#I have to try to get tickets at any cost

[cassiana-on-dark-side]

ROME SHOWS ANNOUNCED Circo Massimo 27, 28, 29 September 1, 2, 3 October

Omg David is coming to Rome!

[seenthisepisode]

~~~

[moe-broey]

I'm in so much pain.

[cemeterym]

today's lesson is teach your kids to use public transport so they do not end up like me bc holy shit

[canonkiller]

Hi, I'm Canon. I'm a disabled artist with some kind of gender and homosexual tendencies. You might have seen my usernames around in posts about loving OCs, or complaining about video game inaccessibility, or attached to one of the worm-centric comics I made, like these ones:

I hate having to ask for help when there's already so much going on, but I am also At My Limit.

To make a long story short, I am very disabled in multiple ways and I am living in a very inaccessible (and often directly disability-hostile) home. While I live with family, they do not provide assistance (financial or otherwise) and our rural location and the glacial pace of Canada's social services have left me A Bit Fucked. (Whatever you think Canada's health care provides, either it doesn't, or it takes half a year to even book an appointment.)

I've asked for help in the past with smaller goals, but costs continue to add up - and this time, finally, I may be able to actually make permanent accessibility changes to the household... if I can fund it myself. On the amount I get from the disability support program in my province, I can't do that; I would have to stop eating for months to afford even one of the major renovations in that time, and, obviously, I can't do that.

What kind of accessibility updates would this be going towards?:

A wheelchair ramp at at least one exit of the house; there are four potential exits, and all of them are currently multiple sets of stairs without railings.

A stair lift (for upstairs access) or a walk in tub (for downstairs access), depending on what my family will agree to

Dressers / storage that I am physically capable of opening

HRT (guess what isn't covered by Canada's health care, apparently!)

A whole mess of medical appointments (vision, prescriptions, dental, infinite various symptom testings) and transportation to and from those appointments (guess what else isn't covered!!)

A functional freezer

Physiotherapy 👍

Food 👍👍👍

And how can you donate?:

Donate directly to my Ko-fi page

Pledge monthly to my Ko-fi membership tiers

Order a commission from me (you'll be added to a queue; I can't provide completion time estimates right now)

Buy my premade digital goods (TTRPG resources, bases, tattoo tickets, etc) through Ko-fi or itch.io

Buy my art on physical goods through Redbubble or INPRNT

Buy designs / adoptables I've made through Toyhouse

Buy things off of my Amazon accessibility wishlist

I'm trying to buy used and second-hand / go through free stuff groups where I can to save costs, so I don't have a fixed goal and genuinely every bit helps. I really want to be able to get back to functioning somewhat normally, and due to Circumstances - as embarrassing as it is - I can't do that on my own, and I can't keep struggling with it the way I have been.

Thank you for your time, and any help you're able to provide. Reblogs are welcome and appreciated.

[raincoat-movings]

My abusive mother is trying to institutionalize me & put me in a conservatorship. Please help me fund my escape plan across a few states.

Long story short my mother called me this morning informing me to be ready that I will be institutionalized against my will (as she is a manipulative person and has made her friends believe her and agree with her on this stance). I rather die than be put into conservatorship or to be institutionalized. I have a place to stay a few states away, but I need to save enough to have the professional movers haul my belongings I CANNOT leave behind as I am disabled and cannot make the long trip myself. The professional move will cover gas, fees, boxes, insurance, and the move itself, but it will be around 2000 dollars. (The price is steep, but it keeps me from driving 2 - 3 days, paying for the gas myself, having things happen along the way to the rental, etc. The moving company will cover everything - U-Haul will still cost me around 1.2k plus + gas + whatever else comes up.)

I am going to try to save up enough around the time I planned on visiting my beloved anyway as we bought a plane ticket for July a month ago. I added some supplies to my wishlist for packing my stuff as I won't be getting any of the packing materials I need now like these until when the movers are on their way. I will be packing what I want to keep, selling what I can part with, and I can find boxes locally for free at least.

The goal price is higher if the move turns into an emergency move and the movers charge me even more for the up-front schedule, and if it's still around July then the excess will go towards the bills + fees of me registering for a new state license, rent, etc.

I would not be moving until things were in better condition, but with my mother threatening me I needed to make this move sooner. Again, I am so sorry to be asking for help again, but this is life or death for me I REFUSE to let this happen to me and I cannot bear to leave my belongings behind for her to put her greedy hands on.

paypal: partange1 cashapp: par1demon amazon: https://www.amazon.com/hz/wishlist/ls/37P45EQYVHZZT?ref_=wl_share GOAL: 2500

[messmersflame]

i've seen the odd post in defence of watcher and i get that you wanna support your fav indie creators, but. listen. this is a stupid, potentially financially disastrous move by them.

'but they want to be free to make their own content and not be beholden to youtube!'

yes, that's totally fair. what's Not fair is locking future seasons of previously free series behind a paywall, and Any future content at all behind said paywall, all without warning, or even asking the community what they think would work. there are many different ways to go about making exclusive content, and having more control over what you make, and this was probably the worst way to go about it.

'but they're a small group that doesn't make that much money!'

they have a patreon that gets about 100k per month. that is on top of ad revenue, merch sales, ticket sales for live audiences, and sponsorship deals. they're also asking for a subscription that's MORE than what a dropout (another subscription based group that does various shows) subscription costs, while having LESS content and at a lower frequency.

and, ultimately, this was something they hyped up, presented in a weirdly guilt trippy but trying to be inspiring tone, all without warning and in one fell swoop. while also being unclear in their over produced announcement video about whether or not old, existing episodes will still stay up for free, requiring them to clarify after the fact.

it was so, so poorly thought out. there are many other ways they could have handled this- using their patreon or even youtube membership to trial paid for exclusive content for example, or even just. putting up a poll to ask if people would like that kind of thing, and for how much.

they didn't. they just did it and expected everyone to cheer for them. utterly bizarre, deeply disappointing, morbidly hilarious.

[seat-safety-switch]

Now that the Olympics are over, I can tell you all about my part as an understudy on the Canadian table tennis team. No, not "ping-pong." That's a derogatory name issued to us by the tableless tennis players, the sweating bigots. Sure, I didn't get a chance to actually go toe-to-toe against the best in the world, but I got to hang out with the people who did.

In Canada, virtually all of our good table tennis players are imported. And it's easy to see why. Let's say you're the number 300th-best table tennis player in Japan. There's a lot of competition, and, even if you're crispy-good, you may never get to break out of your shitty Chiba beer pong league before you've aged out.

In Canada, where we have many fewer people, you might be like the ninth best. That's a lot of improvement for the cost of just one plane ticket. Sure, you could accuse these nice folks of being carpetbaggers looking for an easy route to the Olympics, but let me tell you: Canada absolutely does not pay shit for table tennis. That's why I'm there. A lot of the world's second-best talent takes a look at Canada and goes hmm. Maybe Australia. Third-best pretty much gets roped in here if their significant other gets a job as a realtor in Vancouver. And then there's me, who is there to eat the free snacks at the Olympic table-tennis commencement ceremonies (put on by realtors in Vancouver.)

Which is not to say I'm decent. Sure, I can beat a toddler pretty well at The Good Game (that's what we call it.) Most six-year-olds, however, have the hand-eye coordination and a good enough long game to put my ass in the ground. Even the drunkest university student can hang a beating on me, after I get tired of running back and forth and just lie down in a corner, moaning about how much my feet hurt. Do any of those folks sign up for the Olympic try-outs? No. They have to have jobs, because they want to keep their houses. They can't just be flittering off to Monaco for the World Invitational Small-Plastic-Ball-Striking-Championships (sorry, the translation is not great.)

Sure, it's not an easy life. I do have to trick sponsors (realtors from Vancouver) into paying for all my flights, fancy uniforms, and room and board. Staying in the Olympic Village is difficult whenever the host country decides to try some wacky shit like making a bed entirely out of compressed, dehydrated cactus. And I'll probably never actually get to be on camera, because my coach tells me that even holding a flag might be beyond my skill-set.

Am I happy to represent my country? No, but it's this or become a realtor in Vancouver.

[auspicioustidings]

Any version of Soap in any position of power would be soooo disgusting, calling IT Security reader at all times of the day and telling her that the speaker on his computer doesn’t work, while he’s clearly streaming some porno in the background 😭😭😭

You get it Lumi, he's a sick freak :) You also sent this while I happen to be working through 1k requests so bonus short for you <3

Back Chat

Words: 1k

CWs: non-con groping, just all around gross awful Soap

Sergeant John MacTavish was the reason you had poured over your contract for any get out clause that didn't cost you a fortune. You came up with nothing. The military had paid for a high end training course for you on the provision that if you left the role within 2 years then you had to pay every penny back.

Plus this job paid well and the benefits were great. You didn't even mind having gruff military personnel seeing fit to give you a bollocking over the phone because you would be following procedure whether they liked it or not and they could file a damn ticket if they wanted their issue looked at. Generally they were an OK bunch at heart, but rough around the edges and used to recruits eager to please them. When they realised your lack of any rank also excused you from being ordered around by anyone but your actual boss they usually mellowed out.

Of course you had made the mistake of chewing out one such gruff man after he called in a temper demanding that his laptop be fixed as a priority. Not even his work laptop, no he wanted his personal laptop fixed.

“Look MacTavish was it?”

“Sergeant MacTavish tae you.”

“No it isn't. I am not one of your soldiers. I work in IT for the military, your laptop is not military property so I'm not touching it. Use your big boy Sergeant wage and buy a new one.”

“Listen here ye wee bitch-”

You hung up on him and got on with your day right up until he physically showed up at your office on base. You handled IT for multiple bases, you had not considered that the person you had chewed out would actually work on this one. Oops.

He was a big motherfucker as well. Handsome. Crazy scary dog energy. Definitely not your usual soldier with his lack of uniform (unless jeans and a t-shirt that was so tight he was liable to tear out of it was uniform these days) and out of regulation haircut. You scrambled to try and stand but he was already looming over you in your chair, leaving you no space to do so as he settled his hands on the armrests and leaned over you to get into your face.

“I'll need tae settle for you then hen. Better make it good.”

“Excuse me?”

“The lassie on my laptop begs tae get it up the arse. Is a good girl for a thick cock pounding her tight cunt. Even when she's fucked oot her nut and ruined she still gags around a man down her throat and swallows like a proper bitch.”

You were flooded with fear and arousal. Nobody had ever spoken to you like that and you weren't entirely sure he was joking. He wouldn't actually do anything to you right? He was just being a dick because he wanted his laptop fixed. Just trying to intimidate you.

“And I bet she gets paid a lot more than me MacTavish, back off.”

Oh no. There was a feral gleam in his eye and a rabid grin that showed those sharp incisors. He clearly relished your response.

“Then I'll need to buy ye with, what was it? Right. My big boy Sergeant wage.”

He leaned in close and took a deep breath. Christ he was sniffing your currently greasy and messy hair. You hadn't showered in like 2 days, you were fucking IT, it wasn't like people usually came to physically see you in your little den.

“...I'll fix your fucking laptop oh my God just bring it by.”

“Atta girl” he all but panted into your ear before tugging at the lobe with his teeth and then fully tounging at your ear hole.

The sensation was truly the most awful thing you had ever felt. Your skin crawled and your body shivered uncomfortably as you tried to push him away from you. He chuckled and you choked on your own saliva as he firmly smacked your pussy before pulling away.

“I'll bring it right doon.”

You were left completely gobsmacked in your little office, your body hopped up on adrenaline and your cunt throbbing from the spank it had gotten and from the sick part of your mind that found the whole thing depraved and disgusting but sort of titillating.

When he brought the laptop back he hovered behind you while you worked on it, making you sweat. It was an easy enough fix and you sighed in relief and carefully avoided eye contact when you told him it was fixed.

“Ye’ll check it over, cannae be sending me away with a half done job.”

“You can see that it's working.”

He leant over, arms surrounding you so he could scroll over to open a video file. It was of a woman being railed hard from behind, drooling into the pillow and babbling for more. The wet squelch was disgusting, the man spitting down on her and smacking her already red ass.

“Speakers are fucked.”

You squirmed in your seat.

“I can hear it just fine.”

“Aye? What are ye hearing then?”

You remained silent, eyes fixed on the wall instead of on the screen. At least you were silent until he drew a yelp from you by groping one of your tits.

“Told ye, if ye cannae prove that it's fixed I'll need to settle for you. Bit shorter, softer and dirtier than my lassie mind, so got tae give it yer full effort.”

“I-It's working!”

“Prove it, what ye hearing?”

He made you replicate the whole script from each broken moan to the begging to the degrading. He was only satisfied when the whole video had run its course, by which time he had a hand on either tit, rough with how he groped and tugged.

“See now? Wisnae so hard to follow a Sergeant's orders was it?”

“No” you mumbled, crying out when he gripped your nipples through your shirt and twisted. “No Sergeant!”

He let go then, closing the lid of the laptop and standing with it to leave.

“Got an LT having trouble with his phone, he's naw as friendly as me though so best limit the back chat soldier.”

[cakelitter]

Sugar Rush Sugar daddy! Leon x fem! reader

warnings: NSFW, sugardaddy! Leon, fem! reader, oral (f receiving), praise kink, age gap

summary: broke reader looks for a sugar daddy which happens to be Leon S. Kennedy

words: 4.1k

“A week? How am I expected to find the money for rent by then?”

“I’ve given you 2 months to figure that out. This is the last straw, if rent is not paid by then, I’m afraid I’ll have to kick you out.”

“But I don’t even have a job I-”

The asshole hung up. Yet another door slamming right in your face. You throw your phone down on your couch as you sit next to it and contemplate what to do next. You can’t find enough money to pay in the span of a week, that’s impossible. You’ve been eating instant ramen for almost 3 weeks straight to cut down on costs, you’re starting to forget what real food tastes like.

You sigh and think about how you ended up in this situation in the first place, once being a hopeful college student who just graduated, full of energy, life, and so much optimist it’s nauseating. Found a new apartment in the capital and moved in a week later to find a job with nothing other than 3 cents to your name and a dream. You anticipated that finding a job with your degree won’t be such a difficult task, sure, your GPA wasn’t the best, but surely it won’t be that hard to secure a job.

If only you knew how naïve you were.

You’ve spent the past 4 months looking for a job left and right. Are people seriously not hiring these days? Either that or someone is praying on your downfall, or perhaps both. You’re way past the state of rock bottom at this point, if you looked through a dictionary for the word “fucked” a picture of your face would be there instead, smiling proudly with a medal around your neck. Your fingers claw at your life-long dreams as they try to slip away from your grasp.

Picking the skin off your lips, you start thinking about how you might have to move back to your home town, live with your parents again while they give you the ‘I told you so’ look, have to deal with people’s comments on why you came back and then have explain like a low life loser why. You start racking your brain for ways to find money, you need cash, and you need it fast.

How about you start selling drugs? Nah, you’d never survive in a field like that. Become a stripper perhaps? You’d fall off that pole and break your neck before you would’ve made a single penny. Your brain is filtering through the possible options you have at hand so quickly, your positive that smoke is coming out your ears at this rate. And that’s when you get it, the answer you were looking for.

A sugar daddy.

Bingo. The picture in your head features a white light with the silhouette of a smoking hot man in a suit leaning on a Porshe in the distance as dollar bills fall like flower petals angelically behind him. You do find older men a little hot, not that you tried dating any, but you’re not opposed to the idea of doing so. You’re no stranger to developing crushes on some older celebrities and video game characters, so this shouldn’t be any different…right? Look, you didn’t want it to reach this point, but desperate times call for desperate measures and in a week from now, you’re going to be homeless if you don’t start searching for someone’s dad to date right now. And apparently that’s all it took to convince you, as you find yourself downloading the app already.

Once the download is complete you open it, and you’re starting setting up your account. You pick the nicest picture you have of yourself, and it doesn’t take long before your account is good to go. Your eyes scan the matches that pop up on the screen, seeing the different faces in front of you that could be your new ticket of getting out of the predicament you’re in. And as you look, you read some of the disgusting bios that these men have, and soon enough a wave of self-awareness comes crashing down on you making you feel utterly disgusted with yourself. Are you seriously willing to go on dates with these dirty old men whose intentions are most definitely filthy, and for what? A hundred or two? You’re better than that, you’re an inspiring young woman with so mu-

Ding!

The device in your hand vibrates, grabbing your attention as you get sent a message request from someone on the app.  You open the message, the username is L.S.Kennedy and his message says

“Are all girls usually this pretty? Or is it just you?”.

You stare at the message in front of you for a good minute, that might’ve been the cheesiest thing you’ve ever read since middle school. The account that sent it doesn’t have a profile picture and the bio just mentions his age. He is in his early forties, and aside from that you know nothing about the man. Your survival instincts start kicking in telling you that it’s a bad idea, talking to strangers especially men, online is how most people end up murdered only for their bodies to be found in a ditch. In addition, this man is cringy as fuck, there is no way he thought that would actually work. Those fifty dollars are not worth the years these jokes of his are going to take off your life span. No way, won’t work, you’d rather be homeless.

Ding!

“Sorry if I came on too strong, I want to get to know you. How about 500$ for a first date? I’m willing to go higher.”

Your eyes go wide as you reread the number on your screen over, and over again. 500$. One date.

You love cringy and sappy shit, always had. They are in fact your favorite, love you a man with some cheesy pick-up lines. Call it love, call it fate, but this L.S.Kennedy guy is actually starting to grow on you.

“Hi! No not at all, I’d like to know you as well.”

Okay, that’s a lie. Being a slut and a liar is too much. You couldn’t care less about getting to know him, but alas rent won’t pay itself. The two of you then start talking for around an hour or two, he seems like a really nice guy. His name is apparently Leon and actually lives not too far away. His jokes are well… interesting. Epitome of dad jokes but again the man is the same age as your dad so that’s no surprise. On the bright side, he’s respectful and shockingly hasn’t said anything sexual or made you feel uncomfortable, so that’s a good start. Maybe this whole idea isn’t so bad after all.

The date was set for tomorrow at 7pm. He offered to pick you up but you refused. Listen, you’re dumb enough to go on a date with a man you knew for less than two hours for some quick cash, but not dumb enough to send him your address. The date will be at a nearby restaurant, one of the fanciest restaurants in Washington DC. You even heard that some celebrities and governmental officials actually go there.

Truth be told, you’re starting to get excited, this is by far the nicest thing a man has ever done to you. Albeit, the voice at the back of your head keeps reminding you that he could be dangerous, a stalker, a criminal, or worse, likes banana flavored stuff. A man with this much money is either in a higher up position, or simply working with the wrong people. Now that you think about it, perhaps asking him what he does for a living would’ve been a wise choice. But you didn’t want to sound like you were going after his money! Well, you are but at the end of the day, you still have manners.

The next day eventually rolls around and you start getting ready. You pick the best dress you have that hugs your body perfectly. Wanted to go for something which screams classy and elegant yet still hot. Just because you’re in debt, doesn’t mean you need to look like it as well.

Your friend agrees to drops you off at the location, she knows you’re going on a date with some guy you met on a dating app. She was almost as excited as you were when you found out where this “gentleman” was treating you. Little does she know this said “gentleman” is twice your age… let’s just hope you’re not going out on a date with someone’s husband.

Walking into the restaurant, you shoot him a text informing him that you arrived. Your phone vibrates a couple seconds later with a text that says.

“Waiting for you on the table near the second window.”

You start making your way to the table, and when you eventually find it, you’re greeted by the hottest man you’ve ever seen in your entire life standing near the table. He smiles softly and compliments you, you brain still didn’t register what he said though, as you’re still in awe with how good he looks.

Light brown hair, stormy blue eyes, a slight stubble decorating his chin and crow’s feet forming on the corner of his eyes as he smiles. His body, is in such a good form. Broad shoulders and massive biceps making the white button up shirt that he’s wearing tight in some areas. The chest, oh the chest, surprised how he’s not wearing a bra with those pillows glued to his chest, enough milk supply to feed a whole village.

The hidden cameras better come out now cause you’re definitely getting set up. This man is paying you to go out with him, while you’d pay a kidney and sell your friend for him to even step near you. He definitely has the sugar and daddy part checked off. You spent all this time searching for a job with no success, and you bag him first try? Maybe you should consider switching domains.

The two of you sit down at your table. The view from the window next to you is breath taking, the sun is setting and as she does, the rays reflect on the glass windows of the building below you creating a masterpiece of orange and red hues. The breeze up here is so refreshing, as the faint sound of by-passing cars honk below you. Your eyes move back to the man in front of you.

“This place is nice.”

“Glad you like it sweetheart.”

You’re already fighting the urge to sit on his lap and all he did was call you a stupid pet name. If you were a dog, your tail would definitely be wagging right now. The waiter eventually walks over to your table and you both place your meals before he walks away leaving the two of you alone once more.

“Can I ask you a question?” you say and he raises an eyebrow in return followed by a polite smile.

“Sure, go ahead.”

“Why do you not have your name or your face on your profile?”

Understandable question, he’s hot as fuck and would have woman fighting over him on that app if he showed his face. He chuckles at your question, the kind of laugh that sounds like a yacht and a mansion in the Maldives.

“Well, my field of work requires me to keep a low profile, not that I’m complaining anyway. Plus I don’t think my face is really important in these kinds of dates anyways. I know that probably looked really suspicious but I can assure you, I’m not trying to kill you.” He says the last part as he raises his hands defensively.

You nod gently in return. While that did answer some of the questions you had, you were still intrigued to learn more about him. What field does he work in anyway? How can he afford all this? Curiosity was getting the best of you, and so you ask.

“What do you do for a living?”

He grins, and looks at you for a few moments before answering.

“Hmm I get it. Nothing illegal, so that pretty head of yours can stop worrying.” You’re honestly a bit embarrassed now, it’s a date not an interview. But you needed to make sure that you’re safe okay! Better safe than sorry.

He then starts asking questions about your interests, past, favorite movies, etc. And soon enough your food arrives, you continue chatting as you take some bites out of your dish. He’s genuinely interesting, and very attentive. You notice how he watches your expression, body language, and the tone of your voice. Throughout the conversation you learn a bit more about him as well, learned how he went to police academy, hated wearing ties, and thinks that reading books is boring. Last one is a bit problematic, but sure.

Time passes and maybe it’s your brain playing tricks on you, or maybe it’s the wine you keep on sipping, but he seems to get flirtier by the minute. You notice the way his eyes drop down to your lips shamelessly as you speak, and how they linger for a little too long on your chest. You’re not completely innocent however, you are guilty of tilting your head to the side every now and then, batting your pretty mascara covered lashes at him causing a smirk to rise on his face. You manage to get away with it a couple of times before he decides to comment about it.

“Need something sweetheart? I’d like to hear some of those thoughts of yours.”

“I think you’re hot.” That was bold, but he asked for it. Your words don’t even take him by surprise, he knew what you were thinking about, its written all over your face but he just needed you to say it out loud.

“Feelings mutual. How about we get out of here yeah?”

He orders the bill which he pays while leaving a generous tip. The two of you get up, head out the restaurant’s door, and walk over to his car. He opens the door for you in true gentleman fashion and gets in himself. The car smells clean, almost like its brand new. The inside is plain with not much decoration but pretty neat. The windows are tinted blocking out anyone from spying in. He twists the car keys and the engine roars to life and soon enough you start heading towards his place.

Sometime during the ride home, his hand rests on the inside of your thigh and starts slowly moving up to your center before stopping. You bite your lip as heat starts pooling between your legs. His hand then begins caressing your thigh, running his thumb up and down, so close yet so far from where you actually want him to be. The whole time his eyes are fixated on the road ahead of him, simply toying with you for his own fun. Things remain the same for a while before his hands snake up our dress even further, thumb making contact with your cunt. His strokes are lazy and weak, almost as if his fingers are ghosting over your bundle of nerves.  Your hips squirm at the sensation and you attempt to move your hips closer to his hand to get more friction. But as you do that moves his hand away from you and repositions itself back on your thigh causing you to whine in protest.

“Almost there baby, can you wait a few minutes more for me? Promise I will make it worth it.”

He looks over to you and you nod a little too enthusiastically. His lips upturn into a smile at your eagerness.

“Such a good girl.” He says, his knuckle brushing against your cheek.

The car then parks at an apartment building, the type that is 16 stories high and the oxygen alone, feels more high quality. He gets out of the car and opens the door for you, before taking your hand in his and making his way to the entrance. The sound of your heels clacking on the tile floor of the reception as you follow his lead to the double doored elevator. You both walk in and he presses the button to the last floor which is followed by the elevator doors closing.

As soon as the two of you are alone in the space, his hand grabs your wrist pinning you onto one of the walls as his other hand grabs your hip before crashing his lips onto yours. You kiss him back, your free hand touching the exposed part of his neck before going up into his hair. He groans at the sensation and grinds his hips into yours, feeling his hardened cock through his pants causing you back to arch. His tongues coax its way into your mouth and you reciprocate. Both of your lips disconnect for a moment as he decides to move to your neck next, sucking and biting on the open skin leaving red and purple marks to blossom in the places where his mouth once was. A soft whine escapes you at the feeling of his hot mouth on the sensitive skin of the crook of your neck.

The elevator dings announcing your arrival, which is followed by the door opening revealing the stupendous penthouse in front of you. The windows are ceiling high and have a wondrous view of the capital, the apartment is dimly lit with only a few lamps illuminating the black and gray living room furniture. The house that you see getting sold for millions of dollars.

“I’ll give you a tour later.”

He says as he picks you up and throws you over his shoulder, giving your now exposed behind a smack, and your legs kick in return. He makes his way up the stairs and into what you can only assume is his bedroom before tossing you down on your back and caging you in with his arms. Your hands reach out locking behind his neck pulling him into another kiss, as his hand reaches out for your breast, fondling it through the fabric of your dress.

The stickiness between your legs is starting to get uncomfortable as the sensations of pleasure start taking over you. His hips which are now situated between your legs start rutting against you and open your legs further in return. You feel a hand unzip your dress as you shift slightly allowing him to take the article of clothing off which is then followed by your bra. As soon as your top naked, he wastes no times latching his mouth to one of your stiff peaks, while the other hand flicks the other. He switches between sucking on your nipple and leaving some bite marks of the delicate flesh.

Moments later the removes his mouth with a resounding pop, and starts kissing his way down from the valley between your breasts till the waistband of your panties. He gets off of you for a moment to unbutton his shirt and unbuckle his belt removing it and tossing it somewhere behind him, his pants following a second later. Your eyes travel over his body, unsure where to look at first. Chiseled chest muscles with some trimmed chest hair, defined abs and an unremarkable V line leading to his covered crotch area with few scars scattered all over his body like stars.

“Staring is rude y’know. But you’re cute so I’ll let it pass.” He jokes and moves positioning himself between your legs, he gives your clothed cunt an open-mouthed kiss, his hot breath making you squirm at the feeling.

“Been wanting to taste you all night.”

His fingers grab the hem of your panties pulling them off, revealing your glistening core to him. You feel the familiar sensation of his thumb on your clit once again moving in firm circular motions as his eyes remain glued to your center. The same thumb then moves down to your entrance collecting some of your dripping arousal before going back to its original position.

“Damn baby, all of that for me?”

You nod, your eyes feeling heavy and brain fuzzy from his skilled fingers.

“What you get your clit rubbed a few times and now you can no longer speak? Use your words, I know you can.”

“Yeah, for you. All for you.”

“Atta girl”

He speaks before replacing his thumb with his mouth, your head falls back against the plush mattress as a moan escapes your lips. His hands grab your hips keeping them in place as he eats you like a man starved. He shifts between sucking on your bundle of nerves and dipping his tongue into your entrance, as the prickly feeling of his stubble somehow makes the whole experience much hotter.

Your completely fucked out at this point and he hasn’t even fucked you yet. This is probably the best head you’ve ever gotten in your life. Maybe going after older men was the right call after all. Your hand reaches out and grips his soft hair tugging on it, earning a groan from him which vibrates through you, only intensifying the feeling bubbling inside of you. The view in front of you is now practically burn in the back of your mind till the day you die. The knot in your stomach only seems to get tighter and tighter as his tongue laps over your cunt over and over again.

“Gonna cum.”

“On my face baby, show me how good it feels.”

He opts to focusing on sucking on your clit as two of his fingers penetrate you, and begin to move at the perfect pace and that was enough to send you over the edge. Stars explode behind your eyes as your whole-body shakes. The feeling of his tongue on you that was once causing you pleasure, has now turned into the uncomfortable feeling of overstimulation. You whimper and tug on his hair once again. His face detaches from your core, chin shiny and coated with your arousal as he sucks off the remaining fluid on his fingers and he moves back up removing his underwear. His dick springs free, tip red leaky with precum as he strokes it a few times. Dropping down to your level, he gives your lips a soft kiss while he teases your entrance with his dick for a few moments before he bullies it into you with ease thanks to how wet you’ve gotten. He sucks in a breath of air as your heat envelops him. The tip almost kisses the opening of your cervix as pain and pleasure start to become undifferentiable. You feel full, the fullest you’ve ever been.

“Fuck, tightest fucking pussy I’ve ever had”

Both of you are now face to face with each other, as he gives your furrowed brow a quick peck. His hips then start to move back before going in once more. He grabs your hip with both of his hands as he starts picking up the pace. The look on your face says it all, completely and utterly cock drunk. Eyes droopy, mouth drooling, and babbling pure none sense.

“You still with me sweetheart?” he chuckles as he continues his rocking motion.

“Feels good.”

“And what do you say?”

“Thank you Leon, thank you so much.”

In return, his pace quickens. The sounds of skin smacking and both of your moans fill the quiet room. You don’t know where that came from, never in your life you ever said something like this. This man puts his dick in you once and he’s already rearranging all of your brain chemistry… and your organs. You’re already starting to feel your orgasm creeping up on you once more as your moans only seem to get louder. The pace that Leon is fucking you in, in addition to the praises that are spilling out of his mouth in tandem force another orgasm out of you as you claw at his forearms in attempts to stay grounded.

The spasming sensation of your heat around him causes him to moan as his peak approaches. He pulls out of you, gives himself a few strokes before finishing all over your stomach and collapsing next to you. After his breathing regulates again, gets up, grabs a towel and cleans the mess he made before tucking you in and placing a kiss at the crown of your head.

“Leon” your voice softly calls out to him.

“Yeah?”

“Are all middle-aged men usually this pretty, or is it just you?”

banner by:@anitalenia

[ns-games]

2024 CrowdStrike Incident

I just wanted to document my day today. Since I feel this is a pretty major historical event in the history of computing.

From my understanding, the update that CrowdStrike pushed occurred last night, but I wasn't made aware of it until this morning.

I heard the notification for Microsoft Teams go off on my work phone a couple of times while I was still in bed. I decided not to answer right away since employees are supposed to call me directly if there's a production issue. However, around 5:30 this morning, I got a call from one of my team leads telling me that a CrowdStrike update got pushed earlier that has now "BitLockered" a bunch of computers.

For context, my team uses the term "BitLockered" for any time a computer crashes and requires the BitLocker encryption key to recover.

In any case, I was asked if I could run over to our local distribution center right away to start mitigating the damage. I immediately got up, got dressed, grabbed my work laptop and bag and left. I skipped my morning coffee and shower so I could get there ASAP.

When I finally managed to get inside the building, I started taking a look around the front office and saw several computers stuck on the Windows Recovery Mode screen. Already starting to look like a bad sign. I started booting up my work laptop, which I thankfully did not leave turned over overnight, and headed upstairs to a bank of production computers. As soon as I got up there, I saw a sea of Windows Recovery Mode screens.

By this point my Microsoft Teams notifications started going off non-stop, and I started running the recommended fix on one of the computers. Basically I was trying to make sure I understood how to perform the fix. At this point, it became apparent we were going to have to touch every endpoint in our network at every facility.

Around 6:00AM, I got a call from a manager from a separate facility asking me about what was going on. This is someone that's constantly just called me instead of submitting a help desk ticket, and I've tried to be patient with. Today I had to be a bit more blunt and state that I couldn't drop what I was doing to come over and help, but that someone would be there later today to assist. This manager continued to try and call me throughout the day, but I had to keep telling him that I was not going to be available all day.

Around 6:30AM one of my co-workers made it to the distribution center to help. I ran the fix on his laptop and we started working to fix each computer one by one. A bit later I noticed my mom texted me that she heard about this in the news. So I looked up "CrowdStrike" on Google and found that not only were we affected by it, but many other major companies were.

As we started getting workstations back online, it became apparent that was only going to be half the battle, as this issue caused most of our servers to crash as well. But at this point, we figured it would be best to continue to get as many workstations back up and running one by one. But because the servers were down, I kept getting asked if I could restore a connection, which unfortunately we couldn't do until the server team could run the fixes on our servers.

Eventually I was asked to join a Zoom call so I could start providing other facilities with BitLocker keys so they could start running the fix on their own computers. Some machines we determined could be fixed by reverting to a restore point. Others we had find a way to manually remove the "C-00000291*.sys* file by booting the computer into Safe Mode with Networking. Those devices ended up costing us a bunch of time to get back up and running.

By the time 5:00PM rolled around, I asked if I could go home and continue to work from there. So I took the opportunity to go home, get myself cleaned up, and continue to work. By 8:30PM it seemed that things had died down to the point we could stop for the day. I'm sure we've got a few machines we still need to apply the fix to, but we managed to get our core business back up and running within the matter of a few hours.

So yeah, long story. But I just felt like documenting it, given that this is an event that's probably going to be pretty well remembered in the history books.

[thezombieprostitute]

Tech Tuesday: Lloyd Hansen

Summary: It's your first week on the job and you find yourself having to deal with a very angry higher up.

Warnings: Power imbalance, Yelling. Please let me know if I missed any.

Tech Tuesdays Masterlist

"For the last time, Hansen, NO! We have these regulations for a reason." Levinson was yet again regretting hiring Lloyd. There's no denying the man got results but were the results worth the cost of dealing with the man? He'll have to get some of his analysts take a look. He doesn't even have to ask and he knows Raymond, his assistant, has made note to ask them.

"It's a bullshit regulation," Lloyd argues. "There's one IT person who can work with me, why the hell wouldn't they be the one to go with me on this trip? You've always been okay with us bringing some tech head in case our company electronics have problems."

"Yes, but that's for experienced tech employees," Jonathan intervenes. "This young lady has been working with us for only a few weeks. She is very skilled, yes, but---"

"And she's the only one of your team that isn't a pompous ass," Lloyd sneers. Ari, Jonathan and Raymond all give him a look. "Yeah, I know I'm a pompous ass. It's why I don't work well with those other assholes."

Ari sighs, "still, we can't have such a new employee going on a trip. You're going to take a more experienced IT member or you will take no one."

Lloyd huffs before stomping out of the CEO's office.

The project for the CFO is taking up a lot of your time but you're grateful for having something to focus on between tickets. Working with people was never your strong suit and those tickets can be draining.

Except for the ones from Hansen, funny enough. While you understand why others don't like to work with him, you're grateful that he leaves you be. He doesn't pester you with questions or offer advice that you have to pretend is good. He doesn't talk about his life's story or complain about "technology these days" that you have to half listen to so as not to appear rude. He lets you work, get in the zone, and you can get the ticket completed without feeling drained afterwards.

He seems like the naturally loud and demanding type so the fact that he's quiet when you work really means something to you. And he always follows it up with praising your work. The nickname "Maestro" seems to have stuck with the rest of the IT crew and it's really helped you feel more like you belong. You're genuinely grateful to Lloyd for that.

Almost as if your thoughts made him manifest, Lloyd enters your cubicle and sets his laptop next to you.

"Hey there, Maestro," Lloyd smiles. "My laptop is acting up. Take a look at it for me, will ya?"

"Um, Mr. Hansen, Sir, did you submit a ticket?"

Lloyd's smile drops. "If I did that, it might not get assigned to you. This way we can work around that requirement and spend some more time together."

"I'm, I'm sorry, Sir," you shake your head. "You have to submit the ticket. It's regulation."

"What the hell is with everyone and these damn regulations?!"

"I could get in trouble, Sir," you explain. "If I fix your laptop without submitting a ticket, that's work time that I can't account for. In other cases, Sir, if something goes wrong with company property, they need to know who was responsible for fixing it. If I fix your laptop but the fix doesn't work, there's a gap in that item's history that could throw off future updates. I really don't want to get in trouble, Mr. Hansen." You look up at him, eyes pleading.

He sighs, "well, can't have a good girl like you getting in trouble on my account, huh?" You try to hide your reaction to being called a good girl but Lloyd gives you a look before grinning at you. "Did you like that?" His voice is low and he brings himself to your level so he's right next to your ear. "Do you like being a good girl?"

"Y-yes, Sir," you confess.

He chuckles, "I'll remember that, Maestro." He grabs his laptop and gives you a wink before sauntering out.

Tech Tuesdays Masterlist

Tagging: @alicedopey; @delicatebarness; @ellethespaceunicorn; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory;

@late-to-the-party-81; @lokislady82; @ozwriterchick; @ronearoundblindly; @lokislady82

[scientia-rex]

Because my most popular post is about weight loss and how it's a crock, I get a lot of questions about various things, including bariatric surgery--just posted the link to the post I did about that--but also Ozempic/Wegovy, the once-weekly injectable semaglutide medication that was developed for diabetes but was found to have independent benefits on weight loss.

I always said that weight loss was like Viagra: when a medication came along that actually worked, it would explode. We'd all hear about it. Fen-phen in the 90s worked, but it was bad for your heart. Stimulants, like meth, may cause weight loss, but they do it at the cost of heart health, and raise your likelihood of dying young. Over the counter weight loss supplements often contain illegal and unlisted thyroid hormone, which is also dangerous for the heart if taken in the absence of a real deficiency. Orlistat, or "Alli," works the same way as the Olestra chips Lays made in the 1990s--it shuts off your ability to digest fats, and the problem with that is that fats irritate the gut, so then you end up with fatty diarrhea and probably sharts. Plus Alli only leads to 8-10lbs of weight loss in the best case scenario, and most people are not willing to endure sharts for the sake of 8lbs.

And then came the GLP-1 agonists. GLP stands for glucagon-like peptide. Your body uses insulin to make cells uptake sugar. You can't just have free-floating sugar and use it, it has to go into the cells to be used. So if your body sucks at moving sugar into the cells, you end up with a bunch of glucose hanging out in places where it shouldn't be, depositing on small vessels, damaging nerves and your retinas and kidneys and everywhere else that has a whole lot of sensitive small blood vessels, like your brain.

Glucagon makes your liver break down stored sugars and release them. You can think of it as part of insulin's supporting cast. If your body needs sugar and you aren't eating it, you aren't going to die of hypoglycemia, unless you've got some rare genetic conditions--your liver is going to go, whoops, here you go! and cough it up.

But glucagon-like peptide doesn't act quite the same way. What glucagon-like peptide does is actually stimulating your body to release insulin. It inhibits glucagon secretion. It says, we're okay, we're full, we just ate, we don't need more glucagon right now.

This has been enough for many people to both improve blood sugar and cause weight loss. Some patients find they think about food less, which can be a blessing if you have an abnormally active hunger drive, or if you have or had an eating disorder.

However, every patient I've started on semaglutide in any form (Ozempic, Wegovy, or Rybelsus) has had nausea to start with, probably because it slows the rate of stomach emptying. And that nausea sometimes improves, and sometimes it doesn't. There's some reports out now of possible gastroparesis associated with it, which is where the stomach just stops contracting in a way that lets it empty normally into the small intestine. That may not sound like a big deal, but it's a lifelong ticket to abdominal pain and nausea and vomiting, and we are not good at treating it. We're talking Reglan, a sedating anti-nausea but pro-motility agent, which makes many of my patients too sleepy to function, or a gastric pacemaker, which is a relatively new surgery. You can also try a macrolide antibiotic, like erythromycin, but I have had almost no success in getting insurance to cover those and also they have their own significant side effects.

Rapid weight loss from any cause, whether illness, medication, or surgery, comes with problems. Your skin is not able to contract quickly. It probably will, over long periods of time, but "Ozempic face" and "Ozempic butt" are not what people who want to lose weight are looking for. Your vision of your ideal body does not include loose, excess skin.

The data are also pretty clear that you can't "kick start" weight loss with Ozempic and then maintain it with behavioral mechanisms. If you want to maintain the weight loss, you need to stay on the medication. A dose that is high enough to cause weight loss is significantly higher than the minimum dose where we see improvements in blood sugar, and with a higher dose comes higher risk of side effects.

I would wait on semaglutide. I would wait because it's been out for a couple of years now but with the current explosion in popularity we're going to see more nuanced data on side effects emerging. When you go from Phase III human trials to actual use in the world, you get thousands or millions more data points, and rare side effects that weren't seen in the small human trials become apparent. It's why I always say my favorite things for a drug to be are old, safe, and cheap.

I also suspect the oral form, Rybelsus, is going to get more popular and be refined in some way. It's currently prohibitively expensive--all of these are; we're talking 1200 or so bucks a month before insurance, and insurance coverage varies widely. I have patients who pay anything from zero to thirty to three hundred bucks a month for injectable semaglutide. I don't think I currently have anyone whose insurance covers Rybelsus who could also tolerate the nausea. My panel right now is about a thousand patients.

There are also other GLP-1 agonists. Victoza, a twice-daily injection, and Trulicity, and anything else that ends in "-aglutide". But those aren't as popular, despite being cheaper, and they aren't specifically approved for weight loss.

Mounjaro is a newer one, tirzepatide, that acts on two receptors rather than one. In addition to stimulating GLP-1 receptors, it also stimulates glucose-dependent insulinotropic polypeptide (GIP) receptors. It may work better; I'm not sure whether that's going to come with a concomitantly increased risk of side effects. It's still only approved for diabetes treatment, but I suspect that will change soon and I suspect we'll see a lot of cross-over in terms of using it to treat obesity.

I don't think these medications are going away. I also don't think they're right for everyone. They can reactivate medullary thyroid carcinoma; they can fuck up digestion; they may lead to decreased quality of life. So while there may be people who do well with them, it is okay if those people are not you. You do not owe being thin to anyone. You most certainly do not owe being thin to the extent that you should risk your health for it. Being thin makes navigating a deeply fat-hating world easier, in many ways, so I never blame anyone for wanting to be thin; I just want to emphasize that it is okay if you stay fat forever.

[olomaya]

Shhh!! It's a Library (mod)

27 Sept Update: Found a better shushing sound so I replaced with that. Also added ITUNs for the non computer interactions. Thanks to @cs2te for the Brazilian Portuguese translation! Redownload (if you want these updates) at the link below.

(Note: This mod uses the Ticket Machine animations for the kiosk. If you don't have it, you can download it here. Honestly, it's not that important and without it, your Sim will just stand in front of the machine for a second, that's it)

I'm officially in my Streets era. I'm building out all the community lots in my town so you're going to be seeing a lot of community/town related stuff from me for the next few months. My Sims are trying to be outside!

First up! This is a small library mod that allows you to search for books at the library using this gorgeous kiosk object from @aroundthesims. If the book is in the library, it tells you where they are by panning the camera to the bookshelf that has the book and putting a blue outline around it for 10 Sim minutes. Pretty simple. 

Features:

Browse Catalog… pulls up all books in the library

Search by… Category | Title | Author - pulls up any book that matches your search entry

Request a Book to Order -  allows you to add more books to the library. 

You can only order the types of books that are allowed in community libraries so no books that are destroyed after you finish reading them (e.g. recipes, song compositions) and no academic textbooks.

You can order written books, including articles, as well as books from other worlds (e.g. Shang Simla, etc) though for the latter, there is a §35 “overseas shipping cost” added to order these books. 

Once you order a book, the mod will check whether the library has enough money to purchase it and then place the order. 

Ordered books are added to the library at 8am the next day and you’ll receive a notification that the books have been added.

Library Funding

In order to pay for the books ordered, library kiosks have a budget. Every kiosk, upon creation, comes with a §250 budget.

The library budget is the total amount of funds in all kiosks on the lot. Costs are deducted from individual kiosks even if that specific kiosk doesn't have enough money for the book so long as the library budget has enough money.

Support your Local Library

Sims can donate books (up to 3 books at a time) to the library using the book donation bin. The bin must be placed on the library lot (either outside or inside) and you need to have books in your inventory. Your Sim will get 500 Lifetime Happiness points for every book donated. (this is related to another mod that I’m working on. More on that at a later date!)

There is also a computer interaction that lets you donate money to the library. Sims that donate §2500 or more will get a 4-hour charitable moodlet. Donations are added to the library budget.

Finally, Bookworms and Proper Sims can shush other Sims at the library. Once shushed, all Sims in the same room doing social interactions or playing music instruments will stop. (You'll find, like in real life, people quickly go back to doing what they're doing so it's kind of useless but it was a low lift so I kept it in). If someone can think of a good "shushing" sound from the game, let me know!

Credits/Thanks: Both credit and huge thanks go to @aroundthesims for creating this beautiful library set and the kiosk which I used as the main object. I did recategorize it to Misc Electronics instead of Sculptures. If you already have it in your game, you may need to remove it or you can just change the script to “Sims3.Gameplay.Objects.olomaya.LibraryStuff.Kiosk”.  The donation bin is from Sketchfab created by TheLatestShit (that’s their name, thank you TLS!) and can be found in Misc Storage.

Read through everything below the cut before downloading please! Important instructions below!

Important things to note:

The kiosk must be placed on a counter. If it’s not, your sim will reset because they can only interact with it if it’s on a counter. If you are having issues with resetting, place it on an EA-made counter to confirm it’s not this issue first before you reach out for support. You can use OSMP counters provided they are cloned from a counter and place the kiosk on there and put it wherever you want (like I’ve done in my photo. the kiosk is actually on an OSMP counter, not the white table).

Pulling up the entire library catalog, depending on how many books you have on the lot, can take a few (or several) seconds. Or maybe it won’t, I play on a brick laptop so it does for me

Keyword searches are case sensitive so “raymundo” yields no results, but “Raymundo” will bring up the 85 copies of that 🤬 book that your library probably has

The search will only check books that are in bookshelves, it will ignore library books that have been taken out of the bookshelf and are being read or lying around.

Book requests and financial donations can only be made at public libraries and not privately-owned libraries. So if a Sim in your town owns the lot, these options won’t come up (it should be the owners’ responsibility to buy books). You can still donate books though.

You can have multiple kiosks on the lot. If you delete a kiosk, its funds (if it has any) will be transferred to any of the other kiosks on the lot so you don’t lose the money. 

There is a debug interaction on the kiosk that allows you to check the library budget.

You can order one book at a time but there’s no limit to how many you can do in a day but once the books are delivered the next morning, the mod will check whether the library has enough money and will only order the books there is money for

Download HERE | alt: HERE

@simstifulccfinds @kpccfinds @katsujiiccfinds @pis3update @wanderingsimsfinds

[gretavangroupie]

Goldenrod

Word count: 8.1k

Pairing: Josh Kiszka x Female Reader

Warnings: Language, Alcohol, Angst, Toxic Themes and Behavior, Jealousy. Smut: Kissing, Touching, Oral M!Receiving, Fingering, Dirty Talk, Unprotected Sex, Fluff.

A/N: I blame Josh Kiszka, entirely.

It’s a nice place, with tea light candles and fresh flowers on every table. Tucked away on the West side of Nashville, far from the wide eyed tourists and the flashing city lights. It’s quaint, but always busy. A reservation here would cost you. A name or your checkbook, either one will do. You wonder how he managed it, who he knows or what he does. You’d been here only once before, strings pulled and names dropped no doubt. 

The hostess led you to your table, smack dab in the center of the restaurant, commanding all the eyes and attention of the patrons around you. With a curt smile you tucked into your chair and waited for your date. You weren’t really sure why you agreed to this, but after several failed attempts on your own you finally caved. Cambry is a terrible influence and you knew better than to go on a date with a man of her choosing, but here you found yourself in a swanky restaurant at a table for two. 

You didn’t put too much effort into your outfit, opting for a tight black dress and a pair of gold earrings. It showed off your figure without revealing too much. It was tasteful and sexy, everything you want on a first date. 

You knew nothing of the man you were meeting apart from his name. Simon. Cambry assured you that he was perfect for you, claiming how similar the two of you were and citing you had similar taste in music. So, you agreed. 

You couldn’t fault him too much for being late, the traffic absolutely horrendous as you made your way through Midtown. You perused the drink menu, placing your order for a dirty martini when the waiter stopped at your table. As you sipped at the briney drink you felt a presence behind you, and you knew Simon must have arrived. 

A tall man, with long dirty blonde hair stepped up to the seat across from you, lifting his hand to shake yours. 

“Hi, I’m Simon. Sorry I’m late, the traffic–”

“Was terrible, I know,” you laugh, shaking his hand. “Y/N.”

He takes his seat as his eyes dart around your face taking you in. “You got a drink I see, any recommendations? I’ve never been here before.”

“I was wondering how you were able to pull a reservation so last minute,” you answer, pushing the drink menu towards him. 

“Ah, called up one of my buddies, works tickets down at Nissan Stadium. Was no trouble,” he boasts as if entry level ticket sales is something to be proud of. 

You smile politely and nod your head, “I got a dirty martini, they are heavy handed on the vermouth so I order gin instead of vodka.”

“Dirty, huh?” he smirks, opening the drink menu. 

You offer a clipped smile, already not liking this guy too much. His frat boy vibes are a little too strong for your liking, and quite frankly is the opposite of what you have ever been into. The waiter steps up a few seconds later, noticing that your date has arrived. 

“What can I get for you sir?”

“I don’t know what all this fancy shit is, do you have Bud Light?” he asks, rapping his knuckles against the table. 

“Um, no sir, I believe the only beer we have on tap is Thunder Ann from Jackalope,” he offers with a pleasant smile. 

“Was that English?” Simon jokes, however, it is not well received by your waiter or yourself. 

“I could bring you a sample if you’d like?” 

He blows out a breath of defeat, “I’ll just have what she’s having, but make mine stronger.”

You raise an eyebrow at his demand, silently kicking yourself for ever agreeing to this. 

The waiter nods and heads off and a sense of dread washes over you as you realize you are about to enter into forced conversation with this stranger. 

“So how do you know Cambry?” he asks, leaning back in his chair like he's at his mothers house. 

You swallow down the distaste and try to answer his question, “Cambry and I work together. She is my office suitemate.”

“Oh so you work at the little music place, too?” he asks, downplaying your career to boost his own ego. 

“I don’t think Sony Music Publishing is a ‘little music place’ but I guess everyone is entitled to their opinion,” you jest.

“What do you do there?” he asks, accepting his drink from the waiter. He takes far too large of a sip before you can answer, shocking the both of you. 

“I’m an account executive, so I do sales, client management, data reports, that kind of thing. How about you? What do you do?” you ask, genuinely curious about what he could possibly do that he would need to belittle your career. 

“Oh well, right now I am kinda just playing the corporate field so to speak. I’ve got a few sweet options in my pocket, but uh, right now I am working down at AT&T. You know that Batman looking building. It’s pretty chill,” he says in an attempt to flaunt.

“Yeah, I know it well actually. What do you do there?” you ask. 

“I’m a field sales representative,” he answers, his voice dropping a little. You feel your eyes practically bulge from their sockets. 

“So, you don’t like, physically work in the building,” you confirm. 

“I mean, I report there at the end of the day,” he replies, trying to blow smoke.

“So if you report there at the end of the day, where do you spend your day?” you ask. 

“Kind of everywhere. I do a lot of driving around. I was able to secure a deal with a new Mexican restaurant over in Hendersonville. They want full fiber and phones. Pretty sweet, might even make a commission on it,” he says pridefully. 

“Wow, a commission too? They are spoiling you,” you taunt. 

“Yeah, I’m about to move up, gonna put me into commercial sales. More office time and less road time,” he says, folding up his menu. Your mind is positively racing at how Cambry thought you two would be a perfect match when he couldn’t be more different than you. 

“So uh, what are you thinking you want to eat?” he asks. 

“I think I might do the farmhouse pasta, the sun dried tomatoes sound good,” you answer, closing your menu as well. 

“Yeah I’m gonna get a steak, I bet they are good here,” he says waving over the waiter. Your face blushes red as he makes a scene to grab his attention.

“Yes sir, we are ready to order,” Simon states, opening up his menu. “I’m gonna have the Porterhouse with mushrooms well done and can you bring a side of ketchup?” 

You think that if your eyes rolled any harder you could see your brain, but alas you must keep your composure and make it through this trainwreck of a date.  

“For you miss?”

“Yes, could I please do the farmhouse pasta? I will also do one more dirty martini,” you smile, hoping the waiter can sense the apology in your tone. 

“Great, I will be back,” he says, stepping away with the gentle nod of his head. 

The evening continues on as you listen to him tell you every uninteresting fact about himself while he dips his shoe leather of a steak in ketchup. You have a hard time finding your own meal appetizing as you watch him eat, a tiny dribble of ketchup at the corner of his lips. He barely gives you a chance to speak as he relives his fraternity glory days, telling you every close call he has ever had with the police and every famous person’s door he’s knocked on since he moved here from Mississippi. 

You down your drink probably a little too fast, trying to decide if you will need another to make it through the last part of this date. You know you will never speak to this man again, and you know you will be giving Cambry a firm talking to come Monday morning. 

The waiter steps up to the table with the check, placing it in front of Simon who sends him a puzzled look. “Oh, actually she’s getting the check tonight.”

“Am I?” you ask, a little confused yourself. You had no problem going dutch, but to be told you were taking the entire responsibility of the bill was a bit of a shock. 

“I mean, yeah, Cambry said you wanted this date, so… I figured since it was your idea, you were paying. I didn’t bring my wallet.”

You feel your mouth go dry at the audacity of his assumption. “I have no problem going dutch,” you say. 

“Yeah, it’s just I didn’t bring my wallet,” he counters, shrugging his shoulders. “I can Venmo you later or something.”

You bite your tongue as you reach for your purse, knowing there is an extremely high chance that this meal will drain his checking account. 

“It’s fine, I can get it. No problem,” you say, pulling your wallet from your purse. Just as you unzip it you feel someone walk up behind you, and the sight of a hand on the waiter's arm. The person leans towards the waiter, saying something quietly in his ear as he slips a silver metal credit card into his hand. 

As you look up you recognize the mass of curls and the crisp white linen. The smell of his cologne forever ingrained in your memory.  Your eyes flash over to Simon who is just as confused as you are, watching the interaction. A few more words are spoken between the waiter and the man you now know is Josh. Your ex. 

The waiter scurries off with Josh’s card just as he turns to face you with a shit eating grin. He then casts a lethal glance to Simon, who at this point is looking rather small. 

“Don’t you know it's distasteful to make your date pay?” he asks, venom in his voice. 

“And you are?” Simon snaps. 

“Well, from my place at the bar I thought I was the competition, but now I’m fairly positive that is not the case. My name is Josh, and I would ask yours but quite frankly I don’t care to know.”

“Josh!” you yelp. 

“What darling, you can’t deny the facts. I’ve been sitting at the bar since you arrived. Was quite the unexpected show, I must admit,” he pauses, “If I’ve misjudged your evening, which, I’m sure I haven’t based on your body language alone, please do feel free to correct me.”

“We’re actually on a date, man,” Simon speaks up, taking you and Josh both by surprise as you turn to stare at him. 

Josh just snickers, shaking his head before turning to you. “Have you had enough, sweets?”

“What do you want, Joshua?” you ask, a little annoyed at his brazenness. 

He cups your chin with his thumb and forefinger as he gives you a knowing look, “Is this what you want? You want me to go?”

You push his hand away and cross your arms over your chest, refusing to answer his question.

“Fuck this,” Simon spouts, pushing away from the table and storming out of the restaurant. 

Josh quickly takes his seat, sitting across from you as he folds his hands on the table. “You’re welcome,” he taunts, accepting the check book back from the waiter.

“A pleasure Mr. Kiszka,” he nods, walking away. 

“Mr. Kiszka? They know you by name here?” you groan, watching a sideways grin pull across his full lips. His eyes glance down to the plate of half eaten food in front of him.

“A well done steak with ketchup? My, my, darling have your standards dipped that low?” he asks, signing the receipt and closing the book. You roll your eyes and reach for your martini glass, however his hand snakes out to grab it first, tossing the rest of it back. 

“What the hell,” you growl. 

“You dumped me for a broke asshole?” he asks, sitting back in the chair. 

“He might have been broke, but I bet he could fuck me more than once every three months,” you snap, pulling ammo from your failed past. 

He clicks his tongue and shakes his head, “Now, now, retract the claws sweetness, be my good girl, yeah?”

“I’m not your anything, Josh, and I don’t know what you think is about to happen here, but I can promise you it’s not.”

He stabs at the olive in the martini glass, popping it between his lips. “You sure about that?”

“You completely derailed my date,” you bark. 

“Oh, please Y/N. You were ready to go the moment he introduced himself, late, might I add. You were entirely repulsed through dinner, and you couldn't get a word in edgewise. It may have been a year or so since we called it quits, but I still know you like the back of my hand, darling.”

“You don’t know me like that anymore, Josh.”

He chews the olive as a hum rings through his chest, “Is that why your thighs are clenched together under the table right now, for the first time tonight? Why you can’t seem to sit still, squirming everytime I look at you? The pretty pink blush on your cheeks that happened to appear as soon as I stole his seat? Because I just don’t know you anymore?”

You shake your head and look away, pushing him out of your mind. 

“Look at me, Y/N,” he demands, and instinctually you turn your head. “Own it.”

You meet his eyes and huff out an annoyed breath. “You can’t just walk up to me and think we are going to pick up where we left off. I left you for a reason, Josh.”

“Are you ready to go now that you’ve said your piece?” he asks, pushing his chair away from the table. 

“I drove myself here, and I’ll drive myself home,” you quip. 

“After two martinis, I don’t think so, sweetness. I’ll send for your car in the morning,” he insists. 

“Send for my car? What are you, the Pope?” 

“Only the one time if you remember correctly,” he jokes, offering his hand to help you stand from your chair. You take it begrudgingly, grabbing your purse and smoothing out your dress. 

“Stunning as usual, love. You know I love that silhouette on you,” he says, ushering the two of you out the door and into the parking lot. He drives a different car now, which is probably why you didn't recognize it in the lot when you arrived. 

“It wasn’t for you,” you gripe. 

“But it was for him? Mister can’t even split the check?” he counters. 

“Again, he may not be made of money, but he at least listened the few times I was able to get a word in,” you snap. 

Josh sucks his teeth as he opens the passenger door, helping you climb inside. It’s spacious and smells of new leather. A string of beads hangs from the rearview mirror and a tiny crystal lays haphazardly in the center console. He joins you seconds later, starting the car and backing out of the parking space. 

“Where are you taking me?” you question, although you’re fairly certain you know the answer. 

“Home,” he snickers, taking a right out of the parking lot. 

“You don’t know where I live, I moved,” you say, shifting your body in the seat. 

“No, no. I said, I am taking you home.”

“What if I don’t want to go?” you ask, fully lying to yourself and to him and he knows it. 

“I did always like it when you played hard to get,” he smiles, moving his hand to rest on your bare leg. “But your body gives you away everytime.”

“Where’d you find him?” he asks, letting his eyes flick over to yours for just a second. 

“Cambry,” you answer, a twinge of defeat in your voice. 

“Cambry? Come on, baby, you know she has the worst taste in men,” he groans, merging onto the freeway with ease. 

“I didn’t really have a choice, and she oversold him, clearly,” you answer. 

“So you’re still at Sony, then?”

“I am, though I’ve been considering a career change, maybe even a city change,” you lie.

“Had enough of Nashville?” he jests.

“The people that reside here,” you taunt. 

“Fair enough,” he concedes. 

His fingers trace circles into your skin, lighting little fires with every pass. “You stopped answering my calls,” he trails off. 

“That is typical of a break up Josh…”

“Baby–”

“Don’t call me that,” you snap. 

“What can I call you?” he asks. 

“Nothing, you can take me home and send my car in the morning,” you answer. 

His grip on your leg tightens, his thumb passing over your knee. You feel warm beneath his touch, a calmness washing over you. This is always how he got you. 

“It was one fight, Y/N! I know I fucked up, but–” he shouts, losing his calm and cool composure for a millisecond. 

“Josh…” you whine, not wanting to hash this out again.

As you pull up to a red light he turns to look at you, moving his hand from your leg and grabbing your hand instead. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to yell. Just– come over for a little bit. Let’s talk. Catch up a little. Don’t let your night be a complete loss, you look too pretty. Let me appreciate you,” he says, squeezing your hand. 

Your eyes meet his, sparkling and encased by his thick lashes. “Okay,” you murmur. 

“Yeah?”

You roll your eyes and nod your head, “Yes, fine. Just to catch up.”

The light changes and you swear he did twenty over the speed limit the rest of the way to his house. He has a smirk on his lips that he can’t seem to shake, and his hand hasn't left yours.

“Why were you at the bar alone?” you ask, the gin making you feel a little more brave than usual. 

“I like the food, and they make my drink the right way. You know I don’t like going into the city, too many people, and the guys were all busy tonight. I think I was right where I needed to be though. Got you out of that shitty date,” he laughs. 

“It was pretty shitty,” you agree, flashing him a smile. 

“Missed that,” he says, turning into his driveway. “That smile. Lights up a room.”

“Stop,” you say, playfully pushing his shoulder. “Don’t suck up now after you were all bossy and demanding at the restaurant.”

“Worked though,” he grins, shrugging his shoulders and shutting off the car. 

“Did it?”

“You’re here…” he says, tipping his chin. 

“To talk. To catch up,” you counter. 

“Yeah, yeah, I hear you,” he says, helping you out of the car and shutting the door behind you. He guides you up to the front door with his hand on the small of your back, shoving his key into the lock and opening the door. 

You’re instantly transported back in time. A time when this was your safe place, when this was your landing pad of comfort. A home you shared together. Warm and welcoming. Until, it wasn’t. It was a big empty house with nothing but the echo of your own voice for months on end. The place you would listen to your calls ring out with no answer and texts would sit on delivered for days. 

It was hard to leave him, your personal ray of light. The good times were the greatest, and the bad times were worse than the worst. You met your breaking point and all you could think of was starting over. Living a normal life with a normal job and a normal relationship. 

You’d grown a little since that day, finding yourself and establishing your own roots in the city. You cut off contact completely. Josh never gave up though. He was persistent, you’d give him that. He tried to reconcile things, promised to fix it, promised to do better, but after so many failed attempts, you couldn’t do it anymore. You needed to see this through, for yourself. 

It took almost a year but he did stop calling. Stopped checking in. Your heart ached for him. You wondered if you’d made a mistake. You knew you never really stopped loving him. How could you stop loving someone like him? He took your heart and cast it in gold, giving a piece of himself to you to carry when he was away, but still it wasn’t enough. You needed more than he could give you then. 

“You redecorated,” you ponder. 

“A bit. Just some new furniture, art and things I picked up on the road,” he says, tossing his keys on the table. “You like it?”

You nod your head, “Yeah, I do. It feels very… you.” you pause, “It feels warm.”

He walks into the kitchen, pulling two lowball glasses from the cabinet before reaching for the tequila on top of the fridge. He holds the bottle up towards you in question and you nod your head, knowing you aren’t leaving tonight. 

He pours the tequila into the glasses, topping them with sparkling water and a handful of ice as you walk over to join him. He slides the glass to you and holds his up to tap against yours. 

“Glad you’re here, baby,” he breathes. 

“Josh…”

“Sorry, old habit,” he blushes, taking a sip of his drink. 

You join him, taking a long pull from the glass letting the bubbles slip down your throat. He made it perfect, just how you like it. 

“Shall we?” he asks, pushing off the counter top and making his way into the living room. You follow behind him taking the seat next to him on the couch. You settle into the leather cushions as he shoots up again. 

“Wait, hold on,” he says, walking across the room. He struts across the wood floors carrying himself in a way much different than you have ever seen him. He looks confident and seems to be floating. He grabs a small remote and turns down the lights, casting the room in a much dimmer light. 

“Do you always walk around like that?” you ask, sipping from the rim of your glass. 

“Like what?” he asks, returning to his place next to you. 

“Like…like you’re made of gold,” you giggle, letting the tequila warm your blood. 

“What if I am?” he challenges. 

“What, made of gold?” 

“Mhmm,” he hums. 

“Kinda seems like it sometimes,” you confess. 

“Yeah?”

“You kinda glow,” you answer. 

“Optical illusion, sweets,” he grins.

“I don’t know, you’ve always kinda been that way. Glowy…” you offer, feeling a little hazy. 

“You flirting with me now?” he asks, his lips turning up into a grin. 

“No,” you growl, “Can I not give you a compliment?”

“Absolutely. Please do continue, I’m quite enjoying it,” he laughs, throwing his arm across the back of the couch. His fingertips brush your shoulder and you shudder at the contact. 

“Has it been that long, darling?”

“What?” you question, turning to meet his eyes. His fingers graze against your skin again, goosebumps rising to the surface. 

“Oh, say it isn’t so, baby. Break my heart,” he whines. 

“What, Josh?”

“You’re touch starved aren’t you sweetness,” he says, his eyes searching yours. 

“No, I’m fine,” you lie. You look away, knowing he was always able to read you like a book. 

“Look at me, Y/N,” he snaps. You turn your head and meet his eyes again. “Don’t lie to me again. You know that never went well for you.”

You bite your lips together as your cheeks grow red hot. Part of you wants to push him a little more, force him to make good on his threat. The other part of you knows you should leave before he sucks you in. 

“Tell me how long,” he says, resting his hand on the curve of your neck. 

You blow out a breath and shake your head, “It’s not important,” you answer. 

“Is to me, always important to me,” he urges. 

“Why do you want to know?”

“I want to know that you were being taken care of,” he pauses, “I don’t think that’s a crime.”

“It’s been… a minute,” you confess. 

“Baby,” he breathes. 

“It’s fine, Josh. Really.”

“It’s not,” he snaps. “How long, love? You can tell me. It’s just me.”

“God! Since we split! Okay?! Is that what you want to hear?! That I haven’t fucked anyone since you?!” you shout, burying your head in your hands. You feel his hand rest on your back, warm and firm. 

“Oh, my love. No wonder you’re so feisty. Wound up tighter than a two dollar watch. My girl needs a little relief, doesn’t she,” he asks. 

You turn your head in your hands to look at him, his face serious and dripping with lust. You push yourself up off of the couch, pacing around the living room. 

“I don’t want your pity, Josh.”

“It’s not pity darling, you’d know if it was,” he retorts. 

“Well whatever it is, I don’t want it,” you snap. 

He blows out a deep breath and clears his throat, “I’ve had just about enough of your mouth tonight,” he growls. “Why don’t you come back over here and try again, yeah?”

You stare at him from across the room, arms crossed over your chest in an effort to conceal your nipples that have grown hard just from the demanding quality of his voice. 

“You can drop the act, I know you want me just as bad as I want you. If you want me to beg, crawl on my hands and knees for you, you know I’ll do it, but I think your body is begging for me harder than I ever could.”

You roll your eyes, and look away. 

“Am I wrong? Tell me I’m wrong.”

You huff out a breath, “No,” you whisper. 

“What’s that?”

“I said no,” you answer. 

A smirk pulls across his lips, “No, what?”

You feel your chest grow warm and you swallow thickly, “No, sir.”

He clicks his tongue, “Don’t call me sir, that's my brother. Try again, love.”

“No, baby,” you breathe. 

“That’s better. Much better. Come back over here,” he says, motioning you over with two fingers. 

He reaches for your hand as you approach him, pulling you down onto his lap. Your legs fall to either side of his hips as you straddle him, the position feeling familiar and comforting. 

“There’s my girl,” he growls, leaning forward to place his drink on the coffee table. His hands move to grip at your hips, holding you in place as he sinks a little further beneath you. It would be a lie if you said you weren’t enjoying this, feeling his hands on you and the evidence of his want as it grew beneath you. 

“Not yours, Josh,” you say, letting your hands land on his chest. 

“Liar,” he breathes, rolling his hips into you, eliciting a whine from your chest. You hear him laugh, “Your body says otherwise.”

“My body has never been able to say no to you,” you admit. 

“And that's what I love about it, baby. Mine even when you aren’t.”

A sigh falls from your lips as his thumb drags over your lips, “Kiss me, Josh,” you beg.

A grin pulls across his lips as he pulls you by the back of your neck towards him. His soft, warm lips brush yours just slightly, enough to pull a whine from your chest. 

“Now who’s begging?” he murmurs. Your eyes meet his, dark and lust filled before he crashes his lips to yours. His hands grip at your head as if he’s afraid you might fly away, his fingers twisting into your hair.

His tongue slides against yours, the taste of him so sweet and familiar. There would never be anyone that tasted better, you were sure of it. His hands slid down your face and over your shoulders, reaching for your hands as they sat on his chest. He wrapped his hands around yours, linking his fingers with yours the best he could, just holding you in a way you’ve desperately missed over the last year without him. 

“Josh…” you breathe. 

His lips break away from yours, his cheeks pink and his lips glossy, “Yeah, baby?”

You hesitate asking your question, momentarily debating whether you truly want to know or not, but you know if this night is going to continue, you have to know. 

“How long…” you pause, “How long for you?” It comes out breathless, his warm hands in yours as his lips hover over yours. 

He pulls back a touch, licking his lips and swallowing harshly, “A month or two,” he answers honestly. 

Your traitorous eyes fill with tears and you do your best to blink them away. You drop your head in an effort to conceal your emotions, knowing this is all entirely your fault to begin with. His hand releases yours and grabs your chin, forcing you to look at him. 

“They were never you. Not a single one of them could ever be you.”

You nod your head and swallow the lump in your throat, “Then why?”

“It’s been a year, baby. I never thought I’d have you again,” he confesses. 

“But you want me?” you ask, just wanting to hear him say it. 

“Is that not clear? Of course I want you. I never stopped wanting you. You stopped wanting me.”

You shake your head, “I didn’t. I swear I didn’t, I just– It was too hard, I couldn’t do it anymore. It hurt too much.”

He grabs your face in his hands again, holding eye contact with you. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry. I know I messed up. I’ve thought of it every single day since you left. I’m so sorry.”

You can see it in his eyes that he means it this time. The urgency in his voice and the trembling of his hands against your face prove it. You decide at that moment to cast the memories of the past to the wind and fall headfirst into him, the way you’ve dreamt of for months. 

You press your lips to his, smiling, “Tequila always did make you all mushy, baby.”

A smile pulls across his lips as he stands from the couch, wrapping his arms around your thighs as he makes his way to the stairs. His lips connect to your jaw, peppering kisses up and down your neck with every step he takes. 

It’s seconds before you’re tossed onto the bed. The bed you’ve missed so terribly. The bed that smells of him and his linen sheets. You melt into the comforter, your body relaxing almost immediately. Your eyes close and all you can hear is the shedding of clothes across the room, and the tinkling of beads as Josh places his necklace on the dresser. 

You feel his hand as it comes to rest on your foot, sliding up the length of your body and stopping just as it reaches the hem of your dress. You sit up on your elbows to look at him, standing at the end of the bed in his boxers. 

His gaze is fixed upon you, devouring your every inch.

“Joshy?” you breathe. 

He drops his head for a second before looking back at you, “God I haven’t heard that in so long,” he whines. “What sweetness?”

“Come lay down with me,” you ask. 

He licks his lips and crawls onto the bed, laying down next to you and resting his hand on your hip. “Hi beautiful.”

“Hi baby,” you whisper, rolling towards him. You lay your head on his shoulder, listening to his heart as it pounds erratically in his chest. 

“I missed this bed,” you whisper against his skin. 

“I missed you in this bed,” he pauses, “Terribly lonely without you.”

“Not too lonely it sounds like,” you tease, sitting up and stepping off of the bed.  

“Baby, I–”

“I’m kidding, Josh. I don’t mind. Well, not completely anyway.”

You pull the zipper on the back of your dress, letting it fall to the floor and instinctively kicking it to the chair at the side of the bed like you'd done a thousand times before. 

“So you care a little?” he smirks, taking in the sight of your matching lingerie. “Jesus, was that for him?”

“If all went well,” you answer cheekily, crawling back onto the bed. 

“Over my dead body,” he growls, grabbing your arm and pulling you to lay on top of him. 

“It was for me. I needed a little confidence boost.”

“Baby, what? Why? You were always so confident and cool,” he asks, furrowing his brow. 

“Not lately… A few failed dates will do that to you I guess,” you admit. 

“No, no no no no. Don’t let a few pricks dull your glow, sweetness. You’re everything. They’d be lucky to have you.”

You push up off of him, crawling backwards down the bed as you place a few errant kisses across his stomach. Your eyes never leave his as you stop above his waistband, sliding your nails against the elastic. 

“What if I never wanted them,” you ask. 

He sucks in a breath as your finger dips beneath the band, slightly tugging at the fabric. 

“What do you want?” he asks, his eyes searching yours. 

You pull his boxers over his hips watching his cock spring free to slap against his groin. You take him in your hand, watching as his face twists up in pleasure. 

“Tell me,” he growls through gritted teeth. 

Instead of answering him you let your tongue lick a hot stripe from his base to his tip, tasting the bitter sweetness of his precum on your tongue. His core tightens as you take him into your mouth, swirling your tongue against his length, feeling every vein and the rapid pulse pounding through him. 

His hand finds the side of your face, tucking your hair behind your ear as he watches you take him down so easily, remembering exactly how he likes it. You grip his base as you work him, hollowing your cheeks as you eyes meet his. His lips are parted, a heavy breath leaving his chest as his grip on your hair tightens. You take him farther, swallowing around his tip as he nudges the back of your throat, sending him spiraling in his own bliss. 

“Fuck, baby, please…” he begs. 

You pop off of him, a string of saliva connecting your lips to his length. “Please what?”

“Please let me fuck you,” he asnwers, panting as he desperately awaits your mouths return to him. 

“I’m kind of enjoying myself here,” you tease, taking him into your throat again. 

“Fucking hell, you’re so goddamn sexy. I fucking– I–” he stammers, groaning as you swallow around him again. 

“You think of this, baby? You miss sucking my cock? My good fucking girl,” he asks, jerking his hips up off of the bed. “You think of me like I think of you?”

You groan as your tongue swirls at his tip, letting your eyes meet his. 

“Answer me,” he demands. 

You pull off of him quickly, a spit covered mess, “Yes, yes baby,” you whine. 

“Missed your mouth, your perfect fucking mouth. Your lips, your tongue, everything,” he growls, a moan leaving his chest as you suction your mouth around him. “Pull off baby, not yet. Not ready yet.”

You do as you're told, pulling off of him and wiping your lips on the back of your hand. He grabs your chin and pulls you toward him, his wet cock laying against your panties. His lips meet yours, swollen and pink and still glistening with your spit. He’s desperate to taste you, to devour you completely. You feel his hands slide over your waist and up to your bra, unclasping the hooks and pulling the straps from your arms. He pulls it from between you in one move, before turning you to your back to take in the sight of you. 

His eyes practically bulge from his head as he looks at you. “You– You pierced your nipples? When did you? Wha– Fucking Christ.”

A smile spreads across your face. It's not very often you can catch Josh off guard like this, so you’re taking this small victory. 

“About seven months ago, on a whim,” you answer. 

“Anything else I should know about before I have a stroke?” he laughs. 

“Why don’t you just find out?” you say playfully, just wanting to see his reaction. 

He pulls the elastic of your panties over your hips, tossing the lacy garment to the floor. His tongue darts out over his lips as he looks at you, as if deciding where he wants to start. Though, you knew Josh, and he would forever be a victim to his own fascination with shiny objects. 

His lips wrap around your nipple, his tongue gently flicking over the golden barbell. You lace your fingers into his curls, scratching at his roots as his teeth graze the sensitive bud in his mouth. 

“Josh,” you whine, arching your back beneath him. 

“Mhmm,” he whines, not letting his lips detach from you. 

“Missed your touch,” you answer. 

He pulls off of your right breast and kisses his way to your left, treating your left nipple with the same reverence as the previous. You grab his hand and pull his fingers to your lips, sucking his first two digits into your mouth and letting your tongue twist against them. 

You hear him groan against you, the sensation becoming a little too overwhelming for him. 

“You okay, baby?”

He pulls off of you, still staring down at the shiny gold bars adorning your nipples. 

“No, fuck no, I’m never gonna stop thinking about these,” he says through a pant. 

A laugh bubbles up from your chest as his hand meets your chest, sliding down your stomach and stopping at your hip. 

“You gonna let me in, sweetness?” he asks, biting at his bottom lip. 

A smirk pulls at your lips as you look at him, nodding gently. His hand slides down further, his fingers dusting across your folds. Your body quivers at his gentle touch, a small grin of satisfaction on his lips. 

“You want it?”

“Stop teasing, Josh,” you whine. 

“I’m sorry, baby. I know you need it. I’ll give you what you want. You know that, right?”

You nod furiously, just wanting him to touch you. Needing it more than anything. “Yes, yes, I know. Please…”

He bends forward and presses a kiss to your stomach, two fingers sinking into your wetness. You jerk towards him as his fingertips press to your clit, a whine escaping your lips before you can stop it. He hums as his fingers start to circle through your wetness, his lip bitten firmly between his teeth. His eyes are dark as they stare into yours, watching your every move and memorizing every expression.

“You feel so good, baby. Missed this so bad,” he breathes, teasing your entrance. 

“You could have had anyone,” you whisper. 

“I didn’t want anyone. Just you.”

His fingers dip into you, finding the place they once knew so well. Your hand moves to rest on his bicep, stronger now than they once were, the muscle rounded and defined. In fact, all of him is that way. Lean and fit, stronger and more chiseled. The thought alone makes you clench around his fingers. 

“Yeah?” 

“You feel so– so different. Stronger,” you say. 

“Needed something to fill the time,” he smiles, curling his fingers inside of you. You cry out in bliss as your stomach starts to tighten. 

“So good, baby,” you cry. 

“Yeah, you gonna come for me? You gonna come right on my fingers, so needy and sweet,” he urges. His fingers are moving rapidly, working you toward your release better than you could have imagined. 

“Ease into it, baby. Don’t rush it. I’m right here, not going anywhere. I’m yours,” he says, his voice soft and comforting. 

Your eyes meet his, desperate and lust filled, “Mine?” 

He nods his head quickly, “Yours,” he pauses, “If you want, I just– I’m here, okay? Take your time, feel it. Breathe it in, savor it. I’m here.”

“I want it,” you plead.

“Have it, have me,” he breathes. 

His fingers move at a relentless pace, fingertips massaging into you with such precision it’s like a year never passed. Your chest grows hot and your stomach tightens as his eyes meet yours, both of you knowing you’re on the edge of release. 

“Do it. Take it baby,” he growls. 

“Josh,” you whine, reaching for his hand and twisting your fingers with his. His grip is tight on you, grounding you the way you need him to. 

With another flick of his thumb across your clit, you’re sent spiraling into your release. You’d never been able to replicate the way it feels when it's by his hand, and you were sure no other man could. His hand slows as your eyes open, finding his full of desire as they stare back at you. 

He grins as he presses a kiss to your mound, slowly pulling his fingers from inside you. Your body is shaking with adrenaline, the want for him coursing through you like never before. You need him. You need him now.

“Josh, now,” you pant, your chest still heaving as you catch your breath. 

He doesn’t hesitate. There are no witty remarks, no jokes, no playful banter at all. Just the need the two of you share for each other taking center stage. He pushes up and crawls up towards you, falling into the space between your legs. He pushes them further apart with his knees, fisting at his base as he stares at you. You swear you can see his heart pounding in his chest, and you know he needs this as badly as you do. 

He lowers himself down to you, brushing his tip through your folds. Your hands come up to his face, cradling his cheeks as you press your lips to his. It's different this time, a little less desperate, more intentional. He lets himself slowly sink inside of you as his lips dance with yours, filling you so fully and so completely, the way he always had. 

He bottoms out inside of you, sliding his arm beneath your hips to pull you in close. His eyes meet yours in question and you nod, letting him know you need more. He begins to slowly move his hips, rolling into you at a fairly gentle pace, soaking in every inch of you and savoring every sound that falls from your lips. 

Your hands wrap around his waist, pulling him in tighter, desperate for all of him. He groans as your chest presses against his, the coolness of the metal bars against his warm, dewy skin pulling a groan from his chest. 

“Baby,” he whines, snapping his hips into you a little harder. 

“Josh,” you answer, more of a moan. 

“I need this,” he says, moving his hand to cradle your jaw. “I need you.”

“I know, baby,” you cry out, “I know. I need you, too. I fucking need you.”

He groans as he drops his head, letting his lips connect with your neck. His hot tongue slides against your skin before he sucks the skin into a fresh pink bite. His pace quickens, his skin slick with sweat as he pounds into you. 

“Tell me that you think someone could fuck you better than this,” he growls. 

“Fuck, no. No one. No one but you, Josh. I only want you,” you answer, gripping your fingers into his ass. 

His demeanor changes, he’s grown animalistic, grunts and groans falling from his lips as he nears the peak of his release. 

“Tell me that you don’t love me anymore,” he demands.

“Josh, I–”

“Say it,” he barks. 

“I do! I do love you! You know I still fucking love you!” you cry, feeling the coil tighten in your groin. 

A cry falls from his chest, echoing around the room as his lips crash to yours. It's rough and desperate, and you know you just told him everything he’s been waiting to hear. 

“I fucking love you, Y/N,” he pants, “Don’t you ever fucking leave me again.”

You nod your head desperately, needing to feel his lips on yours again. His strokes start to quicken, hitting you long and deep as you both teeter on the edge of your orgasm. The wet sounds dancing through the air are deafening, and the heat of his breath on your face has you dizzy. 

“Josh, baby,” you whine, knowing you won't last much longer. 

“Yeah? Yeah you gonna come again? Bloom like a pretty flower just for me?” he urges, knowing the sound of his voice will push you over the edge. He nods his head, and bites his bottom lip as he watches you, squirming and panting beneath him as his cock hits you right where it belongs. 

“Come on sweetness, be my pretty flower, come for me,” he whispers against your lips. 

His hand cups at your breast as his fingers brush your piercing, letting his thumb and forefinger pinch at your nipple. The sensation is enough to bring you to the brink, letting you dive headfirst into your release. You cry out beneath him, his name falling from your lips in succession. 

“Just like that, my love. I’m here, I’ve got you,” he says, pulling you closer to him as his hips continue to work you through it. “I’m there sweetheart, tell me where.”

“You know where, I’m yours,” you plead. 

He snaps his hips into you again, holding you in place as he spills inside of you, the most beautiful noises falling from his lips. He comes down, loosening his grip on your hips as he falls slack on top of you. Your arms wrap around him, your hand drifting up into his sweaty curls as he catches his breath. 

“I mean it,” he breathes, “I do love you.” He props his head up on your chest, letting his eyes meet yours. 

“You know I love you, Josh.”

He cranes his neck forward and kisses you again, and you can almost feel the smile on his lips. “Does this mean you’ll come home? Let me love you again?”

“Is that you asking me?” you tease. 

“I’ll call the movers right now,” he taunts. 

“You forgive me for leaving you in the first place?” you ask, a hint of nervousness in your voice. 

“I deserved it. I know what I lost.”

“I keep my apartment,” you counter. 

“But you’ll be with me when I’m here?” he asks with questioning eyes. 

“If that’s what you want,” you answer. 

“No more dates with assholes who don’t deserve you?” he smirks. 

“No more dates, just you,” you nod. 

“I’ll do it right this time, give you everything. I promise.”

His lips press to yours, soft and sweet and barely there, sealing his promise and setting your heart aflame. He rolls off of you, laying next to you as close as he can get.

“You said I’m your flower,” you pause, “What kind?”

He pulls you into his side, hitching your leg up over his waist. “Hmm, a poppy perhaps? A bright red one, maybe orange.”

You giggle at the fact he has picked such an outlandish flower. “Why’s that?”

He turns his head to look at you and raises his eyebrow playfully, “The seeds are an opiate and can provide intense pleasure to the consumer, and you, my sweets, are certainly a drug to me.”

You roll your eyes and shove at his chest, feeling him pull you in tighter. He kisses your head and lets out a sigh. 

“What about me, am I a flower, darling?”

“Of course you are,” you pause, looking at him. “Too easy, you’re Goldenrod.”

“Isn’t that a weed?” he laughs, running his fingertips against your bare thigh. 

“Technically, but it’s beautiful. It’s wild and free and vibrant. Thrives in the warm sunshine and sways in the breeze. They’re made of gold, just like you,” you smile, flashing him a wink. 

“Although, it is poisonous,” you add. 

He rolls to face you completely, cupping your face in his hand as he smiles, “You know what they say…”

“What’s that,” you question. 

“The worst poison always tastes the sweetest.”

.

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[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook

𝐒𝐞𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐧𝐱𝐢𝐞𝐭𝐲 | Part 9

He just can't give up.

Tags/Warnings: Game Designer!Jungkook, Non Idol AU, established relationship, slight Angst, personal insecurities, SFW but kook is naked the entire time help, [Tags will be different for every part!]

Length: 1k Words

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Collab with @euphoricfilter ! 💜

-> Masterlist

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

When Jungkook emerges from the bathroom, you’re already dressed in at least a pair of panties and a shirt of his that’s way too big for you.

He however doesn’t seem to be in too much of a hurry to put on any clothes, as he marches back into the bedroom naked, no shame at all while his hand rubs a towel over his damp hair. “Jungkook-” you say, and he hums a reply to you, shaking some water out of his ear before he turns to you, tattooed skin distracting you for a moment before you find your thoughts again. “-I... Really love you, you know. But I’m still mad.” You shrug, making his face morph into one of urgency, as he watches you sigh and get up to open the dresser. “I’m going to have a weekend with the girls to-” You start, but his eyes fall open in shock, blood running cold.

Shit.

“No!” He whines, like a wounded animal almost, making you frown at him. “I mean- babe please, I already had to spend one whole night without you-” He complains weakly, unable to really prevent you from getting out clothes for yourself as you pack an overnight bag that’s pink in colour. “-please-”

“Jungkook just give me that.” You say, looking at him as he takes out one of your sweaters again. “I don’t want to lash out at you just because I’m still riled up from the shit that happened these past few weeks.” You say, referring to past outbursts that had been common- and that hurt him, you know that. You’ve got a pretty bad temper, you’re aware of this, and you’ve been trying hard to control it especially with him, because the words that sometimes tend to slip through your lips aren’t the truth at all-, they’re just meant to hurt, nothing else.

And hurt they do, because you know him well, and know what his weak spots are.

But Jungkook isn’t someone you want to hurt- you actually want to avoid that at all cost, but with the pressure of the past stress he’s put you throught just as much as he’d had to carry it, you’re very aware of the fact that you might just end up scolding and yelling at him for things he’s got no control over. And you don’t want that. You hate feeling annoyed by him.

But for Jungkook, this is absolutely horrible. You can’t leave, not this weekend at least. He’s just blasted half his money on his bank account out for the plane tickets, and the Airbnb is booked and currently being prepared for the two of you. If you leave now, everything would’ve been for nothing.

“No, you don’t get it- you can’t leave...” He complains, as you roll your eyes, closing the closet to instead venture into the bathroom to pack your skincare into a small bag. “-baby are you listening to me?” He urges, but you just shrug.

“Yeah, but I don’t feel like dancing to the song you’re singing right now..” You just mumble, and suddenly, he becomes serious-

Before he walks out the bedroom, out of sight.

“Jungkook?” You call out, but you don’t get a reply at all- so you just can’t help but walk out the bedroom to see what the hell your naked boyfriend could be doing right now, just to find him right in front of the front door, sitting to block it, arms crossed just like his legs. “Jeon Jungkook, what the fuck are you doing?” You ask, looking at him in disbelief.

“You’re not leaving.” He says, staring ahead of himself, determined as ever while some water drops from the slightly curled ends of his dark hair. He must be freezing his ass off- quite literally- and you just can’t help but worry.

“Jungkook please, the floor is cold as fuck-” You whine, walking towards him to try and pull him up by his arm- but he’s not moving, his weight preventing you from even getting him to remotely get up. “Jungk-”

“Say you’ll stay then.” He looks up at you, goosebumps already rising on his forearms.

“I already told them I’d come along this weekend, I’m going to be back Sunday evening!” You complain. “You’re being-”

“You can just tell them your boyfriend is taking you to an expensive as fuck holiday trip.” He says, looking you straight in the eyes. “That it was a surprise, that you didn’t know.” Jungkook offers, and you frown again.

“Jungkook you know I can’t lie!” You whine, pulling at his arm again, but his hand moves now to hold your wrist, catching your attention.

“Who said it’s a lie?” He asks, and from his tone of voice to the look on his face, you know he’s serious.

“...Jungkook, what the fuck?” You almost whisper out. “Why? And how would you even pay for that-” You argue, sitting down on your knees next to him now, completely caught off guard.

“With overtime.” He shrugs. “Side jobs. And some weird assets I made for some indie-game I doubt will ever be released to be honest.” He explains.

“So you didn’t ignore me because you were seeing someone else... but, hold on.” You shake your head. “You constantly went out with the boys though?” You argue, and at that, he seems to become visibly a bit bashful.

Shy even.

“No, that was...” He plays with his lip ring. “...I took on a nightshift job at the bar we went to with your dad last year. You know, the one where that guy fell off his chair and cleared the whole table in the process?” He chuckles, looking down at his knees.

“...” You look at him for a good moment, silently, before your shoulders relax. “Oh Jungkook... why?” You coo, finally realizing why he was always so extremely burned out, and why he smelled of alcohol and cigarettes every night he came home.

“I.. That's the thing. I can’t tell you yet- but I will.” He urges, moving a bit to face you. “If you don’t go with the girls, but me instead.” He tells you, eyes anxiously jumping from one of yours to the other as he waits for your answer. And after a moment, you nod.

“Okay.” You tell him, before you move to smack his thigh, and stand up,-

“But put on some pants first, idiot!