#something to look forward to in every month

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Man 5

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!Lloyd Hansen

Summary: a demanding customer complicates more than your work life.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You double check the lock on your apartment door. Your paranoia buzzes like a broken radio. You pace around the cramped bachelor, thoughts strewn all around. One moment, you’re desperately trying to figure out what to do next; find a job, go home, call Bre and beg her to take you back. The next, you’re looking out the window, expecting a villain to be waiting outside. Every worry you have strings back to that man... 

You manage to settle down enough to browse the scant offerings on Indeed. The work from home opportunities are questionable as you tap more information. Commission based... that’s not going to get you much. You send off a few applications for fast food joints, a quick solution just to you through, but you need something quick. Something today. 

You give up and throw your phone. You stare at it as it lays screen down on the other end of the couch. You see it in that man’s hand as he flicks his thumb. Who does he think he is? The real question is, who is he? 

You sigh and close your eyes, dragging your hands over your face. The more you think about it, the more it feels you were set up for failure. Why couldn’t Bre just warn you? Why couldn’t she tell you who he was? Why couldn’t he just leave you alone? 

The stale smell of espresso urges you from the couch. You shuffle into the bathroom and start the shower. You strip off your clothes, slightly stiff from the dried coffee. Your skin is sticky too in places and there’s a particularly crusty patch on your chest somehow. 

You wash away the caffeine-laced christening. You linger beneath the water and let it slake over you. You lean forward, hands flat on the tile as hot rivulets wash over your back. Your muscles are coiled tightly. The stress of the day and those to come have you tied up like a knot. 

When you emerge, you yawn, too exhausted to keep up the existential despair. You stagger into the front room and over to your double bed. You trade the towel for a loose tee and sprawl across the futon. You melt into it and close your eyes. 

You’ll figure it all out tomorrow. Maybe. Hopefully. 

Or maybe tomorrow will be even worse. 

☕

You wake up to the creak of your mail slot and the metallic clunk of it biting down on an paper. You gurgle and roll onto your side, coughing dryly as you rub your forehead. Your head is thick and foggy from sleep. A slightly thrum pulses in your temple. 

You hover at the edge of the bed, staring at the door, weighing the distance. You yawn and roll onto your feet. You pad across the apartment and pull the paper free of the flap. You open the trifold letter and your vision clears as the font comes into view. 

The building’s letterhead makes you think it’s another notice for the fire alarm test but the bold captials across the top send your heart into panic. NOTICE TO VACATE. What? How? Your rent for the month is paid, plus first and last. How can they evict you? You didn’t do anything. 

You look through the peephole. The hallway is empty. Dang. 

You rinse your face and brush your teeth hurriedly. You pull on a pair of sweatpants and your slip-on shoes. You check the mirror and shrug. Good enough. You don’t really care right now. You need to figure this out. 

You stomp down the flight of stairs to the building office and knock frantically until the door opens. The squat woman inside gives you a death glare. You wave the letter at her. 

“I think there’s a mistake,” you say. 

She grunts and stares back at you. 

“I paid my rent, but this says I have to leave.” 

“Lease violation,” she shrugs. 

“But what-- I’ve been here only a few weeks? What did I do?” 

“Read the letter,” she sniffs. 

You furrow your brow and unfold it again. You skim over the words; ‘landlord requires unit for personal use’. Huh? They can do that? 

“Personal use? But—But you leased it to me. My deposit--” 

“Take it up with a lawyer. All there,” she taps the top of the paper before she swings the door shut in your face. 

What the hell? This can’t be real. You’re in a nightmare. You’re not really awake. This is just one of those really deep dreams where you can’t throw a punch. Too bad you can’t throw one in real life either. Hard to test the theory. 

You frown and make your way back up to your apartment. You leave the paper on the counter and brew a coffee from the single-serve machine. You hold your head in your hands, elbows on the linoleum, as you try to sort through it all. 

The machine grinds and you stand up straight. You take your cup and go to the fridge. You pull out the carton of milk and tip some into your coffee. The chunks that roll out of the spout make you gag. Frig, expired. You dump the whole mug and leave it empty in the sink. Nothing is going right. 

You pour out the sour milk and rinse away the putrid scent. You need to get food. You’re out of eggs too. Just a few small things for now. You have to count your pennies. 

You put a bra on and pull on a hoodie. You make yourself decent enough to face the public but keep your sweatpants on. You’re just running to the corner store. You grab your wallet, phone, and keys and head out. 

Your stroll down to the store is distracted. You should ask a lawyer but you can’t really afford that. You’ll have to try the housing board, see if they offer public services. You don’t really know about all that stuff. 

You grab your staples without much attention. Eggs, milk, a loaf of bread, and some sliced cheddar. Grilled cheese for life.  

You go to the counter and wait for the cashier to scan the items. You try to tap your card but it declines. You insert instead and put in your pin. Pin accepted, transaction declined. You grimace, face burning with embarrassment. 

“Sorry, one sec, I’m gonna just check my account.” You back out of the way of the next customer and pull out your phone.  

You sign-in to your banking app. You see the balance you expected. More than enough for your lot but there’s a little red exclamation mark next to the account number. You tap it and a new page opens. 

‘Account locked for security purposes. Contact Bank Services.’ 

Oh my god! What more can go wrong? You tap on the little chat icon in the corner. The automated responses lead you in a circle and tell you to call the toll-free or go into the local branch. Ugh! But you need milk now. 

A message blips across the top of your screen. It fades before you can read it. You pull down the menu and stare dumbly at the text sent from a private number, ‘morning, sweet lips.’ 

[aliidarling]

i need to purge my urges, shame shame shame pt. 2

RICK GRIMES x fem!reader

part. 1

nsfw content — please scroll if uncomfortable

summary: rick has been slowly trapping you with him, but someone comes up which ends in him having to remind you who u belong to

warnings: nsfw, p in v, fingering, noncon pretty much, manipulating, gaslighting, toxic rick, creampie, baby trapping, rough sex

i took inspo from an anon who requested baby-trapping :3

dark content below !!

You thought after a few days or weeks of being a B at the CRM would fill the void in your heart, the need to go back home and reunite with your friends and family. You could only imagine their smiles and faces, as now you had no way of contacting them. Rick was watching you like a hawk, eyes always on you even when he wasn’t in the room.

The sound of Judith’s laughter echoed in your head as you sat in your new apartment, his. He had just recently asked you to move into his commander suite, which you really couldn’t say no to, who would? The chance to be closer to your husband? You would be crazy to reject such an offer.

Every day of the last week had gone the same. You’d wake up in his arms, make love, eat breakfast, and split ways, Rick off to command and you on your way to stab walkers at the gate for hours in the heat. The thick uniforms were annoying but you were starting to get used to it.

What didn’t sit right with you was how *casual* Rick was with this whole thing. You had made the mistake of trying to reason with him a few weeks ago, which now was a reminder in your head not to anger him.

“The hell do you think you’re doin’?” He says angrily, glaring at you. He was livid, frustrated, and mostly offended. He had been so gentle and kind with you, and you go off and try and run away.

“I was trying— I was, I just got lost, Rick.” You plead quickly, your words a mess as you look up at him pleadingly. Your lips tremble as you see his fists clench and his nose flare. He was pissed off.

“You’re trying to leave me, aren’t you?” He scoffs, turning away to shake his head in disbelief. “Un-fucking-believable.” He sighs to himself. You shrivel up, tears pricking at your eyes. You didn’t want him to be angry at you, why was he angry? You loved him.

“I swear, I swear I’m not. I won’t try to leave, Rick.” You step forward and pull him into a hug, burying your face into his chest as you whimper. He lets out a dramatic groan, rolling his eyes and reluctantly wrapping his arms around you.

“You can’t keep doing this, sweetheart. You know I care about you. How am I supposed to take care of you when you’re not with me, hmm? You’re so small, someone else could just,” He initiates a pew pew sound, making you flinch and curl up further into him. He holds back a mean snicker.

“Say, why don’t you start staying with me? I’ll keep you safe. You’ll wake up in my arms every day and I can stuff that needy pussy whenever you want.” He coos lovingly into your ear, gently picking you up.

The rest was history. Shortly after, you moved in with him, and now you woke up every morning in his arms and fell asleep in them. He would manage to sneak into some of your shifts as the Commander to keep watch, but you could feel his eyes burning through your uniform, you knew you were the only reason why he was there.

But today, something felt off. You were talking with one of the friends you had made in the past month, Micheal. He was one of the B’s as well, you saw him from 8 am to 6 pm every day and during meal breaks. He was sweet, fluffy hair with a killer smile and dimples to die for.

“Did you know one of the a B’s broke into the cafeteria last night and stole a bunch of food? The commanders were all talking about it this morning, they’re pissed.” He innocently gossips. He smiles at you, turning to face you slightly as he stabs a walker right in the face.

You remember Rick slightly talking about it earlier. You give Micheal a nod, politely smiling back at him.

“I dunno who did it, but I hope they got enough for me. I’m starving.” You joke softly. He chuckles and nods, his hands at work but his eyes on you.

As the two of you continue talking happily, relieved at the small distraction from the labor you were forced to do, you feel a pair of eyes burn onto your back. Your heart skipped a beat as you quickly knew who it was. You could recognize that grumpy aura from anywhere.

Peering behind you, you made quick eye contact with a tall commander. Even with the mask on, you knew it was him, you could tell. He was staring right at you, arms crossed and body language annoyed.

You shrink slightly and glanced back at Micheal, taking a small step back. You cough to yourself.

“Sorry, I’ve been kinda sick recently so.. We should keep some space, don’t wanna get you sick, do I?” You laugh softly.

He blinks in surprise before nodding quickly, a small blush coming over his cheek as he realizes his close he was to you. It was cute how giddy he was when it came to you, it was obvious the boy had a crush.

“Of course! What do you have? A cold? Fever? Do you want me to bring something over later? I have some medicine at my place.”

It was as if Rick had heard those words because next thing you know you’re getting shoved back into a hard chest.

“Consignee, you’re being called.” A rough voice says. You look up behind you to see the tall commander you already knew who was gazing down at you coldly. He diverts his attention to Micheal, and his gaze goes angry. You can see the dents between his brows that he has when he gets angry.

“Yes, commander.” You salute, glancing at Micheal and giving him a weak smile before walking off.

Rick stands there for a moment, glaring at Micheal, before following you.

Once you’re inside the building and in a private hall, he doesn’t waste a second and shoves you against a wall, his mask already off and his face all up in yours.

“Who the hell do you think you are? Flirting with others in front of my face like I’m some fuckin’ idiot.” He snapped. His rough hands go to hold your shoulders flush to the wall, his eyes narrowed with a glint of menace in them. He was angry, pissed off, and confused.

Why would you go and flirt with someone else when you have him? He was the perfect husband— talk, handsome, sweet personality, and amazing bed skills, something he was sure Micheal didn’t have. Stupid Micheal probably didn’t even know how to be a real man. Rick was a real man.

“What are you talking about?” You gasp. “I wasn’t flirting with him— what?! Me and him are just friends!” You counter immediately, getting defensive and offended.

“Like hell you are,” He scoffs, pushing you closer. His eyes gaze down at you coldly, narrowed and furious. He stares at you before pressing his nose against you, his hot breath on your face. You shiver and try to lean back but the wall has you trapped.

“You’re lucky I didn’t kill him right there, would have painted the gates with his blood. Would you of liked that?” He sneers. You go still momentarily, thinking over his harsh threat, your heartbeat racing.

“No, no Rick. You don’t need to do all that— I won’t talk to him.” You say quickly, reaching to gently cup his face with your shaky palms. You gulp nervously and attempt to soothe him, rubbing gently and pressing a little peck to his lips. He growls against your lips, pulling you back in when you attempt to part. He doesn’t want to be away from you right now, he wants all of you and your loyalty entirely.

It had been a few days since then. Everything was supposedly fine, you guessed. Rick was still watching you like a hawk. You could feel the glare on your back whenever Micheal goes anywhere near you, so you make sure to come up with excuses to leave the young man alone for the sake of his safety.

You didn’t want anything to happen to him. You knew Rick. You used to, that is. You had no idea why he had changed so much, but you couldn’t just leave him. No— You loved him. You wouldn’t leave. Maybe you could help him go back to his old self, maybe he was just damaged.

Yeah. That’s it. He needs you. You have to help him. Aid him in returning to his old self so you can have *your* Rick back.

You were out by the lake when you heard leaves crunching next to you. You turned to face the disturbance, your heart skipping a beat when you thought it was Rick— but the sight of the blonde boy had you relaxing for some reason.

“Micheal.” You greet with a polite smile, shuffling on the bench to make room for him. He smiles back at you and sits down, a few inches between your thighs.

“You alright? I’ve uh, noticed you’ve been a little distant recently.” He frowned, leaning back on the bench and gazing at the beautiful lake in front of the two of you. It was fall, the leaves were falling and the sidewalk was covered in a variety of red, orange, and yellow.

Your smile twitched as you picked at your hair.

“It’s nothing, just haven’t been feeling well. I think I caught a cold.” You chuckle softly, facing him slightly. You put your arm on the back of the bench, leaning on your palm. You gazed at him closely.

Knowing Rick wasn’t here, you felt oddly comfortable. You weren’t scared of accidentally angering him by being friendly with Micheal like you could breathe clearly for once.

He gives you a concerned look, brows furrowing innocently.

“Oh, that’s not good. How do you feel today?”

A small sigh left you as you squirmed in your position, not sure what to say. Pressing your lips together for a moment, you pondered.

“…Peachy.”

A small giggle left the both of you as you sat and conversed freely, no commanders breathing down your neck or glaring daggers.

You should have known that the peace never lasted long when it came to being married to a ticking time bomb. The second you entered your apartment, the air was tense and you could tell by the way Rick was looking at you that you did something wrong.

“What’s wrong?” You said immediately, rushing forward to him. You gently place your hands on his forearms, frowning up at him innocently. What did you do? Why is he angry?

He grunts lowly and grabs you by your shoulders, pushing you back until your back is against the wall. You failed to speak as your throat went dry, your heart stopping for a good second.

“Rick—“ Your voice cracked, a yelp leaving you as his fist landed on the wall just inches from your face.

“Shut the hell up, you ungrateful little,” He inhales deeply before he says something he knows he’ll regret. One hand next to you clenched in a fist, the other rubbing his jaw in a stressed manner, he finally looks down at you with a harsh glare.

“Do you even love me?” He chokes out, blinking. His voice was scratchy, the southern accent from years ago a subtle hint now.

You blink in surprise, lips parting as you stand there confused and fearful.

“W-What? Of course, I do! You're my husband, I searched for you for years,” You were once again interrupted by him as he raised his voice at you, making you flinch and cower in his presence.

“The hell were you doin’ with Micheal, huh?! That skimpy little boy— Out there by the lake, talking like you’re two little love birds, who the hell do you think you are?!” He snaps.

His hands come up to your face aggressively, making you flinch as you think he’s gonna hit you. He instead cups your cheeks and leans down so he’s breathing down your cheeks.

“You thought I was gon’ hit you? Is that how low you think of me? What the hell?” His raised voice has you practically trembling in fear, legs wobbly and bottom lip quivering pathetically.

“N-No Rick, you know I don’t think of you like that. You’re scaring me, please.” You whimpered out, attempting to squirm out of his hold. He tightens his grasp on you, pressing his body against yours.

“You shut that pretty mouth of yours, baby, before I do something you really won’t like. I’ll give you a reason to cry, got that? Huh?” He shakes you, making your eyes burn with humiliation and tears.

“Y-Yes.” You nod, your hands shakily reaching for him as you weakly attempt to push his hands off your face. In response, he slightly slaps your cheek as a warning, a pressurized pat.

You blink hard, trying to hold back the tears. Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.

He stares you down, thinking silently in his head. He was quiet, and his silence was more threatening than his words for some reason. He was unrecognizable when it came to reading him. He used to be easy to calm down, but not anymore.

“Y’know, I never got to see you with a baby bump. Saw you raise Carl with me, but never saw you pregnant. Never.” He mumbles. His eyes narrow as he looks you up and down. His words send goosebumps down your spine, the dark reasoning behind them known to you. You attempt to push him off more firmly now, sniffling.

“Don’t do this,” You choke out. He ignores your pleas and grabs you, manhandling you into his bed and pressing you down. His body was big and muscular, he had grown a lot. Small pleas leave your throat as you squirm and thrash, but it’s all useless to him.

“Shhhh, I’m not gonna hurt ya’, is it so bad I wanna see my wife pregnant? You’d look so cute, belly full of my babies.” He whispers, smiling down at your form. He pushes his hands under your shirt and pulls it up over your head. It gets stuck on your head because of your thrashing, making him roll his eyes in annoyance.

He slaps your thigh once he has the shirt off you, scowling down at you.

“Behave, or I swear to god.” He hisses. He watches as you start to let tears stream down your cheeks, and he holds back the smile as he reaches down and gently kisses them away.

“Don’t cry baby, you’re gonna be the prettiest mama I know.” He mumbles as he starts to kiss up your belly, pampering you with affection that only makes you feel worse. Every kiss has you sniffling and hiccuping under him, your body trembling.

“Can’t run from me when you’re pregnant with my child, right?” He chuckles darkly, large hands cupping your belly. He squeezes it gently and smiles at your reaction.

He pulls you in for a kiss, hands tugging down your pants and panties, not wasting any time. He was impatient, he’d admit it. He didn’t want another second to go where you weren’t stuffed full of his seed.

Spreading your thighs was hard with the way you were squeezing them shut. He rolls his eyes at your fight but easily holds them apart, the other hand going down to your pussy.

He clicks his tongue as he feels how barely wet you are. “Whatever, it’ll do.” With that, he shoves his fingers into your mouth. He glares at you, waiting for your saliva to coat his fingers before he pulls out and shoves them knuckle-deep into your cunt.

“A-Augh!” You gasp at the sudden burn in your lower region, your body tensing and eyes fluttering. Even with your salvia around the fingers currently thrusting deeper into you, it still hurt like a bitch to be stretched open so suddenly. Rick’s fingers were thick.

“Shhh, take it, c'mon.” He mutters, eyes narrowed as his fingers keep sliding in and out roughly, not giving you a chance to breathe as he makes scissoring motions.

Your moans are forced out of your throat. Even with how hard you were trying to hold them back, Rick knew exactly how to make you feel good, knew which spots make your toes curl and which ones made you cum the hardest.

He ignores your shaky cries and how you begged him to stop, his fingers only going harder. You curl up at the feeling, gasping. You were already feeling close to cumming to your embarrassment.

“So close already?” He snickers meanly, pulling out swiftly and rushing to unbuckle his belt and pull down his jeans. He was in a hurry, a hurry to get balls-deep in you and fuck you until you’re leaking cum. “Poor baby.” He tsk’s at your whimper.

“No, don’t— Rick,” You beg desperately as he pulls out his hard cock and positions himself on top of you, tip against your opening and his hands holding you down. You feel more tears coming as your legs are forced open and your thighs are pressed against your chest, knees almost touching your chin.

You sob under him as he slowly thrusts inside, his eyes rolling back at the feeling of your tight pussy squeezing him. Even with how he stretched you open, it still felt like he was ripping you open whenever he slid himself into you.

He presses his chest down onto your thighs, legs over his shoulders, and his hands grab yours to hold them above your head. Your eyes roll back at the feeling, trembling in a mix of fear, pain, and arousal. You didn’t k is what to do.

“Please—“

“Shut up, shhh.” He starts to thrust, and you immediately start to moan at how deep his cock hit inside you. Gasping for air as you choked on your tears, his grunt grew louder as he picked up a smooth pace.

“Gonna stuff this pussy full of my babies, you’re gonna be so pretty pregnant, baby, don’t cry, don’t cry.” He soothes you, thrusting harder into your wailing hole.

Even with how good it felt to have him thrust into your body, his body pressing against yours with his lips pressing gentle kisses all over you, you couldn’t focus on any of it. All you could think of was how much he had changed. The Rick you knew would never do this to you.

Your body was being pleasured, but your heart was being stabbed over and over again, aching and throbbing painfully. You just wanted this all to stop and for him to hold you close and comfort you. Was that too much to ask for?

He groans and reaches down to get as close to you as possible, saying, "Fuck, fuck." He intended for you to feel every single inch of him, the depth of him being there in your tiny little pussy, and every feeling he gave you.

“Ya’ feel that? Yeah? Can you feel how deep I am in that pussy of yours? I can feel you gripping me, my love; must feel so good, doesn't it?” Your cries are muffled as he successfully presses his cock further, his fat head grazing your tender region and making you clench up.

“Gonna cum inside you and force you to take every drop, knock you up, and then you can’t leave me. You’re not going anywhere, all mine sweetheart.” He rambles into your ear as his thrusts continue, your eyes rolling back at the force and pace. You sobbed under him for mercy but he didn’t listen, instead tightening his grip on your wrists.

“Fuckkkk, feels so good,— Take every bit of it, kay? Gon’ make you cry so much harder if you don’t,” He groans. He buries himself as deep inside you as he can, hugging you tightly to his chest as he releases his thick load in your walls. It takes him a moment to part from you, sweating and panting. You had him whimpering on top of you, still holding you down. He starts to sloppily thrust again, making you flinch at the feeling.

“No, please stop! I can’t take anymore, please!” You plea, whining shakily as he rams into your sensitive hole over and over again. You already had his cum dripping out of you, the squelching sounds making you blush in embarrassment as he kept going. He invokes your words and continues his torturous pace.

“We’re gonna be here for a while, sweetheart.” He chuckles darkly. With a raspy groan, he grasps your waist, letting your wrists go finally and holding your waist as leverage to batter your insides easier.

“If you think I’m goin’ to sleep tonight without a shit load of cum inside you, then you’re stupider than I thought.”

Yeah, you were definitely getting pregnant after this.

[pepsiboyy]

HEARTSTRINGS. - p1

masterlist ⚜ p2

pairing: chris sturniolo x fem!reader summary: after moving to massachusetts from florida, y/n lives with her half brother, nathan doe, who is part of a small garage band. their sassy guitarist, chris sturniolo, can't help but get on her nerves. but there's something about him. warnings: use of y/n lol, mentions of drugs, cursing a/n: rewrote the FUCK out of this, i hope this one is SO MUCH BETTER. love u guys. <3

"chris?"

"phone charger girl!"

"the fuck is he doing here?" my voice boomed in the garage, causing nathan to flinch slightly.

"woah, you two know each other?"

"sort of." chris responded with that stupid smug smirk on his face.

"not at all, actually." i responded quickly, immediately shutting down chris' disgusting expression.

my heartbeat was racing. i couldn't feel anything but anger in every fiber of my being. i couldn't help but remember to myself earlier today.

i had been living in massachusetts for about three days now. very interesting place, very different from florida.

after my mom's drug addiction became a major issue, cps was informed and i was sent to my dad's in boston, where i was completely unfamiliar with everyone and everything.

my dad's side, they weren't complete strangers if checking his status on facebook counted as being close.

shortly after i was born, my mom took me and left my dad in boston while we fled to live in florida. and as i get older, i can't help but feel more hatred towards the woman. my dad was a great guy, never deserved the way she treated him. he definitely did not deserve his first child being ripped away from his grasp a few months into my life.

when my mom and i moved to florida, my dad met another woman and had a child with her, whose name is nathan.

he seems like a really cool guy, an awesome brother to have, so i was looking forward to this move a lot, more than i probably should have.

the feeling of fresh air was appealing to me and the feeling of finally being there to reassure my dad that i want to be with him was even more exciting to me.

nate and i clicked pretty quickly, talking about our music taste on the way home from the airport. we talked a lot about video games, and he told me he was involved in a small garage band and plays the drums.

"that's so fucking cool!" i exclaimed with a bright smile, and nathan nodded.

"yeah! we mostly do covers now, but i plan on releasing some new and original music soon."

i nodded as i stayed focused on nate as he spoke, playing with my hands in my lap nervously.

the fact that this kid was my brother was so mind blowing to me. i couldn't wait.

the doe family had left to go to an event they had only bought three tickets for. i reassured them over and over that i was okay with staying at the house and continuing to settle in. and with that they left.

i dug through my bag and frowned when i came to a tragic realization.

"fuck." i cursed under my breath as i stood up and slid on my shoes.

time to go to that one gas station down the street we stopped at on the way here from the airport.

i left the house through the front door and slid my earbuds into my ears, playing my favorite playlist as i walked down the street.

boston was a lot more close together than florida. it genuinely made my heart happy.

about fifteen minutes into my walk and i find the gas station, pulling the door opened and look at the employee at the counter, smiling faintly to greet him. his eyes were glued to his phone though, so i turned to make my way up and down the aisles and look for the phone charger that works for my phone.

"eighteen dollars is fucking bizarre." i muttered under my breath at the charging brick box that i now have between my fingers. i carefully took it off the bar and grabbed a six ft long cord, making my way to the counter.

this is great. no job, new place, and i was already burning a hole into my savings for a fucking phone charger.

i set the two boxes on the counter and began digging through my pockets to find my wallet, the boxes hitting the counter a little harder than i had intended.

"woah there, sensing some aggression from 'ya. boyfriend start an argument with you or what?"

i finally found my wallet, but my eyes shifted quickly to the boy at the counter. "excuse me?" i asked, my face flushed at the thought. "it doesn't-" i blinked a few times. this kid was insane. "just ring me out please." i sighed as i inserted my card in the cardreader.

"relax sweetheart, just yankin' your chain." he stated defensively, skipping through the prompts on his screen. his hair was a little longer than average, and fairly wavy. he had a silver cuban link bracelet on one wrist and a few small handmade ones on the other, a ring or two on each hand. he had silver hoops in his ears and a plain black t-shirt on over his blue baggy jeans.

i stared at him in disbelief before i put my pin into the pad, yanking out my card as soon as it beeped and quickly shoving it into my wallet. chris set the charger boxes into a small plastic bag, placing it on the counter between us.

"i'm not your sweetheart," i narrowed my eyes at the nametag on his shirt, sucking in through my teeth, "chris."

i gripped the bag and left the gas station, and never turned back to see chris with his arms raised, and that disgusting smirk on his face.

my music was playing extra loud in my headphones in a desperate attempt to drown out the sound of nate slamming the drums in the garage.

i carefully sat up, my hand moving to run through my hair as i slipped on my shoes and stepped down the stairs. i was just wearing some pajama shorts and an oversized hoodie, but who even cares, right?

my hair was thrown into a messy bun, and i had one earbud in as my eyes were glued to my phone. i turned the doorknob to the garage carefully before stepping in and lifting my head as the music came to a halt.

and with that, my eyes widened.

and that's how we got here. with a finger pointed to my face.

"the fuck is he doing here?" my voice boomed in the garage, causing nathan to flinch slightly.

"woah, you two know each other?"

"sort of." chris responded with that stupid, smug smirk on his face.

"not at all, actually." i immediately barked back, crossing my arms.

nate looked between us both and shrugged it off quickly before he pulled a chair beside him. "come listen, y/n. i think you'd like it a lot." he told me.

i couldn't say no. i really was curious to hear nathan play. "okay, sure. just for a bit though." i reminded him of the time, and he smiled brightly and sat down in his seat.

i felt chris' eyes burning into the back of my head the whole time, his shaggy brunette locks perfectly draping over his forehead, which was a bit damp, while his eyes shifted to focus on his guitar again.

nate turned to me with a bright smile, grabbing his drumsticks as he glanced to the other two, making sure they were ready.

i watched the three and smiled as they began playing.

they were really good, actually.

better than i had expected them to be.

with nathan slamming the drums with his drumsticks and the boy i didn't know yet playing the bass, chris actually knocked his part out of the park.

chris glanced up for half a second, where we locked eyes. my eyes widened as he turned back to his guitar and a small smile grew on his face.

i hate this kid.

the song came to an end, and i turned to nathan, applauding happily.

"you guys sound great, genuinely. have you guys worked on any original stuff?"

nathan chuckled and shrugged, glancing between the other two. "a bit. chris writes phenomenal lyrics. we're working on it."

i glanced to chris for a moment, who was now gently strumming the strings of his guitar. i gulped as i stared at his hands, then turned back to nate. "i'm excited for you guys. let me know if i can do anything to help?"

nate nodded happily, and i stood up.

"alright, i'm gonna try and go to sleep. good luck to you guys." i waved at the three, and smiled at nate, my eyes quickly glancing at chris who waved softly back, no clear expression on his face anymore.

and with that, i opened the garage door and shut it, before taking a deep sigh and leaning against it.

"dude, you didn't tell me your sister was bad as hell," an unfamiliar voice rang, which i assumed was the bassist.

"wh- ben, gross! shut up dude," nathan quickly stated.

i cringed at the boy's comment, shaking my head quickly as if he could see me responding or something.

"invite her more often." chris stated blankly, standing up from his seat as he adjusted his guitar strap.

nathan turned to chris and narrowed his eyes.

i quickly stood up and made my way back to my bedroom, laying flat against the bed and turning up the music playing in my earbuds.

chris playing guitar and writing some lyrics.

it made me genuinely curious about whether or not this guy actually wrote good lyrics.

i hated being curious about him.

but i needed to know more.

masterlist ⚜ p2

comment to be added to taglist!! taglist;; @sturnioloshacker

[jxtina-86]

Control

Part of the Roman/Katherine series - this follows on a few months after the The Request where these two decided to level-up their escapades.

Two things inspired this. This promo which makes my brain short-circuit every time I see it and this GIF series. Especially the first one. Jesus Christ. Anyway - credit to the owner (and @thesamoanqueen for finding that first one MONTHS ago when I first had this idea).

Oh and I spent way too much time hunting around for a certain item that features in this and reading the reviews - my search history is beyond rescue at this point.

Warning: Sexual content/descriptions

Rating: MA

Comments/reblogs/likes all welcome!

****

Katherine rolls her neck slowly, easing the tension that's built up from sitting still for too long. Stretching her arms up briefly, she drops her hands to her face and pushes her glasses up to rub her eyes.

Letting the frames fall back into place, she blinks at the screen. She clocks the time in the corner and knows she should shut her laptop down and come back to it in the morning with fresh eyes. But yet…

Her brow furrows as she re-reads the last few paragraphs. She knows it's a bad habit - she should leave it alone, let the words sit and breathe a little longer before she edits, but in moments of frustration, such as this one, she can't help herself.

Her finger hovers over the delete button for a second before she shakes her head and retracts her hand. Spinning slowly away from the desk, she once again pushes her glasses up onto her head. Closing her eyes, she slowly pieces together fragments of the intended scene in her head.

His hands, one gliding down her body, fingers tugging… the other cupping her face, turning it to his.

His body pressed against her back, firm, strong. She melts into his embrace, her body loose and willing as his fingers slip between her legs.

Her thighs open, welcoming him and she relishes in the groan that vibrates through him as he teases the exposed and sensitive skin.

A loud buzz.

No. That's not right.

Her eyes flicker open and she sees her phone lit up. She already knows it's him before she even spots the name.

Back at the hotel x

She swipes to reply but he sends through another message before she finishes.

You better be in bed, baby girl. It’s late x

Busted, she grins at the screen as she taps out a reply.

I'm working x

Go to bed x

Make me x

She chews her lip, waiting as she sees that he’s typing. There’s a brief pause and then…

She grins as both her face and his flashes up on the screen - a new photo she took the last time they were together in the back of a cab on the way back from a bar. The smirk on his face and her wide eyes give away the fact that his hand, not seen in the photo, was sliding over her thigh and between her legs as she’d taken the snap.

Her skin tingles at the memory, but Katherine still leans back in her chair in mock defiance as she answers the video call. Yet the second she sees him, her resolve begins to crumble - even she would admit that was inevitable.

Roman is standing in a hotel bathroom, in a pair of grey joggers that are slung deliciously low on his hips. Katherine physically has to suppress a whimper, her eyes unsure of where to look as she takes in his chest, abs, arms, face, the faint imprint of his dick against the grey material.

Roman smirks, leaning forward to tower over the phone he has propped on the vanity.

“See something you like?”

“Always,” she replies, not missing a beat.

“You should be in bed. It’s nearly midnight there, baby girl.”

“I know. But I was mid-flow.”

“Bullshit,” he chuckles. “You wouldn’t have replied if you were.”

Katherine pouts in response.

“Bed,” he tells her. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

“Will you?” She tries not to sound too hopeful.

Roman scrapes a hand across his face. “This was your idea, baby girl.”

She pouts. “I didn’t realise a four-week stint was on the cards.”

“Yeah, about that…”

“No, Ro…”

“Someone dropped the ball, my schedule got fucked. I swear to God, I gave ‘em fuckin’ hell.” His brown eyes stare at her pleading through the screen.

“So when are you back?”

“Saturday.”

“So three extra days?”

“Yeah…” he exhales slowly. “I’m sorry, Kat.”

She forces a smile. “It’s okay. Shit happens.”

“I’m gonna make it up to you. Dinner on Saturday. I’ll take you to that fancy sushi place you’ve been telling me about.”

“It’s booked up for weeks, I tried.”

“Good job you got yourself a man with contacts then.”

“How-”

“Uh-huh, I got contacts, that’s all you need to know.”

She smiles. “Okay, okay. Thank you. I can’t wait.”

“For you, anything.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Anything?”

A deep laugh echoes through the screen. “Oh, you really are trying it on tonight, baby girl.”

“Four weeks, Ro,” Katherine whines, unashamed of how much of a brat it makes her sound.

He shakes his head. “Firstly, this was your idea. I’m just playing my part. And secondly, it’s only a few more days. Plus,” his voices drops an octave. “You’re doing so well.”

A shiver curls down her spine. “Yeah?”

He nods slowly, his head rocking to the side as he eyes her. “You can hang on a few more days.”

She knows he’s right - it was her idea.

And she also knows that if she does default on this agreement, there’s no real consequence. He’d only take it further if she asked him to.

But the way he embodies the character she demands of him - a man in charge of her pleasure - makes her feel that she owes it to him to carry out her part.

She didn’t quite imagine it would end up like this - what had started as the occasional teasing play had quickly evolved. The sex had been pretty fucking wild before she’d made the request. Now it was off the charts.

Now she could only cum with his permission and more crucially, only in his physical presence.

In past travel stints, they’d survived on phone sex, purring down the phone at each other, listening to each other’s breathless moans, slick fists and fingers and the occasional gentle hum of a toy. 

Now he’d pull her back from the brink, even from miles away with just one solitary word she finds she can’t ignore. Stop.

It had been equal parts delicious and torturous. Katherine had countdowns set on her phone for each trip away, waiting for his return. But even then, he’d take his sweet time, watching her writhe in frustration until he relents and tells her ‘now’.

But four weeks. Four weeks was not the plan. And nor was an additional three days.

He interrupts her thoughts. “Did a package arrive today?”

She blinks. “Huh? Oh. Yeah.”

“Go open it for me.”

She does as she’s told - the spell is wound too tightly to refuse him anything at this stage - and heads for kitchen. “Why’d they send it here?”

“I asked them too. Knew you’d be in to take it and saves me getting a redelivery or going to the depot.”

She nods, placing the phone against a mug on the counter before finding a knife to slice open the box. “What is it?” she asks as she peels back the flaps of the box.

He smirks. “You’ll see.”

“What’s with the mystery?” Katherine grumbles lightly as she rifles through the packing paper that fills the box. Her hand finds a smaller box - two in fact. She tugs the first free and casts Roman a curious look. “A new phone?”

“For you.”

“Why-”

“Find anything else?”

“Yeah, I-” she stops as she pulls out the other box and sees the image on the front. She raises an eyebrow. Looking back at the phone, she sees the wicked smile playing across Roman’s face. “You’re a bastard, you know that right?”

“What?” He winks. “Can’t I treat you, baby girl?”

“This,” she taps the box. “This is not a treat. This is a torture device.”

“Don’t be too hasty,” he smirks. “Read the box.”

She scans the blurb and then looks back up at him. “Oh…”

“Not such a bastard after all, right?”

“Perhaps,” she throws him a wink. “But Ro… it says it needs a Bluetooth connection to set up and link to more than one phone.”

“Two steps ahead of you, baby girl.” Grinning, he tugs a phone from his pocket and flashes it at the screen.

“You planned this?”

“Well, I didn’t quite plan not being with you to try it out together but actually, this works just as well…”

Katherine can feel her heart starting to pound as she opens the box and the vibrator slides into her hand. “Pretty,” she tells him with a grin.

“Turn the phone on. Passcode is your birthday.”

She does as she’s told and when the phone boots up, she clicks on the solitary app on the homescreen. A second later, she jumps as the vibrator starts to hum in her hand and she looks up to see Roman grinning at her. He twists his hand to show her the app opened on his second phone too, his thumb on the screen sliding slowly up. As he does, the vibrations gradually increase and Katherine feels her breath catch in her throat.

“All in my control,” Roman murmurs, his dark eyes meeting hers through the screen.

She nods, almost hypnotised.

“I’m gonna take care of you, baby girl.”

“You… you are?” Katherine feels a tremor down her spine at the thought. 

“Only if you do exactly what I tell you.”

“I will.”

“Good girl.” A whimper escapes her before she can stop it and he scrapes a hand over his face and down his neck with a deep chuckle. “One day I’m gonna see if I can just make you cum by saying that over and over again…”

“That,” she breathes shakily. “Would be one hell of a dangerous talent.”

“More dangerous than this?” His thumb is back on the app and the vibrator jolts once again in her hand. “Bed, baby girl.”

She doesn’t need telling twice. She eagerly gathers the three devices in her hands and makes her way to the bedroom. Propping up her main phone against the lamp on the bedside table, she awaits his next instruction.

“Strip. Slowly.”

Taking a step back so he can see her fully, she hooks her fingers into the waistband of her tight shorts. Turning away from the screen, she wriggles her hips as she slides the material over her ass before slowly bending forward.

She hears a sharp intake of breath from behind her and glances over her shoulder. Roman’s eyes are dark with lust and his tongue slips out to wet his lips briefly as his head tilts to one side. “Keep going,” he breathes.

With a grin, she edges the shorts down her legs before she slowly straightens. Turning back to face him, she crosses her arms to grab the hem of her shirt before pulling it up and over her head. Cool air hits her breasts and she cups them, her thumbs brushing over her bare nipples.

“Fuck,” Roman groans. “Keep going.”

She shakes her head. “Show me first.”

“Show you what?” he says, taking a step back and dropping his gaze down for a second. He drops a hand to the waistband of his sweatpants and tugs them an inch further south but not far enough.

“Show me what’s mine,” Katherine whines softly.

“What’s yours, huh?” He glances up, his hand letting go of the waistband and dropping instead to palm his dick through the material. “You’re gonna be in a whole world of trouble when I get home.”

“I can’t wait.”

“Missed those sweet fuckin’ lips on my dick,” he groans. “Fuck, keep touching your tits baby girl.”

She does as he requests, her fingers gently circling her hardening nipples and she’s rewarded almost instantly. She bites her lip, her head rocking to the side as he pushes his sweatpants down and kicks them away. It still takes her breath away every time she sees him naked - every part of him is chiselled and toned to perfection and she can’t quite believe her luck that she gets to explore every part of him.

She watches, transfixed as he takes his hard dick in his hand and pumps it slowly. She closes her eyes briefly and remembers the last time they were together - on her knees in front of him, hands loose on those deliciously thick and taut thighs of his. She’d gazed up at him, her brain still foggy from the intense orgasm he’d bestowed on her moments before, her mouth open as he fisted his dick with one hand, the other wrapped in her hair.

“Get on the bed,” his voice cuts through her thoughts and it takes her a second to remember where she is.

She steps forward and readjusts the phone on the bedside table, making sure he can see her and she can see him.

“What were you thinking about?” he prompts as she settles back against the pillows.

“Our last time together,” she sighs. “I’ve thought about that night every fucking night since.”

He grins. “Me too.”

“And the morning after…”

“That too,” he agrees. 

It had been equal parts rough, messy, fast, slow, tender, loving. He’d pushed and pulled her body in ways that left her unsure which way she was lying, facing, standing. He’d growled in her ear commands to wait, stop, cum, knees, open wide. And then he’d scooped her up, carried her to where she lay now, and cocooned her in his arms until she fell asleep.

The following morning, every movement was slow and gentle - he’d adorned every inch of her with soft, warm kisses, making his way down beneath the sheets and made slow, lazy love to her, his body pressed firmly against hers, his hands cupping her face to kiss her as her legs at wrapped around his waist.

“Stop,” Roman murmurs and Katherine realises her hand is on her stomach. She feels her cheeks flush as she blinks at the camera. 

“I…”

“You’re forgetting something.” He lifts the spare phone into view. “I’m in control, remember?”

She nods, reaching for the toy before taking a shaky breath of anticipation. A second later, it begins to hum softly in her palm.

“Squeeze them tits for me again,” he tells her and she notes the soft rasp in his voice already.

She obliges him, her free hand palming her breasts for a moment, awaiting his next instruction.

“Pinch your nipples for me.”

She gazes at the screen, feeling the haze starting to cloud her mind. He’s leaning against the vanity again, one hand out of sight that she knows is back fisting his dick and her mouth waters at the thought.

“Now with the toy.”

The vibrations hum through her body as she glides the toy across her breasts before circling one nipple and then the other, making both impossibly long and taut. All that’s missing is his hot mouth and tongue on them and she tells him so, drawing a shaky ‘fuck’ from him before he resumes control.

Literally.

The vibrations kick up a notch and Katherine’s back arches in response as she continues to drag the toy over the sensitive skin of her breasts. She lets the toy slide down to her ribs for a second, finding the spot that makes her squirm from any touch, her head flooded with the memory of Roman discovering it for the first time and practically latching onto it until she begged him stop through squeals.

“Uh-huh,” he corrects her and she returns the focus to her breasts once again. “Better. But I need to know…”

“Know what?” she manages to get out as she swirls the tip of the vibrator around one nipple again and again.

“How fuckin’ wet you are.”

She lets her free hand drag over her stomach slowly, her legs spreading. She can feel how wet she is already - the combination of the situation, the toy, him, her imagination all make it inevitable. She lets her fingers caress her inner thighs for a second before she slides two fingers across her wet slit.

“So wet,” she tells him with a groan.

“Show me…”

She pushes her two fingers inside herself briefly, letting out a moan as she does. She pumps them slowly, once, twice before she holds her hand aloft to show the glistening mess.

“Taste yourself.”

She bites her lip for a second, holding his gaze before she rubs the tips of her fingers across her bottom lip and then swirls her tongue around them. She grins at the screen, watching Roman’s eyes clouding with lust and wonderment.

“I taste good,” she murmurs.

“I know,” he rasps. “I’m gonna eat that pussy up all fuckin’ night when I get home, I swear. You’ll be beggin’ me to stop.”

“Never,” she promises. “You between my thighs, why the hell would I tell you to stop.”

“My favourite place, baby girl. And you might not be telling me to stop, but I sure as hell have to hold you still to get you good.”

“That just makes me wetter,” she teases. “I miss you, Ro.”

“I miss you too, Kat,” he says softly. “I had a whole other plan for this tonight.”

“Yeah? Tell me…”

“I was gonna drag that damn toy over your entire body. Real slow too - I wanted to hear all those breathy moans you give me when I’m teasin’ you.” The rasp is back in his voice and Katherine can feel her skin start to prickle in anticipation once again. “Do it, baby girl. Do what I’m saying.”

She lets out a soft moan as she moves the toy down her body at last.

“All the way,” he encourages. “That’s it… across your stomach, tease them thighs for me…”

Katherine’s eyes close as her back arches as the vibrations near her core. She’s not sure how she’s going to last beyond a minute when this toy is inside her.

“Slow,” Roman’s voice echoes beside her. “Spread those legs for me.”

“Ro…” she whines.

“Almost,” he promises as she bites her lip as the vibrations relent for a second. “Tease your pussy for me, talk to me…”

“Fuck, Ro…” her voice catching in her throat as she runs the toys over her wet entrance. “Like when you tease me with your dick, making me beg for it…”

“Just like that, baby girl.”

“Or when you spit and blow on my clit,” she gasps, her back arching at the thought. “And then you wrap your… your arms around my waist so I can’t escape… Ro…”

“Keep going…” The vibrations kick in again for a split second, just as she drags the toy over her clit and she yelps in shock. His chuckle fills her mind and she doesn’t need to open her eyes to see the wicked grin on his face.

“I… I need it,” she gasps.

“Keep teasing,” he tells her. “You know how I love to make my dick nice and wet with your juice before I fuck you… Do exactly that…”

His breath hitches and her eyes flick open to see that he’s moved - no longer in the hotel bathroom, he’s on the bed, the phone angled so that whilst she can’t see his face, she can see the length of his body. She groans as she sees his hand, slowly pumping his dick, his thumb swiping over the tip with every other stroke.

“Kat…” he breathes. “You listening to me?”

“Yeah,” she moans.

“Push it inside you.”

She gasps as she does. It’s the first time he’s let her put a toy inside her for four weeks and even though the toy is far smaller than what she’s used to, it feels impossibly big. Her back arches as she slowly pushes it deeper inside herself, her breath ragged at the sensation.

Rocking her head to the side, Katherine glances at the screen. Roman has moved again so she can see his face. His dark eyes glint wickedly at her as with one hand he still grips his thick cock and the other flicks the vibrations up a notch. Her whole body starts to hum and she lets out a strangled whimper.

“Do not,” he half-growls slowly. “Cum. Not until I tell you.”

“Ro…” she gasps. “Please…”

The vibrations stop and she’s left panting and squirming whilst he chuckles at her from a thousand miles away. “Too much, huh?”

“You…”

He grins. “I’m going easy on you, baby girl. This is nothing compared to Saturday…”

Katherine can feel her brain start to short-circuit. “What… what about Saturday?”

“That’s for me to know.”

She groans in frustration and then gasps again as the vibrations start again. Her hands grip the sheets tightly, twisting them around her fists as she tries to anchor herself to the bed.

“Breathe,” he tells her and she lets out a shaky breath in response, unable to stop herself from doing anything he says.

Through hazy eyes, she gazes at him through the screen, watching his hand grip his dick firmly and his abs tense. His head rolls back for a second and she wonders what he’s thinking.

“Tell me,” she moans.

“Tell you what?” he replies throatily.

“What you’re thinking about.”

“You. Always you, baby girl. You grinding on me, sliding up and down my dick.”

She nods, her eyes closing. “Your hands on my tits… then up to my neck and pulling me down to kiss you… Flipping me over onto my back, pushing my…” she gasps as the thought swirls around her head. “My legs up over your shoulders so you… you can go deeper… Ah, fuck…”

“That’s it,” he groans. “Wrapping my arms around your legs so they don’t fall and fuckin’ you hard and deep…”

“Twisting me over,” Katherine’s mind is overdrive now, snippets of past encounters flashing before her. “Pulling my hips up, pushing my head down so you can fuck me even harder…”

She’s not sure how she’s getting the words out. Her body is on edge, the toy throbbing inside her, pulsating even and every part of her is tingling. Her mind races on, imagining Roman pulling out of her with a growl and flipping her back over, his mouth on hers for a second before he slides down her body and wraps her legs around his head. What a combination that would be, his tongue and mouth on her clit whilst the toy hums inside her.

“It’s like you read my mind,” she hears him groan and only then does she realise that thought has spilt out of her mouth.

“I just…” she whimpers softly as she feels blood rushing to her ears. “Ro…”

“Not yet…” The hum of the toy inside her ebbs slightly and she tries to steady her breathing to slow down the surge of pleasure rattling through her.

“Please…” she chokes out.

“Soon,” he promises. “I got you, baby girl. I promise.”

Fixated on the screen, she watches as his leg twitches and she knows he’s close. “I wish I was there, Ro…” she starts, watching his head roll back onto the pillows. “My hand where yours is right now. My mouth too, running my tongue up and down your dick, taking you all the fucking way…”

“Shit… Kat…”

“Keep going,” she tells him, enjoying the thrill of telling him what to do for once. “You gripping my head, pulling me back and telling me to open wide so you can cum on my tongue…”

“Kat…” he growls, his eyes closing tightly as he gasps and she watches enthralled as he cums, his fist pumping himself dry as she moans at the sight.

“Ro…”

His chest rises and falls as he sinks back against the pillows for a second and then she squeals as the vibrator jolts back to life inside her.

“I got a request,” he murmurs.

“Yeah?” Katherine manages to get out, her body tense with anticipation as her back arches yet again.

“Saturday. My flight gets in at 5. I’ll be at yours by 7. You better be ready.”

“I will be,” she promises.

“Wear those heels that I like. The black ones. And that dress that makes your ass look amazing.”

“Done,” she groans. “Anything else?”

“The toy.”

“What… what about it?” Her breathing is getting more laboured as she twists on the bed.

“I want you to have it in you already.”

“Ro… no…”

“Oh yes, baby girl. I’m gonna tease you all fuckin’ night. I want my dessert nice and wet after dinner,” he chuckles.

She can picture it now: sat in a dark corner of the restaurant, one of his hands casually resting on her thigh whilst with the other he sends powerful vibes quite literally her way. She can see herself gripping the table, trying to compose herself as he grins wickedly and then leans towards her and whispers dirty thoughts into her ear.

“I told ya I was gonna eat your pussy up when I got back. I just wanna make sure it’s perfect for when I do…”

“Fuck… Ro…”

He chuckles. “Take my sweet time with you till you’re a fuckin’ mess. Squeeze and pinch your tits as I do, make you taste yourself on my fingers, fuck you with that damn toy until you scream my name, baby girl…”

She’s on the edge, right there, waiting for that word, begging him to say it.

“Then I’m gonna fuck you slowly… Pull all the way out and then push back in inch by inch so you feel every single part of my dick buried inside you…”

“Ro…”

“Tell you what a good fuckin girl you are…”

Her eyes roll back as she balances on the edge, her breath caught in her chest, the vibrations too much now. There’s no way back, even if she tries, she’s right there and she’s going to…

“Cum.”

She falls, with a gasp that echoes around her head. His name tumbles from her as every inch of her body erupts with force and she feels herself twisting and writhing without shame before him.

Her head throbs as she comes down from the high and she tenderly unclenches her fists from the sheets.

“You okay?” Roman’s voice cuts through as always, pulling her back. “Talk to me, Kat.”

“Yeah,” she murmurs, her eyes still squeezed shut as she grounds herself back in the here and now.

“Hey,” he murmurs. “Look at me.”

She twists her head towards the phone and opens her eyes slowly. His face fills the screen, his eyes wide and full of concern like they always are after moments like these.

“That was amazing,” she reassures him as she reaches down between her legs to remove the toy. Her own eyes widen as she feels how wet she still is. “Jesus, Ro… I think you made me…”

He laughs. “Just imagine what I can make you do on Saturday.” He tucks his arm beneath his head and not for the first time tonight, she wishes he was there next to her, wrapping his big arms around her.

“You’re serious about what you said, aren’t you?” She picks up the phone, bringing it closer to her as if that will make a difference to the distance between them.

“Deadly serious.” He eyes her for a second. “But only if you’re up for it.”

She chews her lip. “I am…”

“You don’t seem sure.”

“It’s not that.” 

“Then what?”

Despite the space he offers her, she can’t find the words. Not the right ones anyway. She can’t tell if it’s the post-orgasm haze or something else, but she can’t put into words the disconnected thoughts running through her head.

She can feel him watching her, so she smiles to reassure him.

“Tell me,” he murmurs. “Or… Can I tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

“If you’re worried that I see you differently because of all this shit we do together… You best believe that ain’t true.”

She stares at him in disbelief. How…

“I do this for you because I wanna make you happy, baby girl. You wanted to explore it, I was right there with you. But that doesn’t change how I see you. It’s just a tiny part of what we do together. I think you gave me an opportunity to tap into something too and I like it. But I like you more.”

She blinks. “How do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Read my mind.”

He grins. “I know you, baby girl. Inside out. Literally,” he winks and she feels her cheeks flush. “But seriously, Kat. I’m not here just for this. This is just a bonus. At the end of the day… I just want you.”

Her heart flips. They’ve skirted around this for months - she’s bitten her tongue far too often not wanting to ruin it in case he was just looking for a casual fuck.

“I just want you too,” she hears herself whisper and his eyes light up at the words.

“I’m still doing what I promised you earlier on Saturday,” he tells her. “But on Sunday morning, I’m gonna show you exactly how much more you mean to me than just that.”

“You always do,” she says softly.

“What do you mean?”

“You do that already. Whenever we have nasty sex, the next time you’re treat me like glass.”

Now it’s his turn to blush and he runs his hand over his face with a grin. “See? I can’t hide it.”

“Hide what?”

“I’ll tell you Sunday.”

But she already knows.

Fin x

So... votes for a follow-up? Wanna see how Saturday unfolds...? Or Sunday...?

[shoshiwrites]

Hi! I’m the anon that requested the handholding prompt, and I just wanted to say thank you. It was everything I could have hoped for and more!! It made me smile!!

If you are still taking requests, I would request Jo/Egan with the prompt touching foreheads or bandaging/stitching an injury. As you can see, I couldn’t decide between one prompt, once again. I look forward to whatever you write and of course, never feel pressured to write anything. I hope you are doing well 🫶🏼

Hello anon! Thank you so much for your lovely message. I'm so glad you liked that prompt, and I appreciate your understanding very much. I've kept "bandaging/stitching an injury" on my list, and filled this one for "touching foreheads." This is my first try at Bucky POV, and we kind of ended up on the depression-nap side of things (see my terrible header below). Thank you to @mercurygray for helping me work the end. Bucky Egan x War correspondent OC.

Six months. 

And he’s felt every minute of every one, or at least it seems that way on days like this. Gray as all hell, like a storm gathering over the lake. Every minute if you didn’t count the gaps, the headaches, the days he sleeps away, the things he couldn’t remember those first few weeks. His jaw still wakes him in the night, dull if he’s lucky, a screaming pain if he’s not. He can never forget the things he’d actually want to forget, can he? Now that would be too easy.

Never coughed up an explanation for Buck either, even when Buck looked at him sideways about something or the other. Even if he wanted to, his throat goes dry at the thought, like the dust and dirt along the floorboards.

Holding onto it gives him something to hold onto, at least. The anger. 

Six months of this damn nightmare, the bloodshot bone-chilled day and night. Different nightmare than the sky. He has those too. This is the kind of dream where you’re stuck in it, you can’t move, there’s footsteps outside the door. He’d had those as a kid. Terrified him. 

It’s sure not the the kind they nail up pictures for, paper edges catching on the unfinished timber, hoping to summon some kind of vision. He’s so tired he’s practically drooling into the pillow, letting his eyes wander far enough along the wall that it hurts, over Rita and Ginger and Ava’s shining faces. 

There are pictures kept in books too, pouches and the occasional wallet, those all but sewn into jacket pockets. Girls back home.

Not even a letter. Not one goddamn letter, he thinks, the sigh of it harder than seems fair to his mother or his sisters, trying to get around the mail delays and sending cards for every holiday they could think of. What the hell even was Arbor Day, anyway?

(“Trees,” Brady had said, not looking up from the keys of his saxophone.

“...right.”)

He thinks about Texas, and Florida, and Idaho, and Nebraska. Girls and dresses and perfume, manicured hands, no dirt around them. Marge’s friend, he can’t remember her name, pretty, dark hair, disinterested in a kiss but amenable to dancing. They’d all wanted to forget, right? Not when you’re flying out the next day. 

He thinks of Lil, the cupid’s bow of her lip and the goosebumps under her sweater. She’d wanted to forget too. A brother somewhere in…he can’t remember now. Burma? Her grandfather hadn’t had too many nice words for him, John. Not that he could blame the man.

He thinks of Jo. Crouched over that little green typewriter the way Brady fiddles with his sax, the sound of the bell, the sound of the keys. Like Buck over the radio. The way she looked up at him, like she’d just realized something important. The way she smelled when she let him get close enough, like flowers after a spring rain. 

The air’s sour in here, and cold. Showering helps, besides freezing your damn balls off. 

He lets himself think it, about his head in her lap in the grass, or on a sofa, or anywhere, really, where she’s leaning down and she’s touching him, the little calluses on her hands, and her forehead close to his.

It hurts too much, and maybe he can admit it, here in this damn coffin of a bunk, mattress about as comfortable as one, that maybe she’d wanted to forget too.

You don’t kiss like that, he thinks, with acid in his throat, when you care what comes next.

She writes like she cares, though. She writes like she believes in all of them, like it’s real and not just what her paper wants or somebody wants to hear. 

Maybe he can admit that now, if he doesn’t think about the note she’d left.

He’d rather think about anything else, hell, he’d rather walk outside with no shoes on, listen to the Yankees lose by a single run.

He’d rather wish this damn pillow was a different kind, her thigh or her body or her forehead, even, pressed against his. Not that he’d admit it out loud. 

And her mouth right there, he thinks, like he can just make that half-second trip to kiss her, and kiss her again.

[marragurl]

Saxaphone player Gallagher has not left my mind since the jazz night art dropped AND THEN Robin saying Halovian’s innately have good voices and Sunday used to hum lullabies to her as kids happened in the 2.2 special program, and I’m sure you guys can see where my unfortunate Galladay heart is going with this.

Whoever decided to make this art, I love you. I hope your pillow is cool every night, you’re never stuck in traffic, and your water is refreshing with every sip.

Also the art of Sunday with the White Gentlemen drink in the S.P.A.R.K.L.E jazz night event has also spiraled into me delusionally thinking that’s his go to drink. Which is hilarious since Robin has hinted before that he seems to have a massive sweet tooth in her letters.

(Sunday how do you even make holding a drink menacing, Sunday please get some therapy-)

So imagine this:

Pre 2.0 Galladay, where they’re both wary and suspicious of each other but didn’t do anything outright. Sunday slowly began to visit Gallagher’s bar whenever he had time to observe the Hound, initially on the down low just to get a sense of what he was working with and what to keep an eye on. He always gravitated to that one corner booth that every bar had with the most privacy, and just stalked there for a few hours before leaving. (Smol menacing birb in a tree vibes)

Gallagher obviously knew that Sunday was doing this (even though everyone else seemed to somehow completely miss him, Gallagher wouldn’t be surprised if Sunday was doing some weird Harmony mind tricks), and after the first few “stakeouts,” he bit the bullet and actually approached the table to engage with Sunday, on the off chance this was some weird “test of loyalty” by the Halovian to see if the Hound would swallow his pride to serve his so-called masters.

Nothing terrible happened, but he remained passive-aggressively polite when serving him, and Sunday remained passive-aggressively cool-headed in response. There was some snark of what dear “sweet-toothed” Sunday would want at a bar, and an icy reply of “aren’t you the master drink smith? Why don’t you show me those skills you boasted about?” which led to Gallagher being petty and giving Sunday the White Gentlemen drink, both for the story behind it being such a metaphor for Sunday, and because it was on the more bitter side of alcoholic drinks.

Sunday wasn’t too against the drink; it wasn’t something he would have ordered if it had been his choice, but it wasn’t a bad drink by any means. He couldn’t help but continue to drink it even after Gallagher left his little hidey booth to go back to the main bar, but he’d never stoop so low as to complement the Hound. Of course, he never ordered anything else from then on, only White Gentleman. In fact, over time it seemed to slowly get better, the flavors grew on him, and he couldn't help but look forward to it during difficult nights in the Dreamscape.

If Gallagher tried to needle him into a different drink, Sunday just bit back a “oh? Admitting defeat? I thought this was your best drink for me?” with a little smirk while Gallagher had to use every bit of self-control to not punch him in the face.

As time went on, the bar slowly became a place Sunday frequented to not quite relax, but to get away from the hustle and bustle of Penacony and his duties as one of its main faces. The stresses slowly started piling up, especially with the Charmony fast approaching in a few months and all that came with it.

Gallagher didn’t seem to loosen up regarding his attitude with Sunday, but he did get better at shoving down the visceral hatred he had for everything to do with The Family and Sunday as time went on. He didn’t get soft with Sunday per se, but he definitely kept an eye out for him, and definitely knew when to cut off his drinks on days where it seemed that Sunday wasn’t all that there for their usual veiled comments towards one another when he went to serve him his drink.

It started small, with Sunday staying later and later until sometimes he was the last one to leave the bar to return to reality. Gallagher wasn’t quite sure what to make of it, still wasn’t quite sure this wasn’t some weird long-term test Sunday was devising, especially since he still seemed to be the same ruthless Family member, the same Head of the Oak Family, when Gallagher was working as a Bloodhound outside the bar. For some reason though, within the enclosed space of this strange sanctuary, it was almost peaceful between the two.

One night, there was something wrong when Sunday entered the bar during Gallagher’s shift. He saw a bit of a crowd near the small stage that was within eyesight of his little hidey booth, it seemed some of the musicians of the live band were arguing? He watched as Gallagher came over, seemed to try to speak with the group before honing in on one of the musicians who had been making the most noise and seemed to be about to get physical with the rest. Sunday watched as Gallagher picked up the musician by the scruff of their suit with one hand and carried them towards the doors and lightly tossed them out.

(It was the first time Sunday had actually seen Gallagher perform anything resembling the actual duty of a Bloodhound. It only hit him that he’d only ever seen the other when giving reports, orders, or at the bar. Why was this so shocking to him, he’d seen the man’s arms before, hard not to with his slovenly dress and messy clothing style, as if he couldn’t bother to hide away his imperfections from the world, not like Sunday who refused to be seen by the world, to dare to show one thing off about himself despite his countless failings- he’s getting far too distracted by one meager showing of strength, focus Sunday)

There had always been a live music segment. Sunday was curious to see what would happen with the band missing a member, but was distracted by Gallagher placing his usual White Gentlemen in front of him before heading back to the musicians without a single word to him. Gallagher took a moment to speak with the rest of the band, who seemed to be coming out of their shock and took on worried looks. Sunday could only watch in muted shock as Gallagher went behind the bar and came back with a case, opening it to reveal a saxophone. He then went on stage with the rest of the group, positioned himself further to the side and in the back amongst the shadows within Sunday’s line of sight, and played with the band for the rest of the night.

Sunday couldn’t look away.

He was frozen as he watched Gallagher seamlessly transition from song to song, taking only small breaks to continue serving the other patrons before heading back in. Sunday only remembered about his own drink when his gloves began to get wet from the ice melting into condensation on his glass.

Something felt off within Sunday, and for the first time since Robin’s debut, he couldn't help humming to the music of the band, music that wasn’t of his own sister’s making. He couldn’t help but remember those little concerts the two would have, taking care of his little sister, his only world. He would do anything to keep the Harmony, to keep their family going. When was the last time they truly spent time together? Before he became the Head of the Oak Family? Before he couldn't recognize his own smile?

He was so lost in his thoughts, in memories he thought he buried, that he didn’t realize that it was once again closing time, and he was once again the last one left. He only snapped out of it when Gallagher came by to grab his empty glass, only quirking a questioning brow at him before heading back to the bar.

Gallagher had been keeping a quiet eye on the Halovian that night from the back of the band, in the shadows he felt the most confront in when in the Dreamscape of Penacony. He had watched Sunday’s eyes glaze over, and the only reason he hadn’t felt offended by the seeming disinterest was the look in the other man’s eyes reminding him of his own when he looked in the mirror. The same look of shame, regret, loss, longing, of the wishes to regain everything he had lost. The same look he strove to hide under every bit of the facade he had crafted of this new self, but came back all too often with every reference of the Family found within his prison in the Dreamscape.

Maybe it was the shared nostalgia within his own heart, that little bit of his true self that he thought died when the Family tore out everything that made him who he was, that made him return behind the bar and begin making Sunday another White Gentlemen, giving Sunday a small nod to beckon him over. He wasn’t expecting anything from it, and he masked his own surprise when Sunday actually left his little shelter to come and take a seat in front of him at the bar. Even while out of it, Gallagher made note of the quiet confidence the other still carried himself. Nothing seemed wrong to anyone else looking at him, only for the lost look in his eyes.

The first time in the many months that they’ve been skirting around each other, and finally they seemed to be face to face.

It was quiet as Gallagher made Sunday his usual drink, a drink he had been slowly changing over the months to be sweeter and sweeter that Sunday never quite seemed to notice, or if he did, he never said anything, only seeming to savor it more each subsequent night. Maybe not even Gallagher noticed his own changes to the drink, subtle as they were.

It was quiet as Sunday took the finished drink, and it was quiet as his eyes slid over the bartop to see the saxophone case laying open with the instrument inside. It was quiet as Gallagher followed his eyes, as he came out from behind the bartop to take the saxophone out and take a seat in a chair only one seat down from Sunday’s. It was quiet as Gallagher began to play to his audience of one.

It was quiet as Sunday quietly hummed along.

It was quiet as they both knew that it would not last.

OK yea so this was all because I heard ‘La vie en rose’ at the end of the Jazz night event and went “Damn I wish that’s Gallagher playing on his Sax” and then we spiraled.

Uh. Idk what it is with me having a small ship moment which then spirals into a full blown writing session. My mind blanked out and as I came to I find out that I made a whole ass little one shot over here then completely forgot about it WHOOPS

So yea, hope my fellow Galladay enjoyers… enjoyed! I think I’ve slowly begun to crave… not domestic or fluff per se from these two, but after every AO3 fic being super dark between them (which I get! They are the toxic yaoi kings of Penacony as of writing this, no one is denying that!) I think I want to see them be explored in a more melancholic sense. Not quite the “forbidden” love angle, but in the “damn we kinda have some parallels, and maybe in another life we could have gotten along but there’s too much baggage and anger, both historically and currently to really even try anything”

I have this feeling this may not be the last time I write about these two… is Galladay going to be the ship that gets me to actually use my AO3 account?

[silvantransthranduiltrash]

Silvans find Maglor, part 1 (my au)

Legolas didn’t know how he got into this situation. He doesn’t know how he ended up in Imlardis, practically begging Lord Elrond to take his dad back because Maglor would. Not. Stop. Wailing. 

He would like to blame Lasgen for the problem. But then he’d have to blame every single elf that was on her squad when they were doing a routine check up. And then he’d have to blame all the elves who had a hand in healing Maglor, and all those who agreed to keep maglor in Mirkwood. And his father because, elf who gave birth to him or not, Thranduil was a little shit who had no problem putting his kids into the line of fire.

All to say that everyone had a hand in what lead up to the current situation of Legolas trying not to loose his mind over the pure bullshit fate liked to spit at the Silvans.

Akami help him, he was to sober for this.

-----------------------------------------------------------

I suppose we should go back a few months in order to explain exactly how we ended up here.

It was a standard routine survey of the coasts of Middle Earth, simply to see if there was anything the silvans needed to keep an eye on in addition to Sauron and his bullshit, and some of the Avari sects that the Silvans didn’t have an alliance with. 

Being a silvan was hard, don’t let the Noldor tell you otherwise.

Lasgen, oldest child of King Thranduil, was leading the party at a steady pace along the beach. The sun was shining, the wind was a nice breeze, it was fucking hot but you wouldn’t be able to tell just by looking at the scene.

And the narrator is sleep deprived so if the narration doesn’t make any sense, she doesn’t care. I assure you.

Where was i? Oh yes. The weather. It was horrible, but Lasgen and her warriors kept on moving. And eventually,

Eventually, they came across a mound of ratty hair, scrappy cloth, and dried up seaweed that stunk more than a skunk with diarhea. Lasgen was debating simply ignoring the offensive smelling mound or practising some civic duty by shoving it into the ocean or burning it when an unintelligible garble rose from the pile. She supposed that it could sound fagually like a song, if you took ten steps back, cocked your head, closed your eyes, a payed attention to only every second note. 

Grimacing, she brought the group to a halt before disembarking from her horse and slowly approaching, trying desperately not to inhale anywhere near the abomination.

She grabbed a stick and poked at the pile. One poke, two poke, three poke. Groan. 

Ok so there was definitely something alive under all the ratty scraps.

She held her breath before quickly reaching forward into the pile and yanking at the solid mass in the center.

An. elf. 

There was an akami forsaken elf. In a pile of such disgusting stench it made horse poop smell nice. 

How was there an elf there? Why was there an elf there? Surely they would have at least managed to keep themselves moderately clean or in contact with one of the elven settlements. They weren’t even that far from the nearest one, surely they would have been able to make it to the harbors if they tried.

Wait.

Wait.

WAIT.

An elf. Near the ocean. Looking like the gods themselves went out of their way to trash him. Making weird gargling noises that could, barely, pass for music.

“Oh my god, why do i always find the weird ones?” Lasgen looked to the sky, begging for an answer she knew would not come. She turned to her squad, who had abandoned her to the stench and stayed a nice distance away. “Please tell me one of you has some nice deep reaching scents on you that will make it bearable until we reach back home. And some clothes? Anything to make this sad bag of bones more bearable.”

[cricketnationrise]

Hiiii! for the ficlet fest c: 5:21am. Kensington Palace. Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor. Song Lyric: "Even though this white wall is unchanging. The morning sun shines on it, and the clock moves forward. I keep moving further away. From the seasons we spent together"

OH HELLO FRIEND. sorry in advance, this one is a bunch of arthur feels. you have been warned.

read the rest of the ficlets here

❤️🤍💙❤️🤍💙

5:21am, kensington

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

In the hours of false dawn, the only sound in Henry’s room is the ticking of the ornate, heirloom, and completely gaudy grandfather clock. Every swing of the pendulum marks another moment that Henry should still be asleep—another moment closer to his next event. 

Another moment that his dad has been gone.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

Henry’s insomnia didn’t appear until after the cancer had ravaged his father’s body, had hollowed out his mother, had transformed Philip into someone he didn’t recognize, and had sent Bea careening down a path Henry could not follow. Even now, months after he and Bea clawed their way back to each other and settled as much as possible into the new normal, it seems the broken sleep is here to stay. 

He’s doing better, on the whole. Regular therapy appointments—despite the Queen’s disdain for the whole endeavor—and medication have gotten Henry to the point where he can get through most days. He can put on a media face (bland, inoffensive, stoic, proper) and get through whatever nonsense The Crown has sent him to attend without visibly crumbling to pieces. It’s at night, with no distractions or witnesses, that Henry can let the mask fade away—can feel.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

It's still strange to think that his dad is gone. Every day is another one that Arthur won’t be there for. He won’t get to do another puzzle with Bea. He won’t see Henry graduate from uni. He won’t be there to see the next season at the Globe. He won’t be there when the Queen starts insisting Henry join the military. He just won’t be there, his absence a dark cloud over every triumph and fall, every mundane moment and milestone from here on out. 

But Henry will be here, stuck in this gilded cage of tradition and expectations—staring at the white walls of his bedroom, unable to fall asleep. 

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

The sun is actually coming up now—a wearily familiar sight. As much as Henry wishes he could sleep like he used to, the golden glow on his bedroom walls is beautiful. The sunlight is dappled today, peeking through the leaves of the tall trees on the grounds of Kensington, creating an intricate, ever-shifting pattern of shadows as the sun rises. 

Henry thinks could write an entire anthology of poems about sunrises, actually. There’s something poignant about the juxtaposition of a new day while he’s still looking out of the chasm his dad’s death left inside him. He can see clear sky at the rim, but the light feels so far away.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

He knows Dad wouldn’t have wanted Henry to be so despondent, would have wanted Henry to be living his life as much as possible. Would have wanted Henry to find a way to move forward into his future. He knows that Arthur would have been the most excited to meet Henry’s therapy dog later today.

The idea was brought up by his therapist a month ago, and today it is finally happening. Henry was going to meet the dog that had been picked out for him. Hopefully he and the dog will be a good match or the whole process will start all over again. Henry would be stressing about it, but—

With bright sunlight climbing up the walls, the gentle ticking of the clock, and the memory of his father’s smile at the forefront of his mind, Henry has a good feeling about the day ahead.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

[gorouenjoyer]

-Differences-

 We’re not too different 

A fanfic mildly inspired by kamiverse’s tfl

(half cannon universe half modern au)

Themes - Romance, angst, smut, betrayal

Pairings - Gorou×reader, Lyney×reader, Neuvillette×reader, Zhongli×reader, Albedo×reader, Scaramouche×reader, Tartaglia×reader

Warnings- virgin!reader, Lyney is kinda a slut?-college!Lyney, college!Lynette, college!reader, collage!furina

Smut will be next chapter I promise<3

Opposites attract right?

We’re really different. Lyney and I have been friends since FOREVER, he was an orphan who was adopted and raised by this figure he calls “father” from what I’ve heard father is a fatui harbinger who was apparently a fellow Fontainian 

We met because I saw Lyney on the street one day doing some fun magic tricks. He wasn't very well dressed so I’d thought that I would talk to him, maybe even help him out if he needed food as my family was well off enough to donate to charity.

Lyney seemed harsh at first glance, it turns out that day his twin sister Lynette got taken away by aristocrats. So that day I made a promise to be by his side forever and make sure nothing bad ever happens to him or his sister ever again!

I lost contract with Lyney after that and during that time he got adopted by “father” and my mom lost her high paying job for a “undisclosed” reason

Now we’re both in our early 20s and in college, all three of us are studying at “La institution de fontaine éducationnel” or IFÉ. Lyney is studying acting as he’s trying to perform at “la opera epiclese” at some point while Lynette is studying engineering as she is hoping to help her brother cut costs by doing repairs herself. 

Lyney has always been extroverted and quite charming so Lynette is always complaining to you about how her brother has another girlfriend or boyfriend which you always respond to with complaining about how you're always single. 

One day however you’re complaining to Lyney himself about being single while he visits your dorm which leads to an interesting conversation about a way to potentially solve that…

“What? You’re still single with your looks?” Lyney asks while leaning on the wall“WAIT! Does that mean you’re a virgin?” he taunts with a big dumb smirk glued on his face

“W-well uhm- Y'know what? That’s a really weird and uhm, invasive? YEAH invasive question to ask a female friend” you manage to stutter out with as much confidence as possible in this situation

Lyney laughs and offers you a bet, “If you end up sleeping with 5 men by the end of the summer I’ll offer you 200k, but the catch is that you aren’t allowed to fall in love with them. You have to sleep with 5 men, no strings attached” you stare at him  with  confusion while wondering how serious he is but then Lyney adds with a smile “Y’know what for every man after the 5th I’ll add another 50k” 

Lyney extends his hand forward for a handshake “deal?” you think for a moment wondering if this is really worth it. You don’t have enough money to finish your course and with 200K+ you’ll have enough to finish your last 2 years of university, maybe even enough to spoil yourself a bit with new clothing and makeup. 

The only problem was the time frame, you’ll only have 4 months for 5 guys? Surely I can’t do that right? I haven’t slept with a single guy for what? 20 something years?  How can I sleep with 5 in such a short timeframe?

After a lot of consideration you decide to take up his offer so you reach out your hand, but suddenly in a random act of courage or stupidity you add “I’ll accept your offer but on one condition, you’ll be the first guy” Lyney looks taken aback? Confused? Uncertain? No idea, but what you can notice is the light reddining of his cheeks.

“What? Are you repulsed by the idea Lyney? How rude” you questioned in a jokey tone

Lyney’s eyes widened in shock “No no, not AT ALL. I was just surprised you asked in such a uncharacteristically bold manner” he exclaims in mild panic

“So when do you want this to happen?” he asks awkwardly

“Oh uhm.. Sooner the better I think but probably not tonight? You respond while fiddling your thumbs “Maybe in a few days? Y’know what I’ll message you!” you decide 

After Lyney quickly and awkwardly leaves you message your best friend and roomie, Furina

10:48PM

-reader-: GIRLY YOU’LL NEVER GUESS WHAT JUST HAPPENED

-Furina-: Did your lonely ass finally get a boyfriend?

-reader-: BETTER THAN THAT

-Furina-: WHAT? REALLY? DID YOU WIN THE LOTTERY?

-reader-: Ok just combine the last two ideas

-Furina-: YOUR ASS GOT A SUGAR DADDY??? HOW OLD???

-reader-: TF NO? 

-Furina-: I give up ;-;

-reader-: LYNEY SAID HE’LL GIVE ME 200K TO SLEEP WITH 5 MEN BEFORE THE SUMMER

-Furina-: WHAT?? ARE YOU GONNA DO IT???

-reader-: YEAH PROBABLY AND ON TOP OF THAT HE SAID HE’LL BE THE FIRST ONE :333

-Furina-: NO WAYYYYY SERIOUSLY? HE’S ACTUALLY SO FINE? I’M JEALOUS GIRL-

-reader-: You have a boyfriend who’s house you’re at right. now. HOW ARE YOU JEALOUS?

-Furina-: Uhm we don’t talk about thatttt, ANYWAYS GTG LOVE YOU POOKIE GL

-reader-: BYEEEEE<3333

You put down your phone for the night and decide to get ready for bed but while your trying to sleep all you can think of is what transpired today

When you wake up it’s already kind of late but your roommate isn’t back yet so you text her

11:17AM

-reader-: Hey wanna meet up at that cafe down the street later? Maybe at 12:30 if that’s good with you?

11:52

-Furina-: GIRL- I'M SO SORRY I SLEPT IN

-Furina-: 12:30 works BUT ALSO I HAVE SOMETHING TO TELL YOU WHEN WE GET THERE

-reader-: OMG OK SEE YOU >:3

A/N: I'M SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG >W< I really wanted to get the pacing right for this fic cause I feel like I rush things

[coffee-in-europe]

january: black-and-white films, old records, red lipstick, classical music, gold earrings, city lights, garnet clothing, champagne, glitter, russian literature, snowstorms, art galleries, dimly lit restaurants, high-heels, chickadees, frosted windowpanes, silk shirts, espresso, pomegranates, snowy owls

february: candy hearts, roses, grapefruit, trench coats, mittens, dark chocolate, calligraphy, sealed envelopes, vanilla cake, ballet, romance films, chandeliers, late-night phone calls, musicals, aurora borealis, marshmallows, pink lipgloss, poetry, freesia, movie theatres, ballads, pressed flowers, stained glass, teacups

march: dark comedies, photo albums, lemons, cold rivers, baking, tidying, colouring, movie marathons, nonfiction books, newspapers, clovers, train rides, fashion magazines, pasta, orchids, podcasts, houseplants, sketchpads, yogurt, celestial art, bubble baths, charcuterie boards, moonlight, ice floes, crystal glasses, coffee dates

april: disney cartoons, rubber boots, tulips, mauve nailpolish, fresh vegetables, cold rain, journals, lavender, fresh eggs, pink blush, birdsong, morning frost, rosemary, tulips, foggy mornings, aloe vera, ponds, herbal tea, puddles, lilies, bunnies, floral sheets, marmalade, pastoral novels, frogs, english custard, lily pads

may: picture books, daisies, farms, warm breezes, cherry blossoms, early mornings, fresh-baked bread, gardening, childhood reminiscing, dandelions, honey, meadows, hummingbirds, butterflies, rainbows, sugar cookies, polaroid cameras, wild mushrooms, carnations, frescoes, silver lockets, brown bears, pancakes, rivers, greenhouses, white sheets

june: jean shorts, pop music, white wine, beach days, yoga, sunday brunch, ice cream, concerts, wildflowers, fluffy clouds, morning dew, cotton candy, turtles, popsicles, kayaks, watermelon, pineapples, vineyards, sparklers, bicycles, denim jackets, swans, asphodels, cocktail parties, gooseberries, lilacs, hollyhocks

july: adventure stories, oranges, lakehouses, campfires, festivals, disco nights, strawberries, figs, starry skies, iced coffee, fireworks, street markets, bumblebees, trumpet vines, strappy sandals, sunglasses, patio lights, linen, denim skirts, pizza, fruit smoothies, pizza, rainstorms, peaches, lagoons, white dresses, astronomy

august: golden sunlight, nostalgia, willow trees, nature poetry, sunrises and sunsets, picnic baskets, sunflowers, crickets, cicadas, colourful quilts, cherries, rolling hills, maxi-dresses, tall grass, dragonflies, crochet, renaissance art, vine tomatoes, overalls, roadtrips, hammocks, sunhats, waterfalls, tabby cats

september: coffee, book piles, croissants, long walks, classic novels, braided hair, notebooks, film festivals, apples, pears, farmers markets, forests, jigsaw puzzles, owls, tortoiseshell glasses, orchards, library cards, foxes, tweed blazers, climbing ivy, tea kettles, maple syrup, goldenrod, lanterns, waffles, boardgames

october: pumpkin patches, black turtlenecks, ginger pastries, fireplaces, wet leaves, ankle boots, corduroy, birch trees, cafés, bookshops, castles, caramel, rainy mornings, blustery nights, town fairs, countryside walks, cinnamon, nutmeg, old houses, black cats, bakeries, creeks, thick blankets, city blocks, white chapels

november: candles, red wine, ancient ruins, greek mythology, second-hand books, plaid blankets, mahogany nailpolish, mystery novels, museums, burgundy sweaters, dinner parties, gemstone rings, icy breath, black coffee, language studies, antique shops, white roses, cobblestones, lace, cathedrals, firewood, audiobooks, crescent moons

december: soft snowfall, christmas carols, pine scent, wool socks, irish stew, fairy lights, thick books, fantasy stories, throw pillows, shortbread, comfort films, window shopping, scarves, icicles, peppermint, carrot noses, angels, hot chocolate, skates, pinecones, caribou, gingerbread, crackling fires, hot toddies, cashmere

[genderfluidgothwitch]

For those who are unsure of whether or not they really have the "sensitivity to cold" symptom of fibromyalgia, because you think that it's just you not being able to handle colder temperatures like other people, that's one way of putting it. The other way is, when it's winter and the temperatures start dropping, do you feel your pain more intensely? Do you feel like you have more problems with your joints? Is your partner always commenting how cold your fingers and toes are, but it somehow gets more frequent in winter? Those are other ways to consider being sensitive to the cold.

[meraki-yao]

Happy two months to the RWRB movie.

I don't have much to say that I haven't already except for this movie, from the moment I watched the trailer, has made me the happiest I've been in a long, long time, and continues to be the light in my life that makes everything a bit brighter and better.

I love everything and everyone involved in making the movie such a wonderful experience with all my heart, which includes the fan community here too, so thank you guys as well

❤️🤍💙

[jewishgir]

more patch 4 highlights.

[rhinoyo]

art summary time!! (prev. years) <3

[connectionterminated13]

I'm going to be honest I'm really sad I can't do it fnafober this year because I didn't Post something at the start of the month..

[totallysharpeyed]

🌿