#love honey crisp but they expensive

[mountainsandmayhem]

BDSMaid - Chapter 8

Series Summary: After recently graduating you take what is supposed to be a job to save money before you go back to university to get your law degree. Your best friend offers you a job cleaning luxury homes for clients you’ll never know. Easy. Simple. Mundane. Until one of your clients is home and everything you felt was missing in your life starts to fall into place. This goes against the NDA you signed and you could get fired. Or worse, you could fall in love.  WC: 5.5k TW: I will put them below the cut for those who want to avoid spoilers. This is more of an original character, there have been some descriptions of reader throughout the series. A/N: How can I make a note when I have words?! I'm just so grateful for how many people have fallen in love with this story this year. It's crazy to me that I posted my first fan pic on December 23rd 2023, expecting about 3 people to see it and waking up to 100's of notifications. 2024 has literally been whirlwind, I've made so many wonderful ladies here and have grown more and more confident in my writing abilities. Thank you @lotusbxtch for being my forever beta for this series (probably an unhealthy crutch, but so be it haha). Thank you @for-a-longlongtime for letting me bounce ideas off of you and giving me a new insight to how sweet girl or Joel would think. @mermaidgirl30, @alltheirdamn and @littlevenicebitch69, what would I do if I couldn't scream about this story with you?! Ok eww, I'm done being sappy. Enjoy! Dividers and headers by @saradika-graphics

My Masterlist || Series Masterlist

TW: use of sex toys (vibrator and butt plug)

You

When you walked into your small apartment on Sunday, Odette was wrapped up in a blanket watching TV. She looked you up and down with a knowing smirk. It was pretty obvious based on the way Joel’s sweats and hoodie hung off your body that you were with a man all weekend. So, after she agreed to keep it between the two of you, you told her absolutely everything. It was freeing to finally be able to discuss Joel with one of your friends. The two of you spent almost six hours going over every detail of the last few weeks, and after ordering pizza and splitting a bottle of rosé, you had all the validation you needed. He loves you. And you love him, too. 

As the weekend rolls into the week, you still have not come down from your happy, little Joel Miller-shaped cloud. There’s not a single doubt in your mind that he is it. You have never let your walls down with someone like you have with him. It was always easier to just do it on your own; you could always count on yourself.  For the first time in your life, you can confidently say that you’re ready to let that go. It’s time for you to let someone take care of you for once. When he texts you on Monday to make plans for the following day, you decide that you’re going to tell him how you feel.

When Tuesday finally comes around, you practically skip up to his house. You have a duffle bag of items in one hand: your outfit for this evening, make up, and a change of clothes in case you spend the night. Wearing his clothing home was fun and all, but you won’t be doing any sort of walks of shame again. Clasped tightly your other hand is your company-provided caddy full of cleaning supplies. Just as you’re about to place the supplies on the front step, the large front door opens.

“Hi, Freckles,” Joel's voice coats every inch of your skin in warm honey. He shines an absolutely knee-weakening smile down at you. As per his usual JMKink attire, he’s in perfectly fitted black dress pants, expensive looking black dress shoes, and a pressed, crisp white dress shirt. The sleeves are rolled to his elbows and your mouth waters at the way his bare forearms look.  

“Hi,” you beam up at him, not holding back your ear-to-ear grin as you glow under his attention. “I wasn’t expecting you to be here!”

“I have to leave soon, but I have something for you.” He steps out onto the front steps and grabs everything from you before you follow him inside. You change into the white keds that Jamie gave you on your first day at Maid Discreetly before heading towards where he’s standing in the kitchen. There are three boxes on the kitchen island; two small black ones and one white one that you recognize immediately. He pushes that one towards you first. 

“This is your new iPhone,” he says with a wink and you feel your cheeks flush.

“Thank you,” you say shyly.

He shakes his head, “No, thank you for not fighting me on this. That cracked screen...”

“I know,” you say, raising a hand to stop him. You deepen your voice, “It’s a hazard, sweet girl.”

He laughs like he did that night at the Shibari class, deep and from his gut; it’s the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard and your heart swells at the possibility of getting to hear that laugh for the rest of your life. “Exactly. These other boxes…well, they’re for you, but also for me.”

You raise your eyebrows curiously as he slides the smaller of the two black boxes across the smooth marble of the island. His bottom lip slips between his teeth as you pull the top off of the first box. Sitting on a bed of white tissue paper is a small metal plug with a pink heart-shaped diamond on the end. 

“Mister Miller! Scandalous!” You gasp, feigning shock and surprise.

He laughs again as he asks, “Is that ok?”

“Very much so,” you respond with a smile before opening the next box, which is slightly bigger than the last. A black, U shaped piece of silicone sits in the box, along with a small plastic rectangle that looks similar to a key fob. “What’s this?”

“That, my sweet girl, is a remote vibrator. I was thinking that maybe you could wear both of those while you clean my house today. I can control that with the remote from a close distance or from my phone anywhere in the world.” 

Every hair on your body stands on end as your clit throbs in excitement. “Yes, I would really, really like to do that!”

“Good girl,” he says with a wink, holding a hand out to you. His fingers link with yours and just the slightest touch from him sends sparks up your wrist and straight to your racing heart. He grabs your new toys and leads you up the stairs. Your giggle is laced with arousal when you come to a stop in his enormous ensuite. After placing the toys on the counter he pulls you in, his free hand cupping the back of your neck before he slams his lips into yours. He kisses you hungrily, and you meet his energy, kissing him back as if you’re drunk with passion. His teeth nip your bottom lip as he pulls away. You’re so insanely, maddeningly in love with this man that you almost forget how to stand as he steps back.

“Take off your pants, sweet girl.”

You do as he says, eagerly unbuttoning your company issued black dress pants before sliding them down your legs. He stops you before you remove your thong, breathing out a heady ‘fuck’ before hooking his thumbs through the bright pink lacy waist band and sliding them down your legs. 

“Put your hands on the vanity and bend over for me,” he instructs with bated breath. He watches your reflection in the mirror, looking right into your soul as always, as you follow his instructions.  

You smile lovingly at him, clocking the way his throat works as he swallows hard at the sight of you bending at the waist, pushing your ass out for him. “Fuck, how did I get so lucky? All of this, just for me?”

“Just you, Joel,” you breathe, slipping your bottom lip between your teeth. 

He slides open a drawer and takes out two small bottles before turning on the water. He pops the top of one bottle, using the contents to wash both toys, then steps back behind you with the second bottle in and the plug in his hands. A warm laugh leaves your lips, “Always so prepared, Mister Miller.”

“With a pretty little thing like you in my life, I better be.” He clicks the top of the lube open as he continues, “Ready? I’ll go slow.”

“Mm-hm, I’ll tell you if it’s too much,” you coo, your body thrumming with the anticipation of his touch. 

“I know you will. No safeword right now, okay? Just say stop, and I will.” He spreads the lube around your tight ring of muscle with his thumb. Every muscle in your body goes slack under his attention and you sigh as your lashes flutter against your cheeks. “Good girl, just relax for me.”

After a few minutes of teasing you with the pad of his thumb he switches to the plug. The cold metal makes you jump. He reassures you by squeezing your hip as he murmurs, “You’re ok, baby.”

He swirls it gently at first, slowly applying more and more pressure before it slips in on its own and you whimper at the feeling. “Does that feel okay, sweet girl?”

“Mmm, yes,” you smile at his reflection in front of you. The amber glow of the LED lighting behind the mirror accentuates the honey flecks in his eyes. Everything about the way he’s looking at you feels overwhelming. It’s like when you first step foot into a hot tub on a cold winter's night. The sting of the swirling water is almost too hot as you sink further in. For a second you consider getting out, but then every single cell in your body adjusts and you can’t imagine not being wrapped in that heat.

“Now this one,” he says, holding up the black u-shaped vibrator. He adds a bit of lube and then guides your hips further back with one hand before kneeling. Your pussy clenches against nothing as you glance over your shoulder seeing him on his knees behind you. He practically whimpers, “God, Freckles, this pussy. She’s so gorgeous.”

A shy smile turns your lips upward. Joel starts to work the toy inside of you and you gasp out a moan. He moves the bulbous head of the toy back and forth until it slips in on its own accord, just like the plug did. Your breathing quickens at the pressure on your g-spot and clit; the toy isn’t even on yet and it already feels so good. Joel’s lips sponge against the globes of your ass, then your hip as he stands. “Are you ok, sweet girl?”

“Yes, Mister Miller,” you respond, your breath catching in your throat as you stand. 

“Good. Now put your clothes back on and get to work.”

Before you can bend to pick up your discarded clothing, he pulls you into his arms and brings his lips to yours. The kiss is so soft that it steals your breath, and you almost blurt your feelings for him right then and there. He keeps one arm wrapped tightly around your waist while the other snakes up your body until his large palm cups the side of your face. This kiss, compared to the one from earlier, is different in every way. Where that one was rough and passionate, this one is gentle and almost lazy; a content moan rumbles from his chest. Before pulling away, his warm tongue swipes sweetly across yours. 

 “See you later, honey,” he whispers, then kisses your forehead and walks away.

Honey, he called me honey. Everything about the last few seconds feels so goddamn domestic, and your potential life five years from now flashes through your mind. 

You're standing in this bathroom, getting ready to head to the law firm you work at. Joel, no longer just your dom but also now your new husband, puts a fresh latte on the counter for you, then helps you with the clasp of your necklace before kissing that sensitive spot behind your ear. ‘See you later, honey’.

The rev of Joel’s Jag pulling out of the garage snaps you out of your daydream. You get dressed and walk back downstairs while opening the Maid Discreetly app. To your surprise, cleaning Joel’s office isn’t the first task. Instead, you’ve been asked to wipe down the kitchen, then vacuum the main floor, stairs and upstairs rooms, and finish off by dusting his bedroom. All of it seems very doable in the next four hours, and just when you think you’ll probably be done early and have time to properly get ready for your night out, Mister Miller reminds you that he has the remote to a very distracting detonator. 

The first few times the vibrator comes on it’s subtle, just a light buzzing against your clit. It’s enjoyable, almost like a tickling massage, but after almost an hour and half of being gently teased at random you can feel your frustrations start to reach a boiling point.

You: Mister Miller, you’re torturing me Joel: Oh, sweet girl. We’ve only just begun. You: *pouts* Joel: That’s not going to get you what you want. Be a good girl and get back to work. I have a meeting. 

You check off the kitchen and main floor tasks and then move to the stairs. You decide to start at the top, sitting on the stair below it and scoot down to save your back. You’re also hoping that the pressure on the toy will make it strong enough that you can finally come. Joel turns the vibrator on again and you whine out in frustration when your plan fails. The slight hum against your clit stops and you mutter something about Joel being a sadistic bastard under your breath and continue your backwards ride down the stairs. As you reach the halfway point the vibrator comes to life at an intensity so strong that you drop the hose of the vacuum and dig your nails into the plush carpet of the stair tread. 

“Oh, fuck,” you breathe, squeezeing your legs together as he brings you right to the edge. Your orgasm builds quickly, and just as it’s about to take you, the vibrations stop. 

Joel: You better not have come You: Please, Mister Miller. I was so close Joel: Not yet, babygirl  

Joel continues this throughout the afternoon. Every ten minutes or so, the black u-shaped torture device inside of you comes to life; always at different intensities and for varying times. 

Torture device might be a bit strong, the discarded box of feelings says from the back of your mind. We both know you’re enjoying it. You don’t know when she decided to come back, but at least she’s keeping you honest. 

It’s been about three hours by the time you get to your last task of the day. The vibrator buzzes gently as you grab a duster and head into Joel's bedroom. You bite back a smile seeing his bed, the white fluffy sheets neatly tucked in. You can’t help but run your fingers across the soft duvet, remembering how it felt against your skin, remembering how he felt above, behind, below and beside your naked body.

Joel: You doing ok? Do you need to use your safeword? You: I’m okay, Mister Miller. I REALLY need to come, but this is the best day I’ve ever had at work.

When 3:30pm hits, you’ve finished everything in the app, and are so wound up from being teased that you’re fighting from taking the vibrator out and making yourself come. Everytime the vibrator comes on, you break out in goosebumps, the hair on your body standing on end, but when he turns it off, your cheeks flush in frustration and a wave of heat rolls through you. You know Joel will take care of you when he gets home and sees how badly you need it. He talks a big game, but you see the way he folds when you beg. 

Joel: I’ll be home in about 40 minutes, Tommy won’t shut up about concrete. You: I need to come so badly, Mister Miller. I’m throbbing, please!  Joel: Soon. Just breathe, sweet girl. You can do this. 

You need to distract yourself, and you know Joel’s office usually gets pretty dusty, so even though it’s not on your list, you grab your cleaning supplies and slowly open the door. It’s as it usually is: small piles of papers on the desk and a few things out of place on the book shelf. You put the books back and dust the shelves, then run the duster over the blinds before cleaning the window.

Joel: Goddamn, he’s still going on about fucking concrete. How’s my baby doin? You: Horny, I’m trying to distract myself

The vibrator comes to life at the lowest setting. Once again, it’s not enough to make you come, just enough to tease and taunt. You could cry at the frustration of it. 

You: That’s not helping, Mister Miller Joel: What’s not? You: Hilarious. Please? Joel: Nope. I love watching you come, hearing the whiny little gasps you make, so not until later

You move towards the desk. Just as you reach to tidy the stack of papers, the vibrations against your clit hit at an intensity you haven’t felt yet today. You fall forward, gasping for breath, as the papers scatter to the floor. You’re about to fall into the pleasure, feel those waves of nirvana that you so desperately need when the vibrator turns off and you’re left with nothing. You bite back an agitated yell. 

Joel: See you in less than half an hour, sweet girl. You better not have come.  You: I didn’t. I promise. 

You’ve never read anything on Joel’s desk before, but you notice a familiar emblem on the first piece of paper you pick up. It’s a short, handwritten note, and as your eyes scan the few sentences, your heart leaps into your throat as your stomach simultaneously falls to the floor. You read through it once and then twice, trying to make sense of the information in front of you. After blinking hard a few times, you read it again. 

You feel like you’re being ripped in two. 

Joel, Thank you for your generous (and anonymous) donation to the law library. I’ll be sure to find her application and review it myself. See you at the club's anniversary party in a few weeks.

You flip the note over and back again, reading it through one last time. It’s not signed by anyone, just black ink on eggshell white, the University of Austin letterhead at the top. The letter and the room start to spin. You stumble towards his desk chair and breathe through the wave of nausea that hits you; your mind reels at what you’ve just learned. Anger, disbelief and sadness all push against your prefrontal cortex, fighting to be the winning emotion. You want it to be anger – anger is so much easier to deal with. Yelling and telling Joel to fuck off would make you feel so much better, but overwhelming sadness and disappointment ultimately become the victors. 

He doesn’t believe in me.

The realization feels like knives along your skin. Everything he said about how you could do it, or that you’d get in…that was all bullshit. He paid for you to get in, and then – and this is the part that hurts the most – he made you believe that you did it all on your own. Your lungs feel like they’re filled with glass as you force yourself to take slow, controlled breaths. 

He doesn’t believe in me.

Tears prickle behind your eyes but you force them back. You will not cry, not when you’ve been through this before and came out stronger. Your parents didn’t believe in you, and you proved them wrong, graduating early and making it on your own in Texas for the last four years.

I can prove Joel wrong, too.

You shut your eyes tight. You don’t need him; you don’t need anyone. But if that’s true, why does his sexy smirk flash behind your eyelids? The glass moves from your lungs to your veins; everything hurts, and you scold yourself for letting him get this intertwined in you. 

Never again, you tell yourself. Stick to your plan. Law school. Get in with a good firm, pass the bar and become partner; then worry about a love life. 

You walk to his bedroom, removing the toys and cleaning them off before changing into the black leggings and beige crew neck sweater you brought. You gather your hair into a claw clip and head downstairs. With your bag by the door and the letter still clutched in your hand you lean back against the kitchen island and wait for Joel. 

He doesn’t believe in me. 

Joel

The drive home feels like it takes forever; granted, Tommy talking about fucking concrete for almost an hour felt longer. At dinner tonight, he’s going to explain from the beginning. He prepares himself for the worst, for your anger or hurt. He won’t be able to live with himself if he’s hurt you, but anger he can deal with. He knows it’s selfish, but you yelling at him over this would make him feel better. 

Finally, he turns into his neighborhood. The sight of your slightly rusty SUV parked on the street spreads a familiar warmth from his heart to his toes. Mine, he thinks to himself as he pulls into his garage. He knows you’re going to be so tightly wound from all the teasing you endured today, and he plans to very slowly unwind you before you go for dinner. The way you fall apart for him is so beautiful, and after almost four hours of being brought to the edge over and over again, he can’t wait to have your writhing and shaking with a simple flick of his tongue against your clit. But first, he’s going to kiss every inch of your skin while occasionally clicking the vibrator on at its lowest setting. He almost trips over your bag as he comes into the house, and when his eyes meet yours, he knows something is wrong.  

“Baby?” His voice cracks in concern at the look on your face. He mentally runs through the rolodex of facial expressions he’s seen from you, and he hates that he can’t place this one; it’s not anger or sadness, and it most definitely is not excitement or curiosity. Your soft lips are turned down in the corners, arms crossed and eyes soft. “What’s wrong?”

Your arms uncross and you hold out the letter he should have shredded weeks ago.

His stomach does a free fall. Disappointment. The look on your face is disappointment, and that is so much worse than anger or sadness. 

Fuck. 

You

Joel walks towards you with slow, measured steps while carding a nervous hand through his curls. You force yourself to continue breathing, fighting against the tears that threaten to appear. He takes the letter from you and rips it in half; you drop your eyes, watching as the two halves of paper flutter to the ground and then slide away from each other along the marble. You shake your head at the symbolism of it, hugging your arms tightly against your body again.

“I thought you believed in me,” you say, trying not to sound as gutted as you feel. 

“I do, sweet girl,” he says, stepping so close that his black leather dress shoes line up with your socked feet. You look up as he continues, “I swear I do. You - you got in on your own. Please, just let me explain.”

His eyes line with tears and moments that you overlooked over the last few weeks playback like a movie. The first day in this kitchen he said he knew the dean of admissions. The flash of anger when you went to the Shibari night and his response of “all of them?” when you said you didn’t get in. The way he insisted you open the letters before the anniversary party. He knew, he fucking knew all along that at least one university would accept you. Dread settles in your stomach, turning the shards of glass under your skin to icicles. Berkeley.

“Did you pay off Berkeley, too?”

“I didn’t pay anyone off.” He’s calm but firm in his response, which just seems to piss you off more. 

You roll your eyes, gesturing to the ripped paper on the floor and scoff. “Did you pay off Berkeley, Joel?”

The two of you stare at each other for a few heartbeats, and you don’t back down as more tears gather along his bottom lash line. He shakes his head in defeat, burying his hands in his pockets and breathing slowly a few times before whispering, “No.”

“Why would you do this to me? This could have ruined my entire career.” You try to keep your voice calm, but how dare he stand in front of you holding back tears. 

“I’m sorry, sweet girl. I wasn’t - I just…I’m sorry,” he flounders.

“Why, Joel?” Your eyes dance along his face. You aren’t sure what justification you're looking for or hoping for. The dream of staying here died the moment you picked up that note, but you can’t go to California without knowing why he did it. 

He opens his mouth, shaking his head slightly and then closes his mouth. He takes a deep breath through his nose, blinking away the tears. “Because I don’t want to lose you, Freckles. I should have told you, I was going to tell you tonight. That donation isn’t the reason you got in…you did that on your own. I just…well, I just sped up the process. And I’m so sorry you found out like this.”

You scoff again. “I thought my consent was the most important thing to you.”

His eyes widened in shock. “It is, sweet girl.”

“I didn’t ask you to meddle in my life, Joel. And I certainly didn’t ask you to speed along the process. What happens if I become a Supreme Court judge and someone finds out that you bribed a university to get me?” He goes to speak, but you raise a hand to stop him and continue. “And don’t tell me that you didn’t bribe anyone, because that’s exactly how this looks and you know it. You wouldn’t be looking at me like a guilty puppy if you thought what you did was right.”

His hands come to cup your face. The warm coffee eyes that usually dance rhythmically around your face are replaced by shifting dark glass beads laced with fear and loss. The warmth you normally feel when he touches you is gone. His eyes flick to your lips and then back to your eyes before he speaks. 

“Freckles, I lov-”

Your still raised hand covers his mouth, clamping tightly to his face to stop him. 

“Please don’t,” you whisper, swallowing the lump in your throat and keeping your palm pressed to his soft lips. Your heart pounds behind your ribs in response to what he was about to confess. If he tells you what you so desperately wanted to hear just hours ago, you know you’ll crumble. You’ll let him take you up to his bedroom and apologize in a way that only he can. You’ll spend the night planning how you can do long distance while you’re in California. You’ll let him interfere with the plan…again.

“Don’t say that to me right now, I can’t hear that.”

He nods into your hand slowly, his eyes soften, and you try to memorize every bit of amber in his otherwise black brown eyes. This will be the last time he looks at you like this, and the realization seems to suck the air out of the room. You wish you could bottle up how it makes you feel when he looks at you like that; the way it comforts you and shuts off the narrated to do list in your mind that’s always growing in your mind. 

“Joel, if…if you feel that way, then you’ll let me go,” you tell him, voice just above a whisper. He lets out a shaky breath through his nose, the heat of it warming your hand. One of his hands leaves your face to wrap around your wrist, but he doesn’t pull your hand away or step back out of your grip. Instead, he runs his thumb in small circles along the soft, smooth skin there, and you swear you can feel the whorls of his thumb tattooing themself on you, trying desperately to stay with you forever. 

“You’ll understand why I have to go to Berkeley now,” you continue. “I have been working so hard for this. And for years, I have been doing it all on my own. I’m so close, Joel…so close to finishing what I started when I was, like, seven years old. So, please, I’m begging you…please do not finish that sentence.”

You drop your hand from his mouth, his grip going weak as he lets you slip out of his grasp. He looks small, almost deflated in front of you as he stumbles back a few steps. The silence between the two of you feels heavy. 

It’s over. Whatever this was, or could be, is over, and you both know it. 

When he finally speaks, it’s a sad whisper. “What about when you’re done?”

“A lot can change in three years, Joel,” you respond, mostly to extinguish the flicker of hope in your chest. It’s better for you to push him away now than to hope that he’ll be there when you graduate. No one has ever been there for you, and this is proving to be no different. You step around him and head to the front door, biting down hard on the inside of your cheek as the tears threaten to reappear while you get your shoes on. 

“Freckles, wait.”

You close your eyes, facing the door with your hand on the matte black knob. His dress shoes click on the shiny marble before his large hand comes to rest on the door beside your head. This is the exact position you were in after accidentally catching him in his office. You keep your eyes glued to the door and after a sniffle, a quiet clearing of his throat and a whispered, heartbreaking ‘fuck’, he continues. 

“I really am sorry,” he says, his voice hoarse. “This is not how I wanted this to go, but you know what you need and I respect your choice. These last few weeks have been so much more than I could have imagined, more than I deserve. You have brought me back, sweet girl. I know you probably don’t believe a word of what I’ve said tonight, and that’s ok, but with you, I felt that pull that I’ve been waiting for. I felt it the minute your cleaning caddy fell to the ground and I locked eyes with you. If you were anyone else, I would have let you run out of here and then had you fired. I chased you and I’ve been chasing you ever since, even though I know you are meant for more and that this could only ever be temporary for you. This was always going to be the end for me and a well-deserved, hard-earned beginning for you.”

He takes a shaky breath in and you open your eyes, but you don’t look back at him. “Regardless of all that, I meant what I said in my office that day. Starting this with you would be it for me. A lot can change for you in three years, and I want you to experience everything in California. But for me, it’s you. It will always be you.”

Your chest feels like it’s going to cave and your knees threaten to buckle. “I have to go, Joel,” you grit out, forcing your voice past the boulder that’s formed in your throat.

“I know, and I’m so proud of you, sweet girl,” he whispers, dropping his hand and stepping back. The heat of his broad body and leather-and-ash scent disappear from behind you, and it feels like you’ve been plunged into freezing, uncharted waters. 

You get in your car and drive, unsure of where your final destination will be. After driving around Austin for a while, you find yourself parking outside of the Maid Discreetly office. You take a minute, deciding what you are and aren’t going to tell your best friend before heading in. Jamie’s office is impeccable as always, not a single smudge on the glass desk as she types on her laptop, looking effortlessly perfect.  

“Hey, babe!” she says with a smile as you cross the threshold.

“How’s your dad doing with the California office?” you say, trying to act casual.

“Oh my god!” she practically shrieks as she jumps up from her chair. “Did you get into Berkeley?”

“That depends,” you say, raising one shoulder. “Does he have a job for me there?”

“Holy shit!” She runs around the desk and wraps you in her arms. How she can move like that in stilettos is beyond you.

“Careful, you’re gonna break an ankle,” you deadpan. The weight of what just happened with Joel almost dissipates. Jamie pulls back to look at you, her eyes scan your face and you feel exposed.

“Why aren’t you more excited? What’s wrong?”

Shit. 

A sob leaves your throat and you collapse into Jamie’s open arms. She pulls you into her office with one arm and closes her door with the other, then leads you to the couch along the far wall. As soon as she gets you seated, you manage to explain everything between sobs and very unattractive nose blowing.

This is supposed to be one of those exciting moments of your life. You did it: you got into the school you always dreamed of and you're moving to California; a place you always felt most at ease in. Yet, it’s all clouded over by having your heart wholly shattered by a man that you actually thought was going to be the love of your life. Someone who showed you he cared, showed you that he’d always be there. 

But it was all a lie. 

[redvexillum]

Laughter and the warm, heady aroma of rich Cajun spices twirled in the air, wrapping around your senses like a comforting blanket on a crisp Louisiana evening. The slight dip in temperature heralded the arrival of autumn, a season that changed the vibrant landscape into a tapestry of oranges and red. Through the dusty window of Alastor’s cottage, a stark red light from the setting sun streamed in, illuminating the man himself: tall and lanky, with slightly curled brown hair that danced around his ears, and warm brown eyes that sparkled with mischief.  

“My love,” he said, stepping closer, his voice thick as honey and just as sweet. “I must say, I am absolutely ecstatic that you finally decided to join me this time.” 

His proximity stirred a mix of emotion within you, and you wrinkled your nose as a heavy metallic tang pierced the air – a scent so out of place amidst the inviting spices and laughter.  

With a playful smile mirroring his, you leaned in, feigning innocence as you whispered, “You know, it’s a bit challenging to ignore that…unusual bouquet you’ve got going on. What’s that, a new cologne?” 

Alastor chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that never failed to send a shiver down your spine. “Ah, that would be my secret ingredient,” he teased, the corners of his mouth curling into a sly grin. “I’ve always had a penchant for the hunting arts, you see. A little blood adds flavour, don’t you think?” 

You pushed aside the insidious whisper in your mind that noted how this man always seemed to carry an undercurrent of something dark and unsettling beneath his expensive cologne. You glanced over the pile of vibrant, red, raw meat on the counter – a testament to his hunting prowess.  

The meat gleamed under the soft glow of the cottage’s flickering light, an odd sight during these trying times of the Great Depression. But then again, Alastor was a popular radio host, and with fame came a certain indulgence in life’s luxuries.  

“Luxuries indeed,” you murmured under your breath.  

Suddenly, warm hands framed your face, pulling your gaze into the depths of Alastor’s whisky-brown eyes. His devilish, charming smile ignited a warmth in your heart that spread like a wildfire. At that moment, you were captivated by a man you knew you were forbidden to love.  

He was a man whose world was miles apart from your own.  

Yet… 

Yet, here you were, hidden among the thick, twisting trees of the bayou, far from prying eyes. Here, perhaps, the love that others labelled as deranged might find a place to breathe freely.  

Looking at him, a weight of guilt squeezed your heart. "I’m sorry I kept cancelling at the last minute, Alastor, I –" you began, your voice trembling with the heavy, suffocating shroud of unspoken truths. But before you could finish, his gentle finger pressed against your lips, absolving of your crime of almost abandoning him.  

“It’s quite alright, my dear,” he replied, his voice smooth like dark chocolate, rich, thick, and silky.  

Your words of further apologies were lodged inside your throat. No matter what you said to him next, it wouldn’t change the truth of your current situation.  

You and him had different social standings, but moreover, there was the looming shadow of your engagement to another man, the one your parents had chosen for you. The one who was, by all appearances, a good match, a respectable future governor.  

“Let’s just enjoy this moment, just the two of us, darling,” he said, his voice resonating like the warmest notes of a jazz melody. He was truly born to be a radio host, whose words could make even the most stoic hearts flutter – if only they could overlook the darker undertone of his physical attributes.  

Reaching up, you clasped your hand around his, pressing your cheek against the warmth of his inviting palm. It felt like a small rebelling against the world, against your parents, a taste of freedom, a taste of love you longed for – hungeredfor.  

“Okay,” you murmured, inhaling deeply, the earthy scent of the bayou mingling with the intoxicating scent of the sharpness of his cologne. You exhaled slowly, releasing the anxiety and guilt that once clung heavily to your heart.  

Just for this moment, you wished to forget about propriety and the expectations of being the perfect wife-to-be. Just for this moment, you wanted nothing more than to be with Alastor, the man who adored you with all his heart, just as you adored him in return.  

“Now,” he said, slipping his hand away from your face and spinning back to the pile of bleeding, red meat. “I’ll handle this, and if you could be so kind as to peel the potatoes, my darling!” His voice was chipper and jovial, a perfect contrast to the weighty atmosphere that usually surrounded you. You watched in admiration as he wielded the knife with a master that only came from years of experience – his fingers moved with precision and confidence.  

Humming in agreement, you reluctantly turned your attention to the bowl of potatoes. Picking one up, you grasped a small knife, its blade glinting under the softer light. You began to peel the rough skin away while suppressing a giggle as you recalled telling Alastor that you’d never been taught how to cook. Alastor had looked at you as if you grew a second head back then.  

But, you had never told Alastor why you weren’t taught how to cook like other proper homemakers. After all, your sole purpose was to be given away like a prized horse to an affluent man. Your only duties were to remain beautiful in his arms and bear his children.  

You quickly pushed away the bitter feelings that crept up your throat and stung your nose. Instead, you focused on the memory of Alastor being shocked at your admission. “We simply cannot have that! I shall schedule us a date where I can track you my favourite recipe – my mother’s jambalaya!” He had said with his eyes twinkling with glee.  

The soft humming of a tune brought you back to the present moment, the sweet melody from Alastor floated through the air. You lost yourself in the rhythmic task of peeling the potatoes, focused on the repetitive motion of the knife gliding through the skin.  

But then, in a moment of distraction, your clumsy fingers slipped. The sharp edge of the knife sliced through your delicate skin with a sudden sting. “Ah!” You yelped, instinctively pulling your hand away as searing pain bloomed from the cut.  

Crimson rivulets flowed quickly down your fingers, staining the pristine white flesh of the potato. Food was a scarce luxury in these times, and you hated the thought of wasting it so carelessly. "I’m so-" you began, but the words faltered as you felt a wave of dizziness washed over you. Seeing blood had always made you feel a bit queasy.  

Alastor turned sharply, concern etching itself into his features. “What happened?” He asked, rushing to your side, the joviality of moments before replaced by urgency.  

“It’s nothing,” you assured him, though the pain pushed with every heartbeat. “Just a little cut.” 

He took your hand gently in his, his warmth enveloping you like a balm against the pain. “Let me see,” he said softly, his voice dropping to a soothing tone, lulling you into a state of momentarily calm.  

“Oh, my!” Alastor’s voice purred, his grin wide, yet his brow furrowed in playful concern. “My little clumsy girl, whatever will I do with you?” He sighed in an exaggerated tone, a mix of teasing and amusement lacing his words.  

You rolled your eyes, exasperated but endeared by his over-the-top theatrics. "Yes, yes, Alastor. I’m quite clumsy. As I’ve told you many times, I’m not exactly well-versed in the art of cooking–" 

Your sentence was cut short by a sharp intake of breath as his hand closed around your wrist, his grip firm but tender. He pulled your injured finger closer to his face. The suddenness of the touch sent a spark of warmth coursing through you, igniting a flush that spread across your skin.  

His eyes darkened, pupils dilated, as he inspected the cut with an intensity that made your pulse quicken. “Quite a deep cut, indeed,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, as though the sight of your blood stirred something primal within him. His adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, and the heat of the moment hung thickly in the air between you.   

“Alastor?” You whispered, your voice barely audible, the weight of his attention making it difficult to speak. He had never touched you like this before; usually, it was your hand that sought him, your fingertips that brushed his arm with hesitant affection. This shift in dynamic left you breathless.  

With a slow, deliberate exhale, he pressed your injured finger against his lips. The warmth of his mouth ignited a dizzying mix of sensations. The pain from the cut flared briefly, but was soon overshadowed by the soft pressure of his lips, the tender heat of his breath against your skin. His lips moved, painting themselves crimson with your blood, and your heart raced, overwhelmed by the strange intimacy of it.  

His eyes never left yours as he hummed softly, the vibration of his voice sending a shiver through you. His tongue, warm and wet, traced the length of your finger, slow and deliberate, as though savouring every inch of your skin. The soft sounds of his mouth moving over your finger filled the small kitchen, a rhythm that seemed to match the rapid pounding of your heart.  

You gasped when he gently took your finger into his mouth, his tongue curling wickedly around it with a slow, languid grace. The mixture of pain and pleasure was dizzying, and you found yourself unable to tear your gaze away from the sigh of him – devouring your finger, alternating between soft, gentle sucks and firmer, more insistent strokes. The sensation was maddening, leaving you teetering between the sharp edge of discomfort and the intoxicating allure of his touch.  

Every flick of his tongue, every caress of his lips, seemed designed to unravel you, to make you surrender to the moment. The air between you crackled with unspoken desire, the heat of it enveloping you both, drawing you into a world where status, propriety, expectations all dissolved into nothingness.  

Nothing mattered but the press of his lips, the warmth of his breath, and the undeniable pull that connected you.  

Heat rushed to your cheeks, an overwhelming warmth that left your skin tingling as you watched the once-proper man before you indulged in something so…raw. His moans, barely audible, danced with the soft, wet sounds of his mouth working over your finger. His thick dark lashes brushed against his tanned skin, his expression serene, almost lost in the act. 

“Alastor…” Your voice cracked, surprise and something else – something unfamiliar – swirling low in your stomach, tightening with each passing second. You shouldn’t be feeling this. The intimacy of it was unexpected, almost forbidden, and yet…you couldn’t pull away.  

His eyes snapped open upon hearing your voice, piercing through the haze that had settled over your thoughts. Your finger was still between his lips, slick with warmth. His eyes arrested you as he let your finger slowly slide out of him, agonizingly slow, the wet trail glistening under the flickering amber lights in the kitchen. His hand lingered on your wrist, gentle but firm, holding you there as his gaze traced every detail of your face.  

The familiar grin curled at the corners of his mouth, the same charming showman’s smile you had fallen for, back when you were just another listener entranced by his voice on the radio. But here, now, something was different – darker, more…animalistic. A sense of danger, maybe, or hunger.  

You swallowed, your thoughts in disarray, but you forced yourself to speak, breaking the tension. “I thought we were supposed to be cooking, but…” you paused, feeling the heavy weight of his stare, the heat of his presence. “It looks like you’re ready to devour me instead,” you chuckled, the sound weak, betraying the nervous energy thrumming through you. 

Alastor remained silent, his grin frozen in place as his eyes darkened to near black, absorbing every flicker of light in the room. There was something unsettling about his stillness, the way his expression didn’t quite match the energy that pulsed between you.  

And then, in a voice that barely rose above a whisper – smooth, low, and stripped of the transatlantic accent you were used to – he answered.  

“Perhaps I will.”   

Follow #vexitober 2024 to read my questionable kink/fluff stories!

[roseamongroses]

with strange tenderness ch: 1/7

Alternate Universe - Modern Setting /Alternate Universe - Small Town /Artist Mel Medarda/ Muse! Sevika /Court Mandated Found Family/ Sevika Does Not Get Paid Enough (Arcane: League of Legends)/ Retired! Sevika/ Parental Death/ Past Traumatic Events/ Past Violence & Stalking/ Mild Sexual Content/ Dog/Cat Dynamic/ Canon-Typical Exploitation of the Working Class/ no beta we die like Silco/ Vitiligo! Mel/ repeated silco slander/ Hurt/Comfort/ Past Child Abuse/ Past Neglect/ Domestic Fluff

Summary:

“The fuck is a Medarda doin’ in this bum-fuck town?” Jinx asked, squinting at the card.

-

In sleepy, small-town Zaun, nothing changes. Sevika never wanted to return to this shit-hole, but in the aftermath of Silco's execution, she didn't have much of a choice. With two new wards thrust upon her and a forced retirement, she wasn't sure what to make of her new life.

She didn't expect much.

She definitely didn't expect her.

-

ao3

-

Delicate flurries drifted from a neverending expanse of sky, kissing the slope of Sevika’s face with their fleeting cold.

Sevika let out a great, shuddering breath.

Smoke billowed from her mouth and nostrils, an unfurling heat that dissipated all too easily in the face of that crisp winter air. She cracked open an eye, dark and weary.

An ever-persistent nuisance was standing before her, a vision of lovely dark skin, white marks dusting across her cheeks and forehead. The woman was wrapped in soft layers, a teetering snowman of cashmere and fur. In her hand, she held a mahogany colored leash frightfully tight, it's gold stitching catching the early morning light. It looped around, a long line that led to a honey-coated pitbull hiding behind their owner’s shapely legs. It's matching coat and booties looked far more expensive than anything in her own closet.

Sevika let the silence stretch on, stare unrelenting. She narrowed in on the woman hoping to scare her off.

Instead the woman arched a well-shaped eyebrow, polite smile never faltering, “Well?” she pressed again.

Sevika raised her cigarette to her mouth pointedly, inhaling deep.

Scrutinizing her for a moment, the woman pivoted easily, “If you change your mind,’ she started, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a neat, gold square and promptly extending it towards the other woman, “Please give me a call at your convenience. I’d love to discuss in further detail, “ she said.

Sevika wordlessly accepted the business card, watching the woman’s ponytail swing as she returned to her jog. She twirled that slip of paper between her fingers, then once the woman was out of sight, she raised it in the light.

Taking another drag of her cigarette, she squinted at the dark, looping cursive.

-

“The fuck is a Medarda doin’ in this bum-fuck town?” Jinx asked, squinting at the card. Her blue stray hairs were wild about her scrawny face, braids dangling as she hung upside from the seat of the couch.

She had snatched the card from Sevika’s coat pocket after catching a glimpse of the shine. The teenager collected shiny things for her scrapbooks--nails, bubble-gum wrappers, coins. She hoarded junk like a crow until she could smash it together with her beloved hot glue gun. The hobby almost always led to her going through Sevika’s shit like she owned the place.

“How would I know?” Sevika grumbled, back turned as she looked through the fridge with a frown, “She’s some artist or something,” she says, distractedly. She needed to clean out the fridge, everything looks like wolves had chewed through it.

Something warm brushed against her leg and she absentmindedly reached down, scratching the smallest free-loader of the bunch behind the ear. Majesty--her full name far too long and nonsensical for Sevika to even bother remembering--stretched into her touch, tail curling about her boot. She was a stray that Jinx and Isha had found a while ago. Dark brown fur speckled with blonde, wide green eyes that squinted up pleased. She adjusted well to house life. Sevika always suspected she had another home.

“Huh,” Jinx tilted her head, word puncturing the air, “You saved her number,” she notes, a mischievous look stretching across her face.

Sevika looked up, turning around sharply.

Jinx waved Sevika’s phone, a beat up, BlackBerry, taunting, “Was she hot? I bet she was hot--” she yelped, scrambling up as the woman went to snatch the phone back. Sevika only needed to take a few, quick strides to reach her from the kitchen.

Jinx had whipped her head around, balancing herself on the far end of the coach, “Is it a sex thing?” she asked, voice cracking as she fell off the couch in an attempt to dodge her once again, “-cause it sounds like a sex thing, ’ she finished, groaning as she sat up.

“What are you, twelve?” Sevika scoffed, stalking her into a corner.

“And a half-” Jinx shouted back, darting between Sevika’s legs and slipping down the hallway. She tossed the BlackBerry behind her as she escaped.

-

‘The Historic City of Zaun’

Sevika drove her pick-up truck past that half-rotten sign, vivid blue graffiti sprawling across the faded letters. Her prosthetic-arm hung out the window, fingers drumming against the wheel as teeth-rattling drums blasted from her speakers.

Zaun was a mining town that was more dirt then town at this point. Its relevance and wealth rapidly spoilt soon after its inception. She quickly passed the streets of pre-war buildings, equal parts glitz and grime, town quickly scattering into the countryside as she drove further north.

Sevika pulled into the parking lot with a screech, grabbing the liquor in the passenger seat. The truck doors swung haphazardly open as she stepped out, boots heavy as snow crunched beneath her feet.

She nodded towards the groundskeeper, ducking her head as she stepped through those stone archways. She kept her eyes trained forward as she passed each headstone, counting in her head. A long shadow stretched behind her before she finally found what she was looking for. A patch of grass nestled between two weathered headstones.

Sevika casted a long-suffering look towards the ground. She sighed, head tipping back, letting the cold wash over her face as she spoke, “Y’know old man,” she said, wind catching the words he couldn’t, “You we’re right. Nothing in this shit-hole changes.”

She flicked her lighter open and closed in her hand, the clicking sound filling the space.

“That’s what you always wanted me to say, right?” Sevika continued, goading the silence.

Death truly was a novel invention. She spent her whole life hearing the floorboards rattle and the screen door slam. She memorized the sound of heavy boots on carpet, the smell of too-sweet smoke in the halls. She gave as much shit as she took, but she always ended up under that bastard’s boot struggling for air.

Now he had no choice but to listen.

It was unnerving.

Sevika was ill-suited to the quiet. Peace was far too sweet for her lungs. Maybe that’s why she left with Silco, chasing that stupid dream. She was eager to gulp down life’s pleasure’s and far too heavy handed to let them go easily.

She was greedy.

And once it was all done, she ended up back here--to repent with the rest of the sinners. Some would consider it a blessing, an empire fell and only took his head, but she thought otherwise.

This so-called second chance felt like she was back at square one.

Swimming in scum and leaping for rewards.

Nothing in Zaun changes.

Not for anyone or anything.

Sevika couldn’t stand it.

Sullen, she opened the liquor, taking a long swig of the nasty bile before dumping the rest on that plot of grass. Bottle empty, she walked away hawking snot and spit into the puddle left behind.

Those thoughts lingered on, haunting her as she climbed back into the truck, pulling off. Air crawled under her skin, raising the hairs on her back as she was filled with a suffocating need to escape, to do something, anything, different.

Sevika lowered the volume on the radio, raising the phone to her ear.

A softly accented voice cut through the noise.

[e-dubbc11]

Leavin’ Early

Photos are not mine. They are courtesy of Pinterest/Google

Pairing: Billy Russo x F! Reader

Warnings: SMUT! 18+ please! Or I’m telling on you! I mean it! Let’s see, there’s a little bit of everything in here…fingering, oral (F! Receiving) unprotected P in V sex (just cuz, the end 😉) Billy being in complete control of you

Word Count: 3.1K-ish

Summary: You and Billy leave a wedding early because, well, you want him. In every which way you want him and you want him now and he wants you too.

A/N: This is for my lovely friend Lisa @music-indie-tv who sent in this ask from a smut prompt list I reblogged a few days ago. I’ve said it before but I’ll say it again, smut is NOT my wheelhouse but I wanted the practice, so please be gentle! The prompt was:

'take control of me, I trust you' With Billy sounds really hot 🥵

Thank you again for sending this in. I hope you like it! 💜

As always, thank you for reading!  I appreciate it so much and comments, reblogs are welcome and encouraged. Don’t be shy to tell me your favorite part. 💕💕 💕

“Can we go? My feet hurt.”

Batting your eyelashes, you looked up at Billy to watch a sly smile appear across his handsome face. Never breaking eye contact, he took a sip of his bourbon and let it swirl around his tongue, you could tell he was really tasting the smooth tones of maple, oak, and nutmeg.

His top lip retreated back to reveal clenched teeth as he swallowed, watching as you took a sip of the same bourbon from your glass. The medium amber liquid had a gentle spiciness and a sweet oak aroma with a complex taste. Hints of vanilla and honey sprinted across your tongue before a long and smoky finish had your taste buds begging for another sip.

“It’s your friend’s wedding, baby. We can go if you’re ready though, just don’t let that bourbon go to waste. It’s pretty good for not being what we usually drink.” He said, raising his eyebrows, still gazing at you as he took another sip.

With one hand wrapped around his glass, the other pulled you in close by your waist, taking you a little by surprise. His expensive cologne floated past your nose as he leaned in to whisper in your ear.

“You have any idea how hot you look tonight, my love?” He asked.

Billy’s warm breath grazed the top of your ear while his crotch pressed gently against your core, causing your stomach to drop and the hair on the back of your neck to stand up on end. Your panties already had a wet spot on them from the wink he gave you across the room earlier tonight.

He always looked incredibly handsome. His suit always tailored to perfection, not a hair out of place, and his crisp white dress shirt was hugging his tight body in all the right places.

But there was something about the way he looked tonight that was driving you absolutely insane, like you wanted him to do whatever he wanted with you. If he wanted to fuck you in the bathroom or the elevator, you’d be more than willing to let him.

Red hot heat expanded across your cheeks and an intense shudder raced down your spine. The sharp tingle spread throughout your core and he only had a hand on your waist. Billy wasn’t even touching your skin when a low guttural moan escaped your mouth. Slowly, your tongue skirted across your top lip followed by a gentle hum.

“Hmmmmm…oh really?” You asked, shyly.

Billy brushed your collar bone with his long slender fingers as his gaze raked over you filled with concentrated desire. The primal need for him was becoming stronger as his half hard cock twitched in his pants against your black velvet dress.

He had been staring at you possessively since you started to get ready for the wedding. Leaning against the door frame and with a wide smile across his face, he stared while you sang along to the Rolling Stones in the shower.

The steam from the hot water fogged up the glass but he could still make out your silhouette, dancing seductively like no one was watching covered from head to toe in a rich soapy lather.

Billy let out a little chuckle but you couldn’t hear him over the music, so he gently cleared his throat.

Not bothering to turn around, you continued to dance while asking him “You see somethin’ you like, handsome?”

“Oh I always see somethin’ I like when I’m lookin’ at you, baby.” He said, stripping off his t-shirt and jeans to join you in the shower.

“You’re gonna make us late, Billy!” You said, laughing as his lips collided with yours and pressing you up against the shower wall. “My dress is open in the back, I can’t have tile marks on my back!”

He traced his kisses down your neck, to your breasts and making you whimper as he lightly flicked his tongue against your nipple. You didn’t want him to stop but there was no way you’d be ready for the wedding in time if he kept this up.

Billy watched intently as you put the finishing touches on your makeup and hair, while he adjusted his tie. He was so proficient at it, he could tie it with his eyes closed. It turned you on and made you so needy for him, watching him as he shined his shoes, adjusted his cufflinks, and combed his hair.

The same hair that had been in between your fingers an hour ago in the shower as he captured your mouth over and over again, your leg wrapped around the back of his thigh, making sure that you held him as flush as you possibly could to him because Billy loved your touches, he craved them like a man starved.

Physical touch was Billy’s love language and you made sure to always show him physical affection whether it’s lightly raking your nails against his scalp or aggressively digging your nails into his back while he fucked you.

He just loved being touched…by you and only you.

But right now, it was you who desired to be touched by him.

“Yes, my sweet girl. I’ve been eyeing you since you were singing in the shower.” He said. “Here…” Looking around, Billy guided your free hand down to his crotch. “This is what you do to me.” He was getting harder by the second. In the dim light of the ballroom, no one seemed to notice.

Billy took the final sip of his bourbon and set the glass on the high top table next to you. Again, you watched as his Adam’s apple moved up and down when he swallowed, and desperately wanting to taste the leftover bourbon on his lips.

He pinched your chin in between his thumb and forefinger and tilted it up to meet his stare, his eyes intense and dark like a dolls eyes but they were so beautiful.

His slightly wicked smile was all you could see right before he kissed you. Billy’s lips were soft, warm and tasted like vanilla with a little bit of honey.

“Well then take me home, Billy.” You whispered in his ear and taking the final sip of your bourbon. “Take control of me, I trust you.”

He barely let you put the glass down before whisking you out of the reception hall and out to the car he had waiting to take the two of you home.

The brisk autumn air brushed against the bare skin of your shoulders. He pulled you outside quickly after retrieving your coats and frantically looked for the car he hired for the night.

“Don’t you dare put that on.” He said firmly, extending his index finger to point toward you.

Billy practically had you naked in the car on the way home except for your thigh highs and heels. He hovered above you, gingerly brushing the hair away from your eyes, and cupping your cheeks as his lips crashed onto yours. He peppered kisses from your forehead, down your stomach to your knees which trembled at his gentle touch.

His proficient fingers teased your entrance as you arched your back off of the leather seat. One finger pushed inside you, hooking at just the right spot that caused you to sharply inhale and moan into his mouth as he fucked you with just one finger.

You were dripping down his hand as he inserted a second finger just as your walls started to tighten around him, your orgasm slowly building while he finger fucked you in back of the town car.

Each time he pushed his fingers inside, it brought you closer and closer to your release, but he was teasing you on purpose. He was controlling you, just as you had told him to do.

“You’re soaking my hand, baby. You wanna come, don’t you. But I don’t want you to just yet.” He said with a sly smile.

“B-Billy, please!” You choked out with a hitch in your voice.

He was enjoying this as he did every time you wanted him to take control of you. It made him so hard that his cock was straining against his suit pants, begging to be released.

“Ah, ah…not yet sweet girl. We’re not home yet.” He whispered harshly against your mouth with the sweet smell of bourbon on his lips and the fingers of his free hand ghosting over your lips. “Who’s in control here, me or you?”

“Y-you are, Billy.” The words stumbling out of your mouth like you had no control of what you were saying because you were unable see straight.

Moving rhythmically, his fingers felt amazing as you rocked back and forth against them but he stopped you when he felt what you were doing.

“Stop that or I’m taking my fingers away.” A devilish grin stretched across his face.

Through a soft whine, you pleaded with him not to.

“B-but feels so good, baby.”

His dark chocolate eyes stared intensely at you. “You gonna be good for me?” He asked, licking his thumb before drawing circles on your clit. “Or do I have to keep teasing you like this?”

“I’ll be good, Billy.” You whined.

He pushed his fingers inside once more. “That’s my good girl. We’re almost home and don’t put your dress back on when we get there…just your coat.”

You were thankful that your coat was long.

Billy was always very attentive to your needs, the man was not a selfish lover but you made sure to give him what he needed also because he always left you more than satisfied.

So it wasn’t a surprise that as soon as the elevator doors closed, he was on his knees in front of you, your body pushed into the corner of the elevator, and one of your legs draped over his shoulder. He didn’t waste any time parting your folds with his tongue, wanting to devour and taste you so badly, and enjoying every last drop.

A tremor of pleasure shot through your body when he began to suck on your clit. His once perfect hair tumbled into his eyes after you gently pulled on it, and scratching his scalp with your nails. The gradual intensity of your release building again as you pleaded with Billy to let you come.

All he said to you was “Soon…”

He rose to his feet and crushed his lips down against yours, pressing you so hard against the corner of the elevator you thought you might end up on the other side of the wall. The impressive bulge in his pants showed you how badly he wanted you.

With his eyes firmly locked on yours, Billy pulled you into a tight embrace that caused all of the air to escape your lungs while his rock hard cock compressed against you, which soaked the front of his pants.

Your feet still hurt from the shoes you were wearing.

“Billy.” You gasped against his lips. “My feet still hurt. Can I take my shoes off…please?”

“I do love hearing you beg, sweet girl…allow me.” He said sweetly.

Billy kneeled down in front of you, unfastened the straps on your shoes and slid them off your feet just as the elevator reached the top floor. Even though Billy was in complete control of you, he was still sweet, considerate and he would do anything for you.

“I want you to beg some more when we get inside, baby.” He said with a slight smirk.

As soon as the door closed behind you, the dress and shoes in your hand dropped to the floor along with your long wool coat. The only pieces of clothing you had on were your thigh high stockings. Still fully clothed, Billy threw you over his shoulder, carried you to the bedroom and gently put you down on the side of the bed.

The feral look in his eyes said he wasn’t going to make you wait much longer. You had been dying to have him since this afternoon in the shower and he had been teasing you ever since.

“Roll those stockings down and I’ll let you take off my tie.” He whispered in your ear.

“But Billy—“ You started to say when he interrupted you.

All teeth and tongue, Billy kissed you hard. “Roll…the…stockings…down, my love.”

You did as you were told, your hands trembling slightly as you rolled the stockings down your leg and pulled them off.

By this time you were overstimulated. You wanted him badly and you would do anything to get it. No one besides Billy ever made you feel like this, the flutters in your stomach were constant and never went away.

Every time he looked at you, delectable sparks ran along your spine, and your insides crackled with warmth any time he would flash that perfect smile at you.

“Need you, Billy.” You mewled.

He licked his bottom lip. “Help me undress, baby. And I’ll give you what you need.”

You loosened his tie first and unbuttoned his dress shirt, revealing the white undershirt. Slowly pushing his dress shirt off of his shoulders, you bit down on your bottom lip trying to stop yourself from ripping his clothes off of his tight body. Billy really was the sexiest man you’ve ever laid eyes on and sometimes it was still hard to believe that he was all yours.

Reaching for his belt, your fingers were wiggling impatiently. He could tell you were overstimulated so he eased back and softened his voice for you.

“Relax, sweet girl. It’s ok. Get in bed, I’ll do the rest.” He said.

Easing back onto the bed, you watched attentively as he removed his pants and boxer briefs. You could see his scars even in the dim light of the bedroom, remembering the night he told you about all of them even the scars that he didn’t get from being overseas.

You loved him even more for having the courage to tell you about them.

“Lie back, beautiful…and don’t move. It will just delay what you want most.” His stern tone was back.

Billy loved to tease you but you did ask for it. He would have fucked you hard and fast in the car on the way home but you told him “take control of me.” And that’s exactly what he was doing. He was controlling your actions, telling you what he wanted you to do, even telling you when you could come. You hated it and loved it at the same time. It just made your orgasms that much more intense.

He hungrily attacked your body like a wild animal attacking its prey. At times, his onyx colored eyes were locked on you, stalking you, figuring out where to tease you next. His lips and tongue painted your body like it was a canvas and you were a priceless work of art.

To him, you were priceless, you were perfect, and you were all he had ever wanted.

You reached out to graze his beard with your thumb and pull his face close to yours but he grabbed your wrist and pinned it firmly above your head.

That made you pout. “I wanna touch you, Billy.”

“No, baby…not yet.” He growled.

He leaned down to touch his forehead to yours, it was something that he always did to show you how much he loved you before his lips collided with yours. A loud guttural moan escaped your lips as he left little love bites down your neck and gently bit down on that spot on your neck that made you see stars.

For being as touched starved as he was, Billy really did have willpower when it came to him telling you “no” until he was ready. He loved having your hands all over him and you were very gentle when it came to touching his scars.

He loved your desperate, hungry kisses but when your lips would come in contact with his scars, those kisses were tender and comforting and he loved those too.

He was safe with you.

Gazing down at you, he released your wrist and you pulled down on his lower lip before brushing your knuckles across his cheek. His warm skin felt so good against your fingertips and you could almost hear his heart beating out of his chest.

The anticipation was almost painful, he was desperate for you too and knew you had been patient long enough. Using his knee, he pushed your legs apart and lined himself up before slowly pushing against your entrance.

Every cell in your body was on pins and needles, ready for him to move but he waited so he could easily stretch you out and completely bury his cock inside of you.

The noises he pulled from you as he began to move were sinful and became louder when he picked up the pace. Billy’s mouth slanted over yours, preventing the gasp that wanted to flee from your lips. The pleasure wound tighter and tighter inside you as his thrusts became faster and you pulled him in deeper.

Even though he had been controlling you, he was also controlling himself. He lived to please you and hated depriving you of anything especially an orgasm. Those sounds of pleasure were music to his ears and a smirk played across his lips every time he felt your walls flutter around him.

He was close, and felt the contractions in you core one last time before spilling into you…hard, still moving in and out to make sure he filled you up before collapsing on top of you. The sweat on his brow trickled down his temple as you brushed his hair away from his eyes, trying your best to catch your breath.

Billy’s lips found yours for a romantic kiss, his fingers winding around strands of your hair to move them away from your face.

“You alright, sweet girl?” He asked.

Your knees were shaking a little. “Y-yeah, Billy. I’m fine…well more than fine actually.” And you started to laugh.

“It drives me crazy to do that to you, y/n but it feels so good.” He said.

“Yes it does…I love you, Billy.” You said, lightly scratching his scalp.

He gazed down at you with his million dollar smile and said “I love you too, baby. Hey, do you think your friend will mind that we Irish-goodbye’d her wedding?”

You pulled him in for another soft kiss.

“Well it’s only fair, she Irish-goodbye’d ours.” You said with a warm smile.

See…sometimes it’s worth it to leave the party early.

Tag List: @mindidjarin @saintmurd0ck @wheresthesunshinesblog @rafaelakelley @idaoftheburningmind @snowkestrel @xdervyxccgh @mattmurdocksscars @fakehappy27 @music-indie-tv @fictional-hooman @kayhi808 @munsonownsmyass @gijos @celestialams @idek-what-to-put @anastasianeedstoread @ratsys @k-marzolf @nutmeg17 @rosaleenablack @vaguekayla @qu1etwolf

Others that might enjoy: @itwasthereaminuteago @fluffyprettykitty @jvanilly @simple-lovebot @russosafehaven @mrsbillyrusso @imagine-a-fictional-boyfriend

If you’d like to be added to (or removed from) my tag list(s) for the ever so handsome Billy Russo, just let me know and thank you again for reading! 💕💕💕 If I tagged you but you didn’t want to be, just let me know and I’ll never do it again.

[dasbrummli]

Types of People: Humans I love(d).

The Little Sister: Flared pants and platform Doc Martens. Delicate gold earrings, perfect skin and bright eyes. Flat white coffee or matcha latte. Bagels. Techno music and poetic folk songs. Paris. Polaroids. Quick witted and humorous. Dachshund. Shabby sweatpants and runway fashion. Floppy ears. Massages. Banana bread.

The Little Brother: Street smarts. Perfect driving. Anything but resentful. Stained sweatshirt and Burberry Trenchcoat. Photography. Basketball. Chill. Humorous. Infuriating but so so lovable. Teacher. Surprisingly insightful. Advisor. Confident and cocky. Beer and Barbecue sauce. Coffee mugs. South Africa. Spontaneity. Arrogant.

The Father: Golden morning light. Expensive camera equipment and cheap gas station coffee. Model trains. Thick wool sweaters. Cologne and scratchy cheek kisses. Blankets of snow. Hares. Holly Cole and The Boss. Hilarious. Anything but an experimental eater. Spaghetti Bolognese and Stollen. Vibrant forest. Red wine and milk chocolate. The Musician.

The Mother: Crime novels. Warm soft hugs. Silent laughter, red cheeks, tears in eyes. Surprises. Book smarts. Perseverance. Organised and focused. Strong black tea and dark seedy bread. Elephant whisperer. Insomnia. Open mindedness and indignation. So supportive. Manners. Nice porcelain. Hydrangeas and roses. Plum jam. Perfect pedicures.

The Older Sister: Long walks. Control freak. Forests. Fantasy worlds. Diving head first into a swimming pool. Daydreaming. Curly hair. Pretentiousness. Everyday magic. Books. Tiny handwriting. Long wool coats. Mind all over the place. Excitement. Cold hands and warm sweaters. Hopeless romantic. Owls. Greek mythology. Trivia. Ink. Details. Cappuccino with cinnamon and cocoa.

The Musician: Delicate fingers plucking at Cello Strings. White chocolate. Knitting. Sarcasm, emotionally distant. Squirrels. Autumn walks, rain, graveyards. Audiobooks. Norway. Engineering, technical drawings, ballpoint pens. Morbid curiosity.

The Fighter: Clean and crisp white sheets. Determined. Cold brew coffee. Fragrant white Hyacinths blooming on a windowsill. Toned shoulders. Emotional intelligence. Brutal honesty. Philosophical books. Lab coats. Excellent listener. Pep talks and feminism. Triathlon. Anything to achieve your goals. Knowing smirks. Moscow mules. Reading not for pleasure but learning (or the pleasure of learning?)

The Scientist: Obscure inside jokes. Freckles. Dancer. Questionable cook, decent baker. Physics. The Smartest. Elegant movements. Thrifted knitted jumpers. Multicoloured nail polish. Poetry. Eccentric. Debating society. Entire page covered in the tiniest notes. Funky coffee mugs. Books picked off the street.

The Scout: Strong moral compass. Scouts honour. Massive Fantasy novels. Guffawing. Tie dye T-shirts and shining blue eyes. Ships. Camping. Adventure. Overwhelmingly talkative, but not in a bad way. Carefree. Trinkets and bonfires. Dunes and seafoam. Orange.

The Travel Companion: Political. Volunteering. Singing flatly but passionately. French patisserie. Colourful felt. Opinionated. Exuding coolness on the dancefloor. Dark green. Finland, pine forests and smoked salmon. Tents. Virology. Hypochondriac. Experimental cooking. Mushrooms. Aromatic black tea.

The Oldest Friend: Books over books over books. Deep talks. Old friends. Yoga. Peppermint tea. Sky blue. Memories. Therapy. Snowboarding. Pixie cut. Relax, taking it easy. Veganism. Dog person. Gender Studies. Runner. Coming back stronger and gentler than ever. Gift exchange. Solo holidays. Empathy.

The Exchange Student: Fast talking, Aussie accent. Oversized sweatshirts. Oat milk. Glowing skin. Sea foam. Pearls and silver. Fresh tulips. Warm summer days. Sunny side up eggs, drizzled with golden honey. Pool balls clicking. Hot chocolate. Belgian beer. Dog person. Silver rings, one on each finger. Tan lines.

The Certified Badass: Bouldering. Fine line tattoos and silver ear piercings, too many to count. Black velvet. Remote island. Catto content. Road trips, lush forests, sea waves. Platinum hair. Strong. Blue eyes, white liner. Island. Thick knitwear and combat boots. Tarnished silver jewellery. Dune grass.

[yevmarie]

Kiehl's Original Musk – Perverted Review

The perverted review you didn't ask for, but here it is. I feel the need to share it, so please don't judge me 🙈.

Well, I must confess my addiction – Norman Reedus, obviously, and my obsession with perfumery.

What if we combine these two? Bingo! Buying Kiehl's Original Musk.

The buying experience was amusing. Initially intended as a gift for my now ex-boyfriend (thankfully, I didn't go through with that). It was a challenge to find, as the brand had left our market. Eventually, I found it on a local eBay-like platform. Post-breakup, I decided to treat myself to the perfume. And this particular bottle became so special to me – a reminder to be kind to myself even in the darkest times.

The day arrived when the parcel with the perfume came. Excitement made my hands shake. I tried it on my skin, and… disappointment ensued. Norman, are you serious? I usually appreciate unique scents, but this was awful initially. It felt like I walked into an elderly lady's apartment, shared with several cats. I was frustrated. Despite being expensive, it failed to bring the satisfaction I sought. Attempts to wash it were a failure; I had to wait for it to fade.

After a few hours, a miracle occurred. I caught a whiff and exclaimed, "WHOA!" The animalic sillage not only hit my nose but captivated my brain. It was enticing, haunting, almost poisonous – impossible to ignore that it made me feel dizzy. I found myself sniffing my wrist for good ten minutes straight. No doubt, this man is a walking sex, and the thought of him wearing it did strange things to me. But I was still upset as it was too masculine for me, although it's claimed as unisex. Not if I bother about this much, I don't care if a perfume is unisex or pour homme/femme, but something told me that's not my cup of tea. I put it aside as a souvenir.

However, my perspective changed when I decided to give it a chance wearing it for a walk on a frosty day. That decision turned out to be a game-changer. The scent resonated with my brain cells, sending shivers of satisfaction down my spine. Imagine your beloved kissing your sweet spot for the first time – that's what the scent did to me every time it hit my nose. Changing my clothes later revealed another surprise – the scent had transferred, lasting the entire day. Unbelievable longevity.

The scent is ambiguous – warming, soothing, yet potentially abusive, intimate, and seductive. I'm no perfumery expert; I choose scents based on whether I like them, mostly disregarding the pyramid. I can't pinpoint the claimed notes of orange blossom, bergamot, etc.

It's akin to waking up in crisp sheets, your beloved offering breakfast in bed. Your attention focuses on the honey bowl on the tray. Still half-asleep, you make clumsy movements to taste the honey, leaving it on the corner of your mouth, threatening to fall. Then your love licks it off, leading to a passionate make-out session and then sex. I perfectly sense washed bedsheets, honey, and some sweaty/animalic notes, which surprisingly don't repulse.

In conclusion, I'll undoubtedly purchase it again. Like any perfume, it's not for everyone, as tastes vary. If you're intrigued, find a shop with a tester and try it on your wrist. Perhaps it's what you're looking for ☺️.

[minhosimthings]

Moots as a word in english!

Ahh this is saur fun I had a lot of fun with my english notes lmao also ignore my adhd brain's unability to explain shit

@heeliopheelia - Turquoise. Something about Carly just screams this word like the way you pronounce it and the vibe it gives you.

@astraystayyh - petrichor. One of my fav English words and it just sounds so beautiful just like Sahar.

@shoverse - Roses. Sho sho gives me the roses vibes ya know,

@frenchkisstheabyss - eunoia, it means a beautiful mind much like Ty has!

@jaylaxies - purpose. Everytime I think of Aria, the word purpose comes to my mind, it's so crisp and precise, much like her

@sjyluv - honey. I will never stop with my agenda of Mia is the human incarnation of honey I WILL NEVER STOP-

@angel1kisses - bewitch. Yes it's because Vampie is bewitching (and also the word just gives me the vibes of her blog)

@candewlsy - dewdrop. It's such an adorable word, much like my baby Mizu, and it's also such a tiny word like SQUISHY

@chlorinecake - opulent. Because my wife is ✨ expensive✨ just like the word hehe.

@amazzwon - my slut, melodic. Idk why A.D is just a melodic person to me, like the words reminds of me of her too much

@haecien - fawning. The word in itself is so delicate, and I firmly believe Harua is the human form of gentleness

@jaeyunluvr - nectar. Nectar and Kayz, like just IS idk how to explain it-

@14raeriluv - silken. Like silken threads, I love her personality so much

@minhypenalt - starlet. Although Selene is the moon, I firmly believe she holds all the stars with her

@heeslut4life - misty. I haven't interacted much with Aeri, but I still associate this word with her!

@deluluriddhi - twilight. We literally just met and I assigned this word to her immediately

@lovestay-channie - silver. The name Rae automatically just screams silver to me, and silver is shiny much like Rae's persona

[remusremorse]

A marauders type of love

C̺͆H̺͆A̺͆P̺͆T̺͆E̺͆R̺͆ O̺͆N̺͆E̺͆:

1st person

September 1st 11:15am 

I spent the first 15 minutes of the train journey doing my prefect duties, making sure the first and second years got on bord safely and happily. I have been spending the last 5 minutes looking for my best friend Regulus Black. We are currently in our 7th year at Hogwarts, so we have NEWTs this year.

'Petal over here' I hear my name being called as I turn around, I realise its pandora rosier. As I followed her to our compartment, I finally saw Regulus. I tackled him as he didn't realise I was there. 'You sure you can catch a snitch if you can't even sense me about to tackle you. Captain Black' I bit back a cackle, but the others didn't, they just laughed with no regrets. 'I will have you know Captain Grindelwald that I am an amazing seeker you on the other hand are a one-of-a-kind seeker' Regulus snarked back in an incredibly posh sarcastic voice

'Don't talk like that you sound like Dumbledore or my father' came the voice of Dorcas Meadows. We all burst into a fit of laughter. 'Oi, come on don't compare me to my father he's an asshole' my voice rang through the compartment. Followed by murmurs of agreement by my closest friends. Soon we all defused into our own convocations. Me and Regulus reading whatever book we bought each other last Christmas, Dorcas and Pandora catching up with each other and fawning over there crushes on Marlene McKinnon and Lily Evans, Evan and Barty keep showering each other in compliments and kisses or are making out in the corner (them having been together since 5th year).   

1:30pm

The lunch lady mrs Parkason I believe her name is came past and offered us food. I bought a chicken sandwich with mayo in as well as some cheese and onion crisps but there was also a lot of different sweets and chocolate. So being the expensive bitch I am I bought the honey dukes chocolate infused with fire whiskey. We all continued to chat while we ate and after descended into a comfortable silence despite the smack of lips from Evan and Barry.

6:00pm

It was peaceful and quiet most of us reading either a book or the daily prophet. When suddenly a loud crash and James potter, Sirius black, Remus lupin and Peter pettegrew came bounding in. 'What the fuck' me and regulus screamed simultaneously. 'Sorry to barge in but where hiding from the prefects' was potters response. Then he turned around and realised that had just walked into a compartment with 3 prefects one being head girl as well. 'Shit,fuck,shit,fuck' we heard potter, black and pettegrew repeat. The look on lupins face was just 'I told you so'. 'I will refrain from giving you all detention because I can do that know as head girl if you tell me who you where pranking and why and also you find out who the head boy is and tell me' is how I responded. The look of pure shock on there faces as to why I wasn't giving them detention was hilarious. That's when Black pipped up and said 'well we where pranking snape as he called Lily Evans a mudblood again also James here is head boy.'  'By the ancients, Merlin help me' I whispered under my breathe as they left.

7:45pm

I checked my watch for it to read 7:43pm. 'It's quater to 8:00 we should probably start getting into are robes' I said with tone of hurry. There is a ruffling noise and the all proceed to change( her uniform is the second slide) the only difference between mine and Dorcas was the tie,robe and jumper colours. Mine and pandoras are the same as we are in the same house and share a dorm.

Once we arrived as head girl I had to make sure all the first years got to Hagrid safely. The only problem was the head boy is potter so that sucks. You see for some reason he hates me, it could be because he's Gryffindor quidditch captain as well as chaser so naturally we would be rivals but he's hated me since first year for some reason unknown to me.

[gothmiqote]

— B A S I C S

Name: Varha Naiarro Nicknames: N/A Age: Mid/Late twenties- Early thirties during the game timeline. Nameday: 5th Sun of the 4th Umbral Moon Race: Miqo'te, Keeper Gender: Female Orientation: Bisexual Profession: Warrior of Light

— P H Y S I C A L     A S P E C T S

Hair: Long & black with a bit of texture to it. Gave herself bangs after Heavensward and never looked back. Eyes: Red. Inherited the pupil shape more commonly found in Seekers from her father. Skin: Pale, greyish-blue undertones. She's got the Keeper marking on her forehead. Tattoos/scars: Surprisingly has no tattoos. She's got multiple piercings, though—several on her ears, one on her navel, & she got her nipples done sometime around Endwalker. Varha has an impressive collection of scars on her body. Most are from fighting, and there's a few notably nastier ones on her ribs & thigh that didn't heal as well as the others. After ARR, she added one on the left side of her jaw to her inventory. It's not particularly gnarly, especially when compared to some of the others, but you can still see it easily enough.

— F A M I L Y

Parents: Keeper mother, Seeker father. Both died in the last Calamity. Siblings: Third oldest out of six. The only other sibling who survived the Calamity with her was Rhaya'ra, the second youngest. Grandparents: Also dead, but 3/4 died prior to the Calamity. Other: Her relationship with Rhaya is... not the best, honestly. They were never the closest before losing the rest of the family, but after? It was worse, & she doesn't really tell people she even has a brother at this point. They happened to cross paths for the first time in a few years in Sharlayan, not long before her fight with [Redacted]. He left a spectacularly bad impression on the Scions. They're working on their relationship presently, even if it's not easy. Pets: N/A. The only 'living' things in her place are the fake plants; it's about all she trusts herself with to keep alive.

— S K I L L S

Abilities: The girl loves her guns, what can she say? Her go-to skillset is Machinist, but she typically fights with a blend of that and the projectile skills of a dancer. (Bit of a blend of the fight choreo from Kingsman and John Wick, actually.) More recently, she's discovered that she makes a fair gunbreaker too. Is she able to use magic? Sure, but it's never going to be the first thing she relies on in a fight. Hobbies: Like her partner Estinien, she has none Pre-Calamity, Varha held professional dance aspirations and would like to pick it up again sometime. You could probably count working out & travelling, even if they're incidental. She does like to keep up to date with the tech she uses though, and it's a genuine interest of hers.

— T R A I T S

Most Positive Trait: Determination, dedication to causes/people she believes in, the ability to somehow maintain an aggressive sense of optimism through it all. Most Negative Trait: Recklessness at her own expense, tunnel-visioned stubbornness, impatience.

— L I K E S

Colors: Carmine, black, ink-blue. Smells: Something faintly metallic, gunsmoke, mint, floral soaps, a crisp winter night. Textures: Leather, a fresh coat of nail polish, the feeling of blood in your teeth, lips against a fresh scar. Drinks: Sparkling wine, honey mead, citrus juices, cold spring water.

— O T H E R    D E T A I L S

Smokes: N/A. Needs those lungs in top-shape to fight, y'know. Drinks: Drinks socially & tries not to overdo it often but doesn't mind being drunk if she does. Varha does try to avoid drinking if she's already in a bad mood though; if she's trashed and feeling good, then she's great. Otherwise, she has a tendency to become a bit fatalistic & self-loathing. Drugs: Regularly? No. Will she have an edible here & there if she knows she has nowhere to be? Occasionally. They really just make her more relaxed and less awkward about experiencing the full spectrum of emotion. Mount Issuance: She'll ride whatever. A chocobo will do if there's nothing else, or the Amaro in the first. Been Arrested: Yeah, yeah, we all know about the regicide thing. She's never been to prison or been charged with anything, but she will die on the (very stupid) hill of 'spending the night in jail once or is not the same thing as actually being charged.' It wasn't for anything terrible, just being a bit of an intoxicated menace in public after a night out, but still.

tagged by @emotional-support-carbuncle, tagging @tellings @verpine95 @nabulsi

[fromthedeskoftheraven]

Please tell me what you can about Break my Baby. I love a good Max.

Adira, my dear(a) 💖

This idea has had me in a chokehold for literal years but I've just never gotten serious about writing it. The gist is that Max sweet-talks his assistant into going to a corporate retreat with him, where forced-proximity shenanigans and budding attraction ensue. BUT on the way home they're in a car accident and the assistant is mortally wounded, so Max has to make the quick decision to turn her instead of letting her die. They navigate her new vamp life together and (of course) end up in fluffy eternal love.

A little piece of a scene under the cut (tbh I don't know why it's in first person. the muse wants what it wants):

***

Max looks up from his desk with a dazzling smile when I walk into his office juggling his coffee and mine along with my purse and laptop bag.

"There's my favorite little juice box."

"Stop calling me that, it was one time. When you were allegedly at... undeath's door."

He gives an exaggerated frown, swallowing a swig of the black coffee I’ve unloaded onto his desk. "Allegedly? Sunshine, you wound me."

"Don't tempt me. Home Depot has stakes, you know."

"Speaking of steaks, have dinner with me tonight."

"No, thank you."

"You work too hard. You deserve a nice meal, a glass of wine. Creme brulee for dessert."

The thought trickles through my mind, syrupy and comforting and a little fuzzy around the edges, like a drop of warm honey.

It has been a long day, and I am hungry, and that place two blocks over does an amazing creme brulee.

And Max isn't that bad, after all, and he'll be on his best behav—

Wait a minute.

I feel like I’m moving in slow motion as I dig my fingers into the tender flesh of my tricep and pinch, like my sister used to do when we’d fight as kids. The sudden clarity makes me shake my head.

"Really, Max?"

He only shrugs. "What am I supposed to do? You're no fun."

"You don't pay me enough to be fun."

"Well, let me get the paperwork to HR and I’ll call for a reservation."

"If there's nothing else, I have emails to answer," I say, turning toward the door.

"Oh, yeah." Max starts flicking through papers on his desk. "There's that thing this weekend, I need you to go with me."

I blink. "The thing? What thing?"

"You know..." He waves one hand in a distracted circle. "The thing for the company."

"No, I don’t know. Mind-reading is supposed to be your thing."

"I've told you, I can't read minds. This," he says, fishing a brochure out of the pile. "The sales managers' annual retreat."

"In case you hadn't noticed, I'm not a sales manager. And I have plans this weekend."

Binge-watching the Great British Bake Off over takeout absolutely counts as plans.

"Cancel 'em. I need my trusty assistant, gotta impress corporate with how organized and efficient I am."

"You mean, how organized and efficient I am," I counter. "Again, plans."

“Just look at the brochure.” Max shifts tactics to turn the puppy-dog eyes up to eleven. “An all-expense-paid weekend at an exclusive resort upstate, how can you say no to that? You do work too hard, you know.” 

Begrudgingly, I open the glossy brochure he’s shoved into my hands. Rolling green hills surround a hotel that looks like a French chateau. Smiling people are playing golf, swimming in a massive indoor pool, relaxing in a sauna, clinking champagne glasses in a gold-trimmed dining room. A bed as big as my studio apartment is dressed in crisp white linens, with mints on the pillows.

Binging the Great British Bake-Off in a free fancy hotel room wouldn’t be too bad, as plans go.

I look back to Max, watching me expectantly. “You drive and pay for gas,” I start.

Victory sparks in his dark eyes. “Fair enough.”

“During free time, I get to do whatever I want. No meetings, no spreadsheets, no fetching extra ice for your drink.”

“You won’t even know I’m there.” He lays a hand over his lifeless heart like he’s taking an oath of office or something.

This is going better than I expected. Might as well shoot for the moon.

“And I get a clothing allowance. I don’t have any resortwear.”

“You need any help shopping? I drove past the mall the other day, and Victoria’s Secret had this little red number in the window—”

“What do you think?” I ask dryly.

A grin dimples his cheek. “You drive a hard bargain, Sunshine. Deal.”

“Seriously?”

“Eh, why not? I’ll expense everything, anyway. Just have to get creative with the codes.”

This is probably a mistake. 

Best-case scenario, I’ll have stories to tell at cocktail parties. If I’m ever invited to one, that is. Worst case, I end up in prison for staking my boss.

“Fine,” I sigh. “What time are we leaving?”

“I’ll pick you up at 7:30 sharp on Friday morning. Can’t miss the welcome breakfast,” Max says cheerfully.

“Your turn to bring my coffee, then. I want a—”

“Decaf caramel latte with almond milk, extra whip. I know.”

I frown. “Yeah. That.” 

“Well, don’t let me keep you. Those emails won’t answer themselves, am I right?” Max dismisses me with a wink and a flourish of finger guns.

Finger guns.

After two years of working for Max, my eye roll is a reflex. He’s so corny, it distracts me from the weirdness of the most self-focused person I know paying attention to my coffee order.

***

Thank you for asking!

[revnah1406]

I'm bringing back the Isobel and Sparrow bet regarding stealth.

Izzy: *in her natural soft lilting southern accent that slips out once in a while* Oh honey bless your heart, but you're as stealthy as an alligator wearing a bell on a crisp fall night going through a pile of leaves. Sparrow: *visibly confused* What the fuck are you saying, L.t.? Isobel: *zero accent* Sparrow...you are built like a brick house. I will buy all your drinks for a night if you can make it within 9 meters of me without me hearing you. Sparrow: BET! *Sparrow gets within 30 meters* Isobel: I can hear you. Pay up.

HHAAHHAHAHA OMG I LOVE THIS SO MUCH!!! 😂😂😂❤️❤️❤️

Sparrow is like a fucking tank, you can rely on her strength and her stamina. But when it comes to stealth... Oh sweet Lord... ISOBEL IS RIGHT HAHAHAHAHA Sparrow is like an Elephant inside a pot shop. HAHAHAHA

That night, Sparrow paid Izzy's drinks. And I'm sure Izzy got the expensive ones.

*Sparrow looking at Isobel while she orders another round of that expensive scotch that Soap recommended to her, a few weeks ago*

Sparrow: I hope you're enjoying this Lt.

Izzy *smiling and taking a sip*: Oh very much sweetheart.

Sparrow: I am still thinking about how I could fall into that... I already know that you're the expert in stealth.

Izzy: Because you're easy to tease, il mio uccellino (my birdie)

I love their friendship so much 🥺🥺🥺❤️❤️

Thank you so much for the Ask!! It made my day!! 🥰🥰🥰❤️❤️

Love ya!

[reapxrs]

𝑪𝑯𝑨𝑹𝑨𝑪𝑻𝑬𝑹 𝑺𝑯𝑬𝑬𝑻

𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐬 !

FULL  NAME.     Genoveva Dulce Adelina Cardozo NICKNAME.   Gardenia, Denia, Den, Veva, Genie (Poppy only) GENDER.    Cis woman HEIGHT. 5’10” AGE. 24 ZODIAC.   Aquarius SPOKEN  LANGUAGES. English, Portuguese

𝐩𝐡𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐬 !

HAIR  COLOR.    Dark brown-black EYE  COLOR.    Dark brown SKIN  TONE.    15 BODY  TYPE.    Almost model-perfect curves, wider hips and thighs to match VOICE.    Low and sultry, a little gravelly, almost always on the verge of purring, with a melodic accent DOMINANT  HAND.    Right POSTURE.    Easy and open, inviting, almost beckoning SCARS.    A faded line on her right cheekbone, a matching one at the corner of her lips, old faded abrasions on her wrists TATTOOS.    Backseams down both legs, topped in ribbons, scythe on the back of her right calf w the backseam wrapping around it, garter on left thigh BIRTHMARKS.    none MOST  NOTICEABLE  FEATURE(S).   lips, full and pouty, always tempting to kiss

𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐝 !

PLACE  OF  BIRTH.   Fortaleza, Brazil HOMETOWN.   North Bay Village, Florida SIBLINGS. Vicente Cardozo, older brother PARENTS.   Luciano Cardozo, father. Samara Cardozo, mother.

𝐚𝐝𝐮𝐥𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 !

OCCUPATION.   Sex worker CURRENT  RESIDENCE.  One bedroom apt on turf CLOSE  FRIENDS.   Poppy RELATIONSHIP  STATUS.  Perpetually Single; fwb with Chey Kalle FINANCIAL  STATUS.     A lot more comfortable than she was before the Reapers DRIVER’S  LICENSE.  no CRIMINAL  RECORD.   Long and varied, and she’s proud of every one of them VICES.   Lace, satin, expensive clothes and high heels

𝐬𝐞𝐱 & 𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 !

SEXUAL  ORIENTATION. Pansexual demiromantic PREFERRED  EMOTIONAL  ROLE. submissive |  dominant  | switch. (n…none?) PREFERRED  SEXUAL  ROLE.    submissive  | dominant|  switch. LIBIDO.    Reliable and constant TURN  ONS.    Crisp money, expensive perfume, cufflinks, designer ties TURN  OFFS.     Anti-sex work rhetoric, men who think lesser of her because she does sex work but have no problem buying her services LOVE  LANGUAGE.  receiving gifts RELATIONSHIP  TENDENCIES.    None. No relationships. The fewer strings the better. She’s always down for sex though, paid or not

𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐨𝐮𝐬 !

CHARACTER’S  THEME  SONG.   Don’t Play, Halsey HOBBIES  TO  PASS TIME. Shopping, honeypotting with Poppy MENTAL  ILLNESSES. none LEFT  OR  RIGHT  BRAINED.     left PHOBIAS. none SELF  CONFIDENCE  LEVEL.  Oh, honey. VULNERABILITIES.    She worries about Poppy sometimes, but she wouldn’t call Poppy a vulnerability.

[ozarkthedog]

summary — your car breaks down so you call the first person that comes to mind. your crush and grade a dilf, Marc.

warnings — alt universe. dilf!Marc Spector x afab babysitter!Reader. first kiss. sexual tension. grinding in the front seat of a car. filth. panty stealing. illusions to a threesome. no beta.

word count — 2.4k

author’s note — this fic is part of my ongoing series, Slow Like Honey, but it could be read as a stand alone. idk anything about cars lmao

☽ 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 ♁ 𝐎𝐳𝐳𝐢𝐞'𝐬 𝐋𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 ☾

❦ 𝐒𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐇𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 ❦

— 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐎𝐧𝐥𝐲 - 𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈. — 𝐈 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝/𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦. 𝐑𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 & 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝!

You flip through the radio in your beat up car, singing along to whatever song distracts you from the horrid day you had just endured. As you drive through the small town, the sign from the little bakery that always tempts Layla with its baklava gleams brightly in the dusky atmosphere.

Layla. 

Your mind instantly summons an image of the beautiful woman. You saw her yesterday and yet, you miss her. She radiates warmth and verve. It makes you giddy just thinking about her. So it shouldn’t have been a surprise when the minor attraction to the curly haired woman grew into a bonafide crush.  

Lost in thought, you don’t notice the check engine light flick on until it’s too late. The engine begins to sputter, forcing you to carefully pull to the side of the road.

You slam your hands on the steering wheel with a shout. This is just what you needed to add to your spectacularly shitty day.   

Without a thought, you dial the number of the first person who comes to mind. The father of the children you babysit for and who just so happens to be Layla’s husband, Marc.

With looks that could kill and a body that actually can, he made you nervous the first day you met him. It wasn’t until you got to know him and saw through the rough, hard shelled exterior that you fell head over heels for the man.

Marc’s a kind, stoic man who works hard to support his family. Running a body guard protection business is tedious work and requires long hours, hence why he and Layla hired you as their babysitter.

What you didn’t expect was to develop a serious crush on the couple. The more time you spent with them, the more you saw how much love and tenderness they had for one another. They supported each other’s endeavors and would go out of their way to make sure the other knew it. 

You went about your job though, taking care of the kids and household whenever they needed you. You did well not drawing attention to the silly infatuation you had on the husband and wife. 

Or so you thought.

The side road was quiet; aside from crickets that sing into the night as you exit your car. The late fall sunset cools the air to a crisp temp. You hug yourself in an effort to keep warm and kick a stray rock into the brushes that line the road. 

Marc pulls up behind your car less than 10 minutes later.

“Hey.” He greets you with a concerned smile as he steps out of his black Audi. 

He looks like he usually does, a devastating mix of suave and rough around the edges swagger. The dark button up he’s sporting is open and loose showcasing a clean, white t-shirt beneath. Jet black hair is combed back in waves and the familiar shadow of a scratchy beard frames his jaw.

As you lean against the trunk of your car you can’t help but smile in return. Your knight in shining armor. 

Marc steps closer, inspecting you even though you told him on the phone that you were alright. 

He smells like home. Well, his home with Layla.

“Do you know what happened?” He asks, walking towards the front of your car.

“Not a clue.” You shake your head as you watch him prop open the hood.

He inspects the engine before his jaw molds into a grimace. 

“It’s your alternator. Thankfully, it’s not too expensive to fix, but you’ll need to call a tow truck and have them drop it off at a shop.” he slams the hood and nods toward his car. “Come on, I’ll drive you home.”

You chuck your backpack onto the floor and sink into the leather passenger seat with a defeated sigh. This day just wouldn’t end. You rub your temples and wish away the headache that pounds lightly behind your eyes.

“How was your day?” Marc asks as he starts the engine and turns the wheel, driving in the direction of your apartment.

“Oh, just peachy.” You snort sarcastically and sink deeper into the seat. You couldn’t wait to wash off the hellish day and crawl into bed. Thankfully, you lived in a small town and your car died only a couple miles from home.

Marc side-eyes you with a raised brow. “That so?”

You try to change the subject wanting nothing more than to forget about the day but he doesn’t give in.

“Come on. What’s wrong?” He softly pushes with that concerned fatherly tone that always makes you turn to jelly.

Try as you might not to give in, it’s a lost cause. It always is with him.

“Ok, just remember you asked.” You grumble before taking a deep breath. 

“1. I overslept. 2. I got a B- on an essay I worked on for 2 weeks.” You continue counting the numbers on your hand. “3. I had to watch my roommate and her new boyfriend suck face all during lunch and now my car breaks down.”

Your blood boils as you suck a heavy breath into your lungs and you hold it until it burns, forcing yourself to calm down.

Marc nods silently, keeping his eyes trained as he drives.

“Really? She was making out in front of you?” he questions, vexation dripping from his tongue.

“It was infuriating! Why would I want to see that!? It’s bad enough I’m single and have a crush on two—” 

Your brain screeches to a halt. 

You almost let your secret slip to one of the two people who invade your thoughts on a daily basis. Damn your emotions and damn Marc for being so sympathetic and comforting.

“What’s this about a crush?” Marc quips as he briefly flicks inquisitive eyes at you. His tongue pokes his cheek as you groan and shove your face into your hands.

“It doesn’t matter. It’s a pointless crush.” You tell him flatly, also reminding yourself for the millionth time that day.

“Ok. I get it.” He says, raising a hand in surrender.

His eyes flick to you every so often during the rest of the silent drive. You don’t think anything of it aside from him making sure you weren’t about to break out in a fit of tears. 

Soft, yellow hues illuminate his handsome features and you can’t help but be mesmerized whenever you steal a glance at him.

The car finally comes to a stop in front of your apartment and you couldn’t be happier. You unbuckle your seatbelt and pick your backpack up off the floor ready to exit when Marc holds your attention with a sober stare.

“I’ve seen the way you look at Layla.” Marc murmurs, breaking the silence and forcing your heart into your belly.

“I– I don’t know what you mean.” Your backpack tumbles from your hold as you deflate into your seat and sputter around the tightness in your gullet.

His chin drops to his chest and he laughs under his breath. “You can’t fool me, Honey. It’s written all over your face.” 

You play with the hem of your skirt, anxiously tugging the material between your fingers. You press your eyes tight gathering the courage to come clean.

“Yes. I think she’s beautiful inside and out. Ok?” You admit quickly with a bit of a bite. 

Your shoulders no longer feel the immense weight they were used to carrying. Still, your body burns with humiliation and you hide your face in your hands, no longer strong enough to face him.

Marc rests an arm on the back of your seat with a sigh. “I don’t blame you. I did marry her after all.” 

He tugs your hands from your face and cradles your jaw, softly thumbing at the apple of your cheek as his eyes dip to your parted lips. “It's ok, Honey. There’s no need to be embarrassed. You’re not the only one who has a crush.” 

Marc tilts his head and leans in so slowly and cautiously it feels like he’s moving in slow motion. He places a soft kiss on your lips and your eyes flutter as you selfishly groan into the affection. 

Eventually, your mind catches up and you pull as far away as the hand on your jaw will let you, which isn’t far at all. His nose bumps yours as he teasingly licks your parted lips. 

He tenderly kisses you again. The tension in your jaw fades as he deepens the kiss, slotting his lips over yours with possession. 

Marc groans deep in his chest when your tongue experimentally slips between your lips and smooths along his own. 

His fingers press into your jaw and open your mouth wider so he can taste you completely. A sinful mewl falls from your lips as he licks into you with abandon. 

Your pussy floods with heat, pooling arousal in the gusset of your panties as he hums with satisfied approval. His fingers press firmly into your cheeks like he never wants to let go. 

A thin strand of spit connects you to the older man when you finally come up for air. He searches your eyes for hesitation but all he finds is adoration. 

“Come ‘ere.” He commands as he sits back in his seat and reaches for the lever that slides it all the way back. “Wanna feel you against me.”

He helps you over the gearshift with steady hands before seating you in his lap. He locks his arms around your hips, fitting you snugly against his burly buttoned up chest. 

With your knees stretched on either side of his expansive thighs, your barely clothed pussy has no escape from his rough jeans and the solid mass that hangs between his legs.

Your brain fogs drastically when you feel his cock pulse against your mound. He’s half hard but already he feels massive. You wonder what it’d be like to have him stretch you open and mold your core around his impressive girth.

You yelp when he nips the sensitive skin of your neck dragging you away from the filthy thoughts. The slight sting makes you instinctually grind down on his straining length. You chase the pain with pleasure forcing illicit moans to tumble from both sets of lips.

“Shit– that felt good didn’t it, Honey?” He purrs into your collarbone, scratching your soft skin with his beard and laving at the burn.

Your pussy glides smoothly across the material of your ruined panties, rubbing your clit up and down his hidden cock. Wet squelches and flustered moans fill the small confines of the car as a thin layer of dew begins to grow on the windows.

He furrows his brow, squinting at you. A large hand cradles your jaw and he shoves his thumb between your parted lips. “Atta girl, grind that needy pussy on me.”

Your eyes flutter as you suckle and circle your tongue around the digit. Your pussy weeps profusely as you drive your hips harder, frantic to ease the ache that pulses steadily between your thighs. 

“Bet you’re soaking.” He grunts, shifting his hips until his cock glides against your core and a pathetic whimper tumbles from your lips. “Fuck- You’re gonna make a mess all over me aren’t you?”

His free hand molds to the shape of your ass and he shoves his hips in time with your hurried thrusts. “Just like that. Shit– wanna feel you come.”

Your grip on his brawny shoulders tightens as the tension builds higher and higher. He forces you to the edge so quickly that you have no choice in the matter but to come. 

“Come on.” Marc grunts feeling you shake in his arms.  “Be a good girl and cream those panties for me.” 

At his command, you tug the curls at the base of his neck as you shatter and careen over the cliff. A wrecked yelp forces its way out of your tight throat as your body quivers from the overwhelming pleasure.

He hums sweetly into the column of your neck, kissing the tender flesh and holding you fiercely in his arms as you come down from the exhilarating high. 

“Are you—? Did you?” Your eyes flick down to his lap when you notice his cock is still hard and twitching beneath his jeans. “Cause I can—”

Marc shakes his head. “Nah, I’m ok. I’ll take care of it later.” He nudges your nose before pressing his lips to yours. The kiss is slow and deliberate as he drowns you in affection. 

You’ve never felt so safe being in his arms. You never wanted this to end but you feel his eyes check the clock on the dash and you know your time has run out.

He helps you maneuver the center console again and you settle back into the passenger seat. You timidly gather your things and move to open the car door when he stops you with a raised finger.

“Give me your panties.”

The shock of his request makes your insides burn like hot coals. “What?”

Marc bites his lip. “I’ll give ‘em back tomorrow night,” His eyes drop to your skirt in a silent command. “I promise.”

“O— ok.” You whisper and wiggle the drenched scrap of material down your legs. The gusset is absolutely soaked. A shiny, wet trail stains the inside of your legs as you slide your panties off and do your best to not cower when you hand them over. 

Marc grins like a fool as he inspects them. “God damn. You made such a mess.” He moans while palming his cock with a hard squeeze.

He folds your panties carefully and pockets them but not before giving a deep sniff. “Layla will love to suck on this while I fuck her tonight.” 

You gasp at the admission and from the fresh wave of slick that floods your pussy. Images of the couple fucking flash before your eyes making you woozy.

“Best get a move on. It’s getting late.” Marc states before adjusting his seat and starting the car. 

All you can do is nod and robotically gather your belongings. 

The idea of Layla mouthing your ruined panties while Marc fucks her breaks you. You barely squeak a goodnight to him before stepping onto the sidewalk.

He clears his throat prompting you to turn and face him one more time. 

“We’ll see you tomorrow night.” Marc declares with a sly grin.

You smile dumbly at him and somehow make it up the steps to your apartment before locking the door behind you. The sound of the engine purrs to life as he drives away leaving you in a state of shock and filth.

What the absolute fuck.

[cold-heart-warm-writings]

What the Ouran Members Would Bring to the Gift Exchange:

Heads up, this is aggressively long at 1k words, but it was a blast and a half to write, so enjoy!

Honey - He’s been forever banned from bringing sweets because he either a) eats them all on the way home from the store, b) eats them at home in the middle of the night, c) eats them all on the way to the party, or d) guilt trips whoever gets his gift into giving him the tasty snack. Thus, Honey is NOT allowed to bring anything edible -  Honey brings the largest, fluffiest, and pinkest stuffed animal bunny that money could possibly buy. 

Mori - Baby chickens - this guy loves his animals, and assumes that naturally everyone else also loves animals, right? He hadn’t been watching his roosters and chickens as closely as he thought he’d had, and baby chickens hatched! So, he brought the joy of life to the gift exchange. This year it was held at the twins’ place, and Kyoya made the mental note to put in NO LIVE ANIMALS ALLOWED AS GIFTS OR IN MY HOUSE in the invitation note when it was his turn to host the next year.

Kaoru -  A collection of his favorite books, teas, and candies. He was hesitant at first because some of the books meant a lot to him, and he was sensitive about being teased about the things that truly meant something to him. He still went with this gift though because it would be fun to enjoy now that it was cold outside, and they all couldn’t go out as much as they wanted.

Hikaru - A giant chest full of magic and prank toys. Some are quite expensive and others are cheap, commoner ones that he’d been researching for a few weeks. It’s an odd gift for the exchange, but they are all odd members, and Hikaru actually put a surprising amount of thought into the gift. 

Haruhi - A bento box. Haruhi was desperate for ideas on what to give the richest people she knew, the ones who had just about anything they could possibly desire. As the day for their first gift exchange drew nearer, and was thinking of ways to get out of the event, she overheard the twins discussing how much they wanted to try her cooking again. Whether a planned overhearance or not, Haruhi thought that a bento box would be a great idea. When thinking it over, the only one who wouldn’t like the box would be Kyoya, and even though her luck in regards to the club was 50/50 for good or bad, she liked the 5 out of 6 chances that someone would be thrilled. She searched everywhere for a cute present shaped box, all green with a red bow. She carefully cooked the rice, rolled the omlet, and put the food together nicely. Haruhi also made some cookies and placed them in a pretty bag to go with the bento. It was a lovely gift, and, as expected, the most fought after gift at the exchange.

Kyoya - A crisp new dollar bill. There is a graph of How Recently have the Club Members Annoyed Me to How Much the New Bill Will Be constantly tallied up in his head. He even, out of boredom, created an app for that sole purpose of being able to show the chart to Tamaki when Tamaki accused Kyoya of going cheap on them all. The 25 recent calls in the span of an hour the week previously about a play by play of making snowman and then Oudette eating the carrot did not help in Tamaki’s favor. Kyoya also gets away with just giving money because, well, he’s Kyoya, and because he does actually go to the bank (or at least, sends someone), and he can make the argument that it’s essentially the same as going to the store. Really, Kyoya should have been a lawyer, everyone that has any other complaints about the money, eventually gives up.

Tamaki - A portrait of the entire Host Club smiling and frolicking while playing Kick the Can, painted by himself. He said he’d taken classes for months in order to perfectly capture the liveliness and love between all of the members.

Bonus: Who ended up with what?

Honey: Hikaru’s chest of pranks. He can’t wait to find more ways to torment his brother.

Mori: Haruhi’s bento box - He drew the last number, and used his Ultimate Steal to steal the bento even after it had been locked in by being stolen too many times. He ate a cookie at the exchange ever so smuggly, gave his compliments to Haruhi, and then finished the rest the next day while studying. It was by far the best food he’d eaten all week. 

Kaoru: Kyoya’s money. He was thinking of buying a new game with it. He’d seen one in the store, and it would be more enjoyable to play knowing Kyoya had bought it. But then Haruhi messaged in the group chat after the party to let everyone know she’d made it home safely (so they wouldn’t follow her home to make sure of it themselves, most likely), warned them all to be careful in the snow, and wished them once again happy holidays. Kaoru decided at that moment that he really didn’t need more money. He broke the bill down into smaller bills and placed them in Haruhi’s bag when she wasn’t looking throughout the next two months for her to find later. That was like a gift in itself to him when she grinned at having found an extra bit of money she hadn’t realized was there before.

Hikaru: Kaoru’s books, teas, and candies. Kaoru was puzzled because Hikaru could just borrow his, but Hikaru shrugged and took his gift quietly. He’d been feeling a little distant from Kaoru lately, and reading what he enjoyed might help Hikaru find that connection he was craving.

Haruhi: Honey’s bunny. She’s actually quite excited for it, and uses it as a resting cushion when she watches TV and studies. More often than not though, she falls asleep and has the sweetest, softest dreams shrouded in pink.

Kyoya: Tamaki’s portrait. He didn’t particularly want it, he claimed, but he knew it would go for enough money on their auction page to support club activities for nearly a month. The portrait is now hanging in a corner of his room.

Tamaki: Mori’s baby chickens. Tamaki is not known for his ability to think things through, restrain himself, or full picture thinking. He adopted the baby chickens and promptly made them his entire family’s problem.

[madame-wilsonn]

Cold hands, warm heart

MASTERLIST

Summary: you’re outside, it’s winter and you’re cold but thankfully, your knight in shining armor black leathery gloves is here!

A/N: this is loosely inspired by my own experience in the cold…except I didn’t have Tommy. I am also strangely in love with people’s hands especially when they wear gloves so I decided to mix these two ideas together and write something about it! Enjoy!! 🤍✨

Warning: idk…winter? cold weather? fluff?

You sighed, rubbing your hands together. You couldn’t feel your fingers anymore, your skin was burning due to the frosty weather, your feet numb as you made your way through the crisp land. Winter had finally arrived, the first snow of the season shrouding the country in its sparkling, silvery coat in the early hours of the morning.

At the sight of the white scenery, you had begged Tommy to come with you on a walk, your voice filled with such a pure, innocent enthusiasm he couldn’t even think about refusing.

You waited until after lunch when the sun was higher in the sky, the temperature slightly warmer than it was in the morning to put on your wool coat, your scarf, a hat for your ears but in your precipitation, you happened to forget about your gloves.

It was fine at first, you felt like a child all over again, enjoying the somehow sweet breeze brushing against your face. Fond memories of you tracing angels in the ground, making snowmen and having snowball fights with your cousins rushing through your mind. Tommy couldn’t help smiling as well, he loved seeing you so carefree and relaxed.

You walked on the mansion’s grounds, talking about your day and the upcoming family dinner you wanted to plan as Ada was coming back from Boston.

However, you quickly realized that you were beginning to not feel your fingers anymore, no matter how many time you tried to warm them up by blowing on them. And the further you went from the house, the less you could feel any of your limbs.

But you insisted to go out so you chose to stay quiet, try to focus on something else than the arctic cold gnawing at your feet, your hands, your ears, your-

“Everything alright, love?” Tommy’s hand came to rest against your back as he noticed you becoming more and more silent.

You hummed in agreement but slowly leaned into his body, the warmth emanating from him welcoming you into the softest embrace. You couldn’t resist it, it was so cold, too cold for someone as delicate as you and he…oh he was like a nice fireplace smelling like very expensive cologne with a hint of tobacco.

Your husband sighed when he noticed your bare hands.

“Where are your gloves?”

You hid your face in the crook of his neck and whispered you left them home.

“How can you forget your gloves, eh? You have at least ten different pairs!”

“I know, I know, I am so…so stupid” you replied absentmindedly as you found some extra warmth in his heavy winter coat, your hands sliding around his waist. It was funny how his voice seemed far, far away in the pleasant envelope of his coat.

Tommy sighed again, grabbing you by your shoulders. You pouted, the cold hitting your body again and before you could tell him he didn’t have to be so mean just because you forgot about your gloves, you felt a soft fabric around your hands. Looking down, you saw his black leather gloves, shielding your delicate fingers from the cold.

You smiled, your heart growing twice its size for your sweet husband. Sometimes you really wondered how you managed to get so lucky. You leaned in again, and put your lips against his cheek, silently thanking him for his thoughtfulness.

“I love you, Tom” you said in a honeyed voice, close to his ear.

“Yeah, yeah, I love you too. Now, come on, let’s get you home. I’ll run you a bath.”

You were beaming at him, taking his hand and kissing his knuckles.

“Will you be joining me?”

He brought you closer, kissing your temple.

“If I ever say no to that question, I want you to use my revolver against me and shoot me with it, alright?” he replied with a smirk.

You giggled as the both of you made your way through the snow back to Arrow house, your head resting against Tommy’s shoulder. Forgetting your gloves didn’t sound so bad now, did it?

[random-imagines-blog]

Imagine Tom Cruise surprising you with a new bag.

The house was clean, the soup that you had made was staying warm on the oven, the candles were on and all that you were missing was your Tom, who should be coming in any - second -

“Hello?” He called out loudly as he came in through the front door of the house that he shared. He was very much a loud man when he felt comfortable, really making sure that the house was his own and that he wouldn’t go without your attention for very long. “Wow, it smells great in here. Where are you, honey?”

“In the kitchen,” You called.

He comes in and joins you, leaving all but one bag near the door to put away after dinner. He never could resist your cooking. He was like a cartoon dog floating in, enticed by the smells of it all. Usually everything waited until after he had your homecooking but - this one shopping bag, paper and crisp, apparently was the exception to the rule. “Do you got a minute?” He asked, taking in the sight of you, stirring the large pot that was on top of the stove.

“A minute,” You nodded. You ignored the bag entirely as you returned to your safe place, your favorite place, inside of his arms. He gave you a real long hug and then a kiss hello, an I Missed you Kiss, an I’m glad you’re home kiss, and many more that meant a variety of things. You thought that was all that he wanted at first but when you tried to go back to the soup to make sure that it wasn’t burning, he didn’t let you go right away.

“I got you something,” He said, tapping the top of the bag.

“You didn’t have to," You said, playfully. A little suspiciously. It wasn’t that you didn’t appreciate presents, it was more so that you didn’t like him spending a bunch of money on things that a cheap substitute was obviously fine for. Like this. An expensive looking handbag that was absolutely gorgeous, no doubt about that, it was far prettier than anything else that you had owned. A fifty dollar bag worked just as well to carry around your things as - however much this was. Tom was smart enough to take the tags off and no receipt so you wouldn’t be able to see how expensive it had been. “Tom....”

“I know, I know,” He said, putting up his hands, expecting this kind of reaction. “But on the plane ride home, I was watching Parks and Rec. And it was a Treat Yoself episode,” He said, trying to say the catchphrase in the enthusiastic way that the characters did. “And it made me think about how you never do. Treat yourself. So I thought I’d do it for you. Come on, you know you like it.”

You held it up to the light and had to admit, it was exactly your style. If you were given free reign in a shop, it’s the one that you would most likely be drawn to. He knew your tastes, your Tom.

“Fine,” You said with a sigh. “But I’m counting this as my next Christmas and birthday gift, so don’t you dare try to get me anything.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” He said with his million dollar smile, the one that showed you that of course he would, because he loved you so much. You eyed him, but laughed and put the bag down to stir the soup. There really was no changing that man of yours.

Requested by: Anonymous