#plaid tablecloth

[double-dare-designs]

Holiday Plaid Tablecloth and Cloth Placemats - personalize text.

25% Off with code ZBLACKFRIYAY ends today, Zazzle always offers discounts.

https://www.zazzle.com/collections/happy_holidays-119445611210283384?rf=238828267405258083

[amphibioticdescent]

I have suddenly found myself as the owner of many unusual teapots (my dads coworker was gettin rid of them and he thought I would like them)

The last ones my favorite, it gives howls movin castle vibes and I've already started fillin it with lucky stars 💛💛💛 ^×^ y'know the little ones you make outta strips of paper

[ur-mag]

Jinger Duggar shows off humble Christmas decor including a plaid tablecloth and pillows at her $830k California home | In Trend Today

Jinger Duggar shows off humble Christmas decor including a plaid tablecloth and pillows at her $830k California home Read Full Text or Full Article on MAG NEWS

[krivanekphotographicestate]

[fushiguho]

The Homemaker & Her Husband ☆ Nanami Kento

☆ WORD COUNT – 7.3k ☆ SYNOPSIS – You’ve been a good wife, really. Fulfilling your role as a homemaker and completing your responsibilities of cooking and cleaning for your overworked husband so that he can provide for his beloved missus. But what happens when one evening after preparing a feast for Nanami, he arrives late and now dinner is ruined… will you let him make it up to you? ☆ CONTENT WARNINGS – Nanami x fem!reader, shameless smut, married couple, traditional gender roles, creampie, impregnation, mentions of femininity, reader is a housewife

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*: ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ

A sigh of contentment fell from your lips as you placed a warm pan of rolls on the table, completing the feast you’ve prepared for you and your husband. It was the final—and most crucial—piece of the divine spread you’ve spent the last three hours prepping and crafting. You closed your eyes before inhaling once, reveling in the aroma of your hard work. You could nearly drool at the heavenly combination of piquant and saccharine flavors, all beautifully arranged on a frilly, sage green tablecloth. You had it all; smothered pork chops on a bed of fluffy mashed potatoes, roasted cauliflower with tahini, homemade buttered rolls, and a New York style cheesecake with strawberry sauce dribbling down the sides.

There was no occasion. No rhyme or reason. There doesn’t need to be. Some days you just wanted to wear a smooth, satin slip dress, paired with the most beautiful diamonds and a gracious heart. Some days you just wanted to prepare a fulfilling meal for your husband to come home to after a long, tiring day at work. And some days you wish that just maybe, society would stop frowning upon the women that take pride in their love for their husband.

When did it become a crime to be comfortable in your divine femininity?

What is so god awful about wanting to be a caregiver? What if it’s divine intuition or fate? What if it’s just the way it ought to be? You aren’t sure, not really. All you know was that you enjoy taking care of the people you love, you always have. Maybe it’s the swell of your heart when he thanks you for taking care of the house while he’s away. Or the smile that mars his face when he comes home to a spotless kitchen and a carefully constructed supper as you prance to embrace him in a hug. Or it could even be the way he really thanks you when the night is said and done and he’s splitting you apart with his cock and fingers.

Soft, bossa nova jazz thrummed through the speakers of the radio that sat atop the fridge. You hummed to yourself as you swayed your hips. The window just above the sink sat open, soft linen curtains dancing in a duet with the wind. It was warm and it smelled of healthy grass and memories to be had. And oh how you missed him dearly, you could die.

You smiled to yourself as you dusted your hands on the front of your plaid apron before swiping your pager off the counter. With quick, nimble fingers, you began to message your husband, letting him know that the door is unlocked and you’ll be waiting for him at the table. He always knows when you’re making a special dinner for him because it’s he who does the grocery shopping, so it isn't ever truly a surprise. Nanami hates surprises anyway.

You undid the bow at the back of your apron before peeling it off and hanging it on its designated hook. With two hands, you smoothed the satin of your cream colored dress, the one that Nanami swore hugged your hips a little too tightly. You washed your hands before skipping upstairs with a girlish smile, the soft hum of bossa nova ebbing as you neared your shared bedroom.

Diligently, you touched up your frazzled hair and makeup. With swaying feet, you smiled in the mirror of your vanity, patting your cheeks with blush just the way he likes. Nanami loves when you doll yourself up for him. He loves the sweet, gourmand perfume you’d put directly behind your ears, the one he swears smells like raspberries and vanilla. He also loves the pretty, sheer lipgloss that adorned your lips, accentuating the dip of your cupid's bow. And oh how he loves when you’d saunter toward him in that bewitched dress with a soft smile playing your glossed lips.

You could hardly wait as you rushed back downstairs, plopping yourself into a chair at the dining table. Impatiently, you waited. With your elbows on the table and your chin resting in the palms of your hands, you eyed the food before you. You flitted your eyes between the front door and the hardwick clock on the counter. Any second now, you thought.

You could no longer hear the thrum of music, far too engrossed in the passage of time. The clock’s golden pendulum swung back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. And as time does, it went on. The pendulum continued to swing and time continued to pass and soon, seconds would turn into minutes and minutes into hours.

He’s late.

Now, you sat on the couch, your right knee bouncing restlessly as your arms sat crossed over your chest. You were upset, maybe even beyond it. Disappointed maybe. An irritated sigh fell from your lips. Slowly, you dragged your bare toes along the shag rug on the floor. It’s late and you’ve already paged Nanami four times in the last hour to no avail.

With a huff, you pushed yourself up from the couch before making your way to the kitchen. You began to clear the table of the room temperature food, angrily packing everything away into tupperwares. The sound of the front door opening then closing startled you, pausing your angered movements. The floorboards creaked with the familiar clomp of his leather penny loafers as he neared the kitchen.

“My love, I’m home. I’m so sorry I’m late.” He apologized as he emerged in the arched doorway of the kitchen while simultaneously slipping his suit jacket off his arms and hanging it from the coat rack.

You said nothing as you continued to clean the table, your shoulder cold as you ignored his presence.

Nanami sighed, “You cooked all this for me, baby?” His heart ached in his chest.

“What does it matter? It’s cold anyway.” You cut, your voice sharp and daggered.

Nanami nodded deservedly. Immediately, he sees your anger, acknowledges it, accepts it. He could almost feel the warmth of your seething rage. Warily, he stepped closer to you, his arms open in embrace, but you turned away, shuffling to the opposite end of the table to collect the remaining food.

“Baby,” He frowned, “forgive me. I stayed out late tonight to tie up some loose ends. Satoru called out and I lost track of time.” He explained.

Still, you scoffed.

“But I’m here now and this food looks delicious.” He commended, “Did you eat?”

“I paged you five fucking times. You could’ve called.” You huffed, ignoring his concern.

He dropped his head in shame. He truly was sorry and you knew it. Nanami is sincere. He’s genuine and unfeigned and candid, but he tends to throw himself at his work, muddling the line between it and home. You really can’t fault him for taking pride in what he does, but God, do you wish he’d find a healthy balance between the two.

“Baby, what can I do, hm?” He hummed, “To make it up to you?”

He followed you around the kitchen, his heavy footfalls not far behind. You could feel his warmth as he stood beside you and you could smell what’s left of the cologne he spritzed on his suit this morning. It was then that you finally looked up at him, silently registering his post-work mien. His tapered, blonde hair danced in every which way, loose strands adorning his forehead. His brows furrowed with remorse while his tired eyes pleaded for absolution, begging for your forgiveness like a sinner in church.

Slowly, he sank to his knees before you, his intense gaze never never faltering. You rolled your eyes in disbelief as you turned away. Nanami reached for your hand, pulling you back to him. Before you had the chance to pull away, Nanami dipped his head to plant a chaste kiss to the back of your hand before turning it over and kissing your palm. He continued, leaving several kisses along the expanse of your hand and wrist.

“Look baby, I’m on my knees for you.” He admitted. “I’m so, so sorry. I’ll do anything… you know I will.”

Nanami was releasing your hand to kiss your legs instead. He trailed sweet, fleeting kisses up and down your shins before gently bunching up the hem of your dress to expose your thighs. He kissed there too, humming and inhaling your scent as he wrapped his arms around the back of your knees, pulling you closer.

His heart ached with contrition as he begged for your pardon, so distraught by his foolishness. Frankly, Nanami yearned not only for you, but your approval as well. It was something he’d go to great lengths to obtain. What is he worthy of if not your mercy? Your validation?

“What is it you want?” He mumbled between kisses, determined to rectify his wrongdoing and put a smile on his pretty girl’s face.

You could feel the slam of your heart against your chest as you looked down at him, his pleading eyes beckoning you to relinquish your anger and find reprieve in him instead. He whispered sweet nothings against your skin—small I love yous and honeyed words of praise. And surely, all the resolve you once had was long gone, swept up and blown out the window, never to be seen again.

The poor lace of your white panties cried in your arousal as your stomach flipped with excitement. The subtle clench of your thighs wouldn’t go unnoticed. You could feel the curl of an all-knowing grin against your skin. “I know you want something.” He whispered. It’s quiet, barely audible, but God, did you hear him.

You bit your inner cheek, contemplative in silence. If you know Nanami at all, you know he never allows you to go to bed angry. It’s one thing he won’t tolerate. He’s made it his personal mission to send you to bed with a smile on that pretty face of yours every night.

“Want me to take care of you tonight?” He breathed, his eyes searching for yours, “Show you how grateful I am for all that you do? Show you just how much I need you… how much you mean to me? Will you let me show you, my love?”

You can't stay mad at him nor could you deny yourself pleasure. How could you? He’s on his knees for you, begging at your feet for forgiveness like an atheist on judgment day. He loves you dearly and he won’t rest until he rights his wrongs. So you really can’t help it when you slowly nod to him, accepting his enticing offer.

A breathy laugh of relief fell from his lips, “Yeah? You’ll let me show you?” He grinned.

You nodded again, reaching out a hand for him. The gracious smile that marred his lips was peerless, almost as if his sole purpose in life is to demonstrate his love and appreciation for you. He eventually rose to his feet, towering above you before taking your hand and silently leading you to the living room. You followed closely as you desperately fought the grin trying to kiss your lips.

Nanami situated himself on the couch, his legs spreading naturally. The striped fabric of his trousers warped with the slow adjustment of his hips, the subtle bulge of his cock resting so prettily in his lap. He looked up at you as he sat quietly, the heat of his stare turning you into a puddle of nothingness before him. How could someone say so much, yet nothing at all? You understand him completely—his intentions, his determination, his carnal desire.

He jerked his head lightly, motioning you to him or rather on him.

Like a moth to flame, you were immensely drawn to him, deeply, uncontrollably. You hardly noticed the shuffle of your feet as you neared him before leaning down to fixate yourself on his lap. A shared breath of relief fell from your lips as they hovered mere centimeters apart. You couldn't hide the small grin that crept on your face. Nanami returned the smile, his much larger and dopey, but his eyes saddened.

“You even got all dolled up for me.” He commented, taking notice of your glossed lips and rosy cheeks. “I’m sorry, baby.” He frowned like before, as if he’s still haunted by his guilty conscience.

You shrugged, “It’s okay.” It comes out as a small whisper. You’re not even sure if you believe yourself. Nanami certainly doesn't, which is why he shook his head in disagreement.

“It’s not. I should have called,” He admitted as his hand reached for your face, cupping your warm cheek in his palm. You leaned into his touch, nodding slowly, wordlessly agreeing. “But m’gonna make it up to you.” He promised.

He was then leaning closer to push his lips onto yours, finally closing the aching distance. You kissed him back promptly, sighing against his mouth as you relaxed into his touch. He wasn’t modest as he kissed you hungrily, your nose pushing against his while you breathed into his mouth. Nanami hummed in satisfaction as he sloppily tasted your mouth. Your lips were so sweet and delicious, so perfectly shaped and carefully glossed.

Soon, you could feel the graze of his tongue along your bottom lip, silently begging for more to which you obliged, granting him access to your willing mouth. You allowed him to taste you from the inside, desperate to feel his tongue exploring your wet mouth. Even the subtle exchange of saliva had your hips stuttering as you sat on his lap.

Nanami’s hands were gripping the fat of your hips, his long fingers splayed along the flesh. The hem of your dress slowly bunched at your waist, exposing the pretty lace of your sheer panties. You couldn’t help the gape of your lips when you gasped at his cock pressing firmly against your clothed cunt. He pushed your hips against him, rocking you back and forth along his growing erection. The friction made you completely dizzy.

You couldn’t help the whiny moans that tumbled past your lips and into his mouth, your sweet voice going straight to his cock as he swallowed your saccharine whimpers. A cry left your lips at the feeling of him bucking his hips forward, further pushing himself against the lace of your underwear. And God, how you were so wet and bothered. Nanami fucking loved when you’d get like this. He swore he could feel your wetness seeping through the fabric of his trousers.

“Always been so sensitive.” He hummed.

His comment had your cheeks burning with crimson. It never took long for you to fall apart like this. He’s hardly touched you and you could already feel yourself unraveling like cheap thread. You crave him like you crave water and oxygen, as if you’d simply die from the sheer lack of him and he could tell. He could always tell.

“M’so grateful for you y’know.” He smiled drunkenly, reminding you of his gratitude, “So pretty ‘n sweet… always takin’ such good care of me.” He continued, dropping his head to kiss your neck softly.

You hummed in agreement, craning your head to the side, granting him more access to the receptive flesh. Nanami’s hands began to slide up your torso and beneath your dress. His warm grip was tight and familiar. He pulled you impossibly close, your chest pressed against his and now your dress was bunched up just below the curve of your breasts.

Nanami brought his gaze up to meet yours, silently begging to take off your dress to which you nodded. You held your arms up for him, allowing him to gather the cream fabric in his hands before pulling it over your head and tossing it aside. He smiled. Nanami loved when you’d opt for not wearing a bra, in fact, he encouraged it and wouldn't have it any other way. He loved that he could make out the shape of your breasts at any given moment. He even loved the prod of your nipples against the fabric of your blouses.

He wasted no time as he was bowing his head to slip one of your nipples into his mouth while his hands worked to push the fat of your breasts together. A trail of hot, openmouthed kisses littered your chest. He hummed in bliss as he tasted your skin. He was nothing but insatiable as he swapped back and forth between your tits, ran his tongue through the valley of your chest, and slipped both of your sweet nipples into his mouth.

Fuck, you could cum right here, just like this, and he knew it of course. The warm press of his cock against your poor pussy while his hot mouth drooled on your tits was pure torture. You were practically putty in his hands—beautiful and completely ruined by him and for him only. You lolled your head back as you bucked your hips, wanton moans falling from your parted lips.

“Grateful for this pretty little body.” He whispered as he felt you up greedily, squeezing and caressing just about any part of you he could reach.

“Na…namin,” You cried.

“I know, baby. I know.” He shushed, “I know you want more. Just wanna appreciate you is all.”

Nanami eventually willed himself away, but only to lift you off of him and set you down on the couch so that he could kneel on the rug in front of you. You sat upright with your back to the backrest of the couch, knees to your chest as they pressed together tightly. With one hand, Nanami was spreading your legs apart before tugging you closer to the edge of the cushion by your ankles.

You couldn’t bear the sight of him between your legs as he began to kiss you through the damp fabric of your panties, darting his tongue out to taste you just a little bit. It was awfully too much. You could hardly breathe as he beckoned for you to raise your hips so that he could pull your soiled panties down your legs, tossing them aside.

“Grateful for this sweet little pussy.” He breathed as he licked a long, ponderous strip, collecting your seeping arousal on the tip of his tongue.

You shuddered as he began to mouth your cunt. He kissed and drooled all over it, moaning and panting against it as if you were an oasis amidst a barren desert. As if he were a predator and you his prey. As if he’d simply die if didn’t devour you right here and now, whole, saving absolutely nothing for anybody.

As he sat on his knees between your legs, his hands gripped your inner thighs, keeping you spread nice and wide for him. You could hardly move, but that’s what he wanted. He wanted the entirety of your pussy on display for him. He needed you to be open and accessible and all for him.

He was still dressed in his business attire as he fucked you with his tongue. The first couple buttons of his blue dress shirt were undone and his spotted tie hung low from his neck. He even wore his loafers and his harness but none of that mattered to him. Maybe he liked the idea of you being completely bare and vulnerable and his only purpose is to be a vessel for your pleasure. Or it could just be the juxtaposition of it all.

“Fuuuck…” You drawled, “feels s’good.”

The swell of his cock was unbearable and you did nothing but push him further. Nanami wouldn't miss the subtle roll of your hips against his face, or the saccharine whimpers that tumbled from your mouth. He sure as hell wouldn’t miss the way you begged him to stuff you with his fingers. God, he could cream his fucking trousers.

He groaned as he slowly sunk his two middle fingers inside of you, “Oh, God, look at that.”

With hooded eyes and a lazy smirk, he watched as your greedy pussy sucked him in, kissing and coating his fingers in your essence. He couldn’t help but to shove those very fingers into his mouth, tasting you from the inside, only to return his fingers back to your pussy without missing a beat. He then dropped his head to wrap his lips around your clit. You whined as his fingers prodded your leaking hole while his tongue beckoned you to an inevitable release.

The obscene squelch of his fingers as he stuffed your drooling hole was sickening. You could only drape an arm over your eyes, shielding your face in embarrassment as he began to curl his fingers forward, pressing against your fluttering walls. With an open mouth you panted, and gasped, and moaned, and babbled, pleading for anything and everything.

And you’re just the sweetest thing ever to him. So pretty and delicious, he thought. Nanami couldn’t get enough of you. He lapped up everything you gave him, tonguing and sucking and slurping you up like a man starved. His groans and hums of pleasure as he ran his tongue through you were nothing but kindle to the ever-growing flame in the pit of your stomach.

His hands found purchase on your waist, gripping you tightly to pull you firmly onto his mouth. He let his jaw fall slack while lolling out his tongue, fully mouthing your cunt. Quite literally he stuffed his face with you, devouring you utterly and completely. He was obnoxious as he groaned and panted, deeply huffing and inhaling as if he were on the brink of death and you were his final breath, nursing him back to life.

How could someone be so pussywhipped? So drunk? So blinded by their own unceasing need to please? So much so that he doesn't even think twice when you cry for him to go lower, begging him to taste and appreciate you everywhere. He silently obliged, sharing a breath with you as he gathered your seeping arousal on the tips of his fingers so that he could drag them between the slit of your ass.

With both hands, he spread you further apart, warm palms on the fat of your ass, and his balls painfully swollen at the lewd sight of your holes throbbing and pulsing around nothing. Nanami gathered saliva in his mouth before puckering his lips and lolling out his tongue, messily drooling onto your pussy and asshole. He watched with a half-lidded stare as his saliva landed with a plap, slowly dripping from your cunt, to the space inbetween, until finally spilling onto your puckered hole.

Nanami dipped his head, quickly darting out his tongue to chase his spit so that he could push it into your ass. You gasped as his tongue probed and licked and tasted you. Fuck, you could cum just like that. You felt it—that deep, gnawing urge to release yourself with a buck of your hips and cry of his sweet name. God, you could fucking feel it.

“Yeeeah—my baby needs me everywhere, hmm?” He slurred drunkenly between drags of his tongue, “Needs me to appreciate her everywhere… even her pretty little asshole.”

You nodded dumbly with your pupils dilated and glazed over, your wet lips parted, and your eyebrows knitted. You could hardly recall how you ended up here… thighs pressed to your chest with your husband’s tongue and fingers delving in and out of your sloppy holes like some insatiable whore.

Is that what you are? Some insatiable whore whose only purpose in life is to be a slutty little housewife? It must be true though, right? It’s you who's getting your pussy and asshole slobbered on. You who’s feeling yourself up as you get devoured, groping and squeezing your breasts like a pornstar. And you who’s nodding off and choking over your words, begging to cum like your life depends on it. But maybe you end up like this in every life. Is it fate? Destiny? Is it just how it ought to be? Does it even matter?

You weren’t sure or maybe you just didn't care. How could you? Not with the way his thumb was slowly sinking into your asshole while his tongue licked through your sweet folds. Not with the way he was beginning to press his other thumb to your clit, beckoning you to cum in his mouth like the good girl he knows you are. And definitely not with the way your stomach was starting to tighten and coil with that all too familiar feeling.

“Nami!” You choked, your chest heaving as you panted and bucked.

You couldn’t fight your frown as he pulled away to smile up at you, the corners of his lips tugging into an all-knowing grin and his pussy drunk eyes boring holes into yours. You dripped down his face—the tip of his nose, his swollen lips and chin glistening in your arousal and his own saliva. It was debauched and lewd and entirely shameless but none of that mattered. It never mattered when he had you like this—so vulnerable, so helpless, so willing and meek. Maybe that’s the exact reason he craves you when he's away. Because he loses all sense of himself when he’s between your thighs. So lost in the objective of pleasuring you, in his need to satisfy.

“Want you to cum on my tongue so I can fuck all of my appreciation into you.” He whispered, his warm breath fanning your cunt, “You want that?”

You nodded hastily, humming and gasping in approval as you pushed your hips forward, chasing his hovering lips. Of course you want that and he knows it. He knows you’re unraveling at the seams, holding onto the fleeting semblance of sanity you grasp as you spiral toward an inevitable orgasm. He just knows it’ll tear you apart, sending you so far gone that he’s sure it’ll have tears threatening to spill down your flushed cheeks. If Nanami knows anything at all, he knows you—in and out like the back of his hand. He knows what your body needs, how much you can take, how deep he can go, and even how hard you’ll cum for him.

And it’s not just you. He too feels himself on the brink of orgasm, his poor cock threatening to spill into his Calvin Klein briefs, but not yet, not now. It was torture, his swollen balls pressed to the fat of his thigh and his heavy cock weeping precum all while being compressed by the restricting fabric of his trousers. God, it was absolute torture, but he would wait forever if it meant having his tongue and fingers inside of you.

“Nami, m’cumming… oh, God.” You cried.

It happened all too fast. Your poor brain couldn't register the orgasm that worked through your entire being. The feeling of your abdomen tightening and the flutter of your soft walls as his tongue helped you through it rendered you breathless. Your mind fell blank as he guided you through your orgasm, cooing words of praise and gratitude, leaving you a whimpering, stuttering mess.

Nanami moaned and panted as he drank you up, swallowing and enjoying everything you gave him. It’s almost animalistic the way he nearly unhinges his jaw to taste more of you if it were even possible. He’s a primal animal in his habitat, devouring his prey like it’s the last meal he’d ever have. It’s almost too good that it pains you, it’s too much.

You can’t stop your legs from closing around his head. “I can’t, baby...” You whine as you push him away with a little more force than intended.

Nanami drunkenly stumbles backwards onto the floor with a thud, his hands falling back to catch him and still, he smiles lazily. Well, it’s more of a crooked smirk. His usual ironed dress shirt now wore wrinkles and his normally manicured hair danced in a frenzy along his nape and forehead, blonde strands falling down to frame his face. He sat with his knees bent and his hands resting behind him to stabilize himself. His cheeks burned with crimson and his chest heaved.

“You really are so beautiful, my love,” He admired, “and I’m so grateful for you, your love, your compassion, your emotional complexity. I really am.” He breathed.

He’s babbling and you smile, heart swelling at his sentiment and vulnerability. His love is evident. It’s in your face, it’s overbearing, it’s real. “I love you more than you know.” You smile sweetly, holding your arms out for him to come to you.

Nanami pushed himself up from the floor to fall into your arms. “I love you with all that I am.” He admitted in a whisper, baring his soul.

His lips catch yours, pulling you into a tender kiss, allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue. “I want to make love to you.” He breathed. You nod to him, sealing your answering with another sloppy kiss. You hardly notice Nanami gently pulling you off the couch to carry you upstairs, nearly tripping as he attempts to slip his loafers off in the process.

Blindly, he stumbled through the doorway of your shared bedroom. He laid you on the perfectly done up bed and cursed to himself at the salacious side of you—your bare body on display for him, swollen cunt exposed between your legs, silently begging for more, your fucked-out face and tousled hair. Nanami fought the urge to cum as he undressed himself before you, finally ridding himself of his clothes.

As you waited, you couldn’t help the hand that snaked between your legs so that you could touch yourself. Your other hand found its way to your mouth, your fingers pushed past your lips and you sucked sweetly as you watched Nanami unfasten the buttons of his dress shirt.

As he undid the clasp of his brown leather belt, he shook his head and laughed to himself. It’s more of a breathy chuckle as he grins in disbelief. “You just might be the death of me.” He jested as he pushed his briefs down his thighs, baring his swollen cock. It jumped free, bouncing to kiss his navel.

Your stomach swirled in excitement as he neared the bed, kneeling onto the edge of the mattress. You crawled toward him, reaching for his cock so that you could pump him in your hand. It’s warm, heavy, desperate. It hurts. Nanami hissed at the contact, eyebrows furrowing and eyes fluttering shut. He couldn’t hide the throaty moans that tumbled past his lips nor did he want to. He needs you to know exactly how he feels.

“Can… can you spit on it? Fuuuck,” He gasped, his stomach caving as you immediately gathered saliva in your mouth, lolling out your tongue so that you could drool onto the swollen head of his cock. “God, I love you.” He gaped as a hand came up to cup your cheek.

You smiled up at him, your cheeks glowing as you stroked him sweetly. “I need you to fuck me, Nami.” You whispered. It’s quiet, benign, and sincere and you meant it so deeply.

Nanami nodded, watching like a hawk as you laid back for him, spreading your legs and showing him exactly how you wanted him. It didn’t take long for him to situate himself between your thighs, tucking your legs on either side of his hips. With his cock in his palm, he dragged the leaking tip along the expanse of your cunt, spreading and collecting your arousal. You writhed beneath him as you rolled your hips, searching for the relief you so desperately craved.

You shook your head, “Unh unh, just fuck me.” You blurted impatiently.

He smiled down at you, cocking his head to the right just a bit, laughing lightly before nodding in accordance. You braced yourself as he began to push the head of his cock inside of you with his thumb. The two of you sharing a gasp, your mouths agape as you both watched him slowly sink inside of you. Already, it was too much, and you weren’t even fully stuffed.

The moans that fell from your lips were nothing but needy, sultry whines and little gasps of air. Nanami groaned in response to your pretty little sounds, his voice low and guttural. There was nothing he loved more than your sweet voice, especially when you’d get all needy and whiny like this. He almost couldn’t help himself as he pushed his cock further inside of you, his hands reaching for the curve of your waist to pull you onto him, tucking himself as deep as he possibly could.

“Nanamin…” You breathed, your eyebrows knitting as your lips parted.

“I know,” He cooed, “but you can take it, yeah? You always do.”

He smiled sweetly as he drew his hips back, reveling in the way your arousal kissed him in a sheen layer. He held his breath as he pushed his hips forward like before, stuffing you to the brim. He gauged your expression, watching as your face contorted in pleasure, searching for your silent needs so that he can fuck you just how you like.

Slowly, he subconsciously nodded to himself as he pulled out of you. He nodded as if this was the answer to everything he’s ever questioned in life. “Yes, baby… fuck.” He stifled as he lolled his head back, “My sweet girl, always takin’ me so well.”

You are his sweet girl. His sweet girl that likes to get her pussy licked and fucked. His sweet girl that begs for all of her slutty holes to be stuffed and fingered. His sweet girl who pretends to be upset so that he’ll have to fuck her to put a smile on her face. And his sweet girl who is never satisfied, no matter how many times she cums.

“More.” You whispered.

He let you reach for his face and pull him close. You panted as you slotted lips against his, hooking your feet together behind him, encouraging him to fuck you like he’s meant to. You kissed him sloppily, your tongue lapping and sliding against his, licking and tasting him from the inside, remnants of your cum still lingering on his tongue.

Nanami pulled away, a gossamer of saliva connecting his bottom lip to yours, that same idle smirk playing his wet lips. “God, you need it don’t you?” He exhaled in a single breath, his eyes searching for yours in the dimly lit room.

You nodded eagerly, lifting your head to chase his fleeting lips. He kissed you back like before except this time, he was unhooking your legs to grip the back of your thighs, pinning them to the duvet and spreading you completely open for him. You want to get fucked? He’ll do just that. You deserve it after all.

The warm stretch of his cock as he split you open made your head spin. You sucked him in greedily, your wet walls kissing him so sweetly. He filled you so well, almost too perfectly, like he was hand tailored for you and you only. You could hardly breathe as he leaned forward, angling his hips slightly downward to lick at your neck. You whined as he licked a long, ponderous strip from your collar bone, to the shell of your ear, sealing it with a kiss, his thrusts still heavy and sharp, the head of his cock pressing against your cervix.

Each time his hips collided with yours, the sound of skin against skin was all that could be heard along with your choked whimpers and huffs of his breath against your neck, his thrusts heavy and deep. Nanami was losing himself as he fucked you, heavy balls slapping the thick of your ass, fat cock bullying its way deeper and deeper inside of you. Fuck, he wanted nothing more than to stuff his cum inside of you, tainting you with his seed, claiming you all for himself for eternity.

“My sweet girl needed me to fuck her like this, huh?” He cooed, his hand sliding up your stomach to grip your cheeks gingerly, forcing your lips into a pout. “Needed me to get on my knees and beg for her forgiveness like some kind of slut,” He kissed you sweetly, “I love it… makes me so hard… it hurts, baby. But I love it so much.” He babbled, kissing you sloppily between breaths.

It was a mess, all of it. Your cunt glistened in a sinful mixture of arousal while Nanami kissed you messily with his tongue lolled out, even the subtle exchange of saliva had you so aroused that you could cry, only adding to the wet mess the two of you created. You curled your toes as your eyes welled with tears, his thumb pressing against your clit, lips slotted against yours. It was all too much, your poor head was so empty and sore.

“I love when you turn me into this,” He confessed, his infatuation for you so ardently evident, “even think about you at work too y’know… get me so fuckin’ worked up… m’always so hard when I think about you. You make me crazy, I swear.” He inhaled a tight breath as he fought the gnawing urge to cum.

You gasped as he slipped out of you to lay down on the bed, pulling you with him. He put you on your side and tucked himself behind you, gripping the back of your thigh and hiking your leg to slip his cock back inside of you with a groan. Desperately, he fucked himself into you from the behind, his warm breaths lost in your neck, cock slipping in and out of you, wet balls kissing your ass with an obscene schlop.

“Think about you too, Nami.” You whispered, turning your head to meet his face, “M-missed you so much—fuck…”

Nanami grinned lazily, his nose brushing yours, “Yeah? You missed me baby? Do you touch yourself when I’m away? Thinkin’ ‘bout me fucking you just like this while you play with that pretty pussy?” His voice honeyed and sweet, thick with genuine curiosity and lust.

You hummed in agreement, huffing out short breaths in sync with the thrust of his hips. You could feel yourself slipping into a place of no return, a place so far gone, so depraved, that you were afraid you’d lose yourself and cream all over him, ruining the freshly washed sheets. Your walls squeezed the length of his cock, begging him to spill inside of you and Nanami was feral as he fucked you stupid, cresent-shaped nails digging into your thighs, his breath hitching with each inhale.

“Want your c-cum,” You slurred, your pretty face contouring in your own need to release, “want you to cum inside of me… show me how much you really love ‘n appreciate me with your babies. Need your babies, Nami… please?”

His cock twitched, “F-fuck, is that what you need? Will that make you happy, sweetheart?”

You mouthed a silent plea, nodding to him with parted lips. He gripped your face softly, bringing you close to taste your swollen lips for the umpteenth time tonight. There was nothing you needed more. Absolutely nothing on earth would satisfy you more than taking all of his cum like a good girl should. You dreamt of getting knocked up by Nanami, your stomach so cute and round as you waddled around the house with a gracious smile.

“Say it, baby, please, will you?” He begged softly, his hips stuttering as his thrusts grew sloppier, “Say you want me to breed you and make you a mommy… please, baby, fuck.” He gasped as his impending orgasm coiled in his abdomen, threatening to tear him apart.

“Need you to make me a mommy, Nanami… been such a good girl for you. I deserve it, please.” You brainlessly babbled.

​​“Fuck, fuck, fuck—okay, baby. Whatever you want, I’ll give it to you.” He moaned, “Gonna give my good girl all of my cum, such a pretty fuckin’ girl… deserves all my cum—oh my God.”

He whined shamelessly, his erratic breaths soon turned into broken ones, each of them interrupted with a whimper or hiss. His chest heaved as his lower stomach began to tighten, his wet cock throbbing inside of you, the head weeping against your cervix. Eventually, that winding coil in the pit of his stomach snapped, releasing itself in several spurts of thick, milky cum, coating your walls in his viscous seed. Still, he bucked his hips into you, his cock accidently slipping out a few times and pushing against you clit from the force of his thrusts only for your greedy hand to reach down to tuck him back inside, allowing him to fuck his cum as deep as he could, none of it going to waste.

“You gonna cum for me, hm? Make a mess after you’ve just cleaned the house?” He cooed, reaching a hand down your body to play with your clit, tracing small, tight circles around the sensitive bud, encouraging your looming orgasm.

You squeaked a small yes in response, eyes falling shut as you felt your orgasm swelling. His voice only pushed you further, his encouraging words and sweet nothings coaxing you. He was sending you so far, stringing you along so thin, beckoning you to cum all over him and make a mess. His cum seeped from your pussy, dribbling onto the satin sheets in a sinful puddle beneath you and you could only whine as your soft walls fluttered around him.

He pressed his lips to your shoulder, kissing you sweetly, “Cum for me, my pretty baby, c’mon.” He encouraged, “Cum for me like I know you need to—yessss, baby, yes cum just like that… all over my cock, fuck.”

After ensuring you were thouroughly fucked through your orgasm, his thrusts slowed and eventually, his hips stilled completely. He slipped out of you, nearly cumming again as he watched your pulsing cunt push out his seed, his cock too dripping in a sweet layer of cum and arousal. He almost couldn’t help the hand that slipped between your legs, fingers finding your pussy to gather his cum on the tips, pummeling it deeper inside of you.

It was too much, too sensitive. You shook your head as you whined in overwhelming pleasure, pushing your thighs together and forcing his hand away. Nanami hushed you with a kiss, explaining that he would prefer his cum not to go to waste. He just wanted to make sure his seed was planted, make sure that you’d get pregnant and there was no doubt you’d end up plump and full with his baby. He turned you to face him, shuffling close so his nose could touch yours.

“You’d make the most beautiful mother.” He smiled gently, peeling the disheveled hair off of your face, baring your blushed cheeks and sweat-ridden forehead.

His heart swelled when you beamed in return, your eyes fluttering sheepishly as sleep loomed. Nanami thought you looked prettiest like this, so raw and exposed in your post-orgasmic state. He could see right through you like a glass house in broad daylight. There was almost an internal glow within you, a radiating brightness that consumed everything in its wake and he adored that about you. Possibly the reason he fell so hard all those years ago.

“You really are so beautiful to me.” He breathed as if coming to the realization all over again, “I love you and it hurts my heart when I disappoint you.” He frowned.

You leaned forward and kissed the tip of his nose, “I love you too, Nami. Just don’t let it happen again, hm?” You partly joked as you squinted, shooting him playful daggers.

He kissed your nose too, “It won’t happen again.”

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*: ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ

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[teddy-bear-naps-and-random-snaps]

[likejaeyun]

dates with enhypen.

♡ 엔하이픈 hyung line x fem reader syp. › dates with enhypen ! ♡ WC 1.1k (lowercase intended) G. est relationship, fluff C/TW kissing, cursing not proofread ! 〰️ ✉️ ( EMI'S LIBRARY )

LEE HEESEUNG : picnic in the park

— the late afternoon sun splashes over half the plaid picnic blanket, the other half of the material immersed in the cool shade of a willow tree. taking a bite out of a ripe strawberry from the plate sitting on your lap, you enjoy the soft breeze blowing through your hair. your eyes close as you sit there and savor the warm sunshine on your face as you tilt your head up, filtered through the tree leaves. the distant sound of children’s shrieks and laughter echoes from the main part of the park, a continuous background noise compared to the deserted area you decided to have a picnic in, far from all the bustle. opening your eyes again, you rearrange the platters of food scattered around the picnic blanket. right underneath your gaze, two cups of pink fruit punch sit on the mini cooler, the only sign of company with you on this warm sunny day. you spend a few more moments bathing yourself in the calm aura of the environment when a voice drags you from the haze - “y/n!” it’s heeseung, your boyfriend. a distance away, he walks towards you from behind. the sunshine hits down on his face at the right angles, as bright as his smile. he looks like a dream, submerged in an ethereal ambience that you can’t take your gaze off of. “look what i have for you,” he says with a small giggle when he’s walked close enough to you. as you look up at him, he holds out a bunch of small daisies, hand-picked from the looks of it. “they’re beautiful, heeseung,” you can barely contain the grin from your face as you sit him down beside you on the blanket and plant a kiss of his cheek.

other members under the cut !

PARK JONGSEONG : home sweet home

— "i'm home!" you call as you shut the door of the apartment behind you. you looked around the space, but the hallway was dark and silence stared back at you. “jay?” you call again as you slip off your jacket and walk into the living room. “in here,” your boyfriend’s familiar voice sounds from the doorway to the dining table and kitchen. there’s a strange catch of excitement in it, a fair amount of contrast from his usual calm demeanor. “why are you—” you start to walk into the doorway, but you’re greeted by a sight of candles... candles, and lots of them. they’re set all around the room, the only source of illumination in the room. a lace tablecloth covers the dining table with dishes of food placed around one big candle in the midst of it all. tears spring to your eyes as your gaze lands on jay standing next to the table, a small but proud smile on his face and a bouquet of roses in his arms. “what is this?” even though your voice breaks and tears threaten to spill over your eyes, a smile appears on your face. “it’s for you,” jay replies as he walks over to you and hands you the bouquet. “really? all this for me?” the tears finally slip down, around your smile so big that jay can’t help but grin too when he sees it. “why are you crying?” jay laughs as he wipes your tears with his fingers. sniffing, you don’t respond and look up at his face, the scrunch between his eyes when he has a grin on. he pulls you towards him with a chuckle, and you stumble into his arms in an embrace.

SIM JAEYUN: amusement park

— "jake, c'mon!" you pulled on your boyfriend's wrist towards the line leading up to the ferris wheel ride. the amusement park was bustling with people, even when the sun was about to set. the bottom of the sun just barely touched the top of the distant horizon, the sky on the verge of turning a orange and pink hue. as you ran towards the back of the long line for the ferris wheel, jake trailed behind you, cotton candy in hand. looking up at the towering wheel, excitement bubbled up in you again. this was the ferris wheel that had went viral online and had been on your bucket list all summer. you'd begged jake to come here with you for a good two weeks before he'd finally agreed. and to be honest, you didn't think he disliked this in any way. as the two of you inched towards the front of the line, he wore a puppy grin on his face as he looked around as excitedly as you were when you pulled him towards the ferris wheel. soon, it was your turn to get on the ride. you scrambled into the ferris wheel cabin with jake just after you. a smile automatically appeared on your face as you slid onto the booth-like seat that extended all around the small space. jake seemed to be equally happy, all the energy seeping out of him as his legs bounced excitedly and the shit-eating grin still there. the cabin slowly moved towards the top, and the timing was perfect - the sky was a beautiful shade of pink, with tinges of orange red. the clouds were outlined with golden. "the sunset's beautiful," you murmured, mesmerized by the view. "it is," jake said as the cabin shifted towards the topmost spot on the wheel. "just like you," he added. you giggled and turned to him. "just like you too," you said before you took hold of his collar and kissed him.

PARK SUNGHOON: the movies

— the large tv screen flickers with every cutting scene, the only light in the dark living room other than the less-than-dim lamp. you and sunghoon are bunched up in blankets on his spacious couch, pillows scattered around and empty bowl of popcorn set on the table. your eyes are only half-trained on the tv - literally. you struggle not to fall asleep there, in your boyfriend's arms, as the movie plays in the background. sunghoon seems to be focused, though; you know it's one of his favorite movies, a cheesy romance one with a cliché trope and a figure skater lead that you know has made him cry at some point at least once. not that you could be talking - you'd watched it long ago, when sunghoon first told you it was his favorite movie, and cried more than once because of it. with a sigh, you shift your figure and bury your face into the crook of sunghoon's neck, sighing. "this movie is actually so good, i could watch it for a million times and not get bored.." he rambled on. "hey, do you want to go anywhere tomorrow? we could go to that restaurant you've been wanting to go to? y/n..?" he whispered as silence hung in the air. looking down, he almost chuckled at the sight of you fast asleep in his arms, the tiniest furrow between your eyebrows. "i'll take that as a yes, pretty girl," he murmured with a smile he pecked your nose.

a/n: i apologize for any grammar mistakes, this was written n posted in a bit of a rush since i have quite a lot of assignments to complete atm (T-T).. hope you enjoy though !! maknae line coming soon <3

taglist: @nishislcve @laylasbunbunny @bunnbam @en-gelic ♡ join taglist here !

[danaewrites]

you with the dark curls (you with the watercolor eyes)

part ii: i wanna hear you speak to me

james potter x reader // read it on AO3

word count: 3.6k

summary: “Falling in love with your best friend was never a good idea, but you’d managed to do the idiot thing anyway, carrying a torch for a boy who would never look past Lily’s emerald eyes to see the watercolor ones that had always been by his side.”

tags: best friends to lovers, angst with a happy ending, based on the song "dear arkansas daughter" by lady lamb, fem!reader

author's notes: new year, new chapter! i started writing this one back in SEPTEMBER and finally had enough time away from the terrors of calculus homework to finish it. thanks for reading my story so far and i hope you enjoy this incredibly self-indulgent chapter, because i had way too much fun writing it!! i promise that the angst in this chapter *will* be resolved, but it was too deliciously tempting to resist sprinkling a wee bit of hurt/comfort and dramatics in there as well. sorry not sorry!

read it all here: part i, part ii, part iii (coming soon!)

“I’ve got no bloody clue how Dumbledore can be so energetic all the time,” you groaned, head in your hands as you peeked out at the headmaster’s more-than-slightly manic grin from your seat at the Gryffindor breakfast table. You were far too sleep-deprived to process his latest choice of garish attire: a bright chartreuse robe covered in plaid polka dots, topped off with what appeared to be rhinestones and tinsel attached to his beard.

Perhaps if Kettleburn hadn’t assigned you three feet of parchment on the seventeen glorious properties of dragon dung yesterday and expected it done by this afternoon, you might have appreciated the headmaster’s creative fashion choices– oh, who were you kidding. There really was no understanding that wizard, even properly rested. James and Peter had made a bet during fifth year on how long it’d take Dumbledore to crack under a constant deluge of pranks in his office, but they’d quickly realized that the man was too far gone to do anything but take inspiration for school events– an idea that was quite frankly, comically frightening, and the sort of thing you weren’t keen on pondering on a normal Tuesday morning.

Sirius wrinkled his nose sympathetically and slid the pile of raspberry jam tarts closer to you. “Late night in the library again?”

You nodded sheepishly, gratefully taking a pastry from the pile. “I honestly don’t know why Pince allows me to stay past curfew. Marauder’s luck, I guess?” Your attention was diverted by the sound of hoots and flapping wings as the morning owl brigade arrived, apparently choosing a kamikaze dive-bomb approach to deliver this morning’s newspapers. Ah, the joys of living at the world’s most advanced magical school.

Sirius, ever the epitome of grace, slipped under the table as a rogue owl zipped past, popping himself back up just enough to throw you finger guns. “Exactly right, doll, exactly right,” he grinned. “Trust me, Marauder’s luck gets you everywhere. And I mean everywhere,” he winked, sending you a lecherous smirk.

“Ew, Sirius, I don’t even want to know,” you sniffed. “I’ve learned my lesson after the mental trauma your tales of Dorcas’ birthday adventures inflicted upon my psyche. Please, spare me the details.”

“What? All I meant was Slughorn’s Christmas Party, of course!” He batted his eyelashes angelically, still partially covered by the tablecloth.

Your mouth gaped open in shock. “Last year’s Christmas party? Sirius Orion Black, I refuse to hear another word! What on earth would your ancestors think, with you bragging about such exploits-”

He leaned over, eyes wide with laughter. “No, I meant the one Slughorn is throwing on the 21st, it’s exclusively for us lucky seventh years this time. Although, you bring up some very fond memories… okay, okay, I’ll stop, don’t kick me–”

“What are we kicking Sirius for?” James slid onto the bench across from you, eyeing a groveling Sirius with interest. Peter joined him, but wisely chose to stay away from the ruckus, piling his plate high with the bacon the owls had spared. Remus was noticeably absent, spending the morning resting in the infirmary after a rough night of shifting– which you assumed was much more peaceful than the current chaos at the Gryffindor breakfast table.

“Oh! Good morning, Jamie,” you beamed up at him, passing him the plate of desserts you’d been protecting from Sirius’ nefarious advances. “Morning, dove,” he greeted you, and then paused. “Ha, get it? Morning dove?” He puffed up his chest smugly and nudged Sirius with his elbow in a futile effort to make him laugh. You huffed fondly at his antics. Boys.

Sirius rolled his eyes and took advantage of your momentary distraction, retreating back onto his seat to nurse his wounds– to your ever-growing delight (and Sirius’ woe), you had recently discovered that the Hogwarts girls’ uniform shoes were quite sharp. “At this point we should call you Lames. ‘Cause your puns are lame,” he muttered.

You shooed him away with a brush of your hand, remembering what Sirius had mentioned earlier. “According to Sirius, Slughorn’s hosting a Christmas Party again this year. Let’s pray it won’t be like the last one.” You muttered. James and Peter both looked vaguely ill at the prospect, shuddering in unison. “My tie will never look the same again,” Peter griped, but suddenly sat up straight in his seat. “Hey, wait, we’re finally old enough to bring dates to this one! Without sneaking them in, I mean.” 

Sirius snickered and lightly punched his shoulder. “Why, Petey, got some lucky girl in mind?” Peter reddened and glanced over at the Hufflepuff table, where a certain freckled blonde was chatting with her friends– a move that didn’t go unnoticed by James, who gave a delighted wolf-whistle. “You got a thing for Lucy Abbott, huh? Might want to make a move before Smith does,” he grinned, gesturing to the tall brunette boy who’d just arrived and sharing a knowing smirk with you. You giggled at Peter’s increasingly pouty expression; he’d figure out sooner or later that Smith was definitely not interested in Abbott– or witches in general– but it was entertaining to see him out of his comfort zone. Peter had always been the quietest of your little group, and you privately thought that a bit of momentary romantic angst might spur him to be more assertive. An ironic opinion, considering how your own love life revolved around the fact that your best friend had feelings for someone else… and you couldn’t do anything about it except mope.

Peter scowled. “Easy for you to say, Prongs, you’ve finally got precious Lily-flower wrapped around your finger. I bet you’ve already asked her!”

There it was: another reminder that James wasn’t yours, and never would be. You watched as the Gryffindor boys good-naturedly jostled his shoulder and tousled his curls. James grinned sheepishly, shrugging off their teasing. “Not yet,” he admitted, glancing hopefully at the end of the table, where Lily was chatting with her friends. 

Peter rolled his eyes. “Aw, come on, we all know she’ll say yes this year.” Sirius winced, looking at you out of the corner of his eye. Peter glanced at Sirius, drawn by the movement. “What’ve you got to worry about? Half the population would kill Dumbledore to get one dance with you. The only person who’s got to worry about a date is me– well, and maybe Y/n, I guess.” His face suddenly turned contemplative, looking you up and down. “Are you going with someone?” 

Sirius’ grimace became doubly pronounced at Peter’s tactlessness, and you felt your face heating up. Peter had a way of accidentally hitting on the issues others tried to hide. It wasn’t his fault he’d never heard about your trips to Hogsmeade with a paramour– in fact, none of the boys had. Because there hadn’t been any. You’d spent your entire time at Hogwarts pining after James, and as a result had missed the romantic milestones your classmates had already blissfully bragged about. 

Peter looked at you expectantly, waiting for a response, and you opened your mouth to confess your lack of experience when you spotted a familiar redhead walking gracefully towards your side of the table– to James, you realized with a start. Something within you ignited as you watched her glow with confidence, carefree and lovely as ever. Lily would never pine after someone uselessly; she knew she could get anyone she wanted with the right amount of banter and flirty gestures. You... Well, you weren’t there quite yet, but maybe it was time to take inspiration from the Muggle saying and ‘fake it til you make it’. And before you could think about what you were about to do, you turned to Peter and smiled coyly. “I might.”

James’ and Sirius’ heads snapped up immediately from their perusal of the breakfast lineup as they let out an identical murmur of surprise. “What?” James furrowed his brow, looking you up and down– seemingly trying to discern whether you had taken a holiday from your senses, most likely via Bludger-induced concussion at the last Quidditch match. Sirius merely raised a questioning eyebrow at you. You groaned internally, knowing that you’d have to explain yourself later… although, if your half-baked idea worked, you’d be spending a lot more time with him anyway. For now, you beamed innocently at both of them and took a sip of your pumpkin juice. Apparently, the Sorting Hat had placed you in Gryffindor for a reason- you were either incredibly brave or incredibly foolish to commit to this plan, but with Evans quickly approaching, you saw no other choice.

Peter looked momentarily shocked, then glumly began to assemble an egg and bacon sandwich seasoned with the occasional mutterance of “unfair” and “perpetually single, my arse”.

James’ eyes were still trained on you. “Who is it?” he asked, searching your face again as if he was looking for some indication that you were joking. You shrugged, trying to look casual. “I guess you’ll just have to find out, won’t you?”

“Dove-” he began, but Lily finally reached his seat and placed one stupidly perfect hand on his shoulder, diverting his attention momentarily. “Sorry to interrupt your breakfast, but Professor McGonagall asked me to bring you to her office for Quidditch scheduling.” James blinked, glancing up at her and then at the rest of the table. He stood up and focused on you again, expression clouded. “I’ll see you in Potions, yeah?”

Sirius stood up quickly, ushering him out of his seat with a speed you’d only seen him use to gulp down cheap Firewhiskey. He gave you a significant look. “Actually, Y/n and I were just about to take a walk, isn’t that right? So we'll both see you in Potions, what a sublime coincidence, now don’t be late for your meeting–” he chattered on as he shoved James toward the doors of the Great Hall, the latter eyeing him suspiciously but moving nonetheless. Sirius turned to you and pointed to the courtyard entryway. “You. Me. Talk, as in right now.”

Once you were sure that you’d made it out of earshot of Peter and the rest of the Gryffindor table, you wheeled around to face him. “Okay. First of all… I didn’t plan that.” Sirius raised an eyebrow again. “Second of all, I need a favour,” you pleaded, staring up at him with the most adorable doe eyes you could physically summon. They were usually most effective on James, for some reason, but you were sure that Sirius wasn’t immune to your manipulation either. He groaned, resting his face in his hands. “How do you even have a date? Last time I checked, also known as yesterday, you were still head over heels for Prongsie, doll. So do I need to check you for Amortentia or somethi–” He peered out from between his fingers with annoyed realization. “You don’t have a date, do you.” 

You blinked innocently up at him. He let out a long-suffering sigh and ran his hands through his hair. “This is what you need the favour for? You want me to go with you to Slughorn’s party so you can pretend in front of the rest of Hogwarts that you’re not madly in love with Jamie?” 

You grinned confidently up at him and slung an arm around his shoulders. “Aw, Siri, you know me so well. It’s almost as if you were maaaade to be my date for the party...” You fluttered your eyelashes up at him one more time for good measure, trying to hide a smirk. “Alright, alright, stop with the Bambi act, I’ll take you.” He scowled good-naturedly. “You know, this is going to ruin my dating pool for the next month.” 

You scoffed. “As if! If anything, you’ll just have more people fawning over you– temptation of the forbidden apple and all, you know.” 

Sirius brightened up considerably at this revelation. “Well, why didn’t you say so in the beginning, doll! I vote that we match in purple velvet, it does wonders for my complexion–”

You gave a very unladylike snort at the thought of you and Sirius swanning into the party in some sort of horrendous plum-coloured disco getup, and shooed him away towards the Potions classroom. That was an eyesore to imagine sometime when you weren’t about to get a headache from the dim dungeon lighting.

Slughorn greeted you and Sirius by directing you to the front of the classroom with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Oho, a pair of latecomers, I see!” He winked at you and Sirius in exaggerated motion. You winced as Snape jeered and nudged Malfoy, who was busy enjoying Flint’s crude gestures at you. Ugh, Slytherin boys. The worst of the lot. Their snickers were quickly stopped by James chucking a handful of powdered wormwood at their heads when Slughorn turned away, making Malfoy’s prized hair appear covered in soot. You shot him a grateful smile. 

“Since you two missed my initial remarks, let’s see if you can make it up by identifying today’s potion, hmm?” Slughorn gestured dramatically to a shimmering green brew in a cauldron next to his desk, cherry-coloured smoke curling off of the top invitingly. 

Sirius shot you a panicked look, clearly not expecting to be put in the academic spotlight, but you shook your head and stepped closer. You smelled something rich and incense-like, which meant that Bumburrel leaves were a key ingredient. And combined with the way the smoke was drifting lazily around your wrists, curling higher and higher… “Brew of Mandelian, sir. Used for sharpened acuity under times of pressure.”

Slughorn gave a delighted chuckle and clapped his hands. “Well then! Ten points to Gryffindor for paying attention in lectures!” He dismissed you and Sirius with a wave, moving on to explain the finer points of ingredient preparation to a very bemused George Goyle as you slipped into your usual seat beside James.

You worked in quiet harmony for a moment, methodically slicing and crushing the slippery beetles needed to give the brew its signature green colour while James handed you the insects. He broke the silence after six beetles (not that you had been counting or anything) with an awkward, “So… you have a, erm, date?”

You huffed, motioning for him to hand you the foul-smelling Moorish tubers next. “Honestly, James, is it that surprising?” He scratched the back of his neck, frowning. “Well, I– yeah, I guess.” he trailed off, seeing your expression. 

“The tubers, Jamie, thank you. I mean, you looked at me like I was a ghost back in the Great Hall!” You were decidedly not making eye contact with him, trying your best to focus on the slimy plants in front of you and not the fact that your best friend-slash-unrequited crush doubted your romantic potential. What a way to be humbled– and while covered in tuber juice, no less!

He huffed, running a hand through his already messy curls. “Come on, Y/n, it’s not like that. What did Sirius want to talk about in the Great Hall, anyway? You two looked… chummy.” 

You glared down at the copper slicing board. “Well, it’s none of your business how chummy we are, is it? I don’t interrogate you every time you converse with Peter. In fact, it’s rather expected that Sirius and I speak to one another on occasion, considering the amount of time we all spend together thanks to you.”

You moved to grab another tuber from the jar, but James reached out and grabbed your hand, forcing you to look at him. His hazel eyes were alight with frustration, a look you knew by heart thanks to the hours you’d spent tutoring him in History of Magic after he napped his way through the entire first semester. “Are you serious? You’re actually going with someone?”

“Please, Jamie, do enlighten me on whyever you think I couldn’t possibly get a date with my numerous and diverse charms,” you sniffed, hoping to Merlin that he would just leave the entire subject alone. 

“No, it’s–” he groaned, leaning back in his seat. “The other boys, they don’t know how– you’re so, I mean, just look at you!” he exclaimed, gesturing at you. He stopped, frowning to himself, looking more confused than before. He glanced over at Lily, expression becoming even more muddled, brow furrowed and hard to read to anyone but you. 

Your mouth parted in shock, and to your dismay you felt tears bubbling up again. You blinked fiercely, refusing to let him see you cry. James thought the issue was… your looks? You suddenly wanted to crawl under Slughorn’s desk and never come out again, except perhaps to find a shovel to dig your grave with. This was far, far worse than watching him transfigure chocolates for Lily every Valentine’s Day. Now you knew for a fact he didn’t find you attractive– thought other boys didn’t either, even! And the way he’d clearly mentally compared you to Lily after what he’d admitted… well. There was no recovering from that. Teenage boys could be dense, but Merlin, how you had wanted him to at least let you down gently. 

You wished you’d never opened your mouth to lie about having a stupid date in the first place, but you forced yourself to laugh and mutter something trite about how that could all be fixed with a couple glamour charms anyway so it really wasn’t an issue for the party, thank you very much. He looked even more confused, opening his mouth to respond, but Snape chose that moment to interrupt.

“Hey, Potter!” James turned to scowl at the greasy Slytherin as you thanked your lucky stars for Snape’s interruption (a rather disturbing thought– potentially a harbinger of an imminent apocalypse. You’d never thanked Snape before in your life and hoped to never do it again). “Here’s payback for earlier,” he smirked, checking that Slughorn had dozed off and the other students weren’t paying attention before whipping a mottled yellow bottle at James.

James’ carefully honed Quidditch reflexes kicked in and he quickly dodged the object, but as the vial soared up, up, past your carefully diced tubers, over James’ messy notes, it hit your arms and shattered. You flinched in pain, crying out as the glass shards embedded themselves in your arm and the congealing, repulsive liquid dripped down your hands and onto your thighs. James lunged towards you, but it was too late– the potion had already seeped into your skin, causing an awful sparking sensation. 

You gasped, grabbing onto the desk as the feeling bubbled upwards. “Jamie, I don’t– I don’t feel–” you stuttered, suddenly lightheaded, and you heard someone gasp as you began to taste something metallic. You absently touched your nose. Why was it so cold and wet? You had been so careful not to touch your face around those horrid tubers and oh, oh Merlin and Morgana what was that pain in your hands and legs, please no make it go away someone help me help me HELP

You vaguely registered someone whimpering in the background. It might have been you, but you weren’t entirely sure what was happening outside of the electric symphony of agony crescending in your nervous system. The pain built swirled flooded through until you weren’t sure where you ended and the potion began which was a funny thought because of course you were you, but you couldn’t remember who you were before this so you laughed but that really hurt, oh how that hurt no no no no no bad idea–  

“Fuck– no–” James? Was he here too?

You blinked– when did your eyes open?– and saw him reach for you, frantically pushing his dark curls off his forehead. Why would he do that? You loved his hair, even when you were feeling funny awful things from the potion. You felt his arms scoop under you, lifting you off your seat as he caught your head from falling back. You heard a door slam open, footsteps, darkness clouding your vision–

His voice. “Sweetheart, no– don’t do that, I need you to keep your eyes open.”

You blinked again, trying to focus on James’ face. He looked pale, jaw set and tensed like it was before his Quidditch games. Were you moving? You couldn’t tell whether James was walking or the hallways were walking around you. He glanced down again, exhaling with relief once he saw whatever he was looking for. “Yeah, just like that. Keep those pretty eyes focused on me, okay?” 

He thought your eyes were pretty? 

James gave a tight laugh. “Yeah, I think your eyes are pretty, dove. Hold on a bit longer, we’re almost there,” he choked out. 

Oh. Had you said that out loud?

But you thought– he had said something, before, you couldn’t remember now but it was important and it hurt–

Some part of you, deep where the potion hadn’t reached, had melted at his words. That part was tinged with pain, too, but in a different way, raw and honest and hopeful and all for him. Or maybe that was the potion, you were pretty sure witches weren’t supposed to melt unless they were green and lived somewhere much further west, but your thoughts on the whole process evaporated as you reached a white door and a woman and your words started to swirl until they melted too and everything went black.

taglist: @magpiencrow @that-kid143 @itmustbegreattobecalledtheitgirl @lilly-aliyah @milivanili99 @stars-havefallen @spidergwnn @prongs-moon @joeytribbiani18 @yeahright0h @ronancebot @ropickle @regulusblacksposts @lovelywritersgarden @helloitsmeeeeeee @xobridgertonblues @azuredgalaxies

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[applejuicebegood]

My Home, My Heart - Platonic!141 x Reader

Fem!reader Summary: Y/N has two younger sisters named Emi and Marigold. Y/N has invited her teammates to her farm relax after their deployment, they enjoy an early morning together with Y/N's younger sisters. Masterlist

Cw: Mentions of an absent mother, mentions of alcohol, very cringe writing

Word Count: 2232

The morning air was cold and thick with the scent of brewing coffee and dusty curtains. You winced, pulling yourself from your cocoon of quilts and comforters. You reached for the knitted sweater you left on the floor with a yawn, still tasting last night's bourbon on your tongue. You scratched the back of your head, tangled hair falling down your back. A pleasant sting in your muscles drew you further into consciousness. The intricate tattoos stretching over the scarred skin was a prideful mapping of your stories and ancestry. A permanent reminder of what you cherished most. 

You made your way across the familiar path of your bedroom, your socked feet creeking across the worn wooden floor boards. You thumped down the stairs to squint away the morning light shining through the fogged windows. Tracing your nails across the scratches in the wooden railing as you did when you were little. Your farm house was quaint, nestled into a vast, rich, valley that was folded into the ocean cliffside. If you were lucky and the morning mists parted in time, you could see the sun kiss the churning waters golden. The property had been in your family for decades, the imprint of different generations found in the old oil-stained recipe books stored over your stove, the tablecloths and plaid quilts your grandmothers had sewed together by hand, the worn-in farming tools that you had been teaching your sisters to use, and in the welcoming promise of security you returned to after every deployment. You cared for this home, the same way it had cared for you and your sisters. So when money grew scarce and your mother abandoned the property, you joined the military, trained as a combat medic, and sent the majority of your checks back to the farm and into your sister's schooling. Little did you know that in joining the army and eventually qualifying as an SAS soldier, you would find yourself under the command of Captain John Price along with the other chosen candidates for the coveted 141 squad. In which you had managed to find the comfort of home far away from it. 

You had found it in their smiles and their hearty laughter. In Johnny's jabs at Simon for his British mannerisms and in your conversations with Gaz regarding his nightmares surrounding the night he first met the captain. You found it in your Price’s encouraging rants about bravery and in his habit to always make sure you had eaten at least one thing that day. You found it in random bars and around a deck of cards, in the bottom of cheap beer bottles and the barracks of the different bases you were rotated between. When you first joined, you believed that you had only two goals, make sure none of these men die, and if they do make sure they don’t die alone. It was only through the many bullets you had to dig out of their muscles and the frantic stitching of open wounds did you begin to see these men as your brothers rather than colleagues. You cared for them with disciplined tenderness, never treating them as broken but always ready to help fix and mend their wounds. And as your first year on the team stretched into three you eventually had invited them to spend a few nights at the farm. Before, only Gaz, Roach and Johnny found time to make the trip. It was only now that you had convinced everyone to come up for at least one night, with Price and his wife meant to be driving up that evening. It was meant to symbolize how far you had come as a team but also a merging between your two homes. A celebration of your camaraderie and friendship, or that's what you told yourself as you stocked up on ibuprofen for the inevitable hangovers you would have to deal with. Your sisters were ecstatic, to have someone else in the house to talk and play with other than you. You couldn’t blame them. In your phone calls with Marigold in the days leading up to your flight back, she couldn’t stop talking about how happy she and Emi were to see their uncle Johnny and to finally meet the mysterious Simon Riley you talked so much about. 

Your lieutenant was someone you knew didn’t have a home like yours to return to. You had never forced Simon into feeling obligated to accept your offer, even if you told him every holiday and summer season that he was welcomed in your home and that your sisters would love to meet him. So, when you made your way to the kitchen and saw from across the tiled counter that your youngest was sitting at his side, asking feverish questions about his tattoos while tracing them with her small chubby fingers, you felt a mixture of relief and pride bloom in your chest. ‘Morn’in… you sleep well?’ Gaz asks who stands at your coffee maker, pouring himself a cup. You smile, realizing that the tension that held his shoulders back and his jaw tight had finally dissipated. The cream cable-knit sweater was pulled up to his elbows so as to not get the fabric dirtied with coffee grounds. 

‘Of course.. How could I not after last night?’ He smirked, dumping fresh grounds into the machine. You were referencing the long card game you had played the night before. All of you finally went to bed when Roach’s slurred speech was entirely indiscernible, elated from the bottles of Geniuss Johny had brought from his trip into town that day with Simon. 

‘Well, you are still the only one who has managed to stay sober, that might change tonight once captain gets here’ Gaz says, you snickered as you pulled the fridge open, finding the coffee creamer. You handed it to Gaz, knowing he is the only one who likes the stuff, you stocked up. In a trade, he handed you a cup of coffee of your own. You took a generous swig, the dark liquid burned down your throat, waking you up. 

‘Y/N!’ The squeal of your little sister's voice made you smile widely, giggling at the way she perked up from Simon’s arms, finally noticing you. Her bright red hair was messy and tangled. Your old shirt she had chosen to sleep in hung from her small body with the tube socks bunching down her calves. You set the cup down before crouching down to pick her up and swing her into your arms as she ran into the kitchen, peppering her freckled cheeks and forehead with kisses. After coming back from every deployment, you tried to give your sisters as many kisses and hugs you think they missed when you were away.

‘There’s my little lass! What were ya do’in with our Simon there lovie? This early in ‘da morn’in?’ You cooed, brushing back the frizzy strands from her bright round face. Her arms pat your shoulders in her built up excitement. ‘He- He was tell’in me ‘bout the dwa’ins on his a~arms.. It’s like yours!’ She said pointing back at Simon, who sat idly on your couch. The one requirement you gave him was that he wasn’t allowed to wear his ski-mask in the house. You wanted your sisters to know the real Simon, not the soldier. You chuckled, looking back at your lieutenant, his lips drawn upwards as he looked down at his hands. Gaz reached over and ruffled your sister's hair before kissing her head and turning back to switch on your old stove and pulling out a large pan from your cupboard. ‘Was he now? That is just… huh’ You said fake-surprised. Only your baby sister could have gotten Simon to smile so easily. Gaz softly chuckled as you set your sister on the island counter. You heard Simon scoff, leaning back on the couch. You winked at Gaz, realizing that you and him now had the best blackmail for when you were back on base. ‘What do you want in your pancake’s Emi?’ Gaz asked you sister, fishing out the carton of eggs, fetched yesterday by Marigold from your coop. 

‘Chocolate please.. And blueberries!’ Emi said, swinging her feet ‘Is Roach and Soap up yet?’

You ask both of them, fetching another mug and pouring a cup of coffee for Simon. Carrying the fresh cup over to your lieutenant. ‘Kid’s knocked out cold.. really can’t handle his liquor. Johny’s up though.. Took Mari out to chop would I think’ Simon said, nodding as he took the steaming porcelain cup into his large hands. ‘Did he? We should fetch them in a few.. wanna get started on dinner prep after Gaz finishes up’ You say, looking out the window expecting to see your sister and Johnny with arms filled with pine logs, trudging through the thick build-up of snow. You sip your coffee, fat lazy flakes of white drift lazily from the hazy sky. In the distance you can see the plump black bodies of your cows stomping through the blanketed fields, swaddled in their winter coverings. The soft crackle of the wood stove in your living room blended together with the muted conversation struck up between Emi and Gaz. Emi asking him if he had cows and chickens in Birmingham like we do here. You turned at the shuffled Simon standing beside you. One of his hands in his sweatpants pocket with the other wrapped around the rim of his mug. You smiled, hoping that Simon felt the same collective comfort you felt any time you would look out from this window. ‘My sister would never! She.. Sh-’ ‘Oh but she would! She’s an absolute menace lassie..’ You groaned, leaning your head back. Johnny’s voice carried from the back porch. Only now did you realize that having your teammates and your sisters in the same room meant they now had every reason to share the many embarrassing stories of you they had collected over the years. You took another swig of your coffee, smiling at the sound of Marigold's high-pitched laughter as Johnny recounted one of the nights he had to drive you home from the bar with you entirely shit-faced, trying to grab hold of the steering wheel from the backseat. You smiled down at your cup, downing the last of the hot liquid. ‘I’m really glad you're here Si’ You say, just loud enough for the two of you. Looking up at him, you couldn’t tell if the softening of his eyes was from the coffee kicking in or your comment. Either way, to see your Lieutenant so relaxed was rare and welcomed. You were proud that you could give this to him. Repayment for all of the times he had listened to your rantings about your mom’s non-involvement in your sisters lives. For the late-night walks around the different bases after one of you had a nightmare. For the constant reassurance that you could stick behind him and the rest of the team for protection and certainty. He turned to you to say something, only you had turned away at the crack of the porch door opening and snowy boots being kicked off.

‘Y/N! is it true that you were captured by yanks and..and Johnny had to save you? Your sister asked you, her face flushed red from the bite of the cold and the swinging of your axe. Between your two sisters, Marigold looked the most like you. The gentle swoop of her freckled nose and chocolate brown eyes always was a surprisingly reminder that you shared her beautiful features. You took the pale bucket from her arms, filled with split cedar logs. Looking over her shoulder to glare at your sergeant, who winked at you as he unzipped his coat. Snowflakes falling off of his shoulders. ‘You go wash up lovie, breakfast should be done by then, Ya Gaz?’ You asked into the kitchen, receiving a muted ‘yea’ from Gaz. You gently squeezed your sister's icy cheeks. You kissed her hairline, her darker red curls peeking out from the green headband she tied her hair back with. She hurried up the stairs with a hum. You sighed, placing the pale on your hip. You watched as Johnny ruffled Emi’s hair as he got himself coffee before taking his place beside Simon, who still stood watching your snowy farm through the fogged window. You sighed, crouching in front of the wooden stove and opening the hatch. The dwindling flames licked your arms as you placed the fresh wood over the coals. The ambient shrill of laughter and the warm buttery scent of Gaz’s pancakes settled you. You shut the stove with a harsh click. You picked up your baby sister from the counter and set her on your hip, tsking at the chocolate smudged around her mouth. A clear indication that Gaz let her get into the chocolate chip bag. You smiled, looking out over your home. Realizing that the people you cared for the most were all here. Tucked away in your warm, hidden paradise. There would be no surprises, no alarms or sirens, no uncertainty and panic. For once, you were certain in the safety of your team and certain in your care and appreciation for them. You just hoped that they felt the same.

[irinaseverinka]

Chalet

31 new items furniture and decor for decorating lot in a Chalet style.

BASE GAME / LOW POLY

Pt.I living room fireplace - fireplace tops for medium and high walls - loveseat - living chair - coffee table - pillows - fur plaid

DOWNLOAD

Pt.II decor wall animal skin - wall old axes - paint - wine box - wine box open - bottle with glass - wood

DOWNLOAD

Pt.III dining room dining table long - dining table short - dining chair - wine cabinet - ceiling lamp Horns (for middle and tall walls) - tablecloth long - tablecloth short

DOWNLOAD

Pt.4 food decor fondue - fondue plate with fruits - fondue plate with bread - fondue plate with meat - appetizers plate big - sausages plate - cheeses plate

DOWNLOAD

This food is a decoration. But you can download this functional recipe and other functional food on Patreon https://www.patreon.com/SomikSeverinka

[dollsahoy]

I spent the weekend making curtains and a tablecloth. All of the fabrics were from my stash, and most of them were secondhand items I'd had for years and years (the exception is a small floral print fabric that I used to make the non-visible rod pockets, which I got from the Walmart mill-end pre-cuts assortment a mere two years ago.) Even the lace panel now on the basement door had been in my fabric stash forever, and I had to cut it apart and sew it back together to shorten it to fit that window, so it counts as something I made.

Since it's all from my stash, quantities were very limited, which influenced pretty much every design decision. It was fun to figure things out, but so so boring to sew 😅

The panels on the back door block so much light, compared to the previous curtains there, that it feels like a cave in the dining area now, which is just what Husband wanted (his computer is in that area--open concept y'know--and the monitor glare has been significantly reduced.)

I really like that floral and plaid together, and have achieved some level of Grandma Style

[misshoneybee]

˖ ࣪ 𖥔 𝐎𝐂𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐈𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐇 | 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐄𝐓 𖥔 ࣪ ˖

— ℳ𝒾𝓈𝓈ℋ𝑜𝓃𝑒𝓎ℬ𝑒𝑒'𝓈 𝒦𝒾𝓃𝓀𝓉𝑜𝒷𝑒𝓇 —

Pairing: College!Reader x DBF!Steve Rogers Content Warnings: Age gap (Reader is early twenties, Steve is mid-forties), infidelity, bratty!reader, smut, light dom/sub, use of pet names, daddy kink, oral sex (m-rec), dirty talk, degradation, hold the moan, squirting, creampie Word Count: 4.8k  A/N: Please just pretend it's the fifteenth, lmao. Anyway, I got beef with P*ggy C*rter so this one's personal. 😜 I was so happy that so many of you guys seemed to enjoy 'The Night' so I'm very excited to share the second Kinktober prompt with you! As always, my blog is 18+ so: MINORS, DNI! Anyway, enjoy!! xx. Navigation: Masterpost | Playlist | Divider Credit | Kinktober Masterpost | October Eighth | October Twenty-Second Summary: When your dad’s best friend tags along on a family vacation, there’s just something about him that you can’t stay away from. The only obstacle? You needed to get that ring off his fucking finger.

You hoped to God that you were hiding the little smirk on your lips better than it felt like you were. The way Steve was holding his jaw and the way his hand was clenched on the tablecloth made you stifle a giggle into your hand before silently pressing your finger to your lips, gesturing for him to keep silent as your parents carried on a conversation on the other side of the table.

When they’d told you that your dad’s old roommate from college was coming along for the trip to your family’s house in Boulder, you were annoyed. You already didn’t care to go on some stupid family vacation on one of your few, precious breaks from college, but you certainly didn’t care to have some middle-aged, stick-in-the-mud tag along on it.

Then again, when his sleek, little sports car had appeared at the top of the long, private driveway, and he’d gotten out, you hadn’t expected Dr. Steven G. Rogers to look like that. When you’d greeted him alongside your parents, your eyes had been wide as he took your hand to gently shake. The older man towered over your frame, his jaw covered in a lush beard with the most beautiful shade of aquamarine eyes, and fuck—he was fit.

You’d only been at the ski resort for two days before the heated glances and barely-there touches had become too much for the both of you. Maybe you’d been playing with fire, walking around the big, drafty house in tiny, thin pajamas and without a bra, but everything had caught in a blaze when he’d found you in the middle of the night, climbing on the kitchen counter to reach the expensive vodka that your parents kept on the top shelf. His hands on your hips had steadied you as you jumped, frightened at the silent touch, before lowering you to sit on the cold marble.

Within seconds, in a silent agreement to keep this just between the two of you, Steve’s lips had easily found yours as you slipped your hand beneath the waistband of his stupid, plaid pajama pants that were slung low on his hips. Your hand found his already hard cock and he’d let out a quiet hiss as your hand worked his length until he’d finally had enough, carrying you down the hall to his room and fucking you until the sun had almost risen.

Since that night, much to your parents’ obliviousness, you hadn’t spent a single night alone in your bed. When the two of you weren’t fucking, you were laying bare, tangled in the warm, rumpled sheets, and talking about anything and everything. You discussed your major in molecular biology, his stint as a captain in the military, your last breakup, and the ring you’d spotted on his finger after the first time he’d fucked you.

At first, you felt a pang of guilt but after he opened up to you, you knew all about Peggy and how strained their marriage was. You knew they hadn’t fucked in six months. And you knew that maybe you liked him a little more than you’d initially planned. There were only two more days before you needed to go back to school and you were putting off the conversation of what came next, no matter how much you wanted to know and how it was driving you crazy.

As you took a sip of the sweet red wine, Steve gave a little surprised cough that hid a groan and it almost gave everything away; how your hand was rubbing his swollen length, hidden beneath the tablecloth, how you definitely were far less innocent than your parents believed, how you were fucking their forty-something year old friend.

“They work her too hard.” Your dad mentioned to Steve over his rocks glass, and you had to refrain from rolling your eyes. Your mom hadn’t shut up about how disappointed she was that Peggy hadn’t been able to join you—you couldn’t stop thanking God that she hadn’t.

“You know Peg,” Steve shrugged nonchalantly, taking a sip of his water as he white-knuckled the glass, “She wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“We know,” You mother sighed, her fork picking at the now-wilted greens on her plate as she frowned, “It’d just be nice for your wife to be able to go on vacation with us sometime.”

“You’re a cardiologist for Christ’s sake and you still find time.” Your father agreed, giving a pointed nod towards Steve. You bit your tongue as bile rose in your throat. Did they even know how unhappy Steve was? Why were they talking about her?

Steve’s chuckle was light, even though he registered the way you’d slowly taken your hand back from his lap, “She and I both knew that I came second to SHIELD when we got married.” With another shrug, he added, “I guess you can’t help who you fall in love with.”

It felt like your blood ran cold as jealousy snaked its way around your ribcage, squeezing your chest tightly. Maybe he did still love her. They’d almost been together for as long as you’d been alive. Of course, all he wanted was a fling—you were just a way to get his dick wet since his bitch of a wife was too busy with her job.

You barely registered the way your body had grown numb until your wineglass slipped from your fingers and tipped over on the table, cracking the delicate glass as the burgundy bled into the pristine fibers of the white tablecloth as a sharp gasp was pulled through your lips at the mess. Your eyes found Steve’s and you saw the slightest shift in his brow as he registered the envy in your expression.

“You okay, sweet pea?” Your dad frowned worriedly, standing, and grabbing some towels to mitigate the damage you’d done. Your mother busied herself drying it up and fussing with the linen. Being an only child meant you were constantly babied and sometimes, it worked to your advantage.

“I’m sorry,” You sighed, pressing a hand to your cheek as you forced yourself to sound more run down than annoyed, and even a little embarrassed, “I’m okay—I just feel a little sick to my stomach. Maybe I’m coming down with something.”

Your eyes flashed to Steve and your irritation grew as you saw a little glint of entertainment staring back at you, biting the inside of your cheek, you took a deep breath and chose to ignore him, turning your attention to your mother with a sad expression, “I think I’m going to lay down.”

Brushing some hair from your forehead, she frowned, “Are you sure? We were going to go on the gold slope—“

“I don’t know if I’ll feel up to it.” You gave a shrug, fake disappointment crossing your face as you pointedly ignored Steve, “Will you wake me up before you go? Maybe I’ll be feeling better by then.

Maybe spite wasn’t the best motivator, especially with the way your fucking orgasm was evading you after almost half an hour. After changing into a deep, green silk negligee, you’d sent a few pictures to Bucky, your on-again-off-again fuck buddy. Predictably, he’d responded with enthusiasm, showering you in compliments and praise as you sent videos back and forth. He’d sent a shaky video of himself coming more than ten minutes ago and you’d finally had to relent, faking a quick orgasm in your front facing camera before putting your phone down.

Had Steve ruined your ability to come any other way aside from with him? Your breath came quicker as you rolled your hips with the vibrator that was pressed against your clit, a quiet whine breaking through your lips as you stayed on the edge, balancing but never quite falling over.

Three muffled voices in the hall made you jump as you pressed the button on the bright pink toy, abruptly switching off the patterned vibrations as you yanked a thin blanket over top of you. A sharp knock sounded against the heavy, wooden door and your breath caught in your chest. Pretending to be asleep, you fought to even the slow breaths that were filling your lungs. After a few more knocks, your door finally creaked open and heavy footsteps found their way to your bedside.

The cologne was familiar; it had been rubbed off on to your own skin several times now. It was clean and fresh, reminding you of sun on your skin and sand between your toes rather than the blankets of snow that were falling outside the windows. Steve’s heavy hand landed on your shoulder, giving you a gentle shake as he murmured your name, “Wake up. Your parents are leaving; they wanted me to check one more time and see if you wanted to go with them.”

Remaining silent, you willed your face to stay carefully blank as his hand slowly drifted up and down your arm, causing goosebumps to pepper the surface as you suppressed a shiver despite how annoyed you were with him. It was like his touch set you on fire, gilding you like some precious thing that was just for him. Pressing the back of his hand to your forehead, you counted the seconds that seemed to last hours. The sooner he left you the fuck alone, the sooner you could try and come—without thinking of him. After a long moment and one last brush of his fingers against your cheek, he slipped back out of the room.

“She’s pretty feverish.” Steve’s voice was low as he spoke to your parents in the hall, and you willed them to leave. As they walked away, their voices quieted and you finally exhaled, resting a hand on your stomach as you fought to calm the racing beat of your heart. Any progressed you’d made had been washed away and you murmured a curse, flopping on to your back helplessly.

A few minutes later, you heard the rumble from your parents’ car in the driveway. The sound of the tires quickly faded, and it wasn’t long before the heavy footsteps were back in front of your door. Sinking into the mattress, pulling your blanket tighter around yourself, you’d only just squeezed your eyes shut when the door opened.

The side of your mattress sank, and Steve’s heavy hand landed on your waist; it was like you could feel the little smirk on his lips. Leaning down, he gently brushed some hair from your neck before placing a barely there kiss on your soft skin, murmuring into your ear, “Wake up, princess.”

You remained silent, forcing your body to remain still no matter how badly his touch made you want to beg for more. The hand drifted from your hip to your ass, giving the soft cushion of your skin a firm squeeze as his body pressed against your back, his voice was low, “I know you’re faking it.”

Illusion shattered, you hastily jerked away from him, using what little leverage you had to try and shove him away, “Fuck you, Steve.”

You were fuming and tried to smack him away, but it was futile—he was stronger than you and easily maneuvered you to straddle his lap, a careful eyebrow raised as he took both of your wrists in one of his hands, resting them against your chest, “What was that about?”

“Just leave me alone.” You fruitlessly tried to pull away, but he only pulled you closer with a heavy hand on your back, pressing your body to his. You could feel his heartbeat against your chest, and you felt a shiver run down your spine.

“Was my princess jealous?” He murmured.

“I’m not your princess,” You spat, “And I’m not fucking jealous.”

“And now you’re lying to me?” He tsked. The quiet, little chuckle that he let out made your face grow warm, embarrassment and irritation dancing together and licking up your spine. Steve pressed a soft kiss just beneath your jaw, “Come on, baby. Tell daddy why you’re upset.”

“You said you were separating with her.” You finally bit out, avoiding his eyes as exhaled slowly.

“I am.” He confirmed, a hand drifting to your chin, his thumb rubbing back and forth over your cheek.

“You didn’t tell my parents about it.” Your eyes focused on the ring that rested on the fourth finger of the hand that held yours against his chest.

Understanding crossed his face, a little smile ticking at the corner of his lips, “Is that why you’re upset?” Shaking his head, he released your hands, removed the ring and sat it on your bedside table, before taking your face in his hands instead, brushing a kiss against your forehead as your wide eyes searched his, “Silly girl. I’m moving out next week. I already got an apartment in the city.”

It was almost embarrassing, how light your heart felt at his words, “Really?”

“Yes, baby. And my lawyers are drawing up papers this month. Nothing’s been going on between me and her for a while—we’re just waiting for the right time to tell everyone. I promise.” As he slipped his arms around you, you relaxed into his touch, burying your face in his neck, brushing your lips against it as relief flooded your body. The two of you remained like that for several minutes before you felt him shift to pick up something from your bed, murmuring lowly, “Now, what’s this?”

Sitting up, you followed his sparkling eyes to what was in his hand. The bright pink silicone that rested in his palm stared back at you and you felt warmth crawl up your chest as your face caught fire. Pressing the button, it turned on and you could only let out a squeak, “Steve!”

“Is that my name, baby?” He grinned, raising an eyebrow as he clicked through the vibration patterns that seemed so loud in the otherwise silent house.

“Give it back!” Leaning out of his arms, you snatched it from his hand, fumbling to turn it off before hiding it behind your back. When you turned to face him, his attention was no longer on your face.

His bottom lip was caught in his teeth, his eyes darkening as his voice came out in a low rumble, “Oh, sweet girl. What are you wearing?”

Suddenly, you remembered yourself and the thin silk and lace that covered your body, cupping your breasts and hugging your waist. Before you could formulate any sort of response, his eyes found your phone tangled in the sheets. It was like you could see the gears click into place as he snatched the device before you could grab it, his thumb keying in your birthday and unlocking it quickly.

“Steve—” It felt like you were going to combust as the messages between you and Bucky popped up on your screen; you were silent as he scrolled through them slowly, taking in each picture and video that you’d sent.

Clicking the last one you’d sent just minutes before he’d knocked on your door, you could see the still-shot thumbnail of the video and froze as he pressed play, a smirk on his lips as your breathy moans came from the speaker of your phone. Watching him watch yourself made you feel lightheaded.

The video showed everything. You’d had your phone propped up between your spread legs, your negligee shoved up around your waist, and your puffy pussy bared to the camera as you thrust the toy into it, rocking your hips against it as you cried quietly, “Fuck—yes! God, that’s it! Use my pussy. Fuck me so good, baby…”

It felt like eons as your cries pitched higher before you faked your climax. Running his tongue over his teeth, he locked your phone and tossed it aside. His eyes were dark as they found yours, his fingers digging into your waist, “I know you didn’t send these to daddy, sweetheart, and I know you don’t have to fake it with me, so who did you send them to?”

Shaking your head, your voice wavered as you denied quietly, “I didn’t—”

“Don’t lie to me, princess.” A hand trailed up your thigh, slipping beneath the lace-lined edge of your slip. Steve’s fingers easily found you bare, and a low groan came from his chest as he played with your damp folds, brushing a finger up and down them slowly as he clicked his tongue, asking once again, calmly, “Who did you send them to?”

Your lip quivered, a new rush of wetness coating his fingers as he slipped them further inside your pussy as you whispered, “M—my ex-boyfriend.”

“Daddy wasn’t giving you enough attention, so you had to be a little slut and find it somewhere else, didn’t you?” Shaking his head, he withdrew his fingers and ignored your whine. Cleaning your wetness from his digits with his tongue, he gave a quiet chuckle, “Such a tease. You’re just a little whore, showing this sweet little pussy to any boy who asks, aren’t you?”

Shaking your head, your voice was small as you denied blushingly, “No—”

Removing you from his lap, he placed you to kneel on the bed, coming to stand, “Since you want to be used, I’m gonna use you.” He undid his belt, his eyes holding yours as the leather fell to the ground. Undoing his jeans, he shoved them down enough to reveal his erection, the hard tip leaking as he stroked it slowly, your eyes following his hand as he murmured, “You’re gonna show daddy you’re sorry and suck his cock, okay?” Biting your lip, you nodded slowly, unable to take your eyes from the way his thumb brushed over his slit. A hand came to rest around your neck like a necklace, forcing your gaze back up to his as he chided softly, “Use your words, princess.”

Nodding dumbly, your voice was raspy as you softly agreed, “Yes, daddy.”

At once, you dragged your hot tongue across you palm, wetting your hand before wrapping it firmly around the base of his cock, ruddy and swollen with need. He groaned, his hips giving a sharp jerk as you stroked you hand up and down his length several times. Finally, leaning forward, your tongue flicked out to lick the pearl of salty precum that had begun to leak from his slit.

“Fuck, princess,” Steve groaned, his hand holding the back of your head, guiding your mouth closer to his cock.

At his broken moan, your confidence grew as you dragged your tongue along the thick vein that ran from the base to his sensitive tip. Reaching its crown, you swirled your tongue around it before taking it in the wet heat of your mouth.

Silently, you mused that he certainly had the longest cock of any man you’d ever been with. Of course, you’d been intimidated the first time that you’d seen it, but you’d never been one to turn down a challenge. Seconds felt like hours as you took his length deeper into your mouth, inch by inch until the tip brushed against the back of your throat.

At the unfamiliar sensation, you gagged and pulled back, your lips slick and swollen as saliva dripped down your chin and you gasped for air.

His brows were drawn together in concern as his hooded eyes shot open, spotting the way yours had begun to water, “You’re doing so well, baby.”

His other hand that rested on your face brushed a thumb gently over your cheekbone as his eyes peered into yours and you nodded. Holding his eyes, you watched his body relax as you took him back between your lips, jerking off the length that you couldn’t take. His hand on your head guided you slowly up and down his length, careful not to take him the whole way into your throat as you’d done before.

The nails of your hands that rested on his hips, gently pressed into his skin as you hollowed your cheeks around him, “Fuck, yeah, that’s my good girl.” The new suction forced a grunt from his mouth and tilted his head back, letting out a broken moan, “Sucking my cock like a goddamn dream.”

He stroked your hair as you found a rhythm, swollen lips wrapped around his length as you bobbed your head, watching for each little reaction he was giving. A whimper around his length made him curse as he tugged your hair, pulling you off his cock.

Taking in a sharp breath, you looked up at him from under your lashes. His thumb tugged at your swollen bottom lip, and he groaned, “Come here, princess.”

Like you were a doll, he guided you to lay on your back before tugging his sweater over his head and shedding his jeans. Climbing on the bed between your legs, he pushed the hem of your slip up your thighs slowly, “Fuck, look at this sweet little pussy… Spread your legs a little more for me, princess.” His hands on the inside of your thighs opened you up more to his starving eyes and you shyly turned your face to the side as his eyes devoured you. “You’re such a good girl…”

Letting out a low groan, Steve’s hands climbed higher, his thumb brushing over your swollen clit with unbridled adoration.

“Please…” You breathed out, your fingers tightening in the wrinkled sheets.

“Please what?” Steve teased, covering your body with his. Dragging the tip of his cock up and down your glistening slit slowly, covering himself in your slick, he murmured, “You want daddy to fuck you? Is that it, baby? You want all my cum in this tight little cunt?”

“Yes, please…” Nodding dumbly, your chest rose and fell with each heavy, needy breath as he lined himself up with your entrance, “Fuck me, daddy. Need you to make me your little slut.”

Pressing a kiss to your forehead, he pressed his swollen tip to your hole, and you whimpered at the stretch, your hips shifting in discomfort as he split you slowly. A deep moan was pulled from your throat as his thumb dragged small circles around your swollen bud that begged for his attention, “Oh god, Steve…”

The slight burn from the initial stretch quickly faded into a pleasurable ache between your legs and he gave you only a moment before slowly dragging out. He couldn’t ignore your breathy moans and the way your thick lashes fluttered shut at the sensation before he pushed back in sharply. He gave a few experimental thrusts before quickly finding a rhythm as he glided easily through your wet folds into the tight heat of your cunt.

Your hips rolled up to meet each of his thrusts, the both of you working together symbiotically as he hit a spot that made you clench around him and let out a whiny groan. A devilish grin crossed his bearded face and he murmured, “That feel good, baby?”

Before you could even nod, you giggled as he suddenly rolled you over. Sitting up whilst straddling his broad hips, you tugged the silk over your head and tossed it somewhere on your floor. Sinking back down on his length, you gasped as he bottomed out inside you and he let out a quiet hiss as his hands trailed up your waist, cupping your tits as his thumbs toyed with your sensitive, pebbled nipples.

“Fuck, daddy, ’s too big—” You whined, carefully rocking your hips as the muscles in your stomach clenched.

“I know, princess, but you can take it…” He let out a groan as you languidly grinded against him, your clit brushing against the coarse thatch of trimmed hair just above his cock each time you sank down on to him. “That’s it, princess. Just like that—you’re so good for me. I love this sweet little pussy…”

Together, you easily found a frenzied pace before the harmony of your whimpers and his moans was interrupted by a shrill ringtone. You gasped as he held your body close, leaning over and grabbing his phone, pressing a confusingly chaste kiss to your lips as groaned out, “Shit—stay quiet for me, baby.”

“Steve!” You hissed his name as he accepted the call with a sly grin.

“Hello?” He waited a moment for the voice on the other end of the line to respond, “Oh, yeah. She’s doin’ okay.” He grinned as your eyes went impossibly wider, your hands resting on his shoulders as you kept yourself carefully still.

Fucking. Shit.

It was your parents. Steve’s cock was nestled deep inside your cunt as he casually conversed with your parents, and that was so wrong and so fucking hot.

Quickly muting the microphone, he cocked an eyebrow, looking down to where your bodies were still joined, “Did I say you could stop?”

With a shaky breath, you resumed the languid grind, back and forth, your teeth digging into your lip as your clit pressed firmly against his pelvis.

He winked, unmuting the phone, “I think she’s okay. She’s probably still in bed…just. sleeping. I’ll shoot you a text after I check on her again,” You couldn’t help the way your walls clenched around him as his tip pressed against that special spot deep within you. He let out a low groan before quickly trying to cover, “Fuck, ba—stubbed my toe. Sorry.”

With a hand on your lower back, he guided you back and forth slowly, only half-listening to the voice on the other end of the line, “Yeah, I’ll let you know. See you in a few hours.”

As he tossed his phone to the hardwood floor with a clatter, his hands around your waist quickly took over. All but lifting and sinking you back down on the length of his rigid cock repeatedly, Steve’s hips continued to snap up into yours and you could only babble out, “Daddy—please, let me come. Want to come on your cock so bad—fuck!”

“Christ, baby—I can feel you squeezin’ around me. Almost told your parents how good you are at riding my cock, how good you feel wrapped around me.” He hammered into you with a deep groan, adding, “You want them to know you like fucking older guys? How daddy likes to play with this pussy while they sleep right down the hall?”

“Please—” You begged helplessly, your nails digging into his shoulders, feeling your orgasm approaching like an unstoppable wave.

“Yeah, they don’t know their innocent little girl is a fucking whore.” Steve grunted, taking in the sight of your tits bouncing and the way you’d tossed your head back, with a little smirk, “They don’t know how wet you get when I eat this precious little cunt, dripping all over my tongue and tasting like honey. They don’t know how you beg daddy to come in your sweet pussy.”

At that, the wave finally overtook you as he hammered against your g-spot, making you squirm as a little trickle of your wetness leaked out around where his cock was pressed into you before the dam broke and you gushed over his length. You let out a squeal of his name, scratching down his back, leaving red streaks on his pale skin.

Steve’s thrusts finally grew uneven, slowing as he grunted out, “That’s it, baby. I’m gonna fill this cunt up with all my cum—fuck!”

Your words were unintelligible as your eyes rolled back and he fucked you through both of your orgasms. Coming undone on top of him, you were unable to hold yourself up as he pressed deep into you, hard against your cervix as he spilled into you with a long, low moan, coating your walls with him. He sat up, staying inside of you, and opened his arms, allowing you to collapse against his hard, sweat-glistening body.

“Oh, fuck…” Your hips twitched with the aftershocks as he stayed inside, feeling your walls continuing to clench around him as you came down from the high. Looking down at where your bodies were joined, you felt your face grow warm at the wetness that was spattered over his Adonis belt and the cum that had leaked out from around the base of his cock, covering your petals and making you messy.

“That’s so much cum, daddy…” You whispered, resting your forehead against his and giggling softly.

He gave a low chuckle, his thumb caressing your cheek, “Can’t help it with you, baby.”  Capturing your lips in a lazy kiss, you hummed as his tongue intertwined with yours slowly before parting, murmuring as his hand stroked up and down your bare back, “You did so good for me.”

“Thank you.” You whispered, burying your face in his neck. You could feel his chest shake as he laid back, pulling you along with him.

“You gettin’ all shy on me now, princess?” He chuckled and tugged you closer as you snuggled into him, murmuring against your temple, “Did I tell you my new place is about ten minutes from campus?”

[peachesodell]

A 1946 Oldsmobile 98 prepares to go motoring.

Off to the New Hampshire lakes? South Beach? A ride along the Hudson River?

Hmmm. But you can bet there's a nifty lunch hamper in back, with a thermos and a little plaid tablecloth with matching napkins.

[apocalypticroadtrip]

i finally finished sewing a shirt! it's gotta be the cleanest sewing job i've ever done b4, probably bc i actually pressed it and it actually took. crazy. i also screwed up a lot on the sleeves during this process so i'm glad it turned out so well despite that <3

stupid thing sat in the corner of my room for months cuz i lost my seam ripper and suddenly i just decided to finish it in an afternoon anyways recently so ヽ(✿ﾟ▽ﾟ)ノhaha

it's reversible too! my 1st time trying bag lining. the plaid is a tiny tablecloth i thrifted and the other side is some unnamed fabric i found shoved in the corner of an antique shop.

i still need to add buttons and stuff but i'm kinda willing to wait on that one bc i have like no black buttons and i don't think i'm rly gonna wear it buttoned up anywayz sooo ya

anyway slayy i'm glad to have this done wahoo (∩^o^)⊃━☆

[krivanekphotographicestate]

[a-mustard-seed]

Poem — this was a poem I wrote for an assignment. The task was to write a personal version of George Ella Lyon’s poem, Where I’m From. I used some of her formatting, but tried to make it more of my own. This poem is primarily focused on my childhood spent in Appalachia, which many people close to me don’t know about because I’ve been embarrassed of my heritage for a long time. If you have any questions about it, please ask!!

Up the Long Dirt Road, Where I’m From

I am from pine-covered hills and threadbare boots, from fiddles and azaleas. Where rivers run rich with brook trout and minnows, little legs surrounded by pebbles and broken glass. I am from whiskey pacifiers and sweet apple dumplings, from venison suppers and red plaid tablecloths. I’m from Mama’s bitter coffee that shaped my tongue and trickles through my veins.

I am from Pew Bibles and weighted Stoles, from god-fearing chopped blonde curls. Where road signs preach and billboards shame, wooden posts breaking under their pressure. I am from Little Liberty and train tracks, from graffiti crosses and neon slurs. I’m from the carpenter’s wood that carved my limbs and left splinters in my palms.

I am from lingering marijuana, from bonfire perfume and Jack Daniel’s breath. Where pans shatter homes and diesel growls at children, sore bare feet running alone in the night and robins stopping to greet them. I am from beer can targets and stick beatings, from moldy bean bags and rotted food. I’m from bedtime war stories and shoe box memories that left scars on my ears and scrapes on my skull.

In a cabin by the pond, just up a makeshift road, is a hidden tongue and an embarrassing voice. The sound of intelligent ignorance and a banjo’s cries, flatfoot stomps and disappearing laughter. Where I’m from, we learn to be silently stupid and camouflaged by the trees.