#also very very old but it works so it would be wasteful not to use it ._.

[foundfamilynonsense]

Very true, and we can also look at the genre of fantasy under a microscope for a moment to understand why cozy fantasies often miss the mark.

In romance novels, we can have “big problem” stories, that revolve around things like war, drugs, suicide, and so on. Or we can have “small problem” stories like my bakery is being shut down, I don’t have a date to my cousin’s wedding. Etc. Both of these options can work well for a romance genre, it just depends on what you’re trying to write.

So, with cozy fantasy, it’s mostly “big problem”. And some romance writers sat down and decided to think up some “small problem” romance.

But…. The “big problems” of fantasy are not the same as the “big problems” in romance. So why did we think the “small problems” would be the same??

Fantasy, as a genre, involves taking internal problems and externalizing them. The crushing weight of capitalist greed becomes a dragon that we can fight off with a sword. Your own insecurities that keep you up and night are now preventing you from using the World Saving Magic. Conceptual problems are turned into physical problems that you can see and understand— then they are defeated.

So, while the big problems in romance usually revolve around things like depression, substance abuse, being sent off to a war, and other things that are more conceptual and mental, fantasy turns that suffering into physical suffering to make it more digestible to certain audiences. In romance you have anxiety. In fantasy you have anxiety because you’re being hunted by a werewolf.

So why do most cozy fantasies try to copy cozy romances?? Why is it about a coffee shop? Why is it about the small business?

Howl’s moving castle was mentioned, and it’s a good example. Because, yes, Howl’s Moving Castle is a bit of a softer fantasy. No swords, no blood, no dragon. Howl and the Witch of the Wastes do fight some epic battles but those are not the focus. The focus is about a young girl who feels like nothing in her life can possibly go right. She feels ugly and down on her luck and she is now finally in a situation where she can let out some emotion: and that emotion is usually anger. And why can she suddenly let out these emotions? Because the witch of the wastes turned her into an old lady.

It’s a “small problem” but it’s still externalized and exaggerated because of the fantasy genre. It’s not about a shop keeper who by the way can do some magic.

In fantasy, you can’t just write out the problem, you have to turn it into something tangible. Howl is a cruel heartbreaker who goes through women like clean ex? It’s because he literally doesn’t have a heart in his chest. And to make it “soft” I’ve noticed many fantasy writers forget to do this.

It’s hard to write soft fantasy because… y’know. Once you funnel all the negative parts of war and greed into one dude with a big sword you want to arm your characters and have them kick his ass. But you *can* if you really want to. However, it’s easier to turn small problems (you and your mother have never gotten along) into big problems (your mother is possessed by a demon) than keep them as externalized small problems (your mother… lost the key to her heart? Or something?) so instead you get a kind of boring realistic “everyday” fiction/romance with some fantasy vibes.

Cozy Fantasy and Why It Doesn't Work

I think I am among many who feel like they should love cozy fantasy and have found it an incredibly lacking genre.

This newly branded "cozy fantasy" genre that has taken readers by storm since 2020 and while it is new that books are now marketed as cozy, the genre itself isn't new. Howl's Moving Castle by Diana Wynne Jones is a great example of the genre before it was labeled and also how to make it work.

Cozy fantasy is defined by many as fantasy with low stakes. Fantasy aesthetic but less sword fights. On paper, it sounds great. But the execution has been less than stellar for readers like me. The lack of physical stakes has also impacted the emotional stakes of these books, creating forgettable characters with boring problems. As a romance reader, I find this frustrating. Romance is known for being a predictable and formulaic genre, the now defunct Romance Writers of America defined romances as needing happy endings, a term romances have continued to follow. Yet these romance texts manage to have low physical stakes (how to date your neighbor, how to confront your toxic friends, etc) while still maintaining high personal stakes that keep readers invested and begging for more. So I was initially confused why cozy fantasy authors struggle to write texts that connect to readers like me.

I think I have found the answer which is the genre is just here for vibes. It is all about aesthetic, not even worldbuilding that fantasy is known for as most cozy fantasy I read have so many problems as soon as you ask one question. It is hard to acknowledge that a genre that is pitched to work for readers like me doesn't work for many of us. Especially because occasionally there is one that works beautifully to my taste.

I often say my favorite cozy fantasies that are more contemporary are short and visual, which I plays into the idea of the genre being an aesthetic. The Bakery Dragon by Devin Elle Kurtz is a good example because it is a simple story that is given the perfect amount of pages and gorgeous visuals without dragging on when the message is very clear and easy to understand. Books like The Phoenix Keeper and Legends and Lattes have absolutely nothing for me, their very clear message hitting the reader over and over so the readers don't miss it and focusing on the aesthetic of worldbuilding rather than the reality of the fantastic elements within the world.

I guess my point is. . . I realize this genre isn't for me since I have realized it is more of an aesthetic than anything. .. .but I want it to be. Should I let it go and put my efforts elsewhere? Or should I keep exploring this new trend and find the hidden gems?

[mariacallous]

Goldie Finkelstein was just 13 when she was sent to Wiener Graben, a work camp that later became a concentration camp. The youngster lost her entire family in the war, and among the things she never learned from them was how to cook. She had no family recipes and, according to her son, when she married Sol Finkelstein, also a Holocaust survivor, she didn’t know how to boil water or cook an egg.

Eventually, other survivors taught Goldie the necessary skills, and she was a quick learner. She soon became known for the copious amounts of baked goods she would provide for any occasion. Her recipes, some of which are included in the “Honey Cake and Latkes: Recipes from the Old World by the Auschwitz-Birkenau Survivors” cookbook, include cake mixes and other ingredients that wouldn’t have been used in pre-Holocaust Eastern Europe. Her whiskey cake, for example, calls for both yellow cake mix and vanilla pudding mix.

Goldie’s experience illustrates the ways in which recipes, including those we think of as quintessentially Ashkenazi Jewish, have changed over the years. Survivors lost the ancestors who passed along oral recipes. Families’ personal artifacts, such as handwritten recipes, were abandoned when Jews were forced to flee. 

Most significantly, perhaps, after the war, survivors had access to different ingredients in their new homes. Sometimes that was due to seasonality, such as was the case for those who moved from Eastern Europe to Israel and had access to more fruits and vegetables year-round, including dates and pomegranates. Other times, it reflected changing tastes or newfound wealth  — liver soup, pates with liver and offal were classic Eastern European dishes in the early 1900s, when there was an intention to use every part of the animal, but became increasingly uncommon. In other cases, like Goldie’s, packaged goods replaced homemade. Another survivor whose recipes appear in “Honey Cake and Latkes,”Lea Roth, detailed making noodles for Passover from the starch leftover at the bottom of a bowl after grating potatoes before the war. After the war, most people added “noodles” to the grocery list.

“Some of these recipes changed because of New World versus Old World,” explains Jeffrey Yoskowitz, author of “The Gefilte Manifesto: New Recipes for Old World Jewish Foods.” Yoskowitz and his co-author Liz Alpern work not to replicate pre-war Ashkenazi Jewish recipes, but to reclaim and modernize them. To do that, they’ve had to examine the ways in which recipes have changed.

In the Old World, for instance, almost every recipe called for breadcrumbs. At Passover, the leftover crumbs from the matzah were used to make matzah balls, leaving nothing to waste. But when immigrants in the U.S. could use Manischewitz pre-made matzah meal, then recipes started calling for it to make matzah balls.Today’s recipes for kugels with cream cheese, cottage cheese and sour cream would not have been made in the Old World, where dairy products were expensive. Again, ubiquitous cows in the New World made that “celebration of dairy” possible, Yoskowitz says.

At first, recipes may not seem like the most essential thing to recover from Holocaust survivors, but they paint a picture of what life was like before the war. It is essential to see the Jewish experience as one that is not solely as victims, and learning what people ate and cooked is part of that.

“Bringing back recipes can help bring people back to life,” says Edna Friedberg, a historian and senior curator with the U.S. Holocaust Memorial Museum. “In particular, it was women who were in the kitchen in this period, and so this is a way to make the lives of women very vivid and real for people.”

The idea is not to romanticize Eastern Europe, says Maria Zalewska, executive director of the Auschwitz-Birkenau Memorial Foundation, which published “Honey Cake and Latkes,” but to see the memories connected to togetherness, like picking fruit toward the end of the summer and using that fruit in a recipe, such as cold cherry soup with egg-white dumplings. 

In addition, examining recipes gives us a sense of what role cooking and food played in trauma processing, Zalewska says. “Remembering the foods and the food traditions of their lives before imprisonment were some of the ways that survivors coped with starvation,” Zalewska adds. These are things that survivors say they are not often asked about, but when asked they report remembering dreaming about food during incarceration. 

“We have quite a number of testimonies, where survivors talk about being in situations of starvation, and food deprivation and ghettos and camps and in hiding, and that dreaming about and remembering food from before gave them emotional sustenance,” explains Friedberg.

Exploring such memories have been meaningful for those survivors who were young when they lost their families.

New Orleans’ Chef Alon Shaya has been working for several years to recreate recipes from a book belonging to the family of Steven Fenves, a survivor and a volunteer for the museum. The book was rescued by the family cook, Maris, when the family was forced to flee their home on the Yugoslavia-Hungary border in 1944. The recipes are largely written without measurements, times or temperatures, and many of the ingredients are different from those used today. (Like the Fenves family, Goldie’s son, Joseph Finkelstein, says his mother wasn’t big on using measurements as we think of them in recipes today. She knew the quantity of an ingredient, for example, if it would fit in her palm.) Unlike Yoskowitz, who is looking to update recipes, Shaya has been working to replicate them as closely as possible  — and has come across a few surprises.

Many of the desserts use a lot of walnuts, for example, which, of course, are also used in contemporary baking. But Shaya is using what he says are “copious amounts of walnuts” in various ways, such as grilled walnuts and toasted walnuts. The Fenves family walnut cream cake, which includes both walnuts ground in the batter and in a cream in-between the cake layers, has featured on the menu at one of Shaya’s restaurants, Safta, in Denver.

For all the recreation, and Shaya’s goal to bring the tastes of his youth back to Fenves, he says “it is impossible that a recipe in New Orleans would be the same as one in Bulgaria. The seasons are different, what animals are butchered are different, and the spices taste different.”

Indeed, place matters, Yoskowitz says. Ashkenazi food has a reputation of being terrible, he says. Take mushroom soup, for example. “There is no good mushroom soup in a deli. It is made with mushrooms that don’t have much flavor. But if you have it somewhere made with mushrooms grown in the forest, then that is going to be good soup.”

Many Holocaust survivors settled in new lands with new ingredients, and little memory of how things were made before the war. They knew they used to eat mushroom soup but didn’t specifically remember the forest-grown and harvested fungi. So, dishes morphed depending on what survivors had in their new home. In Eastern Europe, veal was plentiful, but in the U.S. and Israel, schnitzel began being made with chicken instead (a process Yoskowitz calls the “chickentization” of cuisine). And the beloved Jewish pastrami on rye? The pastrami would have traditionally been made with kosher goose or lamb. It wasn’t until Jews came to the U.S. that beef was easily accessible. 

The same is true of what is likely the most iconic Jewish American dish. “Bagel and lox are what we think of as the most Jewish food. But the only thing that came over was the cured and smoked fish,” Yoskowitz says. “Cream cheese was a New York state invention. Capers were Italians. It was a completely new creation, and it became a taste associated with Jewish people.”

One of the most poignant recipes in the “Honey Cake and Latkes” book is a chocolate sandwich, a basic concoction of black bread, butter and shaved dark chocolate. Survivor Eugene Ginter remembers his mother making it for him in Germany after the war, to fatten him up after years of starvation.

Adds Shaya: “We have to continue to adapt, and I think that that is part of the beauty of it.”

[artdcnaldson]

i want older dilfy art to call me kiddo while he fucks me... IM SORRY

-🐞

🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ you get it!!

TW: Dubcon due to no verbal consent given, but both parties are VERY enthusiastic

But yeah… being the cute little babysitter he and Tashi hire!! He calls you kiddo conversationally, just a way he tries to remind himself how young you are. He’s all hey, kiddo, and how’s college, kiddo? You really are so young— in college, can’t even drink legally yet. That doesn’t stop him from wanting you so bad. For waking up hard and drenched in sweat beside his wife after he’s dreamed about fucking your sweet pussy.

You’re a fan, you watch his matches. After you’d been working for them for a month, you shyly brought out a shirt for him to sign. He fantasized about you wearing it to bed with nothing beneath for fucking days after, jerked his cock raw imagining your body beneath the oversized fucking merch.

But he shouldn’t. You’re a kid. You’re too young. You're begging for it.

There you are— sitting on the sofa while you wait for Art to call his driver to take you home. He coddles you too much, wastes his own resources on you. His driver, his black card, anything you want. Your pretty legs are tucked under your body, beneath the hoodie of his you wear.

Sorry, Mr. Donaldson, I just got cold and you said to help myself to whatever I need.

It makes sense that you're freezing. You show up in tiny little athletic shorts and big tee shirts. Kind of like Tashi used to wear, back in college. He supposes some things don't change. It also makes sense because he keeps the house frigid so he can leer at the hard bud of your nipples poking through your shirts. Also like Tashi. Whatever, it's his house, he can do what he wants.

You look so tiny in his clothes, pretty and young. Swamped in the fabric, letting your scent mingle with his. He wants to bury his face in the fabric, breathe deep. He wants to fuck you with his hoodie on, pin you down on the couch, tug your panties to the side, and sink right in. You’d get so wet, he’s sure of it. Cream around his cock so much that it would sound fucking obscene.

“Mr. Donaldson?” You break his train of thought, smiling pretty over at him. “Are you calling your driver?”

No. “Yeah,” he says, and grabs his phone from his pocket. His thumbs fumble with his passcode, and you laugh softly as you watch him struggle. Like it’s a game, like you know exactly what you’re doing to him.

He feels the soft weight of your hand on his thigh— timid, testing. Your fingers flex, dimpling his thigh through the thin fabric of his pajama pants. He looks down before he thinks to look at your face. Pretty, manicured nails, a purity ring that’s clearly just for decoration. Only inches away from the spot where he’s tenting the fabric of his pants.

When he finally tears his eyes away to meet your gaze, you look at him through wide eyes and pretty lashes. “Do you have to?”

Words fail him. He swallows hard, tries to think of the many things he should say. I’m married. You’re the babysitter. You’re too young for me. I’m happily married. I’m married. Your pretty hand palms him through the cotton fabric of his pajamas and he lets out a helpless groan.

“Fuck, kiddo—“ It slips out like nothing, and you smile wickedly at the words, taking it as encouragement to keep going, coaxing him to full hardness. “You’ve gotta— ngh— stop—”

But thinking that doesn’t stop him from bucking up into the warmth of your hand, seeking that friction as you smile softly up at him. “Do you want me to?” You ask, grinding the heel of your palm against his cock. He groans, head falling against the back of the couch as his dick kicks in interest.

He doesn’t want you to stop, but he needs you to, so badly. “I’m too old for you,” he pants. He lifts his hips so you can tug his pajamas and briefs down his legs. “I’m— mmm— I’m married.” He can’t stop himself, he needs you to get a clear head and realize that fucking the married father of the kid you’re babysitting is wrong.

But you won’t. God, you won’t. You’ve been fucking aching for it since the first night on the job, when he handed you a check and patted your back and thanked you for taking good care of his girl.

You knew he was married, you didn’t care. There were plenty of movies about married men fucking their nannies, plenty of stories in gossip magazines about rich and famous guys doing it. Besides, Tashi’s away, Art’s lonely. Look how hard he gets just from sitting next to you! Someone has to take care of him while she’s gone.

He’s hot in your grip— pulsing and dribbling precum. When your thumb sweeps over his tip to gather it, he groans and bucks into your grasp. You smile like you’ve won a prize and continue the persistent glide of your hands along his length.

“You’re so big,” you say, like you’re surprised by it. He’s definitely bigger than your ex boyfriends— longer, thicker. An insistent heat pools between your thighs, slick and dampening the cotton of your panties. His cheeks flush when you compliment his size, and you follow his half-lidded gaze to where he’s watching your small hand pump along his cock. Oh. He’s so easy.

“I don’t know if you’ll even fit, Mr. Donaldson.”

Jesus fucking Christ. He slings an arm across his eyes, like covering them could change what’s actively happening. “Fuck, kiddo, you can’t say things like that.”

You draw your lips into a pout and sling your leg over his lap, so you’re settled firm and warm and alive, right above where he wants you. “Why not?” You ask, leaning in to nuzzle right at his jaw. He pants hot against your ear. “You wonder about it, don’t you? How you’d ever manage to stuff your cock inside of me when I’m so small and tight down there.”

His hand is fisted into the sofa cushion— you have to pry it off, and up. His hand fits between your legs easily, like it belonged there. Thick fingers pressed against the damp cotton shielding your pussy from him. He moans pathetically. “Jesus,” he groans. “Fuck, you’re so wet.”

His gaze fixes on the tug of your bottom lip between your teeth, the coyness in the tiniest action. But your mouth falls open as he presses his fingers a little harder, feels the saturated fabric mold against your cunt. “Ah— yeah— just… to the side—“ You gasp. Your thighs tremble where you hold yourself up, as he hooks two fingers in the damp cotton and pulls it to the side to reveal your pretty little pussy.

A pretty gasp escapes your lips as his thumb traces the line of you, from your twitching hole, desperate to be filled, up to your aching clit. All of that youthful bravado disappears the second he touches your cunt where you need, replaced with an all-consuming, primal need. “Please, please—“ You gasp.

He could say no. He should say no. He should pull your panties back into place, fix your shorts, and send you on your way with his driver. But he doesn’t. “Hold your shorts to the side,” he says, and you obey immediately, like you’ve been compelled to. Your pretty fingers hook into the nylon fabric, gather up the cotton of your panties too, and you tug them so he can have full access to your cunt.

“C’mere, kiddo,” he coos, tugging you closer,so you’re just barely hovering over his cock. You’re panting, breath shaky from anticipation as you grind your hips down, eyes fluttering at the tiniest bit of stimulation. “That’s it. Just relax for me.”

The press of his cockhead against your entrance makes you whine softly. Your hole twitches, pulsing, begging for more. The sound that you make when the first inch sinks inside is like pure fucking music— the way your brows knit and your free hand grabs at his shoulder to stay grounded. He stops moving, he lets you do the work.

And— Jesus— you’re fucking tight. He feels you squeezing around him like a vise, like your pussy was made to milk him dry. Soft, whimpery gasps fall from your lips alongside your staccato breaths, your face a vision of something along the lines of pain and pleasure. He mouths at your jaw, mumbling against your skin. “You’ve almost got it, kiddo, just a little more.”

You whine at that, brow furrowed in concentration as you finally take him to the hilt, so you’re fully seated on his cock. You look drunk on it, on him. He glances down and looks at where your pussy flares open to accommodate him and feels dizzy with the need to hold you in place and fuck into the wet, sucking heat of your cunt.

“Fuck, I’ve gotta move,” he groans. You nod breathlessly. “Can you take it? Tell me you can take it.”

A moment’s hesitation, but you nod. “I can— I can take it.”

He plants his feet and holds you by your waist, keeping you where he wants you, as he pulls out and drives back in, burying himself deep. Your moan is strangled, muffled in the fabric of his tee shirt as you bite down. He relishes in your pretty noises with each rough thrust back in, in the wet smack of his balls against your pussy, and the slick sounds of dripping, sticky arousal. Your body jostled each time he bottoms out, eyes rolling back.

This is what you’ve wanted, what you’ve been craving. Art Donaldson all to yourself, if only for the night. He’s not going to last long— not when it’s you and you’re so tight and hot around him— but you aren’t either. Clumsy, shaking hands toy with your clit as he drives himself in again and again and again. “That’s it,” he groans. “Touch yourself like that. God, you’re squeezing me so fucking tight, kiddo, fuck—“

You cum with a muffled cry into his shoulder, walls spasming and gripping his cock tight as you finish. Slick, creamy arousal circles the base of his cock, makes everything sound stickier and more obscene. He fucks into you, panting and groaning the most delicious sounds as he lets your walls milk him for all he’s worth. One, two more deep thrusts and he’s done for— balls drawing up as he spills hot and thick into your cunt.

You’re limp in his arms, all tired out. A soft whine escapes your lips as he pulls out, leaving you empty and dripping with his spend. He’s quick to pull your panties and shorts back into place, making sure that nothing drips and makes a mess before he tugs up his own clothes. You laugh breathlessly as he lets you wrap yourself around him like a koala, nuzzling into his shoulder.

“Can I go home tomorrow?” You mumble, nosing at his throat.

He rubs your back. “Whatever you want, kiddo.”

[eccentricwritingbaby]

baby finn series, interruptions 

lando norris x wife!mom!reader

series masterlist

summary - parents with a high sex drive plus a toddler who doesn’t like to be alone equals lando and y/n facing a funny yet frustrating dilemma. set before pregnancy with baby girl norris. 

masterlist

-

monaco was always peaceful and beautiful in the morning, something you and lando cherished by leaving the drapes slightly open in your bedroom the night before. it was the best way to wake up naturally, the morning monaco sun casting a blanket of light onto your tired bodies. as you slowly wake, the light kissing you gently, your body begins its stretch as your back bends into your sleepy husband behind you. his grip around your waist gives you a squeeze, signaling that he had woken up as well. the feeling of his lips dragging along your neck only confirms your suspicions, leading you to smile and roll over in order to face him. 

“g’morning, love,” he whispers once his tired eyes finally meet yours, crinkling at the corners due to his sleepy smile. his hand still caresses your waist, moving it up underneath your, his, t-shirt gently and back down to the waistband of your panties in repetition. 

“morning, baby,” you reply, voice still hoarse from the eight hours of no use, “did your jet lag finally wear off?”

“yes,” he sighs, pulling you into him tighter with the arm that was wrapped around your shoulders, “i always sleep well with you next to me,” he whispers, leaning in to catch your lips in a calm kiss, “wish you came to the race,”

“i know, me too,” you hum, connecting your lips again, “i just had too much work to catch up on,”

“you could’ve done it at the hotel,” he nudges your nose with his, lips colliding a little deeper this time as your hands are brought up to his soft curls. 

“not with a toddler also attached to me,” you giggle, now adjusting for your husband to lay between your legs, hovering over you. 

“baby, let’s not mention the munchkin while we’re having a moment,” lando giggles, hand pulling your shirt up to expose you even more. he leans in again, allowing your laugh to give his tongue access even further to your mouth. you felt his length through the thin boxers he had on poking your thigh, causing you to reach your hand down, slipping it into the fabric softly, holding and pumping him slowly. 

lando lets out a groan as he feels your hand begin to move, his own coming up to your breast, holding and squeezing as he continues his gentle exploration of your mouth, “feels so good, love,” he chokes out, now moving his lips to your neck, nibbling on the exact spot he knows elicits your arousal furthest. 

“mhm,” you can only let out a hum as you look into his eyes, “inside me, lan,” you whisper, knowing that soon your little one would be up and you didn’t have much time to waste with foreplay. 

“we’ve got time, baby,” lando whispers to you, his hand now moving to slide your panties to the side, fingers soaking up your wetness and spreading it around your heat. 

“c’mon lan,” you plead softly, knowing that would grab his attention, “please,” you breathe out, causing your husband to cuss under his breath at your neediness and pull down his boxers further. 

“ready, love?” his eyes scan your features, a smile gently spreading across his face at your eager nodding in response to his question. just as his tip hits your entrance, there is a very noticeable sound coming quickly towards your door. 

“MOMMA! DADA!” finn squeals from outside your bedroom door. 

“shit,” lando curses quietly, pulling up his boxers and adjusting your shirt and panties for you. he gives you a soft ‘i’m sorry’ look as you replicate it on your own face. he gets up and rushes to the bathroom, letting his - problem - subside as you get up to throw on shorts and open your door. 

“good morning, baby,” you giggle towards the little hyper-active two-year old bouncing around at your feet, “how’d you sleep?” you swiftly grab him to sit on your hip, heading back to the bed as he babbles a bit about his wild dream, you trying your best to intently listen. just as he finishes up his story, lando walks out of the bathroom - now with a pair of sweatpants on - and collapses onto the bed beside you and finn. 

“hi buddy,” lando welcomes his son into his arms as finn begins his crawl onto his father’s stomach.

“hi dada,” your son giggles up at his father from his perch on lando, “how you?” he squeaks out. 

“how am i?” your husband chuckles, making eye contact with you, “frustrated,” he hints lightly, both of you then laughing at the perplexed face of your son, his vocabulary not strong enough for that word or implications yet.  

-

seven in the evening. a wonderful time. finn’s bedtime. lando had been washing up after dinner as you tucked in your son for the night. walking out of his room and into the kitchen, you immediately wrap your arms around your husband’s middle as he finishes up washing the last dish. leaning your head against his back, you feel his damp hand rub against your own as he turns around in your hold to face you. 

“hi,” he whispers, leaning down to capture your lips in his. 

“hi,” you sigh, forehead’s resting against each other, soaking in some alone time that was missed this morning. you tilt your head up again to kiss him, feeling his tongue swipe against your bottom lip, physically asking for access. you grant it with ease, opening your mouth as lando begins backing you up until your hips come in contact with the counter. one hand on the back of your neck as his other squeezes your hip, you moan lightly at the feeling of his large hands holding your body firmly. his hands will always be the death of you - and he knows it. 

lando smirks into your mouth at the sound, pride bubbling in his stomach knowing how he makes you feel. spreading your legs slightly, your husband takes that as an invitation to push his thigh in between them, allowing you to grind on it for some sort of relief. the kiss has gained ultimate traction, traded breaths and gasps, moans and roaming hands on each other’s bodies, both of you attempting to start what you couldn’t finish in the morning. 

“momma?” finn’s quiet question breaks you out of the trance, leading you to whip your head around to where his tired body was in the doorway. your big baby, your husband, drops his forehead down to your shoulder, his hands squeezing your hips hard to imply his frustration. you bring a hand up to run through his curls, your other reaching to stroke his back in order to imply your own recognition of how you feel as well as soothe him. 

“what, baby?” you sigh out, meeting his little eyes. 

“i can’t sweep,” he breathes, puppy dog eyes in full effect as they stare up at you. 

“you can’t sleep? do you want another bedtime story?” you suggest to him, lando whispering a quiet ‘i hope the fuck not’ in your ear, causing you to stifle a laugh. 

“sweep with you and dada?” finn asks, his cuteness leading you to a larger dilemma. 

“uhm,” you ponder quietly, turning your head a bit to try and meet your husband’s eyes. he lets out a slow groan and lifts his head to look at his own son. 

“fine, buddy,” he directs to finn, “but just tonight,”

“yay!” finn cheers, clapping his hands and reaching out for his father. lando lifts him onto his hip, glances at you with a wink, and takes your son to the bedroom. 

-

it had been two days since then, and neither you nor lando had the release you’d hoped for. finn had been extra needy the past few days, not wanting to leave either of your sides. by the time you would climb into bed at night, you were both beyond tired from the day that there wouldn’t be enough energy. and in the morning, right as you’d wake up, there were tiny footsteps stomping right outside your door. 

“baby,” lando nudges you, “look,” you were having a movie night, the evening before your little family would all depart to the next race. you and your husband were cuddled next to each other on the couch, his arm draped behind your head, your head laying on his shoulder. your son, the object of lando’s attention, was asleep across his lap, “he’s asleep,”

“ya wanna take him to his room?” you gently ask your husband, hoping the little boy would stay asleep throughout the night for once.

“yes,” he nods, “you meet me in our room,” he lifts finn into his arms softly, shoots you a wink and heads off. you quickly tidy the living room, an ignited pep in your step due to lando’s implications, and make your way into the bedroom. you hear your husband’s heavy footsteps following you into the bedroom and he hastily shuts the door, lips already making their way to yours. 

“mmph,” you let out a muffled hum at the contact, hands coming up to wrap around his neck. his hands lower down to your ass, giving it a squeeze as he pushes you against the end of the bed. moving his hands to take your sweatshirt off, you quickly use your own to help take his off as well. 

you spin the both of you around and give lando a push to sit on the edge of the bed. you slide your shorts down as he watches you with bated breath, eyes raking over your body, only covered in skimpy underwear. his breath is heavy, hands reaching out and itching to have you on top of him. you follow his needs, your knees landing on either side of his thighs, connecting your lips yet again.

“so fucking sexy, y/n,” he whispers out as you begin to grind down on him, attempting to get some sort of relief from the past three days of built up tension. he gives your ass a light tap as you continue to make out, before he flips the both of you over, your back landing on the bed. he stands over your body at the foot of the bed, lip coming in between his teeth as he stares down at you. 

“how’d i get so lucky?” he rhetorically asks, shaking his head while beginning to slide his pants down, “you look absolutely delectable, love,”

“are you going to do something about that, lan?” you ask him, eyes widening and your lip coming out in an innocent pout, the one he loves to kiss right off. 

“oh baby, you have no idea-”

“DADDY!” finn’s yell from his bedroom shakes the both of you out of your moment. 

lando groans, knowing finn just needed attention and not anything serious, leading him to yell over his shoulder, “GO BACK TO BED FINN!” you giggle at his action, lando looking back at you with a smirk as well. 

“NO!” finn yells back from his room. 

“fucking hell,” your husband sighs, pulling his sweatpants back on. he drops a kiss to your lips and gives your hip a squeeze, “you stay right there, i’ll be quick,”

“but not quick later, right?” you joke with a giggle. 

“never, baby,” he smiles, “i like to take my time with you,” he leans over to kiss you again, you now taking the dominance and pushing your tongue into his mouth. he moans at your actions and begins to climb back on the bed until-

“DADA!” lando’s head drops and you smile and pat his cheek lightly. 

“hurry back, i’ll be waiting for you,” you giggle at his slow movements towards the door. 

“you better not fall asleep,” he points at you, “i’ll be as fast as i can,” you nod at him, watching him disappear out the door and into your son’s room. you move to throw back on your shorts and hoodie, just in case finn had to come back in the room or call for you as well. just as you’d suspected, five minutes later lando comes marching into the room, a quiet little boy on his hip. 

“what are you doing in here?” you ask with a laugh as your husband gently tosses finn onto the bed towards you. he’s in a fit of giggles as his dad moves onto the bed and begins poking his stomach.

“little mate can’t sleep in his own room,” he sighs, continuing to tickle finn. 

“i miss you,” finn slips out through his laughs.

“you miss us?” lando looks down at him, “you’ve only seen us for the past four days, buddy,” your little family spends the rest of the night laughing and sleeping, but you and lando both share a look to convey that this little problem needs to be fixed. and soon.

-

race weekend arrives and your young family has traveled to spain for the spanish grand prix. walking into the paddock after another night of no sex and a two year old in between you two, lando was holding finn’s hand in his left and your hand in his right. 

“i’ve never been more excited for my parents to be at a race,” he whispers, “finn hasn’t seen them in a while,” he wiggles his eyebrows at you. 

“already finding a way to dump our son on someone else, are you dear husband?” you laugh as he unlocks your fingers and moves his arm to be around your shoulders.

“yes, ‘m not proud but i need ya baby,” he whispers again, this time planting a kiss to your neck after speaking. 

“well that’s too bad, because your dad called earlier saying they would get here late,” you give him a sympathetic smile, “you’ll already be in the car when they arrive,”

“then he’s sleeping at their hotel tonight,” he declares with a laugh, “he needs some grandpa and grandma bonding time,”

“alright,” you agree with a giggle. just as you walk up to the mclaren garage, you see oscar and lily standing right outside and greet them with a smile, “hi, osc, lily,” you nod at oscar and bring her into a hug that she gratefully accepts. finn has run into oscar’s arms, already babbling about his new mclaren hat that lando had bought him. he was still wearing his ferrari shirt, but the hat was better than nothing as your husband had said to you earlier. 

“he’s gotten so big since last time,” lily giggles to you and lando, “i’ve missed him,”

“do you want to hang with him for a bit?” lando offers quickly, “i’m sure he’d love that,”

“oh yes!” lily laughs, oscar picking up the little boy and nodding his head as well to lando, letting out his agreement to hanging with finn for a while. 

“aw great!” lando claps, “finn you wanna hang with uncle oscar and aunt lily for a while?”

“uncle oscah! aunt lily!” he claps in oscar’s arms. the couple swoons at the little boy as lando’s hand comes down to swipe your bum.

“go to my driver’s room, go, go,” lando hurries you into the garage, “before they change their mind, go,” he continues to push. 

“okay,” you laugh, “i’m going, i’m going,” as you made it to his driver’s room, you made up for plenty of lost time.

and later when finn stayed with his nan and papa at their hotel - you and your husband celebrated the second place podium finish he had as if you were child-free once again.

-

[x-brik-x]

I'm seeing a lot of people say that punk fashion is expensive and inaccessible, which is very wrong. here is a list of some ways you can make punk fashion easier, cheaper and more accessible for you, since that's... kinda the whole point.

others are encouraged to add onto this!! (just don't recommend corporations like amazon. not cool.)

1. patches!! you don't need to buy them. DIY patches are not ugly or boring. in fact, they are encouraged here!! DIY, in my opinion, is always the best thing to do when it is an option and is safe to do so.

2. speaking of DIY, spikes!! you can make them!!

cut the top and bottom off of an empty can. cut down the middle of the cylinder and flatten it, so it's just a flat rectangle of metal.

cut out a shape that is kind of a third of a circle, but around 3/4 of the curved edge is taken up by triangle shapes. (I'm not very good at describing, so here's a badly drawn picture)

roll it into a cone, leaving the 4 triangles sticking out at the bottom. this bit is optional, but you can fill it with hot glue to make it more sturdy, just be careful touching the hot metal. I tend to hold the cone by one of the triangles with a bit of fabric wrapped around my fingers for this bit. cut 4 small holes in your fabric in this kind of shape:

and put the spiky bits of triangle through the holes. fold the triangles in on themselves to secure the spike in place. boom. spike obtained. this is one I made and attached to a little piece of fabric to test this method out:

3. battle vests!! (like the base jackets). the best places to buy these are charity shops and second hand websites in my opinion, but if anyone else knows any better options, please reblog with those!!

a good trick I find works well on eBay is to filter search results to your country (or state? can you do that in the US? idk) so that a: fast delivery because local, and b: all the sellers of everything that shows up are in YOUR TIME ZONE.

why is this important? when people sell something for really cheap, it goes FAST. check eBay at like, 2am or something. all the scalpers in your area are asleep. grab the cheap stuff while they can't.

4. sewing!! want patches, but can't sew for whatever reason? I've heard of a lot of people with joint conditions like arthritis complain about the inaccessibility of patch stuff, and that does sound extremely annoying, however:

safety pins!! while they are still a little fiddly, they're much less work so you don't have to fiddle about for long. if you can, you could even ask a friend to help, since it doesn't take long at all I'm sure someone will be willing to help out!! (I know I would, but that's just me, and I love this kind of thing). safety pins on clothes are also widely considered to be a symbol of solidarity, so if anything, you're adding some extra love and meaning to your patch pants/battle jacket.

if that's still too fiddly, fabric glue is always an option. unfortunately this means you won't be able to remove/reposition patches, at least without leaving a massive patch of residue, but if you're ok with that then fabric glue is probably your best bet.

for people who prefer sewing: as for where to get the thread, I've heard a lot of people recommending dental floss, as it's apparently much cheaper and works just as well. I haven't tried this myself so can't confirm that, but I thought I'd share it regardless.

5. where to get fabric!! old clothes. rip em up. you don't need any kind of fancy fabric from the craft store. my patches are made of old jeans that I grew out of.

don't have any old clothes and you don't want to waste any good ones? I'm not sure about other countries, but in the UK, as long as you're not on private property (trespassing), dumpster diving is perfectly legal.

I definitely ;) do NOT encourage ;) trespassing rich people's land ;) to steal from their dumpsters ;)

or tbh it doesn't matter too much how rich the person is, since it's all going to landfill anyway. if it's in the bin, it's free game, but you didn't hear that from me. ;)

please add onto this where you can!! and if I missed something or got anything wrong, add that on too!!

[arvlelt]

pretty mechanic.

pairing - vi x fem!reader

cw - reader's attractiveness makes vi nervy, reader is a smarty pants duh, for the sake of the plot vi doesn’t like cait, fluff, teasing, etc. lmk if i missed anything.

request - For Vi, something with a fem reader, who she meets through Ekko. Reader is apart of the Firelights, a mechanic or a healer, and she's getting parts and Vi just spots her rummaging through old stuff that she's intent on using to fix a hover board, and gets all tongue tied because she was expecting some scrawny pack rat kid, not a pretty woman

w.count - 1.1k+

a/n - kinda short did w what i could, also it's not letting me tag the person that requested this so if you see this, this ones for you gang<3 not proofread

"this better not be a waste of our time," grumbled a pretty grumpy violet who was following ekko with caitlyn not too far behind.

they were on their way to maybe find some clues about powder before ekko insisted that they make a pit stop to fix his board.

ekko scoffed, "if you want my help, i'm going to need my board. which needs fixing. so i need to go to our mechanic, genius."

vi smirked, "what, you can't fix it yourself, big guy? need a lil 'ol mechanic to fix it?" her tone was teasing as ekko didn't reply.

vi thought that was the end of that and that her point was proven right at his silence.

so you could imagine her shock when she see's not a scrawny little nerd, but in fact a very pretty and fit woman.

vi felt her cheeks warming up as she eyed the woman bent over, rummaging through boxes of whatever you were looking for, vi wasn’t as fixated on that — and more on the woman in her eye frame.

she couldn’t help her wandering eyes as they examined your curves, taking in all of your body that she didn’t even seem to notice ekko and caitlyn watching her watch you.

she took in your complete outfit, short shorts that showed just enough but not a lot of your ass, fishnets underneath with a few layered t-shirts you had laying around that made you look so good.

vi seemed to sense a presence behind her she turned around with a slightly flustered expression, “who, uhm— who’s that?” she whispered. ekko couldn’t stop the shit eating grin from forming on his face.

you seemed to hear the commotion as you looked over your shoulder for a quick sec, not giving much attention to the newcomers, before going back to your little invention you were working on.

“what happened now, ekko?” he could hear the desperation in your voice as ekko had quite a habit of damaging his board after coming back from raids, which would make you pause whatever you were working on.

ekko moved past vi, caitlyn straying behind him, and walked into your work space, taking a comfortable seat on your desk next to you, "this is our mechanic, y/n! she can typically fix anything aaanddd, she's a huge help around here."

you scoffed at his praise, wiping the sweat off your brow as you turned around and vi fully saw your face.

she swore she could've fallen on her knees right then and there. you were down right gorgeous. and not just that, you for sure had to have brains. it certainly doesn't take the average person to know what they're doing with being a mechanic and fixing equipment.

vi couldn't help the words spilling out her mouth, as she suddenly felt flustered, "she's your mechanic?" sounding a little more loud than she intended to.

caitlyn was quite amused, not quite used to seeing big bad vi so tongue-tied over someone. and it's not like she could blame her.

you tried not to take offense to her little comment but your face betrayed you as you responded, "and what's that supposed to mean?" you had a bit of an attitude as you reached over and grabbed a rag, cleaning your hands of the grease.

vi could understand why, it's not like everyone in the undercity was as accepting of women doing 'man jobs'.

she winced at how she might've sounded, hands coming up in defense and immediately was fumbling over her words, "that's- that's not what i was implying-! you're.. you're just so.." she trailed off, suddenly feeling awkward under your gaze. you were looking at her with a raised brow, waiting for her to finish.

well it's not like she was implying a bad thing, you were just so pretty. and she could never imagine a pretty dainty thing like you getting your hands dirty, and honestly, she found it so hot.

"i'm soo..?"

oh vi was gonna piss herself at the tone of your voice.

ekko cleared his throat in attempt to save vi, "anways! we're here because i once again busted my board. you guessed it. so if you would be so kind," you scoffed and let go of whatever vi was trying to say and looked over at ekko, who was handing you his board.

vi swallowed hard and she could feel sweat forming on her forehead as she watched you two chatting, caitlyn grabbing her attention as she came next to her, "what's got you so.. not.. you...?" she questioned her but she knew very well what the reason was.

she was trying to tease her, honestly.

vi scoffed, rolling her eyes a bit at her question, "oh, please, you know exactly why," she walked out your workspace with caitlyn trailing behind her.

as they walked out you gave a slight glance at where they walked out before looking back at ekko, "who's that pink-haired chick? she got a problem?" you tilted your head as ekko let out a slight chuckle.

"oh, her only issue would be that you weren't trying to get at her," ekko let out a little laugh as your face dropped in shock.

well that's not what you were expecting. it's not everyday that a woman finds interest in you.

and honestly, it kind of intrigued you.

vi and caitlyn came back in, and once again vi couldn't find the will to speak in your presence. you looked at violet, this time taking a good look at her which seemed to make her blush as she felt her cheeks warming up under your gaze as you eyed her up and down.

"can i help you with something else?" your tone was kinder and more inviting as you could feel the nerves basically rolling off of vi.

vi looking to the side at caitlyn before looking back at you, "uh, just wanna know if you guys are done. we need to, uh, head out soon."

you hummed, looking at ekko and signaling for him to borrow your board, "well if it's urgent, ekko can use mine while i fix his," ekko took the courtesy of walking out, caitlyn as well.

which finally left you two alone for a split sec before the nerves got to vi again and she turned on her heel, ready to run for it.

"i didn't catch your name?" vi was going to faint, good lord.

there was no way such a pretty girl was asking for her name.

she turned over her shoulder, giving a shy smile, "violet, vi for short."

you hummed slightly in response and she watched as you moved along your workspace, grabbing ekko's board and placing it on your work desk, "well, vi, you should come by some time. let me get to know you," your back was turned to her as you started working on the disaster in front of you.

vi was going to explode. she couldn't help the little hops of victory she did quietly behind you before replying calmly.

"yeah for sure, that sounds nice."

[rhysazriel]

Sticky Situation [Band!Azriel]

SUMMARY: With the summers heat blazing a little too hot, Azriel struggles to keep his grip on control when it comes to you and an ice pop. (1.6k)

WARNINGS: swearing, smut; dirty talk, blowjobs, spitting, Az having a very vivid and sinful imagination.

A/N: it’s been a hot minute since I’ve given you guys anything new so here we go! This is a rewrite of an old fic for a previous fandom I used to write for. I've wanted to play about with a band AU for a little while and thought rewritting this to Azriel would be a good place to start.

Azriel’s head often finds itself wedged in the gutter when certain things have the potential to be taken in a different, more suggestive way. He doesn’t exactly go out of his way to find dirty innuendos in people’s conversations, his mind just willingly takes him there before an innocent thought can come first.

Oftentimes, Azriel will try to hide his amusement at the dirty thought; purse his lips and bow his head to hide his growing grin and mischievous eyes. But there are also times where Azriel doesn’t bother biting his tongue and giggles like a relentless schoolboy who doesn’t know a thing about sex.

But Azriel knows all the things about sex. It’s never been a secret that he’s well experienced in that department, though often stays quiet when the topic rises through casual conversation with friends. Azriel is private about a lot of things when it comes to keeping his personal life out of the public eye and he often takes the same approach when it comes to discussing past sexual partners with his friends after a few drinks.

Tonight isn’t much different. Everyone is back in the studio after a long day of Azriel’s angelic voice and Cassian shredding the guitar. You joined them almost four hours ago after work and since your arrival, the little studio has only grown hotter and hotter and you’re borderline sweltering.

You’ve all had a couple of drinks (not that they were allowed in the studios) and your cheeks have been burning from the effects of the alcohol for over an hour. You’re laying on the floor, knees bent and feet flat as you pat the beat to Azriel’s song on your stomach. Azriel sits on the sofa beside you, flared trousers and that yellow t-shirt. He’s gazing down at you, a lazy grin on his lips and brows slightly raised as he nods to the beat.

You’re about to reach the best part, the beat that sets your body in blazes of fire when the music is abruptly switched off and you’re sitting up with furrowed brows and tightly pursed lips. Nesta stands at the doorway, paper bag in her hand and a golden grin on her lips.

She empties the contents of the bag on the end of the sofa, six red and blue popsicles bouncing off each other. You squeal in delight, your heart fluttering in the excitement of finally having something to cool your heated state down.

You waste no time to tear the wrapper from a cherry flavoured lolly, your fingers gripping the end of the stick as you bring it to your lips. Azriel grimaces as he watches everyone do the same, squirming at how the icy treat already begins to melt in the stuffy air of the little studio booth.

Azriel eyes the spare one up but decides against it. The last thing he wants is a sticky hand and a brain freeze. He decides he’ll just sweat it out. But as he turns back to you, your eyes are fluttering closed and your lips are stretched deliciously around the lolly as you sink your mouth down on it until your lips close again around the base.

His throat feels dry and he can feel himself struggling in his loose pants. Azriel watches you slowly pull back off it, a soft hum sounding through your chest as a wet kissy noise punctures his ears and your eyes flutter open again—soaked, pink tongue darting over your swollen lips.

His mind is reeling, his cock stiffening and oozing. What the fuck? Azriel’s always adored you as a person. A bubbly personality and a radiant smile. You’ve always been a close friend of his, someone he often confided in and could trust and vent to. And he’s always found you attractive, but never once has he looked at you like this and he doesn’t know what to do.

Your eyes are hooded and somewhat heavy and he knows it’s from the effects of the alcohol but that dirty part of him is wondering if that’s what you’d look like fucked out on his cock. Oh, God… what’s gotten into him? Azriel can’t shake the thoughts from his head, though. The more he tries, the stronger they are, the clearer he can see his little fantasy play out in front of him.

You’re on your knees, just inches from where he sits. Your hair is a mess and your skin is dotted with a sheen layer of sweat and fuck does he want to taste you. Your lips are swollen from the icy treat and it drips down your thumb just a little. You’re caught in conversation with Nesta but you dip your head down and your undoubtedly skilled tongue laps up the juice.

Azriel just about loses it, standing abruptly and leaving the studio booth. He ignores everyone’s calls, only one thing on his mind: you. His cock is growing harder with every rushed step he takes and as he bursts into the bathroom, he tugs his pants down and slides the bolt across the lock.

His back is pressed against it, head thrown back and his hand is around his cock in lightning speed. Heavy breaths flutter through his chest as he squeezes his generous length. He feels dirty, sinful. He shouldn’t be getting off to the thought of you sucking his cock like you sucked the lolly, but he is and the wrongness of it all makes it even more exciting.

Azriel’s eyes flutter closed, shaky breaths slipping past his lonely lips. His lashes lay delicately across his cheekbones and his scarred, ringed fingers send chills up his spine. He reaches his thumb around to his tip, smearing his arousal across his head and jutting his hips defiantly into his fist.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he rasps, and behind his closed lids, he can see you on your knees for him, pretty lashes fluttering as you stare up at him with your dainty hand wrapped around his throbbing dick. He feels himself twitch in his hand at the sight. His imagination has always gotten away with him.

“So pretty for me, baby. Such a good girl,” he sighs breathlessly, chest heaving and beads of salty sweat begin to dot across his tattooed skin. 

He sees you smirk up at him, a sinister glimmer in those innocent eyes. He can feel your tongue smooth across his shaft before your lips curl around his head. He can feel you sink down on him, the velvety feeling of your soaked cheeks as they hollow around his length, feel his tip nudging softly against the back of your throat.

“Fuck,” he drawls out, spare hand clenching into a fist and his head rolls back again. He wants to reach for your hair, to grab a handful and tug, force your face further down his thick cock but you’re not there. He pumps himself faster, adding a generous squeeze to his base as he twists expertly, imagining the way you’d rub what you couldn’t fit in that heavenly mouth of yours.

“Good girl, baby. Keep sucking for me, just like that,” Azriel’s dick is throbbing, head pinky-purple and his knees are jittering. His tip is leaking uncontrollably, his cock soaked from his own arousal and he wishes to fucking God it was your spit or the arousal from your pussy instead. His jaw falls slack at the thought.

Now he can’t get your pussy out of his head. Can’t stop picturing your swollen lips and pulsing clit. The image is so fucking vivid; the idea of him peeling your thighs apart and inhaling your sweet scent, spreading a finger through your soft folds and swirling his digit around your arousal, spreading the wetness all over your cunt.

Azriel’s pace picks up and he can feel a burning sensation in the pit of his stomach. He keeps going, faster and faster. He can imagine teasing your little hole, wrapping his lips around your nub and sucking the sweet moans out of you, fucking a finger in your tight cunt and curling against that spot he knows would have your toes curling.

Azriel can see it all, your full breasts bouncing, nipples pearling and chest heaving. He can see you throwing your head back, your jaw-dropping slack and filthy fucking moans slipping from that sinful tongue. He can almost feel how tight your pussy is, how wet and warm it feels around him. He can hear the sounds drumming through his ears; your cunt squelching with every thrust as you suckle his fingers into your warm mouth.

He can imagine you begging him for more, desperate and eager. “Need your cock, baby. Harder, Azzy. Fuck!” His cock spasms in his tight grip, his face reddening as the veins in his forehead and neck begin to pop. Azriel’s a grunting mess as he chases his high, can see you back on your knees again, grinning up at him as you milk him for everything he has.

His vision is white, eyes closed but he can still see that devilish face with the halo over your head, wrapped around those red horns. “Ugh, fuck,” he cries out, falling back against the door and he cums, long and hard; thick ribbons of white arousal, his knees buckling as he gasps for breath through his high.

In his mind, he’s come all over your face and you’re licking it all up, jaw wide and tongue awaiting a taste impatiently. But when he opens his eyes, his hand and fingers are soaked in his salty arousal and he’s fucked, trying to ease his breathing as he blinks away the white spots of pleasure and focuses back on what’s real.

His cock softens in his hold, arm aching and as he releases his dick, his fingers stretch and strings of his pleasure are found laced between his fingers. Azriel sighs out a fucked laugh and does nothing to bite back the smile that makes its way on his face.

Guess he ended up with a sticky hand after all.

Thank you for reading!! If you enjoyed it, please consider giving it a reblog and leaving some feedback!! <3

[finelinefae]

tongue-tied

synopsis: y/n has a stutter and harry likes to hear her talk

word count: 3.1k

contains: fluff, highschool romance, harry's a football player, popular boy x shy girl, brief mentions of bullying

a/n: happy soft girl Sunday !! I wasn’t planning on posting just because I posted the second part of the aviator a little later than I was meant to but I could resist putting this one out <3

. . .

“E-excuse me!” Y/N weaved her way through the mass exodus of students heading in the opposite direction to the lunch hall. She had tried to leave class a few minutes before the lunch bell to avoid the large groups of people but she had been so invested in writing her essay, she’d lost complete track of time. 

She was running as fast as she possibly could to get to the library, knowing the person waiting for her wouldn’t get too impatient but she didn’t want to waste a second of their lunch break not being with him. Her bag slipped from her shoulder, her braids flying behind her and her knee-high socks falling down her calves. 

Y/N barely registered the people around her, wondering where she could be going in such a rush, until her face collided with soft, grey fabric. Before she could even get embarrassed and profusely have to apologise for bumping into them, long arms snaked around her, hands clasping behind her back. She caught a whiff of his woody cologne and the floral fragranced detergent his mum always used to wash his school uniform.

“There y’ are, Dove.” He murmured, “I was starting to get worried.”

Y/N looked up and settled on those familiar green eyes she loved so much. She relaxed into his embrace, “Harry,” She sighed. 

Harry and Y/N had been dating since they were fourteen. If it weren’t for the fact that their parents all worked together at the local hospital, they probably would never have met at all, although Harry liked to believe they were fated to be together so they would have ended up meeting each other some way or another. 

Harry had always been popular at school. For one, he was on the football team which instantly made him a name within their year group. He was also very handsome for his age. Girls would whisper and giggle whenever he passed by in the hallways even those from the lower years. Despite the fact they had just turned seventeen, Harry could honestly pass for an almost twenty-year-old with how tall and mature he was. 

Y/N was the complete opposite. When it came to her social life she was shy and not often one to make friends easily. She was part of the arithmetic club and had made a few friends there and in some of her other classes. She liked to keep to herself and struggled to talk in class not only because she was quiet but also because she had a particularly bad stutter. 

It had developed when she started High School. She had been to multiple speech therapists to help her get rid of it and although it wasn’t as bad as it used to be, it still never failed to make her life all the more difficult than it already was.

A lot of the other kids liked to pick on her for it too. Whenever teachers picked on her in class and she’d reply, the rest of the class would start snickering, whispering in each other’s ears. She wanted to be invisible to everyone but it was her stutter that made her stand out.

When Harry’s family would come over to Y/N’s house for dinner, her parents would often force them to go off together whilst the adults spoke in the dining room. She remembered the first time she invited him into her room and how embarrassed she was when he saw all her comic books lying on the floor that she had forgotten to put away. But it eventually became the seed of their relationship, the common ground that allowed them to bond. 

Soon Harry was inviting Y/N to his football games and up to his room every other weekend when she’d come over with her parents. They’d exchange comic books and talk about their favourite characters. Y/N was always apologising for her stutter whenever she’d ramble on for too long but Harry never cared, he loved hearing her talk. 

Their first kiss was on her bed whilst their parents were in the room below them. Harry was the one to initiate it and Y/N hadn’t been expecting it so it was slightly awkward at first but then she got used to it and eventually all she ever wanted to do was kiss him. Every weekend, whether at her place or his, all they did was sneak around and kiss each other, giggling and falling in love all at the same time. 

Now, three years later, things were still the same except they were older now and more in love than they were yesterday. 

Wherever you looked, Harry was there, and Y/N was never too far behind. Students had grown accustomed to their relationship, and the bullying Y/N endured wasn't as severe as it used to be. Even teachers couldn't help but be enamoured with their young love — how fortunate it was to find love at such a young age. 

Things were great, everything was great and Y/N had hoped she could finish her last year of High School on a high note. That was until she entered her English class on a Friday afternoon when the teacher announced it was time for their presentations which would go towards their final grade. 

“I can’t Harry!” Y/N cried into her pillow after school, Harry was sitting on the end of her bed with his back against the wall as he rubbed his hand up and down her back. 

“I know Dove,” He comforted her, already knowing the reason she was so upset over it.

“Everyone’s going to l-laugh at me,” She could already picture herself standing up in front of her class and everyone pointing and laughing at her. 

Harry sighed, “Dove,” He shook her gently, “Will y’ look at me?” 

Y/N hesitated before turning her head so her cheek lay against the pillow. Harry smiled and lay on his side in the spot next to her, their faces inches apart, “There’s m’ pretty girl,” He cooed, his heart hurting at the tears on her cheeks. He cupped her cheek in his big hand and wiped some of those tears away with his thumb. 

“I-It’s not fair,” She huffed, “Why’d I have to have this stupid stutter.” 

“Hey,” He frowned, “Enough of that hmm? Everything about you is beautiful, y’ know I love to hear y’ talk. Could sit here for hours and just listen.” 

“But you’re d-different,” She whined, shuffling closer to him so she could hide her face in his grey jumper. Her stutter was rarely ever that bad in front of Harry which was why he was the easiest person she could talk to. 

Harry laughed breathily, his hand going to her hair to play with the strands, “Would it help if I helped you a little?” 

“How?” Y/N asked, her words muffled by his jumper.

“We could practise in the library at lunch, y’ could read me a few things and it might help your stutter.”  He thought.

Y/N’s head looked up to his face where she could count every mole and freckle on his nose and cheeks. She couldn’t help but pucker her lips to kiss his jawline, “That’d be nice,” She murmured. 

“Yeah?” He smiled, kissing the top of her head in return, “I only want to help you so if you don’t enjoy it or you’d rather practise alone then y’ can tell me,” 

She shook her head, “N-No, I want to do that with you. I’d like it very much.” 

So it became a daily occurrence, five days a week during lunch hours when Harry didn’t have practice, they’d sit in the library and Harry would pick out a book for them to read. They started with simple YA books with less complicated words. 

“Good job, Dove!” Harry cheered every time Y/N finished a chapter. 

“Wait I’m not done,” She huffed and then said the last line just for Harry to cheer for her again just as proudly as the first time. 

Now that the day of her presentation was getting closer, they had finally made their way onto Classical novels which Y/N had come to despise. 

They walked with their hands intertwined to the library after Y/N had bumped into him in the hallway. It was natural as they stepped into the library and headed straight to their table in the corner hidden away by two tall bookshelves. 

Y/N placed her bag under the chair whilst Harry unzipped his to pull out the book they were currently reading. It was Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte, even looking at the front cover made Y/N’s stomach turn. 

“A-Are you sure we can’t go back to YA books?” Y/N huffed, taking the book and opening it up to the chapter they were last on. 

Harry laughed, “But you’re doing so well, Dovey.” 

“I-it’s hard though and the w-words are so tiny.” She pouts, Harry can’t help but lean forward and kiss her. 

“C’mon, jus’ a few pages and then I can show y’ something I got for you.” He tried to persuade her, knowing the surprise would be enough to win her over.

“Fine,” She sighs dramatically. 

She read for five pages, Harry listening intently to every word. His eyes focused on her lips as she spoke, stumbling over a few words here and there. He tried to hold back from smiling so much with how concentrated she was on each letter of every word. He thought it was adorable how her eyebrows creased and her hands gripped the book. 

Eventually, she had enough, placing the book down on the table and closing it shut. “Good job baby!” He cheered, pressing multiple kisses to her cheek, “M so proud of you.” 

Y/N giggled, “Thank you, Harry.” 

Harry smiled and reached into the pocket of his blazer for the surprise he had promised her. Y/N looked down and saw a small, black pouch in his hand. He gave it to her, her fingers carefully pulling on the ribbon before pulling out the small item inside. 

“It’s an anxiety ring,” Harry explained as she held the silver ring in the palm of her hand. He picked it up and slid it on his pinkie finger to show her, “Y’ can twist this band whenever you feel nervous, thought y’ could wear it on the day of your speech.” 

He passed it back to her, Y/N narrowing her eyes to look at the spinning band which had a small inscription written on it, ‘i love the way you speak almost as much as i love you, your harry.’ 

Y/N’s eyes watered, unable to come up with the right words to say how much she adored it as well as the boy sitting in front of her. Instead, she leapt forward and wrapped her arms around his neck, “Thank you,” She murmured, “I love it. I love you.” 

Harry softened even more from her embrace, “I love you more, Dove,” He whispered. 

Y/N pulled away enough to kiss his lips, she was thankful for the privacy they had in the back of the library since she was never that good with public displays of affection and all she wanted to do now was kiss him because she was so grateful for him being there all the time. 

It wasn’t long before the day of her presentation. After school, Y/N had been working on a short essay. She was going to speak to the class about her favourite comic books and why she loved them so much. She had recited the words out loud to herself and Harry and even her parents, that she could probably speak it off by heart. 

Harry and Y/N stood outside the school. Her English class wasn’t until the third period but she knew she wouldn’t be able to concentrate in her morning classes until the presentation was over. Harry was wearing his football uniform because he had a game against another school in the morning. Y/N had been with him after school as he practised for it, wearing his coat as she wrote out her speech on a notepad. 

They stood side by side facing the school building as if it was some kind of beast they had to tackle, “O-okay,” She huffed, “I can do this,” 

Harry looked down at her smiling and then reached for her hand, “You can do this,” He squeezed her fingers in encouragement. 

“Good l-luck with your game today,” She grinned, standing on her toes to kiss his cheek. 

“Thank you, baby,” He spoke softly, “Y’ can tell me all about your presentation and how well it went afterwards.”

“Okay Harry,” She nodded, completely determined despite how nervous she was. She had spent weeks preparing, she couldn’t let fear get the best of her. 

“Good luck kiss?” Harry grinned, cheekily. 

Y/N playfully rolled her eyes and craned her neck to kiss his lips. Harry held her face in his hands, unable to pull away from her even when she tried to, “I love you,” He murmured against her lips.

“I love you too.” She sighed, blissfully. 

When third period came around, Y/N stood outside her English classroom, counting to five in her head. She clutched onto the piece of paper where her speech was written out in gelled ink, spinning the ring Harry had gifted her on her finger. With a deep breath, she opened the door and stepped foot into her classroom. 

. . .

Harry could hardly concentrate during the football match but he was trying his best. His team were two points ahead and it wouldn’t be long before the game was over. Since it was the morning and the game was mostly practice for the two schools competing, there wasn’t a huge audience watching them. 

He was glancing down at his watch every few minutes when he was supposed to have his eye on the ball, checking to see whether third period was about to start. All he could think about was his little dove and how nervous she was when they stepped into school this morning. 

She had been working so hard on reading things out, even stopping in shops when they went to town together to read the labels on the backs of food containers. He fully believed in her and her ability to speak in front of the class even when she didn’t and it killed him not being able to watch her do it. 

So when the whistle finally blew marking the end of the game, Harry ignored the celebrations with his team after they won the match and ran across the field through the entrance of the school. He raced up the steps, his football boots clicking against the crowd. He knew he probably didn’t smell the best and his knees were muddy from falling over but he didn’t have much time to think about it as he searched for Y/N’s English classroom. 

“Y/N?” He heard the teacher’s voice call her name as he approached. 

“A-Already? O-Oh, O-okay.” He could hear her nerves just by listening to her speak. 

Harry was about to knock on the door but he hesitated, wondering if it would worsen her nerves if he was in the classroom watching her. He knew how much of a big deal this moment was for Y/N and he didn’t want to intervene or make a spectacle of the moment especially since he wasn’t in her class. 

He lowered his hand and instead pressed his ear up to the door. 

“H-Hello,” Y/N started, “My name is Y-Y/N and today I will be sharing with you m-my love for comic books,” Harry’s heart ached as her voice came out quietly. 

“C’mon Dove,” He whispered, wanting her to do well. 

Y/N cleared her throat and let out a shaky exhale, “A-As you can probably tell, I-I am not all that good at speaking. I s-stumble over letters and sometimes even have to replace words with o-others because my mouth t-turns into mash potato and I can’t seem to get t-the words out.” People chuckled and Harry’s heart began to beat against his chest, “T-That is why I love comic books so much because of the l-lack of words. Instead, there are pictures,” Y/N continued, her voice gaining strength the more that she spoke, “T-They tell stories without the need for p-perfect sentences or flawless speech.” 

Y/N continued her speech and Harry spent the entire presentation with his ear pressed up against the door. He ignored the looks of teachers and other students walking past as a huge grin spread across his cheeks the more Y/N spoke in front of the class. 

By the time she had finished, it fell silent before the class responded with a round of applause, “Brilliant work, Y/N,” Her teacher said. 

Y/N felt like she was floating on a cloud as she left her English classroom. Even if her speech wasn’t perfect, she had done it and gotten through it all in one piece. As she stepped out, two arms snaked around her waist and lifted her off the ground, “Harry!” Y/N giggled as he spun her around.

“M so proud of you, Dove.” He kissed her softly, lowering her to the ground but refusing to move his hands from her waist. 

“I-I can’t believe I did it, Harry!” Y/N almost squealed. 

“Heard every word, y’ did so good, M so proud of you.” He rambled, unable to cease his admiration for her. 

“You heard?” Y/N’s eyebrows creased, her lips pouting slightly. 

“I ran here as fast as I could and stood outside to listen to you,” Harry explained, “Y did perfect, honestly, the best speech I’ve ever heard.”

“You really ran h-here to listen?” Y/N asked, still in disbelief.

“I did,” Harry smiled, “It was all I could think about when I was on the field.”

“Did you win?” Y/N asked. 

Harry pulled her flush against him, “You already know I did baby,” He smirked, kissing her. Y/N smiled against his lips.

“Let’s go out tonight,” Harry murmured, “To celebrate.”

“And do w-what?” Y/N wondered, even though the idea of spending any time with Harry was always her favourite. 

“Maybe go to the bowling alley and get dinner after,” He shrugs.

“O-oh and maybe we can stop at the comic book store on the way home!” Y/N said, excitedly. 

“Course m’love,” Harry’s smile widened the more she spoke, “We can do whatever you want as long as I get to hear you talk.” 

Y/N grinned broadly as Harry interlaced his hands with hers, feeling the cool metal of her ring against his skin. Together, they walked hand in hand down the hallway, Y/N unable to stop talking the entire time, while Harry hung onto her every word.

[pinescent-and-gingerbread]

˖✧ Through my eyes

✦ Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader ✦ Summary: Karen explains Mary and Arthur's story to you. Saddened, you're convinced you could never compete with her until the man in question proves you wrong. ✦ Warnings/Tags: Self-depreciation from both sides, kissing, comfort, fluff. Reader has been with the gang for a year. Use of Y/N. ✦ Words: 3k ✦ a/n: This is the answer to this ask by the lovely @crystalofmoon19. I really hope you'll like it, dear! And thank you for your support, you've been really sweet to me and my work! As always, I got carried away and wrote way too much. And as always, please reach out to me if you spot any misspellings. Also idk why I made this in Colter, guess I just feel way too hot rn and want some fresh snow + Arthur's coat is perfect for comfort. Credits. Arthur's pic is from my playthrough. Other pics are not mine found them on Pinterest. AO3

“And in the end, she rejected his proposal, then a few months later, sent him a letter telling she was marrying some wealthier gentleman!”

Your mouth hangs open in the air. Karen’s words enter through your ears and create a nice little nest for themselves in your brain. You had no idea. No idea Arthur had been this close to being married. That their relationship had been so strong, that, according to hearsays, he had reached his lowest after their break up, drunk most part of the day, fighting the rest of the time, obnoxious to everyone, even Dutch and Hosea.

“Y/N? You’re okay, there?” Karen asked you, disappointed her big reveal had left you reactionless.

You focused your gaze back on her. Her blonde hair is softly litten up by the setting sun, her breath exhaling a puff of steam as she breathes. Colter is a cold place, and it probably felt even colder because of the morose mood of the gang. You suddenly remember you’re supposed to be shocked. You are, of course, but in a very bad way. Not in an “Oh my God, I can’t believe this Karen, so much gossip!” kind of way.

How could you ever compete with that?

“Yeah, I’m alright. God, I had no idea so much happened between them.”

“Oh, trust me, it was definitely his biggest love story. Never saw him get into someone else after her. Not even Mary-Beth! Could you believe that?”

No, you couldn’t. You weren’t sure why but every word from Karen felt like an enormous stone falling into your belly and dragging you deeper and deeper into the sea. Your silly little crush on Arthur, when you first joined the gang a year ago, had turned into a way stronger attraction. Denying it at first, you had little by little let your emotions win, cherishing every moment with him, thanking Dutch for assigning both of you to the same missions, loving the quiet evenings where he would just sit next to you around the campfire to scribble in his journal while you would do your little hobby on your own. Silent most, but enjoying each other’s company, and so, so peaceful.

More than your emotions, you even had let your imagination take the lead, dreaming about a selfish future with him, seeing it every time he would give you a smile, or laugh at one of your jokes. A happy Arthur, relieved from his obligations, enjoys life's simplest joys. A house, a garden. Maybe a dog, considering he had loved having Copper. A marriage even. And why not a child? If he would feel ready. Something in you was telling you he would be a good father.

But now, you felt like this dream was rotten, condemned.  Like a broken match. The fire, the very thing it’s designed for,  not being able to be lit. Would never be lit. A wasted potential.

You tried to continue your gossiping chat with Karen, voice light but gaze elusive as you peeled the potatoes you were supposed to prepare while discussing, tedious tasks often ended up less difficult this way when you were working with the other girls. But behind your seemingly normal smile and hollow words, a haunting thought was hanging on to you as strongly as a rock trapped in a thousand-year-old iceberg. 

Arthur never fell in love again after Mary Linton.

Night had definitely fallen on the frozen mountains. After your endless vegetables centered-chores, you had helped Mr. Pearson turning them into a decent meal, his incessant blattering about the Navy giving you some sort of distraction. During dinner and after though, once you didn’t have any goal or job left to do for the day, your conversation with Karen came back into your wandering mind, her speech playing again and again like a used gramophone record.

Never fell in love again...

Sitting at one of the corners of the big cabin you had been sleeping in for the past few days along with the girls and some other gang members which mainly served as a common space, you were looking outside by a dilapidated window. A frozen World spread out before your eyes, every inch of surface covered in snow and ice, the landscape ending up looking like it was coated with a thick strange substance —dark blue colors Queen of this gloomy, misty horizon.

Arthur had returned from a very busy hunting day with Charles. Thanks to them, meat had been added to the vegetable paradise of a meal, resulting in a better-than-usual supper. He should have felt cheerful, but his mood wouldn't lighten. 

He had spotted you from across the room, noticing the hurtful absence of your smile on these sweet lips of yours. Smile he secretly loved. Lips he secretly fancied. 

Hesitating for a long moment, debating with himself, a self-depreciative rambling turning in his head like a well-oiled motor, he had ultimately decided to join you and investigate. Something pretty important must been bothering you, because loosing your usual little grin and eating your plate all by yourself really wasn't in your habits.

Approaching you, his boots and spurs clicking and stomping before you could see him, he plants them in front of you, standing there while his eyes lock on your face.

“Miss Y/L/N? Is everythin’ okay?”

“Oh, Mr Morgan. Yeah, don’t worry. Everything is great.”

He doesn’t believe you and honestly, you wouldn’t have convinced yourself either. And Arthur is a stubborn man. A stubborn, and caring one. He leans against the cabin's old creaky walls, on the other side of the window.

“Come on, don’t lie t’me girl. Everyone noticed you’re not in your right mind.” He honestly doesn’t know about everyone, but he surely did. His words are accompanied by a small, polite smile.

“I don’t think… I don’t think you’re the right person to talk about it.”

Arthur’s entire body froze. The hands he had on his belt as always when he was comfortable, flew to his chest as he crossed his arms, his thick winter coat folding with difficulty. His encouraging smile flattened, his brows pleating in a harsh frown.

“Erm… Alright, I get it. I won’t bother you, I guess.” 

Without loosening his arms, he pushed himself from the wall, taking a step to leave you some space. You couldn’t have missed it. This change of behavior, the hurtful expression he had displayed, as if he was truly pained by your words. Disappointed, maybe even shameful to have thought he could help you at all. He was just a sad, ugly bastard, after all.

You felt like you could hear all of it from where you were, and see it in the shadow that had taken his face and the gigantic mass that seemed to have fallen on his shoulders.

No, you didn’t want this. Didn’t want him to feel like that because of you and your stupid feelings, or your own dark thoughts.

“Wait, Arthur!”

He turned around the second you talked again.

“I’m sorry it’s just…” You sigh and look at him with an uncertain expression, knowing your next words were going to be risky. “It’s about you and Mary Linton…”

His eyes turn into two literal plates, his mouth slightly opening in outer astonishment. This was really not what he had in mind. You could have been sad because of a hundred logical reasons, the death of Davey and the loss of Sean and Mac, the complete fiasco of Blackwater, the hundred of dollars lost, the terrible and tough conditions of the Grizzlies plunging everyone into an unbearable cold and a threatening famine.  Not mentioning Hosea’s alarming coughing, Dutch’s mysterious decisions, and Micah as a whole.

But you, out of all these things, were worried about Mary.

Once his eyes had grown as round as they could, they got back into an interrogative expression, the wave of surprise over.

“Wha’…?! How d’ya even know ‘bout her?”

“Karen speaks a lot when she’s bored…” You briefly explained, trying to sound detached.

Arthur rolls his eyes to the Heavens. Of course, folks talked, and you had to know about it all at some point. But this wasn’t ideal at all. He would have preferred to tell it to you himself, at a time he would have felt comfortable doing so, with his own words. He didn’t want this to change anything between the two of you.

“And erm… What exactly bothers ya?”

You open your mouth to speak, but your words are jammed. Explaining that you feel jealous of what the both of them had shared would just come down to confessing your feelings for him plain and simple. 

You felt completely stuck. 

He’s right there before your eyes, the very source of all your worries and your every joy. Looking at you with those confused blue eyes, wondering what is happening in this pretty head of yours. But the words still won’t come out.  You feel more and more powerless, and instead of a sound, your eyes take over to get something out of your body, slow and sad tears filling them like a lonely glacier fills a mountain lake on its own.

Arthur’s usual frown furrows, his wrinkles more visible, contrasted by the shadows from the warm lights of the fire. Suddenly, his internal melancholic speech shuts down, as if the view of a single tear streaming down your cheek were absolutely intolerable to him. No worries nor anxious self-restraints crosses his mind —it’s now only instinct. He sees you crying. He has to help you. This is as easy as that.

His right hand reaches to you by itself.

It feels warm but coarse. This big, big hand on the side of your face.

“Oh, Y/N. Don’t waste those pretty tears for a sour-faced idiot like me.” His thumb gently wipes the drops of sadness that had overflowed from your two delicate lakes. “Come on, les’ jus’ talk about this somewhere quiet.”

Arthur gently uses the hand he had on your cheek to wrap it around your shoulders, solid arm gently pushing you up. He then leads you through the door, other members throwing curious gazes at the both of you.

But he doesn’t care. His priority, right now, is your well-being, and some privacy to allow him to finally whisper things in your ears he should have a long time ago. Not in front of everyone. Not with the other men looking at your sparkling eyes, and listening to the change in his voice he knew would crack, his usual intimidating persona crushed into a million pieces with only the sound of your own. Or with the other girls hearing the oh-so-important words he had to say. No. You would be the only one to witness this. 

He had brought you to the barn where the horses were kept. The snow was falling lazily, a few flakes passing through the holes in the dilapidated roof. The place is enveloped in a heavy silence, as if it was muffling every sound coming from the outside.

Once Arthur had closed the big wooden doors behind you and before he could do anything else, you finally burst.

“I shouldn't cry, I’m so sorry Arthur, I just… She looked like an incredible woman, so beautiful a-and distinguished, and me well… I'm just… me.” Your eyes fell to your feet. You like everything was coming out of you all at once and you couldn't contain it anymore.

“Stop it.” 

“How could I ever mean something to you? You've been with her for so long and even proposed to her and… and never fell in love again after her and…”

“Stop it, Y/N!”

Arthur cut your blabbering panic by pulling you against him. He held you so tightly you were almost crushed by his powerful arms, but it felt so good. Like he was holding together all the little pieces of you that had cracked, melting them with his warmth and molding yourself again with it.

“Now you l’sten to me, sweetheart. I don’t want ya to say things like this ever again.”

The sudden use of the pet name soothed your heart immediately. You buried your face into the furred collar of his big winter coat, the hairs tickling your nose. There, you can feel a little bit of his bare skin, your cheek finding shelter against it.

You stopped talking.

You just wanted him to continue to. His deep voice seemed to come directly from the inside of his chest, and you could feel it vibrating before actually hearing it.

“Ya know I’m no… Am no poet or, or good with words like Dutch…” He started, visibly unsure of what he was going to say. He’s relieved he had initiated the hug, this way, with your face in there, you couldn’t see his. The worried expression it was carrying, like a burden. “But lemme tell ya just how much I care about ya. Oh, my sweet girl.” 

This is it. He tries not to but his low tone begins to tremble. It’s so strange. It feels like forever since that happened for the last time.

“Yeah, Mary has been a real’ important part of my life, I won’t lie to ya. But it was so long ago, gorgeous. So long ago.” 

He knows he won’t shed a tear. He never cries. But his hands shake. His vocal cords vibrate in a vulnerable, softer, and higher-pitched quaver. His body tenses, heart as fast as if racing with a million wild horses galloping in the Great Plains. Even if his words couldn’t explain just how much you meant to him, you could have guessed by how you were affecting his entire flesh.

“Ya know what? It’s true. Our story ended badly. I never fell in love again after her.”

You sigh, more tears wetting your face and his blue coat, this truth so hard to swallow.

“Until that morning, when I saw you brushing Boadicea’s mane; your hair all covered in hay, the brightest smile I ever had the chance to witness on that sweet face o’ yours. That day, I knew my stupid foolish heart had done it all over again.”

You let out a single chuckle mixed with tears and emotions, so relieved. Even when you felt like you were at your lowest, he succeeded at making you smile.

“Grimshaw had forced me to groom all the gang’s horses to “get used to camp’s work”. Must have looked terrible.” You remembered with a smile, details of your first encounter with Arthur flooding your mind.

“You looked like a goddamn Angel, honey. T’was like the sun was shining jus’ for ya. Jesus, I knew it was too late for me.”

You pulled back from him just a little, enough for you to look at him in the eyes, but not for him to let go of you. Now that they had found you, his hands, still slightly quivering, refused to let go, their place on your back and behind your head feeling so natural and right. Your eyes behave the same way as them but with his face. He looks so moved that you have to pinch yourself internally to make sure you’re not dreaming this whole thing; never in your life you had seen him like this.

“I love you too, Arthur.” You confessed back to him, fingers cupping his cheeks in a delicate touch.

You had to stand on your tiptoes to reach his face, but his arm helped you, your lips gently discovering themselves, brushing against each other in a soft and shy caress. Even if both your mouths were chapped by the biting cold, it was the most gentle kiss you had shared in your life, a satiny embrace that left you completely dreamy and light-headed.

The snowflakes silently swirl around the both of you, Nature the only witness of your souls melting into each other.

Opening your eyes again after this moment out of time, you're met with the happiest smile Arthur ever had on his face. He looked like and idiot in love, and you were sure you looked exactly the same.

“Please darlin’, don’t ever compare yourself to her ever again. What’s in the past stays there. And I wanna have a future with you.”

Your dreams sprang back straight from your heart to your mind. The visions you had about the both of you were more alive than ever, reinforced by his own needs shared with yours.

“You’re sweet, you’re funny, you’re so smart and stunningly gorgeous. And, you wan’ a proof?” He playfully asks you, taking his hat off his head, a thin layer of snow falling from it.

Turning it over, he carefully pull a piece of paper out, hidden between two leathered segments in the inner part of his hat. His cut and reddened fingers unfold it and he gives it to you, his big smile turning into an embarrassed and sheepish one.

It’s a sketch of you.

You’re mesmerized by the details of it, the blades of hay messily tangled in your hair, the sparkling in your eyes, the exact clothes you were wearing that day. This smile, you’re more than certain he drew it way more beautiful than it really is. Arthur even had added some lines traced from your head to the end of the paper, as if you were the Sun itself and were emitting your own light.

This was impossible this was the same person as you, her beauty was too radiant and fascinating.

But no matter what you thought about yourself, seeing his work curled your lips in the exact same way as yourself on the drawing. With snowflakes replacing the twigs, you had turned into the living recreation of it. Arthur laughed when he noticed, and realized just how much he had loved you and continued to since that morning from a year ago. He bent towards you to put a small kiss on your forehead.

“Arthur it’s… It’s beautiful.” You find it difficult to find another word, speechless once again. 

You also had no idea of how talented at drawing nor attracted to you he was. This day definitely was full of surprises. You chuckled fondly before taking a last look at your portrait and giving it back to your lover. But Arthur’s large palm wrapped around your hand.

“No, please, keep it. This way, you’ll always remember how you look through my eyes.”

More tears threaten to escape your own, even though those were a direct extract from the immeasurable happiness you were experiencing.

“And... Now that I don’t have to hide myself while sketching ya, I’m going to draw lots of new ones.”

tagging: @a-court-of-valkyries Thank you for reading all of this! Also, I didn't know this was a thing but if ever you want to be tagged in my works too, let me know! It would be my pleasure.

[vaspider]

If you have celiac or otherwise can't eat wheat, btw, and you like bread, I highly recommend investing in a breadmaker. Even the best store-bought gluten-free bread does not hold a candle to the stuff that comes out of our breadmaker, and it's cheaper per slice even when we buy bread mix in single-loaf bags.

This is our breadmaker. Evie got it on sale, but it is an investment. I'm not going to pretend it isn't a chunk of change up front. There are cheaper ones, but the reason I like this one and think it's worth the money:

It has two smaller paddles, where our older bread maker that my mom got us and got destroyed by getting construction dust in it had one big paddle in the middle. This leaves a big hole in the middle of the finished loaf, which makes the bread much less useful for, like, sandwiches.

Zojirushi is not as well-known a brand in the US, but it's a Brand Name in Japan for good reason. Evie's had our Zojirushi rice cooker for over a decade & we had to replace the inner bowl once bc someone used metal utensils in it and scratched the non-stick coating. We expect to use this machine for at least a decade.

You can program your own cycles, which we found really useful. Evie built a custom cycle that removed the punch-down sections (gluten-free bread tends not to rise as much) and that made our perfect loaf.

A lot of bread machines produce very tall, square loaves, which are awkward to slice, store, and make sandwiches with. This produces loaves that make good sandwiches and toast, and the French toast slices don't crowd the pan.

The top heating element on this gives a really amazingly browned top crust that we definitely didn't get on our old machine.

It's so pretty.

So how is it cheaper in the long run if the machine costs $300+? A little like this:

We use Pamela's Bread Mix bc it's really consistent and easy - you need the bread mix, water, yeast, 3 egg whites, and oil. (We use avocado oil and find it best and most consistent, but regular vegetable oil works!) We buy Pamela's in bulk, and without any subscription discounts or whatever, the $48 pack of 3 bags makes about 11.5 loaves. With the cost of yeast and eggs and stuff, it ends up costing about $4.50 a loaf. (If you buy your yeast in larger bags & store it in an airtight container, you can create less waste and it's also cheaper.)

By comparison, a loaf of Franz GF Bread costs $7-8, and Canyon Bakehouse usually runs about the same.

However, that's not an apples to apples comparison because the Franz loaf is an 18 oz. loaf, whereas our breadmaker makes a 2 lb. loaf. Assuming even the lower-end cost for getting a Franz loaf at the store, an equivalent amount of bread would cost $12.42, and it's not nearly as good.

(Yes, gluten-free bread is fucking expensive. That's part of why I'm writing this post in the first place.)

Anyway, assuming you eat 2 lbs. of bread a week in your house - a breadmaker loaf, basically, to make the math simple - you'll end up spending $7.92 less on bread every week. That means that even at the most expensive cost for the Zojirushi, if you buy it at its highest price (don't do that! wait for a sale!) it'll take 50 weeks - about a year - before the breadmaker pays for itself. If you manage to get it on a 25% off sale (which we did), it pays for itself in about 9 months.

Nine months, I must stress, in which you are eating much more delicious bread.

We tend to go through a couple of loaves a week because toast, sandwiches, and melts are great food for people with low spoons.

Evie and I perfected the Pamela's mix recipe for this particular machine - I'll get it typed up when I'm downstairs next, along with the quasi-babka recipe. (Really, it's like a marble cake and babka and bread had a baby, and it's a family favorite.)

Bread good. The end.

[slasherhaven]

I don’t know if you’ve done this before but what about period sex? 🥺 I feel like the slashers are so used to blood it wouldn’t be upsetting to them. (Preferably with Thomas Hewitt because he’s my current hyper-fixation)

I honestly can't remember if I've written this. I thought I had but I can't find but even if I have, I'll happily write it again! Period sex had become a recent interest of mine to be honest...

Period Sex with The Slashers (NSFW):

Thomas Hewitt

Thomas is phased by blood in the slightest, he's been working with it since he was old enough to work after all. However, it's different when it's you that bleeding!

He panics at the slightest sign of you being hurt, always wanting to protect you.

I doubt he has any real knowledge about periods, maybe he knows that some people have them but he definitely doesn't know much more than that.

When you're on your period, he likes to fuss over you and make sure you're alright. Especially after you explained everything about your experiences and if you have bad cramps.

You have to be the one who brings up the idea of having sex when you're on your period, because he definitely won't.

You're bleeding there! He assumes that because you're bleeding it would hurt, which you figure makes sense but you'll explain that you might be more sensitive but it won't be painful.

Thomas just need some reassurances that he's not going to hurt you or anything, and becomes more eager when you mention that orgasms can actually help ease cramps.

The blood doesn't bother him at all, he's not in the slightest bit put off or grossed out, it barely even registers with him once he's reassured that you're not in pain. But he still makes sure to be extra careful with you.

You just seem so...raw, that it could be painful. So, he'll just go slow and be careful.

Since he has absolutely no problem with blood, he will go down on you with as much enthusiasm as any other day. He doesn't mind getting his hands or face dirty.

Michael Myers

Michael has no problem with the sight of blood. In face, it might even lean in the other direction.

The blood doesn't put him off, it actually entices him. Gets his blood pumping like those moments before a hunt.

You might not even have to bring up the subject. He's still plenty open for sex, no matter how heavy your flow.

Still, he's not exactly educated about periods so might assumed your injured. But once he knows you're unharmed, he just shrugs it off as mostly unimportant. Is still going to be interested in sex as he is any other day. More so maybe.

Michael loves to smear the blood around, to have his hands coated in it, smearing bloody handprints over your hips and legs and everywhere else on your body. He has no interest in keeping things clean and tidy, it's a waste of time to even lay a towel down to be honest.

He doesn't take it easy on you either, even if you are feeling more raw and sensitive. In fact, he's only encouraged by your increased squirming and the sounds you make.

Jason Voorhees

Oh sweet Jason.

Sex is already a taboo thing to him, at least in the beginning of your relationship, and so are periods.

You've helped him so much when it comes to having a healthier relationship with sex and you've also taught him plenty about periods, because he wanted to learn, wanted to help you.

Jason always treats you like you're ill when you're on your period, wanting to dote on you and make sure those cramps aren't bothering you too much.

The thought of having sex with you on those days doesn't even occur to him. Not because he thinks it's gross or because he has a phobia of blood, but because he figures it would harm you in some way. I mean, you are bleeding and Jason has only ever associated blood with pain and violence and death. Not exactly sexy.

And when you make a move on him, he's more surprised than anything. You want to do that with him while you're bleeding?

Just very worried and concerned for your wellbeing.

Once you reassure him, he's willing to try it, though. You wouldn't lead him wrong, after all.

He'll lay down the towels and be gentle with you, every touch feather light and tender.

He's not really into the blood, more just unbothered by it. It's there but he doesn't care, it's not a turn on or a turn off.

Brahms Heelshire

Brahms is a horny bastard and if you think some blood is going to put him off, you clearly don't know him well.

Blood doesn't phase him anyway, so it's really not a problem.

You don't have to reassure him or anything, he's already tugging your underwear down.

He doesn't care about making a mess, about staining sheets or surfaces that you will have to clean later.

Doesn't have many feelings about the blood itself other than enjoying the feeling of it, warm and wet.

Will dip a finger in the blood and draw a little pattern on your stomach, just for the fun of it.

Also won't care about washing up before going to sleep, curling himself around you and drifting off while his thighs are still smeared with your drying blood.

You'll have to fight him into the shower, either before he falls asleep or in the morning. Which, of course, only leads into another round but at least he's a little cleaner now.

Bo Sinclair

Bo loves marking you up, claiming you as his.

The two of you might have even given blood play a try before. Bo's definitely into it and has fantasied about it at least.

He's an asshole when you're on your period, always blames your bad mood on it, and is just a general menace.

He's also a huge tease, especially if he knows you get horny on your period.

He'll have you against the kitchen counter, push a hand under your waistband, bring you to the edge of orgasm before slipping his hand out and sucking the blood from his fingers. Leaving you flustered and unsated.

And when he does fuck you, he can't take his eyes off of where you're connected, of where the blood smears over you both.

Vincent Sinclair

Vincent isn't so interested in blood but he's seen more than enough so that it doesn't faze him.

So, he's not put off by you bleeding, he's just more concerned than anything.

If you're uncomfortable or in pain, his mind isn't going to sex. So, you'll probably have to be the one to initiate it.

He's not off put but it, just fusses to make sure you're certain and that it won't hurt you in anyway.

Puts all his focus in making sure you're comfortable.

Despite not being interested in blood in any sexual way, he does get a little curious. It's something new to explore with you and he's intrigued.

He's not very messy with it but finds that he does kind of like the way it stains the inside of your thighs at least.

Cleans you up so tenderly afterwards until there isn't a trace of blood left, just being his sweet self.

Lester Sinclair

Lester is not in anyway phased by dirt or blood or being messy in anyway.

It's not a flattering comparison but he handles roadkill everyday, he's not doing to be bothered by some blood.

The only reason he doesn't really consider having sex during those times is because he assumes you wouldn't want too. Just kinda assumed you don't desire it during that time, especially if you've ever mentioned being in pain with cramps or feeling 'gross' in someway while on your period.

However, he's not opposed to it when you suggest it. He's surprised when you hurry to assure him that it's alright if he doesn't want too, that you understand if he'd not into it while you're on your period.

Lester really doesn't care about any mess you make and you will have to be the person to grab the towels, he just wouldn't even think about it.

Doesn't care how heavy your period is, he has no fears when it comes to touching you or bringing you pleasure.

While Lester really isn't fazed by being dirty, he'll help you both wash up. Afterwards, if you just want to soak in the bath for a while, he'd more than happy to join you.

Bubba Sawyer

Blood is nothing to Bubba, might as well be water to him.

However, he does know that blood usually follows pain, and if you're bleeding, he's going to be concerned that your hurting. And lets be real, he might not even know what a period is.

So, after plenty of explanation and reassurances, we can talk period sex.

Once you've assured him that it's all normal and the pain is more in the cramps than anything else, Bubba really doesn't think much of it. He becomes more concerned about the cramps than the actual blood aspect. The bleeding itself is no big deal to him.

So, when you express that you would like to have sex with him even though you're still on your period, Bubba trusts that you know better than him on whether it's alright for you or not.

For Bubba it's just like the blood isn't there, just an addition to sex that he doesn't really need to worry about because it doesn't mean that he's hurting you.

Billy Lenz

Some blood isn't going to stop him from wanting you, from needing you.

Billy has a complicated relationship with blood. It's always followed negative feelings and experiences but it's also kinda...pretty?

He doesn't want to hurt you or make you bleed but if you're already bleeding and unharmed then...

Truly has no worries about mess, he loves when the two of you end up all sticky from bodily fluids. If that includes blood, that's perfectly fine by him.

He'll grin at you with your blood staining his mouth and cheeks, will smear bloody hands over your body and paint you with it.

He doesn't know why he finds it so enticing, so arousing, but he does. His eyes shine as he paints you both with your blood. And he's able to do all of this without harming you, which is a huge bonus for him.

Like Brahms, he'd happily just go to sleep without washing the drying blood off first. You have to drag him off to the shower and change the sheets because Billy will just sleep in the mess without worry.

Asa Emory (The Collector)

In general, blood is not all that new in your relationship.

Asa has definitely indulged his blood play kink with you, whether it was with your blood or somebody else's. So period sex isn't the craziest thing for him and he's not going to even bat an eye at it.

However, he is going to indulge.

Asa is pretty thrilled about you being more sensitive than usual, ready to find all new ways to torment and tease you.

You're not about to be ruining his sheets though, he's doing to be clean and tidy about it. He's using a mattress protector at the very least, or having you strapped to a table for him to experiment on you.

He has you squirming and pleading until there are tears in your eyes and you feel raw between your legs, even more so than you already did.

Slips his fingers between your lips, having you taste your own blood.

Jesse Cromeans (Chromeskull)

Come on, a little bit of blood isn't going to scare him.

In fact, blood arouses him and he isn't ashamed of that in the slightest.

You can try to initiate or he will, it doesn't really matter. A period isn't going to have Jesse dancing shyly around you.

Blood play is nothing new for the two of you so he turns it unto a bit of a challenge instead.

He'll have you ride him while he's fully dressed, warning you not to make a mess of his clothes.

And if you do get blood on his nice new suit, well...he's just going to have to punish you, isn't he?

Otis Driftwood

Otis is super into blood play and has already participated in it with you if you share his kink. If not, he's at least mentioned it multiple times.

So, this is just blood play without having to tend to wounds afterwards. That suits him just fine.

In Otis' opinion, the heavier your flow, the better.

He paints you both with it.

He loves seeing you covered in blood, the source of that blood is pretty unimportant to him (unless somebody else has hurt you, obviously).

He's not shy about his interest in the blood but by this point, you should know that it's something that turns him on. There is precious little that doesn't turn him on really.

Honestly, let's a little annoyed if there isn't enough blood for his liking but whatever.

By the end, he'd got drying blood on his face, hands, and thighs. Blood clotted in his facial hair and his teeth stained red, the coppery taste on his tongue.

The sheets are definitely ruined and if you don't get rid of them, Otis will keep them stains and all. He doesn't care about some dirty bedsheets after all.

Baby Firefly

For so many reasons, Baby isn't shy about some blood.

If you're on your period, she doesn't see why that should change your sex life unless you don't want to have sex on your period. Which she would respect, she knows how it can make you feel.

But she also knows that orgasms help with cramps and that sometimes a symptom of a period is being horny, and she will use these things against you just to tease you.

Come on, there's no need to deprive yourself just because of a little blood. She isn't fazed! Let her help!

Doodles little patterns all over you with your blood, giggling to herself about them.

Will paint her lips (and yours if you let her) with your blood just for her amusement if nothing else.

See! There can be some perks of a period when you're with Baby!

Yautja (Predator)

You don't have to tell your mate when you're on your period, he can smell it (not in a way that it smells bad, he just has those heightened alien senses).

He panics at the scent of blood first since Yautja don't menstruate so he assumes you're injured in some way.

He's quick and happy to learn though, and then stops being so concerned about it when your period comes along.

Other than the initial panic, your mate doesn't care about blood in the slightest. He's an Yautja, a predator, a hunter. Blood is a daily occurrence for him, it doesn't faze him.

And when he learns that pleasure can ease period cramps, he will practically insist on it for pain management reasons.

Honestly, the fact that you bleed like this monthly and just carry on with your life like nothing is wrong is admirable and worthy of respect in his eyes.

Having sex with you when you're bleeding, well, there's just something so primal about it.

The scent of your blood and your arousal has his own blood pumping and a growl emitting from behind his mandibles.

He loses himself in the sight of your blood, smearing it over your skin, tasting it.

Afterwards, he just holds you, nuzzling at your skin. Both of you still stained with your own blood.

[xetlynn]

jjk imagines- toji fushiguro

Try not to get caught! 18 + edition!!

[jjk] [main page]

🔞⚠️Warning content ahead!! SMUT⚠️🔞

•••Prompt: toji is your dad’s best friend… that’s it.

•••Containing: male receiving oral, slight choking, prone bone, doggystyle, mean toji, and etc.

“Mm, I might just drop out.” You jokingly say to your dad as you sit on the counter. He was currently getting snacks and drinks ready for his best friend that was coming over so they could watch the game together. “You drop out and I disown you for wasting my money.” He mutters, slapping your knee as he walks past. 

You gasp, jumping down and following after him. “You would never, you love me too much.” You clutch your chest, he sighs. “Unfortunately, yes. That’s true but you’d look idiotic to drop out halfway through your last year. Plus I’d be embarrassed.” He pouts, causing you to laugh. “Yeah, yeah. I’m not dropping out. I’m just over this semester and it hasn’t even started.” You complain, throwing your head back. 

“Only five more months. Put up with it.” Your dad messes up your hair, you shove him away. The doorbell rings to the front door and your dad perks up. “Go get that for me.” He smiles. “Gosh, isn’t he your boyfriend, why am I getting the door?” You tease your father who rolls his eyes. “It’s not just Toji-”

You were already opening the door to reveal two men before you. You grin. “Shiu!” You excitedly say, purposely ignoring Toji to annoy him. Embracing the man you’ve known for more than half your life. Shiu and Toji are your dad’s work buddies. Toji was more recent but had grown incredibly close to your father. 

The two of you bicker and mess with each other, it was quite fun to you. Well, you also found him very… very attractive. “Hey, little one!” He hugs you back, holding two beer cases. You take them from his hands and let them come inside. “Oh… hey Fushiguro.” You deadpan, heading further into the livingroom to place the cases down on the coffee table. 

“Man, did someone say something?” He responds, looking around the room and you scoff. “Hi, Toji.” You fold your arms over your chest and he pulls you into his chest. “That’s better, you brat.” He squeezes you and you subconsciously feel yourself melt into his touch. Your hands that were on his torso slightly felt him up without realizing it. Toji sure did with a scar adorned smirk plastered on his lips. 

“[Name], you gonna join us?” Shiu asks and you push off of the man in front of you. “No, told my friend I would play this game with her.” You purse out your lips a little disappointed with yourself. “Ah, we’ll have to do something before you leave again for college.” He ruffles your hair just like your father did, earning an annoyed squeal to escape past your lips. “Sure.” You smiled. 

Toji watches as you scurry out of the room and up the stairs. His eyes capture the way your clothes cling to your body. You’ve always been such a pretty girl. Your dad claps his hands, tugging Toji away from his sinful thoughts. “The game’s gonna start in fifteen minutes. Let’s set our bets.” He announces, all of them plopping down on the couch. 

Two hours of playing this stupid video game, you throw your controller on your bed with a loud, agitated huff. “I think I’m going to call it quits, Mizuki.” You frown, leaning on your headboard. “Awe, one more round, please!” She whines in your headphones and you snicker. “You said that last round. I’m getting tired.” You say, unplugging the set so you were now talking on speaker. 

“Ugh, you just want to go downstairs and gawk over your dad’s best friend.” She tells you and a smile ghosts your lips. “Maybe I do, is that so bad?” You huff, now onto your stomach with your feet in the air as you talk to Mizuki. “I mean, isn’t he like… old?” She cringes and you let out a small laugh. “He’s younger than my dad. Who cares about age. He’s fine as fuck.” You gush. 

“If I ever got the chance I’d ride Toji Fushiguro from sunrise to sunset.” You proudly state. Not hearing your door creak open. Speaking of the devil himself as he was going upstairs to go to the bathroom. You father and Shiu passed out on the couch as the game just ended. But when he heard your little mouth say his name. He just had to listen to what was said. “[Name] you’re nasty.” Mizuki insults you and you shrug your shoulders. 

“You have to see him, he’s the definition of dilf. He has a son, he’s in middle school I think? I don’t know. All I know is I want to fuck his dad.” You kick your feet in the air, feeling like a giddy highschooler that’s talking about their crush. But in a much more lewd way. Toji pressed his lips together, leaning against the doorway as he continued eavesdropping. He didn’t know you felt this way… Nor did he complain about it. 

“I’m getting off. You’re so weird.” Mizuki chuckles. “Alright, alright. I love you.” You kiss into the phone, hanging up before your friend can respond. You go to get up off your bed and your eyes land on the dark figure in your doorway. Your heart drops to your stomach. “Shit.” You mumble under your breath and Toji walks closer to you. His torso shuttered with his laughs. “You gotta a little crush on me, sweetheart?” He cooes. Your gaze gets hard as you glare at him. “You wish.” You attempt to put up some faux confidence. 

“Awe, don’t be embarrassed, it’s natural for a girl to like a strong man.” He flexes his arms, purposely to get a rise out of you. “Pfft, your ego is too big.” You avoid eye contact with him, sitting at the edge of your bed with your hands gently placed in your lap. “You’re always such a brat. Weren’t you just sayin how much you wanted to fuck me?” He reminds you, now hovering over you. His hand going to your chin and forcing you to look up at him. 

“Don’t act all shy now, brat.” He uses your usual nickname and your thighs clench together. Feeling your arousal. “I wouldn’t mind giving you what you wanted. Gotta keep it a secret though.” He hums, his fingers tracing around your face. “Can you do that?” He questions, his eyes were already dark, dilated to an extreme. 

Your face began to flush and you nodded your head. “Your dad and Shiu are sleepin, gonna stay quiet while I fuck you?” He turns your head to the side, as he whispers into your ear before giving your cheek a sloppy kiss. “Mhm.” 

“Good girl…” He mutters. “Now strip.” He roughly lets go of you and you slide your pants and underwear off eagerly. Doing the same with your shirt as you bounce up to your knees. He found it amusing how excited you were. 

You were polite though with the way you sat there, it was the exact opposite of how you normally act with him around. The teasing tone was gone and he knew he was going to have a time with you. “Listening for once, you that cock driven?” He tilts his head and you grin at him. Not saying a single thing. 

“C’mere.” He says as he takes his sweater off, displaying his torso to you now. And if you were turned on before, now you felt like you had Niagara Falls in between your legs. You return back to the edge of the bed and his hands roam down to your naked ass. Giving it a small smack before gripping them to pull you closer to his own body. 

“So pretty, glad I befriended your dad.” He mutters as he kisses your lips. You moan into it, indicating agreement with his statement. His calloused hands continue to knead at your plushy ass, his tongue exploring your mouth. Through his grey sweatpants his hard-on pressed up against your tummy. Allowing you to beckon at how large he is. 

Nerves bubble up inside you. Your smaller hands go to his waistband, needing to know what you’re getting yourself into. He let you do as you wanted, feeling his pants drop to his knees. His dick springing upwards, lightly slapping against his pelvic area. 

You retreat from his mouth, gaping down at Toji’s rather… large member. You whimpered at the sight. “Go on, touch it.” He swayed his hips a little bit. Cocky. Rightfully so too. Hesitantly you do so, your pointer finger swiping over his tip. 

Your hands go up and down it, feeling every little to large vein on his dick. He grabs your face just like before. “Suck it, pretty girl.” He orders and you wanted to say something smart back but you were stuck in some weird trance. Sticking your tongue out as you looked up at him through your lashes. “Mhm.” He directs your mouth to his aching, throbbing cock. Feeling his tip get warm just by you. 

Your tongue flattens around him, chills down down his spine. Suckling on him as your tongue swirls. His jaw slacks open, his hand going to your hair, twirling it into a makeshift ponytail. Aiding you up and down his cock. “There you go, putting that mouth to good use.” He musters out, acting as if this didn’t feel magical. Like he wasn’t resisting the urge to hunch over and fuck his hips into your mouth as he curses out profanities across the board. 

You moan at his words, adding more gratification and pleasure to him. You peek up to him, getting to see what you were doing to him as his brows were furrowed together. His mouth hanging open and his cheeks getting flushed. You take this as a challenge. 

The filthy, lewd noises that extract from you as you take him all the way. He feels you breathing through your nose on him and he tugs on your hair, pulling you back. All the saliva and pre-cum in your mouth spills down your chin. He forces you to look up at him. “I gotta fuck you, sweetheart. Think you can take me?” Toji has no care for prepping you. All he was thinking about was ruining that pretty pussy. To mold it around his cock. And any other dick’s that enter inside you will never feel the same. Never match the pleasure he gives you. “Yes, I can.” You breathe out. 

But before he can even push you down into position to fuck you he hears the stairs squeak and complain as someone walks up them. His eyes shoot to the crack opened door. In a fast motion he’s putting his pants back on. You catch onto what’s happening and hide under the covers, wiping your chin with your forearm. 

Toji throws his shirt back on. “Toji, where the fuck are you?” It was Shiu. He held his breath, trying to figure out how to explain why he’s in here. “He fuckin’ left?” The both of you hear steps going into the bathroom lazily. The door slamming shut behind him. “Mm, fucking old man.” Toji mutters, annoyed. 

He glances back over to you. “Looks like they’re waking up. We’ll have to… finish this later.” He winks with a tired expression. You smile, nodding your head. “When?” 

He shrugs his shoulders. “Have to wait and see, won’t you?” He picks up your clothes and tosses them over your body. “Get dressed and come downstairs.” He motions with his head. He walks out, quietly shutting the door behind him and carefully walking downstairs. Ensuring he doesn’t make any noise. 

You sit under the blankets for a moment. Registering what the fuck just happened. Of course Shiu ruined it too. 

“Where the hell were you?” Your father’s voice sounds as Toji comes out of the kitchen. Well he makes it look like that’s where he’s coming from. “Had a phone call, went out through the back.” He grunts, going over to the couch and sitting down. Lying straight through his teeth. 

“Should’ve woke us up, missed the ending of the damn game.” Your father huffs, taking a swig of his beer. “We won.” Toji simply says, putting a throw pillow over his lap since he was still coming down from his little moment with his best friend’s daughter upstairs. 

“How do you fall asleep during a game?” You ask from up the stairs. Toji’s hairs stand on the back of his neck, hearing your voice, not helping his little problem. “I’m gettin old, [Name]. When I’m tired, I sleep.” Shiu voices, almost pouting by you teasing him since normally you were nice with him compared to Toji. 

“Yeah yeah, sounds like excuses, old man.” You were bitter. He cock-blocked you. He didn’t know that’s what he did but he did and he was being punished for his actions. “Old man?” Shiu crosses his arms and you giggle, jumping off the last step and joining the other two in the living room. “You said you were getting old yourself, why so sad?” You jut out your bottom lip, throwing yourself on the sofa next to Toji. 

“Toji was right, you are a brat.” Shiu sits down across from the two of you, alongside your father. “Thank you.” You lay your head down on the pillow that Toji was using to hide his boner. That you caused. 

He lets out a low groan from the sudden weight. It was inaudible to the men in the room but you heard. You heard and smirked. Looking up at him. He was already glaring down at you. “What do you want to watch?” Your father presses on the remote, clicking through movies on the tv. “I don’t care.” You shrug your shoulders. 

“Kay, Fast and Furious then.” your dad presses it but you let out a loud sigh. 

“You watch this too much.” You complain. “You just said you didn’t care.” Shiu reminds you and you sit up. “I care now. You try watching Fast and Furious on repeat since you were a kid.” You point a finger to the man. “It came out when I was 20 so.” Shiu starts and you let out a laugh. 

“You really are so old.” You grimace, and he glares at you. “Your dad is the same age. Toji’s creeping up to it. Why target me?” He bounces up to the edge of the couch. “Hey, still younger than the both of you by a decade.” Toji defends himself. Your dad doesn’t even pay attention to the argument as he presses play on the movie. 

“Yeah, a decade younger. God, you're like ancient!” You squeal, his eyes widen at your words. “Ancient? [Last name] get your daughter, ground her or something.” Shiu deadpans. 

“[Name], you’re grounded.” Your dad says as his eyes were glued to the large flat-screen before him. “I’m 22, you can’t ground me.” You argue. “I tried.” Your dad says to Shiu who grumbles under his breath. 

“Let’s watch the stupid movie.” You sigh, giving up and laying back down. Shiu observes the two of you. A brow raised as he sees Toji subconsciously playing with your hair. Not even shoving you off of him. The two of you are actually watching the movie and not bickering the entire time. It was strange but honestly, did he really even care?

Not really. 

As  the second movie begins your dad announces that he was going to bed. Shiu took that as a way to leave as well. Saying something about returning to his wife. It now leaves Toji and you on the couch, in the living room alone. 

You avoided eye contact with him until Shiu’s car was out of sight and your dad’s door shut. “So, are you leaving then?” You nervously ask, picking at the nail polish on your nails 

“Want me to?” He eyes you up and down subtly. “No.” Your horniness was speaking for you, feeling your arousal pool in your cotton panties. His gruff hands go to your waist, pulling you onto his lap. “Those college boys ever make you cum?” He whispers as your faces are centimeters apart. You shake your head. “Don’t think I can.” You tell him, he snorts out a laugh. “Won’t be thinking that for much longer.” He pecks your lips. 

And before you know it you're on your stomach. Pants down to your knees, ass in the air. Toji’s spreading your asscheeks apart, you hide your face in the cushions. “So wet, you have a crush on your dad’s best friend? What does that say about you?” He tuts, leaning down and kissing your drenched cunt, taking a small lick with it. You press your lips together, trying not to make a noise as your father was upstairs. 

Luckily the movie was still going, giving you guys some room to make a little noise. But you didn’t want to risk it at all. “I asked you a question.” He gives your cunny a little smack and you jolt at the strike. “I-I don’t know.” You whine. He smugly sneers at your answer. He then pulls his pants down in the front, letting his cock free. Springing up, his tip red and angry as it oozes out pre-cum. “Dumb already, so pathetic.” He grabs your hair, lifts up your head and he forcibly plants his lips on the side of yours. You let out a small noise at the rough action. 

Toji drags his tip up and down your slick, covering himself with it. Your hole clenches at the sensation. He slowly sheaths himself into you and you can’t help but whimper and moan at the stretch. The stinging was overwhelming. He shushes you but you don’t listen. He let’s go over your hair to dramatically cover your mouth. “Shut up, brat.” He spits, your apology is muffled and slobbery over his own hand. 

He finally bottoms out inside you and you pant at the feeling. Your hand reaching back and grabbing onto his shirt. “Wait- wait.” You plead. He doesn’t like being told what to do though. 

His hips moving at a ridiculous, malicious pace and his hand grips at your face as he does so. Tears build in your eyes as you're pounded into. And if it wasn’t for the clothes he was wearing your skin would be smacking so loud it would echo throughout the house. “Fucking shit, you’re tight.” He sneers, feeling like your pussy was pushing him out. 

“Gonna uncover your mouth, be a good girl and be quiet.” He pats your lips and you nod your head eagerly. 

With each thrust your hand was still behind you, trying to get him to slow down. “Tojii.” You cry into the couch. “Too much for you, thought you could take it?” He leans over your body, still humping himself into you. 

“N-no.” You puff, your other hand clawing at the cushion. “No? Callin me a liar?” He asks, offended. “No!” You exasperate, your thighs squeezing together, only making it tighter for Toji. He smacks your ass at the notion. Mentally cursing at himself afterwards, as he forgot your father was asleep upstairs. 

“That all you can say?” He grabs onto your hips. Using it as leverage to keep a fast pace. Sitting back up straighter. His calves were sat on either side of you. “Sorry- sorry!” You sniffle, stowing away your face once again. 

Toji was unfaltering, moving your hips back to meet with his as well. 

Your walls were twitching and he could tell you were getting close. Due to his width that stretched you out, hitting all the right spots against your walls. Repeatedly touching that mushy spot  as well you were getting close to your release. That tightness in your stomach that you’ve never felt with another person. 

You felt euphoric, on a high that you never want to come down from. “Cum-mingh!” You announce and both your hands yank at your hair from the feeling. Not knowing where else to put them. “Mhm, course you are.” He gruntles. Your toes curl and you flex your stomach from the orgasm. 

“Ff-uck- mmgnh!” You mewl, your pussy squelching and squirting onto Toji’s clothes. “Makin a mess.” He sighs, not letting up from fucking into you. Chasing his own ejaculation. He lifts your body up, spreading your thighs apart. The new position makes your back hunch up but he shoves it back down into an arch. 

“Fuckin hell.” He squeezed his eyes shut, the sight of your ass jiggling and lolling back into him was getting him closer. “Want my cum inside ya? Gonna breed this little pussy?” He purrs, and your eyes widen. “N-no, don’t-” You weren’t on the pill. 

“Mm, might do it. Gonna breed you, fill you up reeaall nice. Get you pregnant. How would you explain that to dear daddy?” He chaffs, finding himself to be quite amusing. You even more so as you grow worried, trying to push him off of you. “Just messin’ sweetheart. What kind of man would I be.” He grabs you by your neck, lifting you up so your back is now against the front of his torso. 

“Not n-nice.” You pout, looking up at him and he smiles. “Sorry.” He gives you a sloppy kiss, lightly squeezing your throat before pushing your back down. You lean on your elbows as he finally withdraws from your pussy. Jerking off and those thick ropes of cum spurt out on your ass. 

He grits his teeth together as he lets out low growls, his dick twitching and convulsing. “Fuckfuckfuckfuck.” He mumbles. Letting out a big breath of air. His shoulders slumping down. Relief hitting him. 

The two of you now sit there in silence. Everything replaying in your heads. Toji stands up. He runs a hand through his hair as he gazes down to you and your fucked out body. It was definitely not one of his finest moments fucking his best friend’s daughter but… he wasn’t going to let his moment pass up. A sexy girl like you. 

You looked up to him as he was walking away from you. “Where are you-”

“Don’t worry, getting you a rag to clean that mess.” He points to your ass and your mouth goes into an ‘o’ shape.

[yzzart]

"𝐀 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫."

pairing: Coriolanus Snow x F!reader.

summary: how does a snowflake carry so much possessiveness?

warnings: explicit content, explicit words, playing with nipples, mention of erection, and mentions of manipulation + take a look at the masterlist!

word count: 944!

The smell of wet wood accompanied by the typical aroma of fresh earth invaded your nostrils; It was a new situation and coexistence, but it was pleasant and welcoming. — A cozy home.

Together, the sounds of wood being trampled upon with disoriented, blind footsteps with a possible goal of reaching the old-fashioned bed of the place had surrounded your ears. — That definitely bothered you. — There were unstable and old parts of the floor that complemented louder noises; it sounded so unacceptable and abominable.

But absolutely nothing could take away or take away the attention and disposition you received and gave from Coriolanus' lips. — Lips that were wise, sapient and so sweet, with cautious and dignified words; and also so dangerous. — You delighted in the sweet and poison of Snow's mouth.

Coriolanus kissed you with a flaming passion, a description so ironic, that it slowly burned your proud and dissatisfied chest; he kissed you as if his life really depended on it. — And for the Snow boy, these words were part of an affirmation in his heart and soul.

A mixture of feelings, sensations were involved and welcomed in that kiss, something easy to analyze. — Snow never knew how to explain what he actually felt or saw in his veins and heart, so when he met you he discovered how he could do that.

Your tongues moved in such a sudden way, fighting against a space that would not be properly used and animalistic; this strong word was in the right place to be used. — Not to mention the distress of contact between your teeth. — God, it seemed like it was the first time you two kissed.

For the first time, at that moment, there was a mediocre separation between your lips and those of Coriolanus; the empty, incorrect and cold sensation walked through your mouth. — Your mind closed, distressed by the absence, and a taste of despair expanded on your palate.

Those blue eyes observed your lips, already red and shiny caused by the mixture of saliva; they demonstrated desire, possessiveness and something very deep. — You didn't know how to decode what it was, at least not at that second. —But it was mesmerizing, a trap set for you.

"I have you." — He whispered with a distant and small smile, an action that used delicacy in your eyes along with the hot and uncontrolled breath that debated against your face; Coriolanos was giving you all the affection that coursed through his thin and surviving body. — "I'll always have you, right?"

Perhaps those words were an affirmation, a certainty that was written in an honorable and never disrespected book; or also a cryptic or wrong assumption? — You didn't know, much less had an answer that justified it and you didn't care about your trivial assumptions. — Your only action was to nod in silent agreement, earning a proud smile from your lover.

"My good girl." — A constant chill revealed itself in your belly when you heard that, then it was replaced by the relief of feeling Coriolanus's lips touching your again.

The kiss had much more pressure and strength than the previous one, there were conflicts in the middle of it; however, more desire, pleasure and intensity. — Emotions, feelings and reasons mixed between both sides. — A delightful tension.

Coriolanus, who was guiding your to the old and poorly cared for bed, reached his goal without releasing or interrupting the kiss. — God, you mentally thanked me for that. — And, quickly, he got comfortable on the mattress; placing his large hands on your waist in order to direct you to his lap and you didn't waste a single second.

The roughly worked fabric of Coriolanus's pants scraped your thighs and, surely, afflictions would appear later in the day. — In addition to feeling the bulge of his erection punctuating the thin noble fabric of your shorts; he had a privileged opportunity to feel a moistened region in that place. — Coriolanus would go mad and you were the cause of it.

While your arms were around his neck, a way of supporting yourself and getting deeper into him, the Snow boy directed one of his hands through the edge of your thin and noble shirt. — Passing under your, feeling your warm skin that avoided his cold fingers, until he stopped at one of your nipples.

Of course you were scared, it was surprising, in a pleasant way, and in the middle of the kiss, a few low whimpers were released from your mouth. — Like a bird on its singing day. — Snow was pinching your nipple, enjoying the soft, appetizing flesh; It wasn't easy for you.

"Coryo…" — A moan, this time loud and clear, with his name was the first thing you said when you stopped kissing him and it was the only thing that happened that day, little head. — Another pinch followed by a simple and frank affection.

Coriolanus's thumb walked along the tip of your nipple as if he were playing with a shirt button. — A very precious and rewarding t-shirt. — He was a damn man.

"Oh, Coryo…!" — Moving your head involved in such pleasure and excruciating pain, your neck was exposed and it didn't take long for you to become a fragile target for the Snow boy.

Small kisses, as if they were an apology that in reality they were not, prolonged seals and exultant bites filled the area. — Coriolanus marked you with vigor and exuberance, in a seductive passion; a prey that fell in love with its hunt. — He applied his scent to you, such an animalistic action.

It was sick, unhealthy and over the top. — It was the love that Coriolanus felt for you.

[j2hoes]

Intimate Treasures. (Steve Harrington x Adult Store Worker!Reader)

Word Count: 4.5K

Y/N works in an adult store and Steve can't seem to stay away.

Warning: Smut, p in v sex, cunnilingus (m and f receiving), dirty talk, knife kink, sex toys, mature language

Weekdays were always slow at Intimate Treasures, most people either working their regular 9-5’s or simply too embarrassed to be caught in an adult store mid week. Opting to discreetly shop on a Friday or Saturday night, hoping nobody will catch them. I often find myself amused by the actions of our customers, ninety percent of which seem to be ashamed of themselves for purchasing such ‘dirty’ products, as they like to call them.

Upon the opening of the store, many citizens of Hawkins were vocal of their displeasure at the presence of such a place. Believing that there was no place in the town for us. They argued that by opening within the Starcourt Mall, we would be indoctrinating their children into believing that sex is something that should be enjoyed and explored freely. Rather than an act of love that should only be taking place once married for the sole purpose of reproduction. There have been numerous occasions when I’ve argued with people about this, lecturing them on the importance of sexual liberation and safety rather than shaming people for their choices.

It was during one of these arguments that I met him for the first time. Wrapped up in a heated debate with none other than the local priest who was offering to save me from hell, I almost missed the mop of fluffy brown hair that hesitantly crossed the threshold of the store. He was trying to act casual, as though being here was no big deal, but I could tell he was nervous. Fumbled movements causing him to almost knock over a display of free condoms. To which he pocketed a few in the shorts of his little sailor outfit.

“What you are doing here in this store is sinful, I am only looking out for you young lady.” My eyes snap back to the priest who is glancing around the place in utter disgust, one hand gripping the cross around his neck, the other clutching a Bible.

“If you think this is sinful, you should see what I do in bed, old man.”

Despite losing sight of the sailor, I hear a muffled laugh coming from down one of the aisles and I can’t help but feel pleased that I’m not necessarily alone in this argument.

“You could be doing so much more with your life! You don’t need this filth, the Lord can set you on the right path if you would just let me cleanse you of your impurity.” The man pleads, his words failing to provide the impact he is hoping for.

Resting my elbows on the countertop, I lean towards the priest, hoping he pays attention to me. “Listen, I know for a fact that the Bible doesn’t specifically mention anything about sex toys or masturbation and not all of us are lucky enough to be in a relationship. Though I’m sure your wife isn’t exactly thrilled with her sex life.” 

He gasps at my words, shuffling towards the door whilst muttering about ‘young dirty girls of today’. 

“Be sure to send your wife in, her first vibrator is on me!”

As the door swings closed behind him, I let out a sigh of relief. Completely fed up of having the same arguments over and over again. My eyes fall back down to the stack of boxes by my feet, filled to the brim with new lingerie sets that need putting out on the shop floor. 

Not wanting to waste any time, I quickly add the inventory to the system before hanging the black latex to the hangers. I won’t deny, it’s a gorgeous set. Shiny black bralette, so thin that the strap of fabric is only big enough to cover the nipple, with a matching thong, which also happens to be just as small. It leaves very little to the imagination, and I would be tempted to spend my paycheck on it, had I anybody to wear it for.

Finding a spot in one of the aisles, I begin to hang the various sizes on the wall. Careful to make sure that they’re all in size order so that they’re easy to find. A shuffle of feet towards the end of the aisle pulls me from my thoughts, the sailor intently staring at different wand vibrators. Every few seconds picking one up before putting it back with a shake of his head.

“Need some help?” I ask, hanging the last of the lingerie up and strolling towards him.

His eyes widen as I stand next to him, a deep red blush rising on his cheeks and I can’t help but smile softly at his awkwardness. I’m never one to assume, though I’m fairly certain this may be his first time in any adult stores. If his blush is anything to go by.

“Sorry, I just don’t really know what I’m supposed to be looking for.”

“Something for your girlfriend?” I push, the question slips off my tongue easily, one I generally ask all the male customers that look in need of assistance, yet something in me is praying that he answers with a no.

I won’t deny that he’s attractive, even with the unfortunate attire that he appears to be sporting. He has a boyish look about him due to the costume, it’s cute and soft. However, his chestnut brown eyes are dark and I can tell that he is very much a man. 

“No, no girlfriend.” He admits, shoving his hands in his pockets, as he does so I’m able to catch a quick glimpse and notice the large size, backs of his palms displaying very prominent veins and I can’t help but squeeze my legs at the sight.

I’m not entirely sure what’s wrong with me. Never usually finding someone so attractive upon meeting for the first time, yet I’m practically drooling over the man in front of me. Even if I am putting on a very cool front.

“This is kind of awkward to admit but I wanted a vibrator you know for when I do have girls over. Just for something different I guess, in case my performance doesn’t cut it.”

I’m taken aback by his admission, most men refusing to believe they couldn’t be absolutely incredible in bed and insisting they’re only getting a toy because their wife wouldn’t stop pestering. To have a man so open about possibly not being perfect is refreshing and I realize I’m most definitely going to need some ice cold water then this customer leaves.

“Oh wow, that’s so thoughtful of you.” I tell him, moving slightly closer to the wall of products in order to assist him as best I can. Carefully, I grab a hot pink box, offering it to him. “So this is the newest wand vibrator we have, it has three different settings and a very long battery life. Trust me any girl would love it, it only took me about five minutes to cum when I used it for the first time.”

His eyes are focused on the box, teeth catching his bottom lip as he reads the information on the back. Eyebrows furrowed in concentration, truly reading everything about the product in his hands. Something about him intrigues me, whether it be the sailor outfit or the fact that he truly cares about his sexual partners, I’m not sure.

“I’ll take it, thank you.”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The second time that the interesting sailor entered the store was only two days later. A Thursday evening, most of the stores in the mall were closing for the day, not us however. Opting to stay open later for more of a sense of privacy.

I’m idly flipping through one of the latest editions of Playboy magazine, staring down at the women sprawled out on the pages. They ooze confidence and sex appeal, something I could only dream of. Whilst I wouldn’t say I necessarily lack confidence, I most certainly do not have a string of guys desperate for my attention like the women in the magazine.

Completely wrapped up in my own thoughts as I turn the page, it’s only when a handful of products are placed on the countertop that I glance up. Boredom evident on my face, I’m counting down the minutes until I can close the store and head home for the night. That is, until I realize who the customer is.

“I didn’t think girls were into Playboy.”

Running a hand through his perfectly styled brown mane, he smiles at me as he speaks and I struggle to hide my excitement at his return. Though there is still a hint of red on his cheeks, he seems calmer this time, clearly less embarrassed by his visit.

“I don’t know if you can tell, but we don’t exactly stock academic reading material.” I joke, beginning to ring the items through the till.

Bottle of lube, metal handcuffs and black bondage tape. Don’t get me wrong, I’m no stranger to the kinky items that I ring out on a daily basis. Yet, something about the handsome sailor buying them has me weak at the knees and I have to look anywhere other than his face as I bag everything for him.

“Hey, I just wanted to thank you by the way.” Finally making eye contact with the man, I can’t hide my confusion at his words. “For your help last time, the vibrator was a big hit.”

“Oh right yeah. No problem at all, I’m glad I could offer my assistance.”

My smile falters, why am I jealous? I shouldn’t be jealous, I should be pleased that I could help another customer. Pleased that I’m allowing others to enjoy their wants and desires. However, something about knowing the stranger has already used my suggestion on another woman hurts. I sound desperate, it’s not like me to get hung up on a man I have only briefly interacted with twice and yet here I am.

“No seriously, it was the most intense hook up I’ve ever had and it’s all thanks to you.” He rummages through his pockets as he speaks, before sliding a piece of paper across the countertop.

Free ice cream on me - Steve.

“I work at Scoops Ahoy, figured I owed you one.”

“Now the sailor outfit makes sense.” I laugh softly, carefully folding the piece of paper and slipping it into my pocket.

“I know. It sucks, does not help me woo the ladies at all.” He smiles bashfully, handing me the cash to pay for the products.

“I think it’s cute.” The words fall out of my mouth before I can stop myself and my head drops to the floor, shaking it lightly, humiliated by what I just said. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean, it’s just-”

“Good to know, I’ll see you later.” He looks at me expectantly, awaiting my name, as he makes his way towards the exit.”

“Y/N.”

“I’ll see you later Y/N.”

The moment the door closes behind him, I slide to the carpeted floor, head in my hands, afraid I may have just completely made a fool of myself in front of Steve. Doing my best to get over how mortified I feel, I quickly stride to the door and flip the sign to closed, not wanting to humiliate myself further in front of any more customers tonight, even if I am technically supposed to be open for another hour and a half.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I swear to God John, if you take these home and add them to your wank bank, I am going to kill you with my bare hands.”

This week seems to be one embarrassing event after the next, standing in nothing but the new micro black latex lingerie, I pose awkwardly in front of the only blank wall in the building, allowing the store owner to take photos of me on the polaroid. 

“Listen, we need to advertise what we have on offer, putting these pictures in the window is bound to gain more customers. Not to mention the added benefit of being served by the hot girl plastered in the window.” He states as though it's obvious, shoving a large kitchen knife into my hand which I take reluctantly. “Now spread those legs and lick the knife.”

Dropping to a squat, I spread my legs wide open, raising the knife to my mouth and seductively licking a stripe down the edge, careful not to cut myself. I may as well be completely naked with how little the lingerie covers, moving the knife to cover my vagina, I feign a gasp as he snaps another photo.

“You’re a natural, I’ll put these in the window and then I’m off for the night.”

I throw the knife on to the counter as I watch with folded arms how John sticks up the photos by the door. No doubt we’ll have complaints as each photo has me in increasingly compromised positions. It’s borderline pornographic.

Catching glimpses of the photos every couple of seconds, I can admit that I do look good. Incredibly good. They’re sexy and I feel empowered, it’s just a shame that they have to be on display for everybody to see. I’m all for being sexually liberated, I’m just not sure I believe everybody should be allowed to see me in such a vulnerable environment.

John leaves with a quick wave in my direction, flipping the sign on his way out so that I can finish my closing tasks in peace. Throwing myself down on the couch beside the window, I feel the shame start to flood my body. I begin to feel dirty and used, allowing my boss to take advantage of the fact that I have to follow his orders. 

Is this how the women in Playboy feel? Never once have I questioned if selling dirty magazines is unethical, believing that the woman in them felt free and proud that they can be so open and sexual. Now I’m starting to think that perhaps that isn’t the case.

With my head resting against the back of the couch and my eyes fixated on the uneven tiles on the ceiling, I hear the door click open beside me. Internally sighing, I don’t avert my gaze as I speak.

“We’re closed!” Voice snappier than I intended it to be, however, I make no effort to apologize.

“I know, I’m sorry. I was just hoping you’d be here.”

Swinging my head to face the direction of the door, I match the voice to the speaker. Steve stands awkwardly in the entryway, eyes trailing over my body as I stand to greet him. His mouth drops open slightly, rubbing a hand over his plump cherry lips. Glancing down, I remember that I’m still only wearing the lingerie and heat floods my body.

“Shit, sorry. One second.” 

I awkwardly jog to the back of the store as best I can in the heels strapped to my feet, I’m careful to wrap the long satin robe tightly around myself before making my way back over to Steve. Who stands in the same spot, unmoving. Eyes focused on me as I lean against the counter, arms crossed over my body in an effort to keep the robe covering me.

“So what can I help you with?” I ask, voice shaking every so slightly due to the interaction only moments ago.

“You look incredible in that.”

Although my eyes are firmly fixated on the ground, I smile nervously at his words. Hearing the shuffle of his feet, I look up only to see him standing just a couple of feet away from me. Clad in his sailor uniform once again, I allow myself to gaze over his physique. Thick legs that wear the shorts well, tight in all the right places. Arms defined showing off the muscles he has built. Pulling myself from my thoughts, I round the counter, hoping that the distance between us will ease the ache between my thighs.

“Steve I really should be closing, did you need help with something?”

I notice his eyes fall to his shorts, an impressive tent having formed and I have to hold my breath so as not to drop straight to my knees. Without a word, he slowly reaches across the counter, gently knocking the robe from my shoulders, exposing me to him once again.

“Just tell me to stop and I will.” He speaks quietly, so quiet I almost don’t catch it.

There’s a look of animalistic hunger on his face, one that is new to me. A stark contrast to the boyish smile he usually sports. Within seconds he’s leaning across the counter, capturing his lips with mine, one hand tightly grasping the back of my neck for support, whilst I grip at his shirt. His kiss is fuelled by passion and while it’s rough there’s a feeling of comfort that I can’t describe.

Without thinking, I’m striding back around the counter, pushing him backwards so that he flops down on the couch. Allowing me to take a seat on his lap, his erection firmly pressed in between my thighs, if I weren’t so focused on the moment, I’d most certainly be embarrassed by the wetness that begins to drip down my thighs.

Grinding myself slightly, I tug at his top, pulling it over his head quickly before throwing it behind me. His lips attach to my neck and I can feel him sucking gently, determined to leave a mark. A moan escapes my lips before I can stop myself, sparking a fire in his eyes as he grips my hips, guiding them to roll over his clothed length even harder.

His fingers move with haste as he works at the knot holding the flimsy bralette together, prying it off my body the moment the ties become loose. Grabbing his jaw, I pull his face back to mine, kissing him with burning desire as his hands move to palm my breasts. Our tongues entwine as his fingers brush over my nipple, releasing a soft gasp from me, to which he takes advantage. Dipping his head to suck and bite marks into my chest, I grab his hair tugging softly with every moan that he extracts from my body.

I can hear a groan escape his mouth, to which he covers it up quickly by dragging his tongue over my nipple. His hands playing with the other so as not to focus all his attention solely on one. Steve sucks gently, drawing unholy moan after moan from my body as I continue to feel the heat between our bodies.

Tipping my head back and pushing my breasts further into him, I find myself pushing a hand between our bodies. Slipping under his shorts and offering a short squeeze, causing the man to murmur a soft fuck as he continues to play with my nipples. From feeling his length in my hand, I can tell he’s big, bigger than I anticipated and much bigger than I’ve ever had. It scares me equally as much as it excites me.

It’s only when I begin to start delicately stroking up and down, that he pushes me to the side. Throwing me onto the couch gently so that I am laid on my back with him standing over me. As he smiles down at me, I can’t help but find the contrast between his soft smile and the dominance he has just been displaying amusing. A cheeky grin evident on my face.

“Where’s that knife?” He asks, fingers brushing over my throat as he stares down at me.

“Knife?” 

“From the pictures.”

Nodding my head towards the countertop, I watch eagerly as he grabs it, clenching my thighs together as my mind drifts to what he is going to do with it. Much to my surprise, he gently pulls my body up so that I’m sat upright, before settling on his knees between my thighs. Pushing the thong to the side, he presses the blunt side of the knife to my heat, trailing it between my folds. When he removes it, it glimmers with the slick that is now definitely dripping onto the couch.

“Lick it.” He raises the knife to my mouth and I brush my tongue against it as directed, immensely turned on by the entire situation. “You’re such a good girl.”

If his words didn’t make me moan, I do when his tongue makes contact with my clit. Head falling back as I close my eyes, focused only on the pleasure he is giving me. Despite not having my eyes open, I am acutely aware of Steve reaching up to my throat and holding the sharp side of the knife directly on my neck. Pushing it gently, though not so much to draw blood.

“God, you’re such a good girl.”

He switches between sucking and licking my clit, his free hand moving to push two fingers into me ever so slowly. The sounds are inherently sinful, the way he’s lapping up everything I can offer him is downright filthy and yet I feel like I’m in heaven. He devours me as though I’m his last meal, moaning against me, vibrations adding to the already exhilarating pleasure I’m experiencing. God, if this is what he can do with his tongue, there was no reason for him to buy a vibrator.

As he continues to push his fingers into me at an unruly pace, his tongue swirls circles against my clit, pushing me further and further to the edge. My stomach feels tighter and I try to close my thighs, though he reacts by pushing the knife closer to my throat, reminding me of its presence.

“Holy fuck.” I whisper, coil within me snapping and my legs twitching as he continues to lick up anything I have left.

With a pleased grin, he pulls himself away from me, rising to his feet and even in my post orgasm daze, I drop to my knees. Hurriedly pulling his shorts down to his ankles, I grab his erection with both hands. Mouth falling open in shock as I wrap both my hands around him.

“Jesus Christ.” My voice is almost silent yet Steve still hears me, chuckling at my words.

“You gonna be able to handle it?” He asks and I waste no time in nodding, gazing up at him, eyes filled with lust. “Yeah you are.”

In an attempt to calm my nerves, I hesitantly lick from the tip to the base, mouth watering as I hear Steve’s breaths become shakier. Wrapping my lips around the tip, I slowly begin to bob my head up and down, unable to take the whole thing but trying my hardest. I allow myself to coat his member with my spit, using my hands to stroke whatever I can’t fit in my mouth. He bucks his hips involuntarily with a deep guttural moan and I can’t help but gag, eyes watering as he hits the back of my throat. 

Pulling back with a gasp for air, I continue to stroke him with one hand, the other reaching for his balls. As I lean in to go for round two with my mouth, he grabs my hair softly, pulling me to look up at him. With mascara streaks running down my and saliva falling from one corner of my mouth, Steve smirks.

“I’d let you do that forever if I wasn’t so desperate to feel you.”

He helps me up, pushing my body over the countertop, before pulling the thong off me completely. I spread my legs for him, allowing him to see the effect he has on me, he circles my clit with one finger as his other hand grips his length. The tip smacking against me as he nervously rubs it over my hole. 

“Steve please, I want you so bad.” I beg, feeling myself clenching around nothing as he teases me.

“Fuck you’re perfect.” He cautiously pushes the tip into me, my hands gripping the wood of the countertop at the stretch and I squeal slightly, from a mixture of pleasure and pain. “My perfect girl.”

He continues to push himself inside of me for what feels like an eternity, just when I think I’ve taken him all, he pushes further. I’ll admit it has been a while and with Steve’s size, the stretch burns and yet I want nothing more than to feel him inside of me forever.

The gentleman he is, he stills once completely sheathed within me, awaiting confirmation from me that he is able to move.

“Steve please fuck me now.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice and instantly pulls himself out, almost completely before slamming back into me. Balls slapping against my clit in a way that teases me as he practically rips me in half. One hand pushes on my back, firmly holding me down against the counter as he continues to pound into me. The other grips my hip, knife still in hand though neither of us seem to pay any attention to it. 

“Fuck, I’ve wanted to do this since the moment I saw you.” He states between moans, slamming into me at an almost brutal pace.

I’m able to slip one of my hands between the wooden surface and my body, bringing it to the space between my legs and gently teasing my clit, resulting in a string of profanities falling from my lips. Steve notices this and bats my hand away, taking over himself. His fingers are like magic and combined with the way he is ramming himself into me, I can feel myself on the brink of cumming once again.

“Oh my god, Steve I’m so close.” 

Upon hearing this, he pulls my body upright, peppering kisses along my shoulders and the nape of my neck as he continues to drill into me at the same rough pace. Within a matter of seconds, I find vision spotting as I fall over the edge. Thighs sticky and wet with the remnants of my second orgasm. Steve allows me to fall back onto the countertop, continuing his assault on my vagina and the overstimulation drives me crazy. I’m a complete moaning mess and by the time he stills with a soft grunt, I have even more tears in my eyes.

“You’re so fucking perfect.” He murmurs, pulling out of me gently and pressing yet another kiss to my neck.

Turning around to face him, he has a lazy fucked out grin on his face and I can’t help but feel proud that I’m the reason for that smile. I smile at the thought, and at the feeling of his cum beginning to spill out of me and down my legs. Steve takes my hands in his and flops back onto the couch, wrapping his arms around me as I rest my head on his chest.

“You know I actually came here hoping I would work up the courage to ask you on a date but this was so much better.” He admits, nuzzling his nose into my hair.

“Wow so I missed out on a date?” I tease, hugging into him even tighter.

“I mean, we can always break into Scoops and go have that date now.” He suggests, voice soft as though he’s afraid I will reject him.

“That sounds perfect.”

[forcemeanakin]

ᴠɪᴄᴛᴏʀɪᴀ'ꜱ ꜱᴇᴄʀᴇᴛ ᴀɴɢᴇʟ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ x ʜᴀʏᴅᴇɴ ᴄʜʀɪꜱᴛᴇɴꜱᴇɴ

Okay so this is a alternate of @hanasnx starlet!reader but with my own little twist because I just love the scenery and the glamour of the shows <3 So I present to you: VSangel!reader x Hayden Christensen (let's ignore the fact that I've been working on some of these scenarios for YEARS now).

This is hella long and nsfw, so beware. 3K.

Previous inspo: Link

BACKGROUND:

Hayden has probably seen you in a big billboard before, maybe an ad on TV, but didn't remember your name. He thought you were hot though. A pretty little thing that was probably out of an old man's league anyway.

You are in your 20's, so you grew up with the Star Wars prequels and without a doubt Anakin Skywalker was your childhood crush. Posters on your walls, watching other movies Hayden was in just to see him. Most of your classmates probably made fun of your Star Wars obsession because you were only into it because of the hot guy in Revenge Of the Sith. How wrong they were!! It was also because of the hot guy in AOTC!

Also you're like a total SW geek, but we'll talk about it later.

THE BEGINING: How did you two meet?

Considering that both of you are from different areas of show business, you had to meet in a common ground. I don't see Hayden going to a fashion show before you (and then that's the only place paparazzi can catch him for sure <3). So after a lot of thought, you two met at an Award show (my mind goes automatically to the Tiff Tribute Awards). Or more specifically, the after party.

I picture Hayden saying hello to a couple of people he knows before heading to the bar and sticking around there, just sipping on his drink and greeting whoever comes along to shake his hand and pat his shoulder.

You already saw him back on the red carpet, making your best effort to not get your drooling face captured by a paparazzi. Your stunning dress and detailed makeup made you look like a million dollars !!!

And he noticed. Fuck, did he notice.

Walking by the bar, after pep talking yourself into talking to him for like half an hour, you pulled up right beside him to order yourself a drink. A cosmo or some shit like that. Very fancy and pretty, like you.

He was hypnotized by you the second he saw you up close. Actually, the second he saw your ass swinging his way.

That was it. You two were done for the moment your gazes crossed.

He made the first move, saying a polite "hey" and offering to call the bartender for you.

You were batting your eyelashes, grazing his biceps with your long nails and giving those "fuck me eyes" that worked every time. Someone so much more mature and wise, you didn't think he would want you for something besides fucking, so why did it matter if you were a bit sluttier than you were used to?

But you started talking and it was an actual good conversation. He seemed interested in getting to know you and his jokes actually made you laugh. He was all smooth with his compliments and subtle stares at your dress.

I feel like he would give you a nickname from the very first night. Something related to your attire or the sparkle of your eyes, accentuated by the glittery eye shadow.

It would be a downright shame to let that amazing chemistry go to waste for a meaningless hookup. Luckily he didn't let that happen.

Like a true gentleman, he walked you to your car, using the back door and called it a night. Not before asking for your number and teasing a goodnight kiss.

The next day, while you were getting ready to shoot a campaign, you receive a text from an unknown number, but you immediately knew who it was.

"Hey, starlight." There's a whole other version of this with them meeting over a smoke break, but I know that's not everyone's cup of tea.

BEFORE AND AFTER YOU:

Okay so let's set some things straight. Hayden's not a public guy. he hates having his private life printed on newspapers and he's not a fan of social media. At all. Heck. he doesn't even like to leave his house on weekends. But after you? He had to get used to it. You're this generation very own Gisele Bündchen. You're everywhere. You're everything. You are the fashion world. So paps are very much included in every moment of your life.

BEFORE GOING PUBLIC:

You tried to keep it hidden as much as you could. It was not very hard with you traveling almost every day and him living in LA, at his new house. And whenever he could, he escaped to his own little paradise in Canada.

So texting was basically everything you could do.

He even learned new lingo just to keep up with you :)

But you both craved more, so the next time you were in LA, you were going to grab dinner.

The damn paps got a few pictures of you and that's when the rumors started.

At first not many people recognized him, mainly because the pictures were taken from behind him, but the curls and the outfit ratted him out to a few observant fans.

But media didn't believe them, I mean, why? And the selected group that decided to run with that narrative used headliners like: "how the fuck did the awkward guy from SW pulled y/n's ass?"

After weeks of trying to be low-key for his sake: going on coffee runs using his caps and sunglasses so people wouldn't recognize you, having dinner dates at his house and/or choosing far away locations to stroll with a bit of privacy; you gave up. Your already public life was catching up with you two. So it was better to ride the wave than to escape it and fail in the process.

BUT BEFORE ABSOLUTELY GOING PUBLIC, I love the idea that interviewers were trying to drag the information out of you. Maybe at a red carpet or at an interview with a digital magazine, people would throw you some questions to see if you bite the bait:

"So, Y/n, who's your favorite SW character?"

And you would grin knowingly but never backing down. Your answer would vary from Obi-Wan Kenobi (to mess with Hayden) or R2 when you felt like sharing some of your SW passion.

But right before you two decide to go full-on public, you decide to mess with them, for your own entertainment: "You know, I do have a soft spot for Darth Vader."

PEOPLE GASPED AT THAT CRUMB OF CONFIRMATION.

GOING PUBLIC:

It was at a red carpet

You two went in separate cars

Hayden walked first, having his picture staken and signing autographs while you barely arrived at the event

The second you entered the carpet the cameras went off on you, total focus on getting pics of your designer dress

You were posing like an absolute goddess, answering some questions with wit, trying to spot your boyfriend with the corner of your eye

Finally you locked eyes and he raised a dubious eyebrow, like saying: "Are we seriously doing this?"

And you gave him a bright beam, stretching your arm to him as he walked to you, taking your hand and kissing the inner side of your forearm before placing it on his shoulder. Fingers dropping to your waist and pulling you to him while you laugh, his mouth lowering to your ear to whisper: "You always get your way, huh?"

You chuckled and kissed his cheek, you two turning to face the cameras, just for a few seconds before moving on.

DATING:

I'll not get into the heavy details of how you two managed to make your relationship work, with your traveling and photoshoots, because fuck that. I'll only say that there was a lot of sexting and he was a fucking natural at it. Mile high club as well.

You two would still try to remain unrecognizable by the paparazzis but more chill this time.

That meant having more pictures of you on your candle lit dinners or your fun Sunday mornings in the park out there.

I JUST KNOW THERE'S A PICTURE OF YOU KISSING IN THE PARK. YOU ON YOUR TIPPY TOES WHILE YOUR ARMS ARE AROUND HIS NECK. BIG GRIN ON YOUR FACES, LIKE IT WAS TAKEN SECONDS BEFORE YOUR LIPS MADE CONTACT.

The media would still release some mean headliners but thanks to the dilf culture cultivated in social media, some were actually rooting for you. Oh, and fans were torn between you; hating you because you were clearly fucking him and loving you because since your relationship started, you gave them more Hayden content.

The SW questions were constant in the interviews and talk shows, to the point that you were always brought some type of SW merch: a Grogu plush, a kids lightsaber, a little R2 replica. Whatever it was, it was always pulled whenever the question about you and Hayden was brought up.

You still kept answering "Obi-Wan" with a laugh and no additional information. "He has the high ground." You shrugged your shoulders, shaking your head with a cheeky smile.

Later in bed, when Hayden was giving you your daily dose of healthy cum :))) pounding into you with an admirable expertise, he whispers: "Who has the high ground now, baby?"

CLICHE BUT LET ME HAVE THIS

You never revealed to Hayden that he was your childhood crush, I mean, you could have mentioned it the first night but you didn't want to approach him like a fan. And then you didn't want to look psycho so you just let it be. And now it was too late.

But then

In the middle of an interview, a girl that actually gained your honest trust, asked you the anticipated question:

"How does it feel to date Anakin Skywalker?"

And... (the next bit was written by Indy during a brainstorm and I just wanted to share the exact words <3)

"in the interview you’re visibly nervous, rubbing on your knee, leaning forward, adopting a slackened posture. “yeah..” big grin, “he was actually my childhood crush.” “no!” the interviewer says in awe. “yeah! yeah,” you kinda laugh and cover your mouth. “i didn’t tell him. is that bad?” you put your nail in your teeth to fidget, putting on a little lovable twist to your face"

And then he sees the interview and he shots you an immediate text with the link like: "Oh???"

You know what you'll come home to

He's sitting on his usual chair, reading a book when he hears the door creak. You showed up with a shy smile, his arms opening up to let you crawl on his lap. Knowing that he'll bring it up, you hide on his neck, blush all over your cheeks. Hayden is caressing your thigh up and down, while he hugs you with his other arm and snorts: “did you keep that from me on purpose?” with a little swat on your ass (Indy, 2023).

THE REACTION OF PEOPLE ON SOCIAL MEDIA AFTER THE INTERVIEW. you cackle at the comments: "Not Y/n admitting she is dating her childhood crush!! She's one of us!!!" “HE WAS NOT” “bro no 😭 i thought she was single” “darth vader. you win again” (Indy, 2023).

Also dragging you to hockey games <333 you start to love the sport because of him but at first you didn't understand shit

He laughed at your reaction when you saw the first fight in the rink

"Do they just... start beating each other up and the ref let them?" You winced exaggeratedly.

"Yup." He laughs, drinking a sip of his beer.

KISS CAM KISS CAM KISS CAM

Also opening the car door for you after a date night, protecting you from the paps???? That's a head canon I'll take from starlet!reader and apply it here because YES YES YES

FASHION SHOWS AND SOCIAL MEDIA

ofc he goes to your fashion shows !!!!! front line baby !!!!!!!! And he is so fucking proud of his beautiful girlfriend.

So motherfucking supportive it hurts.

He comes home and peppers kisses all over your face, praising you for a job well done.

"I would buy all the clothes you sell, baby"

Or if you wore something he particularly liked, he would be desperate to get home and show you just how much he loved your teeny tiny dress on the runway.

He even learned how to dress appropriately to match with your outfits. NEVER LEAVING THE CAPS BEHIND OFC !! But his personal style improved so much, we are proud of him :)

ALSO whenever he is out and spots an ad of yours he takes a picture of it and sends it to you. Maybe with a little heart or smile, or a little text like: "so proud of you baby." Sometimes he takes a selfie with the campaign!!! such a dad selfie, his head tilted back and kind of blurry because he's trying to get the right angle !!!!

also social media with him !!!! again, he doesn't have any active accounts but you do. For his sake, you don't post a lot of things about him, however, some things are too adorable not to share. And fans love you for the little crumbs you give them

A list of photos I think would be posted on this reader's insta stories:

A photo of him in the garden, checking his tomatoes. I KNOW HE HAS TOMATOES

A photo of your shadows during a coffee run. Bonus points if it's Tim Horton's and it has the Canada location tag

A photo of his back while he's making breakfast

A photo of the view from his house. Bonus points if it is from the bathroom window. Extra points if it has any indicators that you two were previously fucking in there, like steamy doors.

A casual photo of you on his couch and you can see the famous chess game

a video of you two watching the prequels and you can hear yourself saying: "omg who's the handsome guy?" when he appears and he laughs.

A photo of you with one of his caps. Bonus points if it's the Toronto Maple Leafs one.

VS FASHION SHOW

OH YES. THE GOOD PART. THE FUN PART.

He never thought he would be in this position. Front line at the Victoria's Secret Fashion Show. But he is. And he's there to support his girlfriend. Heck, that still sounds funny to him-

You're out there, strutting your gorgeous figure for the world to see: with your six inch heels, your pretty wings and tiny lingerie- You're a fucking dream. His dream.

He's there at the front line with the Proud Boyfriend club, along with Adam Levine (I know but he got us fooled for half a decade) and Caleb from Kings of Leon.

His heart is pounding hard when your face appears in the initial video where they present all of the models walking

The first time you walk, he stands up, cheering loudly and smiling brightly at you. You were opening the show!!!!! how huge!!!

You focus on the cameras and getting the pose right but when you turn, walking on the side he's in, you point at him, even blow him a kiss.

The other two times you walk, because the initial pressure is off, you can focus more on him, and shoot him a playful wink and/or wave at him. He's grateful that you're giving him that attention, now he can brag around with hard evidence. :)

They dressed you up in a very flirty little piece, a pair of panties with a black bow on your rear side. When you get to the end of the runway, you turn around and show it off, maybe even playfully shake a little.

You know you'll pay for it back home

You will also pay for flirting with the music guest in the middle of the runway

I mean, you were not flirting, just doing the regular thing of pointing at them and dancing with them for mere seconds. But the music guest really focused on you and your strut. Maybe you did take advantage of the moment to get him all jealous and get some angry sex out of it

He could understand that part of your job. It didn't mean he liked it. He made sure to send some backhanded comments in the after party to make sure the musical guest got the picture. That you were taken.

It was so fucking hot.

He loved loved loved your police woman outfit, offering to pay for it himself so you could take it with you.

He was a fan of your angelic look with the enormous big, white wings. Almost drowning you in feathers but making you look like a real life angel. You were to him at least :)

You take such cute pictures on the pink carpet <3 he's looking like arm candy, an absolute accessory of yours. And he was happy to do it ! It was your night and he couldn't be any happier to be there with you !

Although the paps did catch him while he was staring at your spilling boobs. But could you blame him? That dress was TIGHT.

Hayden also has a photo of one of your VS campaigns in a giant frame in his office <3 you were so ashamed at first but you secretly loved that he paraded you around like that <33333333

you can catch glimpses of it during online interviews

LAST BIT

You are in a talk show, talking about the VSFS 2025, when the interviewer gets all serious and jumps:

"Last question, Y/n... is it true you and Hayden Christensen are engaged?"

You open your mouth in bewilderment, scoffing loudly.

"Where did you hear that?"

"Rumors are all over the place... but is it true?"

"No! Of course not." You squealed, acting offended before cracking a sly smirk. "We are married." And you show off the rock on your left hand.

PEOPLE GO WILD.

AHHHHHHHH- I could do this forever but I need to shut up :) also let me know if you want more nsfw content about this couple :)

Also some of these are stolen from my hockeyplayer!Anakin Skywalker / hockeyplayer!Hayden Christensen private headcanons. :)

Last pic because this is how I imagine this reader and Hayden backstage:

[midnight-in-town]

Was Donovan trying to read the mind of his family members ?

Like some fans, I believe Donovan's scars on both sides of his forehead (which he didn't have as a kid, as we know thanks to Henderson's flashback) are proof that he had some sort of neurosurgery.

Some fans say it was to suppress unecessary emotions : he indeed only ever reacts neutrally, positively or negatively, using a few basic emotions like judgement, acknowledgement and disappointment (both in ch106 and ch38).

However, I'm also of the opinion that Donovan has a big link to the organization that experimented on Anya and maybe that neurosurgery was meant to give him "mind-reading" powers, similar to Anya's.

After all, he did say two things of the utmost importance to his characterization :

So basically “you can’t trust anyone but yourself”.

As such, thematically it makes sense that he's Twilight's entire mission, but also, as a man with so much distrust, he would definitely be interested in a project that would allow a peak into other people's thoughts.

Demetrius is also a good hint as to what could be up with Donovan :

The son Donovan used to be so invested in seems very similar to his father (my God, his eyes), but when Anya tried to hear his thoughts ?

What she rather got was that "pondering [about not understanding people] is a waste of time" for him. So maybe, when they used to spend time together, Donovan showed a lot of distrust towards his own son and taught him to trust no one, so much that Demetrius started to believe all people are an enigma to him.

And that makes sense : children learn from their parents' example, in most cases (take Anya with Twilight and Yor). So if your father is a man who hardcore believes everyone else lies, how would his son understand all the moratively complex dynamics that exist between many people ? Avoiding to think altogether would be less of a headache, for sure.

Lastly, Donovan's reaction about the family dinner is another good hint he maybe has mind reading powers : Melinda tried once to chat but quickly gave up, while Damian spent the entire meal mustering the courage to speak up, so what could decidedly be interesting since nothing was said ?

However if things were thought during dinner... well, it sure would give a different reading to this scene.

Bonus #1 : since Twilight's entire life is based on a lie (his name, his work, his family, maybe even his father, who knows), it makes absolute sense that the entire plot is about deciphering what Donovan and his plans are about.

The fact he keeps on getting emotionally trapped by four year old Anya, who can read his mind, makes it instantly ten times more intense if Donovan now also has mind reading powers.

Bonus #2 : the only other important character in the narrative, besides Anya, who is aware that mind reading is real is Damian.

He doesn't believe in it yet, but once he does, it's likely that his friendship with Anya will eventually make Damian realize a lot about what his father has been up to (in the meantime, Yor please, give Miranda the desire to fight for her sons' safety).

TL;DR maybe Donovan has (recent ?) mind reading powers (I'd even add Sigmund Authen's past as an esteemed neurology professor is related to the whole shenanigan).

The family dinner was just a way to make extra sure that no one in his family is plotting against him, hence the bodyguards at home, because how more dysfunctional can it get ?