Whitzz/544K-RP-Datasets huggingface dataset:
Thread: ____Pandora's Prize_____(OctopusPrince x Xinavee)

Desire coiled its pythons grip within Arwens gut and groin, suspending the tall warriors sex as he watched his slave pool at his feet and gently kiss his thigh. Arwen shifted his gaze away, looking at the bed that was not his and then towards the window above it even as a wave of shivers washed over his senses like a tide coming forth to drown him. He would have been thankful, had he known, that he had turned his gaze away from Samir before he was able to witnessed the evidence of awareness between the slaves thighs. Of desire? Certainly, they were compatible, Arwen had no doubt of that, but seldom was he a man to allow his urges and drives to rule over his mind and will. Closing his eyes, Arwen allowed himself to witness the sensations of Samirs hands over his thighs and calf muscles. To focus on his own breathing and the feel of being truly clean and refreshed for the first time in what seemed to be years. When Samir was finished and tilted his stormy gaze back towards Arwens, it took a while for the warrior to open his eyes and let the relaxing session end. When he did it was to gaze down upon that open and beautiful face. Arwen couldnt help but to sink his long fingers deep into the slaves hair, letting his nails, lightly scrape against the slaves scalp as he spoke, No, they are not too dirty, and far cleaner than I am used to. Perhaps the dirt will help me sleep. Oh. He was aware. Painfully. Aware of the fact that those luscious lips that had moments ago brushed across his thigh was oh so preciously close to the seeking length of his desire. Just a tilt of the slaves head. A simple command and Arwen would be able to caress those lips with the tip of his cock. HE HAD ALREADY DECIDED! He told himself. Not tonight. Let the boy mourn his losses, let himself decide how to move forward, how to make this prison work for him. Not tonight. Arwen didnt move from where he stood however, his foot nestled between the slaves thighs, feeling the heat of skin so closed to his bare foot. His strong hand gripped tighter, though not painfully into the dark mass of hair to pull Samir closer to his thigh again, lightly pressing his forehead there once more. Kiss. Knowing he would not be able to sustain a long brush of the slaves lips, he would keep a tightly held grip upon Samirs hair, not allowing the slave to explore much more than that same patch of muscled thigh he had kissed before. Then Arwen was moving away, turning towards the bed, still undressed, and tugging the coverlet and sheets down. Pristine as it ever had been, the soft linens were inviting as Arwen looked back at Samir. Come, climb in, lay on your side.
Thread: ____Pandora's Prize_____(OctopusPrince x Xinavee)

Samir watched, interested, as Arwen kept his eyes closed, seeming lost for a moment in his thoughts. His expression was barely changed from stoicism, but Arwen had hesitated to open his eyes long enough that Samir could detect the strain in the slight pinch of his brows and lips. What a regal creature, to resist his urges when there was no need to. But then Arwen opened his eyes, and there was resolution there that surprised Samir. Those unusual hues, so far, were more honest than Arwen probably intended for them to be-- his face did not reveal him, but his eyes did, and when Arwen's hand coiled up in his hair, he did not look away until he was forced to, brow pressed to Arwen's skin. He closed his eyes, and absorbed the command specifically, since the note about the sheets was vaguely understood, that he wanted them as they were. Kiss. Arwen wanted him to kiss. He parted his lips and pressed them to Arwen's skin, and despite the fact that he knew he could do more, brush his tongue there, graze his teeth, he only kissed. He could see it in Arwen's eyes just before, the intent to hold fast to his own command. Not tonight. Samir would not tempt his master away from his own will. Not tonight. He kissed once, twice, and then when he had pressed a third kiss there, Arwen's thigh had moved back from his lips and he watched, transfixed, as Arwen moved away from him. He rose after a moment, collecting his silks and setting them aside along with the strigil, wiping oil from his fingers onto them because they hardly mattered at this point. He came to the other side of the bed, and climbed in, hesitating for a moment to find the words. Near, or away? He asked, then, his brow pinching a bit, he tried to elaborate. Facing here, He pointed to Arwen, Or there? He pointed to the wall behind him. He did not want to assume anything at this point, that Arwen would wish for them to lie close or apart, that he would want to Samir to press against him from the front, or if the warrior preferred to spoon himself to Samir's back. So he asked, his voice soft and polite, carefully forming the words while he slipped himself beneath the covers.
Thread: ____Pandora's Prize_____(OctopusPrince x Xinavee)

THUNK. The dulled blade of the strigil warbled as it imbedded itself into the wood of the door at the exact spot where Eros neck had been. Scarcely contain his rage as he fought against the injustice of his position Arwen shot towards the table and toppled it and all its contents to the floor. The visit from the Roman lord had only reminded him how well kept he was, in this city that was not his. Leaning his hands upon the disrupted side of the table top, Arwen hung his head, trying to center himself, gain the control he knew was within him as he tried to clear his head. Tried to think. Arwen wasnt a stupid man. He knew he had to play nice with men that controlled his prison, at least until he found a way to escape it, or to wreck revenge for his enforced captivity, but it went against everything in his nature to bend a knee in any way, particularly to those who bound him in any way. Walking towards the box in the entry way, Arwen lifted the lid and felt the boiling rage roll in his gut once more, though this time he was able to control it, to stamp it down as he saw the Roman red of the Gladiators attire. Arwen thought a moment about going naked, but it would only serve to work against him, have the guards doubled outside his house and perhaps lead to dangerous punishments at the Colosseum. Calmer, Arwen walked back into his bedroom. His eyes immediately moving to Samirs back, laying against his pillow as he had left him. Walking towards the bed, he let his hand trail down the smooth expanse of Samirs back, his fingers splaying as the calloused fingers teased so lightly as to brush the down like hairs upon the slaves back, from neck straight down his spine until Arwen stopped at the light round swell of his rear cheeks. What he might have had in this. What he might have felt for this boy whose eyes haunted Arwen even as he looked away. It was not fair. Arwen could not keep him when he knew all too well that tomorrow, or tonight, whenever the lords and kings of this land decided it, he might be fed to wolves or tortured for their amusements. Better to cut the connection now than to have it grow. Rise Samir, Arwens hand fell away from the touch, not waiting for the slave to respond, merely expecting it to happen, It is time we find your new owner. Arwen turned away, heading back towards the entry way where the box, and the slaves silks still remained, One who is not bound, who is not a puppet pulled by strings. He glanced towards the trunk of silks, pulling from it one, and although he had not noticed the significance of the choice in color it seemed to be the only one that satisfied Arwen today. The gold of the Chantilly lace was delicate to the touch, swirling in waves embroidered with an intermittent green thread at the eyelash hem. It was beautiful and as impressive, as all of them had been. Tossing the silk upon the chaise, Arwen began to dress himself, before moving to the table and righting it again.
Thread: ____Pandora's Prize_____(OctopusPrince x Xinavee)

When Samir heard the thud, he flinched a little, but then relaxed himself, his eyes half open as he listened to his master return to the bedroom. When he was touched, he was still, closing his eyes at the slow, comforting touch along his back. He was glad that whatever had transpired outside of the room, whoever had come to disturb Arwen, he had found his composure enough to caress Samir. He shifted to lean up, and then looked sharply to Arwen. The command to get up was obeyed immediately, the suggestion that Arwen would find him a new master was stifling, and stopped him in his tracks. But why? And then it came up again, someone who was a free man. What did that matter? What could a free Roman offer that Arwen would not, even in his bound state? Cruelty, that was what-- did Arwen not know the nature of the Romans, even in his captivity? Did he expect that someone of free will would treat Samir well? Samir felt certain that that would be far from the truth, and a desperation to protest clogged his throat as he followed Arwen, his back broad, impenetrable. Samir felt, because he had been a slave all of his life and it was the nature of his position, like he could and should say nothing to oppose Arwen's word. He took up the silks that were set out for him with lowered eyes, his expression neutral and his gaze troubled as he wrapped the silk around himself without thinking of it, the practice of dressing second nature. Did Arwen not want him? Had Arwen not won him fairly? The desire to supplicate himself before the gladiator and ask not to be sold to someone else was just as stifling as his original intention to protest. He pulled an unnecessary sash from the silk, the gold fabric coming loose easily, and he wrapped his hair up in it, setting the band high with a few swirling strands framing his face and tucked behind his ears. There was a feeling of betrayal in this, to be given away-- to be sold for more gold, to someone who Samir would know to be Roman, who he knew to have a hand in one way or another in the destruction of his precious home land. It was cruel, to have a single night held, touched, commanded, a morning that broached intimacy only to be told, coldly, and with certainty that he would be given to a new master. He did not watch Arwen dress once he himself was prepared, he instead took up new chains to dangle beautifully around his neck, and waited, his gaze down and away, his lips in a tight line to hold in all of his thoughts.
Thread: Hell Hath No Fury as the Fire In Her – Raivh and Xinavee

Lailah had stood before the mirrored pool of sight, watching yet another fated doomsday. Her search was simple. Find those few who deserved a second chance and shove their asses out. Miracles disguised as bad luck would shift the tides as Lailah touched the surface of the pool of sight. She was searching the snow-covered fields of a churchyard. Like a magnet with in her blood she felt the pull course through her veins, and yet the pool would not let her look closer. She tried focusing on the closest thing to him, some poor wretch of a woman burning in a pyre, held mans attention but even as close as they were Lailah could only see a blur where his face should have been and the gentle release of a sinners soul, stripped and shackled before being wrenched into hell. In curious desperation Lailah tapped at the pools surface where she might change the blurred strangers fate and save him from his own demise. This proved to be a cataclysmic mistake as the waters from the pool splashed back at her. One moment Lailah could see the rippling effect of the touch of her hand and the next the pool had splashed back, wetting her body in a burning light. She was falling, feet over head, the great black feathers of her wings tore and singed with the heat of her fall. Her lungs filled with ash and burning gas. Stones spewed up into the air and cast upon her body as she plummeted towards earth. Snow cut into Lailahs flesh and rain burnt trails upon her spine. The tracks of her own blood were cooler as it trickled and merged with the wounds upon her back. Heavily her body hung between her weak arms, to crawl forward but collapsed. Labored breath shook her body as she lay still, her skin cracked where the fire still licked at her human flesh, and two great gaping rifts where once there may have been wings. She opened her eyes. Even this simple act was painful. Where was she? Once again Lailah lifted upon the palms of her hands and pressed against the cold surface of the snow-covered ground. This time her arms would hold her, and she crawled her knees up under her body, pulling her form from the pyre flames. The heat of her skin, melted the snow around her as mud caked upon her naked form and flecks of skin began to fall, like tree bark shedding its layers for a better growth. She dark eyes darted about the deserted night. A fallen angel in a foreign land, a foreign time, a foreign body. She kicked backwards, against the new reality of her fate, and thats when she felt it, that magnetism in her blood, pulling her to around the tall pyre of fire where HE stood.
Thread: Hell Hath No Fury as the Fire In Her – Raivh and Xinavee

Shifting his weight, he exhaled and felt a shiver of delight rush down his spine. He reached up with both hands to slowly remove the hood that shielded him. With a quick jerk of his neck from left to right, he smiled and turned to face her, feet spread apart, arms down in front of him, hands folded pensively over one another. His honey colored eyes fixated on her, worked her naked body up and down. He then leaned left, peering behind her at the bloody tracks in the snow, watching as they faded as if to have never existed in the first place. What a pleasure to see you down here, he said, maintaining his eye contact with her. It wasn't her job to oversee these funerals, to watch the dead rise or be hauled into the abyss. That was his job as a Guardian of the Heavens and the Earth. You look like. His brow furrowed, pondering playfully, and then smoothed while the corners of his lips stretched. Ah! he exclaimed with a flourish of his hand, forefinger to the sky before immediately dropping it downward. Hell. You look like Hell. Laughing to himself, amused by his jest, he walked toward her and stopped just a few feet away. What did you do, Love? His eyes danced over her dangerously, a wicked sneer playing over his expression. Leaning down closer, he gestured to her back. Where are your pretty wings? As he said it, a pair of large snowy wings burst forth and fanned out with great strength. With a powerful movement back and then forward, he was floating above the surface of the ground as he watched her with knowing curiosity.
Thread: Hell Hath No Fury as the Fire In Her – Raivh and Xinavee

What? HE was what she could not see? This was what she had been flung through the aethors for? What she had lost lost everything for? The dark abyss blackness of her eyes would follow his movement towards her, not shamed by the lack of clothes, but oddly chilled by the snow. The sensation was one she had never witnessed before and it caused her to glance down at the flakes in under her, tilting the shinning crescent moons of her pupils to pinpoint one falling lacy flake and cup it in her hand as she watched it melt upon her skin before batting her the long lashes of her lids as she caught his movement once more. He was looking at her, like a panther, like a predator might stalk its prey. I was working when- What was she going to say? When she didnt see him? When she tried to save him from the disaster that was on its way? She watched his wings unfurl before glancing back at her own torn back, unable to see it, but to feel the way her skin stretched and ached from where they should have been. She sighed realizing the irony of it all. She might have tried to save him, but he would easily be able to fly away, where she on the other hand, she was destined to witness the cataclysm first hand. Lailah reached her hand towards his, silently asking for help up, but would stand regardless, glancing over the body of the poor girl she had seen just leave it. If the men who threw this girl into the fire see me walking around before all of this peels off they will think I am a witch. Will you help me find a place to remain until She paused trying not to give into the desire to despair, to mourn her loss, especially not here and with this witness. She would accept her fate, her death willingly if it would only restore her to before. Even as she said this to herself, her eyes drifted back towards the honey heat of HIS. Why had she not seen him? Why did she, even now, find herself compelled to follow, to trust more than she knew she should.
Thread: Hell Hath No Fury as the Fire In Her – Raivh and Xinavee

His teeth remained bared as she spoke, a beast among beasts on this night of glorious nights. It was always after he'd watched women like her be dragged into the abyss below that he felt so alive . A shiver trickled down his spine and caused his wings to twitch in mid air as the pleasure worked its way out of his system. He lifted a brow in curiosity when her words broke, trailing off with the cold gust of wind that swept along his wings. Drawing closer to the ground, he studied her, realizing that she was weak after her fall. The grin on his face faded. His gaze fell to her hand and dulled as his head tipped right, wondering if she really expected him to touch her, to help her to her feet. My dear, he started, his voice low, lips curling back once more as she seemed to begin to grasp the tragic reality she faced. His eyes locked on her, amber eyes deceptively countering his angelic features. When she met his gaze, his smirk broadened, and he finally came to stand before her. Slowly, he lowered himself closer still to the ground, leaning so dangerously close to her that he could feel the heat pouring off of her. Catching the underside of her jaw in one hand, he pulled her ear close to his lips and felt them brush against her lobe. I don't think you fully understand what's happening. He chuckled and shifted his weight. I'm the reason this is all happening, but I'm the one that always wins. He leaned back away from her, his palm cupping her cheek as he cast a glance behind them, directing her to the pile of ashen char wasting away in the wind behind them. That woman, he uttered, She was my plaything. Besides, he laughed, letting his words taper off as he motioned behind her, to the man that had earlier tumbled down the hill. The drunk's eyes were wide now as he began to come to. I think our guest has woken up.
Thread: Sexy Exhibitionist Fun (M/F)(Group)

BUMP! automerge1530037948automerge BUMP! Last edited Jun 26, 2018
Thread: Sexy Exhibitionist Fun (M/F)(Group)

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Thread: I Always Wanted You (how_is_you x N7Biotic)

Fayeth's giggle was worth all of the trials and tribulation that Rydel had gone through in his training, if he were honest. It was a rather innocent sound, a sign that her soul had yet to be truly tainted by evil forces, and that lifted a bit of weight off of the male sibling's shoulders. Who knew if someone had taken advantage of his absence to try and violate her in some unspeakable way? Even though he had been training to kill for money, even they were usually indescribably horrible people. The guild was no troupe of do-gooders, but at least the powers that be controlling the contract approval were somewhat compassionate. If they had two contracts pending, one for a homeless beggar and one for a cruel tyrant, they would go for the tyrant. Even if the job would be more difficult, it usually paid more anyway, offsetting the costs of such an endeavor. While he was sure that the new habits he had picked up in his training would not cause any cause for alarm in his sibling, such as speaking more formal in language and constantly scanning dark corners for threats, Rydel was concerned that she would sense something was off about him. After all, they were close as siblings, especially so after the passing of their parents, and even the most minute thing being different about Fayeth would be detected by her brother. He simply assumed it was the same the other way around. Hearing her joke about how their quaint living situation had been all they knew, Rydel chuckled. While he was certainly given some of the more lavish beds and the like at points in his training, most of the time he was sleeping on hay stacks and simple cots. Nothing too comfortable, so the difference of an actual mattress would be noticed and even somewhat appreciated by him. He did also take notice of the different feel of the home, the simple air of kindness a stark contrast to the low hanging dread of the training halls, and the exhaustion of the beds near those halls. He looked for any material differences as she tried to get a fire going, noticing the setting sun, and also noticed the lack of major changes to the furniture. Sure, decorations were different, but the arrangement of beds, chairs and end tables had remained quite consistent. Maybe that reminded Fayeth that he was returning, and to keep holding hope for that moment? Who knew. Returning to the living space of the cottage, he paused a moment before heading into the kitchen, watching his sister peel potatoes and the warm humming while she worked. Her happiness that he had come back was evident to anyone who looked, especially Rydel. A cynical side of him thought she would have 'moved on,' so to speak, but that definitely was not the case. He walked forward to the counter himself, pulling another potato and dagger, washing it as she had and beginning to peel it himself. He noticed the way she handled the dagger, and furrowed his brow. You seem to handle that a bit better than when I had left. Did someone teach you to fight?