#this is a nice and easy thing to do after work drained me!

[hungharrington]

okay what are ur thoughts on challenging steve to edge himself everyday for no nut november 🫣 do you think he would make it through the entire month????

okay this turned into a whole rambling thought fic ??? a whole 3k of it?? this is hella unedited cos i'm running out the door so i'll be back to check for mistakes but enjoy some sub!steve & some sorta mean!reader, definitely a hint of a humiliation & exhibitionism kink so beware if that isn't your thing! enjoy u horny bastards MDNI this entire blog is 18+

the whole thing comes about because of a playful bicker.

it’s starts with talking about how long you’ve gone without sex— with steve insisting his dry spell before you two started fooling around was way longer and more difficult than yours.

and you had laughed and teased, cooing about how he could absolutely not make it through an entire week without cumming like you did for a whole month— while he insists the opposite is true.

and steve is nothing if not a competitive bastard who loves to try prove people wrong. so you challenge him to last the whole month — no cumming, no nothing.

but you don’t say no touching. and steve, poor, oblivious to the consequences he’s going to feel very soon, figures there’s no harm in giving in to his morning wood, rutting against his sheets with these quiet grunts until he gets bored and rolls out of bed. it’s something he’s done before and his hard-on goes down in the shower like usual & he goes to work far too smug, feeling so confident and ready to brag when he sees you.

you come into family video middle of the day and steve delights, ready to demolish the challenge you’ve set, bragging about his easy morning and his killer restraint.

your eyebrows raise and you look pleasantly surprised — not miffed, like steve hoped you would — and you offer to raise the stakes. leaning over one of the shelves as he works idly, you change the rules a bit… and set a prize if he’s to complete your challenge.

“if you go the whole month, no cumming, i’ll let you fuck me,” you hum, a wicked smile on your mouth at the way steve straightens up. you’ve been fooling around, tucking your hands into each others pants like horny teenagers but you haven’t actually slept together yet. “anywhere you want, any way you want,”

and steve is smarter than he looks, even as you can see this lust glazing over his eyes— options, so many options pour into his mind.

you in his car, in his lap, riding him and making those nice pitiful noises you do. you in his bed, beneath him, head thrown back in his sheets as you cry out. you, against the wall behind the family video, hidden away but only just, moaning into his hand as you try to keep quiet while you fall apart on his cock.

his cock begins to thicken in his pants just at the thought & steve shifts his weight.

“what’s the catch?” he asks.

“to make your challenge more difficult, you have to touch yourself every day of the month.”

“touch myself?”

“mhm,” you nod, eyes darting down to his bulge. your wicked grin grows at the sight of it growing in his jeans. “properly. not just a little touch, a proper jerk off. how long’s it take you to get hot and bothered? let’s say 5 minutes of stroking, each and every day.”

you’ve got this look in your face like you don’t think he can do it — so of course, steve takes the bait.

“easy.” he snips back, eyes narrowing. “hope you’ll spend the month getting prepared to take it. after a whole month of nothing? can’t promise i’ll be too gentle.”

your smile turns almost feline.

and so it begins. the first few days sail by, steve easily using his mornings in bed to stroke his cock idly, feeling his desire swell and then letting it swirl down the drain in a shower that gets colder every day. after the fifth day, steve has to admit it’s not nice — he can feel his mounting urge to cum building up but it’s not terrible. it’s certainly ignorable. he’s got this in the bag.

another five days pass— but now, he’s waking up aching hard. it takes longer now in the shower to get his hard-on to flag and worse when steve realises he has to still jerk off to win your challenge. his hand feels so much softer than usual and his keyed up lust springs to the surface to moment he starts to stroke himself— steve groans lowly, pressing his head against the tiles and tries go think of unpleasant things.

he fucks up on day 13.

his alarm goes off late and his dream had been lewd and vulgar, an endless loop of sinking his fat cock into you and envisioning how wet and warm you’d be around him. his cock is throbbing when he drags himself out of sleep and he realises he’s been humping against the mattress in his sleep.

the cold shower helps, barely. shivering beneath the icy spray, steve stares at his thickened cock and groans— knowing if he wraps his hand around it now and fucks his fist, he’ll cum in a minute.

so he leaves it and goes to work, wound up enough to snap at robin and then apologise 20 minutes later. you come into his work again, having been absent for the last couple of days, and it’s like you can smell it on him.

“hard morning?” you smirk at him.

“fuck off,” he growls, shoving a vcr back onto one of the shelves. then he looks back at you. “i’m still winning your stupid challenge by the way.”

“uh huh,” you say, not believing him at all. “how’s it’s been going? fucking your cock but never getting finish?”

even your words have an effect on him. steve feels his body flush, his dick strain in his pants, his gut churning with heat. he stiffens up and scrambles to think of a reply — but you’re already laughing.

“oh man, we’re not even halfway through the month and i think you could blow in your pants right here.” you muse teasingly. steve grips the shelf tighter and shakes over the fluster you have on him.

“i have more self restraint than that,” he snips back. the flush passes and he resumes his task, flashing you a quick glare.

you nod and hum again, like you don’t believe a thing he’s a saying, and then he’s watching you head out the door again.

the moment steve realises he’s fucked up is when he’s getting into bed. his cock is, thankfully, not hard — even if there is this persistent tug from his balls that never seems to leave. but he hasn’t stroked himself at all today.

painstakingly, he begins to — soft, gentle strokes over his cock, hoping, praying he can get five minutes in without working himself up too bad. it’s futile because it only takes about twenty seconds behind his cock is twitching in his hand, growing heavier, the head of it beginning to dribble pre-cum and steve moans in anguish into his pillow.

he stares at his alarm clock and strokes slowly, so slowly, having to stop every couple of seconds until finally five minutes passes. steve sighs and releases his cock which twitches in response, the head giving a sad spurt of pre-cum. he’s so keyed up he can’t possibly sleep. his cock is so hard it’s throbbing.

as he pulls his boxers up and buries himself under the duvet, but every touch is too stimulating, his skin on fire with how the urge to cum itches beneath it. he ends up having a very cold shoulder at 3am and his cock never fully softens.

it’s brutal from there on out. from day 14 onwards, his cock remains in this permanent state of aching, always half thickened and ready to go the moment it gets some stimulation. which turns out, is far easier to get now— jeans on the tighter side, the right seat, even the rumble of his car beneath him are enough to have steve swearing and pushing at his crotch, willing it to go down.

that’s how you find him on day 20, five minutes late for his shift because he’s staring down at his tented jeans and trying to think of anything to make it go away. your tap on his window makes him startle, seizing in his seat before he realises it’s probably the only person who’s expecting to see him with a boner in public.

“hard morning?” you joke again, this time pointing at his obvious bulge.

steve glares at you. “you already made that joke.”

“and you didn’t appreciate it the first time!” you say back cheerily. you round the front of his car and open the door, plopping yourself in the passenger seat like you own it.

“what are you doing?” steve asks, going to cross his arms but feeling terribly exposed. he settles for covering his groin, muscles twitching at the slight stimulation the weight of his hands does. his hips twitch forward.

“i’ve got a proposition for you,” you say.

steve shakes his head instantly. “nope, no way.”

you laugh at his quick insistence. “wait listen! i think you will want to consider it, okay?”

you pause and when steve doesn’t say anything more, just eyes you warily, you continue.

“i will knock off five whole days off your challenge,” you hold up your hand, fingers splayed out to indicate the number. your mischievous eyes make steve worry. even if five days off makes his challenge that much easier.

“if you do your five minutes today right now.”

steve blinks. his chest flushes hot at your proposal as it sinks in— here, in the parking lot in front of his work, you want him to jerk off for five whole minutes?

“what? right here?” the question bursts out of him.

it’s not busy out in the least. even in the store, steve hasn’t even seen keith walking about or any customers milling around. he knows keith won’t come outside to fetch him and he’s the only car in the parking lot, besides one another that parked down the other end.

“five minutes for five days off,” you say, twiddling your fingers with a wicked smile.

steve considers it, even though he can already feel his cock growing harder beneath his hands. he groans and throws his head back against the headrest. was he really about to do this?

he looks at the time and then starts to undo the button of his jeans. fuck, guess he was.

he steals a glance at you as he pulls down his zipper and tugs his jeans down a couple inches to expose his boxers. the mischief from your smile has faded, a hunger taking its place. steve averts his eyes, far too aware of how his cock twitches in his boxer at your attention.

he slips a hand into his boxers and curls it around his hard cock. a keening noise pulls from his throat and steve blushes scarlet— all his little noises as he’s spiraled into this lustful denial haven’t had an audience until right now.

he shifts his hand up, a slow stroke, but you’re quickly reaching out to grab his wrist, halting to movement. steve opens his eyes, not sure when they had closed, and makes a noise of confusion.

you grin deviously. “wait,” you point to the clock on the dash. “you can go when the minute changes, big boy.”

steve’s hips jump forward at your words, both the name and your denial. he groans before he can help it, his eyes trained intently on the dash. in his hand, his cock leaks pitifully, a wet spot beginning to stain through his boxers.

humiliatingly, you notice it too. “aw, you’re making a mess and you haven’t even started.”

“stop,” steve murmurs, aiming for stern but failing pathetically. the word comes out as a whine. his cheeks glow fiery hot.

you laugh and then tap his wrist— the minute having flicked over just a second ago.

steve starts his stroking, slow and easy, his eyes slipping closed. five minutes, he can do five minutes of jerking off. even if he was suddenly keenly aware of your watchful gaze, of the window beside him, of the pure exposure of the situation.

“that’s not jerking,” you huff disapprovingly. steve’s eyes crinkle open, his mouth already hung open as he pants softly. his hand does another pass over his cock and he smothers a moan into the palm of his hand.

“go faster or it won’t count.” you say wickedly and steve whimpers, his hand obeying without thought. with the way he’s leaking all over himself, it only takes a couple long strokes before he’s making lewd, wet noises as he fucks into his hand.

it shouldn’t be as hot as it is — rubbing his own cock while you watch, eyes darting between his moving hand and his flushed face. steve can hear himself making little noises with every exhale, tiny little whines as he burns up. the coil in his tummy tightens unexpectedly.

“f-fuck-!” he stops his hand completely, gripping the steering wheel with the other as he feels his orgasm swell. it grows closer, so near to tipping over that steve can’t control his hips as they keep moving, rutting into the air frantically, into nothing, as they try to get him over the edge.

it takes another thirty seconds for his breath to catch and steve to settle down enough to not cum immediately. he quivers in his seat. his eyes flutter open to look at you.

“that was really cute,” you muse, eyes almost feline, dragging up and down his body, slow as trickling honey. steve feels his cock twitch at your words, flushing hotly when your eyes dart to his boxers and definitely notice.

“not five minutes though,” you say with teasing tilt in your voice. you point to the clock on the dash. “i think that was… 1 whole minute?”

despite how he tries to stop it, steve can’t help the pathetic noise he makes in response. he wants to be able to finish this stupid fucking challenge you’ve set, wants to prove himself, wants to be good.

he starts moving his hand again before he can consider how bad of an idea it is. he should just say no and do the next ten days. but it’s wet and warm in his hand, the tip of his cock so drippy that he can pretend his hand is yours. you seem pleasantly surprised to see him going again so soon, your lids low as you watch him closely.

“are you normally this loud?”

steve knows you mean the slick noises coming from the way he’s fucking into his hand. he tries to huff but it comes out as a quiet moan and his face flushes hotter again.

he shakes his head instead, his hair scraping against the headrest. god, his neck is burning up. he’s pretty sure he’s never been harder in his life — but fuck, he can’t stop now.

“how- how ma- many minutes?” the words strain to get out, wrapped in his arousal. his nipples peak hard in his shirt, the friction only adding to his pleasure.

at some point, his hand stopped moving all together and his hips started doing all the work. steve presses against the drivers seat, hips lifting off and bucking into his hand and— shit, it’s too much, the sticky boxers are gonna make him cum if he rubs against them one more time.

in haste, he shoves them down his thighs, exposing his cock to you and anyone who deigns to take a peek in his window. something churns in his gut and steve screws his eyes up, willing himself not to cum yet. so close, he’s so close.

“just one more,” you say, suddenly sounding more breathy than before. steve’s eyes snap open, darting over to look at your face — but you’re fixated on his crotch, watching with a hungry expression.

your eyes lift to his face. another devious smile. steve whines. so close, he’s so fucking close, so close he can taste it. he can win, he can do it.

“steve,” you say softly, reaching out to nudge his chin in your direction. he wasn’t aware of when his eyes slipped shut again but your staring him in the face all lovingly, all wickedly and steve wills his orgasm down. another minute, another fucking minute, he can wait, he’s so close he’s— “cum,” you command.

steve does. white hot flashes through his body as he tips over the edge, ecstasy washing over every sense, stronger than he's ever felt before. his cock kicks up in his hand and a whorish moan drags out of his throat as he paints the steering wheel with ropes of cum.

for a minute, steve doesn't give a fuck if he's just lost— he just cares about how fucking good it feels to fuck his fist, to feel every pass over his slit all the way through his body. he whines and whimpers as the feeling tapers off, his hips finally settling down into the seat.

the mortification of what he's done begins to set it, like the drizzles of cum drying on his steering wheel. he can't stop panting, can't think of single word to say, his lips opening and closing as he tries to recover from the best orgasm of his life.

he hears the car door open and it shoots him into gear, stuffing himself back into his sticky boxers, a shiver going down his spine at how unpleasant it feels. oh fuck, and he's got a whole shift ahead of him.

you're still hovering, one hand on the open car door, leaned down and watching him frantically try to recover— all with that damned wicked smile on your face.

you rap your knuckles on the roof of the car. "damn. better luck next month, right harrington?"

you don't sound sorry at all. steve watches you close the door and leave, weaving between the stores and out of sight as his cock softens and his boxers grow colder. he screws his eyes up and smacks his head back against the headrest.

he's so fucking screwed.

[netherfeildren]

Evermore

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: Joel’s your older boyfriend who your parents had a hard time approving of, but you’re engaged now and spending your first Thanksgiving with your family, and well, it’s always fun doing things you know you shouldn’t do under the roof of your childhood home.

-OR-

The Thanksgiving AU

Rating: Explicit 18+

Content Warnings: No outbreak AU; Thanksgiving AU; Devoted Joel Miller; Established Relationship; Thanksgiving is the most boyfriend holiday and it needs to be discussed; Fucking in your childhood home shenanigans; Pretty soft and sweet; Needy behavior; Older man/Younger woman; Daddy kink; Size Difference; Unprotected PIV; Creampie; Breeding Kink; Oral sex; Fluff and Smut; Praise Kink; Come eating; PWP

A/N: Was thinking yesterday that Thanksgiving is the most boyfriendy holiday, and so this seemed entirely necessary after that epiphany. I’m sick as an old dog right now, and wrote this so quickly and just for fun. Any and all mistakes are property of my NyQuil induced high, apologies and enjoy and happy holidays :]

New Year’s Eve follow up

Word Count: 4.2K

Read on AO3

Ko-fi

“You’re doing so good.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah, baby. So, so good. It’s going so well.” You drag your nails slowly up the wide expanse of his strong back, feeling the divots and bumps of his spine, the thick padding of muscles that jump and shiver at your touch. He’d donned the nice green and red plaid button down you’d bought him for tonight, and he’s a little damp at the small of his back, giving away the nerves he’s trying to keep hidden from you, but you can tell anyways, sensed them as if they’d been your own fluttering within you. More attuned to another person than maybe is normal, perhaps, but you know this man, your man, your fiance now. You understand him. 

“You think he likes me?” And his voice goes a little gruff, sheepish, words lodging in his throat as he slowly soaps your mother’s special holiday china in the warm sink water. The two of you’d been relegated to clean up duty after you’d finished the beautiful Thanksgiving meal your mother had spent days readying in preparation for your first official visit with Joel as the man you’d soon marry. No longer just the older boyfriend who your father couldn’t stand to hear about, much less bear the sight of. And the come around had been slow going, undoubtedly, tireless work on yours and your mother’s parts trying to get him to relent, to accept the man who you’d chosen to spend the rest of your life with as a good man for his daughter. 

“Yes– yes. Absolutely. You made him laugh so many times. And he was so interested when you mentioned the house.”

You feel him suck in a shaky breath and move to wrap your arms around the strong breadth of his waist, resting your cheek against him, listening to the thud, thud of his beating heart. “Christ–” He gives a tremulous laugh that you follow suit warmly, palms splaying out over his belly. “He was, wasn’t he?” 

“So interested. Please, don’t worry anymore. My mom loves you, and dad’s on his way there too, I know he is, I promise.”

“He’s just protective,” he says, shutting off the water and pulling the plug on the drain. The both of you stand there in the silence together, listening to the little tornado of water suck away the remnants of the perfect dinner you’d just had with your parents and the man you were going to marry. It really had been perfect, and you’re telling him the truth when you say you really do think your father’s coming around. He’d been apprehensive at first, more than apprehensive, perhaps, with Joel being so much older than you, twenty years to be exact. And with a teenage daughter of his own, Sarah, who was spending the holiday with her mother. 

Your mother had always been the easy going one, and she’d taken one look at Joel, the dark, silver threaded curls, the thick shoulders and sparkly, hazel eyes, the too charming smile and had immediately understood. Your father had seen all those same things and seen nothing but trouble immediately deserving of mistrust. Things had been rocky for a time, but when Joel had gotten down on one knee and asked you to spend the rest of your life with him and Sarah, when he’d broken ground on the house he was building you with his bare hands from the dirt up out by the lake, well… your father hadn’t been able to withhold his approval for much longer after that was all said and done. 

“And for good reason,” he continues, reaching for the dish towel, drying off his hands before covering yours over his stomach with his wide palms, pulling your arms tighter around him. He brings one of your hands up to his face, cupping his own mouth with it to press a kiss to the tender cove. “The man should take me out back and drag me through the mud,” he mumbles, muffled into your skin, dragging his mouth slowly from side to side, tickling your palm with his whiskers. 

You press yourself harder against him, shoving him into the edge of the counter, dizzy with the feel of your heart beating so hard against your sternum it reverberates against the ribs in his back. “No, baby. Why? Never.” You press a kiss right over the slope of his spine. 

He gives a soft laugh at the feel of your wriggling against him, trying to find friction anywhere and anyway, not very inconspicuously rubbing your breasts against his back, and he turns slowly in the circle of your arms with that humming laugh still caught in his throat, bending slightly at the knees when he wraps his own arms around your waist to pull you up and into him so that your feet are left to dangle above his own heavy boots. He nuzzles at the warm, fragrant skin beneath the edge of your jaw, a small kiss to the tender spot behind your ear, where he whispers, “‘Cause all I could think about at the goddamn table, sittin’ next to your father, was how pretty your tits look in that dress you wore for me – how much I wish I could kiss that pretty pussy to sleep tonight.” 

You whine low, desperate, needy, wrapping your arms behind his neck to press his face tightly to your throat, breath hitching at the feel of his teeth, sharp at your pulse. “Joel–”

He shakes his head slowly, a long stream of sighing breath warm against your collarbone before he says, “I know– I know, baby. I’m telling ya– your father should kill me for the things I wanna do to his little girl. For the things I do to her already.”

The visit had so far been everything you could’ve wished for, and what you’d appreciated more than anything, more than your father’s very approval of your fiance, or your mother’s happiness for you, was that Joel had found the perfect balance between being respectful, ingratiating even, while still remaining uncowed by your father. Walking into your parents home with your hand in his, a deferential kiss to your mother’s cheek, and a strong, self assured handshake for your father while he’d handed him the bottle of his favorite fine aged whiskey and a demure, I’m glad we could make this work for our girl.

Our girl, he’d said, and it had made everything that lived inside of you with his name on it, everything that was perpetually soft and wet for him, go molten. You loved him. You belonged to him. And you’d chosen him for yourself, and he was sure as hell going to make sure everyone the two of you came across knew what that choice entailed, what it meant to him. Your father had been forced into capitulation, all with the whiskey and the self assurance in Joel’s eyes, your own unbridled elation, and your mother’s giggles and blushing smiles like every other woman who’s ever met this man, unable to resist the charm of that Southern twang and the too gorgeous smile, no other recourse had been left to your poor dad. 

You think of this as you make your way on silent tiptoes through your parent’s dark, quiet home. It had been the one concession you’d not garnered from your father, the sleeping arrangements. He’d absolutely refused to allow you and Joel to share a bed under his roof, no questions asked. And no matter how much you’d pleaded and your mother had cooed and cawed and threatened him, he’d not relented. At this point, you were worried he’d not let you sleep in the same bed as Joel even after the two of you’d been married. But what your father didn’t understand, what even you yourself barely understood sometimes was that you needed Joel. You need him. No one, no one except for Joel himself understood how desperately that ran inside of you. He understood you, he always has. 

You pause as you reach the closed door of his bedroom, splaying a palm against the fine grained wood to take a settling breath, your heart beating so fast you feel it in your throat, chock full of excitement, lust, desperate yearning. To have him here, in your childhood home, where you’d been a teenager, a girl, grown into a woman, you want him so, so badly, inside of you, around you, beneath you. You can never sleep without him anymore, no comfort to be found in the too small bed of your childhood – you turn the knob and slip inside. 

The blue darkness of the guest bedroom paints his form in shadows, big under the pretty quilt your mother has adorning the bed. You can see the heavy mass of his shoulder peeking from beneath the edge of the quilt, the ratty gray t-shirt you know has a faded longhorn stretched across the front; not able to sleep naked and wrapped only in you the way he usually does when under your parents roof. You turn the lock and step carefully on tipped toes, avoiding the creaky bits in the hardwood floor you’re so familiar with after a lifetime living in this house and lift the edge of the quilt to slip into the cocoon of warmth with him. Like a living furnace, you snake your arm over his flank slowly, enjoying the shiver and jerk of his muscles as you stroke him awake. Your palm, passing over thick ridged muscles and soft belly, digging beneath to feel the wispy scratch of hair there. 

He makes a deep sound, low in his chest, legs shifting as he comes to wakefulness, and then the gruff murmur of your name being whispered into the dark, his big, callused palm coming to wrap entirely around your fist beneath his t-shirt, keeping you from slipping it inside his sleep pants. “Baby, what’re you doin’?” He slurs, voice full of sleep and slow waking lust. 

You press your pelvis into his backside, hitching your knee up and over his hip to wrap yourself around him like vines. “I need you,” you mewl, baby voice trying to get ahead of his polite refusal before he’s able to get it out. He’d told you, before the two of you’d embarked on this weekend at your parents house, that there was to be no funny business on your part. As if he didn’t know that that was your favorite kind of business where he was concerned. You press a kiss above his scapula, then open your jaw to drag your teeth against the skin warmed cotton. You rub against him, clutching and pulling at his chest and stomach, biting and kissing as much of his back as you can reach, your foot somehow finding its way into his lap so that you can feel his quickly hardening cock against the sensitive arch of your foot. 

He groans roughly. “You’re gonna get us caught, sweet girl,” he tries to protest, but wraps his hand around the little foot in his lap anyways, pressing the arch of it into that half hard erection, rubbing against it. 

“I need you– I can’t sleep without you,” you whine, and he makes a frustrated sound, turning to face you, gripping your knee as he goes to open the cradle of your hips for himself, drawing your leg over his waist so that you’re suddenly chest to chest, sipping on each other’s warm breath. With a fist in your hair he gives you a hardly believable reprimand, little girl, and presses his lips briefly to yours, quick and damp, barely there, like he can’t help himself, like he knows that if he starts he won’t be able to stop, wandering hands already slipping up the hem of your nightgown, squeezing your panty clad ass. 

“Your parents…” he tries again, the roll of his hips against yours, coupled with a hitched whine, making his objections a little laughable.

“Don’t you miss me? Don’t you love me? Don’t you want me here with you?”

“Of course– of course I do–” You twist your fingers in his curls, the first real press of your mouths, his damp upper lip slotting between both of yours so that you can give it a little suck. Then the tip of his tongue touching yours, and you’re opening all the way for him, moaning wantonly into his mouth, letting him lick and taste behind the line of your teeth. “‘Course I want you here, baby.”

“I’ll be good. I’ll be quiet,” you promise. “Please, please, Joel. Please, just–” The hand squeezing your ass slides between your legs, finds the damp plaquet of panties. Fuckin’ soaked already, needy girl. “Please, just fuck me. I’ll be so quiet, I promise.”

“Baby…”

Please, please, please. He’s always had something about him that turns you into nothing more than a wet little girl desperate for the big, big man’s attention. The impropriety of your surroundings has no bearing on this, the desperation is as present as ever, heightened even, maybe, because of the wrongness of it, because you could be caught red handed at any second if you’re not careful, not quiet enough. 

“‘Course I love you so fuckin’ much. You even need to ask?” He rubs the flat of his palm over your pussy, the tip of his middle finger finding the nub of your clit covered by the soaked wet silk to press lightly on each pass forward.

“No, Daddy. I know,” you breathe soft and secret into his mouth, watch the slight widening of his eyes as you say it. You can picture the flush suffusing his cheeks at hearing you call him so, know the effect the sound of it has on him. 

“Fucking Christ,” he murmurs, pulling you tighter against him, tilting your head back by the grip he has on your hair so that he can deepen his kiss, taste you more thoroughly. “Better be quiet while I fuck you.” He pulls back, mock frown and a note of reprimand in his voice as his fingers dip beneath the silk of your panties to find the wet, swollen mess of you already. He moans into your open mouth, your name and I love you and wet fuckin’ pussy as he starts to pet at you slowly. His fingers swirling at your clit and then moving to your opening, dipping inside just a tiny bit, giving you almost nothing, forcing a frustrated whine up your throat. “I said quiet.”

“Please, Daddy. Please,” you beg, but he returns to your clit, ignoring your whining, pinching the bundle of nerves lightly before he’s back to teasing the mouth of your cunt, dipping the tip of a single finger in shallowly to pull your wetness from you and spread it over your mound, slicking you up for him. 

“We’re gonna go nice and slow. Gonna take my pretty cunt nice and slow, and you’re gonna be good for me, aren’t you? Gonna be quiet – not get us caught, right? Say yes.”

“Yes, Daddy,” you whisper, pressing kisses all along his face and jaw and throat, needy fingers twisting in his curls, scratching at the back of his neck and the hills of his shoulders. He make an approving groan of a sound, rolling the two of you over so that you’re on your back, splayed out beneath him, and he pulls the vee of your nightgown down, bearing your breasts to him, sucking on each nipple, first hard then soft, then with teeth and tongue, slicking you in his spit, and you try and stay quiet, you really, really do, but it’s so hard not to cry out at the sight of his jaw hinging wide, seemingly trying to take the whole heavy weight of your breast into his mouth in one go. 

He always has you like he wants you more than anything else in the whole world, like he’s never wanted anything else in his whole life more than he wants you, and nothing feels better than that, nothing makes you crazier for him than the way he wants you so desperately. 

He makes his way down the length of you with kisses to your breasts, your ribs, your belly, the mound of your pelvic bone, before he’s gathering your knees together and bending them to press against your chest, pulling the lace and silk of your panties over the curve of your bottom and diving nose first into your wet cunt, taking in a deep drag of your scent and then dragging the broad, flat of his tongue from your asshole to your clit in one long, slow swipe. The groan he ends on has you almost coming on his tongue just like that, the sound so hungry it would scare someone who doesn’t want to be wanted as badly by this man as you do. And he eats your cunt like he’s angry, like he’s in love with you, like he doesn’t care if you get caught or not. Tongue plunging into your pussy, sucking on your clit, shaking his head, quick and hard, from side to side so that the obscene sound of your wetness against his mouth is all you can hear over the cacophony sounding in your ears right before you gush for him all wet and sweet and sticky, covering his tongue and beard. His lips wrap around your swollen clit again while it still pulses for him, and you have to shove your fist into your mouth, drooling around it to stifle the sound of your cries for his cock while he sucks you into a second painfully fluttery orgasm, your womb cramping hard and tight around nothing, your cunt clutching desperately at air for the cock it’s about to gladly take. The hum of his movements, of his whines and moans, don’t match his promise for nice and slow. They tell you this is going to be hard and deep and might even hurt, and that you’ll like it all the more for that. This is, after all, what you’d snuck in here for, just exactly this. 

He pulls away from your cunt with a loud, wet suck, popping your clit from his puckered mouth like a piece of too ripe, too sweet fruit, before crawling up the length of you, pulling your soaked panties and your nightgown from your body as he goes, shucking his own sweat soaked shirt over his head and kicking his pajama bottoms away. When he takes your mouth again, his face and beard are wet and sticky with your slick, all sweet sugared musk and the angry thrust of his tongue, his fingers, too hard and too tight wrapping around your jaw, grunting into your mouth as he sucks on your tongue. His burning hot cock thrusts between your wet cleft, the sound of your leaking pussy loud enough to be heard over the sound of your mingled panting breaths. You feel him grip himself, stroking once, twice, wide, blunt head bumping against slick soaked skin, before he’s notching at your cunt and shoving in, hard and fast. Not giving you a chance to think about it before he’s bumping at the mouth of your womb, a muted bruise you never tire of; his too big cock that still pinches every time, that presses in just on this side of too deep to always be comfortable, but you don’t care. The proof is in the hurt, and you need constant reminding that he’s real, that this is real. It’s your greatest pleasure, after all, the reassurance of him, of the two of you, and he never tires of giving it to you. You know that giving you the things you need and want from him, turns Joel on more than anything else.

He groans long and low into the crook of your shoulder when he bottoms out and holds there for several drawn out moments, both of you enjoying the pulse and throb of your connection. He’s so deep and you’re so wet for him, taking him so, so well, like he always tells you that you do. You’d felt, from the first moment that you’d laid eyes on him, like you’d been made for him. Put on this earth just for him to find and keep, and doing this, having each other like this, even after all the times you’ve done it, always feels like further proof of it. He grinds against you, hips shifting from side to side, tip bumping against the deepest part of you, before he’s clutching at your ass and flipping the both of you over suddenly, cock never slipping from your tight clutch when he settles you on top of him, buried to the hilt. You feel him in your stomach like this, and you tell him so, little hand coming to rest low on your belly where you’re holding him inside of you, pressing down so that the both of you can feel your connection from the inside out, groaning in tandem all wide and sparkly eyed as you look at each other. And he’s nodding his head at you as you start to shift your hips slowly, feeling the wet slide of his length, the grind of your clit against his pelvis, one hand pressing down on your belly, the other anchoring yourself on his own stomach so that you can rock yourself on him. 

He pulls one of your knees up, resting your foot flat on the bed to open you to his gaze, so that he can watch the way the thick root of his cock splits your cunt open for him to fuck up into. The two of you find your rhythm, you rolling your hips down on his upthrust, and he’s still nodding his head at you, mouthing words made of only air at you while you gasp and gulp for breath, I love you and you’re so pretty and yeah, ride that cock, baby. All you can do in return is mumble his name at him over and over again, Joel, Joel, Joel, nonsensical. Your brain doesn't work when he’s got his cock wedged this deep inside of you, it just doesn’t.

There's sweat pooling in the divots of his collarbones, the sun grizzled notch of his throat, and you fold over forward, changing the angle, deepening it, to lick up those little pools of salt, sucking on his neck until he’ll surely have incriminating bruises tomorrow. You don’t care, not even a little bit. He’s so yours in this moment, always really, but right now, Joel feels so, so incredibly yours, and you love him so much, and he’s going to be your husband one day soon and nothing else really matters besides that. 

He wraps both arms around your back, squeezes you to himself tight and starts to fuck up into you, fast, brutal, again, nothing nice and slow about it like he’d promised, and you’re forced to dig your teeth into his shoulder so hard you’re scared for a moment you’ll taste blood on your tongue. You can feel your orgasm crawling up your spine, pooling like liquid heat in your pelvis while everything goes tight and fluttery inside of you. “How mad would he be if I knocked you up right now? If I fucked his baby girl full’a my baby under his roof?” He grunts into your ear, and there’s the dip in your restraint. As much as you want to hold off and wait for him, you clench down hard around him with a sharp cry, mouthful of his skin to muffle you only barely. “Huh? What’dya think he’d say?” He continues, changing the angle so that his pelvis bumps against your clit on every punch in, balls slapping wetly against the curve of your ass while he pets at the tight ring of muscle back there, tempting you with more than you think you can take right now. “If you go all pretty and round and soft for me before our wedding.” 

You can't speak, you’re nothing but air and sticky, sweet wet in the shape of a girl made just for him. Too tight grip in your hair, and he’s jerking your face towards him, grunting into your mouth as he starts to spill inside of you, burning hot come milked out of his cock and deep into you, and he tells you again how much he loves you, tells you that you’re his pretty little wife because it’s already felt like that for so long. A marrying of your very selves despite the lack of legal nothing that means so little to the both of you when you have all this between you already. Tells you that he can’t wait to see his baby all full of his baby. 

When he’s finished pumping you filled to the brim he turns you over again, pulls out slowly so that the both of you can appreciate the sound of his heavy cock slipping wetly from your well used pussy, and when he bends to eat your mingled come out of your puffy cunt, only to then wedge your mouth open so that he can spit your fluids onto your waiting tongue, all here, taste how good we are, the only words left when it comes to this man and this thing you have between the two of you is always simply thank you. 

New Year’s Eve follow up

Netherfeildren's Masterlist

Updates Blog!

[being-addie]

Healthy habits I'm developing for 2023

It's already April and I'm still in that rut of sleeping at 2am, buying a quick fix of candy at the store when I have fruit at home, eating too many carbs and skipping the gym. Now, I'm getting my shit together.

It's easy to disguise bad habits with excuses. "Oh, I have exams coming up". "Work's been really draining lately". But if you don't change now, you'll be stuck in that same loop for the rest of your life.

Prioritising health:

Sleeping 7-8 hours every night: To end my absolutely atrocious amount of screen time, I've decided to delete all those distracting apps on my phone. It's hard, but worth it. Now I won't be tempted to scroll on Instagram when I should be sleeping.

Making healthy food choices: Choosing homemade granola over chocolate bars, banana bread over Nutella sandwiches, and homemade nachos over packaged chips makes a huge difference.

Working out: l go to the gym daily, but lately, I've been lazy and slacking off. So I want to start going again along with squeezing in a run in the evening. Finishing at least 8k steps every day. Moving my body in some way, whether it's dance or yoga.

Water: I have a bad habit of forgetting to drink water, even when it's right in front of me. So I've downloaded some water reminders to help me remember to drink. I've also decided to incorporate lemon honey iced tea into my diet because I'm a fiend for it.

Working smart:

Creating a to-do list: Committing to knocking off at least three things on a to-do list and gradually increasing the number of tasks.

Keeping devices away: I've started keeping my phone in my mom's room while I work, or I lock it in my cupboard so I won't get distracted, and I use extensions like WasteNoTime and StayFocusd to block unnecessary websites.

Dividing time: Making a schedule for my day, so I can divide school studies, sketching practice and homework. It is so important to block out parts of the day for morning and night routines and self-care.

Cleansing my life:

A clean workspace: Clean up my desk every day, so I can sit in an uncluttered space, and keep my racing mind calm.

Making my bed: Focusing on making sure my bed is clean first thing in the morning, so I have a place that's clean and warm after a long day.

Deleting social media: It was difficult, but I did it. Fighting the temptation to log in again is real, but I'm slowly coming to realise I don't care what people are posting on their stories, and the FOMO is slowly fading.

Toxic people: Getting rid of toxic friends, and deleting numbers and chats of people are who no longer important in my life. Having access to me is a privilege.

Self-care: Every Sunday, I'm setting aside a few hours for myself. During that time, I'll be having a long shower, deep conditioning my hair, using a scrub and exfoliator, shaving, moisturizing, and eating something nice. I'll be baking something for the rest of the week so I won't resort to junk food for dessert or snacks.

Understanding and knowing what you want in life is the first step to beginning your journey. Don't let others make you feel guilty for putting yourself first. It's your life, and ultimately, it's only you who can change it.

<3

[seventhemaverick]

Astro Observations 🌱

Disclaimer: This is my first Astrology post! I tried to do this earlier this year but tumblr lagged and it deleted all of my hard work lol. But now I’ve gained the courage to give it another go! I’m not a professional astrologer. I just study it in depth when I have time. Still very much a beginner. Please be kind and if I’m misinformed let me know! If you want to repost my work please credit me. This also has personal opinions in here don’t take it too seriously babes!

🌾 I don’t typically think Leo’s and Scorpios go together romantically BUT any other relationship outside of that exudes power team. For ex: Kylie and Kris Jenner. Scorpios are known to love power and Leo’s love the spotlight! Kylie was bound to be a favorite after her « ugly duckling » phase. Kylie rolls in the dough and Kris keeps that empire going. I’ve seen many Scorpio parents with Leo kids and they really seem to love them the most lol

Let’s talk about underdeveloped placements real quick!

🌿 Having a parent that is toxic or underdeveloped and has placements that fall into your second house can obliterate your self worth. ESPECIALLY if you have planets in that house and their placements are exactly conjunct 0° or 1-3°.

🌾 If your mars sign is exactly square one of your parents mars or 1-5° orb… 🌚 take the steps to move out if you haven’t already it’s for the best.

🌿 Capricorn moons I wish I could hug all of you. You had to grow up so fast and got handed some of the worst cards. But nevertheless resilience is your middle name. As you age things will get easier if you stand on business! Integrity is key.

🌾 I know libras are known to be superficial or whatever and I’m kinda one of them lol. I literally live off of aesthetics and I typically have nice skin but when I have a massive break out? I literally want to hide until they’re gone. My stress is next level when I don’t look my best.. I’m also a Leo Venus 😅 in the tenth house at that and have cancelled plans when I look and feel shitty.

🌿 All of the air signs almost always value intellectual stimulation first from their partner. Someone they can have great rapport, banter with. Someone that’s witty and knows a wide variety of subjects or has many interests is very hot. Sagittarius is the air sign of the fire signs so I’ll loop them in on this too.

If we lost any zodiac element, it would bring chaos to the entire world.

🌾 Air brings logic and reasoning, water brings compassion and empathy, earth brings grounding and patience, fire brings passion and vitality. Life is about interconnectedness.

🌿 I remember reading a blog that the gods put the constellation of Libra in between Virgo and Scorpio because they were too much alike and it’s so true lol. Both signs can be so compulsive and it’s overwhelming from what I’ve heard from Virgo and Scorpio placements. I can also see this easy going equivalence being the case for Sagittarius being in between Scorpio and Capricorn. The benefics happy go luckies in between the malefics drained and over it.

🌾… moon 3rd house overlay is addictive especially combined with 7th/8th/12th overlays in that synastry. I don’t think I can ever do that again unless we both have it overlaying each others charts. Someone’s moon in your 3rd house, their mind fascinates you and it’s easy to communicate with them you feel seen and heard. You dream about them, you think about them all the freaking time. It is the most annoying thing because why are you taking up my brain space like that bro? I had this with someone and I still think about them it’s been over for quite some time now. Another person that’s in love with me, my moon falls into their 3rd house and they tell me how much they think about me and day dream about me. I had said issue of daydreaming with the other guy. 2/10 would not recommend unless moon person is developed.

🌿 When the moon transits your first house you’re more likely to be more emotional and make drastic changes to your physical features! When Doja Cat shaved her head the moon was transiting her first house and I literally did mine the next day when it was transiting my first house.

🌾 Opinion but I love Pisces placements they are so helpful and loving when developed. I think the underdeveloped ones are too but they expect something out of it where the developed ones are just really selfless. I’m a Pisces Stan! I have so many in my life lol I have no Pisces placements. My 5H is in Pisces lol

🌿 Degree theory is that gworl. It helps you relate to the planet and it’s placement more depending on what the degree rules. For example I was dating a Sagittarius Venus in the 9th house at the 9° and he embodied that free spirited nature of Sag Venus fr. Another example, you can be a Pisces Venus but it’s in your first house at the first degree and the way you love embodies a more aries way of loving. Fiery, passionate a bit aggressive but very deep and tender to the core.

🌾 I’ve also heard the theory of when you reach the age of certain degrees of the placements you have you unlock that placements characteristics. Something significant happens to you during that age or you might master that placement regarding the planet and house placement.

🌿 The degree of your rising sign is more than likely the age of something significant happen in your physical life/to you physically. This is tea y’all.

🌾 You most likely share placements or degrees in your chart with your siblings. My sister is a Scorpio sun, Aries rising, Virgo moon and I’m a Libra sun, Scorpio rising, Aries moon. If I was born two days earlier I would’ve been a Virgo sun and if she was born one or two days later she would’ve been a Libra moon. So I think thats pretty cool. We’re also both Venus dominant and she has a Libra stellium 💗. You really choose your family for your next life lol like that’s so crazy to me.

🌿 Ima say dis with my chest. STOP doing wrong by Saturn ruled placements!!! Saturn is ruled by Capricorn, Aquarius in traditional astrology and we cannot forget about its exalted sign in Libra. As a Libra, I receive karma with the quickness but also people that have done wrong by me their quality of life decreases and or whichever house Saturn is in their chart is deeply affected in the worst ways.. daddy Saturn don’t play bout his! Be fair and follow the golden rule. “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.”

🌾 Having heavy Sagittarius placements in your chart makes you open to learn different languages or different cultures.. just always wanting to learn. Whatever house it’s in you want to master in life.

🌿 The mutables Gemini Virgo Sagittarius Pisces love their niches, they are the teachers and preachers of the zodiac.

🌾 Geminis have the gift of gab more than any other zodiac. Sagittarius could possibly go toe to toe with them

🌿 If anyone ever tries to degrade you for studying astrology and eggs you on to prove this practice to be true, get their birth info and read them their Chiron sign and house placement. Hit ‘em where it hurts!

🌾 Scorpio and Libra placements are usually the generational trauma breakers of their family. Honorable mention- Saturns children, Capricorn and Aquarius

🌿 An undeveloped Capricorn placement that enters your life is literally satan reincarnated to torture you for whatever you did wrong in your past life. And I (if u were raised around Christianity) believe Jesus was a Pisces/Aries! I can argue about this all day! In tarot Capricorn rules the devil! Like hellooooo

🌾 Sixth house/Virgo placements are pretty good at taking care of pets and plants. They feel the most sane around nature and animals.

🌿 Personal planets harmoniously aspected to Neptune make the person seem very angelic like. Very soft souls, earth angels. Hard aspects have people having an even more distorted projection of you.

🌾 Personal planets harmoniously aspected or not to Uranus gives you that shock factor some people will be repelled and some people will be very intrigued.

🌿 Aries placements especially sun and moon are really loyal! I’m talking mostly platonically. Once they see you as their person they are truly ride or die.

🌾 Cancer placements can be one of the most loving and giving when developed. Some spiteful mfs when underdeveloped omg.

🌿 I realize cancer placement women get treated with the cutest romantic gestures. I think they lovers want to do these things for them because they give off ethereal or princess vibes but they’re also real nasty in the sheets lol

🌾 Cancers don’t really get a bad rep even when they do shady things. For example: Selena Gomez when she dated Abel even tho she was cool with Bella was super weird. And I think a lot of people forgot how Kevin hart cheated on his wife like it was nothing lol. Ariana grande with the donuts and now the Ethan thing chileee. It’s like they get a second of backlash and then everyone adores them again lol.

🌿 Having a grand trine in your chart can make you so damn lazy in the houses those planets/figures are in 🥹🥲. It’s crazy cuz that talent(s) will come natural to you and you’ll over look it! Please don’t.

🌾 Grand squares are TOUGH but it pushes you to break cycles and overcome so much in your life. Same with t-squares

🌱 Astrology is really a map. It shows you which path you can take and where you can end up when you include discernment and discipline into your daily life. It’s never an excuse to behave the way you do. Ultimately it helps us reach our most aligned and enlighten self! I hope you all enjoyed. 🌱

Idk why I can’t figure out how to delete this question thing so let’s do a cute lil questionnaire!

[fandomunite2107]

Meeting Carmy

Meeting Carmy at a family party that he was hired to cater.

Finding a hiding spot at this anniversary party was not as easy as you thought. There were people in almost every room with drinks in their hands, all catching up with family that they haven’t seen since in a while. With it being January, it was too cold outside to stand on the patio, though hypothermia isn’t looking too bad at the moment. You love your family, you really do, it’s just after hearing Uncle Billy’s fishing stories for the third time and your great aunt trying to match you up with everyone she knows, it’s a been a bit much. Work today wasn’t bad, but dealing with teenagers is draining on anyone, and rushing to get ready and coming to this party makes for a long day. You at least look nice for the party tonight. You had just enough time to do your hair and find matching shoes and jewelry for your outfit.

Finally, you’re able to break away from your cousin telling you about her newest remodeling project at home and are able to make your way into the kitchen. The door swings close and for a moment it’s silent. You can still make out the voices from down the hall, and from the sounds of it it seems like Uncle Billy found someone else to tell that fishing story too. Walking around the kitchen island you look out the window over the sink to see that snow has started to fall outside. You set your drink that you have been carrying down on the counter and take a deep breath.

“Yo. Watch where you’re going.” The door to the kitchen swings open. Really needing some quiet time and not wanting to talk to anyone at the moment you slip down the island onto the floor, hoping that no one sees you and disturbs the moment of peace that you found.

“What the hell? Is uh there a reason that you’re on the floor ?”

Looking up, you see a man in a chef’s uniform, realizing that he is a part of the catering staff that was hired for this party.

“I needed a break from that,” Waving your hand in the general direction of the noise. “Am I in the way? I’m sure there must be some room in the pantry if I move some things if you need me to.”

“Nah, um it’s fine for now.”

“Y/N! Are you in here?” Hearing your great aunt coming into the kitchen, you try to motion to the chef that you are indeed not here at the moment.

“Oh. Hello young man. Have you seen my niece? Her name is y/n. She’s about this tall. Wearing a dress.” My aunt directs these questions to the chef.

The man slides his eyes down to you before he shakes his head. “Ah. No ma’am, I haven’t.”

You smile and relax a bit on the floor. Looking up to the man you take in his appearance, realizing that this man is so much more than attractive.

“Oh, well. If you do could you tell her that I gave her number to one of the young men at my church who is single. She should be getting a call from him soon.” You bite down on your bottom lip trying to stifle a groan. You love your great aunt, but really why does she always feel the need to set everyone up. “How old are you?” You shake your head as your aunt asks the question, continuing to look at the chef. “You are very handsome and you seem handy around the kitchen. You and my niece would make a nice couple. I’ll give you her number.” I hear my aunt open a drawer and shut it, moments later hearing the sound of paper tearing. “Here. You call her. You two would make beautiful babies.”

“Um, thanks?” The chef seems dazed as the door closes behind my aunt. “I. That. That was interesting.” He says as he pushes his hair back from his face.

Standing up from the floor, you turn to face the chef. “I feel like I should properly introduce myself now, especially after all that. I’m y/n.” You extend you hand out to him.

It seems as if he is trying to hold back a smirk as he reaches for your hand. “Carmen. You can call me Carmy, most people do. My restaurant was hired to cater. Your um. Your aunt is something.”

You let out a short laugh. “Yes she is. Sorry about all that. Thank you for not blowing my cover. This is all a bit embarrassing. You don’t have to keep my number.” Pointing to the paper that your aunt wrote your number on, which is lying by a cutting board.

“You don’t want me to have it?” Carmy tilts his head to the side.

Feeling heat rise to your cheeks. “What. No. I just. I. There was talk of babies and people at church. It’s a lot for anyone. I was giving you an out.” Please stop talking and making this worst you thought to yourself. Why does he have to be so good looking? It’s becoming too distracting to look at him.

“I don’t think I want an out.” Carmy says as you heart skips a beat, which now you know is actually a thing that can happen.

The door swings open to the kitchen revealing your great aunt. “Oh y/n there you are! I see you met this handsome chef. He’s handsome isn’t he y/n?”

“Oh. Ah, yes very handsome.” You say looking at Carmy, noticing a bit of a blush on his cheeks.

“I will leave you two alone. I already gave him your number y/n” My aunt nods at the paper with your number on it before she leaves through the kitchen door again.

“Oh my god. I’m sorry. This is a lot.” You cover your face with your hands, after a moment you move your fingers so that you can peek through to look at Carmy, seeing him smile at you.

The door to the kitchen opens again, this time revealing another member of what you assume is the catering company.

“Hey, Chef. Everything is looking good out there, but we’re getting low on the appetizers.” The man sets down a tray on the island and seems to realize that Carmy is not alone. “Oh, who’s this cousin?”

“Here take this tray out and refill the appetizers. I’ll start getting the rest of the trays together.” Carmy hands a well filled tray to the other chef, who exits the kitchen, but not before he gives Carmy a smirk nodding at you.

“I should get back to the party” You say as you don’t want to be in the way of him working. “It was nice to meet you Carmy”.

“Yeah. You too.” Carmy says though he’s too busy getting back to work to look up at you. You pick up your drink that you set down earlier and head to the door, looking at the chef once more before you leave to get back to the party.

The next hour or so you mingle with family members that you haven’t seen in a while. The party is nice and you do end up having a good time catching up with everyone. The food is excellent and anytime you hear someone mention the food you smile knowing that Carmy had a hand in making everything. As the party winds down, you think of heading back to the kitchen just to see him once last time, but every time you come close to doing that you chicken out thinking Carmy might find the intrusion annoying if he’s working.

After another half hour of mingling, you decide that it’s time to head home. You say your goodbyes to everyone and put your coat on before leaving the house. As you’re heading home you hear a notification come through your phone, looking down you see an unknown number had texted you. Opening up the text you see the message: Hey. It’s Carmy. Must have missed you before you left.

Smiling and feeling giddy from the message, you type out a response.

[aphroditestempleimagines]

A nice bottle of wine

Pairing: Chuuya Nakahara x fem!Reader - 18+

Words: 2916

Warnings: oral(m! & f!receiving), fingering, lowkey brat-taming, vaginal sex, unprotected sex (don't do this kids), angry sex, rough sex, groping, nipple play, hickeys, aftercare, marking, creampie, bruising, language

Summary: You're an executive in the Port Mafia, playing cards with Chuuya. After a bottle of wine (or two) the game develops into a strip poker and (dot dot dot).

Author's note: Just fyi, wine sends you to happy land faster than anything. And I have no idea how to do this trope, I hope you enjoy it if that's your thing. And you know how I am, I can't NOT turn it into love. Also what am I doing with my life?

"Nice seeing you here, fancyhat", you said, closing the door to the executive lounge behind you.

Chuuya let out an annoyed grunt. "Piss off", he said.

You chuckle as you make your way to the table. "What's gotten you into such a bad mood?", you lean towards him, "Did Dazai do something to piss you off again?"

"I told you not to say that name in front of me", he growls.

"He's just playing with you, you know", you sigh as you take a seat across from him, "You're very easy to manipulate for a single reason".

You let that hook dangle in front of him as the two of you sit in silence. It is not long before curiosity gets the better of him and urges him to ask what you mean.

"Isn't it obvious?", you raise your shoulder.

"No, not to me", he mocks.

You smile as you reach to caress his jaw. He draws back, cheeks flustered as he screams "What The HELL?".

"See?", you wink, "That's the reason"

Time passes and the boss is running late. The bottle of wine Chuuya had brought for the meeting is drained little by little by the two of you. To battle the boredom you take out a deck of cards and suggest a poker game. It's easy to wire Chuuya in and play; all one has to do is claim he can't. Yet it's surprising to see that he is extremely skilled. Most shockingly, his poker face is astoundingly well-built, with no space for any sort of interpretation of his feelings, unlike in his everyday life. Even teasing him does not seem to shake him off, other than tinting his cheeks with a slight reddish hue.

"Might if I change the deal?", he asks in earnestness after a few rounds as he takes a look at his new cards.

You raise one of your eyebrows. "To what?"

"We'll play some rounds", Chuuya rearranges his cards, "Each time I win I will remove one piece of clothing from you"

There's no jest in his tone and neither in his eyes. I can feel the weight of his gaze upon me, serious and predatory, as he waits for my answer.

"Why do you want to do that?", you ask curiously.

"Cause I want to", he says.

His gaze is sure and penetrating as it fixes upon you. A blush creeps onto your cheeks. "You understand I am obligated to ask something similar, don't you Chuuya?", you challenge that steel gaze.

"Will you ask to put them back on?"

"No", you lean towards him, "I want you to remove one of yours"

He scoffs. "Works for me", he says, "Although I doubt you'll get more than one on me"

"We'll see", you smirk back at him.

The first game is won by Chuuya.

"Let's start with the jacket", he moves behind your chair. He pulls it off of your shoulders, his fingers caressing your skin. He plants a kiss at the side of your neck, a kiss and a bite which has your ears redden. You turn away but you know he is smiling at your reaction. You restrain your flustered expression. A game like this could only have one resolution, you knew that. But it was weird how the same Chuuya, who quipped and scoffed at your teasing and flirtations was now, after some wine, forward and teasful himself.

Piece after piece your clothes disappear along with your chances of getting the upper hand. "Rules are rules", Chuuya says as his fingers unbutton your shirt. He plants a kiss where your neck meets your head, sucking at the soft skin while his hands play with your loose hair.

You want to call his name. You have been wanting him to do something, anything, since the day you first laid eyes on him. Yet even after years and years of working under Mori's orders, even after climbing to the top of the food chain of those who rule the nights of Yokohama, he was as untouchable as the first day. But not today. Today he took step after step bringing the two of you together. You did not care if what he wanted was one night or something more. At the end of the day, it didn't matter. You wanted him. Even if all he gave was a night you'd take it over nothing at all at this point.

The next game is yours. "What will it be?", Chuuya asks bluntly, pretending not to care.

"The hat", you smile devilishly.

Chuuya blushes in a mixture of anger and embarrassment. "HUH?", his tongue rattles, "Are you seriously choosing the HAT?"

"Rules are rules", you mock back.

He lets out a growl before slamming the hat on the table. "You could have chosen something better you know", he says annoyed.

"I don't want to", your mind is too slowed down by wine to stop you from climbing on the table, your hand reaching for his ginger hair. You entwine his locks with your fingers; you are mesmerized by how soft it is.

"If you're drunk, pick up your clothes and leave", Chuuya turns his head away, "Do it now"

"I'm fine here", you say, "I still have time to turn this around"

"May I propose an ultimatum then?", he asks seriously.

"Go on"

"Whoever wins the next one gets to give the other one order", with your bra long discarded, his thumb traces your naked nipple.

You chuckle. "That hasn't worked that well for you in the past you know", you say, "Do you have something in mind to suggest this?"

"Do you want me to spell it out?", Chuuya stands from his chair. He leans towards you as you sit on the table, his hands dragging you closer to him by the hips. "I want to fuck that smirk off of you", his lips hover above yours, "right here on this table".

You want nothing more than to capture his lips. They are so close you can feel the weight of his breath on your tongue. Your body aches to close the distance between you, but you straighten your back and gaze back at him defiantly. "You know what they say about short men", you mock.

"Do you want me to choke you on it?", he growls.

"If I win", you palm his half-hard length over his black trousers, "I'll take your choker and leave you like this"

You pull away faster than he can touch you. You deal the cards yourself, even though you hope to lose.

"I'll make sure they can hear you down on the ground floor", he says with the best poker face you have ever seen. You cannot tell whether he is bluffing you or if you truly should pass the next hand.

"Are you this confident you'll win this time?", you ask even though he has already managed to undress you this much, "From what I've heard you have incredibly bad luck at poker when it matters the most"

"That's because I was playing with that waste of good bandages", he says plainly, "I may not be able to read his moves but I can read yours clear as day"

You take a chance to bet; a full house from Chuuya is what crushes it into dust. Your heart skips a beat. Before you could think Chuuya was in front of you. He crooks his fingers at you, signalling you to stand. You tremble as his bare hands trace your torso until they reach the waist of your panties and you tense. You cannot believe this is happening.

"What are you worried about?", he asks, "I bet you agreed hoping to lose". His hands are light and sweet as they caress your body. He's taking his time to turn you on, yet his actions keep hanging from your own lips, waiting for the moment you'll tell him to stop. "Are you afraid I'll find out how wet I have already made you?", he hits the mark, the pads of his digits tracing my core over the fabric, "I already know sweetheart". He presses his fingers on that spot and starts tracing slow circles. His eyes observe you for the slightest objection, but there is none.

You place your hand on his neck, pulling him close. He leans to your chest, taking one of your breasts in his mouth. Your mouth falls agape as he picks up the speed of his fingers, letting them dive into your core along with your panties.

"Chuuya...", your fingers curl around whatever part of him they can hold.

"Fuck", he breathes before kneeling down in front of you.

He takes the waist of your knickers between his teeth and pulls them down enough for you to shake them off. He places a hand behind your head and pulls you in for a brutal kiss. He hikes your leg around his waist, your bare cunt rubbing against the roughness of his trousers.

"These fucking lips", his gloved thumb traces them, "You know how I fucking feel about you don't you? That's why you keep pushing me"

"You ask for it"

He kisses you again. And again. And again; until your mind grows dizzy. He takes his gloves out with his teeth, his hands moving to grope your plump behind. Your folds keep rubbing against his thigh, his clothed length teasing your bud from time to time. His fingers plunge inside you long enough to have you climbing, leaving you before you can fall.

"Chuuya", you whine, "Please"

"Begging already?", his hand holds your chin, "Where's that spite now, huh?"

"Just fuck me already!", your fire returns at the sound of his words, "Or are you scared to keep your promise cause I won't feel anything?"

He turns you around, his hands trapping yours behind you as he bends you over the table. He frees his length and buries it inside your walls in a single thrust. Your hands reach to grab something, anything, as your breath is taken away.

"Say that again", he dares in your ear.

He feels too good for words. The only thing you can utter is his name as he sets an excruciatingly slow pace. Your hips chase him but he holds them down. His length scrapes along your walls as he carefully adjusts the angle to your reactions.

"Do you want me to make you cum?", he buries himself inside you. You nod as you bite your lip.

And then he's gone.

"What the hell?", you heave as he leans on the table next to you.

He is folding his sleeves up to his elbows. "Prove it", he pulls you in his embrace. His tongue reaches to meet yours as he kisses you deeply.

"How?", you breathe.

He pushed you onto a chair. With his hand on the back for support, he leans over you as you sit. His other hand softly lifts your chin. "Every time you open these goddamn lips I imagine them wrapped around my cock", he says.

"Pervert", you smile at him.

He gives you another angry kiss, his knee nestling between your legs, his hand grasping your throat. Soon after he pulls away and leans back on the table, waiting to see what you'll do. You push back the chair and wrap your arms around his torso, pulling him in for another kiss. Your lips trail down on his skin, from his neck to his torso. He is far more vocal than you expected. His hands hold you tight, his moans remain unrestrained. When your knees hit the floor his hand caresses your face in sweetness. He throws his head back as you take him into your mouth. The kind hand that caresses your cheek now pushes you down to take more of him in. His trance is woken up by your gagging, to which his eyes swiftly dart to check up on you. But you are fine. More than that, you want to make him lose this macho composure he had suddenly found. And he does. His chest frantically goes up and down, the song of his pleasure filling the room until he comes undone.

He pulls you up crushing his lips into yours. "Fuck you", he growls.

"Do it already", you whine.

His hands on your waist, you feel your body grow lighter as you are enveloped by the red hue of his ability. "You're already light as a feather", he said, "But I can't risk you slipping".

He lays you down on the table. He buries his head between your legs, his tongue diving inside. He stretches your walls further for him with one hand as he pumps his length with the other. He leaves a few more marks on your thigh before he rises to his feet. He thrusts his length inside you once again until his hips meet yours. He sets a harsh pace, hiking your legs over his shoulders as he calculates the speed that could retain the hardness of his thrusts.

"We keep calling Dazai the slut but you're giving him a run for his money", he smirks.

"Wh..at?", you pant, your concentration driven away each time his hips slap against yours.

"You've forgotten", his voice drops lower, "Mori can walk in any second"

He grunts as you clench around him but there is no reason to fear. A single pencil stands to block the gate, covered in a reddish glow that shines light on the slight cracks its weight is leaving on the floor.

"As if", he takes your lips in his, "I'm not letting any one of those assholes get a glimpse of you"

There was no reason to tense, yet that slight sudden tightness made you feel Chuuya so much more as he dragged his length inside you.

"Look at you, spread out for me like this", he pants, "Fucking masterpiece"

His index reaches down to press frantic circles on your clit as he sacrifices force for speed in his pounding. His hand presses you down, his fingers tracing down the centre of your torso as he admires your sweaty figure. You cover your mouth as your moans climb to a higher pitch than they've ever reached before. He grabs your hand and pulls it away.

"You're not walking out of here without everyone knowing how well I make you feel", he grunts, "They've already learnt the same about me"

"Chuuya..."

"Say it louder", he's hips rail into you, pulling out your voice by force.

"CHUUYA!", your mind goes blank as he hits your g-spot again and again until he has you trembling around him, a white ring forming around his length as he fucks you through your orgasm. You pull at his hair. He heaves above you. Soon, he can't hold back anymore. You feel his length convulse inside you as he fills you, his lips blindly searching for any part of your skin to kiss. The two of you remain in each other's embrace as you catch your breaths.

"Saturday....my house", he pants and he does not have to explain further.

"Who told you...I'll come...?"

He scoffs before giving you one more thrust. You bury your fingers in his hair as you pull at the strands. "You were saying?"

"God...you're a bastard"

He pulls out and gives you his hand to stand. He continues to support you as your legs wiggle underneath your weight. He turns you around to crush your back on his chest. His hands wrap around your torso, his lips leaving love marks on your skin. You see the blurred image of Yokohama as your tired gaze focuses on the window. Chuuya sits on the table as he pulls you closer. One hand travels back to your folds, the other turns your head towards him so he can claim your lips.

"You get on my nerves", he bites your lip, "Do you know how many of my men lust after you?".

His knee opens back your legs so his fingers can snake inside the warmth of your walls. He pinches one of your nipples with his other hand, swallowing your moans in a fervent kiss.

"But I can't shut them up 'cause I have no claim on you".

His fingers leave you. A moment later they reappear in front of your neck as they wrap his chocker around it. He ties it on the back and turns the buckle to the front like the collar of a cat.

"Chuuya...", as the sun disappears and the night prevails, your reflections dominate the glass window, burying the city behind them.

Chuuya plants some biting kisses on your shoulder as his hands fondle your breasts. "Be mine", he says, "I want to be your everything cause fuck you already are mine"

"Are you playing me?", you whisper as he leaves trails of kisses on your skin, "You hate me".

"I fucking do", he tightens his embrace, "Do you know why? Cause I love you. I hate you, 'cause I love you. So. Bloody. Much. It hurts.". He kisses your bare back before letting his forehead rest on it. "I swear", he says, "You ripped my fucking heart out and took it as your own the moment you stepped foot in this godforsaken place"

Words are meaningless in this world. They can be vain or fake or forged. But the way his arms clung around you could not be anything but honest and true.

[xiakato]

Interview With The Pop-star - KARINA

“Giselle has great taste in her toys,” She crosses her arms, a smirk plastered on her beautiful face, “always the best.” 

“Nice to meet you too, Karina,” You sat across from her, your own skin became milky over the weeks as you adjusted to your new lifestyle. 

“So proper,” She giggles, leaning forward giving a good view of her cleavage, “She told me how good you are, made me even want to give you a ride.” 

“I’m honored but we have things to do before I would even consider that,” You place down the recorder, “Now, Karina, let’s start with the interview.” 

“Are you going to ask the same boring questions you asked Giselle because if you are, I’m leaving.”

“Who’s your favorite prey?” You watch as a sadistic smile crawls on her beautiful face, her fangs slightly grazing her lip. 

“Male Idols, so easy to entertain, so easy to drain them of the tasty blood coursing through their veins. They usually are the sweetest, besides children but I don’t go for them. I have morals unlike that crazy one that runs that orphanage.” 

“Who runs the orphanage?”

“Oh sure that you will meet that beauty soon, truly sad she’s a bit crazy. Well more than a bit crazy.” 

“I see, tell me about your turning,” You watch as her carefree attitude shifts, the air is tense. 

“It’s nothing special,” She shifts in her seat, appearing to be uncomfortable under your sharp gaze. You study her body language, the picking at her nails that only started when you asked her. 

“If it isn’t anything special.. Why won’t you tell me?” 

“I’m sure Giselle already told you, after all she’s the one that turned me,” Karina’s eyes shift from side to side, avoiding yours. 

“She hasn’t told me anything, so tell me,” Your eyes slightly glow under the low light, something you learned that you had to influence other vampires. That whoever gave birth to the heinous thing you’ve become deemed worthy to control over those unworthy. She stops shifting in her seat, staring into your eyes like a deer in headlights.

“H-how do you have the power of an Elder?” 

“It seems that I’m a favorite,” You simply smile, “Now tell me.” 

“It’s not so simple as being a favorite Y/n,” She looks worried, worried for you? Not in the slightest, worried for yourself. She only ran into Elders, a handful of times during her years lurking in the night. The terror, the fear she felt in her veins, as their eyes stared down at her like she’s the lowest form of life, “How Y/n?” 

“You certainly like to throw my name around,” The glow gets brighter and her attitude dims. 

“Sorry, sir,” Her voice was a fraction of what it was at the start of the interview, “To answer your question. It was winter of 1758, it was the Joseon period under the rule of King Yeongjo. I was working hard, taking any job I could get even if I had to sell myself to politicians. Earning money for my little brother. You see, he was sick so I tried my best to earn enough for his medicine,” She looks up at you, you simply nod along, listening to her, hanging onto every word that comes from her. She sits on her hand to stop picking at her nails, “Until one night, I met her, Giselle, her skin as white as the falling snow. She said that she could cure my brother, of course for a cost. She turned him into a vampire and gave him to her, the one that runs the orphanage. She turned me to one as well, so she could have someone to hate her as much as she hates herself.” 

“Have you seen your brother since then?” 

She nods, “He works for the crazy one, as her butler of sorts.”  

“At least you’ve seen him,” You smile at her, watching her cheeks turn slightly red. 

“Can I ask you something?” 

“Sure Jimin,” You turn off the recorder, placing it in your pocket. 

“Why do you have the power of the Elders?” 

“I don’t know, it was something that I figured out I could do, Giselle seems to know something but of course you know her never saying anything.” 

“You’re going to have to be careful, vampires like you come around before. They were killed quickly as they threatened the hierarchy.” 

“Of course I will be, thank you for the warning Jimin,” You pat her head as you walk towards the door. She grips on your sleeve. 

“Aren’t you forgetting something Sir?” She asks looking up at you, her shining brown eyes clouded with the vampiric lust you’ve grown accustomed to. 

“What might that be?” you ask even though you knew the answer, you wanted to hear her say, beg for it. 

“Fuck me,” her voice dripping with lust, as she pulls you towards the bedroom. Her skirt finds itself on the floor within a few seconds. She soon joins it, kneeling down in front of you stroking you through your trousers. Her eyes half lidded, you feel her hot breath as she kisses your shaft as she unbuckles your belt. Pulling them down, she smiles as she comes face to face with your cock, “I’ve been wanting this so badly,” She peppers kisses down your shaft, “So big and thick,” She licks back up to your tip. Her soft hand slowly stroking as she watches you, “I need this in me.” 

“I don’t know if you do Jimin,” You smirk as you watch her perfect lips pout, her hands still stroking. 

“Just call me how you want to, don’t hold back sir,” She slaps her cheek with your cock, “Call me a slut, call me whatever you want Sir, make me your toy please I need you to.” 

You can’t help but smile down at her, your eyes glowing bright red, “Suck it,” You command her, she smiles brightly yet shakes her head, “Suck it, little slut,” She takes you into her mouth, her spit dripping out as she opens her mouth, her tongue swirling around your tip. Her eyes close as she takes in your taste, her moans as she takes in deeper and deeper into her mouth and throat. You watch as she masterfully takes care of you, leaving no inch of your cock left untouched. Her eyes open as she takes you fully down her throat, no gag reflex as she stares up at you. She smiles as she pulls your cock out. 

“How’s that Sir?” She asks as she kisses your tip repeatedly. You pull her up to her feet by her hair tossing her onto the bed. Her giggles fill the room, her excitement shown as she lifts her ass in the air for you. Looking back at you, you can see the expectation in her eyes, “Please Sir, fuck me please!” 

Her pussy glistening in the light, waiting for you to stretch her. Your cock slips in with ease, you watch as she grips onto the sheets. Her moans fill the room as you get your rhythm, “Fuck,” You mutter under your breath, gripping onto her ponytail. 

“G-give it to me Sir, Please I want you to break me please~” She pleads, you piston into her watching her ass bounce as you fuck her. 

“What a dirty slut,” You scowl as you pull harder on her ponytail, making sure she feels every inch. 

“Only for y-y-y-you, I’m your slut,” Her arms give out, you hold her upper body up by her ponytail, as you feel her body start to shake, her pussy tightens as she squirts all over the sheets and the floor.

You let go of the ponytail, taking in the sight under you. One of the most sought after idols in the industry, underneath you shaking like a used slut. You slowly thrust into her as she comes down from her climax.

“F-f-fuck,” She manages to get out as she looks at you from the side of her eye,”Give me that cum Sir, please fill me to the brim.”  

Not one to leave a request unfulfilled, you start to piston her into the bed, her pussy tightens around your shaft.  She takes you dare you say better than Giselle does, her hands grip onto the sheets till her knuckles turn white. She bites onto the pillow as she feels you reach every depth she thought no one could get to. Her eyes roll back, your hand gripping onto her hips, pushing down giving yourself more room. You push, to what she thinks is to her womb, filling her with rope after rope of your cum. You slowly pull out as she shudders, smiling as she feels your cock rest on her ass, still hard. 

“Sir, how about you join me in the shower and I’ll get you nice and cleaned up, yeah?” 

[lethalchiralium]

Can you please do more Taylor Swift?? 🥰🫡

You Belong With Me | Simon “Ghost” Riley x F!Reader

a/n: THIS IS LITERALLY ONLY FOR MY FRIENDS LOL 🫶 ( @peachesofteal @as-is-above-so-below ) i love him i love him i love him

warnings: hnng bad boyfriend!

summary: It’s your 21st birthday, yet you sit in a nice restaurant in a beautiful dress and tears in your eyes - until someone comes to your rescue, like a knight on a white horse.

PREVIOUS << | >> NEXT | SERIES MASTERLIST

The clinking of dinner plates was mocking you.

Sat in a pretty light purple dress, the one you had saved for a special birthday you were supposed to be spending at home with your friends - your 21st. But here you were, waiting in a Manchester restaurant with your phone against your ear.

It’s an hour after you had sat down for your reservations and your boyfriend hadn’t even bothered to answer your calls. It seemed it was becoming a common occurrence, the brown haired lawyer named Calvin would call in reservations, you would arrive, sit down, order a water, wait, then he wouldn’t show. It was embarrassing, humiliating - sitting alone at a fancy restaurant in a dress you were now rethinking, your fingers drummed against the side of the wine glass stem with distress.

YOU: Calvin

YOU: Please just call me

YOU: This is the last time. I mean it this time.

YOU: Calvin answer me

Ten calls down the drain, and at this point, you were ready to pay the small bill for the wine and a small plate of bread you barely ate. Your silverware sat out on the nice table cloth, the cloth napkin discarded on the table as you sent one last message.

YOU: I’m going home. Don’t text me that you’re sorry, since you’re apparently not.

How did it all go wrong so fast? You really liked Calvin, he was the right amount of quirky that made you laugh, he was a little standoffish but easy to warm up to. He was incredibly intelligent, just not emotionally connected to himself. It really felt like you were babysitting him sometimes, but other moments made you feel like you were always sitting under starlight. Always the man to bring your favorite candy but forgets to open the door for you, almost always had you cover the bill but he would pay you back by buying you little trinkets. Most were cheap little things like necklaces that broke within a week, rings that would lose their color immediately. Now it really made sense - he didn’t really care.

It seemed every romantic relationship you tried to make work ended up with you, crying alone in a room full of people. Your first boyfriend broke up with you at homecoming, your second had broken up with you two weeks before prom, your third was about ten years too old for you and always made you cry by the end of the day. Was it so bad to just talk things out? To answer phone calls, texts, to let you know that it wasn’t working out and that why it wasn’t. Not because you wanted to keep them, it was to learn how to be better for the next one.

Always the people pleaser, yet no one ever took the time to please you.

A couple tears found their new home on the tablecloth, you were quick to dab at the inner corner of your eyes with your napkin. You turned off your phone, eyes still full of tears as you raised your head to look for your waiter when someone familiar came into view.

“Hope I’m not too late.”

Shock settled into your body, eyes gazing at the beautiful bouquet of red roses, peonies, red tulips, and pink dahlias - all flowers your mother grew in her garden your whole life, but you had only told a few people that. Your eyes trailed up to a nice black three piece tux, the tie a little wonky but you knew he tried his best, then you saw his balaclava in all its glory - meeting his eyes with tears in your own.

“Mr. Riley?” You sniffled, putting your napkin down on the table. “Wh-What are you doing here? Where’s Winnie?”

He sat himself down, settling the bouquet of flowers down on the side of the table. He gently pulled out the silverware from their hold in the cloth napkin, placing the napkin on his lap and he spoke calmly, “With her uncles.” His eyes looked up from the table to meet yours. “I’m sorry it took me so long, I had saw you sitting here when I was driving earlier and I went home to get changed.”

Your eyebrows furrowed, looking out of the window you were sat next to. Of course he could’ve seen you, everyone could see you in this dress that you loved so much, ready to cry all the way home. You felt foolish, waiting for a man who made it clear that he wouldn’t play his games with a twenty year old, a girl who loved him so.

“We’re past formalities, Y/N.” Simon’s voice pulled you out of your head, tears fell down your face as you looked back at your employer - no, friend. Would it be wrong to say friend? You live in his house and take care of his daughter, it would be weird to say ‘employer’.

He had taken off his suit jacket, settled it on the back of his chair while you had stared out the window, he was now fixing his… very nice cufflinks. You looked back to his face, muttering a soft, “Huh?”

“It’s Simon.” His hands settled on the table, you noticed the bruises on his knuckles and felt a pang of sadness. He had just gotten home from deployment and came to see how miserable you were. More tears welled in your eyes, your hands grabbed your napkin and you dabbed them away.

“Well thank you, Simon, but I don’t need you to pity me. I’m just a damn fool.” You muttered, your hands settled in your lap. “A lovesick little fool who always ends up with the broken heart.”

He scoffed. Your eyes flicked upwards immediately, eyebrows furrowed. His eyes were narrowed, staring at you as he stated, “You’re everything but foolish.” He gently moved the cuff around his wrist forwards without even looking at it, he kept his gaze with you. “Kindness is taken for granted more often than not. He’s a daft cunt for standing up a kind woman like you.”

It honestly scared you just how much you began to appreciate Simon Riley in that moment. A man who you assumed always overlooked everyone else’s emotions and needs that weren’t his daughter’s, a man who you thought wouldn’t give you a second look - yet, here he is. Sitting across from you in a suit you haven’t seen, expensive cufflinks fixed and tie sort-of crooked. He took the time to get dressed in a fancy suit and sit down with you.

“Thank you, Simon.” You whispered, the shakiness of your hands on your lap almost made you want to stand. You wanted to leave, you wanted to go home and sleep away your birthday that was supposed to be fun.

Your eyes turned down to your lap, your hands pressed against each other to try and stop the shaking, you could hear Simon settle in his seat.

“We don’t have to stay here, ya know.”

Your fingers fiddled with the ring on your middle finger, twirling the little gem around as you spoke quietly, “What?” Your eyes met Simon’s again, his hands on the table.

“We don’t have to stay here. We can leave whenever.” He pulled out his wallet but your hand moved towards him.

“No no, it was just a couple glasses of wine. I’ll get it.” Your fingertips grazed the side of his wallet, but his hand plucked your touch from it. He pulled out fifty quid and placed it on the nice tablecloth.

His hand then turned upwards, a gentle glint in his eye as he whispered, “Let’s get out of here, yeah?”

Simon hadn’t driven to the restaurant, he had taken the tram like you. Sure, it was only seven stops from his home, but heels are a nuisance. Night had fallen, the street lights casted a warm glow on the sidewalk you walked on with Simon. The river was beside the walkway, a large concrete wall separated you and the flowing water but you wanted to see it. You had come to walk this road almost every day with Winnie in her little stroller, the almost two year old hated walking as much as you hated the England rain.

You were only a couple feet apart from him, his suit jacket back on his shoulders as you tried to not shiver. It was stupid not to bring a jacket, but you were expecting to have been home by now - boyfriend sent home after a nice dinner, but everything had flipped on his head. Instead of Calvin walking you home, it was Simon Riley - the Lieutenant who seemed to not know how to handle emotions, yet he still held the bouquet of flowers for you.

“Cold?”

You came to a stop and Simon followed suit. You shrugged. “I’ll be fine.” His eyes narrowed before he held out the bouquet of flowers for you, you took them in his hand before he began to peel off his suit jacket. “Simon, it’s okay-“

He moved his arms around your front to drape the jacket over your shoulders, you were suddenly enveloped with the scent of him. It smelled like bourbon, sandalwood, and the faint musk of cigarette smoke. He took the flowers from your hands so you could put your arms through the sleeves. It (fit snug / was barely oversized / was larger) on your frame compared to Simon, since it seemed tailored to fit him perfectly. His eyes were focused on the jacket, helping you tug it forwards as your eyes gazed up at his masked face. “Warm now?”

You nodded just a little, mesmerized by how beautiful his eyelashes were. His gaze met yours and you looked away to the river, hands coming to pull the jacket closed over your body. “Thank you.”

He didn’t answer, he only looked out to where he hoped you were looking too. Beautiful trees lined the cold river, warm lights hung from the branches - a brick wall he used to walk by alone, but not at that moment. You cleared your throat, causing Simon to be launched back into reality where you began to slow down.

“Are you alright?” He murmured, only taking another step forward to come stand in front of you. You had stopped between two street lamps, the smaller lights hung from the trees illuminated you like you were made of magic. Simon noted how your hair was straightened and curled, some pieces tucked into pins near your ears and the effort you must have gone through to make yourself more presentable to a man who didn’t seem to care. You had turned to the river, taking the few steps and hopping onto the wall to sit. Simon instantly darted towards you, hands out in case you toppled back into the river, but you were fine - you flashed him a smile. He let out a nervous sigh but it wouldn’t have been noticeable to you.

“Sit with me.” Patting the wall beside you, Simon merely shook his head. “Why not?”

He moved to stand a couple feet from you, close. “Easier to protect you if I’m already up.”

“Ah.” A mumble from your lipstick painted lips, head turning to look out onto the river. “It’s really beautiful here.”

“Sure.”

You laughed in response. “I like the city more than home. It got lonely in the mountains.” Tugging a neat curl behind your ear, your hands moved to settle around your middle, pulling his suit jacket tight to conserve warmth. That’s when your hand tapped against something leather - you looked into the suit, and digging out a leather flask. You laughed a little bit as you held it up for Simon to see. “Always prepared?”

Simon flushed underneath his balaclava, completely forgetting that his only suit still had the flask he had tucked in it. He goes to a few funerals every few years, the flask was either half-full or empty, but knowing that there was a formal event a few months ago he had to attend, that meant it was at least half-empty. “Uh- Yeah. Events get boring. But I wouldn’t-“

You unscrewed the flask and quickly taking a swig, only to make a sour face as you then held it out to Simon. He laughed a little, taking the flash as you sputtered, “Jesus, this shit is- God. Ew.”

“Sorry,” Pulling up his balaclava to above his lips, he took a swig himself, feeling the bitter burn of a whiskey that’s sat too long. “it’s not my best whiskey.” He tugged the balaclava back down, giving the flask a good look.

A laugh escaped your lips. “You’ll have to let me try your good stuff then.”

His eyes flickered up to you, and it was that moment where he could’ve sworn Heaven had brought you. He cleared his throat, handing it back to you. “I will, it won’t be from a flask in a suit that’s never used.” He nodded to the suit jacket before looking down the street to his right, watching the traffic pass by with a watchful eye.

The smile on your lips faded a little, seeing how easily Simon could return to Ghost. It wasn’t often you saw the façade, but it still made your heart grow cold. How could such a loving father become something so heartless?

You shook the thought away. Winnie was a wonderful girl with a father who showed no end to his love for her, making sure she had everything she needed and more. It wasn’t right to judge him because of what he does. You looked back out to waving river, feeling the inky sludge of abandonment claw its way through your chest. He shouldn’t have to be here, you should be silently crying on the tram - walking home barefoot since your feet hurt in those stupid heels. He should be at home with his daughter, the little girl who loved him so much and always waited for him to come home. “Sorry you have to babysit me.”

He gave you a bewildered look before answering, “I’m not babysitting you. It’s your birthday, yeah?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Babysitting makes it sound like I’m a creepy old man. I’m not that much older.” He shrugged, looking back to you.

“Oh? How old are you?”

“25.”

A noise of surprise left your lips, followed by a fit of giggles. “And I thought you were 29.”

“Ah.” He laughed a little to himself, looking up to the sky to see the small tremor of lightning in the sky. “It might start raining soon.”

Your eyes followed, seeing the darkening sky and feeling the breeze grow colder. “Yeah.”

“Sorry you have to spend your birthday with me, I’m not fun company.”

Shaking your head, you spoke softly, “Sure you are. There’s no one I’d want more to walk me home.”

He looked back down the road, but you didn’t miss the movement in his cheeks. An invisible string in your chest was plucked, humming a sweet note in your head as you looked at him - really looked at him.

“Simon.”

And even without seeing his face, you knew he was beautiful.

“Mmhmm.” He looked back to you.

“Thank you.”

He didn’t say a word, only held out his hands - helping you down from the wall. He then held out his arm, and with a smile on your face, you curled your arm around his. With the sleeves of his suit jacket hanging off your hands, you clutched to his arm as you continued the walk home.

Simon could keep his eyes on a target for hours at a time, keep his focus forward and stay on task with a clear mind - yet, while he slowly walked home in comfortable silence, all his mind was full of was how warm you were, and with every bump of your arm made electricity run through his body like he had been struck by lightning.

It had started to rain by the time you two reached the porch of his home, but before he could unlock the door, you gripped his arm. Looking down at you again, he watched you wobble as you peeled off your heels. A groan of relief left your lips as you chucked them beside the door, letting them flop onto their sides. You, now a few inches shorter, glanced at Simon.

“What?”

He didn’t even respond, seeing your pretty eyes and lips close to his face made him feel that electricity again, flowing through his chest in a way he hasn’t felt in a long time.

“Thank you again.” With a tug on his sleeve, he moved down and before he knew it, your lips pressed a sweet kiss to his cheek. Leaning back and letting him stand again, you gave him a smile before turning to the door - letting go of his arm before you entered his home, closing the door behind yourself.

Simon’s hand reached up to touch his cheek, the chill of the rain did nothing to change how warm he felt then. Something in his heart clenched, and he wanted to go inside and have you kiss his cheek again, but without the mask. Was it bad he wanted to feel your lips against his skin?

Thunder clapped, his hand still settled on his cheek as he felt the blossom of feelings he had nipped at the bud a year ago. But you were young, he was four years older than you and he was a fucked up mess. Yet, he had seen how other men had destroyed your sweet heart, something you always seemed to glue together for his daughter.

I would treat you right.

I wouldn’t ever leave you sitting in a restaurant alone.

I would never let you walk home alone.

You don’t belong with someone who wouldn’t treat you right.

You belong with me.

Copyright © 2023 lethalchiralium. All rights reserved.

[slaymitchabernathy]

Cold & Calculated

Coriolanus POV

There’s a strange silence that sits between them during the ride home. Coriolanus almost feels uncomfortable sitting next to his wife. She doesn’t say anything, not a single word but that’s nothing new, Soarynn’s always been quiet.

But something is different.

He glances down at his wife who’s looking out the car window at the passing Capitol streets, she looks nice tonight, she looks pretty. His heart had skipped a beat when she showed up at the office earlier this evening. Due to some scheduling issues, Coriolanus had Soarynn come to meet him at the office so they wouldn’t be late for the company dinner.

Festus whisked her away for a brief tour but it was rather adorable how quickly she returned to him. Coriolanus assumes she finds some semblance of safety in him, or at least his presence. Coriolanus is a man of authority and respect, no one would dare mess with him or his wife for that matter.

“Quite a fruitful night,” he finally says, breaking the tension.

Soarynn simply hums without sparing him a glance, “Quite.”

His eyes travel across her collarbones and slender shoulders. They didn’t have sex last night, not after Sejanus mentally drained him for the entire day but tonight is the perfect night. The perfect way to end a long day at work.

“Perhaps it’ll have a fruitful ending,” he suggests, always trying to give Soarynn a bit of a heads-up before partaking in such sexual encounters. Soarynn brushes her hair behind her ears, “If that is what you wish.”

Now he’s upset. He’s upset because it almost sounds as if he’s forcing her, which is something he’d never do. If Soarynn decided that tomorrow she never wanted to have sex with him again then that would be the end of it but he sincerely hopes it’ll never come to that. Not when it’s the only time he can truly hold her, touch her, feel her.

But she’s acting like this all is one-sided. And he refuses to be on the losing side. The desperate side.

He clears his throat, “It is.”

He’s the man of the house, he doesn’t need to be doubting himself or his authority.

Neither of them says another word as the car pulls up to their apartment building. Soarynn takes his hand as she exits the car but immediately drops it once they're in the elevator. Coriolanus refrains from crying out like a wounded animal at the loss of contact because it's not the end of the world. But it feels like it.

Maybe she's mad at him, although Coriolanus doesn't think that he's ever seen Soarynn be mad a day in her life. She's gotten upset of course, but over little things like her favorite bakery being closed or a boutique not having a dress in her size. But Soarynn is not someone who's quick to anger. He, on the other hand, can get quite angry when pushed too far.

When the elevator doors open and Soarynn goes to step out, his hand grabs her wrist, pulling her back inside. Soarynn looks up at him with wide eyes, with a hint of fear behind them. Coriolanus doesn't like that. He wants her to respect him, yes, to be attentive and well mannered but he never wants her to fear him.

Is this what it's come to? Is this what his cold and calculated attitude towards her has gotten him?

"Are you alright?" He asks, feeling somewhat stupid for asking such a vague and general question, "I mean, have I done something to upset you? Or has someone hurt you?" Coriolanus can feel his entire body tensing at the idea of someone laying a hand on Soarynn, forcing themselves onto her, scaring her.

He'd become the Capitol's first murderer, that's for certain.

Soarynn bites her lip for a moment before answering him, "No, no one's hurt me, and you haven't done anything to upset me. I'm just tired." Coriolanus sees right through that lie because as much as she tries to deny it, Soarynn is a terrible liar. At least to him, she is. Her father probably agrees with him that it's quite easy to see through any of Soarynn's small, insignificant lies. She rarely ever lies but she's done it enough for him to notice the slight tells that give her away.

How she always bites her lip, fiddles with the rings on her fingers, sways side to side, and avoids eye contact if possible. She's lied about small things in the past, whether or not she picked up his clothes from the tailor, if she remembered to attend some event, things like that.

She's lying right now.

His grip on her wrist slightly tightens as he leans down until he's at eye level with his wife, "Do you remember what I asked of you the day we got married?" Their wedding had been a wonderful blur but he remembers clear as day what he'd asked her to do once they made it down the aisle and were out of earshot from all of their guests.

"Don't ever lie to me, things will be much easier between us as long as we're honest with one another."

Soarynn swallows and nods her head, "You asked me to never lie to you." He tilts his head and looks her up and down, his pretty little wife who's done such a good job at pleasing him so far. "Trust is...important," he tells her slowly.

"Trust is everything to me," Soarynn whispers, "but I don't think you trust me Coriolanus."

Soarynn POV

Not a sound can be heard in the penthouse.

Coriolanus is at work and Soarynn is at home, overthinking.

There are a million other things she could be doing right now. Cleaning her makeup brushes, clearing out her wardrobe, running errands, and painting. But her conversation with Coriolanus from a few days ago keeps repeating in her mind. It had been a rather tense conversation between them, a conversation that ended in Coriolanus suggesting that they both just go to bed since the drinks from dinner had clearly gotten to them.

Funny how he was able to lie to himself about that when moments before he was reminding her to be truthful with him. And she was! She is! Soarynn doesn't really see any point in lying to her husband, not when he's been nothing but good to her. Should he be controlling or abusive then she could see a reason to lie but he's not. Coriolanus is a good husband. But he's not a very good companion.

Soarynn has seen her friends with their own husbands, seen how they share little inside jokes and knowing glances. She and Coriolanus don't share any of those. They only share polite table talk with a side of expected sex.

So when the phone rings, Soarynn nearly jumps off the sofa. Maybe it's the people calling from the gallery, she thinks to herself as she pushes herself from the sofa, making her way down the hall to where the phone is sitting on a small table.

"Snow residence, to whom am I speaking with?"

"Soarynn?" It's Coriolanus.

"Coriolanus, is everything alright?"

For a moment she worries something might have happened to his parents but he's quick to soothe her thoughts, "Perfectly fine. Well, not entirely fine. I need you to go into my study and open the top drawer in my desk, it has several files inside of it. I need you to bring me the red file, labeled, 'Quarterly Sales Meeting.' I forgot to grab it this morning and just remembered it."

Soarynn finds herself nodding along to her husband's instructions, especially since she knows how important the quarterly meetings are to him and his colleagues. He's been working nonstop the past month and the dinner they recently attended was a way of thanking everyone for their hard work.

"I'll bring it to you right away," she assures him and she hears him let out a small sigh of relief. "Thank you, darling, I'll see you soon." After a swift goodbye, Soarynn hangs up the phone and ventures into her husband's study. She's never been in here alone, and she's never seen the entire study since she usually lingers in its doorway.

She easily finds the file he was describing in the top drawer of his desk and quickly glances over his desktop for a moment when her eyes land on a framed photograph. She blinks once, twice before coming to the realization that it's her in the photograph.

She looks much younger than she is now, about eighteen when she first started seeing Coriolanus. It's a candid shot of her smiling down at Petunia in her arms, standing in the backyard of her childhood home. She remembers that day, how Coriolanus had come over and she proudly showed him her new kitten. Coriolanus had brought his camera with him but she never saw him taking that photo of her.

But he did, and here it is. Does he look at it often? How long has he had this photo framed? Does he have other photos of her?

Coriolanus is a masculine man through and through and before she moved in, his penthouse lacked a feminine touch. Or a sentimental touch in general.

But Soarynn can't linger long, not with Coriolanus waiting on her so she shuts the drawer and leaves the study. Thankfully their car is waiting outside for her and she's greeted by their driver, "Where to Mrs. Snow?" Soarynn gives him a polite smile, "My husband's office please."

The drive is short and yet Soarynn still finds time to worry about her current relationship with Coriolanus. It feels strained and if they can't trust one another, then what's the point? The point was to marry for convenience, to act as if this marriage was a business agreement, and yet Soarynn finds herself wishing it was more than that so maybe that's her issue.

Either way, whether Coriolanus loves her or not, it won't hinder her from being a good wife.

Coriolanus POV

Coriolanus drums his fingers against his wooden desk as he waits for Soarynn to arrive. He'd left an important file at home and instead of having his secretary fetch it, he had asked Soarynn to bring it to him.

He was feeling rather impatient although he didn't know if he was impatiently awaiting the arrival of the file or his wife.

He likes to think he’s waiting for the file but he knows that’s a lie. He’s eager to see Soarynn, to be in her gentle, feminine presence for a few moments before she goes back home to make sure dinner is being properly prepared for them.

Then he’ll go home, and hang up his coat in the hall closet before she greets him with a kiss on the lips and her dainty fingers wrap around the handle of his briefcase. He’ll let her take it and set it down so that he can freshen up in their bathroom before joining her at the dining table.

Without children or guests, their dinners can be very quiet, neither of them speaking of much except surface-level topics. She’ll ask him how his day at work went and he’ll ask her how her friends are doing and if she did any shopping.

They might have sex. But it all depends on how he’s feeling.

They had sex the other night, after the company dinner. It wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t great. Despite her lack of experience, Soarynn can be quite the pleasant and sensual creature in bed. The sounds she makes, the way her body moves, and the way her eyes roll back are what Coriolanus craves on a somewhat daily basis.

And the conversations they have afterward always seem to let him catch a better glimpse of who Soarynn truly is. When she’s too tired and overstimulated, she lets her walls down and he does the same.

Rare moments like that should be appreciated more than they are, but he's never been too good at opening up. During the months of the two of them dating, Coriolanus rarely went beneath the surface of his persona. He knew what Soarynn needed, a good husband who took care of her and her needs. How could he be a good husband if he was constantly vulnerable in front of her?

So after their fifth date, he vowed to himself that he'd never let her see that hidden side of him if he could help it. The side that longed to hold her for longer periods of time, and bathe with her while playing with her hair. It's better this way, at least that's what he tells himself. Letting her catch glimpses of the real him after sex is much better than being seen as weak.

It's best to be cold and calculated.

Soarynn POV

꧁ 6 Months Ago ꧂

It's a strange feeling to move into a room that is not your own. Soarynn feels like she's invading her husband's privacy as she unpacks her bags. Her husband, a new term that she is still not familiar with. She got married today, she's no longer a Nightingale.

Soarynn Snow.

Her hands are shaking while she puts her clothes into the dresser drawers and she does her best to still them, to calm her nerves. But she can't, not when she knows what will take place in a few minutes. She and Coriolanus have shared a few heated kisses, but they've never gone farther than that to honor tradition.

But Soarynn is terribly nervous, even dressed in expensive white lingerie. Her friends said it would make her feel more confident and more secure in herself, and yet she feels the exact opposite. What if he's not impressed with her? Coriolanus certainly isn't a virgin and Soarynn worries that he might be put off by her inexperience.

It's too late to turn back now.

She sighs and brushes her hair behind her ears, she'd rather just go to bed considering what a long day it's been for the both of them. Their wedding was lovely but tiring as she was expected to talk to all their guests. Soarynn doesn't mind the social chatter for the most part, so long as she can relax in her bedroom afterward. But this is her bedroom now, a room that she will share with a man.

Soarynn's curiosity gets the best of her and she pulls open the top drawer of the dresser and finds several pairs of socks that belong to her now husband, all the same color and style. Coriolanus from what she's seen, is a man who values routine and order, rarely ever straying from what he knows and trusts.

She just hopes that he'll come to know and trust her as time passes.

Soarynn hears the sound of heavy footsteps making their way towards their bedroom and she closes her trunk of belongings. She can put those away later. She glances at the large bed and her fingers graze over the white sheets. They might be stained sooner rather than later. Soarynn doesn't know why she's so nervous about the bleeding part of losing her virginity. She knows that it's supposedly a sign of one's virginity being taken but what if it doesn't happen to her? Then what would Coriolanus think?

Soarynn sits on the edge of the bed, her feet dangling off the edge and she grabs a handful of the lacy dress she's wearing over her lingerie. The dress itself is also lingerie, with intricate lace patterns sewn along the silk fabric. Hopefully, she meets his expectations.

The doors open revealing Coriolanus and her heart skips a beat. He looks so handsome, so regal and important even in the late, late hours of the night. It's past midnight but that's never stopped a man from taking what's his.

He offers her a small smile before closing the doors behind him and Soarynn manages to return his smile with one of her own. "You look pretty," he tells her as he walks towards her. Soarynn lets go of her dress and swallows, "Thank you."

She expects him to pounce on her but instead, he turns to the dresser where a small variety of alcohol sits on top of it along with several small glasses. She watches Coriolanus grab a bottle of something before twisting the cap off and pouring himself two glasses. It's a practiced ease she witnesses from him as if he's done this a thousand times, pouring himself a drink before bed to wind down.

"Quite the day," he muses to which Soarynn nods, "Yes, today was quite eventful." Coriolanus takes a sip of his drink and lets out a content sigh, "The alcohol selection was perfect, much better than the one at Festus and Persephone's wedding." Soarynn chuckles and shakes her head at her husband's words, "That's because you think you know what's best when it comes to alcohol."

Coriolanus shoots her a mischievous smile and nods, "I do know what's best when it comes to alcohol. If I weren't a businessman, I'd be a bartender." It's a funny thing to picture, Coriolanus working such a lower-class job but Soarynn strangely enough thinks that he'd be quite happy with it, money aside.

"You'd certainly be a crowd favorite," Soarynn agrees. Coriolanus grabs the other glass and offers it to her and Soarynn is unable to hide her surprised expression. She prefers wine over whatever he's drinking but he insists on her taking the glass, "To take the edge off," he explains, "you look like you'll need it."

Well, she can't argue with that.

Soarynn gives him a grateful smile before taking the glass and sipping whatever the glass contains. Whatever it is is disgusting and Soarynn pulls a disturbed look which causes Coriolanus to laugh, "Not a fan of whiskey hmm?" Soarynn shakes her head and offers it back to him, "I'm not really a fan of alcohol period, let alone whiskey."

Coriolanus hums and takes the glass back from her, throwing it back in one sip. It amazes Soarynn how much he can eat and drink, but she's learned that men are never truly satisfied. Speaking of satisfied....they still have to have sex, which means kissing, touching, and getting naked. Oh, why does she have to be so innocent?

Soarynn watches her husband drink from the other glass he poured, noticing the way his throat bobs when he swallows and how chiseled his jawline really is. Coriolanus Snow is devilishly handsome in Soarynn's opinion, it truly amazes her that she's his wife now, that she bears his last name for the world to see.

When he's finally finished he sets the glass down and finally takes a good look at her. To say she's been preparing for this moment would be an understatement. Over the past week, Soarynn has been waxed, primped, and primed for her wedding night. This morning she took a long bath and made sure her body was smooth and flawless.

Coriolanus tears his gaze away and begins unbuttoning his shirt. He took off his shoes and suit jacket the moment they got home, seemingly sick of wearing the clothes after a good twelve hours. Soarynn nervously fidgets as he bears his chest to her, showing off his toned physique. Soarynn's only seen him shirtless a handful of times before their marriage, but she has a feeling that she'll be seeing a lot of this in the near future.

He notices her staring and smirks, "Like what you see?" Soarynn blushes but she nods, remembering what he said to her earlier today, telling her to always be honest with him.

"Yes," she whispers, pressing her legs together. She'd be lying if she said she wasn't scared, mostly of the pain but the act of sex itself is terrifying to Soarynn who's still so young, especially compared to Coriolanus who's six years older than she is.

Coriolanus finally takes a step towards her and his hand comes out to cup her face, he does it so gently, as if he truly cares for her and Soarynn hopes he does, that her cares about her and how she feels. She's heard many tales about women marrying men who only care for their own pleasure. And Coriolanus has been so attentive so far, but that all could change right now, he could reveal his true colors.

But Coriolanus Snow seems like a good man.

Soarynn looks up at him, into his piercing blue eyes and she's overwhelmed with emotions to the point where she feels a single tear escaping her grasp and rolling down her cheek. The expression on his face changes from one of confidence to one of concern. Soarynn wipes the tear away and sniffles, "I'm sorry. I...I don't mean to be emotional, not on a night like this."

His thumb gently brushes over her cheek and Soarynn finds herself leaning into his touch, "I won't fault you for being nervous," Coriolanus gently tells her, "especially since it's your first time. Is it me that you're scared of?" Soarynn's eyes widen at his question because she really can't see herself ever being scared of Coriolanus. Not when she's seen glimmers of how kind he can be, how he laughs when playing with Petunia, or carries his mother's shopping bags for her.

No, Soarynn could never be scared of Coriolanus.

"No," she quickly assures him, "I'm just scared of the pain," she whispers the last part. His face contorts to a rather unsure expression and Soarynn highly doubts that Coriolanus has ever been tasked with such a needy partner like her before, one that requires constant reassurance. He sighs as he looks down at her with a fond look in his eyes, "I can't promise that it won't hurt, I'd be surprised if it didn't hurt. But it won't last long, and we'll go slow," he tells her and Soarynn slightly relaxes after hearing those words.

The smirk returns to his face as he adds, "Besides, I think you'll find sex to be rather enjoyable after getting over the first time." Soarynn doesn't even want to think about the second time, not when they've yet to get the first time over with but she nods all the same, "Alright, I trust you."

That seems to be the green light for Coriolanus who's quick to lean down and finally capture her lips in a passionate, heated kiss to which Soarynn eagerly responds. Coriolanus is an excellent kisser and Soarynn's kissed him enough to feel confident in herself. Their first kiss had been rather adorable but she was a flustered mess afterward and Coriolanus teased her endlessly about it until she finally gathered up the courage to be the one to initiate the kisses they shared.

Still, Coriolanus is a man who thrives with control and is a dominant man so he's been the one to initiate their kisses for the most part. Soarynn doesn't mind it in the slightest, not when she's always been so pliant and submissive all things considered.

Her hands come to rest on his biceps and she finally feels how toned and strong Coriolanus is. He's mentioned his fitness regimen before but Soarynn's never been able to bear witness to his strength before. He feels as if he could rip her in half if he wanted to.

His hands travel down to her waist, squeezing it while he deepens the kiss and his tongue explores her mouth. Soarynn whimpers when he tugs on her bottom lip with his teeth and then lets out a squeal when he picks her up by her waist and tosses her further back onto the bed. Coriolanus is quick to follow her, sitting on his knees while he kisses her again, and this time Soarynn pops up on her knees as well.

He's still taller than her, but the height difference is less significant than if they were to both be standing. Coriolanus grabs the back of her head with one hand, his fingers tussling with her blonde hair, the hair that was so carefully styled for their wedding. It'll be a rat's nest by the end of the night.

Soarynn gathers up a bit of courage and rests her hands on his bare chest, feeling how warm his skin feels against her palms. Coriolanus groans into the kiss, clearly enjoying the physical contact. Over the past year, Soarynn has learned how much Coriolanus values physical touch. Just because it's frowned upon for high society couples to sleep with one another before their wedding doesn't mean Coriolanus has kept his hands to himself.

He's constantly attached to her one way or another, holding her hand, resting his hand on her lower back, and having her hold his arm, he's even held pinkies once which was rather adorable.

Coriolanus wedges his knee in between Soarynn's legs and she lets out a breathy moan when his knee brushes against her barely covered cunt. Coriolanus smirks into the kiss and takes a firm hold of her hair before pushing her down onto the bed. Soarynn is breathless as she stares up at the ceiling, utterly and entirely vexed at how quickly things are moving.

But Coriolanus is on top of her again, this time on his hands and knees as he presses kisses to her neck and chest. Soarynn lets out soft, breathy moans at each little kiss he presses to her soft skin. One of his hands pushes down the straps of her white, silky dress, exposing the bralette she's chosen to wear tonight. It's made entirely of intricate lace and has a white rose in the middle of her breasts.

Coriolanus fixes his stare on the rose for a moment before swallowing, and Soarynn feels quite proud of herself for choosing something her husband seems to be so fond of. He presses a kiss to her breast and Soarynn grows restless under him which he quickly fixes by pressing his knee up against her cunt once again, drawing out a desperate moan from Soarynn's lips.

Coriolanus sucks hard against her soft skin and Soarynn gasps at the foreign feeling. She's seen her friends littered with lovebites after their own wedding nights but she never knew if Coriolanus was the type of man to claim what's his. It appears that he is.

Her chest is littered in love bites in a matter of minutes and Coriolanus sits up on his knees to admire his work. Soarynn stares up at him, growing more and more desperate for his touch. Coriolanus reaches down and grabs her dress before tearing it right down the middle. Soarynn gasps as the cold air hits her bare skin, revealing the matching set of lingerie she wore under the dress.

Coriolanus throws whatever remains of her dress in some dark corner of the room before finally seeing Soarynn's body for the first time. She feels nervous about what he might think, that he might wish she were fuller in other places and more spare somewhere else but he seems quite taken with her. "You're a vision," he tells her, and Soarynn blushes, "Thank you."

He nods and withdraws his knee, grinning when Soarynn lets out a displeased sound from the loss of contact, "Eager are we?" He teases to which Soarynn rolls her eyes, "You're very sure of yourself." Coriolanus shrugs all while wearing that boyish grin on his face before he grabs a hold of both of her knees, "I'm very sure of myself because I'm an excellent lover in the bedroom," he corrects her as he pushes her legs apart, revealing her to him. Well, almost all of her.

Soarynn's breath hitches in her throat when he brings a finger to the panties she's elected to wear tonight and swipes over her covered cunt, the feeling sending shocks throughout her body. Coriolanus leans down and kisses her knee, then her thigh, slowly working his way down, all while maintaining eye contact with Soarynn who's beginning to wonder what she's gotten herself into.

But Coriolanus doesn't give her much time to think about it before he finally reaches the waistline of her lace panties. "These simply have to go, darling," he says almost in a disappointed way. Soarynn immediately hikes up her hips and he lets out a deep, throaty chuckle that goes straight to her core.

Coriolanus peels her panties off, unhooking them from her legs before throwing them somewhere in the room. Soarynn feels her legs shaking because there's nothing keeping her from his view anymore. Coriolanus blows air onto her cunt and Soarynn twitches from sensitivity, "You just might have the most perfect cunt I've ever seen," he groans, his fingers ghosting her folds.

Soarynn moans at his words and ruts her hips up, "Please," she says, not really knowing what she's asking him for. "You're soaked," Coriolanus says, his breath so close to her cunt, "can't wait for my cock to be inside of you hmm?" It's amazing to hear such vulgar words come from her husband's mouth, a man who's normally known for speaking so eloquently.

Soarynn ruts her hips again but this time Coriolanus wraps his arm around her waist, pressing her against the mattress, "Be patient darling," he chides, "a good girl waits to be given what she deserves." Those words strike a nerve within Soarynn because she so desperately wants to be good for him, to be a good wife and partner.

When the tongue of Coriolanus Snow finally licks a strip over her cunt, Soarynn nearly screams. The feeling is so overwhelming and he's a talented man with an even more talented mouth. Soarynn is inconsolable as he laps at her cunt, his tongue slightly delving into her entrance before pinpointing her clit.

Soarynn moans at the feeling, attempting to grind against his mouth but still being pinned down by his arm. Her hands grasp at the bedsheets and she feels herself growing closer and closer to what must be her peak. "Oh, oh, oh please," she moans, her right hand reaching down to grab her husband's blonde curls. Coriolanus groans when she tugs on them but it sounds like he enjoys her hands on him and she's in no position to stop unless he does.

Just as she's about to hit her peak, he pulls away. Soarynn lets out a frustrated groan and her legs immediately shut when Coriolanus sits back up. She feels sensitive all over and wonders how women do this on a daily basis. When she looks up at Coriolanus she can see him wearing a cocky expression, clearly proud of himself. She can also see the evident bulge growing through his pants and her throat dries at the sight.

"I'll show you how to return the favor another time," he says, his hands undoing his belt buckle. All Soarynn can do is nod because she doesn't quite trust herself to speak right now. It's an ungodly sight to see Coriolanus only in his underwear, a clear imprint of his cock now visible and he looks like he's on the bigger side.

The nerves kick back in as Soarynn is reminded of what is about to take place in a few minutes. Coriolanus pulls his boxers down and Soarynn visibly pales at the girth and length of his cock, the tip red and a bit of precum already visible.

He's going to tear her apart.

Any reassurances he gave her have flown out the window now because how on earth is that going to fit without being the most painful thing she's ever experienced?

Coriolanus takes notice of her distressed state and takes her hand in his, giving it a squeeze, "Don't be scared, I promise I'll go slowly, you'll get used to it after a few minutes."

It's made quite clear to her at that moment that he has every intention of still going through with the deed, even if it's at her own expense. The marriage must be consummated, no arguments there. And children are expected to come from the two of them sooner than later and Soarynn has a feeling that Coriolanus wants them as soon as possible.

But despite her underlying fears, Soarynn nods, "Okay."

Coriolanus positions himself over her, his arms caging her in as he lines himself up at her entrance. At least she's somewhat prepared, Soarynn can't imagine having sex while being dry as a bone down there. She didn't even try to get wet, it just happened. Coriolanus seems to have that effect on her.

There had been a handful of times when Soarynn attempted to make herself feel good by using her own fingers but she found it to be unsatisfying and after a while, boring. But Coriolanus is so different and now he's about to take her virginity, something she's guarded for so long, unbeknownst to her, for him.

"Try to hold still," he mumbles while slowly pushing into her. Soarynn grits her teeth at the uncomfortably stretch she feels. Coriolanus is big in girth but he keeps to his word and goes slowly, watching her reactions. There's a slight burn that Soarynn is sure she'll experience every single time they have sex. At one point she closes her eyes, unable to look into her husband's piercing gaze. She hopes she's not being too demanding or needy, she wants to be good for him.

Soarynn gasps when she feels him finally bottom out, the tip of his cock presses against a very sensitive spot inside of her, and her legs spasm. Coriolanus leans his forehead against her own and lets out a deep, strained breath, "Fuck you feel so good Soarynn." Soarynn nods but doesn't say anything, she wouldn't even know what to say.

Coriolanus stays there for a moment, letting her get used to the feeling before he slowly withdraws his hips from hers before thrusting back in. Soarynn moans at the new feeling, of her walls wrapping around him and how good it feels when he thrusts back into her.

She finally opens her eyes when he picks up the pace and is faced with a very attractive-looking Coriolanus Snow who seems to be focused on keeping his thrusts steady yet powerful. She can feel the pain ebbing away slowly but surely, the pleasure finally taking over.

Soarynn has been subjected to several detailed recollections of her friends losing their virginities since being married so you’d think that she would have an idea of what to expect and yet it’s entirely new and overwhelming to her.

Once the pleasure finally kicks in Soarynn finally understands why people obsess over sex the way they do. It feels amazing. He feels amazing.

“Oh,” she means, arching her back. Coriolanus looks down at her and flashes her a smile, “Feeling better now are we?” He continues to thrust deep inside of her and Soarynn curls her toes in response, “Yes,” she pants. She brings her hands up to his bare, broad shoulders so that she has something to hold onto and Coriolanus seems to take that as a challenge to take her harder than before.

One thing she’s learned about Coriolanus is that he can be very competitive when he wants to be. And apparently, that bleeds into their sex life as well.

Soarynn can feel herself reaching her peak once again but this time it’s stronger and better as if his mouth is truly no competition for his cock. “Fuck,” he grunts, placing one hand on her lower abdomen. It scrambles Soarynn’s brain when he does that and she lets out a whine, “Please, please,” she begs, her eyes becoming glassy.

Coriolanus goes harder and faster once she starts begging and it’s all too much for Soarynn who finally reaches her first orgasm. Her eyes roll back and she sees stars as her entire body nearly convulses from pleasure. Her perfectly manicured nails dig into his porcelain skin and her mouth is left wide open in a silent scream.

Coriolanus follows right behind her with his own orgasm, swearing under his breath as he finishes inside of her for the first time. Soarynn whimpers at the feeling, at his cum coating her walls, truly claiming her as his now.

Coriolanus takes a moment to calm down, resting on his forearms as he catches his breath. There’s sweat on his brow but he still looks handsome. “Are you alright?” He finally asks, brushing a stray hair from Soarynn’s face. She gives him a tired smile and nods, “Quite. That was…that was much better than what I could have ever imagined.”

Coriolanus laughs and presses a soft kiss to her forehead, a sweet gesture that Soarynn is rarely given but she cherishes all the same. “I’m sure with time, you’ll discover things you like and things you don’t like,” he tells her, his hand traveling down her abdomen, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake.

Soarynn simply hums and lets him slowly pull out. It almost feels strange to be empty once again but Coriolanus looks mighty proud of himself as he looks down at the mess he’s made between her legs. Soarynn gasps when he swipes a finger up her cunt and it comes away sticky with a red-looking substance. She sits up on her elbows to see a small red stain on the once-white sheets as well.

Her blood. Well, looks like she’s not a virgin anymore.

Coriolanus gives her a rather sultry look, “Looks like you’re truly mine now darling.”

꧁ ꧂

꧁ Present Time ꧂

“Here we are, Mrs. Snow. Would you like me to wait?”

The driver’s words pull Soarynn away from her reminiscent moment and she nods, giving the driver a kind smile, “Yes, please. I won’t be long.”

If Coriolanus is as busy as she thinks he is, she’ll be in and out. Even though she wishes she could stay longer, be around him longer. It’s rather hard to get to know your husband if you only see him when he gets home from work.

But Soarynn pushes those negative thoughts away and opens the car door, stepping out onto the Capitol street in front of the large office building her husband works inside. A slight wave of dizziness hits her and she steadies herself against the car.

She’s been feeling a bit lightheaded for the past few days but she’s shrugged it off for the most part. She probably just needs to get some more sleep. But as she walks into the prominent office building and spots a front desk worker sporting a rather large pregnant stomach, it dawns on her that she might be pregnant.

Certainly, it couldn’t be. But maybe it could be. They certainly haven’t been having unprotected sex for the lack of trying to get pregnant and Soarynn knows that Coriolanus longs for children someday.

Pregnancy aside, Soarynn is here for one thing and one thing only. Her husband. She prepares herself for his closed-off demeanor while riding up in the elevator. She knows it’s nothing personal, that he’s not doing it to hurt her. That's simply how Coriolanus is.

Cold and calculated.

| Part 3. |

| tumblr oneshot/drabble |

[mostly-marvel-musings]

Annoying Neighbour - Part 6

A/N: Time for an update! The final chapter guys. Yet another series coming to an end. Leave a comment, heart or reblog if you enjoyed this story!

Pairing: Single Dad! Tony Stark x Reader

Warnings: 18+ fluff.

Word count: 2.1k

Annoying Neighbour Masterlist

.

Pregnant.

There it was. Two red lines on a white stick that changed the course of your life forever. You placed the test back on the counter, in line with the three others you had taken yesterday, all confirming the same thing.

You were carrying Tony’s child.

After cleaning up, you took a good look at yourself in the mirror, eyes landing on your stomach that showed nothing. At least not yet. It would be a while for that but you’d eventually be sporting a baby bump. A baby that was half yours and half Tony’s. Your hand flew down to caress your belly, picturing a tiny little bean of life growing inside, it made you smile.

“Hey there, my little oops baby.” you murmured, still caressing your invisible bump.

The thought also made you worry. It was an oops baby. What if Tony didn’t want another child? What if with his past experience, he refused to have another family? That was quite unlikely, but still the thought did cross your mind. What if Morgan didn’t agree to it? Would you have to raise this child alone? Were you even prepared for something like this? Emotionally? Financially?

And all these thoughts aside, there was a strong sense of protection you felt towards the little bean, like no matter what happened, you would do everything to protect it, keep it safe, bring him or her into the world.

With or without Tony.

The week went by quickly, Tony was still away in Malibu with Morgan and you were still keeping your pregnancy a secret from him, thinking it was best to do it face to face.

There was a letter left on your doorstep one evening when you returned from work, it only had your name on it, meaning someone physically left it there. Picking it up, you began reading it, blood draining from your face as you realized who had written it.

Pepper.

Y/N,

Looks like you won. All Tony seems to care about is his new life with his new girl.

Congratulations on stealing my husband and my life away from me. Tearing a family apart, taking a daughter away from her mother, I hope it made you happy.

I don’t want to say the word but I’m sure it has already popped in your head, am I right? I wish you a nice life. One that was supposed to be mine.

Virginia Pepper Potts

A homewrecker.

That was the unsaid word after all.

Your vision had blurred from tears as you finished the letter, feeling it slip from your hands. You would’ve picked it up but it seemed as if black spots had appeared in front of your eyes, they only seemed to grow bigger until a dull tingling sensation took over and you lost consciousness, not realizing if your body ever hit the ground.

The next time your eyes opened, you were in a room you didn’t recognize. It smelled sterile and medicine-y. Hushed murmurs reached your ears as you sat up to look around, quickly deciphering it was a hospital.

“Easy there, Mama.”

Your head snapped in the direction of the familiar voice. It was Tony. He helped you sit up with relief written all over his face now that you had woken up. It felt so good to have him near you again, his presence almost automatically made you feel better.

“Tony, when did you get here?” your voice came out small and weak from lack of use. Tony gave you a smile as he readjusted your pillow, clasping your hand in his and caressing the back as he took a seat next to you.

“This afternoon. Well, my plan was to surprise you, but then Rhodey called in stating he was taking you to the hospital, nearly giving me a heart attack in the process. So that was quite a bust.”

He explained, letting you know that Rhodey had not only brought you here but also prevented a nasty fall you would have had had he not reached to catch you at the right time. You did still have a mild headache but otherwise you felt okay. He offered you some water that you gladly accepted while mind flew back to the words he had said earlier.

He’d called you Mama.

“Tony, you um, you know?” you swallowed, crossing your fingers and silently praying he would be happy with the news.

“Yeah the doctor ran tests and one of the nurses gave me your report in a very stoic manner. I would’ve preferred hearing it from you. Why didn’t you tell me, Y/N?” he asked softly, his hand squeezing yours reassuringly to let you know he was here no matter what.

“I uhm–I wasn’t sure if you wanted another kid. Honestly? I don’t know if I’m ready to have one, you know? It is too soon. You have Morgan and I mean we never talked about it really! I didn’t know if it was too soon or what would happen or–”

“Hey, it’s okay. Y/N, honey, look at me. Please.”

Tony cupped your cheek to make you look at him, wiping the tears that escaped with his thumb before resting his forehead against yours. He took in a deep breath and encouraged you to do the same, calming your racing thoughts with his presence. It made you realize how much you had missed having him around.

“Better?” he whispered, kissing your forehead when you nodded with a small smile.

“I’m pregnant, Tony.” your voice cracked as a near face-splitting grin adorned your face, saying those words out loud made it all real for you. It was actually happening.

“I can’t believe I’m going to be a father again. You’re gonna be such a great Mama, Y/N. I love you so much.”

You smiled into the kiss you shared, feeling like a weight was lifted off your chest, happiness making its way through as you hugged him close. This was the first time he had said it to you, even though he should’ve said those words months ago.

“I love you too, Tony.” you whispered, allowing your heart to flutter hopelessly for the man you were hopelessly and irrevocably in love with.

After you separated, Tony let you know that Rhodey had taken Morgan to the park, bringing your thoughts back to the incident which brought you here in the first place.

“Tony, there’s something you should know. I received a letter earlier today.” you began, making him frown as he turned his attention to you. Tony remained calm while you explained the whole thing, the contents of that nasty letter Pepper had left you but on the inside, you could tell he was furious. You couldn’t help but tear up again as you recalled some of the things written in it.

“I should have been there. You don’t deserve this, Y/N. I’m so sorry. I’m gonna take care of it, I promise you. I’ll file a restraining order. She won’t get anywhere near you.” You could tell he was cursing himself internally, staring out the hospital window, the wheels in his mind already working on a plan to rid himself and his new family of that despicable woman.

You remained quiet as he promised he wouldn’t let anything happen, wrapping your arms around him and breathing in his comforting scent.

“You could never be a homewrecker, Y/N. We were never a home to begin with, Pepper and I. We could never be. It wasn’t right. But she gave me something worth living for. Morgan. And now with you, I finally understood what it means to be a loving family, a unit.” he murmured with his lips against your hair, hands gently caressing your back.

The day had been quite overwhelming for you, and at his little confession, you couldn’t help but sob again. Hearing your sniffles, Tony tensed up.

“It’s the pregnancy hormones, Stark. Leave me alone.” you laughed through your tears, hiding your face in his chest.

For once you believed that maybe everything would be okay.

.

Five months later

Impatient squeals of kids could be heard out in the backyard as you prepped Morgan’s birthday cake, sticking six candles in the strawberry and chocolate cake. You giggled to yourself when you heard Rhodey scream on top of his lungs for the kids to behave.

The Pepper problem in your life was taken care of, she was facing an inquiry after being found guilty of committing fraud in Stark Industries, her lawyers weren’t able to save her. And the restraining order had been the final nail in the coffin.

Tony had asked you to move in with him a month after finding out you were pregnant. He had done so while you and Morgan were baking chocolate chip cookies, something you craved the most throughout your pregnancy. Taken you by surprise but not really considering how most of your relationship milestones had missed their order, though you weren’t complaining.

Now complete at eight months nearing the ninth, you were equal parts excited and nervous about giving birth. Morgan was the most excited about having a sibling, much to your relief and Tony’s. She would spend days discussing all the toys she wanted for the baby, the colour of the nursery etc. You even found her drawings that she had left on the table one day. A family standing beside a house, with a mom, dad, and a little girl holding a baby along with a dog - one she was fixated on bringing home, though you and Tony had found ways to try and get her mind off of it. You were certain eventually she would make Tony cave and bring a pet home.

A comforting pair of arms wound themselves around you from behind, making you smile before you felt Tony’s lips against your shoulder. He wasn’t missing any opportunity to caress your belly, it was safe to say he was obsessed. Obsessed with your changed body, your weird cravings, your increased sex drive, he was in love with it all.

“Everything looks great, sweetheart. How’s my son?”

“He’s asleep. Well, he was.” you grinned when you felt a little kick against Tony’s hand, making you shake your head. Your unborn child was already responding so well to his Dad’s touch, he would kick almost instantly upon hearing Tony’s voice, feeling his touch, hearing him sing to him at night, you knew they were going to be inseparable.

“Can’t wait to meet you either, Theo.” he crooned, making you frown and place your hands on your hips.

“Excuse me, when did we decide on Theo?”

“Didn’t we?” Tony shoved both his hands in his pockets, smirking while his fingers wrapped around the little velvet box he had purchased a few weeks ago.

“Nope. We agreed on Noah. I mean, Morgan and I did.” you shrugged, picking up the cake to bring outside before Tony stopped you.

“I’m sure we can debate over it. There’s another very important question I have for you, Miss Y/L/N.”

Your heart skipped a beat as he knelt in front of you, pulling out the box with a knowing smile on his handsome face.

“Y/N, my beautiful Y/N, you are the best thing to have happened to me and my kid and I will forever be thankful for that darn airplane toy that crashed into your window that night. I love you so much and I can’t wait to start this new chapter of our lives. Though I think it’s about time we got an upgrade from being your annoying neighbours to something more, isn’t it? Marry us, please? We’re already a family, we just need to make it legal.”

You chuckled through your tears as he finished, whispering a ‘yes’. Tony slipped the stunning diamond ring on your finger and kissed you, pouring all his love and devotion into it. Your heart was brimming with joy as you hugged in your kitchen, separating when you heard a couple of kids complain, knowing Morgan would soon come looking for the source of the delay of her birthday cake.

He was right. That toy crashing into your window was the best accident that had happened in your life, one that changed the course of it in the best possible way. From being wary of your neighbour, you were now utterly in love with that same man and his daughter, were living with him and were just a month away from having his baby.

Talk about love thy neighbour…

[weirdgenetic-fuckup]

can you write about dave mustaine watching the fem!reader touching herself through a small space in the bedroom door, and then decides to take the reader by surprise and helps her with his big hands?

A/n: I love size differences, maybe because I'm short but just the thought of it even in a domestic sense like cuddling and stuff, I love it. Dave is half a foot taller than me so I very much enjoyed writing this lol

Warnings: Smut, fingering (f receiving), masturbation, squirting, if you think I missed something please let me know otherwise enjoy :3

You had been living with your parents for your whole life, bouncing between jobs but nothing ever seemed to stick. Thankfully, your parents were happy to have you around and understood the situation.

Everyday you would check the newspaper for job openings, you’d walk around town and hand in your resume.

One fateful day you were walking around. You were getting down on yourself pretty hard, all your friends had jobs, some had families. You were trying harder than anyone and it seemed to be getting you nowhere. Of course it just had to start raining.

Without an umbrella your only hope was to find a newspaper stand. There was one nearby and you got a random newspaper to hold over your head as you made your way back home. It wasn’t that far so the paper didn’t get soaked all the way through, you thanked your lucky stars.

You got your shoes off and headed into the kitchen. You fell onto a chair at the dining table and dropped the newspaper onto the table before planting your head beside it, completely drained.

Your mom came over and sat beside you, rubbing your back in a comforting manner. She looked over the newspaper and saw a job citing. “What about this one?” She asked, pointing to the small column asking for a tour manager, someone to help get this band you’ve never heard of what they wanted when they wanted it or something. They were paying a fair price and the criteria seemed easy enough so you gave it a shot and called the number. I man answered, walked you through the interview and like that you were hired.

You’ve now been working with Megadeth, an up and coming thrash metal band, for a few weeks now. You’ve been on tour for a week or two, everything has been going great and you were happy to be with this job. The band was nice, anytime anyone ever gave you any trouble they were right there with you, a group of menacing fellows who weren’t afraid to throw more than a few hits.

You were in your room the night before an early flight. The lead singer of the band had a suit and offered you the spare room because he didn’t want you having to pay for a whole room when he had a perfectly fine empty one, his words. That ‘spare’ room you took was supposed to be the bassists room, for whatever reason he decided to give Dave the whole room.

Whatever the reason you didn’t care all too much, you were more than happy to not have to pay for your own room.

You felt that this was finally working out for you, after all your struggle and hard work you’d finally made something, a good something. While lying in bed you figured you deserved a treat, a reward for doing so good.

You slid your hand under your waistband and into your panties, a nice lacey thing you got for yourself as another treat. Feel good, look good, right?

Your fingers circled your clit and teased your hole. Your body was so hot from the excitement you’d been keeping from it for so long that now every touch just drove you crazy.

Dave’s room was right beside yours, he couldn’t quite hear what you were doing but the walls were thin enough that he could hear you rustling around. There had been times during the tour that you guys had to take a flight, fairy or bus ride through the night and Dave had caught you up at unreasonable hours more than once so he figured it was just that, you couldn’t sleep and were tossing and turning to find a comfortable position that didn’t seem to exist.

He got out of bed and made his way to your room. The door was opened a crack and he could see you moving around on your bed. The way your fingers sunk into your hole, the way your back arched and your legs stretched out. He saw all of that, the way you pleased yourself.

He never planned on admitting it to you, he swears, but he didn’t hire you because of the interview. He hired you because of your voice, he didn’t think a more beautiful voice could exist and he knew your looks would match.

Before the tour started he found himself thinking of you late at night, he’d end up in the same predicament that you were in right now. His underwear bunched around his ankles, legs spread apart as he pumped his hand up and down his shaft.

He was given an opportunity right now as he watched you. He was already hardening in his pants at the idea of helping you get off. Your hands just weren’t cutting it, his hands were bigger, calloused from playing the guitar for years.

He opened the door and let himself in. You immediately went to cover yourself, tugging the blanket over your exposed body as fast as you could but it was far too late.

Dave paid no mind to it and just walked over to the bed as you tried to straighten yourself out. “Davie, I-It’s not what you think, I was just-”

“Shh, just let me help you.” Dave said with a soft smile. He sat beside you on the bed, putting an arm around your shoulder and pulling you to him. He slowly peeled the blanket off of you, revealing your naked body all for him.

Dave moved behind you, letting you lean back against his chest and he wrapped his arms around you. His one hand went to your chest, groping your chest and pinching your nipples while the other went to your cunt.

He toyed with your swollen clit a bit before pushing a finger in you. Your back arched against him and he loved it. He pumped his finger in and out of you, curling inside you and pushing against your gummy walls, searching for that perfect spot that made you see stars. When he found it he made sure to hit it over and over again.

Your mouth fell open in a waterfall of moans. His finger stretched you out more than your own did, the callouses felt so much better as they prodded your sensitive flesh. “Fuck, you’re so pretty.” Dave whispered in your ear. “Just couldn’t get yourself off, could you? Needed help, didn’t you?” You nodded, bucking your hips into his hand.

“Yes! Yes, fuck, yes, please!” You cried, gripping his arm tightly. Dave chuckled at you and stuck another finger into your hole, making your eyes shoot open and roll to the back of your head. Your body shook as it was taken over by climax, one you hadn’t seen coming until it coated your body.

It took you several moments to figure out why Dave was smiling so proudly down at the sheets. It wasn’t until you gained back your composure enough to look and see that you’d squirted all over the hotel mattress, soaking the sheets and comforter. Your eyes widened at the mess but Dave just chuckled. “What a pretty girl.”

[desceros]

ajkfljskj I saw you were taking requests now and I lowkey just- 👀 I'm having sexy Bayverse Turtles intrusive thoughts. Imma share a Leo one. Ever imagined Bay!Leo sharing his hobbies with reader after she earned his trust and teaching her Japanese calligraphy? Him watching her skin glow in the candlelight, dreaming to use her naked body as a canvas for a Japanese love poem written in kanji? Sexual tension, mixed with slow, agonizing brushstrokes? Cuz I have 😏 -💙

so i got this and immediately i was like 'omg. this would work So Well as a deleted scene of sorts for tea-verse' so that's what it ended up as. kind of sexual tension but it edges more on pining. also, i'm burning now, thank you everyone for playing, we had a great run here on desceros dot com leonardo x reader; T, GN!reader, 1.8k; leo pining like a TREE. officially takes place after the leaf scene in this fic if you want context for some of the subtler touches but tl;dr reader always makes leo his tea. (the fic itself has a female reader but this snippet is GN)

He wonders if you know. 

You’ve caught him staring, before. It makes his shell feel tight, his skin too-hot. Even with mating season coming up, it’s too soon for him to be reacting like this; the burning ache that comes just from the bell of your voice, the alluring sway of your footsteps as you come to his side. And yet he does. Because it’s you. Just because it’s you.

“Okay, I’m excited for this,” you tell him, teeth biting into a smile as you tuck as close as you can without touching. He knows you do it for him, that you stay away because of his wishes, but it’s an agony all the same. The sweet smell of your soap haunts him, even under the burn of the incense that ghosts the room with smoke.

“Yeah?” he asks, pleased when he sees the happy, easy glow of your face. 

“Are you kidding? It’s so pretty,” you say. “Plus I like how the ink smells. It smells really nice with the tea when I bring it in.” 

Pretty, he echoes, trailing his eyes down to your throat, your shoulders, your hands. The way all your angles and curves catch the candlelight and dance in a softness that makes his palms ache with emptiness.

…He wonders if you know how soft you make him.

“Okay. Tell me the names for everything,” you tell him, studying the tools laid out before him, a gentle eagerness brightening your eyes. He smiles, turning his head and gesturing at everything to share its proper name in Japanese, then English. Grinding the ink, he explains the process, looking to you and your fascinated expression and trying to remember to breathe.

“What do you want me to write?” he asks once he’s ready, causing you to look at him and smile.

“What do you want to write?” you ask. 

Reaching out, he picks up the brush between his fingers. He studies the paper before him, blank and infinite, but his mind is somewhere else. 

…It had rained, a few days ago. You’d come into the lair drenched, laughing as Splinter had sent him off to bring you a towel. He’d returned in time to see you lift your shirt, squeezing it out over the storm drain, miles and miles and miles of skin stretching before his eyes. The curve of your spine as you turned to speak to his father, the arch of your hips as you leaned to twist the fabric, the pull of skin over your flesh. Breathless, motionless, frozen, he’d faltered in the doorway, ensorcelled by the image forever, marked, seared into his mind.

It’s that sight that comes to his mind, now, as he closes his eyes. 

He could do it, he thinks. He could ask you to turn, to pull your shirt over your head. It’s so easy to imagine the way your shoulder blades would curve, the dip of your spine, the way you’d shiver when he pressed the brush to your skin. It would tickle, at first, until you got used to it; then you’d sigh, still, and let him spread his soul onto your canvas.

Oh, all the things he wants to write there, where it would sink into your flesh like a brand. All the little ghosts of you that haunt him, memorialized with love in charcoal: the way your teeth catch your lip, the flash of skin at your hemline when you stretch your arms above your head, the wet press of your tongue to your lips when they're dry, the way your eyes flutter shut when you have your first sip of tea, the hum of pleasure you give when it tastes good. 

…He’d make you feel so good.

“…Leo?”

Leo opens his eyes, feeling the hunger in them, letting them get as far as your mouth before he turns them back to the paper before him. A pointless daydream, a torment of his own making. 

“…Sorry. I was just thinking,” he says, and it’s not a lie, not entirely, but also nothing but. There is nothing just about the way that you consume him.

It’s easy, then, to think of what to write. In long, elegant nine strokes that pull from his shoulder, he glides the brush over the paper. Each inch of ink carries a memory of you, your hands as you pass him a teacup, your care in checking the flavor, your endless drive to perfect the art just for him. 

“…Tea,” you recognize, proving your familiarity with the subject. He smiles; of course you’d recognize it, what with how often the two of you share.

“Tea,” he echoes, waiting until the ink is dry enough to handle before he takes the paper and hands it to you. “Here. For you.” 

“Wh—Really?” you ask, eyes wide. 

“Of course. It’s about time I gave some tea to you, after all,” he says with a smile that makes you laugh. He tucks the sound into his heart, next to all of the others. 

“It’s beautiful, Leo,” you compliment, holding it before you. Your eyes take in every stroke, awe open and genuine, before they meet his own and your smile goes warm like the sun. “Thank you. I’m going to hang it somewhere nice in my apartment.” 

And oh, but you are the sun, he thinks, heart pounding as he watches your fingers trail down the edge of the paper. Reaching out with warmth, lighting everything you touch, smiling as everyone around you basks in your radiant glow. What is life without you, he wonders, chest aching and so full and so empty all at once it hurts. Madness. 

…He wonders if you know. 

[icallhimjoey]

bestie *grabs you by the face and makes you listen to me* i am obsessed already! there isn't going to be a day where you don't know how to captivate me with your words, it's not fair! so... we're in a wedding dress and we've passed out and joe is wearing the unseen but already infamous olive green vintage suit... now what???

excellent question! here we go (smallest teeny tiny little tw: mention of the thought of someone committing suicide) Wordcount: 2.9K

---

Between Floors and Feelings

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

Joe wasn’t exactly sure how this worked, but being put into a position where he had to take charge, where there didn't seem to be any other choice but to take charge, made it really easy to actually do just that. He took charge.

He just... did it. Went with it. Felt he was doing an okay job at managing it, too.

Sure, he was stuck in a tube station lift after midnight with a pretty girl who had panicked, had seemed to entirely forget how to breathe properly and had made herself pass out, but... he felt like he’d been in worse spots.

At least he knew for certain where you were. Had eyes on you. Could see and would know that you didn't... you know, make silly permanent decisions to what likely were temporary problems.

Because all problems were ultimately temporary, weren't they? Joe believed so, at least.

You’d only been out for a few seconds, hadn't gotten hurt in the process, and from his crouched position next to you, Joe had tried to speak to the lady on the other side of the intercom.

That didn’t work. She asked again if their services were needed, clearly not hearing any of what Joe was trying to tell her.

“Hang on!” Joe shouted over his shoulder towards the corner of the lift, and it made you wince at the sudden loud noise.

Waking up after involuntarily blacking out was awful. Disorienting, unsettling and confusing. Embarrassing too. It also took you a second to fully understand where you were and what had happened, and nothing really clicked into place until the strange man that hovered above you shouted.

Pounding heartbeat.

Lingering headache.

So drained.

“Here,” Joe capped the water bottle he was holding, and placed it down where you could see it. “Can you do one thing for me?”

You tried to sit up, tried to engage your muscles to help you move your head up from the floor.

“Two things!” Joe held up both hands, universal sign for stop. It made you lay back down and relax the muscles of your neck. “Two things, can you do two things for me?”

You groaned, knowing it was important to take things slowly, but you couldn’t feel anything down past your knees and as you told your brain to tell your toes to wiggle inside your shoes, you weren’t sure if anything was even happening down there.

“Don’t move,” Joe counted on a finger held over your face so you could see. “And focus on breathing, okay?”

You felt shaky and your face felt cold – wet – and you lifted hands to touch, to wipe, but your arms were too weak and moving them became just a weird trembling hover of clammy palms over white fabric.

Joe saw, took hold of them both and squeezed.

My God, those were possibly the sweetest most expressive eyes you had ever looked into. This guy looked at you like he'd known you all his life, like he knew exactly what had happened to you earlier that evening, like he could feel everything you were feeling right now.

And it helped.

“Just focus on breathing, nothing else. S’all you’ve got to do,”

Behind him, the static of the intercom died, and Joe muttered, “Oh, fuck,” before quickly getting up and moving towards it, pressing the emergency button once again.

“Inhale,” Joe said, bent with an ear close to the speaker, but eyes on you. One of his arms was stuck out to you, which didn't do anything, but it was nice anyway.

You decided that having just one job to do was actually... sort of nice.

You didn’t need to think of anything else for a second. Didn’t need to think about how the entire night had unfolded. How you’d seen you boyfriend – ex, oh my God, ex-boyfriend now, Jesus Christ. How you’d seen him excuse himself to go to the toilets, but then had seen him walk in the opposite direction.

You couldn’t believe you’d actually seen it.

With your own two eyeballs.

“Exhale,” Joe said and demonstrated an excruciatingly slow escape of his breath through his mouth.

“Keep going, take a minute, all right?”

Focussed. Eyes on the weird ceiling light boxes of the lift. Inhale. You could stay focussed. Just one job. One small task. Exhale. You could do this.

Slowly, you noticed that you could actually feel your feet fine. That your headache wasn't that prominent. Just a background sort of thing, probably because you were slightly dehydrated from the crying, and you listened to the intercom lady talk to Joe.

“Emergency services, how can I assist you?”

“Yes, hello!” Joe sounded unusually upbeat seeing the current situation you found yourselves in. “I am– we are stuck in a lift,” Joe waited a second, hoped maybe some form of acknowledgement would come through. However, it stayed silent, so he continued, “It's just me and one other person in one of the Covent Garden tube station lifts, and–”

Joe got cut off right in the middle of his sentence.

“Hello, emergency services. You have pressed the emergency button in one of our lifts, are you in need of any help?”

Joe stared and blinked at the little holes that formed a larger circle.

“Yea, we're stuck,” you tasted a tinge of annoyance in Joe's tone. “The lift stopped moving and the doors–”

“Hello?”

“Hello?!”

Joe looked at you questioningly disturbed, as if to say, am I crazy? What the fuck's happening?

Then the static of the intercom stopped again. Like they'd hung up on you.

“I think it's broken,” you said, voice way too small for your own liking.

Joe tried again, pressed the emergency button, waited for the static to come on, but the same thing happened. A voice asked if you needed assistance, if you needed any help, but it seemed like the microphone on your end wasn't working properly. They weren't receiving any of what you were saying. Of what Joe was trying to articulate slowly, to enunciate distinctly, and he grew more and more irritated each time he had to repeat himself.

Cool time to feel the urgency within your body that came from your bladder that needed emptying.

You needed to piss badly.

Joe pressed the emergency button again. And then again. Checked his own phone to be presented with the difficult truth that he also did not have any service underground, and then, pressed the emergency button yet again.

What else was there to do? How else were you going to get out of there?

“At some point they must understand,” Joe explained, and you agreed. There was going to have to be a point you could reach by just pressing this button over and over for people on the other side to realise that this wasn't kids just pranking them, or an accidental press of a button. Maybe they could somehow see where you were, have someone locate you and get you out... you didn't know how emergency buttons in lifts worked.

You just laid there and listened to Joe pressing a button, to a lady asking the same urgent question that didn't get an answer she could hear until you could no longer feel your heartbeat in your fingertips.

Slowly, the acceptance that this was going to probably last for at least a little while settled within you.

You told your bladder to keep it together.

Shit.

It all made fucking sense, didn't it? Your worst-night-ever bingo card hadn't had "stuck in a lift" crossed off yet, so of course, this had to happen. Almost felt like it was written in the stars a little. Meant to be. One bad fuck up right after the other. Life really knew how to kick you right in the shins when you'd just been knocked over the head.

“I'm going to sit up now,” you announced, because you felt like you couldn't just move without letting him know. Not after the whole can you do two things for me.

Before you could even attempt to slowly pick yourself up off the floor, a tweed-cladded knee pressed into the tulle that felt like it engulfed you entirely, and two hands helped pull you up into a sitting position.

“Here, against the side,” Joe said, hands softly guiding, but persisting you moved to sit with your back leant against a side panel of the lift.

God.

You'd forgotten what it was like for someone to fret over you like this. All worried and distraught. All caring and shit. Attentive, almost doting. T'was cute.

Like, you were fine, but it was kind of nice. Kind of fed your self-pity a little. Made it go, yea, see?! we are sad and we do need taking care of.

“Are you all right?”

A careful second passed where you tried to really feel within your body if you were. And... you were, so you gave a small nod.

Then, the water bottle got kindly pressed into your hands again.

“I won't force you, I know I drank from that, but I promise, you will probably feel better if you just had sip,”

The faintest of little smiles appeared on your face when you finally took the bottle from Joe's hands, and you'd have taken hold of it much sooner had you known the facial expression it would bring about from him.

You still weren't going to take a sip though. Didn't want to fill up your bladder more. It was already painful enough as it was.

Joe got up and went to press the emergency button again.

A silence passed. Just static.

Joe pressed the button over and over, waited for the same question to be asked, waited for the static to stop, and then, he'd just press it again.

This was ridiculous.

Your gaze went from looking up at Joe down towards your hands in your lap. Water bottle immersed in bridal fabric.

You had seen your boyfriend make out with your boss whilst she was pulling off his tie.

You had pissed in her handbag.

You were stuck in a tube station lift with a faulty intercom and a handsome stranger.

Ridiculous.

You huffed a laugh that surprised you a little.

Fuck, this was so fucking ridiculous.

The huff turned into soft giggles, which turned into a louder chuckle, and when you looked back up to make eye-contact with Joe, you squeezed your eyes shut as big belly laughs escaped you.

“This is so ridiculous!” you laughed, and when you looked again, you saw Joe was biting back his laughter until it loudly escaped from his throat through his teeth. “What is even happening right now?!”

You felt delirious, overtaken with giggles that you couldn't stop because you were far too tired to work against them.

You laughed and laughed, drowning out the lady asking if you needed assistance. You had to wipe under your eyes where you found tears in the corners and you didn't mind wiping these away. These were good ones.

Joe ended up throwing his head back, shoulders slack from his giggles, then bending forward, nearly tumbling over which only made you laugh more. He leant against the wall opposite you, laughed and slowly slid down until his bum reached the floor and his trousers had ridden up, bright yellow socks now revealed to you.

You laughed until it slowly fizzled out into smaller giggles. Then a last huff, maybe two. Then silence again.

The atmosphere had gone from strangely tense to stupidly playful. This was nicer. Made you relax into yourself a little more.

“I'm sorry you had to deal with... that,” you said through a stupid smile, vaguely motioning with a heavy arm to the spot in front of you where you'd passed out a little earlier.

“Nah, don't worry about it,” Joe scrunched up his whole face as he shook his head a little. “I hope you didn't have urgent plans,” Joe made a face, tucked in chin, eyebrows raised high, followed by small nod with his eyes trained on the tulle of your skirt. Like a wedding, he meant jokingly.

You snorted. Made Joe laugh again.

“Because, we might be stuck in here for a while.”

It made you frown and groan.

“This is just my luck.”

“You um... you seem like you've had quite the evening,” Joe treaded lightly, sounding like he was just making conversation but was very clearly pointing out the elephant in the lift. The big, poofy, white one.

“This isn't,” you shook your head and winced at yourself. “This isn't what it looks like, sorry,”

You saw confusion strike, and you bit your lips into your mouth as you squinted, contemplating if you should tell him. If you did, it had to be the full story. Just going, “oh I'm not a bride, this isn't my wedding day” would only lead to more confusion, because that's what it looked like, wasn't it?

But lying felt worse.

Joe was right. You might be stuck in there for a little while.

So, you thought it over for maybe three seconds, then stuck out a hand for Joe to shake and you introduced yourself. Said your name, and Joe repeated it back to you.

“Joe,” he then said, reintroducing himself.

“I'm not a bride,” you followed up.

“Cool, neither am I,” Joe said and smirked. Pulled another giggle from you.

Shit.

“This is fancy dress,” you motioned both hands up and down your frame.

“So is this,” Joe did the same, copying your movements.

“No it isn't,” you laughed. That suit looked far too expensive to be fancy dress.

“No, it's not,” Joe agreed and laughed along.

Fuck, it felt good to laugh.

Flirty bastard.

Joe looked up towards the emergency button above him and reached a hand, pressing it again, not even bothering with waiting for the intercom to spring to life. He just needed to press it to press it. To let people know you were still stuck. While the intercom static filled the lift car once again, he turned back to you and continued the conversation.

“Bridezilla?” he questioned.

You slowly inhaled a deep breath. “Well... ex-wife, or so it turns out,”

Oof.

Joking about it felt wrong and made you itch all over. Too soon. Far too soon. Big nope.

Jesus, that nearly made you want to cry again.

Joe saw, read it in your face, and straightened his own.

“If it's of any consolation,” he started, then squeezed is eyes firmly shut as he said, “You look fantastic.”

It burst another laugh from your chest that immediately made you sit up straighter. “Stop, stop,” you pleaded. “I'm going to pee myself,”

“No!” Joe lurched forward, added “Sorry, sorry!” with a joyfully painful face so full of empathy, you didn't really know what to do with all the care they held for you.

You winced through half laughs with tensed shoulders until they died down, then made awkward eye-contact and passed Joe's water bottle back to him.

“Oh, yea,” Joe took it, held it up a little to drive home the point that he understood why you hadn't taken a sip yet.

Your eyes shot back up towards the emergency button. Joe saw, reached a hand up, pressed it once more and said, “They must come soon,”

He just said that to make sure you stayed calm, you understood. But you wanted to be realistic. Needed to at least speak the question that played on your mind into existence.

“What if they don't?”

It made Joe look at you a second before he turned his head and inspected all four corners of the lift.

“If they don't, we'll just... we'll move closer to here,” Joe pointed towards the corner he was closest to. Closest to the intercom. “And we'll use that corner to pee,”

Another snort laugh.

Another wince.

Another, “Sorry,” from Joe who couldn't help the pursed little smile on his face at the fact that he'd made you laugh again.

“They better fucking hurry,” you said mostly to yourself, and Joe leant forward, reached, and somehow knew exactly where to grab to get your knee through the layers of your skirt. He gave it a reassuring squeeze and said, “We'll be out of here in no time. You watch.”

He said it mostly to make sure panic wouldn't get a hold of you again.

Wished he was right so you wouldn't actually need to resort to assigning a certain corner of the box you were trapped in to be the bathroom.

Wished he was wrong because, strangely, this didn't actually seem so bad.

Joe’d been in worse spots. Way worse spots.

He was stuck in a tube station lift with a broken intercom after midnight with a pretty girl who had made herself pass out and who really needed the toilet, but... she laughed at his jokes, giggled at the faces he made and it was now all he wanted to do for the rest of the night.

Make her tear-stained face spill over with joy for however long he was granted the time to do so.

Just your luck? Just Joe's luck.

Yea.

This wasn't so bad.

Joe’d been in far worse spots.

---

The Taglisted: 

@ghostinthebackofyourhead @dirtyeddietini @jasminearondottir @freckledjoes @cancankiki @sidthedollface2 @dylanmunson @munsonsgirl71 @thefemininemystiquee @alana4610 @emmamooney @thatonefan-girl @paola-carter @figmentofquinn @haylaansmi @thewondernanazombie @munsonmunster @kellyxo1 @chaoticgood-munson @sherrylyn628 @ohmeg @05secondsofsexgods @lovelyblueness @adoreyouusugar @nadixq @prozacandnicotine @roosterisdaddy36 @alwayslindie @breddiemunson @eddie-joe-munson @ali-in-w0nderland @pepperstories @phyllosilicate-s @thebellenouvelle @luvrsbian @joesquinns @choke-me-eddie @alizztor @jnnyrd @did-it-work @capricornrisingsstuff @quinnsmunson @frogers @kennedy-brooke @daleyeahson @eddielives1986 @harringtonfan4 @sadbitchfangirl @emma77645 @tlclick73

(taglist currently full, sorry)

[sgiandubh]

Welcome to the shitshow

We have:

A ✈ sighting. No pics.

The MPC live, scarce details. No rings. Spartan decor. Suntan and out of Bonnie Scotland. No further details on destination, which might or might not be the same as the flight. Mark me, I think it is - he is in Gran Canaria and for a very precise reason: keeping his part of the deal and his Onlies on tenterhooks.

C is seen in Marseille, hullaballoo ensues. We pinpoint some coincidental details. I was expecting the shite to hit the fan in 4, 3, 2, 1...

And it did. With both sopranos hinting at the same person, but only one brave (or rather foolish enough) to push a name out there. Disingenuous, to say the least - but oh, how convenient for any given agenda. Because it's too easy, when you give out a name to a thirsty crowd to say: 'well, of course it's because of the shippers! They did this or that (sky is the limit)! They are to blame!' (excuse me?) and 'well, of course they won't say a word, now' (how convenient if the thing does not stick, eventually).

That was, IMHO, a strategic mistake and the petticoat is showing across the pond.

Around the same time, I started to get a different kind of Anon, day after day after day. Very brutal. Foul-mouthed. And...with some intel. I answered the first, but then when things started to 'happen', the coin dropped very quickly that: a) I did hit a nerve and b) someone or some people wanted me to push this particular agenda - remember when...?

For reference:

And then today, just in time for the long, boring, chilly and even snowy (depending on your location) week-end, the bomb dropped and the cargo was juicy:

A name. A woman. A gym. Not one, but three suspicious videos: the one with the leg, the one with the clear voice (unmistakably S!) and the one with the dog (and more S voiceover). How nicely connected. How fucking perfect.

An Airbnb close to the gym. What would a single woman traveler do in a three-bedroom gargantuan villa all by herself, when you are in Winterbird Central with a bajillion other accommodation options, is beyond any logic. So easily and lazily - OMG, date!

Unless...

Unless you conveniently forget some details:

Not one, but three different promos/endorsements, with a discount code to boot - 10% off, how nice!

The one that has been discussed by just about everyone:

The one that provided the discount code for new subscribers: Gymshark, a fitness attire manufacturer (https://eu.gymshark.com/).

And the most important one, hiding behind a humble hashtag: #metcon. Now I don't know you, but I'd rather digress about tea parlors and bookstores, and so had no fucking idea Metcon was, in fact...

Yup. Nike. A very recent model - expensive and sure, in need of immediate product placement/promo:

And so, for tax reasons, she just had to (mandatorily) include the #ad (as in advertisement, lest we'd not have naive Anons again!) hashtag.

Also, this, posted along the short reel with S's voice (but who cared, all 👂were there and only there):

That woman was working. She has, after all, 450k Insta followers. If she and S met at a gym in a winter destination very sought after by Scots should be none of our business. If they met again or have a regular training schedule does not mean they fuck or that we're going to look out for Remarkable Week-end 2.0. If they met in Hyrox GLA - so what? What is this, I beg your pardon, Gilead? People just can't hang out, like ever, I mean men and women?

🙄

But.. but... the gargantuan villa...?

Och. Sure enough, the place is correctly identified. You can check chez Marple. I am not posting it, because I do not want to and by now, I trust just about everyone has seen those pics. But this time, I am not going there. The name of that villa, even, made me laugh like a drain. I mean how more in your face can they be?

Who footed the bill of this rather comfy PR shitshow, reminiscing of Ha-wa-wee, 🐰 and whatever else you could think of? SRH?

Perhaps. But what if Nike did, as a freebie to a very good promoter? They sure can spare the dime and, to be honest, as we speak, there is no sign S and her share anything else than a gym schedule. What tells us with absolute certainty, at least at this moment in time, she is not there with friends, family or even a group of fellow promoters, Avon-style?

Oh, and the world is definitely a handkerchief, especially in GLA, it would seem. Wanna know who also follows her on Insta?

Paul Donnelly. Nope, not the chef. This Paul Donnelly:

The one who literally owes S a shitload of cash. A post that earned me a report (I was just explaining, if I remember correctly, that S would have been wise to legally secure that hefty loan, nothing more).

And now you know what? That post is gone, vanished, poof and I have no idea why. I surely did not take it down, I never do this.

And surely enough, just before I started writing, Filthy Anon came back and warned me there was more (pics, 👅👄) about McFitness. Surely enough, the same info (albeit toned down) was picked up by *urv in her comments' thread, about twenty minutes after Anon dropped by.

Agenda, anyone? God forbid!

You draw your own conclusions. I can only very honestly say:

Welcome to the Shitshow - the Winter Edition!

This page is not going to follow blindly your script, whoever you are. This page simply hopes to cleverly hit a nerve every time it considers necessary. Other than that, big effing deal, really. Ship on.

Sorry for the length. I was never good at summing up.

[copperbadge]

[ID: Three images; top left, a spray bottle of clear liquid, labeled PRO SPRAY, sits on a gleaming cutting board; top right, Dearborn the tortie glares at the camera from the work desk's copilot basket. Bottom, a white rug with blue patterning in my hallway, surrounded at the edges by dark dustbunny-looking lumps.]

NaClYoHo Day Two! Pardon my grossness.

Yesterday afternoon I did the first of what is usually several trips to the hardware store; I bought spackle, gnat traps, and a PROFESSIONAL spray bottle. PRO SPRAY. It has an adjustable nozzle and measurement marks on the side, so I can dilute the vinegar pretty accurately. Last night I filled it up with vinegar water and laminated the kitchen, and this morning found and killed several weevils it drove out of hiding. It's sitting on the wooden cutting board because I had taken ALL the cleaning supplies out from under the sink and was reminded I should oil my cutting board with some Walrus Oil.

Dearborn is very skeptical about this morning's activity: carpet cleaning.

I threw on an episode of A Date With Dateline, popped in my earbuds, took down my Tineco One X vac and vacuumed for the first time in Slightly Too Long. I didn't get all the way through the house because I was running it on high which drains the battery, but usually vacuuming is a multi-day process. For what I paid for the Tineco I could have a high-end corded vac that does a better job, but I know that I won't use corded vacs because I hate the cord, so I'm okay vacuuming more often with the cordless. In any case, I hit the rugs because the next step was to break out the Hoover Powerdash Pet carpet cleaner and figure out how to use it.

I know I'm dropping a lot of brand names but just because I usually get asked; I don't make money from affiliate links or anything.

Anyway, the Powerdash came to me secondhand from friends who were moving, and for a long time it sat in my hallway in its plastic wrapping because I was intimidated by it. We never had one growing up and I've never really seen one in use. But it turned out that it was super easy to use, you just add water and cleaner to the tank and go; you go over the rug once with the trigger down, to spread water/cleaner, then a second time without the trigger to rinse/dry. I only hit about half of the rugs in my home, just to see how it went, and then stopped because they all seemed to remain very wet after cleaning. (They've since pretty much dried and I'm assured by the internet that's normal.)

The white patterned carpet above is the cats' favorite place to roll around and shed on, and as you can see, those dark dustbunny looking things around the carpet? That's cat hair and other dirt the cleaner pulled up. Gross but visibly effective.

I got a slightly late start so I had myself on a hard time limit; I started at 7, finished up at 8, and still had half an hour left on A Date With Dateline (they sometimes run a bit long). The cleaning solution definitely adds a certain chemical smell to the air, so I'm running the HVAC's fan and I've added "scented candle or incense" to the shopping list. Which I wanted to do anyway; some people always have such nice smelling houses and scent never seems to stick around in mine, but I've never gone hardcore on Making This Place Smell Nice. (Yes, I promise to be careful about what scents I use, I know diffused scents can harm cats.)

Disposable nitrile glove count: Still just 1!

Hardware store trips: 1.....so far.

[digenerate-trash]

THE FIXED VERSION

Write about Yan Haley watching the reader get exhausted from milking cow’s please

(I promise I was working on this before you sent this ask I just had like 5 fics today!!! Also love Stardew Valley and My Mean Queen)

AFAB Hailey | GN PC

Just a quick stop by and look. Maybe deliver a love note or two. Maybe even a picture. If you're out... you're her muse after all. Then she'd head home. Chat with Alex. Dinner with Emily. Maybe a drink at the pup, some reading. Then routine and bed.

It's a tight schedule. But Haley is good at keeping things organized. She can do everything after all.

Sliding the note into your mailbox was easy. But she really couldn't help herself. She trotted up the steps to your shabby little cabin and looked in the window... nothing.

She clutched her camera a bit before she turned out to look at the field and then at the barn. Your pride is a joy you loved the animals here. You took care of them even though they took hours of tending a day.

Haley made her way to the barn and pushed open the heavy doors before laying her eyes on you.

Sweat on your brow. Thick squeaky rubber gloves. Sat beside a cow as you reach under and try your best to get a yield from it.

For a former city dweller, you sure did adapt to hard work well. She couldn't help herself as she pressed the camera up to her face

The click and then flash of the camera alerted you to her presence.

You rubbed your eyes a bit getting up from beside the cow you pulled the bucket from under it and made your way to Haley.

"Hey- I didn't expect you to come up here today-" you laugh a bit. She looks so out of place in the barn.

"I don't think you get many visitors at all," Haley says. But that's more of a hope than anything

"It's kinda a hike from town. That doesn't seem to stop my secret admirer though." Your face twists a bit with concern. "But enough about that- I'm tired. And you probably are too. Why don't you come in and I'll get you something to eat-

You lead Haley away from the barn setting the milk on the standing bench before heading inside. You shed your gloves and hat at the front door before getting a glass of water for yourself. Then one for Haley

"Secret admirer? Someone in this town is actually into.... all this?" Haley gestures vaguely at you but secretly she's very pleased. You've noticed her. Or at least her notes.

"It's hard to believe but yes... and the notes are getting... worrying..." you say Haley sits down at the table hiding a smirk.

"I thought you fought cave monsters as a hobby- are you telling me some guy is setting you on edge?"

"If it even is a guy-" you cut her off. "But yeah. The notes get very... specific. About where I sleep and what my schedule is. They even make comments about my tan lines it's.... disturbing-"

Haley of course Feinstein a shocked reaction. "My... if I had a secret admirer like that I'd be so flattered."

"You can have em." You say grabbing two plates from the cupboard and grabbing some leftovers from the fridge.

Once you've got two meals set up you hand one over to Haley. "Makes me glad to have a friend like you. Your blunt. But straightforward with me. It's nice to talk to you y’know?" You say taking a large but down into your meal.

Haley kinda twitches a bit at that. She's been struggling with her feelings for you for a while and she can only be honest about what she wants from you in her notes. Still, she's fine to be just friends. For now. Maybe in time when you two finally start to date she can frame someone else for the notes. Or maybe you'll forget about them entirely.

When the meal is done you lead Haley out of the house before looking at your mailbox. "Son of a bitch-" you say the blood draining from your face before you hurriedly open it and take the letter out. Haley's heart skips a beat as she leans in closer to read the note along with you.

"Another love note?" She asks.

You nod hands shaking. Haley still smiles as she looks over the letter. She can hear your breath hitch as you read over the note.

Maybe she shouldn't have put in those shots of you asleep in your bed so soundly. But the look on your face is priceless.