#Local Beach Newspaper

[reviewed-rated]

Shopping Carts Costs

Shopping Carts Costs Prices start @ $330.00 for setting up your WooCommerce website. Based on having a WordPress Site. After you pay the set up fees ($330.00)  to get your shopping cart ecommerce webstore up and running. There is a cost per item over three items of $7.00 per post based on a min of 10 posts. While WooCommerce is free, there are costs associated with it. As mentioned before, you…

[toronto-credit-card-processing]

320 Permit Parking spaces removed by Brad Bradford in the Beaches

Details of City Of Toronto Transportation Services Report This staff report is about a matter that Community Council has delegated authority from City Council to make a final decision. Transportation Services is reporting on the results of the permit parking poll undertaken on Pine Crescent, Glen Ames, Long Crescent, Glen Oak Drive, Balsam Road, Pine Glen Road and Glen Stewart Crescent. As…

[queen-street-news]

320 Permit Parking spaces removed by Brad Bradford in the Beaches

Details of City Of Toronto Transportation Services Report This staff report is about a matter that Community Council has delegated authority from City Council to make a final decision. Transportation Services is reporting on the results of the permit parking poll undertaken on Pine Crescent, Glen Ames, Long Crescent, Glen Oak Drive, Balsam Road, Pine Glen Road and Glen Stewart Crescent. As…

[vimbry-moved]

joel ending up in the blackpool pleasure beach on a geoguessr stream is surreal

[salemwasnteverhere]

Yandere!Tentacle Monster x Fem!Lighthouse keeper! Reader

Damn that title long

Cws: Tentacles are referred to as more than one, reader is a bit of a perv for wanting to bang monsters, consensual somnophilia, excessive cum, cumflation, penetration, the monster is buff ngl 💦, this is supposed to be freaky/kinky :p also reader is morally grey

SFW

You've always loved solitude. Even when you were a young girl in foster care.

Fog, mist, rain, thunder, dark clouds, all of those added to the feeling of being enclosed where no one else was.

You don't like sunny days. Not in an emo way but in a need for a calm, and the blistering sun couldn't bring you that.

Fast forward 20 something years and you struggle to stay at a job because of people. Rude customers, loud kids, lazy coworkers. Hell you got fired from your local grocer because you threw a cabbage at some entitled asshole.

And by some luck, you weren't in cuffs yet. Fate? Prolly lol

You were reading the newspaper one day and saw an ad for a lighthouse keeper. It must have been urgent if it was in the paper 4 times.

The people you met for the job were shady as hell. But they offered to pay good for you to just take care of the lighthouse completely alone for 6 months.

They put you on a boat and shipped your ass out to an island hours away from the mainland.

It had the lighthouse (duh), a cabin for you, a very small forest, and beaches covered in driftwood and seaweed.

It was foggy, cold, and wet with no sun peeking through the clouds.

Perfect.

The people who hired you were eager to get off the island. So immediately after showing you the basics they ran off.

The cabin was old and rustic, with a few holes in the roof that were covered by aged duct tape.

There was an outdoor shower and the place used gas lamps for light.

But you enjoyed it. The solitude.

Now let's skip to two months later.

You got the hang of keeping the light on and keeping it fixed. The stairs definitely worked you out though.

You spent 80% of your time using the small workshop to repair the cabin. It eventually looked slightly livable.

Everything was completely normal

Until that day on the beach.

You were outside your cabin showering.

The outdoor shower didn't exactly have curtains so you were exposed to the beach it faced.

The hot water kept you comfortable in the cold weather and you were relaxed...until you heard a growl.

You assumed it was an animal and looked around when you saw something light purple disappear into the ocean waves.

Coral you thought just coral

You went on with your week like nothing happened but you always felt watched.

It wasn't until one night during a storm you felt it.

A storm had hit the island hard, it was freezing and your shitty blankets did little.

You barely managed to fall asleep when something warm engulfed you, arms and slimy embraces.

You screamed in shock and fear but your unwelcome bedmate held you harder and wouldn't let you move.

It was only after you calmed down that it relaxed.

Light purple skin was what you noticed when looking down. With scales in areas that were slightly darker.

The tentacles were wrapped around your legs tightly, writhing in certain areas.

You got a better look when your holder put you on your back and sat above you.

A humanoid creature with light purple skin and what seemed to be a jellyfish head sat on its actual head. It had no nose and completely white eyes, not to mention a gentle smile.

It cooed at you, dragging it's hands up your stomach and sliding up your bra.

Slimy and warm, that was it's skin.

You normally would have thrashed and kicked, but maybe it was the pheromones the creature left out, or how one tentacle pressed right against your cunt through your damp shorts.

But you moaned when it touched you. A soft, unashamed moan.

The tentacle at your shorts practically tore them off, panties included, and it slid up and down your slit and flicked against your clit.

You watch as it's hand fondled your tits and pinched your nipples, its eyes slightly lidded.

You let your body roam down it's chest and saw it didn't have a cock. It was kinda like a ken doll. But the tentacles must have the same effect as one when you saw white precum drip from the larger tentacles tip.

More tentacles held your arms and legs open while the tentacle squirmed into you, thick and struggling.

There wasn't a part of you it didn't fill. Your stomach bulged slightly as it didn't wait and immediately moved in you, wiggling before pulling out and slamming back in.

The cabin was full of lewd wet noises and your cries, along with the creature chirps and coos while it pet your head that night.

NSFW

There wasn't a second it didn't have a tentacle on or in you.

Despite its main body being in the water there was a tentacle wrapped around your legs that you never found the start of.

It had an iron grip and wouldn't come off unless the creature itself was nearby.

When the tentacle wasn't dormant it would rub against your clit through your pants or would be in you, gently drawing orgasms after orgasms until you begged it to let you breathe.

The creature was never gone for more than a few hours. And when it came back it came with gifts.

Shells, pearls, fish, jewelry it made or rusty jewelery it found on the bottom of the ocean.

You noticed it liked it when you wore the jewelry during sex, mainly due to how much rougher it was.

Then there was the slight fear of getting knocked up.

Every single time you had sex you would try and tell it to pull out but it would just smile and pet your head before cumming in you for the third time that hour. And you loved it.

Sometimes, when you were especially needy, you'd put on more of a show when showering.

Even touching yourself when you knew it was watching. The creature loved it.

You'd see it stand in the water and would beckon you closer, to which you happily obliged.

You'd meet in the water and it would kiss you roughly before lifting your legs around its waist and kept you above the water as it fucked its tentacles deep into you. The water mixing with the (possible) gallons of cum that spilled from you

One of your favorite things was waking up to its coos and growls.

You'd be held tight by its tentacles while it found shoved it's tounge in your cunt, hitting deep spots with its flexible prongs.

Other times it would wake up to you using one of its tentacles, whining when you couldn't get it to stay stiff by itself. It would act asleep and slowly stiffens the tentacle so you could have your fun.

What a perv you are

But then again the sun's gonna blow up one day so :p

It seemed to have infinite stamina and an infinite libido.

It could be the most inconvenient time ever and all you need to do is give it a look before your suspended in the air by your hands while it curls a smaller tentacle around your clit and fucks you with its thick one.

The creature was possessive before you knew it was there, especially when people dropped off your supplies.

But now that your it's? A whole new genre of possessive.

On time you had to keep a straight face while talking to someone cause the mini tentacle was rubbed right against your g-spot while somehow rubbing your clit under your skirt.

It even started biting you hard enough to leave marks.

--

Requests are open :)

[forsworned]

I just got a great idea. Imagine the teenage dirt bag trend with 141, where reader is chill and laid back, and as 141 and reader are in the break room, gaz or soap ask reader about her life before the military and she just goes to her office to get some photos of her and her friends in their teens, smoking weed and in some she has some sick piercings and a skater, or maybe even a motorcycle. I don't even know. I'm just rambling. You can write it if you want but if you don't want to then feel free to ignore me 🫶🏼🙆🏻‍♀️

author's note: and a great idea you have indeed :) i gotchuuu and im so sorry this took me forever to get to

tags: poly 141 antics, cheeky banter, and a lil flirting with the boys ;)

Breakfast is a fan favorite amongst the 141, especially when it involves the sweet and savory aroma of coffee, pancakes, eggs, and your famous potato hash—a dish that's practically a cult fave within the team. As you settle in your seat between Johnny and Kyle with your coffee mug in your hand, the group is chatting about their former glory days before they joined the military.

Johnny nudges you with a playful smirk, still noshing on a piece of toast. "So, hen, ye look like ye had a bit of a wild streak back in the day, aye? Bet ye were a right wee devil." His tone is teasing, laced with curiosity as his cerulean gaze lingers on you.

You roll your eyes at him, but before you can respond, Kyle chimes in, his tone equally teasing, "Yeah, you look like the type who got up to all sorts of dodgy stuff. Proper troublemaker, I reckon. C'mon love, spill the beans." He nudges with a grin.

Price looks over his newspaper at double trouble across the table, before turning the page, causing you to chuckle. "Well," you fish out your phone from your pocket and everyone leans forward in their seats as you scroll through your camera roll. You stop at an album and tap on it before rotating the screen to face them and they can't help the excited noises that leave their mouths.

"No way!" Johnny exclaims, his grin widens as he spots a photo of you leaning against a cherry red muscle car. "Is that a 1967 Chevrolet Camaro!?" Kyle chirps, taking your phone from you and you laugh at their reactions. That gets Price's attention and he leans over to get a gander of the rebellious glint in your eye and the streaks of red fashioned into your hair.

"Christ," He beams down at the photo and then up at you. "looks like you were quite the rebel, eh? No wonder these two pillocks won't stop botherin' ya."

Kyle lets out a whistle as he swipes to the next photo, showcasing you with a cigarette hanging between your lips, clad in a skimpy bikini, leaning against your palms on a beach on a sunlit beach with the sunset casting a tangerine glow. "Cheeky."

Johnny's eyes ream at the photo, taking you in your exposed form. "Aye, look at ye!" His cheeks flush as he tilts his head, peeking up at you. "I gotta give it ya, lassie, yer quite the stunner."

"And still are." Price adds, raising his eyebrows at you. You fluster at his kind words, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

"Thank you,"

"Oi! Look at this one!" Johnny points to the screen again, having a good laugh. You lean into Kyle and giggle at the photo. Grin as wide as your face with an alligator's jaw clamped shut between your hands. "That cannot be real!"

"It's really not as wild as it looks. I was on vacation in Florida, and a local wildlife park had this little show where they let you hold and pose with a baby alligator. They made sure everything was safe and supervised. Super fun."

Price cocks an amused brow at you, sipping his coffee. "Baby alligator, eh? You're quite the thrill seeker."

"Yeahhh, not much has changed." Kyle ribs and the others laugh. It's true though. You were actively pursuing that adrenaline rush, so it didn't come as much of a surprise to them, especially not Simon.

As the laughter dies down, Simon, who was quietly enjoying his tea and observing the situation unfold finally speaks up, "You lot are gettin' too chuffed over this, but I gotta admit..." He leans back, his dark eyes fixate on you and you can't help but take notice of how his mask is scrunched up under his nose, revealing the pale pink of his lips. "Never quite pegged you for a lil rascal. Bet you gave your folks a right headache."

He prods the phone out of Johnny's hand and takes a look at the other photos they were scrolling through and softly snorting at what looks like an image of you on stage, strumming at a guitar and singing your heart out. "But I reckon that's what makes you fit in so will with these bunch of nutters." His lips quirk into a faint smile as he hands you back your phone and goes back to munching on his eggs. "Ain't it always the quiet ones you gotta watch out for?"

Your cheeks blossom with warmth at his comment and the cute little smile that adorns his handsome face. "Well, I didn't think I was all that quiet." You poke your tongue in your cheek, gently prying the phone out of his hands.

His finger seems to biff at your screen as it clatters out of your grasp because his onyx eyes widen at the photo. Skin exposed, revealing the ink that embellishes your lower left hip in delicate, intricate patterns as you're posing sexy for the camera. Your heart plunges to your ass at the realization of it not being in your hidden album.

"Oh—that's, uhhh" You stammer swiftly, locking your phone and shoving it back into your pocket. Your tongue swipes at your lips as you avert your gaze, but Simon takes note of how you nervously twiddle with the spoon as it clatters against the walls of your mug.

Simon's eyes linger on you for a moment longer before he returns to his tea, "well, well, well..."

The rest of the team is still buzzing with the excitement of your heydays as they detect the slight change in atmosphere.

"Oi, what's all of this about, then?" Johnny asks with a mouth full of food. "Give us the scoop!"

But the Scotsman is getting scolded by Price and Kyle for not keeping his mouth shut while he eats. A sheepish smile adorns his lips, rubbing the back of his neck as he apologizes. Simon chuckles, and shakes his head, "Nothin' worth spillin', Johnny. Just a bit of a laugh."

Of course that earns some groans from them, but you can't help but bite your bottom lip and grin when Simon gives you a knowing look. Some secrets are best kept between friends.

masterlist

[14dayswithyou]

Please wrap [REDACTED] in a warm blanket for me 🥺

What is Jae's job??? Every time I look at the map he's either off screen or in the ocean!! Is it Beach?

⌞♥⌝ Can't a man watch H20 and live out his dreams in peace??? If you don't want to play mermaid with him, stop pinging his location /silly

Canonically though?? Jae has multiple side jobs — mostly because nobody wants to hire him full-time — but also because I think it's funny watching his sprite move to random locations. He works at the newspaper stand by the pier on weekends, as an in-house cleaner for the elderly couple who owns the cabin he lives in (and all the others along the beach), at the local pet store, as a grocery clerk a few doors down from Olivia, etc!

But also... A little blonde birdie told me that Jae originally applied for a part-time job at the Corland Bay library!! >:3

Originally, I planned for Jae to be the newest employee at the library prior to Angel's arrival (the thought of Old Man Conan trying to do paperwork while Pro Roblox Player Jae explains DTI to him is somehow funny to me), but I scratched that idea because I felt like there were already too many people working at the library.

If I ever change my mind though, I might make it canon one day!! But until then... Jae will be Barbie hehe

[s4pphicb1mb0]

Swept Away - Sevika

Part 3

Warnings: 18+, choking, rough sex, sevika acting like a womanizer, pussy eating, strap on use, overstimulation, cheating etc...

AN: the smutty chapter muehehehe

A few days passed. You decided to extend this trip. You've not been talking to your husband for a few days, fuck him. The beach  (beach= Sevika) is much better than him. You and Sevika got close. She taught you a few surfing tricks and the basics of how to float. You called your mom & dad to enjoy the beach. But both of them got seasick. And left two days later. They offered to take your daughter with them. 

At first, you were hesitant because you've never been without her, but your mom insisted you needed a break after that fight with Nate, and Coco seemed happy to go to Gramma's house. 

And now you were alone.

It gets boring.

But your boredom doesn't last long.

Sevika, of course.

How could she let you be bored?

Sevika is a buff, tall, and tan woman, girls practically throw themselves at her. But why would she go for the easy ones (very womanizer of sevika i know) when she could have the prize. The golden badge of honour. A married mom of a 4-year-old girl. She could tell everyone how she scored you, how she seduced you and lured you.

But you were harder than she thought. She could tell you were stubborn. Your husband was an asshole, yet you were determined to stick to the good housewife image, and sevika’s only goal was to ruin it.

To ruin you

So now here you are. Sunburnt, or rather healing from them.

How did you get them? Sevika pulled you out of bed straight up while you were asleep, refused to put you down, and threw you into the cold, salty water at 9 a.m.

You were depressed and mulling over Coco leaving, and well, Sevika only knew tough love.

You then got busy chasing Sevika around for payback and got sunburnt.

You were in a cotton shirt, with a towel wrapped tightly around your waist, because any other item of clothing was too harsh on your skin. You were sitting on the couch, watching some local soap opera, the fan was on and was creaking and squeaking as it was spinning. Sevika was out on the beach surfing with the boys, who actually were not as big of dicks they were when you first met them. All of them fell in the 16-20 age range. You didn't want to entertain their ideas of you having chances with them. You confronted them, and they backed off (well, sevika MADE them). Now they bring you milk or the newspaper in the morning, and set up your spot with an umbrella and towel laid out, oh and of course they're your personal waiters too.

You insisted that Sevika sleep in the room next to yours because it was scary being alone on the ground floor. She gladly obliged. But jesus fuck.

She's loud.

You can hear her snoring (wait what did you think?) loudly in her sleep. It's impossible to sleep. So you started eating dinner early and getting into bed before Sevika returned home from the beach.

Sevika is confused. Why are you avoiding her? Was she doing something that you didn't like? Did she cross a boundary? But then you acted normal during the daytime, but you were actively avoiding her at night. Was she making you feel too objectified or unsafe?

Today, you took a nap in the afternoon, which made you lose your sleep for the night. You were tossing and turning in bed. You heard the door open and heavy footsteps on the floor. Sevikas home. Forget sleeping.

You peek through the hallway and see Sevika silently eating dinner on a plate, sitting alone at the table with slumped shoulders. It hits you—this is how she's been eating alone all those days? Guilt gnaws at you as you slowly step out of the room and walk over to her.

“Heyyyy…” you say, unsure and awkward.

“Oh… you’re up?” She looks you up and down, wary of your approach.

“Yup, I took a nap, and now I can’t sleep,” you reply.

“Huh… that explains it.” She watches your movements as you sit down across from her.

“Listen, I just—” 

“Is there something—” you both start at the same time.

“You first—” you both say in unison. Sevika smiles and gestures at you, “Ladies first,” which earns you a slight snort. But you speak first anyway.

“I just wanted to say I’m sorry…”

“For what?” She raises an eyebrow and looks at you.

“Oh, you know, I was… sleeping early and avoiding you, and you had to eat dinner alone.”

“…” She stays silent, continuing to eat before she speaks up again.

“Why were you avoiding me?” she asks without making eye contact.

“Huh?”

“Don't play dumb, doll… you've clearly been avoiding me,” she says with a tired huff. Just get it over with.

“No offense, but…” Sevika braces for whatever you’re about to say.

“Sev… you snore too loudly. I just— I can't sleep, and I tend to get into bed early before you do. I’m sorry, that was rude. I know, but seeing you eat alone today made me feel really bad.”

Sevika’s eyes widened. That’s it? Is that the problem? Jesus Christ. She assumed much worse.

“Good god, I'm so offended that you don't find my melodic breathing pleasant. I thought I was the next Oprah,” she says with a chuckle.

“Oprah? She doesn't sing,” you say, confused about how Oprah is mentioned

“Yes she doesn't, there's a whole ass genre after Oprah's singing” she says.

“OHHH, you mean opera?” you chuckle and inquire.

“Yeah, yeah, same thing,” she says and looks away, embarrassed by her slip-up.

You laugh, and she joins in, too.

Eventually, this turns to you venting about your husband with your head on her lap while you both relax on the couch. 

You both fall asleep peacefully, not bothering to switch to a more comfortable place.

“HOOOLY SHITTT, YOOOO STEVEN, COME LOOK.”

“OHMYGOD COACH SEVIKA IS SUS”

The first thing you hear as you wake up. Your eyes open, and you see two boys, Steven and Jack, standing in the doorway with their hands on their mouths. It takes a while to register that you are asleep in Sevika's embrace.

When it hits you, you aggressively shake Sevika and get out of her arms, and Sevika wakes up and looks around, puzzled.

“Huh?” her groggy voice choked out.

The boys give each other a look and laugh.

“You two- better not open your mouths or I swear-” but sevika cuts you off.

“Hey hey hey what's the matter what happened?” Sevika asks, sitting up as she gains some consciousness

“SEVIKA, ARE YOU KIDDING ME? OH GOD. Wait. It's nothing. It's nothing. Yeah, yeah, we were talking last night and fell asleep on each other. What's the big deal? Have you both never seen friends? Are you that scared of being vulnerable with your friends, HUH?! Well, bad news, NO, NO good news. Sevika and I are healthy friends, so do not come at me with that ‘sus’ or whatever.” You rant and rave and pace around the room in circles. The boys shut up and just look at you, amused. Sevika rolls her eyes but lets you go on.

You huff and sit down.

“Boys, today is Sunday. What are you doing here?” Sevika asks them

“Well, we are hosting a bonfire tonight. we wanted to ask if you guys wanna come?” Jack tells you.

“Aight, we'll be there. Now go on, let me rest on Sunday at least.” She dismisses them and turns to you.

She smirks and looks you up & down.

“You don't mind sleeping on me, huh?” she says, pulling you on her lap, making you gasp.

“Sevika- put me- what are you doing?” But you don't struggle or anything.

“Just what I've wanted to do all these days.” Her eyes lock onto your lips, and her hand tightens around your waist.

 Your heart skips a beat, you sort of know what is about to happen, and your voice trembles a bit as you speak. “Oh? And what's that?” you ask, and sevika chuckles.

“This,” she whispered before leaning in and placing a soft kiss on your lips. She presses her knee to your core, making you gasp, and she takes the opportunity to push her tongue in, claiming your mouth completely.

“Sevika….” you whisper, pulling away a bit to breathe

She pulls away but doesn't lose her grip on you

“Yeah?” she asks, her voice low and husky

Your hand drops from being wrapped around her neck; you didn't even realize when you did that, and they drop down to her biceps, and you look up at her.

“This is crazy,” you whisper

She grins 

“I know,” before pulling you into a kiss again. Then she gets up and looks down at you, bamboozled on the couch.

“You have horrible morning breath,” she says

“What!? No, I didn't- and despite that, you kissed me,” you scoff

Sevika gris again

“You loved it, didn't you?”

“Shut up.” You cross your arms and look away

“Oh, you freak”, she says as she starts walking away

“Wait, where are you going?” you ask her. She can't just kiss you like that and leave you.

Later, at the bonfire. You were sitting on a log next to Sevika, the waves crashed in the distance, and it was fairly cool outside even with the bonfire. The boys and sevika laughed and talked, but you didn't participate much, just enjoying the ambience. Then Jake brings up how he saw you both earlier, and Sevika speaks up.

“Well, what can I say? This one's hard to resist and easy to score,” she says with a smug tone, and wraps an arm around you and pulls you close.

Something about being called ‘easy’ didn't sit well with you

The night goes on, the boys leave, and you and Sevika are picking up the empty soda cans and cleaning up. Then you bring it up,

“Hey Sev, what did you mean by calling me easy?” you ask

Sevika smirks. "What about it? You're an easy score. I knew you'd come around eventually."

Your eyes flash with anger. "Excuse me? Easy score? You think I'm just some kind of conquest for you?"

Sevika shrugs, "Well, aren't you? You're attracted to me, and I'm not exactly known for my subtlety."

Your face reddens. "You're so UGH!, Sevika. You think you can just waltz in here and call me easy like a whore!?"

Sevika raises an eyebrow, "Whore? Maybe. But you're fuckable. And I'm not afraid to say it."

Your anger boils over, "How dare you! You think you can just reduce me to some kind of...of...fucking prostitute?"

Sevika steps closer, her voice low and husky, "Oh, you. I think you'd love being my plaything. And I'd love playing with you."

You stood up, your eyes blazing with anger. "I've had enough of your games, Sevika." You stormed off toward the beach house, leaving Sevika sitting alone by the bonfire.

Sevika watched you go, a sly smile spreading across her face. She got up and followed you, her footsteps quiet on the sand.

You didn't notice Sevika behind you until you reached the beach house. You spun around, your eyes flashing with anger. "What do you want, Sevika?"

Sevika held up her hands. "Hey, I just wanted to apologize. I didn't mean to push your buttons."

You crossed your arms. "Save it, Sevika. I'm not buying it."

Sevika took a step closer, her eyes locked onto yours. "Come on, you. Don't be like that. I know you're attracted to me."

Your face reddened. "That's not the point."

Sevika took another step closer, her voice low and husky, "Oh, I think that's exactly the point. You want me. And I want you.”

You shook your head. "No, Sevika. I don't want you."

Sevika's smile never wavered. "Don't lie, you. I can see it in your eyes. You're dying to give in to your desires."

Your eyes flashed with anger, "You're cocky, Sevika. You're so fucking cocky."

Sevika's eyes glinted with amusement. "Maybe. But I know what you want, you. And I'm going to give it to you."

Your face twisted in anger. "No, you're not."

Sevika's smile never wavered, "Oh, yes. I am."

And with that, Sevika reached out and gently brushed a strand of hair out of your face. Your eyes flashed with anger, but Sevika just smiled, her eyes locked onto yours...

She picks you up bridal style, carries you to your room, and throws you on your bed.

“Tell me if you wanna stop. Safeword is marmite ‘kay?” she says and wraps her hand around your throat and squeezes and pulls your head closer.

“Jesus fuck, ive been waiting to get inside you” she says and kisses you roughly.

You let out a whimper, which fuels her further.

She takes off her pants and, in a frenzy, tosses them away to some corner of the room, revealing the strap-on she'd been wearing.

“Y-you had that all along?” you ask.

“Fuck yeah, i was just waiting pretty girl, gosh youre so….fuck” she rasps out and spreads your legs and leans down and kisses down from your stomach.

She reaches the elastic of your panties and dogs her teeth into it and tears it off, the elastic digging into your skin a little painfully before the cool breeze hits your cunt.

She takes a long whiff and presses her tongue and takes a good hard lick and digs into it like her last meal.

Your brain has gone completely numb, you can only whimper, whine, writhe, and dig your hands into the bedsheets. She reaches for your outstretched hands and brings them behind your back and keeps them there, the other hand gripping your hip as she ravages you completely.

“FUCK FUCK….MmMh god” you rasp out struggling to catch a brak.

She can feel you are close, her attention goe to your clit as she gives you a few licks and as soon as you're about to release, she pulls away.

“Not so fucking quick baby” she grunts and slaps your pussy with her strap on and rubs t between your folds. She does this a few times before pushing all the way in, making you cry out loudly.

“This is a beach cottage baby, no ones gonna hear you, fuck…..youre perfect” she pounds into you and you feel the silicon kiss your womb. She presses down onto your lower stomach, making you grunt loudly and arch your back. She pins both your arms above you and aggressively pounds like there's no tomorrow.

You swear she could get you pregnant with like 100 babies.

With the way she was thrusting into you and her lewd moans and grunts made your eyes roll back. She then releases your hands and holds them together with one, and the other one goes to your throat as she tightens her grip, and you can tell she's close by the way she's getting off with the pleasure of seeing you wrecked.

“Fuck..gonna….mmh-...such a pretty pussy, all mine, all mine to fuck and use. That useless dick you call a husband could never take you so well” she grunts into your ears, her drool dripping on your earlobe, making it tickle.

“Sev…Sev,” you cry out.

“Gonna cum? Gonna cum over my dick?” she asks, not stopping the assault on your pussy

“Yes…yes please,” you cry out, but she doesn't stop.

“Go on, cum for me baby” she says as her thrusts turn deep and slow

You release and you swear your whole soul left your body, you tremble and your pussy spasms around her faux cock. She pulls out but the way your pussy was sucking her in, she had to do it slowly. She pulls out with an obscene squelching sound before she laps up at your juices; even that felt heavenly.

“Fuck so delicious” she says before giving your pussy a kiss and lays on top of you, squishing you down beneath her musculr frame. You huff and bury your face in her neck and wrap your arms around her waist.

She then gets off from on top of you and pulls you in like her little spoon. You pull the sheets over yourself and her and fall asleep after an exhausting day.

This was the best sleep of your life.

divider by: @anitalenia

tags : @djstinkyfartz @sevikalover824 @daughterofthemoons-stuff

comment to be added to the taglist

[cailinsblog]

Autumn in Monaco- lando norris

Lando Norris x reader

Please repost

Masterlist

The air in Monaco had taken on that familiar crispness, signaling the arrival of fall, even in this glamorous coastal city. The leaves on the trees lining the quiet streets had turned shades of amber, gold, and deep crimson, creating a picturesque scene against the azure backdrop of the Mediterranean. It was the perfect morning for a cozy coffee date, and that’s exactly what you and Lando Norris had planned.

Lando, your boyfriend and Formula 1 driver, was often busy with races, media events, and training, but today was one of those rare, slower days. You both had decided to take a stroll through the quieter parts of Monaco and grab coffee at a little café nestled away from the bustling center. It was your special spot—the one you loved for its charm, its warm atmosphere, and the way the barista always seemed to remember your order. Plus, the sight of fallen leaves dancing along the cobbled streets made everything feel like a scene from a romantic movie.

“Ready to go?” Lando asked, standing by the front door of your shared apartment, dressed in a casual hoodie and jeans, looking effortlessly handsome. His car keys dangled from his hand, but you shook your head with a smile.

“I was thinking we could walk,” you suggested, adjusting your cozy scarf. “It’s such a beautiful day out.”

Lando grinned, that playful sparkle in his eyes. “Walking it is, then. Let’s make the most of this perfect fall weather.”

As you stepped outside, the cool air nipped at your cheeks, but it wasn’t unpleasant. The sun was shining, casting a golden glow over the colorful leaves that blanketed the ground. Lando took your hand as you started down the street, his fingers warm against yours. You couldn’t help but smile at the simplicity of it all—the two of you, together, with no rush and no interruptions.

Monaco had a different energy during the off-season, quieter and more peaceful, and you loved moments like this when you could just enjoy each other’s company without the constant hum of the racing world. As you walked, you pointed out the vibrant leaves and the way they crunched underfoot, laughing as Lando kicked a small pile, sending them swirling in the air.

“I think fall is my favorite season,” you mused as you looked around. “It’s just so cozy.”

Lando chuckled softly. “Yeah, but you say that about every season. You love summer when we’re at the beach, and winter when we’re by the fire.”

You laughed, nudging him playfully. “Okay, fine. But can’t I love all the seasons?”

He smiled, squeezing your hand. “You can love whatever you want. Just as long as I get to be there with you.”

The walk to the café was serene, the sounds of the city muted by the quiet streets and the soft rustling of the leaves. As you turned a corner, the small café came into view. It was a charming little place with ivy crawling up its stone façade and a few wooden tables outside, though they were empty today because of the chill in the air. Inside, the warm glow from the windows beckoned, promising the smell of fresh pastries and the sound of gentle conversation.

Lando held the door open for you as you stepped inside, the bell above the door chiming softly. The familiar scent of freshly brewed coffee filled the air, and the cozy warmth immediately made you feel at home. The café was quiet this morning, just a few locals reading newspapers or working on laptops, and your usual table by the window was free.

You both settled in, and Lando went to the counter to order your drinks. You watched him from your seat, your heart swelling with affection as he flashed his charming smile at the barista, engaging in a light conversation like he always did. Even in the simplest moments, Lando had this way of making everything feel special.

A few minutes later, he returned with two steaming cups of coffee—yours with a touch of cinnamon, just the way you liked it, and his plain and strong. He set them down on the table with a flourish, as if he were presenting the most luxurious drinks in all of Monaco.

“Voilà, mademoiselle,” he teased, his British accent a bit exaggerated as he sat down across from you.

“Merci, monsieur,” you replied with a laugh, taking the warm cup in your hands and feeling the heat seep through your fingers.

You both sat there, sipping your coffee and watching the world go by outside the window. The leaves continued to fall, swirling in the gentle breeze, and you couldn’t help but feel like this was the perfect moment. The kind of moment that made you pause and appreciate how lucky you were to have someone like Lando in your life.

“This is nice,” Lando said after a while, his voice soft. “I feel like we don’t get enough of this.”

You nodded, meeting his gaze. His brown eyes were warm and filled with the same contentment you felt. “Yeah, I love these quiet mornings with you.”

He reached across the table, taking your hand in his again. “I know it’s hard with how busy things can get sometimes, but I really love doing normal things with you. Like this.”

Your heart fluttered at his words. “Me too, Lando. It’s the little moments that make everything else worth it.”

He smiled, a genuine, soft smile that melted you completely. “You always know exactly what to say.”

The two of you spent the next hour chatting about everything and nothing—about his upcoming races, about the plans you had for the rest of the fall season, and about how much you were both looking forward to the holidays. Every now and then, Lando would make a joke, or you’d laugh about some old memory, and it felt like time had slowed down, giving you both the chance to simply enjoy being together.

Eventually, as the sun dipped lower in the sky and the café began to fill with more people, you both decided it was time to head home. Lando insisted on paying, of course, and after saying goodbye to the barista, you stepped back out into the cool afternoon air.

As you walked hand in hand back through the quiet streets, the soft crunch of leaves underfoot, you couldn’t help but feel incredibly lucky. Being with Lando, sharing these simple moments, was everything you could have ever hoped for.

Back at the apartment, the warmth enveloped you once again, and as you settled onto the couch, Lando pulled you close, wrapping his arm around you. Outside, the autumn leaves continued to fall, painting the world in golden hues, but inside, everything felt just right.

“Thank you for today,” you whispered, resting your head on his shoulder.

He pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “Thank you for always being my favorite part of it.”

And in that moment, wrapped in his arms, with the world quiet and peaceful outside, you knew that these little moments, shared with Lando, were what made life so beautiful.

[peachetteprice]

A headcanon for Price of annoyed neighbors/bully to lovers? Maybe she gets in the way of a nice bird he was scoping out and discovers he enjoys the chase of someone who has more domestic mama bear tendencies? Love your works by the way! Beautiful!!!

I took John, neighbours, bird-watching, and enemies-to-lovers and ran with it. This is not in headcanon format - it's a teensy-weensy fic! Thank you for your patience, my lovely - let me know if I did your idea justice!

After the death of your father, you relocate to a sunny townhouse in a small city in the midlands. There’s an ample-sized back garden, fenced, leading onto an enclosed lake with a sign that says ‘no fishing’.

When feeding your first load of washing onto the line to dry, you hear the shutter of a film camera, and peek over your fence to spot a gentleman reclined in a chair, spying a bird in the trees. He seems relaxed, and the birds pose in front of his lens with ease – you wonder exactly how delicate they appear in his photographs.

You think little of him – other than that the sunlight brings out the specks of grey in his beard – and flap your towel as the next item on the line.

It scares away the birds.

From that point on, to make use of the sunshine, you make a habit of drying your clothes via the washing line. It becomes routine. The man prepares himself for the photograph he wishes to snap, you flap your towels, the birds flutter away, and his resentment towards your presence in the house next door compounds, until one day, you get the urge to peek over the rear fence, to no avail. No beach chair, no man in the beach chair, no sign on the edge of the lake that says ‘no fishing’. In its stead, there’s a poster tacked onto the face of a tree, and you open your fence gate to view it – in bold Merriweather font, it reads;

‘Preparation for Demolition begins: 27/01/2024’.

When you knock on your neighbour’s door to ask about the sign, the man is the one to open it. His name is John. He’s dressed handsomely in a flannel gown and slippers, clutching beneath one armpit the morning newspaper, folded precisely down the middle.

The council wants to fill the lake in with dirt and modify the land directly behind it to make way for additional housing, he notifies you begrudgingly, and you question if that’s why he hasn’t been out to take photos of any birds as of recent. He doesn’t reply and instead hands you a leaflet. There’s a town meeting within the week, a chance for residents to oppose the new site.

You attend. John doesn’t. You deliberate with the attendees and the representatives of the council, yet no conclusion is brought about, so as a collective, you make an appointment to deliberate again the next week.

When not in heated discussion, the shower in your upstairs bathroom runs cold, and that’s when you learn, instead of using his time to photograph birds, he now uses it to take hourly showers at the exact time as you take yours, at eight in the evening every other evening, and you're certain it isn’t by coincidence alone.

Council meetings continue week-after-week, creeping into January when the site is set to be filled in. Your shower time decreases to five minutes on a Wednesday and Saturday, for it’s the only times John is out of the house for you to get a moment to yourself, and a silent rage festers within your soul, curated specifically for the man next door who likes fried eggs in the morning, late night reruns of classic films and midnight strolls.

John doesn’t show up at any of the meetings, which you find odd, and you take to his doorstep to confront him about the reason why. He says he doesn’t think it’s necessary. You question him on this. He says he doesn’t think he needs to give his time up to a cause that has sufficient backing from locals. You question him further. He doesn’t think it is right to support a cause that has already been taken away from him by ignorant neighbours.

You don’t speak to him for days.

He exits his house to leave for work at half-six in the morning, and you leave the house at six, just to spite the additional ten minutes or so he might otherwise be able to stay sleeping. The council calls for a vote on the new site. As a last-ditch effort, in a blind panic, not wanting the next four years of your life to be dedicated to the sound of jackhammers and cement mixers, you storm out of your front door, along the pavement and up the steps to his house. You desperately need his help – he has photographic evidence of the beauty the lake holds, which certainly must account for something. He isn’t sure what help you mean, but you ask for it anyway (and apologise for ruining his bird-watching in the process).

Twelve residents attend the meeting. You all await the verdict on tenterhooks. At the last second, right when the commissioner of the project himself calls time, John shows up. He brings with him his photographs and the rest of the town’s citizens. The young, the old, expecting mothers and elderly couples who have lived in the town from their own infancy are all in attendance, and each eligible one of them signs the petition to remove the greedy corporate hands of Westminster from your little town.

Success.

The demolition is opposed – in its wake, it becomes a horticultural ground for wildlife, the local church during ceremonies and school trips for little tots in Reception and nursery. The town even gets its own segment in Countryfile. John decides to take up bird-watching again, photography included, and finds you on his doorstep, one evening, standing exactly as you stood the first time you met him. He draws in a breath – ready for you to chew him out. Instead, you hand him a tray of cupcakes that spell ‘thank you’ in green frosting, and he jokes that he doesn’t like frosting or indeed, cupcakes, but takes them anyway.

He asks about your next project, somewhat amused – it's an expression you have never once seen on his face before. The rejection of the demolition was a success, the local paper is pleased, and the town is seemingly reinvigorated with a sense of wonderment at what the boundaries of their new-found power could possibly be. You tell him it’s a secret.

Your next project?

Find out exactly what kind of a man John Price is.

| Masterlist |

[tired-chimera]

Albatrio headcanons because I say so (all canon btw trust me I’m grizzlyplays)

Jay:

- she braids hair when she’s nervous. Especially in the Black Sea, Gillion and Chip have been walking around with little braids in their hair and Jay has an intricately braided bun with feathers, beads and wire intertwined with her hair.

- she loves baked goods. Every island they visit a small, wrapped box of regional pastries will show up in the kitchen. Her favourite has been a warm, iced cinnamon log from Joaldo.

- She reads the newspaper.

- She speaks primordial with a similar accent to Caspian. Since the water genasi are so nomadic, it would make sense for her to have teachers breeze through on short contracts to support their tribes, so she picked it up from her various teachers.

- she had a flower garden with Ayva before she passed. The garden became Jays passion project, a way to cope with the loss of her sister. She converted it into a memorial, with a small fountain and a bed of forget-me-nots. While Jay has been out at sea, May has been using some Druidic magic to keep the garden alive.

- she used to have cat named “Sugar”. It turned out to be a Quasit belonging to the local warlock.

- Jay collects sea glass

- she has aphantasia.

Chip:

- he has frequent nightmares about his crew and co-captains dying. It is not uncommon to hear quiet footsteps around the Albatross in the wee hours of the morning, as he checks the breath of each member of his crew.

- He doesnt remember his parents. But he has given them names, in his head, just in case they didn’t give him up. He’s told Reuben about that. He called it dumb. Chip never told anyone else.

- he has a stash of non-perishables in the floorboards of the captains quarters. Just in case.

- sorry these are all so sad but hhhhh he has body dysmorphia. He’s never felt “good-looking” and no one’s ever really told him, so he has a lot of anxiety about his appearance and uses the bandana constantly. This was made worse with his undeath.

- May cooked Chip a steak when they were at her tavern c.a ep 98, to help him and Jay decompress after the stress of Gillion’s near-death. It’s the best meal he’s ever eaten.

- He loves crabs. They remind him of when Arlin used to take him crab-spotting in the southern sea beaches. When they got back to Canella, Chip took Ollie too.

- Reuben used to teach him sea shanties he’d heard in and around the taverns by the port on Skullslice. He remembers all of them.

- there were a good 3 years from when chip was 9-11 where he wasn’t hugged once.

- he’s really good at darts.

- Chip has cried in front of four people in his entire life: Arlin, Reuben, Jay and Gillion. He has only ever really lost it to Reuben though. It was on his 14th birthday when he momentarily forgot what Arlin looked like.

- he has a lip ring. That’s it.

Gillion:

- Gillion would love Spider-Man.

- he really enjoys spicy, fermented, and salty foods. They remind him of home.

- Gillion didn’t talk for 3 days after shattering his Callnch.

- the elders wanted him to learn more languages, but it was a struggle for him to pick up common, so they abandoned the idea. Gillion still tries to learn celestial though, managing some very broken phrases from Chip.

- He loves pillows, but they can’t really be a thing in the undersea, so hes been working with Jay on making a waterproof pillow for him and pretzel.

- His coral gives him headaches.

- He suffers from asthma and joint pain due to the change in his environment

- Gillion had a small collection of mini stone leviathans he had been carving his entire life. He was almost done with Pelegus before he was exiled

- he has a love of history. It was his favourite subject growing up.

- He had so many imaginary friends.

- he and Edyn made up a secret language to communicate to each other without the elders knowing. He remembers every word.

[xmintpiex]

The Jingle of Mermaid Beach - sfw, Rin Itoshi x f!reader wc:1212

The childhood crush that Rin Itoshi still clings to. His first love. You.

content: childhood summertime memories, light angst

It would be easy, so easy, for Rin to ask his mother what your name was. To ask who the little girl was that was his best friend the summers before he turned 10. Back when summers meant something more than sun burns and sweat.

The summers spent right on the clear blue ocean, a little bit away from hustle and bustle of the city. The sound of seagulls, the endless shimmer of the sea visible from his grandfather's old wooden veranda. The distant fish boats, little orange lights creating a city in the darkness of night.

Sae's favorite football nestled in the warm sand, forgotten to shaved ice, sandcastles, and playing in the refreshing ocean waves. Laughter and the sun shining down so lovingly. Sae on his right and you on his left, the sand dark and wet and sinking beneath your feet as the three of you ran between the lively waves.

Sae's back a guiding beacon, like how it always used to be, waiting for the two of you to catch up to him on your walk along the shore. You and Rin walking side by side, hand in hand, a little sticky and wet from the salty water but happy. So happy. The sweet scrunch of your nose, the crinkling of your eyes in the vibrant sunset as the two of you trailed after Sae. Not wanting to part ways for the day again, making plans for what to do the next day, making promises to wake up extra early so the two of you could play more.

The soft glow of the sun rising reflected in the gentle waves, the world turned sweet and pink like candy as the two of you met at your favorite spot at the beach. A secret spot only for the two of you, at the old painted mermaid statue that one of the older residents had made ages before either of you had been born, based on an antiquated local myth. The mermaid's stone smile, her flowing hair and handfuls of glossy painted pearls so captivating, especially for you.

Your fingers carefully trailing over the smooth stone that formed the scales her tail as you told Rin how you wished you could be like her. How you laughed so brightly when he told you that you were way better than some worn down statue (that you couldn't be a mermaid like her, because then you couldn't stay with him). Your hand reaching to hold his, ready to go play on the twinkling shore.

His name always said with a smile on your lips, beckoning him. He would always follow.

The delicate jingle of the windchime, the one his grandmother had painted light blue shells on long, long ago, always dancing and swirling in the cooling sea breeze (The windchime that now sat in that little box under Rin's bed, wrapped in old newspaper and bubble wrap. It had no place in his apartment but it was never forgotten). How it always captured your eyes, your toothy giggles as you attempted to mimic it's movements, twirling barefoot in the sandy grass, your wet hair fluttering in the wind.

His favorite dance to watch, cheeks red and heart beating too loudly in his chest. Letting you pull him off from his spot on the veranda to join you. His feet clumsy (back then, but not anymore. Would you be happy? To know that he learned to dance for you?). Always hand in hand. Capturing his heart before he even knew the name for such a feeling.

Why?

Why couldn't he remember your name?

When he remembered everything else about you.

Your favorite color, the vegetable you disliked the most. Your favorite animal. What made you scared, clinging to his arm like he could protect you even when he had been so small (he could protect you so easily now). The shape of your fingers, each and every little shape your lips would make, the way your eyes looked at sunrise and sunset. What type of house you wanted to live in when the two of you were grown ups, together (how easily he could buy you whichever house you wished now). How you wanted your future house to have a windchime just like the one Rin's grandparents had.

How could he have forgotten your name?

How?

When you took up such a large portion of his heart.

When you were his last thought before sleep, your smile the best remedy to soothe his racing thoughts, when the anger sometimes made it a little too hard to breathe. You, who he always thought of whenever he looked out at the crowds of the stadiums he played in. Did you ever watch him score a goal on the television? See his photo in advertisements and magazines? Did you smile with recognition? With something more?

He could ask his mom. She knew everyone that used to live in that old neighborhood.

But he wouldn't. He couldn't.

How did you look now? The same? Or so different that even the light of your eyes was changed?

He wanted to know.

But he didn't.

Would your eternal smile, kept so soft and warm in his mind, twist and turn into something harsh and unfamiliar? Like everything else? Tearing the gentle stitching that held his heart together for all these years, only there by your imaginary hands, your loving words in his dreams.

Did you cheer him on? Tell people you had once promised to marry the now world famous football player Rin Itoshi? Did you still hold onto that promise, even now?

Surely not.

(Surely not, he always told himself, despite always believing in such whenever he was on the field. His victories always dedicated to you.)

Your name blurry, like all the sleepy afternoons spent sprawled out together beneath the shade, only the little jingle of the windchime remaining clear even after all these years. Your smile. How happily you said his name. The warmth of your shoulder against his.

That once bright, colorful mermaid statue that marked your meeting spot on the beach now left to peel and decay in the forgotten corner of the new construction site. The once glossy stone pearls now grey and dull.

There was no way he would ever see you again. (A thought of relief but also anguish).

He lived a whole ocean away from Kamakura now.

There was no way he would spot you on the sidewalk, your bright eyes, your dazzling smile. There was no way you would call his name out so sweetly, adoringly, putting your life on hold to run into his arms.

He wasn't that little boy who had held your heart, who you had given sweet little kisses on the cheek to, making promise after promise to in the warm embrace of the sun.

He wasn't that little boy anymore, now twisted and sharpened, too tainted and rotten to be apart of your world.

Undeserving.

Yet, he still kept that windchime safe under his bed, wrapped and preserved for the silly miracle he clung to. (Sitting hand in hand on a veranda built only for the two of you, the windchime jingling in the breeze, his heart drenched in the sunlight that is your love.)

[toronto-credit-card-processing]

Mayoral Hopeful Brad Bradford Robs Beach Residents of Parking on Pine Crescent

Authorize the removal of the overnight on-street permit parking program on Pine Crescent, between Balsam Avenue and Glen Manor Road East Authorize the removal of the overnight on-street permit parking program on Pine Glen Road, between Glen Manor Drive East and Pine Crescent City Of Toronto Report Other Media Other Sites Other Sites TV Mayoral Hopeful Brad Bradford Robs Beach Residents of…

[queen-street-news]

Mayoral Hopeful Brad Bradford Robs Beach Residents of Parking on Pine Crescent

Authorize the removal of the overnight on-street permit parking program on Pine Crescent, between Balsam Avenue and Glen Manor Road East Authorize the removal of the overnight on-street permit parking program on Pine Glen Road, between Glen Manor Drive East and Pine Crescent City Of Toronto Report Other Media Other Sites Other Sites TV Mayoral Hopeful Brad Bradford Robs Beach Residents of…

[seat-safety-switch]

You can complain about most municipal services. Everyone knows I do, from my tragically short run as the newspaper's op-ed editor, to my aborted runs for mayor, governor, and chancellor of the modern art museum. That's not to mention when I visit the local bars to eat free peanuts and watch hockey, bitching loudly about local politics the entire time without buying anything. You can't be down on the firefighters, though.

As someone who has a lot of direct and indirect experience dealing with flames, I know that I can rely on the firefighters even when my own honed skills and equipment fail me. For instance, their trucks often are able to summon a vast quantity of water, much more than my squirt bottle full of rainfall can muster. They're always there when I screw up.

Recently, though, the primitive greed-heads in government have decided not to give them a raise, because they want to "keep taxes low." Here's a free bar rant for you: taxes are imaginary. Money is made up. We should be giving much more of it to the people who run into burning buildings. People like Bob Peplinski, the brave soldier of hot-gases removal who risked his life to deal with that cracked brake line I knew was routed a little bit too close to that hot exhaust last Tuesday on my way to work. He saved most of the car! Didn't even ask for a tip, which is more than I can say for the pizza boy who ran over the neighbour's mailbox.

Bob should be given as much money as he needs. He should have a big-assed pension, so that he has ample retirement time to sit on the beach and miss the adrenaline rush of putting out a tire fire that I probably also started. It's time to do the right thing, and raise taxes on the selfish megacorporations like General Motors, who can't even make a car that goes sixty-five years of deferred maintenance without bursting into flames just because I ran it out of oil and somehow shot a valve all the way through the exhaust piping, out the hole in the muffler, and into the fuel tank.

I'm doing my own part keeping these folks on their toes. They'd probably get bored without me, and start setting fire to houses or something instead. It takes a village, people.

[peariote]

sugar mommy!tashi bc i need her. thank you for breaking me out of my slump once again ms tashi. ms duncan. wrote this in one night, so any errors are unintentional. i can't seem to stop imbuing unnecessary amounts of worldbuilding into every single thing i write. 941 words.

Somehow, some sixteen months after taking the internship of your dreams, you ended up here—sprawled on a beach for the second day in a row, baking comfortably under the Tahitian sun after quitting said internship the week before.

Tashi didn't intend on ending up with a sugar baby. Didn't intend to be hoodwinked by a young woman ten years her junior.

Doesn't mean she didn't kickstart the process, however unintentionally.

So she showed up to your little corner cubicle eleven months ago, tugging you from your laptop by the collar of your blouse and taking you out to a far-too expensive lunch. She doesn't exactly know why, either.

She was intending to take lunch, anyway, but usually she'd just have her assistant have it delivered, still steaming, to her high-floor office. Sit, alone in the white room decorated with her accomplishments, and eat as she kept working. The magazine waited for no one, after all, and she had a deadline.

Yet, as she'd checked the employee logs sent to her every day, detailing work hours and project progress collected by her subordinates, she'd noticed far too many hours being worked by one sweet little intern.

She'd only met you once before, when she'd dropped by to introduce herself during intern orientation—as is routine. Your smile that day was different than the one shown in your employee photo. Shyer, almost bashful at the handshake she'd culled you into and at the fingers she'd strummed along your palm during the lengthy release.

She'd hoped you'd do well. It seems you were doing a bit too well. You'd put in at-home work, contributed meaningful things to projects far above your pay grade, and smashed through every task will increasingly ruthless efficiency.

You reminded her of her, a million years ago. Crashing through barriers and putting in an unprecedented amount of hours. But it would catch up to you. It caught up to her, one day, when she was fifteen.

It's not a long story, or a particularly important one to anyone. It barely even headlined the local news, even in their small town—Local Tennis Player Passes Out from Exhaustion in the Hot Sun was ran on page 4B, tucked deep into the newspaper and only given a small segment in the sports section. But it was important to her.

It marked a moment where her ambitions were not stunted, but contained. She couldn't practice twenty, thirty hours a week and compete—she'd harm herself. Firm earfuls from both her worried parents and her stern coach confirmed it.

It changed the way she worked, the way she lived. She still watched her tapes over about a trillion times—but she did it relaxed and in bed, instead of on the court as she obsessively attempted to hammer out a flaw in her footwork. She carved out times for actual meals instead of protein bars and fruit.

She wanted to make sure you don't do the same thing to yourself.

This is how she ends up leaning into your cubicle, nose wrinkling at the impersonal area. There's barely any note that someone even spends time here, other than the barest hints of a gifted plant—price sticker still molded to the cheap plastic pot. Hm. It's definitely not suitable for any worker, much less one that puts in as many hours as you do.

"Hello?" She calls out with a quiet murmur of your name, voice curling in the air and seeping past the cushion of your headphones.

She sees the embarrassment on your face. She can practically taste the confusion. What's Ms. Duncan doing here? The surprise on your face makes the slightest smirk tick her lips.

"I was wondering if you'd like to go to lunch with me today."

An unexpected proposition. But who are you to say no?

She'd picked a little vegetarian spot she'd frequented. Based on the charges she's seen on your cafeteria card for meals and such, you're like her—not the biggest fan of meat.

You both settle in to a little corner booth. The angle doesn't force you to meet her eyes; it seems like you've been avoiding that, head tucked almost permanently to your chest. Out of awkwardness or embarrassment, she doesn't know, but she'd like to rectify it.

First, though, pleasantries. The head chef's already ambling over, arms outstretched and a smile curling her face. A nice older woman, with greying roots (she swears she'll let it grow out this time) that whips up the best pasta in the city. She's come out to take their order personally.

"Anything for an old friend and her date." The stressed syllable and the rather unsubtle wink she sends her way is not lost on her. Or you, it seems, she muses to herself as your head dips further.

She'd been rather invested in her life since her divorce. The thought makes her feel the lightness of her ring finger for the first time in months.

No worry, though. She won't let a nosy (if well meaning) friend ruin her date lunch meeting and attempts to pull you out of her shell.

Once the chef had left—but not without shooting her another wink—she is quick to engage you in conversation and sink into the lull of your chatter. She wants to see if the witty, smart person she's seeing in your work and hearing from others is really the truth.

You were, she muses, months later, laying next to you on that beach. And even more than that.

Your ring finger's looking a little bare. She'd never had reservations about buying you jewelry before, though.

these were meant to be headcanons but turned into a blurb. might still write the headcanons though. maybe.