me? Maybe stood behind me or next to me. I prefer your presence there for interviews."
The particular comment about holding the keys caught his attention the most. He shook his head. "I like you holding my keys. Answering to you is easy. But giving over my keys completely is a challenge." His voice was soft as he spoke. His gaze was completely fixed on Arron. "Giving you my keys is the way I can fully submit you, daddy."
He grabbed his bag and ran out of the car to the bedroom. He worked as quickly as he could to place his bag and skates away. He grabbed a quick drink before climbing on to the bed. He knelt in the middle of the mattress to wait. He was out of breath from how much he'd been rushing around to be ready for Arron. He was trying to get his breath back when he heard the footsteps. He tried to hide the rapid rise and fall of his chest along with his panting. A smile quickly was placed on his face in his attempt to hide it. "After conditioning, can we watch a film, daddy?" He asked.
Bailey listened and began to start to understand. The gears in his mind were starting to turn in ways he could use that information. "Being something people cannot comprehend appeals greatly. That would be a master piece." Bailey hummed. "We should aim for that. Something no one but you can comprehend." He thought it over so more and his lips curved into a smile. He could see the way people would react and that brought him a great joy.
"Life is dull without danger and risks." Bailey shrugged. He lived for danger. He loved it. "Besides I wanted to see your reaction to knowing your mark has been left from last night." Bailey purred. He wanted to tease for a moment and be playful with the man he was conspiring with. There was some sort of joy to tease a wolf when knowing full well be was a prey pushing his luck.
The colour drained from Bailey's face as he heard Xandros's plan. He looked at the man in complete shock. "I do not wish for him to ever see me in such a state." Bailey said firmly. "I may live very much on the edge of life and what is socially acceptable but to commit an act like that in front of someone that would bare no second thought to throwing me in a cell for the life I live is one risk too far." His heart was pounding as fast as it physically could. His ears were as straight and sti as possible. "The rest of your plans are wonderful and a great start to turn my father red. But an act that bold that comes with risks of imprisonment for both of us, verges on stupidity."
But the sight of the cock got the better of him. He wrapped his lips and began to eagerly suck away on it. It was a position he was more than comfortable in. Despite the risk of getting caught, espeically by his father, he wanted to enjoy this. His heart was still pounding but the tension he was holding was gone. He pushed as far as he could as he kept sucking. The cock's full length was soon in his mouth and he looked completely content. He slowly pulled off with a smirk. "You know I like to hear the noises of pleasure that I cause." He hummed before swallowing the length of the cock again and going back to savouring every inch of it.
The shock in Bailey’s eyes, the sudden, panicked stillness of his ears, was a bucket of ice water. Xandros saw the genuine terror, not of the act, but of the consequence. The boy was a daredevil, a peacock who loved to preen on the edge of cliffs, but he was not suicidal. For a fleeting, sharp second, a sliver of disappointment pricked at Xandros. He had misjudged the depth of the boy's recklessness. But the disappointment was instantly swallowed by a wave of something far more potent: understanding. And with it, a surge of power that was far more intoxicating than the cheap thrill of a public scandal.
The boy was clever. He understood the true danger.
And then, just as the rational part of Xandros's mind was recalibrating, Bailey's body betrayed him. The fear in his eyes was still there, a wild, panicked light, but it was now overlaid with a different hunger entirely. As Xandros watched, mesmerized, Bailey leaned forward. The protest, the firm refusal, was still hanging in the air between them, a ghost of words, when Bailey’s lips, soft and wet, closed around the head of his cock.
Xandros’s breath hitched, a ragged, stolen gasp. The sensation was a lightning strike. The wet, insistent heat, the sight of this beautiful, defiant boy—his face pale with fear, his eyes burning with reckless desire—taking him into his mouth after refusing such a public display... it was the most exquisite, maddening contradiction he had ever witnessed. His plan for a lesson in audacity was forgotten, supplanted by the raw, overwhelming reality of Bailey's submission on his own terms.
His fingers, which had been tangled in Bailey's hair with intent to direct, now simply rested there, a heavy, grounding weight. He felt the boy’s eagerness, the way he pushed forward, taking more, his tongue a clever, swirling pressure against the sensitive underside. A deep, guttural groan was torn from Xandros’s chest, an involuntary surrender to the pleasure. This was the fire he had wanted to see, but it was burning far hotter, far closer than he had anticipated.
Bailey pulled back, a string of saliva connecting them for a brief, obscene moment before breaking. The smirk on his glistening lips was pure, unadulterated sin. "You know I like to hear the noises of pleasure that I cause." The words, a breathy purr, hit Xandros with the force of a physical blow. This wasn't just rebellion; it was a declaration of mastery. Bailey wasn't just participating; he was conducting the entire orchestra.
And then he went down again.
Xandros’s vision swam. He felt Bailey’s throat open, felt the head of his cock push past that tight ring of muscle, burying himself to the hilt in the impossibly tight, wet heat. The sight alone was enough to undo him. Bailey’s face, flushed now, a single tear tracing a path through the flush of exertion, his lips stretched wide around Xandros's girth. It was a masterpiece of depravity. It was perfect.
His control, already fractured, shattered. The wolf was no longer content to test the mutton. He was devouring it. With a snarled curse, both of Xandros's hands shot out, one gripping the back of Bailey’s head, the other seizing his jaw. The gentle grounding was gone, replaced by a possessive, unyielding grip. He held Bailey in place, a living sheath for his arousal.
"You want to hear me?" Xandros growled, the words torn from his throat, raw and ragged. "You want to know the sounds you pull from me?" He began to move, a slow, punishing withdrawal followed by a deep, powerful thrust that attempted to make Bailey choke, a wet, desperate sound that only fueled the fire in Xandros's blood. He set a brutal rhythm, each stroke a claim, a brand. "You hear this, little one? This is the sound of your undoing. The sound of mine."
The library, with its hallowed tomes and scent of aging paper, became the backdrop to their profane ritual. The only sounds were the wet, rhythmic slap of flesh, the choked whimpers from the boy at his feet, and the animalistic grunts being torn from Xandros's own chest. He looked down, watching himself disappear into that beautiful, willing mouth. He saw the lace-trimmed cuff of Bailey's sleeve, peeking out from where it was pushed up his arm. The detail, that secret hint of femininity against such a raw, masculine act, sent a bolt of pure electricity through him.
He pulled out suddenly, leaving Bailey gasping, a string of saliva and pre-come connecting them. A thin line of tears tracked through the blush on Bailey’s cheeks, his lips were swollen and obscenely red. He looked wrecked. Ruined. He had never looked more beautiful. "Look at you," Xandros rasped, using the grip on Bailey's hair to pull his head back, forcing their eyes to meet. "My masterpiece. All flushed and weeping for me."
He reached down with his free hand, his large, calloused fingers deftly undoing the buttons of Bailey's waistcoat, then his shirt. He pushed the fabric aside, exposing the pale, smooth chest beneath. And there, nestled against Bailey's skin, was the hint of delicate, white lace. The chemise. The secret. Xandros's breath caught. He traced the edge of the lace with one rough fingertip, the fragile feel of it a sudden, arousing contrast to the hard muscle of Bailey's chest and the frantic beat of his heart.
"You wanted to see my reaction," Xandros murmured, the words low and dangerous. "This is it." He hooked a finger into the lace, pulling it taut. "This is my mark on you. Under your clothes. A constant, secret reminder of who you belong to." He leaned down, not to kiss him, but to press his forehead against Bailey's, their breath mingling in the charged air. "Finish me up, that will be the entree to your dinner. Let me mark your beautiful face. A reminder of me on your skin before you face him."
He released Bailey's hair and instead cupped the back of his neck, a firm, guiding pressure. He didn't need to say more, the order was clear as day as he led Bailey against his massive erection, throbbing and ready to be worshiped again.
Bailey was throbbin with the way Xandros spoke a few pulled at his lace. This man would be both his making and undoing and he knew it. But he didnt care that he currently was all flushed and weeping. It was exactly how he wanted to be in private. His lips curved into a smile at the mention of a mark. "A mark only you will ever see or change." He confirmed.
Then wrapped his lips back around the cock and started to suck once again. He worked the cock with an eagerness, ready for his fill. But the entire time, his ears were on guard. Twitching and reacting to every noise from outside of the room. He was ready to have to pull away if they got interrupted. But that was what made him so eager this time round. He was determined to get his fill before they were called to dinner.
When he finally got that release from Xandros, he made sure to swallow it all. He then worked to clean up the cock with his mouth, making sure it was pristine before he pulled off. He carefully tucked the cock away before getting to his feet just in time for a servant to inform them that dinner was soon to be served. He turned his back to them and frantically worked to get his shirt and waistcoat to make himself as presentable as he could. He turned back around, unaware of the bit of cum on his face as he looked at the man. "Attention fully on you and obeying only you at the table?" He questioned to check they were still on the same page.
@domanon asked [28.] sender makes receiver grind against their shoe/boot.
Satsuki was still telling herself the only reason she did what Harry asked was because she wanted information and favours from him. She refused to admit out loud that really she liked being treated like this. She was never going to say that. Even as moans fell from her lips while she ground herself against his boot. She hated that was embarrassingly wet from this. No this was all to gain his favour for her own good. This wasnt because it felt so good to be embarrassed and humiliated by the man.
Her lips curved into a smile as she looked up at him. She gently tilted her neck so his hook has complete access to her neck. She didn't flinch once as the cold metal touched her. "It would seem we would be in a battle of wits and will." She purred, purposely slowly her movements down but made more of show with each one for him.
@domanon asked [28.] sender makes receiver grind against their shoe/boot.
Satsuki was still telling herself the only reason she did what Harry asked was because she wanted information and favours from him. She refused to admit out loud that really she liked being treated like this. She was never going to say that. Even as moans fell from her lips while she ground herself against his boot. She hated that was embarrassingly wet from this. No this was all to gain his favour for her own good. This wasnt because it felt so good to be embarrassed and humiliated by the man.
Harry sat back with a smirk as he watched the girl grind against his boot, tilting his foot a little to angle it more against her sensitive spots. She sounded so wanton as she moaned.
He reached down, trailing the point of his hook against her cheek, soft but dangerous, "think you can cum just from this? I can see yer soaking my boot already."
Satsuki moaned louder as the angle changed, hitting her most senstive parts. She wanted to be not phased by the hook, but really it only turned her on more. "Soaking and cumming are very different." She retorted. "Your boot is not enough." She was stubborn and she wouldn't let herself completely fall apart this early on. Not unless she was made to. But that was a thought she quickly pushed away, knowing full well it would only turn her on more. "Your boot is not worthy of my orgasm."
Open starter
Muse: Fendrel
Plot: Fendrel has seen a statue of themself at a muesum and is not coping
Any connection welcome (ideas include, someone from thier past life, friend, lover, someone trying to trap them)
Max loved museums so Fendrel often let Max take the lead when they were there. For Fendrel it was weird, a lot was things they had seen and lived through and others were just reminders of how much they had missed when they trapped. Neither of which they particularly welcomed.
This particular muesum Max had been talking about forever and they were finally there. But one particular exhibit was what forced Fendrel to swap into being in charge. It was all from the very time period they had lived through. But more specifically it was about them and the people they knew. Fendrel found it hard to walk about the space until they saw it.
A sculpture in the middle of the room surrounded by some matching pieces. They recognised it instantly and the pain it brought back. They remembered posing for it with their love. They remembered all the time spent on it. The way they had encouraged the artist. Every little detail was clear to them as the day they had first seen it. Then they read the little plague and their heart broke even more. Tears had formed in their eyes and they wanted to run. But they were frozen in the spot. "Its wrong" was all they could initially say. "They loved me. I loved them. They got my story wrong. I didn't abandoned them and they didnt hurt me. Its wrong. Its all wrong." They yelled as the anger took over the pain.
Fendrell paused as they tried to make sense of that. They finally nodded when Max explained it all to them. "Max has said that would be like the time i tried to drive. So i think i understand why we've not told him." They said softly. They placed a gentle kiss to Oliver's cheek. "I'm sorry. I'm just exicited. I forget there are more things one can get in trouble with or die over now."
@domanon asked [28.] sender makes receiver grind against their shoe/boot.
Satsuki was still telling herself the only reason she did what Harry asked was because she wanted information and favours from him. She refused to admit out loud that really she liked being treated like this. She was never going to say that. Even as moans fell from her lips while she ground herself against his boot. She hated that was embarrassingly wet from this. No this was all to gain his favour for her own good. This wasnt because it felt so good to be embarrassed and humiliated by the man.
Open starter
Muse: Fendrel
Plot: Fendrel has seen a statue of themself at a muesum and is not coping
Any connection welcome (ideas include, someone from thier past life, friend, lover, someone trying to trap them)
Max loved museums so Fendrel often let Max take the lead when they were there. For Fendrel it was weird, a lot was things they had seen and lived through and others were just reminders of how much they had missed when they trapped. Neither of which they particularly welcomed.
This particular muesum Max had been talking about forever and they were finally there. But one particular exhibit was what forced Fendrel to swap into being in charge. It was all from the very time period they had lived through. But more specifically it was about them and the people they knew. Fendrel found it hard to walk about the space until they saw it.
A sculpture in the middle of the room surrounded by some matching pieces. They recognised it instantly and the pain it brought back. They remembered posing for it with their love. They remembered all the time spent on it. The way they had encouraged the artist. Every little detail was clear to them as the day they had first seen it. Then they read the little plague and their heart broke even more. Tears had formed in their eyes and they wanted to run. But they were frozen in the spot. "Its wrong" was all they could initially say. "They loved me. I loved them. They got my story wrong. I didn't abandoned them and they didnt hurt me. Its wrong. Its all wrong." They yelled as the anger took over the pain.
Fendrell instantly got exicited when they realised it was Ben on the phone and tried to lean in as close as they could to hear the other's voice. But then they frowned in confusion. "Guest? Why not say I'm here?" They asked softly before going back to their food to eat a few more mouthfuls. "Surely Ben wants to know I'm here right? You wanted to know. Well you knew instantly. Wouldn't it be best he knows so isn't in shock?"
New Muse
Like for a starter from Satsuki
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