#Club house Membership

[gosminhas]

club penguin used to piss me off so bad as a kid because you had to pay for all the cool stuff and the mere thought of asking my parents to buy me a gift card made me feel stupid but hanging out with friends online wasn't wnough i yearned for all the puffles and the treehouse igloo

[candlewitches]

cannot sleep mostly because of pain but also bc i am still full of rage at the former (and now current again LMAO) execs of my former larp. like literally. “i can excuse (alleged) mismanagement, fraud, and embezzlement, but i draw the line at a sternly worded announcement”

[sosuigeneris]

Is soho house still a good investment?

If you’re living in a city that has zero private clubs, next to impossible to go to a club and party with 70% non-cheap crowd and have the disposable income to splurge on the membership only to barely use it, then yes

[astro-rainbow777]

🍒⛽️Red Astrology Observations☎️👠

Mars in Astrology

💋 Passion in Astrology can be found in the Mars sign and house placement:

- Aries Mars are more passionate In nature, whatever they want, they go after, fiercely and bravely. The type to love sports, fights and competition of any kind. They thrive in a competitive environment and relationships. It possible their passion is tied to their childhood in some way (same for Mars in 1st)- so if this involves child hood toys they used to collect, eating their favorite foods growing up or playing games that they used to when times were simpler.

- Mars in 1st house can make the native very passionate about their looks, being perceived as dominate/hot/sexy, working out and having physical strength. I’ve noticed that they may like competition but generally they don’t try that hard to compete with others if they are in good health. If these natives are confident in themselves- they try so hard to boost the confidence of everyone around them.

- Taurus Mars can be passionate about their possessions, having their material needs met, connecting to their 5 senses and financial gain. “Anyone can cook” 👨🏻‍🍳 🤌🏻mentality. Passionate about rest! This may sound silly- but it’s actually quite hard to master, especially in hustle culture. As someone with no earth placements in their chart, it’s extremely hard for me to rest, slow down and enjoy my food. Be present, Taurus mars understands and values this. Not the type to gamble their money away. Needs things to make sense materially.

- Mars in 2nd house makes the individual very passionate and their financial security and safety, having their basic needs met, having an abundance of possessions. They can thrive in jobs that are considered a “competitive pay” corporation. They may love shopping, spending and saving money. They value passion and material wealth, so depending on what sign the Mars placement is in can add more context of what it surrounds. Bulk spenders, Costco/Sams Club membership holders lmao.

- Mars in Gemini is very multi faceted in what they are passionate about. They have little niches and hobbies that they love, anything that challenges them mentally while also being hands on! My mom has this and she’s really into gardening and cooking with the food she’s grown. She can get very restless about it but I think that it’s so cute how whatever she is passionate about consumes her mentally.

- Mars in 3rd is passionate about mental pursuits, they could have been picked on as a kid, which made them highly ambitious in their studies. Extremely competitive in the realm of knowledge. Their peers and siblings may see them as a threat or just see them as generally argumentative. Although I think these people just enjoy a good debate and exercising their intellectual capabilities. They could have an abundance of hobbies they indulge in and our passionate about. They may bound with their friends through their hobbies and passions. Could really enjoy competitive video games such as Smash Bros.

- Mars in Cancer natives are passionate about their family and proving themselves to their family. They could have been compared to their family members a lot growing up, or just felt an instability at home. They are passionate about cultivating a home for themselves and starting a family of their own one day. This does not have to be pertinent to kids- chosen family- fur babies 🐾 or significant other also ring true for this sign. - Mars in 4th are passionate about their loved ones, they are highly protective of themselves and others. These people are quite competitive but in a passive aggressive way. They are usually at war with their own emotions, family and security. I’ve noticed many of these individuals have had violence in childhood home or trauma surrounding family ):

- Mars in Leo they are passionate about their creativity, children and having fun! Would love to have this Mars placement honestly, because these people march to the beat of their own drum. It’s very admirable! They are passionate about their own authenticity, you will never catch them trying to steal someone else’s Swag lmao. I think they invented swag quite honestly 😂

- Mars in 5th are total party animals! They are passionate about life and all that the world has to offer. The world is their Oyster! Every sidewalk is their runway and every song they hear is the backtrack for the movie they star in! Their life is all about being confident in their own skin and romanticizing their selves, relationships and passion projects.

- Mars in Virgo are passionate about helping others and being the best version of themselves. This Mars sign is notoriously known for being able to try something once and being exceptionally good at it the first go. I hate to say it (only because I know it comes from a place of pain) but these natives are passionate about perfection. This can cause them a lot of anxiety if they are careful. Although, they are good at many things, it is advised that they lean into whatever makes them happy, serve their part in making the world a better place!

- Mars in 6th are passionate about their purpose, their health and their pets. They can spend a lot of time researching how to become better versions of themselves. They will have a very active routine and live passionately day to day. The type to wake up at sunrise, take their vitamins tend to their pets needs, cook a whole food breakfast, workout, meditate, journal, than go to work, tend to their pets needs, do their night time self care, hygiene, journal, meditate, pre sleep stretch, sleep exactly 8 hours, repeat. Function well with planners.

- Mars in Libra are passionate about harmony and balance. When I tell you their whole plan of action is strictly devoted to how not to get into conflict… it’s to the tea. They are super passionate about the relationships in their life, and are very generous in nature. They love art, certain aesthetics, good food and beautiful things. They may be called lazy from time to time because they don’t quite function the way other people do. They may make plans for 50 different things one day because they have a difficult time saying no- then end up going to none of them because they didn’t finish getting ready until everything event was finished. These people invented fashionably late.

- Mars in 7th is passionate about their partnerships. These natives are actually quite confrontational in comparison to Libra Mars. This is because they want to squash the beef before it’s even a problem. There may be a tendency to people please- but most of the time these people are just socially extroverted, kind and considerate.

- Mars in Scorpio is another sign that is just passionate in nature. It is so intense for them that it is hard for them to do anything if they not completely engulfed in passion. They psychoanalyze everyone they meet, at natural detectives and are friends with the unknown. They aren’t scared of the dark and often find so much beauty in what others cannot comprehend

- Mars in 8th are passionate about the unknown as well, it is very enticing to them. Anything involving mystery is naturally alluring to them. They love to get lost in rabbit holes of whatever they are interested in. Whatever it is they are the master of- and you question them about it, they’ve already thought of answer. Because they know their hobbies are often taboo, scary, and misunderstood- they have studied every answer to every question that someone had for them. Their passions are all encompassing. They are so much more than deep. Everything they do is intentional.

- Mars in Sagittarius are adventurous, hilarious and curious. I feel like Sagittarius more than Gemini Mars has that “Curiosity killed that cat” vibe. For Gemini mars it’s more like googling disturbing thing’s because they are curious than regretting it. For Sag tho, it’s doing things because YOLO and why tf not? Than breaking their leg or something. Although doesn’t happen often because we know how lucky Sag placements are lmao. But it’s like they jumped off a cliff, didn’t die but they broke their leg. Haha- this was a tangent

- Mars in 9th is going places! Literally they can’t sit still. Most likely passionate about travel, philosophy, and adventure. One of the most fun placements to have. Extreme sports is common here, skydiving, bungee jumping etc. They live to experience all that there is to experience. Very ambitious and passionate about education and teaching as well. They probably have things that they LlVE by

- Mars in Capricorn are passionate about success, achieving their goals which usually require them to work really hard. Where ever the mars is located in the houses can tell you a little bit more about what their goals are. They are passionate about being in control of their own lives, not takin shid from anyone lol

- Mars in 10th are passionate about being successful, being their own boss, their reputation and getting external recognition. They will put a lot of energy into their career and be very passionate about whatever they are doing. They will be a trail blazer and their career because they do it the right way the first time. Extremely hard workers- just be weary of burn out Mars in 10th folks!

- Mars in Aquarius is passionate about humanitarian pursuits, their community and friendships. They move about the world in the most unpredictable and unexpected way. They can be seen as a black sheep of their peers and then BAM they’re the ones turning heads, setting trends and on top. You will never know their next move and honestly neither do they! They get sudden bursts or urges of motivation and ideas- so never underestimate these individuals!

- Mars in 11th are passionate about their dreams, humanity and social causes. They will spend a lot of time surrounded by their friends and in their community. Although, their best friends will be fighting alongside them. They are passionate about the injustices of the world, stick up for the underdog and let their freak flag fly!

- Mars in Pisces are passionate about compassion, sacrifice, and unconditional love. Many of the times Pisces mars has their head in the clouds and put their energy into reading or writing their own book, painting the world they envisioned in their dream the night before, or staring at a the ocean, only to find God. This is if they are in a healthy nature, but many times they could escape through dr*gs, alc*h*l, s*x, or toxic relationships. This placement can get a bad rap for their changeability and confusion energy but they love harder than no other and would do anything for you if committed.

- Mars in 12th is passionate about their dreams, spiritually, many of them are religious or spiritual in nature. I haven’t met many who aren’t. They are natural introverts who need to spend as much time alone as they can to recharge. They may feel outcasted from society. A lot of people talk behind their back because of this which makes them withdraw even deeper. These natives benefit from living a spiritual, service oriented lifestyle, developing boundaries and surround themselves by people who genuinely want the best for them. It is hard but it is doable. Stay strong Mars in 12th!

🤬💢Pet Peeves🚨🚩

🚗Aries Mars- Going too slow in front of them-especially with no way around (applies to driving as well), lazy people, people who can’t keep up 💢Taurus Mars- Smacking, chewing inappropriately, weird textures….like chalk? Unpleasant senses, smells, being rushed, itchy clothes, under/over cooked food

☎️Gemini Mars- over stimulation, close minded attitude, when their friends don’t like each other, one word responses, boring people, when the Wi-Fi connection is slow

💔Cancer Mars- Inconsiderate of other people’s feelings (doesn’t have to be their own, most time it’s not), manipulation, people with anger issues, or people who take out their problems on others

🪭Leo Mars- When people try to compete with them when they are merely existing, copy cats, buzz kills, unwanted attention, seeing people in public that they don’t want to see

🤡 Virgo Mars- Know it alls, people who act like they know everything but don’t, ignorance, STAINS, people who are really loud….people lmaooo

💋Libra Mars- hypocrisy, stubbornness, arguments (especially in public), hypercritical people, slut and bullies

🧲Scorpio Mars- Lack of depth, lying for the sake of lying, slut shaming, shallow people, assuming, saying “I love you” like it’s casual, saying their friends when they know nothing about them, rumors

🚁Sagittarius Mars- People who lack independence, being late to things (not really others…they hate being late), people who try to control them, excess responsibility, and inflexibility

🩸Capricorn Mars- Doing things half-a$$ed, moochers, lack of ambition, unreliable, carelessness, immaturity, unpredictable behavior

🍄Aquarius Mars- Conformist, cry babies, stupidity, agreeing with them when they are playing devils advocate lol, when they like an unpopular artist and than it becomes trendy, attention seekers

🌹Pisces Mars- Telling them they are being unrealistic or their dreams are too big, being called sensitive or told they care too much, lmao reality…being alive hahaha- being judged for their spirituality/religion

[cupid-styles]

golf (sugar daddy h)

word count: 1.3k

content warnings: spicy but no smut, dirty talk, degradation, exhibitionism if you squint

sugar daddy h masterlist | main masterlist

talk to me

. . .

Mia doesn't care about golf. 

Not once in her life has she ever thought it was a fascinating sport. There are some sports, like hockey or baseball, that, at the very least, seem hot, if not a little attractive, but golf isn't one of those. 

And of course, Harry loves to golf.

It's nothing against him, really. If she's being honest, in her eyes, golf is a rich man's sport. Since they started seeing each other months ago, Harry has always made it a point to go golfing at least once a week. He has a membership to a country club nearby and either goes by himself, with his friends, or takes business partners there, where they spend the day drinking and hitting balls and whatever else wealthy people do at country clubs.

Mia wouldn't know because she's never gone and, quite frankly, she never wants to go. 

She adores Harry. She really, truly does, but being a frequent attender of the country club to play such a silly, boring sport just serves as another class barrier between them. Harry grew up going to golf camp, for crying out loud! Mia spent her summers working at the local ice cream shop, where she got paid $7 an hour to get yelled at by angry parents because she was only allowed to let their kids taste three flavors before they had to buy something.

So when Harry asks if she wants to spend her Saturday golfing with him at the club, she tries to come up with a million excuses as to why she can't. But because he's him, and he has a pretty face and a soothing voice and he threw in the prospect of spoiling her with a massage at the spa after they finished their game, she can't find it in her to say no. 

Harry has a business dinner the night before so Mia sleeps at her own place, which she's kind of surprised with, to be honest. (She anticipated him asking her to stay over so she didn't have a chance to get out of it.) Even despite the text he sent her at 11:40 pm to let her know that he got home safely (that's basically 2 am in Harry time), he shows up to her house in his golf clothes at 9 am on the dot, breakfast and coffee in hand. 

Mia has to physically drag herself out of bed to let him in, a scowl on her face, even though he went out of his way to go to her favorite bagel shop. 

"Morning, grumpy," he greets cheekily, smushing a kiss to her cheek. He doesn't even bother toeing his shoes off like he normally does, instead giving her bum a soft pat when she turns back around, "We have reservations at the club for 10, so you should go get dressed. You can eat in the car."

"Are you sure you want me to go?" Mia asks, and Harry has to ignore the slight hopefulness to her tone, "I've never even played golf before, I don't think I'll be very good—"

"It's not about being good, honey, I just want to spend the day with you. Show you off, y'know?" he leans forward to press a kiss to her temple before ducking down to catch her ear. "Now be good and go get dressed."

He doesn't catch the narrowing of her eyes as she reluctantly heads back to her bedroom, where she grabs the stupid golf outfit he insisted on buying her for this very occasion. She told him she was fine with wearing leggings and a tee-shirt, but he explained to her that there was a certain etiquette that came with golf, which included clothing. (Like Mia said, it's a rich man's sport.) So he bought her a short little skirt and a workout top and, if she's being frank, she's not sure if it's not more for him than it is for the game itself. 

She tried it on a few days ago when he brought it over and she batted at his chest when she saw the length of the skirt on her — unlike those trendy workout skorts that had spandex shorts underneath, the pleats of the one Harry purchased barely went down to the tops of her thighs. With a grumble, she said she'd just wear boyshorts to make sure no one "saw the goods."

But now that she's getting dressed for their golf day, she thinks she has a better idea. 

. . . 

Mia sucks at golf.

Harry keeps trying to encourage her and help her, but they're on hole 8 of 18, and she's exhausted. It's warm, she's sweaty, and Harry's beating her ass in the game. (What else would you expect from someone who spent their summer vacations playing every day?) 

"You got this, baby," he says, giving her waist a small squeeze as they approach hole nine. She rolls her eyes from behind her sunglasses, rolling out her wrist in an effort to get rid of the cramps. "Do you still need me to help you?"

Just as she's about to say yes, she remembers the impulsive decision she made this morning. And she realizes she knows exactly how to get this game to end. 

"Actually, I think I can do it," she replies with a smile, jumping out from the golf cart. "Will you just stand behind me and make sure I'm doing it right?"

Harry's pleasantly surprised but nods his head, a zip of enthusiasm firing through his chest. He follows her out and stands with his hands on his hips as she sets herself up, trying to find her stance. 

Per Harry's instructions, she leans over just slightly, a small bend in her knees. And that's when he sees it. 

She's not wearing anything underneath her skirt. 

"Mia," he growls, ambling towards her to cover her from behind, "What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

"Um, I think it's called teeing off? That's what you said, anyway—"

"Not that," he mutters, a protective hand squeezing her hip. He glances around them to make sure no one's watching them as his fingers dance down to the hem of her skirt, gently pulling it down. "Why aren't you wearing any underwear, Mia?"

"Ohhhh, that?" she asks, turning in his grasp. "I must've forgotten them. I'm sorry."

She has a look of false innocence on her face, her eyes rounded slightly and her lips pouted as if she was truly making a genuine apology. He's seething — he wants nothing more than to bend her over his knee and issue loud, harsh smacks to her ass, but he thinks she would like that too much. 

"You're such a fucking slut." he mumbles angrily, his jaw clenching. He grabs the golf club from her hand and uses his other to yank her back in the direction of the golf cart, a surprised yelp sounding from her mouth. "Are you that much of a brat that you've been walking around with your pussy out all day?"

She shrugs nonchalantly as she climbs into the golf cart. Harry rolls his eyes and shifts the key into the ignition, starting the machine back up. 

"Guess you'll just have to take me home, then," Mia replies with a sigh. Harry snorts and shakes his head. 

"You fucking wish," he says. She blinks at him. "No, baby. I'm gonna take you into one of those private bathrooms, edge you until you're crying, and then we're gonna finish this game."

Mia's eyes widen, shifting uncomfortably in her seat as he drives over a bump in the road. 

"Good thing I brought that nifty little remote control vibrator with me," he continues with a smirk. "Had a feeling you'd be a fuckin' brat today."

Mia doesn't know if she's ever regretted something so much before.

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Im hosting the latest, community building challenge with Twitch bc it has a built-in roadmap, everyone can follow.

Exclusive Twitch content and digital eco training sessions available with Social Cafe community access .

[cameronspecial]

Hey I have this idea that I saw on TikTok….

Major fluff!rafe & protective!rafe

Reader comes to stay with Cameron’s because her parents were abusing her and Ward offered for to live with his family. Reader think that cleaning their house earns her love. Rafe takes care of her.

To Earn Your Love

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of Emotional and Psychological Abuse

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 1.2K

Masterlist

Sarah found Y/N at the curb of the Country Club. Y/N had been sleeping at the club in any hidden nook or cranny that she could find before she got kicked out. She was once a patron of the establishment; however, once her family finally removed her from their membership, the employees who saw her during the day could no longer allow her inside. Sarah was quick to offer Y/N a place to stay at Tannyhill and after hearing her story, Ward was quick to agree that the girl could stay. Her parents had disowned her for planning on going to university after her gap year instead of working at the family business. They had her future set in stone and when she didn’t want what they had planned, they suddenly didn’t have a daughter anymore. Y/N didn’t want to accept the offer. How would it look if she is seen staying at the Camerons? What would people think about her parents? Sarah and Ward were able to convince her to stay though and through this whole process, Rafe remained silent in the corner of the room with an unreadable expression on his face. 

Rafe couldn’t believe that the Y/L/Ns would do that to their own precious daughter. He graduated with Y/N and he knew what a sweet and nice girl she was. She was a daughter that would make any parent proud, except for Riley and Ford Y/L/N apparently. As he listened to her explain the details of how they would treat her, his ball would curl up at the signs of emotional and psychological abuse she had been experiencing. They made her believe that a parent's love was conditional on certain factors and that she could only be worthy of being their daughter if she did everything they wanted when that was far from the truth. Rafe had to stop himself from paying her parents a visit. 

———

A crash coming from downstairs makes Rafe bolt upright. His first instinct is to grab the baseball bat he keeps by his bed and to check on Y/N in the guest bedroom. When he finds the room empty, he dashes downstairs in search of her. He hears movement coming from the kitchen, raising the bat in preparation to swing. He steps into the dimly lit room about to hit whoever is inside when a tiny yelp stops him in his tracks. “Y/N?” He turns on the lights to find Y/N hunched over broken glass with fear in her eyes. Tears begin to brim her eyelids and she rushes to pick up the shards. “I am so sorry I woke you. I am going to clean it up right away. You can turn the lights off and go back upstairs. I will clean it,” she insists. In her haste, a jagged edge slips across her skin and crimson liquid blooms across the cut. She continues to clean up the mess that she made. Rafe squats in front of her and gently holds onto her wrists to stop her. “Hey, forget about this. You are bleeding,” he shushes. She drops the glass onto the floor, letting him place her on the counter near the sink. “I really need to clean it, Rafe. Someone can get hurt.” He places a hand over her knees, “It’s okay. I’ll clean it. Just let me take care of you first, Princess.” 

She gives him a meagre nod and holds out her bleeding finger to him. He grabs her hand, running the finger under the water before patting it dry. He steps away from her for a second to grab a bandaid from the cabinet. He places the bandaid on her wound and gives a kiss to the injury. She sets her hand back onto her lap, dropping her gaze to her lap. “I should get back to work,” she mumbles. She jumps off the counter and goes to get the broom in the pantry. Rafe’s eyebrows come to a knit, “Get back to work? What were you doing down here in the dark, Princess?” He assumed she came down for water. But upon looking around the room, he spots cleaning supplies scattered around the kitchen. 

“I’m cleaning. I’m sorry I woke you. I promise it won’t happen again. You can go back to sleep now,” she promises, sweeping up the glass. Rafe tries to conceal his anger so he doesn’t scare her, yet the thought of her thinking that this is normal infuriates him. Once she has the glass cleaned, he takes the dustpan from her hand and puts it away.  He returns back in front of her and tilts her head to look at him. “You don’t need to clean for us, Princess. We have a cleaner,” he informs her. She shakes her head, “It’s okay. I can do it. How else am I supposed to show you that I am grateful for everything? How am I supposed to earn your love?” Rafe starts to think back since she has started staying with them. How the house has seemed clean even though it has been a week since the cleaner came? How, when he came home late at night, it would sometimes feel like someone was in the room next door as he went upstairs? “Princess, how long have you been doing this?” he questions. Her eyes find his, “Every night since I’ve been here. I was doing such a good job too. I haven’t woken up anyone since tonight.” He brushes her hair back from her forehead with his thumb and places a kiss on the skin. “You don’t have to do this anymore. You don’t have to earn our love because we already love you,” he whispers to her, bringing her into a tight embrace. 

She disagrees, “You guys deserve a clean home and not to be woken up in the night while I do so. Am I not doing a good job? Should I use a different cleaning product? Or should I wipe the table in a circle instead of up and down?” “You want to do a good job, then we need you to stop, okay? Because you can’t earn something you already have and we don’t want the people we love staying up to clean. I don’t want the person I love to hurt herself doing this every night. Plus, if you keep taking any more of my love, then I won’t have anything more to give,” he swears to her. Her hands land on his bicep, “You love me?”

“I do and I also really want you to go to sleep right now. So how about we go back upstairs, yeah?”

“Can I just finish cleaning the kitchen first?”

“If you do, then I am going to stay and help you.”

Her face freezes as she thinks about his condition, “I guess we can go upstairs.” Rafe grins in victory, taking her hand and turning off the lights as he leads her upstairs. “Rafe, can I sleep in your room tonight? I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep so early,” she questions, which makes his heartache. This is obviously so engrained in her schedule and he couldn’t believe they hadn’t noticed. He nods, pulling her into his bedroom with her. As her head rests on his chest, Rafe vows to himself that he is going to show her what love truly is.

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming

[wonjns]

How about some super hot, wet, steamy sex with SVT Mingyu at the sauna's or something 😩 He's just so big

hot & bothered — k.my drabble

♡ kim mingyu x male reader // nsfw

a/n. . . OK been getting lots... LOTS of reqs abt mingyu & this one acc sounded hot so i can no longer deny the ppl what they want !!

kim mingyu was seemingly everywhere,, and the fact that he’s your cocky ex is what made it insufferable for you.

it was unbearable — every bar, club, party, or social gathering you went to, he was there… down to even having the same gym membership as you.

you’d been trying to get back in shape over the summer with the new semester starting soon, and you had done a good job of avoiding the 6 foot adonis for weeks now — that is until you decided to take a celebratory trip to your gym’s sauna.

your first mistake was stepping inside without checking through the fogged glass beforehand, and your second mistake was not leaving as soon as your eyes landed on the huge mass of a man sitting directly across from the entrance, long arms stretched out among the bench backs and tan skin practically illuminating the room.

mingyu eyed you with a silent smirk as you stood there gawking at him, nearly naked with nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist.

he was manspread to his heart’s content, drops of sweat rolling down his broad exposed chest, just begging to be licked up.

he had clearly been working hard, and must’ve just finished a demanding day in the weight room since his muscles were visibly much more bulked than you remembered seeing him a month prior. his bulging biceps made you shift uncomfortably, feeling yourself already growing hard at the sight.

mingyu’s fangy grin only grew when he watched you nervously swallow, eyes drinking in even more of his large form. the sweat on his chiseled abs reflected off the dim light and ignited you with memories of your tongue running up and down them in the past. you could still feel his perked nipples on that buff chest of his beneath your palms.

the sauna smelt like musk — his musk. the kind that turned you on during the days when he would come back into the house exhausted after mowing the lawn, letting you suck him off as a form of gratitude.

speaking of, one look at the humongous mountain of a dick print beneath his towel had you stifling a whimper, the bulge serving as a daunting reminder of how fat his cock really is.

every ounce of your instincts pleaded for you to leave, but you could only draw closer to him while he eyed your half-naked body as well, as if you were under a spell. back when you were dating, mingyu always knew how to smooth talk you into his sheets. he simply understood what you responded to and how to get you hot and bothered.

the time gap of when you last saw him was evident in your inability to resist him, since only a few sly remarks and the singular action of running his large hand through his damp hair was all it took for you to lock the sauna door and pounce on him.

you grinded atop of his lap like a needy animal, moaning as he smashed your lips together and wasted no time in tasting you. your desperate hands roamed the vass expanse of his moist, smooth skin and muscular back, groaning into his mouth as you rolled your hips over his towel-covered erection.

you knew you couldn’t take much more when his wet kisses lowered to your neck, mingyu hungrily sucking marks into your skin. oh how you missed that thick tongue laving all over your collarbones while his huge hands gripped you by the waist.

you threw your head back, tangling your fingers in his wet curls. you hated his man, yet he had you in a pool of euphoria without even moving from his spot on the bench.

without ceasing your grinding for a second, you pushed him back before smoothing your palms down his sweaty, melanated chest. the haze took over your mind while you leaned down to latch your lips onto his taut nipples. he threw his head back when you started sucking harshly, the deep moans he released causing your cock to twitch as it leaked precum.

soon you were shamelessly begging him to take the towel off, desperate for just one last good fuck. and he wasn’t even thinking about denying you of it.

you were both stripped down in seconds, both towels long forgotten on the steamy floor as your sweaty bodies collided. he devoured your mouth one more while lifting you up easily, before sinking you down on that monster cock you had never gotten use to. you began bouncing on his lap, weakly gripping his strong rounded shoulders when he pulled you tighter - feeling your leaky cock start to rub against his sculpted abs.

the heat of the room had your body more slick and mind more dizzy than ever. once he took the perfect opportunity to then suck on your nipples (which he remembered to always have been sensitive), you were climaxing in seconds - whining as you shot ropes of white all over his buff chest. seconds later he emptied his load into you.

you were panting, legs worn and trembling like you had just ran a marathon; but granted, how couldn’t you feel that way after having steamy public sex with the tall, dark hunk that was kim mingyu.

before you left, you told him that would never happen again — you both knew you were lying.

© 𝐟𝐥𝐰𝐫𝐛𝐨𝐢 — all rights reserved

[coopers-hand]

your 6H and how you find comfort

TLDR: our 6H is responsible for our day to day lives, including our habits and routine. one thing about those is that through these repetitive actions people find the sense of familiarity, stability and comfort. the position of the ruler of this house will show you areas through which you may find this comfort❤️‍🩹 to gain more insight, look at the signs of both 6H and it’s ruler, as well as to your Moon and virgo-pisces axis! ٩(^‿^)۶

~ the position of your 6H ruler and how you find your sense of comfort

1H: pampering oneself, being pretty and comfy, and being well fed and having walked on their little walk, and their skin is moisturized and their nails are groomed — these people need to take care of themselves and their own body to feel comforted🍃

2H: those people may be the type of ppl that have their emotional support stuffed animal, or sweater, or coffee mug — anything, actually, that they can hold and touch and that has some physical weight to it. they may sleep with plushies and wear the same mittens their mom knitted for them centuries ago🧶☕️

3H: escaping to the books, movies, series, etc. — these ppl find the most comfort in stories and ways people share their thoughts with the world ✏️ so they may have their comfort piece of media that they keep coming back again and again

4H: sense of comfort is brought through the feeling of home and passed childhood. the perfume of their mother? that one sandwich they’ve been eating since they turned 5? that one pair of socks knitted by their grandma? you tell me 🥹 || I have my 6H ruler in here, and I find comfort in eating the same breakfast my mom was cooking for me when I was at school, so yeah…

5H: hobbies!! those people may be the ones that have been doing the same thing since childhood, like they’ve always been drawing with crayons, or collecting stickers, or crafting, or making little silly songs with their old electronic piano. they may find comfort in their old creative supplies, in their ancient watercolors they bought like in 7th grade, or in that one song that makes they soul dance itself out

6H: regime!! those people need to have their own familiar structure of life, even if this structure doesn’t make sense for everybody else. they need their morning walks, they need their sunday movie nights with that one person, they need to do this exact type of exercise bc it’s important for them and only they will get it.

7H: those people are about lifelong relationships, they may be one of the most devoted partners you can find. they find comfort in people they’ve been with since forever, they are feeling sure and good and comfy around their best friend that they’ve known for 20 years, that they’ve grown up with and that they share almost all of their life experiences with👭

8H: those people need their alone time. they need their sacred space, their little castle that nobody can invade and make them put on a human suit again. they find comfort in knowing that there’s completely no one around so that they can be so much and unapologetically alone and themselves.

9H: those people are the greatest optimists, that will not let the humanity destruct itself in the storm of hate and pessimism. those people always know that there’s hope, that the world is a good place to be in, that there’s joy and love and laughter and cool people and also little animals and big animals and flowers and so much more!! I love them so much omg sorry but those people literally save the world by finding their own sense of comfort😭

10H: another type of people that need the structure, but, on the contrary with 6H fellas, this is kind of an external structure. it may be a literal social institute that provides them with it (e.g. school, work, gym membership, language clubs??), or a kind of style of living that they accept to follow. those people may find comfort in knowing that they have their life together, in knowing what will happen tomorrow🏹

11H: those people crave the sense of belonging. they need to know that they are not alone in this world, that there’s at least another person on Earth that can say ‘hey! im here! I know how you feel’. the greatest sense of comfort for those people is knowing that they are understood.

12H: hello my lovely existentialists 🥰 for these people comfort may look like something unattainable, bc they are prone to existential dread every working day and holidays included. however, the sense of comfort is attained through daydreaming, sleeping and meditating — and also other 1000000 things that can be linked to sleep. I also have noticed that those people may need more sleep than others to stay healthy. so, remember — it’s not that the world hates you, maybe you just had very little sleep in the night💤

[chronicallycouchbound]

I refuse to call government assistance programs “welfare” or “benefits”.

I’ve been on government assistance programs my whole life. I have never lived above the poverty line.

It’s a system that doesn’t care about my wellbeing, they care about doing the bare minimum to keep people alive enough to function and work, and if you’re disabled and cannot work, they give significantly less of a fuck.

And benefits?? What benefits?

Food stamps that run out within two weeks because I am budgeting with 8$ a day with literally dozens of dietary restrictions? Or do you mean the housing voucher that I have to never even have a gift card, penny to my name, Sams club membership, phone bill, literally anything that could be “income” in order to qualify? That same housing voucher system that if I mess up even once with I not only lose all government aid for at least 5 years, it’s also mandatory PRISON time for 1 year?? “Oh but they would never do that, right?” Nope! I have several friends who are now felons for minor lease violations and unhoused as a result! Oh maybe you mean the state health insurance that doesn’t cover most treatments, specialists, and testing I need and if I tried to make a gofundme to cover, I would lose aforementioned housing? Oh and we can’t forget all the money I get for being disabled, which is exactly 0$. I’m still fighting for SSI and have been for 6 years! That’s over 6 years with absolutely zero income. ZERO. And guess what, whenever I *do* get on SSI, I will lose my housing voucher. And I won’t be able to afford my current apartment because even in subsidized low income housing it’s too expensive for the maximum SSI “benefit” amount. And on SSI you can’t have savings over 2000$. Oh and they do make housing for people who are low income where you pay 30% of your income but I can’t even be on the waitlist since I don’t have any income. And on top of all this, I can never get married because I’ll lose all of the programs.

I could keep going. That’s not even half of the programs I’m a part of.

• None of them give me cash in hand. Even for vouchers I have to provide receipts for everything.

• Food stamps just straight up won’t even cover ineligible items. Which includes hot foods.

• I genuinely don’t believe that there’s a way to “game the system” and why would you? You would gain literally nothing.

• It’s designed to keep people poor. Once you make over a certain amount, you lose all or almost all benefits. There’s no way to slowly transition out of the programs, if you’re someone who’s able to. It’s all in or all out.

• All of these barriers are made significantly worse while unhoused/homeless. I’ve been homeless for over half of my life and there’s so many fucked up rules. If I missed one night staying in the shelter, I lost my housing voucher because I no longer was “verified as homeless” even if I was sleeping outside still.

[ariesjupiter]

Solar Return Observations

• Pluto in the 1st house can be a fame indicator, since your identity (1H) is being “discovered” (Pluto) and it can transform your life. This is further emphasized if Pluto is in a Leo degree of fame too (5°, 17°, 29°).

• If you have a Pisces degree (12°, 24°) on your Ascendant, look at the house the Ascendant sign falls into in your natal chart. This can show where they may be illusions, fantasizing, and where you may feel lost and confused or things may be unclear. For example, this year I have my solar return ascendant at 24° Sagittarius. 24° Sagittarius falls into my natal 10th house. I’m currently feeling a bit confused about my future and career and I’ve been fantasizing about pursuing different career paths.

• When you have Mars in the 6th house you should be particularly careful of injuries happening while exercising

• Jupiter at 22° can be a very productive year and you may receive many awards and a lot of recognition for your hard work. It can be the year you achieve a goal you've been working on for a while.

• A planet in the 5th or 7th house at 11° can indicate meeting someone through social media, dating apps, or things like that.

• The sign on the cusp of the 2nd house can show you what you spend a lot of money on that year. For example, Aquarius in the 2nd can show spending money on/with friends, club and association memberships, networking, and anything related to hopes and dreams for the future.

• Mercury and/or Jupiter in the 7th house can indicate a year when you think of a business idea. It’s also likely to be an especially good time to start a business.

• A negative manifestation of Moon in the 7th house could be a negative roommate situation. The Moon is associated with a safe and comfortable place/the home and the 7th house rules open enemies and other people.

• Another indication of a difficult roommate or living situation could be Pluto conjunct IC. I had this a few years ago and had to move out of my dorm because my roommate treated me terribly and was being rude and hostile for no reason. Pluto rules transformations and endings/new beginnings and the IC represents the home/private sphere.

• Venus at 11° means you may go to many concerts and performances that year as well as make many spontaneous plans with friends.

[spiderispunk]

2 A.M.

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x F!reader

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: Smut (18+). Friends With Benefits. Oral Sex (m + f receiving). 69ing. Brief Assplay.

All mistakes are me own. Comments/reblogs are appreciated!!

You swore you were done with this. Done waiting for flirty 2 a.m. texts. Done with hastily packed duffle bags and sweaty trysts in wrinkled sheets. Done with walks of shame the next morning, the delicious ache between your thighs a reminder of all the dirty things you’d gotten up to in the past few hours.

Though, it can’t really be called a walk of shame if it felt so good, and you weren’t really ashamed, can it? And it did feel good to see your phone light up well past midnight with a corny text from Rooster.

Bradley.

The message from him lights up your bedroom now. Casts the room in a soft blue glow. You swipe open your phone, thumb hovering over the screen as you formulate a response.

You up? It reads. 

You roll your eyes. Those college tendencies had still not left him, even though he was 5 years removed from the Naval Academy, and considered one of the best pilots in the country. Hell, he’d flown an incredibly dangerous mission six months ago, and was still sending You up? texts. 

Typical Bradley. 

Maybe that’s part of his charm. The boyish air about him. Youthful confidence that borders slightly on cockiness. It reminded you of old times. Sneaking in and out of dorm rooms before the sun rose, quickies in-between classes. Cheap beer and dim, crowded basements. 

Maybe it’s the freedom and the mystery that draws you back to him. Rooster throws himself back into the orbit of your life every three months or so without warning. You fuck round for a couple weeks, and then he disappears into whatever Navy void he came from until the next time he swings back around. Like a horny comet. 

No feelings. No strings. Just the best sex you’ve ever had in your life…followed by the worst dry spell of your life. And a strange empty ache. You’d never admit it to his face– don’t want to inflate his ego anymore–but Bradley might have ruined other men for you. 

At least, that’s what you think now. Fresh off of involuntary abstinence and a super disappointing fuck.  

And so, even though you swore to yourself you’d be done with all this, you send a quick response. 

Yes :)

* * *

Bradley’s neighborhood is nice. A quiet line of almost identical brown townhouses with immaculate yards. Must be military. That would explain the harsh conformity, and the high concentration of American flags on the porches. 

All of the houses’ windows are dark, except for the one your car rolls to a stop in front of. 

Bradley throws the door open and pulls you inside before you can even knock.   

“Someone’s eager,” you tease, as you're crowded back against the door. 

Bradley’s hands come to rest on either side of your head. “No time like the present.” His soft brown eyes are full of mirth. 

He looks the same as he did a couple months ago. Same bright eyes and easygoing smile. It brings faint laugh lines to the surface of his freckled skin. He’s only wearing a pair of grey sweats, so the vast expanse of his body is laid bare before you. Your gaze traces the planes of tanned skin, from the solid muscle of his arms, to his chest and then down to the waistband that hangs low across his hips. 

“Like what you see?” Bradley ticks an eyebrow upwards. 

You roll your eyes, but you’d be a liar if you said otherwise. “Jesus you’re a walking cliche. You’re one ‘Come here often?’ away from a free membership to the Corny Club.” With great effort, you drag your gaze up from the glaringly obvious bulge at Bradley’s crotch, to his shining eyes. 

“Baby, I’m already a card-carrying member.” He leans in closer, and you catch a whiff of his body wash. “That’s my most effective pick up line.”

Vanilla and Sandalwood. The reaction is immediate, you want to bury your nose into his neck and breathe him in deeper.   

You suck in a deep breath. “Does it work?”

“You tell me,” Bradley whispers.

His parted lips brush yours, a teasing, barely-there kiss. You lean forward, chasing the touch of his mouth, but Bradley leans away, wearing a shit-eating grin on his face. 

“Now who’s eager?” He teases.

You ignore him, and wrap your arms around his broad shoulders to pull him back to you. You had no problem going after what you wanted, something Bradley really liked about you. You thread your fingers through his hair and mold your lips to his. 

Bradley presses a hot groan into your mouth. His tongue licks against yours, testing the waters. He meets no resistance. In fact, you almost whimper, body melting against his. You feel the heat of his body against yours, even through the fabric of your t-shirt. It leaves your skin prickly, your nerves singed. 

One of his large hands leaves the door, and slides down the curve of your spine. His fingers slide over the waistband of your shorts, grabbing at your ass and trapping you against his body. Instinctively, you rock your hips against the thigh he’s placed between your legs. 

Funny how well the two of you meshed together, even after months apart.

The back of your head hits the door, a quiet moan falling from your lips at the sweet pressure. Bradley’s lips leave yours to trace open-mouthed kisses across your jaw and down your neck. He guides the greedy grind of your hips at a nearly torturous pace. 

“Fuck,” you whine when he nips at your pulse. You use the grip on his shoulders as leverage to get a better angle. 

Bradley watches you, eyes alight with amusement. “It’s that easy, huh?” 

“Shut up,” you groan. Your clit catches on the crease of his sweatpants so well, reducing you to a puddle. It’s good. It’s great even. But it’s not enough. 

“Nearly drooling for it,” he whispers. “When’s the last time you got laid?” 

The answer? It’s been a long fucking time since you’ve had good sex. Actually, if you had to actually count, it would be 137 days exactly: the last time Bradley was stateside. There was that guy from a few weeks back, but he’d jackhammered his way home in 3 minutes– a personal record even for bad lays– and hung you out to dry. You’d left that encounter missing Bradley more than ever. Even entertained the idea of sending him a text just in case he was back home.

“I said shut the fuck up.” You tug his bottom lip between your teeth and pull. 

Bradley moans, a deep rumble in the back of his throat. You smile victoriously, digging your teeth in a little harsher before letting go. Bradley’s eyes meet yours, widening a bit as his tongue traces over the indent your bite had left behind. 

His cheeks flush a ruddy red, and his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows thickly. “Shit,” he mumbles, and surges forward to kiss you again.   

Bradley’s everywhere. He pins your body back against the door. His lips slide over yours hungrily. Tongue pressing into your mouth as if he’s trying to bury himself inside of you. He rucks your shirt up to palm your breast. He squeezes, pinching your nipple between his middle and forefinger. The pain, the pleasure of it all almost makes you dizzy.

Brain foggy, and body keyed up to 11, you pull away from him. “Bradley,” you sigh, blinking rapidly as the world comes back into focus. 

Bradley noses at the underside of your jaw. “Mmm?” He presses soft kisses to your neck.

“We gonna take this to the bed? Or did you wanna fuck me up against the door?” 

He pretends to think about it for a moment. “Dunno. Door has its merits. I don’t have to move. And I can do this.” He shifts, rolling his thigh against your clit. 

A moan tumbles clumsily from your lips. “You can do that on the bed, and it gives us more room.” 

“Room to do what?” 

You tilt your head to whisper in his ear. “I could suck your dick...” 

Bradley chuckles. “You could do that here.”

“I could suck your dick while you eat me out.” You bite your bottom lip.

He pauses. A grin spreads across his face, lighting up his eyes. “Now that is a convincing argument.” 

“Yeah?” Your answering smile is just as wide. 

“Uh huh.” Bradley frees himself from your grip and takes a step back. He hooks a finger into the front of your shorts and tugs forward. “Just don’t come too early.” 

“Me?” You scoff, letting yourself be pulled forward. “What makes you think I’d do that?” 

“Yeah, you.” He guides you back through the townhouse with ease. “You just got finished humping me against the door.”

“Weren’t you the one who pinned me to the door as soon as I walked in?”

Bradley pushes the door to his room open and flicks on the light. “So?” 

“So, you’re just as riled up as me.” You lick your bottom lip. “If anything, you should be worried about…premature completion,” you finish awkwardly.  

Bradley tosses his head back and laughs. A deep, belly-aching guffaw. The rich baritone notes bounce off of the walls of his small bedroom. Warmth bursts in your chest and your heart leaps, in spite of the fact that you’re the source of his laughter. It’s infectious, bubbling up inside of you until it slips through the cracks of your smile, and pretty soon peals of your own laughter twine with his.

“‘Premature completion?’” He gasps, holding a hand to his chest. 

You punch his shoulder lightly. “Don’t laugh at me.”

“I’m sorry.” Bradley makes a show of wiping nonexistent tears from his eyes. “It’s just such a funny way of putting it.” 

“Rooster,” you snap.

He presses his lips together and makes an attempt at a somewhat serious face. It lasts all of three seconds before he’s laughing again. 

You cross your arms over your chest. “Well not all of us are as crass as you and your Navy buddies.”

“Sorry. It just makes ya sound like a science textbook.” 

“Fuck off.” You roll your eyes. 

Bradley’s laughter turns to quiet chuckles. “Okay, okay. No need to get so feisty. Even though I love it when you do.” He pulls you close and loops an arm around your waist. “I believe you were gonna show me the merits of a bed.” 

You raise your eyebrows. “Now who sounds like a textbook?” Your finger traces over his lower stomach.

“Still you,” he answers cheekily.

You ignore his gentle ribbing. “You’re wearing too many clothes.” 

“You’re wearing more than I am.” He tugs at the waistband of your shorts. 

“Then you should fix that,” you say coyly. 

Bradley smirks. “I will.” He sits on his bed and beckons you forward. 

You move to stand between his spread legs and rest your hands on his shoulder. You’re immediately glad that you did, as Bradley’s lips latch onto your peaked nipple and suck on it through the fabric of your tank top. 

“No bra.” He mumbles against the growing wet patch. He looks up at you through heavy-lidded eyes. 

You shake your head. “It’d just get in the way.” 

He hums under his breath. “It would.” His teeth tease your breast, skating over the sensitive skin. Bradley pulls your tank top down and switches to the other breast. His fingers lightly pinch and roll the nipple he’s not currently sucking on. 

You moan quietly, and slide your fingers into his loose curls. Bradley doesn’t need much encouragement. He’s greedy, eager. His lips smack against your breast, hot tongue sweeping out to taste your skin. Your knees grow weaker with each passing moment. Each swipe of his tongue. Each of his wrecked groans. 

“Fuck,” he mumbles, burying his face into your chest and inhaling the scent of you. Jasmine and ginger. Your body is so fucking warm it drives him crazy. His dick hardens in his sweatpants. His pulse thuds loudly in his ears. He wants to be inside you. Needs it like he needs air. 

It’s been too long since he had you like this. Willing and pliant under his touch. Bottom lip trapped between your teeth as he touched you. Bradley’s lost count of how many times he’s gotten off to the thought of this moment. Memories he’d replayed over and over in his head as he stroked his cock. The echo of your soft cries in his ears as he came all over his hand. 

This, the real thing, puts all his daydreams to shame. 

Bradley’s unoccupied hand slowly slides up your inner thigh. His thumb flicks under your shorts, and he chokes when he meets, not the pesky lace he was expecting, but the softness of your wet pussy. 

“Jesus.” He inhales sharply. “No panties either?” 

You shrug, hoping to come off as nonchalant, even though your heart thuds in your chest. “They’d just end up on the floor.” 

“Are you trying to kill me?” He looks up at you, umber eyes eclipsed completely by desire. 

“I’m trying to fuck you,” you remind him. And then, growing impatient, you push him backwards onto the bed. “You’re always getting distracted,” you chide playfully, and pull your tank top over your head. “It’s a miracle you’ve managed to keep your plane up in the sky this long.” Your shorts are quick to join your top on the ground.  

Bradley grins up at you. “They don’t have distractions like you up in the sky. And it’s a good thing they don’t.” His dark eyes roam your body. “C’mere.” 

“Yes, sir!” You give him a mock salute and he rolls his eyes. 

The annoyed look melts away when you climb onto his lap. It turns into slack-jawed reverence when you grind your down against the obvious erection Bradley sports. His fingers grip your hips and he holds you tighter against him as he rocks up to meet you. A sweet groan escapes his parted lips. 

“I think,” you begin, walking your fingers up Bradley’s chest, “that I could make you come before you could make me.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.”

“Trying to bait me into a bet? Us aviator’s don’t go down easy.” 

“That’s exactly what I’m doing. And if I win, you have to,” you pause for dramatic effect, “let me be in charge the next time we see each other.” 

“Done.” He cocks his head to the side, that signature boyish grin etching dimples into his cheeks. “What if you don’t? What do I get if I make you come first?” 

“Well name your stakes, Lieutenant Bradshaw.” 

“When I win–” 

“If.” 

“When I win…” Bradley thinks for a moment, and then bashfulness flits across his face. “You have to let me take you out one night. And not to the Hard Deck either. Somewhere nice.” 

“Take me out? Like on a date?” You ask and he nods. Your breath catches in your throat. 

That’s not what this was. This was casual. A 2 a.m. text. Flirtatious banter. Sex to scratch an itch and a See you next time. Not expectations or permanence. Not dinner and a night on the town.

Then again…Bradley’s a good guy. He’s sweet, definitely easy on the eyes. He takes care of you in his own way. Makes you laugh until you cry, and you genuinely like being around him. Plus, he fucks you like none other. Can make you see stars with just his fingers and tongue. You can’t say that for most of the other guys you’ve been with before him or since. 

Would one date be so bad? It was just dinner, not a marriage proposal. Who knows, maybe something good could come out of it. Or, if it was terribly awkward, you two could just pretend it never even happened in the first place. 

You must hesitate too long, because Bradley shakes his head. “Forget it. I’ll do something else.” 

“No, wait.” You smile, and his expression lightens. “I’ll go out with you, Bradley.” You lean forward and kiss him sweetly. “But you gotta earn it first.”

A steely resolve settles over his face. Bradley cups your jaw, before you can pull away and slots his lips against yours. He moans into your mouth as his tongue licks against your bottom lip. You surge forward, opening yourself up to him, getting drunk on his kiss. It’s a messy, desperate clash of lips and teeth. Battling tongues and noses that bump against each other with the desire for more, more, more. 

More skin. More friction. More of each other. 

His large hand slides down your spine and squeezes your ass, rocking your hips against his crotch. You sigh at the sweet friction of your clit against his sweatpants. His cock, hard and pressed against your inner thigh, makes something heavy pool in your belly. It’s not long before your lips are moving down his body in search of it. 

You press open mouthed kisses across his jaw, down his neck and torso. Bradley groans above you, his hand pressing against the back of your head, and you can’t tell if he’s pushing you lower or trying to get your mouth back on his. Still, your lips continue their trek lower, over the planes of his stomach, to the carved lines of his hips. 

You run the tip of your tongue over the muscles that lead to his cock. The choked moan he lets out has you clenching your thighs as your clit throbs. You only get his sweatpants down a little more to kiss the top of his thighs, when the hand on your neck squeezes. 

“Wait,” Bradley chokes out. 

You look up at him, bottom lip trapped between your teeth. “Yes?” 

“You’re cheating,” he says, chest heaving.

You sit up and tug his sweats down his legs. “If all it takes is a few kisses to make you come, this is gonna be easier than I thought.” 

“You’re gonna need the head start.” He winks and taps his chin. “Get your ass up here.”

You raise up on your knees and turn slowly, wiggling your hips as you position yourself slowly. “Having second thoughts?” 

Bradley’s hand lands on your butt sharply. “Not a chance. I’m taking you to dinner.” He rubs the sting away with his large palm. “Fucking beautiful.” He pulls you right over his face. 

You hum, and wrap your hand around his stiff cock, feeling the weight of him in your palm. His breath hits your cunt in wrecked gasps, making you shudder. Under normal circumstances, you’d stroke him slowly, relishing his quiet groans. Watching his sanity slowly slip away. Teasing him until he got impatient and either begged for you or took matters into his own hands. 

But these are not normal circumstances. You have a job to do. 

You lean forward, mouthing at the base of Bradley’s cock. You run your tongue over every ridge and vein, from top to bottom. 

“Shit.” Bradley moans. “Fuck, that’s it.” 

This’ll be a piece of cake. With the way he’s moaning under you, Bradley will be coming in no time. You’ve got him hook, line and sinker. You can almost taste the sweet victory…and then Bradley recovers from the shock. 

He pulls your hips down onto his face and slowly drags the tip of his tongue from your clit to your entrance and back again. He hums at the taste of you, wrapping his lips around your clit and working at the nerves with a flat tongue. You can’t help it. You moan lowly, and rock your hips down onto his chin–all thoughts of the bet wiped clean from your mind. 

“Bradley,” you whine and drop your forehead against his thigh. 

Electricity races up your spine and you shudder. It’s almost overwhelming. Bradley knows your body too well. Knows all the things that have you careening towards the edge already. It’s embarrassing how worked up you are. Your toes curl against the pillows, and you try to will yourself to get a grip. At the very least, to stop helping him win. You swear you can almost feel his cocky grin against you. 

You might have bitten off more than you can chew. 

Bradley chuckles, and it snaps you back to reality. You won’t go down without a fight. 

You wrap your lips around his cock, matching the fervor with which his lips move against your cunt. You swallow him down, stroking what you can’t fit into your mouth. Your hand glides over his cock easily, aided by the mess of your saliva. 

His chuckles turn into a moan. You’re not out of this just yet.

It’s a desperate race. Hot and sticky. Fueled by desire and broken moans. Your bodies writhe against each other, hips lifting and pushing, seeking the warm embrace of lips and spit. Muffled groans and smacking sounds fill the room. 

But it can’t last forever, and you won’t last much longer.

You let his cock slip from your mouth and kiss down the shaft. Your hand keeps its steady rhythm, even as Bradley presses a finger into your entrance. Your lips travel over his thighs, teeth digging little marks into his skin. Then, slowly, gently, you suck on his balls. 

Bradley loses it. His hips buck up into your hand. He groans and pulls away to bite out a curse. Jesus. His head spins, and he swears he feels his soul leave his body for a moment. He breathes harshly through his nose, steadying himself. In. Out. In. Out. And then a second finger joins the first thrusting into you, and his tongue swirls around your clit once more. 

Your legs begin to tremble around his head, the tell tale sign of your orgasm. Holding yourself up has become a chore, and Bradley doesn’t let up. Determined to make you come. Determined to get that first date. But you’re just as determined to bring him to the edge with you.

He takes one of his fingers, slick from the warmth of your dripping pussy, and teases your ass. Pressing the digit into you just slightly. At the same time, Bradley slurps your clit back into his mouth. The combination is lethal, and it’s the breaking point.

You come with a cry that’s muffled by Bradley’s thigh. You rock your hips against his face wantonly as the embers turn into a wildfire. Bradley groans as you explode on his tongue. He works you through it, greedily kissing your clit while his fingers still fuck into you. Licking and sucking at your cunt until you’re an overstimulated puddle. Only then does he pull away with a filthy pop, and a harsh smack to your ass. 

You collapse onto the bed beside Bradley, and stare up at the ceiling. “Wow.” You can’t even be upset about losing, fucked out and sated as you are. 

You wait for the inevitable teasing, but it never comes. Instead, Bradley kisses your ankle, and rubs his thumb over your knee. Content to sit here with you in comfortable silence until your breathing has settled. 

When the rise and fall of your chest has finally begun to steady, Bradley breaks the silence, propping himself up on his elbows to grin at you. “Best two out of three?” 

[thatsonemorbidcorvid]

“Many of the women in Heterodoxy moved in corresponding circles and maintained similar beliefs. They were “veterans of social reform efforts,” writes Scutts in Hotbed, and they belonged to “leagues, associations, societies and organizations of all stripes.” A large number were public figures—influential lawyers, journalists, playwrights or physicians, some of whom were the only women in their fields—and often had their names in the papers for the work they were performing. Many members were also involved in a wide variety of women’s rights issues, from promoting the use of birth control to advocating for immigrant mothers.

Heterodoxy met every other Saturday to discuss such issues and see how members might collaborate and cultivate networks of reform. Gatherings were considered a safe space for women to talk, exchange ideas and take action.”

In the early 20th century, New York City’s Greenwich Village earned a reputation as America’s bohemia, a neighborhood where everyone from artists and poets to activists and organizers came to pursue their dreams.

“In the Village, it was so easy to bump into great minds, to go from one restaurant to another, to a meeting house, to work for a meeting or to a gallery,” says Joanna Scutts, author of Hotbed: Bohemian Greenwich Village and the Secret Club That Sparked Modern Feminism. Here was a community where rents were still affordable, creative individuality thrived, urban diversity and radical experiments were the norm, and bohemian dissenters could come and go as they pleased.

Such a neighborhood was the ideal breeding ground for Heterodoxy, a secret society that paved the way for modern feminism. The female debating club’s name referred to the many unorthodox women among its members. These individuals “questioned forms of orthodoxy in culture, in politics, in philosophy—and in sexuality,” noted ThoughtCo. in 2017.

Born as part of the initial wave of modern feminism that emerged during the 19th and early 20th centuries with suffrage at its center, the radical ideologies debated at Heterodoxy gatherings extended well beyond the scope of a women’s right to vote. In fact, Heterodoxy had only one requirement for membership: that a woman “not be orthodox in her opinion.”

“The Heterodoxy club and the work that it did was very much interconnected with what was going on in the neighborhood,” says Andrew Berman, executive director of Village Preservation, a nonprofit dedicated to documenting and preserving the distinct heritage of Greenwich Village. “With the suffrage movement already beginning to crest, women had started considering how they could free themselves from the generations and generations of structures that had been placed upon them.”

Unitarian minister Marie Jenney Howe founded Heterodoxy in 1912, two years after she and her husband, progressive reformer Frederic C. Howe, moved to the Village. “Howe was already in her 40s,” says Scutts, “and just got to know people through her husband’s professional connections, and during meetings and networks where progressive groups were very active at the time.”

Howe’s mindset on feminism was clear: “We intend simply to be ourselves,” she once said, “not just our little female selves, but our whole big human selves.”

Many of the women in Heterodoxy moved in corresponding circles and maintained similar beliefs. They were “veterans of social reform efforts,” writes Scutts in Hotbed, and they belonged to “leagues, associations, societies and organizations of all stripes.” A large number were public figures—influential lawyers, journalists, playwrights or physicians, some of whom were the only women in their fields—and often had their names in the papers for the work they were performing. Many members were also involved in a wide variety of women’s rights issues, from promoting the use of birth control to advocating for immigrant mothers.

Heterodoxy met every other Saturday to discuss such issues and see how members might collaborate and cultivate networks of reform. Gatherings were considered a safe space for women to talk, exchange ideas and take action. Jessica Campbell, a visual artist whose exhibition on Heterodoxy is currently on display at Philadelphia’s Fabric Workshop and Museum, says, “Their meetings were taking place without any kind of recording or public record. It was this privacy that allowed the women to speak freely.”

Scutts adds, “The freedom to disagree was very important to them.”

With 25 charter members, Heterodoxy included individuals of diverse backgrounds, including lesbian and bisexual women, labor radicals and socialites, and artists and nurses. Meetings were often held in the basement of Polly’s, a MacDougal Street hangout established by anarchist Polly Holladay. Here, at what Berman calls a “sort of nexus for progressive, artistic, intellectual and political thought,” the women would gather at wooden tables to discuss issues like fair employment and fair wages, reproductive rights, and the antiwar movement. The meetings often went on for hours, with each typically revolving around a specific subject determined in advance.

Reflecting on these get-togethers later in life, memoirist Mabel Dodge Luhan described them as gatherings of “fine, daring, rather joyous and independent women, … women who did things and did them openly.”

Occasionally, Heterodoxy hosted guest speakers, like modern birth control pioneer Margaret Sanger, who later became president of the International Planned Parenthood Federation, and anarchist Emma Goldman, known for championing everything from free love to the right of labor to organize.

While the topics discussed at each meeting remained confidential, many of Heterodoxy’s members were quite open about their involvement with the club. “Before I’d even heard of Heterodoxy,” says Scutts, “I had been working in the New-York Historical Society, researching for an [exhibition on] how radical politics had influenced a branch of the suffrage movement. That’s when I began noticing many of the same women’s names in overlapping causes. I then realized that they were all associated with this particular club.”

These women included labor lawyer, suffragist, socialist and journalist Crystal Eastman, who in 1920 co-founded the American Civil Liberties Union to defend the rights of all people nationwide, and playwright Susan Glaspell, a key player in the development of modern American theater.

Other notable alumni were feminist icon Charlotte Perkins Gilman, whose 1892 short story, “The Yellow Wallpaper,” illustrates the mental and physical struggles associated with postpartum depression, and feminist psychoanalyst Beatrice M. Hinkle, the first woman physician in the United States to hold a public health position. Lou Rogers, the suffrage cartoonist whose work was used as a basis for the design of Wonder Woman, was a member of Heterodoxy, as was Jewish socialist activist Rose Pastor Stokes.

Grace Nail Johnson, an advocate for civil rights and an influential figure in the Harlem Renaissance, was Heterodoxy’s only Black member. Howe “had personally written to and invited her,” says Scutts, “as sort of a representation of her race. It’s an unusual case, because racial integration was quite uncommon at the time.”

While exceptions did exist, the majority of Heterodoxy’s members were middle class or wealthy, and the bulk of them had obtained undergraduate degrees—still very much a rarity for women in the early 20th century. Some even held graduate degrees in fields like medicine, law and the social sciences. These were women with the leisure time to participate in political causes, says Scutts, and who could afford to take risks, both literally and figuratively. But while political activism and the ability to discuss topics overtly were both part of Heterodoxy’s overall ethos, most of its members were decidedly left-leaning, and almost all were radical in their ideologies. “Even if the meetings promoted an openness to disagree,” says Scutts, “it wasn’t like these were women from across the political spectrum.”

Rather, they were women who inspired and spurred each other on. For example, about one-third of the club’s members were divorced—a process that was still “incredibly difficult, expensive and even scandalous” at the time, says Scutts. The club acted as somewhat of a support network for them, “just by the virtue of having people around you that are saying, ‘I’ve gone through the process. You can, too, and survive.’”

According to Campbell, Heterodoxy’s new inductees were often asked to share a story about their upbringing with the club’s other members. This approach “helped to break down barriers that might otherwise be there due to their ranging political views and professional allegiances,” the artist says.

The Heterodoxy club usually went on hiatus during the summer months, when members relocated to places like Provincetown, Massachusetts, a seasonal outpost for Greenwich Village residents. As the years progressed, meetings eventually moved to Tuesdays, and the club began changing shape, becoming less radical in tandem with the Village’s own shifting energy. Women secured the right to vote with the ratification of the 19th Amendment in 1920, displacing the momentum that fueled the suffrage movement; around this same time, the Red Scare saw the arrests and deportations of unionists and immigrants. Rent prices in the neighborhood also increased dramatically, driving out the Village’s bohemian spirit. As the club’s core members continued aging, Heterodoxy became more about continuing friendships than debating radical ideologies.

“These women were not all young when they started to meet,” says Scutts in the “Lost Ladies of Lit” podcast. “You know, it’s 20, 30 years later, and so they stayed in touch, but they never really found the second generation or third generation to keep it going in a new form.”

By the early 1940s, the biweekly meetings of Heterodoxy were no more. Still, the club’s legacy lives on, even beyond the scope of modern feminism.

“These days, it’s so easy to dehumanize people when you’re only hearing one facet of their belief system,” says Campbell. “But the ability to change your mind and debate freely like the women of Heterodoxy, without any public record? It’s an interesting model for rethinking the way we talk about problems and interact with other people today.”

[thesims1master]

Get them out of the house and into the all-new downtown area where they’ll gossip over a candlelit dinner, buy gifts for their dates or just cruise the Strip in hopes of getting lucky. Will your Sims find true love or be destined to a lifetime membership in the lonely hearts club?

[hometoursandotherstuff]

This 2000 Romanesque Mansion in Boca Raton, Florida is off the chain. 5bs, 7ba, $6.950M + $743mo. HOA & $125K Country Club membership fee.

The castle-like foyer.

The architecture is most definitely worth the price. Look at the magnificent fireplace, windows and ceiling.

Check out this dining room.

The family room & open concept kitchen.

The kitchen dining area matches the family room.

Crisp white kitchen. Love the blue backsplash.

Can you imagine walking down this hall to go to the bedroom?

The details in this house. This is the primary bedroom.

Two identical sides in the en-suite bath. Closeup in the shower.

The library is stunning. Look at the floor.

Corner sitting area between rooms.

One of the other bedrooms. Beautiful.

And, look at this bedroom.

Have you ever seen a bathroom sink like this?

Every bath has twin showers.

Home gym.

Small sitting room.

Piano in a corner.

Another bath.

But, the star of the show is the magnificent cinema. There's a box office and a marquee.

Refreshments in the lobby.

It's art deco.

Tropical pool.

This house is on a .68 acre double lot surrounded by waterways in case you want a boat.

[scotianostra]

On May 25th 1726 the worlds first lending library opened in Edinburgh by Allan Ramsay.

Ramsay was born in Lanarkshire in 1686, and by 1701 had settled in Edinburgh as an apprentice wig-maker.

At the turn of the eighteenth century wigs were worn by men as a form of status symbol, elaborate constructions of human, goat or horse hair that often fell in ringlets below a man's shoulders, or were elevated to a significant height as a means of increasing their wearer's sense of physical stature. They were expensive products and were created by skilled craftsmen whose reputations rested on their ability to create ever newer and greater objects for their customers to display in public.

By 1712 Ramsay had become a well-known wig-maker of excellent reputation with premises on the High Street, Royal Mile, for the richest and most high status customers to buy.

During this time Allan, through his love of reading and literature, became involved with the Easy Club, a cultural group established to celebrate traditional Scots writing. From this association Ramsay began writing, and by 1718 was a successful enough poet to turn his wig shop into a bookshop. Some people have credited Ramsay's early writing with being a major influence on the careers of Robert Fergusson, and later Robert Burns.

In time Ramsay's bookshop mutated into the world's first organised circulating library, a cultural hub for readers to borrow books, magazines and periodicals and take them away in order to peruse them at leisure, and then return them for other readers to enjoy.

The modern notion of a library providing such access free of charge is quite different from the original circulating library system, where members where charged an annual subscription fee in order to have access to the collections of materials available. The early function of such organisations was not primarily an educational one, as might be expected, but a capitalist one - to profit from those who had money to spend on such memberships.

In Edinburgh, the rise of the Enlightenment ideals and the city's relative affluence made Ramsay's library a roaring success, and he was able to spend time focusing on his own writing, penning not just poems but also dramas, his 1725 pastoral play The Gentle Shepherd being performed and celebrated as a work of theatre in his own lifetime.

Ramsay GardenRamsay opened a theatre on Carubbers Close, off the High Street, which was opposed by the religious fervour of the Calvinists, and later forced to close. Ramsay railed against the dour principles of the Presbyterian church in some of his poems of this time.

​​In 1740 Ramsay retired to the house he had built for himself, still seen on the land immediately east of Edinburgh Castle - the cream and orange coloured building at the top of the Royal Mile is called Ramsay Garden, and the central structure - Ramsay's original home - was popularly known during his own lifetime as 'Goose Pie House' because of it’s octagonal shape.

Ramsay died in 1743 and in buried in the Greyfriars Kirkyard, where a memorial on the side of the church building celebrates his life. The statue of Ramsay on Princes Street was carved by John Steell, and ensures that Ramsay is still visibly commemorated in the city where he made most impact during his lifetime.