#houseplant enthusiasts

[cselandscapearchitect]

Creating a Tropical Haven: How to Increase Humidity for Your Monstera Deliciosa

Is your Monstera deliciosa craving a little extra humidity? As a tropical plant, it thrives in a humid environment reminiscent of its native rainforests. In this blog post, we’ll explore various methods to boost humidity levels for your leafy companion, allowing it to flourish and display its iconic lush foliage. Let’s dive into the world of humidity and create a tropical haven for your Monstera…

[planchettettv]

I can't even begin to describe how I feel about finishing this. It started off as a sexy nun sketch and I loved the pose so much that I worked on this non stop for like so many days. Want to buy this crazy thing? You can find it here temporarily at my Redbubble. I can't believe I'm done. Its a weird size but I'm terrified to crop anything soooo we're sticking to this.

[meandmyphals]

22.07.2022

Some succulent photos for your feed. 🌵

[elsabet-writes]

Daily Writing Adventures: We have Established that our Main Man is perpetually sleep deprived (yay, representation!) and also could not keep a house plant alive if his life depended on it.

[talkingtomyhouseplants]

Experiment time!

I'll be adding banana water to my airplants. I'm testing this because my local nursery owner suggested for ferns, bromeliads and airplants and why not give it a test.

[whaddayadothatfor]

Ctenizidae

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Reader

Summary: You’re an anomaly from another universe. You’re not dangerous though, so Miguel’s made the executive decision to keep you around until more dangerous criminals are caught and sent home first. Unless that’s not the only reason he’s decided to keep you around…

Content warnings: dub-con, voyeurism, masturbation, obsessive!Miguel

WC: ~1k

AN: Y’all this is so unedited but I wanted to write smut for this man so I did! If y’all like it I can post a second, smuttier part.

MDNI

“Here.” You drop a small plastic bin of chocolate chip cookies in front of Miguel. As a peace offering. No, really.

Miguel raises his right eyebrow in question. He doesn’t even answer you anymore. The other Spider-people go about their day in the cafeteria, having seen this scene time and time again.

Every day for the past two weeks since you were suddenly teleported to Nueva York and promptly labeled an anomaly, you’ve been practically begging Miguel to send you home. He’s declined every time.

This is pretty much how the conversation goes each time:

“Miguel, I think I should—“

“No. We have to send the most dangerous anomalies back to their universe first—“

“I’m dangerous! I’m plenty dangerous.”

“The only thing you’ve maimed, tortured, and killed in the past month is a flippin’ houseplant. You’re staying.”

You see how frustrating this man is?

So you’ve decided that maybe bribery— sorry, a peace offering— will work better. Hence, the cookies.

“Maybe if you eat something sweet you’ll stop being so bitter and stubborn all the time,” you smile tightly. “Then you’ll find it in your heart— the one that shrunk three sizes— to let me go home.”

“I appreciate the offering— though you could use some more creativity in your approach— but just know that these won’t get you home.” He pries open the container and lifts one to his mouth before moaning in delight. “These are delicious. Thank you,” he said, sucking the melted chocolate off of his thumb. His overly enthusiastic groans were clearly a tactic to piss you off, and it worked.

You simmer in anger as he smirks while chewing his cookie. You try to snatch the bin back, but he moves it out of your way.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he says, pushing up from the small table he was sitting at and leaning down to whisper near your ear. “No take-backsies.”

He flustered you, and he knew it. He laughed as he walked away. You stuttered a retort in embarrassment, but he didn’t even have the decency to turn around.

“Ugh, I hate that guy,” you stomped in anger. You muttered several curses before you turned around to leave, only to see several wide-eyed Spideys staring at you in concern. This is why you wait until after you’re alone to throw a tantrum— it scares the locals. Whoops. “Uhh, carry on. My bad. Enjoy your lunch!”

You quickly walk away, feeling defeated. But it doesn’t matter, you’ve got nothing but time. You’ll catch him when he’s sleeping. He’s gotta be more amenable then.

Later

“You know, just for the record, I think you going to his room this late at night is a terrible idea,” Lyla warned as she flitted between standing and reclining with her arms crossed behind her neck.

“Well I think him keeping me here is a terrible idea. I guess we’re all full of them.”

“Seriously—“

“Lyla I don’t care! I’ve got a family to get back to. Friends, a life. I don’t care how fine that man is, I’m going back home. Tonight, preferably.”

“Whatever, it’s your funeral.” She acquiesced before disappearing into the ether, just as you arrived at his door.

“Wait, Lyla! Open the door.” Without a response, the door opened. “Thanks, Lyla.”

You walked in to the large room to see Miguel sitting up in a chair near the center of the room.

“Miguel, you need to listen to me—“

The sight that met you was so shocking you had to take it in one part at a time.

First, You see Miguel’s side profile as he faces the wall to the left of you. He’s breathing heavy, chest heaving as his hand vigorously moves up and down his— oh. Maybe you came at the wrong time.

With the sudden awkwardness that’s overtaken you, you look somewhere else, anywhere else, only to find the source of what he’s staring at— a video, no, porn. The second piece of the puzzle, you take in the video’s content. First, you just see flashes of skin and hear soft grunts and moans emanating from the screen. But then you realize, the voices sound familiar, really familiar. Then it hits you.

It is you.

And him. The both of you together. And that realization connects all the pieces of the puzzle together. He’s keeping you here, on purpose.

Your eyes dart back to Miguel, who has now abandoned his video in favor of the live view he has right in front of him. He’s shirtless but he still has some grey sweats on, pushed down just enough that he can jerk off. His hands move desperately over his cock, aborted grunts and breathy moans coming out sporadically.

He turned his head to the side, his cheeks flushed and his eyes narrowed with desire. You were frozen, stuck in time. Miguel kept stroking his cock while staring into your eyes. He did this right up until his orgasm overtook him, throwing his head back and jerking his hips upward as he called out your name.

His cum spurted out in waves, once, twice, three times. It was thick and opaque and made a mess all over his lower stomach. He sighed and sank back into his chair.

“Did you enjoy the show?” His voice is low and heady as he calls out to you. It takes you a moment to respond, because admittedly you’re still staring at his— well, his everything, dick included. Still It was a very, very nice, thick, veiny d—“Am I interrupting?”

His teasing knocks you out of your reverie.

“I-I should go.” You said. You’re starting to realize that Lyla might have been right. Maybe you should’ve waited until the morning. You start backing up to leave but Miguel shakes his head and the door shuts behind him.

“No, no, no. See, that’s your problem. You’re always trying to leave,” he chastises.

He stalks towards you, like you’re prey. You move backwards until your back hits the door. He reaches over you, placing an arm over your head and his index finger under your chin, lifting it upwards. He bends down, close enough that you can see even minute details of his face.

He narrows his eyes as he bares his fangs.

“You’re not going anywhere.”

[bl3ss3dbyt1amat]

misc bg3 companion hc

this is so much. i have no idea and im also sorry. all of the origin companions included under the cut

astarion:

i feel like he claps funny. like hes clapping but its that specific way thats meant to be like quieter? like clapping on the palm of his hand. this might be projection but i feel like hes also the type of person to do like a little clap or a spin or his trademark ridiculous giggle whenever hes happy.

i think that hes prone to dramatics like. like pretending to fall on the floor and die if you say hes actually not on your mind 24/7. oh whats that? you dont think im the prettiest princess in the entire world? well astarion has dramatically fallen to the floor

in the early game astarion most definitely practiced his lines loudly and publicly (in camp). he cant even see himself in the mirror but hes trying to look all suave and being like "shall i compare thee to a summers night" while lae'zel and shadowheart both shout "NO" from across the camp. (can be interpreted as bloodiedblade/wyllstarion but i think wyll would be amused and even finish the quote).

wyll:

this man is probably good with basic medicines and ill die on this hill. hes got aloe vera type shit on him at all times. sure, hes not a cleric or healer or even a bard, but he'll stay with you and try his damned best to cheer you up when youre hurt or sick.

on a related note i feel like wyll would be absolutely DELIGHTED by a bard tav. he would just be so amused and filled with whimsy. never gonna complain about playing, even if its like 2am. just occasionally putting in song requests. hes so incredibly enthusiastic like spinning tav around like "THAT WAS BRILLIANT!!!"

wyll probably keeps houseplants. (minor blazingblade but i feel like karlach would accidentally kill one of the plants and actually begin weeping. once she gets her engine fixed wyll tries to teach her how to garden. this goes weirdly) furthermore i think he like goes around his house like humming merrily and watering his plants and crap

gale:

i dont think hes coordinated at all. like this man is tripping down the stairs on a daily basis. he is dropping his tea, his book, his body, ect. to the point that hes got a habit of just hugging the railing for dear life every time he has to go down a staircase. this made traversing shit like the underdark actually literally horrible. every time he falls karlach is so overly concerned and probably offers to carry him. astarion, to everyones dismay, dies laughing each and every time

pretty sure wyll and shadowheart have a conversation about weird book porn. i am here to say that gale was holding back his power while that conversation happened. gale has read so much book porn and if you knew the real scale of it you would be concerned. tara is concerned at least.

shadowheart:

especially during early game, i feel like shadowheart was literally clenching so hard to avoid admitting cute things were cute. like "oh.. a stray mutt... charming I MEAN IN LIKE A GROSS WAY". she was trying to hard to be all scary and into shar and shit but she just really likes puppies and other animals and crap

if she were modern i feel like she would really like pixar movies (inside out comes to mind for reasons i cannot explain) and wear long jean skirts. i cant explain any of this but it is fact in my mind. even in the bg3 setting i do feel like she would wear very long boxy type skirts. sort of plays into her whole "dark priestess" sort of vibe

shadowheart was sitting in her tent with scissors fucking losing her shit with anxiety trying to cut her own bangs without a mirror. it is a literal miracle from selune that they dont look like complete and total shit. no wonder halsin was surprised. (minor silverheart/shadow'zel: when she first like actually properly noticed what shaodwheart did with her hair, since the initial joke is she cant tell what changed, i think lae'zel was very impressed. she even likened it to like a sort of war paint against shar. also we KNOW lae'zel likes silver)

(can be interpreted as bladeheart/,,, do wyll and shadowheart have a ship name yet? HM. well anyway i think that in conjunction with the previous headcanon about wyll gardening, he and shadowheart garden together and he specially grew her night orchids)

lae'zel:

ever since i looked at her stupid little mindflayer training dummie in camp ive had the image of her in my head very angrily and intensly carving up a turnip to look like a mindflayer. draws a little mean face on it like the worlds most violent six year old. every time she messes up on her little DIY project shes muttering curses in tir'su.

lae'zel will take any opportunity to infodump about githyanki culture. specifically red dragons. if she met a red dragonborn or even maybe a follower of tiamat or some shit she would be so hype. in her "i hate everyone SVAH" way ofc. but like. trying to casually slide trivia into battle conversation or party banter with all the subtlety of an owlbear. "yes... the battle preparations are proceeding as expected... as expected a red dragons hibernation cycle..." and everyone just has to turn their head and ask what the fuck shes talking abt

(can be thought of as silverweave: lae'zel and gale talk in draconic about dragon history and the celestial plane. hes so tickled to have a mutual interest with lae'zel)

no one hears lae'zel laugh but when they do its so weird. like its some weird like hissing sort of sound and everyone has to do a double take and make sure theyre understanding what the fuck is going on for a second. lae'zel is incredibly defensive when people notice it but theyre not trying to be mean

karlach:

before her engine gets fixed but like early on to where shes not used to it, karlach keeps trying to touch things and keeps breaking them. this fills her with genuine despair and she will start crying (everyone in camp has to go on a group effort to calm her down). she just thinks the world is so beautiful and is so sad she cant interact with it

she likes to dance but in like a boot stompin way. karlach is probably just an absolute party animal when she gets her freedom back because honestly in her situation who wouldnt be. SHE JUST GOT TO NOT BE ON FIRE LET THE GIRL PARTY

once shes been fixed to the point where she can touch people, she just never stops. manhandling everyone in the party constantly. oh whats that? tav is on low health? dont worry karlach is sprinting over to put tav on her shoulder. literally any problem can be solved by karlach hugs and i wont be taking feedback on this

[riacte]

hope you don't mind me asking, but how do you write/characterise ren?

Hi, thanks for the ask!

For me, Ren has a very distinct character voice, so usually I put in a few words from the Rendog language post and it does like 70% of the work if it's nothing too serious. Hit the dialogue with the Rendogification beam! I know there's a post of people Rendogifying DSMP quotes and it's hilarious. Add a "my dude" before/ after his dialogue and it'll usually work. And maybe pepper in some "get in line"s. Or "outrageous!", "geez", "freakin'".

For HC Ren / Ren in general, I put him as like... a friendly, enthusiastic, charismatic guy who's very supportive of his friends and he's always eager to help. He is kind and sees the best in everyone. He's also very dramatic and unashamed of his dramatic tendencies (singing out loud, posing, twirling). And of course he flirts. He flirts with everything. He's probably flirted with someone's houseplant. He wants everyone to get in line for him. He makes a lot of inappropriate jokes (check my #the rd difference tag) which is greeted with complete silence.

But underneath that, I think he's a guy who tends to look down on himself / self deprecating and he is soooooo self sacrificial. He's gonna be good at something then go "I've never been good at anything 🥺". And he is genuinely so eager to sacrifice himself at all times; he'll probably throw himself in front of his friends to save them. And I think Ren is terrified of being lonely which is why he's clingy. If you leave him to his devices for too long he'll literally burn / blow up his base (Last Life, HC 7). Ren is fantastic with words, he's optimistic and naturally good at bringing people together, but he's also just a doggy who wants company.

Ren is quite talkative and he can ramble about random topics forever. But he also occasionally asks questions to his friends so they can contribute to the conversation. And I think he's fantastic as a storyteller because not only is he a master at "yes, and", he also likes including his friends and subtly inviting them to roleplay with him.

Ren is highly sentimental and remembers a lot of memories. He's not afraid to go sappy and sincere and vulnerable, but then again there's his fear of being a burden. Ren has a tendency to trail after competent, snarky, and mildly intimidating people (insert Ren's greens: Doc, Iskall, Martyn, False, etc) and enjoys being lovingly bullied and lovingly used as a punching bag. He lovesssss being a pathetic lil guy. He loves acting sad and soggy. And he kinda loves being beheaded and beheading his friends.

Ultimately, I think Ren greatly values company and loyalty, and always desires a tightknit group of people to belong to, maybe to even lead (Knights of the Square Table, Dogwarts, etc). And he wants to be useful and not be a burden, leading to his self sacrificial tendencies. He is so eager to serve and offer his services to the rest of the server— in HC, he likes selling / providing food in the early days (HC 4 he made a farm, HC 9 Gigapies) and then proceeds to build infrastructure for everyone to enjoy (HC 6 Hermit Railway Network), or come up with detailed "game" systems (HC 5 Hermitron (?) and HC 9 Hermit Quests). In that way, despite his theatrics, Ren is quite practical and down to earth. Give the man something to manage and he'll be happy.

I don't read a lot of HC fics nowadays but I don't think I've seen like, really severe mischaracterisation of Ren. Probably because Ren RPs a lot so he can RP as a lot of characters which decreases OOC-ness, maybe? Ren's a bit pathetic but he's not a coward, he will literally die for his friends. And while Ren might be a bit of a "derp", he has decent strategies (sometimes) which is mostly him accumulating resources + building a secure fortress (evident in Life series).

For Life series Ren, it's similar but more... guarded and cautious. Still desires a tight knit group of allies (usually his top priority). Still loves gathering his resources and building his defenses. Is kind and forgiving to the point he's taken advantage of (this behaviour decreases in latter series). And he loves his allies with all of his life and would die for them.

Oops, this got long lol. Hope this was helpful! :D

[homunculus-argument]

The Finnish pronoun anon here! Upon further thought I realised I did indeed forget something about nuances of deciding to use either hän or se.

For those who lack context or forgot, hän translates to he/she/they(singular) and se translates to it.

I already talked about the differences, especially in spoken language when it comes to using them with in context to a human or an animal, pretty extensively too might I add, so I'm not going to repeat myself too much.

I did forget about plants and mushrooms.

While it's not nearly as rude to keep refering to a plant as se even when someone has already used hän about the plant, most people will still switch to hän pretty much automatically in that case. However, significantly fewer people will refer to a plant as hän in the first place as plants can't really show agency.

Those who do so, don't do it to highlight the agency connotation of hän, instead they usually aim to highlight the emotion connotation. Basically, those who refer to a plant as hän either believe that plants have emotions or want to showcase their own emotional attachment to a specific plant or plants.

It is acceptable for a plant enthusiast to refer to a plant as hän, especially their own garden/house plants because people generally will just take it as "this person really loves their plants". And when someone who doesn't have the connection to plant(s) uses hän about someone else's plants, they usually do so out of respect for the emotional attachment the other person has or could have, not necessarily for showing that they care about the plants.

It's also a common for a gardener or a houseplant keeper to project temperaments onto plants or talk as if they have motivations. For example, a gardener could say "hän on nyt itsepäinen" (they are being stubborn now) about a weed that is proving hard to remove. In this case it communicates frustration of the gardener towards the failed efforts to remove said weed. But they could also say "hän on hieman herkkä" (they are a little sensitive) about a plant that needs extra attention to stay alive. In this case it's less about communicating frustration and more about communicating that they care about the plants health and that they do need to pay special attention.

When someone calls a mushroom hän, it's less about the attachment to the plant and more about their enthusiasm or fascination about mushrooms in general.

For example, person A points at or pics up a mushroom to show it to person B to get their opinion.

A: "Katso kuinka kaunis hän on!" Look how beautiful they are!

To which person B might either just nod or voice their opinion, whatever that might be. If person B doesn't share the passion for mushrooms, it's perfectly normal and acceptable to refer towards the mushroom or other mushrooms as se or the plural form ne.

However, if a person refers to any and all mushrooms and plants as hän or it's plural form he, including in the wild and young ones, they are quickly branded as someone eccentric. Because that sends a message that they truly believe that all plants and mushrooms have a consciousness, maybe even a soul, and as such have personhood. It's an extremely old belief that almost died out many times throughout history and it's extremely rare to find someone with those beliefs nowadays. Even less likely is that the person is open and expressive of those beliefs in every day language. The ones that are, are also often deviating from the norm in other ways and have hard time blending in. I will refrain from commenting on my personal opinion about this, I'm trying to keep this educational.

When it comes to wild plants that very few are emotionally attached to on a personal level, it's more accepted to use hän if the plant in question is a tree. The bigger or older the tree, the more this pronoun usage is accepted and common. It's seen as a sing of respect towards trees, and when it comes to older or bigger trees, it also shows that you understand how hard and rare it is for a tree to come to this age or size nowadays in this part of the world. There are many reasons why trees are still respected, ranging from lingering beliefs and traditions of the old, to understanding their part in the local eco system, all the way to their value to our economy. Calling a tree hän doesn't necessarily give away why you're calling a tree hän unless you're keen on elaborating. Most people won't even blink, no matter if you call a tree hän or se, but in the eyes of some you might gain additional points for calling a tree hän.

So basically: if you want to communicate your passion towards plants and mushrooms, feel free to use hän. Same goes for respect towards trees. But no one will look at you weirdly or be greatly offended if you prefer to use se instead.

Welcome to the finnish language: Where nobody is gendered but mushrooms have pronouns according to your personal reverence to the fungal kingdom.

[ofoceansandtombsanew]

could you trust them with your houseplants? blue lock edition

a/n: crack treated seriously for all the plant havers, lovers and other enthusiasts. i did this for another fandom i write for and figured ‘why not blue lock’ after talking with my friend @cafedanslanuit about what plant i’d give her and reo as a housewarming gift

a no question. your plants are thriving like you never left to begin with. probably your go to plant sitter if something comes up and you have to leave for a while. you will definitely come home to your plants not only being alive but in pristine condition. maybe there will even be a new leaf sprouting when you come back. responsible, reliable, and you can rest easy knowing if another situation arises where you have to leave your plants will be fine.

chigiri (royalty recognizes royalty because your plants do well in his hands. he tends to your plants as carefully as he tends his leg and his hair. just make sure your plant is pet friendly because if it isn’t, it’s not coming in his house)

kunigami (looked up plant care guides and youtube videos because he refuses to let one of your plants die after you left him in charge of them. might even consider getting a plant of his own afterwards since he enjoyed the experience of checking on the little guys after practice or a bad game. it made him feel a little better to be distracted caring for something else)

rin (you’d think he’d be bad but he manages to fit plant care into his meticulous schedule with no mistakes)

barou (he complains that your plants are pest bringers but he takes care of them quite well and none of them ever have infestations on his watch because he checks them everyday. if something is even a little off, he is right on it)

the ‘technically a no question’ wild card:

nagi (it depends on how high maintenance your plant is. if it is low maintenance like choki, great. your plant is thriving because the man barely had to do anything for it. but you’ve got something a bit more high maintenance like a calathea or a peace lily, nagi will be struggling. but just how he sprung into action when he saw reo distraught that they might lose, even if your plant is high maintenance he tries his best because he knows how much it means to you)

do not leave your houseplants under any circumstances with these individuals because you will come back to less plants than you started with. if they even remember to water them, they will definitely water them too much. even if your plant manages to recover from the lack of proper care, they’re never the same afterwards. no you’re not being dramatic, plant murderer, you know how your plants are like on a good day and it has been nothing but bad day after bad day since you’ve come back

ryuusei (why did you even ask him to watch it in the first place? that was your first mistake and you just have to live with the consequences now. he probably killed them on purpose, just to fuck with them. threw hard vodka on them and everything)

reo (bro can’t keep a plant alive to save his own life and neither of you know why. you swear he touched your zz for one second and it flopped over immediately. YOUR FUCKING ZZ! THAT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE ONE OF THE TOP HARD TO KILL PLANTS. he becomes a houseplant serial killer afterwards because he keeps buying plants over and over again swearing ‘this time will be different’ but the end result is all the same)

sae (he literally forgot that you asked and watered none of your plants. he eventually noticed them after the wilting and then sent you a text of them going ‘my bad. i’ll get you some new ones’)

you HAD a plant. now it is theirs and there’s no way you’re getting it back when you return home. they developed an emotional attachment to your plants through the many odd hours of talking to them randomly and getting excited when a new leaf or bloom would sprout on a stem. now your plants have been conveniently relocated to their room and any decisions about said plant needs to be passed by them. apparently you don’t appreciate “little rain” enough. yes, they even named it

isagi (if you aren’t living together yet, he is coming up with excuses as to why he can’t bring it back yet. he’s sure that little noel noa might have mealy bugs and we can’t have that spreading to the new monstera you bought right? when you tell him there’s no bugs on it though and to return your baby, he looks like that photo his mom showed you of him of when he was a toddler holding holding his football closely to his chest as he holds little noel noa and you can’t help but cave)

bachira (bro bought a houseplant stroller to take your plant on walks, put stickers on their pot and would probably take it to watch him practice if isagi didn’t draw a line on bringing plants to practice. when you ask for your plant back he just goes “our plant, babe”)

[cselandscapearchitect]

Plant Show Essentials: Must-Have Items for Your First Pop-Up Plant Event

In recent years, the green-thumbed community has witnessed a delightful emergence in the horticultural world – the pop-up plant show. This innovative concept combines the allure of temporary events with the passion for houseplants, creating an ephemeral yet unforgettable experience for plant lovers. But what exactly is a pop-up plant show, and why has it become such a hit among those who adore…

[plumbboo]

Wicked Roommates 6/8

Gaia Earthling | Plant Sim

And They Were Roommates…

Features: Skin | Skin Overlay | Veins | Skin Foliage | Sapling | Eyeshadow | Eyeliner | Lip | Contacts | Ankle Branches

Everyday: Hair | Outfit* | Bracelet Formal: Hair | Earrings | Bracelet | Outfit Athletic: Hair | Top | Shorts | Socks Sleep: Hair | Top | Underwear Party One: Hair | Necklace | Top | Skirt | Purse* | Heels Party Two: Hair | Necklace | Falling Leaves | Staff | Outfit & Wings Swimwear: Hair | Top & Bottoms Hot: Hair | Bracelet | Top & Bottoms Cold: Hair | Bracelet | Scarf* | Outfit

*tsr

This free-style plant sim loves anything to do with nature. She is known to be an outdoor enthusiast and enjoys spending most of her time in nature or taking care of her plants. She is a climate change advocator and fighter for protecting the planet. She reacts poorly to people harming the environment and will get angry if she sees you fishing or not taking care of your houseplants. Nobody is quite sure how she came into creation (or why she eats so many greens) but her kindness and passionate nature had grasped the hearts of her roommates.

Thank you cc creators <3

@northernsiberiawinds @daylifesims @okruee @seoulsoul-sims @sheabuttyr @belaloallure3 @gegesimmer @dansimsfantasy @astya96cc @pyxiidis @pralinesims @bluecravingcc @caio-cc @lady-moriel @simstrouble @serenity-cc @lordreboot @arethabee @simandy @clumsyalienn @simsonico @blahberry-pancake @sakuraflora @lamatisse

[raccoon-eyed-rebel]

Under Orders - Part 5

Masterlist

Part 1 🔹Part 2🔹Part 3🔹Part 4🔹Part 5

Pairing: Marshall x reader || Sy x reader

Summary: Sy decides to take August up on a very intriguing offer...

Word count: 7.8k

Warnings: NSFW, SMUT, 18+, MINORS DNI, fingering (f receiving), oral (f receiving, face sitting), p-in-v sex (protected and unprotected), use of pet names/titles (Daddy, Sir, sugar, princess, kitten, sweetheart, love, darling and bunny), established polyamorous relationship, very light spanking, light choking, hair pulling, voyeurism, exhibitionism, verrry slight humiliation/degradation(?), facial irresponsible wearing of high heels after hurting an ankle, mention of guns and knives, and a very tense macho moment. (I think that's it but if I missed anything, let me know!)

A/N: Again, dedicated to my dearest Charlie, without whom this pairing wouldn't exist in the first place... It took a while until it clicked - another 3 months, to be precise... You sowed this little seed of inspiration in my brain in March, and I have to admit I took care of it about as well as my boyfriend does houseplants. Not at all. But, after all these months, it's still alive - thriving, even, possibly - and everyone can finally enjoy some fun Syverson dick. Which is what this fandom is all about. Right?

@geralts-yenn @deandoesthingstome @know1udno @ylva-syverson @summersong69 @kingliam2019 @mayloma @sloppyzengarden @youve-yeed-yer-last-haw @sillyrabbit81 @ellethespaceunicorn @liveoncoffeeandflowersss @livisss @sycochick

You’re fixing the porch light. It’s hardly a job you’re suited for, because you can still barely reach it from the top of your ladder, but someone has to do it, and August won’t get home until tonight, so you’re on your own. That means you’re also on your own when you get on your toes at the top of that stupid ladder, lose your balance, and come tumbling down. At least… you should be.

“Sugar, are you alright?” When you first open your eyes, you see nothing, because your face is pressed firmly against a solid, hairy chest. You don’t have to ask whose it is: the drawl and the nickname gave that away.

“I’m fine, Sy, thank you.” But as soon as he stops holding you up, you wince.

“Now, I’m gonna ask again,” Sy says sternly, “and this time I’d like you to tell me the truth. Are you alright, darlin’?”

“My ankle hurts a bit,” you admit reluctantly. Before you’re even done speaking, Sy has lifted you up again and carries you into your house, where he puts you down on the kitchen table and examines your ankle before asking where you keep your first aid kit. For the first time – today, at least –, you take a good look at him. He’s in a pair of run down jeans, and equally worn out work boots. A faded black t-shirt is hanging out of his back pocket.

“It looks like a mild sprain, but I’d like to get some tape on there just in case. Keep ya from movin’ it around too much.” You’re more than happy to point him in the right direction.

When he sits down in front of you again, and lifts your foot into his lap, your skirt creeps up your thighs. The opportunity is perfect: As of a week ago, you have August’s blessing, and Marshall’s, Sy is half naked in your kitchen, his face roughly level with your pussy, and you’re not wearing any underwear. This is your moment… Sy works on your ankle quickly and efficiently, while you sneak your skirt a little further up, spreading your legs a little wider than the situation calls for, wanting to give him a good view. Every time he touches your leg, you moan, and you squirm a tad too enthusiastically when he moves your ankle in a way that hurts ever so slightly.

Sy’s complete lack of response is just starting to get on your nerves when he finally snaps.

“You know,” he growls. “I have a standing invitation from your man to take you for a spin.” He gets up, putting a hand down on the table on either side of your hips, caging you between his arms. “And I don’t get the feelin’ you’re opposed to that idea. Puttin’ this naked pussy on full display, squirming in my arms like a bitch in heat. You gotta know it does somethin’ to a man, sugar.”

“Are you going to take him up on the offer?” you ask coyly while spreading your legs even further.

“Well, you’ve got the prettiest little cunt,” Sy growls in your ear, “I have to say I’m tempted.” His words – especially in that voice – make your heart flutter in your chest. It’s always those compliments – the crude and sexual ones – that get you the most, so it’s not a surprise, but there’s something in Sy’s voice that adds a new dimension to it. Maybe it’s the less-than-subtle Southern drawl, or the gravel in his voice, or the fact that there’s just a rougher edge to him than to your other guys… That same edge August used to have. The one he swears you filed off of him.

Without thinking, you raise a hand, placing it lightly on the side of Sy’s face. Some of the tension in his immensely broad shoulders disappears and he lets his head hang until his forehead is resting against yours.

Then, he kisses you, leaving you surprised at how gentle he is. His lips are soft, yet demanding, and you happily yield to his touch. As his tongue explores your mouth, you let your hands wander the incredible width of his shoulders. You can feel scars on scars on scars in some places…

“I ain’t gon’ tell you where they all came from, so if you’re curious: tough shit.” Whoa. Okay. His voice is hard and cold, and so are his eyes. “I did a couple tours in Afghanistan and Iraq, that’s all I’m willin’ to say ‘bout it.” You run your fingers through his beard until his ice-cold demeanor melts a little. He’s still cold and distant, but you’re getting there.

“I won’t ask if you don’t want me to, but always feel free to tell me whatever you want to tell me. I’ll listen.” Your words seem to trigger something in Sy, to hurt him in some way that makes you uncomfortable…

“Quit talkin’ like you’re a girlfriend when you’ve already got your lucky guy.”

“I think you might have misunderstood something.” You can’t help but chuckle at his apparent confusion, even though the situation isn’t funny at all. It looks like you have some explaining to do… “I’m not dating August and screwing Marshall, Sy. I’m in a relationship with both of them. And I’m not necessarily looking for just an extra dick to jump on – although that’s a nice bonus.”

He considers your words for a moment, then he nods and sinks back down in his chair. “I do prefer to take my women out to dinner first,” he says, as a cheeky grin begins to grow on his face, “but I guess this time around I’ll have to start with dessert.” Right. He can take you out to dinner later.

Sy grabs you behind your knees, pushing your legs apart abruptly, making you squeal. Your reaction makes him laugh – a deep, rumbling huff that makes you want to squeeze your thighs together, but you can barely move in his iron grip.

“Keep these open for me, wouldya?” He lets go of your legs, his eyes giving you a clear warning to listen to him. His hands now slide up your thighs, hooking around the back, grabbing your hips, just so he can pull your ass closer to the edge of the table. “C’mon baby, spread ‘em wider. Gimme a good view of this pretty li’l pussy.” His voice alone would be enough to drive you nuts. You lean back on your elbows and open your legs as wide as they can go. Sy puts a hand on you, and slowly drags his thumb over your clit. You can’t seem to decide what’s better: the way Sy touches you, or simply the fact that he finally is, after weeks of pining, yearning and being patient as August invited him over far more often than you thought was strictly necessary. Sy gets up again, never taking his thumb off your clit, just gently rubbing circles around it in a way that has you squirming again.

“What’re you thinking, sugar?” he whispers softly before kissing you. During the kiss, he runs a finger along your slit, chuckling as he feels how wet you are. You let out a long, low moan when he slips two fingers into you without warning – and without any problem at all. “Can’t wait to taste this wet li’l cunt,” he growls. Involuntarily, you arch your back when you hear him speak, making him laugh again. “Looks like you can’t wait, either. Maybe if you ask nicely.”

You know that game – inside and out, you might add – and you’re indescribably glad Sy likes to play it, too… “Please, Sy, please – oh!” His fingers pumping in and out of your pussy make you lose your train of thought.

“What, sugar?” That fucking grin… And those fingers, dammit, this man has skills.

“Fuck, Sy… Please eat me o-oh my god!” The last bit of your exclamation is lost when Sy kisses you fiercely.

“My pleasure, ma’am,” he says with that same grin you hate – love. Hate. Love. Hate? – while he sits back down. For a moment, you think about what just happened, and what’s happening right now… You came – and hard, too, god damn – without permission, you should be in trouble. But you’re not in trouble – not if the divine feeling of scratchy facial hair between your legs and a wet tongue against your clit are any indication.

You were impressed with him before, now you’re convinced he’s not even from this planet. These are the skills – and enthusiasm – of a man who eats pussy for breakfast. Keywords include ‘skilled’, ‘meticulous’, and ‘goal-oriented’. Not ‘romantic’, ‘sweet’ or ‘caring’, but that’s okay. He’s on a mission. He’s making a point – even though you’re not quite sure what that point is, exactly. And the worst part? He’s so, so very good at this that you forget his name first, and then your own while he continues to lap at your clit until you come once, twice and a third time… The kiss afterwards is divine, tasting yourself on his lips makes you squirm like never before – which in turn makes him laugh. But the weird part… you’re still not in trouble. And you’re weirdly okay with that.

The next kiss is gentler, slower, maybe bordering on sweet or romantic or something else you don’t necessarily want to feel – not from him, not right now. Something about him is freedom and defiance, something… You’re dragged back to reality when you feel Sy’s shoulders tense up, and he looks to be on high alert over something he’s heard that you haven’t – but in the end, it’s you who sees what’s going on, first.

“Jesus Christ, Marshall, put the fucking gun down!” You can tell from the look in his eyes that he’s had a tough shift, but this is excessive, even for him. Actually, this is the type of shit you'd expect from August. And you’re talking paranoid, ‘just returned from a three week mission' August.

“Not until I can see his hands and whatever the fuck he’s holding.” Sy scoffs when he hears that and lifts his left hand – which you hadn’t even realized he’d moved to the front of his jeans. “Drop the knife and turn around.”

“Walter,” you hiss, knowing he hates it when you use his first name, “this is Sy. The neighbor I’m fairly sure August told you about.”

“This the other guy?” Sy asks. He’s pretty calm for a dude who has a gun pointed at his back. You nod in reply to his question. “Cheerful.”

“Not really,” you say. This is annoying as fuck. “Marshall, seriously. Put the gun away and play nice.” You’re seeing your chances of Sy breaking into your little family the easy way dwindle to nothing right before your eyes, and it upsets you more than you had expected it would.

“As soon as he puts the knife down.” Stubborn as a fucking bull, both of these guys.

“I’m gonna put it back, and turn around. My advice would be to put that gun where I can’t see it before I do see it. Being threatened ain’t gon’ make me any nicer.”

“Taking a few steps away from my girl might help your case.” There’s something in Marshall’s voice. Exhaustion. Pain. Panic, almost. Sy slowly backs away while putting the knife back where it came from, and Marshall finally holsters his gun.

The standoff lasts a few moments longer while the guys size each other up. You should be annoyed by their antics, but now that no one is threatening anyone else with any weapons, it’s kind of hot.

“You always threaten guests with a gun?” Oh yeah. Low growling, teeth gritting, jaw clenching… Both sides of this argument pass Super Ultra Manly Man 101 quite nicely, but…

“When they’re unfamiliar to me and inches away from my girlfriend, I do. You always bring a knife to visit your neighbors?” The schtick gets old really fast, to be quite honest.

“In case some nutcase pulls a f-“

“Boys,” you hiss through gritted teeth. “Enough with this unnecessary display of toxic masculinity, thanks.” It’s almost a shame you have to break it up, but you don’t want to be cleaning blood off the kitchen floor. These guys don’t even need weapons to beat each other to a pulp.

“Lieutenant Walter Marshall.” He holds a hand out to Sy, and you roll your eyes. Was the rank thing really necessary? Probably not.

“Captain Dave Syverson. Call me Sy,” Sy replies. You get to experience the incredible joy of witnessing the tensest handshake you’ve ever seen.

“If you two are done measuring dicks, Marshall, can I get a hug? I hate guns.”

As soon as Marshall’s arms wrap around you, he apologizes. He can’t make it through the word ‘sorry’ before his voice breaks. Sy walks past you two, towards the kitchen counter, and after a few seconds of him rummaging around, you hear the coffee maker.

“Who’d you lose?” Sy puts a cup of coffee in front of Marshall, who takes it without saying a word.

“No one, yet,” he answers, “but an officer got hurt because of me.”

“What could you have done?” Sy doesn’t sound at all convinced Marshall had anything to do with it.

“I don’t know!”

“So, nothin’,” Sy says, as if that’s the end of it. “Can’t always protect ‘em all.”

After a while – and an interesting conversation between the guys that you decide not to get mixed up in – Sy gets up, telling you it’s time for him to leave.

“I’m pickin’ you up for dinner, though,” he notes as casually as can be. Your brain immediately goes haywire; August is coming home tonight, he’s not going to like it if you’re not home, and yes, you were the one to tell Sy that you weren’t looking for a one-time thing, or something that’s just sex, but…

You come up with a million new excuses every passing second, which makes it all the more surprising when you open your mouth and the word that comes out is ‘okay’. It’s like you have no other option – as if your mouth moves by itself. There’s just something so uniquely attractive and incredibly charismatic and roguishly defiant about him – something very cocky and very… cowboy. And he knows it.

“He’s going to get you in so much trouble, darling,” Marshall chuckles behind you, wrapping his arms around you as you watch Sy walk out the door. He is, he really is – you know it, Marshall knows it, and if you know August at all – and you like to think that you do – he’s known it from the moment he first saw you looking at Sy. “August isn’t going to like his influence on you.” It’s all music to your ears – and not just your ears, if you’re being perfectly honest. You involuntarily clench your thighs together when Marshall kisses your neck lightly, which instantly reminds you that you were so rudely interrupted after a few glorious orgasms, but nothing else.

Of course, Marshall notices. In fact, you’re willing to bet he was already suspicious when he came in, and of course he would have been right, because he always is. He always knows exactly what you need… Is he going to be a dick about it? Probably. Not that you mind – not at all… You gasp when he reaches around you, pulling up your skirt to get his hand between your legs – and upon arrival, he lets out a low whistle. “He knows what he’s doing,” he chuckles, “I’ll give him that.”

“Would you stop toying with me and just fuck me, please?” you beg when Marshall’s fingers brush past your clit. You’re still sensitive from Sy’s generous treatment, and you want – scratch that: need – someone inside of you right. fucking. now.

“So needy,” he hums softly in a way that draws a soft whimper from you. He could tease you, play with you for another few hours until you’re a mess and barely able to stand on your own two feet, but he’s not that cruel. You’re honestly lucky it’s not August behind you right now, because he wouldn’t have hesitated to draw this out for as long as possible. Marshall, however, is apparently in a giving mood and just takes his cock out, plunging all the way into your drenched pussy without warning. Good.

He unceremoniously bends you over the kitchen table – a piece of furniture that may or may not have been selected because it has the perfect height for such purposes. The old one didn’t, but it… broke. In mysterious ways.

Marshall is ruthless, thrusting into you almost recklessly, but with enough restraint that he can keep you away from the point where pain overtakes pleasure. Clearly he still has some residual anger to deal with from his encounter with Sy – or his bad day on the job, and you don’t mind one bit that he’s decided to take his frustrations out on you. He doesn’t speak, he just pins your chest to the table with one hand between your shoulders and fucks into you like it’s the last chance he’ll ever get. You won’t feel it later; he’s careful not to hurt you, mark you, or do anything else that will remind you – or anyone else – of his presence later. All it will take is a single shower and you’ll be a blank page for your date tonight… In other words; he’s being incredibly considerate. Which is a strange thought to have while being railed six ways to Sunday over the kitchen table, honestly. Right when he’s about to finish, he pulls out, leaving you almost disappointed, until he spins you around and forces you onto your knees. A few harsh strokes are plenty to drive him to the edge, and he lets out a deep grunt when he comes, splattering his cum all over your face.

“Go get cleaned up, and call August about your date,” he growls. Of course he’s right. August will want to know. In fact, you doubt you’ll leave the house in an outfit of your own choosing. But there’s one thing that confuses you – disappoints you, even.

“You’re not coming with me?” you ask in a small voice. Showering with Marshall is… it’s the best. And he’s not joining you? That’s no fun!

“I’m going to borrow the home gym for an hour, because I have some… stuff to deal with. Sorry, love,” he says as he pulls you off the floor and presses a kiss to your temple.

You’re out of the shower and you’re cutting it close time-wise, so you decide to stop putting off what Marshall told you to do: Calling August. As you expected, he’s not happy to hear you won’t be home when he gets back from his trip, but he’s willing to admit he’s the one who gave you his blessing to figure things out with Sy, so he’s not going to complain. In fact, he seems thrilled when you ask him for his help. He loves knowing he’ll play a part in your night one way or another – and so do you.

You finish getting dressed just as Sy arrives.

“Lookin’ good, sugar!” He makes no attempt to hide the fact he’s checking you out, and you revel in the attention until he reaches a hand out to you and you take it, letting him walk you to his truck. It doesn’t take more than five minutes during the ride to the restaurant to figure out how tonight is going to end – in fact, you already knew this afternoon, but still, you tried very hard to not get your hopes up in case the date wouldn’t go as planned. Now, however, your doubts have disappeared without a trace. Sy is funny, he’s kind, he gets along with your guys great – save for the occasional gun-involving dick-measuring contest, he’s on board with your slightly unorthodox relationship – even willing to consider being a part of it – and he’s an incredible flirt. So, when you’re done with dessert and he’s squashed your idea of splitting the bill with nothing but a snort and a cocked eyebrow, you’re all but ready to jump him right on the spot. You don’t – ten points for you and your incredible restraint.

“Normally I’d ask ‘your place or mine’,” Sy chuckles when he turns onto your street, “but I believe your boyfriend is home?” He’s unbelievable… Not even asking if you want to keep this date going, he just… assumes. Correctly. But still.

“Your place it is, then,” you say in a failed attempt to regain some control of the situation. You notice your hands are trembling, and your breath is slightly faster than it should be. Nerves. Perfectly normal. This is a first date, after all. Except it doesn’t feel that way. It feels like you’ve known this man forever, which is scary, not because you, well, haven’t known him forever, or because this is the first time you go out with him, but because you have something going for you with August and Marshall. Something great, and unique. Something you wouldn’t trade for the world. And what if he just… doesn’t fit? What if Sy doesn’t belong in your little slice of paradise? The simple truth is that you’re already terrified of losing him – and you barely have him to begin with. So yeah, you’re a little nervous, maybe even truly scared – but when your eyes fall on the hands on the steering wheel when the car stops in Sy’s driveway, you miraculously get calmer. Because your hands aren’t the only ones trembling; his are, too.

Sy’s bedroom is on the side of the house that faces yours, and large windows give you a pretty revealing view of your own room. It’s embarrassing how little time it takes you to become wrapped up in kissing Sy, melting under his touch as his rough hands roam your body with very little respect for the barriers that your clothes provide. He’s all over you; kissing your mouth, jaw and neck, trailing his tongue along your ear, hands impatiently squeezing your breasts through your clothing. Every last touch sends a jolt of electricity right down your spine into your core. You know you’re wet. You have to be, there is no other option, especially with Sy’s impressive hard on poking you in the most distracting way. His fingers nearly tear your dress in half as he takes it off you, and your underwear almost suffers a similar fate. He won’t let you step out of your heels, though, which tells you he has at least one other thing in common with your other guys.

“Unless your ankle is still bothering you,” he manages in between kissing your neck. It’s not bothering you – much. Not enough to take off half of your confidence – because quite honestly that’s what those heels are…

When you happen to glance out the window, you see the lights on in your own bedroom.

“Should we close the curtains?” Please say no, please say no…

“I thought your man likes to watch?” There’s a devilish glint in Sy's eyes as he says it that fires you up more than you would be willing to admit, but you’d dare anyone to date August Walker for more than four months and not turn into a bit of an exhibitionist. That’s how long it took you to allow him to rail you in the alley behind some bar you were in at the time, anyway. Sy interrupts your thoughts by slipping two fingers into your dripping wet pussy. He let’s out a low whistle between his teeth.

“Goddamn, sugar, is that for me?”

“A little,” you say coyly. “And a little because I know you’re gonna get me in trouble with…” Shit. You weren’t prepared for this. It feels too wrong to use his name, but using that title in front of Sy…

“What do you call him?” Sy grins widely. It’s so attractive it’s almost sickening, and it turns your knees to jelly. Good thing Sy’s holding you up, because you’re sure you would have gone down for real.

The question sounds so simple. The answer is simple, too, but you can’t say the word. That’s all cards on the table. Your entire dynamic with August out in the open. Are you ready to trust Sy with that?

“You don’t have to tell me, sugar,” he mumbles into your ear. You lean your head against his chest, and suddenly realize how much more naked you are than he is. As soon as you slide your hands underneath the fabric of his shirt, you sigh. It’s impossible to keep your hands off the scars, though, which seems to bother Sy. He wraps his arms around you and looks at you.

“Please don’t,” he whispers softly, and you move your hands to his waist. After some time, you break away from the hug and walk over to the windows. With one sharp tug, you pull the curtains shut. As soon as you get to the second window, you see August standing in front of his. You smile. So he was watching. Not that you’d expected anything else. He holds out a hand, thumb raised, and slowly turns his hand until his thumb is pointing down. It’s a question: ‘Are you okay?’ You give him a thumbs up before pulling the curtains on the second window.

“He checking up on you?” Sy says, catching your hand before you can draw the curtain. You had no idea he was standing right behind you, but it’s nice to feel his arms around you again.

“Always,” you reply as you turn around.

“What are you doing, though. Thought you were on board with…”

“I’m treating this like the first time it is, Sy.”

“Don’t,” he growls, “I want him to see this.” There’s something to his voice… a sense of mischief, but also something darker that’s reflected in his eyes as well, and in the way he pushes you back to get a better look at you.

Then, he turns you around, gathering as much of your hair in his fist as possible. With the other hand, he pushes the curtain back again. August is still there – not in front of the window, but you know he’s in that room, watching. The fact that an innocent passer-by might get a good look at your tits doesn’t bother you at all. If anything, it excites you more.

“Fuck,” Sy growls in your ear, “I hate to have to let you go right now.” A loud smack echoes through the room and all the way through your body when his palm lands on your ass. “Don’t move, sugar.” He lets go of your hair and steps away, leaving you whining by the window – but you don’t move a muscle. Sy doesn’t take long – the familiar crinkling of foil packaging gives you a decent hint as to what the fuck he’s even doing, and you very much appreciate the absence of a “not as good with a condom”-attitude. This time, his hand doesn’t go for your hair. Instead, Sy’s arm wraps around you, and his hand creeps up your stomach, over your chest, until it firmly grabs your throat. With an amount of gracefulness you don’t necessarily expect from someone his size, he lines up and thrusts into you, leaving you with no other option than to gasp – loudly. Your body struggles to accommodate his girth – it shouldn’t be a problem; he can’t be bigger than Marshall. Still, it could be all manner of things: the position, the relative absence of foreplay, although your date and the drive home were brimming with sexual tension that had your underwear soaked from the moment you got together.

Your chest rises and falls with your increasingly quick and erratic breaths.

“Shh,” Sy whispers in your ear, his hand moving from your throat to your cheek, cupping it gently, “it’s okay. I know you enjoy this, so enjoy it.” He’s right. Absolutely fucking right. Maybe understating things a little, even… or a lot. Because you do love this. Getting railed from behind? Yes please! Being choked a little? Hell yeah! The manhandling? You’re sopping! Knowing August is watching you get fucked by another man, and he’s going to be more than a little jealous that someone else gets to play with his princess on the night he gets home from an assignment? The thought alone is enough to set your skin on fire! The idea that you’re going to get in trouble with him? Only adds fuel to that fire! Then why are you holding back right now?

“Stop thinking about how you’re not his good little girl right now, sugar,” Sy growls, and the sound shoots straight to your already aching clit. “Be bad for me tonight, baby.”

His words cut through you in a way you don’t understand – until you do. You get to do that here, with him. You get to be bad without repercussions – as delicious as you find those repercussions under normal circumstances. He’s not going to punish you for mouthing off, or disobeying orders – he’s going to laugh and smirk at you in that unbearable way, and it’s going to rile you up beyond belief, and you can both just give in to all of that without any concern for the consequences. Because there won’t be any. Not from Sy, at least. And when tomorrow comes, and August decides that you need to be dealt with for going away the night he comes home from an assignment, then that’s okay. That will be a whole different game. That will have nothing to do with this. Right now, for the first time in a very long time, you are not under orders – and right now, for the first time ever, you realize just how much you’ve been craving that.

It's not like you haven’t tried with either of them. Of course you have! But after so much time in your comfortable, familiar dynamic, anything other seemed strange and off and… unenticingly vanilla. It was as if you were playing a part – as twisted as it sounds to insinuate that ‘Daddy’ and ‘Sir’ are the defaults, it’s truer than true in every conceivable way. You’ve been so busy trying to figure out how Sy would slot into your dynamic that you completely neglected to consider that he doesn’t. That he can be that break you sometimes crave from your wicked little games with Marshall and August. And that he might just land you in enough trouble to earn you some delectable punishment in the process – but only time will tell. Instead, every time you so much as dared to think he wouldn’t seamlessly slot into your existing relationship and the terms that come with that, you panicked, thinking that would be a bad thing, that you would lose him before you even got to know him. But now you see… It’s the whole damn point.

“Fuck me.” You speak the words carefully, as if you’re afraid to be wrong – and the stinging of your left cheek as Sy lands another firm smack on your ass does nothing to ease that feeling at first.

“That’s what I’m talkin’bout,” he chuckles, driving his cock into you again with one smooth, harsh thrust.

Soon, you couldn’t give a quarter fuck about handprints on the glass – or some slightly more indecent prints, for that matter – or that one window that’s open which means maybe someone outside might hear you. Let them! Sy’s hips slam against your ass at a brutal pace, rough fingertips dig into your hips with the same ferocity you’re used to from your other guys, but lacking the possessive hint theirs always do, until they disappear altogether.

“Come on, sugar,” he growls from behind you, “your turn.” You throw your hips back, savoring the low moans and deep grunts that escape Sy. Just when things start to get fun, he pulls out.

“Hey! I wasn’t done with you!” you protest teasingly. From the looks of it – and by that you mean; the arrogant fucking smirk on his face – he was more than counting on that, and before you know it, you’re no longer standing where you were standing.

Your personal philosophy is that any guy who pulls you up into his arms and tosses you on the bed like it’s absolutely fucking nothing is a keeper. That being said, Sy also scores well in the categories ‘great beard’, ‘hairy chest’ and ‘filthy mouth’, so there’s no chance you’re going to let him go anytime soon. You thought Marshall being the way he is was just a coincidence, but now that you find yourself falling head over heels for Sy, too, you have to admit to yourself that you have a bit of a type.

Now, normally, of course, that type would include ‘man willing to boss your little slut ass around like he owns you’, but as per your previous epiphany: not this one. Oh, he owns you, alright? But not like that.

Sy is on his back, and he’s managed to move you so you’re straddling his chest – which is apparently not where he wants you just yet, because he hooks his arms under your thighs and pulls you up until your pussy hovers over his face. Oh. Oh.

“C’mon, sugar,” Sy says, still with that unbearable grin, “sit.” Was that a question phrased as a command? It… it sure was! Being in this position gives you a weird amount – and kind – of confidence, and you smile down at him.

“Save a horse, right?” you quip, making him laugh as he gently guides you down until his mouth finally connects with your pussy. To your surprise, he doesn’t do anything, though, which leaves you looking down at him confused and far less confident than a few moments ago.

“This is a very loose interpretation of the word ‘sit’,” Sy mutters, sounding… disgruntled, “stop hovering.”

“Don’t you need to… like… breathe?” you ask, immediately regretting your decision on account of ‘what the fuck kind of stupid ass question is that even?’ The way Sy laughs makes you want to disappear into a hole in the ground.

“Sugar, as far as I’m concerned, it would be a goddamn fine way to go,” he assures you as he pulls you further down.

From then on, you can just forget about it; it’s hopeless. The view is divine – those devious, bright blue eyes smiling up at you… He’s cocky. A seriously arrogant jackass. But oh, God, does he deserve it, because he is very, very, good. Of course, you already knew that from this afternoon, but there’s something about this… towering over him and still being completely at his mercy, that has you losing control. You reach for the wall to support yourself and finally let yourself go as pleasure takes over, grinding your hips, riding Sy’s capable and eager tongue until you come all over his face. And by that you mean… all over it.

Crawling under the bed and curling up into an embarrassed little ball of shame isn’t an option, but if it was, oh boy, that’s where you’d be right now. Instead, you scramble to get away from him as quickly as possible, almost throwing yourself off the bed in the process. Of course, Sy catches you.

“I swear I didn’t even know… I’m so sorry…” The words come out quickly and they’re jumbled and half-finished and barely audible and… And Sy is having none of your apology. With one hand, he grabs your wrists and pulls you over his lap – it’s eerily reminiscent of what Marshall would do…

“Stop apologizing for wonderful things,” he says, punctuating the syllables with fierce, stinging slaps on your ass before he sits you up again. “You might wanna tell your boys you can do that, sugar.” The cocky grin is back on his face. “I’m willin’ to bet they’re not gonna stop tryin’ till they make it happen.”

“You’re not…”

“Shut up,” he says before kissing you. “It was amazing. Means I was doin’ my job right.” He winks at you – it’s silly, because he’s not very good at it. “C’mere.” Somehow, you end up straddling his thighs and nervously eyeing his night stand. “Take what you want, baby. Whatever you need from me.”

Fuck it! “Grab a condom,” you say. The fact that he does so immediately, surprises you a little. It’s not necessarily something you’re used to; giving commands and having them be obeyed on no one’s terms but yours.

He laughs when he sees the look on your face. “Now, don’t you go thinkin’ I’m yours to boss around, sugar,” he chuckles, “you just want what I want right now.”

“It’s fun to pretend, for a change,” you reply, making Sy laugh even harder.

“I’ll let you have at it sometime,” he says, much to your surprise. Marshall tries sometimes – August did once or twice, in the beginning – but neither of them could give up their desire to be in control. Sy pulls you away from the thought when he finishes putting on the condom and proceeds to grab your thighs to pull you forward – and then he hesitates. You look at him, your confusion burning in your eyes.

“Nothin’,” he says dismissively, “plenty of time.” A firm tug is all it takes to lower you onto his cock, and you shiver. It was not just the position before; he’s somehow just a lot to take. “C’mon sugar,” he says, signature grin spreading across his face, “ride me. Save a horse, right?” His mimicking your comment from before is accompanied by another botched wink. It’s plenty to make you laugh a little before you start bouncing on his cock.

Sy manages to divide his attention between your breasts quite nicely while you’re going absolutely insane with lust as you keep riding him for what feels like a very long time. At some point – and without asking for anyone’s permission – you lean back and reach between your bodies, drawing tight circles around your clit until you’re swearing and trembling… but you don’t stop. Sy is a little sad when you move away so far that he can’t keep his mouth on you, grumbling something about making up for lost time with them later. Your come around his cock a second time relatively quickly following the first, as you figured you’d have to race him to get there, but he seems…

“Are you getting close?” you mutter after you break the kiss you had him wrapped up in. Your thighs are starting to get a little sore, and you’re not sure how much longer you can keep this up.

An apologetic grin appears on Sy’s face. “I hate to disappoint, sugar,” he says softly, “but I don’t think it’s gonna happen tonight. I was pretty damn nervous about this.” His words make you stop moving, allowing him to slip out of you, and you lie down next to him while he hesitantly wraps an arm around your shoulders. “I, eh… Gotta take care of this,” he says before getting out of bed and heading for the bathroom. For some time, you wonder if he’s even planning on coming back, until he appears in the doorway again, seemingly back in full possession of that cocky attitude you love.

Much to your surprise, he doesn’t lie down next to you again – instead, he sits near the foot of the bed, grabbing you behind your knees and pushing your legs apart so he can get in between them. He doesn’t waste a single second this time around, diving right between your legs, his tongue practically glued to your clit for the duration of the whole thing – which you’re almost ashamed to admit is a matter of maybe two minutes, if that. He’s just better when he can use his hands, too.

“Fuck,” you gasp when he lies down next to you and wraps an arm around you, “Marshall gives good head, but you… incredible!” Litmus test. If he can’t stand hearing about the others… Then again, he already passed with flying colors when he insisted on leaving the curtains open so August could watch.

“It doesn’t hurt that you taste fantastic,” he laughs, not showing the slightest displeasure at being compared to your boyfriend – maybe because he was the one who ‘won’ the comparison… “I’m glad to be of service.”

You snuggle into his side, putting your head on his shoulder and a hand on his chest. Sy pulls you closer, and the two of you lie there for a while, in silence, until he finally speaks again: “Never thought I could actually have you, yet here we are.” The comment is followed by a deep sigh, and your heart almost jumps out of your chest when you hear him say that. He likes you? He really likes you? But…

“If you didn’t think you could fall for me… What changed? When?” You don’t even know why you want to know. The answer to those questions is never something you really want to hear, right?

“Didn’t say that, sugar,” he says, “I said I never thought I could have you. For starters, you were in a relationship – you are in a relationship. Forgive me if I didn’t immediately consider that there could be room for me in that relationship.” He chuckles softly, and you fight back a moan. “Then August made his offer and I thought he meant… casually. I would have passed on that. You caught me off guard this afternoon. Did a fine job of distractin’ me, sugar, puttin’ that pussy in my face like that. Got me wonderin’ about the ‘what ifs’ for long enough to convince me it wouldn’t be casual.” You smile when you feel his lips on your head, pressing a soft kiss to your hair as he pulls you even closer. Then, he sighs and turns his eyes to the ceiling. “I need some patience from you though. All of you.”

“Oh, no, we were planning on giving you absolutely no time to adjust to any of this,” you laugh, “orgy at my place next week, bring friends.” You squeal when Sy tickles your side.

“Thank you for your cooperation, sugar,” he laughs.

“Just out of curiosity… Is that even something you’d be up for at all?” Hopefully it’s clear that you’re referring to a more… immediate sharing-situation of… well… you.

“Well, it wouldn’t be the first time,” he admits almost reluctantly, taking you by surprise. Surprise that is – apparently – evident on your face, because he scoffs and clarifies: “They were some long tours, sugar. Not exactly enough women to go around… Well, actually, ‘going around’ was exactly what… Doesn’t matter.” Ah. The tension in his voice tells you he won’t appreciate any follow-up questions, so you keep your mouth shut until he starts talking again. “Never like this, though. There were never any feelings involved.”

His words clearly imply that there are feelings involved now, which also tells you to proceed with caution. Of course it’s exactly what you want with him, but that just means you’re going to have to be that much more mindful of… everything. For the first time, you realize that all this time there has been a part of you that had wished this was something casual. A one-off. Just a date, and a great night, and nothing more than that. Feelings are what make this real, and if it’s real, that means things are going to change. You struggle to remember what it felt like when August first suggested Marshall as a second Dom for you – he never suggested a second boyfriend per se, but things just… turned out that way, eventually. Now, you’re having this conversation up front, which is strange, and remarkably difficult to navigate, because it doesn’t feel like a conversation the two of you can have and then just be done with it; there’s more people involved. So, you tell Sy that you’ll have to talk some things through with August and Marshall, too, and you almost cry when he sincerely tells you he understands. That he’d actually be worried if you didn’t.

“Anything else you want to get off your chest?” you ask, running your fingers through his chest hair. There’s definitely one thing you still need to hash out, but you’re afraid to ask, since the outcome of that conversation may call for you to give up your cozy spot next to Sy.

“Are you stayin’ tonight, sugar?” Ah, so you’re going to have to dive right in, after all.

“If you’re alright with a potential nosy neighbor thinking whatever they’re going to be thinking, I’d love to stay,” you shrug.

“Do people know?” It’s obvious that he means: ‘Do people know about you and August and Marshall.” It’s also obvious that he’s still not quite comfortable putting your relationship in such concrete terms.

“We don’t advertise it, per se, we just… go about our lives. But we don’t hide. And if people ask – and we’ve had people butt in in the rudest ways – we tell them we’re in a committed and very happy non-monogamous relationship.” Your answer seems to clarify a bunch, but it leaves a question in his eyes that you can’t quite pinpoint. “Does that give you enough to work with in case someone decides to meddle?”

Sy moves his head in a way that’s halfway between shaking it and nodding. “I’ll figure it out,” he sighs. “How ‘bout a shower?”

After a remarkably PG shower with disappointingly little shenanigans, you climb into bed, and immediately settle down against Sy’s warm body. A memory creeps into your brain, of the cold nights before Marshall, when August was away to do God knows what, and you were left alone. It had been almost impossible to sleep. Now, those nights are a thing of the past, and you can’t even remember when you’d last been forced to fall asleep without a pair of strong arms around you… As you slowly doze off in Sy’s arms, you half-consciously joke about that shower somehow being the least necessary one of the day.

“What’re you talkin’ about, sugar?” Sy chuckles behind you.

“I couldn’t very well meet you for dinner with Marshall’s cum on my face, now could I?” you say coyly – a little too coyly… He might think you had planned this! Which you honestly hadn’t… You’re simply very tired.

“God damn, sugar,” Sy laughs, “I understand why they share you. You’re a handful.”

[katiajewelbox]

Dear fellow plant lovers on Tumblr! I have created a community group to bring together plant enthusiasts of all kinds. This will be a friendly space to share information, questions, and content about plants, gardening, herbal medicine, houseplants, flowers, plant science, and much more. Please let me know if you want to join by liking this post.

[stabbyfoxandrew]

SOON IT WILL BE THANKSGIVING WHICH WOULD BE GREATLY ENJOYED IN A RESTAURANT EVEN IF IT IS A MAFIA FRONT - @jtl-fics

WIP Wednesday (11/1) | Mafia Front Restaurant AU (Part 42-B)

“Trust me, Stuart is really… odd. He gets jumpy about the randomest things. Neil suddenly becoming a houseplant enthusiast will be less suspicious than a clean patch on the floor.”

“Why don’t we just mop?” Kevin asks. 

“We?” Jean asks, confident that Kevin’s never touched such a cleaning implement.

“Fine, you or Neil.” Kevin says, waving his hand. “Wouldn’t that be the least suspicious thing to do?”

“Perhaps, but this is faster.” Jean says. Sue him if he wants an excuse to spend a bit more alone time with his boyfriend instead of mopping a grungy goddamn floor that Neil mucked up.

It takes almost twenty minutes for Kevin to decide between a Swiss cheese plant and a bird of paradise, but finally they decide on both. One for the ‘restaurant’ and one for the flat. They leave the final call up to Neil, who is baffled when presented with two houseplants.

“I thought you were getting groceries,” he says. “Where the fuck are we going to put that anyhow?”

“In the corner,” Jean says.

“Yeah, the corner,” Kevin repeats, gesturing towards it. Once they get it into its place, Neil makes a face.

"It's going to die immediately." He says.

Jean rolls his eyes. "I've kept you and Kevin alive this long, I can water a goddamned plant."

<- previous | first | next->

[thelanding]

Hurt as he is, I'm just certain Crowley will visit the bookshop all the time in Aziraphale's absence to take care of the place and make sure every single book is in perfect condition when his angel returns. He'll rearrange them in correct alphabetical order, dust them off, sometimes even read a Jane Austen one to his houseplants for old times sake, remembering the ball and how happy Aziraphale looked that night. He will remember the dance and holding his angel close until he can't take the weight of his memories.

Then he will bury himself in grief again. Whenever that happens, he's usually got his glasses on and hides in empty corners of the shop all alone. Since Aziraphale got into that damn elevator Crowley's been waiting for him to come back or contact him but it's been years now and sometimes he doesn't see hope. Why's he even here? Will Aziraphale ever realize the danger he put himself in or how much better it could've been if he stayed here with Crowley? Did power change him? Did he ever think of them anymore? Was he safe up There? Did he hate him?

Muriel is typically the one to find Crowley in those moments and she always tries to cheer him up in the silliest ways cause she doesn't have a clue how to help a demon but can't stand to see him hurt like this any longer. Crowley probably resents her all along and complains about her loud presence or the way she's running stuff all wrong and how Aziraphale would collapse if she let Maggie put another one of her teacups on top of Cleopatra's diaries again, but given time she'll become his only company and perhaps even somewhat of a friend.

One day he tries to trick her into praying while she's preparing a bath for him - an offer she thought he'd refuse on spot like all the previous ones and was quite surprised when he instead enthusiastically accepted. She doesn't pray that day, though, and it's not until the next week when he tries to trick her into prayer again, this time when watering the plants, that she realizes he's been in search of holy water.

Maybe after that, after watching Crowley be miserable for so long, Muriel's the one to come up with a plan to help him find Aziraphale and end this. She goes Up to Heaven to scold Aziraphale and inform him of Crowley's situation and intentions. She tells him everything. Even if Aziraphale did accept the job in Heaven under some kind of threat of Them erasing Crowley from the book of life, what'll he do when he realizes his efforts aren't making a difference in saving anyone, not even his best friend? Humanity isn't safer, Armagedom is still set to happen with or without his interference, and Crowley is in deep suffer and danger down here anyway. Aziraphale will definitely fight to get out, then.

Metatron won't hold anything to prevent Aziraphale from coming back to Earth. He will lock the angel somewhere to avoid all and any attempts at a reunion between the duo who blasted a miracle through Earth's atmosphere or even rebeled the AntiChrist against his own Father.

And maybe there's nothing Crowley can do to save his angel. No, this time, it's Aziraphale who has to save himself and go after his demon. It's Aziraphale who shows up at the bookshop last minute and stops something terrible from happening to Crowley, and cries in his shoulders and apologizes for leaving.

Ineffable husbands reunite and this time they finally talk. They finally kiss. They finally understand each other. After all is said and done and forgiven, they save the world a second time - closer and stronger now. And then they finally go off together.

Books and houseplants and the Bentley and an eternity awaits them in a South Downs cottage. There are no sides but their own side.