#that decision was made with my hear and my pussy i love pathetic women can i help it??

[gideonisms]

I keep refreshing the poll to see who's currently ahead in the fight for Ultimate Milf. This is what sports fans go through

[klaus-littlestwolf]

Warning:Alpha/Omega talk but not Omegaverse, Smut, Fingering, Masterbation, Vaginal penetration, slight breeding kink if you squint, slight teasing, praise kink

I admit, maybe walking down to the kitchen in my underwear wasn’t my smartest decision in the middle of the night but it was the middle of the night! I thought everyone was asleep!

‘I didn't expect this tonight.’  The voice behind me made me jump nearly a foot in the air before turning to see Klaus leaning on the doorway.

‘Don't start, you make one rude comment and you'll find all of your paints in your bathroom sink.’  I wasn't in the mood for one of Rebekah's brothers to make me feel bad about myself at 2:45 in the morning.

‘I would never.  You think I find joy in making women feel bad about themselves?  You look...lovely.’  I rolled my eyes, refusing to look at him as I grabbed a soda from the fridge.

‘Whatever you say.  Goodnight Klaus-‘  he grabbed my arm as I went to walk passed him and I looked up seeing a softness in his eyes that I never had before, though to be honest I tried not to pay too much attention.  I had a crush on the hybrid from the moment Rebekah brought me home and I didn't want to be the best friend pathetically crushing on her brother.

‘I mean it Y/n.  You look good enough to eat, never let any man tell you otherwise, and if they do send them my way.  I'll be glad to set them straight.’  I was completely floored, unsure of what to do now as he released my arm.

‘Um...thanks I think...Goodnight.’  With that I retreated upstairs as quickly as possible, going back to bed, unable to forget the look in the man's eyes as he looked down at me.

Honestly that whole experience is probably the only reason I responded as I did now.

I had come to the mansion to find Rebekah, hoping for a random girls day after Damon had pissed me off but she wasn't answering her phone and I realized she wasn't home as I let myself in and heard no one.  I was just about to leave when that changed, focusing hard and hearing a heartbeat sounding like Klaus' erratic werewolf pulse but it was faster than normal.  I crept my way up the stairs and began hearing ragged breathing, his door being open leading to me peeking in and seeing him laid on his pillows with a grip around his cock.  I turned as quickly as I could, moving quietly back to the stairs before I heard him speak.

‘Oh god!  Y/n!  Fuck!’

I was stunned and I peeked back in to see a canvas in front of him.  Though his eyes were now closed, it was a painting of me...in my underwear...the same underwear he had seen me in 2 nights before.  He was being honest the other night, he really had liked the way I looked...clearly quite a bit.  As I continued looking at the man and his death grip on his cock, a cock that's thickness was literally calling out to me, I knew exactly what I was going to do.  I slid my shoes off just inside the door to step quietly, taking my jacket off as well before ending up right next to his bed, watching him lick his lips as he continued stroking himself, hips thrusting every once in a while as if he couldn't stop himself.

‘Please?  Just like that gorgeous, fuck!  Please?’

With that I hopped onto the bed and threw my leg over him, his eyes flying open instantly.  ‘So, do I have to do it just like that? Because I personally think I can do better.’  I grabbed his arms, pinning them by his head which he allowed as he was clearly too stunned to move at the moment.  ‘But you did sound so pretty begging for me like that, the big bad hybrid, begging for my tight little pussy, never thought I would see the day.’  He seemed to snap back to himself when he heard my teasing, glaring up at me and throwing my hands off, grabbing my waist, and flipping me onto my back.

‘Only for you gorgeous, however you should watch how hard you push your luck.’

‘Really, you think you can say that after what I just heard?  “Please gorgeous, please?  Oh fuck, just like that!  Please Y/n?  Ple-“‘  he cut me off with his tight grip around my throat, eyes bleeding to yellow as he growled.

‘I would shut that pretty mouth before I decide to use that instead and leave you desperate.’  He grabbed ahold of my pants, pulling them and my panties both off in a blink before spreading my legs.  ‘Fuck if I wasn't right, such a pretty pussy, and attached to such a loud fucking mouth.’ He leaned down, quickly smashing his lips to mine, keeping me from a sarcastic response before I felt him push two fingers into me which found no difficulty in doing that with how wet I was.  ‘Christ, you're fucking dripping.  Is this all for me princess?  Seeing your Alpha desperate for your pussy got you all hot and bothered?’  A third finger joined, stretching me a bit as his thumb found my clit and my hips thrust up, hoping to grind against something in my desperation.  ‘So fucking needy before I ever did anything, look at you sweet girl.’ His lips found mine again as he lifted me up under my thighs to get me right where he wanted me, his cock lining up at my entrance and thrusting in without hesitation.

‘Fuck!  Oh God!  Please?!’

‘There she is, there's my sweet little Omega, just needed put back in your place, didn't you?  Seeing me desperate made you a cocky little thing but you just needed your Alpha to stretch you out.’  He gave a few shallow thrusts for me to get used to him before he began really moving, making me quickly realize that the combination of a vampire and werewolf cock can't be good for my health.

‘Yes!  Yes Alpha!  Needed your cock so much, please?  So good Alpha, so fucking-‘ he cut me off, practically taking the air from my lungs as he completely bottomed out, stretching me more than I ever have been before.

‘So good for me, my good little Omega.  Tight little pussy's been needing me to fuck her for a long time, hasn't she?’  He then stopped, as deep as he could get before pulling me close and flipping us over, letting me adjust on top of him before thrusting up into me almost violently as he ripped off my shirt and bra, getting his hands on my breasts for the first time and pinching my nipples.

‘Oh God!  Fuck!  Fuck Alpha Please?!’

‘Cum for me princess!’  I couldn't have stopped if I wanted to, this new angle being too much for me to bear and that tight feeling in my stomach snapping as my nails dug into his chest drawing blood down his toned stomach.  ‘Sharp fucking claws princess, shit!  Tightest pussy I've ever fucked, gonna have me whipped before long.  Such a good girl, cumming so good on my cock.’ He was still hammering up into me but as my head dropped and I whimpered he flipped us back over, turning my head up to press his lips to mine.  ‘My pretty girl.’  I whined, shoving my hips up into him when he stopped.  ‘So desperate.’  He sighed, shaking his head, lifting my legs to his shoulders before beginning to move again.

‘Please?  So close, please?!’  I really was whining now, that tight feeling back in my abdomen and getting tighter as he smirked down at me.

‘Gonna cum again for me?  Go ahead love, cum for me while your Alpha fills you up so good.  Cum!’  As if I was a puppet on strings his words threw me into my second orgasm as I felt his hips stutter and push in as deeply as possible, filling me just as he'd said, possibly more than I ever had been before I realized when I truly did feel full.  ‘Fucking hell Y/n, that was amazing.  Please tell me this wasn't just a onetime thing for you?’  He relaxed onto me, his face in my neck where he kissed tenderly making me giggle as his stubble tickled.

‘Not after this, I'm gonna need an encore.  That was...Fuck!’  He hummed, leaning back to look at me and I peeked my eyes open to see his smile and deep blue eyes back once again.  ‘I love the yellow eyes, but next time I'd really like to just look at these pretty blue ones.’  He smiled bashfully, trying to fight off the blush that made its way to his cheeks.

‘You really are gorgeous.  I need to make this beautiful body a permanent fixture on my bed.’

‘Well I don't know about that, but-‘

‘Nik!  Have you seen Y/n?  She texted me that she was coming here but I don't-Ahh!  What the fuck?!’  We both turned to see Rebekah in the doorway, her eyes now covered with her hand.

‘I guess we should have shut the door.’  He mumbled, face back in my neck once again.

‘How long has this been going on?!’  She sounded pissed and I suddenly felt a bit bad.

‘About 20 minutes.’  I admitted and she let out a huff.

‘This is the first time?’

‘Uh huh.’

‘You swear?’

‘You think I would fuck your brother and not tell you?  I came here looking for you but instead I found your brother with his hand around his-‘

‘Okay!!  No more, that's enough!  I believe you, just...clean up and come find me.  I'll be downstairs-‘

‘Sorry dear sister, she's mine today.  After all, aftercare is important.  Shut the door on your way out.’ Rebekah growled, slamming the door behind her and I could suddenly hear Kol's howling laughter from downstairs.

‘He's going to tease me relentlessly.’  I groaned, dropping my head to the pillows before Klaus kissed my cheek.

‘I won't let him.  Don't worry my little Omega, you're mine to care for now.’  I looked up at him in shock at this statement.

‘I am?’

‘Of course sweet girl, you think I could let a gorgeous girl like you get away...or a tight pussy like this?’  He shifted his hips to drive his point home and I groaned, settling down with him as he pulled a blanket up over us.  ‘Sleep love.’

‘But we're-‘

‘I'll take care of you.  Just sleep.’  I relaxed as his lips found my neck again, pulling me into a peaceful sleep knowing that I would be awoken to another round and a gentle hybrid.

Klaus Mikaelson Masterlist

[alexhandersen-marcoilsoe-fandom]

THE MASTERPIECE: CHAPTER 2/5

Pairing: Modern!IVAR x Reader x Modern!HVITSERK

Warnings: strong language, mentions of torture and the warning that you’ve all been waiting for -> SMUT, unprotected sex, NSFW

Spotify playlist: here (only for those who like latin urban music)

Words: 2682

a/n: This MASTERPIECE was so much fun. It was such an honor to do this with you @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie, you are so talented! Every hour of writing and editing was definitely worth it!

Summary:

Ivar and Hvitserk had always prided themselves in being the sons of Ragnar Lothbrok. They had a comfortable life full of everything they wanted: houses, cars, money, and the most beautiful women. And with all of that came the security of always having the upper hand. But what happens when a bewitching girl from Ragnar’s past arrives into their lives claiming his fortune?

1 month later

When the waitress set down the two black coffees on the table, Ivar raised his eyes to study his brother’s face. “Why did you call me here? Are you finally going to tell me what she did? I know it was her you were seeing!”

“What? No! What are you talking about?”

Since Hvitserk stayed in silence, Ivar pressured him. “Brother, I saw Y/N’s underwear in your room, you can’t try to fucking deny it...”

“Oh really? So, explain to me how you know that it’s her underwear, dear brother? I know a lot more than you think. How come you spent the entire night in her home the day after she signed those papers? I didn’t know that your ‘business meeting’ had to be sofucking long and that you were going to get hickeys from it.”

“How do you know about that?” Ivar cleared his parched throat.

“Our chauffeur told me. Or rather I made him tell me.” He grinned wickedly.

When Ivar stared at him blankly, his sibling explained: “My knife needed to be sharpened, and I thought his throat might have been a good place to practice.” Hvitserk said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Ivar exhaled annoyed at Hvitserk’s antics. He had a habit of getting the family name in trouble with petty lawsuits. “If he sues us like the last guy that we fired...”

“Relax. He won’t. Start talkin’.”

Ivar hated to be the one showing his cards so soon at the beginning of their conversation. He always liked to have the advantage, letting other people speak first so he could turn their words on them but still, he agreed to go first. “Okay.”

He let the words pour out from his mouth, recounting the first time they’d ever seen her in their lawyer's office and how they followed her back to her house that first night.

“So, we agree on everything that happened until then?”

“Yes.” Ivar concurred.

“And what happened after?” Hvitserk took a sip of his coffee and leaned back.

“Well, I spent the entire day thinking about father and his decision. Just... running through every possible scenario in my head but I still couldn’t understand. By dinner time, I couldn’t handle the frustration anymore so I called the lawyer, fed him some lie and he gave me her number. I reached out to her and she didn’t want to talk to me at first, obviously, but...”

~~·······~~

“Please don’t hang up! Just give me two seconds! It’s me, Ivar!”

“Wrong number. I don’t know anyone by that name. Bye.”

Ivar could only hear the mocking beep of the dead line and he felt incredibly stupid. But he couldn’t just leave it like that so he made his chauffeur drop him off in secret and leave. And there he was again, in front of her house. He knocked on her door and stood some feet away from it in case she came out and slammed it as she’d done on Hvitserk. His knees were shaking.

Why is this girl making me so nervous?

Possibly because he had never been rejected. His money was a guarding shield whenever he wanted to impress a woman and have her forget about his messed-up legs. But now that he’d lost all of it to her, his defenses had been weakened.

Y/N opened the door and she was immediately annoyed by seeing him again.

Suddenly, he forgot what he wanted to say. “I- I’m Ivar.” He stuttered pathetically.

“You?” She raised her eyebrows. “You are Ivar? The one who called me? Have you lost something or what is the matter now?” She really didn’t care for his answer, but she still felt compelled to talk to him. Maybe she could have a bit of fun and toy around with him for a while.

“Can’t you give me five minutes of your time? Please? I need answers.” He bowed his head and dried his sweaty hands on his pants, hoping her eyes wouldn’t notice.

“Five minutes and not a second more!” Y/N took a step to the side and let him in. “Where is your brother? He’s your brother, right?” She walked into the living room and Ivar followed her.

“Yeah... he doesn’t know that I’m here. I wanted to do this alone.”

She ordered him to sit down as she stood in the kitchen with her arms crossed. “So, talk now. Your time is running out.”

Ivar wanted to wait until she sat down too, but she clearly wasn’t going to. The awkwardness only increased by the second so he just jumped straight to business. “My father and I had a very close relationship. I can’t understand why he planned all of this in secret. I mean, the Lothbrok-Sigurdsdottir empire is highly regarded. He was a hard-working man, very appreciated by others... It makes no sense that he would leave all of his belongings to you... I mean, who are you even? You never introduced yourself to us and father never mentioned you.”

Y/N gritted her teeth to try and push down the rage she felt at the mention of Ragnar’s name.

“Well, despite that, I’m sure he loved you,” Y/N said ignoring his question. Still, she was a bit moved by his words. His baby blue eyes seemed honest enough. She walked to her kitchen to serve two glasses of chilled wine and began to be interested in what he was saying. “This is for you, let’s have a drink… I won’t tell anyone that you were here. Promise.” She sat to his side, leaned into his space, and stroked his hand with her thumb. “Can I tell you something?”

Ivar took a sip of the wine, gulping it loudly. “Yeah.”

“You are a very attractive man, Ivar. I feel that we should get to know each other.” She bit her lip and moved closer to him. “See it as a thank you for your trust...” Her fingertips traced the skin on his toned arm.

Ivar blushed like a schoolboy. “I think I should go. My five minutes are over.” He got up and put the glass on the coffee table. “Thank you for your time. Maybe we could see each other again and talk about a compromise. In the meantime, think about it.” He didn’t want to make her angry again. It was strange, the way he felt around her...

“Ivar, wait. I mean it, I want to know you better. Why don’t you stay?”

He’d already reached her dining table on his way to the door when Y/N closed the distance between them effortlessly to squeeze her body against his until she was close enough to catch a whiff of the slight smell of wine that perfumed his breath.

“Then I could tell you everything about me. Isn’t that the reason why you’re here?” She purred with a sultry voice and a devious smile.

Ivar closed his eyes but didn’t dare to kiss her. Instead, he gripped her waist, and her dress creased in his hands.

Without wasting much time, she pinned her lips against his, profiting from his nervousness.

Y/N sat down on the table, her ass crumpling some stray documents but she didn’t care. She hooked her legs around his hips to draw him closer.

“Who are you?” He mumbled confusedly before she hushed him up.

She undid his belt and pulled his pants down as far as necessary to get to his cock.

“Y/N, I have to tell you something.”

“Later.” She grabbed him by his shirt to pull him closer and kiss him roughly.

“I can’t…” He held her hand in place to stop her.

Y/N guided his hands over her breasts, kneading them. “Trust me”. The snaps on her dress made it easy to slide it off.

She noticed Ivar’s passive behavior. “Would you prefer to sit?” She pointed to the sofa giving him a seductive look.

Ivar felt very insecure.

What if I can’t please her? Will she still like me? I’m not like other men... How should I tell her? Or does she know that already?

He nodded shyly and she entwined her fingers with his hand to lead him back to the sofa. He was relieved over the fact that they were alone. No one could ever find out about how pathetically he’d been acting around her.

She crawled on top of him looking deep into his stunning blue eyes, eyeing him hungrily. His lamblike attitude made her shiver and her cunt throbbed. It felt good to have the upper hand. She finally slipped off her dress completely and threw it to the floor.

Ivar gulped when he saw her lusty gaze.

She took off his shirt and ran her palm slowly over his upper body to feel each of his solid muscles twitching for her.

Ivar’s skin turned to gooseflesh and he moaned ever so softly. He followed Y/N’s lazy hand with his gaze.

She reached his shaft and he almost stopped breathing.

He closed his eyes as she dropped her head against his forehead.

She squeezed his semi-hard cock. “I’ve been thinking about this moment ever since I saw you standing at the door.” She wrapped her hand around it and stroked him from the base to the tip and back down again. Her tongue brushed over his lip and slipped into his mouth to chase his.

Dear Odin, this girl could kiss.

Her sensitive pussy rubbed against his stiff cock. He had no clue how she’d made him so hard in so little time and smirked when he realized what was going on.

Y/N put her panties aside inconspicuously and placed the tip of his dick in front of her soaking wet entrance, rubbing in quick circles.

Ivar clenched his teeth to prevent himself from moaning again. She tossed her head back, feeling her walls sink around his cock. His gaze was focused on her face.

Ivar was stretching her pussy and a harsh moan escaped her mouth. She had her eyes closed and her whimper made it sound as if he were hurting her, which unsettled him.

“Are you sure you wanna do this?” Ivar held her hips tightly against his crotch.

“Aren’t we at it already?” She tried to continue but he still held her in place. “You better start touching me instead of talking so much, Ivar.” She hissed against his ear, biting it.

He nodded but didn’t know what to do with his hands. He felt under pressure to please her.

Y/N put her hands on his chest to ground herself. Her hips moved like waves; with every movement his cock sank deeper and deeper. She did it carefully so as not to hurt him and eventually, Ivar loosened up. She pressed her torso against his and her bare tits rubbed against his chest and he grunted a low growl.

Ivar pushed Y/N’s hair away over her shoulder and nibbled on the soft skin of her neck. His lips moved to her collarbone, sinking his teeth deep into it, making sure that the imprints would stay long. His hands caressed her breasts, sliding down her belly, close to her mound but never so close as she wanted.

Y/N heard his hoarse moans and increased the pace, making Ivar forget about his disability and his every insecurity.

He was breathing heavily and his body tensed. His thighs twitched and she knew that he was coming as he let out a guttural moan while he spilled himself inside her. He was too shy to moan her name loudly.

She kept up the rhythm chasing her own release while Ivar’s fingertips sank painfully deep into her waist. She was so close. Y/N’s hands tangled into his long hair pulling his face closer to hers, needing more of his delicious tongue. She could definitely see his appeal.

Ivar’s brisk and urgent kisses triggered her orgasm, making her open her mouth to gasp for air. She opened her eyes, feeling dizzy and pleased.

Ivar’s eyes, in turn, glinted with satisfaction. It had been a long time since somebody had blown him away the way that she had. He’d never met a woman who contradicted him and even rarer still, one that was brave enough to order him around.

“Do you have a towel nearby? I think we made a mess.” He said out of breath, smiling coyly and staring at her perfect breasts.

She took a pillow and covered herself with it. Ivar’s cum ran down her legs as she stood up to look up for the towel and his face flooded with blood with the knowledge that he’d been the culprit.

“Hey, catch it!” She tossed a small towel to him and disappeared into the bathroom.

~~·······~~

“You're staying here tonight.” It was more of a statement than a question. They were sitting on her bed as she ran a comb over the strands of her wet hair.

“Doesn’t it bother you though? I can sleep over there if you want to.” Ivar pointed to the living room. He had never stayed with a woman overnight. It was a rule to keep himself from falling in love with them.

“We fucked less than fifteen minutes ago and then you stared at my tits for another fifteen

minutes-” Y/N exaggerated with a smile, wagging her comb. “-and now you dare to ask me if I mind that you sleep in my bed?” Her good-smelling hair dripped fragrant drops onto his thigh. “Of course, you can. I want to fall asleep in your arms... I want to feel safe, Ivar.”

Her words made him soft inside and awakened his protective instinct. Ivar didn’t notice the wicked glint in her eyes because he was too busy placing a sweet kiss on her forehead.

~~·······~~

Ivar was woken up by the smell of coffee. He strolled to the kitchen where the most beautiful woman he’d ever come across was standing. Her blue silk dressing gown matched the color of his eyes.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty.” She giggled.

“I- I have to go home. Hvitserk is waiting for me. You can imagine that my brothers would not be happy if they find out that I stayed the night here... And even less if they knew what we did.” He gave her a little kiss near her lips, hoping she wouldn’t get mad because he was leaving. “But can we meet again soon?” He took a sip of the hot coffee she offered him.

“Maybe… I’ll call you, ok?”

Ivar put his jacket on and glanced at her one last time; he wanted to memorize every inch of her face.

“Ivar... Thank you for the nice evening yesterday.” She caressed his cheek. “And don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone about us.” Her lips twitched upward.

~~·······~~

Y/N’s POV

Dear diary,

For some reason, Ragnar wanted meto be his successor. The same Ragnar who left me behind one day without bothering to think of my feelings. I spent the longest days in my life sad and alone, wishing I could change things. At first, Ragnar treated me like a queen, but then he banished me from his life like a worthless slave.

And now, these two handsome naïve boys will help me carry out my revenge. They are nothing but arrogant rich kids who don't know what hard work and suffering really mean. They don’t deserve his inheritance so I will definitely not share it.

I can’t believe Ivar the Boneless, the ruthless heir of Ragnar, the most terrifying of all brothers, the merciless rough son that everyone always talked about... is actually a tamed puppy.

He was still asleep when I saw the message Hvitserk sent him. Lucky for me, I wrote down his number. It was as if the gods wanted me to meet with him too.

Can’t wait to make him putty on my hands as well.

[putas-in-suffering]

Expensive Taste

Pairing: Miguel Galindo x Escort!Female Reader/You

Rating: Explicit, NSFW 18+ older

Warnings: Language, daddy kink, unprotected vaginal sex, mentions of bodily fluids, pretentious bitches, Miguel being Daddy, Miguel liking being called Daddy (its an important distinction)

Word Count: 3.2K

Summary: Part 2. It’s Monday night’s gala and you decide to make a dull event interesting.

A/N: Sucias! Here’s a second part to our Miguel/Escort saga. You can read the first part here. This is turning into a bit of a series between Miguel and our escort and we are not mad at it. We’ve got at least two more parts written out for this duo so we hope you guys are as thirsty for Cartel Daddy as we are because we’re ready to deliver the goods. Enjoy and share with your fellow sucias! Feedback is the preferred drug for our addiction and greatly appreciated 💖💖

**We added a Part 3! Read it here.

You laughed to hide the disgust, discreetly rolling your made-up eyes in response to the dull droning’s of some Stepford housewife. She was blonde with capped teeth, the fillers in her lips making her look more like a platypus rather than a human. Despite her cheerful attitude, you could tell she was critiquing you…eyeing you with concealed disdain. You were no stranger to those expressions. People often judged you for many different reasons. Tonight, it was because of who you came with.

Miguel had been whisked away from your side, most likely to discuss business. You were enough of a professional to keep yourself busy. Stay hidden, but seen. Engage, but don’t bring attention to yourself. You were there for looks and nothing else. But Tina had trapped you. Talking your ear off about Botox and country clubs and her quaint vacation spots to a little resort across the border. You inwardly cringed at that. The elite loved to talk shit on the country south of the border, but were the first to book first class tickets to experience “the culture”.

You felt a light touch to your arm and tried not to jerk away as Tina questioned you with a silent gaze.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” You asked, sipping on your champagne as you did. The one good thing about these galas was the booze. Always top notch.

“Your dress…where did you get it? It’s so…daring.”

The insult was clear. Poorly hidden within the high-pitch of her sickly sweet voice. You only smiled, having played this game with many women throughout your life. If you had to guess, Tina had been married to her husband for ten plus years. They probably had a couple of kids. She probably took care of those kids, letting her husband work and fuck someone else in peace. She probably did yoga three to four times a week, thinking it would keep her husband around. She did the same with the Botox and fillers. Most likely having a little nip and tuck too. She was pathetic. A dime a dozen in this godforsaken social circle. You didn’t know if you could blame her. But you sure as hell weren’t giving her a free pass either.

“Thanks. I was going to go for something more conservative, kinda like yours. But I realized I’d rather Miguel actually want to fuck me tonight.”

Her face went hard, mouth open in shock at your blatant dig. You kept the smile on your face, even when Miguel saddled up next to you, interrupting your caddy interaction. Tina’s husband joined her as well, his eyes sweeping up your figure in a not so discreet fashion.

“Having fun?” Miguel asked, no doubt feeling the tension between you and the other woman. His hand wrapped around your waist, his fingers pressing into your flesh. He was signaling you, letting you know he knew what game you were playing and he wanted you to wrangle it in.

“Absolutely. I was just telling Tina where I got my dress from.” You addressed the group, enjoying the way the man and woman eyed you. She with contempt. He with lust.

“You want something like that, honey?” The man asked his wife, the childish excitement practically spewing out of his pores.

“She’d look great in it.” You insisted with a devious smile, catching the way Tina pursed her overinflated lips at you. “Just a tip though…you can’t really wear any underwear with this dress so I hope you’re okay with that.”

You swore you saw the husband pop a boner right there while Tina seethed and twisted her face in disgust.

Wench.

Miguel tugged at your arm, clearing his throat and effectively ending the conversation. “Excuse us.”

You followed him as he led you out the glass doors and onto the terrace. It was deserted, the life of the party contained within the walls of the hotel ballroom. He was mindful of your heels, pulling you along but not forcefully. Though you were sure that had more to do with the lurking eyes rather than any form of chivalry.

“Was that necessary?” Miguel questioned, bringing you to a stop in a dimly lit corner.

You could hear the soft melodic tune of crickets over the heinous shit they were playing inside. The cool breeze swept over your skin, soothing the heat that had begun to stir, both from the alcohol and your tense interaction with Tina. You let your gaze take in the man before you. Take in the perfectly coiffed hair, the designer suit, the angular jaw, the intense dark eyes. He was attractive no doubt, which made your job all the more easier.

“She started it.” You retorted, trying hard to keep the smile off your lips. You knew he wasn’t happy with your little display, but he also wasn’t showing that anger outright. He found it amusing. You could see the glint in his eyes.

“I bet she did.” His gaze swept your figure, taking in all the dips and curves. He’d remarked on how beautiful you looked when he’d picked you up earlier in the evening, but now…now he was looking at you as if you were a very expensive steak on a silver platter.

The dress was a soft ivory color, the fabric delicate and beaded. It was sheer, but the nude paneling underneath kept you from exposing any body parts. It was fitted to your figure, the strapless sweetheart neckline doing wonders for your décolletage. It had a slit up the side, but you’d made sure it wasn’t too high. The illusion of nudity was shocking enough. And Tina was right. It was a daring dress, but it encompassed everything you needed it to. Money. Sex. Poise. And you looked damn good in it. It was a physical testament to your working relationship with Miguel. It was shocking. A hidden scandal all dressed in crystals and jewels.

It was amazing what people in this town would turn the other cheek for. Whether some or all knew of your association with Miguel you’d never know, but if you had to take a guess…they probably treated it like his occupation. Coveted but never acknowledged.

“She looked at me like a whore.” You defended. You stepped into his space, abandoning your champagne glass on the ledge of the balcony. You took his own glass and did the same with it, freeing up his hands.

He smirked at your words, the expression sending a lightning bolt of heat straight to your core. “Aren’t you?”

He was smug. And rightfully so. You were already wet. It was as if he could read your mind. He knew without even exploring the space between your thighs what he would find there. He knew what turned you on. It was the same for him. Its why you were the perfect match.

“Your whore.” You whispered against his lips, enjoying the way his jaw clenched. His expression was tight while his chest expanded with a deep breath. His right hand began trailing along the curve of your waist and down to your backside, caressing. You let his hand roam freely, unafraid of the consequence.

“No panties, huh?” He asked, punctuating his words with a fierce grab of your ass. He massaged the flesh, pulling a low moan from your painted lips. You gripped the lapels of his suit, steadying yourself against the rush of desire that now held you prisoner.

“A practical decision.” You replied, leaning further into his body. He let his arms surround you, this time smoothing both of his hands over your lower half. Your eyes fluttered closed, your chest rubbing against his in a silent plea.

“Practical how?” He raised his eyebrow, waiting for your response. His hands began slowly pulling at your dress, shifting the material up your legs and thighs.

“Easier to convince you to fuck me in the middle of a gala.” You teased, tongue darting out to lick seductively at his bearded lips.

He grunted in approval, fingers finding their way to the epicenter of your excitement. He danced along your inner thighs, taking note of the way they clenched. They were already slippery with your arousal, your body getting off just on the anticipation alone. He teased your slit, his eyes watching your face closely. You bit your lip as you tried to shift against his touch, eager for more. You didn’t know what made it so thrilling to sleep with Miguel. It could’ve been a multitude of things. His wealth, his authority, his arrogance. It all combined to make a sensuous elixir. One that had you addicted.

“You’re worth every fucking penny I spend on you.” He breathed against your lips, catching the gasp you released when his fingers finally penetrated you. Your nails dug into his chest, struggling for purchase as he scissored you. His palm rubbed at your clit as he worked you from the inside out.

“Fuck…” You moaned when he curled his fingers against your walls. He was encouraging your body to flood him, coaxing an orgasm to the surface. Who were you to deny him?

“You’d let me do what I want, right?”

You nodded wordlessly, too caught up in his touch to verbalize. His rhythm began to accelerate, forcing your pussy to cling to him in mercy.

“You’d let me fuck you right here for everyone to see. Let them see what my money buys. What I own.”

You couldn’t stop the litany of whimpers and moans that danced off your lips. His words set you ablaze, amplifying the pleasure to insurmountable heights. You forgot about your surroundings. Forgot that the pretentious society of Santo Padre stood only feet away. Your body’s carnal desires were the only thing that fueled you from that moment. That and Miguel’s sinful mouth.

“Turn around.” He demanded lowly, his fingers leaving the confines of your body and trailing the stickiness along your skin.

You didn’t ask questions. You didn’t hesitate. You gave yourself over completely to Miguel, proving to him why you were his favorite…his only. You faced the pristinely manicured courtyard, gripping the balcony ledge as he raised the hem of your dress to expose your lower half. His belt was already undone, his zipper down. He pressed into you, letting you feel the hard line of his cock beneath the fabric of his underwear. You opened your neck up to him in invitation and were instantly rewarded with the delicious graze of his lips and tongue.

“Spread your legs, baby. Let me in.” He whispered against your neck, his hand trailing down your spine. You shivered and obeyed dutifully, letting his body line up with you. The heat of his flesh met yours as he slowly began to push in. No matter how many times or the various ways you’d let Miguel fuck you, he always stretched you with an ache that bordered on painful. The sensation took your breath away.

“Miguel…” You moaned into the night, reaching an arm behind you to thread your fingers into his hair. You tugged at the strands as he sunk all the way into your depths. Your walls throbbed against his cock, feeling the pulse of his blood as he stood completely still. You both savored the moment of raw lust. Savored the erotic connection of your bodies. Savored the risk of fucking with Miguel’s friends and associates just beyond a glass door.

“Tell me what you need.”

You tried to wiggle your hips, but his hands held you firm. You were impaled on his cock, trapped between him and the balcony. You had nowhere to go.

“Move…fuck me, please.” You pleaded, soaking up the kisses he continued to lavish on your neck. His teeth scraped along your earlobe, nibbling as he went.  

“Please what?”

You inwardly gloated at his question, realizing the mood he was in. Miguel only ever asked you such a question when he was feeling especially playful and that usually meant a five star orgasm for you.

“Daddy.” You corrected. You could feel his cock twitch inside of you in response and you squeezed him back, relishing the curse he growled out.

Without warning, he thrust hard and deep, pinning you roughly against the concrete ledge. You yelped at the force of it, your breath catching in your throat. He kept up his brutal pace, using slow, measured thrusts. His fingertips dug into your hips. He grunted like a primal beast as he plunged so deep that you were forced onto your tiptoes.

“Oh, fuck…” You bent forward and braced yourself as he continued to ravage you, the angle making your toes curl. You flinched when you felt the sudden pressure of his finger at your clit, his hand unknowingly making its journey up the front of your dress.

“I can feel you, baby. You’re ready. Be a good girl and cum, yeah?” He taunted.

Miguel’s flare for pillow talk was about as masterful as his cock. His mouth was an instrument. An instrument he used with expert precision. He knew when to strike. Knew when to utilize his talent to make you cum harder than any other time before.

You squeezed your eyes shut as a cyclone of pleasure swept you up and immobilized you. Your entire body shook with uncontrolled tremors as wave after treacherous wave of climax assailed your body. You felt him still inside you. He could feel every swirl of your hips, every earth-shattering shockwave that ricocheted off his cock. You gasped for air as his finger continued to torture your clit, despite your sudden oversensitivity. He prolonged your orgasm, praising the way you squeezed him.

“That’s it. Just like that.” He talked you through it, tenderly caressing your cheek as if he wasn’t still splitting you in two. His hips resumed their pace, the sound of him entering you now amplified by your release. You grasped onto his forearm as his hand reached around to squeeze at your throat. His hold wasn’t hard, but it was enough to make you feel unsteady on your four inch heels. The ledge dug into your hips as he rutted into you, his own hips stuttering in overwhelming ecstasy.

“Cum inside me…fill me up.” You said between each ragged breath you took.

“Fuck,” He cursed, plastering your body to his as he finished. The flood of warmth filled you, his body spasming with each spurt of his cum. There wasn’t an iota of space left between your bodies as he used you, painting your insides and filling you to capacity. His forehead rested on the back of your neck, his breathing beginning to slow as he floated back into the moment.

His tired chuckle made you laugh, the vibrations making you both hiss. You ran your hands through the hair at the nape of his neck, your touch much softer than the previous time. He carefully eased himself out of your clutches, but he didn’t let your dress fall back into place. Instead, he ran a finger over your abused slit, slipping past and coating the appendage. You gasped at the unexpected intrusion, but let him do as he pleased.

A second later he was removing his finger and spinning you around, your dress now covering any modesty you had left. You met his gaze, seeing his hair slightly out of place and a corner of his mouth lifted in a devious smirk. He raised the finger, letting you see the mixture of you and him that covered it. He smeared it onto your lips.

“Beautiful…” He whispered, nodding in approval when you immediately licked the concoction from your lips. He pulled you in for a kiss, his tongue instantly seeking entrance into your mouth. You gave it, letting him taste the champagne and the flavor of your combined releases. You pulled away breathless and satiated, the drunken high of your coupling still very prominent.

“So should I not wear panties from now on?” You teased, stepping back to allow him the room to adjust his pants and shirt. He composed himself, tucking in his shirt as he laughed at your question. You reached up and fixed his hair, noting the hints of grey intertwined in the inky locks.

“Something to think about.” He replied matter-of-factly, eyebrow raised as if pondering the pros of such a decision. He let you fuss with his hair, black eyes fixated on your chest. “That is quite the dress. A little on the nose, don’t you think?”

“Maybe. But if I’m going to look like a whore then at least it’s an expensive one. Right, Daddy?” You winked, trailing a painted nail over his lips and down to adjust the collar of his shirt.

He shook his head and chuckled, gaze now scanning the area for people. “Come on.” He gestured to the ballroom, leading you with a hand to your lower back.

You thanked him as he opened the door for you, letting you pass with a subtle pat to your ass. He maneuvered through the crowd with you, stopping momentarily to greet the occasional acquaintance. You’d grabbed another flute of champagne, standing silent beside Miguel as he spoke with a local politician. Your eyes found Tina’s across the room, a scowl still permanently etched onto her face. You brought a finger up to your lips and made a show of wiping the sides of your mouth, your message clear. She looked appalled, beady eyes bouncing between you and Miguel as if she was putting the pieces of a puzzle together. You took a hearty sip of your drink and waved, pleased when she shook her head and walked off in a huff.

“Behave. I don’t pay you to ruin my relationships with the locals.” Miguel warned in your ear, his arm back around your waist in a possessive embrace.

“No, you pay me to suck your dick and swallow your cum.” You countered.

You took your own kind of sick pleasure out of shocking and sassing Miguel. It was what made all your encounters with him so damn fun. The man’s buttons were easy to push. Some days he played along, like today. Other times he fought against you, intent on punishing you for your transgressions.

“Speaking of,” You continued, handing off your glass to him. “Your cum is currently running down my leg so I’m gonna go to the ladies’ room.”

His eyes flickered down to your thighs hidden beneath your dress, a flash of desire sweeping across his face. He nodded, fixing you with a firm stare. “There and back. No detours.”

“Yes sir.” You mocked, taking his hand in yours.

This time, he wasn’t amused.

“I think it’s time I remind you what your purpose is.” He responded coolly, squeezing your hand back in a deceivingly tight hold. It was an obvious warning that he wanted you to heed, but you’d do no such thing. Playful Miguel was fun, but you yearned for that darker, twisted side that was bred from running a cartel operation.

So, you leaned forward and kissed him on the corner of his mouth, letting your tongue dart out to taste him. You patted his chest with a placating expression, surely sealing your date with the devil later.

“I can’t wait.”

Sucia Tag List

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[summerhuntresses]

no grave (can hold my body down)

[ao3]

After Harrow passes out in a bone cocoon, Gideon takes care of her while studiously avoiding any inconvenient revelations.

Gideon could say, with great certainty, that she had never once been concerned about the wellbeing of Harrowhark Nonagesimus. She had been concerned about the actions of Harrowhark Nonagesimus in the past, and how said actions would impact her own life in new and unpleasant ways, but the actual physical wellbeing of the Reverend Daughter of the Ninth was not something she lost sleep fretting over.

 That being said, it was extremely disconcerting to find herself fretting over Harrow now. Gideon had initially laid her down and simply wiped the blood and dirt off her face, worried about the other woman waking up in a fury over her ‘gross overstep’, but now…

 Well, Harrow had been unconscious for hours and Gideon was starting to worry about her necromancer.

She had already cleaned Harrow up as much as she could without undressing her - worried or not, that was a boundary that she was not willing to cross - and now she was just… waiting. Waiting for the woman to wake up.

 It was difficult to keep her eyes away from Harrow, honestly. Gideon knew that she wasn’t going to just stop breathing in her sleep, but the image of her lying there covered in dirt and blood and bone wouldn’t leave her alone.

 Honestly, Gideon had never really noticed just how small the woman was. True, Gideon wasn’t exactly small herself, but she had to have a good foot on Harrow and at least a hundred pounds. Looking closer, Gideon realized that she could see the individual bones in Harrow’s wrist jutting out against her skin.

 “Well, fuck.” She sighed and sat back, arguing with herself even as she knew that she was going to do something stupid. “I mean, I know I wouldn’t want to lay around for Ninth knows how long marinating in my own filth. It would be too much of a temptation for the Eighth, at the very least.” Gideon nodded decisively, smacking a palm on the bed in emphasis and nearly jostling Harrow onto the floor. “Whoops. I’m doing my duty, Nonagesimus. That’s what you’ve wanted me to do for ages.”

 Harrow, still unconscious, did not respond.

 Gideon sighed and stood. “Look, I know this is weird, but… You’re tiny, Nonagesimus. Your name is bigger than you are, for Necrolord’s sake!” She narrowed her eyes. “I don’t care what you have to say about it, I am getting you in clean clothes if it kills the both of us.”

 Mind made up, Gideon moved quickly to avoid pussying out. Hauling Harrow into a sitting position with one hand, she stripped her out of her heavy outer robe with the other, immediately encountering a dilemma when she realized that she needed a third hand to keep Harrow upright. 

 “Aw, fuck.”

 Never once in her life had Gideon ever even considered the possibility of hugging Harrow. It would have been like hugging a spiked mace, if the mace was malevolent and actively trying to remove Gideon’s ribcage with its teeth. Six year old Gideon would have run away from anyone suggesting the idea to her. Twelve year old Gideon would have done her level best to break their kneecap. The Gideon from a week ago would have laughed until she cried.

 The Gideon of the here and now had Harrow in what could only be described as an embrace as she struggled to pull Harrow’s damp and disgusting undershirt over her head.

 “How did you even manage to get this gross, Nonagesimus? I thought you were all about dignity and shit, this is just nasty.” Gideon took an experimental sniff of the shirt, recoiling and chucking it across the room nearly immediately. “If we didn’t pack so light I would burn that, Harrow. Burn it.”

 Sitting back, Gideon looked at the girl in her lap, Harrow’s absolute stillness highlighting just how small she really was. Gideon frowned, running a gentle finger over the ribs visible on her side. “Damn, Harrow, what’s wrong with you?” She pulled a new shirt over the other woman’s head with none of the haste she had felt earlier, taking care not to jostle the necromancer. “Eat a sandwich, witch bitch.”

 Her hands betrayed her, though, smoothing the shirt down Harrow’s side with care and sliding back up to carefully extricate a few straggly curls from the collar. She stroked the woman’s hair absentmindedly, lost in thought and ignoring the weirdly damp feel.

 A shiver under her hand made her frown. “I guess all your energy goes to being a prick and not to keeping yourself warm.” She stood and grabbed her spare cloak from her blanket nest, wrapping it around Harrow. “That seems kind of stupid, Harrow. Just sayin’.” She pulled the other woman back into her arms as she tied the cord around Harrow’s neck.

 Harrow shifted slightly in her arms, brows furrowing and a soft grumble rolling from her throat. Gideon looked down at her in surprise. “What? Not used to people touching you, Reverend Daughter?” She stroked a hand down the side of Harrow’s head firmly, the nearly rough touch seeming to calm the woman. Gideon snorted. “It can never be easy with you, huh?”

 A knock on the door startled Gideon badly, arms tightening around her necromancer and eyes darting toward the chest at the foot of the bed with the hidden longsword.

 “Gideon? Gideon, it’s me. Palamedes Sextus. Of the Sixth. And Camila as well.”

 Rolling her eyes, Gideon gently laid Harrow back against the cushions before getting up to throw the door open. “Sorry, I’m not sure I know who you are. Do you have some ID or something to make it clearer?”

 The door swung open to reveal Palamedes frowning at her. “Ninth, I’m positive you should be able to recognize who I am from my name and House. Are you feeling all right? Did you take a blow to the head down there?”

 He put a hand up, seeming to try and check her forehead for a fever before Camila smacked his wrist down, glaring exasperatedly at Gideon. “I honestly preferred it when you didn’t talk, Ninth.”

 Gideon gasped dramatically, clutching her hands to her chest. “Are you saying you don’t love my wit, charm, and dashing good looks, Cam?” She dropped her hands and grinned her most obnoxious grin, the one that made Harrow froth at the mouth and bleed from the eyes in rage. “Bullshit.”

 Palamedes swung his gaze between the women, uncertainty written across his features. “I… don’t know what’s happening right now. But! I wanted to come by and check on the Reverend Daughter. She overexerted herself badly when she did whatever she did, but she should be fine. Cam and I checked her over briefly and she showed no signs of shock or physical trauma beyond the exertion. Try and keep her warm just in case.” He smiled reassuringly at Gideon. “She needs rest, and a lot of it, but she’ll be on her feet terrorizing the Fourth before you have time to enjoy the quiet.”

 Cam sighed from her place at his side. “Somehow I get the feeling that the rest of us will never get to enjoy peace and quiet. Ever again.”

 Throwing her a wink, Gideon said, “Admit it, you like my braggadocious tenacity.”

 Cam blinked. “Nav, do you even know what that means?”

 Shrugging, Gideon told her, “No, but it sounds awesome.”

 “How did you even hear that phrase, Nav?” Cam looked perplexed, which increased the range of facial expressions Gideon had seen her wear by a factor of two.

 Gideon shrugged again. “Nonagesimus yelled it at me when we were like twelve. No idea what it means or where she picked it up, but it sounds cooler than anything I got from Necrotits Prime, volumes three through eleven, so I stole it for my own use.” She grinned. “Good, huh?”

 Camila and Palamedes shared a look that Gideon couldn’t interpret before turning back to her. “You know what, Ninth?” Palamedes sounded more uncomfortable than anything else as he addressed her. “I think you’ve got this handled on your own. Just… just keep her warm and comfortable and don’t let her get out of bed for the next twelve hours at least.” He was in motion before the words finished leaving his mouth.

 Cam watched him go with a raised eyebrow before turning to Gideon. “Good luck, Nav. She seems like she’ll be a fun patient.” She left immediately, missing Gideon’s one-finger salute as she went.

 Gideon slammed the door childishly, muttering curses under her breath as she did so. When her eyes landed on Harrow again she deflated, the irritation draining from her at the sight of Harrow practically swimming in Gideon’s spare cloak. 

 She sat on the edge of the bed, pulling the edges of the cloak tighter around Harrow’s throat. “I can see you shivering, Nonagesimus. That’s honestly pathetic, it’s practically tropical here compared to the Ninth.” Sighing, Gideon stood up once more and picked Harrow up in a bridal carry. Several minutes of cursing and jostling and nearly dropping her necromancer later, Gideon had managed to tuck the other woman under both the blankets and her spare cloak.

 Harrow twitched, brow furrowing again and head rolling from side to side. “No… construct….. how...” She muttered random words in her sleep, anger and fear written on her face as she did so. 

 “Hey. Hey, Nonagesimus.” Gideon shook her gently, not wanting to harm her further after the unpleasant bone incident from earlier. Harrow didn’t respond beyond tossing her head away from Gideon, muttering continuing unabated. Gideon shook her harder. “Nonagesimus. Hey. Harrow.”

 The other woman shot straight up in bed, eyes suddenly wide open and blazing. “No grave can hold my body down, Nav.” 

 Gideon yelped and fell backwards, tumbling straight off the bed. “What the fuck, Harrow!”

 Harrow glared at her. “It’s freezing in here.”

 Sitting up, Gideon stared incredulously. “It’s cold? You wake up from a fucking coma spouting that creepy bullshit and your concern is that it’s cold?” 

 Harrow hunched in on herself, frowning as she snapped, “What are you talking about, Nav?” She drew the cloak further around herself, not seeming to recognize who it actually belonged to. 

 “Ugh.” Gideon pointed at her accusingly. “You are weird, Nonagesimus. Weird and lucky.” 

 Her finger, righteously jabbing toward Harrow, faltered somewhat when Gideon noticed the shivers wracking Harrow’s frame. She looked around helplessly, but there were no more blankets to be seen in the room and no other people either. Gideon sighed. “If you bite me I’m letting you fend for yourself, you gremlin.”

 “What-”

 Harrow’s question was cut off by Gideon flinging herself over Harrow to crash land next to her. She immediately grabbed Harrow around the waist and bodily hauled the smaller woman into her arms, wrapping her in her own cloak and drawing the blankets up around them both. Harrow spluttered, arms flailing pathetically.

 The sight of Harrow in the throes of speechless bafflement was somehow endearing, a thought that Gideon shoved into the deepest recesses of her brain to never, ever revisit.

 “What are you doing Nav.” 

 Gideon shrugged. “Sex Pal said you had to rest and you had to stay warm. You generate zero body heat on your own because you took ‘bone necromancer’ too literally, so really this is your own fault.” She relaxed back into the pillows, dragging Harrow halfway onto her chest and pointedly not making eye contact as she desperately tried to maintain her chill.

 Harrow continued to flail. “This is utterly inappropriate get your hands off me I am fine this is unnecessary what kind of cavalier do you think you are.” Despite her words, Gideon could feel the shivers receding, her own body heat making its way past the shell of ice that Harrow kept wrapped around herself.

 She tucked Harrow’s arms into the blanket. “If you sleep for twelve hours without being a prissy bitch I promise I won’t make fun of you about this for the next twelve to fourteen years.”

 Grumbling, Harrow let herself be manhandled. “Fine.”

 “Fine.”

 (Neither of them ever mentioned how they woke up - with Harrow’s head nestled under Gideon’s chin and Gideon’s hands up Harrow’s shirt. Except that Gideon totally did and Harrow absolutely tried to murder her for it.)

[seenashwrite]

Nash Watches & Rates Cheesy Hallmark & Lifetime Winter Movies So You Don’t Have To

(a.k.a. -  Nash Records Her Viewings Of Hallmark & Lifetime Winter Movies, which are fanfic in visual form & are gold. And yes, it’s a apparently a legit sub-genre. Best I can tell, if it’s not Christmas or Valentines, and there’s snow, then it goes. Spoilers abound.)

ETA: This adventure is now moving to @seenashblog, so my SPN peeps can rest assured they’ll not be exposed to this any longer - I have a feeling I’ll not be done purging my soul for awhile yet #bless my heart

As per last time during the Christmas round-ups, 4 and 5 stars mean the best of the lot, 3 stars means it’s not necessarily a waste of your time, 2 stars is up to your discretion, and 1 star means it is time you will never get back.

Here we go.

Winter Castle (people you've never heard of - Hallmark)

Holy shit, cliché on parade and nobody can act?! Jack-friggin'-pot. Zero chemistry amongst anyone, from family to friendship to romance?! Hot damn.

So they're all at this place for a destination wedding (a.k.a, Selfish And Life-Disrupting And Huge Expense For Guests Thing And Oh Here’s Our Registry Too, come at me brah), and everyone is staying in a hotel. HA! KIDDING! They're all in this giant faux igloo, and by "faux" I mean there are these church-esque doors in what is, I guess, a specially-flown-in iceberg on land. Google tells me it’s an actual place. 

Anyway, through the doors you'll find hallways (that have people carved into them, not creepy at all) which are lined with rooms. Suites? I never saw a bathroom door, doesn't damn matter, nobody poos in Hallmark's world. Oh, also, for lighting, we have Target pillar candles, then everything's backlit in '80s neon:

Are they shitting me?

But that's beside the point. Point is, it may be pretty to look at but in execution, it's stupid. No way people haven’t had to peace out and find a new joint to stay in because of near or actual hypothermia. Based on the warm, cozy, wood-floored, windowed, staircase-and-balcony-having rehearsal dinner area in a large building with stone wall exterior, this hotel actually has some, y'know, hotel to it. Lodge? Who cares, but I bring it up because of the standard precocious child who is there to bring everybody together whilst turning into a popsicle.

The poor kid is bundled within an inch of her life, dumb bunny-eared toboggan to puffy jacket, and is burrito'd in a sleeping bag, with a quilt on this bed that looks to be carved out of ice, as well, and I say "as well" because our leading lady is shown frequently perched on what looks to be a chair carved out of ice (fur puffy thing for ass protection) with her laptop on a table carved out of ice when she's face-timing her Not Gay Male Best Friend in a bow-tie and sweater vest back home, and - bonus! - he doubles as The One Person Of Color. Now, if memory serves, legit igloos made by actual First Nation(s) folks (meaning both Canadian and American - specifically, Alaskan - and probs any groups that found themselves in the way-way-North in the way-back-when and had to come up with this genius or, you know, die) are actually pretty damn warm once the fire gets cranking. Not to say you don't keep some fierce socks and gloves on, that's plain smart, but enclosed space with heat is enclosed space with heat - just don't lick the walls. That's good advice, igloo or otherwise. 

On that topic, via the article linked above, says one of the actresses:

"It's like an igloo," Mullen told the Standard. "The further you go into the hotel, it gets colder and colder. As you walk down the hallway into the different rooms, it's just getting into your bones." She said every time they called "Cut!," everyone would put on jackets to warm up. 

She’s incorrect - that’s not like an igloo. It’s too big, that’s why it doesn’t stay warm. I have *zero* desire to go to this place. That sounds like Dante’s Frosty The Snowman circle of hell. I digress.

I say all that to say, this movie is straight dumb because the script is basic bitch, they were leaning on the location and hard. It gets a star because they tried in the sense that they did use a unique setting, but the rest was neglected (the story and the casting). Everything else was so blaaaaaand, and the acting was so stilted and unnatural, and they cast the mother with someone who looks the exact same age as the lead gal/her sister (the bride), and then there’s this one chick character who was so pathetically desperate, and the leading man was such a pussy who wouldn't make a fucking decision, and they had our leading lady be all *sniffle* and tolerating that shit AND SHE JUST MET HIM BY THE WAY, and I just.... ugh.

1/5 stars

.

Royal Matchmaker (Bethany Joy Lenz - Hallmark)

This isn't an "official" Winter '19 jam, google tells me it's from the '18 spring movies, but everybody's bundled up, so I'm calling bullshit. It ain't half-bad, despite the fact that it's a “royal” one, who’d-a-thunk? There was one over Christmas that got a 4 (see link up top), and I never would’ve predicted it. But that was an oldie-goldie, this is now. This one has the traditional royal romance beats and, no shit, the sidekick is the same one from another "royal", the absolutely horrid "Christmas At The Palace”, from Christmas ‘18. I cannot reiterate how bad that movie was - not "My Christmas Love" bad, but bad.

All right, so - she’s a matchmaker from NYC, which is at least a new take on what's coming next - and you guessed it, a prince HAS to get married or some reason, even though it's mentioned they are under a Parliamentary system and not a monarchy, but he still has to because it's the 17th century, oh wait no it’s not. The king, who is from a random made-up locale (*sigh*) has hired her (and said partner) to find a suitable wife for his son, who’s presented as the typical eligible rich bachelor, and “presented as” is the key phrase. It’s one of the things I like about this plot, but it doesn't outweigh the bleeeccchhh.

For one, it wears me out, the making-up of countries. It’s distracting. If you’re gonna do royalty, the right move is to have the royal not be a king/prince but make it a duke/duchess jam, refer to the locale vaguely as a duchy in England or Ireland or Scotland or Sweden or Norway or whatever Americans will fall for, 'cause as a rule, Americans aren't typically hip to other countries' jams. Hell, say someone is a prince/princess, but it’s more in inherited title only - that’s what the 4 from the Christmas list did right. Nobody called him “Prince Whatever”, he wasn’t presented as this hot commodity, it was a nothing burger, we didn’t even find out that he had the title til near the end of the movie. I’ve digressed, back to this flick.

I detest the royal garb they’ve got lead dude in at the conclusion, it looks like you or I waltzed into Party City and slapped down $30 and walked back to the set. It’s ill-tailored and in too-bright colors and is, again, something utterly distracting that could've been avoided, and same with the king’s, too-small jacket to too-long length of slacks. All the women, including our main gal, are in prom dresses straight off the rack from Sears and J.C. Penney’s. This is not praise. The men are all in identical rented tuxedos with clip bow-ties. Thanks, I hate it.

I mean, and I hate that there’s a ball at the end at all, but it goes hand-in-hand with the core premise, which is that they’re on a tight schedule - ol’ Bethany has 4 weeks. They, of course, fall in love with one another, and props to casting because these two look good together and have decent chemistry, but that could be because Lenz knocks these movies out of the park - this is the third... maybe the fourth... that I’ve seen with her - she elevates everything she’s in. When I mentioned her to a friend, I was told she also elevated some shitty TV show that I never watched, so perhaps you are already familiar with her.

Anyhow, once again there’s too much filler and the ending draaaaaaags and then BOOM it’s done in the last three minutes, which is standard for these movies (both Lifetime and Hallmark), I’d say, about 95% of the time. The story was good in that the prince wasn’t a typical playboy and he kept his philanthropic side a secret because he didn’t want press invading these small villages and whatever he was helping rebuild - he genuinely likes getting his hands dirty and he actually knows how to do shit, he fixes a radiator at a community center at one point. Eh. I dunno. It had such potential in the front half, then just shit the bed in the back half, so it was half of a waste of my time. But you may dig it. It's far from the worst of Hallmark's offerings but, again, I think it's because of Lenz, she's the only thing getting it up from a 1/5.

2/5 stars

.

Oh… oh mah… what the... we interrupt the winter fare for what looks like a rando that’s snuck in and christ on a cracker, no. No. No. NO. The summary:

A woman begins an online relationship with a famous photographer, not realizing that she is actually communicating with the man’s young son.

This caught my ear because as I was sitting here writing up the last movie, it came on, and I hear this woman’s voice, her typing (so it’s her voice in her mind), then a man’s voice (as she’s reading), and I looked up when the man’s voice started switching to a kid’s (boy’s) voice back and forth every sentence or so - and then I looked at that summary, and….

NO

"Chance at Romance", it's called –> 0/5 stars, I don’t even need to watch it, what a stupid garbage fucking premise, and it’s gross, and I hope that shit kid gets punished, like as in, no computer til he's old enough to own his own home and pay for his own internet, because scumbag kid. If he has the balls to pull this catfishing shitstorm on a fucking adult and gets away with it, what the fuck will he do to manipulate girls his own age? Gross. IT’S A GROSS PREMISE YOU GREETING CARD FUCKTARDS

.

Love On Ice (Andrew Walker, who's in every fourth movie, and  the lead chick's familiar her name is Julie Berman - Hallmark)

Former pro skater, now teaching - don't worry, it's not the aforementioned “Christmas At The Palace”, despite the similar M.O. - and decides to go for one last run at regionals because the new coach in town who's teaching the next big thing is like "You used to be the next big thing, why don't you undo eight years of not training aggressively in, like, a couple weeks and compete against the girl I've been hired to make a winner, and I'll coach you both, because I have a boner for you and your shitty blonde extensions! No, that's not what he says, but that's the deal, yo. The next-big-thing's got an overbearing mother and, once his boner gets found out, here comes a new coach that used to be the former-next-big-thing's coach, and she's a horrible actress, she can't play sneaky-evil to save her life. I liked the two leads, and they did a better job than the other ice skating scenes/movies with concealing the real skater actors, but overall this was as boring as watching paint dry, I just wanted it to be over.

1/5 stars

.

The Perfect Catch (Nikki DeLoach and... shock of all shocks, no not really... our old buddy, Andrew Walker - Hallmark)

I swear, I don't know if Andrew Walker is on some mission from god, or being punished by him. I'm in the same boat, so I empathize. At least I'm not contracted. I can't speak for him, but I remain happy for DHJ, that he's escaped this purgatory, and is safe on the shore... at least, at present.

In any event, this one doesn't seem like a "Winter official", but there were jackets and no definite spring or fall standards (pastels or orange leaves), and it's airing now, so here we are. It seems to be baseball season, so I know they mean for it to be spring, but they are wearing coat-coats, not it's-still-kinda-chilly light jackets. I don't fucking care, I watched it, so I’m reporting on it.

It ticks many boxes on the Winter Fanfic Bingo card (forthcoming), specifically the ones that are carryovers from Christmas and will be carried over to all the Hallmark/Lifetime movies regardless of time of year. Because being formulaic, when playing the long game, is cheap and efficient, and in the restaurant business, or products made on a factory line, or in healthcare standards, things of that ilk, you want streamlined coupled with the trieds-and-trues. In writing? Not-so-much. It's lazy.

And speaking of restaurants, that's the first box that got ticked - our leading lady owns a restaurant and, next box, it's in danger of being lost. Other boxes include: our leading man is famous; he's the character that comes back home, leaves/might leave, then changes mine/comes back, and it's to stay!; adorable child who ideally will bring everyone together; a character's parents are dead. Blah-blah. Blah-blah-blah. Blah-blaaaaah-blah-bleh. <---- that had more variety than this flick. I mean, there's nothing wrong with this movie. It's vanilla. It's white bread. It's mashed potatoes with no salt or a touch of sour cream mixed in, no loading with shredded sharp cheese and crumbled brown sugar-and-cracked-pepper bacon and the barest touch of chives. I'm hungry, shut up.

It doesn't just get 1 star because it's not bottom barrel - everyone's competent in their acting, there's nothing outlandishly stupid about the script, it's not shellacked in Velveeta. I will say that they pull a little teensy, micro-twist with how they resolve his balancing a primo offer that in no way should he pass on career-wise fairly realistically. The very last scene is, of course, stupid and embarrassing.

2/5 stars

The next movie has palm trees, so officially not Winter. But oof.... it's got Kelly Rutherford and Cameron Mathison, both of whom are ringers. Hmmm. Yeah, I still ain’t subjecting myself to more than needed for this adventure. Oh, and they continue to play the basic-basic-BAAAAASIC-boring "Hope At Christmas" on Hallmark Movies and Mysteries", if you’re interested. It is a mystery to me as to why they continue to do so. Anyhow, there's apparently 3 or 4 more brand spanking new offerings from Hallmark for the next several weeks. 

More to come. I’ll reblog this with every new entry added to the top, so you can always just keep this post URL bookmarked if you think you missed it. Tell me if you want to be tagged.