#not as loud as minds but still p loud & takes like 5-8 minutes to fully crack everything in his back n shoulders

[sneeb-canons]

mind can rarely crack his joints bc his bones are metal and whatever and usually run pretty smoothly. but on the rare occasion that he can crack them. it sounds like the entire house is being torn apart by fireworks and violent explosions. his back snaps like a godsamn whip and his neck cracks so hard it's a surprise he didn't break his own spine. every single joint in his body will pop louder than anyone in the house has ever yelled, without fail.

he'll always make sure to do this in direct vicinity of both heart and soul because as he rearranges his internal structures they will stare on in sheer, absolute horror, especially considering that once he's done, he just continues on with his task as if it never happened and as if every atom in his body hasn't been split in two

Headcanon #632

[heartshapedstrand]

I’m Here - I Know

Sam/Heartman (or heartsam, as I’ve started seeing ;p )

Fluff, sm.ut with feelings, aftercare

Sam and Heartman spend a steamy, somewhat emotional time in bed, where they’ve learned to work around Heartman’s condition.

A soft gasp, and a pleased hum in response.

“Sam,” Heartman’s voice was barely a whisper. “I’ve been wanting to tell you—mmph..” Lips met his, stopping his words.

“Stop talking,” Sam muttered, a little rougher than he meant to. He pushed his fingers deeper and Heartman moaned softly. His hands were pinned above his head, a reminder that Sam didn’t want him touch, not yet. The porter’s fingers curled inside him and he whined.

Same loved that Heartman was vocal, but not loud. Just enough sound to stimulate his ego as he gave the other man attention. Currently, he was working three fingers into his hole and watching him slowly come undone on that alone. Sam enjoyed watching him as he started to shiver and tremble, the way his stomach muscles tensed and his breath came faster.

The scientist’s mouth opened with a soft pleading sound, and Sam bent to kiss him again, removing his fingers and running the whole of his hand up, pressing his balls, then stroking his cock. Heartman panted hard at that, and shuddered. He was ready, good. Sam was ready, too.

“How soon?” He asked, shifting until his mouth was on Heartman’s hips, biting them. A soft exclamation of surprise, muscles twitching in response.

“Two minutes, 24 seconds.” The scientist squirmed as Sam licked across his stomach, squeezed the cock in his hand and stroked him faster.

“You’re sure this’ll work?”

“Y-yes. Only seconds of interruption.”

“Good. Do you want me to do it after?” Soft lips at the base of Heartman’s length, more shivers from the man under him.

“Yes. I want.. I want to enjoy it completely. A-ahh.. Sam..” Heartman’s hands weren’t pinned anymore, but he clutched the pillow under his head, trying not to move; Sam’s mouth on the head of his cock was wonderful.

One minute until cardiac arrest.

Sam swallowed him down, fingers finding their way to his hole again and gently abusing the ring of muscle.

“S-Sam..!” The legs on either side of him were tense and trembling. The porter hummed in response.

30 seconds.

Sam let his cock fall from his mouth and sat back, lazily pushing his fingers into and out of the scientist’s lubed hole. He was pleased by the sight of Heartman’s flushed face and heaving chest. He watched as the scientist brought his hands down to check the contact pads of the AED.

10 seconds.

Sam moved to lean over him, kissing his lips then his cheek and nuzzling the side of his face.

“I’m here.”

3

“I know.”

2

1

The shock brought him back a bare few heartbeats after his head lolled back. He shook a little, eyes opening immediately to see Sam’s face.

“Okay?”

Heartman nodded, seeming only a little dazed. Sam nudged his face with his nose until Heartman responded and leaned into him.

“Ready?” He asked then, hand lightly stroking Heartman again, bringing him back to full hardness.

“Yes,” he replied, and took a breath. Fingers threaded in his hair and felt good, and Sam settles close between his legs.

“You can touch me, now,” he murmured, and Heartman brought his hands to Sam’s shoulders. When Sam pushed in, Heartman’s mouth opened on a rough groan, hands clutching at him. His heels ground into the bed as he pushed himself against Sam, eagerly taking him in. The fingers in his hair pulled lightly when Sam was fully inside him, the porter’s breath was coming a harder now, too.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he murmured, and dragged his free hand roughly up Heartman’s thigh, gripping his hip. A few rolling motions of his hips and the scientist was pliant under him. “Feels good?”

“O-oh… yes,” he sighed out, moving against Sam in counterpoint. Slow and building, and it kept him right near the edge but not enough yet to finish.

“Mind if I keeping fucking you after you come?” The words were quiet and dirty, and Heartman’s face flushed at them. “You helped me get off already, before.. I probably won’t again, but I’d like to keep going if it’ll keep you feelin’ good.”

“I don’t see why not.” Heartman gasped in response to a harder thrust, and Sam kept that up, setting his nerves on fire. “Sam…”

“Close already?” A subtle shift, both hands on Heartman’s hips and a different angle. The scientist’s answering series of moans was enough of an reply. His hands clutched at Sam’s arms, giving him leverage to feverishly arch his back.

“Just like that, huh?” Heartman’s head jerked in a semblance of a nod. And to Sam’s dismay, he saw tears leaking from Heartman’s eyes, sudden and unexpected. “Heartman?” The porter’s movement faltered.

“Don’t stop. Sam…please.” Sam’s brows creased together, he leaned down and kissed the man, then resumed his thrusting. Heartman put a hand in Sam’s hair, glassy blue eyes watching his face, his other hand circled his cock and stroked himself. Sam enjoyed that, and groaned his approval, picking up the pace again. He could tell when the scientist was nearly there, his muscles tensed, especially inside, to Sam’s appreciation; and he shuddered nonstop, making a string of quiet and desperate sounds. He tugged at Sam’s hair, unable to stop himself, but all the same Sam leaned down and kissed at his face, dragged his scruffy chin along his neck and collarbone, working into him relentlessly. A choked off gasp and he knew Heartman had peaked, he spilled across his hip and stomach.

Sam slowed, not wanting to hurt him as he came down. More tears leaked from his closed eyes, but the porter didn’t let that go. He kissed Heartman’s lips, and murmured, “I’m still here.”

“I’m still here too,” he replied hazily and clenched himself around Sam’s cock. “Let’s change position.”

“But I like this.”

“A shift then,” he pushed with his hips until Sam leaned up. Sam’s hands caught the other’s knees and pushed them up. “Yes…This is good..”

Sam snapped his hips forward, hard. Heartman gasped and his eyes fluttered. “Yeah, I like this one. How long?”

“Eight minutes…”

“Plenty of time.” Sam started a rhythm again, watching as Heartman gasped and shuddered under him. He was already getting hard again. “Bet I can get you off again…” Before Heartman could agree or disagree, Sam set a faster pace. He was out of breath and shaking, now, too, but it was good, and the noises Heartman made was really turning him on. Maybe he could get off again, too.

The feeling of hands on his sides made the porter look down, Heartman’s hands clutched at his waist, head tilted back, face contorted in bliss. The edge snuck up on Sam, he bent forward when his orgasm slammed into him. He grunted hard as he came, his hips stilled and body shaking, head on Heartman’s chest. Heartman was jerking himself quickly, Sam could feel him clenching on his cock, right on the edge again, too.

Hazily, he found and kissed the edge of Heartman’s jaw, and murmured close to his ear, “love you.”

Heartman whimpered and spilled over his hand again. Sam lowered their position until he rested limply between the scientist’s legs, and cuddled close to him.

Four minutes.

Heartman clung to Sam with weak hands. After a moment, Sam found his way back up and cupped the man’s cheek. They shared slow kisses. “Are you okay? Why were you crying?”

Heartman just shook his head and sighed, seeking more kisses. “I’ll be alright, Sam.”

Two minutes.

“I love you, too,” whispered, and held onto Sam’s frame a little tighter, afraid hearing the words would make him withdraw. But he didn’t, not entirely, just remained quiet and not looking at him. Eventually, he reached over to the bedside table and picked up a damp towel he put there before. Sam started to clean away their mess.

45 seconds.

Heartman watched him silently, a hand still touching Sam, wherever he moved.

10 seconds.

“I’m here.”

8

“I know.”

5 4 3 2 1

His eyes rolled back. Pause. Shock, he snapped back, fresh tears on his cheeks. Sam set aside the towel and kneaded gently at Heartman’s thighs, then his hips, eventually back down and to his feet. The scientist was relaxing under the attention like melting butter. Sam settled beside him and took one of his hands in both of his, continuing his attention with thumbs pressing into his palms in gentle circles. Heartman shifted to face him, forehead against Sam’s shoulder. He was careful of the wires of his AED, but being close to Sam felt so good, he wanted to ignore their presence.

“We should sleep,” he commented, watching Sam’s hands as he continued to touch him, rubbing his arms and stroking the backs of hands. He nodded, not that that changed much. Heartman was nodding off to Sam’s hands, and Sam watched him until he was completely asleep, pulled the blanket full up around them, and closed his eyes, listening to Heartman’s breathing, and the vague sounds of his heart beating.

[littleredroseonthevalley]

An Opera on Separation - Chapter 8

Prologue | Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6 | Ch. 7 | CH. 8 | Ch. 9 | Ch. 10 | Ch. 11 | Ch. 12 | Ch. 13 | Ch. 14 | Ch. 15 | Ch. 16 | Ch. 17 | Ch. 18 |

Summary: Nathan was arrested for the greatest corruption scandal in the political history of North America. Queenie and Zig do their best so Emily does not find out. Will they succeed?

Rating: T - Content not suitable for children.  Suitable for teens, 13 years and older, with minor suggestive adult themes.

Words: 1726

Notes: Good evening, sweeties! We have a Madonna classic for today, so be sure to give it a listen.

Like, reblog, follow and subscribe to the taglist! Or send me an ask, a batch of cookies, the cure for cancer, what gives you.

Secret

Queenie was calmly having coffee and lounging on the couch on that fateful Monday morning. It was rare for her to watch TV in the mornings, as she was often caught up with something or another, but the long weekend kept Emily at home, and she couldn’t plan anything under such a close surveillance.

“Good morning, mom!” Emily called over from the bathroom, fully clothed for a new day at work.

“Good morning, honey. I made some coffee and pop-tarts.” She said, pointing to the kitchen. The pastries were on a plate on top of the counter, while the coffee was still on the pot.

The redhead went over to the breakfast ensemble and poured herself a cup and took a bite on a pop-tart. “Mom, I’ll be back late, okay? I have a date with Zig tonight.”

“On a Monday?” The older woman asks, finding it to be strange.

“He says he missed me this weekend, so we’re compensating.” She defended, not really caring either way.

The matriarch shook her head. “Youth these days. What do you intend to do? No self-respecting place will be serving tonight.”

“Netflix and chill is all the hype these days.” She shrugged. “Anyways, I’m running late. See you!”

Queenie rolled her eyes. “How stupid.” She grumbles. “Eh, whatever. More time to sell oregano to high school children.”

Turning back her attention to the TV, her amenities show had been interrupted for some news bulletin. That usually meant a shoot-out, and she was about to change the channel when she saw something that shocked her.

“… this morning, when the FBI unraveled what could be the largest corruption scandal on the history of the United Nations. According to investigations, diplomats and national entrepreneurs bribed World Bank analysts for more favorable reports on their lending proposals. This scheme might have favored the financing of such works as a subway line in Brazil, a water dam in South Africa and a refinery in Angola.

“Amongst the investigated, there are twelve Americans and nineteen foreigners of different nationalities. Five of them have already been arrested, including the recently-appointed Director, Nathan Sterling.

“Mr. Sterling is the youngest person to ever hold a leading position within the second largest financial institution in the world, after the IMF, and the first American diplomatic representative in exercise to be arrested for corruption.”

“Oh, crap.” She cursed, turning off the TV.

She couldn’t let Emily know that. Knowing her daughter, she would certainly want to drop everything to go to Washington in defense of Nathan, never mind he abandoned her with no explanation and no money.

Not only that would be humiliating and stupid, they also certainly couldn’t afford it. Money was tight as it is, they didn’t have the resources for a train fare to D.C., nor could Emily miss more work. And as much as a good sport Zig could be, he’d be an idiot if he didn’t take offence on his current girlfriend hushing four states over to attend to her ex-husband.

Speaking of which, she had an idea. Queenie looked up a telephone number online and quickly dialed it.

After four tones, a woman picks up. “Lydia Child High School. How may I help you?”

“Hello, this is Zigmund Ortega’s sister’s neighbor, Qu…” She caught herself and gave out a fake name. If Emily is nearby when he is summoned or answers her call, she might be suspicious. “Quinn Smith. Could I speak with him?”

“Could you state your business?” She asks.

“It’s about his mother. His sister had to rush her to an ER, and I need to talk with him.” The con artist responded.

That seemed to suffice for the woman. “One minute, please.”

Queenie tapped her fingers waiting for someone to pick up the phone. Some good minutes later, a man’s voice resounded. “Hello?”

“Zigmund, this is Queenie Rhodes, Emily’s mother. Do not say my name out loud.” She instructed. “I told the secretary I am your mother’s neighbor in California, Mrs. Quinn Smith. She’s supposed to have suffered a mild domestic accident, should anyone ask. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Mrs. Smith, I understand.” He responded, unsure.

“Good. First things first, is Emily with you?” She asks, serious.

“No, ma’am.” He said.

“Listen, Nathan has been arrested. I only just saw on TV.” The matriarch says, calmly. “You cannot let Emily find out. You know how soft-hearted that girl is. She’ll want to hop on the first train to D.C., even if it’s about Nathan.”

“Of course, Mrs. Smith. I completely agree.” He echoes, and the woman smiles, victorious.

“Try to keep her away from the internet and televisions today. It shouldn’t be so hard to do on a school.” The blonde instructs. “By tomorrow they’ll stop talking about it and we all can move on with our lives.”

“Yes, Mrs. Smith, you should do it.” He responded.

“I’ll leave you to it, then. Goodbye, Zigmund.” Queenie said and hung up the phone.

All it was left to do was hoping the boy would be able to keep that information from her naïve daughter.

“Damn!” Emily cursed under her breath. She had misplaced her cellphone that morning. She was sure she had it before leaving the apartment, though.

A knock on her classroom door broke her from her obsessive rummaging through her purse after the phone, in hopes it would just materialize on thin air. She looks up and the presence makes her smile.

“Are you ready for lunch?” Zig asks from the doorway, holding up a pair of paper bags. “I bought us take-out.”

“No, I can’t find my phone!” She bemoaned.

“Really? When did you see it last?” He asks, trying to be helpful.

The redhead thinks about his question. “I’m pretty sure I put it on my purse this morning before leaving home. I walked all the way here, then I met you on the hallway. Then I started my classes and I haven’t seen it ever since!”

He walks over her and places his hands on her shoulders. “Don’t worry, Em. There’s a software that will locate your phone, before we go out tonight we swing by my place and we can use my notebook to run it. You probably just forgot it at home.”

“Okay.” The woman sighs. “Let’s go have lunch. I’m famished!”

They walk over to the door, and while Emily tries to turn to the right, Zig pulls her to the left.

“Wrong way.” He says, smirking.

“What? The teachers’ lounge is that way!” She responds, confused.

“But we’re not going to the teachers’ lounge.” He fishes a keyring off his pocket and swindles it on his finger. “I asked Principal Jones if we couldn’t have lunch on the roof today and she was okay with it.”

She beamed. “Really?”

“Really, really.” He smirks back. “Let’s go before our lunch gets cold.”

Shortly before the couple reaches the stairs, they cross paths with the same Principal Jones they were talking about minutes early.

“Ms. Harper, Mr. Ortega.” She greets amicably and mischievously. “How nice to meet you. On your way to your impromptu date?”

“Yep!” Emily pops the ‘p’ in rejoice. “Thanks again for lending us the roof key.”

“Don’t mention it.” She dismisses. “You two remind me of me and my Brenda when we were dating. Oh, good times! Shame you just give up when you finally get married.” She muttered the last part.

“What?” The other woman asks, not having heard what she said.

“Nothing you should concern yourself with. By the way, Mr. Ortega, I’m very sorry to hear about your mother, I hope she’s okay.” The woman adopts a caring stance.

“Something happened to your mom?!” The redhead says, also very concerned.

He smiles, sheepishly. “She just tripped. She’s okay, and insisting Marie overreacted on driving her to the ER.”

“Well, falling can be dangerous to the elderly.” Mrs. Jones comments softly. “And, Ms. Harper, I’m sad on hearing about your ex-husband.”

“My ex-husband? What about…” Emily couldn’t finish her sentence because she was pulled over by Zig off to the staircase leading to the roof.

“I’m sorry, Ms. Jones, we’re on a bit of a time-crunch here. Bye!” He declared, while pulling his girlfriend away.

“See, Em, your phone has been at your place this whole time.” Zig says, pointing to the monitor. The blue dot of the geolocator blinking on top of her address.

“I could’ve sworn I had it when I left the apartment!” Emily says, surprised. “I wish I hadn’t stressed over it so much today.”

“The good thing is that you found it, right?” The brunet smiled at her encouragingly. “Will you wait me here for a sec? I’ll take a shower real quick so we can go out on our date.”

“Sure. Can I check my emails while I wait?” She asks.

He nodded and kissed her forehead. “No prob. I’ll be out on a sec.”

Zig waited for him getting to the bathroom before he did a small victory dance to celebrate his success. Between slipping Emily’s phone from her purse and shipping it back to her apartment, arranging a lunch date in which they would be completely alone and cockblocking the principal just at the right time, he really did it.

He succeeded on keeping Emily from finding out about Nathan’s arrest.

He had the most time-efficient shower of his life, and he raced through getting dressed. In a drop of a hat, he was nice and clean, ready to take the spoils of his efforts tonight.

But, as he emerges from his bedroom, Emily was out on the terrace, holding his cellphone. She was making a call, but he couldn’t make out what was being said on that conversation.

Zig was not left wondering long, because soon enough she hung up and returned into the living room.

“Zig, I’m sorry for using your cellphone without asking, but it really was an emergency.” Emily said, a little wide-eyed. “I’ll have to take a raincheck tonight, I’m so sorry. I’ll talk to you later.”

She picked up her purse from the couch and raced to the door, leaving the young man confused on her stead.

A few seconds after she leaves, his cellphone rings and he takes the call. “Hello?”

“You idiot!” Queenie barked. “She found out about Nathan! She’s going after him!”

<< Previous Chapter                                                                     Next Chapter >>

An Opera on Separation - Masterlist

[my-emotional-self]

Let Me Protect You Part 2/Chapter 2

Pairings: Chris Evans x OFC Emilia

Word Count: 1,841

Warnings: Swearing, Self-Doubt, Fluff, Smut

Rating: NC-17 (Explicit)

Summary: Now that Chris and Emilia have established their relationship, she moves into his house after her brother decides to live in New York. Emilia is in bliss, thinking maybe her life will finally be at peace.  But are things always that easy in Emilia’s life?

Chapter 1

Let Me Protect You Part 1 of Series

 It was starting to happen again, just as you feared it would.  It felt as if the medication you were taking for your anxiety and depression wasn’t working quite as well as it should be.  When you first started taking your medication, everything seemed perfect. The medication was doing its job, and you felt in control of your emotions and everything about yourself for once in your life.  But, just like everything else in your life, all good things must come to an end.  You kept on meeting with your Psychiatrist Patricia, but because you were improving so well, your appointments were narrowed down to only four times a month.  You weren’t disappointed about it; in fact, it gave you more time to work on your crafts for your Etsy business.  It also gave you more time with Chris.  

Ahh, Chris.  Your terrific boyfriend; that meatball.  He made you so damn happy all the time. That sparkle in his eye when he looked at you, made you feel alive; made you feel worthy.  The way he husks out your name when you two were having sex, always turned you on even more.  You had yet to find a flaw in Chris, and you hoped you never would.  Of course nobody was perfect, but you wouldn’t mind if that meatball of your boyfriend was perfect, because he sure seemed like it.

It was the end of January, the air crisp and cool in Los Angeles.  Chris was out with his agent all day long, taking care of business for when he started filming Avengers Infinity War sometime this spring.  The house was all clean so you got working on some new craft ideas that you wanted to sell.  

Chris had turned one of the guest rooms into your crafting room and you loved it; it had everything you could ever want.  You had even spent your gift cards you got for Christmas on a bunch of great items to help you out.  As you were working away, your phone alerted you to an incoming text message.

Chris: Have I told you lately that I love you ;)

Your face lit up in a striking smile at his message.  It was simple, cute, and to the point, just like Chris.  Your heart swelled knowing that he was all yours.  It still ceased to amaze you that he chose you.

Emilia: Only about a half dozen times…..today :p  When will you be home?

Chris: Fuck, it won’t be until later.  There is a lot more shit going on than I thought.  Maybe 7 or 8 sweetheart

Emilia: I’ll have dinner ready for when you get home babe

Chris: Damn woman I love you

Emilia: I love you too Chris.  Get back to work slacker ;)

You immediately went into the closet of your craft room, where a lot of your belongings were stored. Glancing around the closet, your eyes land on what you were looking for.  Opening the box, you start sifting through papers, trying to find your families recipe book.  You froze when you saw the manila folder that held paperwork from when you were diagnosed with your mental illness.  

Grabbing the folder, you opened it up and skimmed through the documents.

Borderline Personality Disorder:

               -Compulsive Behavior

               -Hostility

               -Self-Harm

               -Thoughts of Suicide

               -Mood Swings

               -General Discontent

               -A pattern of unstable relationships such as idealizing someone one moment, then suddenly believing the person is cruel or doesn’t care

               -Intense fear of abandonment

Your eyes stayed glued to the symptoms of what you were diagnosed with, still unbelieving them. This wasn’t really you.  No.  Your psychiatrist was full of it.  Who did she think she was to diagnose you with this kind of crap?  “Garbage” you muttered hastily to nobody but yourself as you took the folder and ripped it in half.  

You kept digging until you found the recipe book.  “Come on Dodger, lets find something your daddy will enjoy” you said to Dodger as he happily sat up from his spot on the floor and walked with you down the stairs and to the kitchen.  

It was nearing 5 o’clock when you decided on what you were going to make.  Comfort food in the middle of winter is what you were craving, so it would be Tator Tot Hotdish and you hoped Chris would like it.  You had an idea run through you mind and you quickly ran upstairs to change into something more comfortable before starting.

It didn’t take long to brown the hamburger and get the rest of the ingredients together before you were putting it into the oven to bake.  You had plenty of time to kill, so you decided to get out a pen and paper and start writing a grocery list because there wasn’t much in the kitchen.  Plus, Chris was going to need to start his diet and workout regime soon and he would need certain food for that.  

It was before 6pm Chris came walking in from the garage.  “Honey, I’m home” he said loud and proud.  Not being able to contain yourself, you let out a giggle, “you are such a dork.”  He rounded the corner to the kitchen and froze in his steps when he saw you.  You were wearing one of his dark blue dress shirts, and nothing else; it just barely covered your ass.  He stayed frozen in his place, his gaze straight on your body, going up and down your frame.  You felt a bit self-conscious, not knowing if he was happy, or mad that you invaded his wardrobe; the heat brushing onto your face.  

Chris’ eyes never left yours as he marched forth, like a predator stalking his prey.  He was the predator, and you were his prey, and he wanted you badly.  His lips crashed onto yours in a bruising way; his hands snaking around your waist tightly.  You let out a breathy moan into his mouth as his teeth nibbled on your lower plump lip. You felt the wetness pooling in your panties, his touch igniting fire deep into your bones.  Chris leaned down to grasp behind your thighs, his lips never parting from yours as he hoisted you into his arms and set you down on the kitchen island.  Your legs immediately wrapped around his backside as your heels nudged his ass, moving him closer to you.  

His lips departed from yours and you let out a soft whimper at the loss of touch.  You nibbled on your own lip as his gaze seared into you. Cupping your face in his large hands, his thumb ran over your lip which made you let go of your bite.  His eyes were black as night and your heart galloped. “Touch me Chris” you purred softly. As the words left your mouth, his lips connected with your neck as his quick hands made do of unbuttoning your shirt.

The shirt you were wearing was quickly removed and tossed somewhere to the floor.  Your hands went straight for his pants and swiftly undid his button and zipper as your hands reached to his ass and grabbed a handful. He let out an animalistic growl as his hands were placed on your chest, making you lean back fully onto the table. “So beautiful” he groaned out as he trailed kisses from your stomach to your soaking pussy.  His mouth finally found where you were silently begging for it to be placed.  “FUCK!” you screamed out as his tongue flicked your clit.  Your fingers frantically searched around for something to hold onto, but you came up short, so you settled for Chris’ hair.  Of course he didn’t mind, in fact, it only instigated him more as he moaned right over your mound.  “Close…I’m so close baby” you panted out, your breathing erratic. It only took the one finger he inserted into your dripping core before you almost instantly clenched around his fingers and you screamed his name.  

He removed his finger from you center, his tongue licking up your juices.  Your body convulsed with aftershocks of your orgasm.  Using all your strength, you leaned up onto your elbows to see Chris taking his pants and boxers off in one quick motion.  You didn’t even have time to sit up before Chris grabbed your legs, placed them around his torso and picked you up.  You let out a squeal as your arms wrapped around his neck for support, his hands on your ass.  He walked with ease towards the kitchen table and took a seat at one of the chairs.  You had to admit, the height of the chair was perfect for you.  Your legs were straddling Chris, your feet touched the floor easily; you knew exactly where this was heading.  

You ground your hips down onto his rock hard cock and Chris’ head fell back, a low moan escaping his mouth. Taking this as the perfect opportunity, your lips found his neck.  You trailed open, wet kisses all over his neck and throat as your hips continued to gyrate onto him.  “Fuck me” he groaned out at your ministrations and it was all you needed to here.  Gripping the base of his cock, you lined it up at your entrance and teased your slit a little before sinking down onto him; your wetness coating his cock as it entered with ease.  

Your forehead rested against Chris’ as you gave yourself a minute to adjust around him.  “Fuck…no condom” Chris rasped out nervously.  You shook your head at him, “I got on the pill a month ago.”  He let out a sigh, realizing everything would be ok.  Leaning in, you acquired his lips to yours as you raised yourself up, and then slowly sunk back down.  Chris’ hands trembled slightly as they were placed on your hips.  Your legs raised yourself up again before sinking down; continue your slow torturous pace for a few more minutes.  “Baby…your killing me here” Chris breathed onto your face, his hands gripping you tighter.  

Deciding to end the torturous slow pace, your speed picked up as you tilted back, Chris’ dick hitting a new angle inside you as you cried out.  From the angle you were at, your orgasm shattered through your body rather quickly as white spots formed in your vision; your eyes clenched tight.  Your pace slowed because of your high so Chris helped you out by grabbing under your thighs and helping you move faster.  You were out of breath, sweat glistening both of your bodies.  Chris’ cock twitched inside of you as his hands left your thighs and hugged you to him, his warm seed filling you up.  

The two of you sat there on the chair, arms around embraced.  The sex was powerful and set your soul ablaze; never feeling this kind of love before.  It felt like you would never be able to get enough of him.  As your and Chris’ breathing became regular, the oven timer went off and a chuckled escaped your lips.  Pulling away, your eyebrows raised high, “hungry?”  

 A/N: Uh-Oh, Emilia is starting to become unstable again!  I wanted to throw in those symptoms and signs of Borderline Personality Disorder because you will be seeing a lot of that with Emilia, especially in these first few chapters.

Tag List: @iamwarrenspeace @ssweet-empowerment @evansfanficweekly @valentinesbird @patzammit @always-an-evans-addict @tacohead13 @littlemissacorn @white-chocolate-mocha-fan @potterhead1265 @miss-cap21 @thedoctorscamanion

[punkscowardschampions]

Rio & Buster

Rio: You got no business looking that good Rio: This is a religious holiday Buster: Don't look at me like that Buster: You're being unholy yourself, like Rio: Ha, try and make me stop Rio: we're fine, everyone's too busy with their lamb, thanks da Buster: You might be fine but I'm eventually gonna have to get up from this table Rio: You want me to pass you some water, babe? Buster: Don't you dare Rio: Salt? The peas? Buster: Behave Rio: But I'm bored Rio: and you're hot Buster: Well, bored isn't the word for how you're making me feel Buster: And don't start me on how you fucking look Rio: But I need to know what you're thinking Buster: But I thought you knew everything, babe Buster: Losing your touch already, like Rio: You want me to show you I ain't here and now? Rio: Well, okay Buster: Okay Buster: Go on Rio: Damn, been a while since I had to play footsie Buster: If you aren't up to it, like Rio: Please Rio: You know I could get you off from here if I wanted to Buster: You promising or warning me? Rio: Neither Rio: 😇 naturally Rio: wish it was though Buster: I wish you were on my lap right now Rio: Baby 😩 Rio: Play nice Buster: 😇 Buster: Get me a drink, yeah? I wanna see more of you Rio: What you want? Buster: Surprise me Rio: Stick to your usual Rio: Raising enough eyebrows being civil, never mind if I get you a 🍸 Buster: 😂 Buster: I can throw it back in your face if you like Buster: Be very uncivil Rio: 😂 Rio: I know you want me on you but you want it that bad you'll settle for a fat lip Buster: I'll take it if you call me later to make up Rio: Face that cute? I could never Rio: Though makeup sex is always worth it Buster: Never say never, babe Rio: You planning to get me that mad already? Buster: Like you said, we're raising eyebrows otherwise Rio: Hmpf Buster: Don't look at me like that either Rio: I can't help it Rio: I want you Rio: I hate pretending otherwise Rio: even though we gotta, obvs Buster: I know, babe Buster: There's gotta be something this fam is running low on so I can be a gent and take you to buy more Rio: Not fucking eggs that's for sure, think they've forgotten we ain't kids anymore Rio: the haul Jay's gonna walk away with will last her 'til she's at least 2 Buster: Maybe if I leave them here Buster: Chlo ain't got the willpower or memo that she ain't a kid herself Buster: I'd offer to keep drinking so we run out but I already don't trust myself around you Rio: Wouldn't be a proper function if someone didn't get wasted and disgrace themselves Rio: Put you to bed before you properly drag us both down, don't worry babe Buster: Don't, I need you to take me to bed Buster: or anywhere else Rio: I know Rio: I'll think of something Buster: Couldn't you have worn a church look or whatever Buster: Fuck's sake Rio: This is my church look Rio: turning it out for Jesus 💁 Buster: 'Course Buster: Ready to pray, yeah? Rio: Think pretending I dropped something only works in the porn but I'm game to see if you are Buster: I'm game for everything Rio: I know Rio: Thank fuck 🙌🙏 Buster: Am I a bad person if I use my kid as an excuse to leave? Rio: Hmm Rio: Probably but church portion of the day well out the way so even the big man can't be judging Buster: Fuck I can't though, can I? She's loving all this Rio: Yeah, bless her Buster: Least she's too young to know that her mum didn't contribute to the easter basket or even wish her a happy one Buster: Too busy flirting with me, like Rio: 😒 Rio: Bitch Buster: I told her me and Erin broke up 'cause there was someone else but she only heard the first part, obviously Buster: Not even any of her business what I do but that's a whole other story Rio: That'll be fun then, thinking she's got more of a chance than she usually does Rio: How does she not die of shame, like Buster: She'll outlive everyone Buster: Just to fuck me off Rio: 😂 Rio: all those spa trips Rio: going to the fucking fountain of youth Buster: Honestly Buster: I'm gonna need a buy myself a spa if she goes through with her plan to come here and pick Jay up Rio: 😬 Rio: least I get to see her best attempt at a seduce 'em 'fit Rio: see what I'm up against, like Buster: 😂 Buster: Indie's got more game and she's a kid Rio: pass on the compliment Rio: full of the joys of spring, babe Buster: She'll love that. I've seen her looking at me when I'm trying not to look at you Rio: Can't blame her Rio: You look especially good rn Buster: Still not on your level, babe Buster: You're so fucking beautiful Rio: Don't Rio: gonna make me blush Buster: I have to Buster: You need to know Rio: Baby Rio: Come find me in 5 idc Rio: I've got to see you properly Buster: Where? Rio: The studio upstairs Rio: there's old toys and shit in there that we can be trying to find Buster: and good lighting Buster: 'cause you know I wanna see you properly too Rio: Exactly Rio: you can appreciate fully Buster: I'm really appreciating how loud this fam is right now Rio: Got their uses Buster: If Jay gets much more hype there ain't nothing I couldn't do that they'd pick up on Rio: She's stealing your thunder, it true Rio: everyone too 😍 to notice us Buster: Good Buster: I only want you to notice me anyway Buster: No offense Indie Rio: Trust, I've not been able to focus on anything else Buster: I'm not sorry Rio: Me either but still gonna make you 😏 Buster: Go Buster: I'll see you in 5 Rio: 👋 Buster: I can't believe we actually got away with that Buster: Again Rio: We're just that good Rio: or they're just really deaf Buster: I like option 1 Buster: You're so good, Rio Rio: You too baby Rio: No matter how many times you make me cum, never enough, like Rio: mad Buster: What are you doing later? Buster: Come over and I won't stop Rio: Got a shift but can probably pop 'round after and Indie won't be home yet to clock I'm not Rio: thinks I got a mans anyway so Buster: As long as you don't wake Jay you can come over when you want Buster: Yeah? What did you tell her Rio: Of course Rio: 😶😇 Rio: Oh, that I've been fucking you, obviously Buster: Cheers for making me choke on my drink like a soft cunt, babe Buster: Hilarious Buster: Grandad's looking at me like I killed a bloke Rio: 😂 sacrilege to not be able to handle your drink in this fam Rio: just can't handle my bants, soz babe Buster: He'd rather I did someone over with my glass, I know Rio: Questionable ethics for a easter egg hunt for kiddos but go off, old man Buster: 😂 Buster: Gotta keep that competitive edge Rio: Don't, this lot need a referee Rio: putting Indie and Jan on time out Buster: I volunteer Grace Buster: Imagine like Rio: Definition of lamb to the slaughter Rio: appropriate for today but poor girl 😂 Buster: I'll cut her some slack, she's good with my kid Rio: Yeah Rio: who doesn't love a cute new baby Rio: programmed to in this fam Buster: True Buster: Only reason I ain't disinherited Rio: Weren't you're 'rents basically your age anyway? Rio: Can't judge when you make the same mistakes, just be very, very disappointed on the low 😜 Buster: Different story that we're all sick of hearing though, ain't it? Buster: My dad was in love with my mum when he was like 7 Rio: 'bout to say that's a madness but did mine really mature much in those 8 years like? Rio: 🙄 mental, all of 'em Buster: This fucking fam 🙄🙄 Buster: I'd rather be like Chlo who Rio: As much as she is that forgettable, defs not gonna happen on her watch is it Buster: She's still flirting Buster: Give it up, babe Buster: But like don't Rio: Pretend to be your new crazy gf if you wanna Rio: losing her mind searching for socials that don't exist Buster: Please Rio: Easy Rio: Comforted enough of my friends when they're in the wrong to know how to go off Buster: Come through for me then Rio: Fun Rio: Lemme hit up Grace for her straighteners Buster: She'll be buzzing Rio: Forreal, always trying to come for my hair Buster: 😒 Rio: Probably does look a mess now no thanks to you Rio: like bitch, you been dragged through a hedge backwards what's good Buster: Shut up Buster: You know you look good Rio: You might've mentioned a few times 😋 Buster: I'll show you a few more times if you need me to Buster: Just say the word, like Rio: Trying to get me to say the p word Rio: Gonna have to do better Buster: If I was trying you'd have already said it Rio: Promises, promises Rio: Can have that one for free Buster: Well, can't exactly promise to bend you over the table, much as I might wanna Rio: Buster Rio: Why put that in my head when I'm here having to wash up with the mas Buster: It's been in mine since I got here Rio: ugh Rio: either come help or go away Rio: can't have you near me if you're not gonna be near enough Buster: I like you but I don't like you that much Buster: I'll go do some daddy duties like Rio: 😂 Rio: fucking cheek Rio: good luck getting her away from your ma, that manicures too expensive for our dishwater, like Buster: It's not all you, I ain't about to leave my watch lying around this lot either Rio: have your hand off for it like Rio: didn't you know you were coming to the 24 Buster: I had tunnel vision, didn't I? Rio: Good Rio: how I like it Buster: I know Rio: What else do you know Buster: I know I want to be alone with you Rio: Tonight Buster: Yeah Buster: Unless you've got a better offer all of a sudden, that is Rio: You what? Buster: What I said Rio: Yeah but Rio: No, not since you last checked in like, 10 minutes ago, we're still on babe 😂 Buster: Says you but your phone been blowing up since then Buster: So whatever Rio: It's literally Indie Rio: Told you she's Sherlocking me Rio: Was you jealous? Buster: Fuck off Buster: 'Course not Rio: Awww Rio: How cute Buster: Shut up no Rio: Yeah you were Rio: s'okay, you know you got no reason to be now and i can't tell no one anyway Buster: I always knew I had no reason to be, babe, I ain't no proper competition Buster: That's why I wasn't Rio: Oh, really? Rio: Well then, I won't make an extra special effort to show you how much you do not need to be jealous Rio: Cool with me Buster: Behave Buster: No need to go that far, babe Buster: You can still show me something Rio: Idk now Rio: catch me going through my contacts like 🤔🤔🤔 Rio: got me thinkin' Buster: Yeah you do Buster: You know you won't get better than this right here Rio: Yeah Rio: so you still gonna let me have it or are you too pouty now? Buster: Yeah 'cause you obviously need me to remind you how good you got it with me Rio: Don't but want it so Rio: Please Buster: Let's go then Buster: I'll get Jay ready and follow you out Rio: Can't yet Rio: In fact, brb for a sec Buster: Seriously? Rio: [Suitable amount of time to have a smoke later] Rio: Back Rio: Indie needed some TLC Buster: I reckon you meant THC Rio: That too Buster: You wanna go now? Rio: Reckon this party's pretty much over Rio: got the 🍫 let's ride Buster: I can say I'm giving you a ride yeah? That's just gentlemanly Buster: Otherwise you'll freeze to death waiting around the corner Rio: I appreciate you resisting the urge to make a joke about me working the corner this time, like Rio: much obliged 👍 Rio: yeah, that seems normal and not suspicious Buster: Well, don't actually want that fat lip you threatened me with earlier Buster: Even if you would kiss it better Rio: For a whitey, your lips aren't bad Rio: so I'll leave you how you are 😘 Buster: Cheers Rio: Please tell me there's no family functions for a while? Rio: Hard work not being able to be on you Buster: Christ knows with this fam that I can't make that promise Buster: But I swear you'll never have to wait long for me to come find you whenever there is Rio: Now, THAT'S a promise Buster: And you can hold me to it, babe Rio: I will

[javathewildone]

Ty Chronicles - A Walk to Remember (Pt. 9)

Summary: Meghan Donovan is a girl no one pays attention to until the day Ty Borden discovers something about her that so closely relates to his own life he finds himself becoming attached to her. But the closer he gets, the worse things become. And no one makes it through unscathed. The first installment of the Ty Chronicles saga. Set pre-Heartland/pre-juvie/pre-group home. Told in first-person through Ty’s point of view. Rating: PG-13 for swearing and domestic violence. Author’s Notes: Wow. Has it truly been almost a year since my last update? I suppose it’s time for one, eh? At some point I stated that I was going to try to finish this story within 10 chapters. Being that it’s been so long and I may have slightly altered (aka forgotten) my whole plan for how things were going to work out, I’m going to nix that and just say it’ll be done when it’s done. Forgive me if anything seems off, I was still feeling rusty while trying to get back into the groove of the story. Parts: P | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 ... 10

The moment Wade left with Lily to take her to work, I confiscated the phone. Meghan had given me her phone number that morning and while I was once again tempting fate, I dialed it anyway. I hung up abruptly when her stepfather answered. A few seconds later he called back. At least, that was my assumption. I didn’t believe it was a mere coincidence someone else happened to call just as I hung up. We didn’t get many phone calls and when we did they were usually from debt collectors and lately even they hadn’t been calling since our number changed so much they couldn’t keep up. I cursed the invention of star 69 while staring at the receiver in my hands and was again grateful we didn’t have an answering machine. Frankly, I didn’t want to hear what kind of message would be left behind. The ringing stopped and there wasn’t a second call back. Maybe he just thought it was a wrong number. I had a brief debate with myself on trying again a while later but concluded that it wouldn’t be wise to play that kind of Russian roulette. I had the feeling that when he was home, no one else answered the phone. The odds of Meghan picking up just one time were not in my favor and I couldn’t guarantee he wouldn’t take the phone from her or listen on the other line. Throwing the phone to the other end of the couch I ran a hand through my hair and looked toward the clock. It was still early. I was tempted to head to the tree fort and hope she showed up, even camp out there until she did, but my run of bad luck that day told me to just stay home and hope she would hold me to my word and call if she needed me. Hours passed. Wade never came back after dropping my mom off which left me to assume he was either at the track or a bar, or more than likely the bar at the track. That was fine with me. Not that he was gambling away what little money we had, but that he wasn’t in the apartment to continue our face off from earlier. The two of us home alone would not end well. I enjoyed the solitude and kept busy by, believe it or not, cleaning. If anyone were to walk in and see me wielding a vacuum they’d surely project a snot-rocket across the room. I didn’t go crazy. Just tried to straighten up and make the place look presentable – not that we had anyone to present it to. But it made me feel a little bit less like I was living in squalor.  Sometimes it really was the little things that made a person happy. We didn’t have much – less and less every time we moved so wherever we happened to end up never looked like a real home. I kept most of my stuff permanently packed to make things quick when the next time came. It wasn’t a matter of if. I learned at a young age never to get attached to anyplace, anything, or anyone. Nothing I owned held any sentiment. The tiger toy I used to have from the zoo was the last piece of my childhood I held onto and that went in the garbage before we moved the last time. That was pretty much when I became a full-blown cynic. But it was because of the promise to myself about remaining impartial that I became aware of the strange attachment I had to Meghan. Tommy and Jason and Seth were good friends, but I wouldn’t be heartbroken to move away from them. I wouldn’t use that word to describe how I would feel to have to leave Meghan either, but I knew that I’d be more upset not getting to spend anymore nights secretly camped away in a termite-infested tree fort than I would sharing a handle of whiskey atop a water tower. I felt stupid waiting with the phone within my sights for a call that I knew would likely not come. I did what I could to keep my mind in a safe place, but with only six cable channels it wasn’t very easy. I was subject to either the news or infomercials. For the sake of substance, I chose the news even if it was depressing most of the time. Vehicular accidents, shootings, a fire in a warehouse and hidden in the doom and gloom was a passing segment about some police dog being honored with a retirement party. I chuckled to myself watching the dog “shake hands” with his fellow officers in farewell while he went to live with his handler on an acreage north of Vancouver. I had to turn it off when they started showing B-roll of the dog playing in a large backyard with a little girl, fetching a ball then making her chase him when he refused to give it up. It struck me in a place I kept locked up tight and forgot even existed most of the time. I remembered then why that was and got up from the couch to get a drink before going back to my bedroom and turning on my stereo. The volume went up as loud as the neighbors would tolerate. I flopped on my mattress that sat on the floor and pulled out a back issue of rider and drooled over the vintage Norton that sat tucked away in the center fold. This was my version of a “dirty” magazine. I’ll admit I had the real thing too. Easy Riders had some pretty little things plastered all over their motorcycles. At some point I dozed off, my magazine open on my chest. I woke up to a presence in the room. I was a light sleeper most of the time but the volume of my stereo blocked out any noise, so I felt them there before they turned down the stereo and really made themselves known. My eyes popped open as soon as the buzz of the quiet began to ring in my ears. Lily was standing next to my dresser, about to come and nudge me awake until she saw I already was. “There’s a phone call for you,” she was holding the cordless against her body, a sly little smile tight on her lips as she tried to keep it reined in. I glanced at the clock on my night table as I became more awake, moving the magazine aside and sitting up. It was almost two in the morning. My whole world felt askew as I took a moment to comprehend time and space. “Who is it?” I asked, my voice thick with sleep. I didn’t even want to try and figure out what my mother was smiling about or why she was still dressed and so awake. The diner closed hours ago. “A young lady.” Oh. That’s what the smile was about. “I told her you were sleeping but she was persistent.” She handed me the phone. “Not too long, okay? It’s late.” I gaped at her with the phone still in midair. Was she serious? “Since when are you such a parent.” I mumbled as she left the room, then brought the receiver to my ear. “Hello?” “Ty?” I was wide awake at the sound of Meghan’s voice despite barely being able to hear it. “Hold on.” Springing up from my mattress I peeked out my door to see what my mom was doing. I felt like she too would be one to pick up the other line and try to listen in on my conversations with a girl. For some reason she thought it was so adorable when I mentioned anyone of the opposite sex like I was still a little boy with a crush. Unfortunately, or fortunately I suppose, she wouldn’t be around later to know what I did with those girls. At this point in time I was still pretty innocent, so to speak. I’d fooled around some but nothing I could get into trouble for later. I couldn’t say the same for her as I caught her and Wade giving googly eyes at each other, his hands once again groping places I couldn’t un-see no matter how badly I wanted to. I made a face but was satisfied that there would be no eavesdropping on my phone call as I backed up and shut the door. “Are you okay? I thought you were going to meet me this morning.” I wasn’t going to waste time on pleasantries when I’d been sweating bullets all day wondering what happened to her. “Can you meet me?” I didn’t like the way she evaded my question, especially not when she sounded like she did. My heart began to thump hard in my ears. “Yeah. Where are you?” I began to pull on my shoes, glad I didn’t unpack my duffel bag. “I’ll meet you same place as last night.” Once again her response was vague, but I didn’t bother to press for clearer answers. I knew where she was talking about so I didn’t see a reason to while still on the phone. My assumption was she didn’t want to be overheard and tailed so I just left things at that and hung up just as quickly. I would get my answers in a few minutes one way or another. First I just wanted to see her and assure myself that she was okay and my naiveté this morning didn’t do any damage. The only barricade was my mother and Wade still in the living room. I opened the door and could hear her girlish giggle as he murmured something close to her ear then leaned in for a kiss. Something definitely happened between them within the last couple hours for Wade to suddenly turn so loving and outwardly affectionate. Lily was eating it up while she could. I didn’t have time to hang around and figure it out. What I wanted was to shield my eyes and make a mad dash for the door. “Ty. Where are you going?” Lily spoke up when she caught sight of me with my bag again. I could hear the urgency in her voice as she was fully distracted from Wade, who did not seem pleased at being ignored and gave me the stink eye for it. “Out. Don’t wait up.” I didn’t want to give a real answer as that would prompt further questions I wasn’t prepared to answer. “It’s the middle of the night!” Lily shifted to get up, but Wade stopped her by grabbing her hips to pull her back onto the couch with him. “Let him go, Lily. He’s made it perfectly clear he’s adult enough to take care of himself. If he wants to get mugged in a back alley then let him face the consequences.” Don’t you wish, I thought bitterly. “Wade! He’s just a child,” my mother protested. “Are you going to meet that girl?” Ah, the question I wanted to avoid. I could spin lies for days but somehow found it difficult to lie to my own mother. Evade and misdirect, sure, but I couldn’t flat out lie. “She needs a friend right now. I’ll see you later.” I heard Wade chuckle as I turned again toward the door. “Got a nice piece of ass waiting for ya, hm?” I bristled. “Ty!” Lily gasped, seemingly appalled by Wade’s inference. “You’re not having sex with this girl, are you? Because we need to talk about-“ I cut her off before she could turn even deeper into mother-mode. “No, I’m not. And even if I was, I don’t see how it’s any of your damn business. Besides,” I added as an afterthought, wanting to leave her with a revelation that would keep her attention away from Wade for a while, even if it would probably startle her a great deal, “you already missed out on that parental milestone. Sometimes the best way to learn something is from a hands-on approach.” I left them with that thought, effectively stunning my mom into silence as I quickly left to meet Meghan in the vacant lot.

[ronnykblair]

The Rates Trading Desk in London: How to Break In, and What to Expect on the Job

Is sales & trading still a good industry?

If it is, what’s the best desk for you, and how should you recruit for it?

It’s tough to give universal answers to these questions, so we like to present different groups and let you decide.

We’ve published articles on equities and fixed income, but I’ve always wanted to go into detail on individual desks within those areas.

And just as I had this thought, a reader who works on the rates trading desk at a large bank in London volunteered to share his experiences:

What is the Rates Trading Desk?

Q: Before we get started, can you explain what the “rates trading desk” does and how it’s different from other areas in FICC (Fixed Income, Currency, and Commodities), such as credit trading?

A: Most assets that a bank trades are split into cash vs. derivatives vs. exotics, and the same split applies to the rates trading desk.

“Cash” here means sovereign bonds, while “derivatives” means interest rate swaps and futures, and “exotics” means structured products based on rates, options on swaps, and others.

Of those, we focus on making markets in sovereign bonds and interest rate derivatives.

Sovereign bonds are ones issued by governments, such as U.K. Gilts, U.S. Treasuries, EUR-denominated bonds issued by European countries, and Australian Government Bonds (AGBs).

In London, EUR-denominated bonds and U.K. Gilts are the most common, though there are teams for the others as well.

Interest rate derivatives are financial instruments whose values increase or decrease based on movements in interest rates.

The simplest type is the “vanilla” interest rate swap, where one party receives payments based on a floating interest rate and pays the counterparty based on a fixed interest rate.

If you’re receiving payments based on a floating rate, you hope that LIBOR increases so you receive more; if you’re paying based on a floating rate, you hope that LIBOR decreases so you pay less.

Other derivatives include caps and floors, STIRT futures, Eurostrips, swaptions, and interest rate call options.

“Making a market” means providing liquidity to clients who want to buy and sell.

We commit to buy and sell anything from clients, even if we don’t want the position, and then we address the risk and try to turn it into a profitable trade.

Rates trading is very macro-focused compared with equities and areas of FICC such as credit trading or distressed debt.

In credit trading, you focus on securities like corporate bonds and credit default swaps (CDS), and company-specific knowledge (“the micro”) is critical.

But almost anything could affect interest rates, so you focus on “the macro” on the rates trading desk: economic growth, trade policy, inflation, exchange rates, and monetary policy.

Rates products offer significantly more liquidity than other types of bonds, so flow trading desks here tend to be loud and busy.

When there are central bank policy announcements, geopolitical developments, or economic data releases, activity on the desk flares up.

Rates Trading Desk Recruiting and Interviews

Q: Great, thanks for that overview.

What should you expect in the recruiting process?

A: You don’t specify a desk upfront, so you’ll just apply to the sales & trading divisions of banks, usually starting in August; sometimes you will pick equities vs. fixed income upfront.

Typically, you’ll have a first-round interview with junior traders in-person or on the phone, followed by an assessment center if you’re in the EMEA region (or a Superday if you’re in North America).

Traders look for technically-minded people who are comfortable with numbers and quick decisions under stress, which is why there are so many athletes on the trading floor.

It’s critical to apply early in London, especially if you’re from a non-target school.

Networking definitely “works,” but there are some cultural differences.

Q: Such as?

A: Just as in the U.S. and other regions, alumni networks at top schools are very helpful, but they work much better for recent graduates (i.e., those within 2-3 years of graduation).

After a few years, school affiliation in the U.K. becomes a weaker connection than it is in the U.S., so just going to the same university as a senior trader usually doesn’t cut it.

Traders won’t have time to meet during market hours and generally won’t be inclined for sit-down meetings – so your best bet is to aim for drinks right after work, especially on Thursday nights.

The after-work drinking culture is so prevalent in London that you might even be able to network with traders simply by going bar-hopping at the right times.

In London, Canary Wharf and the area between the Liverpool St. and Bank stations are the hot spots.

Q: That sounds more fun than coffee meetings…

Once you get past the networking stage, are there any London-specific interview differences?

A: Not really; you should expect a few brainteasers and math questions, lots of competency questions (“Why our bank?” and “Why sales & trading?”) as well as questions about market trends and trade ideas.

Especially for macro-oriented and fixed-income desks, you need to articulate clear views about central bank policy, geopolitics, market data, and news stories.

Product knowledge is also helpful so you can answer the “Why S&T?” question convincingly, but groups here stagger their expectations based on your background – they’ll expect someone with an MSF degree to know more than someone with a liberal arts degree.

Q: And what should you expect in S&T assessment centers?

A: Long days! ACs for S&T can sometimes run from 8 AM to 5 PM.

As with any AC, you’ll interview with senior professionals and complete individual and group case studies.

The three most common case studies here are trading games, group investment presentations, and individual trade idea presentations.

With the trading games, you’ll form groups, and in each turn, one group will make a market while the other group will buy and sell. You’ll receive more information about prices and orders in each turn as well.

The winner matters less than how you play the game – always track your positions and P&L and manage risk appropriately (e.g., don’t buy a huge volume of shares under the assumption that you can easily sell them).

Write down what others are doing so you can quote appropriate prices and present your ideas without being overly aggressive.

The usual group presentation task is to recommend 1-2 investments out of a set of 5-10 companies.

There is no “correct” answer, so make a decision quickly and then spend most of your time outlining your pitch and anticipating the questions you’ll get.

You should volunteer for a useful task that no one else wants to do (such as timekeeping or note-taking) so that you come across as a “team player.”

When you present, try to speak at the beginning or end so they remember you, and stick to your allotted time (usually 30 seconds per person).

If you have an observed group discussion, try to bring others into the conversation and don’t just give your opinions the whole time – recruiters like to see “humility.”

With the individual presentation, you’ll receive market information and research, and you’ll have to propose a trade idea.

Once again, make a decision quickly and aim for only a few minutes of presentation time so that you can spend more time answering the interviewers’ questions.

With trade ideas, many students don’t consider how they might hedge the risks.

It is not necessarily a good idea to suggest something specific, such as using call or put options, because you’ll almost always be quizzed on how exactly it would work. And if you don’t fully understand the specifics, it could easily backfire.

However, it is worth doing a bit of research beforehand on possible hedges so you can answer follow-up questions if the interviewers ask you about the topic.

Finally, don’t tell everyone that their desk is your #1 choice, and don’t focus too much on one specific desk.

You need senior traders across the desks to like you, so say that you’re open to anything, even if you do have a preference for one product.

You can always say that you’re very interested in what the person does and that you would like to know more, as markets people love to talk about their own roles.

On the Rates Trading Desk: A Day in the Life

Q: Thanks for that summary.

Can you walk us through an average day on the rates trading desk?

A: I need to be there before the European markets open, so I arrive around 6:30 AM, start preparing my comments for the 7 AM morning meeting, send our “axes” (trades we want to make) to the sales force, and mark my bond prices once the market opens.

I’m then at the desk for almost the entire day until 5 PM, when the market closes, except for ~20 minutes to grab lunch at mid-day.

If U.S. payrolls come in lower than expected, the ECB makes an unexpected announcement, and China announces a new trade deal, activity will spike, and we’ll be very busy making markets for clients (in front of all 8 of my screens).

But if it’s a quieter day with no major announcements or surprises, I’ll spend more time on analysis, Excel modeling, and longer-term projects.

It’s not the type of modeling you do in investment banking – it’s more for retrieving prices and positions and building graphs and analysis for swap curves (for example).

Senior traders rarely stay past 5:30 PM, but junior traders often stay later to finish P&L and risk reporting or other projects. But even they usually leave by 6-7 PM.

Q: How much do you interact with the sales force and structurers?

A: If you cover products with high flow, such as government bonds and swaps, you’ll work with sales force quite a bit.

For example, a salesperson might come to us and ask for a price on a government bond that a client wants to buy. Then, we look at our positions, who the client is, market activity, and recent prices, and give a quote.

The salesperson then relays this quote to the client, and the client says yes or no or makes a counter-offer.

If the trade goes through, the salesperson will confirm and book it, and I’ll start planning the next steps: unwind it right away, keep some or all of it, or buy something else as a hedge.

The structurers tend to have more contact with the sales force than us because the salespeople manage the relationships with clients that want custom products; traders just price and execute the trades and manage risk.

Q: Have new regulations, such as MiFID II, affected the job? What about automation?

A: Yes; they’ve changed the trading floor dramatically over the past decade.

These regulations are intended to reduce insider and rogue trading by making discussions between market participants more transparent, but some people argue that they’re killing liquidity and forcing banks to consolidate.

I think banks will have to specialize in fewer markets in the future, and that consolidation will continue because regulations tend to favor large incumbents.

It’s ironic because regulators want to eliminate “too big to fail” institutions, but many new regulations have the opposite effect because they increase the costs of doing business and grant advantages to large banks that can leverage their franchises.

Evercore closed its European equities execution desk two weeks after MiFID II was implemented, and we’ll continue to see stories like that.

Automation has affected many parts of S&T, but rates products are more complex, and therefore harder to automate, so my desk hasn’t seen a huge impact yet.

But it’s certainly true that banks want to hire computer science graduates and train existing employees to gain the technical and coding skills required to build and maintain trading systems.

Q: How does the advancement process work in S&T?

A: After your 2-3 years as an Analyst, compensation and advancement are less rigidly defined than they are in IB.

Bonuses depend on individual, team, and bank-wide performances, and if you perform well for a few years, you could accelerate your career and compensation.

But the job is also quite volatile – especially when the markets are volatile – and firing rounds can be frequent and ruthless.

There’s a huge range in compensation and advancement because everything comes down to performance. Star traders could advance to the top in 5-10 years, while others could struggle for years and never make it far beyond the entry level.

Your title may change as you move up, but in practice, all that changes are your risk limits – unless you move to the managerial side.

Some traders do move into managerial roles to reduce career volatility, and if they do that, their base salaries tend to increase.

However, they’re also far less likely to earn “star trader” bonus packages as managers, and their total compensation may fall.

Rates Trading Desk Exit Opportunities

Q: On that note, how long do most rates traders stick around? Are there solid exit opportunities for something so specialized?

A: The turnover between teams at different banks is quite high, and it’s common to work at 4-5 different banks over your career.

Rates trading is very specialized, so banks are always looking to poach other traders who have the skill set; normal companies and non-trading firms don’t necessarily place a high value on those skills.

Some traders do leave for hedge funds (usually global macro ones) and prop trading firms, and others switch to different desks, but these options become more difficult as your career progresses.

It is common to switch geographies and move to New York, Hong Kong, or another financial center since you can trade almost anywhere in the world.

But the bottom line is that if you want broad exit opportunities, go into investment banking, or work in sales rather than trading.

Q: Thinking about everything we’ve discussed, who would be a good fit for the rates trading desk, and who would not be a good fit?

A: You’d be a good fit for the rates trading desk if:

You’re comfortable with risk.

You’re able to work in intense environments while communicating with salespeople, clients, and brokers.

You prefer macro analysis.

You prefer fast-paced day-to-day tasks rather than longer-term projects.

You like math, but not quite enough to be a quant.

If you’re more project-oriented, or you want to work at your own rhythm, you’d be better off in structuring or research.

If you’re less comfortable with risk, but you have great people skills and you can work the phones quite well, you’d be better off in sales.

Q: Great. Would you recommend any books or other resources to learn more about this area?

A: Sure. Some of these books get very technical, but if you want to learn more about rates, I’d recommend:

Interest Rate Swaps and Other Derivatives

The Handbook of Fixed Income Securities

Interest Rate Markets: A Practical Approach to Fixed Income

Q: Thanks for your time. I learned a lot!

A: My pleasure.

The post The Rates Trading Desk in London: How to Break In, and What to Expect on the Job appeared first on Mergers & Inquisitions.

from ronnykblair digest https://www.mergersandinquisitions.com/rates-trading-desk/