#Wealth Building as a Couple

[dc-probate-attorney]

Financial Management in Marriage: Navigating the Path to Financial Harmony

Marriage is a beautiful union of two individuals with shared dreams, goals, and responsibilities. One of the most critical aspects of a successful marriage is effective financial management. The way a couple handles their finances can significantly impact their relationship, shaping not only their economic stability but also their emotional and psychological well-being. In this article, we will…

[tunsem]

been delulu and daydreaming about winning the lottery lately cause I have a very detailed plan about what I'd do

take the annuity payments and quit my job

pay off debts of myself and my closest friends and family

buy a decent sized house, convert a couple rooms to hobby spaces, use the remaining bedrooms for any close friends/family that need a place to stay while they build their savings

put the money into a high yield savings account and consult a professional about investments I should focus on

build enrichment areas in my home for my cat and any future cats I adopt

any extra spending will be towards charities/causes I believe in or paying indie artists for commissions and basically giving them at least 2-3 times what they ask for in tips, probably more

take my mom and sister on vacation with me and travel abroad to the places they've only ever dreamed of visiting

maybe build a pc and start streaming for funsies in between

[darknight3904]

It Burns For You

𝕊𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪: ɪɴ ᴡʜɪᴄʜ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴏʀʏᴏ ɢʀᴏᴡ ᴜᴘ ᴛᴏɢᴇᴛʜᴇʀ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴀᴘɪᴛᴏʟ ᴀɴᴅ ᴏɴᴇ ᴅᴀʏ ᴄʀᴏꜱꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ʟɪɴᴇꜱ ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ ꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅꜱ

𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤: ɴᴏɴᴇ, ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ. ᴏᴏᴄ ᴄᴏʀʏᴏ, ʜᴇ'ꜱ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴛᴏᴛᴀʟʟʏ ʜᴇᴀᴅ ᴏᴠᴇʀ ʜᴇᴇʟꜱ ꜰᴏʀ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ. ᴄʜᴇᴄᴋ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴍʏ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ ꜰᴏʀ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ!

ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛᴡᴏ

Coriolanus is 12 when he sees you for the first time. Your red uniform is pressed perfectly and your school bag looks brand new. Your lunch consisted of a hearty-looking sandwich with roast beef and lettuce and a container of fresh fruit that had his mouth-watering.

"Do you want a piece? Our maid always packs too much and I can never finish it. You can have some if you want." Your voice fills his ears

A delicate-looking hand is holding a juicy-looking strawberry in front of him. He reaches for it and it takes every ounce of self-control he has not to shove it in his mouth. Instead, he takes a small bite and thanks you for sharing.

"Don't you have a lunch today?" You ask

He doesn't. The school had said they would start supplying the students with lunches soon but how soon? Coriolanus had already been attending for a number of years and still nothing.

"I already ate it." He lied

"You're still hungry though. You can have the rest." You say with a smile as you push your fruit bowl to him.

"Is it your first day?" He asks

"Yes, my mother thought that my governess wasn't doing a good job so she had my father enroll me here. I miss being at home with my new kitten though. She has long white hair and she is the cutest thing in the whole world." You said

Coriolanus can't believe that you had your own governess, let alone a pet to call your own. He later learns from Arachne that your father became incredibly rich by manufacturing weaponry for the Capitol. Despite your inherent wealth, you've never flashed it around him.

You and Coriolanus are 15 when you discover all the lies he tells at school about his family. He had left his uniform jacket behind on his chair and you got his home address from Sejanus, meaning to give it back so he'd have it for tomorrow. Instead, you had discovered the Snow's decrepit-looking building and barely functioning penthouse. Coriolanus' heart nearly stops when he emerges from his room to see you and his Grandma'am sitting together as she compliments your shoes.

"What are you doing here?" He asks, ready for your judgment and teasing words

"I wanted to return your jacket, Coryo. You'll need it for tomorrow."

The red of the jacket in your arms matches his face as he ushers you to the door, trying to hide the fact that Tigris was preparing cabbage in the kitchen that would undoubtedly stink the entire place up with the scent of the Snow's poverty.

"Stop rushing me, your cousin invited me to stay for dinner." You say trying to stop the way he is leading you to the door.

"You don't want what she is making. Tigris is a terrible cook." He said

Tigris lets out a shout of disagreement from the stove and Coriolanus ignores it.

"How about, I go out and get something to add to the meal Tigris is cooking, and by the time I get back you change your attitude about me staying for dinner Coryo. "

And with that, you walk out the door and slam it in his face. He's rather stunned at your declaration but knows you're serious. He rushes around their home, trying to clean up what he can while Tigris laughs at his frantic motions. Then, just as he was debating whether or not he wanted to change out of his uniform, you return from your short trip to the closest market.

"I wasn't sure what Tigris is cooking so I got a couple of things." You say placing the bags on the table.

Coriolanus is sure you spent a fortune on what is in these bags. Fresh bread accompanied by a sickly sweet fruit spread and a block of butter sits in one while the other holds something else in a brown box. You take your seat next to him at the ugly little table he has eaten too many meals at and cut a piece of the bread for Grandma'am. He is worried when Tigris starts portioning out the cabbage she cooked on the stove. Coriolanus watches your expression as you take a bite but nothing that he expected happens. You don't knit your brows in disgust or get up to leave and take your fresh bread and mysterious box with you. Instead, you go back for a second bite and compliment what Tigris has done with the food.

He sits stiffly next to you and can barely accept the slice of bread you offer him. You excuse yourself to use the bathroom and Tigris reaches across the table and pinches his shoulder.

"Stop sitting like that, Coryo!" She scolds

"Like what?" He asks,aware that Tigris meant how oddly straight his back was.

"You're making her uncomfortable. You've been friends with her for years she isn't worried about what our home looks like." Tigris says

"She might not be but what happens when she goes to school tomorrow and talks?" He asks

He shuts up when he hears the sound of the bathroom door opening again.

"That was lovely Tigris. I've never had anything like it, I'll have to invite you all to my own home for dinner sometime. Our cook makes these pastries that are simply wonderful. They even get sold at local markets, which leads to this..."

His eyes widen when you finally unveil what was hiding in that second bag. A dozen expensive looking deserts sit in the brown box you brought, each one decorated differently.

"I hope I picked something everyone would like. I know Coryo mentioned that Grandma'am liked chocolate so I picked this one just for her."

Coriolanus feels a wide smile stretch across his face as you pass out your little desserts. His worries about you gossiping to their peers fade from view as he bites into what he thinks is a croissant. You laugh at his reaction and toss a napkin at his face which is most likely covered in the gooey fruit filling that was in his pastry.

He walks you back to your home that night and thanks you for making his night. He can't remember the last time Grandma'am had smiled from eating chocolate. You accept his thanks and gently tell him that he shouldn't be ashamed about his financial situation. He never gets to disagree with you though because a soft kiss is pressed to his lips followed by a rushed,

"Goodnight, Coryo! Thanks for the cabbage!"

He walks back to his own home with a jump in his step. Thoughts of you consume him as he smiles to himself, proud his first kiss was shared with you. He feels his heart burn with something that felt like it was going to come up and out his mouth as he finally made it back to his room, you officially had him wrapped around your finger.

Your room is flooded with sunlight the first time Coriolanus sees it. A soft, silky-looking bed spread sits atop one of the biggest beds he has seen as you beckon to your cat, Maisy to come and say hello to him. He looks at the oversized wooden dresser that sits against one wall. He sees the photograph of him and you that was taken a few weeks ago at your 17th birthday party nestled among little knickknacks. Books Coriolanus has never even heard of line your shelves as he you place a record on the player that sits on your desk. Soft sounds of a piano and the words from an unnamed singer fill your gorgeous room as he turns to you.

"Do you want to dance?" He finds himself asking

You accept and he leads you or well tries to. You're rather stiff and it turns out dancing is harder than it looks because he isn't any good at it either. You laugh as he trips over his feet and end up falling with him, landing on the ground entangled in each other. Your fingers brush his curls from his eyes as his nose brushes yours.

"What're you doing?" You ask quietly

"Nothing." He responds, his eyes flicking to your lips.

The moment his lips touch yours, a tingle shoots down his spine. This is a real kiss, not what you gave him when you were both 15. He cups your face and your hands are tangled in his hair as he deepens it. He felt his head spin as you moved against him, almost as if you wanted him to swallow you whole right here on your bedroom floor. A giddy feeling swelled in his chest when he pulled away for air.

"Coryo...what was that?" You ask

"I thought you'd know by now. That was a kiss, darling." He laughed brushing his thumb across your lip

"I know that...but why'd you give me one?" You ask

"Don't you know?" He smiles and places a chaste kiss on your lips "My heart, it burns for you, it always has."

Part 2 is out now!

Series Masterlist

[nezuscribe]

life as a hit man was dirty but simple, and gojo preferred keeping it that way. he didn’t know his clients names, they didn’t know his. he’d send over proof of his work, they’d wire in the money. dirty, yet simple.

so when he gets a message to kill the daughter of some oil tycoon, he doesn’t think much about it. sure he thinks it’s cheap to go for the kid, but what does he know. this is the most he’s ever been offered for a one shot job, so he’s not an idiot to turn this offer down.

and unfortunately, that meant his next confirmed target was you.

he gets your information, where you go to school, what apartment building you live in, where you like to eat. usually he prefers a straight shot to the head, but sometimes sneaking in something to your food lets him off easier.

gojo gets to know your routine. what you do at what time. what shows you watch, what your favorite sweater is. he watches from the high rises that faces yours, crouching down so none of your bodyguards could see the reflection of the magnifier of his rifle.

and gojo is used to taking out a wide range of people. men, women, grandpas, aunts. it’s just business to him. but there’s something about you that makes him hesitate to pull the trigger.

maybe it’s the fact that the weeks he’s spent trailing after you he’s noticed you’re pretty much a loner. you keep to yourself, never bothering anyone. you don’t seem to have my friends in your classes, or even out of them. gojo never questions to morals of his clients or who they ask him to kill, but judging you so far you seem to have done…nothing wrong.

you treat the old lady who works in the convenience story with such kindness that gojo wonders if you were born into this level of wealth, because most people of your status treat those beneath them like ants. you always hold the door open for your body guards despite them insisting they do it for you. you always buy some food for the stray cats in the alley you pass, and you never yell when you’re on the phone with your dad, even though gojo tracks those calls and feels the need to yell for you.

it all comes to a moment when you’re at your favorite coffee shop (he knows this because you come here so often), and you’ve managed to weasel away from your bodyguards. he knows they must be freaking out by now, but you just want some alone time.

he’s right there, right behind you, the little pouch of his condition of drugs that instantly kill in his pocket ready, and you turn around with your coffee cup and bump into him.

your eyes seen, letting out a shocked gasp as the iced drink stains his shirt and pants, the cup not empty on the floor.

“oh my god, oh my god,” you stutter out, scrambling to find some napkins, “i’m so so sorry! i didn’t even see you there - gosh,” you shove some napkins into his hands, trying to dapple the coffee away but it does nothing to help, “i can’t believe…!” you trail off, the two of you moving out of line so you don’t hold the others up and your shaking your head in dismay, mad at your clumsiness.

“it’s alright,” he assures you, waving it off as his eyes take in your appearance. “don’t even worry about it, accidents happen.” it’s the first time he’s seen you this close, and he feels that pouch growing heavier in his pocket.

because you’re pretty. really pretty. and he likes the plush of your cheeks, the scrunch of your brows, the way you’re nearly gnawing your lip raw. you seem even prettier in person, and there’s a lump forming in his chest, something he’s never felt before.

“no, no,” you murmur, trying to find the tide pen in your bag, only to realize you left it at home, “and it’s stained too, fuck. i am so sorry about this, you probably have somewhere to be and…” your words trail off as you scramble for your wallet, pulling out some cash as you push it into his hands.

it’s more than he needs to replace the shirt and pants, probably enough to buy him a couple pairs from ralph lauren, but you still seem to think it’s not enough as you look for more.

“it’s no worries at all, i keep an extra of shirts in my car for emergencies like this,” gojo lies smoothly and you look up from your purse, eyes wide in shame. fuck he really likes your eyes too.

“no, please take it, it’ll be on my mind all day if you don’t,” you insist, but he’s shaking his head defiantly, a reassuring smile on his face as he hands the money back to you.

“and it’ll be on my conscience all day if i take it,” he promises you, and after you realize he’s not going to retract his hands you take the cash, shoving it back into your wallet as heat settles all over your body.

of course with your luck you spill coffee all over the most attractive man you’ve ever met.

you still look worried, finding another napkin as you take out a pen from your purse, messily writing something down.

“this is my contact information if you ever need me to replace your clothes,” you hand it over to the man with an apologetic smile, “please don’t hesitate to call me, i know stains and that’s gonna be really hard to get out,” you go to say something else but your eyes dart to the large windows behaubd him, catching sight of your body guards who seem to have seen you, and your face falls.

“i’m really sorry, again, but i have to go,” you mutter as you speed off, waving goodbyes to the stranger as you duck your head down and leave the coffee shop, not wanting to cause another scene as three buff men race in to find you.

gojo stands there almost in a haze, looking at his stained white shirt to the napkin with your number and name on it.

almost as if he didn’t already know it, almost as if you weren’t the girl he’s supposed to kill.

and in that moment he realizes how screwed he is, because he’d rather down that packet right there than shoot you down, and he’s never felt this dread before.

[theskeletoninthegarden]

Everyone is capable of loss, but I can't watch two people insist on eating 23 dollar single scoop vanilla ice cream at some bougie AF restaurant and feel bad that they're both struggling to find compatible partners.

[dcxdpdabbles]

Not sure if you’ve ever done something like this, but I think a miraculous ladybug style love square featuring Danny would be absolutely hilarious. It can be with literally any bat (I’m partial to either Damian or Tim, but honestly any would be amazing). But literally just Danny coming to Gotham and going out as Phantom, running into the bat of choice and BOOM instant crush. And then Danny running into that same bats civilian ID and BOOM another instant crush going the opposite direction. Not particularly picky about who has the civilian crush, and who has the vigilante crush, but we would definitely need to see interactions between all four identities a la Miraculous.

Danny Fenton loathes Bruce Wayne. It's not because Sam's parents have often attempted to pawn off their daughter onto the guy or that Danny, as her once boyfriend, felt threatened by him. He can see the intelligence in Bruce's eyes, and the man still acts the way he does.

What's worse is that they are the same age, which means when Sam's parents started pushing for her to attend galas at age fifteen, Danny had been forced along to help deflect annoying rich boys. He met Bruce hiding behind curtains, making faces at his butler when the older gentleman attempted to push fifteen-year-old Bruce back onto the dance floor.

He would have felt sympathy for the wealthy heir—being an orphan so young with everyone around him foaming at the mouth for his wealth and titles was rough on anyone—were it not for how he spoke to poor Mr. Pennyworth.

Bruce acted like Mr.Pennyworth was an accessory to his image, as if the man wasn't treating him with the obvious care and attention one would a son.

Danny found his feet, leading him to Wayne just as the teenager instructed Mr.Pennyworth to wait in the car—four hours, four hours, in the freezing cold!

The first words he ever said to Bruce Wayne were, "You do not talk to him like that, you self-centered jerk!"

Then he had to dodge a fist because apparently Wayne had anger issues, but Danny had been dodging ghosts for an entire year. He sidesteps and pushes the boy on his ass. Mr.Pennyworth seemed frozen by the wall, and Wayne dared to stare up at him like someone standing up to him was such a wonder.

Sam had called him away, so with a long look down his nose at the rich boy, he spun around and strutted away.

___________________________________________________________

Bruce Wayne adored Danny Fenton.

Ever since the firecracker appeared in his life, with a grace that rivaled even his best of masters, Bruce has been infatuated with him. Fenton came from a small town in Illinois as a guest of the Manson family.

The Manson were new money, having only developed their wealth two generations ago. They had no real social connections and lived in the middle of nowhere. Mr. and Mrs. Manson were eager to pair their daughter off with someone with better standing, but it is evident that they only pushed a little for her to find a rich husband.

They wouldn't have allowed Fenton to tag along if they genuinely wanted their daughter to build connections through marriage. The couple just seemed to want their daughter to stop being goth.

The teenager was unapologetically middle-class, and Bruce found himself watching Fenton move about Galas with a defiant air that left him breathless. He insulted people to their faces, returned passive aggression tenfold, and someone tried to talk down to him; Fentn had the brain to quickly turn the tides.

The Manson's standing shouldn't have shielded him, not when they barely had any social power, yet somehow no one dared to bother Fenton outside of events. It was all so fascinating.

Fenton didn't often come to Gotham, as the Mansons mainly stayed in their own little part of the world, but every year, without fail, they were there for the Charity event in Spring and the Halloween Fest. The dark-haired, sharp-eyed eye, blue-eyed boy would be at Miss Manon's side, muttering into the goth girl's ear.

Bruce's heart constantly fluttered when the days were approaching the two high society events because it would mean seeing Fenton again. Years passed with Alfred attempting for Bruce to strike a friendship with Fenton, but something always made Bruce nervous.

Excited and nervous, like he was about to hit the drop of a rollercoaster. It was a rush whenever their eyes locked, even if Fenton's hardened into a dangerous glare.

Eventually, Bruce went off to do his training, finally getting close to his goal of making the rot of Gotham pay. He didn't see Fenton for a while, and the angry teenager lingered in the back of his mind until Bruce rocked back to Gotham with his new Brucie persona.

Only to have his jaw drop the moment he caught sight of Fenton. The boy was now the CEO of VladCo. after his godfather had taken a sabbatical for medical reasons. Fenton was still unapologetic about his roots and seemed enraged whenever Bruce brought out his playboy persona.

"Cut the crap," Fenton hissed into Bruce's face, unaware of the swarm of butterflies in his stomach. "We both know you're not dumb. I can see your intelligence, and how you're downplaying it is sickening."

Bruce fought the urge to fan himself, heart racing, as he smiled absentmindedly. "Whatever do you mean?"

Fenton made a screech of outrage before turning and stomping away. Bruce hated watching him go, but he loved to watch him leave.

"Sir," Alfred muttterd as he stepped up behind him. Bruce snapped out of his staring, turning his head slightly to pick up the man's whispered words better. "A break-in at Gotham Bank. Nine hostages"

"Understood." He made a show of diving into the fountain with Fenton, looking like he would pop a blood vessel as an excuse to leave. As he drives, Bruce Wayne fades into Batman in more ways than a costume change, and his mind races with plans to save the hostages.

He just hopes that Dofus Phantom doesn't get in his way again. The ghost would pop up randomly in his city, and no matter how many times Batman threatened him, the idiot came back again and again.

Phantom had no detective mindset. He stopped crimes right before him without considering the bigger picture. Dofus probably died in a small town with low crime rates. He didn't understand the complications of deep corruption, power vacuums, or gang violence.

Out of all the people who could have turned into a poltergeist, it had to be the clumsy fanboy Phantom.

[casuallyanidiot]

Hi what about Yan sugar daddy?

Oooh Yandere sugar daddy would be interesting.

I can see it going a couple ways. One is either you're desperately broke and need some cash asap, or you're just bored and want a bit of extra cash.

You have other jobs, but the bottom line is that you want/need more.

That's where Yan Sugar daddy steps in.

The two of you meet on a website, and he's not much older than you are. It's the most pleasant thing about the whole situation besides the money. He promises you a certain amount for some company, even more if you agree to be intimate or act in a romantic manner. He gives you gifts and randomly send you money on top of your agreed upon payment, too.

Yan Sugar Daddy knows he's not the only thing in your life, and he's okay with that at first. You've got your jobs, your friends, your school, so he knows that outside of him, you've got a whole life he's not privy to. Yan Sugar Daddy knows that he's a customer, and you're a product. That's all. He knows that the two of you aren't in a real relationship.

That's until you wind up seeing him vulnerable a few times, and you in turn confide in him about things happening in your personal life.

Yan Sugar Daddy is so lonely. He spends all his time on his job, and he never has any time to build a natural relationship. That's why he turned to you in the first place. And here you were, comforting him like a soothing balm. Then you go and entice him with a small window into the real you.

Yan Sugar Daddy wants you. He wants the two of you to be in love. So he starts laying it on thick. He gives you more and more money, more gifts, more lavish dates. He tries to get you to spend all your time with him, and he can't help but smile when you complain of how you don't see your friends as often as you used to.

Eventually your job and his constant need for you clash. It's not too hard to convince you to quit and become his full time.

Yan Sugar Daddy makes you reliant on him fully. Anytime you complain or express a desire to leave his luxury apartment, he plies you with designer bags worth thousands of dollars. He loves to see you snuggled up and happy under his control. Sure, he might not ever let you see the light of day again, but at least you got what you wanted. You're living in absolute wealth thanks to him.

And maybe it could've just been a simple transaction and stayed that way, but it's just unfortunate that you made yourself so easy to buy.

[fuji-sen]

Monachopsis; SAGAU Creator!Reader Headcanon

Monachopsis: the subtle feeling of being out of place.

c/w: angst, homesickness, slight cult genshin impact characters.

synopsis: The adrenaline and excitement had worn off, what replaced it was a sense of detachment and the feeling of homesick-ness slowly building up. No longer feeling joy at being treated like a God in your favorite game, you could only feel that subtle but persistent feeling that you did not belong there coupled with the sadness and grief at your past life.

divider credits: @enchanthings

✨ you wonder how things became like this, perhaps it was because you were constantly detained and kept inside a lavish palace, unable to see the outside world.

✨ or perhaps it was how your acolytes treat you.

✨ they did not harm you, but they might as well have all together.

✨ they treat you so full of devotion and reverence. Their touches stiff and light never holding you for longer than it is necessary, their manner of speech was always formal, never jovial even the bard of Mondstadt had a more serious and deep persona when it came to you.

✨ although their goal was simply to respect you for you were their supposed Creator, that very devotion towards you became the very wall that separated you from them.

✨ you could not get close to them, you could not pass that damned relationship between a Creator and a faithful believer.

✨ Furina had been closed to you at least, perhaps because she understood your plights. However your relationship seemed sinful in the eyes of the other acolyte.

✨ you no longer were able to see the cheerful girl.

✨ Buer or Nahida who's ability to read minds and the hearts of people worked on you, but it seemed she had learned from Fontaine's leader, she did not get close to you, however she left more sincere gifts for you.

✨ handwritten letters, books with annotations, even Aranara's were given to you on the guise of being servants.

✨ speaking of gifts, wealth, gems, lavish furniture, clothes made from the rarest fur and the softest silk had been presented to you. At first it made you overjoyed, to received the things you had long for, to become rich and wealthy.

✨ now seeing the pile of untouched presents all you could feel was cold, it was impersonal really. The clothes did not suit you, the gems and gold were useless for you could not even go out to spend it, the furniture as well for it was too big for you to used by yourself and you lacked the friends to even sit together with and have a chat.

✨ however upon seeing your favor towards the dendro archon's gifts, they tried to follow in suit. Yet their letters were simply filled with compliments of your visage, poems and tales about how great you were, talking about you as if you were a historical person they had studied and were doing a greatly embellished report on but never truly getting to know you.

✨ to fight off the feeling of sadness that began to wallow in you, you asked for them, desperately, "treat me as your friend, if you truly love me as your God then treat me how I want to be treated." you'd say.

✨ they looked at each other, before carefully and hesitantly agreeing.

✨ now you felt guilty, they spend their times on you. Chatting with you, telling you stories.

✨ you feast together, with food made by Xiangling and other characters.

✨ but even as they surround you, their conversations became white noise to you and the food seemed tasteless under your tongue.

✨ you did not feel like you belong among them. especially with that nagging voice in your head, snickering and whispering that 'they aren't your friends, they're just acting like it all because their precious Creator begged them to.'

✨ In the past, or your past life, doing something for yourself, by yourself seemed like a chore. The mundane chores, your job, studying even, but now that seemed like a luxury with the title of God.

✨ they did not ask you to do anything, you did not participate in state of the nation addresses, you could not change laws or fight for the people. . at least they didn't let you.

✨ you could not even clean your own room or dress yourself, Noelle took care of the cleaning, Chiori took care with choosing a set of clothes each day for you to wear like you were a kid and Xiangling did the cooking.

✨ It left you with nothing to do, like you had no purpose other than sitting still and looking pretty like a piece of decoration.

✨ Nobody disagreed with you even, nobody argued with you, they were like yes-men. God you began to miss your parents and siblings, you missed your classmates/coworkers, you missed working, you missed being your own person!

✨ it was beginning to eat you up at this point,

✨ to the point you had became overwhelmed with sadness.

might make a mini-headcanon series for this or an actual series revolving around this idea/angst.

do you want a series like this tho? it'd be heavily angst and might just have a bad ending or good ending.

[malehypnofantasy]

My husband moved us together from our beautiful Moroccan countryside life to this inhospitable and lonely American metropolis to pursue his lifelong dream. The accumulating wealth left me with lonelier times and less moment with him as his job drowned him while he decided to boarded the twins to this private boarding school where most of his friends placed their kids into. The isolation he confined me into when we started here caused me to be practically friendless and it's not like my English is that fluent. I also hated how people perceived me due to my look and background, so I eventually "resigned" from the peering public eye and never really went out unless it's very necessary. So, can you blame me when I tapped into my ancestral roots and decided to forge my own happiness?

Hany here is just the latest addition of my growing collection, and I love how his cockiness is just so infectious everytime I phased my consciousness into him, I simply felt like I have no more worries in the world

It's always a delight for me to just be out there, no shirt on and having the ability to move my muscles the way men can do all of the amazing tricks that their bodies can pull off.

Hany, my cocky bachelor neighbor, is quite a tricky one to capture as he's mostly alert for most of the time. But when he knocked on my door one night with my husband nowhere in sight, clearly drunk from the way he slurred his words and the intense smell of alcohol mixed with his musk, I took that opportunity. Instead of taking him back to his unit, I phased out from my body and went straight to met his soul. The weakened and half-conscious state of the soul allowed me to simply moved him aside and planted my control over his physique. Then, from there, I use Hany's body to give my frozen body a kiss as a way to build a "connecting bridge" as my soul transferred back to my body but at the same time, our body is connected. Ever since that moment, I can simply drowse off or focused myself a bit to be able to feel what Hany is feeling or even better, controlling his body right away to do what I want him to do

It wasn't this powerful and complex at first. My earliest subject was this drained construction worker that I saw everyday working on the site a couple building from mine. I've tried to phase out a couple times before but none of it worked because I realized that the soul and/or the body managed to resist me. So, looking at the hard-working men in hard hat and hi-viz, I decided to took a leap of faith and phased out from my body. Why I selected the body in particular? For starter, I saw him smoking weed before, and not just once, so I deduced that he probably smoked his fair share of weed for the day and the cigarette in his mouth meant that he's in a sort of relaxed state.

Other reason? Well, I heard him once in the bodega talking about his "fucked sleeping schedule" and the lack of "sex from the noisy demanding bitch" of a girlfriend who worked the same graveyard shift with him as of now, so I knew he must be stressed and mentally drained. Sounds like an easy target, and he was that easy, I slipped in and out of him for 1 month straight with no resistant

So many firsts happened when I was inside Dezz. My first (I lost count on how many times after just 2 weeks) orgasm as a man, my first sex with a girl, my first deadlift, my first fight, just endless adventure. I also learned about building the connection during my time inside Dezz. It's simply out of pure instinct and in a the spirit of experimentation, but I tried to transfer back in a more discreet and less exhaustive manner so I booked this motel and left the door unlocked, phased into Dezz and then drove his truck to the said motel as I basically made out with myself. When our lips connected and even before Dezz cock slipped into me, I found myself staring at Dezz scruffy face right before he passed out. I ran away from that motel room, sensing something is different from that kiss, but I brushed it off and let Dezz sorted himself out back to whatever routine he's having. Later that evening, around an hour or so before the time Dezz started his shift and as I tried to get some sleep, somehow I felt this pulsating sensation from my clitoris and that's when my vision started to get glitchy for the first time. One second I saw my room and then the following second, a slender statuesque figure sat on top of a scruffy happy trail I knew belonged to Dezz. As he nutted inside his girl, I was leaking from the "ghostly" experience, but that led me to the groundbreaking "connection" that I always utilized ever since

Dezz is my first. Hany is my latest. But those two just cannot compete with Chris the Beast.....

Oh that one is the craziest, and maybe I'll share more about my time inside of Steve and the others when I have more time. My husband is arriving soon and I need to phase out from Hany now if I wanna be safe and look more presentable to welcome my husband.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

The housing crisis considered as an income crisis

I'll be in TUCSON, AZ from November 8-10: I'm the GUEST OF HONOR at the TUSCON SCIENCE FICTION CONVENTION.

A paradox: in 1970, everyday Americans found it relatively easy to afford a house, and the average American house cost 5.9x the average American income. In 2024, Americans find it nearly impossible to afford a house, and the average American house costs…5.9x the average American income.

Feels like a puzzler, right? Can it really be true that the average American house is as affordable to the average American earner as it was in 1970? It is true, as you can see from Blair Fix's latest open access research report, "The American Housing Crisis: A Theft, Not a Shortage":

https://economicsfromthetopdown.com/2024/10/23/the-american-housing-crisis-a-theft-not-a-shortage/

Fix also points out that is even more true of rents than it is of house prices. The ratio of rent to average income has actually fallen slightly since 1970. Rents are also, in some mathematical sense, "affordable."

Now, those of you who are well-versed in statistical card-palming will likely have a pretty good idea of the statistical artifact at the root of this paradox: the word "average." If you remember your seventh grade math, you'll recall that "average" has more than one meaning. Sure, there's the most common one: add several values together, then divide the total by the number of values you added. For example, a nonzero number of people have one or zero arms, so the average human has slightly fewer than two arms.

That average is called the "mean." The mean US wage is pretty robust: $73,242/year:

https://fred.stlouisfed.org/series/A792RC0Q052SBEA/1000

But the majority of Americans are not earning anything like $73k/year. Since the Reagan years, the number of Americans living in poverty and extreme poverty has climbed and climbed. And while their declining income sure drags down that average, it's dragged way, way, way up by another group of Americans – the ultra-rich.

You see, as Fix writes, back in the Reagan years, America initiated an experiment in redistribution. Reagan enacted policies that moved most of the nation's wealth from the great majority of working people to a tiny minority of people who ended up owning pretty much everything. Throw their income into the mix, and the average American's income is sufficient to finance the average American home, with plenty to spare.

In other words, this isn't an "average human has fewer than two arms" situation, it's more like a "Spiders Georg" situation. Spiders Georg is a Tumblr meme about a guy who eats 10,000 spiders every day and is thus single-handedly responsible for the (false) statistic that the average human eats two spiders a week:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Spiders_Georg

The American rich – Reagan's progeny – are the Spiders Georg of house prices. By hoarding the great mass of American national wealth, they create a statistical mirage of affordable housing.

Now, that's interesting, but where Fix goes next with this is even more fascinating. If the average price of housing (relative to average income) has stayed fixed since 1970, then it follows that the price of housing isn't being driven up by a problem with supply. Rather, these numbers suggest that America has enough housing, it's just that (most) Americans don't have enough money.

If that's true – and I have a couple of quibbles, which I'll get to in a sec – then the most common prescription for solving American housing (building more of it) is somewhat beside the point. For Fix, using public funds to subsidize cheaper housing is like using public funds to pay for food stamps for working people whose wages are too low to keep them from starving. Sure, we should do that: no one should be without a home and no one should be hungry. But if working people can't afford shelter and food, then we have a wage problem, not a supply problem.

Fix – as ever – has a well-thought through, painstakingly documented "sources and methods" page to back up his conclusions:

https://economicsfromthetopdown.com/2024/10/23/the-american-housing-crisis-a-theft-not-a-shortage/#sources-and-methods

And while Fix acknowledges that reversing the mass transfer of wealth from working people to their bosses (and their bosses' idle offspring) is a big lift, he rightly wants to keep the question of wages (rather than housing supply) front and center in our debate about why so many of us are finding it hard to keep a a roof over our heads. We need progressive taxation, higher minimum wages, protection from medical and education debt, and hell, why not a job guarantee?

https://pluralistic.net/2020/06/25/canada-reads/#tcherneva

I love Fix's work, and this report is no exception. He does it all in his spare time. Some nice progressive think tank should give him a grant so he can do (a lot) more of it.

That all said, I do have a quibble with his conclusion about the adequacy of the American housing supply. In California, we have a shortage of 3-4 million homes, a number arrived at through the relatively robust method of adding up the number of California families that would like to have their own homes and subtracting the number of homes available near those families:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/California_housing_shortage

How to explain the discrepancy? One possibility is that the price of housing is artificially low, because more than 181,000 people are homeless here. Hundreds of thousands of more people are living in overcrowded housing, with multiple families inhabiting spaces intended for just one (or even a single person). If all of those people were competing for housing, the price might rise even higher.

Think of the people who have given up looking for work – because they're not in the workforce, wages go up. If they were competing in the labor market, wages would fall. Maybe all those people would prefer to have a job, but they're missing from the statistics.

That's one theory. Another is that we're getting tripped up on averages again here. California does have some towns with many vacancies, extra supply that is pushing down prices; it's also got many places with far more people who want to live there than there are homes for. It's possible that there's enough supply on average across the states, but – as we've seen – averages are deceptive.

Ultimately, I think both things can be true: we have a wage problem and we have (many, localized) supply problems. Both of these problems deserve our attention, and neither is acceptable in a civilized society.

Tor Books as just published two new, free LITTLE BROTHER stories: VIGILANT, about creepy surveillance in distance education; and SPILL, about oil pipelines and indigenous landback.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/10/24/i-dream-of-gini/#mean-ole-mr-median

[dc-probate-attorney]

Navigating Love and Money - Financial Planning Before Marriage

Love and marriage are often celebrated for the joy and companionship they bring, but they also introduce a significant aspect of life that should not be overlooked: finances. Financial planning before marriage is a crucial step in building a strong foundation for your life together as a couple. In this article, we will explore the importance of financial planning before tying the knot and provide…

[auragasmics]

WRITHING HEARTS!

° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ° synopsis! it's marriage for business, pitting you as the engaged bride to one Gojo Satoru, known as a shameless playboy. but when your heart yearns to be with Geto Suguru, the lover behind closed doors, you'll do anything to wind up in his arms!

° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ° pairings! fem!reader x Geto Suguru

° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂  ₒ𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ° cw! 4.1k words, arranged marriage au, features Gojo Satoru, mentions of death/suicide, implied infidelity, oral ( m -> f) , missionary, cowgirl, cremepie, Gojo catches you in the act

° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ° xoxo, chris! sigh, i love this fic </3

A wedding they said, one that would unite the two competing companies into a mass monopoly to control the economic world. You being the poise daughter you were, accepted your parents’ request, relinquishing your chance at finding a pure and true love. It came with not even a bit of resistance, considering that you loved no man except your father.

You even knew the man you’d be wed to within the coming year, one that goes by the name of Gojo Satoru. He was a kind fellow with such charm that any woman could fall for him at the mere wink of his icy blue hues. 

In fact, that’s exactly what he did. What troubled you about the sudden marriage to Gojo was that his reputation was known as a playboy, using women for sexual gratification. It utterly disgusted you, knowing that someone as smug as he would be due to be your groom caused unrest within you. 

When the news had broken on national television, all seemed to be shocked, hailing you as the holy one. You were seen as the one who put an end to Gojo’s promiscuous ways, the photos of you both taking leisure lunches resurfacing from media blogs everywhere. However, that was only a small percent of the truth, something only you kept to yourself.

Those lunches were designed to shield from the public, staging it that you and Goji were such a happy couple. In truth, Gojo’s ways hadn’t changed, only keeping his personal affairs. In the very house purchased for the soon-to-be united by both his and your parents, he brought his mistresses and quick flings to your abode, a separate room reserved for his affairs. 

Even after numerous complaints and teary-eyed woes to your parents, they could not budge. They hated watching as their sweet daughter wailed in agony, sorrow dressing her words in these past few months since announcing the entire ordeal. 

In the darkest hours, that’s when your path just happened to cross with one man in particular, Geto Suguru. Geto was a man of former stature, his family losing their wealth due to extortion charges.

He was left with a small fortune before both his mother and father committed the act of suicide a few days before their prison sentence. From the age of fourteen, Geto was forced to endure the stains left behind by his parents.

He’s been shunned from the corporate world, only being invited to gatherings to dwell in the shadows of those who boasted of their success.

Geto would only linger for a bit before disappearing from sight. He was the biggest mystery, one that had your infatuation written all over it. You were unconsciously embedded in him, the wish to free him from his harrowing loneliness ate at you night and day. It had reached a point where you longer cared for your parents’ wishes, finally placing your desires before their own selfish needs. 

You needed to seek out Geto, for you own sake and at a chance of finally receiving peace of mind. As for how you both met, it was one of sheer coincidence, the both of you entering the lobby of a building your father owned in the city. You were well aware of who he was, his towering physique jutting from the crowd. You couldn’t help but be drawn to him, the rumors and mysteries shroud his name, but not a single person seeking out the answers they desire.

With every step you took towards him, an unsettling coil formed in your belly. Could it have been from the nervous strike attacking your body all of a sudden, or the words from your adolescence that reply at the forefront of your thoughts. A warning from your parents, advising you to stay away from that man, claiming that nothing good ever occurred when involved with him. 

You were refined to believe such an idea, judging the poor man without any pre existing context. You sought to learn the truth of Geto Surguru, especially at the risk of defying your parents. 

Once you had initiated the first words, a bright light was casted onto the darkness that covered Geto’s heart. He clung to you, deeming every intimate moment as rare as the jewels found in caverns. The man became intoxicated with your every fiber, and eventually led to your touch. You both knew it was wrong, but the vines of the budding rose to your romance was something that not even the false engagement to withstand. 

Yet, like the rose, it’s thorn will always come back to prick the one who gave it life, a lesson you would soon learn all too soon. 

“Gojo, could you not flirt while we’re together? It won’t look good for the tabloids,” you suggest, whispering the words of warning along the shell of his ear. He merely shrugs his shoulders, “It’s our engagement party, it’s not my fault there are so many lovely ladies here tonight!” 

You roll your eyes, the veins lining underneath your eye twitching with gall. You had hoped that Gojo would put aside his reprobate methods, even if just for the night.

However, the way he dressed tonight alone told a different story.

He wore a glaucous white silk dress shirt, his chest revealed to the wandering eyes of women who hoped to one day take your place beside him. The black trousers upon his body were tighter than usual, the bulge of his length just teasing the onlookers. His hair was styled neatly, hanging just past his ears with not a strand of the frosted locks out of place. 

Gojo wore a sneering smile, his best accessory by far. You knew that if you even left his side for a second, he’d be out of the room with a woman linked to each arm. Then again, you had nothing tying you to him, the urge to seek out your one true lover hanging above your head similar to the glass chandeliers adorning the ceilings. 

You wore a slim black dress, the neckline ending just below the curve of your ribs. It clung to your figure perfectly, drawing every eye to you. It was a piece that Geto found the most pleasing for the event, his assistance proving itself through all the praise.

Yet, you wished to be with him for the evening, not the snobbish man doomed to marry you within the coming days. It has been almost a year since your engagement to Gojo, but almost a year since meeting Geto. 

“Listen Y/N, you and I aren’t actually married, daring, hell, we can barely tolerate each other. You see, in the public, I’m your loyal husband, changed from his old ways. Yet, in private, I haven’t changed not one bit. I don’t plan to either, I love the way I am. I suggest that you find something that makes you happy too, sweetheart. It’s the only way you’ll survive in this life.” 

You whipped your head away from Gojo, the pestering tone of his suave voice pinched your nerves. Though it was as if the brash message was on demand, the sight of a familiar figure caught your eye, there stood Geto against the door, wearing a black turtleneck with navy blue slacks and a floral patterned suit jacket.

You felt your heart nearly skip a beat, the look of bliss etching onto Geto’s face as he spotted you. You practically ached to join him, your body desperate for the warmth only he could offer. 

Gojo seemed to be interested in socializing, his arm tugging away from the link you both formed an hour prior. He sensed the same urge to leave, to pick his new victim amongst the other beauties. It was only right if you freed him, right?

“Gojo,” you called, “I’ll go get some wine. See you at home later.” 

That was all he needed, ripping away from you to dive headfirst into the bundling crowd. You spun around to face Geto, only to find that he had left his position against the wall. 

A huff seeped from your lips, realizing that it would be near impossible to find a man who wouldn’t allow himself to be found. Gratefully for you, he was already closer than you had expected, just waiting to take you away into his world. 

“Don’t you look absolutely stunning?” A voice hummed, the palm of a large hand slipping along the curve of your shoulder. Just from the subtle peck laid against your skin, you knew who had finally gained their hold of you.

“You know better than to act so boldly like this in public, Geto. I’ll get in so much trouble,” you teased, but you’ve already decided to forego the thought of consequences once the dreamy scent of his cologne flooded your nose.  

“Why, I wouldn’t have it any other way. I want the world to know your mine, not that asshole’s.”

Geto slides the pads of his digits down your arm, your skin heating up at his languid touch. You spin around face him properly, a grin gracing both your faces. The urge to kiss Geto ran high, the tension between you both was something that couldn’t be ignored. 

“Can we leave this place? I hate loud parties like these,” you sighed, urging your face near his own.  

“But, it’s your engagement party,” Geto began, “It’d suck to have the bride be missing. Even worse to find her with a man other than her betrothed.”

A shallow pout poked out from your lips, the gloss reflecting the lights from above. “But, I want you, and only you, Geto. Can’t we make that happen?”

From his pocket, Geto pulled out a room key, the silver ridges twinkling before your widening eyes. “It’s the closest we’ll get to having our own space but...it’s better than nothing.”

Without another word, you and Geto took hold of each other’s hand, slipping from the masses and into the darkened hallway of the hotel. You peppered kisses all over his cheeks, the anticipation bubbling within your body. 

In that time that you’ve gotten to know him, Geto was far from all the names and warnings everyone was always so quick to spew. He was kind, gentle with his words and manners. You’ve come to realize that he would never harm a fly, nonetheless, does he live up to a quarter of the rumors surrounding him.

In other words, Geto was the one who had your heart. The marriage would only prove more difficult for the little arrangement you both had. Eventually, the relationship would have to be brought to light, regardless of your attempt to keep it hidden. 

“Are we in the clear?” He whispered, aligning the key with the slot. You nodded, checking the surrounding area for any onlookers for the last time. He pushes the door from its frame, pulling you and himself into the room.

With a slamming shut, you found yourself pinned against the shiny white paint, Geto decorating the pulse of your neck with pecks and bites. Your fingers found way to his hair, the thick ravenous locks latching around your dainty digits, encouraging Geto to proceed with his display of affection.

“I see you’re wearing that dress I like, almost like you wanted to get my attention,” he ventured, pulling away from the freshly laid trail of bites. You bit your bottom lip, the blood rushing to greet each ministration on your skin. It was all too overwhelming, but you fell prey to the amorous aura surrounding Geto, the searing ache amidst your legs leading your every move.

“I have no clue as to what you mean, I just really like the color black against my skin,” you purred, peering up at the impassioned man through your darkened lashes. Geto snaked a hand behind you, his fingers toying with the zipper lining the curve of your spine. With his lips brushing along the shell of your ear, he whispered the teasing words to spur you on.

“If you don’t mind, I happen to love what’s underneath the dress all the more.”

You surround the nape of his neck with your arms, leading Geto into the kiss just waiting on your lips, nodding frantically at his request. Without breaking the kiss, Geto stripped you bare of the silky material, leaving the matching hunter-green bra and thong set to don your body. 

“Aw, no fair. I didn’t wear anything you’d like,” Geto frowned, drawing away from your lips for a moment.

 You trailed your fingers down to the heavy belt buckle at the forefront of his hips, a sly grin creeping onto your lips. “Y’know how much I love those tattoos of yours, that’s all I need.”

Geto chuckled at your words, the pair of you working in tandem until he stood with only his briefs. He took a firm hold around your waist, lifting you from the cold floor. “I missed this, I’ve missed you,” he groaned, his teeth pinching at the supple skin of your breasts. You giggled in response, “It’s only been a few days, I don’t see how you miss me so much.”

Geto placed you onto the bed, the white sheets contorting around you as he planted his hands on either side of your head. “When you’ve been as alone as I have, you’d understand. In all of my twenty-four years, I’ve never been so happy,” he gushed into the crook of your neck. You giggled in response, “I can say the same, I’m so glad to call you mine.” Geto pried away, placing himself above you once again. 

“See, you love me and I sure as hell love you, I’m tired of hiding it. I mean, why can’t everyone know that I’m so much better than that Gojo. Do I have to demonstrate that to confirm my case,” he groaned tirelessly. 

You shook your head, “No, but I have a feeling you’re about to prove it to me.” 

“Damn right I will,” Geto boasted as he sank down to his knees, his face filling the spacer between your legs. He glared up at you, laying a trail of kisses along the plush of your inner thigh.

“I’ll prove it to you and I’ll do it well,” he quipped, the animalistic tone intertwined with each word. He hooked onto the sides of your panties, sliding the soaked cloth down your legs and away from sight. The calloused palm of Geto’s hand pressed into your stomach, pinning you down to the bed without choice. 

“Stay there for me, won’t you? I just wanna make this pretty pussy of mine happy,” Geto quipped, his lips placing a soft kiss onto the folds of your puffy cunt. You nod in agreement, all tension melting away from his touch. 

With the pad of his thumb, geto parted the lips of your cunt, the viscid mess of slick glimmering in his eyes. He was quick to attach his mouth to you, the flat of his tongue collecting every drop hungrily. 

A sharp gasp flooded your lungs, your back arching beneath him. There was something in Geto that seemed to have your body just fold at his command. In everything he did, he approached it with benign care. He knew every curve, nerve, and crevice of your body, each arc of your curling silhouette accepting him willingly. 

The earthy brown hues of Geto’s eyes were no longer in view, looking back to his head as he continued to immerse himself in your flavor. He rolled docile circles into your clit, a hum of praise vibrating from his throat. 

“Holy—don’t stop, Geto,” you mewed, biting back the moans that sought to fill the walls of the room. 

You sensed a nod of compliance from him, Geto suckling the pearl between his swollen lips. The heavy pool of nerves churning at the pit of your stomach surfaced, limbs stiffening at once. Your vision grew burry, the patches of white light piercing through.

His hands latched onto your wrist, guiding your own hands into the thick strands of his hair. Geto loved whenever you raked through his locks, tugging at the roots whenever the pleasure pooled over the limits you could handle. 

You began to tremble, your legs seeking something to grasp. Geto took notice, the robust strength of his arms clasping the underside of your thigh, He led your legs to drip across onto his broad shoulders, your thighs nuzzling Geto deeper towards you. A rush of thrill sped through his veins, Geto watching his efforts pay off with such pride. 

A harsh arch carved itself into your spine, your walls coming to a steel grip of nothingness as you release the woes of the day all onto Geto’s awaiting tongue. A groan emitted from his throat, the whites of his eyes reverting to the forefront of his visage.  

“Fuck, give it all to me,” he moaned, desperately dragging his tongue across your spasming clit. You rocked your hips against Geto’s slicked muscle, riding out the fleeting moments of your high. Your head tossed back with a final cry, Geto’s name singing from your lips.

He could only chuckle at your state, the pride brewing in his heaving chest. “See, I know Gojo can’t do that, even if he tried,” he jeered, pulling away from you. Geto stood from the ground, a visible spot of precum soaking through his briefs. You reached out to tug at the elastic waistband but Geto tacked your hand down on your stomach, hovering above you.

“Just spread those legs for me, and I’ll take even better care of you,” he hummed, sliding the tips of his fingers to squeeze at the underside of your thigh. You found yourself in the center of the bed, legs pressed into your chest. Geto was swift to strip from his briefs, standing before with eight inches to fill you with, his cock so heavy with the need for relief that it stood upright with no aid, the plushy pink crown of his length just riddled with thick streams of precum drooling from the slit. 

Geto held the base of his dick, gently nudging at your entrance. He studied at how the whole mass of his tip slid inside you, an enticing gasp following suit. 

“Don’t look at anything but me,” he hissed, Geto’s cheeks stricken with heat. He relished in the way you squeezed around him, your walks never fully being able to contort to his size. He would always give you a few minutes filled with kisses and words of encouragement until you adjusted around him, Geto giving you the slowest of thrusts to begin.

 “You’re doing so good, baby, just a little bit more,” he comforted, Geto’s hips driving a bit deeper. You rested your hands atop his broad shoulders, sliding down the expanse of his chest, admiring the way the sleeves of Geto’s tattoos complemented his body’s physique.

With such a strong build of muscles shaping his arms and the cuts of his hardened abdomen, even the patterns of ink that adorned his being were enough to make anyone squirm at a glance.

You were just lucky that person was you.

You eventually found your way to his waist, his hips rutting into you effortlessly. You pulled Geto into you, trapping him in with your legs around his waist. He took in a heavy intake of air, the hull of his chest expanding in compensation. 

“That’s new, something you wanna tell me?” He whispered teasingly. You bit back the onslaught of moans, the want to form an actual sentence gaining the upper hand. 

“Just want y-you closer,” you whined, the girth of Geto’s cock dragging against your walls at a sluggish pace. He stood still for a moment, staring down at you. 

“I’m not going anywhere, promise,” he cooed, pressing a kiss onto your perspired forehead. Geto slid his arm underneath your back, closing the gap between you both. He drew himself from your heat, a spew of curses leaving from his parted mouth. You had no clue as to what Geto had in mind but you knew he was far from done.

“I’ve been dying to have you ride me again, it’s practically all I think about these days,” Geto cooed as he crawled to the top of the bed, his back flush against the wooden headboard. 

You followed behind him, your arms encircling his neck. “Have you now? Is that all you think about?” You grinned, allowing for your legs to plant themselves on either side of Geto. 

“Of course not, but I love it when you do,” he beamed, his hands settling upon the curve of your ass. He kneaded the soft flesh in the palm of your hands, your body jolting in response. 

“Shh, save those chills for when you finally cum, it's a sight that I get to savor all to myself.” 

Geto snaked a hand between your bodies to brace his twitching cock towards crooned as he your entrance. You slid down his shaft with ease, your walls encasing his length snuggly. You lifted your hips, earning a seething hiss from Geto, the pressure already rendering him weak. 

“Why I barely did anything, don’t tell me you’re close already,” you taunted, carding through his locks that dared to cover an ounce of Geto’s lewd look of pleasure.

“Hell no, I just get a little excited, you know that.” 

You swiveled your hips against him, taking Geto in deeper until you felt satisfied to ruin the man beneath you. You couldn’t ignore the knot in your stomach, growing tighter with every rise and fall of your hips onto the unalloyed mass of Geto’s thighs. I

t was hard work to bring that prickling rush of ecstasy among Geto, but it was worth it all, the way he’d become drunk off you. His speech, his thoughts, and even the way he’d latch onto your ass to fondle at the mound of flesh all belonged to you, something that brought you more pride than your own family name.

Heavy pants of need leave from Geto’s strained throat, louder than the pornographic rings of skin crashing against another. You painted kisses and nips onto the velvety skin of his chest all the way up to his lips. 

Geto was sensitive, to say the least, between the deepening strides of your hips, the plush of your lips dancing against his own, and your pretty voice singing his name at the top of your lungs were all the ingredients for a disaster in the making. 

“Princess, how do you think Gojo would react if he found out that a degenerate like me fucked a beautiful little baby into his fiance?” Geto pondered between weak bucks into you, trying to gain back some type of control. 

You struggled for a moment, gathering the words around the mushed thoughts of your mind. “H-He wouldn’t care,” you mewled, using the fleeting bits of your energy to clamp down around Geto. 

“Good, that’s what I wanted to hear,” he moaned, tossing his head back as he came undone, the thick ropes of cum flooding your womb. You released a squeal of glee at the feeling, the sensation being one for the books. 

As you both came down from the high, Geto pulled you into his chest, the expanse of his pecs rising and falling at a staggering pace. “Fuck, you’re so good to me, Y/N.” Geto huffed, nuzzling a kiss onto your parted lips. You remained perched on his lap, back arching into his smothering hold. 

“I love you so much, Geto,” you whimpered, rocking along the thick length still plunged inside you.

“I love you beyond words. I hope that one day soon I’ll be able to m–” he began, only to find his impending sentence being interrupted. 

The sounds of voices rang from behind the door, the clicks of locks echoing around the room. You and Geto had no time to react, only facing who could possibly disrupt the intimate moment. 

“…and I said, "No, who the hell wants chiffon mixing with spandex?" designers are so stupid these days–Oh my! What have we here?!” The voice barreled out, the steps coming to a sudden halt. You shifted around on Geto’s lap, facing the onlooker head-on. 

“Hello…Gojo…” you grinned, staring back at the man, who just happened to have two women strung along with him. You couldn’t find it in you to feel even the slightest bit embarrassed if anything…it felt good to watch Gojo have the dumbest shock displayed on his face.

Geto didn’t budge either, his lips clinging to the corners of your malicious smile. “There seemed to have been a room mix-up…I’ll be on my way then,” he croaked, Gojo’s eyes still pinned on the scene before him.

You and Geto exchanged a quick glance, one filled with disinterest. It also seemed as if Gojo was hurt, hurt to find that his sweet soon-to-be wife had a filthy secret of her own. What a beautiful concept double standard can be, something that can be forgotten once it is done to the doer. 

You turned to Gojo, looking him dead on with an expression of apathy.

“You do that then.”

[erosastro]

Some of my favourite overlays in synastry 💫pt 1

💫 Your moon in their fourth house/their moon in your 4th house - this person feels like home!! (especially if this is well aspected). There's an immediate sense of comfort between these two and trust. The type of couple to constantly have deep meaningful conversations.

💫 Your Moon in their 7th house/their Moon in your 7th house - A relationship that's based on an equal give and take and always willing to listen to the Moon persons feelings. It could be a roller-coaster as well because I've found that it sometimes fluctuates in terms of ups and downs drastically but if well aspected this is ideal for long term relationships/marriage. I've noticed this type of couple that always understands what the other needs with a lot of compassion and willingness to compromise.

💫 Your venus in their 2nd house/their Venus in your 2nd house - I know this is an unpopular one but I love it because they bring a sense of security and sensuality to Venus. I don't know why more people don't like this one, it's not just based on material wealth/possessions etc. It can go so much deeper than that. This is the couple that you see on Pinterest dressed up like theyre going to the met gala and take loads of mirror selfies

💫Your Venus in their 1st house/their Venus in your 1st house - giirrrlll talk about love at first sight lol. This couple is all over each other and the attraction is off the charts. I think people think this relationship could be very surface level but I beg to differ. it can also be based on deep rooted passion and love.

💫Your Juno in their 1st house/their Juno in your 1st house - Another huge one for attraction and in a lot of married couples. They adore each other and are completely devoted to one another.

💫Your Sun in their 5th house/their Sun in your 5th house - A relationship built on fun, light-heartedness and romance. They build on each other, hype each other up and tend to be very supportive of the other person.

💫Your Sun in their 4th house/their Sun in your 4th house - Another home indicator and i love this one a lot. They feel like they belong together and can't get the other person off their minds because of how quickly they click and can open up to each other.

💫Your Venus in their 8th house/their Venus in your 8th house - I know 8th house placements are like taboo or whatever but I really love them especially if both individuals are mature and if one or the other have strong 8th house in their own charts. This is intense and deep and a love like no other and the sexual chemistry is out of this world.

💫Your Jupiter in their 1st house/their Jupiter in your 1st house - Jupiter is all about expansion and being in the first house of self, it's encouraging the other person to grow and be more optimistic in life, to have more faith and also bring that into the relationship.

💫Your Moon in their 5th house/their Moon in your 5th house - this is a fun couple that keeps the romance alive and still manages to have the important conversations without it being too heavy. They're constantly looking for ways to make the other person happy and keep them on their toes.

💫Your Ascendent in their 1st house/their Ascendent in your 1st house - Another huge attraction indicator idk I think everyone I've had this with I absolutely adore and I do tend to put them on a pedestal but I don't necessarily think it's a bad thing so long as it doesn't turn into an obsession.

💫Your Sun in their 10th house/their Sun in your 10th house - speaking of putting the other person on a pedestal.... Sun in 10th will absolutely do that for you lol. You'll look up to that person and think they're the world and your whole universe which again I don't think is a bad thing so as long it's well aspected and doesn't turn into an obsession.

💫Your Mercury in their 3rd house/their Mercury in your 3rd house - Mercury is at home here! Communication will come easily and this is the type of couple that has loads of Inside jokes and always knows what to do to make the other person laugh/smile.

💫Your Mercury in their 9th house/their Mercury in your 9th house - This is really good for expanding the other person's mind. 9th house is all about learning and philosophy and they can teach other a lot, especially how to become more open-minded especially when well aspected.

° part 2 soon!

[brain-rot-central]

Up In Smoke

A/N: Basically he smokes weed and has a really good orgasm. That's the whole fic. Very self-indulgent, but whatever. Hope you all enjoy!

Rating: light E Word count: 3.5k Pairing: Spawn Astarion x Fem!Tav Warnings: 18+, dubcon for being under the influence, drug use, alcohol mention, breeding kink, praise kink, male masturbation, mutual pining, trauma mention, intimacy issues

Summary: The gang finally reaches Baldur's Gate. Astarion isn't handling it so well, knowing he's so close to Cazador again. Tav makes an innocent suggestion that he go down to the shops and find something that can help relieve some of his pent up anxiety.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, he leans over to further inspect the small clear jar within his hands. Inside, a dried cluster of pungent flowers resides. Their faint smell lingers about the small tavern suite. He shakes the jar slightly, following how each bud bounces between the glass.

They've finally made it to Baldur's Gate, and gods what a relief. Not to say he didn't enjoy getting his hands messy, but there was never quite enough he could do to dig out the dirt caked within his nails. He dreamed of soaking in a hot bath for weeks.

Yet, being back in Baldur's Gate also means something more sinister.

It means he’s closer to confronting him.

His old master.

Cazador.

He panics the night before, screaming whenever he'd slip into trance. Horrid memories play behind his eyes. He feels paralyzed within them – the feeling of a hand closing around his neck, a dagger slicing into his back, shackles around his arms and legs, unable to move within the confines of the coffin he lay in for a year.

Tav wakes him eventually, holding him close within their warm embrace. She lulls him back to sleep until he slips into a more peaceful trance. When they awake the next morning, Tav proposes he go down to the shops and look for a sleep aid, or something that could potentially help quell the overwhelming sense of anticipation building within him.

“I only wish for you to be at peace,” she suggests. “You deserve it. Especially now.”

So, he does exactly that.

Perusing the various carts and shops, Astarion inevitably finds an apothecary. He's been to this one before; many, many years ago. He doesn't quite remember the shopkeeper, but feels as if it's the same woman, just now older. 

She's nice enough, giving a warm greeting as he enters the store. The smell of patchouli incense fills his nostrils and almost instantaneously Astarion feels some of the tension melt off his shoulders. 

He explains, in very vague terms, what it is he's experiencing to the shopkeeper. She holds out a glass jar filled with herbs. When he raises a questioning eyebrow, she clarifies, “This is known to help calm even the most fussy of ogres.” She smiles, nudging the jar closer to him. “Go on, take it. You won't regret it.”

With a quick nod of his head, Astarion pays for the herbs and dips out of the shop, stashing the small jar within a pocket of his armor. He reconvenes with Tav and the others; they're to address some sort of problem with a wizard prodigy at Sorcerous Sundries. He sighs audibly as Gale rambles on about the various tomes and wealths of knowledge the store holds. Gale rarely ever lets up when this sort of mood takes him. He briefly wishes he had a scroll of Silence to cast over the wizard.

With the pompous brat slain, the crew returns to the Elfsong Tavern to share a hot meal. Astarion nurses a glass of wine while the others share various plates of grilled meats, vegetables, and fish. Lae’zel offers him the drippings of her steak; he politely declines, though the smell causes his stomach to rumble. He simply chases the sensation away with more wine.

They return to their shared suite within the tavern. The party makes a joint decision that Astarion and Tav share the private room. They aren't the only two having relations, but they are the more… rambunctious couple. Both retire to the bedroom, Tav drawing a bath for herself while Astarion rests on the edge of the bed, as he is now, studying the small glass jar. 

He dares a quick whiff of the herbs, bringing the jar to his face. His face screws up tight, wincing at the offensive odor. “Smells like a godsdamned skunk,” he scoffs. He stares into the jar again.

Fool’s Tongue. 

He’s partaken before at the behest of a client. It was an important brokerage between Cazador and some far-off noble. There wasn’t much choice in the matter for Astarion. But yet, this encounter was a touch better than the others. To this day, Astarion is unsure if it was due to the drug or the man himself. He recalls the comforting embrace of the nobleman with slight fondness. At least the man tried. Not many others did.

Astarion reaches into the small satchel on his hip and pulls out a wooden pipe. He lifted it from Halsin earlier in the evening at dinner. The wood elf becomes soft once drink is involved, making him all the more easy to target. He’ll return it by morning, Astarion promises himself. He may even leave the druid a small token of appreciation for letting him borrow it, should this all work out.

Placing the pipe down onto the comforter, Astarion begins to unlatch his cloak. He lays the jar of herbs down next to the pipe and stands, letting his cape fall to the floor. He works on his armor next, until he’s down to his underthings. Bending down, he begins rummaging through his pack on the floor for his camp clothing. He slips them on, leaving his shirt untucked, and sits back down on the bed.

Astarion picks up the pipe and lays it between pressed-together thighs. It acts as a makeshift support, allowing him to open the glass jar of herbs and retrieve a single nugget. Closing the jar, he places it back down onto the bed, and begins breaking the herbs into smaller pieces to fill Halsin's pipe.

Raising the pipe to his lips, Astarion summons a small flame to the tip of his finger. He stares down the length of the pipe, mustering the resolve to continue. He hears Tav’s voice in his head, as well as that of the old shopkeeper. With a sigh, he brings his finger to the herb, pulling gently on the pipe until it begins to burn.

Smoke fills his lungs a bit too quickly, and he rips the pipe from his mouth. He coughs loudly and a bit dramatically, before finally taking a gasping breath in.

“Astarion!” Tav calls from the washroom. He can hear the sound of water sloshing around in a tub. “Are you okay?”

“I'm fine, darling!” he calls back. “Not to worry,” he adds in a mumble under his breath, mostly to himself. He surveys the contents of the pipe, bringing the mouthpiece to his lips once more. Again he summons a small flame to the herb, inhaling more shallowly this time as to not scorch the back of his throat.

He holds in the hit, leaning back onto the bed. Outstretching his arms he lets the pipe rest gently on the bed as he blows out the smoke. He coughs softly – better than the first time.

A few moments pass without so much as a sound. Astarion begins to wonder if perhaps the herbs are stale. It isn't until he rolls over that he notices the first sign.

The bed is soft. Inviting. Astarion is acutely aware of how the pillow top envelopes his form. He lays flat on his back again, sighing. His eyes slip closed. An unusual warmth rushes over him, tickling his skin. It feels like he's laying in the sun and suddenly he's transported back to the forest. To the morning after.

He remembers waking up to the morning sunlight bathing his skin. He wakes up slowly, slipping back into his leathers. Tav still sleeps; he moves as swiftly as possible to not wake her. She was beautiful, even then. Naive, yes. He didn't have the best of intentions. But, she was beautiful. And infuriatingly pragmatic.

Another sensation begins to light. Astarion doesn't recognize the feeling right away. He opens his eyes and stares at the ceiling, a surge of heat rushing to his face. He swears his chest thumps with the beating of his undead heart. He stares into the lines of the ceiling, tracing the patterns of wood lining the wall. His eyes fall upon a knot; they slip closed again.

Tav straddles his lap while he lays out on the ground. Astarion’s hands hold her thighs, guiding her hips as she rocks back and forth over him. He travels up the expanse of her abdomen, passing over her navel and up to her swaying breasts. Her hair cascades down her shoulders in loose curls, his gaze continuing upward toward her face. Redded by the blush running across the bridge of her nose, her mouth hangs open in a silent gasp. She meets his gaze through heavy lids.

Astarion feels the flitter of a dormant ember ignite within his lower belly. His back arches off the bed as a gasp slips past his lips. This can’t be what he thinks it is… could it? No, certainly not. He’s surely lost the ability to feel this way without necessity. Without a performance. Without it being a bargaining chip of some kind.

A pulling behind his navel has his hips twitching in response and he feels warmth begin to pool between his legs. Gods, is he…

Aroused?

Is this truly unprovoked arousal that he feels? Astarion sees visions of Tav glistening after a bath; droplets of water sliding down tanned, freckled skin. He moans aloud and again his hips buck. His cock is beginning to stir, each rub against the confines of his leathers having him sliding his hands closer and closer to their waistband. He turns his head toward the direction of the washroom.

Astarion groans as his hand runs over the bulge in his pants and it dawns on him momentarily that it is, indeed his cock hardening at the thought of Tav naked. Her skin flushed from the warm water of the bath, hair wet, nipples pert, hips, thighs, cunt-

He's pulling his pants down quicker than he can manage, letting them pool around his ankles on the floor. He hisses as his fingertips brush the swollen length of his arousal, and he dares a quick glance between his legs. His cock has a reddish hue, similar to after he sups of Tav. It pulsates against his lower abdomen and he cautiously wraps a hand around his shaft.

It's not often he performs acts of pleasure upon himself. Usually his mind cages him off – scolds and berates him until he's too ashamed to continue. But with the influence of the Fool’s Tongue swimming within his consciousness, the voice is silent. The only thing Astarion feels is pleasure. Lust. Want. And openly; he openly wants to pleasure himself. And by the Gods, does it feel good.

He pulls up his shirt with the opposite hand to expose more of his abdomen and takes a few experimental jerks of his length. They're soft and slow; unhurried movements as he bathes in the pleasure rushing over his body. His eyes slip closed as he gives himself over to the sensation, hips bucking up each time his thumb passes his frenulum. Behind his closed lids he sees Tav again, kneeling between his legs, ready to take him within her inviting mouth. He moans wantonly as he focuses for a moment on his tip, trying to replicate the feeling of her suckling the head of him.

The door to the washroom opens, jolting Astarion from his thoughts. He makes no effort to cover himself, but instead waits patiently on the bed for Tav to discover the scene awaiting her. She exits the bathroom, running a towel through her hair, seemingly unaware of what has been occurring during her absence.

“I was thinking maybe we could mingle a bit with the others before calling it a night,” Tav suggests. She stands before the room's mirror, running a hand through her dampened locks. “How does that sound, Astar-” The rest of her sentence dies back in her throat as she observes him laying on the bed. “Oh,” is all she manages; a soft, strangled sound rising up from her chest.

He pants as he looks her over; she's wearing a simple, short beige dress. No brassiere, so her breasts fill the top of the dress naturally. It cinches at the waist with two drawstrings, while the rest flares out. The hem of the dress comes to right above her mid thighs, and Astarion swallows the sudden uptake in saliva pooling within his mouth. His cock twitches in his palm. “Y-you suggested I go to the shops,” he tries to explain. “Find something to help ease my trepidation.”

“I guess it was a success.” Tav replies, stepping closer. “I don't think I've ever seen you like this.”

Astarion catches a true blush rising to her cheeks as she studies him. As she stands before him, the scent of her arousal dances below his nose, and he groans. “It was, very,” he answers. “That d-dress is… nice,” he adds.

Tav smiles, stepping before him. “Is it?” she asks in a sultry tone. She grabs the hem of the dress and begins slowly pulling it up her thighs. “What about it do you like?”

Visions of her riding his lap flood his mind's eye. Astarion tosses his head back as he envisions taking her from behind, against the wall, on the floor – animalistic mating rituals between them both; rough, hard, fast. He can't help but suck in a sharp breath as he opens his eyes again to meet Tav’s gaze. He tries to answer her but no sound comes out.

With a smirk, she climbs onto the bed over him, hovering just above his cock. “What about the dress do you like, Astarion?” Tav reiterates. She's sure to leave her hips as far away from his hand as possible; she's aware of his intimacy issues, how delicate this situation is. She leans over him to place chaste kisses over his forehead. She smiles against his skin as he resumes tugging at himself with soft jerks of his hand.

“The convenience,” Astarion replies in a whisper. His desire is mounting, threatening to burn out of control unless release finds him soon. Tav laughs, and briefly drops her hips over the hand pumping his cock. They both moan as his knuckles brush between her slick, sending Astarion's mind reeling. “You're… you're n-not wearing-”

Tav nips gently at the pale elf’s ears, reveling in the instinctive bucking of his hips into her core. “No, I'm not,” she teases. She feels Astarion shudder beneath her and she licks the shell of his ear, moving quickly down to kiss the underside of his jaw. Tav brushes her center over his fingers again, this time deliberately passing over the tip of him.

He swallows thickly as a gasp escapes his parted lips. As hot as the thought of Tav riding his cock makes him, the shackles of his subconscious are threatening to yank his chain. “I can't, not all the way,” he pleads. Ghastly hands are threatening to enclose around the column of his throat. “Just this, please.”

Tav pulls away from him momentarily, her brow knit in concern. She studies his eyes – ruby red gems hooded over in lust. She nods, placing a gentle kiss to his forehead. “Just this, then,” she says reassuringly.

Astarion sighs in relief and continues stroking himself in earnest, knuckles brushing now and again against her sex. He groans as her arousal mingles with his, slickening the palm of his hand to create a luscious glide. “Gods, how I wish I could,” he groans out.

“Could what?” Tav teases. Her breasts are pushing against his chest as it heaves with labored breath. She returns attention back to his ears, licking along its shell to nip gently at the tip.

Astarion's eyes roll to the back of his head as his body convulses in pleasure. “T-take you,” he admits through a shuddered breath. He twists his hand over the head of his cock in a specific rhythm, pulling a guttural groan from the back of his throat. “I think about it often.”

“Do you?” Tav raises a hand to cup the back of his head. She leans over, bringing her mouth close to his ear. “So do I,” she whispers. “It's not fair, you know. Having experienced you prior. Only to be cut off and denied any more.”

“You're one to talk,” he replies. He stares up at Tav, his mouth hanging agape. “D-do you think it's any easier for me? To want so carnally, only to have to deny myself?” He slides a hand up her thigh to hold her waist, guiding her down onto his core. They both sigh at the sensation as he takes the same hand and now threads it through her hair, pushing their foreheads together. “To see how the others look at you, knowing I cannot yet claim you for myself. It's… maddening,” he breathes against her lips.

Tav sighs. “Yet, here I am… in your lap. And not theirs.” She captures his lips in a chaste kiss, though Astarion surges forward. She slackens her jaw to allow him better access; like a man starved he explores the warm cavern of her mouth, tongue intertwining with hers.

He breaks the kiss with a pull of her bottom lip. “I promise that one day I will,” he speaks against her lips. Astarion pumps himself faster, feeling the coil behind his navel wind tighter. “And when I do, you’re not to leave my bed for days.”

Tav pulls her head back, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. “Days?” she reiterates, feigning innocence. “Do you wish to mate me, Astarion?” 

His back suddenly arches off the bed, a gasp slipping past his lips. His knuckles brush against her sex again. “Yes,” he hisses through clenched teeth. “Fully, properly, lavishly.” He's babbling now. Logic escaping him, replaced by a tempting carpet of depraved carnal lust that threatens to unravel at the seams.

Tav kisses him gently again. “Should I tell you a little secret?” she asks. She doesn't wait for a response before continuing. Sliding her face again to Astarion’s ear, she says quietly, “What if I were to tell you that you already have me?”

He blinks up at her in bewilderment. “H-how would that be?” he stammers. “I've barely done anything. I can hardly touch you without-”

“Because it's you,” Tav explains. “It's you I think of when I'm alone.” She shakes her head. “No one else.”

Astarion rushes forward again, capturing his lips in a desperate kiss. “...The Gods truly made you just to ruin me,” he says, pulling away with a huff. He closes his eyes as he twists his wrist over the swollen tip of his length again, a soft sigh falling from his lips.

“Are you close?” She speaks softly to him, rubbing the pad of her thumb over his cheek. “Would telling you how good you are to me help?”

The coil winds tighter in his lower belly at her praise. He hums, cock twitching in his palm, pre-fluid now gathering at his tip. “A-almost,” Astarion stammers again. “M-my ears, touch them again, please.”

With a giggle, Tav dips her head into the crook of his neck, kissing along his skin leading up to his ear. She rubs at his other with her opposite hand, lavishing delicate attention to each of their tips. “Have I ever told you how handsome you are when you reach your peak, Astarion?” she pants into his ear. “The way your mouth hangs open in a silent gasp, how your eyes roll to the back of your head.” She watches him throw his head back, his hand picking up speed as he strokes himself. Tav dips her head again to his neck, nipping gently at the exposed column of skin.

“I'm going… if you keep, a-ah,” Astarion insists, breathing ragged. His chest is heaving, the influence of the Fool’s Tongue and overwhelming lust threatening to consume him. He's on the edge, right at the precipice, almost there, just a touch more-

Tav drops her hips over him again and he seizes, hips bucking wilding up to meet her. She latches onto his neck and sucks, hard enough that he knows a mark will be present by morning. Suddenly Astarion is falling over the cliff, mouth dropping open in a drawn out groan. His vision blanks, thick ropes of his release paint his lower belly as he jerks himself through the last of his orgasm.

She kisses the tip of his nose as she climbs off, picking her towel up from off the floor. Astarion lay on the bed panting, the room still spinning around him. As he comes to, he opens his eyes to meet Tav, who holds out the towel to him. “Did that feel good?” she asks, curiously.

He nods before replying, “Quite. I've used Fool’s Tongue before, but it was nothing like this.”

“Hmm,” she hums as he takes the towel from her. “Perhaps I should join you, next time?”

He huffs a quick laugh as he wipes the release of his belly, giving Tav a genuine smile. “That would certainly be something.”

[beneaththebirches]

Seafoam Green

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Female!Reader

Summary: Rafe and the reader meet at Midsummer and continue their most recent naughty shenanigans.

A/n: Just a reminder this is a repost from my original account @sublimecatgalaxy! Love you all!

Midsummer is the same every year.

Loud music, drunk adults, bored teenagers wandering around, stealing sips of parents drink when they're not looking, too enthralled in conversations of wealth and status with others.

The whole night is just a fun excuse to get dressed up and pretty, an excuse to make people look at you with wide, intrigued eyes- it's like the one night of the year where girls can be princesses without strange looks. Pretty but dainty diamond tiara's, flowing dresses, a sneak peak underneath for those you end up going home with.

My dress is green, his favorite color, a dash of silver and green on my eyelids, sparkling under the twinkling lights just enough to get the attention of who I want.

It's been all night and he's yet to notice me from across the room but I've noticed him; black suit, a pale green shirt underneath, his hair swooped to the side in a calculated way and it makes me feel drawn to him, like a moth to a flame.

When he notices me, he looks around- almost to see if anyone's watching- before he approaches me with a kind smile, eyes dipping down the front of my dress, giving me a once over as his cheeks blush an auburn red.

"You look stunning." He smiles, holding his hand out to me which I gladly take, slipping my hand into his as he leads me away from the bar and to the wooden floor where, mostly, the older people dance. He pulls me flush against him with a grin, hand slipping down my exposed back and I instinctually wrap my arms around his neck, securing myself to him.

"You look good too, Rafe." I soothe my hands down the front of his suit and he grins, hands gripping my waist as we wander slowly throughout the dance floor, skilled and untouched by the laughing couples around us. Like it's only us.

"We matched." He smiles, pinching the fabric of my dress as I give him a simple knowing nod, shoulders shrugging.

"I'm smarter than you think I am." He grins wickedly at the confident smirk that I give him and he bends me back over his arm, dipping me skillfully without wobbling in the slightest.

"You're more beautiful that you think you are." His eyes seem to be fixated on the ways that my lips spread out into a bashful smile, tongue sweeping out to wet my lips as I lift myself to his ear, whispering quietly so only he can hear me.

"I just thought you would like to know that I’m not wearing any underwear right now." His body turns to stone against mine, hands stalling momentarily from the sweet circles he was drawing into my skin with his thumbs and I feel a rush of confidence wash over me as I lower myself back down to my heels. "Do what you must with this information."

"Come with me." He says without another word, gripping my hand and dragging me past both of our parents and into the building. I can already see the bathroom in view and know what this means, nervous butterflies swarming in my stomach at the thought of feeling him. "I want you to bad." He mutters, shoving the door open with a bang and locking the door after giving the bathroom a once over as we finally find ourselves alone. "Sit down." He orders and my brows furrow, not sure why I would have to be sitting down for him to fu-

"What're you-" I start but he forces me down into the seat without looking up into my eyes, his whole body lowering in front of me so he can kneel on the ground between my thighs, hands already working on pushing up the fabric of my dress as it dawns on me what he wants. He's never done this for me before.

"Bend your legs, sweetheart." He pats my thighs gently and I do what he says, not in the mood to argue and give him any push back when he's look up at me like that, eyes full of excited lust as he whispers against the sensitive skin of my thighs. "Fuck, you're so beautiful."

[jarofstyles]

Illicit 5

Here's Illicit part 5.. It's a fun one for sure hehe

Check out our Patreon for early access and 100+ exclusives

Illicit Masterlist

WC- 3k

Warnings- exhibitionism(?), Voyerism(?), Really mean H, Cheating (H w Y/N), spit play, smut etc

------------

It was safe to say that Brant was not pleased in the slightest that his daughter had tricked Harry. While he wasn’t pleased with the fact that it had come to that in order for them to spend time together, his company took precedence over his daughter’s relationship. He had apologized profusely to Harry, telling him he would speak to his daughter and make sure she knew how inappropriate her actions were. That wasn’t what he was looking for. 

He wanted this contract terminated. 

Perhaps, if he hadn’t met Y/N, he would have a bit more tact. Suffer in silence and just roll his eyes at her antics, let her do what she needed to get him off of her back. But he did. He met the love of his life and this girl was standing in the way of what he wanted. That never turned out well for anyone, really, but this girl had pushed his last straw. He needed her to break up with him so this agreement was void. The moment she told him it was done, he would perhaps just for joy. It was exhausting. The annoyance he used to feel for her had built up into a sweltering hatred, a loathing. Every little thing she did pissed him off and put her higher and higher on his shit list. He needed her gone, and fast. He couldn’t keep hiding Y/N.

Katherine on the other hand, only wanted to chase harder. She was livid with him for speaking out loud, letting people question their relationship. Sure enough there was a grainy video of a pissed off Harry growling at her from across the table, throwing cash on to the table. The articles had come out in droves.

Trouble in Paradise for the New IT Couple?

UnStylish Dinner- Waitress Tells All

Rocky Road for Heiress and Mogul 

Is THE Couple Calling it Quits?

Tantrum at the Table? Katherine Brant EXPOSED!

Needless to say, she was twitching and angry. Her carefully curated brand had been tarnished. She’d put in months now of effort, building up their story. Letting herself sit aside while Harry was busy but getting her head bitten off when she wanted a bit of attention. Her crush on him was obsessive. It wasn’t just getting his love anymore, it was building their relationship up to legendary levels. Give them a ship name! Katrry? Hatherine? She was fine with either, but she wanted that influencer reputation. The wealth itself wasn’t enough. She wanted attention, damn it, and Harry was ruining her plans. 

When Katherine had originally gotten this deal, she was ecstatic. She was convinced she could get the ‘emotionless beast’ as people around there called him, to love her. She knew she was pretty, funny, she had a lot to offer. Her plan had been foolproof, or so she thought. Thinking about how they could rise up and be the perfect power couple. New money and Old coming together and ruling over the city with a golden fist. 

They had been ruined, however, when he didn’t give. They had sex 2 times, she gave him oral once, and the man had barely said anything to her except ‘shut up.’ He was selfish, using her as a mere fleshlight to get off on. No praise, no words besides a grunt when he came. He’d demanded her face down, ass up, and to keep quiet. Bite the pillow if you need, your voice is annoying.  It hadn’t been bad, his cock thick and hitting the right spots, but he showed no interest in her. No affection. Simply slapping her ass and getting up to shower alone after he was done. He’d asked if she was good, but that was about it. She’d thought maybe using sex to get to him would work, but after the second time he straight up denied her. No phsycial contact.

There was no way he was normal. He didn’t have emotions nor morals, it seemed, but she didn’t need those in order to have a happy life. Giving up on the affection, she’d tried to perfect the image, manipulating photos, planting people to see things at certain angles. Making people think she had done the impossible- she had turned the mottled, charred heart of Harry Styles into a blooming forest, just for her. But obviously- things were not turning out her way. Katherine was used to getting her way. 

So she devised a plan. An intervention of sorts, one that had her stomping into his office only to be told he had taken the day off. A direct lie he had told her just an hour earlier, saying he was busy at work all day and not to bother him with silly things. Like her feelings. She was fuming and irrational, knowing what she had to do. It would perhaps get people fired, maybe get her in big trouble with her father, but she wasn't thinking clearly right now. All she wanted to do was to yell at him. Give Harry a taste of his own medicine, damn it. He acted so high and mighty, so above her, and it infuriated her. 

Knowing it wasn’t smart and the back of her mind reminding her of how much he valued his privacy, she knew it was dirty. But seeing her opportunity with a new doorman to his building, proving their relationship status with his phone number in her phone and photos of them together, she got the spare key to his place. 

Her heart was beating in her throat as she pushed the front door handle down, heels clicking as she walked inside the foyer. The place was quiet, really, except for a faint sound coming from the upstairs of the penthouse. Naive, she assumed it was the television. Harry hadn’t allowed her here more than to meet her in the hallway, so part of this was saving her curiosity as she saw the large panoramic views of the city in this high rise, floor to ceiling windows. His step down living room with a half one puzzle on the coffee table and a U Shaped couch, she walked past it and towards the grand staircase to make her way up to where he must be. 

It was nerve wracking, really. Being here, knowing she wasn’t supposed to be, but the rage simmering under her skin was too hot to make sense of it. Each step clicked, bringing her closer to the sound she still couldn’t quite make out. 

“Oh, fuuuuck.” A feminine voice let out, faint but loud enough to make her throat tight. There was no way. Each step closer gained another sound. A grunt, a smack, a whimper. A manly cooing, the sound of flesh slapping together and hushed words that only got clearer as she neared the door that was ajar. 

“S’good, baby?” It was Harry. Harry Styles, with his low crooning voice. A tone she had never heard before, making her stiffen up and her eyes blink hard as the deep words continue. “S’so good for me. Always so fucking good, swallowing me up.” A weak whine sounded in reply. Tip toeing closer, her curiosity got the best of her again as she peeked inside. 

On the plush bed, the blankets were crumpled and wrinkled. A starkly naked, almost faceless woman was laying on her back, fingers clutching the broad expanse of Harry’s bare, tanned back. The pearly pink of her demure manicured nails digging into the skin, making a groan Katherine had never imagined the man capable of falling from swollen lips. She was getting a side view, a real pornographic image playing in front of her face. Frozen, like watching a car crash as she looked at the couple. 

He was fucking another woman. A woman he was treating much differently than she had ever treated her. His hand scooping under her neck, cooing down at her as tiny repetitive whimpers left her lips. “I know, M’Love. I know, I’m getting that spot, aren’t I? S’my spot.” He brushed her nose with his own, fucking into her deep and concentrated. The sweat glistened on his skin as she watched her supposed ‘boyfriend’ fuck into the cunt of another woman. He called her ‘his love.’. She was shaking, face pale as she couldn't seem to uncement her feet from the carpeted hall. 

“Yes, yes, right there. Right there, H.” The woman panted. Desperation was clear in her tone, her legs pulled up and on his shoulders. H? She was allowed a nickname and Katherine wasn't? “I can’t stop, m’gonna cum, m’gonna cum I-” A needy squeal sounded in the room as Harry leaned down, spitting over her cunt and smearing it in with his hand. Unashamed and passionate. He was being filthy, but the way he looked at the woman- it broke her a little. Whoever this was, she had gotten her dream. She was the one standing in the way of it, she was the one who had ruined her plans. She’d hypnotized him with sex, somehow managing to get her goal of unfreezing his heart. Just the way he handled her made Katherine well aware of the fact that he was in love. 

“There we fuckin’ go, my love. Soak my cock.” He hissed through his teeth, eyes looking up from Y/N to follow his gut feeling, eyes meeting Katherine’s in the doorway. Instead of stopping, of growling at her, instead of making her presence known, he simply laughed, turning his attention back to Y/N and let her watch. His thrusts increased in tempo, a hand placed on her tummy as he worked harder. Like he was trying to prove something. “S’my perfect girl. All mine, let go all over my cock. S’all yours, baby.” He hummed. “I can feel it- fuck, you’re trying to milk me. Y’want it, sweet girl?” He mumbled down at her. “Want my cum again?” 

Her eyes betrayed her, looking down to find that his cock was indeed bare. Something she knew he was notorious for never allowing. It solidified a lot to Katherine, knowing that he was fucking this girl raw, that she was the one that had beat her to him. Anger and shame bubbled inside of her as her face stays red, watching his slick pick drive into her, spreading her open with each pass. Creamy at the base, like this wasn’t their first round, maybe a third. Bitten skin and scratch marks, her breasts with pebbled nipples arched up as begged for it, unashamed at her pleas as Harry stared down at her with pure love and lust. It seemed to be his undoing, dropping down her legs and finding himself on top of her, deep and hard thrusts as he pressed his nose to hers before his face contorted in rapture. A deep growl, his hips stuttering as he pushed in one final time and the wet sounds of sex ended. Only then, he took her mouth with his own while he stayed balls deep, humping into her and kissing her hard, more passion going into that one kiss than he had given her the whole of their relationship. 

His expression hardened as he pulled away, looking up at Katherine with a single warning mouthed to her by his swollen, spit slicked lips. ‘Get the fuck out.’ 

—---------

“I love you.” Harry mumbled into Y/N’s neck, peppering it with kisses. He wasn’t going to ruin this post orgasm bliss quite yet, ignoring the woman standing with a gaping mouth at their bedroom door. “So much. My sweet angel.” He stroked the messy locks from her face, their second round on his day off being usually one of his favorites. This time, it was again, but for a much more nefarious reason. 

Harry wasn’t one to tell someone they were wrong if they called him cruel. He was. Y/N, his nieces and his family were the only ones shielded by his gray morals, but there was a sick part of him that was relieved. Excited, even, that Katherine got a glimpse. Saw that she could never compare, that he was a taken man and was only with her. Maybe now, she would get it through her impossibly thick skull. Only, it seemed she was stupider than Harry had originally thought, standing like a deer in headlights as Harry gently pulled out, using his fingers to curl inside her cunt and the other grabbing the blanket to cover up Y/N. 

“Can you not read lips? I said to get the fuck out.” He said coldly, fingers pressing the cum further into Y/N’s cunt as he looked at Katherine. “You come in here, invade my privacy? More so, my girl’s privacy? Not fucking okay.”

“Are you kidding me?” Katherine squeaked. Y/N had been clued in and felt herself curl in on herself, hiding under the blanket as her thundering heart didn’t take the second to calm down. It only got worse. “I’m your girlfriend! Not this, this-”

“I’d choose your words very fucking carefully.” He snapped, eyes darker than she had ever seen. He was naked as the day he was born, cock wet and filthy with another woman's orgasm mixed with his own, and he was more threatening than she could have ever imagined. “This is the woman who will be the mother of my children. You, Katherine, are a means to an end. An end I’ve been trying to work on and you’ve been too pathetic to catch a clue. Or stupid, actually, considering I’ve told you I’m here because you whined to your father who was dumb enough to add a personal matter cloud his judgment. I didn’t want you then, and I don’t want you now.” He pulled his fingers from Y/N, licking them clean without breaking eye contact with the wicked witch. He hoped it made her sick.

“You are a monster.” She whispered, face paling. “You don’t care about anything! Any of the effort I put in, it’s because you’ve had a whore on the side-”

“Watch your fucking mouth.” He interrupted again. “She’s not the whore. If anything, you’re the one on the side trying to desperately prove to people who don’t care about you that you are important. It’s pathetic. I tried to help you by treating you like shit, but let me spell it out for you.” He stood up, giving Y/N’s forehead a kiss before crossing his arms. “You are nothing to me. You’ve never been anything to me. She has been my everything since the day we met. I have been dreaming of marrying her, impregnating her, keeping her. You and this fucked up deal have been an inconvenience since day one. And don’t even think about running to your father crying. There is no clause saying I need to be loyal to you. No monogamy, no fidelity clause. Your father’s company was a welcome inquisition to my empire, but it means nothing to me now. You mean nothing to me. Your time is worthless.” 

Harry was harsh but real. Y/N had her hand over her mouth, watching the exchange in horror. She wasn’t pleased about being seen, as it felt extremely violating, but she couldn’t lie and say she wasn’t feeling that weird sense of satisfaction over finally being seen as his one and only. It was a weird juxtaposition of feelings swirling in her gut, blinking as she watched the girl’s face fall. Harry was being ruthless, trying to cement the facts in her head. 

“I’ve been as kind as I can be given the situation. I went along with your little schemes but I’m tired. Frankly, the things you care about are vapid, stupid, and you will fall out of public favor in seconds once the next heiress with a camera pops up. But you’ve fucked up massively, Katherine.First, wasting my time and business hours. But this? Breaking and entering? Are you really that pathetic?” He sneered. It must have been a sight, seeing a stark nude Harry Styles sneering at a shivling excuse of an influencer who was standing in his doorway. “And here you are now, wasting my time with my love. I was going to continue this agreement and let you continue whatever social media posts, but this is too far for me. No deal is worth a psychotic woman breaking into my house and making my woman feel unsafe.” 

He crossed the room to grab his phone when he heard her sputter. 

“Wait! No- No, don’t call my dad.” She said shakily. “Please don’t call him. I’ll do anything. He’s going to kill me.” Katherine, above all else, couldn’t stand the threat of being cut off. That’s what he threatened the other day for using his phone to trick Harry. Katherine was used to her lifestyle and if that was taken away, she didn’t know what she would do. 

“Call off the contract.” He said. “That’s the only way I’m not telling your father and ruining your life. Break up with me, do your silly influencer thing and call the paparazzi. Call me an asshole, I don’t give a fuck. But break this contract. I want out of it and I want to be rid of you.” He found his briefs, pulling them up his legs. This was the one thing he wanted. To be honest, part of him did want to ruin her life- but he didn’t want to be held responsible for all the other shit that came with it. So for one final time, he gave her a shot. “And get the fuck out before I call security.”  

If she didn’t take this warning seriously, he’d be happy to show her what kind of monster he could be.