#em's festive filth

[emchante]

taste of temptation | d. ricciardo

merry smutmas - day 5: sweet temptation

warnings: 18+ content, blowjob, teasing, oral fixation, dom!daniel.

— missed day 4? read it here by @thef1diary

the house was warm and lively, laughter and conversation buzzing around all the rooms, but you had barely noticed. you were focused on the moment— your friends, the music, the small festive touches, him. 

the red dress you had picked out hugged your body just right, and the looks that you had been getting all night confirmed that you had made the perfect choice. 

including his looks.

daniel was across the room, nursing his drink as he wavered in and out of the conversation with the group he was stood by. you were his plus one to the party but you had split up during the night, getting caught in your own conversations. his eyes— dark and heated— had barely left you the entire night, though. you may have been in different groups, but daniel’s attention never faltered from you. 

it was when the host was walking around, offering small festive theme snacks, that daniel truly couldn’t take his eyes off you. he watched as your face lit up at the tray, smiling to himself at the visible trouble you were having trying to decide which snack you wanted to take. you smiled widely when your eyes landed on the candy cane, picking it off the tray as you thanked the host. 

admittedly the candy cane wasn’t anything special— just a cheap, store-bought sweet used to fill the confectionary tray. still, you loved a treat and needed something to keep you going at the party. unwrapping it gave your hands something to do anyways, a good distraction— especially from daniel’s gaze that was burning holes into you. you pretend not to notice it, and slip the candy cane in between your index and middle finger.

at first you licked it absentmindedly, letting the sweet and minty flavour melt on your tongue. it was innocent enough— or at least it would have been if you weren’t hyper aware of daniel’s jaw clenching everytime your lips wrapped around the candy. 

then you decided to push it more. 

sliding the candy cane deeper, you let your tongue flick against the curved tip, drawing it out slowly with a pop. the motion was deliberate, as you circled the treat with your tongue before biting down light, catching the edge of the candy between your teeth. your lips wrapped around it again, drawing it back into your mouth with a soft moan of satisfaction as the peppermint dissolved against your tongue. 

you could feel daniel’s stare long a burning brand, so intense that you felt a shiver go down your spine. 

“god,” one of your friends muttered, the group’s eyes already on you.  “you really like that candy cane, huh?”

you laughed lightly, tilting your head in mock innocence as you pulled it out, the tip of the candy glistening again. “what? it’s good,” you shrug, tone laced with playfulness. 

you took another slow lick, this time trailing your tongue from the base to the tip, savouring the way daniel’s grip only seemed to tighten on his beer bottle. he wasn’t even trying to be subtle about it anymore— his dark eyes boring into you with such intensity, you felt your heart begin to race. 

to ignore the increasing heart rate, you focus on slightly parting your lips, one again catching the candy cane as you gave it another long, deliberate suck. you could see the internal battle daniel was having, fighting to keep his calmer side up front. the corner of your mouth twitched slightly, enough to tell him you knew exactly what you were doing. 

it wasn’t long until daniel made his abrupt leave from the group he was with, mumbling an excuse on why he had to suddenly drop out. he made his way right to you, movements stiff when he reached you. the way he stalked towards you gave you an idea on his thoughts.

“enjoying yourself?” daniel’s voice was low and gruff as he leaned in close, so close that the warmth of his breath ghosted over your ear.

you blinked up at him, feigning innocence. “of course. why wouldn’t i be?”

his dark eyes flicked down to your lips, where traces of the candy cane still glistened, and his jaw clenched tight. you could see the restraint etched in his features, like he was barely holding himself back. his grip on his drink tightened, the faint sound of his knuckles cracking beneath the pressure.

“come with me,” he commanded, his tone rough, leaving no room for argument.

your stomach flipped at the sharpness in his voice, anticipation buzzing beneath your skin as he placed a firm hand at the small of your back. without another word, he guided you away from the crowd, his touch hot even through the thin fabric of your dress. the cheerful hum of the party grew muffled as daniel led you down a hallway, past flickering string lights and forgotten coats hung on hooks.

when he opened the door to an empty guest room, he didn’t hesitate. the door clicked shut behind you, the faint echo swallowed by the stillness of the room, and in the next moment, daniel had you pressed up against it.

his hands came up to frame your face, his touch firm but not rough, as his dark eyes bore into yours. his body was so close you could feel the heat radiating from him, the solid press of his chest just barely brushing against you.

“do you have any idea what you’ve been doing to me all night?” he growled, his voice low and unsteady.

you tilted your head, feigning confusion, though the smirk playing at the corners of your mouth betrayed you. “i don’t know what you mean.”

his thumb brushed across your bottom lip, tugging it down slightly as his gaze dropped to your mouth. “oh, you know exactly what i mean,” he muttered, his voice thick with frustration. “you’ve been driving me insane, teasing me with that little candy cane show. do you think i didn’t notice? you wanted my attention.”

the candy cane slipped from your fingers, hitting the floor with a soft clatter, but you barely noticed. all your focus was on him—on the heat in his eyes, the tension in his jaw, the way his breath came a little heavier as his thumb lingered at your mouth.

“well, now you’ve got it,” daniel murmured, his tone dark and commanding. “let’s see if you can put that mouth to better use.”

he freed himself, his length heavy and hard in his hand, the sight alone enough to send a flood of heat pooling low in your belly. daniel’s eyes didn’t waver from yours, his gaze a dark, smoldering promise as he stroked himself slowly, deliberately, the motion only adding to the tension crackling in the air between you.

“on your knees,” he commanded, his voice low but unwavering. the words sent a jolt through you, your body moving almost instinctively to obey. you sank to the carpeted floor, the soft fibers pressing against your bare knees as you looked up at him, your hands resting lightly on his thighs for balance.

“good girl,” he murmured, his lips curling into a faint smirk as his fingers reached down to brush through your hair, his touch both possessive and tender.

your breath hitched as you leaned in, your lips parting as your tongue flicked out for the first tentative taste. the sharp saltiness of his skin was heady against the lingering mint on your tongue, the combination intoxicating.

daniel’s breath caught at the first touch, a low groan rumbling deep in his chest. “that’s it,” he rasped, his hand tightening slightly in your hair. “just like that.”

your tongue moved slowly, tracing the length of him with deliberate care, teasing him as you swirled it around the tip before pulling back to meet his gaze. his jaw clenched, the tension in his body palpable as he watched you, every labored breath only spurring you on.

you opened your mouth wider, taking him in inch by inch, your lips stretching around him as you moved with careful precision. your hands slid up his thighs, your nails lightly grazing the fabric of his pants, steadying yourself as you began to build a slow, deliberate rhythm.

“fuck,” he hissed, his voice low and ragged as his head tipped back, his hand still tangled in your hair.

you hollowed your cheeks, your tongue pressing firmly against the underside of him as you moved, savoring every sound of his pleasure. his hips rocked forward slightly, the motion small but enough to send a spark of heat coursing through you.

“look at me,” he ordered, his tone rough with need. you obeyed, your eyes lifting to meet his as you continued, your movements deliberate and unhurried. the intensity of his gaze, the raw hunger in his expression, sent a shiver down your spine.

“you’re so fucking perfect,” daniel muttered, his voice uneven as his fingers tightened their grip on your hair, guiding your movements with a subtle pressure.

you hummed softly in response, the vibration drawing a low groan from him as his control began to slip. encouraged, you quickened your pace, letting your tongue flick over him in time with the steady rhythm of your movements.

his breaths grew heavier, his body tensing as he fought to maintain composure. his free hand braced against the door, his knuckles white as he gripped the edge for support.

“you have no idea what you’re doing to me,” he growled, his voice strained, each word dripping with barely contained desire.

you pulled back slightly, letting your tongue flick teasingly over the tip before taking him deep again, your lips wrapping around him with deliberate pressure. the heat in the room seemed to intensify, the air thick with the weight of your shared need.

daniel’s groans became louder, his hips beginning to move more insistently as his control unraveled. his hand in your hair guided you, the motions rougher now but no less careful, as though he couldn’t bear to stop but didn’t want to hurt you.

“fuck, that mouth,” he muttered, his voice rough and unsteady. “you’re going to drive me insane.”

you glanced up at him through your lashes, your lips curling into a faint, teasing smile as you continued, your pace quickening just enough to push him closer to the edge. the sound of his pleasure, raw and unfiltered, filled the room, each ragged breath and groan fueling the fire burning low in your belly.

you tightened your grip on his thighs, your nails digging slightly into the fabric as you took him deeper, the motion deliberate and unrelenting. daniel’s body tensed, his hand tightening in your hair as his hips stuttered forward, his control finally slipping entirely.

“just like that,” he rasped, his voice rough and breathless. “don’t stop.”

you didn’t, your movements steady and sure as you brought him to the brink, your focus entirely on him and the way his body trembled with pleasure. the tension in the room reached a fever pitch, every sound, every movement building to the inevitable release that left both of you breathless and utterly undone.

daniel's breathing grew heavier, each exhale a sharp, uneven rasp that filled the room. his hips bucked forward slightly, the restrained control he'd been holding onto beginning to splinter.

"shit," he muttered, his voice thick with desperation as his hand in your hair tightened, his fingers threading through the strands like he needed the anchor.

you could feel the subtle tremor in his thighs beneath your hands, his body teetering on the edge as you continued, your tongue tracing every inch of him with precision and care. his responses were becoming less predictable, more instinctive, the weight of his need pressing down on you like a tangible force.

"you're killing me," daniel growled, his tone rough, almost pleading. "fuck—i can't—"

his words broke off into a strained groan as you hollowed your cheeks again, drawing him in deeper, your lips sliding down his length with deliberate slowness before pulling back with a wet, teasing pop.

"don't stop," he rasped, his voice cracking slightly, the raw vulnerability in his tone only spurring you on. "don't you fucking dare stop."

you didn't, your movements steady and unrelenting as you quickened your pace, your tongue flicking and swirling in a way that had his entire body tensing.

daniel's composure crumbled further, his hips rocking forward in short, erratic thrusts that betrayed his unraveling control. his hand braced against the door for support, his knuckles white as he gripped it tightly, the other hand in your hair tugging just enough to guide you but never forceful.

"god, you're so good at this," he muttered, his voice low and rough, almost reverent.

his head tipped back, the tendons in his neck straining as he let out a string of curses, his chest rising and falling rapidly with each labored breath. you could feel the faint tremble in his body, the barely restrained need threatening to spill over as his hips moved more insistently, chasing the edge that was just within reach.

you glanced up at him through your lashes, the sight of his flushed face and hooded eyes sending a rush of heat through you. the way his jaw clenched, his lips parted slightly as he gasped for air, the sheer desperation etched into every line of his body—it was intoxicating.

"look at you," he muttered, his voice thick and unsteady, his gaze locking onto yours. "so fucking perfect, taking me like that. i can't—"

his words broke off again as a shudder wracked through him, his hips jerking forward in a motion so instinctive it sent a spark of electricity racing through your veins. his fingers tightened in your hair, his grip just on the edge of control as he teetered between restraint and surrender.

"i'm close," he groaned, the confession slipping past his lips unbidden, his voice raw and ragged. "fuck, i'm so close."

the urgency in his tone sent a thrill through you, and you quickened your pace, your hands steadying yourself against his thighs as you worked him with a renewed fervor. your lips and tongue moved with practiced precision, drawing out every groan, every ragged breath, until daniel was trembling above you, his control unraveling entirely.

his hips bucked forward again, erratic now, his breaths coming in short, broken gasps as he chased his release. his hand left the door to cup the back of your head, his touch firm but not rough, guiding you as he finally let himself go, his body shuddering with the force of it.

the sound of his pleasure—low, guttural, and unrestrained—was like a spark, igniting something deep within you as you swallowed him down, your movements slowing as he rode out the waves of his climax. you kept your mouth on him, taking every last drop of cum that he had to offer.

for a moment, the room was silent save for the sound of daniel's heavy breathing, his chest rising and falling as he tried to regain his composure. his hand slipped from your hair, his touch soft now as he ran his fingers through the strands, his gaze dropping to meet yours.

you pulled off of him, licking your lips of any excess of the salty finish before you sat back on your knees, looking up at him with big, doe eyes, awaiting his response or next command. daniel groaned at the sight of you, licking up any leftover cum as you stare right at him– he wished he would have taken a photo to savour the moment.

"you," he murmured, his voice still rough, but now tinged with awe. "you're going to be the death of me."

his words drew a soft laugh from you as you leaned back slightly, wiping the corner of your mouth with the back of your hand as you met his gaze with a smirk. "worth it?" you teased, your tone light but edged with a knowing satisfaction.

"always," he replied, his lips curving into a slow, crooked smile as he reached down to help you to your feet, his hands steadying you as though he couldn't bear to let you go just yet.

taglist: @lilorose25 @thenotoriouserg @a-distantdreamer @leclercsluvs @fat-meh @wintxr-widow @amirahart @alishamai

[thef1diary]

A Naughty Gift | D. Ricciardo

Merry Smutmas - Day 6: Secret Santa

warnings: 18+ content, use of vibrator, fingering, best friend!danny

— missed day 5? Read it here by @emchante

© thef1diary 2024. all rights reserved. Do not copy, steal, translate, or repost any of my work

The living room radiates warmth, the soft glow of string lights reflecting off ornaments carefully hung on the Christmas tree. A steady, crackling fire in the fireplace adds to the cozy atmosphere, its warmth mingling with the scent of pine and spiced mulled wine. The chatter of your closest friends fills the air, their laughter blending seamlessly with the holiday playlist humming softly in the background. 

The room is alive with anticipation. You’re seated on the couch, a glass of wine in your hand, your legs curled comfortably beneath you. Around you, your friends settle in—some on couches, others sprawled on the floor with mugs of hot cocoa or cider in hand. The Christmas tree stands proudly in the corner, its base surrounded by an array of colourfully wrapped gifts, each tagged with a name. 

Tonight is the long-awaited secret Santa exchange, a tradition that never fails to bring laughter, surprises, and a few inside jokes to your closest group of friends. Two weeks ago, you all had drawn names from a bowl, each person tasked with finding the perfect gift for their chosen recipient. The mystery of who picked whom has been the topic of countless teasing conversations since, and now, the moment has finally arrived. 

You’re excited to see your friend’s reaction when they open the gift you picked out for them—an item you’d put serious thought into, sure they’d love. But there’s also a nervous energy bubbling beneath your excitement. You have no idea who drew your name from the bowl, and your mind has been running through possibilities all week. Will it be something heartfelt? Funny? Maybe even a little ridiculous? Only time will tell. 

One by one, the gifts are claimed and brought back to their recipients. Each present earns its own reaction—gasps of surprise, peals of laughter, or appreciative murmurs.

The stack beneath the tree shrinks as the night goes on, and the anticipation builds. Finally, it’s your turn. Your heart skips a beat when one of your friends plucks a medium-sized gift from the dwindling pile and passes it to you. The wrapping paper is festive but slightly crooked, as if the effort was rushed or the wrapper wasn’t skilled—it’s impossible to tell which. You let out a soft chuckle, shaking your head at the uneven bow perched on top. 

Balancing the gift on your lap, you spot the tag attached to the ribbon. Beneath your name is a handwritten message in bold, playful script:

For when you need to unwind :) 

Your eyebrows furrow in curiosity. “I’m almost afraid to open this,” you mutter, pulling at the ribbon. 

With careful fingers, you peel back the wrapping paper, the brightly colored patterns giving way to a glossy white box underneath. The moment the text and images on the packaging come into focus, your breath catches in your throat.

Your gasp is audible—and immediate.

Nestled inside is a vibrator, sleek and modern, its packaging professional and uncomfortably clear about its intended use. Your mouth falls open in shock, and for a moment, all you can do is stare at the box, your mind blank.

The room explodes into laughter, your friends practically doubling over as they take in your reaction. You blush furiously, scrambling to pull pieces of the discarded wrapping paper back over the box as if that might somehow undo what just happened. But despite your embarrassment, a laugh escapes your lips, shaky and incredulous.

“Seriously?” you managed, your voice slightly higher than usual as you hold up the box—stil half-covered in the wrapping—for emphasis.

“That’s the next best option if you’re not getting laid!” one of your friends teased, wiping tears of laughter from their eyes. 

“Oh my god,” you groan, burying your face in your hands for a moment before peeking back out at the chaos around you. 

The laughter continues, the jokes coming in waves. 

“Looks like someone’s trying to do you a favour!”

“Now you have no excuse to be cranky.”

You can’t help but laugh along with them, even as your cheeks burn. This wasn’t entirely unexpected; for months, your friends had made a running joke about your supposed sexual frustration. Anytime you were stressed or snappy, the solution was always the same: “You just need to get laid!”

Still, you never imagined getting such a gift from a secret Santa. 

Once the initial uproar dies down, you look around the room, trying to pinpoint who might have been bold enough to give you such an obscene gift. Your friends are still chuckling, tossing jokes back and forth, but as your gaze sweeps over the group, it lands on Daniel, seated across from you. 

Unlike everyone else, he isn’t laughing. His lips curve into a smirk, his dark eyes gleaming with amusement as he watches you, unbothered by the chaos around him.

Your eyes narrow, suspicion flaring. “Daniel,” you say, your voice sharp enough to cut through the lingering laughter.

The room falls silent, everyone turning to look at him. His smirk deepens, and he leans back casually in his chair, his posture oozing confidence.

“What?” he asks, feigning innocence. “I thought you could use something to help you… loosen up a little.”

The room erupts again, louder this time, your friends practically collapsing into each other at the sheer boldness of his comment. You groan, shaking your head, but there’s no hiding the amused smile tugging at your lips.

“You’re unbelievable,” you say, your voice laced with exasperation.

“Unbelievable or thoughtful?” he counters, his tone dripping with mock sincerity.

“You know, I should be offended,” you reply, raising an eyebrow at him. 

“Are you?” comes his immediate response. 

“Still debating it,” you mutter, unable to stop the small chuckle that escapes.

The focus soon shifts as another gift is unwrapped, the group’s attention moving on, but your gaze keeps wandering back to Daniel. The box lies heavy in your lap, the weight of it grounding you in more ways than one.

It’s just a gag gift, you tell yourself, a harmless joke meant to get a laugh out of you. But your mind can’t help but circle back to him. Of all the things he could have picked, why this? And, more importantly, had he thought of you—truly thought of you—when he chose it? The thought sends a shiver down your spine, one you quickly dismiss with a shake of your head.

Needing a distraction, you rise to refill your glass of wine, letting the chatter of your friends fade into the background as you retreat to the kitchen. You’re pouring a generous amount when you hear the soft creak of footsteps behind you.

“You might need more wine than that if you’re trying to forget about my gift,” Daniel’s voice drawled, the teasing tone unmistakable.

You glance over your shoulder to find him leaning casually against the doorframe, his posture relaxed but his eyes watching you intently.

“I’m not trying to forget it,” you say, turning back to your glass. You lift it to your lips, letting the liquid warm you before continuing. “Just need a little liquid courage.”

“To use it?” he asks as he steps closer, his tone light but laced with insinuation.

You turn fully to face him, narrowing your eyes. “Who says I’m going to use it?”

“It’d be a shame if you didn’t,” he replied smoothly, his smirk deepening.

Your heart skips a beat at his audacity, and before you can stop yourself, you blurt, “do you want me to use it?”

His smirk falters for half a second, replaced by something darker, something unreadable. “You’re always so stressed, so uptight. You’d be doing everyone a favour if you did.”

You roll your eyes, slapping his arm playfully. “I didn’t know my lack of… cumming was a group concern,” you muttered, sarcasm dripping from your voice.

His chuckle is low, almost a hum, but his eyes never leave yours.

Taking a sip of your wine, you decide to lean into the humour of it all. “Thanks for the gift, though,” you say, your tone light, playful. “Maybe this thing will finally do the job, considering everything else I’ve tried has been useless.”

Daniel’s expression shifts, his smirk freezing as his eyebrows lift. “Wait, what?”

Your cheeks flush instantly, and you curse yourself for letting that slip. “Nothing,” you mumble, shaking your head as you try to sidestep him.

But his hand darts out, gently grabbing your wrist and holding you in place. His grip is firm but not forceful, and it sends a jolt of electricity up your arm.

“You’re not getting out of this one,” he says, his voice low, laced with curiosity. “What do you mean by that?”

You groan, tipping your head back in exasperation. “I can’t believe I’m telling you, of all people, this.”

“Hey!” he exclaims, feigning hurt but a moment later, his smirk returns, though it’s softer this time, less mocking and more intrigued.

You bite your lip, debating, but the words tumble out before you can stop them. “It’s not voluntary, okay? I just… I can’t make myself, you know… finish. Not with my fingers, not with toys—nothing works. And I’m not exactly dying to hook up with anyone, either.”

His grip on your wrist loosens slightly, but his thumb brushes against your skin, sending another shiver through you. He’s quiet for a moment, processing, before he lets out a soft chuckle.

“Well,” he starts, his voice dropping an octave, “if that’s the case, you’d better give me a review of my gift once you use it.”

Without thinking, without hesitating, you fire back, “Why don’t you see for yourself if it works?”

The second the words leave your mouth, you realize what you’ve just said. His eyes widen, a flicker of surprise crossing his face, but it’s gone as quickly as it came, replaced by something darker, more intense.

His grip tightens slightly, anchoring you in place. The air between you shifts, thick and charged, and for a moment, you wonder if you’ve gone too far. But then, he steps closer, invading your personal space as his lips graze your ear. 

“Careful,” he whispers, his voice low and dangerous. “I might take you up on that.”

Your breath catches, the weight of his words settling over you like a challenge. And for the first time all night, you’re not sure if this is still a joke—or if you want it to be.

The thought had all but left your mind as the night wore on, the air filled with laughter, the buzz of conversation, and the off-key singing of your friends as they belted out holiday tunes. You’d allowed yourself to relax, to forget about Daniel’s provocative words and the gift itself. The glass of wine you’d poured earlier remained untouched on the countertop—a conscious decision to remain completely sober and avoid any further embarrassment in front of him.

As the night began to wind down, your friends trickled out one by one, each hugging you tightly and thanking you for hosting. The energy shifted, quieter now, though still warm and filled with contentment. One of your friends lingered before leaving, her grin mischievous as she nudged you gently.

“Don’t forget about your gift,” she teased, winking. “Tonight might be the perfect time to use it.” 

You laughed it off, waving her out the door, but her words lingered, stirring something deep inside your chest. As the door closed behind her, you let out a quiet breath and turned back to the living room.

Daniel was still there, gathering stray glasses and stacking plates with a practiced ease that made your stomach twist. He always stayed behind to help, his presence in your space as natural as if he belonged there. 

The last of your friends were slowly trickling out, bidding you their goodbyes with hugs and sleepy smiles. It wasn’t long before it was just you and Daniel, the sound of clinking dishes breaking the comfortable silence.

In the kitchen, you were focused on loading the dishwasher when Daniel came up behind you, balancing a few more plates in his hands. His proximity sent a familiar jolt through you, a rush of awareness that made it impossible to ignore him.

As he set the dishes down beside you, the memory of your earlier moment in the kitchen resurfaced and you felt your cheeks warm at the thought, and you stole a glance at him. It seemed like that moment was on his mind too. His expression was unreadable, but the silence stretched between you, thick and charged.

Neither of you brought it up, though, working side by side until the kitchen was spotless. 

He wandered back to the living room right before you, picking up his leather jacket from the couch. But as he moved to sling it over his arm, his eyes landed on the box still sitting on the cushion—the gift, untouched and glaringly present. His head tilted slightly, his lips curling into a faint, knowing smirk.

You weren’t sure what compelled you to speak up, but the words left your mouth before you could stop them. “I was told I should use it tonight.” 

The moment the confession escaped your lips, heat flared across your face. You busied yourself with fixing the cushions on the couches, avoiding his gaze. 

Daniel chuckled softly, the sound drawing your attention back to him despite yourself. “Is that so?” He picked up the box with his free hand, his movements casual. “Are you going to?” He asked, tone laced with intrigue. 

He dropped his jacket back onto the couch, sliding one hand in his pocket as he waited for your response. Your heart was pounding now, and for the life of you, you couldn’t figure out why you were even entertaining this conversation.

Daniel’s smirk widened as he toyed with the box in his hand, his fingers brushing deliberately over the edge of the packaging. His gaze flicked to you, then back to the box, and with a slow, deliberate step, he started closing the space between you.

“What’s the hesitation, huh?” he asked, his voice smooth, teasing. “Scared it’s not going to work? Or are you scared it will?”

You shot him a glare, though it lacked any real heat. “I’m not scared,” you muttered, your voice betraying the slight tremor in your chest.

“No?” He stepped even closer, the vibrator box now dangling lazily from his hand as his eyes roamed your face, searching for cracks in your resolve. “Then what is it? You just like edging yourself, is that it? Letting yourself get so close you can taste it… then ripping it away?”

Your breath hitched, and you instinctively shook your head, the heat in your cheeks spreading down your neck. “I don’t—”

He cut you off with a low chuckle, taking another step until he was standing directly in front of you, the air between you thick and charged. “No?” he pressed, tilting his head. “You’re telling me you spend your nights wound up tight, desperate, trying to finish but never quite getting there?”

You swallowed hard, your voice barely above a whisper. “I need to,” you admitted, the words spilling out before you could think twice. “I need to cum. So badly.”

Daniel’s smirk deepened, his gaze darkening as his free hand came up to brush a strand of hair away from your face, his touch lingering for just a second too long. “Then you should use it tonight,” he murmured, his voice dipping lower, more intimate. “Get yourself off, let go for once. But…”

He paused, the corner of his mouth twitching as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. “Maybe what you really need is another pair of hands.”

“Daniel…” you whispered, your voice trembling, unsure if it was a protest or an invitation.

He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, the teasing smirk never leaving his lips. “Say it,” he said softly, the challenge clear in his tone. “And I’ll make sure you finally get what you need.”

Your breath hitched, and for a moment, time seemed to still. Daniel stood close, so close you could feel the heat radiating off him, his dark eyes locked on yours like he was daring you to make the next move. 

You nodded, the motion small but deliberate, your lips brushing against his as if testing the waters. The faintest whisper escaped you, desperate. “Please, Danny, make me cum.” 

That was all it took.

Daniel surged forward, his hand sliding around the back of your neck as his lips crashed against yours with a force that made your knees weak. The kiss was fiery, intense, and filled with a hunger that had been simmering beneath the surface all night. His other hand dropped the box unceremoniously onto the couch, coming up to grip your jaw, guiding your movements.

You gasped into his mouth as his tongue slipped past your lips, deepening the kiss. Your heart raced as Daniel’s mouth moved against yours, eliciting a hunger from within you that made your knees weak. His tongue teased yours, pulling soft, desperate noises from the back of your throat. 

Daniel’s hands found your waist, steady and firm as he guided you backward until the edge of the couch caught the backs of your knees. A gentle push sent you down onto the cushions, your breath hitching as he towered over you. His gaze, dark and filled with intent, flicked to the discarded box on the couch beside you. Without breaking eye contact, he reached for it, the tearing sound of the packaging loud in the charged silence.

“Go on, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice low and commanding, sending a shiver down your spine. His fingers worked at the box with practiced ease, pulling out the sleek vibrator that gleamed faintly in the dim light. He held it up for a moment, his smirk deepening as he glanced back at you. “Strip for me,” he said, the words carrying a weight that made your stomach flutter.

Your hands moved instantly, almost on instinct, tugging at the hem of your shirt and pulling it over your head. You fumbled with the waistband of your pants next, your eagerness only adding to the heat building between you. 

Daniel knelt in front of you once you were bare for him. His hands found your ankles, warm and strong, as he pulled your legs over his broad shoulders, his stubble grazing the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. The couch cushions dipped under your weight, but all you could focus on was the way he leaned in, the heat of his breath just inches away from your cunt. 

“Look at you,” he murmured, almost as if speaking to your glistening cunt rather than to you. “So wet already… Were you this desperate before, or is this just for me?”

You opened your mouth to answer, but no words came out. Your throat felt dry, your body so keyed up you could barely breathe. He grinned, clearly pleased by your speechlessness, and leaned in just close enough that his breath ghosted over your folds. The sensation made you shiver, your body straining toward him of its own accord.

His warm breath fanned over your slick heat, and you swore you could feel every word as he spoke. “You’ve been needing this, haven’t you? So worked up, so desperate to let go.”

Your mouth fell open in response, a soft whimper escaping as his fingers slid up your inner thigh, his touch featherlight but enough to make you arch into him. Two fingers came to rest against your folds, spreading you gently. The simple act, something you’d done countless times to yourself, now felt like an entirely new experience under his hands.

He dragged his thumb upward, deliberately brushing against your clit in the faintest tease, a mere suggestion of pressure that sent jolts of electricity racing through you. Your hips bucked involuntarily, a soft, pleading whimper slipping from your lips.

“Daniel,” you breathed, your voice shaky with need. “Please, I need to—”

“Shh,” he interrupted, his tone smooth, teasing. His lips curled into a smirk as his thumb circled your clit again, just barely grazing the swollen nub. “Needy, aren’t you?” He chuckled softly, the sound reverberating through you. “You’ve been so patient. Let me enjoy this for a moment.”

Your head fell back against the couch, your thighs trembling over his shoulders. The teasing was excruciating, his touch featherlight and agonizingly slow, keeping you on the edge without giving you the relief you so desperately craved. Another whine escaped you, and he chuckled again, clearly amused by your desperation.

“Do you know how pretty you sound when you beg?” he murmured, his voice low and rich. “But don’t worry. That’s what I’m here for. Me and this little gift of mine.”

Before you could respond, Daniel leaned in, his warm breath ghosting over your core before his tongue dragged a slow, deliberate stripe along your folds. The sudden wet heat of his mouth made you gasp, your back arching off the couch as he pulled back with a hum of satisfaction.

“Sweet,” he muttered, his lips brushing against your inner thigh as he spoke. “Perfect.”

Your chest heaved as you tried to catch your breath, but there was no time to recover. He brought the vibrator into view, the sleek toy gleaming in the dim light. “Let’s see how well this works, hmm?”

He pressed the tip of the vibrator against your clit, still teasing, still maddeningly light. Then, with a click, he turned it on. The sudden vibration against your sensitive flesh was like a jolt of electricity, and you cried out, your hips jerking upward as pleasure shot through your body.

The sensation was familiar yet utterly foreign, amplified by the fact that you weren’t in control. You didn’t know what was coming next, couldn’t anticipate his movements, and it left you completely at his mercy.

Daniel pressed the vibrator more firmly against your clit, his eyes fixed on your face as he watched your reactions with a wicked grin. “Feels good, doesn’t it?” he asked, his voice thick with satisfaction. “You’re so sensitive, love. Look at how you’re shaking.”

Your legs quivered over his shoulders, your body trembling under the relentless stimulation. Just when you thought it couldn’t get more intense, his fingers returned, parting your folds once more. The wetness there made it easy for him to slide one finger inside you, then another, the intrusion smooth and deliberate.

You moaned loudly, your hands clutching at the couch cushions as the dual sensations overwhelmed you. The vibrator against your clit and his fingers inside you created a perfect rhythm, each movement pushing you closer to the edge.

“Daniel,” you gasped, your voice breaking as the pressure built inside you, coiling tighter and tighter.

The vibrator hummed steadily against your clit, Daniel’s fingers curling inside you with a precision that made your back arch. The pressure built higher and higher, and you trembled, caught between the unbearable pleasure and the tension coiling in your stomach.

This was always the point where you faltered, the moment where the pleasure grew so overwhelming, so maddeningly close, only to slip away. Every time you’d done this to yourself, your fingers had failed to push you past that invisible barrier. It was like chasing a mirage, just out of reach, leaving you frustrated and aching for more.

The memory of all those failed attempts made your chest tighten. You bit your lip, your moans softening, and Daniel noticed the subtle shift in your body. His movements slowed slightly, and his dark eyes flicked up to your face.

“Hey, pretty girl,” he murmured, his voice smooth and commanding, yet somehow soothing. His fingers stilled inside you for a moment, and he leaned in closer, brushing his lips against your thigh. “Don’t go shy on me now. I can feel how close you are.”

You whimpered, your lips parting to speak, but Daniel didn’t give you the chance. His grin turned wicked as his fingers curled again, this time pressing deep against a spot that had your breath catching in your throat.

“Look at you,” he rasped, his voice low and filthy. “Dripping for me. You’re so tight, sweetheart—so desperate to let go. Don’t fight it. You’re mine to ruin tonight.”

The vibrator pressed harder against your clit as he notched up the intensity. The sensation made you cry out, your hips bucking against his hand, but Daniel held you firm, his grip possessive.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he stated, his tone dark and teasing. “Not until I’ve wrung every last bit of that tension out of you. I want to feel you shake for me, hear you scream my name.”

His fingers thrust into you with deliberate precision, and he leaned in closer, his breath hot against your cunt. “You’re going to cum for me, sweetheart,” he said, his voice dripping with sin. “And when you do, you’re going to fucking thank me for it.”

The vibrator buzzed relentlessly against your clit, and his fingers kept up their steady rhythm, hitting a spot that constantly made you see stars. Your body writhed on the couch, every nerve on fire, as the pleasure built to an unbearable peak.

“You like that, don’t you?” Daniel’s voice was a low growl, his lips brushing against your trembling thigh. “Being completely at my mercy? Taking exactly what I give you? That’s it, pretty girl. Stop thinking. Just feel me.”

His words broke through your haze of overthinking, and you let go, surrendering completely. The coil inside you snapped, sending you spiraling into an orgasm so intense it left you shaking, his name spilling from your lips like a prayer.

Daniel stayed with you through it, his touch unrelenting but steady, drawing out every wave of pleasure until you were left trembling, spent, and utterly undone beneath him.

Your chest heaved as you tried to catch your breath, your thighs trembling over Daniel’s broad shoulders. The vibrator slowed but didn’t stop, sending smaller, teasing jolts through your sensitive clit. His fingers withdrew carefully, and you whimpered at the loss, your body still pulsing from the aftershocks.

He straightened, his hands gripping your thighs firmly as he lowered your legs from his shoulders, guiding them down to wrap around his hips instead. Rising to his full height, Daniel moved onto the couch, the cushions dipping under his weight as he hovered over you. 

“You’re a fucking masterpiece,” he murmured, his voice deep and rough as he braced one arm on the back of the couch, the other trailing down to grip your jaw gently. “Look at you, trembling for me. Completely wrecked—and I’m not even close to being done with you.” 

His gaze was magnetic, holding yours captive as his lips hovered just above yours, a breath away. The heat of his body pressed against yours, his hips brushing yours in a way that made you gasp, your body instinctively arching toward him despite your exhaustion.

Your eyes widened as his words registered, your mind spinning as his intentions became clear. A fresh wave of heat pooled in your stomach, your body responding despite how utterly spent you felt.

“Oh, that’s right, sweetheart,” Daniel said, his lips curling into a wicked, filthy grin. “I’m going to make up for all those times you had to edge yourself, all the times you were so fucking close but couldn’t quite get there. That’s over now.”

He dipped his head, brushing his lips along the curve of your jaw, his stubble scraping against your heated skin and leaving a delicious burn in its wake. His hand slid down your body, fingers grazing your waist before gripping your thigh possessively. “You’re going to cum on my fingers again, on my tongue, on my cock—over and over until you’re wrecked, until you can’t even remember what it felt like to want more. I’ll make sure you’re completely satisfied, sweetheart.”

His teeth grazed the shell of your ear, his voice dropping even lower, rough with desire. “And I won’t stop until you’re a mess beneath me, begging for mercy or for more.” 

Taglist: @lilorose25 @thenotoriouserg @a-distantdreamer @leclercsluvs @fat-meh @wintxr-widow @amirahart @alishamai @rendezvoushn

[luimnigh]

so what is the meaning of omelas because I hear a different take every month

The Ones Who Walk Away From Omelas is a narrative where you're asked to imagine this Utopian city, on the day of a summer festival. While it does detail the city fairly clearly, it tells you to imagine whatever you want. Whatever political system, whatever religion, whatever floats your utopian boat. Want an orgy? Sure, go ahead. Want drugs? Not LeGuin's cup of tea, but go ahead.

And then when the narrator comes to the conclusion that no, you can't imagine that, that your idea of a civilisation must have someone suffering, gives you this imaginary child in some dank cellar, suffering in it's own filth. That the child must suffer for Omelas to prosper, and that everyone in Omelas knows about the child from adolescence onwards. And most people react to this in disgust, but eventually come to rationalise it through one philosophy or another.

And those who cannot rationalise their disgust away instead walk away into places much less imaginable.

There are many takes on this story: as an allegory for the West's resource exploitation of the less-developed world. As a trolley problem, either to choose one of the options based on different ethical frameworks, or to imagine a third. As a treatise to always be vigilant to the hidden evils around you. As a metaphor for how we temper our views of other societies by weighing their good and their evil, while ignoring the evil of our own. Some take it to say that we cannot improve our society without destroying it, and the only way to assuage us of the guilt is to abandon society, or to commit suicide. Others as a criticism of abandoning society, that those who walk away do nothing to actually help. Some even criticise that the suffering child is unexplained, unrealistic, makes no sense.

But like, the point of The Ones Who Walk Away From Omelas is best summed up in these lines that you might have seen before:

The trouble is that we have a bad habit, encouraged by pedants and sophisticates, of considering happiness as something rather stupid. Only pain is intellectual, only evil interesting. This is the treason of the artist: a refusal to admit the banality of evil and the terrible boredom of pain. If you can't lick 'em, join 'em. If it hurts, repeat it. But to praise despair is to condemn delight, to embrace violence is to lose hold of everything else. We have almost lost hold; we can no longer describe a happy man, nor make any celebration of joy. How can I tell you about the people of Omelas? They were not naive and happy children – though their children were, in fact, happy. They were mature, intelligent, passionate adults whose lives were not wretched. O miracle! but I wish I could describe it better. I wish I could convince you.

Emphasis mine.

The whole point of Omelas is demonstrating this point. That literary criticism, the decision of what is art, what is important, focuses on pain, on suffering, on evil as the only interesting things, and ignores happiness. That the reader is not contented in imagining a perfect world, that they must find a flaw to make it interesting.

So it offers up a nonsensical suffering child, a dark secret all those in Omelas know of, and must accept the suffering of or leave.

It's pointing out a flaw in the way people think about art, about what emotions are important and meaningful.

And given how all the above takes focus on the suffering child, and talk nothing about the Utopia... LeGuin was spot-on.

[scotianostra]

Happy Birthday to the Scottish  actress and director Pollyanna McIntosh born on 15th March 1979 in Edinburgh.

McIntosh grew up in Portugal and Colombia before returning to her native Scotland, where she first began performing, on stage, at The Edinburgh Festival. At 16, she left for London and soon became involved in indie filmmaking, her first paid gig was unaccredited as a stoner in the  Irvine Welsh triptych The Acid House, I must remember to ask my mate Gary McCormack if he knows her, as he had a starring role in the film.

Pollyanna moved moved to LA in 2004 where she appeared mainly on stage her biggest role of note was in the stage production The Woolgatherer before she earned her first big screen role, Stacy in 2005’s fantasy horror film, Headspace in 2005.

Although there is not much about her personal life, channel hopping Pollyanna must have been in demand in both the US and over this side of the Atlantic, she turned up in an episode of Taggart in 2009, and some low key US TV movies and a small part in Burke & Hare alongside David Hayman and Simon Pegg. Her first lead role was in a movie called The Woman which won a few awards around the European film festivals.

Back on the TV front Pollyanna was back over here in Waterloo Road and appeared in five of the six episodes of  Bob Servant Independent,  with the brilliant Brian Cox, the same year she turned up in her second Irvine Welsh film, Filth, with James McAvoy. McIntosh also played a regular in the Children’s BBC show M I High as Crime Minster.

Pollyanna’s first major role over in America was in the excellent Hap and Leonard, where she starred as Angel in Season one, she went on to star in two Seasons of the popular series Walking Dead as Anne ‘Jadis’ and has a recurring role in comedy-drama Lodge 49.

In 2020 Pollyanna starred in the horror thriller Revenge Ride about a young woman who joins an all-female gang and seeks revenge on a group of college American football players Pollyanna turned up as Anne in 6 episodes the spin off series The Walking Dead: World Beyond

Sticking with the horror theme that she has found her niche, she has a starring role in a Western-Horror called The Moonshine Gang of Cheyenne which is currently in development, Pollyanna has also turned up in Vikings: Valhalla as  Queen Ælfgifu. Miss McIntosh has a number of projects coming up one being a Sci-fi film The Primary Talent and a short Em & Selma Go Griffin Hunting.

Pollyanna McIntosh does her bit for charity, campaigning for the Joshua Nolan Foundation, raising funds for counselling sessions for grief-stricken relatives and those at risk of suicide, she is married to Grant Show who plays Blake Carrington in the reboot of Dynasty. 

IMDB have nothing new on Pollyanna, but there is a chance that she will appear in the upcoming Walking Dead Spinoff after rumors began circulating on social media that Pollyanna has been seen on the set.

[dustedmagazine]

Oozing Wound — We Cater to Cowards (Thrill Jockey)

Photo by Evan Jenkins

We Cater To Cowards by Oozing Wound

We Cater to Cowards is the fifth LP from Oozing Wound, appearing 11 years (say what?) down the road from the festival of thrashy hilarity that was Vape and Pillage, the band’s initial release. Back then, tunes like “Autopsy Turvy” formulated the ambivalent mix of headlong energy and smartassery that has consistently and sometimes irritatingly informed their music. The band can craft absolutely riveting experiences (“Hippie Speedball,” for instance, is flat-out terrific) but they have been just as ready to churn out cheap pastiche clad in flashy soloing and mean-spirited snark. As on their previous record, High Anxiety (2019), there’s still plenty of nod-and-wink irony in the semiotics of We Cater to Cowards; check out some of the song titles: “The Good Times (I Don’t Miss ’Em),” “Between Cults,” “Midlife Crisis Actor” (which is pretty funny). But also, like High Anxiety, the clowning is shot through with moments of more gravid character. There’s less petty derision and more emotionally hefty drama. Sonically speaking, this is a different Oozing Wound. We Cater to Cowards is a noise rock record.

That’s not exactly revelatory — the band has always been noisy. But their signature blend of top-speed thrashy chops and a punk-ish ethos has issued in a fairly familiar problem. For the genre-bound true believers, Oozing Wound’s records have been too metal for the punks and too punk for the heads. It would speculate overmuch to assert that the noise-rocking strut of We Cater to Cowards gestures toward a heavy-music third way, a new musical tactic seeking to solve Oozing Wound’s scenester dilemma. Likely the midtempo pace and thumping riffs around which most of the record coheres just felt right to longtime collaborators Zack Weil, Kevin Cribbin and Kyle Reynolds, as they wrote and played the songs. 

Whatever the motivations, it’s certainly the case that “The Good Times (I Don’t Miss Em)” sounds remarkably like Steel Pole Bath Tub, c. 1990. The more impressive trick Oozing Wound pulls off is that the song simultaneously sounds like an organic outgrowth of tunes like “Tween Shitbag” and “Filth Chisel” from High Anxiety. A little slower, a little dirtier, but possessed of the same mean streak and informed by a similar interest in excoriating the band’s own contributions to our current conjuncture. On “Total Existence Failure,” Weil snarls, “I’m the king of cultural waste / On a franchised throne across the space / That binds the world…” There’s more Scratch Acid in that sentiment than there is Anthrax, or even MOD. More notable here is the fact that We Cater to Cowards is a satisfying and sometimes thrilling record. Particularly in its final third, it finds a snarling, crunching groove that slots alongside the general feeling of our current socio-political conjuncture. “Midlife Crisis Actor” and “Old Sludge” are by turns sizzling and pummeling acts of musical mortification. 

An ironic distance from the ugliness represented in the songs was an intrinsic element of the early 1990s’ peak noise-rock moment, populated by bands that had learned their craft from Big Black and the Butthole Surfers. Unsane and Cows were great bands that put out some great records, but they lived and died by the grossout. On songs like “Bank Account Anxiety,” the first and best track on We Cater to Cowards, Oozing Wound seems to be evolving beyond the sniggering takedown. That’s a good thing. The songs still hit hard, and the ideas are hitting harder. 

Jonathan Shaw

[lgbtfilmes]

Na Cadência do Amor conta a história da tentativa de uma mãe de entender quem era seu filho após sua morte prematura. Seu mundo é repentinamente interrompido pela presença de seu amante. Juntos, eles tentam superar sua dor enquanto lutam contra o fato de não terem uma língua compartilhada. Na Cadência do Amor é um filme de drama romântico britânico de 2014 escrito e dirigido pelo diretor britânico nascido no Camboja Hong Khaou e produzido por Dominic Buchanan. O filme teve sua estreia mundial no dia 16 de janeiro de 2014, no primeiro dia do Festival de Cinema de Sundance , no qual participou do World Cinema Dramatic Competition. Ele ganhou o "Prêmio Cinematografia: World Cinema Dramatic" no festival. O filme foi lançado nos cinemas no Reino Unido em 8 de agosto de 2014 e nos Estados Unidos em 26 de setembro de 2014. O roteiro, originalmente intitulado Lilting the Past , ganhou o terceiro lugar na Brit List de 2011, uma lista dos melhores roteiros britânicos não produzidos. Na Cadência do Amor foi um dos três filmes com luz verde por Microwave no início de 2012. Uma chamada de elenco foi lançada mais tarde para os três papéis principais, mais tarde interpretados por Cheng Pei-pei , Ben Whishaw e Andrew Leung. As filmagens começaram em novembro de 2012 e completou a fotografia principal em dezembro de 2012. Diretor Khaou disse que o filme vai ser visualmente inspirado por Wong Kar-wai é In the Mood for Love. Durante a produção, como parte do esquema de microondas, Michael Winterbottom foi mentor do escritor / diretor Khaou, enquanto o produtor Buchanan foi orientado por Ken Marshall, produtor de London to Brighton , Filth and Song for Marion . Como acontece com todos os filmes de microondas, o orçamento foi de £ 120.000. É o primeiro filme bilíngue a ser feito sob o esquema de microondas. Recomendação: Uma Questão de Amor(2000) IMDb

[anothers-trash-my-treasure]

Stoners

Stoner Snaf <3 So this one's kinda weird, I based it around the Watch Me from fictober so if you haven't already read that, I suggest reading it first! It's also set in a post COVID world because I need something to look forward to. Disclaimer; I wrote this while very high last night and didn't really edit it so it's probably a mess.

Pairing: Merriell Shelton / Female Reader

Warnings: 18+, unprotected sex (don't do this), recreational drug use, if you squint there's some kinky undertones but nothing too crazy.

Word Count: 4.4K (i haven't written something this long is forever omf)

Tags: @edteche2 @xmxisxforxmaybe @diasimar @txmel @gloriousdarkangelsworld @paradoxicaltornado @404-not-found-xix

Enjoy and happy 4:20

~

Ever since the pandemic, you hadn’t been able to do crowds. Not like you used to anyways. It killed you a little bit because all the things you missed doing so much involved crowds; concerts, clubbing, festivals, travelling. Getting back into the swing of things took time. The feeling of being surrounded by people you don’t know set every one of your nerves on fire in the worst way. It felt so...

Uncomfortable.

This is probably why you didn’t last more than a half-hour at some seedy dive bar your friends had dragged you out to for the night. They begged you to go out with them, if even only for a drink or two. It had been so long since the whole group had a proper outing, it was nice to have the gang out for a night. Until some dickhead grabbed your ass and whispered some unwanted filth in your ear, his breath hot and unpleasant on your skin. After that, you were quick to grab your bag and say goodbye to your friends. You knew they were disappointed, but you could still feel the strangers breathe on your skin like it had been singed.

You welcomed the cool air of the night, feeling it immediately cool your skin. You hadn’t realized how warm it was inside but now that you were out in the open, you felt better. The burning on your neck had settled, more of an afterthought now. Your brain still felt overwhelmed, and you knew exactly how to remedy that.

Sitting down at one of the picnic table benches nearby, you began to sift through your bag when a voice rang out through the quiet streets.

“Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,”

You’d know that slow drawl anywhere, you’d go so far as to say it near haunted your dreams.

“Merriell Shelton,” you beam up at him as he walks closer to you, nodding at his friends to continue without him, “I haven’t seen you since-”

“That last party.” He nods, smiling at you in the way where you’re not quite sure if he’s flirting with you or if he’s just that naturally gorgeous, “when I taught ya’ how to smoke.”

An excited smile bubbles onto your face and you shake your head at him, “Oh, you’d be so proud of me. I’ve grown so much since then.”

You resume digging through your bag to find your various forms of weed paraphernalia you carry with you. The pandemic had not been kind to you, and some days it felt like the only thing keeping your head above water was your bedtime joint. It wasn’t something you were terribly proud of, but it helped your anxiety and that was good enough for you lately.

He barks out a laugh at your response and you can’t help the pride the swells up inside of you knowing that you made him laugh like that. He comes to sit on the bench, placing himself close enough that it wasn’t weird, but far away enough so that he wasn’t directly in your space.

“What, you some kinda stoner or something now?” he asks as you layout your joints and pipes. He whistles, a mix between being impressed and mocking, when you pull out your vape too, “Damn, you got a bong in there too?”

Now it’s your turn to laugh, “No, that stays at home.” you say with a wink, “So, how have you been?” you ask, starting to put everything but your joints back in your bag.

He blows out through his lips and laughs a little, running a hand through his hair, “Been better lately, that’s all that matters, I s’pose.” He watched, something like a weird form of pride in his eyes as you pull out a joint and light it carefully. You certainly can’t complain, you forgot how great it felt to have his eyes on you.

You hum knowingly, “That’s what I keep telling myself, anyway,” you hold the joint up hesitantly.

“I don’t usually share my joints anymore, but if you’ve got your shots...” you shrug, your sentence tapering off. It’s a weird world you live in now, no one quite knows what’s socially acceptable anymore.

He smirks at you, amused, taking the joint from your fingers, “I’ve got my shots alright,”

His eyes don’t leave yours as he brings it up to his lips and takes his hit. He’s not even doing anything out of the ordinary, but he looks like he’s up to no good in every way. It’s like he’s just taking you in as if comparing you to the girl he met years ago.

“You changed,” he comments on an exhale, passing it back.

You nod, laughing softly, “Turns out I get really impulsive when I’m alone,”

He scoffs, “tell me about it,” and then he’s shrugging off his hoodie to reveal a handful of new tattoos covering his skin, “Buddy of mine is an artist,”

You gasp, ‘ooo’ing at some of the more complex pieces. Without thinking your hand darts out to let your fingers drag against his forearm, following the linework of the ink. His muscle twitches beneath your fingers involuntarily and you’re reminded of how long you’ve gone without intimate touches like this. You wonder if it’s the same for him. Did he long to be touched so innocently like this too?

“They’re wonderful,” you say, pulling your hand away, still admiring from a distance.

“Yea, I like ‘em.” He shrugs, nodding at you to take the last pulls from the joint, it’s your weed after all, “You get any?”

You shook your head, “No, surprisingly enough every time I finally convinced myself to book an appointment, shops got shut down again.” You said, only kind of bitterly.

He laughs and you scowl at him, “Aw, baby, don’t be like that,” he laughs, swatting at you half-heartedly, “Look, I betcha I can get you a discount at my buddy’s shop.”

You eye him suspiciously, “I can’t tell if you’re kidding.”

He puts a hand to his chest with a lazy smirk, “On god,”

You bite your lip to suppress a smile, shaking your head lightly, “Okay fine but that just means you’ll get to see a whole lot more of me,”

His smirk turns darker, into something more playfully suggestive, “I have no problem with that,”

A silence fills the space between you as you both take each other in. You had really only hung out with him that one night and nothing had really happened. You just sat and talked really. You talked for a while. You talked so long you didn’t realize the party had ended until your friend came to get you. You exchanged numbers and then just a few weeks after, you were instructed to start isolating. You’d kept up a steady social media friendship since then, but you had missed actually talking to him. He wasn’t much of a texter. The silence only lasts a moment, but it feels thick with tension.

“You look good by the way,” he comments, leaning ever so slightly closer to you, “I meant to say that earlier but then you made me strip for ya-”

“Whoawhoawhoa!!” you sputter through a laugh, “I did not make you do anything, you did that yourself.”

He shakes his head at you, “Nah, that doesn’t sound like me.”

You're giggling at this point, “You’re ridiculous.”

He beams at you, clearly pleased with himself for the moment. It settles for a second as he looks at you, eyes softening a bit before he glances down, nudging your knee with his a bit, “I missed you,” He cringes a bit, “I know it’s weird to say but, I did.”

Your nodding before you can even think to play it even a little bit cool, “No, I get it,” you assure him, smiling softly, “I missed you too, actually.”

He hums, smiling a rare soft smile at you before changing the subject, clearly wanting to shift the attention away from his moment of vulnerability, “So why aren’t you inside?” he asks.

“Oh,” you glance back at the bar behind you, having forgotten it was even there, “I was heading out, I wasn’t really in the mood for dive bars tonight.”

He nods, “The crowds right?” you nod and he’s talking again before you can ask him how he knows that, “I get it, sometimes being so close to that many people again makes me wanna crawl out my skin.” he chuckles.

You nod, a weight lifting off your shoulders to know you’re not alone, “Exactly, it’s not something I’ve gotten used to yet.”

“Well, can I walk you home?” he offers with a smile, “I’m in no rush to head in there,”

You smile and nod, “I’d like that,”

~

Somehow he had ended up on your couch. You weren’t entirely sure when walking you home had turned to him being on your couch, but you certainly weren’t complaining. You were both pleasantly high, talking anything from movie theories to possible dystopian futures and alien invasions.

“Look, I’m jus’ sayin’ that if I was an alien, I wouldn’t wanna fuck a human, are you kidding?” he reasons, eyes squinted as if he’s offended and your laughing so hard you have tears in your eyes, “Nah, I’m goin’ for a much cooler species.”

He watches you as you fight back giggles at his ridiculousness, a lazy, grin settled on his face. He reaches for his jacket that’s slung across the arm of the couch, reaching into his pocket to pull out his own stash and you gasp, mocking offence.

“You had your own weed all this time and you’ve been smoking mine?”

He rolls his eyes, settling the joint between his lips and lighting it. He inhales slowly, watching the tip as it sparks to life, eyes flicking back to you as he exhales, “I was gonna share,”

He holds out the joint for you, however as soon as you go to steal it he holds it back, just out of your reach, “what’s the magic word?”

“Oh my god, are you kidding?” you ask through a laugh, straining forward further in an effort to reach it but you’re hindered from the way you’re sitting. You make grabby hands at it instead.

“Ya want it or not?” he asks, eyebrows raised expectantly. There’s a tension between the two of you, still mostly playful but turning ever the more thick as the moments pass by.

You huff, getting comfy again in your spot, keeping your hand stretched out lazily, “Please,”

As soon as the word leaves your lips you can see his eyes get darker, that infuriating smirk only stretching across his face and you’re so mad that that’s all it takes for the playfulness between you to shatter into pure sexual tension.

Without a word he hands you the joint, enjoying the way you quickly bring it into your mouth for a deep drag to calm your rising nerves. It’s infuriating, how good he looks like this. All calm and relaxed on your couch in the low living room light, curls messy and looking at you through hooded eyelids. You want him. Just his eyes on you like this has a warmth pooling in the pit of your stomach.

You try to play it cool though, taking another slow drag and enjoying the way the smoke rises up around you. His eyes zero in on your lips, watching with a peaked interest as they wrap around the filter, watching the way the smoke escapes them. Neither of you say a word for a while. Just sitting in a comfortable quiet, a forgotten Spotify playlist playing in the background as you pass the joint back and forth.

He didn’t make his move until the final few hits of it. He shifts to sit straighter on your couch, a little more proper. What left his mouth was anything but.

“C’mere,” he says lowly, cocking his head to the side and gesturing to his lap, “gotta nice seat for ya,”

You don’t hesitate to comply, your high erasing any ideas of playing hard to get. You maneuver yourself as gracefully as you can, swinging a leg over his and settling there, straddling him comfortably with his hands on your hips. Once you're settled he raises the joint to his lips, taking in the last drag, eyes glimmering in the low light of the room. He holds it for a second, one hand moves upwards to cup the back of your neck and pulls you in closer.

Your lips are so close, the tension crackling between you like electricity. He tilts his head ever so slightly, lips parting to exhale the smoke into your mouth. You inhale on impulse and your mind goes blank as your lips brush ever so slightly together. You knew people said shotgun kisses were hot, but you had never truly believed them until now.

You know you should pull away to exhale, but you can still feel his lips brushing against yours and your mind is dizzy from the weed and from him and you can’t take it anymore. You close the distance the rest of the way, kissing him slowly through your exhale, smoke slipping through your lips as he returns the motion.

You kiss him like that for a while, enjoying his hands on your waist and the feeling of his chest beneath your hands. You were quickly realizing that Merriell was his own kind of drug. You’d only had a little taste of him and yet you found yourself craving more. His fingers flex against your body and you can’t help to low noise that slips out of your throat. It only spurs him on, emitting a growling sound of his own as he tugs you closer, dragging you against his growing erection. Your hand slides into his hair in response, feeling like you’re so high on weed and him that you might just fly away.

“Is this okay?” he asks against your lips, letting his forehead press against yours while he waits for your response.

You hum your affirmative, nodding your head quickly while diving back into for another kiss, this one much more ravenous than the last. God, you felt like you were starving for him. You couldn’t get enough at the way his tongue slid against yours, the feeling of his hands gliding up and down your body. They continue down the curve on your spine, settling once they reach the globes of your ass.

“You don’t know how many times I thought ‘bout this,” he mumbles, pulling away to stare at you teasingly through hooded eyelids. His accent, already a slow drawl, comes out much thicker when he’s high like this. It washes over you like honey. He smirks at you and before you can begin to wonder what he’s up to he brings one of his hands down in a sound smack against your right ass cheek.

You gasp at the feeling, dulled by the layer of your jeans but rippling throughout your sensitive skin nonetheless. You laugh lowly against his cheek, “likewise,”

He bites his lip on a grin, capturing your lips in a single, filthy kiss as if he knows exactly what it’ll do to you. Your hands wander up under his t-shirt, nails digging in sightly, just as a preview, returning the favour.

Like a switch, he’s on you a little more urgently and things begin to move faster. His hands tug on your shirt impatiently and you obediently part to take it off, shucking your bra off as well, and feeling pleased when he follows your lead. Your hands explore each other's bodies, every inch of new skin. It’s not long before he switches positions, standing up and dropping you back on the couch so that this time you’re laying on it properly. Without wasting a moment, you wiggle your jeans off, tossing them somewhere over the coffee table and taking in the way his eyes darken further at the sight of you.

He crawls his hips between your legs, capturing your lips in a messy kiss before starting to trail them down your body. Your high has your skin feeling so sensitive, every soft brush of his lips feeling like a shock of electricity through your body. He spends time on your breasts, marking and kneading them with his hands, enjoying how responsive you are beneath his ministrations. Though he doesn’t spend long there, clearly more interested in another prize.

He settles, this time his shoulders keeping your legs spread. He presses a soft kiss to your inner thigh, lets his fingers dust over your panty-covered pussy. Your muscles twitch at the feeling, and you feel your cunt clench around nothing. He looks good there, tattoos cover his skin and you long to be able to leave something that permanent on him. Fuck, you want him so bad.

He grins at you, knowing exactly how impatient you must be feeling. And that bastard uses it to his advantage. Sucking marks into your thigh just to watch your squirm. Eventually, he pulls your panties to the side, letting his fingers slide through your folds. He whistles lowly between his teeth.

“Mmm, baby, you this wet for me already?”

The whimper that leaves your lips is pitiful, your hips twitching in an attempt to get the pressure where you need it. He chuckles under his breath, eyes darting between your heat and your face, “Look at you,” he near coos, letting his thumb trace circles around your clit, watching as your mouth drops on a silent moan, “You want it so bad, don’t cha? Sweet thing...”

“Are you gonna be an asshole like this all night?” you ask, breathless but trying to redeem some of your dignity through what little wit you have left.

He laughs, sinking a finger into your heat just to watch the pleasure ripple across your face, “Don’t pretend like you don’t love it.”

And he’s right of course. You do love it, love the way he comments on how wet you are for him, almost mocking. Love the way he’s taking his time to find the most sensitive parts of your body and using them to his advantage. You let out a breathy moan as his finger brushes your G-spot.

The sound must do something to him because within a second he's attaching his mouth to your pussy with a growl, not even bothering to remove your panties before doing so. The heat of his tongue on your clit as his finger works that sweet spot inside of you turns your breathy moan into one much louder.

He’s good with his mouth because of course, he is. Within moments you feel like you're right on edge. And the smug bastard knows it too if the amused glint in his eyes is anything to go by. Your one hand twists in his curls, encouraging his movements while your other works at your nipple.

“God,” you whine, tugging at his hair as you feel heat wind up your spine. You swear you’ve never felt this good. It only takes another flick of his tongue against your click before your orgasm rips through you, thighs attempting to squeeze around his head, stopped by his free hand holding your one leg open so he can work you through it. Your body twitches in its aftershocks, mewling pathetically when the simulation starts to ride that edge between pain and pleasure.

“It’s just Merriell, actually,” he supplies when he pulls away with a smirk.

“I fucking hate you,” you breathe out, pulling him up your body so you can kiss him again, despite your words. He laughs, moaning softly against your lips when your hand finds the bulge in his jeans.

He kisses you for a while, letting you paw at him for a bit before he pulls away to work them off his body. There’s no real rush, the high allowing you to take it slow and enjoy the moment as opposed to the frenzied fucking drinking tends to lead you to.

You whine and he laughs at you, low and cocky as he leans down for another wet kiss, “You hurtin’ that bad for it, baby?”

You beam up at him from your place on the couch, feeling comfy and sexy with the way his eyes trail across your skin, leaving a tingling feeling in their wake. You shrug, watching with interest as he rids himself of his briefs, admiring his cock as he awaits your response.

“It’s been a while,” You say, distracted as you anticipate the stretch required for your body to accommodate him, ‘I’m excited, sue me.”

His hands use your hips to drag you closer to him, lifting one leg onto his shoulder while letting the other wrap around his body. He leans down to kiss you and you only have half a second to wonder the last time your legs were stretched like this before the feeling of his cock at your entrance steals the breath from your lungs.

Your mouth drops open, a moan caught in your throat as he slowly sinks into you. Your eyes roll back, shamelessly enjoying the stretch as he sinks, inch by slow, pleasurable inch. He continues the slowness, but you’re not sure he’s doing so on purpose.

When your eyes focus again you see the definition of bliss on his face as he thrusts slowly in and out of you, moaning lowly in his throat.

“Fuck,” he says, drawing the word out through gritted teeth, “that’s it, takin’ me so good.”

His thrusts begin to pick up, still fucking you slowly but with more force behind them. Each sharp movement of his hips as the tip of his cock dragging sweetly against the deepest parts of you, and it feels so fucking good. In the moment, it’s intense. He’s folded over you, holding your leg against your chest so he can suck and bite at your neck as he fucks you. You can’t help the filthy moans you let loose in his ear, one hand fisted in his hair while the other digs your nails into the smooth skin of his back.

“Merriell,” you gasp, feeling distinctly insane with the pleasure you're feeling. Your head drops back onto the couch, body jolting with each thrust of his hips. It’s good, god, it’s so good. But the need that burns through your veins makes you impatient, “Let me ride you.”

The words are out of your mouth before you can stop them, but it’s a suggestion he is clearly open to acting upon. He quickly pulls out, sitting back in his original position and pulling you on top of him.

“Be my gu-” he doesn’t finish his sentence, instead tapering off into a moan as you waste no time in sinking down on to him again, “Christ,”

You waste no time. Quickly stabling yourself with your hands on his shoulder and maneuvering yourself up and down on his cock. Now it’s your turn to watch him. Watch him as his eyes roll back and his hands grip your hips with a vice-like grip. That smirk never strays from his face though, clearly enjoying himself.

“You look so pretty like this,” he talks, bringing a hand down on your ass again, loving the way it spurs you on, “talk to me baby, tell me how it feels.”

You moan, loud and borderline pornographic, “You feel so good,” you breathe, biting harshly down on his lip, savouring the growl that vibrates through the both of you, “Oh, fuck, Merriell, you feel so good,” You emphasize your words with a particularly good roll of your hips.

You can tell he’s getting close by the way his hips start to snap upwards to meet yours and the way his brows furrow in concentration, “Fuck, baby girl,” he groans, unaware at the way the nickname makes you melt, “tell me you’re getting close. I wanna feel you cum around my cock.”

You nod immediately, pulling on his hair so you can capture his lips harshly, letting him bite your lip and pull your hips frantically against his own, “yes,” you whimper, “yes, yes, fuck imgonnacum,” you rush out, feeling like every touch he’d ever laid on you compiling into this one moment. It’s completely overwhelming and for a moment, you blackout.

When you come to he's kissing at your neck, hands massaging and pull at your ass, helping you ride of the aftershocks of your orgasm. His sounds have turns high and desperate against your neck, hands gripping at your skin so hard you think you’ll have bruises tomorrow. He needs you to keep going. Give him something.

The small, dare you say whimpery, “Oh baby, please,” has you moving quickly, almost as desperate to make him finish as he is to finish.

In the blink of an eye, you’ve lifted yourself off of him and onto your knees in front of him, quickly enveloping his entire length into the warmth of your mouth.

“Oh fuck, baby,” He moans urgently, both hands coming to tangle in your hair as you work your mouth over his cock, eyes trained on his face, “Fuck, I can’t-”

You hum, encouraging and within seconds you feel him reach his climax. His head thrown back, hips twitch upwards into the welcoming heat of your mouth, a low long moan pulled from his throat. He lets you bring him down, continuing to suck and lick softly at his spent cock, eyes lazily following your every movement.

When he finally pulls you up off the floor it’s to kiss you, lazy and heated. You collapse basically on top of him as you kiss, unbothered by the smallness of the couch and the cold air that bites at your cooling skin. He makes a noise in his throat when you pull away, watching in amusement as his eyes barely open to look at you.

“‘M so fuckin’ high.”

It pulls a laugh from you, bubbling up from your chest. He smiles, bright, relaxed and dazzling, “Hope you weren’t plannin’ on kickin’ me out because ‘m not movin’ for a while,”.

You rest your head on his chest, letting yourself sink into the moment with him, your own high coming back to you as you bask in the post-sex haze.

“You're still gonna get me discounted tattoos though right?"

[deepfriedhopesanddreams]

It may not be much but it the least I could do...

Wraiths are not like doppels, they do not have maps or helpers, instead they move freely. They are quite peaceful creatures but if you acknowledge their existence, they will try and kill you... Literally. They do not die, they can reform, meaning the Lost bots (the only willing heroes) just keep them around in bubbles. The ancient Lost bots have been fighting against these things for a long time, they discovered some Wraiths are actually bots who have deep desires, meaning wraiths are actually made by wishes. Also the darker the colors, the older they are...

Here are some Wraiths that I can do for now...

Performer Wraith

This wraith always wished for a good show but can't preform all because she had to get rid of wraiths almost all the time, now that she can preform... Where are her audience?

Festivities Wraith

This one always wanted to party but they have to be responsible... Now that they could do whatever they want... What should they do now?

Clutter Wraith

This one was overconfident and rude, and always believed that his art is better than anything. He wished that he can make the greatest artwork. But his arrogance got the better of him...

This is what the clutter Wraith looked like before he became a wraith. His name is Scribbles scout. He'd been gone for too long...

After the Lost bots managed to defeat him, they kept his "marble" (spark) near a engine orb (engine for the tiny vehicles) which looked identical, Clogstopper got confused and picked the marble and connected it to Frostferatu's ride the Sugar rusher. Now forever haunting the vehicle for all eternity...

Eureka Wraith

He wished for infinite knowledge... Look how that got em into...

Sanitary Wraith

She wished to clean, now her lower half is nothing but a disgusting mass of filth... She is forced to clean no matter what...

Love Wraith

Love struck himself. This was before Love struck joined the Lost bots. Since he can see those wraiths. He wished to heal everyone, but they never cared for him at all... But Strike four was different from everyone else...

[vince-noir-666]

Beyond The Boosh – The Noel Fielding Interview (Posted on November 5, 2015)

Boosh Baby: Noel Fielding is heading your way (Photo: Dave Brown)

Memorably once described by Jimmy Carr as looking like ‘Rod Stewart has made love to a raven’, that there Noel Fielding’s back out on the road this month.

Hot on the heels of a successful first couple of legs of his tour, the 42-year-old Londoner – best known for multi-award winning comedy The Mighty Boosh – continues with his An Evening with Noel Fielding tour.

This being Noel, you can expect a magical mix of his somewhat unique brand of stand-up, live animation, music and meet a few of his best-known TV characters, such as the Moon and Fantasy Man, with guest slots thrown in from the likes of Noel’s brother Michael Fielding and Tom Meeten, both familiar to Boosh fans.

Noel’s never been one to rest on his laurels, or his hardys for that matter, and as well as a successful writing partnership with Julian Barratt – the NME labelling them ‘the funniest comedy double-act in Britain’ – he’s worked on several other successful projects, not least the half-live action, half-animated Noel Fielding’s Luxury Comedy, which also starred several Boosh regulars and included music by Kasabian’s Sergio Pizzorno.

Then there were his roles as Cradle of Filth-loving Goth Richmond on The IT Crowd and Jones the DJ on Nathan Barley, appearances in Doll & Em, How Not to Live Your Life, Michael McIntyre’s Comedy Roadshow, Comic Relief Does Top of the Pops, The Big Fat Quiz of the Year, his long-running team captaincy on Never Mind the Buzzcocks, and a little film work too.

As a solo performer, 2002’s Perrier Award-nominated debut show Voodoo Hedgehog also helped cement his live reputation, and then there were the art exhibitions – Psychedelic Dreams of the Jelly Fox and Bryan Ferry vs. the Jelly Fox – and his Scribblings of a Madcap Shambleton book of old and new paintings, drawings and photography.

But it was his link-up with Julian Barratt that made Noel’s name, first bringing to life Howard Moon and Vince Noir in the upstairs room of a North London pub, the Booshmaking their Edinburgh Festival debut in 1998, winning the Perrier Award for Best Newcomer, further Edinburgh live shows and more awards following.

By 2001 the duo were commissioned by the BBC to write and star in a six-part comedy series for Radio 4 that won the Douglas Adams Award, their first TV series aired on BBC Three in 2004, soon moving to BBC2.

The awards and re-commissions continued, 2005’s series two leading to the duo’s first nationwide live tour, overwhelming public demand seeing the dates double in size, performing to some 100,000 punters and culminating in a sell-out five-night recorded run at Brixton Academy. A third series followed in late 2007 and a second UK live tour, Future Sailors, involved 100 arena performances, playing to more than a quarter of a million fans.

Untitled Sequence: Noel Fielding with Alan Davies and co on As Yet Untitled (Photo: Dave)

Fast forward to today, and Noel remains something of a regular on our TV sets, most recently spotted by this scribe on Alan Davies’ As Yet Untitled for Dave, where he told a rather compelling, typically-entertaining story about his brief spell in retail down in Brighton.

“Oh my God, I know! I recently saw Kevin Bishop from Star Stories, and we have a mutual friend, Dolly Wells, from Doll and Em, and we were with her, chatting about our absolute nightmare stories from when we got too drunk, and got on to that. That was a long time ago. I’m not even sure if that shop’s still there. If it is, I’d love to go in and say hello.”

Might that be the retirement plan one day – a move away from this business called show to take on a busy boutique somewhere?

“Do you know what? The reason we actually did that in the last Boosh series, when we had this second-hand shop, was because I thought it would be quite fun to work in a second-hand shop. I don’t know why. It’s probably really hard work, but … maybe. And I’ve got enough clothes that I could easily do that. It wouldn’t even make a dent in my collection.”

Perhaps you should start collecting envelopes now, unless you go on a till-training course.

“Exactly, or use some sort of barter system.”

Meanwhile, the live work continues, Noel now embarked upon on a month-long leg of his current tour. I take it – I ask – he’s enjoying the live experience.

“Yeah. I loved doing it the first time, with quite a big tour here, then went to Australia and New Zealand. That was really good fun. There were places we didn’t quite reach, first time, so we thought it might be nice to do another month and hit all those.

“And the shows got better and better. When we first went out in England, we’d just written it, so there were a few teething problems. By the time we got to Australia for that second phase, it was much stronger. So I’m hoping that phase three … this is where it takes!”

Mighty Alrighty : Julian Barratt and Noel Fielding (Photo: The Mighty Boosh!)

I’m guessing you know the set well enough to comfortably come off-plan?

“Totally! It’s a bit jazzy. It allows pockets of improvisation, I suppose. But there are a lot of points I have to hit. There’s stand-up in it, and the Moon’s got an alter-ego, a Dark Side. There are a few new characters, some sketchy stuff and some songs, and animation.”

Are you good at remembering what you’ve come up with on the night, or do you have moments where you did something good but can’t quite recall what?

“Weirdly, comedians never forget a joke. It’s the oddest thing. I can’t remember anything else, but I’ll never forget a joke! Somehow it comes back to you, and comedians never throw anything away.

”In the second half, there’s a break and then – after an hour of material – you have to introduce some sort of narrative, otherwise it gets a bit boring. I like to mix it up live. I can see comedians and they’re absolutely brilliant, but sometimes after 50 minutes I’ve had enough if it’s just stand-up.

“I was determined not to do that. I’ll do 45 minutes or so then make it more sketchy, or more cabaret-like, bring in some music, bring others on stage, some animation, then in the second half really get some narrative going.

“To raise it from there, I go and chat to the crowd. That makes it a bit more exciting and zingy. At the end, we bring someone on from the crowd, and they go into the animation. So hopefully there’s something for everyone.

“It’s a long show, but we work very hard at it, and if you work really hard at a live show you don’t have to worry so much about it when you take it out on tour. It’s quite knackering being on tour, so you don’t want to just be constantly fixing or tweaking stuff to make it work for you.”

Some would have you down as an improviser above all else, but you can’t be just that. There must be some preparation.

“You have to a little bit … yeah. Me and Russell (Brand) were talking about an unplanned show, because we’re both quite good at that. But there’s something slightly unsatisfying about a show that’s completely improvised. It can never be as good.”

Mannequin Madness: Noel Fielding and a friend, live

It seems to work with yourself and Russell though.

“Well, we did a Royal Albert Hall gig for the Teenage Cancer Trust, in which we literally had a few bullet points – that’s all! It was like, ‘Oh my God, this could be an absolute disaster!’ But somehow we always managed. I think you can if there’s an audience there, playing off them.”

Isn’t that just a special vibe with Russell? Could you even do that with Julian, as well as you know him?

“I think we could a bit, but with Julian it’s very jazzy. He likes to know what the theme is.”

There’s no obvious foil with you two. You’re both a bit off-kilter.

“The thing with Julian is he likes to know what he’s doing, go off then come back. He’s obsessed with Miles Davis, whereas with me and Russell, we’re quite free-form. There’s not even a script to begin with. We’re jumping off an invisible script at the same time! It can be good, can be quite chaotic, but occasionally you need a little bit of structure.”

You mentioned music links in the show, there was the Never Mind the Buzzcocks team captain’s role, and you have a few celebrity mates from that world. If you had a chance to nip back to any time in the history of music, which band do you wish you could have slotted in with?

“It would have to be the ‘70s, in the days of glam probably … or prog. Marc Bolan’s band, or a proggy rock band like Hawkwind. I love all that stuff, and Frank Zappa and Captain Beefheart. Me and Julian were obsessed with all that – the dressing up and the weird psychedelic, frightening stuff.

“It’s a bit conservative now, and I feel a little sorry for the kids. When you’re young it’s quite fun to dress up. I should imagine going to a Ziggy Stardust concert would have been pretty good if you all dressed up and went out together. Now, there’s not so much of that going on. Or maybe there is but I just don’t know about it. There certainly doesn’t seem to be too much ‘out there’ stuff.”

I’d personally steer clear of all The Rocky Horror Show type scene, but could see you in Beefheart or early Roxy Music.

Pleasure Seekers: Roxy Music in 1973, from the gatefold sleeve of their For Your Pleasure LP. Noel Fielding not yet added.

“I absolutely love Roxy Music! Then again, The Rocky Horror Show stuff is sort of amazing, and people love to join in with all that. Something like that today would go down so well, when people are more used to being in front of a camera or being in the limelight now.”

We heard it here first, eh?

“Yeah! Well, it was your idea!”

On a similar note, do you think you could have taken on being a full-time art teacher?

“I make a joke about that! I dunno, I like the art side a lot – paintings and animation, so it was good we were able to bring a bit of that into our live shows and with Julian, as with the music. But I don’t know if I would have been happy just doing that. I did a little teaching when I was at sixth form, and there’s something quite amazing about that.”

Perhaps you’d have been happy if you could have done that by day, and played in a glam or prog band by night.

“Maybe that would have been okay! There’s something quite rewarding about teaching. Kids are very open to learning.”

What were you like at school? Were you the quiet one, waiting for a moment to tap all these ideas?

“I was quite shy, but good at painting quite early on, so I think it was always felt I would go on and do that. The idea of performing was probably a bit frightening. I probably said maybe I was going to be a comedy writer.

“Then I started reading lots and realised I might have to do some stand-up, which seemed quite horrifying to me at the time. I did a few gigs at art college and they sort of went okay, so I thought I’d give myself a year when I left art school to go on the dole, try and get housing benefit, and do as many gigs as I could and see what happens.

“As it turned out, it all happened quite quickly. I think in my heart I felt I could do it. I had friends who were much more gregarious, outgoing and better performers, but maybe they didn’t have as much writing behind them. I had a whole backlog. You can get a certain way on performance and character alone, but you really need a lot of ideas.”

Buzzcocks Banter: Noel, right, with Phill Jupitus, left, and Rhod Gilbert on the Never Mind the Buzzcocks set (Photo: BBC)

There have been several key moments along the way – like meeting Julian, or Bill Bailey asking if you’d like to try Never Mind the Buzzcocks.

“I know! In a way, you can’t control stuff. It’s weird. When you’re looking for it, it never really happens. The thing with meeting Julian – I don’t think that will ever happen again. Now we’ve not done the Boosh for a while, it’s clear how much people love that show and how special our relationship was. Double acts are few and far between anyway, but good ones are like unicorns – they just don’t exist.”

Don’t tell my youngest daughter that, I add, before Noel continues.

“With Julian we had a natural chemistry and could write together, which was pretty insane. You then think, I’ll be able to do that with lots of other people, but you can’t actually … or at least only to a degree.”

Seeing as you mentioned unicorns there, can you really talk to the animals, you’re your character, Mowgli in flares?

“I do have a weird sort of affinity with animals, although I’m not that bothered. My girlfriend loves animals, but they always bite or sting her, even jellyfish. With me, they always seem to love me, especially dogs. They tend to follow me about, and I’m like, ‘Look, come on, I’ve told you!’

Speaking of your other half – radio presenter Lliana Bird – have you any ambitions to do a bit more DJing – like Jones on Nathan Barley. Or are there already too many of those in your house?

“I think there are too many. I’d like to do a bit more acting, if something interesting came along. But it would have to be more interesting than whatever I was writing. That’s always going to be the case, unless what you’re offered is unusual.”

Personally, I’d love to see you and Russell come up with, as mooted a while ago by the tow of you, The Goth Detectives.

“I’d like to do that as well! But Russell’s quite hard to pin down, now he’s gone political. I’ve not seen him for a while.”

Goth Detectives: Russell Brand and Noel Fielding (Photo: http://www.teenagecancertrust.org/)

I guess we all expect the two of you to be partying all the time, but I guess the reality of it is probably quite tame – a cup of coffee and some Digestives perhaps?

“Well, especially with Russell. He hasn’t drunk for years. He likes a coffee, yeah – a coffee and mung beans! I don’t know what he’s up to at the moment. He’ll have something up his sleeve though.”

I was talking to Steve Diggle from the Buzzcocks the other day. I didn’t dare mention I had you up next though, in case he expected royalties from the makers of Never Mind the Buzzcocks.

“I do see him occasionally. He must live around here.”

He told me he lived quite close to Noel Gallagher actually.

“Really? I think I saw him around Highgate way. They’re an amazing band, aren’t they. But it’s gutting that Never Mind The Buzzcocks has been cancelled now.”

I must have missed that announcement. Apparently so – after 18 years, 28 series and nearly 270 episodes.

“Yeah. That’s really annoying. I loved doing that, and loved working with Phill (Jupitus) as well.”

Do you see Phill – who memorably described Noel as ‘a gothic George Best’ – socially outside of the show?

“We’re mates, yeah. He’s such a lovely dude, a good artist as well. We send each other art books and things. A lovely man.”

Totally Wired: Noel Fielding is plugged in (Image: Dave Brown)

Many moons ago, when he was doing his stint with Go! Discs and I was writing my Captains Log fanzine, I’m pretty sure I received something from his office, and he’d signed a compliments slip in his Porky the Poet guise. Unfortunately, I think it’s long gone now.

“Actually, I think he might actually have started doing some poetry again, in Edinburgh last year.”

Who do you think the real Noel Fielding is closest to, character-wise – Richmond Avenal or Vince Noir? Or maybe the Moon?

“It was Vince, but I might be getting too old now. I’m getting like the Moon now, forgetting stuff, getting stuff wrong. Those characters I think were the ones that were probably the closest to me, rather than the scary ones like Old Gregg.

“I did like The Hitcher though, because it allowed me to play a slightly more evil character … or as evil as I can go. I’m not very evil naturally. When Julian goes evil, like with The Crack Fox, it’s really quite horrifying. But he’s quite sweet as well.”

I mention a wonderful visual gag on The IT Crowd where someone comes to look for Richmond in the office, and he’s hiding on the ceiling. Was that one of Noel’s ideas?

“Erm … I don’t think it was. I think it was one of Graham (Linehan)’s, but he was very generous and let us have a lot of ideas for our characters. I seem to think I was very hungover when I did that scene, and nearly vomiting.

“But when Graham said he was interested in talking to me about the part, I had an idea straight away for the voice. There was a documentary about Pink Floyd, live in Pompeii, and it made me laugh the way they were very posh … (Noel switches to his Richmond voice) because Goths are often quite posh.

Gothic Masterpiece: Noel’s Richmond Avenal, with The IT Crowd co-stars Katherine Parkinson and Richard Ayoade (Photo: Channel 4)

“Cockneys or chavs would never dress like Goths, really. I was a bit of a chav myself, but think the working classes like to dress a bit more smart, like Mods, whereas I imagine most New Romantics and Goths were middle class.”

Is that right you shared a flat with Lee Mack?

“Yeah … years ago. We lived together for two years running in Edinburgh, for six weeks or so while we were doing the Festival. Me and Julian, Lee and another comedian one year, then the year after it was me, Julian, all the Boosh, Lee, and someone else.

“Those days were quite fun. It’s the only time you ever live with other comedians. Some of them can be quite annoying, but Lee is probably the funniest person I’ve ever known. Or maybe it’s between Rich Fulcher (Bob Fossil in the Boosh) and Lee. They’re both unbelievable.”

Edinburgh Flatmate: Lee Mack

Can Lee ever switch off?

“No. It’s like a disease. Really entertaining, and nice to live with, but me and him trying to make a cup of tea was unbelievable. It was the Chuckle Brothers meets Laurel and Hardy. Literally, you’ve never met two people less equipped to deal with real life!”

Finally, who do you think you’re closest to of all the past comics. I see the wonderful Spike Milligan mentioned a fair bit.

“I love Spike. I would never compare myself to him, but love his sense of being quite child-like. And I’d like to write children’s books, as he did. I have an idea. I also love Peter Cook and Dudley Moore. Julian and I always thought we were quite like them. We always felt we had an affinity with them.

“The Pythons are amazing too. Really, it’s the classics – Spike and The Goons, Pete and Dud, Python, Vic and Bob, The League of Gentlemen, then us. But I’ve probably left out a lot of my friends there! Blackadder and The Young Ones are in there somewhere.”

Source

[crapitskizaru]

Masterlist ☽ Scenarios

Eustass Kid

[FILTH] Mob Boss (part I), (part II)

[FILTH] (Threesome with Law, and fem!partner)

[FILTH] (He gets pegged for the first time)

[FILTH] (Rockstar!Fem!Partner, Mechanic!Kid)

[FILTH] (Walking in on his fem!partner masturbating)

[FILTH] (Showing his chunky partner how beautiful she is)

[FILTH] (Hearing his girlfriend masturbating at night)

[FILTH] (Virgin!Partner)

[FILTH] (Spooky NSFW)

[FILTH] (Killer x Fem!Reader x Kiddo)

[FILTH] (Halloween theme)

[ANGST] Hanahaki Disease (part I), (part II)

[ANGST] (Depressed partner)

[ANGST] (yandere!Kiddo)

[ANGST] (NB!Reader who regrets not killing themselves in the past)

[ANGST-ish] (Anxious!Kiddo part I) (part II)

[ANGST-ish]  (Anxious!Sub!Eustass Kid x Dom!Fem!Reader)

[ANGST] (Eustass Kid x Captured!Reader)

[Scenario] (Fluffy love-confessing)

[Scenario] (100 kisses from his crush)

[Scenario] (Pirate sugar daddy)

[Scenario] (Ridiculously lucky girlfriend)

[Scenario] (Falling in love with a Mermaid!Reader)

[Scenario] (Clumsy!Trafalgar Law x Eustass Kid part II)

[Scenario] (Kidbad x Reader)

[FILTH] (We Die Tomorrow. Law x Fem!Reader x Drake x Kid)

Trafalgar Law

[FILTH] (Threesome with Kid and fem!partner)

[FILTH] (Getting his first blowjob)

[FILTH] (Crush confessing her love in a song)

[FILTH] (Girlfriend with a sub/praise kink)

[FILTH] (Shamblesing his male partner to himself)

[FILTH] (Mob Boss!Traffy, inspired by Pablo Escobar)

[FILTH] (with a Virgin!Partner)

[FILTH ] (Horny!Fem!Partner)

[FILTH] (Sugar Daddy!Trafalgar Law x Fem!Reader)

[FILTH] (Caught on masturbating and getting help from their lover)

[FILTH] (With a girlfriend who drank an aphrodisiac)

[FILTH-ish] (Holding em bazookas)

[ANGST] Hanahaki Disease (part I), (part II)

[ANGST] (The 954 chapter’s scene)

[ANGST]  (Depressed!Trafalgar Law x Strawhat!Fem!Reader)

[Scenario] (Clumsy!Law x His Crush!Kiddo) (Part II)

[Scenario] (Law as an instructor to a Student Driver!Reader)

[Scenario] (Kabedon’d!Trafalgar Law x Ronin!Male!Reader)

[HAPPINESS] (Law going to a festival with his partner)

[HAPPINESS] (Law with a Wyvern!Fem!Reader)

[HALLOWEEN] (Revenant!Law x Reader)

[FILTH] (Sugar Daddy!Law x Fem!Reader)

[FILTH] (Tied to Your Body. Law x Fem!Reader)

[FILTH] (We Die Tomorrow. Law x Fem!Reader x Drake x Kid)

Sanji

[ANGST (He gets Hanahaki Disease)

[FLUFF] (Giving him hints for a hug lmao)

[FLUFF] (Soft Sanji, talking about his family with his s/o)

[FILTH] (Masturbating with Male!Reader)

Mochi Mochi

[FILTH] (Fem!s/o makes serum for turning people into giants) (Part II)

[FILTH] (Partner moans out his name in their sleep)

[FILTH] (Performing oral on his partner)

[Scenario] (Wife explaining she wants to get remarried)

X Drake the Dino

[ANGST] (NB!Reader who regrets not killing themselves in the past) 

[ANGST] (Spending the night in a cottage surrounded by monsters)

[ANGST] (The 954 chapter’s scene)

[HAPPINESS] (Throwing Hawkins a surprise bday party!)

[FILTH-ish] (Threesome vibes with Hawkins and Reader, in hot springs)

[FILTH] [SUBMISSION] (sex with fem!Reader)

[HAPPINESS] (Where Drake has to take care of playful dinosaur babies)

[FILTH] (Sex for the first time with Fem!Reader)

[Scenario] (Receiving a Tarot reading from Hawkins) 

[FILTH] Confidential. (X Drake x Hawkins)

[FILTH] (We Die Tomorrow. Law x Fem!Reader x Drake x Kid)

Hawkins-san

[HAPPINESS] (Drake throwing him a surprise bday party!)

[FILTH-ish] (Threesome vibes with Drake and Reader, in hot springs)

[ANGST] (The 954 chapter’s scene)

[Scenario] (Giving Drake a Tarot reading)

Saboo

[FILTH] (Ace x Fem!Reader x Sabo) (Fluff-part II) 

Killer-kun

[FILTH] (Halloween-themed)

[FILTH] (Killer x Fem!Reader x Kiddo)

[FILTH] (Jealous!Dom!Killer x Sub!Fem!Reader)

[ANGST] [WANO SPOILERS] (Captured!Killer x Fem!Reader)

Roronoa Zoro

[FILTH-ish] (Holding em bazookas)

Doffy

[Scenario] (with a Femme Fatale!Partner) 

[ANGST] (Song request ‘I say no’)

Shanks

[FILTH] (Drunk!Shanky with a Male!Partner) 

Marco the Phoenix

[ANGST] Hanaki Disease (part I), (part II)

[ANGST] (Comforting him after the Paramount War)

Portgas D. Ace

[FILTH] (Ace x Fem!Reader x Sabo) (Fluff-part II)

[FILTH] (with a Fem!Reader who drank an aphrodisiac)

[FILTH] (Caught on masturbating and getting help from their lover)

[ANGST] (Anxious!Ace) 

[ANGST-ish] (Protecting his aroace!friend)

[CHRISTMAS] (Trying to get his soulmate under mistletoe)

Bellamy

[FILTH] (Fluffy morning transitioning)

[FILTH] (with an Anxious!Fem!Reader) 

Bartolomeo

[FILTH] (Stuck-in-a-wall situation:) 

Sakazuki 

[FILTH] (Being sub with a Dom!Partner)

Step On It (Trafalgar Law x Reader Fanfic)

(0), (1), (2), (3), (4)

My Safe Person (X Drake x Hawkins Fanfic)

[AO3 LINK] 

[dustlnds]

part three of rylan’s many idiots, meet your resident manic pixie dream girl natalie cassadaga! + more info, wanted connections. / @redridgeimp​

name: natalie jennifer valentine cassadaga nicknames: nat, nati, tiger (mostly reserved for damien) age: 29 ethnicity: white gender/pronouns: cis female, she/her sexual/romantic orientation: pansexual/panromantic been in red ridge for: seven years occupation: tattoo artist (at home), waitress (blue hill diner) affiliation: valencia, despite her unwillingness to admit it. as they helped her get a life in red ridge after fleeing las vegas through the person of damien kingsley, they’ve been holding this unspoken contract over her head for quite a while, demanding her help in the form of tattoos (she’s responsible for most of the v’s tattooed on the bodies of valencia members), nursing care (often dropping people who need to be stitched up / nursed at her place, since it’s so off the map), or carrying merch/goods across town. (might be, also, that the day after damien told her hey, you’re clean now, she felt the shadow self in her latch onto her vices, her filth, and when she asked someone in valencia for a dose she knew they’d hold it over her head, but she did it anyway. now a small brown bag containing her shame is hidden in a box beneath her bed: and that, like the way valencia shows up at her step every other week, is a reminder that perhaps she can’t ever be free). positive traits:  spontaneous, empathic, selfless, good spirited, kind, protective, creative, resourceful, spiritual. negative traits:  impulsive, naive, resentful, cowardly, self-destructive, insecure, frightened, weak.

BIOGRAPHY —

(WARNINGS for substance abuse, drug abuse, overdosing).

las vegas, nv, 2001. at ten she’s a spark begging to be ignited. a kid with a bright imagination, but her parents aren’t happy. school is hard for the girl who’ll spend hours covering textbooks in flowers — why should two plus two matter, she thinks, when i can make the paper bloom into whole gardens, full of creatures staring back at me, when i can create my own world? her parents have never been the kind to waste their days daydreaming. they look at their youngest daughter and think: where does she take it? all this carefree passion of hers, where does it come from? she lacks her father’s disposition for numbers, how clinically pristine they look when lined up one after the other, and how satisfying they feel when preceded by a plus sign on a bank invoice. she has none of her mother’s backbone, the way she carries herself as if pure, molten gold flew into her veins — staring everyone down, making herself taller. she seems to only have eyes for fleeting things, mundane passions: for her colors, for the music of a guitar, for the way the desert sand blows into her hair at sundown. come a couple years, all she has eyes of is the boy playing his guitar among the wrecks of a car parts graveyard — says his name is elvis and she knows that isn’t true, but in las vegas, somehow, you can make yourself be whoever you want to be. she smiles, and says her name is tiger instead: in another life, perhaps, she was fierce and with a bite.

las vegas, nv, 2008. at seventeen she’s golden spotlights on the vegas strip. atomic bomb waiting to explode, all summer glare and midnight rides into nowhere: it’s her and elvis in his daddy’s car and it feels like they could conquer the world, if they wanted. he sings to her, she dances for him, characters straight out of a ‘50s song, loaded with a naivety that tastes like the american dream. no time for overbearing parents, no attention paid in school: it’s just them, skin on skin, flowers blooming from her fingers in spray paint over abandoned buildings. this could last forever, she thinks, she begs, she prays: a life like this could last forever. (a life like this drains the best of her). elvis was born to be a king like his namesake, and he’s got dreams of fame and glory that don’t contemplate her presence. street artists never become rockstars, and she has time for nothing more than the creatures lunging out of her fingers, onto the paper. she’s skin and bones, ink and notes, like she could live off of music and drawings alone — and him, always him, a golden god, a forbidden hymn. the night he signs his first record deal she grabs her inks and her needles — tattoes a present on his skin, a crown for the king to be. and as she draws, she prays: that their dreams can be true, that this is not a happy chorus in a ballad, but a rock opera, a discography for the ages to come. she prays for him like a beggar at an altar: and maybe there’s magic in that crown she tattoos, there’s truth in the prayer she pours into it. he wins his dreams and leaves her behind: prayers always require sacrifices.

somewhere in nevada, 2013. at twenty-two she’s broken lightbulbs under strangers’ feet. she’s shards of glass she could cut people with, but it’s herself she harms; see, elvis’ gone but there’s tons of friends in his place. there’s mary jane, addy, crystal, lucy and all her diamonds. vegas is a wonderland, a new high hidden ‘round every corner, and kind people willing to hand ‘em out like candy to an hazy, improvised alice — the drawings grow darker now, shadows with caved-in eyes and hollow chests. the colors don’t come the way they used to, and when they do they all look like a shade of nightmares — blood red, nausea green, despair blue. she looks for answers in his songs: on the radio, in her mind, she swears he still sings about her. has to follow him to the middle of the desert, to a festival where he stands on a stage and people swear he looks just like the real thing, the king himself. she doesn’t see him, though, but a hole where all her strength used to be, the us against the world turned into the open jaws of a ravenous monster: us against the world, and then the world collapses. wonderland turns to the land of nightmares, and the needle, it is her salvation — down the rabbit hole, she thinks, and someone must come out on the other side. either her, or the ghost of her. either her, or her evil turned to flesh. there is no rabbit hole but a town called red ridge. there is no white rabbit but a man — a good man, a honest man, with an inclination to fixing broken things. he helps her up to her fit, treats her alike his daughter and his sister, and when he begins asking her to help fix the remains of a broken car, she begins to wonder whether he isn’t trying to fix her, too. sometimes he calls her tiger and she remembers when she fancied herself a wild and untamed thing, escaping cages, just following her instincts. under the heat of the south-west sun, she smiles. maybe all tigers were lost creatures at first.

red ridge, nv, 2020. at twenty-nine she’s neon gas begging to be lit up. there’s a tiger on her forearm, hides the scars of a previous life. there’s always ink under her fingernails, sometimes it seems it shines in the dark. red ridge has become her home; damien, lyla, rowan: her familt. the car she’d begun to fix with the man who helped her now has been colored bright pink and bears the name of flamingo, and she rides it out in the desert letting it add to the spirit in her heart — wild, untamed, free. her family becomes red ridge, becomes the darkenss of it too. she’s made herself a home in the sand: an old garage, turned inside out, now overflowing with flowers and colors, sparkling gems and drawings hanging at every corner — and a canary, otis, that sings her to sleep every night. she’s called it dustland, a sort of mythical place at the edge of red ridge, into the nothing, willing to welcome all the broken, all the wounded and the lost. but she loses herself too, now and then. at times she looks past the profiles of houses and buildings, and knows there’s a den of coyotes hiding among the ranks of valencia, which hold the key to that rabbit hole she once lost herself in. at night, when the desert gets cold and her bones don’t feel anything like a tiger’s — she swears she can hear the coyotes howl, beckoning. one night she caves in, asks them for a dose: she keeps it under her bed, lets it become her shame, and to avoid that secret getting out she helps the coyotes out anytime they ask. sometimes she feels she’s falling apart again. when she does, she turns to the ink to remind herself of how life was drained out of all shades, because of the needles in her arm. sometimes it’s enough to keep her breathing to the night. sometimes.

[emchante]

filthy frosting | d. ricciardo

merry smutmas - day 3: kitchen sex

warnings: 18+ content, kitchen sex, dry humping, dirty talk, praise kink, light degrading, lots of breast play, p in v, unprotected sex.

w.c 2.4k+

— missed day 2? read it here by @thef1diary

you’re carefully spreading frosting on a batch of freshly baked cookies when you feel a shift in the air around you. a warm presence makes its way into the kitchen, stalking up right behind you. so close you can feel the heat radiating off of him. before you can even turn, you feel his soft lips press gently against the side of your neck, his breath warm and a little uneven.

"smells good in here," daniel murmurs, his voice low, sending a shiver down your spine. his lips make their way up, hovering just beneath your ear as his breath sends a warm rush across your skin. the proximity is already becoming overwhelming, and you feel his body pressed against yours, every inch of him too close, too intense.

“well i’d hope so,” you start, trying to focus on the task at hand which was your freshly baked cookies. “otherwise it’d mean the cookies were burnt,” you giggle softly, shivering at the way daniel lets out a low chuckle against your neck. 

“not just the cookies though, sweetheart,” he mumbles, burying his nose deeper into your neck as he inhales, letting out a deep sigh against your skin. you smile at daniel’s words, trying not to let him affect you too much. focus on the cookies, you tell yourself.

“what can i do for you, danny?” you ask him, eyes focused on the snowman shaped cookie you were currently frosting. daniel hums against your neck, still nosing against it. you know he’s in here for a reason, but why he’s taking so long to say it confuses you. “need you to help me out,” he starts, moving his head from your neck. his arms slowly wrap around your waist, pulling you both closer together than before. you sigh, tilting your head to the side. “danny, i’m–” you start, but the words get caught in your throat as daniel pushes himself right against you and– oh.

suddenly you can feel daniel’s aching cock pressing right into your ass, as he lets out a low grumble from his throat. he pushes you further into it, clothed erection slipping its way in between your cheeks as you gasp.

“dan, i– i can’t, the cookies–” you stutter, a whine escaping you as daniel rocks into your ass, his head resting against your hair. the small, muffled groans are tempting, and you feel the determination to finish frosting your baked goods slip away.

“come on baby, i need you,” he starts lowly, pushing you right against the counter. your hands grip onto it as you turn your head back, watching as daniel focuses on your ass, continuing to rock his cock right into it. “i know you need me too. be a good girl f’me, hm? let’s have a little fun. the cookies can wait.”

daniel’s words don’t help your fight against him, and you’re close to giving in. daniel move his hands to grip your hips, holding them tightly as his rocks become harder, continuous groaning coming from him as he gets the friction he’s been desiring for god knows how long now.

you don’t mind, you’re actually feeling into it. that is, until one particular rock of his hips is harder than the others, pushing you further into the counter as your clothed chest rests on the cookie you were just frosting. you whine daniel’s name, letting him know what he had done. you turn to see him again, this time being met with a smirk as he pulled back, flipping you round to face him.

“sorry about that sweetheart,” he mumbles, placing a kiss onto your lips before his hands move to the hem of your shirt, tugging it off of you. you gasp as your shirt comes off with only a couple tugs, face going bright red at your now exposed chest. you shiver at the cold air hitting your bare torso, nipples hardening at the sudden coldness. 

daniel’s eyes are wide, stuck on your bare chest as he licks his lips. he moves his hands up your body, allowing himself to take your tits into his large palms. “you’re a dirty girl, aren’t you?” he starts lowly, the heat flourishing over your face. “not even wearing a bra? naughty,” he teases, thumbs flicking across your nipples, causing a mewl to escape you.

daniel’s hands squeeze at your breasts, some squeezes are slow, allowing his fingers to drag across your tit, others are faster, more forceful squeezes. no matter what he does though, moans free themselves from your mouth as you arch your back, pushing your chest further into his warm hands.

“so vocal for me baby,” he hums, taking both nipples between his thumb and index fingers to pinch them harshly, revelling in the whine that you let out. “love hearing you fall apart for me, letting me play with you as you just take it like a good girl.”

his filthy words send a shock of pleasure right to your core and fuck, you need more of it, you need more of him. you move your arms to wrap around daniel’s neck, pulling him closer to you again. he moves his hands from your chest, trailing them down to cup your ass, giving it a gentle squeeze.

the feeling of your sensitive nipples against daniel’s clothed chest is heavenly, and your eyes roll back at the feeling. you don’t stop yourself from moving against him, too embarrassed to care about what he’d think– your brain was in pleasure-driven mode.

daniel doesn’t think negatively of it obviously, and indulges in his own needs. his grip on your ass becomes more firm, fingers digging into the soft skin as he begins to rock you against him. though both of your bottom halves are closed, the pleasure is still immeasurable. daniel’s erection fitting against your clothed pussy was heaven for daniel himself, low rumbles of pleasure coming from his chest.

the friction from daniel’s shirt makes you more desperate, trying to push yourself even closer to continue getting the burning pleasure from your sensitive tits. daniel is a giver more than a receiver, so he’s happy you a hand again. he slips one hand from your ass, sliding it up between your bodies as he starts to play with your tits, switching his hand between them to give them equal treatment. 

“danny please, i need more of you,” you whine, and daniel’s eyes darken as he looks down at you. he smirks, head moving so his lips were ghosting your own, his hot breath almost teasing you.

“yeah sweetheart, you need me? want my cock filling you up? cum decorating you just like you had been doing?” he pants, leaving small, teasing kisses on your lips. the begs and pleas that escape your mouth are almost too much for daniel, combine it with the fact he’s still grinding against you and he would’ve finished just then and there had he not pulled away.

you whine at the loss of touch and friction, but you cut your whine off with a gasp as daniel is turning you again, pushing you against the counter as your bare tits lay across the cold marble. daniel’s hands move to your leggings, grabbing the waistband and tugging them down along with your panties. he frees himself of his own constraints, sweatpants and boxers being pushed down as his erection sprung out, hitting off of his stomach from the impact which caused a throaty groan.

daniel positioned himself so his tip was lightly prodding your hole. you whined, pushing your hips back into him as a sign to hurry up. daniel tutted though, moving his right hand to spank your ass. “enough of that or you won’t get anything,” he warns you, causing you to mumble a small apology.

daniel tries again, allowing his tip to prod at your hole and this time, you stay still. daniel praises you this time, mumbling a “good girl” as he allows himself to start sinking into you. he’s going slow, achingly slow but you know you have to stay still, or else he’ll pull back again. he’s slowly stretching you out with his cock, inch by inch slipping inside you.

as soon as he’s fully inside you he stops, allowing himself to sit inside you for a moment. you whine, but don’t dare move. “danny, please,” you plead, head dropping onto your arms that are across the counter, resting in front of your tits.

“patience baby, that’s all you need,” he teases, moving his other hand to rest on top of your ass, slowly moving up and down it. you gasp when you suddenly feel a finger slip between your cheeks, holding your breath as you anticipate what’s coming.

but it never happens.

you turn your face round, ready to whine at daniel but you can’t, not when he’s suddenly starting to move, causing a gasp to escape you. daniel smirks at your reaction, continuing to move. it’s slow and teasing, but it’s better than nothing so you don’t dare complain to him about it.

daniel continues his slow thrusts for a few minutes, and you’re desperate for him to go faster, even if it’s only a little. your wish is answered suddenly, though not in the way you had expected. daniel’s pace picks up, and it’s relentless. it’s a sudden switch from the slow, teasing thrusts and you can’t even comprehend it.

all that escapes you are desperate pants as you finally get what you had been silently begging for. your tits move against the counter, the impact of daniel’s thrusts are lethal, but you’re loving it. the rough thrusts, the large hand on your ass, the feel of your sensitive tits rocking against the cold counter– it was amazing.

“good girl, taking my cock so well,” daniel begins to praise, making you smile as he continues to fuck you harshly. “so good for letting me take you right here, instead of denying me. but i know you wanted me too sweetheart, right from the start,” he continues, words going from praising to more teasing. “and i knew you’d let me take you, because you’re such a slut for me, aren’t you baby? always desperate for my cock, milking me of my cum. so needy,” he finishes, words now going into degrading territory.

and that was the thing about daniel. he could sweet talk you one minute, and the next he’d be degrading you like you were nothing but a sex toy for him. and you loved it.

daniel moves his other hand to your hair, fisting it to make a make-do ponytail as he yanks you backwards, leaning forward to meet you halfway. “going to finish all over your back baby, decorate you with my cum,” he whispers lowly, a groan escaping him as you whine. “might even let it sit too, until it dries in. let you match with your cookies,” he tells you, thrusting deeper into you as your mouth fell open, no words being able to leave it. “and i’ll let you have your own cookies baby, but best believe i’ll be keeping you for my treat later,” he tells you, before pushing your head away as he began to focus more on his thrusts again.

you couldn’t keep yourself still anymore, rocking your hips back against daniel as he thrusted into you. daniel didn’t punish you for it this time, rather he appreciated you joining in, helping you both get closer to the edge.

and it was coming, daniel could tell. you weren’t able to say anything, the only word that was able to leave you was daniel, coming out in whines, moans or pleas. your legs were shaking too, he had noticed, and he could feel you tightening around his cock.

“come on sweetheart, i know your close,” he whispers as he moves to your ear, leaving a trail of kisses from right under it all the way down to your neck. “finish for me, i know you can,” he mumbles against your skin, grazing his teeth along it before biting down to leave one red blotch on you.

the bite was enough to send you over the edge, tightening right around daniel’s cock as your orgasm came crashing through you. you rode out the orgasm, continuing to rock against daniel at your own pace as you moaned his name loudly, letting out sighs of pleasure at the thread finally snapping in your belly. your juices coated his cock as he continued to thrust inside you, and daniel bit his lip at the sight, watching his cock go in and out of you, watching as it got covered in your slick.

it didn’t take long for daniel to finish either, pulling out from you and stroking himself a few times. you were still laying half across the counter, eyes closed as you tried to regain your breath. you could hear the sounds of daniel getting himself off, the small huffs and the sound of his hand sliding up and down his shaft was enough evidence.

as soon as you heard the higher pitched moan escape daniel, you turned round and watched as his cock began to coat your back with thick streaks of cum. your mouth fell open at the sight, admiring the way his cum painted your back. daniel groaned deeply at the sight, allowing every last drop to make its way onto your back, holding to his filthy promise from during the sex.

“not washing you up sweetheart, i’m keeping it all over your back,” he hummed, causing you to whine at him. as much as the idea sounded amazing as he fucked you, now his sticky cum was all over your back and your orgasm and subsided, you felt a little different. daniel cooed at your noises, moving his hand to your back. “don’t be like that c’mon, i’ll give you a little taste,” he offered, running his fingers along your back as he gathered some of his cum onto his index and middle fingers.

moving his hand from your back, he moved it up to your face and put the two fingers in your mouth, licking his lips as you cleaned up his fingers. it was a little salty of course, but the taste of daniel was enough to convince you to let him do as he pleased.

“good girl, we’ll continue this later once its dried up.”

taglist: @lilorose25 @thenotoriouserg @a-distantdreamer @leclercsluvs @fat-meh @wintxr-widow @amirahart @alishamai

[thef1diary]

Staying Warm | D. Ricciardo

Merry Smutmas - Day 4: Body Heat

warnings: 18+ content, best friend!danny, porn w plot, unprotected sex, penetrative sex, praising, cockwarming.

— missed day 3? Read it here by @emchante

© thef1diary 2024. all rights reserved. Do not copy, steal, translate, or repost any of my work

The cabin is dark, save for the flickering light of a dying fire and the moon shining in through the window. Snow falls steadily against the windows, the wind howling like it’s trying to claw its way inside, rattling the wooden frames with every gust. The cold has seeped through the walls, the floors, and now it’s creeping into your bones, relentless and unforgiving. 

What was supposed to be a cozy little winter trip just a few days before Christmas had quickly turned into an unexpected nightmare. A snowstorm swept in out of nowhere, leaving you and Daniel stranded in this small, isolated cabin with no heat and no way to get back to civilization. The festive cheer you’d hoped for had turned into biting winds, and a frozen night in, the snow unravelling your plans with each gust. 

Daniel sits huddled on the slightly worn-out couch, wrapped in what looks like every blanket the cabin has to offer. He’s a lump of fabric and layers—two sweatshirts, thermal pants, thick socks, and still, you can see the tension in his shoulders from how tightly he’s holding himself together against the cold. His nose and cheeks are flushed a deep pink, raw from the chill, and every so often, you hear his teeth chattering despite his best effort to clamp his jaw shut. 

You’re not much better off though. Kneeling by the fireplace, you prod uselessly at the last few embers with a stick, watching as they glow weakly, barely clinging to life. Your hands tremble as you add another log, hoping—praying—it’ll catch, but the fire only crackles in protest before dimming even further. 

Daniel shifts under his plethora of blankets and lets out a dramatic sigh, the breath clouding in the freezing air before dissolving. “Winter in Aus is never this bad,” he says, his voice muffled by the fabric around him but still carrying the familiar cheeky lilt. “Cold, yeah, but not this…brutal.” 

You glance over your shoulder, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face, and scoff. “You’re just soft.” The words come out sharper than intended, but you soften them with a teasing smile. “I’m used to snow like this, but it’s still a pain.” 

Daniel chuckles, low and rough, and it rumbles through the stillness of the cabin, somehow warmer than the fire that’s threatening to give out. His eyes—bright despite the exhaustion—lock onto yours for a moment, amusement flickering in their depths. “Soft?” He repeats, feigning offence. “I‘m not soft.” 

You arch an eyebrow, turning fully to face him now, sitting back on your heels. “No? Then why are bundled up like you’re heading to the North Pole?” You gesture toward the cocoon of blankets engulfing him, suppressing a smirk. 

“It’s called being smart,” he counters, the corners of his lips twitching into a grin. “Survival instincts, you know? You could learn a thing or two.” 

“Is that so?” you challenge, “I don’t remember survival instincts involving whining about the temperature every five seconds.” 

His grin widens, even as another shiver racks through him. “I wasn’t whining…I was commenting.” 

You roll your eyes. “Right ‘commenting’.” 

Another gust of wind slams against the cabin, rattling the windows, and you both fall silent for a moment, the cold pressing in like a living thing. Daniel shifts again, burrowing deeper into the blankets, his eyes never leaving yours. 

“You know,” he says after a beat, his tone lighter now, teasing but carrying an undertone that makes your pulse quicken, “maybe you should come here and warm me up, since you’re apparently an expert now.” 

You scoff slightly, pretending not to notice the way your stomach flips at his words. “Oh, is that what you need? Poor baby can’t handle the cold alone?” 

He mutters your name in a dangerously low tone, edged with something darker. He rises to his feet in a shuffle of blankets and layers, a comical sight, but his gaze holds yours with an intensity that sends warmth curling low in your belly. He moves to the bed, glancing back at you with an eyebrow arched in a challenge. “C’mon, I’m in desperate need of heat and you don’t look too cold to me. Isn’t this what friends are for?” 

You hesitate only for a moment before sighing and standing as well, the cold immediately biting at your limbs as you leave the dying fire’s warmth. Crossing the small room, you sink onto the bed beside him, tugging one of his blankets over your lap. 

Daniel doesn’t waste a second. He leans into you immediately, his shoulder brushing against yours, and lets out an exaggerated groan of relief. “See?” He mutters, his voice muffled as he tugs the blankets higher around you both. “Living furnace.” 

You snort softly, but you can’t deny the warmth radiating between you. It’s a stark contrast to the biting cold, and for a moment, it feels… nice. His arm brushes yours again, lingering just a second too long, and you try to ignore the spark of awareness that hums through you.

“Better?” You ask, your voice steady but quieter than you intended. 

Instead of replying, Daniel shifts again, twisting and turning as though searching for the perfect position to soak up every bit of your warmth. His exaggerated sighs and muttered complaints make you roll your eyes, but the steady way he inches closer has your breath hitching. 

“Seriously?” You murmur, half-amused, half-exasperated. 

“I’m trying to survive,” he counters, his voice muffled as he nestles closer, pressing his chest against your back. Then, without warning, he groans softly, his hands sliding over your waist. His touch is firm but casual—almost too casual for a best friend, as if he’s testing how much you’ll tolerate. “You’re hoarding all the heat,” he accuses playfully. 

You shift away from him for a moment, sitting up as his hands reluctantly slip from your waist. His immediate groan of complaint echoes through the small cabin. “Oh, come on,” he mutters, burrowing deeper into the blankets. “You’re leaving me to freeze?” 

Ignoring his dramatics, you reach for the hem of your shirt and tug it off in one smooth motion. The cold air bites at your skin, but you keep your expression neutral as you glance down at him. 

The playful complaint dies on his lips. He blinks up at you, momentarily stunned into silence, his eyes darkening as they skim over your form, now clad only in your bra. 

“What?” you ask, arching your eyebrow. “This way body heat’s better, isn’t it?” 

Daniel doesn’t reply right away. Instead, he seems to snap out of whatever daze he was in, his mouth curving into a lopsided grin. “You’re full of surprises,” he murmurs, his voice softer now, yet tinged with something heavier. 

He sits up slightly, shedding his layers of shirts one by one without taking his eyes off you. His movements are hurried, like he’s eager to feel your body against his, and there’s palpable tension in the air as his bare chest is revealed. He lies back against the pillows and opens his arms to you. 

You don’t hesitate, shifting closer to settle over him, your legs straddling his hips as he pulls you down against him. His arms wrap securely around your waist, holding you close as your chest presses against his. The warmth between you is instant, chasing away the lingering chill from the room. 

Daniel tugs the blankets up again, covering you both in a cocoon of heat. “Better,” he states, answering your question from earlier. One hand stays at your waist, grounding and firm, while the other begins to move in soothing circles along your back. His fingers are gentle as they trace over the curve of your spine, dipping lower before skimming up again, his touch igniting sparks wherever it lingered. 

“You’re so warm,” he murmurs, his breath brushing against your temple as he presses a faint kiss there. 

You let out a soft hum of agreement, your cheek resting against the curve of his shoulder as you relax into him. Despite the storm outside, the biting cold, and the oddity of your current position, this felt… safe. Comforting. 

That was until Daniel’s fingers brushed beneath your bra, grazing your back, their warmth seeping into your skin in a way that feels anything but innocent. The touch was featherlight, almost unintentional, but it sent a jolt of awareness through you. 

You bury your face into the curve of his neck, trying to suppress the shiver coursing through you. His scent—rich, woodsy, and undeniably him—overwhelms your senses, and you hum softly, your lips brushing against his skin in the process. 

“Daniel,” you murmur, his name rolling off your tongue in a way that feels far too intimate for the situation. 

His fingers pause at the sound of your voice, as if he’s weighing his next move, but they resume a moment later, teasing the clasp of your bra. He pulls at it gently, letting it snap back into place with a soft thrum against your skin. The sharp sensation makes you jolt, earning a low chuckle from him.

“You alright there?” he teases, his tone light but his hands anything but as they settle firmly on your hips.

Your breath hitches, and when you shift slightly to glance up at him, the movement causes your hips to press against his. Daniel groans softly, the sound reverberating through his chest, and you feel the unmistakable hardness of his cock pressing against your pussy. Even through the layers of fabric, the sensation is electric, and you can’t stop the wetness that begins pooling between your thighs. 

A smirk tugs at the corner of your lips as you tilt your head, meeting his gaze. His honey-brown eyes are darker now, flickering with something deeper, something dangerous. “Still cold?” you tease, your voice soft and laced with mischief as your fingers trace idle patterns down the expanse of his bare chest.

He’s silent for a moment, debating his answer while his hands shift down to your hips, keeping you pinned against him. You lower your upper body towards him, your lips hovering just near his ear. Your voice drops into a whisper, low and intimate, meant just for him. “If you are,” you murmur, your breath brushing against the shell of his ear, “we might have to shed a few more clothes… you know, for more body heat.” 

A wicked smirk curls on Daniel’s lips, and his gaze travels slowly over you, dark and unrelenting, igniting a fire in your belly that no amount of cold could extinguish. He turns his head slightly, just enough that his lips graze the edge of your jaw, an almost accidental touch that feels anything but. 

“Strip,” he orders, his voice low and commanding, laced with a dangerous kind of amusement. “I’m freezing.”

Your heart stutters at the way his tone wraps around you, but you school your features into a calm mask, tilting your head slightly to meet his gaze. “Demanding, aren’t we?” you murmur, though your hands move on their own accord, bracing against his chest as you shift slightly to allow him more access.

He doesn’t respond with words, just that same wicked smirk that only deepens when his hands find their way up your back. With practiced ease, his fingers locate the clasp of your bra, and with a single motion, he undoes it. The straps slacken against your shoulders, and he gives you a pointed look as if daring you to stop him.

You don’t. Instead, you let the straps slide down your arms, shrugging off the fabric and tossing it somewhere into the cabin without a second thought. The cool air bites at your skin for a moment before Daniel’s gaze warms you like a blazing fire. His eyes roam over you unabashedly, darkened with a hunger that sends heat pooling in your core.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs, almost to himself. His hands find their way to your chest, cupping your tits. His thumb lightly brushes your hardening nipples, earning a small gasp from you. “But if you really want to warm me up, your body heat won’t cut it.” 

You narrow your eyes at him, confused. 

“You’ll have to be more… specific,” he says, his voice rough with intent. With one fluid motion, he unbuttons your jeans. His fingers slip beneath the denim and find the lace of your panties.

“Maybe use your mouth,” he continues, his tone dropping even lower, raspier, as his thumb grazes over the growing wet patch against your panties. He pauses, letting his words hang in the charged air as his touch presses more firmly, deliberately rubbing the damp fabric. His eyes lock with yours, dark and filled with challenge.

“…Or even better,” he murmurs, his lips curving as his fingers begin to rub slow, deliberate circles against the soaked lace, “your cunt.”

The bluntness of his words sends a wave of heat through your body, and a soft whimper escapes your lips before you can stop it. Instinct takes over, and your hips shift, grinding down against his hand, seeking the friction you so desperately need.

His breath hitches at your movements, but he recovers quickly, his smirk broadening as he applies more pressure, matching the rhythm of your grinding with the movement of his fingers. “That’s it,” he murmurs, his voice softer now but no less intense. “Just like that, sweetheart.”

But just as the pressure begins to build, his fingers retreat, leaving you aching. He brings them up, glistening with your arousal, his eyes locked on yours as he slowly spreads the evidence between his fingers.

“So,” he drawls, his tone teasing yet firm. “Are you going to warm me up?” His chuckle deepens when you nod instantly, no hesitation in your answer.

Without warning, Daniel moves, his strong hands gripping your hips as he flips you onto your back. The sudden shift leaves you breathless, but before you can react, he’s already hooking his fingers into the waistband of your pants, tugging them down along with your panties in one swift motion.

You blink at the efficiency of it, barely having time to process before he starts shedding his own clothes. A laugh bubbles out of you, soft and amused. “How many layers do you have on?”

His smirk turns into a crooked grin as he shrugs off his last piece of clothing. “Gotta stay warm somehow,” he quips.

Your laugh dies in your throat as your eyes drop to his cock. Big, hard, and already leaking pre-cum, it makes your breath hitch and your thighs instinctively part. Daniel catches the change in your expression and chuckles lowly, the sound dripping with satisfaction.

“Not laughing now, are you?” he teases, settling between your legs. His hands slide up your thighs, warm and firm, before he spreads you open. The cool air is nothing compared to the heat of his fingers as he glides them through your folds, pausing to circle your clit with deliberate precision.

“So warm,” he murmurs, his voice softer now, almost reverent. “So wet for me.”

You bite your lip, a soft moan escaping as his thumb flicks over your clit again, his other hand bracing himself beside your head. “Danny,” you whisper, your voice breathy and full of need.

“Hmm?” He dips his head, brushing his lips against your neck as his cock slides through your folds, coating himself in your slick. The sensation sends shivers through you, and your hips lift instinctively, seeking more.

He chuckles against your skin, the vibrations making you squirm. “Impatient, aren’t you?” he murmurs, his tone teasing but thick with desire. He shifts slightly, the head of his cock pressing against your entrance, teasing but not quite pushing in.

“Please,” you breathe, your legs wrapping around his waist, urging him closer.

He hums in approval, his hand slipping to grip your hip as he finally presses forward, the slow stretch making your breath catch. “That’s it,” he mutters, his voice rough and low. “Taking me so well, sweetheart.”

You cling to him, your fingers digging into his shoulders as he moves deeper, the sensation both overwhelming and perfect. “Daniel,” you gasp, the name a plea and a praise all at once.

Daniel’s hips move slowly at first, giving you time to adjust as he fills you completely. The deliberate drag of his cock against your walls sends waves of pleasure coursing through you, each thrust pulling soft, breathy moans from your lips. His gaze stays locked on yours, a mixture of desire and determination in his darkened eyes.

“You feel so good,” he mutters, his voice strained as he begins to pick up his pace. One hand moves down your body, his fingertips brushing over your sensitive clit. The sensation is immediate and electric, your back arching off the bed as his thumb circles the bundle of nerves. “Look at you,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear. “So perfect, so fucking perfect for me.”

Your hands tangle in his messy curls, pulling him closer until his mouth finds yours. The kiss is hot and desperate, all teeth and tongues, as if you’re both trying to devour the other. His groan vibrates against your lips, and you tug harder, relishing the way he seems to lose himself in you.

The heat between you grows, a sheen of sweat forming on both your bodies as the intensity builds. His chest glistens as it presses against yours, his breath ragged and uneven as he pulls back just enough to shift your legs. With ease, he tosses them over his shoulders, your ankles now resting against his collarbone. The new angle has him thrusting deeper, the force of it pulling a loud, unabashed moan from you.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he groans, his hands gripping your thighs tightly as he pounds into you. Each thrust sends you closer to the edge, the tension in your core tightening with every movement. Your hands clutch at the sheet as the overwhelming pleasure threatens to consume you. 

“Daniel,” you whimper, your voice trembling as you feel yourself inch closer and closer.

“I’ve got you,” he reassures, his voice rough and full of need. His thumb presses harder against your clit, the added stimulation sending sparks shooting through your entire body. “Let go for me, sweetheart. I want to feel you.”

His words are all it takes to push you over the edge. Your body tenses, a loud cry spilling from your lips as the orgasm crashes over you, wave after wave of pleasure rippling through every nerve. Daniel doesn’t let up, riding you through it, his thrusts erratic now as he chases his own release.

“Fuck,” he groans, his head falling back for a moment before his movements still, his cock buried deep inside you as he spills, the warmth of him filling you completely. He stays there for a moment, his breaths ragged as he slowly lowers your legs, his hands gentle as they massage the marks he’s left on your skin.

Daniel’s breath is still uneven as he starts to pull back, the soft drag of his cock making your oversensitive walls clench around him. Before he can fully withdraw, your legs tighten around his waist, locking him in place.

“Stay,” you whisper, your voice soft but commanding. Your eyes meet his, full of heat and something else, something softer. “Wanna keep you warm.”

Daniel freezes for a moment, his chest still heaving against yours. Then, a slow smile spreads across his face, a mix of mischief and satisfaction. Who was he to deny you? Especially when every inch of him thrummed with the need to stay exactly where he was, buried deep inside you.

He shifts, resettling his hands on your hips as you both adjust your positions. Carefully, you guide him back onto his back, straddling him once again. It’s almost like it was before, the only difference now is that you’re both completely bare with his cock buried deep inside you.

Settling against him, you let out a contented sigh, your body melting into his warmth. His hands return to their place, skimming lazily over your back, his touch soothing as his thumbs trace slow, idle patterns on your skin.

“This trip didn’t turn out so bad,” he muses, his voice low and relaxed. His lips brush against your temple as he speaks, “you just might’ve changed my mind about winter.”

You lift your head, curiosity etched into your expression as you peer at him. Your eyebrows furrow slightly, and you can’t help but ask, “Being stuck in a cabin because of a snowstorm changed your mind? Out of all the things?”

Daniel’s lips twist into a slow, confident grin. “If I have you wrapped around my cock every day of winter to keep me warm, it’ll quickly become my favourite season.” 

taglist: @lilorose25 @thenotoriouserg @a-distantdreamer @leclercsluvs @fat-meh @wintxr-widow @amirahart @alishamai

[desk216]

The Corona Incident, Part 8

Jack and Rapunzel lay panting on the grass, utterly exhausted. "That was…" Rapunzel began.

"Really fun." Jack said. He hadn't felt this tired since… Since before I became a Guardian, I guess. If he wasn't immortal, was he even a Guardian anymore? "So, what now?" he asked aloud.

"I dunno." Rapunzel said, climbing to her feet. "Maybe we can find someone who'll give us directions to the lights."

"Maybe they can also tell us what those lights really are." Jack said. "It'd be nice to know what we're looking for." He frowned as he stood, noticing an unfamiliar pressure in his lower abdomen.

Rapunzel set off, humming to herself, with Baby Tooth zipping around behind her. Jack shook off his puzzlement and followed.

The trees fell away ahead of them, revealing a dusty dirt path. They started down it, then rounded a corner.

"Why don't we ask there?" Rapunzel suggested, pointing down the road.

Jack frowned, following gaze to a beaten up building. The place was in disrepair, with shattered windows and several walls on the verge of collapse. Nearer to them, a painted sign swung gently in the breeze.

"The Snuggly Duckling" Jack read. He would have assumed it to be abandoned, had there not been multiple horses tied up in front of the building. "We may want to look elsewhere." he said. "The people probably aren't the friendliest."

"We're just asking for directions." Rapunzel said, pulling him forwards. "What's the worst that can happen?"

Pascal hid himself in Rapunzel's hair, and Baby Tooth ducked into Jack's hoodie pocket as they approached the building. Jack frowned, again noticing the strange sense of pressure.

Rapunzel knocked on the door. There was a long pause, then the door was abruptly yanked inwards. Rapunzel let out a squeak and stumbled backwards as a helmeted figure stepped into the doorway. "What'ya want?" he growled.

Rapunzel collected herself, then smiled upwards. "We just wanted to know if you could point us towards-"

"Who is it?" a voice called from inside.

"Couple'a kids." the man replied. "I was just about to tell'em to get lost."

"Wait!" Rapunzel said. "You can't just send us away like that! We need to know how to get to-"

"Don't care." the man grunted. He swung the door closed, but Rapunzel shoved her frying pan into the crack. "Please!" she called. "It's really important!"

"Well then, you'd better let'em in." the second voice chuckled. "We wouldn't want to get in the way of something important."

The brute stepped aside, and gestured them in. They walked in, then pulled back as they saw the room's inhabitants. Scarred and deformed, every body bulged with muscles, and every face turned sinister as it turned towards the teens. Every figure had multiple blades, and Jack saw several hands reaching for their weapons.

Rapunzel and Jack started to step backwards, but a pair of heavy hands shoved them forwards, towards the center of the room. "Go on!" the helmeted man encouraged. "We won't bite… much."

"We just need some directions, then we'll get out of your hair." Jack said.

"Don't be like that!" a man called. His muscles bulged, and his left hand had been replaced with a hook. "Everyone's always rushing around these days. Why don't you sit down and have a drink!" he seized a man by the throat, tossed him away, then gestured at the open spot on the bench. "There's plenty of room over here!"

Jack looked back, but several figures had stepped in front of the door, cutting off their retreat. he groaned inwardly, but cautiously set off towards the table.

"...Hi" Rapunzel said, as they walked across the room. "It's… nice to meet you all."

"What'll you have?" the bartender asked as they sat down, cleaning his fingernails with a knife.

"Do you have apple juice?" Rapunzel asked

"One apple juice coming right up." The bartender smirked. "So, what'll your friend have?"

Jack looked at the moldy wooden mugs scattered around the room. "Thanks, but I'm not thirsty." he said.

The man sneered at that. "You think you're too good for what we serve?" he asked.

"Of course he doesn't!" Rapunzel said, looking shocked at the accusation. "Are you sure you don't want anything?" she asked Jack, looking concerned. "You aren't thirsty after all that running?"

Jack sighed, but gave in under her concerned gaze. "On second thought, I'll have some water." he said.

A moment later, the bartender tossed two mugs onto the table. Rapunzel took a careful swallow, then looked up, surprised. "This is really good!" she said, already drinking more.

The bartender gave a satisfied smirk. "Best juice you'll find anywhere in Corona."

Jack sipped his water, trying not to think about the germs and filth that it probably contained.

"So, whereya headed?" The hook handed man asked.

Rapunzel gulped, but forced herself to smile at the bruiser. "We're going to see the floating lights." she said.

His brow furrowed. "Floating lights?" he asked.

"Yeah…" Rapunzel said. "The ones that'll be showing up in the sky tomorrow?"

The man frowned. "Do you mean the Lantern Festival?"

"Lanterns?" Rapunzel asked. "That's what they are?"

"Yeah." he replied. "They launch 'em every year for the lost princess."

"I've watched the lights ever since I was little, but it was always too far away to see what they were." Rapunzel said. "For years, it's been my dream to visit them up close." she blushed a little. "Maybe it sounds silly, but I can't help but feel like those lanterns are a part of my destiny."

The man grunted. "I had a dream like that once." he said, staring into his drink.

"Really?" Rapunzel asked, curious. "What was it?"

"Nothing important." the man said. "It was impossible, anyway."

"No dream's impossible if you put your mind to it." Rapunzel said. "Why don't you tell us, and that way we can help make it true!"

The hook handed man kept looking downwards, saying nothing. "Well?" Rapunzel prompted

He stayed quiet for a moment longer, then sighed. "To become a pianist." he muttered.

The room broke out into snorts of laughter. "A pianist?" someone called. "That's your dream, Hooky?"

"Yeah." Hooky snarled, raising his axe and glaring around the room. "Any of you idiots got a problem with that?"

The chuckles died away in an instant, the other patrons shuffling their feet and looking to the ground.

"That's an amazing dream!" Rapunzel said. She turned, and looked towards an old piano sitting in the corner. "Do you know how to play?"

Hooky shrugged. "I know a bit, but-" Rapunzel was already dragging him across the room.

"Why don't you play something for us?" she suggested, sitting down on a bucket and looking up at him. "We can be your first concert!"

Hooky started to refuse, but his mouth closed as Rapunzel hopefully smiled up at him. He sighed, but plopped down on the bench. "Alright lads!" he bellowed. "This'll be to the tune of 'The Queen's Maid and the Wh-'" he cut off abruptly with a glance to the young figure seated beside him. "Oh, never mind what it's called, you all know the song!"

He played a quick intro, then broke into song. "I'm malicious, mean and scary. My sneer could curdle dairy, and violence wise, my hands are not the cleanest. But despite my evil looks, and my temper, and my hook! I've always yearned to be a concert pianist!"

Jack raised an eyebrow as the man started to play. Despite his reluctance, he was remarkably good. Baby Tooth zipped out of his pocket, then settled herself on top of a rafter to listen to the music.

Suddenly, the pressure returned, more uncomfortable and urgent than before. Jack frowned and looked at his stomach. It was almost like… Oh. Right.

He sighed, remembering another aspect of being mortal. "Do you have a privy?" he asked the bartender. The grizzled man gestured towards the back door. "Thanks." Jack said. Rapunzel seemed safe enough for the moment, so he slipped out as the room broke into chorus.

Jack stepped out of the outhouse, business finished.

"You!" a voice shouted. A black haired woman strode out from the trees, one hand holding a dagger.

Jack tensed, but smiled at the woman. "You must be Rapunzel's mother." he said cheerfully. "She's told me a lot about you."

"You stole my daughter!" she hissed.

Jack shrugged. "She's the one who asked to leave." he said. "Seems to me, at eighteen she ought to be old enough to make her own decisions."

Rapunzel's mother brandished her dagger, and Jack prepared for her to lunge. To his surprise, the woman instead drew the blade down the side of her own arm, drawing a line of blood. "Strike!" she hissed, and instantly the pooling blood turned black.

A bolt of energy hurtled towards his chest. "Whoa!" Jack said. He swung his staff and knocked it aside. The blast slammed into the grass, causing it to wilt and yellow.

The woman let out a sound of frustration, but repeated the action. "Strike!" she again called.

Ready this time, Jack easily batted the spell away, this time sending it back towards the witch. She was forced to dive aside, and Jack noticed strands of her hair turning from black to silver.

"I can keep doing this all day." Jack called, spinning his staff as the woman stood. He smiled at the deepening lines on the her face. "But you aren't looking too good, yourself."

His hunch paid off. The woman looked at her reflection in the knife and drew back in horror. "No!" she hissed, pulling her cloak around herself and stumbled towards the woods. As she reached the trees, she looked back towards him, her face filled with fury and loathing. "This isn't over." she snarled.

Jack grinned. "Glad to hear it." he called. "'Cause I've still got more to say about your parenting techniques."

[scotianostra]

Happy 43rd Birthday to the Scottish  actress and director Pollyanna McIntosh born on 15th March 1979 in Edinburgh.

McIntosh grew up in Portugal and Colombia before returning to her native Scotland, where she first began performing, on stage, at The Edinburgh Festival. At 16, she left for London and soon became involved in indie filmmaking, her first paid gig was unaccredited as a stoner in the  Irvine Welsh triptych The Acid House, I must remember to ask my mate Gary McCormack if he knows her, as he had a starring role in the film.

Pollyanna moved moved to LA in 2004 where she appeared mainly on stage her biggest role of note was in the stage production The Woolgatherer before she earned her first big screen role, Stacy in 2005’s fantasy horror film, Headspace in 2005.

Although there is not much about her personal life, channel hopping Pollyanna must have been in demand in both the US and over this side of the Atlantic, she turned up in an episode of Taggart in 2009, and some low key US TV movies and a small part in Burke & Hare alongside David Hayman and Simon Pegg. Her first lead role was in a movie called The Woman which won a few awards around the European film festivals.

Back on the TV front Pollyanna was back over here in Waterloo Road and appeared in five of the six episodes of  Bob Servant Independent,  with the brilliant Brian Cox, the same year she turned up in her second Irvine Welsh film, Filth, with James McAvoy. McIntosh also played a regular in the Children’s BBC show M I High as Crime Minster.

Pollyanna’s first major role over in America was in the excellent Hap and Leonard, where she starred as Angel in Season one, she went on to star in two Seasons of the popular series Walking Dead as Anne ‘Jadis’ and has a recurring role in comedy-drama Lodge 49.

In 2020 Pollyanna starred in the horror thriller Revenge Ride about a young woman who joins an all-female gang and seeks revenge on a group of college American football players. She reprising her role as Anne “Jadis” in  the anticipated The Walking Dead Movie although it seems we are no further forward with that since it was initially first mentioned 4 years ago, Pollyanna , meantime turned up as Anne in 6 episodes the spin off series The Walking Dead: World Beyond

Sticking with the horror theme that she has found her niche, she has a starring role in a Western-Horror called The Moonshine Gang of Cheyenne which is currently in development, Pollyanna has also turned up in Vikings: Valhalla as  Queen Ælfgifu. Miss McIntosh has a number of projects coming up one being a Sci-fi film The Primary Talent and a short Em & Selma Go Griffin Hunting.

Pollyanna McIntosh does her bit for charity, campaigning for the Joshua Nolan Foundation, raising funds for counselling sessions for grief-stricken relatives and those at risk of suicide, she is married to Grant Show who plays Blake Carrington in the reboot of Dynasty.  She is quite active on social media, on Twitter, where she wears her Scottish pride with the following;  Scottish. Not crap, and Instagram, where I pinched two of the photos, the one with the red head dress she says was for an audition for Hell Boy. Pollyanna is currently on the comic-con circuit, where she has a table with memorabilia she is  auctioning for charity.  Pollyanna has a Gofund me page on her Insta for a friend who was knocked down in a hit and run and has brain injuries, she has also been plugging Doctors Without Borders on her twitter page.

https://www.gofundme.com/f/nialls-traumatic-brain-injury-recovery?utm_campaign=p_cf+share-flow-1&utm_medium=chat&utm_source=whatsapp

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Twilight, Alec Love Story- Seeing Nightmares Chapter 1

Hello! I’ve actually got a lot written for this, and I found it while I was cleaning out my google docs! It’s about a young girl, Emberly, being taken and held against her will. Alec has been tasked with impregnating a young human girl so he can give Arg a gifted half breed. There will be major trigger warnings, later on, but for right now there isn’t really much to say. 

Prologue

Volterra, Italy

2016

“Brothers,” Aro’s dry but light voice broke the silence of the library, the two vampires sitting in large chairs turned their heads to him. “What do you think of the half breed?”

“The Cullen’s newest member?” Caius snarled, raising an eyebrow as he looked at Aro through his eyelashes. Aro hummed in response, turning the page in his book, but the two looking at him knew he wasn’t reading the words. “I think it’s disastrous, a threat to our kind.” Caius returned to his book, before pausing and shifted in his chair, narrowing his eyes at his coven mate. “Why?”

A sigh escaped Aro’s lips, another page was flipped. “You aren’t looking at the bigger picture here, brother.” A book slammed shut, and Aro lifted a brow and glanced at Caius who was leaned forward with a harsh stare.

“What bigger picture is there to see?”

“My my,” Aro stood from his seat, a devilish grin on his face. His book was set on the large wooden table, both eyes on him. “Think of it brother, that child has power from her father, Edward…”

“And?” Caius raised his eyebrow, his eyes flashed with amusement. “You want one? You? A child?” A light laugh left his chest.

“Not me, brother.” Aro shook his head, “No. Someone more capable and…” He turned around to look at his guards, “fitting.” Alec looked up into his master’s eyes, a bright red meeting a dulled scarlet. “Alec!” Aro practically sang, walking down the steps to one of his most prised members. Alec met him halfway, standing tall before his master, making Aro smirk as he lightly held Alec’s face with his hands. “Would you, be so kind and search for someone, who would make a fine and strong childbearing mother?”

Alec’s eyebrows furrowed, “For you?” Alec shook his head, “My apologies Master, but I am not sure I would pick what you prefer.”

Aro giggled, clapping his hands and spinning before peering back at Alec, a manic look in his red eyes. “No, my sweet child, for you.”

“Me?” Alec questioned, confusion written on his face.

“Find someone, bring her back here.” Aro said sternly, but kept his smile on his lips. “She will bare your child. Go.”

“Master.” Alec bowed before he was gone.

Present Time

Chapter 1

“Ciao Italia!” Ashley stated as she pulled her luggage behind her, Tessa walking on the other side of me as we left the airport. The sun beat down on the city of Pisa, and I couldn’t help but smile. Ashley’s been to Italy before, but only in San Marino. This time, she was guiding us to Volterra. She wanted to go to this festival, St. Marcus’s Day or whatever, and got us to come along for an early summer vacation.

Ashley had bleach blond hair, which fell in long wavy curls down her back. She was stick thin, wanting to be a model and all. Her blue eyes were the brightest I’ve ever seen, looking like a sparkling ocean. Her button nose held a cute diamond ring, no blemishes or imperfections were visible on her smooth skin. Ashley wore a floral print tank top, white shorts, and white sandals.

Tessa had black hair that was cut evenly all the way around, the ends reaching her shoulder blades. Her skin was dark, her eyes holding a deep rich caramel color to them. She was of hispanic background, so the dark complexion was an obvious give away to that. She was also thin, but her bust was larger than Ashley’s, and her long toned legs were from years of soccer. She had a large prominent nose, her face oval and but those are traits that made her stunning. She wore a baby blue dress with white flip flops, her perfect hair pulled into a bun.

Me, however, I was dressed in a pair of old jean shorts that rolled to the upper thigh. A plain red tank, a size too big, was tucked into my shorts and a white flannel was open and flapping in the soft breeze as I walked between my friends. I also wore a tan ball cap, my dirty brown hair separated into two french braids. My all white converse tapped on the pavement as I walked, looking at the ground as to not fall on my face.

“It’s just a short walk to the hotel.” Ashley stated, looking at the map she had on her phone. She popped a bubble, pink gum deflating slowly before she pulled it back into her mouth and worked her jaw.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                   

“I’m dying for a shower.” Tessa groaned, making me smile.

“I’m okay, but I’d like to get something other than peanuts in my system before eight thirty.” Ashley laughed, agreeing with me that the flights crappy food wasn’t all that filling. We got into our hotel and ordered room service, Tessa taking a quick shower to ‘wash the filth’ off her.  Tessa loved sports but hated sweating, often saying she showered twice a day. Ashley was laying on her bed, playing with her phone and chuckling every once in awhile, probably texting Daniel, her boy toy.

“You ready to party Em?”

I glanced up and saw Ashley smirking at me, Tessa behind her eating a few fries. I let my eyebrows raise up, “What?”

I groaned, my throat feeling like it was shredded to bits as I coughed, tasting the grossness of the espresso from last night. Yeah, party my butt. I held my head, the caffeine working it’s way around my brain, banging a sledgehammer behind my eyes. I screamed as my legs were tangled in my sheets and I fell, catching myself as I almost face planted on the floor.

“Damnit Em!” I felt the covers around my ankles tug, pulling my feet into the air.

“Morning to you too.” I mutter to Tessa who was hiding under a mass of blankets. I patted into the bathroom and shut the door, turning on the shower and quickly undressing, my eyes still barely open. When I was done, I dried myself off and walked out, dressed in a pair of black high waisted shorts, a dark grey shirt that was tied in a small knot at my hip to accent my curves. I put on my all black converse and looked at my hair, grumbling before throwing my towel in the hamper. A black choker clung to my neck, a small silver diamond shaped pendant dangled in the front, a green gem sitting in the middle.

“Oh no!” Ashley shook her head, “Heck no! Sit your ass down and let me do your hair!”

I chuckled and sat on the bed, hearing her crawl up and kneel behind me and start to part my hair. She was soon done and I had two small buns on the top of my head. I smiled and thanked her, but she told me to shut up and let her do my make up.

“Nothing too...flashy.” I said softly and let her do her magic. Soft peach colored eyeshadow, black winged eyeliner, mascara, and some contour and blush made me look perfect. I wasn’t vain, but I knew I wasn’t ugly. I liked how I looked, and I was fine with myself. Ashley also knows how to make someone look amazing with little makeup.

“Thanks girl.”

“We ready?” Tessa called from the bathroom, opening the door to show us her black tights, pink tank, and white sandals. She had in all her earrings, and she wore dark shadowed makeup, and pink lip gloss. Her hair was in a high ponytail, her hair straightened. Ashley was dressed in a neon pink shirt, white shorts, and her sandals as well. Her hair was french braided, a single braid swinging down her back until it reached her tailbone.

“Yes! Let’s go!” Ashley practically ran out of the room, making me shake my head as I made sure I had our room key, IDs, and money in my bag before following her and Tessa out. My camera was around my neck, the weight comfortable as I held it gently with one hand.

The festival was lovely, and the village of Volterra was gorgeous with history and the richness of european architecture. I was snapping picture after picture of everything. I wanted to snap some of the castle, but I didn’t know if we were allowed inside. The sun wasn’t out, the clouds covering the sky, but it was still warm and pleasant. I focused my camera on a hooded figure, as the person was positioned at the opening of a alley, their face covered by the black hood. He stood out from the other red hooded tourists and residents celebrating the St. Marcus’s Day. I snapped the picture, but paused when they looked directly at me. His eyes, from what I could see in my camera, were a bright red. Contacts? His skin was pale and almost chalk white, making his dark hair stick out from under his black hood. His lips were a natural light red color, his cheekbones high and defined. It was like seeing an angel, a beautiful statue staring right at you.

My finger snapped a photo and he was gone. I looked down, seeing the one with his face covered and the second one was a black blur. I sighed, knowing that whatever picture it was supposed to look like would have been amazing.

“Em!” I turned to see my friends, eating some ‘authentic’ food and smiling as Tessa practically inhaled hers. “Come on, we wanna go shopping.” I nodded and tagged alone, snapping a few fast shots, much to the annoyance of my companions. We stopped at a small little tourist spot, where the jewelry and clothing, and crappy trinkets were severely over priced for their value. I sighed and looked out the window, freezing when I see him again. This time, closer than before. He was there, right across the street, leaning against the brick wall, once again standing at the mouth of an alley. I could see his clothing this time. It almost looked like a uniform. A deep dirty maroon button up shirt, a thin black suit jacket unbuttoned, showing his slim torso. His pants were black, along with his belt and shoes. The cloak was black but red on the inside, the hood was down also. His hair was a deep chocolate brown, shaggy around the neck and ears and I could see how tall he was.

I met his stare, seeing the stoic but, dare if I say, playful gleam to those red eyes. His brows furrowed just a tad, making him look angry yet his body language told me he was relaxed, comfortable as he had his arms crossed over his chest as he leaned against the wall. I felt heat rise to my neck and cheeks as his eyes fell, clearly checking me out before he pulled up his hood, starting to retreat back into the alley.

“Hey,” I gasped and flinched as Ashley and Tessa came out with bags. Both of them jumped when I did, scaring them as well. “Whoa! Dude, are you okay?” She asked, and I felt my heart hammer in my chest.

I smiled as I placed a hand to my chest, nodding. “Yeah, just startled me, that’s all.”

Tessa smiled, “Well, we wanted to drop these off and then look at the Volterra castle…”

I beamed, “Sounds great!”

There turns out, was an open tour for people and then a private tour that seemed to let people see more of the castle. I wasn’t interested in the private tour so we just agreed to do the normal one and then go eat. I was snapping some pictures, admiring the architecture of the place. I snapped a picture of the paintings on the ceiling when I turned down a hallway and gasped at the portraits of the royalty. One painting was of three men, two brunettes and a blonde. They were both pale in face, and had beautiful faces and seemed young yet old around the eyes. The eyes. Red. Though not bright like the boy from earlier, but these men had a deep and dull red that reminded me of wilted roses. Dead roses. I walked down the hall, snapping a picture of each painting before looking around.

Ashley and Tessa were conversing with a woman and her husband about us being from America. The conversation was in Italian, so I didn’t bother with paying attention. I nearly gasped as I saw him, once again, standing at the very end of the hall. His cloak was off, just leaving him in his uniform looking suit clothing.

I watched as he lifted a hand, beckoning me to come towards him with his finger. A slow smirk pulled his mouth to the right side of his face-or was it his left?-as I started to walk towards him. I got a few paintings down, almost thirty meters away from him before someone called out to me.

“Emberly?” I blinked, not seeing him at all at the end of the hall and turned to see Ashley and Tessa looking at me like I was a chicken with its head cut off. “Are you okay?” Tessa continued.

I blinked, nodding my head. “Yeah,” I smoothed out my shorts, my hands clammy and warm. “I’m fine...are you ready to eat?” I asked, sending them a fake but polite smile. Ashley nodded, hooking her arm in mine, Tessa doing the same to my right arm, before leading us out of the castle quickly. We ate at a small restaurant. Tessa got some weird chicken dinner, Ashley a salad, and I got some pasta.

“Are you sure you're okay?” Ashley asked, brushing out her hair as she looked at me. Tessa decided to sleep with her, claiming she wouldn’t steal the covers like I did. I smiled at her, a book in my lap as I sat by the bedside lamp, reading an older book I loved as a kid. The Clockwork Angel.

“I’m completely fine, I promise you.” I send her a smile, turning back to my novel and reading. The two crawled into bed, their side of the room was dark but mine was simply lit for my book. It wasn’t long before the tv lulled them to sleep, and I closed my book, slowly crawling out of my covers and grabbing my camera.

I walk out to our balcony, the moon lighting up the sky, along with the city lights. I place my camera strap around my neck, leaning my elbows on the railing and flick through my photos. I stopped when I made it to the ones of that boy. Now that I went back and actually took the time to look at the photo of his face covered. Only I now saw that the only thing I couldn’t see was his eyes, forehead, and his jaw. It was impossible to make out his features, or actually stare at him. I sighed and looked up at the stars, seeing very few out tonight. I let my eyes fall, but I jumped back when I saw him. He was across the street, standing on the roof of whatever building was directly across from the hotel.

My mouth fell open as he tilted his head to the side, and I slowly brought my camera to my eyes, focusing close on his face. My camera caught the detail, and he stood still, almost posing for the picture as my camera silently took a photo...or two. Okay, maybe three. I dropped my camera, letting it dangle at my stomach and backed away. Furrowing my brow when I saw him step onto the ledge, I paused in the doorway, wondering if he would jump.

“Oh don’t be silly,” I shook my head and muttered to myself. “Just your imagination.” I left the door open, liking the feel of the breeze as I crawled into bed. Turning off the light and setting my camera on the table, I laid on my side, facing the door to the balcony. My bed was the one right next to it, and I felt my eyes start to droop, sleep pulling me in.

“Wakey, wakey…” I moaned, turning in my sleep. “Emberly…”

“What?” I whined, wincing at the bright light of the morning. I pulled the blanket over my head, hiding my face from my friends.

“We want breakfast!” Tessa sang softly, making me huff.

“I’m not hungry.” I mumbled, my voice muffled by the covers. “Can I stay here?”

“Well we planned to go shopping after words…” Ashley trailed off and I pulled the covers off.

“You know I don’t enjoy those types of things, I’ll just be a party pooper.” I shrugged, and they give me smiles.

“You sure?”

I nodded, “Yup.” I watched as they gathered their things and hurried out, sending me air kisses and waves. I laughed, shaking my head at their antics before sighing, looking over at the balcony to see the door was closed. I frowned, I left that open last night. Hmm, maybe one of the girls closed it. I shrugged and got up, walking to the bathroom and peeing, brushing my teeth and throwing my hair up into a small bun. It was a little chilly today, and seemed like it might rain. I pulled on a pair of skinny jeans, my black converse, and a deep grey sweater that fell off one shoulder, exposing a black tank top.

I didn’t bother with makeup, ignoring the bags under my eyes. I turned on the tv, but it was in Italian so I couldn’t understand it. I flipped it off and fell back on the bed, rubbing my eyes. I sighed when my stomach growled, I wasn’t hungry like twenty minutes ago. I stood up and looked for my wallet with my ID and money inside, but I couldn’t find it. I had it laying on the bedside table, beside my camera...but that wasn’t there either. I rubbed my face, maybe the girls took it?

I grabbed my phone and the extra room key and made my way out, sending them a text asking where they were at.

They were at a small little breakfast place that served coffee and bagels and stuff. It sounded good, so I made my way down there. It seemed to be about a ten minute walk. Maybe fifteen if I get lost. I stopped and waited for traffic, the sun hidden from the dark stormy clouds. It thundered, making me jump and turn to look up. A drop fell on my face. I muttered curses under my breath and run to take shelter under a small ledge in an alley, pressing myself against the brick wall to stay dry. It was pouring down rain, water running down the sidewalk into a drain, carrying small pieces of dirt or rocks.

“Are you alright?” I jumped, chuckling as I pressed a hand to my chest.

“Yeah I just-” I stopped when I looked into deep red eyes, my body freezing in shock as he leaned in closer, a smirk on his face as his hood blocked his face from the rain. “You…” I breathed, making him chuckle, and I gasped as his gloved fingers traced a line up my collar bone, along my jugular, and gripped my chin and forcing me to look to the right.

He pressed his face in my neck, his nose and lips brushing my skin softly. I heard him inhale deeply.

“You’ll do just fine.”