#Hands-On Budgeting Activities

[kidsinnowadays]

6 Ways to Instill Strong Money Management Skills in Your Children

Discover effective methods to teach your kids the value of money and equip them with essential financial skills for a successful future. #FinancialResponsibility #MoneyManagementSkills #ParentingTips #TeachingKidsAboutMoney

Teaching children about money management is a crucial life skill that sets the foundation for financial well-being in adulthood. By instilling strong money management skills early on, parents can empower their children to make informed financial decisions and develop healthy financial habits. This article outlines six effective ways to help your children develop sound money management skills. 1.…

[tossawary]

I saw this play a while back called "Pride and Prejudice* (*sort of)", which was a comedic retelling of the events of P&P by five female servants. (Who all worked in the Bennet household, I believe? Cannot remember the exact setting at this point.)

It was very much in an "low-budget improv troupe" style (though it was not actually improv), so Mr. Bingley's exaggerated "love at first sight" meeting with Jane happened while he had his hand stuck in a Pringles can. A karaoke machine made multiple appearances. If you were looking for historical accuracy or a perfect examination of the social nuances, this was not at all the play to watch, but it was pretty amusing, and it was interesting to think about P&P from the perspective of servants who may have only heard about certain events through gossip. Or who might just be mocking certain figures because they don't like them very much. At one point at a party, a tipsy Lydia got her hands on one of the soldiers' guns and fired it at the ceiling while people screamed. It was VERY silly.

Because there were only five actresses, they were switching between roles as needed, putting jackets or colorful dresses over their plain white dresses. The female servant who played the dramatic Mrs. Bennet also played the stiff Mr. Darcy. Another of the female servants played both Bingley siblings (Charles and Caroline) and also Charlotte Lucas, I think? Another played Mary, Lydia, and Mr. Collins, and also Mrs. Gardiner, I believe. Another played Jane, Georgiana Darcy, Mr. Wickham, and Lady Catherine, and so on. The female servant who played Elizabeth played her most of the time. The quick changes and mannerism shifts were quite funny.

But my favorite part may have been that Mr. Bennet was played by a chair. It was a comfy chair with its back to the audience and a newspaper propped up so that someone might be sitting there reading it, and at one point one of the servants went over to the chair to light a pipe, so that smoke rose from behind the chair. Characters talked to the chair sometimes, but the chair never talked back.

So, at one point, Mrs. Bennet was yelling and moaning about how the family was ruined. I think that Lydia, whom the embarrassing and overbearing Mrs. Bennet had been actively encouraging to be silly earlier, had run off with Mr. Wickham here. And Mrs. Bennet cried out, "OH, MR. BENNET, DO SOMETHING!!!"

And everyone on stage looked towards the chair with its back turned, which was fairly obviously empty, and which of course couldn't do anything by itself, because it was a chair. Dead silence again.

And then Mrs. Bennet went back to wailing and crying, while her daughters (Jane, Lizzy) patted her awkwardly on the back. And then I think the another actress came in as a servant to announce someone's arrival or something, moving the comedic retelling along. And that's probably what I remember best out of the entire play: Mr. Bennet could be effectively played by an empty chair with its back turned. It was hilarious.

[shotmrmiller]

being at a haunted house with your friends only to get separated and end up alone in a random room. it looks empty, except for the usual props and you're just taking a moment to catch your breath, wiping your sweaty palms on your jeans only to spot something in the corner shift, realizing that you're not alone.

a guy as broad as the door behind him is in there with you, costume seemingly lower budget than the others (was he called in at the last minute? his mask makes him look more a criminal than whatever the hell he's supposed to be.)

he's a clean two or three heads above yours, his dark clothing making him hard to see, blending in with the jagged shadows created by the red (because red means scary, right?) flickering lights overhead, and he's standing right in front of the quick exit, neon green sign barely grazing the crown of his head. shit.

a sudden, ear-splitting noise activates your fight or flight response and you're out the way you came in a second flat, uncaring that you're running against the flow of traffic, harshly bumping shoulders into both visitors and actors alike, and instinct takes over- without a second thought, you glance back over your shoulder.

the guy you'd bolted from is moving with unsettling purpose your way. the crowd parts around him, letting him gain on you effortlessly, his hulking stature looming larger with every step.

his eyes lock onto yours and your breath snags in your throat- he's a hunter, staring you down through the scope of a rifle, as if you're nothing other than fresh game for him to take home and devour.

you push on even though it feels like you're swimming upstream, his gaze burning into your back like a brand, the icy fear slithering through your veins alive, coiling around your galloping heart, tightening with every ragged breath.

until you hit a dead end. cornered, every instinct screaming for an escape that doesn't exist. and then he's on you, presence overwhelming, reaching a paw-sized hand toward you-

"i thought you guys aren't allowed to touch us?" you choke out, his fingers curling around your wrist and you wonder if he can feel your racing pulse.

his breath warms the side of your throat. "says who, pet? you're free t'stop me." if you can.

(soap and kyle watch him come out with you in hand, looking like you're about to be sick. kyle gives you a water bottle and soap pats your back, telling you that if yer that scared, he'll go with ye next time.)

[grison-in-space]

Has Biden actually done anything at all? There's evidence going around and I think it's compelling, the alternate to voting is instead doing actual social work and participating in protests and organizing political action, which is a good idea i think

1) Yes. Inarguably this has been the most effective progressive domestic administration since I have been alive, and I'm in my thirties. What in the fuck are you talking about? It's not perfect, but it's better than we've seen in fifty years: Obama tried, but Democratic Congressional organization was just not yet used to working with a completely obstructionist GOP Congress in the wake of the tea party.

Even in terms of foreign policy, this is also pretty much as good as US involvement gets. Sorry. Our foreign policy has been shaped by monsters for decades, and that's even without dealing with our huge and active branch of Christian doom cultists. There ain't a candidate in the world that could stop the entire accumulated momentum of geopolitics with a snap of the finger, and I'm not really willing to pretend that Biden is particularly notable for not managing to fix Israel/Palestine relations.

2) In your own words, anon, what precisely does organizing political action entail without participating in the political process? Do you think that abstaining from the part of the gig where you, the citizen, get to say which official gets the job somehow makes your opinions matter more to your elected public officials? Have you ever organized to get so much as a municipal one-time library project budget expanded? Are you perhaps only skilled at political argument with people who already agree with you on the Internet?

What is your leverage, and could it reasonably be described as "extortion" or "blackmail" or "political corruption?" Because those are pretty much the only things on the table that can work more effectively to drive an elected official than a disciplined coalition of political allies (who can be purchased with, you guessed it, votes) or a reliable bloc of voter support. Your vote matters less than the ones you bring with you, sure. Do you think that not voting yourself somehow helps people organize to drive more votes? Have you perhaps replaced your complex reasoning skills with a rapidly dying jellyfish?

3) Holy passive vagueness, Batman! "Evidence is going around." What a masterpiece of a sentence! How it suggests everything while providing nothing! What evidence? Who collected it? Who is talking about the evidence "going around?" Who is listening? How many of them are there? What did they think before? The more I think, the more questions I have, and damn if they ain't predisposing me to be even less charitable.

Like, this is so catastrophically poorly supported that I have to confess that I not only believe this is probably an ask in bad faith (i.e. by someone who is expecting to piss me off or otherwise engage with me adversarially, probably spammed to a whole host of blogs at once with no expectation of response) but I actively hope that it is. The alternative is to have to grapple with the reality that some people are so uncomfortable with the responsibility of moral agency that they're willing to release useful levers of legal and social power just so that they never do anything problematic with that power. Much better, of course, to wash one's hands of anything that might have the stink of responsibility clinging to it. Might fall from the membership of the Elect if you actually get yourself all muddy by doing things, I reckon.

I don't even believe that voting is the only lever we have when it comes to our elected officials or that votes are necessary to secure change, and I am certainly not talking about the presidential ticket alone when I talk voting. What I do believe is two things: one, that voting is a potential lever of power on the emergent chaos of the society in which we live. And two, that anyone telling me to leave a lever of power on the ground without a damn good reason is either incompetent, malicious, or both.

[luulapants]

Existential despair is so common in a person's twenties, I think, because up until that point, we've had a pretty clear road map for what's expected of us and we haven't had much reason to question that map. There are still a few milestones outlined for us (start a career, get married, make babies) but more and more young people are entering the post-school world and realizing:

A) that career thing just isn't happening like they said it would

B) I'm not ready to get married/I don't want to get married/marriage isn't the sort of life-altering event that it used to be

C) I'm not ready to make babies/I don't want a baby/I can't afford to raise children right now (see point A)

And in the absence of these milestones to shoot for (which one could argue weren't the promise of fulfillment they claimed to be in the first place), what we're left with is this aimless abyss of "the rest of our lives" sprawling out ahead of us with no indication of how it will go or what we should be doing to shape it. Young people start their first jobs, find they hate them, and think to themselves, "Is this it? Am I just supposed to do this job until I'm too old to do it or die first?"

Which is, yeah, really fucking depressing!! So here's my best attempt at an alternate roadmap for young people that don't vibe with the old model. Please feel free to add in your own suggestions!

Learn how you work and what you want out of a job. Unless you've been in a job-specific training program that gives you hands-on experience, your first jobs should be experiments. Learn how a full-time job feels for you, what elements are more or less difficult. Different workplaces have different cultures and expectations - what do you need out of a job environment? Do you need to find fulfillment in your job or is it enough for it to pay the bills and leave you time to find outside fulfillment? Do you want to climb a corporate ladder or are you content to hunker down as long as your bills get paid? This period of experimentation is exhausting and may feel like it's consuming your whole life.

Learn how to make time for things outside of work. Adapting to a full-time work environment often leaves you feeling so drained that you can't do anything but go home and collapse on the couch every day. That's fine - for a little while. But it can also become a habit. You need to learn how to do things after work or you'll go crazy. Go to a trivia night. Start an exercise schedule. Take a class in your community. Find volunteer work. Join a band. You will find that putting more things into your day makes you feel like you have more time, not less.

Find a community. Making friends as an adult can feel impossible. Where do you find these mysterious friends everyone seems to have?? This goes along with #2, though. As you start regularly attending the same activities, you will find that repeat interactions with the same people turn into friendships or at least friendly acquaintances. Say yes to invitations. Get involved in your local community. Strive to be connected enough to bump into people at the grocery store.

Unlearn bad lessons. We all internalize some messed up things when we're growing up. As you start off your adult life, that's the time to actively work at unpacking the things you've brought with you from childhood and deciding which things are helping you and which things are harming you. This might mean therapy or joining a spiritual group or reading new things or just making special time to be in your own head.

Learn the lessons you missed. In this, I mostly mean practical things. "Adulting." Areas of your day-to-day practical life that are causing you extreme stress are probably related to a knowledge or experience gap. Do you hate cooking and cleaning or were you not taught how to do it properly? Are you afraid of making medical appointments or is it just something new you're not used to? Does money make you queasy or do you need to learn how to make a budget?

Find something fulfilling. This can be your job. It can be volunteer work. It can be faith. It can be a hobby. It can be creating things. It can be challenging yourself physically. It can be activism. It can be going for walks in nature. Everyone finds fulfillment in different places. If you're not finding it where you are, look somewhere else.

[zarameraki]

⁺✩₊📨˚✧ 𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐢'𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐝 ⋆｡💵₊✩°

: ̗̀➛ tropes: fem! reader 𖥔 minors do not interact 𖥔 nsfw 𖥔 he's obsessed to the max 𖥔 ceo x assistant 𖥔 grumpy x sunshine 𖥔 she talks a lot x he listens a lot 𖥔 loved you for so long 𖥔 major fluff 𖥔 sexual content 𖥔 alternate universe 𖥔 nanami's first time 𖥔 you talk him through it 𖥔 close proximity 𖥔

: ̗̀➛ words: 5.6k

: ̗̀➛ notes: hey all! sorry for the inactivity. im got reality to handle as well. i promise ill be more active soon. the creativity juices are running on low fuel atm. thanks for all the love and support you have have given me. if you enjoy my work, please leave a comment, like, and reblog! thank you & ily. enjoy!

Nanami couldn’t focus on the meeting.

He never could when you were in attendance, sitting off to the side, diligently jotting notes. His eyes flicked back and forth from the powerpoint presentation to the strand of hair bothering you despite tucking it behind your ear thirty-seven times.

Yes, he was keeping count. 

His dick constrained against his pants when you bit the end of your pen between your teeth, getting a bit of your red lipstick smeared around the tool. He wished he was that pen, with the mark of your lips on his skin instead. He even wished he was your tea mug sometimes. 

Jesus, something was terribly wrong with him. You were wrong for him. He was your boss; you were his assistant. Your relationship was strictly professional—has been for three years now. Three torturous years of admiring you from the sidelines. Three torturous years of hearing you yap about going on dates with random men off the internet. Three torturous years of chafing his dick in the bathroom every morning, noon, and night to the thought of you. 

Your scent, your breaths, your skin, your hair, your eyes, your mouth—God, he loved your mouth—especially when it moved and produced the loveliest sound he’s ever heard. He wanted nothing more than to print you onto his skin for the rest of his life. 

Nanami scowled at the silver-haired intern who kept side-eyeing your cleavage. If only it weren’t for that bastard. Firing him crossed his mind every time he popped up like a weasel, but Nanami needed a solid reason. 

“—that’s alright with you, Mr. Nanami?” 

Nanami’s attention snapped back to the presenter. What was he speaking about? Budget? Strategies for the future? Increases in revenue? Whatever it was, Nanami had one answer. “Yes.” 

“Lovely, we’ll go ahead with the renovations for our research and development department. They’ll be happy to know their resources are being updated!” 

Ah. Well, either way, he could care less. Whatever made his employees happy, he wasn’t afraid to spend a pretty penny. That’s why Nanami Kento was universally loved by everyone. Even his enemies—if he had any to begin with—would be his allies. He didn’t often put himself on the pedestal, but he does admit every now and then, he was a jack of all trades. 

“That was a satisfying meeting, wasn’t it?” you chirped as you both entered the elevator. Nanami caught sight of the silver-serpent catching up and jabbed the button to close the doors. 

Unfortunately, the intern pushed his hand in between and laughed in an annoying sound he called a voice, sending a twitch in Nanami’s eyes. 

“Oh, Satoru!” you greeted, standing closer to his side. 

“Boss,” Satoru said to Nanami, then turned to you, whispering, “Beautiful,” loud enough for him to hear. 

You snorted, waving a hand. “Oh, stop it. I hope the meeting wasn’t too much for you. Lots of changes we’ve made for the fiscal year, huh?” 

Nanami stared bored at the closed doors with the two behind him. 

“You made it easier,” Satoru replied. 

“Were you copying my notes?” 

“Come on, sweetheart. This is corporate. Not college. A little cheating hurts nobody.” 

Nanami heard your uncomfortable chuckle and clenched his fists tight. The word ‘cheating’ was a trigger for you. Your last relationship ended with your boyfriend of three months sleeping with your friend simply because she had more money and didn’t work for someone. Nanami was sure you’d quit and almost placed an offer to give you a proper role in the company, but you brushed it all off by stating how much you cherished being his assistant. He’d fallen madly, madly in love with you. He knew when he’d make you his wife, you’d be the boss. 

“That’s my floor,” Satoru announced. “Let’s do dinner soon, yeah?” 

You simply nodded. 

“Always a pleasure meeting the man of the hour,” the silver-ass said to Nanami before exiting. 

You stepped up to your boss’ side, sighing. “He just doesn’t know when to give up. It’s almost adorable.” 

“I believe ‘agitating’ is the word you’re looking for.” 

You laughed it off. Nanami didn’t think he was particularly a funny guy until he met you. “Satoru’s harmless.”  

“Will you, though?” he asked, clearing his throat. “Go to dinner with him?” 

You glanced up at Nanami, and smiled. He stared straight ahead with a tight tick in his jaw. Your smile broadened. “I’d love to,” you replied, finding his body tense, “but not with him.” 

Nanami slowly dragged his eyes down to you. Your blinks were slow, weighed down by the thickness of your long lashes. His eyes dipped to your lips, then back to your gaze. “Well, I hope you do with someone. Dinner is an important meal of the day.” 

He was an idiot. 

“That’s surprising coming from you, Mr. Nanami.” 

“How so?” 

You shrugged lightly, eyes twinkling. “I’ve never seen you eat dinner, let alone leave the office around that time.”

Nanami adjusted his tie, feeling a bit self-conscious. He hesitated for a moment, then decided to take the plunge. “Well, maybe we should change that.”

Your eyebrow arched slightly, curiosity piqued. “Change what?”

“Since you’re staying late to catch up on work,” he said, his voice steadying, “how about we have dinner here together?”

You paused, surprise flashing across your face before you smiled warmly. “That sounds nice. I could use a break, and it’s been a long day.”

Relief washed over him, and he allowed himself to smile back. “Great. I’ll order something for us. Any preferences?”

You shook your head, still smiling. “I’m fine with anything, Mr. Nanami.”

“Please, call me Kento,” he said softly.

“All right, Kento,” you replied, your tone gentle. “Thank you.”

As he walked out of the elevator, he felt a sense of accomplishment and, perhaps, excitement—an emotion he’d felt strictly in your presence. It wasn’t a grand romantic gesture, but it was a step in the right direction. Tonight, you were his, even if only for a little while. And maybe, just maybe, he'd find the courage to tell you how he really felt.

As the morning passed, he buried himself in his work, but his mind constantly wandered. Every so often, he'd steal a glance in your direction, watching you as you diligently typed away on your computer or answered phone calls. There was something about the way you moved, the way you smiled even when you were focused, that captivated him completely.

Around mid-morning, Nanami's concentration was broken when a male worker from another department walked over to your desk. He was carrying a file, but instead of simply dropping it off, he started chatting with you. The man was smiling, clearly enjoying the conversation. Nanami's grip on his pen tightened as he watched the interaction unfold.

The male worker leaned casually against your desk, making you laugh at something he said. Nanami's heart pounded in his chest. He hated how easy it was for others to make you smile like that. He felt a pang of jealousy, a possessive urge to step in and assert that you were his . . . though you didn't know it yet.

As the conversation continued, you glanced up and caught Nanami staring. Your eyes met, and you smiled softly at him. He quickly looked away, feeling a rush of embarrassment and anger at himself for being so obvious. His face felt hot, and he cursed under his breath, trying to refocus on his work.

The rest of the day passed in a similar fashion. Nanami found it hard to concentrate, his mind continually drifting back to you. He tried to remind himself that he needed to be professional, but it was a losing battle. Every time he heard your laugh or saw your smile, his heart ached with a mixture of longing and possessiveness.

The evening had grown quiet, with the soft hum of office equipment and the distant sounds of the city outside. When the delivery boy finally arrived, Nanami stood up and walked over to meet him.

“Oh, I’ve got it!” you said, standing from your seat and taking out your credit card.

Nanami tapped his card without a second thought; he’d always be willing to pay for anything when it came to you.

“Sir, this was going to be my treat.”

“Next time,” he replied. 

You smiled, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. “Next time, it is.” 

He led the way to his office, opening the door for you. You set the food out on the table, and for a moment, there was an awkward silence as you both settled onto the sofa.

Nanami cleared his throat. “I hope you like what I ordered. I wasn’t sure what you preferred, so I got a bit of everything.”

You smiled warmly, appreciating his thoughtfulness. “This looks great. Thank you.”

You began eating, the silence stretching between you both. Nanami felt frustrated at himself. You’ve worked for him for three years and he still couldn’t harness the ability of speaking to you casually. He wanted to make conversation, to make this moment more comfortable, but the words seemed to stick in his throat. He glanced at you, watching as you took a bite and then met his gaze.

“This is really good,” you said, breaking the silence. “I didn’t realise how hungry I was.”

He smiled, feeling a bit more at ease. “I’m glad you like it.”

You continued eating, the silence now less awkward and more companionable. Nanami stole glances at you, noting the way you enjoyed the food, the way your eyes sparkled even in the dim office light. 

When the last bites were eaten and the containers cleared away, you leaned back in your chair, looking content. “Thank you for this. It was really nice.”

He smiled softly, his heart full. “Anytime. I’m glad we could do this.”

“About damn time,” you muttered. 

Nanami blinked. 

You sucked in a sharp breath, realizing what slipped your mouth. “Mr. Nanami— I— I only meant that—” You surrendered with a sigh, running your fingers through your hair. “Damn it.” 

Licking his lips, Nanami shook his leg anxiously, wondering what exactly you’d meant. Were you wanting to have dinner with him for a while now? A platonic dinner? Or was it, and he could be entirely wrong, more? Were you perhaps . . . also rowing the same boat as him? 

“I should’ve extended an invitation a while ago,” Nanami whispered.

Your eyes locked with his.

“Three years ago, to be exact,” he continued, awaiting your reaction. “In an intimate sense. Or professional, if that’s what you’d prefer. I’m happy either way. Unless this has made you uncomfortable—”

“Kento.”

He stopped to catch his breath. “Yes?”

You reached out and rested your hand on his knee, your eyes moving from his body to his face. “Next time, like you mentioned, can I treat you to dinner at my place?” The caress of your thumb set him aflame—a tiny gesture, yet powerful. “Unless it makes you uncomfor—”

Nanami cupped the back of your head and pulled you into a feverish kiss. He moaned at the first touch, savoring the sweet taste of you, the smoothness of your lips, and the sweep of your tongue against his. He didn’t dare break the kiss, tugging you out of your chair and onto his firm lap. His mouth was everywhere—your jaw, your neck, your collarbones—as he deftly unbuttoned your blouse. He was a madman, lost in the moment.

“I’ll do it,” you chuckled as he fumbled with the clasp of your bra. “I didn’t peg you for an inexperienced man.”

“I’ve been saving myself for—”

“The right woman?” you snorted.

“For you,” he stated firmly, cupping your cheek. “The last three years have been agonising. Whenever you’re near, I can’t focus. Whenever you laugh, I can’t breathe. Whenever some other bastard tries to flirt with you, my sanity chips away until all I want to do is take you away. Mark you as mine.” His possessiveness sent a shiver down your spine, making your back arch. “That’s exactly what I’ll do tonight. Is that okay with you?”

You bit your bottom lip and nodded. “More than.”

“You always know the right thing to say.” He smiled against your lips, slipping off your bra in the process. Through the kiss, you guided his hand to your breast. Just because he was inexperienced didn’t mean you were. Nanami should know by now that you had a little zest in you. “Like this, darling?”

You sighed as he pinched your nipples, his eyes marvelling at the sight of your breasts. “Yeah. You can put your mouth on them, too.”

His lips latched onto your left nipple swiftly. Your fingers buried themselves in the back of his hair as your hips ground against his erection while he nibbled and sucked on your breasts. He left them sore and bruised, kissing his way up to your collarbones, neck, and finally, your desperate lips.

Nanami picked you up with one arm, using the other to swipe whatever papers were on the table onto the floor.

“There are important contracts in there, Mr. Nanami,” you said as he laid you back onto the mahogany surface. “Don’t expect me to clean it up in the morning.”

“You’re the most important thing right now and always,” he replied, loosening his tie and tossing it over his shoulder. “And you will call me by my first name in private.”

You raised an eyebrow, relishing the sight of him slowly exposing his torso, button by button. “Yes, Kento.”

He sucked in a sharp breath, shrugging off his dress shirt and draping himself over you, his fingers gently closing around your neck as he kissed you deeply. “It must be exhausting walking in a tight skirt all day,” he whispered against your lips, finding the zipper of your pencil skirt and lowering it slowly. “If you want, I can change the dress code for my favourite assistant.”

“I’m your only assistant,” you said, letting him remove your skirt. “And I like my tight skirts, thank you very much.”

“I don’t like how the men stare at your back.”

“Sue me for having a perfect ass.”

He shrugged. “You have my lawyer’s contact number.”

A laugh bubbled out of you, which he immediately stole with another kiss. You locked your arms around his neck. “If wearing tight clothes gets me incentives like this, I’ll do it every day.”

He narrowed his brown eyes. “I can’t control your wardrobe choices.” His fingers trailed down your left breast, making your breath hitch as he grazed your sensitive nipples, then continued down to your stomach and under your panties. “But I have full control over your body tonight, yes?”

You pecked his lips. “Absolutely.” 

Nanami wasn’t quite rubbing your clit—it felt rather ticklish. “You’re making a face. Am I doing something wrong, darling?” 

“Not exactly.” You found his hand between your legs and lifted it higher, pressing his fingers directly onto your clit. It was embarrassing how wet you already were. “Rub here.” 

He rubbed there, and you took in a shuddering breath, nodding to encourage him to keep fucking me with those skilled fingers, Nanami Kento—fingers you had admired far too often, especially when he performed pen tricks with them.

“How many . . . erm, how do I word this?” He looked conflicted as he murmured words to himself. 

“What? I won’t judge.” 

Nanami looked adorable when flushed. “How many fingers would you like . . . inside of you?” 

You pressed your lips together, holding back laughter at his reddened face. This was the first time you'd be taking a man's virginity, and you wanted to make sure it was as good for him as it would be for you. “I can take three.” 

“Wow,” he breathes out, clearing his throat. 

“I’ve taken a fist before.” 

His eyes widened in shock. “I’m sorry?” 

You laughed, cupping his face. “I’m just joking. I only wanted to see your reaction.” He was still flabbergasted as you kissed him. “But it is possible. I wouldn’t suggest it right now.” 

“Right now,” he repeats. Yes, right now. Eventually, you’d want his whole damn fist inside of you. “I’ll start with two.” 

“Middle and ring finger. Never index. It’s a rookie mistake.” 

“Of course.” Nanami relieved your clit and slid down your centre. “God, you’re soaking my hand, darling.” His words sent a ripple through you. Then his fingers slowly slid inside your tight heat, making him grunt. 

“How is it?” you whispered, massaging the back of his head while the other rested on the side of his neck. 

“Warm,” he said. “And . . . clamping?” 

This was entertainment for you. 

“Warm and clamping is one way to describe it. You can start moving your fingers in and out of me. Curl them, tap them, whatever you want.” Your tongue licked his upper lip, surprising him. “And if you want to blow my orgasm through the roof, circle your thumb on my clit. Don’t hold back.” 

And he didn’t. 

Nanami drove his fingers inside your pussy, unknowingly hitting your g-spot, and flinching when you cried out his name. The pad of his thumb rubbed your clit, or if he complained about a cramp, he’d used the mound of his palm, cupping your entire vagina. 

“I’m close—” You let out strained breaths, gripping his hair or shoulders. 

“Close to what?” 

“You’re going to make me say it?” 

Nanami appeared genuinely puzzled. “Close to your orgasm?” Oh, my god. He was genuinely puzzled. Why wouldn’t he be? You couldn't expect him to know about even the most obvious sex-related things. Part of you was excited to show him your vibrator and have him guess what it was. 

“Yes, Kento. I’m close to my orgasm.” 

He grinned with pride. Your heart melted, and you grabbed his face, kissing him as if your life hung in the balance. Amid his fervent moans, you came gushing down, drenching his hand with your release.

Pulling his hand out, he stared at your orgasm. “That’s quite a lot.” 

“Oh, my god, stop.” You covered your face, suddenly embarrassed by how much you’d come. 

“I’m sorry, darling. I meant it in a positive way. I’m very flattered. And thankful that you taught me how to please you this way.”

You caught him about to lick his fingers, causing you to shout in protest and pull his wrist back sharply. “No!”

“What? What is it?” 

“You can't just— You're all about cleanliness and stuff. I don't want you breaking your own rules for that.” 

Nanami smiled. “I’d break all my rules for you.” He went to go lick again, but you quickly pulled his hand towards your chest and wiped it on there. His face contorted to frustration. “What the fuck?” 

Your brows shot up. This was the first time you’d heard him curse. It was so hot. You wanted him to say it again. “It’s dirty.” 

“It’s a part of you.” He made a tch sound and retrieved his tie from the floor. “Give me your hands.” Taking your wrists, he bound them with the material behind your waist.

“Kinky,” you said. 

Nanami stayed silent, his expression now one of disappointment, his brows furrowed deeply. The confusion that once marked his demeanor had given way to a completely different persona. “If you won’t allow me to taste you from your hands”—he pushed your ankles up on the desk and sank between your legs—“I’ll drink straight from the source.” 

“Kento, wait—”

Too late. 

You broke into a chorus of moans as his tongue licked and lapped at your pussy. His mouth engulfed your clit and sucked on it hard, the tip of his tongue now swirling the little bud. His fingers spread your folds, as he cleaned every last drop of your juices, even probing your little hole that they seeped from. 

By the end of it, you were drenched in sweat, tears brimming in your eyes, your wrists throbbing from the restraints. Your body swayed side to side, legs trying to close him away, but he remained persistent in eating you out like a madman.  “Ken . . . I can’t—”

“Have you learned your lesson?” 

“Yes, goddamn it. Yes. I’m sorry.” You would let this man lick your whole body from now on. “Just kiss me already. Please.” 

He kissed your clit and travelled up to your stomach, each nipple, and to your mouth as he undid the tie so you could cling to him. His mouth met your wet eyes. “I’m sorry, darling. I got carried away a bit.” 

“No, don’t be. I loved it.” You planted a kiss on his cheek, making him smile bashfully, just like he had ten minutes earlier. “But I’d prefer someone else to touch me now.” 

His gaze grew intense. “Who?” 

You blinked. “Your friend.” 

He scoffed, running his fingers through his hair. “My— My friend?” 

“Uh, yeah?” 

“Have you spoken to him before?” 

You eyed his prominent bulge. “I’d like to. Touch him, kiss him, have him inside of me.” 

Nanami stared at you with disbelief. “No.” 

“No?” 

He gritted his jaw, fists at his side. You were completely frazzled by his response. Why was it that he got to explore your inside with his fingers and tongue and wouldn’t allow you to touch him? 

“That’s not fair. I thought you wanted me,” you mumbled. 

“And yet you want my friend,” he replied sharply. “Haibara will be disappointed to know that I don’t share.” 

Huh?

“Haibara?!” you shrieked at the highest decibel, jolting him. “Hai— Oh, my god. Oh, my god. Kento, you id— That’s not what I meant when I was referring to your friend.” How is this man running a multi-million dollar corporation? “I was talking about your penis. Dick. Cock. Whatever you prefer.” 

Nanami stood in stunned silence. His anger melted away, replaced by a sudden realization, his eyes darting upward. “Oh.” 

You’d had enough. If he prolonged your orgasm any further, you were going to get a female version of blue-balls. “Come here, you doofus.” You pulled down by his collars and kissed him, undoing his belt, button, and zipper for him. “Can I touch your dick, Mr. Nanami?” 

He nodded vigorously. 

You rolled your eyes, smiling, and slid your hands into his boxers, grabbing him. “Oh, God. I knew it. You’re so big.” 

“You knew it? Has it been on your mind?” 

“Ever since my interview. No one asked you to manspread. It drove me crazy. Made me stumble on my words.” You stroked him slowly, dissolving him in a sea of grunts and groans. “Be honest, did I get this job because you were attracted to me, or because I’m genuinely good at what I do?” 

Nanami pondered for a moment before responding, “Both?”

“Of course you chose the safest answer.”

“Well, you’ve managed my schedule flawlessly for three years. You handle all my emails, make the best coffee, and surprise me with treats. Yes, you’re undeniably beautiful, but it’s your heart that I’ve fallen in love with.”

Your hand froze. “Love?”

He nodded, a blush colouring his cheeks as he looked away. “Love.”

You cupped his face with both hands. “You love me?”

Another nod. “Since your interview.”

He had loved you for three years now. It seemed surreal. You liked him, certainly, but did you love him too? That was the question. Your mind had always assumed he would never see you romantically, so you held back from letting your feelings grow.

“You don’t have to say it back,” Nanami reassured you. “I’ve loved you enough for both of us for far too long. I can wait until you’re ready.” He kissed your forehead gently. “But please, don’t make me wait forever. I don’t want us to stay strictly professional. I want to take you out, make you my girlfriend as soon as possible. Eventually, make . . .” He paused, unsure where to place his hands, before settling on your shoulders. “Make you my wife.”

Oh, you were about to give him the best blow job ever. 

“Okay,” you whispered, stepping down from the table and taking his hands. “Let’s go on a date tomorrow, the day after, and every day after that. I want to be your girlfriend by next week— I’ll add it to your personal calendar. And I want dinner and wine at your place afterwards. Speaking of your place, I want to move in with you by the end of next month, or we can live in my shitty apartment— I don’t mind. You have to make me your wife next year instead of making me wait three more years. And I want two kids somewhere down the line. Oh, and a cat.” You grinned widely at his stunned expression. “Can you give me all that, Kento?” 

He breathed out heavily, nodding slowly. "Yes," he affirmed. His lips found yours. "Yes. I can. I will. I'll give you whatever you need." He kissed you without restraint, laughter filling his office like a contagious joy.

“Okay, okay.” You gently pushed him back by his shoulders and settled him into his seat. “Prepared to have your mind blown, Mr. Nanami.” Kneeling down, you kissed his thigh, tracing a path up to his hip bone.

His breaths came out laboured, short, as he watched your intentions with a hawk eye. 

You took him out of his boxers and prepared your poor throat. It was long and girthy, your fingers barely curving around it. Your tongue ran over his tip, collecting the salty, pre-cum leaking from there. 

Nanami hissed, gripping the armrests of his chair as he spread his legs wider. “Will this be painful?”

You looked up from under your lashes. “I'll do my best not to use my teeth by mistake.”

“I meant for you, darling.”

“One way to find out.” Your lips curved over the head of his cock, lowering yourself until his length was tickling the back of your throat. Nanami was in shambles already. You pulled back and licked him from his base to the summit. “You’re so warm, too. So hard.” Your hands sailed up his thighs, kissing his rigid length. “All for me.” 

“For you, darling.” He brushed your hair back from your face. 

Chuckling, you took him into your mouth again and sent a prayer you didn’t wake up with a sore throat. You could easily picture Nanami purchasing cough drops for you, brewing tea, and insisting you take a day off. The idea of him looking after you sent shivers down your spine.

Nanami gripped the sides of your head, his own tilted back as he breathed heavily through those flawless lips. Occasionally, he'd bravely look down and catch your gaze, then quickly avert his eyes to the ceiling. It was adorable how he struggled to maintain eye contact with you. You had assumed he avoided it because he wasn't interested in talking to you or listening to you yapping. It all makes sense now.

He's simply shy. And you're determined to coax him out of his shell, or even better, cozy up inside it where it's safe.

“The sounds you’re making,” he breathes out. The sounds you’re making, Kento. “It feels like you’re taking me deeper.” 

Because you were. You expanded your jaw, even hearing a little joint tick, and pushed him past the limit of your throat. You’d given blow-jobs before, but the guys were either too small, or too aggressive, leaving your scalp numb without any aftercare. 

Nanami was different. He left your hair and held your face, thumbs caressing your cheekbones as he struggled against his restraints. You could feel him twitch in your mouth, feel the veins pulse on your tongue, his sacs hot at your touch. 

But you wanted Nanami to come inside you. 

At the last minute, you drew him out of your mouth, the strings of your saliva and his pre-cum bridging from your lips and his tip. Nanami groaned at the sight, his dick twitch involuntarily, standing long and proud. 

“I want you inside of me now,” you whispered, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand and sitting on his lap. He pulled your lips in for a kiss as you adjusted his tip at your entrance, sitting down on it in one go. A cry ripped from your aching throat; a loud growl from his. “Fuck, Kento. Your cock’s filling me up.” 

“Such a dirty mouth,” he muttered, hand on your nape while the other guided your rolling hips. “Does it hurt?” 

You chuckled, head shaking. Your forehead rested over his palms on the side of his neck as you bounced on his lap, your movements growing faster. He was stretching you out, the tip poking your womb, practically splitting you in half. 

Nanami, on the other hand, was on cloud nine. You were warm and sticky, your walls cushioned and clamping around him, sucking him deeper by the second. He’d dreamt of this every night, jerking himself off to the thought of you, recalling the sound of your laugh, or your floral scent. 

Right now, his name slipped off your tongue and you smelled like him. Sweaty, breathless, moaning. This is exactly how he wanted you. Needed you. You were his assistant. His woman. His lover. If any other man dared to touch you, or flirt with you, he’d fire them. He wished he could kill them instead. 

You had awakened his territorial, possessive side, consuming him completely. If his parents refused to accept you as his equal, he would abandon everything and find happiness elsewhere with you. But first, he was determined to fight for you with all his might. Damn it, he loved you.

“I’m tired,” you whispered, wincing as you tried to mill your hips forward again. “Oh, no. I’m cramping up.” 

Nanami hated that he didn’t know what to do. He wished he was experienced. He wished he didn’t have to rely on you even if it was a turn-on when you dominated him with your words and actions. “Stop and take a breather.” 

You obeyed, resting your forehead on his shoulder.

He grabbed the globes of your ass and stood up, walking over to the couch and laying you down there. “Is this better?” 

“Yes.” You stretched up your arms then wrapped it around his neck, giving him a long, loud smack of a kiss. “Proceed.” 

Nanami chuckled, caressing your cheek. He thrusted inside of you, pulling himself to the tip, then back inside. It seemed to have you making those needy sounds, so must’ve been on the right track. 

“You’re so handsome,” you whispered, locking eyes with his deep brown gaze as he intensified his movements, growing faster and more forceful. “Yes, yes, yes. Oh, god. Ken—” You were cut off by his kiss, by his hand clutching your breast, pinching your nipple. 

“I love you,” Nanami murmured, kissing your throat and burying his face in the crook of your neck. You cupped the back of his hand, wailing moans as he pounded into you, flesh slapping against flesh. “I love you, darling. I love you so much.” 

“Kento.” You were feeling achingly sore, your legs losing sensation. He was rutting into you like a madman, and no, you did not want him to slow down whatsoever. “Kento!” 

He drew his face back. “Yes?” 

“I love you, too,” you cried out as you climaxed, your back arching off the couch’s surface. 

Nanami crashed seconds later. 

You were both a breathless, sticking, sweaty mess. Nothing but the sounds of your rapid hearts and shallow breaths could be heard. 

Nanami slid out of you after a minute of silence. He was glowing, golden hair damp with sweat and sticking in different directions from your hand that was running through it. He parted your legs and watched both your mingled release leaking out of you. “I did that.” 

You burst out laughing. “Thank you for letting me take your virginity.” 

He scowled at you, the kind where a smile creeped on his lips. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” 

“No, lay with me for a sec.” 

Nanami listened attentively and settled beside you on the couch, pulling you into his embrace. You showered kisses over his face, jaw, and the corners of his smiling mouth. “You said ‘I love you,’ by the way.” 

“I did.” Another peck landed on his lips. 

He swallowed, his eyes sparkling as they met yours. “Are you sure?” 

“One-hundred-infinite percent.” You fixed his hair away from his forehead, running your index finger down the slope of his nose and to his lips. “Say it back.” 

“I love you.” 

“I love you, too.”

Nanami sighed contentedly, his hand cradling the back of your head as he planted a kiss on your forehead. You giggled and nestled your cheek against his chest, wrapping your arms around his waist. “I know you said to wait until next week to make you my girlfriend, but is it alright if I make you mine now?” 

“I am already yours.” You drew hearts on his torso, feeling shy all of a sudden. You’d never been in a proper relationship before. But neither had Nanami. Which meant you’d both navigate your relationship together as novices. 

“Officially?” He continued. “Or I can wait—”

“Yes,” you said, craning your head up. “I’d love to officially be your girlfriend, Kento Nanami.” You savoured the relieved breath he took. How could you ever reject a soul like his? He was your favourite person. “But I’m still your assistant.” 

“And now I’m yours.” 

You laugh and rest your nose in the curve of his neck, closing your eyes. He hugged you close, lips lazily kissing the top of your head. “Get as much rest as you can, Boss Man. Round two is in five minutes.” 

[dandelionsresilience]

whether the internet becomes an intolerable surveillance state, ubiquitous subscription model, or unusably ad- or AI-ridden shithole, I think we need to remember

how to do things offline

either on your personal hard drive (just because it’s an app doesn’t mean the information is stored in your device) or on paper. I’m not saying the collapse of the internet is imminent, and I’m not suggesting we do everything completely without technology, or even stop using it until we have to. (to be clear, I also don’t think the internet will just blink out of existence, suddenly stop being a thing at all; rather I think it might continue to lose its usefulness to the point where it’s impossible to get anything done. anyway) but some people may have forgotten how we got by before the internet (I almost have!), and the younger generation might not have experienced it at all.

I figure most people probably use the internet mainly for communication with friends and family, entertainment and creation (eg. writing), and looking up how to do things, so here’s how to do those things offline:

First and most importantly, download everything important to you onto at least one hard drive and at least one flashdrive! files can get corrupted and hardware can get damaged or lost, but as long as you keep backup copies, you have much-closer-to-guaranteed access versus hoping a business doesn’t decide to paywall, purge, or otherwise revoke your access. I would recommend getting irreplaceable photos printed as well

download and/or print/write down:

anything important to you - photos/videos, journals, certificates, college transcripts

contact info - phone numbers and/or addresses of friends/family (know how to contact them if you can’t use your favourite messaging app), doctors (open hours would be good too), veterinarians if you have pets, and work

how-to’s - recipes (one, two), emergency preparedness (what do I do if… eg. I smell gas)

other things you might google: cleaning chemicals to NOT mix, what laundry tag symbols mean, people food dogs and cats can and can’t eat, plant toxicity to pets

and know offline ways to find things out - local radio station, newspaper, a nearby highway rest area might have a region map, public libraries usually have a bunch of resources

also, those of you who get periods should strongly consider not using period tracking apps! here’s how to track your period manually

free printable period tracker templates (no printer? public libraries usually charge a few cents per page, or you can recreate it by hand)

moving on to entertainment, you can still get most media for free! it’s completely legal to download your favourite movies to your own personal hard drive, you just can’t sell or distribute copies (not legal advice)

movies: wcostream.tv (right click the player) - the url changes every once in a while but usually redirects; I recently noticed that it’s hiding a lot of movies behind “premium,” so it may or may not work anymore | download youtube videos

music: how to get music without streaming it | legal free downloads

games: steamunlocked.net - doesn’t have every game and can be slow to update, but very reliable

books: free online libraries | legal free downloads

otherwise passing time:

active outdoor games

for road trips (social verbal games)

for when power’s out

for sheltering in place (not all offline, but good ideas)

board games (often found at thrift stores)

ad-free customisable games collection (mobile)

read, write, draw, or whatever your craft is, sing, dance, clean, reorganise, take a bath

go outside - excuses include napping (if safe), eating, reading, finding cool plants/animals/rocks, playing with the dog

places to go include:

zoos and museums can be surprisingly cheap

parks and nature preserves

library, mall, or game shop

and a few miscellaneous things for good measure:

time budgeting | household management

how to use a planner | I’ve had success with visually blocked-out schedules like these

please add on if you have any other offline alternatives to common uses of the internet!

[papasmoke]

September 20, 2024

October 1, 2024

You'll probably need a vpn to visit this page, the text of it reads:

In its sitting on Monday, the Knesset Plenum voted to approve in first reading the Bill for Cutting Off the State of Israel's Relations with the United Nations Relief and Works Agency for Palestine Refugees in the Near East (UNRWA) and Declaring it a Terrorist Organization, 2024, sponsored by MK Yulia Malinovsky (Yisrael Beitenu) and a group of MKs. In the vote, 50 Members of Knesset supported the bill, versus 10 who opposed it, and the bill will be returned to the Foreign Affairs and Defense Committee for deliberation.

It is proposed to declare the United Nations Relief and Works Agency for Palestine Refugees in the Near East (UNRWA) as a terrorist organization. It is further proposed that the State of Israel sever its relations with UNRWA, both directly and indirectly.

MK Malinovsky, the bill's sponsor: "We have to perform a surgical [cut] here and end the event. We are on the UN's blacklist in any case. All the excessive morality ended on October 7. UNRWA is a terrorist organization, and not only in Jerusalem. It is afifth-column within the State of Israel. And not just municipal property tax benefits-everything should be revoked from them. The fact that this hasn't happened until now, for seven months--is a disgrace. What is happening today is a badge of honor for the Knesset and for the Members of Knesset. The fact that we succeeded in joining hands, coalition and opposition--that is a very important statement for the Government. We did a wonderful job together with all the partners to these bills."

The explanatory notes to the bill state: "In the months after the outbreak of the Swords of Iron war, investigative reports were revealed regarding the involvement of the workers of the United Nations Relief and Works Agency for Palestine Refugees in the Near East (UNRWA) in the Gaza Strip in the murderous terrorist offensive that began on October 7, 2023, such as participation in acts of murder and massacre, kidnapping Israeli citizens to the Gaza Strip and providing vehicles and equipment for the purpose of the offensive. Reports were also published regarding the membership of these workers in the Hamas and Islamic Jihad organizations,

"The above attests to the close relationship that exists between UNRWA and terrorist activity for all intents and purposes, in a manner that is no different from the activity of organizations that have been declared as terrorist organizations by law. Therefore, it is proposed to declare that UNRWA is a terrorist organization as defined in the Counter-Terrorism Law, 2016."

October 7, 2024

October 8, 2024

In that same spirit, we are following with deep concern the Israeli legislative proposal that could alter UNRWA’s legal status, hindering its ability to communicate with Israeli officials, and removing privileges and immunities afforded to UN organizations and personnel around the globe. This legislative proposal reflects the significant distrust between Israel and UNRWA.

Israel has alleged – and the UN, in some cases, has confirmed – that a small percentage of UNRWA employees have ties to Hamas and other terrorist groups. Israel has also conveyed concerns about Hamas misusing UNRWA facilities and the United States shares these concerns.

At the same time, we know that UN personnel, including from UNRWA, are vital to the humanitarian response in Gaza and face tremendous danger while performing their work.

And so, Israel needs to provide UNRWA additional information regarding these allegations, and UNRWA needs to have in place a process to address these concerns seriously and urgently, and make faster progress on the much-needed reforms outlined in the Colonna report.

Simply put: It is in no one’s interest for the neutrality of UNRWA’s personnel to remain in doubt.

October 9, 2024

October 14, 2024

The bare minimum required from the US to curtail further Israeli atrocities would be the cessation or curtailing of munitions, logistical support, diplomatic cover, and US military presence in defense of Israel. None of these actions are on the table according to Biden, Harris, or Trump. Israel is creating a legal framework to justify the systemic targeting of UNRWA aid workers and facilities, a practice which the US has made it clear it will defend through inaction, if not active participation. It will issue hollow condemnations and statements of concern, urge Israel to investigate, then move on, pretending like nothing happened.

[samkerrworshipper]

rockin’ around the christmas tree

alexia putellas x reader, alexia putellas x putellas!child x reader

fun fact my least favourite holiday is christmas and i don’t really celebrate it at all! but the request i got for this was so cute so i pushed down my inner grinch because i just had to! i’m sorry to any spanish people who don’t celebrate christmas this way lol i tried my best xo

Growing up, christmas had looked a lot different for you then for most kids. 

You didn’t grow up in a house were Christmas was really celebrated, most of the time, your parents worked through the day, and you’d be left home alone with you older brother. 

On the good years, you’d get a present, but most years all the money that could have been christmas presents was put into the football budget, or into buying you a second hand pair of boots so that you didn’t have to play through the winter with holes in your shoes. 

You never really minded, you didn’t grow up in a family where christmas was something your parents could afford, and you’d come to terms with that, it was more important that there was food on the table and money available for football fees then christmas trees or gifts. 

That’s why you struggled with it all. 

Alexia had grown up in a house where Christmas was everything you could have ever wanted, christmas lights, dinner with the family, as many presents as she asked for, a big tree, everything traditional that made the holiday everything it was made up to be. 

Alexia had been the first person to show you what Christmas could look like, your first christmas together had been an.. experience. 

When your girlfriend of six months at the time had found out that your plans for christmas included staying in your apartment and watching whatever crappy christmas movie re-runs that the television was showing she’d been distraught. It had taken a lot of you reasoning with her to explain why you didn’t feel the need to celebrate as extravagantly as other people. You were happy to spend the day in, happy to have a day of piece and solace.

Alexia refused to accept that, so you’d been dragged along to her christmas morning with Alba, then her christmas lunch with her cousins and extended family and finally dinner with Eli and the closer family. 

It had been more activities and festivities in a day then you’d experienced in your whole life of christmas’, and that night when you’d inevitably ended up at Alexia’s house you’d broken down. 

Christmas for you had always just been another day, but your day spent with Alexia had made you feel more loved then you ever had before. 

Christmas was supposed to be a happy day, but that night, all you’d done was sob. You didn’t blame your parents for your missed experiences, they did the best that they could at the time. But you mourned the bit of your childhood that you’d so clearly missed out on. You were overwhelmed beyond any words being able to describe it, you didn’t understand how some families got this, and yet others didn’t. Alexia was so incredibly blessed and she had no idea about it.

Even eight years later, you weren’t the best with christmas. 

Just because you’d become accustomed to what christmas in Alexia’s world looked like didn’t mean that it came easy to you. 

Alexia loved christmas, she looked forward to it every year, if you were to harbor a guess you’d say it was probably her favourite holiday of them all. 

You didn’t hold the same sentiment, you didn’t have years of positive childhood christmas memories, and even after your experiences with the Putellas it didn’t overshadow your deeply innedeed desire to spend christmas under the covers of a bed.

Every christmas was spent similarly for the Putellas’, Alexia waking up at 5am, full of energy, dragging you straight out of bed. Once dragged out of bed, you’d get thrown down onto the living room floor, coffe thrusted in your hand before the annual present unwrapping. 

Alba normally rocked up around 6am, depending on her circumstances, with or without a partner. From then the apartment living room floor turned into a pile of gift wrapping paper as the two Putella’s sisters unwrapped present after present like six year olds. 

You’d never been big on the present thing, you enjoyed watching the two sisters and their animated reactions to every single gift that they received, you preferred to sit back and discreetly open the gifts that were thrown your way. 

After the great present opening, it then transitioned into a big breakfast that made you nauseous and bloated and semi-uncomfortable.

Christmas tradition to Alexia was like a law, there wasn’t any changing it. 

You’d thought that once you’d started to form a family together that maybe things would change a little bit, that maybe Alexia would relax and mellow out, that all of the fuss and festiveness would subside a little bit, but you were so wrong. If anything, it only got more intense.

Lili was four, and it was the first year that she’d started to catch onto what Christmas was, and Alexia was giddy about it. She’d spent the whole months of November and December getting your daughter as excited and understanding of the ‘magnitude’ of what event was coming up. 

Christmas for the putellas’ household started on december first, everything leading up to the big christmas eve dinner on the 24th. 

Lili had already been excited, but spending the night beforehand with all of her older cousins, unwrapping smaller presents and sitting around the table hearing stories from Eli hadn’t been any help. 

You were less than enthuasiatstic about it all, but this year you had an excuse to sit back and relax, and that came in the form of your 2 month old baby, Emi. 

Emi was also a good enough reason to dip out of the celebrations a little bit early, when Emi started to get fussy and hungry for her night time feed you decided it was time to call it and one-handedly dragged your wife and her mini-me out of Eli’s house, with the promise that you’d make sure the two of them got enough sleep so that they were functional by tomorrow. 

The two pouted the whole way home, and it truly added a whole new layer to the whole mini alexia persona that Lili had adopted. 

She was a carbon copy of Alexia, always begging to be dragged along to football training, she had the same little focused scowl that Alexia had when she was focusing, she watched football on the television with the same amount of intensity that Alexia did, all of her mannerisms, all of her values, all of her little details were all Alexia’s. 

You were still holding out bits of hope that Emi would be a little bit more like you, but you were also well aware that if she was anything like her sister then it was a losing battle. 

You tasked Alexia with getting your hyped up older daughter to sleep, whilst you dealt with a fussy Emi who was overtired and refusing to go to sleep. 

“C’mon Emi, you’re fed, you’re changed, you’re tired, you’ve got a comfy bassinet and yet you won’t go to sleep.”

You looked down at your daughter, who had tears running down her face below you in her bassinet, sucking furiously on her dummy like she was trying to prove something to you. 

You weren’t quite sure what was worse, a four year old who was riding on a christmas fueled energy high, or a baby who was so determined to stay awake even though she was absolutely exhausted. 

With Lili, at least you knew that once she’d been bathed and put to bed that a few stories would put her straight to sleep, it was just the process of getting her into bed that was a struggle. Emi however, was a complete mystery. 

Some nights, all she needed was a big feed of milk and she went out like a light, other nights, she would stay awake just for the sake of it. 

It was like she could sense the excitement bouncing off of her mama and sister and decided that she too was destined to make your christmas as long as possible. 

By the time Alexia trailed in, you were just bouncing Emi off to sleep, unsure about how you were going to transfer her from your arms to her bassinet. 

Alexia crawled into your shared bed, watching you with adoration as you gentled paced the rug at the end of your bed, rocking Emi with you. 

“You’re so good with her.”

Emi at least, was an easier baby then Lili had been. Lili had almost been reason enough for you to leave it at one child, the first couple months of her life had been hell, but then the toddler phase came and you and Alexia had both fallen in love with the idea of having a little friend for Lili to run about with. So, the rounds of IVF had come again, and after a miscarriage and failed treatment, the two of you were met with little Emi. 

It was hard juggling a four year old with far too much energy for one child, but the two of you had made it work. 

“I’m just doing my job.”

Motherhood had become a job for you, football wasn’t your passion so much anymore, you were unofficially retired and you were happy that way, you’d won all the accolades you needed, you had a family now that was coming first. 

“You’re the best mother, you couldn’t do much more for them.”

You smiled at Alexia, it made you blush in a way like no other when anyone commented on your parenting, it was good to know you were a good person, but to know that you were a good mother, it was something else. 

You finally managed to push Emi into enough of a lull that when you placed her down in her bassinet she fussed a little bit before finally falling into a proper sleep. 

Once you were sure she was out, you crawled into bed beside Alexia, allowing her to wrap her body around yours. 

“Is there any chance I can convince you to stay in bed any time past 6?”

Alexia snorted, her head finding homage in the corner of your neck. 

“Lili has permission to be out of bed from 5am onwards, so have fun trying to control that.”

You groaned. 

“The presents will still be there, when the sun has risen, why do we need to be out of bed so early?”

Alexia reached over to the bedside lamp that was still on, flicking it off and relaxing into the pillows. 

“Alba will be here at 5.30, technically, you can stay in bed as long as you like.”

You rolled your eyes. 

“And miss out on you acting shocked at the presents you bought for our daughter and for yourself? How could I do that to myself?”

Alexia pinched your side. 

“No, santa brought the presents and I will act shocked when i see what Santa has brought this year, as will you.”

You pinched Alexia back, smirking as she winced. 

“I told you that you didn’t need to buy me anything, Alexia.”

You managed to block Alexia’s attempt at retaliation, smirking to yourself. 

“No, my name is baby, love, honey or sweet, not Alexia. Asking me to not buy you presents is like asking me to not love you, it’s simply not possible. Also, what kind of impression am I setting for lili and emi if they think that it is acceptable to not shower everyone around them in presents on the best day of the year.”

Alexia sounded proud of herself for that statement, like she’d made a real point. 

“You’d be setting an example that love isn’t tangible and you can love someone without pushing gifts down their throats.”

Alexia’s arms wrapped around your stomach, pulling you directly against her. 

“You don’t have to open them if you don’t want to, we can keep them for your birthday, or for mothers day, or for our anniversary. I know it’s a hard day for you, if you don’t want to be apart of it all then that’s okay. We’ll work it out okay, I can try to keep lili at bay for a little bit longer if you watnt a sleep in.”

You shook your head, what Alexia was offering was nice, but it was one day a year, Alexia’s favourite day, and you were willing to make compromises if that was required. 

“You know how much I love you, right?”

Alexia smiled into your neck, a big corny smile. 

“Love me enough to wake up at five am?” You rolled your eyes, flipping down onto your pillow. 

“You’re making breakfast, and you’re putting Lili down for a midday nap when she inevitably needs one, and Alba can deal with her other niece when she gets fussy from her sleep schedule being messed with, I want a day of relaxation, okay?”

Alexia wasn’t kidding about the five am thing, you’d just managed to get Emi back down after her early feed, when your daughter dragged herself through the door of Alexia and yours’ room. 

She looked more exhausted then excited, something that you were happy about. 

“Feliz Navidad, mommy.”

You smiled at your daughter, patting down on the bedding between Alexia and you, making room for your daughter to snuggle up between the two of you. 

It was far to early for your liking, and you were happy to cuddle with Lili if it meant you could have another hour or so of sleep. 

“Feliz Navidad, sweetheart.”

She wormed her way underneath your covers, immediately throwing her arms around your body. 

“Present time?”

You shook your head, bring your daughter close to you. 

“Not yet sweetheart, you mami will wake you up when it’s time, okay?”

It was like at 5am Alexia’s internal body clock went off, both her and your daughter jolting up together like they’d been struck by lightning. 

“Mommy, it’s time to wake up, it’s christmas.”

Lili’s voice was less of a whisper then it had been when she’d crawled into your bed, and you weren’t all that surprised when seconds later Emi was crying, like she knew exactly what was supposed to happen. 

“Sweetheart, go downstairs with your mami, I’ll come down in a minute.”

You were happy to get Lili and Alexia out, leaving you in a semi-tranquil room, besides Emi who was now softly whining beside you. 

You reached over into her bassinet, lifting her up and out, happy enough when she settled in your arms. 

You figured it was a smarter idea to feed her now, then staving it off and having a grumpy baby in a couple of hours. 

So you enjoyed some peace as you nursed Emi, it was a nicer way to wake up and adjust to the reality of what your day was going to look like. 

Once Emi was done you threw on a robe and your slippers, before slipping down the stairs of your house and slowly making your way into the living room. 

You could hear what was going on before you saw it, the sounds of your daughter squealing and Alexia making similar noises. 

It was Lili, Alexia and Alba, all crowded around the christmas tree that Alexia had insisted had to be from the same farm Eli had been getting trees from for years, all three of them with their own piles of wrapping paper at their feet. 

It was a sweet sight, one that struck on your heart strings and made you so incredibly grateful. 

The amount of excitement one Lili’s face made it all worth it, how happy she was. 

“Ah, their is my other favourite niece, come, let me have her, sit down, put your feet up. Emi can help me with the pancakes.”

You accepted a hug from Alba, and happily handed of Emi to her, taking a seat down on your couch, watching as she with practised ease carried your daughter next door to the kitchen. 

“Mama, look at what santa brought me, look at all of the toys.”

You weren’t all that surprised that Lili’s pile had magically grown in stature, probably due to both Alexia and her sister’s insistence that it was child abuse to not overflow a child with presents on Christmas. 

You were even more shocked by the amount of presents that were designated to your newborn baby. 

“Mami, look, a new jersey! With mommy’s name on it, so i can match with you to games!”

The amount of excitement on your daughters face as she turned around to show you the putellas lettering across the back of her blue and red jersey made both you and Alexia weak. You might have been a grinch but there was no denying the amount of pure innocence and joy that was filling your daughter up. She looked impossibly adorabl with her twin braids that Alexia must have done the night before, with her newest addition to her jersey collection layered over the top of her pink flannel set, catching in certain places and the collar not quite aligning. 

“Wow Lil, we get to match now, we’ll have to get a extra one for Emi.”

Alexia smirked at you, alreayd holding up a matching miniature sized version of the same jersey Lili was in, you rolled your eyes, there was one thing your two month old baby didn’t need more of and that was most certainly barca memorabilia. 

“Mami, look, presents for you, and presents for mommy, and presents for auntie Alba.”

You smiled at your daughter, who was pinging with excitement. She pointed frantically between the different piles of parcels, all of which wrapped in seperate colours of papers. Lili’s pile was less wrapped, more strewn across the floor. 

Alexia was responsible for all of the different bits of football gear, whereas you’d stayed more conservative with your choices of clothes, dolls, different zoo animals, small train sets and new books. 

“Wow sweetheart, you really got spoiled, huh?”

You couldn’t help but clutch for your phone, taking a photo of your wife and daughter, who were both looking at eachother with equal amounts of excitement. You were well aware that it was going to be a fight trying to get Lili out of that jersey and into the nice dress you’d picked out for today, but you could compromise with letting her wear it over until photo time came around. 

Alexia looked particularly proud of herself when Lili came running at you, with a handful of gifts, all with your name on them and signed from ‘santa’.

“For you, from mami and santa.”

You smiled at your daughter, who stood in front of you, seemingly waiting for you to open up the gifts. 

You reached for the smallest one first, smiling at a new set of earrings that you knew would quickly become some of your favourites and a matching necklace that had the letters E, L and A on it. 

The jewellery was then followed by a voucher for three months of pilates lessons at your favourite gym, which you were exceptionally grateful for. It wasn’t easy working out after having children, but it was even harder trying to adjust to the new version of your body and Alexia was well aware of how insecure you were feeling, plus pilates was a better transition then pump workouts. 

The next gift was a new set of running shoes, practical but a gift you were more than happy about. Plus, they would be good for your pilates, so you couldn’t really deny the need for them. 

“Alexia, if there is anything alive in this box then I’m going to lose it.”

The fourth parcel was the largest, a big box which contents you were completely uncertain of. Weirdly, Alexia had the tendency to always purchase something for chistmas that the two of you definitely did not need, and that was only going to make your lives harder. Lili had been harping on about wanting a dog, Nala, had unfortunately died when she was too young to remember. She was for whatever reason desperate to fill that hole, and you conceded that once Emi was a little bit older it was definitely a possibility, but not right now.  

You nearly cried when you ripped the packaging open and were met with a brand new set of pans. 

It was a random thing, and definitely not something to cry over, but it was something that you’d been secretly wanting for a while now. 

“Mami, why is mommy crying over new pots and pans.”

Alexia snorted from the other side of the room. 

“Because mommy has been saying naughty words every time she’s been cooking with our other pans and things have been getting stuck to them, so I decided it was time we got some new ones, because it’s not nice to use bad words.”

You rolled your eyes, Alexia was the worst role model for swearing, every time anything small annoyed her. 

“Thank you, it’s a really good gift.”

Alexia smiled at you lopsidedly, pots and pans was her version of the worst christmas gift ever, but seeing your face light up was enough information to know that she’d done good.

“Ah, you’re crying now, and you haven’t even opened my final gift.”

You looked at Alexia sceptically, trying to figure out if this was one of her weird Christmas things. On your first christmas together, she’d brought you a bike, technically she’d bought two bikes, with the intention of the two of you using in the summer. What she hadn’t know, was that you had a slightly irrational fear of riding bikes, and refused to be within 2 metres of the two wheeled beasts. 

Alexia wasn’t a bad gift giver, she was just really good at buying things that she wanted, but forgetting that she person was gifting them to wasn’t necessarily the ideal recipient. 

“Lili, give your mommy the last one for me, yeah?”

Lili smiled at you, big and wide and for a second you worried, that it was going to be something you had to pretend you liked for the sake of not giving Lili a bad example. 

“Mommy said best for last.”

She pulled a present out from nowhere, a small, long one that looked more like a gift card then anything else. 

Good, nohing alive, nothing big or spacious. 

You took a moment to compose yourself before smiling down at your daughter and opening the final one. 

If you’d been crying before, then this gift had you close to sobbing. 

“Mommy says that you deserve time off, just the two of you, so I’m going to stay with abuela and auntie alba for a few days with Emi and you two are going to have some alone time.”

You bit down on your lip, looking up at Alexia, waiting for the catch. 

“Just you and me?”

Alexia nodded, a big smile playing on her lips as she looked at you from across the room. 

“Just you and me, three nights in italy, your favourite.”

You werw willing yourself to not cry, but when Lili jumped into your arms, followed quickly by Alexia you couldn’t help yourself. 

“Feliz Navidad, my love.”

You reached up to press your lips to Alexia’s ignoring the fake vomiting noises that your daughter was making, undoubtedly that she’d learnt from spending to much time with her auntie. 

It was peaceful, it was wonderfully perfect and nothing that you would have imagined for this christmas to look like. 

“Ale, I think the pancakes are burning, or the toast, or the bacon, something’s burning.”

Alexia snorted and you couldn’t help but join her, the two of you breaking into giggles when the smoke alarm started to scream from the kitchen. 

“Feliz Navidad, baby.”

[probablyasocialecologist]

The vast majority (99%) of the 281,000 metric tonnes of carbon dioxide (CO2 equivalent) estimated to have been generated in the first 60 days following the 7 October Hamas attack can be attributed to Israel’s aerial bombardment and ground invasion of Gaza, according to a first-of-its-kind analysis by researchers in the UK and US. According to the study, which is based on only a handful of carbon-intensive activities and is therefore probably a significant underestimate, the climate cost of the first 60 days of Israel’s military response was equivalent to burning at least 150,000 tonnes of coal. The analysis, which is yet to be peer reviewed, includes CO2 from aircraft missions, tanks and fuel from other vehicles, as well as emissions generated by making and exploding the bombs, artillery and rockets. It does not include other planet-warming gases such as methane. Almost half the total CO2 emissions were down to US cargo planes flying military supplies to Israel. Hamas rockets fired into Israel during the same period generated about 713 tonnes of CO2, which is equivalent to approximately 300 tonnes of coal – underscoring the asymmetry of each side’s war machinery.

[...]

David Boyd, the UN special rapporteur for human rights and the environment, said: “This research helps us understand the immense magnitude of military emissions – from preparing for war, carrying out war and rebuilding after war. Armed conflict pushes humanity even closer to the precipice of climate catastrophe, and is an idiotic way to spend our shrinking carbon budget.”

[...]

Even without comprehensive data, one recent study found that militaries account for almost 5.5% of global greenhouse gas emissions annually – more than the aviation and shipping industries combined. This makes the global military carbon footprint – even without factoring in conflict-related emission spikes – the fourth largest after only the US, China and India.

[thezombieprostitute]

Your small town has been invaded by a biker club. They want a peaceful takeover but they can twist your arm if needed.

Holy shnikes, I spent so much time working on this! I almost had to make it a two part story! I've barely been able to work on anything else because I needed to get this story written up instead. I honestly think I've never written anything like this before.

Word Count: ~3.6k

Warnings: Choking, Dub/non consent, Implied violence, Knife play (mild). Please let me know if I missed any!

Next Part

Sheriff Lee Bodecker and Mayor John Walker caved to the bikers pretty quickly. Part of you could understand why; only a handful of officers in the entire county compared to a full biker gang? They'd never stand a chance. Better to be allowed to live without having to worry about ending up in the hospital. The Mayor didn't care so long as he got to keep his job, which now meant making the bikers happy.

Which meant paying the bikers with money from the city budget. Your library's budget in particular.

When you'd tried to argue about it, Mayor Walker hit back with "well we can't take any more from the school! Besides, no one needs the library anymore. They've all got their home computers and Internet. You'll be fine with the new budget."

In the end you'd had to let go all but one very part-time employee, relying on two or three volunteers instead. You were already working long hours but now they felt endless. With the budget cut, you had to reduce the purchases of new books in favor of maintaining the Internet connection several of older patrons relied on. Almost half of your day was spent working on applying for grants for additional funding for after-school programs and free-lunch programs for during the summer breaks.

Looking over everything, you were certain you'd have to dip into your own meager savings if you were going to meet the needs of your community. Mayor Walker really didn't seem to understand what the people of his city actually needed, but he didn't seem to care so long as he was in charge.

During an after-school reading time with the Kindergartners you're surprised by the entrance of one of the bikers. You think he's the second-in-command, but you're not sure. He's definitely not the blond in charge; "Cap" you think they call their leader. Still, you have kids to take care of, and this newcomer is a grown man. He can take care of himself.

When the story is done it's time for a nap for the kids. This is very likely the longest they've ever been away from home, away from family, and the sleep helps keep them from getting overstimulated. It was another thing Mayor Walker just didn't understand. All of these kids had parents that worked full time and couldn't afford a babysitter. There were no daycare options, either. Decades ago the kids could be left with a grandparent or a cousin, but they're all working as well or moved out of town. That left the library as a haven for the kids who didn't have access to the limited after-school activities as an option.

If there's anything good about working in such a tiny library it's that you can keep an eye on the kids and the biker while going about your other duties. Thankfully you'd gotten some WD-40 for the book carts so they wouldn't squeak and wake anyone up while you re-shelve books.

You also get a better look at the biker. He's sitting in one of the chairs reading The Hobbit. You hate to admit it but he does look handsome. Longish dark hair, steely blue eyes. For some reason he's still wearing his gloves. If only his arrival hadn't heralded such troubles for you. Well, at least he wasn't causing trouble.

Shelving the books gets you a bit of stretching and some impromptu squat exercises. You spend so much of your time at a desk that this is the closest thing you get to a workout. Given how your body continually snaps, crackles and pops, you could probably use more.

Your exercise is cut short by Ruth's entry and you have to fight the urge to let out a groan. Ruth is one of the older ladies in town who refused to get a computer for her home. Unfortunately that means each time she visits, you have to walk her through even the most basic elements of using a computer so she can send an email to her granddaughter. The entire time she complains to you about how much she hates computers and how much she wishes her daughter would've raised her own daughter correctly and been happy to just accept a phone call, and on, and on, and on.

"Hello Ruth," you quietly say, customer service smile on. "Let me go ahead and log you in to one of our computers?"

"I'm not an invalid!" she loudly complains. You try to quiet her, pointing to the sleeping children but she isn't having it. "All you youngsters thinking an old lady can't do anything for herself! How dare you imply I can't log on to a computer? I'll do it my own self."

You take a breath to steady yourself before looking over at the little ones. They seem largely undisturbed but, knowing Ruth, they'll be awake sooner rather than later. Sighing you go ahead and get their after nap snacks ready. Just another hour or so until their parents start coming by to pick them up. It doesn't take long before Ruth is yelling at the computer, complaining to you that "it's clearly broken" and "why can't we just write letters" along with her forever complaint of "wouldn't have to do this if she'd just pick up the damn phone!"

The kids start waking up and you quickly have to balance keeping them from being upset by the angry lady while also knowing any attempts to placate the angry lady will be met with more anger. Thankfully the snacks are a good distraction for most.

"Would you like some help on a different computer, Ruth?" you ask through gritted teeth, knowing the answer.

"Oh stop treating me like one of those brats," she snaps back. "What kind of library is this where computers are more important than books? Shouldn't even have these monstrosities here!"

"Excuse me, Ruth, is it? I'm Bucky." You'd been so distracted going between Ruth and the kids you didn't notice the biker had put down his book and walked over.

"Oh don't get me started on you and yours!" Ruth retorts. "Town was so much better before you hooligans came along! Now I can't even call the police to help me out when then those teenagers are loitering in my yard!"

"Well Ruth, let me give you my number so the next time you can call me instead of the police," he offers. You're surprised at how calm he's sounding despite being yelled at.

Ruth huffs, "you no-good-beatniks! How dare you insult me! You should get out of our town and leave us good folk alone!"

The biker, Bucky, smiles, "seems to me 'good folk' don't go harassing people who are just trying to do their job." You have to bite back a laugh at that comment. It's no good riling her up even more.

Ruth storms out, letting you focus on the kids who are looking unsure if they should be upset or not. You give the biker a quick "thank you" before giving the little ones all of your attention. He nods and goes back to his reading.

Soon enough the parents start coming in and picking up their kids. Several of them stick around long enough to check out a book or movie and you have to balance taking care of the remaining children with getting the families out on their way. It's always such an ado that makes you really wish you could hire some extra help. A few parents complain about the snacks you gave their kids and you remind them, yet again, that they are free to donate snacks they consider appropriate. All the while you keep your customer service smile up, despite how much you're internally screaming and crying.

Things finally calm down and you're able to sit and take a breather. You desperately want to quit but this community needs a library, even if the Mayor doesn't think so. And goodness knows they'd never be able to hire anyone else to work these conditions. You look over to where the biker is sitting, still reading. If his gang hadn't shown up, you'd be in a much better position. Maybe even able to take a vacation.

Checking the time you decide to keep your professionalism and head over to the man. "Sir, excuse me?" He looks up at you, bright blue eyes momentarily startled. "Sir, we're going to be closing in about a half hour."

"Oh, yeah, sure thing," he nods as he closes the book. "Also, please call me Bucky."

"Sure thing, Bucky," you nod, too tired to argue.

"Gotta say, you do a lot of work for a librarian."

"What do you mean by that?" You don't hold back the bite in your tone and cross your arms.

He chuckles, "I didn't mean to offend. Just, I thought librarians were just supposed to check out the books, y'know? Maybe answer questions? Didn't expect you to also be a daycare, IT person and all that."

"And that's just the work that you saw," you snap at him.

"Don't you have anyone helping you out?"

"I did, before your gang came along!" You're unable to hold back any longer. "Because of you the Mayor cut my budget! I had to fire pretty much all my staff! I can't get the half the books the people of this community want! I have to beg the state government for funds to make sure kids have food when they don't school meals! Do you know how much cleaning I have to do because there's no room in the budget for professionals?! Do you have any idea how many of the things around here I have to pay for out of my own pocket?! You bikers demanded protection money and it came out of my budget!"

Bucky's gloved hand grabs neck, stopping you from talking. You try to fight but his arm is stronger than expected. Surprisingly he doesn't look angry so much as amused. "You know, I never thought I could go for the librarian type but this fire of yours does something to me." Your nostrils flare and he chuckles. "I've been yelled at twice today, Doll. A man can only take so much."

"I'm sorry," you grumble as best you can.

His hand loosens, "what was that, Doll?"

"I'm sorry," you repeat. "While you are the reason my budget was cut, you're not the one who made the decision. I'm sorry I took my anger and frustration out on you."

"That's more like it," he snickers. He pulls you uncomfortably close to himself. "And I'm more than happy to reward that better behavior." You look at him, confusion written all over your face, as the leather of his glove caresses your cheek. "Like I said, I never thought a librarian would rouse my interest, but you're something else." You roll your eyes and try to pull away, but he isn't having it. His grip tightens around your throat again, even as his smile widens, baring his teeth. "I can be very good to you, Doll, so long as you're good for me."

His implication is clear and you really don't have any options.

"I need to close the library," you grumble.

Bucky removes his hand from around your throat, "good idea. Don't want to get caught now, do we?"

Your body is shaking as you go about the routine for closing the library. Your brain is working overtime to try to figure out some kind of way out of this. Running isn't an option. Even if you made it to your car, where could you go? Calling for help definitely wouldn't do anything. You seriously doubt he would hesitate to make an example of you if you ran.

With the last of the doors locked and the blinds closed you return the biker and almost whimper, "my office?"

"Oh Doll," he cups your chin. "You don't need to be scared of me. I'll be good to you."

"Do...do you...do you have a condom?"

He chuckles, "don't worry, we're not going that far tonight. But I love that you're ready for it."

Without warning he grabs you and pulls you in for a suffocating, forceful kiss. His tongue quickly pushing its way past your lips. Mentally reminding yourself to do what he wants, you open your mouth to give him access and he moans. One of his hands moves down to your breast and you have to will yourself to not flinch away from the touch.

"Take off the cardigan. And the top," he orders.

You back up just a bit so you can oblige. "The bra as well?"

"Nah, that'll be for me to remove." His voice sounds rougher than before and his eyes are definitely darker. He seems amused by the fact that you maintain eye contact while removing your clothes. "You're so pretty when you're defiant," he teases. "But I'm sure I'll have you pleading for more in no time."

Willing your eyes not to roll you instead snipe back, "don't make promises you can't keep. Wouldn't be the first disappointment I've had."

He has the nerve to laugh at that. "I'll make a believer out of you, Doll."

Walking to your office, he sits in your chair, gesturing for you to get on his lap. "Make me think you want this," he commands.

Taking a deep breath, eyes never leaving his, you move to straddle him. He's surprised when you grab the back of his head and turn his face up before shoving your tongue down his throat. He moans in appreciation and his arms wrap around you as he returns your fervor. You bite his lower lip and start grinding against his crotch.

He removes his right glove before undoing your bra faster than you expected. You pull apart from him just long enough to remove the bra and he takes the opportunity to latch himself to your breast. His ungloved hand moves to fondle your other breast while his surprisingly strong left arm holds you up. His ministrations have you gasping as your body instinctively continues to grind against him. His slow, languid movements are in direct contrast to the speed your hips have set and the difference is affecting you.

Suddenly you're on your back on the desk. Bucky had managed to move his left hand to prevent your head from banging on the desk. Your eyes widened from more than just surprise at the realization of how fast and strong he was.

"Sorry, Doll, you were getting me too worked up already," he smirks at you. He moves his hands so they're on each side of your head, hovering over you. "It really is the quiet ones, huh?" You can't help roll your eyes and he chuckles. "Let's see how loud you can get."

He quickly unbuttons your pants and pulls them off of you before getting out a knife. Your breath hitches and he chuckles as he takes the blade to your panties, cutting them off of you. He puts the panties to his nose, "you smell so good. How long's it been, Doll? Months? Can't imagine you get a lotta action in this town."

"It's been a while," you confess, heat burning your cheeks at how turned on you are. You can't bring yourself to look at him.

He stuffs your panties into his pocket and taps your thighs with the knife so you spread them open. "You look so pretty like this," he snickers, clearly amused by your discomfort.

He slams the knife into the desk by your head, making you yelp in surprise. Using his left arm to hover over you, he whispers into your ear, "such a pretty scream," as his fingers start playing with your pussy. He groans at how wet you are, "fuck, Doll, I should'a known you'd be into the rough play."

You squeal as he mercilessly jams two of his fingers into you, all the way to the knuckle. As you involuntarily arch your back he alternates licking, sucking and nibbling your nipples. He adds a third finger and mercilessly drives his hand in and out of your soaked pussy. He pushes himself up and uses his now free arm to start choking you. You try to push his arm away, but it's impossibly strong. You're shocked to feel your orgasm building as your gasping for air.

He must sense it too because he grins and starts ordering you to "give me what I want, Doll. Cum around my fingers. I can feel how close you are." He gives your nipple a sharp bite that pushes you over the edge and cum with a hoarse scream, his fingers never slowing down, his grip never letting up.

It's only after you've stopped cumming that he eases up. "That was fucking gorgeous," he taunts before pulling his fingers out of you and licking them. He closes his eyes and moans at your flavor, making you burn with embarrassment. You start to get up but his left hand keeps you pressed to the desk. "I'm not done, Doll."

"I'm sorry," you murmur. "I shouldn't have assumed."

"God you're a good, smart girl. Keep those legs spread for me." You do as he says while trying to look anywhere but him. He pulls the knife out of your desk and flips it so that the hilt is pointed towards you. "Look at me, Doll. I want you to watch." You struggle to look and he rubs the hilt of the knife against your oversensitive clit, making you jump. "I said, look. At. Me. Doll." You're quick to follow his orders this time.

He puts the knife away before undoing his belt and pants. As much as you could feel when you were grinding against him, as much as you could see the his bulge, you weren't expecting his cock to be so big. Your eyes widen and he chuckles, "like I said, we're not going that far tonight. Now be good and don't move unless I tell you."

Grabbing your legs he pulls you so your ass is a little off the desk and runs his cock over your pussy, gathering up your slick and rubbing over your clit, making you whimper. He starts groaning in pleasure, "god you're so wet from just one orgasm. Can't wait to see how soaked you get after a full night with me." He positions your thighs so that you're squeezing his cock between them and he gives a few thrusts, spreading your own juices all your thighs.

"Gonna mark you up with my cum," he growls as he picks up his pace, squeezing your thighs even tighter. His hands are hurting you but his cock keeps rubbing against your clit and it's feeling so damn good you don't register his words. You moan and whine as you barrel towards your next orgasm. "That's it, Doll. You make the prettiest faces. Can't wait to see you covered in my cum. Gonna look so damn pretty with my seed all over you."

He squeezes your thighs impossibly tight and you cum so hard from the pain and pleasure combination you don't notice him ejaculating all over your stomach and chest.

When he finally catches his breath he reaches into his jacket and pulls out his phone to take a photo. You try to protest but he gives you a warning look. You drop your face, trying to not cry from how dirty you feel. He puts the phone away and lifts your chin, "don't worry, Doll. That photo is just for me." He kisses the top of your head and you try not to wince. "And because you were so good to me, made me feel so good, I'll be good to you. Now get your clothes back on and I'll escort you home."

"Can I clean up?"

"Not until you get home," he growls. "You don't get rid of my marks until I give you permission."

"Yes, Bucky," you sniffle.

"Aw, don't be like that, Doll," he gently chides. "I take care of what's mine."

The next morning you wake up from a nightmare riddled sleep, feeling more tired than ever. After your morning routine you step outside to head to the library but stop short when you see Bucky on his motorcycle, waiting for you. Wordlessly he hands you a helmet and you don't even try to question or talk him out of whatever he has planned, you just put the helmet on and get on the bike behind him, holding him incredibly tight so you don't fall off.

He stops in front of City Hall and helps you off the bike before walking you in. He doesn't stop until he's led you to the Mayor's office. Your shocked to see Cap, the leader of the biker gang, sitting next to Mayor Walker, whose nose has recently been broken. You gasp and try to turn away but Bucky grabs you and keeps you facing the Mayor.

Cap pats Walker's shoulder, "now what did I tell you?"

Walker shudders a little before looking at you and shakily saying, "I'm so sorry for cutting your budget so much. I will amend that today, making sure to take the money out of my own salary."

Your shaking, unable to respond. Bucky whispers into your ear, "what do you say, Doll?"

"Th-thank you, Mayor Walker," you stutter. "I...I really appreciate that you've ch-changed your mind."

"That's my girl," Bucky whispers before guiding you out of the office.

Next Part

Tagging: @alicedopey; @delicatebarness; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @lokislady82; @ronearoundblindly

[ronearoundblindly]

Lease

best-friend!roommate!reader x Steve Rogers

*This was a totally random and spontaneous idea. Not edited. Light language (so we can get *the joke*), pining, light angst, hurt/comfort, and fluff. This work is for all ages! WC ~2k

Sam Wilson introduces you. Both your parents were veterans and active at the VA, so you practically grew up there.

At first, you’re reserved, a little formal, but very nice. Oddly enough, Steve just likes that you don’t hound him with questions about his military service and how it was different based on the decade, etc. You are just…around to listen.

He finds himself filling any (comfortable) silence between you with stories. Stupid things. Things that don’t have to do with the VA or his past or even his present, which is entirely work as Captain America.

Steve gets to a point where he is itching to live off of Avengers Campus, but he doesn’t want to live alone.

One day he finds you hunched over a laptop and grumbling, “why is everything so fucking expensive?”

A sentiment which, of course, he frowns at.

“Sorry,” you shrug, a look of sincere apology on your distraught face. “I didn’t realize it, but apparently, I’m poor with my measly three-thousand-dollar-a-month budget for an apartment. Now I have to find a roommate, and—“ you start wagging a finger at him sarcastically “—I don’t know if you’ve noticed there’re some real weirdos out there. It’ll take me longer to find a safe, stable roomie than it takes to—“

“I can move in with you.”

Steve almost gasps at how fast the words fly out of his mouth.

“Well, not ‘move in’ to your current place. I mean. I can—I would be willing to live with you. Sorry! That sounds bad. You’re not bad. I meant…you know, anytime you want to chime in and stop me would be helpful.”

You remain silent and smirking.

“Right. Okay. So…think about it? Or not, that’s fine.”

“Let’s talk figures, Rogers. The square-footage just doubled, and I need to rework the budget.”

Moving in is shockingly uneventful. You’re easy to get along with, when not suddenly up on your high horse about something, and Steve is easy to get along with under the same circumstances. You push his militant rigidity to the brink on purpose, but never too far.

Things sit out in the wrong place, but it’s never dirty. Stuff doesn’t always get returned promptly, but if he asks, you’re on it.

There are two bathrooms, thank mercy.

He has random and odd hours. You work nine to five, mostly. It’s the perfect level of independence without loneliness for Steve.

Sam and Natasha stop by regularly or ask you both out for drinks or to fun, new places.

One time, when Nat is ribbing Steve to go talk to a cute girl ordering at the bar, he panics and takes your hand in his on the tabletop.

“How can I do that when my date is right here?” he grits playfully through his pearly white teeth. “Leave it alone.”

Each word is punctuated by a shift forward and a slight tilt of his head.

Natasha is unamused and instantly grabs your other hand (which was holding your drink) to pull you toward the dance floor.

It’s awkward for multiple reasons. You’d pay a whole month’s rent to know what Sam and Steve talked about after you left.

Sam takes a different approach, luring—or attempting to lure—Steve into setting up just one dating profile online.

“You don’t have to put photos,” Sam assures, “and you can stick with your first name only. I swear to you, man, this’ll be good for you. Get you out there more. Help me out here, Tagalong!”

He turns to you for support. To be fair, you did quite literally tag along with your parents for years to the VA, and it stuck. Why it sticks as a grown-ass adult? You’ll never know. You just don’t mind Sam Wilson saying it because he means well and never uses it in public.

“Uh, nooooo.”

Sam’s face falls. “What?”

You look at Steve and grimace, clicking your tongue. “He’s not ready for that,” you conclude.

Steve jumps out of the chair, arms wide with victory.

“THAT’S WHAT I’VE BEEN SAYING!”

“I know you told her to say that,” Sam shouts back.

“Did not,” Steve barks.

“He did not.” You lean against your bedroom doorframe. “I just think it’s obvious.”

That makes Steve deflate a little. “Wait, but…I’m not that bad.”

“Oh gosh,” you fake with a huge smile, “look at the time! Gotta be off to bed…”

The men keep fighting albeit muffled from your side of the wall. The only part you can make out before giving them privacy is Sam, whining, “but you actually like bubble baths and walks on the beach, dude. You’re gonna be money on there.”

“Hey, why do you not, ya know, date?”

You look up from your breakfast, stunned because that came out of nowhere. You’ve lived together over six months now, and Steve hasn’t asked for one iota of personal—well, romantically personal—information.

Twiddling your fork around, you think.

“I always imagine what my parents would think of him, any guy I’ve ever considered being with longterm, and…I was just never proud to say ‘here, here’s the one,’ I guess.”

Your parents have been gone for years. You value their opinion anyway.

“Mhm,” Steve hums, “the one?”

You take a bite of food, straightening your back, tossing a dismissive hand in the air. “Yeah, if you believe in that sort of thing.”

He’s quiet for a while.

“So you’re waiting for the right partner?” Steve finally mutters, and he watches your noncommittal gesturing intently.

That was a ‘yes.’

Natasha knows. Sam knows. Steve suspects but won’t admit to anything. You are kind and unreadable.

You’ve always been kind, so there’s no discernible difference to signal you have feelings for him in return. He can’t bring himself to be anything less than a gentleman at home and makes absolutely no moves to find out.

He stays out in the living room a lot more, all hours, hoping you’ll mention staying in for a movie, praying you’ll be tired enough to fall asleep on his lap on the couch.

He’s in way too deep.

What Steve suspects is that it would be too awkward to start anything while living together, but he doesn’t want to leave you in the lurch for rent or a roommate. He also desperately doesn’t want to move out. The status quo is comfortable.

He loves being comfortable with you.

The stress of not telling you, while needing to make some sort of arrangements should telling you blow up in his face, starts to wear on him.

Steve is a pro at compartmentalizing his life, so it’s when he’s stuck at the apartment without any missions, a handful of meetings, and a team that all have lives for two long months that he cracks…in the least attractive way.

He’s messed up his sleep schedule with worry and playing innocent, and out of the not-so-blue, a horrible, vivid nightmare hits him. Steve isn’t even on the mattress anymore by the time he figures out there wasn’t carpet like this in Germany and the desk chair he grips is not a motorcycle.

“Rogers,” he hears. “Rogers, can you look at me?”

The dark room is somehow hollow and stifling all at once. His head turns slower than his brain tells it to.

Steve blinks.

“Do you know where you are?”

“Hey, sweets,” he husks from a dry throat. “What…”

“Can you tell me where this is?” You step closer and pry one of his hands off the mesh to cradle in yours. “Where are we, Rogers?”

“Home.” He swallows. “Our home.”

Your smile doesn’t reach your eyes, but you nod like he’s done well.

“Okay, Steve, I’m going to get you some water. If you want—“ your fingers smooth over the back of his hand, nudging the other to release the chair “—you can sit on the bed.”

You don’t leave. You don’t even get up from the floor.

He doesn’t notice he’s clutching your hands, shaking slightly until long seconds go by.

“Yeah. Okay.” Steve lets go, otherwise unmoving, contemplating how he ever thought the semi-rough industrial carpet felt the same as mud.

You carefully hand him the water and rub his back, using your nails to trace invisible patterns. He can’t remember what he was so scared of a minute ago. He only knows he’s sweating that empty kind of confused.

“What’s that supposed to do?” he asks absently.

You shrug. “Eh. Back scratches just feel good.”

Steve’s mind remains blank as he sips his water.

: We need to renew the lease soon. Like this week.

Steve has stalled as long as humanly possible; he is officially not being a gentleman now. He is a coward.

: Talk about it when I get home?

: Could you at least tell me if this is a hard NO on staying here or just some concerns/questions? : I don’t get why you’re being like this.

Steve gets it, but he hates it.

: I’ll be back tonight. Should I pick up food?

: ffs : Fine. Whatever you want.

Steve also hates when you’re mad at him…which has been happening more and more.

He’s been distant, he refuses to let Sam or Nat come around for fear they’ll play match-maker and ruin the whole thing, and he is about to ruin the whole thing anyway.

Because he is not smooth. Because he is not prepared. Because he’s built up this perfect and amazing, sweep-you-off-your-feet moment.

And he bungles it.

“Out with it,” you command, haughtily yanking your portion of food from the countertop beside him, heading for the dinette.

“I want to be with you,” he blurts.

“Thank god,” you sigh, settling in your spot. “So we’ll go down to the office and sign in the morning. I don’t want there to be an issue if you’re off to wherever for who-the-hell-knows how long on the date the thing expires.”

“No, I…” but Steve’s voice is too quiet.

“There’s only a tiny window where they’re open before I have to head to work, so let me physically sign first, right? Then I gotta go.”

“Sure,” he slurs.

“Steve?” You turn to see him staring down at his food. He’s still across the room. “Are you okay?”

“I said I—I meant that—“ he huffs out his breath and taps his fist on the counter “—I meant that I’m an idiot,” he finishes softly.

Approaching with that beautiful, open-hearted kindness that haunts his days and soothes his night, you cross to him, scratching his back just the way he’s grown to crave.

“Think you might be hangry,” you chuckle.

He cannot do this. Steve is hanging on by a thread until the graze of your hand slides down his forearm to take his plate, and he spins.

He’s thought about kissing you so many times, he mapped out the angles he’d have to hold himself at, how far he needs to lean to get to you, the care to take wrangling in his strength and sheer excitement.

Steve Rogers is good at planning, at least, this part.

Gentle pecks of his plush lips to yours leave gaps in contact that let you whimper, and he fears you stopping him. He presses, wrapping his arms around you and molding your bodies together. The linoleum of the kitchen floor makes sticky sounds beneath your shuffling feet, squeaking once you hit the adjacent wall.

The force of that knocks your frozen arms into his chest, and painfully, Steve relents to step away, but not far. He bites his bottom lip and tastes the balm from yours, his head tilted in shame but fiery eyes watching you from beneath long lashes.

“Oh,” you breathe out. “Oh…you meant…”

Steve’s tongue darts out hungrily.

“Yeah.”

[Main Masterlist; Light Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

They're soooo cute!!!!!!

[another-lost-mc]

a/n: this is for a friend that celebrated a birthday this week. I hope it was a good one! 🎉

when it's mc's birthday | the demon brothers

2.6k words | nsfw | gn!reader | fluff and non-explicit smut

cw: my fav bias is showing again. mostly soft!demons. car sex; levi's tail gets its own warning; bathing together and bath tub sex; dream magic and implied dream sex.

Lucifer plans your birthday with the utmost care. He booked a reservation at your favourite restaurant so that he can treat you to an intimate dinner. He remembered the various items you've pointed out to him in the past while browsing through the Devildom's shopping district. He went back and bought every single one of them, and they're already wrapped and tucked away in the back of his closet for later.

After he walks you home from the restaurant, there's a bottle of Demonus on ice waiting in his room. You share a toast while he watches you open your gifts. You kiss his cheek, eyes shimmery and warm with so much affection, and he can't resist the urge to kiss you properly. A soft, booze-sweetened kiss leads to another kiss, and another, and another after that. He strips your clothes off slowly, like he's unwrapping a gift of his own. He memorizes the sight of your body stretched languidly against his dark sheets. He almost feels selfish for a moment because he wants you so desperately, but the lust simmering in your gaze makes his heart race. He knows how much you want him too, and he's powerless to deny you.

The first time he makes love to you, it's heat and frenzied passion, the build-up of coy anticipation that finally boiled over. He reaches for you throughout the night between quiet conversation and short naps. Each time he pulls your body close to his again, his lips whisper tender confessions against the delicate shell of your ear while he worships your body with his over and over again.

Mammon isn't very subtle. In the days leading up to your birthday, he asks random questions about things you might like or activities you're interested in. He wants to get a head start and beat his brothers to the punch. His fake nonchalance isn't convincing, but it's still endearing how much he truly cares. Who else should celebrate your birthday if not him? He's your first, and he's not going to let anyone else spoil you more than he does.

He tries to budget his money and curb his spending so he can afford whatever it is you ask for. If that fails, he takes on some less-than-prestigious part-time gigs for extra cash. You could ask him for the world and he'd find a way to scrimp and save and scavenge and steal if he has to so he can give you whatever you want. He doesn’t realize (or doesn't believe) that his company is what makes your birthday really special.

He dresses up nice and polishes his car to a high-shine to match your own stunning smile and natural radiance. It doesn’t matter what you wear because when he tells you how gorgeous you are, he’s so sincere. You outshine all the riches and jewels he used to dream about—now he dreams of you instead.

He takes you on a date that's sweet and light-hearted. He holds your hand and stares at you across the table with a dopey grin on his face when he thinks you're not looking. Once you're alone in his car, that boyish giddiness fades into something greedy and confident. You meet him halfway when he leans over to give you a kiss. When kissing isn't enough for either of you, you push the seat back so he can climb over and settle between your legs. He takes you apart in the cramped front seat of his car until your voice is hoarse and you push him away from sensitivity. The car smells musky with sweat and cum and he doesn't care that you made a bit of a mess on the seat. He palms himself on the drive home, and by the time you get to his room, he's eager to do it all over again in the comfort of his bed.

Levi isn't sure what to do for your birthday, but you offer to plan a little outing for the two of you. All he has to do is keep you company, right? He braces himself with a mantra he repeats over and over in his head: do it for them, do it for them, do it and LIKE IT because you love them. It ends up being a lot more fun than he expects: a lunch date at one of the cafes you both like followed by a movie you’ve been excited to see. You don’t make fun of his sweaty palm when you hold hands in line to buy movie tickets and overpriced snacks at the concession bar. There's a cute plushie on display where they sell collectible merch. He buys that for you too and shoves it into your arms before you can protest.

He relaxes when you take your seats and the theatre lighting dims as the movie starts. You lean against his shoulder and he's glad you can't see how pink his cheeks are. Partway through the film, he decides he likes the movie, but not as much as he enjoys your warm fingers laced with his.

He jolts suddenly when you pull your hand away and slide your fingers onto his denim-clad thigh instead. Your fingers squeeze with the tiniest bit of pressure and he nearly gasps at the unexpected wave of lust that washes over him. He glances at you in confusion—you're still focused on the screen, but he can see the little smile curling the edge of your mouth. He squirms a little and pretends not to notice your fingers drawing lazy circle-eights across his jeans, inching higher up his leg when he doesn’t stop you. And you're right, he's not going to stop you. You run a fingertip over the growing bulge hardening against the zipper of his jeans, just as you feel his tail slide onto your lap and tease the sensitive skin between your legs.

Satan decides to take a different approach when he sees how overwhelmed you are by his brothers' plans for your birthday. Sometimes simple is best and what could be more relaxing or romantic than your favourite home-cooked meal? He fusses in the kitchen until everything is cooked exactly to your liking, and the dish he serves you looks as good as it smells. His room is tidied enough so that a small table fits—he doesn’t want the others bothering you if he serves you in the dining room. There are dozens of candles that cast you both in an ethereal glow while you eat together. His room might not offer the rich ambience of Ristorante Six or the electric atmosphere of The Fall, but nothing outshines the romance he creates here, just for you.

Once dinner is finished and he tidies up the mess, he pulls you to your feet and wraps his arms around you in a slow dance. It's more like swaying back and forth together as a classical record plays quietly in the background. Candlelight flickers playfully along the walls of his room, and your face is painted by a mirage of shadow and flame. He eagerly traces those shapes on your skin with his tongue after he lays you on his bed, and by the time you're shaking and falling apart in his arms, you'll know how much he loves you.

Your birthday is another chance for Asmo to spoil you. Throughout the afternoon, he leads you to each of his favourite boutiques in the Devildom's shopping district. He holds up dozens of clothes against your body and admires how the colours bring out your eyes or compliment your complexion or how luxurious the fabrics are. He pretends that he didn't pick all these out to show you (and buy them for you) in advance.

When he finally takes you to Majolish, his greatest gift is revealing that he personally designed this outfit specially for you. It fits flawlessly and even you think you look amazing. It’s obvious that he poured his love and passion into creating this for you when no one else ever has before. It’s almost overwhelming, the way his smile radiates warmth when he looks at you. His eyes burn with all the ravenous love he feels for you. He loses control of himself and kisses you, pressing you against the changing room wall and sliding his thigh between yours. He doesn't want to stop, but he doesn’t have the time or space to touch you properly here. When he pulls his leg out from between yours, he misses the searing heat of your body against his. Perhaps it’s for the best that he take you home first—he would hate to get stains on your new outfit so soon.

(He originally planned on taking you to The Fall but he changed his mind. He’s not in the mood to share you with anyone else tonight.)

When he takes you home, he leads you straight to his private bathroom and urges you to get undressed while he gets everything ready. He draws a warm bath and the steamy air clings to you both like a second skin. You feel self-conscious about being naked even though he stands before you, waist-deep in the bathwater and just as naked as you are. He takes your hand and pulls you gently into the water with him. He supports your weight when you lean against his chest and his hands start to wander over your body. His fingers leave a soapy trail up and down your spine. He cradles your neck and leans forward, capturing your lips in another kiss because he can't possibly wait anymore.

The kiss reignites both your desperate desires to touch and be touched. He walks you back towards the edge of the tub. When your back touches the cool marble stone, he reaches behind your thighs and lifts you onto the edge; he swallows your half-hearted protest with his lips moving greedily against yours. His mouth moves away from yours, ghosting along the curve of your jaw and down your neck while his fingers gently pry your legs apart. He bends his head low once you’re spread open for him, hot and trembling and all his. His eyes glow bright when you tangle your fingers in his hair, and it’s the last thing you see before he dips his head between your legs.

It's not surprising that Beel plans to take you out for dinner on your birthday. It's a tricky proposition because it's easy for him to lose control of his hunger when he goes out to eat. He doesn't want his sin to ruin your birthday dinner, so he eats a meal's worth of food beforehand. Having a partially-full stomach means he's not going to be completely distracted by hunger—he wants to focus on you.

He likes taking you to nice restaurants and your birthday is no exception. You put on a new outfit he’s never seen you wear before, but it looks so good on you that he's drooling from the corner of his mouth before you even leave the house. The restaurant is cozy and everything on the menu sounds delicious. Your nose bunches up adorably when you can't decide what to order, and Beel suggests ordering one of everything. He laughs deep in his belly when you glance at him skeptically over the brim of your menu. His eyes are bright with mischief even though you know he's dead-serious. He simply grins at you from across the table and reminds you that he won't let the food wouldn’t go to waste.

It doesn't take long for your food to arrive. Beel enjoys watching you eat while you make little sounds of contentment between bites. He offers you food from his own plate to try. When your plate is empty, he worries you might still be hungry; he's only satisfied when you promise that you're close to bursting and completely full. He leads you out of the restaurant by the hand, and his other hand carries a bag full of leftovers to share with you tomorrow.

When he walks you home, he doesn't want to seem needy or presumptuous even though he's reluctant to end the night so soon. He pauses outside your door and kisses you softly, whispering happy birthday against your lips that still taste sweet from your dessert earlier. He can’t resist swiping his tongue across the seam of your mouth for one more taste, and the kiss deepens when you part your lips for him. You only break the kiss just long enough to open your door and pull him inside your room before slamming the door shut again. Your hands tug impatiently at his waist, and he shivers at the metallic clink of his belt buckle coming undone. He can sense hunger rising inside you again, and when he pushes you gently onto the mattress and covers your body with his own, he realizes your appetite is as insatiable as his own.

Belphie doesn't mind if the others want to take the initiative and plan your birthday party. He prefers it that way, actually. When his brothers ask for his input, he recommends something casual at the house, nothing too fancy. He wants you to be happy and relaxed and spoiled where you can be comfortable.

He sneaks into town to buy you a gift before the party, of course—something you mentioned to him in passing once that was too expensive for you to justify buying at the time. He and Beel wrap the presents they bought you in their room. Belphie's present looks insignificant compared to the large pile of gifts stacked near your birthday cake. He's not worried, especially when your eyes light up when you open it. You're just as appreciative of his small gift as you are of the others you receive. He knows you so well.

(You keep the contents of his card to yourself: a reminder that he has something special to give you later.)

Sometimes when he takes you to the attic for bed, he falls back against the mattress and waits impatiently for you to crawl on top of him. There's no hint of his lazy smugness tonight though. His hands are gentle but efficient when he strips your clothes away first before taking off his own. He follows you down onto the bed and smothers your body with his. The soft mattress cushions you when he grinds against you, and it squeaks from the force of his thrusts when he rocks inside you too. Your skin is littered with the little marks he sucks and nibbles into your skin. He cleans you with a warm, damp cloth after because your thighs and belly are covered in a sticky mess of you and him. He takes care of you with so much tenderness. You’re already snoring lightly by the time he's finished, and he cuddles against you with a yawn.

Shortly after you fall asleep, you dream of him. It’s a shared illusion between you conjured with the sleepy brand of magic he commands. You writhe against him in your sleep as the embers of lust continue to burn deep inside you. When the dream ends, you both wake up and instinctively reach for each other as the remnants of the dream fades away. He kisses you breathless despite your stale morning breath. You whimper against his mouth and he rolls over until you're underneath him again. After indulging in a night of dreamy, lustful sins, you're both still desperately eager for more.

read more: obey me masterlist

[salemrph]

Headcanon: Shopping with Sylus

Shopping is maybe not your favorite activity, but recently you want to change a bit your style.

You walk with Sylus through the mall.

"Sweetie, we could have gone to more exclusive places, you know that, right?"

"Sure, but I like to keep my style more fitting to my budget"

"Alright... As you wish"

"Beside, you didn't need to come with me"

"I thought it would be nice a way to spent time with you"

After you select a few outfits in the store, you notice that the Sylus is still standing by your side. Most men look for a nice sitting spot while scrolling through their phones and wait until you're done.

"If you get bored, go get a coffee and wait for me" you said while you grab a few more pieces.

Sylus looked at you confused, and smiled after that.

"Do you really think I'm going to miss the show?"

"Huh?"

"Is that all?" he takes everything you had in your hands. And pushed you gently in the direction of the fitting room. "Go change, sweetie."

Unsure about what is going on, you change into the outfits. He gave his suggestions, making sure you feel comfortable with your selection and maybe adding a few changes. He has an eye for fashion, that's sure.

The more quiet he goes over something the more he likes it. Having Sylus go mute when he sees you in those jeans... Is delicious. And under his gaze you are the most beautiful woman in the world. And those eyes are devouring you entirely.

Obviously at the end, he handed out his black credit card, paying for every single piece, and that included the underwear set he picked up for you too.

[seat-safety-switch]

Everyone has a strong opinion about how to make the best steak. Do you reverse-sear it? Do you kiss it against a pan? Butter braise? My neighbour down the street hires a group of Hawaiian dancers to rhythmically stomp on his striploin until it is cooked entirely through the waste heat produced by the repetitive impact. Expensive, certainly, but you can't put a price on fine cuisine.

Me? I eat most of my meals courtesy of the 7-Eleven We're Throwing This Out Soon® anti-food-waste program. Sometimes it's pizza. Most of the time it's hot dogs. Every time it's delicious, even though my doctor has noted with some concern the fact that my poop no longer resembles that of an ordinary human being. We're not talking about that right now, though. We're talking about how I prepare steak.

The most important part is getting a good steak. Lots of folks just roll up to the grocery store and hand over like a hundred fucking dollars for whatever Superstore's butcher says is good. Me, I get that very same steak for free when he's forced to throw it out after a few days because of "food safety regulations." Sealed in a bag and everything, dumpster slime washes right off. Still fries up real nice, which is where we come to our next part.

Preparation is also key. You'll see professional chefs salting the shit out of the steak and then throwing it in the fridge for most of the day to let it think about what it's done. This dries out the steak (from crying) and then you can get an extra-nice crisp on it when you finally do get around to introducing it to a heat source. Me, I don't have that kind of time. Or a working refrigerator. What I do have is positively frigid Canadian winters, and a bunch of holes in the floor of my car. The heavily salted roads take care of the rest of it, if you get my drift. Protects the underside and makes a pleasant aroma inside the car when the exhaust leaks on it. I'd keep dumpster meat tied to the underside of my car all winter long, if it weren't for the coyotes and wolverines.

Finally, it's time to cook that steak. Throw that shit right on top of the exhaust manifold, right in that nook over there, and go for a quick rip. Hold your shifts a little bit longer than usual, to really get those headers glowing. Just make sure you don't get into a chase with the police, because they can go for a really long time these days (with all the budget hikes) and you'll end up with an inedible hockey puck at the end when they finally do PIT you into the ditch. We're talking strictly backroads and other places the cops don't go, like the location of active crimes.

If you've followed all these tips, you have an excellent steak on your hands. What about sides, you ask? We'll cover that in the next episode of Cooking With Switch, brought to you by this very same public-access television station the next time I can shoulder-surf the door code off one of the interns.

[marasmadness]

soft dom regina mills x fem reader smut where reader has a praise kink & a mommy kink <333

Midnights With The Mayor || Regina Mills x Reader

CW: smut, strap ons, praise kink, mommy kink, blindfolds, biting, magic during sex bc why not 🤷‍♀️, dom/sub dynamics

WC: 2.5K

“Granny’s Diner, this is Ruby speaking.”

Regina heard the pop of her gum through the phone as she pinched her phone between her ear and shoulder so she could flip through the papers on her desk. As usual, she was the last one in the town hall. It was long after the sun had set and all the other office lights had gone out. “ Ruby, it’s Regina. I know it’s late, but would you mind swinging by with an order on your way home after your shift? I’m at my office and I’ll pay you extra.”

Ruby scrambled for her order pad in the pocket of her apron while simultaneously filling the coffee mugs of the diner’s last lingering customers. “Let me close up, and it’ll be there around 1 o’clock. Your usual order, I assume?”

“Yes, thank you Ruby.” They hung up, and Regina continued with her work. Regina had shown slightly more softness toward Ruby than the other residents of Storybrooke. She had been one of the first to forgive Regina along with Emma, was great with Henry, and even supported her return to the position of Storybrooke’s mayor.

She quickly returned to work, plowing through the seemingly never-ending pile of town proposals or updated budgeted plans. No matter how much she accomplished, her workload also replenished itself by the next morning. She made an effort to cram out a little extra on Friday nights so that she could spend most of her weekend with Henry without having to pick up extra phone calls or bring work with her to his activities. Half an hour later, Regina heard a knock on the double oak doors echo through the hall’s tiled corridors. “ Door’s open; come on up Ruby.” She had yet to look up when the door creaked open, but the tentative footsteps across the marble caught her attention.

She looked up to spot someone unfamiliar, who was not Ruby but wore the same uniform. You lingered tentatively in the doorway of the mayor’s office, holding up her takeout bag. “Two orders of apple cinnamon pancakes?”

She nodded, confirming you had the right place. It took her a moment to address you. You threw her off. She knew every face in Storybrooke, or at least she did, before you showed up. She had been distracted, less focused on Storybrooke’s border, and using less magic recently anyway in order to gain the town’s trust.

You began to fidget under her gaze when she approached you. Her heels clicked against the floor with long, fluid steps, and she reached her hand out toward you. For a brief moment you forgot you held your order in her hand and stared at her outstretched hand. Quickly realizing what she was reaching out for, you placed the brown paper bag in her hand, dropping your head to hide the slight blush that tinged your cheeks.

“Regina Mills, May-”

“Mayor of Storybrooke. Of course I know who you are, Miss Mills,” you finished with a soft smile.

She raised her eyebrow, glad to hear her reputation still reached as far as it did when she was the evil queen. “And you are?” She asked, prodding for a name, as she rested her hand on her hip against the smooth fabric of her pencil skirt.

You gave her your name, explaining that you went to school with Ruby, and she invited you to spend the summer with her here in Storybrooke rather than in Boston, where you lived.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you. Welcome to Storybrooke.” She turned around, leaning over her desk to grab her wallet. Your guilty eyes roved over her body while she was turned and distracted. You had heard plenty about Regina Mills from Ruby during your road trip to her hometown, but she had failed to account for the fact that with a single brief interaction, she had your palms sweaty, which you attempted to hide behind your back. Regina wore a red silk blouse tucked in her skirt, with a few unhooked buttons near the top that revealed the slightest curve of her cleavage. It was obvious she had been running her hands through her dark, silky hair, which was slightly tousled.

You attempted to loosen your tense shoulders and offer a casual smile as she turned back around toward you. Your lips parted in surprise as she grabbed your wrist, placing a stack of cash in your palm. “Here, for the late-night visit. I appreciate it. Sorry for keeping you up.” Her voice was soft; there was no need for volume when she was as close to you as she was. A subtle smirk crossed her red-painted lips as she closed your fingers around the money.

“ Oh really, it was no extra trouble at all. I would’ve been up if I wasn’t working anyway. Terrible sleeper.” You rambled nervously, trying to make your visit seem like as little of a hassle as possible to the woman.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” You swore she could’ve winked with the statement, but the light surrounding the two of you was too dim to tell.

You turned around, closing her office door slowly behind you. “Have a goodnight, Miss Mills.”

…

The next morning, Regina sauntered in bright and early to Granny’s Diner. Only a few regulars had beat her here, silently sipping on their coffee in a corner booth.

Ruby spotted her surveying the room with a purpose and smirked. “ Regina! Back so soon? What can I get you? Or who can I get for you?” She raised her eyebrows, twirling a red pen between her fingers.

Regina hollowed her cheeks into a petulant expression, annoyed that Ruby could read her that quickly. “Where is she Ruby?”

The girl clicked her tongue, pointing towards the curtain that led to a back section of the restaurant. “Back by the laundry. There was a coffee spill.”

The mayor strode through the quaint Storybrooke staple before Ruby had finished, slipping away from the smell of hot coffee and homemade syrup.

Rolling her tongue across the tip of her teeth, her introduction rolled off her tongue when she found you leaning against the washing machine, your shirt splayed out in front of you as you scrubbed at a coffee stain. She held her breath, letting her eyes soak in your bare skin before you noticed your presence.

“Mayor Mills, eager for our reunion to be so soon?” You commented without turning around to face her, hiding the small smile as you tucked your chin to your chest.

Regina withheld the instinct to flinch in surprise. “How did you know it was me?” She questioned, now more intrigued than shocked.

“You’re not the only one with powers around here.”

The color drained from the sorceress’s face, fearing the worst until innocent pink tendrils flowed from your fingertips, erasing the previously unrelenting stain from your shirt.

Regina crossed her arms over her chest, leaning against the doorframe. “You’re not just here for summer break.”

“ Nope.” Shrugging your shirt back over your shoulders, you buttoned it up and retired your apron over it. “ Ruby’s been trying to get me to come out here ever since we were freshman roommates and she sensed I had magic. I’ve never bothered to learn more than party tricks.”

“She wanted you to learn from me,” Regina finished, putting the pieces together.

Hopping up onto the drier, you crossed your legs and shot her an eager smile. “So, teach me?”

Regina wasn’t sure what suddenly made her so agreeable, but she found herself saying yes before she could hesitate. She had a possessive death grip over her powers and was never quick to reveal her secrets, but the feelings that were luring her to you made her willing to sacrifice the slightest bit of control in order to keep you around. “Meet me tonight at 9; come prepared.”

“Prepared for what?” You asked, scrambling after her as she pivoted around.

“ Anything.” You froze, watching her leave and knowing you weren’t going to get anything more from her right now. Her hips swayed slightly beneath her red blazer as she left with the same confidence she walked in with.

Despite not having an address, the mayor’s house was not hard to find. It took all of 15 minutes to travel from one end of Storybrooke to the other. Even with Ruby’s vague instructions, you ended up right in front of Regina’s house. It was the biggest one on the block, with pristine white siding, an eye-catching red door, and an impressive collection of apple trees beside it.

The door swung open before you could even knock, revealing Regina, still dressed for work, minus the blazer. She let you in, glancing up and down the street before she closed the door behind you. She invited you to sit on a bar stool in her kitchen. You had been out for a drink for Ruby and were still dressed for it. The older woman’s eyes darted to your lap as you attempted to pull the hem of your dress farther down your thighs as you sat down.

She leaned against the countertop across from you, pouring two glasses of wine. “So what have you worked with before?”

You shrugged, tapping your fingers against the bottom of the glass. “Mostly small objects I guess, never anything powerful. I’ve used it to grab things across the room, plenty of laundry.

Regina tilted her head. A smile crossed her face, amused at your innocence. “You’re a witch, and you use your powers for... laundry.”

You laughed airily. “I’m not a witch. I’m not out here cursing people.”

“ Ruby really taught you nothing. You don’t have to be evil or cursing people to be a witch. You practice magic; you’re a witch. You don’t see me out here cursing people, well, anymore.”

You raised an eyebrow at the suggestion, but she dismissed it with a dark stare. “So, what do you do with your powers?”

“Whatever I wish. Though I am trying to use them less due to a history of a…. magic high, if you will. Let’s start with teaching you how to work with humans. It feels different from objects and requires more strength. You have to sense their skin, touch, or blood if you’re working with dark magic.

You stood up slowly, raising a hand. “I am not working with-”

“Relax.” Regina waved her hand and your arm well back to your side.

You looked down to where your fingers rested against your hip without you placing them there. “ Woah.”

Regina walked around the counter, placing herself in front of you. “I usually get a more impressive response than “ Woah,” but we’ll work on it.”

Your eyes brightened with a hunger that Regina recognized in her younger self when she had first been opposed to magic more powerful than her own. “What else can you do?”

Regina’s eyes raked over your body in thought before she raised two fingers, curling them into her palm. Controlled purple light sparked from her fingertips, wrapping itself around your wrists. You gasped in surprise as she lifted them above your head without a single touch. Stumbling backwards, you looked up to find your hands pinned above your head and Regina hovering over you with a single glide.

Her voice husked in your ear, the sweet wine still scenting her breath. “Do you still need further demonstration that magic can feel good?”

Tilting your head brought your mouth closer to her lips, and you found her dark, unflinching stare. “Yes,” you whispered, daring her to go further.

With your word, she hooked her finger on your collar, practically dragging you around the corner. You found yourself in her bedroom, and she pushed you down on her mattress. You watched attentively as you kicked her heels off and strode over to her nightstand, digging through it for something.

She revealed a blindfold before wrapping the piece of silk around her palm. You looked up at her curiously as she kneeled into the mattress before your vision went dark.

From the movement of the mattress, you sensed her settling onto the bed a few feet away. You flinched when her raspy voice entered your ear, and you picked up immediately that she was using her powers to project her voice across the space between you.

Our powers come to the surface best when we’re desperate, so use yours, and I’ll fuck you. It’s that simple.” You could hear the grin in her voice as you sat frozen in a moment of shock.

Working based off what Regina had done with her voice, you attempted to extend your sense of touch past where your arm lay still beside you. You were hesitant to use your magic, fearful of losing control. A soft pink glow from your touch eventually reached out and wrapped around her waist, eliciting a soft smile of satisfaction from the older woman. “Good girl, keep going.”

Guiding your sensations lower, you found her belt buckle and loosened it until you heard it click where it felt beside her. While brushing over the fabric of her slacks, you faltered as your touch latched around her belt loop and, to your surprise, rested on a curved bulge straining beneath the fabric. Regina chuckled at your reaction. “Mommy’s taught you well.”

She must have finally been satisfied with your display of powers because you heard her shuffling around, stripping herself of her clothes. Your fingers itched to remove the blindfold so you could soak in the goddess-like state of the woman kneeling in front of you.

You felt her hands on the back of your head working to undo the knot, and then your vision came back to you. Regina loomed over you, her hands on each side of your head. After teasingly grazing her fingertips along the length of your body, she lined up her thick red strap, dragging the tip across your folds. “ Already soaked,” she hummed softly.

She brought her hand up over your mouth, and before you had time to react, she was pounding deep inside you, reveling in the vibrations she could feel underneath her fingertips from your moans and screams. The room filled with the sounds of slapping skins and heavy breaths.

Regina lowered her mouth to your chest, sinking her teeth into the soft flesh with restraint. You dropped your head back into the pillows, closing your eyes in an attempt to fight the dazedness that was starting to cloud your head. Sure to leave a scatter of marks, Regina’s lips latched onto your skin, only releasing it to circle your nipple with her tongue.

You let out a guttural gasp as the woman bent your legs over her shoulders, brushing her faux cock against your throbbing clit. “Come for me baby,” Regina whispered just as she drew you over the edge into a blinding orgasm. Your thighs tensed and quivered as you coated her cock with your cum. Her pace slowed down as your euphoria faded and sleepiness washed over you. Regina climbed up, satisfied, and grabbed a warm washcloth. Sitting on the bottom of the bed, she smiled, watching the starry-eyed look you wore as she cleaned you up. “So, lesson tomorrow?”