#today is a day i've had marked in my diary all year as a very happy and important day

[tastyflowers]

sorry for becoming a depression blog but

[blacknwhitemood]

Depeche Mode - Condemnation / finding video's location "near God"

It was only 3 days after the Memento Mori concert in March, when I learned that Condemnation video was made in Hungary, not far from Budapest, near Göd, in a small village's border, Göd-Újtelep. When I wrote about it to @mijamija1234, she suggested that what if I visited its location? I liked the idea, I've started to make a research. Later I found some colored photos on Göd-Újtelep's website (under this text) and I posted them with words "Condemnation’s video was made near Göd". @mftm1987's reblog tag was hilarious: #well sure it was made near god. I felt love with the concept, so this is my "project's" name: Near God.

The only screenshot from the video (1st pic above) that I can use for finding the location is not very helpful, considering that it happened more than 30 years ago. 31 exactly. In 28th of July, 1993 the band and Corbijn went "into the f---ing woods" early in the morning after the day of they Devotional Tour concert in Budapest. Dave talked about it the gig's night in NME, while Gavin Martin was making his long interview:

I won’t even sleep tonight. I’ve got to get up and go and do some… I’ve got to go off with (Anton) Corbijn into the f---ing woods and do the ‘Condemnation’ bit. But, really, I have fun with doing that. It’s just the eight o’clock morning, you gotta get over it.

I quoted from this article first time here, my updated daves-first-tattoo post (scroll to the middle). Another source, Daryl Bamonte, Devotional Tour Diary, Bong magazine, 1994:

It was a long trek from Belgium yesterday, and we had to drive out into the Hungarian countryside today for Anton to shoot the “CONDEMNATION” video. Dave seemed to spend most of the day being dragged around by Sam and Hildia. He wasn’t complaining though. It could have been the other way round…

Near God

It's not easy to find a DM video's location (except Strangelove), Corbijn preferred countryside for his videos and the nature mostly in different countries in Europe (e.g. Belgium, France, Switzerland, Portugal, Scotland) or in the U.S. Hungary is famous for its "puszta", which is similar to prairie. Before the single's releasing he could shoot the clip during the tour. They stayed 3 days in Hungary, I read somewhere that Corbijn choosed Göd's area for the reason being very close to the capital. On imdb.com it is simply Göd.

I was searching for those dirt roads from the screenshot with the Google relief map, impossible task. 31 years. I googled many times a day if I got some new inspiration, suddenly I found a person on facebook who commented Göd's page' photo of the day: she was there in her 14 years, "half of Göd was there". I wrote to her, 3 days later she answered that she would help. Wow.

We met today and spent only 40 minutes together. She and her husband took me from the railwaystation on a truck to the location that she remembered - and of course that become famous in the village. She told me the short story: "My friend's sister was a big fan. We didn't have phones that time, someone brought the news by bike, no one believed that. Later many cars went to the place with 50-80 fans. We were hanging on the fence, like the children in the video. There were huge reflectors, the shooting took until the evening. Now there is a big battery factory in the fields."

When we arrived, we walked to a small road but it didn't resemble to the video's for the first sight. In fact it is a huge field with woods around, at the end of the road there was the factory, "It was built on that hill on the picture" she told. She was sure, so we took some funny photos with the printed screenshot (at the background with their truck), I wanted to walk more to find a better view but it was a very hot Summar day and my guide didn't have much time. To the right on this map I marked the point where we took the photos:

I think the trip was worth it. All this area from the village to the woods down was the location of the video making. 31 years later the fence with the small cabin and the sunflower field disappeared but there still have straw bales, dirt roads and habitants who remember.

The single released 6 weeks later, on 13 September 2013. Although MTV played the clip on time, its DVD version released much later in 2002 on Depeche Mode - Videos 86>98+ (I ordered the very last piece of it from Antal). This DVD originally released in 1999 but without the clip, you can find a live version instead of (I have the 2000 edition), because - it is said - Corbijn wasn't quite satisfied with the final result, the band seemed too tired in the video, especially Dave.

I love this song. Not my favourite, but it's in my DM top 20. One of its reasons that the video was shooted in Hungary and Dave loves it. He has frequently mentioned Condemnation as one of his favourite songs. In this interview from 2006 you can hear directly from him at 00:37. As fandom.com wrote, Dave still gets goosebumps when he recalls recording the song:

I immediately knew the song. It wasn't necessarily completely accurate to the way Martin wrote the melody line or the phrasing or the timing. I just sang it, and [after] I sang it, the tape stopped rolling and it went on quiet. I've got my headphones on and I hear [producer] Flood's voice go, 'Yeah, I mean, you could do another one. But I think we got it.' / 2021, Exclaim!

Well, at Memento Mori Tour they sang to us twice in Budapest, in 28 July, 2023 (yes, this day <3) together with 50000 people and in 26 March, 2024 to 16000 happy fans. Honestly, I like Waiting For The Night much better, I really wanted to hear it live, I hoped that they don't sing the same song at the same city as first encore duett, Condemnation is difficult to sing, they've sung Waiting For much often at this tour... but I was wrong. I was confused with my feelings, I was disappointed. I was looking for the answers of they decision, and later I understood that somehow Hungary might mean Condemnation to them. They gifted us with Dave's favourite song. Twice.

[exitpursuedbyavulcan]

Hi its me again 😄😄😄 i'm the anon that sends my very first ask to you 🥰 actually i have reblogged and given tons of hashtags on your Studious works but i like being *mysterious* 🤫

Anyway i just wanna say that everyday i look upon the dashboard only to wait for your new update for Studious 😘 I adore this series so frickin much even when i'm not even a fan of series because i hate waiting but you are just that special to me 🤩🤩🤩 So have you got any planned date for the release of part IV, so that i can have the date marked on my calendar 🥺 its totally fine even if you don't have the exact date And maybe i'm too greedy, this would be all up to you, but may i have a tiny bitsy of sneak peak for the next part please please please 😭 i'm literally begging you 😭😭😭 just a lil part about 200 words then i can sleep peacefully tonight, but once again it would be your decision whether to feed us with the crumbs 🤗 (but i hope its a yes 😭😭😭😭😭) Please stay healthy and happy always!!! Thank you so so much for all the efforts you put into the series, i appreciate those a lot 💕💗💖😻

Hello again! I will resist the urge to look through all my notes so that you can retain your *mysterious* air!

I'm so sorry Studious is taking so long, I've had kind of a creative block these past few weeks. I literally open the document and just stare at it and don't write anything. Only a few blurbs have been coming to me.

I don't have an exact date, but I'm hoping it'll be soon! I do have kind of a busy week this week - I have several job interviews and I'm going wedding dress shopping with my sister - but I actually write best when I'm busy? So hopefully a lot of progress this week!

And because you're so mysterious and sweet... absolutely you can have a sneak peek!

For context, this is the beginning of Aemond's diary entry on his and reader's two-week anniversary. Or, as I like to call it in my outline, the "second fucking."

Studious IV Sneak Peek

The 26th day in the 5th moon of the year.

I had hoped not to make an entry today – for I had every intention of spending tonight in my wife’s chambers. But she is there, and tragically, I am here.

Tonight was almost worse than our wedding night.

When I saw her watching me in the training yard today, I thought… she was almost smiling – at me! She had no obligation to be there, and yet she was! She sought me out! She wanted to see me!

I had to bite back a cry of joy and relief. I immediately abandoned the rest of my training, nearly throwing my sword to the poor squire in the yard so that I could rush to the ramparts and greet her.

But when I got there, she was gone. I asked a few of the other lords and ladies that were there, but no one knew where she went. Even after speaking to her, however briefly, I still do not understand why she left.

You felt your cheeks flush with shame. Aemond hadn’t grimaced at you that day – quite the opposite. He had been so excited to see you there, and as usual, you had misinterpreted his reaction.

Or, based on how frequently these misunderstandings occurred, perhaps his expressions were merely indecipherable to normal people. Or, more likely, maybe just to you.

[hippiegoth97]

Diary of a Hawkins Hussy: A Stranger Things x Reader Anthology

Banner by me :)

Master List

Content Warning 18+ Only, Minors DNI: swearing, smut, drug references, age gap, groping, fingering, unprotected sex, praise, dom/sub dynamic, use of a shock collar (do not try this at home), use of restraints, edging, orgasm denial, light crying, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, light squirting, problematic characters

Word Count: 12.5k

Divider by @firefly-graphics

Diary Entry #1: Martin Brenner

May 28th, 1983

Dear diary,

Today marks the day I officially join the adult world. I just got back from graduation. I'm still dressed in my cap and gown, with my diploma sitting in front of me on the desk. I did it, those four years of hell we all call high school are finally over. I'm free. And now, I can focus my attention on my true ambitions in life. No more Chem flashcards or asshole teachers telling me what to do. No more Mom and Dad policing my every move. Nope. I fully intend on doing the one thing I've been itching for from the moment I saw that 'Help Wanted' sign in the shop window. I'm going to work at Waxed Out Records downtown, as an assistant manager.

Waxed Out is the coolest store Hawkins has to offer, though it doesn't have much by way of competition. I've always loved going there, ever since I was a kid when Mom would bring me along on her trips to pick up the new ABBA or BeeGees. Music is my lifeblood, I can't go a single day without listening to some form of it. I've dedicated almost my entire (though limited) existence to curating my collection of vinyl and cassettes, expanding my tastes as far as the eye can see. I love it all, rock, hip-hop, pop, country, blues, jazz, disco, metal, the list goes on. I'm the perfect candidate to work at Waxed Out. I only hope the lame owner, Mr. Harris, will see that at my interview tomorrow. But until then, it's a relaxing night of Stevie Wonder and weed to calm my nerves. I'll let you know how it goes.

May 29th, 1983

Dear diary,

I got the fucking job! Mr. Harris was totally impressed by my extensive knowledge of all things music! I knew I had this in the bag, but I'm so excited, I could just scream! My hand is absolutely shaking as I write this, you have no idea. I start next week, and my first shift can't come soon enough. I need to get the hell out of this house, and into my own place. It shouldn't take long, I've saved up all of my graduation money in a very special hiding place. Just a couple hundred bucks more, and I'm finally on my own. I won't have to listen to Dad tearing apart the house, searching for things to pawn off to buy more booze. It's a good thing I have multiple self-installed locks on my door, or else my collection would be toast. I also won't have to listen to Mom telling me how much of a drain on her I am, or her lectures about 'ambition' and 'wanting more for myself'.

I like to think I am very ambitious. I got this job all on my own, and I'm saving up my pennies like my life depends on it. I know exactly what I want out of life. Simple pleasures, like music and sex. More on that particular subject, I highly intend to expand my current hook-up pool. High school boys (and girls) were all well and good while I was still under the legal definition of a child. But I'm a woman now, and I have every intention of bagging any man or woman that catches my eye. From freshly graduated young women, to strong men in their fifties, and everything in between. As long as they're hot, nothing else really matters. And in that department, Hawkins sure knows how to deliver. Chief Hopper, Mayor Kline, Joyce Byers, this one white-haired guy in neatly pressed suits that comes to town every so often...I'm getting a little turned on just thinking about it. More to come later, probably about my first day of work.

June 1st, 1983

Dear diary,

You'll never guess who came into the shop on my first day of work today! It was none other than that guy with the white hair I mentioned before. I didn't learn much about him, except that he really likes classical music. He picked out some Bach and Mozart, which isn't usually my strong suit. It sounds pretty and all, but it comes off a little hoity-toity, if you know what I mean. But it makes sense for a guy like him, he seems very intellectual. Oh, you should've seen him. It took everything in me not to stare as he browsed the classical section. But his hair was styled neatly as it always is, though a little longer than what's typical for a man his age. And he had on this grey suit that fit him extremely well...I managed to get a couple good glances at his ass. And shit, he must have a Soloflex at home, or something because...it was as tight as a twenty-year-old's, I swear.

He didn't say much. He smiled at me when he came up to the register, and I could totally feel my cheeks burning bright red. It was embarrassing, at first. But if my mind wasn't tricking me, his smile got wider at my reaction. I didn't bother to say much to him, I know I would've made a complete and utter ass out of myself if I tried. But I managed to get out a 'thank you' once I'd rung him up and he paid. He said he'd be back in a couple weeks, almost like it's a routine for him. I'm not sure why, there's only so much Beethoven and Chopin in the world, ya know? But I'd be lying if I said I wasn't counting down the days until that gorgeous, yet mysterious, man with blinding white hair comes walking through the shop door again. Safe to say I won't be able to get that smile of his out of my mind either...fuck me.

June 15th, 1983

Dear diary,

It happened. He finally came back, and this time, we actually had a bit of a real conversation! I (mostly) managed to keep myself together this time, and I'm beginning to think that he likes me. At least, I hope he does...

You hear the little bell hanging above the front door to the shop tinkle, signaling for you to repeat the phrase Mr. Harris has trained into you. "Welcome to Waxed Out. Let me know if I can help you find anything." You say flatly, not looking up from the romance novel you picked up from Melvald's earlier this afternoon. You hear purposeful steps clicking on the linoleum, taps and drags of men's dress shoes on a path to you.

"Yes, miss..." A voice you recognize speaks just across the counter from you. You look up from your book, realizing it's the exact man you've been hoping would return. He's wearing a charcoal suit this time, but that seems to be the only thing that's changed about him. He smiles at you, eyes flicking to your chest to read your name tag. "...Y/N. I was wondering if you could help me find something in particular." He speaks in a calmly commanding, slightly gravelly voice. You hadn't heard much of it upon your first meeting, but it certainly sounds very pleasant to your ears. He carries an odd air of authority, which just as bizarrely makes you want to follow any orders he might give you.

"Sure thing, sir. What did you have in mind?" You reply kindly, coming out from behind the register in preparation to locate whatever it is he's looking for.

His eyes follow your form as you come over to him, and you realize just how tall he is in comparison to you. He's well over six feet, which only adds to his intimidating nature. He seems a bit distracted by you, though, as it takes him a moment to answer you. "Oh, yes. Well, I was hoping to find something for my...daughter." He says with a strange pause put before that final word. Your heart sinks at this revelation, and you suppose he's probably married, too.

"Oh, I see." You reply, and you're sure he can see your face falling slightly at this bit of information. You force yourself to perk up, to make the sale, even if your hopes to potentially sleep with this man have been dashed. "How old is she?" You ask, clasping your hands behind your back.

"She's about to turn twelve, so this would be a birthday gift." He replies, still smiling at you. You take a peek down at his hands, looking for a ring. But they're nestled in his pockets at the moment, leaving you without that small piece of evidence to confirm your suspicions.

"Oh, that's nice." You say awkwardly. "Do you know what she likes? Or did your wife give you a list?" You ask, trying to crack a small joke. But his face hardens, which makes you immediately regret asking.

"No wife, I'm afraid. She died when Ele— Jane was very young." He says, bringing the smile back slightly.

"Oh, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean—" You try to apologize, but he puts a hand up to stop you.

"That's quite alright, you couldn't have known. But I raise Jane all by myself, and it's hard to know what girls her age like. So, I was hoping your female perspective could help me with that." He gestures at you, his smile widening again.

"Yeah, sure. Um, let me see what we have here..." You trail off, going around to the other side of the store towards the soundtrack section. Musicals are usually a pretty safe bet. Wholesome enough for parents to approve of, while also entertaining enough for kids of all ages to get something out of it. You flip through the records, digging out Grease, The Wizard of Oz, and The Music Man. "I think these are pretty good options. What do you think?" You're about to turn around to bring the albums over to the man, but you find that he's been standing right behind you this whole time. You bump into him in the process, and his close proximity startles you. "Jesus!" You gasp when your record-full hands meet his chest.

"Pardon me, I didn't mean to sneak up on you like that." He says with a laugh, putting his hands on your shoulders to calm you. "Are you alright?" He asks, gazing down at you with concern.

You try to speak, but all words have escaped you in this moment. You're too busy getting lost in his eyes and taking in how strong and firm his hands feel as he touches you. You find yourself wondering how they'd feel while touching you in other places, which you realize is wildly inappropriate. A harsh blush creeps up your cheeks, and you force a thick swallow down your throat before answering him. "Yeah, I'm good. But, uh...here." You hold the records out for him to look at. He takes them from your hands, and you're finally able to breathe easy again. "Do any of these look alright? If not, I can keep looking." You add, wanting him to leave as a satisfied customer. If you do well here, maybe he'll come back again...and again...and maybe for more than just music.

"These look great, Y/N. She's going to love them. You mind ringing me up?" He says, drawing your eyes to his again.

"Oh, you're going to buy them all?" You ask curiously. Parents are usually pretty stingy when it comes to getting albums for their kids. Perhaps it's a fear of the discs getting scratched or broken.

"Why, yes. Should I not?" He questions, raising an eyebrow at you.

"No, no. I just meant...I wasn't sure you'd do that, I guess." You fumble over your words, walking the both of you over to the register now. Perhaps some distance from him will help you calm the fuck down. If you come off too doe-eyed and naïve, he may not have much interest in you.

"Well, let's just say you're a very good saleswoman." He chuckles, the sound of which stirs something inside you. You punch in the prices on the stickers Mr. Harris put on said albums, which comes to a total of sixteen dollars.

"Thanks, I appreciate that." You giggle, biting your lip slightly before taking his payment. He pays with a credit card, from which you nosily read the name of its owner. Martin Brenner. He doesn't look like a Martin. Although, you suppose you don't know what he does look like, either. You bag up the records for him, handing them and his card back to him, as well as a receipt. "Here you go, sir. I hope Jane enjoys the albums." You say sweetly.

"I'm sure she will, thanks again for the help. And please, call me Martin. I'm sure I'll be back here again soon. You've got good taste, Y/N." Martin winks at you, before heading towards the door to leave.

"See you 'round, Martin." You say cutely as he leaves, earning another pleased glance in your direction. Once he's walking down the street and towards his car, you double over onto the counter to take some deep breaths. "God, that man is sexy as hell." You say aloud to yourself, overwhelmed with the entire interaction that's just transpired. You know he's a bit advanced in age, but Martin sure knows how to flirt. You're a little weary of the fact that he has a kid and everything, but it's not like you're looking for anything long-term. You just know you want to fuck him, even if it's only once. You can tell there's something secretive about that man, and you're dying to have a peek behind that proverbial curtain to see exactly what it is.

June 26th, 1983

Dear diary,

Martin hasn't come back the the shop in a while. It seemed like things went pretty well the last time he came in, but who knows. Maybe he was just being polite. I haven't even seen him very much around town like I used to. I suppose he could be busy with his kid, or something. Being a single father can't be easy. But I can't help it, I think about him all the time. He's so handsome, and the way his hands felt when they touched my shoulders... They were so warm, and felt firm and strong. I replay that moment over and over in my mind. I even dream about him now, about everything I think he might want to do to me.

The dream is almost always the same. I'm at the shop, and Martin comes in. There's no one else around, and he's not there for records this time. He's there for me. He comes right up to the counter with purpose, beckoning me out from behind it to put myself in front of him. He caresses my cheek, before leaning down to kiss me. He's gentle and tender, and his hands lift me up to sit on the edge of the counter. We kiss for a while, enjoying the moment. 

Now, this is where things really heat up...he undoes my jeans, pulling them and my panties down to my ankles. He reaches between my legs, and he puts his fingers inside me. They're thick and long, and they feel so damn good. While he does that, I unbuckle his belt, and open up his slacks to pull out his dick. He's fucking huge, at least, he is in the dream. I pump him in my hand a few times, and he lets out a quiet groan while staring down at me. He's so damn hot, I can barely stand it. He pulls his fingers away, and takes hold of his cock himself. He gets closer, and shoves himself into me. Once he starts, he doesn't slow down. He fucks me fast and hard, and I like it. He holds me down while I squeal and squirm for him. He grunts and growls with every thrust, railing me against the counter until I'm screaming his name.

I always wake up right after I cum, having to change my panties because I've soaked through them from my orgasm. It's clear that I want Martin to an embarrassing degree, I only hope he will want me just as much. Time will tell, diary. Time will tell.

June 30th, 1983

Dear diary,

Martin came in again today. He seemed...off. He still talked to me, nice as ever. But it was like he was stressed out about something. Our transaction was very short this time around. Every passing second where he didn't look at me, or touch me, or talk to me felt excruciating. All I could think of was the insane desire I felt to just go up to him and make my intentions perfectly clear. I was shocked to find I hadn't actually done it, the fantasy became extremely vivid. But when Martin came up to register with a couple new picks, and his cock still in his pants, the daydream quickly dissolved into shame.

I realized that I probably shouldn't think and feel so strongly about a perfect stranger like this. All it does as make me feel like a silly child, not to mention I basically gave myself away by blushing so damn much. I mean, I'm only eighteen years old. What could an experienced, well-established man like him possibly find desirable in me? Who knows, maybe I'll hold out hope a little longer. Maybe if I wait for him to make a move, this might work out. Ugh, I need some weed to think this over.

July 8th, 1983

Dear diary,

You're never going to believe this, I can hardly believe it. Martin came in today, for much longer than all the other times. He really chatted me up, and I was happy to talk to him for as long as I could. It felt like he was waiting to ask me something, but he couldn't quite find the words, or courage. To think, he was the one who was nervous. But once I got the ball rolling on a much-anticipated conversation, it became very clear as to why...

"Oh, hey, Martin. What would you like today?" You chirp as the man walks into the shop. You perked up immediately once you saw him crossing the street, waiting for him to come inside and give you the time of day.

"Afternoon, Y/N. I'm not too sure what I want, honestly." He says oddly, not quite looking your way. He seems anxious, or nervous. Could it be because of you? "But I know I can always trust your recommendations." He turns his head to meet you with a smile, putting his hands in his pockets as he comes toward the counter.

"You got it. You lookin' for more classical? Or, perhaps you'd like to branch out into something...younger?" You hint, standing before him in a meek pose. You clasp your hands behind your back, and look up at him from under your eyelashes.

"I-I suppose I could try something new." He stutters slightly, looking you up and down. Shit, maybe it's working.

"Sure thing! Follow me." You spin around, your short skirt flouncing upwards at the motion. You lead Martin towards the Lionel Richie and Phil Collins. You figure he doesn't want to waste time on teeny-boppers. He clears his throat before following you, and you smirk to yourself at him losing his cool. You pull out the albums you have in mind, and fully expect him to be standing right behind you again. You guess correctly, but this time, you purposefully put your hands on him when you turn back around. "Oh, didn't see you there. Not a lot of space in these aisles." You speak somewhat suggestively, running the back of your hand along the lapel of his navy blue suit jacket.

"Quite right. What do you have for me?" His eyes flick down to where you're touching him, then to the sultry smile on your face. You give him the albums, and he chuckles while looking them over. "I don't know, Y/N...these might be a little too hip for me."

"Oh, I wouldn't say that, Martin. You seem pretty 'with it' to me. Besides, Lionel and Phil are perfect for when you bring a woman home. If that's your thing, anyway." You continue to run your hand along his jacket, gauging his response to it. He hasn't told you to stop yet. If anything, he seems to enjoy it.

"It's been a while since I've done that, actually. Much longer than I'd like to admit." He says, somewhat embarrassed.

"I don't believe that for a second, you're way too handsome." You compliment him, still testing the waters.

"Oh, you don't mean that. A young lady like yourself surely has no interest in someone like me." He shakes his head, laughing at your suggestion. He probably thinks you're really trying to sell him on the vinyl, but you honestly don't give a shit about that.

"I wouldn't be so sure, Martin. I personally find you...very attractive." You speak lowly, turning your hand over to actually touch his chest now. Your palms creep up along his clean white shirt, and you gently take hold of his necktie. "And I'm not just saying that to sell you more records." You give him as sincere a look of desire as you possibly can, batting your lashes to make it clear to him what you're looking for.

Martin thinks it over for a moment, contemplating that you could potentially be a really good time. But he shakes his head, sighing deeply. He can't possibly take such a young woman home. It wouldn't be right...would it? "I-I'm flattered, Y/N, really." He sets the records down, taking hold of your hands. "But I don't think I could give you what you're after." He says sadly, already kicking himself for denying his desire to have you. He's been thinking about it for weeks, but he's sure you couldn't handle what he truly has in mind.

"Why do you say that?" Your eyebrows scrunch together in confusion. You were sure this would work. Doesn't he like you? Doesn't he think you're pretty?

"Forgive me for coming off a bit crude, here. But I'm just not sure that you're mature enough to handle the kinds of things I'm into, intimately speaking." You're confused by his words, you don't understand what he means by that.

"And how would you know?" You ask, becoming irritated with him for thinking you're some immature girl. He scoffs, surprised by you.

"I guess I don't, Y/N. But I wouldn't want to hurt you. I really like you. I think you're very pretty, and sweet. I'm just not sure it's a good idea." He shakes his head again, putting your hands down before pulling his own away.

"Well...maybe I'm not afraid to get hurt, Martin." You smile again, his attempts to deter your interest have only piqued it further. "It's very simple, really. I want to sleep with you. I don't care what you're into, I got up to some pretty crazy shit in high school. But if you really don't want me, that's fine. I can find someone else if I really want to." You figure there's no use for formalities at this point, so you lay it all out for him. The ball is in his court now, it's only a matter of if he wants to play.

He sighs again, still unsure of what to do here. "You make it very difficult to say no to you..." He says, pausing as he reads your expression. He supposes it can't be all bad, you're the one coming on to him. If you really want this, then who is he to deny you? "Are you absolutely sure this is what you want, Y/N?" He asks, cupping your cheek like he does in your dreams.

"Yes, I want this more than anything." You reply breathlessly, unable to believe this may actually happen. There's a tense moment of silence between you, and he finally nods in agreement.

"Alright. What time are you finished here?" Martin asks.

"Nine o'clock." You answer, biting your lip in excitement.

"Perfect, I'll pick you up. In the meantime, would you mind ringing me up for these?" He smiles, picking up the records you've chosen for him.

"Okay." You practically skip over to the register, though you don't really want him to leave. You bag up his purchase, and he makes his way out onto the street. You'd been hoping for a goodbye kiss, though perhaps that would've been too weird. You glance over at the clock, finding that you have two whole hours left before closing time. You pick up your novel, but you find it hard to focus on the words. All you can think about is what Martin could possibly like in bed that he thinks would be 'too much' for you. Handcuffs? Been there. Whips? Done that. Spanking? Roleplay? Anal? Check, check, and check. High schoolers are way kinkier than anyone gives them credit for. You can't come up with anything else, so if anything, you'll show Martin just how well you can keep up. You hope that'll impress him, for some reason.

The time passes excruciatingly slow, but thankfully a few more customers come along to distract you for a while. You make four more sales before the shift is over, not too bad for a record store in a less-than-booming small-town downtown area. You gather your things at 9pm on the dot, and head for the door with keys in hand. You step out into the muggy night air, turning your back to the street while you lock the door to the shop. You suddenly feel a figure behind you, who extends a hand to grab hold of your waist. You jump and let out a small scream, whipping around to see who it is.

"Shit, Martin! You scared me!" You say once you see that it's just your new conquest who's been waiting for you.

"I'm sorry. Are you ready to go?" Martin asks, slowly pulling you into him by the hip. He takes a second to get a good look at you, as if he hadn't already done so while you were helping him in the shop. He finds you to be very alluring, in your Cyndi Lauper t-shirt that hangs off one shoulder, and the short skirt that barely covers your behind. Not to mention your beautiful face, without a single blemish or sign of age to be found.

"Ready when you are, Martin." You reply suggestively, running your hands up and down along his shirt again. Your touch seems to break him out of his trance, and he turns the two of you to head towards his car. It's slick, and black, with a driver and everything. "Nice wheels." You comment, sliding into the seat while the driver holds the door open for you.

"Thank you." Martin replies smoothly, getting in after you. He sits very close to you, and the driver closes the door behind him.

"So, where does a man like you live around here, hm?" You ask coyly, putting your hand on his thigh. He peers down at you, watching your every move. You've noticed he's pretty restrained overall, very methodical with his movements and reactions.

"Oh, it's a humble house, really. Not far from here." Martin replies, and you nod.

"'Humble', huh? Does your job not pay you enough to have a large house and a driver?" You giggle, bringing your hand a little further up his leg. "I guess I never asked, what do you do for work, exactly?" You question curiously.

"I work in government, at the Lab." He replies shortly, too focused on your hand growing closer to his crotch. You're so forward with him, it's kind of throwing him off.

"Oh, I see. I bet that's pretty interesting." You continue on your teasing journey towards his cock. You want to feel him, and play around a bit before you reach his home. You've always had a problem with patience.

"You could say that." He says, just as your fingertips brush against his length. You smirk in satisfaction at finding it, and boldly take hold of it. His throat catches at you groping him, and you find his eyes to see how he's doing. His mouth sits slightly agape, but he doesn't say or do much else. You think he's enjoying this, since he's growing in your hand. But you'd be hard pressed to know for sure.

"Does this feel good, Martin?" You ask quietly, not wanting the driver to hear.

"Y-Yes." He stutters. You continue to touch him over his clothes, becoming very wet yourself as you watch him hold back his noises. He lets out muted sighs as opposed to moans and grunts, but the sound is still more than enough to turn you on further. "We should be there soon, Y/N." He says, taking your hand away from his cock, holding it in his instead.

"Sorry." You apologize, realizing that you've possibly made him uncomfortable.

"Don't be. It's alright. Just be patient for me. Can you do that, Y/N?" He says lowly in your ear, sending a chill up your spine. You nod silently, but he needs to hear you answer. "Use your words." He commands in a husky tone, sending a flare of pleasure between your legs. Now I see what he was talking about. Lucky for him, I've played this game many times before.

"Yes, I'll be patient." You answer breathlessly.

"Good girl." He answers simply, smirking at your quick obedience. Maybe you can handle him after all.

...and there we were, off to his house to have sex. I swear, I kept having to pinch myself to make sure it was actually happening, and not some extremely elaborate dream. But every time I felt that little sting of my nails digging into my flesh, all I was doing was driving myself even more crazy. That little confirmation of reality repeated again and again, made me feel all tingly inside. We couldn't get to his home soon enough, I wanted to touch every inch of his body in the back of that car. But I had to be patient, because that's what he told me to do. I could feel it in my soul that disobeying him would have been a very unwise decision...

"Here we are. Home sweet home." Martin says as the car pulls up to a house on the end of a dimly lit street. It's unassuming, the basic 'white-picket-fence' home of the typical middle class worker. It's not unlike your own house, perhaps slightly smaller. But you suppose a single man with a young kid doesn't need very much space. Your mind turns to his daughter, Jane. You wonder if she's home, and if she'll be upset that daddy brought home some random girl.

"Is your daughter home?" You ask nervously.

"No, no. She's at a friend's house tonight. Don't worry, we'll be all alone." He chuckles at your concern, he finds it very sweet.

"Oh, okay. Good, I'd hate to have upset her." You reply, waiting for the driver to open the door to let you both out.

"I appreciate that, Y/N. But please, I'd hate for the evening to focus on Jane. Especially when I've brought such a beautiful young woman home with me." He says warmly, gently pulling you along as he steps out of the vehicle. He leads you to stand upright, and you both walk to the front door. He unlocks it, letting you inside. The interior is exactly as you expect, a warm little house for two little people. Children's drawings on the refrigerator, kitschy trinkets on shelves and cabinets, probably left over from his deceased wife. That thought makes you a little sad, though it quickly disappears when Martin wraps his arms around you from behind once he's closed the door.

"Hey there, handsome." You giggle, leaning back into him for a moment. "I love your home, it's very cozy."

"I'm glad you think so, Y/N. It does get a little lonely sometimes." He speaks softly, lowering his head to press a kiss to your neck. You sigh blissfully at finally having his lips on you, they're very warm and soft.

"Well, hopefully I can help with that. At least for tonight." You reply, tilting your head to the side to give him better access. He responds well to this offer, planting more blazing kisses to your throat. He doesn't nip or suck your flesh, which would usually disappoint you. But the way he's holding you close like this makes it feel just as passionate. His hands wander up your body, palms brushing over your shirt. He stops just below your breasts, apprehensive to venture further. "Go ahead, Martin. I want this." You murmur, turning your head to look back at him. He seems different now, the air between you has changed. The atmosphere has become charged with expectation and anxiousness, and you can feel his erection prodding against your ass. He resumes his journey upwards, carefully cupping your tits over your shirt. You let out a quiet moan, gazing at him as you do so. He smiles at the sound, pressing a little harder with his hands to earn another one.

"Shall we take this upstairs?" He asks lowly, and you nod. He lets you out of his grip, stepping ahead of you. He takes your hand, leading you up the steps to his bedroom. You pass a quaint bathroom, and what looks like a kid's room along the way. You don't bother to take more than a small peek inside, you'd hate to come off nosey. Martin takes you to a room at the end of the hallway, pushing the door open to reveal the master bedroom. It's still as warm and cozy as the rest of the house, dressed in those signature hues of yellow, orange, and brown left over from the 1970s. He gestures for you to sit on the bed, and you take a seat on the edge of it. You take your shoes off, and he removes his suit jacket.

"So, what's this strange 'thing' you're into, Martin?" You ask curiously, setting your bag down on the night table beside you.

"You'll see soon enough. But I'd like to...get to know you a little bit first." Martin answers, giving you a look while undoing his tie. He loosens the knot around his collar, before slipping the loop over his head and untying it entirely. "Have you ever been tied up before?" He asks, holding the ends of the tie in his hands with purpose.

"Yes." You reply simply. He nods, bringing the tie over to the bed. He lays it out neatly beside you, presumably to be used later. "Should I...take my clothes off?" You ask, becoming a little unsure of yourself.

"Not yet. I'll tell you when and how to do everything. Is that alright?" He speaks firmly, expecting you to agree.

"Yeah, that's fine." You say casually. You watch as he hangs up his jacket, and methodically takes off his shoes before placing them neatly in his closet. He comes over to you, sitting beside you on the bed now.

"You're very beautiful, Y/N." Martin says, brushing a loose hair behind your ear.

"Thanks." You blush, looking down at your feet. He puts a finger under your chin, bringing your head up to face him again.

"Can I kiss you?" He asks.

"Yes. Please." You reply, you've been waiting for him to do this for a very long time. He brings his face closer to yours, and your eyes flutter closed in preparation. His lips meet yours, and you immediately melt against him. "Mmm." You hum into the kiss, following his small movements. He doesn't use tongue, you suppose he's a bit old-fashioned that way. But you don't mind, he's still a very good kisser. He pulls away, taking your breath with him.

"Take off your shirt, please." He orders politely, clearing his throat. You do as he asks, pulling the garment over your head and tossing it to the floor. You look at him expectantly, waiting for him to make his next move. "Pick it up and fold it." He says, a serious look on his face.

"Oh. Sorry." You laugh nervously, bending down to pick up the shirt. You follow his instructions, holding in neatly in your lap now.

"Now, put it on the table." He says. You do, and he smiles again. "Good girl." You face him again, wondering what he's going to ask you to do now. He doesn't say anything else, but he reaches his hands forward toward your chest. His eyes flick to yours, asking for permission. You nod, and he grabs hold of your breasts through your bra. You moan at his touch, quickly becoming hungry for so much more. He massages your tits, almost as if he's inspecting them. You oddly feel a bit like an expirement, and he's taking mental notes of your behaviors and reactions. "Does this feel good, Y/N?" He asks in a neutral tone.

"Yes." You breathe. You decide to try and strip him down a little bit too, reaching over for the buttons on his shirt. His eyes follow you, almost waiting for you to break an unspoken rule. You stop in your tracks. "Can I?" You ask, biting your lip anxiously. You want to see him, but you don't want to make him angry.

"Can you what?" Martin smirks, and you see now that you need to use your words again.

"Can I unbutton your shirt, Martin?" You ask, clearer this time.

"Yes, you may. But from now on, call me 'sir'. Okay?" He says.

"Yes, sir." You giggle at how it sounds at first, but if he likes it, then so do you. You resume your desired task, starting with the button at his collar. You push it through the stitched hole, exposing the rest of his neck. You notice Martin's grip tightening a little, which makes you moan again. You wonder if he'll do it every time you undo another button, testing the theory. You open the next one down, and he does the same thing, squeezing harder for a moment, before resuming his gentle massage. You undo the next button, and the next, moaning louder with every squeeze he gives you.

"You make very nice noises, Y/N. Are you enjoying yourself?" He questions, still coming off painfully formal. If it were anyone else, you'd probably be put off by it. But his overall sense of confidence whenever he speaks makes everything he says sound attractive to you.

"Yes. It feels really good." You answer, still opening up his shirt. There's just three more buttons left, and what you've revealed so far is exactly what you were hoping for. This man clearly works out, he's very fit. His muscles aren't anything crazy, but he has not let turning gray slow him down one bit. His chest and stomach are toned, with a small amount of salt and pepper hair in all the right places. You tug the tails of his shirt out of his slacks, undoing the final button. "Your body is amazing, sir." You say breathlessly, meeting his gaze again.

"Thanks. I try my best to stay in shape." He smirks at you finding him so attractive. He massages your chest more roughly now, drawing more noises from you. He leads you to lie down, with your legs hanging off the edge of the bed. He presses his lips to yours again, one hand leaving your breast to slip under your back. He unclasps your bra, and slides the straps down your shoulders. He folds it up nicely while still kissing you, setting it off to the side for a moment. Martin grabs hold of your bare breasts now, rolling the nipples between his thumbs and fingers.

"Mmm." You moan against him, enjoying every second of this. You feel up his own chest, marveling at his firm muscles. After a little while, you want to feel more. You lower a hand down his stomach, over his belt until you reach his erection again. You ghost over it, earning a low groan from Martin's lungs. It's the first one you've heard from him, and it's sexy as hell. You start groping him again, your heart pounding in your chest as you expect him to stop all this and punish you. But he doesn't, he lets you continue to touch him, still letting out those same breathy groans. "Please, sir. I want you so bad." You whimper when his lips leave yours to go to your neck again. You squeeze him a little harder in your hand, wanting him to move things along.

"Patience, Y/N. Be a good girl for me." He pants between kisses on your throat. He loves how needy you are, how badly you want him to touch you and be inside of you. He's never seen a girl so desperate, but he's only getting started. A few minutes later, Martin pulls away. He sits up, taking off his shirt entirely. He stands to go hang it up, and then turns to look at you again. "Take off your skirt." He orders.

"Yes, sir." You answer, standing off the bed to remove it. You fold it nicely, putting it and your bra on top of your shirt on the table. You sit back down, and he smiles at the sight of your pink lace underwear. "What should I do now?" You ask, feeling oddly self-conscious while sitting in nothing but your panties and socks.

"Lie down, Y/N." He says, before digging deeper into the closet for something. You do as he says, putting your head on the pillows. You try to position yourself casually, posing your arms and legs in various ways. But nothing feels right. You decide to stop trying so hard and just lie still, though you're curious as to what he's looking for. He comes back over to you, holding a silver metal box. He puts it on the bed, and silently opens the clasps. He pulls the top open, revealing what looks like a collar. It's a large, tan ring with white, squared nodules around the inner circumference. There's an electronic lock on the side, and a small remote next to it. It appears to be a shock collar, which makes you swallow hard.

"What's that?" You ask, though you feel a bit stupid asking. What else could it possibly be?

"Oh, just something to ensure that you'll follow my every order." Martin answers simply, looking at you with an odd smile. He raises a brow at your widened eyes, closing the lid of the case for a moment. "Do you still want to do this, Y/N? I completely understand if you don't." He offers you one final way out. But you want this, a little shock can't be that bad. It could be a lot of fun...right?

"I want this, sir. I'll do anything you ask." You reply, and he nods. He opens the box again, and takes the collar out of the foam lining inside. He clicks a button on the remote to open the ring, and comes over to you to put it on.

"Sit up for a second." He says, and you do. He puts the collar around your neck, the nodules digging into your throat with light pressure once he clicks it in place. You lay back down once he's finished, and he presses another button to power it on. A low buzz kicks on around your neck, the sound startling you. You gasp slightly, drawing his eyes to you again. "Is everything alright?" He asks, checking in on you.

"Yes, sir." You nod, breathing heavily. He puts the remote down on the table for a moment, and picks up his necktie.

"Put your hands above you head." He commands. He ties your hands together at the wrists with the silk fabric, leaving a small amount of slack so you don't lose circulation. "Good girl." He praises, taking in the image of you in your newly bound state. Your eyes have blown wide with desire as well as fear, your chest rises and falls with heavy, rapid breaths, and the cherry on top is the small wet spot of arousal on your panties. "Are you ready to play, Y/N?" He asks with a grin, very eager to set things into motion.

"Yes." You reply, hoping he'll touch you soon. He's been quite stingy with his touches thus far, drawing everything out for the sake of driving you crazy.

"Good. I only have one rule. If you misbehave, you get a shock. But I'm sure a smart girl like you has already figured that out." He chuckles darkly, almost looming over you from the side of the bed. You nod in understanding. "Perfect." He brings a hand to your chest, carefully caressing the side of your breast. You gasp at his touch, the softness of it sending tingles along your spine. He travels downwards very slowly, going down to your stomach and waist. He meets the hem of your panties, looping a finger around the fabric. He reaches over to do the same on the other side, and gingerly pulls your underwear down your thighs, knees, and ankles. He doesn't fold them up this time, nor does he put them with the rest of your clothes. Instead, he puts them in his pocket to keep as a souvenir of your night together. You don't mind, many guys have done that before. You take it as a compliment, if anything.

You instinctively spread your legs apart a little, expecting him to start touching your pussy soon. But it appears you've guessed wrong, because Martin quickly picks up the remote and presses it. You feel a strong, paralyzing current running through you, making you cry out as your body convulses outside your control. "Fuck!" You huff when he finally stops, your muscles relaxing against the bed.

"I didn't say to move, did I?" He asks angrily, and you shake your head. "Use your words!" He almost shouts at you, holding up the remote as a threat to shock you again if you don't speak up.

"No, sir! You didn't! I'm sorry!" You apologize frantically, fumbling over your syllables. That shock scared you, there's no doubt about it. But you're surprised to find that it also felt...kinda good.

"That's right. Now, have you learned your lesson?" He asks, eyes burning into you as he waits for your answer.

"Yes." You nod. He doesn't say anything else. Instead, he drags his hand lazily along your ankle, creeping up toward your knee and thigh. He draws closer to your cunt, watching your breath hitch and heart skip a beat while you wait patiently for him to touch you. You observe silently as he continues to torture you with waiting so long. You need to feel his fingers on your clit, or sinking deep inside your pussy. You feel compelled to cry and scream for him to give you what you want at this point. But you hold it all back, you have to obey him if you're going to get what you so deeply desire.

Martin's hand reaches your inner thigh, and he presses on further to touch the very outside of your silk. You moan at the sensation, as unsatisfying as it is. "Hmm, so soft." He observes aloud, wondering how often you shave or wax your most intimate areas. He travels deeper, finally making contact with your clit with the very tips of his middle and ring fingers.

"Fuck." You whine, using every ounce of willpower to keep your hips from bucking off the bed. You don't imagine he'd take very kindly to such lack of self-control.

"More?" He questions.

"Yes, sir. Please, touch me." You whimper, begging him with your eyes. He does as you ask, dragging his fingertips along your slick folds. You're quickly heating up as he continues to stroke you, sweat forming inside your pores. He's still very slow and methodical, noting your every sound and expression like before. "More, please." You beg, still resisting the urge to buck and thrash around on the bed. You'd love nothing more than to grind your hips to get yourself off against his fingers.

"Well, since you asked so nicely." He smirks, moving further down to press a finger inside your soaked hole.

"Oh, god." You gasp. He pumps the digit in and out of your pussy, brushing against your g spot ever so slightly. Without you needing to ask, he adds another. "Fuck...yes..." You moan breathlessly, your eyes rolling back into your skull. His fingers are the perfect size, as long and thick as you dreamt they would be. He keeps his snail's pace, but you don't even care. He's inside you, and it feels so damn good.

"That's a good girl...do you like having my fingers inside you?" He asks curiously, though the answer reads plainly on your face.

"Yes, sir. You feel so good, I'm so wet for you." You shake your head in the affirmative as you speak, letting him know how amazing he's making you feel. Normally, Martin would have a mind to shock you again for responding in such a vulgar way. But he likes hearing these dirty words falling from your lips. You're different than the others, you're special. You make every single salacious statement sound like lines of poetry to him. This may only ever be a one-time thing, but you'll certainly be one that he'll never forget.

"I'm glad to hear it, Y/N." He says softly, continuing to work you over like it's his day job. He continues to go slow, but your insides are boiling all the same. You can sense your release nearing, and you're sure Martin can as well. "Are you getting close?" He asks, noticing your walls have started to flutter around his fingers. He'd love to see how beautiful you look when you climax.

"Yes, sir. Please, don't stop." You plead as the waves of your oncoming orgasm begin to roll over you.

"I won't, Y/N." He says softly, almost like a promise. It's uncharacteristically sweet, considering he's got your hands tied up while a shock collar sits tightly around your neck. Just a little longer, and you'll be calling out his name. He hopes so, anyway. He certainly likes how it sounds coming from you.

"I'm almost there...can I cum, sir?" You ask, meeting his eyes.

"Not yet, Y/N. Hold it for me, just a bit longer." Martin replies firmly.

"O-okay..." You stutter, gasping slightly when you feel your orgasm about to sneak up on you. You try your best to hold it back, to obey Martin's orders. It's becoming increasingly difficult, however. Your thighs keep twitching, and a constant whine floods from your lips from keeping it all inside.

"Just a little more, I know you can do it. Be a good girl for me." He insists, increasing his pace ever so slightly to up the stakes.

"Fuck...sir, please...I want to be good for you. But I nee—" You beg, which is quickly interrupted by another intense shock. His fingers left you at the last second before he flicked the switch, but the painful waves seem to only extend your pleasure. You continue to moan until he presses the button to stop the electric current.

"I told you to wait, Y/N. Don't make excuses, and don't disobey me." He shoves his fingers back into you, and rapidly curls and thrusts them this time.

"Oh, fuck!" You cry out, tears pricking your eyes now. He's purposefully trying to make you break the rules, but you refuse to earn another shock anytime soon. You keep your orgasm tangled up in a quickly dissolving chain, waiting for him to give you the go ahead.

"Do you want to release, Y/N?" He asks flatly, peering down at you. He marvels at your resolve to follow his orders, he knows it's taking everything in you to hold on for him. What a strong little thing she is... he muses to himself.

"Yes! Please, sir! I want to cum so bad..." You exclaim, your bound hands helplessly clawing at the pillow beneath your head.

"Go ahead." He nods, giving you a small smile again.

"Fuck...Martin!" You moan loudly as your release takes over. Your thighs quake, and your insides clamp around Martin's fingers. The pleasure is so intense, like nothing you've ever experienced before. Holding off for so long has made your orgasm ridiculously powerful. You're blinded by bright white light that consumes your entire being, and you can't stop trembling and moaning for a good fifteen seconds. He watches this event unfold, his gaze drawn downwards when your arousal spills warmly into his hand. He takes his fingers out of you, grabbing a washcloth to wipe his hand with as you come down. You're left panting wildly, slathered in sweat that's dampened your hair and the bed beneath you.

"Was that enjoyable for you?" Martin asks, as if he didn't just witness you having the best orgasm of your entire life.

"Yes, sir. It was amazing." You gush, smiling uncontrollably at the utter bliss you feel inside.

"Good. I liked it quite a lot, too." He replies, and you hear the jingling of his belt opening. You open your eyes to see Martin undoing his pants. You watch hungrily as he exposes his clean white briefs, and the stiff cock sheathed inside them. He puts the slacks away, and comes back over to the bed. He makes sure you're paying attention, before slipping his underwear down his legs. His dick slaps against his stomach, the head red and swollen with need. You want to take him in your mouth, or to ride him, it doesn't really matter. You just want him inside you again, to make your fantasies a completed reality.

"Can I suck your cock, sir?" You ask cautiously, looking up at him with doe eyes.

"No, thank you. I've never liked that very much. But I think you want something else a bit more, don't you?" He questions you again, taking hold of his length and stroking it a couple of times.

"Yes, sir. I want you to fuck me." You say boldly, biting your lip.

"I ought to shock you again for that filthy mouth of yours." He threatens, but he's not really all that serious about it.

"Do you not like the things I say, sir?" You ask with a bratty pout, toying with him a little bit.

"I-I do. Much as I shouldn't, I really do." His tone falters, which clues you in to how much he immensely enjoys you saying dirty things.

"Do you want to fuck me, sir?" You continue with your own inquiries, hoping to drive him to slam his cock into you, or even shock you again for acting out of line. You're enjoying this far more than you'd truly expected, and it appears he is as well.

"Yes." He almost whispers.

"Do you want to make me scream your name?" You press on, testing the limits.

"Yes." Martin continues to rub himself as you speak. Slow and languid, not nearly enough to make him lose control. Just revving himself up for when he's deep inside you.

"How do you want me?" You ask again.

"What do you mean?" He replies, confused as to what you're referring to.

"Laying down? Hands and knees? On your lap? How do you want me?" You repeat yourself, your words dripping with lust.

"Oh, I see." Martin blushes slightly at his misunderstanding. He thinks it over a moment, before answering. "This way is fine...for now." He says, climbing onto the bed to join you now. He spreads your legs apart with his hands, tenting your knees and placing himself between them. He gives you another kiss, warming you up before the main event. His hands grab at your tits, massaging them roughly.

"Mmm." You moan against his mouth, wishing you could bury your hands in his hair and tug on it. His lips move lower down to your neck, and he brings a hand to rub against your clit for a moment. "Oh..." You whimper quietly.

"Are you ready?" He asks in your ear, ceasing his touch on your bundle of nerves. He takes hold of his cock, running his tip along your silk.

"Yes, sir. So ready...you have no idea." You reply, waiting for him to penetrate you. Without another word, he puts his head above yours to watch you as his dick slips inside you. "Oh, fuck." You exhale while he fills you up. He's the perfect size, reaching every inch of your soaked pussy flawlessly. "You're so big, sir." You compliment him once he bottoms out.

"Thank you. You're very...warm." He says, somewhat awkwardly. You're guessing that's his best attempt at talking dirty.

"Do I feel nice and tight inside? Am I wet enough for you?" You try to help him out, saying all the vulgar things on his behalf.

"Yes. You're perfect, Y/N." Martin rasps, slowly pulling out before slipping back in. He lets out a low groan at the slickness of your insides. He continues to thrust in and out at a very slow pace, similar to how his fingers were working inside you earlier. But you want more, you want him to rail you like he does in your dreams. You know he has it in him, but you're unsure how to say it without him shocking you again.

"Can you go faster, sir?" You ask politely.

"Not yet, Y/N. Patience." He says in warning, still moving so very slow. You swear he's just trying to make you squirm. You can't help your neediness, so you grind your hips to meet his thrusts. He pulls his cock out of you as a result, and takes hold of the remote to give you another shock.

"Shit!" You shout at the painful current going through your body once more. Your muscles seize up, and Martin just watches the helpless look on your face. He lets it go a little longer this time, making you afraid that you might pass out. But just before you're about to possibly lose consciousness, he turns it off.

"It appears you have a problem with listening." Martin growls, which only turns you on more.

"I'm sorry, sir. I only want you so bad, you feel so good inside me." You explain, the pitchy whine in your voice making his cock twitch. How can he resist you when you sound like that?

"You promise to be good for me? To listen to what I say?" He questions, his expression stone still despite his ever-growing hunger for you.

"Yes, sir. Please...I need you." You beg tearfully.

"Very well." He responds, before slamming his cock inside you.

"Fuck!" You squeal. He proceeds to hammer himself into you now, gripping your thighs with frustrated strength.

"Is this what you want, Y/N?" He asks while panting as he fucks you good and hard.

"Yes, sir. This is exactly what I want. You feel so good." You continue to moan with every thrust, wrapping your legs around him to keep him close. He allows you to do this, using you as leverage to keep pounding your pussy like his life depends on it.

"Should I go harder? Faster? Tell me what you want, Y/N." Martin offers, spellbound by your helpless noises.

"Fuck me harder, sir. I know you can...you're so strong...I can take it." You plead to him, bringing your bound hands down to rest around his neck. You have to hold him, to feel him in any way you possibly can.

"I'm sure you can. You're such a good girl for me." He chuckles, snapping his hips to drive into you with more force.

"Shit, I'm getting close again, sir..." You warn him, though you're not sure how well you can hold it this time. He's hitting your sweet spot with every motion of in and out, and you're sure he isn't far behind.

"You know the rules, Y/N." He burns, picking up the remote again. You watch him with frightened eyes, though your lips curl into a mischievous smile.

"Do it." You blurt the words out.

"What?" He asks, dumbfounded that you're actually asking him to shock you.

"Shock me. It feels really good, sir." You reply seductively.

"If that's what you really want..." He trails off, still thrusting roughly into you as he presses the button. It appears the collar works like a taser, sending an intense shock to you, without affecting him at all. You moan at the sensation, savoring the pain and pleasure mixing together inside your clenching belly. Your walls spasm around his dick, making him groan. That's another reason why you asked him to do it, you knew he'd like it, too. He lets the current go on for longer again, watching your face twist in ecstasy. "You really are something special, Y/N." He says, in awe of you. He flicks the switch to turn it off, and your body relaxes underneath his.

"I try my best." You quip, breathing far more heavily than you were before.

"Here, let's try hands and knees for the end, hm?" Martin suggests, quickly pulling out and rolling you onto your stomach. He pants erratically behind you, waiting for you to get on your knees.

"Mmm, yes, please." You hum, kneeling before him while arching your back. You lean on your elbows, your hands resting just below your head.

Martin takes a moment to look at you in this position, noting your readiness to take him once more. He can deduce that this is your favorite position, and as a man of science, he can understand the anatomical reason as to why. He takes hold of his cock, running his leaking tip along your folds to tease you again. He grunts at his sensitivity, needing to hold back himself so he can fully please you. He'd hate to leave a woman unsatisfied. "Ready?" He asks, barely pressing the head of his dick against your entrance.

"Yes, sir. Please, fuck me." You plead, fighting the reflex to back yourself into him.

"Well, I am partial to begging." He says with a light laugh, before shoving his length into you.

"Fuck, yes." You moan as he hits even better angles inside you from behind.

"More?" He asks, needing you to tell him exactly what you want. He loves how verbal you are, how unafraid you are of sounding so pathetic.

"Yes, sir. Fuck me hard and fast...I wanna cum on your huge cock." You're whimpering and teary-eyed again, but you can't possibly be bothered to care.

"Sure thing." He answers simply, grabbing either side of your waist. He pulls out, making your skin slap together loudly as he thrusts back in with force. You cry out, gripping what you can of the covers below you. It's hard to manage with your hands stuck together, but you try your damndest. Martin grunts very loudly as he continues to fuck you at the pace you asked for. You're almost there again, and he can feel it. He's right behind you, his stomach preparing to tense as his balls tighten.

"Can I cum, sir?" You ask through a moan. You can feel your arousal lubing him up with each stroke, some of it rolling down your inner thigh in warm drips.

"Not yet. Soon." He mumbles, driving himself as deep into you as humanly possible. Your insides are so snug around him now, threatening to strangle him altogether. He's looking forward to feeling you let go around him.

"Please, sir...please, please...please..." You repeat the words incoherently, they're the only things you can think to say. You're an absolute mess, holding your orgasm in so hard that it almost hurts. Your brain has turned to mush, and you know you can't keep it in forever.

"You've been a very good girl tonight, Y/N. Let it all go for me." He growls, sensing his own end taking him over.

"P-push the bu..." You trail off, unable to finish the sentence.

"What?" Martin asks, trying to figure out what you're saying.

"The button. Push...the...button." You force the words out, every syllable of which threatening to open the floodgates. But you want to feel that delicious shock as you cum, you just know it'll all be worth it.

"Of course, Y/N." He says breathlessly. He does as you ask, forcing his own climax back for the sake of you violently losing control around him. He presses the button, and you finally feel it wash over you.

"Martin!" You choke out his name as your body seizes up one last time. Your pussy clenches around his dick, yanking a loud groan from his throat.

"God—" He thrusts into you uncontrollably, his cum coating your insides messily. If you could flex your vocal chords right now, you'd scream at how good his sloppy bucking feels. You continue to tremble and convulse, releasing a small mess of juices from your pussy. The warm liquid soaks his cock, making him groan again. "Y/N, I—" He gasps, unable to believe how otherworldly you feel inside. He keeps thrusting through the pleasure, forcing your cum to mix and spill out onto your thighs and the bed.

You're on cloud nine in this moment, savoring every second of electric current pulsing through you, and every needy stroke Martin continues to make inside you. He finally turns off the collar, powering it off entirely. You slump against the bed, taking him with you as he still won't stop fucking your pussy. "Martin..." You moan, trying to warn him that he's gonna make you cum again if he doesn't let up.

"You feel so good, Y/N. I've never felt anyone like you..." He praises.

"G-gonna cum again..." You make a second attempt, but he doesn't seem to hear you. You've broken him, in a way, making him the desperate one now. You let him keep going, regardless of the fact that you're getting a little sore. His thrusts feel so good, and he seems to want to experience you clamping down on him one last time.

"One more, just one more...can you do that for me, Y/N?" He asks with desperation in his voice. His breath lands hotly on the back of your neck, his body sliding around on top of yours as you're both covered in sweat.

"Y-yes...I'll be so good for you, Martin. Make me cum." Your words are all the motivation he needs. He picks up his pace again, pounding you into the bed as he tries to give you another orgasm. You cry out over and over, waiting to feel ecstasy rush through you for the third time.

"That's it...just like that, Y/N. Good girl." He pants, feeling your walls fluttering again.

"Oh, shit...I'm gonna cum, sir. Can I cum, please?" You whimper.

"Y-Yes, you can..." He stutters, and you sense your high taking over once the words pass his lips.

"FUCK!" You scream, thighs quaking as you're rocked to the core again.

"Mmm, ah—" His breath catches in his throat as you soak his cock again, even more than last time. You spill down your thighs and his, every spasm pushing more fluid out of you. You almost start sobbing as your final high subsides, and he stills himself within you. He carefully pulls out, gazing at the sticky mess left between your legs. You lie still, trying to catch your breath. As you do so, Martin gets off the bed and unlocks the collar. He takes it away, putting it and the remote back in its case. He also unties your hands, checking for any bruises left on your wrists. Finding none, he retrieves a damp towel from the bathroom to clean you up with. "How are you feeling?" He asks as he wipes away the mess from your sore flesh.

"I'm great, Martin. That was so fucking good." You say softly, feeling completely exhausted now. Once he's done cleaning you up, he helps you sit up and redress, sans your panties. "Thank you." You say, standing to meet him once you're fully clothed.

"For what?" He asks curiously.

"For giving me what I've been dreaming about for weeks." You reply cheekily, giving him a short kiss. You suppose it's time for you to leave now, to go back home to your parents.

"You dreamt about me?" He questions, as if it's impossible for you to have done such a thing.

"Mmhmm, every night since the first day you came into the store. Shit, I've had to change my panties in the middle of the night so many times because of you." You giggle, playfully poking his chest.

"Right." He gives you a soft smile, unsure how to respond to that. "Well, I can have my driver drop you at home, if you like. Or the store, if your car is still there." He offers.

"The store is fine. Thanks." You reply, and he goes to a phone on the dresser, presumably to speak to the driver. He retrieves a robe to put on to escort you to the door after the brief call, tying a firm knot around his waist. 

"Come along, then." He gestures at the bedroom door, and you open it and head for the stairs. You go all the way down and to the front door, stopping for a moment. "What is it? Did you forget something?"

"No." You shake your head, lifting up your bag to show that you've got everything. "I just...if you ever wanted to do this again, I wouldn't say no." You end with a shrug, unsure he'll even consider it.

"I wouldn't be opposed to that." He answers, smiling a bit bigger for your benefit. Unfortunately, for your own safety, he can't do this again. If only you knew the kinds of things he's gotten himself caught up in these last few years, the awful things he's done in the name of 'science'. He can't put a sweet young thing like you at risk, no matter how amazing the sex is. But for now, he can let you think there's a chance, he can't bear to break your heart. You'll just need some time to forget about him, to move on to someone your own age. That's all. At least, he hopes so. He'd hate to have you come back here looking for him, when this isn't even his real home at all. It's all staged, sitting empty and waiting for him, or anyone else working in the lab, who needs a cover to blend in. It's a shame you fell for it so willingly, though he supposes that's kind of the point.

"Cool. Well, hopefully I'll see you in the shop again. Or around town." You say, going to him for one last kiss goodbye.

"Of course. I'll be around." But no, he really won't. He'll have to avoid your store like the plague now. What a shame, you've got such a wonderful selection of Chopin. He puts a hand on the small of your back, giving you the final kiss you're waiting for. He kisses you hard, wanting to sweep you off your feet one last time. You hum against him, wishing you didn't have to let go. But he makes the decision for you, and the regretful look on his face tells you he won't be coming to you again.

You're not stupid, you know this was probably a one-time thing anyway. It hurts to know he's lying to your face, but you're sure he has a good reason. You figured his vague answer of 'government' as his job meant something top secret, maybe even dangerous. You get it, truly, you do. And he doesn't need to know that you see right through him. Let him have his illusion, it'll only hurt more to shatter it.

"Bye, Martin." You give him a small wave, and go outside to the car that's waiting for you. It's a dead silent ride back to the record store, with the driver glancing back at you suspiciously a couple of times. He drops you off outside Waxed Out, and you walk down the street to the lot where you've parked your car. You get inside, turn the key, and drive home while replaying the exquisite moments you and Martin shared together. It'll be a while before you get over that man, and you don't mind that one bit. He was something special tonight, and you're sure he feels the same about you. At least he has your panties to remember you by.

August 10th, 1983

Dear diary,

I was right. Martin hasn't returned to the store, and I don't think he's ever going to. I get it, his work is probably too much to balance with hooking up with me and taking care of his kid, if he even has one. I still dream about him every so often, and we do all the things we did that night over and over again. I still wake up with soaked panties every time, but all it does is remind me that I'm never going to see him in that way again. I hardly see him around town, either. And the few times I have, he ignores me when I wave at him. It's like I don't exist, or at least, he turns away before I can see him look sad. I'd like to think that's what he's doing, anyway. I know, I know, this was only sex. Wild, crazy, kinky-as-fuck sex. But still, that's all it was. And that's all it needs to be.

As they say, onwards and upwards. Speaking of that, I've finally got my own place! No roommates or anything! It's totally cheap and doesn't look like a complete dump. And it's all mine. No more nosey parents, not after I move in there in a couple days. I've got my shit all packed up and ready to go. My freedom can't come soon enough, diary. Until then, I'm gonna get high and masturbate while thinking about Martin again. What can I say? That dick was something else...

[j-digital-archives]

♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧ The Elegance of Adulthood: A Stylish Journey from 9 to 5 to Cloud 9 𓆩♡𓆪✨🤍

Hello once more, darlings! It seems I'll be gracing these digital pages more often now, given that yesterday marked my departure from the corporate realm. I must confess, I felt rather content and elated. But, as I sauntered out of that imposing edifice, Mother Nature had quite the mood swing. Instead of a sun-soaked day, she served up a blustery, cloudy ensemble. I mean, seriously? Today was supposed to be all about sunshine and rainbows, not a storm and torrential downpour. But fear not, my spirits remain uncrushed. I decided to get my groove back with a little Spotify action, only to realize that I was stuck on the free version. The shuffle and those pesky ads were absolute party poopers. And don't even get me started on Spotify's decision to serve up some melancholic, soul-searching tunes. I mean, come on! Were they trying to match the weather with their playlist? It ruffled my feathers, but alas, I had to bear with it as I needed some melodic company for my train journey homeward.

The very moment I inked my name on that exit document, it felt as though a weight had been lifted from my shoulders. Suddenly, the world felt a little lighter, as if I'd shed a burden. Oh, the sweet taste of freedom! And let's not forget, on my last day, I stumbled upon a secret shortcut from the office building to the nearby mall. I couldn't help but think, "I've been on this grind for a whole year, and yet, I had no clue this secret passage existed?" It was a humbling reminder to keep an eagle eye on my surroundings.

Now, here I am, in the land of joblessness, pondering my next move. I've been on the job hunt since early 2023, before the contract's final chapter, and to my surprise, only a handful of companies have graced my inbox with those dreaded rejection emails. The question of what my heart truly desires, how I shall support myself and my family in the financial realm, remains an enigmatic puzzle. If you were to inquire about my willingness to jump back into the corporate or government machinery, my answer would be a resounding "No." Why, you ask? Because I'm simply not cut out for working under the thumb of authority. Is it just me, or do you share this sentiment?

In the realm of creative expression, I find myself at a loss, all the while the neighbor downstairs hosts a rather raucous gathering. What on earth is transpiring down there, I wonder? With that, I shall bid adieu for today. Wishing all of you a splendid day, my dears!

And now, a little query for those perusing this digital diary: Does your occupation bring you genuine joy? Hold on, let me rephrase that. Are you genuinely vibing with your job?

[vivacoded]

October 2, 2023

Current Mood: fine, a little anxious

Day Rating: 5/10

Another day doing online college... Or so I thought. That makes it sound like I spent the day on some thrilling adventure, but really I just didn't have any work to do. I had the whole house to myself like I usually do on weekdays, so I spent today just lounging around at my kitchen table with my dog.

I feel bad for her though lmao. The kitchen window was open so we could hear all the birds tweeting outside, but I had a song stuck in my head. The Song with Five Names, a​.​k​.​a. Soapbox Tao, a​.​k​.​a. Checkmate Atheists! a​.​k​.​a. Neospace Government, a​.​k​.​a. You Can Never Know by Will Wood to be exact. Say that 10 times fast. See, when I have a song stuck in my head, I can't just listen to it once. Not twice. Not even three times. I have to listen to it over and over and over and overandoverandoverandoverandover again on repeat until I'm satisfied. I think that's a form of stimming. Lately I've been having one Will Wood song stuck in my head per day. I wouldn't be surprised if he's the only artist that shows up in my Spotify Wrapped. Anyways, back to my dog, poor girl just wanted to rest her old bones and take a nap, but here I am blasting some evil jazz on repeat because I can't function otherwise. Or maybe she's used to it by now :P

Later today, after dinner to be exact, my mom took me out driving again. I've only ever driven in parking lots, so she wanted me to get at least some experience on the road before I meet with my instructor on Wednesday (which, by the way, I found out there's no female instructors at that school. Being in a car with some random man? Yuck!) The original plan was just to drive around the block, but I eventually wanted to practice some more since I felt like I was getting the hang of things.

I drove around the whole town for a while, which wasn't really a lot since I live in a small town, and I eventually got the courage to drive on a real road. I didn't drive on the real road too much, to be fair, but it was still my first time actually being on one. It was a little scary, but there weren't many cars out this evening. The most aggravating part was waiting for cars to pass so I could actually turn onto the road.

Tomorrow, my mom wants me to take on more populated roads. Nothing big, just in the next town over. She specifically wants me to go to this store, and it makes me wonder if it's just an excuse to take her out shopping lmao.

Oh! I drove by some houses in my town that are already decorated for Halloween. There was one house in the very back road that did an excellent job utilizing the small yard they had to strategically place props. There didn't seem to be any specific theme, but I'm not complaining. All the stuff they had put out there was awesome. I'm going to go window shopping for Halloween props and decorations later this month, so maybe I can find where those people got their stuff from. People always hype up Spirit Halloween, but other stores like Party City and Home Depot have really cool things too. Sometimes they're even better!

I hope when I'm living on my own, I'll be able to make enough money where I can buy cool Halloween props too. Hell, I'd keep a couple in my house all year long if they fit my decorations. Man, if I had money, I'd be so cool. I hate that I need money in order to express myself and be happy, but I also want money so bad. The world is tough like that, I suppose.

Another diary entry where I rambled a lot about an uneventful day. I wonder what will happen when I have an eventful day. I might end up writing a novel lmao. Not that it matters. This is my corner of the internet. It's possible that no one will even read these entries anyways. Just me and my own thoughts. Marking my existence on the internet so I won't be forgotten.

[dramaticunicorn82]

Disco Donny Does...

"Raining glitter down on us tonight Covering us all in magic Never even seen them stars so bright As the look in your eyes

Raining glitter down on us tonight No more hiding in the shadows Ooh, you look like diamonds in the light Everybody put your hands up to the sky And let it rain"

---Songwriters: Alex Smith / Francis Anthony White / Kylie Ann Minogue / Mark Taylor

Hey everyone! Disco Donny here and happy June 1st which means Happy PRIDE! ***insert sound of blasting airhorn here***

For those who might not know me, allow me to briefly introduce myself;

My name is Donny Avery and I am a 40 year old gay white guy from Southeast Texas. My favorite color is orange and I love all things sparkly and colorful and my favorite pop princess is the one and only Kylie Minogue. I've been happily out of the closet since I was 18 years old and it has been a roller coaster ever since.

However, this blog is not about that. I'm not going to dwell on the past or make a list of all my regrets or relive the happiest/worst/scariest/most regrettable moments of my life (and trust me, there are many.

Nope. That is not what I will do.

While I might have to mention events from my past for these blog entries to make sense, I am living for today and for the future and that is where my focus will be for the remainder of my days on this crazy planet.

Today, I am going to tell you about how this blog idea came about. See, I LOVE keeping a journal/diary - whatever you would like to call it. The problem is, I never keep up with it. Also, the older I get the harder it is to write using a writing utensil for long periods of time. Damn cramps and probably early onset arthritis! It's much easier to type. I am also busy keeping a daily/weekly/monthly and financial planner using my handwriting and that gives these hands all the working out they need.

The closest I came to keeping up with an actual handwritten journal was when I was in college in New York City. I filled up a whole journal! I started another one but I didn't get very far with that. Then, guess what happened next? I LOST THOSE JOURNALS! AHHHH! Yep. Have no idea what happened to them. I will tell you this, I had A LOT of fun in college. A lot of fun with men in particular. Then I documented it all in my journals. Soooo whoever found that journal had a lot of steamy material to get off to or perhaps they used it for some erotic fan-fiction and are currently lapping it up in book sales. Who knows? I do wish I still had those though. Would be amazing AND appalling to read the things I did while getting myself an education. Maybe not the education I should have been getting, but still, an education none the less. RIP my NYC journals!

The last two years of my life have been a whirlwind of change for me. Change that I now feel could be the best things to happen to me. While they were happening and during the grieving process I certainly did not feel that way. I've made a lot of mistakes in my life and these last two years were certainly no different, but I've been forced to change and now I am firmly embracing the change.

Most of my adult life has been about making the same mistakes over and over and over and over and never really growing I guess. Sure, there are some positives about it but some of these patterns never stopped. I am now committed to changing these patterns and making better choices in my life. It's time and it is needed. I need to do this before I fall deeper into the pits of bad mental health and end up doing something I possibly can't come back from. I've hurt myself and others through my actions and I'm tired of it. I'm tired of putting myself in these positions where I have to explain myself with pathetic excuses and justify my actions. I am better than that and I need to treat myself better than that. Also, there are TONS of people who believe in me and love me and many times I've taken that support for granted and I'm sorry for that. I'm lucky in so many ways and now I am going to embrace that and try to build myself up from there. It's not gonna be easy but I'm looking forward to the challenge.

I've already made some great changes in my life and I am looking forward to explaining more about that in future blogs and I am hoping that by keeping up a blog diary I can grow into the person I want to become and if just one person is inspired by this then I will be on top of the world. Other blogs out there have inspired me and I hope to do the same.

Coming up with a name for this blog was fun. At first I was thinking "Disco Donny Does..." Disco Donny being a nickname given to me by some and an apparent drink named after me at The Log-0n café in Beaumont (double rum and diet RIP). Then, since this is about my journey I thought putting "Disco Donny" "does..." Sort of like "Debbie Does..." Plus I'm also a sucker for alliteration. I wasn't crazy about the title and one day while rediscovering the music of my Goddess Kylie Minogue I remembered a song of hers called "Raining Glitter" and how much it means to me. I think the song describes me perfectly. I'm shiny, I'm colorful, I love being the center of attention, and I love lights. I love dancing in the middle of a dance floor and getting lost in the music and lights and atmosphere. It's a euphoric feeling I never feel anywhere else but when I'm on the dancefloor. Also, "Raining Glitter" just sounds like a fantastic title and for it to come from the Goddess herself is just icing on the cake. It made sense and I am very glad I changed it.

Recently, as part of my "better choices in life", I gave up a lot of my social media, in particular Facebook. Man, Facebook. That's a whole other post. Just know I have been used to sharing so much of my life on social media because that's just what I did. Every event that happened to my life, I shared. Everything. I'm moving. Share. Break-up. Share. New underwear. Share (yes, really.) I'm not even sure what made me feel like everyone wants to hear everything about me because truth be told, they don't. I crossed a line on social media that was not healthy for me and from my experience, Facebook seemed to be the most toxic of them all. So I did something I haven't done since Facebook's inception (yes, I was on it when it was only just for college students and one had to be invited to be on it) and I deactivated my account. I didn't delete in case I want to get back on it and I probably will at some point, but for right now I'm really enjoying this freedom. There are things about it I miss, but overall, I'm good for now.

Starting an online blog allows me to document my time on planet Earth without caring how many likes I have or who has something to say about me. I'm just me and that's what I love about this world. It will always be positive and hopefully uplifting. If anyone out there wants to read it, they can and if they don't-it's no skin off my back. This is first and foremost for me and I hope that my actions in the "real world" will reflect how I've been journaling in my own way.

I've rambled too much already. I'm hoping to make a blog entry once a day but I'm not giving myself a "quota" because that's when the anxiety kicks in and I begin to panic and there will be none of that. Some may be short, some may be long, some may be silly, but it's all me.

I'm off to bed now, but I am leaving you with a fan made video for Kylie Minogue's video "Raining Glitter". I love the energy and happiness it provokes. It's an energy I feel like I still have somewhere deep in me. It might just be a flicker but it's still there and I am hoping to burn that flame bright once again. I hope you listen to it and love it as much as I do. Until next time, this is Disco Donny signing off. :)

[spencestyles]

Love Letters

summary: the one where spencer and y/n have similar vows at their wedding reception

pairing: spencer x BAU!Fem!reader

warnings: fluff, daddy issue shaming (if you really squint it’s more of a joke), suggestive content (lowkey)

words: 1k+

enjoy!!!! i really like this one!!!

"I've been writing y/n letters ever since our first date," Spencer began, reciting his speech he had been practicing for months for your wedding reception. "It started as a way for her to know that I cared about her. Then it was our secret way to communicate around the team. Then it became just our thing. I always wrote her a letter, on special occasions, after a tough case, when I thought her hair looked nice. They could have been the simplest letter. I think one even said I like the color you painted your nails. Any way for me to tell her I loved her no matter how big or small."

You had a small tear down your cheek as you looked at your now husband.

"I also have a diary that I write in especially a few years ago, less now that I have y/n," Spencer laughed. "But I found this one entry that I think is important I share with everyone.

Dear Diary,

Today a new agent joined the team. Her name is y/n and she is a few years younger than me. She is very smart, but doesn't like to flaunt it. On the jet earlier, she listened to my facts. Actually listened. And she was interested in my facts. She was the first one to realize the unsub was a woman and not a man. No one could have realized it until she noticed the unsub was going after people she wished to be. I really like her, and I know my therapist says not to trust people so easily, but y/n is different. I genuinely laughed today. Everything about her is perfect. She has the brightest smile and eyes like the ocean. Maybe I'll try to ask her out, but I don't think I'm her type. She was really friendly with Hotch, maybe shes into older guys.”

“WHAT?!” you screamed, eyes bludgeoned. “No hate Arron, but what Spencer?”

“Okay continuing, I'm still going to become friends with her. I think we will be really good friends.

So obviously I was very unsure about if this day would ever happen. If me now told me then I was getting married to y/n I probably would have asked if I drugged her, but no I didn't. I love you y/n Reid." Everyone clapped for Spencer and now it was your turn to speak, you and Spencer decided on doing small speeches during the reception instead of doing long vows.

Spencer handed you the microphone signalling for your speech to begin, "As Spencer earlier said Spencer wrote me a lot of love letters. I mean a lot. I think Spencer thought I threw them out, but I have kept every one since the first time he wrote one. When I counted I think there was well over 600. It hit 600 and I stopped counting. So I decided today would be the perfect time to share some of my favorites.

Dear y/n,

I can't believe you agreed to go on a date with me. I will pick you up at seven, wear something nice. You'll look gorgeous in anything. After dinner I was thinking we could watch Star Trek at my apartment, let me know your thoughts. I think it is smart of us to keep this a secret from the team, at least until things become serious.

Yours truly,

Spencer

Dear y/n,

Today marks three months of dating behind the teams back. I can't believe they haven't figured it out. Some profilers they are. The past three months have been the best three months of my life. I can't wait to see how beautiful you look at Rossi's tonight, hopefully I won't blow our cover.

Always and forever,

Spencer

Dear y/n,

The past six months with you have been amazing. I will never be more grateful than right now, you're finally going to move in with me. I know when I asked you two months ago you were nervous, but now I think it may be time to tell the team about us. They're our family and they deserve to know. Tell me what you think about tonight, I'll pick you up at seven. Wear that one low cut dress I love on you.

Always and forever,

Spencer

Dear y/n,

I can't believe we finally told the team and I can't believed they had bets. Now I can kiss you, hug you, and love you all the time. Also you don't have to wake up early to cover your neck, I want them to know you're mine. I can't wait to stop having to room with Derek on cases, it got annoying when he'd keep asking me if I ever got laid. I want you to come with me to Las Vegas on our next break. You can meet my mom, she already knows about you.

Always and forever,

Spencer

Dear y/n,

You scared me during yesterdays case. I thought I lost you. I know we can't mix relationships and work, but seeing you bleed like that scared me. Meet me at the park we had out first date at tonight at six. I want to talk.

Always and forever,

Spencer

Dear y/n,

I can't believe we're finally engaged. I've spent the last year and a half loving you and the past five years being your best friend. I can't wait for forever.

I love you,

Spencer

These ones are obviously from the most important moments in our relationship and I will forever cherish these letters. Spencer Reid I love you so much. Here is to official always and forever." You looked over at Spencer who was smiling with teary eyes. He was shocked you kept all the letters. Spencer engulfed you into a hug.

"Always and forever."

[traumasurvivorshelpingsurvivors]

tw for pandemic mention. mods, is it weird for trauma to impact your perception of time? not sure if that makes sense but basically after i saw the ask that mentioned 2018/2019 i felt a mix between thinking that was a long time ago and feeling like it was just yesterday. today i sent my friend some pics from 2020 and it felt like it was such a long time ago but they were pics we took at the mall in january a couple months before the pandemic started impacting our area. maybe the pandemic plays a role in this? i mean, i barely remember what life was like before the pandemic honestly since this has become our new normal. my main trauma was one that happened 8 years ago but i don't like being reminded of how many years ago it was because i don't feel like i've improved much since then. like people say things are supposed to get better but i feel like i've just been waiting for things to get better for so long, i have reached out for help before but i've never felt like anybody cares about helping me long-term. like i went to a school that had free counselors on-site but just a limited amount of sessions for currently enrolled students. so i met with counselors a few different times while i was still a student but it really wasn't enough to make improvements and now i'm in a situation where i can't get my own counseling. everything just feels weird and blurry. also i have a milestone birthday coming up and it doesn't feel different from any other year, even though for some people it's a really important and meaningful year.

Anon, the true question is: what isn't weird for trauma to affect?

The answer, though, is no, it's absolutely not uncommon for trauma to affect our notion of time. Trauma survivors can experience this in any number of ways - gaps in memory, lack of continuity, not grasping how long an hour, a week or a year is, scrambled memories, dissociation can leave you feeling like time is either stretching out or disappearing, it's all a mess. Add that with a years long pandemic and it's completely understandable for you to feel like you're not gauging time very accurately. Here is a great piece about this topic, if you're interested!

Some common suggestions to countering this are keeping a diary; marking events or time passed on a calendar; and having a journal of important days. I, personally, have found that taking photos of yourself regularly can make the passage of time feel more substantial. Though additionally, if you find that time passing can leave you feeling confused or triggered, you're free to avoid delving into it! Living life on a day to day basis is always an option, and never a shame. - Mod Hakki

[bananaofswifts]

For Women's History Month 2021, GRAMMY.com is celebrating some of the women artists nominated at the 2021 GRAMMY Awards show. Today, we honor Taylor Swift, who's currently nominated for six GRAMMYs.

When we met Taylor Swift in 2006, it was immediately apparent that her songwriting approach was like ripping a page out of her diary.

"Just a boy in a Chevy truck/ That had a tendency of gettin' stuck/ On backroads at night/ And I was right there beside him all summer long/ And then the time we woke up to find that summer gone," she lamented in the first verse of her debut single, "Tim McGraw(opens in a new tab)." The way the then-16-year-old Swift could turn personal anecdotes into instantly memorable hooks mirrored the prowess of an industry veteran, appealing to more than just the teenage girls that could relate to a short-lived high school romance.

Now, nearly 15 years later, Swift has introduced another layer of intrigue with a foray into indie folk, unveiling a pair of albums, folklore and evermore, last year. Recorded entirely in isolation after the COVID-19 pandemic hit in March 2020, folklore has been widely acclaimed(opens in a new tab) as Swift's best album, touted for its intimate songwriting and cinematic dynamics; evermore has received similarly glowing reviews(opens in a new tab).

folklore was 2020's best-selling album(opens in a new tab) and earned Swift five GRAMMY nominations at the 2021 GRAMMY Awards show, including her fourth Album Of The Year nod. (evermore will be eligible for the 64th GRAMMY Awards in 2022.) As her 10 previous GRAMMY wins suggest, though, this new chapter isn't an abrupt departure for the star—it's a masterful continuation of her evolution as a singer/songwriter.

If there's one thing that Swift has proven throughout her career, it's that she refuses to be put in a box. Her ever-evolving sound took her from country darling to pop phenom to folk's newest raconteur—a transition that, on paper, seems arduous. But for Swift, it was seamless and resulted in perhaps her most defining work yet. And folklore’s radiance relies on three of Swift’s songwriting tools: heartfelt balladeering, autobiographical writing, and character-driven storytelling.

While there was always a crossover element to Swift's pop-leaning country tunes, her transition from country starlet to pop queen began with Red. The album’s lead single, the feisty breakup anthem "We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together(opens in a new tab)," was Swift's first release to reach No. 1 on the Billboard Hot 100 (and, ironically, scoffed "indie records much cooler than mine"). She declared a full pop makeover with 2014's 1989, but the response proved that her bold move was the right one: Along with spawning three more No. 1 hits, the project won Swift her second GRAMMY for Album of the Year.

From there, 2017’s Reputation, a response to media scrutiny, and 2019’s Lover, an often bubbly exploration of all facets of affection, followed. Although they shared similarly grandiose production, Lover featured a handful of poetic ballads, including "The Archer(opens in a new tab)," a self-reflective love song that teased Swift's folk sensibilities through storybook lyrics and ambient textures.

Swift’s ballads are key in understanding the full essence of folklore. They’ve regularly marked standout moments on each of her albums, both thanks to her poignant vulnerability and rich tone. Fearless standout "White Horse" earned Swift two GRAMMYs in 2009; Red's painstaking "All Too Well" was an instant fan favorite; 1989's "This Love" and Reputation's "New Years Day" provided tenderness amid otherwise synth-heavy sounds.

The raw emotion she puts into her downtempo songs comes alive on folklore, introducing a new wave of neo-classical sonics that elevate her fanciful penmanship to an ethereal level. Whether or not Swifties saw a full indie-pop record coming—at least not yet—the shift isn't all that surprising. Folklore’s romanticized lyrics and relatively lo-fi production are arguably what many fans have been patiently waiting on.

Lyrically, the super-personal nature of Swift’s music has always captivated fans and naysayers alike; diehards and critics dissected each of her albums for its real-life subjects and hidden meanings. While she played into those conspiracies at the time—whether she was revealing names in titles like "Hey Stephen(opens in a new tab)" and "Dear John(opens in a new tab)" or scathing the other girl on "Better Than Revenge(opens in a new tab)"—even Swift herself admits that her teenage method had an expiration date.

"There was a point that I got to as a writer who only wrote very diaristic songs that [it] felt unsustainable for my future moving forward," she told Apple Music's(opens in a new tab) Zane Lowe in December of 2020. "It felt like too hot of a microscope ... On my bad days, I would feel like I was loading a cannon of clickbait when that's not what I want for my life."

That realization is what helped make folklore so memorable: Swift stripped away the drama to let her artful storytelling shine. Sure, there are occasional callbacks to personal happenings ("invisible string(opens in a new tab)" references sending her exes baby gifts and "mad woman(opens in a new tab)" alludes to her legal battle with Scott Borchetta and Scooter Braun). Still, she largely shies away from her autobiographical narratives to make way for her imagination.

"I found myself not only writing my own stories, but also writing about or from the perspective of people I've never met, people I've known, or those I wish I hadn't," Swift wrote in a letter to fans(opens in a new tab) on social media the day folklore arrived. "The lines between fantasy and reality blur and the boundaries between truth and fiction become almost indiscernible."

folklore might be her first full project dedicated to creating characters and projecting storylines, but Swift has shown a knack for fantasy from the start. Tracks like "Mary's Song (Oh My My)(opens in a new tab)" on her self-titled debut and "Starlight(opens in a new tab)" on Red saw Swift craft stories for real-life muses ("Mary's Song" was inspired by an old couple who lived next door to Swift in her childhood; "Starlight" was sparked from seeing a picture of Ethel and Bobby Kennedy as teens). Even when songs did pertain to her real life, Swift often had a way of flipping memories into whimsical metaphors, like the clever clap-back to a critic on Speak Now's "Mean(opens in a new tab)" or the rebound relationship in Reputation's "Getaway Car(opens in a new tab)."

To think that we wouldn't have folklore without a pandemic is almost surreal; it's already become such a fundamental piece of Swift’s artistic puzzle. There was no telling what may have come after the glittering "love letter to love itself” that was Lover, but it seems isolation made the singer rethink any plans she may have had.

"I just thought there are no rules anymore because I used to put all these parameters on myself, like, 'How will this song sound in a stadium? How will this song sound on radio?' If you take away all the parameters, what do you make?" she told Paul McCartney in a November (opens in a new tab)Rolling Stone(opens in a new tab) interview(opens in a new tab). "And I guess the answer is folklore."

Even if she hasn’t been making indie music herself, Swift has shown an affinity for the genre over the years through curated digital playlists(opens in a new tab). Those included four songs by The National including "Dark Side of the Gym," which she references on folklore single "betty(opens in a new tab)," and "8 (Circle)" by Bon Iver, Swift's collaborator on folklore's gut-wrenching "exile(opens in a new tab)" as well as evermore’s title track. (“Exile” is one of folklore’s GRAMMY-nominated cuts, up for Best Pop Duo/Group Performance.)

The National’s guitarist Aaron Dessner co-wrote nine and produced 11 of folklore's 16 tracks, soundtracking Swift's imaginative tales with sweeping orchestration and delicate piano. Their partnership started with "cardigan(opens in a new tab)," a melancholy take on teenage love(opens in a new tab) that's up for Best Pop Solo Performance and the coveted Song of the Year. The team-up was a dream come true for Swift, a self-proclaimed National superfan and a career highlight for Dessner, who shared in an Instagram post(opens in a new tab) about folklore that he's "rarely been so inspired by someone." He sees the album as a pivotal moment for both Swift's career and pop music.

"Taylor has opened the door for artists to not feel pressure to have 'the bop,'" Dessner shared with (opens in a new tab)Billboard(opens in a new tab) in September. "To make the record that she made, while running against what is programmed in radio at the highest levels of pop music—she has kind of made an anti-pop record. And to have it be one of the most, if not the most, successful commercial releases of the year that throws the playbook out.

"I hope it gives other artists, especially lesser-known or more independent artists, a chance at the mainstream," he continued. "Maybe radio will realize that music doesn't have to sound as pushed as it has. Nobody was trying to design anything to be a hit. Obviously, Taylor has the privilege of already having a very large and dedicated audience, but I do feel like it's having a resonance beyond that."

Swift's other primary folklore collaborator was Jack Antonoff. He has been her right-hand man since they first paired up on 2013's promotional single "Sweeter Than Fiction(opens in a new tab)" (Swift referred to him as "musical family" in her folklore announcement(opens in a new tab)). Even after years of creating stadium-ready pop smashes, Antonoff said in his own folklore Instagram post(opens in a new tab), "I've never heard Taylor sing better in my life / write better."

As Swift recognizes herself, folklore ushered in a new way of thinking for the superstar that not only brings out her best, but sets a promising precedent for what's to come. "What I felt after we put out folklore was, 'Oh wow, people are into this too, this thing that feels really good for my life and my creativity,'" Swift added in her interview with Lowe. "I saw a lane for my future that was a real breakthrough moment of excitement and happiness."

Her enthusiasm is tangible on both folklore and evermore. Dubbed folklore’s sister record, evermore further expands Swift’s newfound mystical atmosphere. Much to the delight of many Swifties, the follow-up also calls back to her country beginnings on tracks like the HAIM-assisted “no body, no crime(opens in a new tab),” as well as her pop expertise on more uptempo cuts like “long story short(opens in a new tab).”

Together, the albums are a momentous reminder that Swift is a singer/songwriter first. Her wordcraft is some of the most alluring of her generation, and that’s never been lost on her music, regardless of the genre she’s exploring. But now that Swift also feels she's at her best, it’s evident folklore was just the beginning of Taylor Swift in her finest form.

[willow-salix]

Day 100 of Isolation on Tracy Island and I'm writing this as a continuation from yesterday because I didn't have time to finish it then. And yes, before you ask, I am talking to Gordon again, because it was actually quite sweet in the end.

You know what it's been like during lockdown, everything has kinda blended into one longass day? I’ve lost track of dates, lost track of days in general, all they are is a number now, I know this is day 100 but I couldn’t tell you the month. Apparently it’s June, who knew?

We walked in after our little submarine jaunt and Gordon made his announcement. Scott popped his head around the door, looked panicked for a second and then vanished. Two seconds later John was forcibly shoved through the door into the kitchen with us. He stumbled and flailed for a second then pulled himself together.

“Hey, you’re back, I missed you!” he pulled me into a hug but I was wise to his moves and noticed the gesture he made behind my back allowing Virgil to sneak out from behind the breakfast bar and make a run for it.

“OK what’s going on?”

“Nothing!”

“Really?” I pulled back to hit him with a warning glare, just a little one to let him know I wasn’t appreciating the fibs. “Gordon said he was distracting me.”

“Well, Gordon is an idiot,” John shrugged, “I wouldn’t pay too much attention to anything he says.”

“Hey, unfair!”

“Accurate,” I agreed. “But unfair. Now spill it, Spaceman.”

“OK, fine,” he conceded, holding out a hand, “come on, follow me. You too, Gordo.”

He led the way up to the lounge where there was a hive of activity going on. You know in those old cartoons where everyone is dashing around and someone walks in and they all stop like they have been freeze framed, mid activity, just staring at you like you’re a three headed alien dancing with maracas. Which I wasn’t, I can assure you.

“Gahh, she’s here!” Alan yelped and they all came back to life.

“Happy birthday!” they choroused.

“You what now? Who’s birthday is it? Oh my gods, did I forget someone's birthday? Wait, is it August already? I’m so sorry, Virg! I suck! I’ll make it up to you.”

“It’s June,” John reminded me.

“It is? Who’s birthday is in June?” I flipped frantically through my mental rolodex of family rubbish and came up empty.

“Love, it’s your birthday.”

I snorted. “I think I’d know if it was-” he showed me the date on his phone, “-my birthday,” I finished. Dang. “I can’t believe I forgot my own birthday.”

"Well, you have been a bit distracted lately," Jeff laughed.

“We’ve all chipped in to help,” Scott told me, handing me a glass of something blue with an umbrella in it. “Better sip that carefully at first, MAX made it, Brains has been teaching him to mix drinks and he’s insisting on being our bartender today.”

“We have presents,” Alan grinned.

“And I made a cake!” Grandma smiled, gesturing to the coffee table.

“Oh...oh you guys are amazing,” I sniffed, feeling tears brewing.

“Quick, John, waterworks at 3 o’clock,” Virgil laughed as I was dragged into another hug.

“Nope, crying is not allowed,” John insisted, petting my hair.

“I can if I want to, because apparently it’s my birthday,” I mumbled against his shoulder.

The tears didn’t actually last that long, just long enough for me to mark my territory by getting foundation and mascara smears on his shirt. I’m a woman, it’s what we do.

Everyone gave me hugs and someone put on some music to 'really get the party going' although it was something call Gangnam Style so I think it was Grandma, she was doing a very weird dance to it too.

My mum called during the cake, which gave me a perfect excuse not to eat any of it (thanks Mum) and I promised that I’d visit them the next day.

The drinks that MAX mixed were...interesting, mostly palatable, very strong and they led to some very sloppy karaoke numbers that Scott and I started but the others helped to finish.

Someone had managed to get off the island and pick up take out and yes, Alan had been right, there were presents.

It turned out that Virgil had been borrowing my things to work on a witchy tarot card themed painting for the wall of my office, Alan got me a years membership to Cavern Quest (I think that’s more for his benefit than mine) Gordon got me a Thunderbird Four bath toy, Scott bought himself a new hoodie so I could keep his (Yay, but it's bold of him to think I won’t steal that one too) and John unfortunately didn’t get me the kitten or the hamster that I wanted but he did get me a cute little moon necklace and a promise of another present later, so I’ll forgive him.

I’m writing this a little worse for wear and all alone apart from Alan, Jeff, Grandma and Kayo.

We were all slumped around the breakfast table, sipping coffee like it was our life’s blood and trying to force some toast down into our rebelling stomachs, my head was pounding and Gordon was SOOO LOUD.

BEEP BEEP BEEP

“Urghhh,” I groaned, “turn that off. Whatever it is, it’s bad for me right now, " I tried to burrow my aching head under Alan's arm but it did nothing.

“It’s the emergency line,” John answered, sitting up straighter.

“Emergency line?” Scott shot upright too.

“Is this it? Do we have one?” Virgil asked, starting to smile.

John nodded. “Yep. Guys, you’re going to the Bahamas.”

Everyone scrambled, looking so dang happy to be moving again, to have a purpose again, taking off at a run for the lounge and their launch chutes and John to five to coordinate.

It looks like the world really is starting up again even though it is hard to think about. We’re used to being a bit isolated here and cut off from the rest of the world, but this has been a long lockdown and no doubt about it, it’s not completely over, not by a long shot.

We still have to social distance, we still have to wait for a call from the local authorities giving us permission to enter their country rather than just going wherever we are needed, but it’s progress.

This will be my last regular update for a while, it’s been an interesting three months and I’ve thoroughly enjoyed sharing our daily lives with you all in more depth, but now we need a little time to ourselves.

But don’t worry, I’ll still share the best stories with you all, I’ll still tell you all when something ridiculous happens, because let’s face it, it’s us, it’s a foregone conclusion that things will never be quiet here for long.

So, until I have something else to share, here’s a big thank you for spending time with us every day, for reading about our crazy lives and for laughing along with us (and crying with me too). Remember to stay safe, don’t take stupid risks, look after yoursleves and those you hold dear.

International Rescue are never far away, if you need them, just call, any frequency will do, they’ll hear you.

Bye for now.

(( Don't worry, I've loved doing these and will continue doing a diary for Selene as it was such fun. Isabelle did another picture to accompany this one, so here's the latest family portrait))