#Round White Marble Top Side Tables

[penguinhomeglobal]

Stylish eye catching designs are Elegant and Minimalist and go well with a variety of settings. Perfect additions to bedrooms, living rooms, work space for laptop, computer, office and home.

[princessaxoxo]

⟡₊ ⊹ 𝒶 𝓉𝒶𝓈𝓉ℯ ℴ𝒻 𝓈𝓊𝑔𝒶𝓇: 𝓅𝒶𝓇𝓉 𝐼𝐼 ⟡₊ ⊹

sugar daddy!henry cavill x burlesque dancer!curvy reader

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚

❥ 𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺: an enticing encounter at a burlesque club leads to an interesting offer.

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚

❥ 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺: After surprising you with a day out, Henry takes you out for an enjoyable evening and goes to watch you dance.

❥ 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: 18+, teasing, flirting, kissing, vulgar language, lil bit of fluff

❥ 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: 2.5k+

❥ 𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚

Not long after your lunch with Henry, he requested your address for Thursday evening. At first, you were skeptical, but after your agreement with Henry and agreeing to go out with him, you happily obliged. 

Unexpectedly, he gave you a call the day before your night out with him, asking if he could drop by. As this was all new to you, you nervously stuttered out a yes. After ending the call, you looked down at the outfit you were wearing; it wasn’t special, as you planned to stay in and figure out what to wear for tomorrow. 

Along with your worn-out college t-shirt and bootcut leggings, your hair looked a little unkempt. In what seemed like a very short amount of time, you quickly combed out your hair and styled it as cutely as you could. After going through your closet, you chose a pair of pants that accentuated your posterior and a tight blue v-neck top. 

Before you knew it, you heard a car pull into your driveway, and as you peered out your window, Henry was getting out of his car. Not long after the doorbell rang, you walked to the mirror for one final check to make sure you looked decent before going downstairs to open your front door.

"Good morning," he said with a smile, and you smiled back. "I wanted to come by and ask if you had a gown for tomorrow night already."

When you embarrassingly told him no, he said, "Let's go buy you one then, wherever you decide."

Anywhere you decide? That might include a thousand shops—places you never would have imagined yourself able to shop for clothing. Naturally, you replied okay and asked him to stay inside for a little while so you could finish getting dressed and go.

After putting his hand on your lower back and guiding you into his vehicle, Henry proceeded to his side to get in the car. "Which store do you want to go to?" Since he was more than prepared to spend money on you for what you desired, you reasoned with yourself: Here is your chance. You mentioned the most expensive store you've wanted to visit for a very long time, without hesitation. "Perfect," he stated simply.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

As Henry opened the door for you and you walked in, you became overwhelmed. Inside were white walls with marble flooring and shelves lined with purses that were arranged one after the other. Little round tables with decorations were positioned in the center. As you proceeded farther inside the shop, you noticed that the jewelry was housed in cases on the opposite side, right across from the purses.

Someone from the staff approached you and asked if you needed assistance. Saying nothing more than "a new dress," you were led by her to the recently arrived dresses. How could you choose just one? You wondered, because they were all so beautiful.

There were several colored heels arranged next to the dresses.

The associate added, "Just let me know if you need any help," and turned to go.

Henry asked whether you spotted anything you liked as you looked over the different gowns. Honestly, there were a lot of items you liked. Saying "yes," you started choosing the gowns that most appealed to you. Henry would always get the item for you when you went to grab it.

You had selected four gowns and were prepared to try them on. Gorgeous shades of pink, burgundy, gold, and silver. One by one, you were finding it quite difficult to choose. Henry was waiting for you as you emerged from the dressing room.

"Which one have you chosen?" You sighed in response to Henry's question. "I couldn't decide."

With a confused look on his face, he asked where the dresses you picked out were. As you pointed at the associate, he walked directly toward them. You weren’t sure the words exchanged between the two, but he came back with all four of the dresses you selected. “Have you had the chance to look at the accessories and shoes yet?”

When you told him no, he got an associate to show you the best accessories and shoes in the store.

Once more, it was difficult to decide what you wanted. You chose from a plethora of different colored heels. Regarding the black pair you were wearing at the time, you questioned the associate, "What do you think?" She said the heels looked great right away, so you didn't really believe her.

It occurred to you; perhaps you should get Henry's input. As you turned to face him again, you noticed that he was already looking at you. He began walking toward you when you made a signal for him to come closer.

“How do they look?” Fortunately, you had previously gone and had your toes done. If you hadn't, you would be self-conscious about how they looked. He briefly looked at the shoes before returning his gaze to you and staring at you for a little while longer. "Unable to decide?" You chuckled at his question. "Basically."

"Black." With his eyes fixed on yours, he declared, "I favor the black heels the most."

"Take every pair of heels to the front as well," he stated, turning to face the associate.

There was a part of you that started to feel guilty because this was undoubtedly over a thousand dollars. "I want you to look at the accessories and jewelry."

At first glance, you were drawn to a set of silver drop earrings and knew you just had to have them. As you browsed the accessories, you noticed that the long mesh burgundy gloves would go perfectly with the burgundy dress.

The moment Henry saw that you were interested in the burgundy gloves, he turned back to the matching dress. And it occurred to him that he needed to purchase a tie that complemented your attire.

When you were done and came back to him, he led you to the register, where you were shocked to see him pay for the outfits, shoes, and accessories. "What made you do that?" you questioned. "Since you were unable to choose, I want you to have them all."

"Thank you, Henry."

At the sound of his name falling from your lips, it sounded angelic. He realized he wanted to hear you say his name as he pounded into you.

It was becoming more difficult by the moment for him to keep his composure while staring at you. "Baby doll, you really need to get used to this."

A blush emerged, and the two of you started to exit the shop.

With his hands full of your belongings, he still managed to hold the door open for you. Henry didn’t want the day to end just yet. "Would you like to have lunch? I know this restaurant right down the street." Lunch did seem appealing because you realized you hadn't eaten anything yet. "Yes, lunch sounds great."

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

On the morning of your date with Henry, you were nervous and excited. You went about your morning as normal, but from the moment you woke up until it was time to start getting dressed, butterflies had been swarming around in your stomach. You had made the decision to curl your hair in waves as you started getting ready early.

Luckily, your hair behaved itself and looked fantastic. Once your hair was done, you started applying makeup. You wanted to avoid going for an overly dramatic look since you chose the burgundy dress. It would look nice to go with a neutral look, adding eyeliner, and wear matching burgundy lips.

With every step of your makeup routine, you took your time.

Once you were done, you unhung your dress and slipped into it, doing your hardest to shimmy it past your posterior and thighs until it was fully up and you could get your arms through the straps.

It was ten minutes to six when you looked at your clock and realized how quickly the time had gone by. Quickly adding the lengthy drop silver earrings, you quickly slipped your hands into the long mesh gloves and placed your feet into the black six-inch heels.

A knock at your front door caught your attention as you were taking one last glance in the mirror before reaching for your purse.

After taking a deep breath to ease your nerves, you exited your room to go and greet Henry.

Henry was taken aback when he saw you. He was at a loss for words. In every aspect, you looked stunning. After that, he was drawn to the way your body fit into the dress, your curves, and the way your breasts were perfectly pushed up. He wanted to hold both of them in his hands and kiss each nipple, expressing his desire for both.

"Shall we?" Henry asked, holding out his hand for you to take. Putting your hand in his, you said, "Yes."

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

Henry guided you into the restaurant with his hand on your lower back. The interior was magnificent. A light blue hue with clouds was painted on the ceiling. The restaurant featured gold round tables arranged around the room, with a chandelier suspended in the center of the space. Every table had champagne glasses, and the entire restaurant was filled with the sound of a soft but beautiful melody.

Henry was conversing with the hostess as you were preoccupied with examining the restaurant. You were soon drawn away from your attention at the restaurant by the sound of his breath close to your ear. "Let’s go."

Henry walked behind you until you arrived at the table together. He stopped and pulled your seat out for you. "Thank you."

Henry asked for wine, and it was brought right away to the table.

He had his hair slicked back and his beard freshly trimmed. A blush and a chuckle appeared as you glanced over his gray suit and noticed that his tie matched your outfit. "My dress and your tie match." 

He stated, "I know, I planned on it," without lowering his gaze from where it was fixed on you. "I saw your interest in these and knew you would wear the burgundy dress," he continued, taking hold of your left hand.

You thought to yourself, Did he really pay that much attention? That would have gone unnoticed by most. You also didn't expect he would give you such meticulous attention simply because he was your sugar daddy.

"You look absolutely beautiful, if I hadn't said it already tonight," Henry went on to say.

A blush appeared; it seemed that each time he spoke to you, he made you blush, and you were growing to love it.

"You look handsome, and thank you."

Similar to the first time, you both settled into a comfortable conversion. You soon realized that perhaps you shouldn't have worn the gloves when dinner arrived, but Henry grasped your hands and asked, "May I?" After you nodded, he took off your gloves and planted a kiss on your hand.

Heated waves from his kiss penetrated your entire body. And you thanked him breathlessly.

It was not what he had purchased you or where he had taken you that brought you fulfillment, but rather the fact that everything between you two felt natural. Something you hadn't experienced before.

Your curiosity was piqued by the suggestion, "There is a bar outside that overlooks the city if you'd like to go see it," and you enthusiastically agreed, albeit a little tipsy.

He was closer this time, his body against your back, unlike before.

As soon as you two got there, he led you up to the railing, and you gasped at the view of the city. You began to intentionally rub your ass against him, still feeling the heat of his body behind you.

Henry's slacks tightened as his cock hardened, and he leaned forward. "Are you happy with this view?" Henry sensed you rubbing your ass against him once again as you said, "Yes, it's breathtaking."

Henry whispered, "Yes, it is," as he looked at you. Then you felt his lips lingering over your neck and your hair being pushed to the side. You spun around and gave him a glance. You wanted to feel the softness of his lips against yours.

"Kiss me," you said.

The kiss was hungry; you hadn't even realized that you'd been driving him wild the whole night. As he started to lick along your neck and suck on your sweet spot, his hand gripped one of your breasts. Tiny whimpers began to escape your mouth.

Henry and your attention were diverted as someone suddenly cleared their throat. "I apologize, but you aren't allowed to do that here." Henry and you both began to laugh at the employee’s comment.

He nodded in agreement as you said, "I think we should go." 

As you were on your front porch, laughing and nodding your head, trying to remove your lipstick from his face, Henry stated, "I'll be in touch, and if you need anything, call me," before he planted a final kiss on your cheek and turned to leave.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

"Okay, sugar, it’s fixed; now hurry and get your pretty self into it.” The seamstress at the club rushed you to the dressing room. The diamond one piece that you were wearing tonight for your performance accentuated your curves; it was also paired with a diamond garter belt and shimmer stockings.

As you walked out, Natasha walked up to you, saying, “You have a visitor."

Noticing Henry waiting for you, you walked up to him. "Hey, why are you back here?" you asked as there were a million girls rushing trying to get ready for the show tonight.

"I have something for you," In his hands was a velvet box, which he opened to reveal a diamond necklace. Grinning, you asked, "Are you going to put it on me or keep it in there?" He instructed you to turn around without hesitation, and then he quickly attached the diamond necklace behind your neck.

It'd only been a couple of weeks since that first date night with Henry and you grew accustomed to him giving you allowances and occasionally surprising you with expensive gifts.

"Are you going to stay?" Leaning forward, you pressed your hands to his chest. "I will be upfront, of course." Henry walked out to take his seat as your name was called to come on stage.

Henry took his promised seat in the front row as "Diamonds Are A Girl's Best Friend" began to play. The way you wore the diamond necklace he proudly bought you drove him crazy, and he wanted to be in the greatest spot to watch you perform.

His mind started to drift to the way the necklace would appear around your neck while you bounced on his cock.

You moved to the front of the stage so that he could see you teasingly shake your ass in front of him. As your relationship developed, it became more playful and flirtatious, and you relished watching him get worked up over you.

After the performance Henry met with you again, telling you, “Baby doll, start packing your favorite clothes and bikinis. I'm taking you on a trip to greece.”

˚₊⭑‧꒰ა [Tag list] ໒꒱ ‧₊⭑˚

@shellyshellshell @armystay89 @angelcavill66 @ellethespaceunicorn @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @caramariehurst @bbcoraline @identity2212 @plaidcat4815 @luxeydior @beck07990 @kittymiaow @kingliam2019 @chloe92 @nighttimestan @juliaorpll78 @ktficworld @milknhonies @toooldforobsessions @secretdream2 @pono-pura-vida

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Wow, this is 1931 home in Winnetka, Wisconsin is impressive. 9bds, 9ba, $8.9M.

Wow, look at the carved wood walls. There's an original tile floor in the foyer, too, and a leaded glass inner door.

You know, I like the white carpet on the stairs. I wouldn't want to clean it, but it looks beautiful. This home has those bas relief ceilings, too.

Is it the way they're photographing the room to get the ceiling in, or are the ceilings low? The large sitting room has wood paneled walls to match the entrance hall, plus the same ceiling and a beautiful fireplace.

Very classy guest powder room. Black marble floor with white veining, and the marble counter on top of an antique dresser has a sink ringed in gold. The gold wallpaper ties it all in.

Comfy home office. The rounded desk looks art deco and is nestled perfectly in a triad of framed windows.

The library shelving is gorgeous. Oblong octagonal cutouts in carved shelves, and that gorgeous fireplace in the middle has a pediment with a pineapple and a black & white marble surround.

I like this light dining room. Cream and pale blue bas relief ceiling is so soft and stunning.

These cheery bright dining spaces are so pleasing. This is a breakfast room in creamy white and it gets a lot of sun from the windows to the garden.

The kitchen is a professional chef's kitchen. It begins with a large pantry done in the same cream color with large glass paned doors on the cabinets so you can see the dishware. The kitchen cabinetry looks maple and has a cute corner fireplace, black countertops and copper pots hanging over the double island.

At the top of the stairs on the 2nd level is a magnificent oval leaded glass skylight. The glass panes are opalescent. And, there's a large sitting room up here, too.

They've made a walkway between 2 area rugs in the huge primary bedroom. On one side is a lovely mahogany canopy bed that contrasts well against the white room and the other side is a sitting room.

There is a huge home office up hear with a pretty French Provincial desk and a chaise lounge.

The bath is nice, there's a separate room for the toilet, and a lovely vintage marble counter on the sink. Love the rust-colored marble on the floor.

What a lovely guest room. It's so large, there's a huge picture window between 2 full-sized canopy beds.

Down in the large basement is a rec room that looks like the ultimate man cave. Rich dark wood furniture, a red pool table with an unusual pool lamp- it's not the usual stained glass, this fixture has foxes in red waistcoats holding up electric candles - love that.

Wow, man cave indeed. That fireplace is the size of a room. You can definitely walk in there. And, look at the life-sized butler statue in the corner. Is he creepy?

The home gym looks commercial. Mirrored walls and a black ceiling make it look industrial.

Outside, the iron gate makes it look like a secret garden.

The hedges are cut in patterns.

It must cost a fortune to maintain these gardens. The property is 3.25 acres.

Is it me, or does the pool look like a fidget spinner.

I love conservatories and this one is lovely. The plants and wicker furniture really bring the outdoors in.

This is the prettiest tennis court with the trees and latticed fencing.

An elaborate play set for the children looks like it conveys.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/44-Locust-Rd-Winnetka-IL-60093/70453195_zpid/

[hey-august]

It's not always a piece of cake to bake a pretty cake (Buggy x GN!reader)

Gif from monikanarnia

Description: Late one night you find Buggy in the kitchen growing increasingly distressed over dessert.

Word count: ~1.2k

A/N: One shot fluff with an established relationship. Gender neutral reader, no use of Y/N, pronouns, or physical descriptions. Based on OPLA buggy. Not beta read. Hope you like this! Let me know if you see any errors or typos. ♡

Warnings: Some light profanity, but that's about it!

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Lured by the sounds of activity at a time when most of the ship was asleep, you peered into the kitchen and finally found the person you were looking for. Buggy was hunched over the center island, deeply focused on the cake in front of him. He finished spreading the frosting and stepped back to observe his work. The scowl on his face and annoyed muttering were clear signals that he wasn’t satisfied. Despite being an artist, cake decorating was not his usual medium and it showed. Based on the amount of flour on his vest, pants, bandana, and in his hair, baking was also not his forte. 

Buggy ran a knife along the top of the cake, attempting to smooth out the white frosting. Instead the sweet coating stuck to the knife and lifted up to expose the bare cake underneath, as if he had wounded the confection. Trying to hold in the anger that wanted to burst from his mouth, Buggy’s fists flew to his head and he turned in place, stomping on the floor. Shouting was guaranteed to wake someone up and Buggy did not need anyone to see the absolute failure in front of him.

His glare flitted between the marred cake and the knife still in his hand before he flung the offending utensil towards the other side of the kitchen. The resounding clang caused him to flinch. He hoped it wasn’t loud enough to attract attention. A few heavy moments later, Buggy sighed and leaned over the cake. From where you were, you couldn’t tell if the weight in his rounded shoulders was from anger or disappointment. But you knew Buggy well enough that he wouldn’t give up yet. And you were right. 

With a cautious hand, Buggy began tapping at the lumpy frosting, nudging it into place. His gentle, feather-light touches showed a level of restraint and artistry that could only rival Michaelangelo chipping away marble, intent at bringing out the beauty only his fingertips could find. Finally satisfied with the coverage, Buggy assessed his work again. Despite being slightly worse than it was before the frosting incident, he was afraid of making an irreparable mistake. There wasn’t any more flour or sugar left in the kitchen. This wasn’t the first cake he baked. Or the second. But this was the first one that was fluffy and edible. Maybe if he decorated the cake with other things, the streaky, lumpy, crumby coating wouldn’t stand out as much.

Buggy stalked around the kitchen, rummaging in the cabinets and digging through drawers, looking for ingredients that were worthy of garnishing his confection composition. His frustration grew with each cabinet and drawer he opened and slammed shut. When he finally ripped open the fridge door he was greeted with the perfect gems, signaling the end of his kitchen treasure hunt. His greedy pirate hands pulled out some ruby red cherries. Buggy gave them a quick rinse in the sink and popped one in his mouth, finding satisfaction in the sharp snap and sweet juice from the ripe fruit. 

Moments later, the fruit adorned the top perimeter of the cake, each one nested carefully into the frosting. Buggy stared thoughtfully at the cake as he fiddled with the last cherry, lightly rolling it on the table with his finger. With an air of hesitation, he placed the red orb in the center of the cake. No one else would second guess the placement, but the pirate clown was overly sensitive about anything that could be mocking the one feature he had trouble accepting about himself. A feature that you never shied away from. If anything, you adored it. And while he couldn’t love his own nose, knowing you did filled him with warmth. You always brought brightness and sunshine to his dark and twisted world.

As you watched Buggy stare at the finished product with an expression you couldn’t see clearly, your interest got the better of you. The kitchen door released a tattling creak when you tried to gain a better view of the kitchen show. Thankfully Buggy did not have his knives on hand, but the glare he threw at the entrance was sharp enough to sting. His face softened when he realized it was you, before hardening back into a scowl that was equal parts annoyed at being interrupted and embarrassed that you found him.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” he chided, sending his hands over to push you out and close the door. Anticipating that he would do that, you ducked the flying appendages and slipped inside.

“I could say the same about you.” Buggy knew your comment was true. Despite being the captain, the kitchen was not his usual scene. “What are you up to anyways?”

Despite the innocent tone behind your question, the twinkling in your eyes told Buggy that you already knew the answer. You walked closer and looked at the cake, missing the wince that flashed on Buggy’s face. It looked alright, but it was not at all like he envisioned.

“It looks good. The cherries were a great idea,” you said in earnest.

“Don’t lie,” Buggy snipped. Agitation bristled in his body, feeling scratchy and uncomfortable. Every muscle was fighting the impulse to throw out the cake and act like he hadn’t wasted hours creating something so far below his usual standards. 

“It’s awful! A disgrace! The shitty frosting isn’t smooth and it’s full of crumbs. It’s too sweet and I used all the sugar so I can’t make more.” The tirade increased in pitch as he continued, the tension in his body constricting his throat. The frown on your face slowed his monologue.

“Are you serious? This looks like one of those cakes you buy at a high end patisserie in the fancy part of town. People pay a lot of money for rustic cakes and fresh fruit.” Flattery was always guaranteed to uplift Buggy when he was in a bad mood, but these were genuine compliments that you shared with such conviction and admiration. A flush crept across Buggy’s face and tickled his ears at the intensity and sincerity of your praise.

“O-of course! I knew that, I just wasn’t sure if it was your style.” Yeah, sure, that’s what he actually meant.

“So it’s for me?”

“Who else would I do this for?” He responded quickly, since you already knew the cake was yours.

“I was going to give it to you later, but you ruined the surprise,” Buggy continued, rolling his eyes in mock annoyance. He slid the cake towards you and finished with a surprisingly gentle, “happy birthday.”

Although he was supposed to be showering you with gifts on your birthday, the radiant smile you gave was definitely a gift to him. He couldn’t tell if he wanted to look away from the brightness or continue staring into the sun, in awe of the radiance.

“Thank you, I love it,” you said, the words heavy with appreciation. Buggy watched as you plucked the cherry from the center of the cake and popped it into your mouth with a wink, feeling as though his heart was replaced with a bumbling moth, fluttering everywhere and bumping into everything. It was probably drawn to your brilliance, just as he was.

[dronebiscuitbat]

Give me a Reason: Chapter 5 - "The Elliots"

N and Tessa made there way through the foyer, decorated with mahogany and antique furniture, the windows adored with velvet curtains and cleaned until you couldn't tell it was glass anymore.

There was a servant waiting for them, dressed to the nines. A clean shaven face, and short black hair with steel colored eyes. A pressed black vest over a white dress shirt and a black bow tie, N didn't know his name, he didn't know any of the servants names.

“Young Master Tessa, Master Louisa requests your presence in her study.” The servant said, monotone, with his hands behind his back.

“Of course she does… ‘ight N, see you at dinner.” She sighed and waved him off, leaving him in the foyer smiling warily at the servant, going up to his room alone it was.

There were two sets of spiral staircases the led upwards, and two hallways either side, one lead to an expansive library, full of every book, magazine and article you could imagine, the other a large dining hall, despite the table being made for twenty people, there were only ever five people sitting there at a time… usually less.

He started his way up the stairs passing hall after closed off hall of doors that lead to the different rooms of the manor, if he was being honest he didn’t know what was in most of them, they'd just moved. And he hadn't had time to actually explore his own home.

Not… that he wanted to, going from living in a modern, sleek, polished marble and right angles to this was a little bit of a culture shock. He didn't mind the rural setting; much preferred it to the foggy, polluted skyline he was used to. It was the manor itself that was… creepy.

If you would have him describe “haunted manor.” Then he'd describe the inside of this place down to the tan walls with wood accents and the ancient, well maintained hardwood underneath his feet. It wasn't just how old the place was either. Mr. And Mrs. Elliot had hired enough servents to keep the place spotless and looking like new.

It was just so big. So empty, so… oppressive.

And lonely…

He shook off those thoughts, it was fine, he'd just have to adjust to it, he was always good at going with anything, surely this would be no different.

“Don't be such a bitch J.”

“Then don't be such a pussy, V.”

Ah, that sounded like his sisters off in the next room over, bickering as per usual and probably about something small or nothing at all.

“I am not letting you anywhere near my room! Not my fault it has a window and your's doesn't, your's is bigger anyway!”

“But I'm the oldest, I deserve the window.”

“By eleven minutes! I want to see the garden, you have access to the library! Which you bitched and moaned about until you got, in case you don't remember.”

“You just want the window because it looks over the garden.”

“And? You just want the window because I enjoy looking over the garden and you have the inability to feel joy and must drag everyone else into the misery pit with you.”

“Give me your room.”

“No. Fuck you, suck my dick.”

N sighed, of all the things that had changed. That didn't, and he doubted it ever would. When he rounded the corner that's when he actually saw them, instead of listening to just their voices bickering.

V was the middle child out of the three, and she was the shortest too, if you call 5'10 short. She had short platinum blonde hair that was styled in a bob, a hairband keeping it in place perched on her head. Right now, she was in grey sweatpants and a black crop top, her arms crossed and amber eyes looking up and irate at her older sibling.

J was looking down at her, hand on her hip and long, similarly platinum hair going all the way down to her waist, she usually wore it up in a dual pair of pigtails or a ponytail, but that was absent for the moment. She wasn't in nearly the same casual clothes as V. With a short, black skirt, black, 4inch heels, and a grey business jacket over a white dress shirt. The sunglasses perched on her head were ever present, only leaving when she was sleeping. She had to have just come home if she was dressed like that.

“Hey guys.” He gave a smile towards the both of them, V gave a half-hearted smile and a wave at him, while J just rolled her eyes and scoffed, sticking her nose up at him.

“Ugh, whatever.” J walked off, heels clicking as she went down the hall towards her room, V let out a long suffering sigh and pinched the bridge of her nose before she looked N over.

“Good first day?” She asked, leaning against the wall and giving him a small smile, he relaxed a little bit, without J around, V tended to be in a better mood.

“Yeah! My teachers all seem nice! And I made a friend… I think.” When he thought about Uzi, she seemed…quiet, but also not? He wasn't entirely sure if he would consider what they had a ‘freindship’ per say. He thought she was cool, and they'd talked a handful of times.

Which was… more then he had with most people honestly, most found him a little… much.

“You think? What's that supposed to mean,” She curled

“It was mostly me talking…” He admitted, rubbing the back of his head and grinning sheepishly. “But! She let me borrow a pencil! That I… forgot to give back… but still!”

“Sounds like you just met someone and they took pity on you.” V replied, a dry sarcastic tone to her voice that gave away that she was teasing… mostly.

“Hey!” He yelped, ears turning pink.

“What? Don't call it a friendship if it's clearly not. Did you guys talk… about anything?”

“Uh… Mrs. Sparks had like animal heads and stuff floating in jars, we talked about that and… she told me she has a pig baby in one of them.”

“Ew. Anything else?”

“I gave her some of my lunch! The cafeteria kinda… completely ruined her food and so I gave her the tuna sandwich.”

“How'd they ruin it? Actually, don't answer that it's public school food.” Still she pondered it for a moment before shrugging. “That's like, an acquaintance, but whatever.”

“It's… the same thing isn't it?”

“Nope. But I gotta get to work, clothes don't model themselves.” She gave him a breif wave before checking her phone and grumbling to herself, walking off and out of sight.

Her and J , being out of school and a bit older then him, had other things to do. J was still going to college, business school of course, V took a different route, said no to more school and put herself on display, literally… she modeled for a few designer brands, and was sometimes stopped on the streets for her picture.

N was the youngest out of the three, being 18 and still in high school, though his last year thankfully, he'd always done decently in school, forgotten homework assignments and disorganization notwithstanding.

He entered his room, the heavy, creaking wooden door snapping shut loudly behind him as he looked around his room.

It was… bland. The bed was huge with crimson blankets made out of the smoothest kind of cashmere silk imaginable, the sheets light pink and light enough to feel like nothing when slept in.

But the walls were bare, his desk clean and devoid of everything but his grey laptop and a cup of pencils. The floor having only a basic rug directly underneath and around the bed. He had two small windows either side it, looking over the front of the manor and the driveway.

The only real thing of note was a well loved golden retriever plush resting on the bed, faded and the fur pressed down from being hugged night after night, he smiled at it, hooking his backpack on the back of his chair.

“Big brother Nathan?”

A small, shy little voice called out to him from behind the door to the connected room and he smiled, kicking off his shoes and taking off his hoodie, showing the basic grey t-shirt underneath.

“It's me!” He called back, opening the door to his little sisters room. Cynthia, or Cyn and everyone affectionately called her. She was reading, though now she looked up at him with big, innocent eyes that matched the rest of the siblings, along with her hair, held in a similar style to Tessa’s; mostly because she was the one who always styled it.

Her legs were covered by the blankets of her bed, and she beamed, sharing her older brother's sunshine of a smile as she made grabby hands at him.

Cyn was 6, the last and true youngest of the siblings. She was sweet… if having a peculiar interest in superstition, and N couldn't ask for a better little sister.

“Welcome back! How was school? Did you meet anyone? Were they cool? Can I meet them?” She immediately asked four questions in quick succession, each one making his smile a little wider.

“Good. Yes, yes. Maybe. In that order.” He replied as he wrapped her in a gentle hug, her arms gripping loosely around his neck. She giggled when he blew a raspberry on her cheek.

“And what did you do today Cyn?”

“Tessa brought up some more books for me to read! And then I got lunch… I heard J screaming at someone!”

“Have you not been out of your room today?”

“Uh. No… haven't felt very well, Tessa was at work and Big Sisters Vanessa and Jessica were busy…” She seemed a little sad, but N was here to make sure that didn't last very long.

“You want to take a stroll around the garden before dinner. I can take you.” He asked gently, and Cyn’s eyes lit up and she beamed.

“Yes! Thank you!”

With that, N leaned down and reached under her bed;

And pulled out a neatly folded wheelchair.

[bean-bean2000]

The Hacker - Part 2

Pairings: Bucky x Reader

Status: Ongoing

All feedback is very welcome and appreciated!

Warnings: Mentions of violence, guns/missiles, mentions of death, swearing, angst.

Part 1 here

Series masterlist

———————————————————————————

You gasp loudly as you wake up and shoot up straight from the bed. You start to panic, not recognizing your surroundings until it all comes flooding back.

You’re not an Avenger, you’re not a prisoner, but you’re not free either.

You groan as you get up and take in your surroundings. The room is larger than your entire kitchen. There’s a desk on the other side of the room, facing the large window overlooking downtown New York City. The view was breathtaking, the city buzzing with civilians going about their days. On your right there’s a connecting private bathroom. It’s white with gold accents and marbled counter tops. The floors can be heated along with the towel rack so you can be enveloped in warmth after a long shower. Everything is automated, the shower had bluetooth speakers so you can listen to music while showering, the sink and toilet are voice controlled with way too many settings. On the other end of the bathroom is a vanity with a large makeup counter and a ring light mirror. In the corner there’s a large gold bathtub with jacuzzi settings with a TV mounted in front of it and a large table across the tub for snacks and drinks. The lights can be dimmed for ambience and ultimate relaxation. In short - it was an absolutely luxurious bathroom fit for the richest of the rich.

Shaking away your awe of the entire room, you take a long hot shower to release the tension from the previous night. You’re lost in your thoughts, enjoying the moment you have for yourself to breathe and process the situation. You sigh contentedly, wishing you could stay there forever.

“Y/N please—”

You scream and turn off the shower. Startled and searching for the source of the voice.

- “ Jesus Christ, what the fuck?! Hello??”

- “Apologies Y/N, I’m FRIDAY. Tony Stark and the others await your presence in the kitchen.”

- “Ummm okay….”

You shake your head with a scoff and wrap the warm towel around your body as you walk across the heated floors to your bedroom. You quickly change into some clothes found in the dresser and head to the kitchen.

As you open your door you realize you have no idea how to get to the kitchen from here. The compound is huge. Just as you were about to start aimlessly walking, a light illuminates the floor in a single line with an arrow, indicating the path to follow.

“Thank you FRIDAY!” you say out loud. You’re in disbelief as you realize that FRIDAY read your body language and emotions and made a conscious decision on its own to create a path to follow to your destination.

“This is insane. I was dragged here yesterday. We already made a deal, what could they possibly want from me already?! Okay Y/N, breathe and think this through. Time to make a game-plan: I have to look as strong and intimidating as possible. I will not let them push me around or think that they can just tell me what to do. Keep your head held high and a stoic face. Never let them know what you’re thinking. That’s how you’ll get through this. Keep your emotions to yourself, do not share and make connections. You’re on your own. You have always been on your own. Stay focused. You can do this. You can depend on and trust nobody but yourself.” You think to yourself.

You round the corner and hear loud chatter from the group gathered around the kitchen table. As you enter the room the chatter immediately stops and they all turn to look at you.

You stand tall, head held high just like you had promised yourself you would do, seconds ago.

“We decided to test your abilities with your first mission. Today.” says Steve, staring you in the eyes trying to analyze your reaction and body language as a response to his statement.

You smirk “There is no challenge I can’t beat.”

Maintaining your cool composure, you stare back at the group when your eyes meet with Bucky’s. His usual grumpy stoic face is donning a smirk with a glint in his eyes.

You quickly look away and clear your throat “Let’s debrief the mission.”

———————————————————————————

Tony leads you into your office he had mentioned the previous day. It was an outstanding and immense room; more like an entire floor designated for you and your work. You examined it in awe. The floor was a sleek marble tile with purple, black and white accented walls. There were floor to ceiling windows overlooking New York City with anti-reflective blinds that adjust to the sunlight to avoid spying threats and glares on your screens. There’s a wide and large monitor spanning across the entire desk with an ergonomic chair lined with LED lights providing ultimate comfort with an expansive screen for maximum efficiency. The ceiling was lined with LED lights which colours could be changed through FRIDAY, allowing the possibility of switching from a dark room to a sunlit room.

You do a double take and a a huge neon sign on the wall catches your attention:

Cyberpunk

You stare at Tony “Cyberpunk? really?”

“What? You’re a computer whiz hacker. So I came up with your team nickname. I thought it suited you very well. You’re a cyber nerd and you’re a punk. Very fitting in my opinion.” Tony replies sarcastically.

You ignore his comment and turn around facing your new set up, not wanting him to notice that you secretly love the nickname. You agreed it was very fitting but annoyed you hadn’t come up with yourself before.

“Alright, get yourself set up. The mission starts in 10, be ready and do your job, we’re counting on you.” Tony says and walks away.

You sigh and sit on the desk chair. You set yourself up and easily navigate through the new system in preparation for the mission ahead. You’re responsible for hacking into the Hydra building, disengaging their security cameras and alarms, and for cutting the power at the end for the team to have an advantage over the enemy with night-vision goggles. This was going to be a breeze.

You’re snapped out of your thoughts when you hear Steve calling you over the coms

“Y/N? Are you ready? We’re 30 seconds out.”

“Loud and clear Cap. Disengaging enemy cameras, alarms and sensors now. Proceed to breach enemy lines in 5 seconds. over and out.” you reply cooly.

“Nobody says over and out Y/N. You watch too many movies.” Bucky chuckles.

“Nobody asked for your opinion Barnes.” you snap.

“Tony is right, you are a Cyberpunk.”

You groan at the comment. Why is this infuriating you so much? You didn’t care when Tony called you that. Why does it bother you when Bucky did?

You’re snapped out of your thoughts when you hear Steve yell to you over the coms:

“AMBUSH AMBUSH RUN RUN RUN!”

Your heart starts pounding in your chest as you watch the team sprinting between rooms and dodging bullets. You realize you’re the only one who can help them, but you were specifically told not to do anything except what was discussed in the mission debrief: Disengage the cameras and alarms, and cut the power. Your leg is bouncing on the ball of your foot as you see the team struggling to get out from Hydras trap.

“Fuck it. I can’t sit here and do nothing.” You say to yourself out loud.

You go through the Hydra building’s system and locate the area where the team is being held up. You see a security option pop up on your screen that makes you smile ear to ear. Bingo.

You open your coms “Hey! When i scream hit the floor, you drop to the floor as low as you can and grab whatever cover you can find. Don’t ask questions just do it!”

Before anybody can retort and convince you to stop, you engage the hidden target-lock rifles and automatic guns hidden in the walls and aim them at the Hydra agents.

“HIT THE FLOOR! HIT THE FLOOR!” you scream over the coms.

You watch the entire team on your screens drop to the floor as you press Enter on your keyboard. You watch as every Hydra agent falls to the floor, lifeless. Unable to defend themselves against the sneak attack from their own supposed defence systems.

As you’re about to give the team the all clear, you see another ambush approaching. Switching camera locations, you lock on target and use the Hydra missile to annihilate the remaining Hydra soldiers.

“All clear.” you say stoically over the coms. Smirking to yourself. You know this will either really impress them or really screw you over.

You watch as the entire team gets up and examines their surroundings. Bullet holes everywhere, Hydra soldiers defeated in a single push of a button.

The team assembles on the quinjet and you watch them fly off.

Awaiting their return on the landing pad, you feel your heart thrumming in your chest. You watch the team exit the quinjet. You start to smile and wave when you see Steve stalking towards you, angrily

“What was that? We did not plan that! You have no right to directly disobey orders and do what you want!”

“You were ambushed! I wasn’t going to watch you all possibly die as Hydra was closing in on you!”

“We had it under control!”

“Yeah right. So you knew that there was a second ambush team waiting for you outside?”

Steve stares at you, no response.

“That’s what i thought! I saved your asses by gunning them down with their own security artillery and launched a missile at the second ambush! You’re welcome for saving your life!”

“I trusted you could follow orders! You had one job! How can we trust you now?!”

“TRUST ME?! YOU KIDNAPPED ME AND FORCED ME INTO A GLAMORIZED PRISON CONTRACT! AND I STILL DECIDED TO SAVE YOUR FUCKING LIVES! I COULD HAVE WATCHED YOU ALL DIE AND LAUGHED BECAUSE I WOULD BE OUT OF THE CONTRACT AND FREE. BUT I DIDN’T. AND THIS IS WHAT I GET IN RETURN?!”

At this point, you lost your cool. You broke your promise to yourself to keep your emotions out of this. Your cheeks are red as your anger boils within you.

Steve is clenching his jaw and glaring at you with an intense anger. Natasha approaches Steve and places a hand on his shoulder.

“Steve… she’s right. She saved us. There was no way we were getting out of there.”

Steve huffs and stomps away. The rest of the team follows and throws you sympathetic looks but say nothing.

Cowards. All of them. Sheep.

Bucky stops in front of you and crosses his arms across his broad chest.

“Nice work Cyberpunk.” he winks and walks away.

You stand there alone and confused. You manage to force yourself back inside and you storm to your office. It is now your safe haven, your space; like the one you used to have in your tiny basement. You slam the door shut and lock it.

You don’t want to see any of them. Especially Steve. It’s your first day and you’re already extremely frustrated.

I am not a puppet. I will not just take orders and follow them blindly and stupidly. I reacted to the situation and adapted. I save their lives and I get yelled at for it. Who do they think I am? I will not be controlled. I am my own person and I will make sure they know that.

You decide you will retaliate in the best way you can. You hack into FRIDAY and pull up the controls to Steve’s room. You scheduled an alarm to go off every 15 minutes with red lights blaring in his room. You add clown music for that extra special effect you love so much.

That’ll show him that I will not be pushed around and treated like a puppet. I may not be a super soldier but I am a Cyberpunk.

You smirk to yourself as you walk out of your office and retire to your bedroom, excited for what the morning will bring.

Part 3

[orqheuss]

Not yet corpses (still, we rot)

(Ominis Gaunt/Sebastian Sallow/GN!Reader HURT/COMFORT)

Summary:

For a moment, everything felt still. Silence consumed the space, sucking all the air out of the room like the tide as a tsunami made its way towards shore. All Ominis could hear was the harsh ringing in his ears and the startled gasp from his counterpart behind him. Panic began to crawl its way into his throat once more. Sebastian’s heart stuttered in his chest, his words forcing themselves out around the lump that formed under his jaw. “Oh, dear God…” *** What were the boys doing while you were saving Hogwarts? *** Contains spoilers from the game Title from the song "Dirt and Roses" by Rise Against

Word count: 6k

AN: I’m moving all of my fics over from Ao3 to make them more accessible! These are my fics.

TW: - Blood - Gore - Anxiety - Detailed descriptions of injury - Near death experiences - Claustrophobia (only for a little bit, tho. I have it too and that's all I could write, lol) 

“Knight to E5.” Sebastian quips, leaning back in his wicker chair, his arms crossed against his chest and a smug smile tweaking at the corners of his mouth. He watched the boy across from him regard the wizards chess board, the tip of his wand blinking that comforting red light he had grown accustomed to after years of friendship. It was probably not the most fair thing in the world to go against someone blind in a game that required sight over everything else, but that didn’t stop the brunette from trying his very best at beating his best friend in absolutely everything— he was nothing if not competitive. That being said, as much as he loved the idea of pulling one over on Ominis, the feat was nearly impossible . The blond was far too good. It didn’t matter if it was a game of gobstones, a duel in Crossed Wands, even exploding snaps, a game where sight was a necessity, all because of that blasted wand! The only thing that Ominis was truly bad at was potions, and even then he would likely still get an Acceptable on their OWLS. Sebastian felt that this round of chess was different, though. He could see the furrow of his partner’s brows in the low candlelight of the Undercroft, trace how his hand rested on his chin in puzzlement— fingers pinching at the skin there and stroking like tweaking an imaginary beard. He was currently in the lead, most of Ominis’ pieces resting broken on his side of the board. A truly violent game, that wizards chess. 

A light tisk came from his companions mouth, his wand still gently coasting over the top of the board just out of reach of the pieces, before his eyebrows slowly rose back to their normal position on his temple, a mischievous smile making its way across his cheeks and a twinkle of something unrecognizable, but all the more devious, in his eyes. He leaned back in his own chair, adopting a similar cadence as his brunette counterpart, his body language oozing confidence. Sebastian shifted in his seat, eyes casting uneasy glances between the boy and the board as sweat began to bead on his brow. Surely not, he mused— there was no way Ominis figured out a new strategy. 

The blond lightly chuckled, sensing the sudden nervousness of his friend. “Queen to E5.” 

Bollocks.

Sebastian was helpless to watch the white marble queen piece shift its way across the board towards his onyx black knight. The matriarch stood from her throne, bringing her chair around to her front and up over her shoulder, before crashing it down over the head of his brave steed. The brunette scowled at the board before tilting his chin to the ceiling, his head cracking lightly on the back of the chair as he leaned away and groaned into the musky air of the hideaway, his arms thrown upwards in a show of surrender. 

“You’re a bastard, Gaunt.” 

Ominis laughed, his form slumping forward over the little end table they were next to as he waved his wand, collecting all the broken pieces and placing them back into the chess box where they would self-repair. 

“No, unfortunately my heritage is legitimate.” He simpered, a light jab dancing on the tip of his tongue. “The juries still out for you, though, my dear friend. You have as much grace as a charging erumpent.” 

Sebastian gasped in outrage, his hand dramatically fluttering to his chest and resting over his heart like a damsel in distress. “Oh, I’m wounded! You’ve wounded me, Ominis. How ever will I recover— doomed to live a life of desolate mediocrity at the hands of my very best friend?” He slowly slid out of his chair, letting gravity work its magic and flopping dramatically on the floor, limbs sprawled out like a flattened lizard. 

The smaller Slytherin guffawed, a large grin splitting his face as he kicked his leg out towards the brunette, his shoe jabbing him harshly in the calf. “Quit it, you buffoon. You aren’t going to die because I beat you in wizards chess.” 

Sebastian sighed heavily, the back of his hand slapping against his forehead in overzealous woe. “Oh but I am! I will never be the same, never! I shall cover all of my mirrors so I never have to see my failurous face ever again— cover my head with a ghastly bag to shield the world from my shameful dereliction!” Small sounds of sorrow continued to fill the air around them, long drawn out “boohoo’s” falling from the brunette’s lips at a consistent rate. 

Ominis stood from his chair, stepping over the fallen idiot and plopping down onto the chaise lounge to their left, a book floating into his hand with the flick of his wand. “I think the entire student body would thank you for that.” 

The blond laughed at the incredulous noises of his companion, leaning his head to the left quickly as Sebastian’s boot flew through the air right where he once was and smacked into the pillar just beyond. The taller Slytherin got up from the ground, muttering obscenities under his breath as he limped over to where his shoe landed, taking the time to lightly smack the blond on the back of the head before rounding the space and throwing himself on the other lounge chair diagonal to the opening of the Undercroft. 

“You’re an arse, do you know that?” 

Ominis smirked downwards towards his book, lethargically licking his finger before flipping to the next page with gusto. “Oh yes, I pride myself in it. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m only one to you— I’m quite nice to everyone else.”

Once his boot was securely back on his foot, Sebastian pulled out his pocket watch from his waistcoat; he checked the time, glancing in confusion at the gunmetal gate entrance of their secret space. 

“Hey, have you seen our charge today? They’re normally down here by now.” 

Ominis scoffed, a blank look crossing his face and a sardonic bite taking over his tone. “Do you ever think before you speak?” 

Sebastian met his gaze with a blank look of his own. “Where’s the fun in that?” 

The blond sighed deeply, raising a hand to his face and waving it in front of his unseeing eyes. “No, I haven’t ‘seen’ them today, nor have I heard from them.” 

Lifting himself to a seated position, the brunette’s brows scrunched together in puzzlement, slight worry tipping the corners of his mouth into a frown. You normally met them in the Undercroft after dinner so they all could hang out until curfew. Today, though, you were missing. Sebastian couldn’t remember if he had seen you today at all, come to think of it. You were supposed to have potions with him, but in his hazy memory he remembers that your stool was empty. Where were you? 

He turned his gaze back to the other Slytherin, confusion and concern lacing his tone as he spoke. “I haven’t either. Should we go search for them? They normally owl us if they’re going on a mission.” 

Another sigh. “Sebastian, I’m sure they’re fine. They’ve bested practically the whole wizarding world in a duel at this point— they can handle themselves. Let’s just have a quiet night, yes?” 

The Sallow boy threw himself back onto the chaise with a huff, his hands folding together and smacking against his abdomen. He knew that you were more than capable of taking care of yourself— he had seen it in action. Still, the knowledge of your fighting prowess did little to alleve his nerves. Each of the trials the Keepers were sending you on got more and more difficult— more dangerous. The thought of you getting hurt, or even worse, dying, made him feel ill. Ominis felt the same, they had talked about it before, but he was better at hiding it. Even now, though, Sebastian could see the telltale bounce of the blonds leg from nerves out of the corner of his eye. He was just as worried about you. You had told them all about the trials after they had stumbled upon you in the Undercroft a few weeks ago, bruised and bloody with at least five Wiggenweld potions scattered around you, as well as some gauze. Instantly the both of them had asked, nay insisted, that they go with you for safety, but you shut them down quickly— the trials were for you and you alone, no outside help. They reluctantly agreed to let you handle them, but they certainly weren’t happy about the arrangement, not in the slightest. 

The two sat in silence for a while, their eyes drifting every so often over towards the Undercroft gate like you’d step through any moment. Worry began to claw at their throats like a rabid animal begging to be let out of a cage. Ominis’ leg had picked up speed around the five minute mark, no longer paying attention to the book in his lap and instead turning his ears minutely towards where you would hopefully be coming from soon. Sebastian was right, you would normally send them a letter if you were going to be out for the day— you knew how they worried about you. Silence seemed to spread around the room like a thick fog, its tendrils wrapping around the boy’s heads and slithering into their ears, leaving an unnerving ringing behind. They were getting antsy, anxious energy pouring from them in waves.

Just as they were about to move and suggest looking for you again, a loud, deafening boom rang through the room. Crates tumbled to the ground with a crash as the ground rumbled below their feet. It was like the earth below them, below the entire castle, was breaking apart piece by piece. Paintings fell from the walls around them, tables shook and tipped over, school work and books spilling across the floor in rivers. Sebastian sprang from his seat, sprinting across the small space and throwing himself next to a shaking Ominis, his arms wrapping around the blonds head to shield him from falling debris. The tremors continued for what felt like years before everything halted in their tracks— silence filling the room once again and only breaking around the heavy, panting panicked breaths that left the two boy’s lungs. They slowly de-tangled themselves from the other, their gazes lifting up from the ground to take in the damage around them. Dust covered every surface, clinging to their clothes and hair and dyeing everything a light grey. 

Ominis spoke first, his voice whispering like he was afraid that if he broke the calming quiet everything would start all over again. “Are you alright?” 

Sebastian sighed shakily, his heart hammering in his chest as he grabbed the blond's hand and squeezed. “Yes, I’m fine. Are you?” 

He nodded. “What was that?” 

“I have no idea. Sounded like it came from under the school— an earthquake maybe?” 

Ominis shook his head, dust lightly falling from his hair and brushing against his shoulders. “In these parts? At this time of the year? Unlikely.” 

Sebastian furrowed his brows once again. “Then what could it be? Should we go check—”

The brunette paused, his blood running cold in his body as his skin turned a ghostly white as sudden realization hit him like a speeding broom. Ominis seemed to have come to the same conclusion, his hands shaking at his sides as they both turned towards each other, brown eyes meeting milky blue in barely hidden fear. Only one thought passed between the both of them: you were out there somewhere. 

The room began to shake again, the stone floor trembling with stronger aftershocks as more things began to slam to the ground around them. The duo quickly jumped up, their arms covering their heads from falling debris as their legs carried them as fast as they could go towards the exit and up the stairs towards the Defense Against the Dark Arts hallway. They quickly scrambled through the cabinet door, slamming it shut behind them as their feet nearly slid out from under them on the smooth tile floors of the main floor. Professors were running around, herding students left and right and ushering them towards their common rooms for safety. Sharp corralled them both, blocking their path from the rest of the school and their mad dash to find you amongst the chaos, and shoved them in the direction of the Slytherin common room, only turning away to look for more lost souls as the two boy’s got swallowed by waves of green and silver robes. Sebastian desperately fought against the stream of students, throwing elbows left and right as he swam towards the front and towards, what he hoped, was freedom from the crowd. A sharp cry came from his left and he shot his head in that direction, barely catching the sight of Ominis’ blond head as it disappeared in the hazard of students. His hand darted out, catching his friend’s shoulder before he could be trampled and pulled him to his side where he would be safe, clutching onto him like a lifeline in a storm as they were carried away, down the Grand Staircase and into the dungeons. Once safely inside, the ornate serpentine door slammed shut behind the students, bathing the room in startling silence once again.

The rumbling was muted this far under the black lake, only the sound of murky water splashing against the large bay windows of the common room filled the large, encompassing space. Students milled about, some retiring to their bedchambers while others sat on the various surfaces spread around the room. Tense whispers filled the air, questions and theories about what was happening swimming in everyone’s minds and entering through their eagerly listening ears. 

“Was on the moving stairs when it started, I was. It was quite funny watching all the paintings scramble from their frames before they fell.” 

“What do you think is happening? It seems to be coming from under the school.” 

“I saw all the Professors run towards the Astronomy wing. What do you think they’re looking for over there?” 

“Weasley had something in her hand before it all started— a bit of parchment. Looked as pale as the Bloody Baron after reading it. Wonder what it said?” 

“I heard one of the Ravenclaw's say they saw some goblins over by the east wing. Do you think they have something to do with all of this?” 

“Do you think they’ll cancel finals if half the castle is destroyed?” 

The two fifth year boys stood apart from the crowd. Sebastian paced the length of the room, going back and forth a number of times, wringing his hands in front of his chest and worrying on his bottom lip with his teeth. Ominis sat on the bench in front of the large floor to ceiling windows, elbows bent atop his knees and long fingers wracking through his normally perfectly styled hair. Anxiety oozed from them like a poorly made potion seeping out of the bottom of its cauldron. No one had seen or heard from you before or after the chaos. They had to get back to the Undercroft— it was the best place to wait for you. The brunette caught bits and pieces of the conversations flowing around the common room, and each one set his nerves alight just a little bit more. Astronomy wing? Goblins? Oh Merlin. He knew, whatever was happening had to do with Ranrok. If it had to do with Ranrok, then you had to be there too. Sebastian spun towards his friend, quickly pacing towards him with determined steps and nearly throwing himself onto the bench to the blonds left. He leaned closer, whispering conspiratorially, just low enough so no one else would hear. 

“Ominis, we have to get out of here. If we get back to the Undercroft, we can wait for them there. They know we’d be there.” 

The smaller Slytherin inhaled deeply, his body shaking with tremors stronger than those rocking through the castle. “How are we going to get out? The room is packed— there’s no way we could sneak out undetected.” 

The brunette hummed in thought, placing his hand on Ominis’ knee to steady his nervous jittering. It was up to him to come up with a plan, the room was much too loud for his companion to think clearly— multiple stimuli overwhelmed him easily. He racked his brain for a solution, every thought coming in small glimpses around the unending worry he felt for you. They’d have to be invisible to get out of the common room, there was no way another student wouldn’t see them leave.

A lightbulb sputtered to life in his mind. 

Oh. Oh. That would work. 

He squeezed the blonds knee before letting go and grabbing his wand from his robes. “I have an idea, follow my lead.” 

Sebastian cast the disillusionment charm around himself quietly, watching his fingers and legs disappear into a slight trick of the light. Ominis nodded, doing the same to his right. They both stood as quiet as mice and made their way through the throngs of silver and green clad students, dodging and weaving around flying limbs before all but running up the grand spiral staircase and skidding to a halt outside of their common room door. 

An eerie hush fell over the still castle dungeon. The rumbles had quieted down enough, only a soft vibration making its way through their shoes and shaking their bodies instead of the intense tremors that shook the building moments earlier. That had to be a good sign, Sebastian mused. 

They both took off towards the Defense Against the Dark Arts wing, their legs pumping as fast as they could go. The setting sun cast shadows across the floor, catching on each piece of debris and drawing the brunette’s attention to just how much damage had been done. Sebastian grabbed Ominis’ hand, pulling him along and calling out obstacles in their path. They leaped over fallen pillars, dodged around scattered armor, and slid around corners, their shoes loudly squeaking on the linoleum floor and nearly sending them tumbling into walls with their haste. 

Finally, they made it to the hidden cabinet leading to the school's underbelly. The blond threw himself against the door, unlocking it with a flick of his wrist and all but shoved the brunette down the stone steps. With a loud crack, the metal gate clipped shut behind them. They both heaved over, their bodies folded in half as their hands grasped onto their knees. Heavy breaths left their lungs from the exertion, sweat beaded on their brows from the heat of their bodies as well as from the intense nerves that shook through their bodies. Sebastian stumbled over to the table they sat around earlier, picking up one of the wicker chairs that had been knocked over from the ground and plopping himself down into it. Ominis collected himself, rolling his spine back into a standing position before beginning to pace. Each second of taciturnity filled his gut with more and more hysteric energy. His mind was going at the speed of light, horrible images of what fate could be befalling you slid behind his eyes like a demented moving picture show. All of his reserve flew out the window with the rest of his carefully curated apathetic coping mechanisms. His hands pulled at his hair, fingers digging into his roots and sending spikes of pain through his skull. The brunette carefully watched him from his vantage point, his eyes following each step of his companion as he made his way across the length of the rather large room. He could see the silvery tears that began to gather in the blond's eyes from his intense fear and called out to him in what he hoped was a calming voice. 

“Ominis please sit down, you’re only going to work yourself into more of a panic if you keep pacing like that. They’ll be here soon— everything will be fine.” He cringed at the tremors that were present in his words, hoping the young wizard didn’t notice it. 

The other boy turned towards the sound of his voice, quick as a whip, his eyebrows crinkled at his brow in dread and hands flailing around punctuating his snapped words. “What if they don’t, Sebastian? You heard the others in the common room, there were bloody goblins near the school! You know just as much as I do that that could only mean Ranrok is here. He’s probably the reason for everything that’s happening, and if he’s here that means that they’re down there, wherever in Merlin’s name there is, with him! They could be dead in some unknown tomb under the school and we would be none the wiser!” 

Blinding, distressed anger struck down Sebastian’s spine as he stood from his slumped position. He snarled towards the smaller of the two, “Don’t you dare even say that. They’re not dead, they can’t be. Don’t even put that idea into the universe!” He could see the blond flinch at his harsh tone, his hands moving to wring together. The brunette sighed deeply, willing his heartbeat to slow down and his anger to disapparate. He carefully made his way towards Ominis, steps loud but gentle like approaching a startled animal, and placed his hand on the other's shoulder. He pretended it didn’t hurt him that he felt the boy stiffen under his touch. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have yelled at you, but we can’t think like that. We have to stay hopeful.” 

The Gaunt boy relaxed slightly, his hands falling to his sides as he lowered his chin towards his chest. He sighed, “You’re right, it’s no use getting worked up. All we can do now is wait.” 

Sebastian carefully led him towards the lounge chair he was sitting on earlier, gently pushing down on his shoulders so he would relax into the plush cushions before joining him. He tilted his head back towards the ceiling, eyes closed as he silently prayed to whomever was listening that you’d return to them safely. 

***

The Undercroft filled with the sound of the large brass clock that resided in the Hogwarts clock tower, two loud clangs ricocheting off the stone walls that surrounded the space and filling the anxious ears of the two Slytherin’s that rested in its belly. Hours had passed since the tremors started; they long since puttered off and made way for the chilling quiet of the night. Both boys had not moved from their spot on the chaise lounge, each glancing longingly at the gate that led towards the castle hallways as they waited impatiently for their friend to return from what they could only imagine was a deranged war. They both fought valiantly against the sleep that clung to their bodies, each ticking second sending them closer and closer to sweet unconsciousness. They couldn’t sleep as long as you were still out there in Merlin knows what condition. 

Sebastian sighed for the umpteenth time, his hands running through his already unruly curls and sending them into all possible directions. His leg bounced at his side, the muscle flowing with his anxieties and only being released by the constant movement. Ominis stood once again from his side, shaking the sleep from his person and beginning to pace the space once again. He couldn’t keep still any longer, not when you’d been gone for so long. Blond tresses fell in front of his eyes from his incessant hands combing through it. He took deep breaths, inhaling through his nose and exhaling through his mouth in order to calm his rapidly pounding heart. The silence was driving him mad, every little sound that wasn’t you coming through the metal gate was like a bullet to his brain. He feared the worst for you— the idea of you leaving this world without a word made his chest feel like it was caving in on itself. 

The creak of the Undercroft gate broke both of the boys from their perturbed revelry. Sebastian sprung to his feet, head whipping to the side at the sound as Ominis spun on his heel and ceased his endless pacing as you stumbled through the doorway. 

The blond made a small sound in the back of his throat, relief palpable in the air around him. “Thank Merlin you’re okay, we were worried sick about you!” 

For a moment, everything felt still. Silence consumed the space, sucking all the air out of the room like the tide as a tsunami made its way towards shore. All Ominis could hear was the harsh ringing in his ears and the startled gasp from his counterpart behind him. Panic began to crawl its way into his throat once more. 

Sebastian’s heart stuttered in his chest, his words forcing themselves out around the lump that formed under his jaw. “Oh, dear God…” He breathed, his feet glued where he stood in shock as he took you in.

Ominis’ heart rate picked up exponentially. Tuning his ears to what was happening around him, he could hear the heavy breaths leaving both of his best friends with a renewed clarity. Your breathing was more stuttered than Sebastian’s, like you were struggling to suck in the air around you. Something was dripping lightly on the ground by your feet, the sound of its little plinks against the stone bounced around his skull like a small pebble skipping across the black lake. Pushing himself to focus more on the sound, the scent of copper filled his nose and sent a shiver down his spine. 

With a pained whimper, your legs gave out and you crashed to the hard ground with a resounding thump. 

Sebastian sprang into action, your noise of distress breaking him out of his stupor as he rushed over to your fallen form, calling out to the other boy in panic. 

“Ominis, get the Wiggenweld potions!” 

The blond stumbled over his feet, running towards the box in the far corner of the room that they filled with first aid equipment for moments just like this. The Sallow boy slid the rest of the distance between the two of you on his knees, arms outstretched to catch the top half of your body against his chest as the rest of your body gave in to gravity. He grasped you gently by the shoulders, moving your face into his vision and scanning you for injury. 

“What happened? Who did this to you!?” 

Your eyes were unfocused on his, black half moons coloring your bottom lids and the tops of your cheeks. Your voice was soft, barely loud enough for Sebastian to make out anything you were saying. He caught little snippets, mumbles of words like “Ranrok,” “repository,” and “Rookwood.” Blood dripped from a cut on your forehead, cascading down your incredibly pale face and staining the collar of your white button down. Your house cardigan was sliced open at the arm, showing a deep laceration stretching from the top of your arm to your elbow— Sebastian worried that if it was any deeper it would have hit bone. Your skin was almost grey from blood loss, your veins zigzagging under the flesh of your neck, chest, and arms like small strikes of lightning. He could see your knees through the rips in your trousers, the skin shredded and bruised, little bits of gravel dotting the wound like birth marks. One of your hands clutched your side, blood blooming through your fingers like a macabre rose bouquet. He carefully pried your fingers away to assess the damage and his breath caught in his throat, a sound of agony escaping from his open mouth. Through the hole in your shirt he could see multiple large, jagged slices in your side, each oozing buckets of blood. You winced as his fingers ran along your ribs, another groan of pain vibrating in your throat. He raised his eyes back to your face, irises dancing side to side as he tried to catch your gaze. Your entire body was shaking with adrenaline. He gently cupped your cheeks in his hands, forcing you to meet his piercing stare. His voice shook with dismay, the words leaving his mouth in a frenzy. 

“I need to look at your side, okay? I need to see how bad the damage is. Just nod if you’re okay with that.” 

You blinked slowly at him, a hand reaching out and wrapping around one of his wrists as you minutely nodded. Sebastian carefully took your hands into his and placed them on his shoulders for stability before unbuttoning the bottom of your shirt. His eyes were greeted with an enormous bruise, purples, blues, and blacks covering the skin of your lower left ribs and splintering out towards your chest. He sucked in a breath through his clenched teeth— you definitely had a few broken ribs. Your body began to slump against his, eyes fighting harder to stay open. He lightly slapped you on the cheek, frantically trying to keep you conscious. 

“Hey, hey! No you don’t, you need to stay awake. Stay with us, okay?” 

You laughed, wincing as your ribs shifted painfully, and smiled, your teeth stained a light pink from swallowing blood— you were absolutely delirious. “You should see the other guy.” Sucking in a deep, stuttering breath, your vision began to blur even more as your mind filled with numbing static. “I-I did it.” 

Sebastian took your face into his hands once again, watching you with bated breath. “What did you do? Please, what happened to you?” 

Your gaze focused on him finally, eyes softening as your smile stretched even wider. “I controlled it— the ancient magic, it’s inside me.” 

The brunette blanched, his brain needing a second to catch up with your words before he laughed incredulously, head shaking in disbelief. “We can focus on that later. Right now, we need to stop you from dying, okay?” 

Ominis appeared at his side, arms laden with as many potions as he could carry as he dropped roughly to his knees to your right. The oblong shaped vials clinked together as he haphazardly set them down on the ground, quickly drawing his wand and scanning you for any other injuries. Each pulse of his wand, each image blasted into his mindseye, sucked a little bit more color from his cheeks in horror. His hands hovered in the air next to your arm, shaking with barely contained terror as his mind fought whether to touch and comfort you or not touch you in case he hurt you even more.

His whole body vibrated, nerves completely shot to hell and his voice betraying every ounce of trepidation he held inside of him. "We need to get you to the infirmary! Why in Merlin's name did you come down here? You need a proper doctor, not us!" 

You shook your head weakly, your speech slurred as your head slightly lulled in his direction. "Knew you'd worry— had to make sure you both were okay..." A breath. "Wanted to be with you— to see you...one last time..." It was getting harder and harder to breathe— each breath felt like you slammed your lungs in a bear trap.

Sebastian shushed you softly, lips grazing the skin of your temple as he whispered into your hair. "Quiet now, save your strength. You're safe now, you made it to us." He cleared his throat, adopting as much determination as he could muster. "You aren't dying today, alright? We won't let you, you stubborn bastard."

He gently lowered you so you were laying on your back and your head rested against the cool ground of the Undercroft, pushing the hair sticking to your temple back so he could clearly see your eyes. In his haste to move you, he didn’t notice that they were closed. Your breathing left your parted lips at a dangerously slow rate; your body finally giving out from the intense pain pulsing through your system. White hot panic screamed at the front of his skull. 

“Hey! What did I say? Stay with us, dammit!” 

You didn’t budge. 

“Shit. Shit!” 

Uncorking one of the potions, he pressed it against your lips with one hand and tilted your chin back with the other, whispering prayers for you to wake up as the bitter liquid slid down your throat. Ominis bit his lip hard, muffling the hysterical pants that threatened to leave his lungs. The taste of his own blood filled his mouth as it steadily dripped down his throat. He pressed his fingers against the pulse point on your neck, feeling for your heartbeat. It was soft, but still there.

The blond grasped one of your hands in his while the other still held his wand, coasting the tip of it over your body like he did to the chessboard hours before to check the status of your injuries. Your fingers were so cold. 

Nodding towards the brunette, unseeing eyes never leaving your body and voice shaking, he shouted, “Give them another one!” 

Sebastian pressed a second potion to your lips, watching it flow down your open throat as color began to return to your cheeks. His heart continued to slam against his ribs painfully, threatening to break out from under his skin. 

The skin around your arm began to lace itself back together, the large cut that resided there turning into a barely raised scar— the same happening to the slice on your temple. 

Another potion.

The bruising around your naval began to disapparate, the skin around your ribs painting itself to match the rest of your complexion. 

He gave you the last of the potions, watching as the final scars of your battle stitched together and solidified at your side. Your flesh was red and angry around where the wound was, raised and burning to the touch, but no longer gushing enough blood to feed a small army of vampires. 

Both boys held their breath as they waited for your eyes to open once again, each one counting the seconds that you remained unconscious. The space behind their eyes began to sting with unshed tears. Dread nestled itself in their chests and spread through their entire bodies like a wildfire, both fearing the worst— that you wouldn’t wake up, that the potions didn’t help, that you were still dying. 

“Please don’t leave us. Not yet.” Sebastian whispered, leaning down and pressing his forehead against yours. His voice cracked with sorrow. 

After what felt like a century, your eyelids fluttered open and you took in the world around you. The taller Slytherin leaned back so he could catch your gaze, breathed a heaving sigh of relief, tears gathering in his lashes and streaking down his cheeks as he gave a weak, watery chuckle. He brushed his fingers through your blood slicked hair, a soft smile tweaking the corners of his mouth. 

“Hey, stranger. You scared us there for a second.” 

You smiled up at him, eyelids slitted but finally open, finally alive. “Can’t get rid of me that easily.” You croaked, your voice raspy. 

A harsh sob left their blond companion, his body finally slumping around the tautness he held since you entered the room. He rolled onto his back, legs thumping against the ground below as he brought his hands to cover his face, tears of pure, unbridled joy leaking through his fingers and wetting the dusty floor as light relieved laughs and muted curses spilled from his lips. 

“You both are going to send me to an early grave, I’m sure of it.” 

Laughing to himself, the brunette gazed down at you, his thumb lightly tracing along your cheekbone. “Let’s get you to the hospital wing, yes? Then you can tell us all about what happened.” 

You nodded against his hand, letting him pull you up to your feet and wrap his hand around your waist. Ominis stood with you both, doing the same on your other side after pressing a careful kiss to your hair, squeezing your hand in his. 

Safely tucked between your two boys, the three of you made your way out of the Undercroft and into the hallways of the castle you saved— the castle you called home.

***

like what you read? here's more!

[witchersmistress]

Hot as Hades

Good evening my darlings!! Posting this before I go to bed, I do have an alternate version in mind so don't be surprised if this changes 🤣🤣

Trigger Warning: hot and dirty finger banging session

Word count: 4.5K

Rory’s POV

One hundred thousand dollars?!?! What in the actual fuck.. As I go to make my way towards Mr. Whiskey , I am stopped by a security guard. “Ma’am Mr. Stone would like to meet you in his office, this way”  I looked back at Mr. Whiskey, he was standing now, his tall muscular frame in a charcoal grey suit with a black tie. His face was still casted in shadows but I know he is staring at me. I caught Jill and Ed out of the corner of my eye, giving them a small wave as we moved through the crowd, down a dark hallway.

The guard moved to the far end calling for an elevator, the doors opened and we walked in. scanning a black matte key card, the elevator began to move. I twisted my long locks in my fingers. We go off and walked down the hall to an office that overlooked the bustling city of LA

“ He’ll be with you shortly” the guard said and closed the door. Pacing the luxurious space, I panicked. What the hell was I doing, what did I get myself into. Going down that rabbit hole as the door opened “I’m sorry to keep you waiting Ms. Harlowe” Mr. Whiskey spoke with a slight southern drawl. I stopped dead in the room and just waited, it couldn't be. There is no way. I heard the tell-tale clinking of ice in glasses and the sound of liquid pouring. He continued as his heavy footsteps drew closer “ We seem to have a problem now don't we…” trailing off as he drew closer, a hand with a crystal tumbler reached around my left side, taking the glass from him, i looked at his hand as he placed it on my side to direct me to the couch, there was a tattoo on his hand, what looks like a bird wing stretched crossed the tight skin on his hand… No, absolutely not. 

There is no way.. He directed me to the couch sitting on the couch across from me, his large thighs slightly open as he settled into his seat. Dragging my gaze up his body slowly, i've never seen  him, in anything but jeans and t-shirts, but here he is sitting in a charcoal grey suit with a white buttoned shirt with a few top buttons undone and his tie MIA. that tattooed hand caressed his face, starting at his nose and down to his chin, you can hear him scratch his beard, god i love that sound, this man should not have this effect on me, hell this man has had an effect on me long before now, but he does and i look into the blue eyes of none other than Logan Syverson…. “ Now don't we Rory” he took a sip of whiskey but left the glass hanging from his tattooed fingertips “What the hell were you thinking Darlin? Selling yourself at a sex club, i thought you were smarter than that, baby girl”

The shivers that run down my spine when he calls me baby girl, my panties were getting wetter by the second as he scolded me.  Setting down my glass on the glass coffee table “Well you are one to talk Sy or should i be calling you Alex Stone. You fucking own part of this damn sex club!!” I stood up, rounded the coffee table and stuck my finger in his face. “You do not get to lecture me about what I do, you are the proverbial pot calling the kettle black.” his face had no emotion, nothing in his eyes to tell me what he was feeling. A solid poker face, that rotten motherfucker. I spun on my heels to make a quick and clean getaway until an arm wrapped me around the waist, pulling me back and pinned me to the wall , his large body holding  me down rather quickly. My face pressed against the cool marble walls as he leaned in “Listen here baby girl” his southern drawl was thicker than usual “ I did you a favor, by winning that auction, you don't know what kind of men are in this club and what they would do to a girl like you.” I bucked my hips in protest in response trying to get out from underneath him. 

 That was a bad idea, the dimly lit fire that was in his eye glowed brighter, a growl slipped out before he could stop it, his pupils growing like saucers. Grinding his hips harder into me,I could feel his thick erection digging into my ass, “Do you see what you do to me? I've tried so hard for years to keep my distance, but you are just so goddamn infuriating” he grabbed me by my hair and pulled my head back forcing me to look at him “You’ve done it now, there is no way I’m letting you go”,  he captured my lips, in a fiery kiss. I tried resisting, but it was utterly pointless, I was melting under him, I was about to be putty in his hands and he knew it.

 He moved his hand from my hair down to my neck and squeezed, applying the pressures to the sides, gasping from the interaction, dragging my lips away from him in an attempt to catch my breath, he bit my bottom lip and tugged on it.  Snaking my hand around the back of his neck, I pulled myself closer, falling down the rabbit hole with each kiss I gave him. His left hand, abandoned its position on my hip, snaked down to grab mine, bringing it down to the hem of my dress and dragging both my hand and dress back up my body. I was going to explode if this man did not touch me soon.  With my dress bunched around my waist on one side, his deft fingers glided across my abdomen, occasionally raking them across my skin as he delved into the front of my lace underwear. Thank you Jill for insisting that these.

Pulling his lips away from mine as one of his fingers circled my aching clit. “This belongs to me, every touch, every flutter of that pretty pink pussy, every orgasm that has my name coming off your lips like a prayer is mine do you understand?”  my eyes rolled in the back of my head as he plunged a finger inside my cunt. He licked his bottom lip as he continued to play with me. “ I remember the first time I caught you masterbating, we were up at your family's lake house, I arrived late. Everyone else was out in the canoes, I was going to my room when I heard these same soft whimpers and whispers, you are giving me now. I followed the sound to find your bedroom door cracked, i opened it more to make sure you were ok and i found you, riding your vibrator, i should have backed away, but i couldn't, not after what i heard.” he nipped my earlobe and started pumping in and out faster, adding another finger and his thumb circling my clit, IM could feel the warm ach forming low in my belly and i was powerless to stop it as i rode his fingers.

I remember that day clearly, I remember feeling like I had eyes on me but when I turned there was no one there, I moved to my back and opened my legs and grabbed my vibrator and went back to it. In my mind I was giving Logan a show, one that he would never forget..

I felt him hum in my ear as he drew me back from the past “ You were thinking about it weren't you? I can tell you got wetter, but tell me, do you remember what you said? I want you to hear you say it” he loosened his grip, ever so slightly, allowing me air, before he cut it off again. Thinking back to that moment, i began to ride his hand harder, tightening my grip on his neck, a low whimper left my throat as i felt that warm ache building in a small fire but growing larger by the minute, “Sy” i pleaded “ I want to show you how good i could make you feel” he picked up the pace of his thumb on my clit. He nipped at the bit of exposed neck and shoulder that my dress offered him.

“Hmmm, what else baby girl” he picked up his pace even faster. “Do you want to hear all the dirty things I've wanted to do to you over the years? The countless times I've wanted to tan your hide for the outfits you wore." The burning fire low in my belly was getting higher and higher, “Logan please, let me come for you” I begged him, I couldn't hold on much longer. “Such a dirty girl for Daddy aint you darlin? I remember after hearing you call my name as you came, i had to go take a cold shower and have a release of my own, but seeing you after that, it took everything i had to not drag you to my bed and fuck you like you deserve.. You want to be my good girl now?? Come for me, i want to hear your scream echo off these office walls and feel your cunt suck my fingers in and wont let me go” 

that was all it took, and I couldn't hold it back anymore, i rode out my orgasm on his fingers as he continued to praise me, the hand that was holding my neck, fell away to my waist to keep my steady as my knees began to buckle, the intense feeling came back as another orgasm washed over me. “Logan, please i can’t take anymore i just can't” he gave a wicked smile as he withdrew his hand and licked the juices off his fingers. “You tasted better than i imagined” he fixed my dress, pulling off his suit coat and draping it over my shoulders, picking me up and depositing me on the couch with a glass of water, chugging it greedily, he picked up my feet and deposited them into his lap, he watched me before he pulled out his phone, as he tapped away on the screen, he muttered "fucking Walter" before he walked over to his private bathroom, washing his hands and face, he moved back towards me. The buzzing of an intercom scared me to death, putting a hand to my chest, I willed my heart to slow down but she was going a mile a minute.

"Mr. Stone your car is here" Sy pressed a red button on the intercom " Thank you Matthias, we'll be down in a minute" stepping away from the intercom. He came over and helped me to my feet, fixing my dress. We walked to the elevator and took it all the way down to the parking garage. We stepped off the elevator and moved to his car, his demeanor had changed, he wasnt the warm and soft Sy but the hard and cold one I knew well. I cocked a brow at him as his driver opened my door for me. He barely looked at me " Please see that Ms. Harlowe gets to her destination safely and is compt for the missing half hour of time" he turned to look at me as he extended a hand " Mrs. Harlowe it was indeed a pleasure to have you as my company this evening" I looked at him and I was mortified, of course what we just did, did not mean a damn thing to him "Mr. Stone thank you for the decent evening, I wish you well" sitting in my spot and letting the driver shut the door behind me, I refused to look at that man or give him a second thought longer, as we pulled out of the garage, the tears I was holding back came streaming down and I was powerless to stop them as I watched the glowing lights of LA speed past me.

Sy's POV

Putting her in that car and sending her away was the cruelest thing I could have done to her. But it was for her safety, knowing that I'm letting the woman I've always wanted, drive away and into the night.

[vsyrworld]

challenge : describe a moment in situation with domestic conversation but privates meaning

so here i go. charlos private moments ft team 55

//

the warm lights illuminating the white brown marble countertop where carlos made a mess with his dirty of shreddered coffee beans. The smell is nice as the hot water steamed into thin air, it's coffee (of course), but that does not mean Charles has to start liking one.

He curled up on his dining chair, pen in the right finger sketching on a fake paper he holds with his folded knee (ipad, lando laugh at him and said 'it's an ipad'. but for him, any surfaces for drawing beside paper and canvas, it's consider as a fake).

He might focus on his sketch, but he could feel Caco' eyes trailing down his finger movement. He brushed up and down, change a pen brush to a pencil, rounding his wrist, scribble then add some shadding, Caco moves the same.

After all, carlos' cousin is sitting across of him in the dining table. His palm around his mug, twirling it in the air as if a mocktail. Well, is Charles care enough, he could start building some trust or affiliation or just chitchatting since they are sitting facing each other. But, he saved it for next time.

Meanwhile, a slurping coffee sounds came from rupert, just one chair away from charles' left side. He had the perfect pairing, cookies on the plate. Eyes on Carlos movement in front of him.

The gaze Rupert gives to carlos versus caco to him is certainly had different intesity, different meaning, different question and thoughts (actually charles is 100% sure. rupert eyes on carlos doesn't mean anything, he just sometimes zoned out. like a trainer like an athlete).

Charles didn't care enough though. Even with Caco takes another sip of his handmade coffee, still observing Charles hands movement.

Instead, his mind wanders into some past event. Because of his brain is too full, too cramped with memories, nightmares, bad race, good race, bad days, charles is drawing and calls his teammate.

"Carlos"

"Yess?"

Rupert still munchin his cookies, Caco stays the same like before.

Charles takes his time to finished some pencil strikes, just a little strand of black hair he is drawing. Carlos doesn' pushed him either, busy dealing with something at back of kitchen counter.

When he finished the hair, he changes into a brush pen and start picking up some ferrari colors,

"Honestly," Charles starts truthfully, like he always did to Calros. Then he start talking at the same time he is painting his paper red.

"I don't know what to answer Ollie' questions."

Carlos let a hum behind the counter top, "Really? But you answered him pretty well"

This time Caco and Rupert head turned at him (and Carlos). He knows, even when he doesn't truly see them.

Another paint streaks down, "Now the more I think about it" he cracked his neck to the left and continue to drawing,

"Why do I continue racing while it always giving me, this, same loss over the years?"

Caco raises his eyebrows. Of course he is. He is an outsider.

But Carlos understand. What loss meaning for Charles. Only him, because Charles let him see, let him know, let him in. To his private life.

"Love is ironic no? To say that I keep going because I love racing. At the same time..." Charles realized he fucked up the color

He wriggles a bit on his chair, fixing his hoddies sleves then erased some of error, "At the same time, racing fucked my life. They took away... my loves one" Charles' already on his second color, it's a warm honey bee yellow.

"My problem is always the same, though" He sighed. Tired of hugging his knee, he put his ipad on dining table.

"Is that I love people. And people that I Iove is leaving me. Then it goes alll around like that again and again..." he strokes a couple of shading, "and again." adding some highlights.

"And I wished I am heartless"

"I certainly wish you doesn't" Carlos speaks up, with a sudden presence of a warm mug beside his ipad.

Charles smelled and a smile peaking up his dimples to rise. He brought the mug closer to his noser, "Seriously, Honey milk?"

Carlos body warming his back. His hand placed firmly against Charles wooden chair.

"Your all the time favorite" he grins wide

"It is" Charles takes a sip with Carlos watching him (And certainly 180 degree different feeling when it's Carlos rather than Caco or Rupert. Even they do exactly the same; looking at him)

"Like it?" Carlos gives him an eyebrow raised

"Love it" A white milk line up on his upper lips and Charles happily lick them clean with his own tougue.

"This is why i don't think you shouldn't be heartless. I don't think you could be either." Carlos squeeze his shoulder, before taking a sit beside him

Of course. Charles also knows, he is a love person. He couldn't and probably wouldn't ever stop loving. Even though it's stupid and hurting

"What do you know about me?" he groans, eyes completely off the ipad now as the device locked and turn into black pitch

Caco squeked on his chair (Charles smiles, knowing that he is triggered), Rupert take a glance to both of them worried (he always be), while Carlos...

he just on his goofy mood today.

"I don't know you very much actually" white lies escape smooth like a butter as they're both smiling.

"what do you want me to know something about you?" Carlos asked, tilting his head. Eyes never leaving him

Charles squirm under his gaze. "my..." dimples showing as he giggles, he fake his thinking gesture, "what do i want for dinner?"

Carlos rolled his eyes.

"I know, Carbonara it is. Your liking"

Charles smiled and nodded as he watches Carlos arise from his chair, Taking sip from Charles' honey milk cups, on the same place charles lips settled. Carlos is still standing beside him, hands hanging loose in the air.

"I love it" He simply agree to whatever Carlos choose for dinner. Not minding a blush start spreading over his cheek. love you, he want to said. Caco gaze burning on him.

"Yes and I think that is what makes you still here" Carlos smiled at him. Warm like a sun.

That is what, Carlos means love. And here, means settling down in Carlos' Maranello apartemen. After hours and hours, they're spending their time to re learn and re analize this season. What went good and bad, what to do for next year. Until moon rises and Charles realized it is too late for him to go back Monaco then Carlos tugs his arm,

come home with me

and he follows, and he is here. Explained why charles here with Caco and Rupert scrutinizing him. Explained why, Carlos cooks him a dinner.

Charles hides his emotion pretty well, he thought. But when he pick up his ipad again, the dimples reflected through the screen, mocking him with three words (you loves him)

"What do you draws?" Carlos breaths softly against his crown head. Almost like a feather light kisses. Charles purrs

He blinks slowly and finally look across the table. Giving Caco a brief eye contact before craning his neck to meet Carlos behind him.

Carlos cheek is tan, smooth and clean. Smells good, citrus aftershave. Perfect, Charles thinks. So, he brings his ipad up, covering his whole face and half of Carlos' profile. He leans into Carlos' space and making sure Caco' trailing gaze fails him.

Rupert swallowed his last cookie, Caco drinks his empty coffee mug. Not that Charles can sees them anyway from behind his ipad. He doesn't care then closes the gap in.

After an utter silence, Charles cringe at the way how Carlos' high pitched dolphin laughter filled the apartement. That sounds so weird. It so stupid, he shakes his head. Then, he is putting down his ipad, making him visible again in Caco' vision.

"Pasta un lunga?" Charles pushed Carlos's arse towards to kitchen. That bastard still laughing.

"It's penne, mon bebe" Carlos mocking him while preparing a pan of boiling water.

Charles groans in annoyance. Of course , Carlos' carbonara is always lunga and Charles is always complaint.

"Do we have penne?" Rupert asks out of curious. Charles back busying himself with another sketch, secretly smiling as Carlos answered his trainer by "No, come on. Carbonara is lunga!"

But later then, when Carlos is plating the carbonaras in the dining table, three plates serves the lunga. And one penne, still sizzling warm in the pan.

>>>

Rupert ask him on the next day,

"What did Charles draws?" He asked while Carlos is driving three of them to airport. Rupert just so eager to back home and grinding down Carlos again with lots and lots of winter training.

But Carlos drives in his unusual calmness, like he doesn't want to leave Maranello fast, like his body, his souls lingering at his apartement. Somehow didn't match with Rupert and Caco excitement.

"Uhm, no. He didn't show anything" Carlos took some time to answered him.

Rupert takes a glance and find fondness in Carlos eyes. He hummed, but Caco interrups in,

"Did he truly is?"

"Yes. Does he ever shows anything?"

Rupert raised his eyebrows at Carlos immediate answer. Later on he realized his athlete is smiling.

>>

later,, carlos said to charles at the dawn. the monegaque bid him a quick farewell before went inside his own car.

it's already midnight when they touched down Spain but Carlos cheek is still warm from Charles' lips.

[thedawningofthehour]

Okay, first of making fun of rich people's houses on Zillow. This is actually the tamest house out of the three that made me want to do this.

This house was in Arizona and is like 15 mil and 13,000 square feet.

Entertaining Room That We Absolute Use.

I'm guessing this is either for the two people that are still friends with them or for inviting over other rich couples to show off how rich they are. Look, we have this grand piano here. It has never been used and we have to pay a guy to tune it regularly, but one day little Susie will prove to be a musical prodigy and we can force her to play for people we don't like.

Oh, this is the other side. I actually hate it more now. The other side wasn't my taste, but at least it was scenic. That flooring and those columns are literally just "look I have so much money." Also the effect of Fancy Chandelier is somewhat diluted if you put two of them in the same room.

Featuring Much Used Table and Chair in the background and...what is that supposed to be, like a secretary counter on the left? I can just imagine some lady in an office chair behind that answering the Very Busy house phone.

"This is where Daddy loses his Christmas bonus on poker night."

Okay, I-no, I hate this, I can't pretend not to. I hate the white kitchen trend, I hate marble countertops. They have...they look like brussel sprouts on a tray? As a decoration?

The dual fridges thing might have been cool if the execution was different, but for some reason the design and color just makes it look like it was tacked on, like if-wait. How many ovens are there?

So they have two stovetop ovens there

And what looks like two ovens in between the fridges? Four ovens?!

I mean, the top oven looks like it might be a microwave? I think the bottom might be a proofing drawer for bread, (lol like these people make their own bread) so many the middle is some specialty oven?

Still. A lot for a kitchen that's almost certainly never used.

I don't really have anything to say about this one. I'm just confused as to what it's for.

I'm increasingly suspicious that rich people are just pretending to be human.

Oh, finally, the living room people actually spend time in.

Featuring Exposed Beams That Are Totally Structurally Necessary.

And big TV you need binoculars to watch from the couch and can't be properly seen from a third of the sitting area. Much used dining table there. Bonus Dead Exotic Animal so you know they travel.

"To show off that we have the money for a bar but we don't want to look like alcoholics."

Deadass thought the back of the couch was stone for a minute.

This room isn't too bad-it's extra and they definitely don't need two sets of double doors right next to each other, but it does seem kind of cozy. I mostly left it in as a palate cleanser for what's to come.

Is that...

Yes. Yes it is.

WHY WHY WHY WHY

Why would you put glass double doors on the bathroom?!

What is going on with that ceiling-oh god, someone is going to slip and crack their head right open on those stairs. Maybe this entire house is an elaborate life insurance plot. If you get bored of your fifth wife just tell her to go take a bath and then you're free to marry your mistress of the month.

This would be so goddamn COLD, guess it's a good thing they have that fireplace.

WHAT IS GOING ON WITH THIS SHOWER?! Is it supposed to be a communal shower?!! Why is it so big?! WHY IS THERE A WINDOW?

FOR THE LOVE OF GOD WHY IS THERE A WINDOW.

I will give them this, I do like how they rounded this out. This part isn't bad. I actually do like the tile design, I just...don't like how they used it.

Just in case you're too befuddled by the actual bathing facilities and choose to go "fuck it" and shower outside.

Actually, the shower out here does make sense, they have a pool. If you're in and out of the water all day, do a quick rinse to get the chlorine off and put a coverup on to go eat lunch or whatever. That's reasonable.

All I can think of here is someone trying to put their makeup and hair products down and accidentally knocking them to the floor because they forget that the counter gets thinner.

Also omg the duuuuuuuust.

There's just something about those 'pretend cultured and fancy' columns against the stark white walls and ceilings that I hate. It's so pretentious and fake.

Is it just me or does every single chair look photoshopped in? There's something weird going on with the lighting.

"Do you hate being able to feel your toes? Do you love having cold feet? Then I have one hell of a basement to sell you!"

I feel like those chairs would actually be extremely uncomfortable and you know each one cost more than my car.

No one has ever used this pool.

Seriously, you couldn't swim laps in it. You could only really swim around in the very deep end, kids wouldn't have a whole lot of space where they can touch to play around. Maybe they could take a little kid to the very edge and splash in the water. And by 'they' I mean the underpaid nanny the parents look down on for being Hispanic despite their ad requiring applicants to be bilingual.

Totally Legit Well. Seriously, guys, this is an ancestral home.

Oh, but we're not done. They have like a guest house or pool house?

Wait, why does this kitchen look better than the main house's kitchen? This one I can actually picture someone using.

Look at that sink! Actually made to wash dishes!

(idk what's up with the line of apples in the cabinet tho)

Okay, the pool house is way cooler. I feel like the big house is literally just for show and this is where people actually spend their time. This looks far more comfortable.

Car stables. "Daddy, why do you have so many cars you use twice a year and cost a quarter million each?"

"Well, sweetie, the short answer is your mother is cheating on me and this fills the void in my life."

Okay I'm gonna go make myself a grilled cheese now. Idk if I'll do another one tonight, but this was fun! I love roasting rich people.

[auroras-blend]

Old Wounds

Summary: Vittoria accompanies her father to the opening banquet at his newest hotel, and reminds him that she shouldn't be left alone.

***

“But I don’t want it,” she huffed and crossed her arms.

Admittedly, her posture was inappropriate for the setting, but that’s what he gets for taking me somewhere I didn’t wanna go! A black-tie event was never fun for her, but when Papa had to make an appearance and didn’t want women fussing over him, she was his date.

The Caesar Hotel was her Papa’s latest finished project. The ceiling was high and bedazzled with small lights assembled in the pattern of constellations. Daddy’s own touch. Carefully curated Roman statues and fountains were neatly arranged in the grand room. She could actually name the scenes and emperors the statues were depicting, a bonding activity she shared with her father. Gold weaved through the white and gray marbled flooring, which came at her own suggestion. It adds sparkle! The room was lavish and the people were having a grand time, while she however was not.

“You don’t even have to eat the whole thing, just finish your vegetables,” Papa said frustratedly, scraping the vegetables to one side of the plate.

“They’re watery…” she wrinkled her nose.

“Vittoria, you’re not leaving this table until you eat all of your vegetables,” he said with his I mean business voice.

I mean business too!

“No.”

“No isn’t a word you say to me,” Papa hissed before waving down Sawyer.

“Leo, how are you-”

“I have some people to talk to. Stay with her until she eats all of her vegetables and then come find me,” he said dismissively before leaning into Vittoria, “I will throw out that music box if you don’t finish them by the end of the night.”

And with that last threat, he left. He gives up too easily, she thought bitterly. Her face brightened and she smirked mischievously. Sawyer though…would be a challenge. 

***

Sawyer proved, in fact, to not be a challenge. After just a few minutes, he was gone.

Vittoria, objecting to proper society standards, put her elbow on the table and leaned against it. She was bored and uncomfortable, and well, there was no one paying attention to her anyways. Sawyer was annoying but at least entertaining company. I can’t believe he left me! Her finger started making patterns on the tablecloth, triangle, square, heart. Heart, square, triangle. Trapezoid…

Her boredom went on until the table and silverware shook as a large stout man took a seat beside her. He unclasped the button of his suit coat and reclined against the seat, gripping his champagne and taking a polite sip. Vittoria stared at the man who had a nervous energy to him. Stress had stripped away the top of his black, now graying, hair and worry lines engraved in his round features. In fact, the man reminded her painfully of Mr. Bianchi with his olive complexion and dark eyes. Her heart hurt at the thought of the late elder and said a silent prayer for him. 

It was a sizable moment before he noticed her staring at him, and it must have caught him off guard because he gave a quiet shriek. “Hello,” she said.

When the redness left his face, he regained his composure and smiled back, pushing his small glasses back up the bridge of his nose. “Well hello. How long have you been there?”

“I’m not sure,” she said honestly, “But I was here when you sat down.”

He laughed, “You’re a quiet little thing. I’m sorry to have missed you.”

“That’s okay. I’m small but I’m gonna grow.”

“I’d expect you to.”

“My Papa’s a giant!” she said, making a big gesture with her arms.

“Is he?” the man chuckled.

“Uh-huh!” she said pleasantly.

The man looked uncomfortable, his dark eyes searching the room for her guardian. “Where’s your mother? I can hardly believe she left you all alone.”

“My Mama’s dead. It’s only me and Papa,” she said as she took a dainty sip of her sparkling cider from her wine glass.

They offered her a cup, but she requested a glass. I want people to take me seriously.

If the man was red before, he turned ghostly white at his misstep. He nervously cleared his throat, “I-I’m sorry…”

Vittoria shrugged. “It’s fine,” she said as she put her glass back down, “My Papa’s talking to very important people but I hadn’t finished my dinner so then he made Uncle Charlie babysit me but he went to get a drink because he doesn’t like me and is an alcoholic.”

He’s not but that’s what he gets for leaving me! “Oh my! All alone?!”

Vittoria nodded sadly to gain some sympathy. “That wasn’t very gentlemanly of him. And I doubt your father will be pleased. It’s wrong to leave little girls all alone," the man continued in admonishment.

“Yes sir. There are perverts and predators everywhere!”

The man’s eyebrows raised but he nodded, “Quite right. Well tell you what, I’ll sit with you until your Papa comes back and if it’s been too long, we’ll go look for him. Deal?”

“Deal!” she grinned.

“Say, how old are you?”

“I’m ten.”

“Wow, so you’re in, what? Third or fourth grade?’

“Fourth grade sir,” she said proudly, “I think. I’m homeschooled.”

His eyebrows met his receding hairline. “Homeschooled? Well I’ll be da-, haven’t heard or met anyone who does that. Do you like it?”

“Yeah,” she lied.

“What’s your favorite thing to learn about?”

Vittoria brightened. “Art! I love art! I do watercolor paintings and sometimes use glitter with them, when my Papa watches me so I don’t make a mess. He loves art too. We’re a lot alike, we’re both curly blondes,” she blabbed, “Anyway, when I went to real school I was the best artist in my class. I even knew cursive!”

“What? That’s incredible!” he smiled, entertaining the child.

“Thank you sir.”

“I’m not much of an artist myself but I do know a neat little trick.”

“What is it?”

“It’s called origami. It’s the Japanese art of paper folding,” he smiled and reached for a napkin, “Want to see?”

She nodded and scooted her chair forward eagerly. She was quite glad she did watch, because as he folded the corners together, it took the shape of a, “That’s a bird!” she gasped.

“It is!” he laughed and flapped its wings, “Do you wanna try?”

Vittoria nodded excitedly and for the next several minutes, she ended up making a mini zoo out of napkins she folded into animals. The man even played with her, his kindness extending even further. “You’re a creative storyteller…” he praised before he took on a reprimanding tone, “Unbelievable…”

“What?” she asked, her voice grew small and her brows furrowed worried that he was angry with her or she had offended him in some way.

“I have been so rude. I haven’t introduced myself or even asked your name,” he grumbled.

Vittoria let out a breath she didn’t know she had been holding. “My name’s Benjamin Nizzola, pleased to meet you,” he said, extending his hand for a shake.

She smiled back at him, “You’re Italian?”

“Yes,” he coughed uncomfortably, retracting his hand. 

“I am too!” she said, making him smile again and puffed out her little chest as she proudly began to introduce herself in Italian, “Mi chiamo Vittoria! Vittoria Bor-”

“Benny boy!” chortled another plump man, who landed his meaty hand on her new friend’s shoulder.

“Hello Steve,” he grinned, “Fancy seeing you here.”

“Well where there’s a party, so am I! Now, you’ve got to come with me. I have someone to introduce you to!”

Vittoria frowned, not ready to be left alone again. “Actually I’m watching this, very polite,” she smiled at that, “little girl until her father gets back. So if you could bring them here, I’d greatly appreciate it.”

Steve scoffed, “Only because I like you so much.”

The man skulked off. “Thank you Mr. Nizzola,” she whispered.

“It’d be an ungentlemanly thing to do to leave you alone. You seem to know your manners very well. I’m impressed,” he complimented.

“I...my tutors teach me…” she said nervously, remembering her late etiquette teacher.

“Well you’re an excellent learner!” he complimented, a rosy flush returning to his olive cheeks.

“Grazie! Non ero un bravo studente prima, ma-” she began before he cut her off.

“I apologize, I’m uh...third generation. I don’t speak Italian,” he said uncomfortably, pulling at his collar.

Vittoria’s smile faltered for a moment. Every Italian man she had come across knew the language, her father had said all real Italians could speak it and- Vittoria Borghese! You didn’t speak Italian at first! You’re still Italian! “That’s okay,” she said comfortingly, “Learning new languages is hard. I remember when I moved to a different country, I didn’t know the language!”

Mr. Nizzola smiled, “Well your English is very good and so is your accent. You sound almost All American.”

Vittoria frowned. Almost? “Do you like it here in America?” he asked, taking a sip of champagne and looked behind him for his friend.

No. “Yes,” she said pleasantly, “But I like Italy more.”

“That’s normal for most immigrants,” he said off-handedly.

“La gente in Italia era più gentile,” she whispered, “But what about you? Do you like it here?”

“In Garland?” he asked, his glasses falling down the bridge of his nose again, “Well...I’m just visiting. I prefer to stay away from the city.”

Vittoria nodded understandingly, “I know what you mean. It sometimes smells and it’s too loud.”

Mr. Nizzola was silent for a moment, his face taking on a worried expression as if something was haunting him. Mama looked like that when she worried too. “Sir?”

Whatever trance he was in broke, and he laughed, “Sorry about that! Thinking about some old business!”

As she was about to ask, he cut her off again, “Now this is a party and I don’t think the owners of those chocolate cakes are coming back, so whadda you say?”

Mr. Nizzola pulled two of them towards them. Vittoria adored this man and wanted to be polite, but… “My Papa doesn’t let me have sweets. Especially at night.”

Mr. Nizzola frowned, “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

She hated the pity that laced his voice. “It’s okay,” she said, “But he lets me have fruits.”

“How generous,” Mr. Nizzola muttered under his breath before he put the champagne back to his lips.

“I like strawberries and bananas!”

“Well those are some good fruits,” he said, the disapproval leaving his tone.

Mr. Nizzola raised his hand and waved down a caterer carrying a tray of chocolate strawberries, taking two plates for themselves. When the plate was put in front of her, she smiled. “Here we go. You can peel the chocolate off and-”

“That's okay! I’ll eat it like it is!”

Mr. Nizzola laughed and picked from his own plate. The next few moments were nice, and she had almost finished her entire plate when, “Vittoria, time to go.”

She looked up and grinned, “Papa!”

But his eyes weren’t looking at her, instead at Mr. Nizzola with a hellish hatred. And when she looked over at the stout man, whose gaze had an equal mixture of terror and loathing, she cowered. Her Papa was never physically rough with her, but he grabbed her so harshly she cried out. It must’ve not been her fault she realized when he had pushed her behind him protectively but it still had scared her. Mr. Nizzola stood up defiantly, which did little good given that he was much shorter than her Papa. Her Papa was a broad imposing figure and the way he stood mimicked a bear rising in dominance. “Y-you shouldn’t be here,” Mr. Nizzola said, trying to make his voice sound courageous, “I-Italy. You’re supposed to be in Italy.”

Her Papa sneered and if it weren’t for Sawyer coming up and saying his name, reminding them there was a crowd, well...Vittoria wasn’t sure what he’d do to Mr. Nizzola. “Mr….Mr. Nizzola taught me how...how to make p-paper cranes,” she said in her tiny voice, “See?”

She held up the crane, trying to show her Papa she was in no real danger. But that just made the situation worse. His voice, usually angel-like, took the sound of a demon. “Never talk to my daughter again. Ever.” 

Mr. Nizzola seemed like a level-headed man but that apparently faded. “You don’t deserve a child. You don’t deserve to be a father, not-”

Papa stepped forward but Sawyer put his hand up, “You said it was time to go. It’s nearly ten. Time for her to go to bed.”

“You should consider going back to wherever you came from,” Papa hissed before swiftly turning and pulling Vittoria along with him.

She sympathetically looked back and gave a small wave goodbye. He was nice to me. But whatever was between him and Papa, soured the relationship. Mr. Nizzola looked at her and the familiarity of her family in her appearance ruined whatever friendship they had. He didn’t even smile at my goodbye. 

When they were in the limo, her Papa went off. “What did you two talk about?” he demanded, his tone scarier then she’d ever heard it.

Vittoria immediately started to cry, “N-nothing Papa!”

“Nothing?” he scoffed before turning his rage on Sawyer, “Why did you leave her alone?!”

“I-”

“No. No excuse could be good enough!” he growled before turning back to her, “What did he say to you?!”

“W-we only only t-talked about,” she sobbed, “Origami a-and art and s-school! I’m sorry Papa! I didn’t know!”

“I don’t believe you. That’s not all. What else?!”

Vittoria was shaking, ready to throw up. “I-I told him Mama’s dead and I on-only l-live with y-you! But that’s it! I swear Papa!”

“Did you tell him how she died?!”

“No!”

“Leonardo!” Sawyer jumped in.

“Not a word!” he snapped before grabbing her chin, “You are to never talk to him again. Ever! Is that understood?!”

Vittoria nodded. When she opened her watery green eyes, her Papa’s softened. “Oh Vittoria,” he cooed, “I’m sorry. But you have to understand that I’m very protective of you.”

“I-is he dangerous?” she hiccuped. 

Papa nodded. “Yes. I was worried he’d hurt you and that made me very angry. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

He’s not mad at me. He was trying to protect me! Her Papa pulled her closer, allowing her to snuggle under his arm. Vittoria relaxed, the stress leaving her body knowing that she wasn’t in trouble. “I’ll make it up to you. We’ll go to the park tomorrow, hm?”

As her Papa looked down at her, she saw out of the corner of her eye Sawyer looking on in disgust and pity. “Okay,” she nodded.

***

When they returned home, he put her right to bed with the help of a sedative or two. Take a moment to decompress, to- “That was a terrible decision.”

He internally groaned. “A decision that wouldn’t have to have been made if you had stayed with her like I asked.”

“You didn’t ask, but that’s beside the point. You just had a very public confrontation with Nizzola. If something happens-”

“Nothing will happen as long as he stays away. The audacity of the man to even imply I shouldn’t have my daughter.”

That alone made him see red. As a father who lost his own child, he could see where Nizzola’s rage stemmed from, but to insinuate he didn’t deserve Vittoria was unwarranted. After everything I’ve gone through, I deserve her most of all. Charles was quiet in the corner. “Last I heard, he had moved to a suburb in Hoboken. I don’t think he plans on staying in New York. Too many memories.” Leonardo nodded. For his sake, he should stay there.

[ceramiccity]

Marble and Gold Accent Table

Elegant side table featuring a sleek round glass top, gold-finished metal frame, and a solid black marble base with distinctive white veining. Ideal for modern interiors. Follow Ceramic City on Tumblr Source: https://www.pinterest.com/theceramiccity/

[senorablack]

So Much Better Than Egg Salad Sandwiches

Words: 3565 (wip) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson Characters: Dustin Henderson, Robin Buckley Additional Tags: Accidental Baby Acquisition, Pining, Domestic Fluff, Humor, idiots to lovers, Kid Fic, Light Angst, POV Steve Harrington Summary: Steve gets a call from an old one night stand. Eddie just so happens to be around, decides to stick around, and now Steve’s got a whole world of internal shit to work through. There’s also the part about the toddler.

“So what do you think? That can’t be normal, can it?”  

There’s a beat of silence, but then there is a thump. A magazine waterfalls onto the floor. Some ripped open junk mail flutters down after it. A crossword with a pen bookmarked in it, flops clue-up on top of that. 45 down asks for a 10 letter word for terror so deep one is rendered immobile. 

“What was it? Too many basketballs to the noggin?All those crazy ragers at 16? Because some wiring ain’t firing off the way it’s supposed to if you seriously think I’d be anything close to an authority on this, dude.”

Eddie shifts his weight into Steve’s line of sight. Steve crosses his arms and purposefully stares at the crown moulding behind his head.

“And what, you think I’m hosting up seminars down at the Double Tree?” He snaps.

“No, but of the two of us, you’re the one with a resume that’s dirty with nannying.” Eddie says, dipping his head to demand eye contact. 

Steve does look at him then, but only because he wants to see the hurt cloud over Eddie’s face after he flicks him on the forehead.

“Ew. Come on, man, don’t say dirty and nannying in the same sentence.”

“Well aren’t we just a dirty-minded boy this morning?” Eddie grins, rubbing at his new wound.

“No, just a regular-minded dirty boy.” Steve says, and points over his shoulder with a thumb. He can still feel the sticky white crud, crusty and drying down his back.

Eddie peers over him before he steps away and stuffs his hands in his pockets. Steve dares him, with narrowed eyes, just dares him to make a joke about this.

Eddie mmhhmms, fingers covering over his mouth and pulling at his lips in a way that’s meant to conceal his glee, but Steve knows better. Eddie’s body is vibrating. The bastard can barely contain himself. That doesn’t mean he’s going to give him the green light or anything.

“I really don’t think I’m mature enough for this.” Eddie mumbles and buries his face into his hands.

Steve rolls his eyes.

“I know what that sounds and looks like okay, but can we focus—we’re getting off topic. Ideas, any of them, would be fucking neat right now.”

“Alright” Eddie says, sucking in a deep belly full of air and rocking to the tip of his toes. “Have you checked its instruction manual?”

Steve starts to walk away, but Eddie falls back on his heels and stops him by grabbing a fist full of his t-shirt. It’s unfortunate that it’d be the spot that hasn’t dried. Eddie’s face contorts in disgust.

 “What?” Steve rounds on him, “I’m shitting my pants here, but you’re joking around like you’re headlining The Apollo. Just go. Forget I called.” 

“No, look, I’m sorry. It’s just—I’m also very out of my element here.” Eddie says softly. He also wipes his sullied hands on the front of Steve’s t-shirt. Steve closes his eyes and counts to 5.

“I know.” Steve scrubs a hand down his face. “Shit, I know.”

There’s another thwap and what sounds of marbles rolling down linoleum, but is really a tall porcelain vase that stands on the offending side table. Even if they’re no where near it, the pair brace themselves for a quick run and lunge to catch it. They watch widen-eyed and wordlessly as the bottom of it twirls like a top about to tip, before the damn thing finally rights itself. They share a wince. 

“Should we, uh, divert its course? This seems like a gamble and we’re on the wrong side of the loaded die, if you get me.” Eddie suggests.

“Shit, there’s so much glass in this house—what was I thinking?” Steve says, grabbing onto Eddie’s wrist. “God, I can’t do this. Why did I think I could do this?”

[nuagederose]

kinktober 2022 // day twenty-three: disciples of the watch prompt: food kink/belly kink (courtesy of @the-purity-pen) pairing: chuck/alex (like blood from a stone) also on ao3 💋

oh. my. god. this one. this is the one. this one made me feel all the things.

oh, man.

There was one thing that I genuinely loved about being a prince, and one that I wouldn’t trade for the world even if I was asked. I could hand in my crown and head out on my own away from Testament, and I hoped that I would never have to forfeit anything that had to do with the fact that we ate so well. We had become royalty, and therefore, we ate like royalty.

I was a humble Jewish boy, and given our food wasn’t the food of royals, I naturally loved to eat. I loved to eat so much and I wanted everyone at our wedding to understand that, too. When Chuck and I eloped, we both wanted a bunch of food to serve up for our little party in the sands of Santa Cruz. I was eager to dig into that big three-tier marble cake with the black and white frosting and the little daisies all around the rims, especially after Chuck and I sliced into the cake in unison, and he served me up that big plate: I did the same for him, and then we helped give it out to everyone behind us.

Between the cake and the dinner that ensued, I was in heaven. Even though whenever I looked on at the silver wedding band around my left ring finger, it felt wrong, and Chuck didn’t hesitate to socialize with everyone in the room, either. Nevertheless, with that big plate of food before me there on the table top, I was in a state of euphoria, and more so when I watched Joey dance before me after he had kicked back a couple of big glasses of red wine. I kicked back in my seat with my plate full of a big slice of cake and I watched that boy dance to Earth, Wind, and Fire like no one was watching.

I slipped bite after bite into my mouth: such lush cake! Filled up with the right amount of chocolate and vanilla on both sides, and then there was the white frosting on top with the little golden-yellow fondant daisies. It helped that I hadn’t really eaten all that much that day, either: I was hungry by the time that I sat down there at the bridal table. I knew I would have to relish every bite anyway: the crowning ceremony was going down soon and I had no idea if or when I would eat again.

I finished my slice of cake and I turned my attention to the other side of the room, to the buffet.

And then, there was the other Chuck. Chuck from Florida. He had volunteered to help make the food for us, and if anything, he took up that daunting, grueling challenge of leading our kitchen—he even offered to hand make donuts for us! With the dough rolled out and the fryer and even an assortment of glazes. I simply couldn’t resist the offer, and my new prince sure as hell couldn’t resist it, either.

I watched him over there, with the white apron wrapped around his slim waist and his long mousy hair tied back behind his head in a taut ponytail to keep out of everything that he had helped serve for us.

At one point, he raised his gaze towards me and he cracked me a sweet little smile, and those slender dimples appeared in his cheeks like little parentheses.

My Chuck was out there socializing with people like Zetro and Gary: I may as well go forth and speak to him, at least to thank him for the food as well as that decadent cake. I stood up and I rounded the back of the table, and I made my way over there, away from their prying eyes. I adjusted the silver band on my left ring finger and I thought about taking it off before I met up with him. But I tucked my hands into my pockets instead.

“Hey, there’s one of the two princes!” Chuck proclaimed as I came within earshot. The smell of everything over there. From the creamy mashed potatoes to the medallions of steak, the buttery haricots verts to the vegan dishes, the sweets, the savory, the everything... it made me think of falling over backwards and doing a backflip on the backs of all manner of flavors and things. He held out his arms over the buffet table as if he was beholding his masterpiece.

“Hungry?” he asked me.

“Quite!” I declared with a gentle, little pat of my stomach. I picked up a plate from the end of the table there and I helped myself to one of everything. I almost didn’t realize how hungry I was until I started with the steak, followed by the beans. The next thing I knew, I was looking over all the dishes before me and feeling slightly overwhelmed by the sheer sight of it all.

“Care for some potatoes, Alex?”

I lifted my gaze up to Chuck and the slight smile right across his face, complete with those little parentheses on either corner of his mouth and a twinkle in his eye. I looked down at the big silver spoon in his right hand as well as the big tin full of those creamy mashed potatoes in his left hand.

“I do, yes,” I declared to him. Chuck kept up that sweet little smile as he served me a big helping of those potatoes, right in the one clear spot on the plate.

“Gravy?” he offered me; he set the tin down before him only to pick up the gravy boat right underneath his hand.

“Please,” I said. I locked eyes with him for only a split second, but sometimes a split second was all that I needed, especially with him. The scar on his head, as well as the marking on the crown of my own head, was all I needed to feel it between the two of us.

I watched him take that tiny handheld ladle out of the boat and drizzle some of that brown gravy over those potatoes and a fine line of it onto those steak medallions, too.

I flashed him a little smile all the while.

“Have fun, Prince Alexander,” he teased me; I swore that he winked at me as I thanked him and ducked back to the bridal table with that full plate of food.

I could feel the power of the soul bond between the two of us as I slipped the spoon in. Those potatoes, so delicious and belly-warming, and they reminded me of all the times I would eat potato latkes when I was a kid living at my parents’ house. We may have been non-traditional, but we always had them every first night of Hanukkah, and then when I turned sixteen, my mother stopped making them so much.  

Eating those creamy mashed potatoes and that lush gravy made me miss those damned things.

I was so enamored by the taste of the potatoes. I moved onto the steak, followed by the beans. Everything on the plate: it was like a big pile of delicious food, even though it had all strewn out before me. I brought the fork up to my lips again for one final bite of the beans.

“Oh, tasty,” I said. I was comfy, after I hadn’t eaten a whole day prior to then. I leaned back in the chair with my hands rested upon my stomach. I was warm. I was tender. Moreover, I was ready to eat like royalty from that point forward, especially when I cleaned my plate and I was thinking of picking up seconds for myself. But then I remembered that Chuck and I had to do our first dance as husbands.

I was in no mood to do such a thing with the sheer amount of food I had just eaten, but it was part of the tradition and yada-yada: I swallowed down a burp and I stood before him. I pressed my body up against his: if someone didn’t know better, they would think that I was drunk. However, I was still eighteen at that point.

I made the mistake of kneeing him right in the crotch and stepping on his toes. But I wanted to be around him for that night, especially when he planted a kiss on my lips after the fact.

I was giddy and so warm and soft all up inside, especially when Chuck offered me another slice of wedding cake all for me. I wanted more cake after that; all to have my cake and eat it, too.

We went home together that night and I couldn’t stop thinking about that plate full of food, or the feeling from the mashed potatoes all the while. I went to bed that night in our big bed with my hands tucked underneath the back of my head. I still felt that soft warmth in my stomach and deep within my belly, such that it almost felt as though I had a bit of fur spread over my skin. I felt like a puppy, especially since I left my pajama bottoms slung down low of my hips and my legs, and I kept my shirt off all night long. I still felt that tender warmth inside of me by the time I opened my eyes to the morning light.

Chuck was sound asleep on the side of the bed to my right, and thus, I ran my hand down my belly: my fingers over that soft, smooth skin and onto my belly button followed by happy trail. I slipped my fingers down to my waistband and down inside of there for a feeling of the silky warm skin down below. I was slender and slim, and yet I admitted to the fact that there was something subtly erotic about having a full belly.

I rolled my head over the top of the pillow and I nestled the tip of my nose up to my elbow and the inside of my arm; I kept my left hand rested upon the very middle of my belly. I spread my fingers out over my skin for a deeper feeling. I felt so good, even with the blankets pushed down around the tops of my thighs and the rim of my hips as well as the waistband of my pajama pants.   So good, and so warm and so silky inside.

I knew that I had to eat more by the time that I sat up and climbed out of bed, and I wanted a cup of coffee as well.

If anything, that was what brought me out of bed in the first place. I wanted to keep up the warm feeling within me.

Though I was officially a prince at that point, and I was to prepare myself for the official crowning ceremony at the end of that week, I still walked through the house with nothing more than my pajama bottoms on. I descended the stairs to the kitchen, where I was met with the fused aroma of both coffee and something for breakfast.

He turned around and faced me with that smile still plastered over his face. Those parentheses around the corners of his mouth once again.

“Chuck!” I declared.

“Alex!” he replied to me with a smile on his face. I swallowed at the sight of him there with the spatula in hand.

“What’re you doing?” I asked him, stunned. “What’re you making?”

“Pancakes,” Chuck said. “They’re not egg-based, either.”

I raised my eyebrows at that. “Wow, really?”

“Yeah. It's a secret. How many would you like?”

“Just a couple,” I told him. He lowered his eyelids and he examined my upper body, and he cracked me a smile.

“It’s funny, I never see you shirtless,” he confessed to me. “I like it.”

I refrained from telling him about the warm feeling inside from the night before, but I could see it in his eyes, however, especially when he turned back to the black iron griddle before him for a flip of the couple of pancakes for me.

I hitched up my pajama bottoms at the back a bit before I took my spot on the stool behind the counter. I looked down at my waist, slender and slim aside from a little bit of softness around my belly button. In fact, I didn’t have to sit there for more than a few minutes before I felt the hunger well up inside of me. I set a hand on my stomach for a gentle massage from my fingertips.

Chuck turned towards the coffee maker and he took a mug out of the cupboard right over his head.

“How do you take your coffee?” he asked me as he poured in the coffee.

“A little kiss of cream and some sugar,” I told him as I leaned back in the chair and I rested the balls of my feet on the lower spindly bar beneath me. I kept my hands rested upon the counter before me.

I watched him pour in the cream from the bottle out of the fridge: he followed it up with a spoonful of sugar from the can up against the backsplash.

He seemed to sweep over the tiles as he brought that white ceramic coffee cup to me. He locked eyes with me again as he set it down before me. I showed him a little smile as I nestled the cup in between my hands.

He then raised his gaze to right behind me and nodded at someone behind me: I peered over my shoulder and there was the Chuck that I had married the very day before.

“I thought I smelled something delicious down here,” he declared as he kissed me on the neck good morning.

“I did, too,” I replied to him as he took his seat right next to me. “I was surprised to find him here with the apron and the spatula in hand.”

“Oh, yeah,” he said to me with a little smirk and a wag of his finger. “I was going to tell this, too—he's kind of like our part-time chef now.” I was surprised by that, but then again, I wasn’t. That dinner the night before was so delicious, and thus, it made sense to me.

“Can’t complain about that,” I told him as the Chuck before us with a couple of plates full of pancakes, two for me and three for him.

“I would assume that you wanted three, Chuck,” he confessed.

“Oh, yeah, that’s perfect,” the Chuck next to me replied, and I cracked a smile at that. It made me wonder what else went down between the two of them during their conversation. But then again, I wanted a bite of these cakes before me, especially when I asked him for some maple syrup, a pat of butter, and a little dusting of powdered sugar over the top.

So light and fluffy. I took it slow, too, all so I could take in the taste every step of the way.

But then again, I wanted more once I reached the end of the two cakes. But Chuck was more than happy to make more for me, though. A third. A fourth. A fifth. By my seventh, that full feeling hit me almost out of the blue.

I ran the bite of pancake around the drizzle of syrup and the kiss of powdered sugar, and I knew that I couldn’t eat more after that.

But then he offered to make us lunch. Chuck had gone out that day, and thus, I was alone. A big fat Reuben sandwich, complete with the fresh pastrami on marble rye with some sauerkraut, as well as some homemade French fries, a handful of pickle slices, and a glass of homemade vanilla milkshake.

He was also kind of him to make dinner for us that night.

Though Chuck had told me that he had hired him as a part-time chef, I wondered if he would be there all the time, especially when he kept up the shtick over the course of the week.

He made me milkshakes every other day it seemed like. Milkshakes. Big hearty sandwiches and things like gyros and baked pasta. He even made quiche Lorraine from scratch one night!

I was eating like a prince and I kept up moving it, too, because I knew that it wasn’t going to end well for me. I knew it wasn’t going to end well for me even by the night of the crowning ceremony and I took a shower.

I climbed out and I put a towel around my waist. Something was off.

I looked up at myself in the mirror. Still quite slim, but there was something about my waist and my hips, however. I kept the towel closed over the top of my left thigh, and I ran my hand down my right hip.

I maintained my strength, and yet I could feel a little something extra in there. A bit extra and full.

I even turned to the side for a better look at my belly: still on the flat side, but I made out the ever-so-slight roundness around my belly button, as if I had gained about five or six pounds. I ran my hand down my waist for a gentle caress. Slightly round and slightly soft.

Then again, as far as I knew, it could have been baby fat. I had just barely hit adulthood after all: it would be some time before I shed those pounds.

I dried off my hair and I headed back to the bedroom to get dressed. I put on my underwear and it felt so weird: the waistband pressed up against my hipbones a bit tighter than before. I shrugged at that. I noticed it but it didn’t seem to be that bad, however.

But then I put on the shirt followed by the jacket as well as those pressed pants. It was the strangest thing as I zipped up the pants and the waistband pressed against my skin in a slightly tighter fashion. I was eating well, all courtesy of the royalty and Chuck’s kindness. I could feel it burgeoning around my waist, especially when I closed the jacket and fastened the bottom two silvery buttons. I was slender and slim in those black clothes, and as far as I knew, no one would notice it anyway: black was very slimming, after all.

The crowning ceremony was beautiful, ethereal even, such that I paid very little attention to the fact that I had gained a little tiny bit of weight around my waist.

Chuck and I earned our crowns. Chuck from Florida helped out with the big round of dinner that night.

Life went on, and all of the food was so delicious.

I couldn’t stop eating.

And yet, all the while, I tried to watch my weight. I took my walks. I rode my bike. I even took up running a bit.

Maybe I was vain, and I would admit to that. But I wanted to maintain my shape, though.

But it was all so good. So damn good. I couldn’t stop it. I grew up with such humble food and not really knowing when money would come in from my parents’ pension.

I couldn’t stop it. I couldn’t help it, either.

I especially couldn’t help it when I found myself indulging on candy over Halloween and on that big feast from Chuck and the other chefs over Thanksgiving.

I simply couldn’t help the feeling.

I woke up one morning in the middle of December on my left side, and up to this point, I had kept my weight steady at just under a hundred and sixty pounds. I took a glimpse down at my body, at the slightly full shape of my hips, at the thickness to my thighs, and most of all, to my bulging round belly. I didn’t even realize it, either: I had grown so round that I couldn’t even see my dick.

I also had to stoop over all the way just to see my feet and my toes.

When I looked at myself in the bathroom mirror again following my shower that morning, I was stunned by the full round shape of my belly. I must have put on at least five or six inches around my belly alone: though I had no double under my chin, my face was rounder and all the while, I had grown so chubby. This big round gut hung off my middle like a thick dead weight, and I wondered as to how much I had put on.

“Where’s the scale,” I asked aloud in a whisper. It was in the closet, if I recalled correctly.

I kept the towel around my waist as I made my way down the hallway to the stairs. I could feel it moving and shaking with each and every step.

I stopped there at the top of the stairs and I held onto the little roll right over my right hip.

So chunky.

I turned my attention to the closet right there next to me.

I opened the door and there was the scale right on the closet floor. I picked it up and brought it back to the bathroom. I stepped onto that little platform. I watched that needle.

“Oh, god,” I breathed out.

“Hey.”

I turned my attention to the doorway, where Chuck from Florida stood with his hair nicely brushed and his arms folded across his chest. Those parentheses made themselves all the more apparent to me.

I returned my gaze to the scale down below me. I also ran my hand over my belly; out of the corner of my eye, he tilted his head to side.

“Is everything okay?”

I pursed my lips at that. He had been our chef for the most part up to this point. I could blame myself for this, especially since I had eaten so heartily this whole time. I told him yes, and neither of us questioned it, so I had no idea who was to blame for this whole thing.

“Alex?” he asked me again. “What’s the matter?”

“I gained thirty-five pounds,” I said, and I stepped off of the scale. I ran my hand down my waist: my skin was smooth, like glass, with just a few sprigs of hair under my belly button. But I had a bulging belly, though: I was officially a fat rich kid, a fat pig. “I’m almost to two hundred pounds now. Thirty-five pounds, look at me!”

He lifted himself up from the edge of the door frame and stroked on over to me for a look himself. I couldn’t believe that I had let myself go to this extent.

“God…” I shook my head. “…god, I’m so fat. I need to lose this.”

Chuck tilted his head again and stepped back a bit: that smile never left his face all the while, either.

“You’re a bit on the plump side but very cute, though,” he told me as he moved closer to me again.

“What?” I demanded; I brought my hands up close to my belly to hide it from view, but Chuck leaned in close to me. He gently patted the backs of my wrists.

“Let me see,” he said to me. “Let me see—let me see—“ Each time he spoke those words, he lowered his voice until he reached a whisper. He showed me a sweet smile as he looked on at the full curve of my belly. He even ran the tip of his finger around the rim of my belly button, which sort of tickled.

I flinched back and I could feel a roll on my lower back: I had gained enough weight for a roll to form on my lower back.

“Your belly is so cute,” he whispered to me.

I held back and I took a glimpse down at my growing belly, initially that soft little roll around my waist, now just a little more than that, especially as it had all but blocked out the view of my toes. I felt so fat, otherwise: I had gained over thirty pounds since the start of the fall and it never gelled so well with me before. I could feel my body growing heavier and fuller, especially with every delicious bite that Chuck had crafted out for me.

He set a hand on me for a soft touch. His fingers caressed underneath my belly button as if he was about to grab my love handle, but he kept on feeling me and my soft skin.

“So gorgeous,” he remarked in a voice so soft that he may as well have breathed it. He leaned in closer to my face: soulmate or not, he did this to me. I was about to grow old and fat, and he was at the helm of it all. His eyes hooded, and his lips parted as if to give me a kiss, and I had nowhere to go.

“You’re so gorgeous—so soft—so—so—”

I closed my eyes.

“—sexy.”

I let out a low gasp at the sound of that. I opened my eyes just a bit and I saw he was right there in front of my face.

“God. What a sexy little belly. You’re so sexy, Alex.”

“It’s too much, Chuck,” I groaned out with another sake of my head. “I’m going to get so fat living with you. Look at me. Look at me!”

“I’m looking,” he told me in a low, slightly husky voice. Displeased with myself, I padded out of there and into the hallway once again. I kept on going to my room and I was about to close the door when something blocked the very bottom. I looked down and I spotted Chuck’s foot lodged in there.

“Alex—“ he begged me. “Alex, please.”

“No,” I insisted as I pushed against the door; the sudden push made that bowl of jelly on my waist jiggle a bit, much to my disgust. “I need to get dressed. There’s something oversized stuff in here that’ll hide it.”

“Alex, don’t,” Chuck begged as he pushed back against the door. “Alex, you have a beautiful body—flaunt it!”

I pushed some more and I finally couldn’t take the jiggling feeling on my waist. I scoffed and stepped away from the door. The towel fell off of my hips, so I stood completely naked in the middle of the floor for him. He showed me and the extra thirty pounds around my middle a smile.

“Look at it—it’s like a pillow,” he said with a little gesture to my belly. “A little pillow, or the belly of a puppy or a teddy bear. It’s so cute!”

I swallowed at the sound of that. I pressed my arms against my sides: those in and of themselves felt like little pillows. Chubby and round like a pillow.

“Put on your pants,” he encouraged me.

I had no idea if my pants still fit me, especially since my underwear had grown so snug on my hips and my dick. I slid my dark denim jeans over my legs and my hips, to which they hugged the latter a lot more snugly than I remembered. I had to stand upright and hold my breath just to zip them up all the way.

The belt was worse as it pressed against my skin over my dick: I looked on at myself in the mirror inside of my closet door, at my belt and my pants as they made me look even bigger and rounder than before. My belly button felt so gigantic in particular as it hung out way out from my body.

But Chuck strolled on closer to me and he put an arm around the small of my back, now padded with the fat of love handles.

“So thick,” he remarked with one hand on my gut and his other hand on my opposite hip. My slender body had filled out and grown some extra curves, especially around my hips and my thighs. I had grown thick and full in body, and I had the belly to top it all off. But he leaned in closer to me and he moved his hand over my belly.

The jeans gave me such a big fat muffin top: it wasn’t long ago I could wear jeans like that and they would fit my legs without highlighting those initial extra pounds.

He kept his face close to mine as if he was about to kiss me, but he never did.

“Come down for breakfast, big boy,” he whispered into my ear.

I shook my head. “I’m not hungry,” I confessed; I was actually very hungry, but I had no desire to eat, especially not with this big Buddha belly on me.

“But it’s morning,” he told me. “You have to eat.”

“Chuck, please—I’m not even hungry!”

“But you must eat, Alex,” he insisted. “You must have something to eat. You must eat for me.” He shifted his weight. “Moreover, eat for yourself. You can’t starve.”

When he said that, I thought about my home life. I couldn’t go back to that, either. I left home for a reason.

I sighed through my nose and nodded my head at that. Chuck showed me a smile again and he led me downstairs to the kitchen, where we were met with a small plate of donut holes about the size of apricots, coated with a fine layer of cinnamon and sugar, and with a small dish of dipping sauce next to it.

Once I sat down, and I could feel the fat around my waist pillowing out from over my belt as well as my thighs straining against my jeans, I took in a whiff of those little things.

“Those smell delicious,” I told him as he brought the plate over to me. “Did you just make them, or—?”

No sooner had the words left my lips when he picked up the one on top and lunged for me. He put one hand on the back of my head and he shoved the donut hole right into my mouth, such that I nearly choked on it. He looked into my eyes with pure lust as he reached for a second one.

“I want you bigger, fuller, rounder, heavier—god, you’re so hot.”

“Chuck—” I spat it out. “Chuck!”

“Don’t make me tie you up,” he warned me as he brought that little cinnamon-coated sphere up to my lips.

“What,” I said flatly.

“Don’t make me,” he repeated, that time in a lower voice, “tie you up.”

“You’d be willing to tie me up and force-feed me with all of those,” I sputtered.

“Spit one out again and I’ll force more stuff down your throat,” he threatened. Nothing could deny the look of sheer lust in those bright eyes. I swallowed down my nerves and I took the donut hole from him. Chuck lingered back and nudged the dish closer to me.

“Eat,” he commanded me. “I want to watch you.”

And so I did.

I dipped that donut into the sauce and took a bite.

Light and fluffy. Soft and a bit crunchy. The right amount of cinnamon and sugar around the outside. The sauce was warm and sweet like Chuck’s lips. I closed my eyes and swallowed it down.

I figured it couldn’t have been… that bad, especially as I ate the rest of it in a single bite.

I kept it up through that little pile before me: he had made me ten, and once I finished the last one, he showed me a smile and turned to the stove.

“What’re you making?” I asked him.

“Eggs and sausage,” he replied.

He made me a big plate full of scrambled eggs and these six big sausage links longer than my hand. Once again, he watched me eat every bite. Where the donut holes left me feeling comfortable, I was already feeling full.

Once I had finished, he returned to the stove.

“What’re you making now?” I asked him.

He didn’t say anything, but I did watch him whip up the batter and pour it onto the griddle for a big stack of pancakes, with lots of butter and powdered sugar on top. He handed me the fork and I shook my head.

“I don’t know if I can eat another bite,” I told him with my hand rested on my belly.

“Feel it, Alex,” he commanded. “Feel the desire inside of you.”

I looked on at the stack: there had to have been at least ten there, all of them thick and heavy in appearance.

“Here—let me help—”

He took the fork and sloughed off the first bite for me, right off the bottom of the stack. So light and fluffy.

Though I was feeling full, I couldn’t resist the taste, especially with that decadent butter and sugar on top. I could feel myself gaining more weight just sitting there.

I swallowed it down, and he gave me another bite. Followed by another one, then another, and another, and another… The next thing I knew, I had eaten six out of the ten, all courtesy of him.

“Oh, my god,” I groaned out.

“Yeah.” He showed me a devilish grin as he handed me the fork. “I know you like to let go and indulge yourself, Alex. Why not go forth and do it here while you’ve become a royal?”

I shifted my weight in the seat there. I could feel the stool creaking under my weight. Nearly two hundred pounds and it all centered itself in my growing belly.

He was right, though: having the background that I did, I thought about getting out in the open and letting go once in a while, even if it meant that I gained some weight as a result.

I dug the tines of the fork into those next four cakes: Chuck never left my side as I ate up those pancakes, already on a full stomach. Somehow I managed, though: I ate all ten pancakes, butter and everything.

He showed me a smile and he turned to the fridge for yet something else for me to eat.

I was so stuffed, I thought I would roll right on the floor like a beached walrus. I leaned back in the stool and unfastened my belt and then unbuttoned my pants. I felt so big on the inside; I peered down at my belly as it spilled over into my lap.

I shook my head at him.

“I can’t,” I insisted. “I feel like I’m about ready to pop.”

Chuck cracked a mischievous smile at me and he gently poked me right on the soft part waist: the only soft part as my belly was so taut from everything I had eaten.

“You have a little room in there,” he told me.

“I’m gonna pass out from a food coma,” I warned him. “Stop—please. I’m begging you, Chuck. I have a potbelly on me now. I know—you love me. But—I’m having a hard time passing that feeling onto myself.”

“I love you so much, though,” he told me. “Look how beautiful this body is. Look at this shape.”

He leaned closer to me and lightly kissed me on the side of the neck.

“Here—let me help,” he encouraged me.

“No,” I blurted out. “No! No, no, no, no, no!”

I swiveled around in the stool and I nearly fell ass over teakettle onto the tiles. It was the strangest thing, too: though I had undone my belt and my pants, they never fell down my legs as I staggered away from him. I had literally gained that much weight.

It was hard to run, too, even as he chased after me onto the back porch.

“Alex!” he called after me. “Alex, wait! Please!”

I skidded out there and I gripped onto the railing; a sharp pain shot up my side. Out of breath, I held still with my gut hanging out in the open. I felt like such a pig.

Chuck caught up with me, barely out of breath.

“I can’t,” I confessed. “I ate too much and I’m too heavy. I can’t—I can’t—!” I gasped for air, all from that big, full feeling inside. “I can’t do it, Chuck. I can’t let go.”

I gasped and I held still lest that sharp sting keep it up.

He put his arm around me.

“It’s not in me to let loose and indulge,” I bled out for him; the pain in my side persisted, even as he dropped down to below my waist.

“What’re you doing?” I demanded.

His fingers caressed over the fullest part of my waist, over my belly button.

“Stand upright,” he told me.

I did, and he brought his hands and his face up to a spot underneath my belly button. I steadied myself with one hand on the railing: he pressed his lips to the skin.

Oh, that felt so good.

He treated me to the sweetest, softest kisses on the soft, tender part of my belly, such that it actually removed the pressure off of my stomach. He gave me a gentle nibble under the rim of my belly button and it made my toes curl.

Without a second thought, Chuck rose to his feet and nuzzled me on the side of the neck, as if he was about to kiss me there.

“I love you,” he whispered into my ear. “You may not feel that way about yourself, but I’ll always love you. I just love you and your beautiful body, Alex.”

He leaned back and locked eyes with me for a second. My soulmate, even in the face of the arrangement with me and the royalty.

But his face fell and he slid past me to the door again. I cleared my throat.

“Chuck?”

He turned around and tucked a lock of hair behind his ear. I dropped my gaze to my belly: the feeling of his soft lips on my skin still lingered with me, as if I had worn velvet all around my body this whole time. I set a hand on my waist. My skin was very soft, almost like silk, even when I was stuffed full like a fat, juicy turkey.

“I love to eat,” I told him in a low voice. “And, you know, I love your food, too.”

He stood there with his head at a tilt and his eyes squinted from the soft morning light all around us.

“I eat your food because it’s just—so good. I can’t resist any of it.”

Gingerly, he stepped closer to me. I brought my other hand to my waist, and I could feel myself growing bigger and fuller, even just by standing there.

“I love to eat and I want it to show,” I continued.

He rested a hand on my belly and then he pressed his lips onto my own.

“And I want to watch you forever,” he whispered right into my ear.

“Chuck, please, I’m married,” I told him. But that didn’t stop him from reaching down into those snug pants, though.

Maybe a little indulgence wouldn’t hurt me.

[shingekinohyrulewrites]

Unteachable

After a chance encounter at your town's Summer's End Carnival, you hook up with a hottie.

Only to find out he's your English teacher.

This fic displays a teacher/student relationship, where the reader is 17. This sort of relationship is NEVER okay, especially given the power difference between a teacher and student. This is a clear abuse of power. So if this is a topic/trope that greatly bothers you, I would suggest seeking other fics out.

Read first chapter here

Read previous chapter here

Kirishima was set to drive you to Homecoming at seven sharp, and your parents were waiting for him so the two of you could take photos together. You and the girls had decided to go forward with the Cinderella dress theme, and you checked your reflection one last time before making your way downstairs. The dress you had settled on was rather simple, with thin straps and a cut that was appropriate enough but the bra you had selected allowed for some slight cleavage. The most scandalous part of your dress was the slit on the left side, stopping midway up your thigh to show some notable skin. You had paired it with a simple pair of strappy silver heels, the rhinestones shining in the low light of your bedroom.

“Honey! Kirishima’s here!”

Sucking in a breath, you grabbed your clutch and carefully made your way down the stairs. Kirishima was standing by the front door, chatting with your parents. He was dressed in a navy suit to match your dress, his signature red hair slicked back instead of in its usual spiky style. Upon hearing your heels he turned his head, eyes going wide as he appraised your figure. You noticed him shuffling his feet awkwardly and you wondered if he was nervous.

“Hey.”

Your parents immediately gushed over the two of you, pushing you together to get some photos. Kirishima gently placed his hand on your hips, pulling you towards him and smiling down at you.

“You look gorgeous,” he murmured into your hair.

“Thanks,” you replied, placing a hand on his chest and angling your body towards your parents.

The photos took about ten minutes, and it wasn’t until you reminded your parents you had a dance to go to that they backed off. Kirishima promised not to keep you out too late and your parents assured him that it was fine, that they trusted him and just to get you home whenever in one piece.

Your group of friends was waiting for you in the parking lot. The girls squealed when they saw you, pulling you into a tight hug and spinning you around.

“Girl, that slit is dangerous!” Momo gasped. “Kirishima, you better watch out!”

“You look hot,” Ochaco giggled.

“We need to take photos later!” Tsui announced.

“We need to get into the actual dance before we can do anything,” Iida reminded you all, and with that you headed inside.

The gymnasium had been transformed into a beautiful ball, with chandeliers hanging from the high ceiling and faux marble columns spread evenly on the sides. Round tables with silver tablecloths were laid around the gym, small candelabras lit with white candles. A photo booth was on the left side, with a backdrop of the famous stairs from the Disney movie. The DJ was playing casual tunes, the familiar voice of some Top 40 artist floating through the air.

“I’ll get you a drink,” Kirishima said, giving you a peck on your head before disappearing.

“Okay, so food, drinks, photo?” Tsui asked.

The girls began to discuss the potential itinerary for the night and you absently listened. Your eyes flickered around the gymnasium, seeing which teachers had been pulled for chaperone duty. Ever since Kai had ended things with you, he had been nothing but formal to you, treating you just like the other students in his English class. There had been many nights where you had wanted to message him, to tell him that it was okay, that you just wanted him, but you didn’t want to push him or come off as desperate.

“Here you go.”

Kirishima handed you a red cup of juice and you thanked him. Your group had begun moving towards a table, and the two of you followed them. The first half hour was spent eating, chatting excitedly about your plans for college, the future, perhaps even plans for after the dance. The DJ had introduced himself, announcing that he would be playing the “danceable stuff” at eight thirty.

“That means we have time for photos! Come on!”

Tsui was insistent on photos, and you all obliged. You all began arranging yourselves, deciding to take individual shots before taking a group one. As you approached the booth, you felt your heart dropping as you saw the teacher in charge.

“Yo! Mr. Chisaki! Are you taking our photo tonight?”

He shook his head, giving you all a polite smile before replying.

“No, I’m afraid not. I’m just here to supervise and make sure the photos are appropriate.”

His eyes fell on each of your friends, saving you for last. Satisfaction was the only way you could describe how you felt at seeing his eyes widen. Despite your friends standing there, he let his eyes slowly rake down your body, focusing on the slit on your leg before swallowing nervously. You gave him a smug smile, turning to Kirishima and asking if you two could go first.

You took the side closest to Kai, flipping your hair over your shoulder as you positioned yourself next to Kirishima. Popping your left hip, you put your left leg forward, allowing the slit to open and revealing your leg completely. You felt Kirishima’s hand wrap around your hip like before, and you allowed your body to melt into his side.

“Smile!”

From the corner of your eye, you could see Kai’s jaw tense. You gave the camera a big smile, angling your head towards Kirishima in an attempt to look cozy. The photographer allowed you two to preview the photo and you were surprised at how seductive you looked.

“Alright, next couple!”

You and Kirishima moved aside, and you found yourself standing next to Kai. Ochaco and Deku went next, but the two had a hard time posing as they were both embarrassed to stand so close to each other.

“I know I shouldn’t say this, but you look breathtaking. That slit is rather . . . distracting.”

Kai had leaned towards you, muttering in your ear discreetly.

“Thanks,” you replied simply.

Your friends were still wrapped up in teasing Ochaco and Deku so Kai took that chance to speak to you again.

“Have . . . you been alright?”

“Why do you care?” you asked, turning your head to stare at him before abruptly turning back.

“Next couple!”

Bakugou and Momo went next, but you kept on standing next to Kai.

“I know that I should have been more proper with how I ended things. I acknowledge that, and I’m sorry.”

Bakugou began to argue with the photographer, and your friends jumped in to tell him to stop and shut up.

“Forgive me for saying this, but I am using every bit of restraint to take you from here and rip that dress off of you.”

You gasped, turning to give Kai a wide eyed look.

“Kai!” you hissed. “My friends are standing right there.”

“I know, but now, seeing you . . .”

Bakugou had finally settled down, and the photographer counted down before snapping their photo. Denki and Jiro went next, switching between what sides they wanted to stand on as they decided what was their best side. The photographer offered to take a test shot to test their good sides and the two agreed.

“Are you and Kirishima dating?”

You slowly turned to look at Kai. Although his expression was blank, you could see worry in his eyes at your possible answer. Shaking your head, you turned back to Denki and Jiro, who had settled on a pose and smiled at the camera. Kai was silent as the rest of your group went before you clambered together for a chaotic group photo.

“Alright you’re all set! Enjoy the rest of your night!”

Your friends thanked the photographer before turning to say goodbye to Kai. He responded with a simple wave, reminding you guys to behave yourselves. His eyes gave you one last look over, jaw tightening before he turned towards the next group of students approaching.

The DJ had begun playing music and you all rushed towards the dance floor. Kirishima kept one hand on you, whether it was your shoulder, waist, or the small of your back. You began by dancing silly, jumping around to the beat with the girls. As the music got better and a little more raunchy you stuck with Kirishima, wrapping your arms around your neck before he whirled you around, pressing you against his hips. It didn’t take long before your grinding had him popping a boner, the realization making you flush. You had been grinding on him for two songs when you felt a hand on your shoulder.

“Mr. Kirishima, I expect much better behavior from you and your date.”

Kai was standing behind you, one eyebrow cocked as he gestured for you to step apart. Your friends followed suit, keeping their eyes low in embarrassment as he gave them a warning look.

“M-Mr. Chisaki,” Kirishima stuttered. “Sorry, we got carried away.”

He turned to look at you.

“I assume you’ll behave yourself now?”

You tried hard not to glare at him but instead settled for a slow nod. He gave your group one last look before scanning the crowd and disappearing into it. Frustrated, you told Kirishima you were going to the bathroom before slipping away. Anger continued to boil in you as you practically ran to the bathroom. The hallway was empty as you entered, your heels clacking and echoing off the walls. You were about to turn the corner to reach the bathroom when someone abruptly pulled you.

Kai pulled you into an empty classroom, closing the door before moving you both where you were out of sight from the door. You glared at him, glancing past him towards the door in an attempt to escape.

“I’m sorry. It’s the only way I can talk with you tonight.”

You refused to look at him, keeping your arms crossed as you glared down at the floor. He let out a quiet sigh before taking careful steps towards you.

“Can we talk, please? You can go back to your friends, just give me five minutes.”

“Clock’s ticking,” you barked out.

“I’ve been doing some thinking ever since I broke things off with you. Yes, you deserve to enjoy your senior year with your friends, but I want to enjoy those things with you.”

You furrowed your brows, keeping your gaze low.

“I knew this would be complicated from the second you walked into my classroom. But I accepted those complications and tried to make things work.”

He let out another sigh before continuing.

“I thought it would be better for you to not get involved with someone older. I mean, you should be interested in boys your own age. I thought you and Kirishima would be a good match and that it would work out much better for you.”

“Kirishima is my best friend,” you replied, lifting your eyes to give him another glare before looking back down.

“I know,” he said. “But seeing you with him . . . I realized I just wanted you to myself.”

His fingers gently grabbed your chin, tilting your face up to finally look at him. His golden eyes were focused intensely on you, searching your face for some sort of response.

“Seeing you in this dress has really fucked me up, angel.”

Your eyes drifted over to the door.

“We have a few minutes before my friends worry about me.”

The two of you ended up in his car. He had parked far from the gym, his car shrouded in darkness as you clambered into the back seat. He pushed the seats forward, gently laying you down before pressing an urgent kiss to your lips. Your back was pressed against the car door but he helped you slide down, careful with your dress so as not to rip it. He kissed you again, one hand cupping your face while the other moved your skirt aside so he could kneel in between.

“God you look fucking sexy in this dress. I’m so excited to fuck you in it.”

He gently traced his fingers up your thighs, hooking his fingers in your thong before sliding it down. They were quickly placed in his pocket, sending you a wink as he began to unbuckle his pants. Once his cock was out you felt yourself getting aroused immediately, missing the way it stretched you oh so deliciously. He pumped himself a few times before leaning down, licking a long stripe along your folds. You moaned loudly, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pressed him into your core.

“Relax princess, remember we’re crunched for time. I’m going to fuck you hard and you’re going to return to your friends like nothing happened.”

He spat onto the head of his cock before slapping it against your folds. He grabbed your left leg, lifting it up to allow him easier access. Sucking in a breath he began to push into you, a low groan escaping him as he filled you up completely.

“Oh Kai,” you moaned. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, baby.”

He grabbed your hips and began pulling you against him. You settled on a slow rhythm, relishing in the feeling of how tight you felt with him inside of you. Your mouth fell open as you let out moans, his name mixed in with them as you kept on. After a few minutes he began to thrust into you, one of his hands grabbing the handle above the door. You felt the car shaking as he fucked into you harder, his eyes half lidded as he gazed down on you.

“I’m going to cum in you and you’re going to hold it in for the rest of the night like a good girl. Got it?”

You nodded furiously, clenching around him at the thought. He gave a few more sharp thrusts, his free hand rubbing your clit until you came around him. Kai followed immediately after, coming to a still with a growl of your name before collapsing onto you.

“We better hurry, angel. We don’t want to get caught.”

Kai told you to go first and you rushed to the bathroom. Your hair was a mess, and your makeup was slightly smudged from the intensity of the sex. You quickly cleaned yourself up before returning to your friends, who seemed relieved upon seeing you.

“Where have you been?!” Momo asked, worried.

“We were about to send the teachers to go look for you,” Kirishima said.

“Sorry, I guess the food didn’t sit well with me,” you lied nervously.

“Yeah, you look fucked up,” Bakugo frowned.

More like I just got fucked, you thought to yourself, biting your lip.

“Maybe I should take you home,” Kirishima offered.

“No, it’s Homecoming,” you began but he shook his head.

“I would be more worried if it was our Prom. Come on, let’s go.”

[angieshome]

Modern SS Round Side Table with black and white marble top

Color: Golden , Black

Primary Material : Marble

Secondary Material : SS and MS

Polish: Melamine

Hardware Used: Hettich

Knobs: NA

Size Available(Top Diameter & Base Diameter): 30"

Net Weight: 150 Kgs (Approx.)

Package Details: 1 Piece

Style: Modern & Contemporary

Type: Side Table