#this is from my old phone (i detailed it a bit now) so the quality might be weird...

[potionboy3]

jupiter durand & declan rovere | hpma

we still haven't figured out all the parts of their relationship and how exactly they find out they're related, but i realized that they both have older fc's and made a little thing for the reigning rovere bloodline 🌹 @cursed-herbalist

[teaspoon-full-of-sugar]

tangointhenight

pairing: harry styles x reader (au)

warnings: idiots in love trope, long-distance fwb (sounds weird but it makes sense just give her a read luv), switch!harry and switch!reader, detailed descriptions of female and male masterbation, maladaptive daydreaming during a fanfic, mentions of exhibitionism, edging, one singular ‘daddy’, cum swapping, breeding kink, praise kink and degradation, rope play, spitting, choking, mutual masterbation, overstimulation, use of toys (vibrator mostly), crying after sex (iconic)

word count: 13.3k

synopsis: harry records erotic audios, and y/n is an avid listener

author’s note: hello nasties, here’s another filth fic for ya! this has been a long time in the making, and i am so sorry i have been mia for so long, but i am back for the time being to give you this fic. i have wanted to do something like this for a while now, but it’s been a struggle (lots of blood, sweat, and tears put into this). i’m kinda proud of her to be honest, and i hope you enjoy :)

tags: @victoria-styles

masterlist

—

Y/N finally sinks into her mattress after yet another tiring day. She can hear her roommate on the other side of the wall, chatting with her girlfriend over the phone, blissfully ignorant to the fact that she currently has a hand teasing the band of her sweatpants while the other scrolls aimlessly through her phone.

Exhaustion burns behind her eyes, but there’s a desperate ache in her belly, one that demands satiety. She opens the internet app to find it unchanged from the night before, still lighting up in the profile named tangointhenight. His profile picture is a tantalizing photo of his hand, splayed across his thigh, which are clad in tight, floral printed pants, doing wonders for the very prominent bulge. Pieces of paint linger on his thumbnail, a pretty pale mint color, and his skin, tanned with faint freckles and etches of dark ink, looks tempting in the golden light. At his wrist is a braided twine bracelet with cheap beads that have letters that she can’t make out, which looks old and wilted.

She scrolls down, only lingering for a moment to appreciate the photo one final time.

There are some cute little posts and polls in addition to his erotic audios. The newest one, posted just that afternoon, warns not to listen to this in public with a series of cute little emoticons following. If there’s one thing she’s learned about Tango, that’s what she and other listeners call him, is that he’s a bit of an exhibitionist; his audios tend to lean toward nearly getting caught or even being caught (oftentimes leading to a “helping out” situation). She honestly wasn’t into that sort of thing until he started talking about it, and now, she finds it incredibly sexy, the thrill of the quick high and the fear of being caught in such a vulnerable moment.

She’ll definitely have to give the new audio a listen on one of her morning commute trips to the university; perhaps, she could give it a listen while she waits for her class to start, his deep voice teasing and coaxing her into an aching mess. She hopes that it’ll leave her trembling and throbbing for the rest of the day. She wonders if she’ll be able to make it until night before she has to finish herself off or if she’ll have to sneak off to the restrooms during one of her seven minute breaks, foot propped up on the toilet paper dispenser while she rubs herself to her bitter end.

She scrolls down a bit, passing over audios that vary from pillow talk to a dirty fuck in back alleys, before tapping on the familiar link, purple from use, the description teasingly saying: we’ve been visiting my mum for a week, and I haven’t been able to taste you... I guess we’ll just have to be quiet.

It’s one of the first audios she listened to when she was just discovering this new world of pleasure, so it has a special place in her heart. It’s one of his firsts from nearly a year ago, of fuzzy listening quality and nervous voice, but she finds his ramblings endearing; although, admittedly, she thinks anything he does is cute.

She tucks in her earbuds and presses the play button. Tossing the phone to the side, her eyes flutter closed, visions of white dotting through the darkness as they adjust. There’s a subtle cracking sound that indicates that it has finally loaded, and a fuzzy droning sound filters through the headphones. There’s a fan going in the background; it squeaks and grumbles nearby. A door creaks open, one of those fake sound effects that you can buy, but she appreciates the effort.

“Hey, lovie, feelin’ better?”

His familiar voice floats through her ears. She settles even more into her sheets. His voice is a nice, hot cup of tea at the end of a hard day, a drug that leaves her head foggy and senses dulled. His voice reminds her of sleep: deep, soothing, persistent, yet ever fleeting. She yearns for it, like being able to listen to that one mazing song for the first time again or the feeling of sunshine after the long winter months. His voice is intoxicating, reaching a baritone timbre that she can’t quite put to words.

At first, she wanted to put a face to the man who hummed sweet nothings in her ears, who coaxed her to oblivion for nights on end. Now, she’s at ease with never knowing. It keeps things interesting, and she doesn’t think about it as much anymore.

“If only mum wasn’t home, maybe we could’ve snuck a quick one in the shower,” he says. She smirks, picturing him tucked into his childhood bed, a cozy twin that would be a struggle for the both of them to fit in, and he has his old quilt tucked up to his neck, leaving his bare feet exposed because of how little it is.

There’s a moment of silence, then a cute little laugh.

“I know. You wouldn’t want to sin in her godly home, but she loves you, probably more than me. I don't think she would think any differently of you.”

Another beat of silence, then his voice catches in his throat. Y/N smiles softly as he stutters pitifully, slowly, struggling to find his words.

“N-no, y’know tha's not how I meant it,” he says. “Like, she loves you more than she loves me. Not that I don’t love you as much as she does.” He moves, the rustling of his sheets crackling in her ears. She can hear his hand run over his stubble, nails scratching over short little hairs. She wonders if he usually grows out his facial hair or if he’s the type to keep clean shaven.

“She couldn’t possibly love you more than I do.” The bed creaks as he shifts again. “C’mon, babe, join me. ‘S all nice and warm.”

She herself burrows further into her blankets, knowing full well that she’s probably going to be kicking them off in a few minutes. She turns to her side, blinking her eyes open, trying to immerse herself into the fantasy.

“‘M glad you got time off of work to come here with me. I know you could've been spending time back home, but you came here with me instead.” His voice is closer than before, however whispered. Every accentuated vowel that passes through his lips is like a breath of fresh air, and she hums quietly at the sound.

“I really appreciate it. ‘M glad we got to spend this time together.”

She imagines that he tucks her into his neck, coddling her while his fingers trace over the curves of her face, from the furrow of her brow, down to the apple of her cheeks, before stopping at her lips, lingering only momentarily before his thumb would push just past them.

He chuckles suddenly.

“What does it look like I’m doing? Jus’ lovin’ on my girl.”

His short pecks turn into slow, passionate kisses, deep sighs of relief falling from his lips, and she swears she can almost feel his breath on her skin, nose pressed tight to the pulsepoint in her neck as he sponges his lips over her collarbone, teeth nibbling lightly. She tugs the tee up from where it’s settled at her hips to where the curves of her breasts begin, the material squeezing them tightly to her chest. The sensitive skin aches under the tight pressure. She teases her nipples through her thin bra, feeling the tenderness coax chills down her spine.

“Please,” he whines. “Wanna taste you. You can be quiet. I believe in you, love.”

She could picture him now, chin resting on her stomach, eyes pleading with her. She would flick his head at the patronizing tone before brushing her fingers through his hair. Would he have short tuffs or long tresses that she could run her fingers through after a long day, breaking apart the knots that accumulate throughout the day? Does he have pin straight, dark locks that are cut close to his scalp or sand coloured curls that fall gracefully on his forehead? Perhaps, he has a bit of gray peaking through his hairline to match his wise and weathered voice. She could almost moan at the thought. She has always had a thing for older men.

Tango says something, but she can’t really hear it, his words muffled by her racing heart. She pries her pants down shaky legs, leaving them dangling around her ankle, and her fingers work quickly in massaging her puffy clit, arousal wetting the tender skin. Not one for having much patience, she doesn’t wait for him to finish worshiping her body with his mouth before she is rubbing herself through her panties, feeling the cold wetness on her fingertips. Eyes closed, her head falls back on her pillows, legs tensing when she stops suddenly.

“Pretty thighs,” he mumbles to himself between kisses, and she could almost feel his tender touches on the backs of her thighs, which tremble with anticipation. A wetly placed kiss followed by an appreciative hum signals his final descent to her cunt. The sound of languid licks are nearly enough to make her finish, walls clenching miserably around nothing. Fingers slowing close to a dead stop, barely more than a faint fluttering on her sensitive skin, she attempts to collect herself, but it’s difficult when he moans once again, muffled by his furiously working lips.

“Love your pussy, baby.” She melts at his words, eyes rolling back as waves of pleasure rack through her body, hips stuttering in time with each flick of her wrist. “So warm and wet and jus’ perfect for me.” His voice, low with need, makes her throb, arousal slipping into her panties.

She’s close already, an unfortunate effect he has on her. Barely five minutes into her alone time, and she can feel the orgasm begin to build, like an unyielding inferno spreading through every nerve. The stress from her day, the exhaustion with the world, everything melts into just one prominent feeling threatening to burst from her pores. She has to force herself to stop before she falls over the edge in order to draw out this experience as much as possible. She nearly cries out when she pulls her hand away altogether, her poor, puffy clit throbbing painfully.

This continues for a while, the undulating waves of a blistering release and the torture of a cut off orgasm, until the air becomes thick, her heaving breaths heating her empty room.

“There’s my good girl,” he says. “Use me, lovie. Want you to choke me with your pretty thighs.”

His voice is more firm this time, and she could only picture his baleful eyes staring up at her, eager to please her and guide her over the edge. It makes her wonder what they look like; she wonders if they’re a soulful, deep chocolate that darken with lust, a pale blue that reminds her of warm afternoons, or a striking hazel that flickers with green hues in the light.

No matter the color, she is sure that they’re undoubtedly pretty.

“Please,” she whispers faintly.

“More? You want more, my greedy girl?” She nods pitifully, feeling the orgasm build quickly in her belly before she stops once again, fingers pressing into her throbbing clit. “You want my fingers?”

Her walls flutter fruitlessly for some sort of release, for some sort of stimulation. He moans out sharply.

“Feel so good, babylove,” he coos. “So warm and wet f’me.”

She wants to slip her fingers inside, to tease and massage that tender spot that she can barely reach until she struggles to breathe. She wants to feel full, but she doesn’t want to take care of the mess, and it surely won’t be comfortable sleeping in wet sheets. The wipes hidden alongside her other secret toys, beneath mounds of socks and crumpled underwear, do little to take care of the arousal that has pooled between her legs.

She fishes around her bedside table, fingers raking through bundles of panties to find her vibrator, a cheap little thing she got in a set when she first moved into her apartment. Unfortunately, she ran through the other ones that were in the set, and this is the only one left.

She nestles the vibrator on her swollen clit and ticks it on to the lowest setting. This stimulation is different than before; a vague rumbling rattles her bones, making her lips tremble, with choked cries teetering on her tongue. Obscene wet sounds fill her ears, and for a moment, she wonders whether they are coming from the audio or from her dripping pussy, and her thighs tighten around her wrist. She could only imagine the sight of his hands splayed over her hips and on her belly, perfectly pastel painted nails pressing into her wet skin. The shifting of her mattress worries her for only a moment, but her shame melts away, and she loses herself in the sound of his heavy, stifled groans, as if he is truly choking on her. The addition of the vibrator only serves to tease her more as she inches toward the end, brutally building in slow, abrupt waves. She struggles to swallow her whimpers.

He spits suddenly, and her hips jut forward at the sound, an erotic display of dominance, but he makes it seem like such a tender act; she could just melt.

“Can you take another?”

A beat of silence and a sharp intake of breath, squelching sounds growing louder.

“No? That’s alright, lovie, just two, then,” he coos. Her toes curl up a little at his words, hips rising from the mattress. On any other night, she would have craved more; she would have wanted him to coax her open with him telling her that she can take just one more and that she’s his good girl. It’s sad to be turned on by a man simply respecting her limits, but her clit throbs pitifully and some arousal slips out into her underwear.

“Gonna come for me, babe?” His words are slurred and wet. “Make me proud.”

Chills rushing down her spine, her body curls into itself, eager for her release. She wants to come so badly; she wants to feel the pleasure for days afterward, to tremble around her hand until she can’t take it anymore, to come until she’s seeing stars. She wants to make him proud, but she knows that she can’t come yet, or else she won’t be able to hear him finish. She doesn’t have another orgasm in her tonight, and she wants to prolong this experience as much as possible, even if that means holding out on her orgasm. The world spins behind her tightly screwed eyes as she slows her ministrations, the vibrator ticking back down to nothing. Her body reacts before she can even consider the loss, her hips bucking against the toy, attempting desperately to find that little bit of stimulation she needs to finally reach euphoria.

His lips smack loudly as he presses simulated kisses to skin, pulling her back from her foggy mind.

“So good f’me, pretty,” he says, words muted by skin. “So good. Hmm, I knew you could be quiet.” His kisses are slow and tired, unlike before when they were rushed and eager. His mattress grumbles as he moves once again, taking his time to, presumably, trail up the length of her trembling body until they’re suffocating in each other's embrace.

He sighs behind closed lips, heavy and wanton, and she can picture him working his hips into the mattress to find some sort of release. She would pull him up until he was right between her aching legs and press her lips to his neck, feeling his pulse jump at the contact. She would cup his cock through his thin pair of pajamas, teasingly massaging him until he just couldn't take it anymore, caution flying out of his mind as he is overcome by thoughts of her name, her skin, simply <i>her. Trying to form a coherent thought, he would barely be able to hold himself up. She moans quietly at the thought.

“Babylove, we can’t—” He moans, his deep voice splintering. “I don’ know if I’ll be able to control myself.”

She has listened to this audio enough to know what to say to fill the silent gaps to fulfill the ultimate fantasy.

“Please,” she whispers into the dead air, barely audible over her roommate's voice in the next room. “Wanna feel you.” She wishes he was there for her to whisper in his ear, her fingers running up the plain of his back, feeling the heated skin tense at her words. He would quirk an eyebrow.

“Yeah? Y’wanna feel my big cock in y’tummy, pretty baby?”

“Yes,” she whimpers quietly, suddenly very aware of how much she truly wanted to be filled, to have him so impossibly close to her.

“Y’know I can’t say no to you.” She can hear the smile in his voice. She wonders what it looks like, if he beams with an eye-searing grin, his face splitting with happiness, or if he has a shy little smirk, just barely toying on his lips. She likes to think that he has a beautiful smile, filled with warmth and love. She melts a little, a rush of adrenaline coursing through her limbs to the tips of her fingers.

“Get on top.”

She does, eyes still closed as she sits and kneels on her mattress, one hand still between her legs, trying desperately to catch her poor, swollen clit at just the right angle that will leave her thighs quaking, her stomach clenching. Her underwear, which are still stuck around her knees, stretch and snap as her thighs slip and spread further on the sheets.

He moans sharply, and she can feel her hips unconsciously move, as if to pull that sound from him once again. The low vibrations from her little handheld leave her aching for more, nothing more than a faint rumble, but if she flicked it up to the next highest setting, it would surely be heard through the thin walls. Besides, she loves the teasing nearly as much as she hates it, just pushing to the brink before the rush subsides and settles into a quiet lull. Speechless, she gasps for air as yet another jilted orgasm subsides.

She works her hips slowly, careful of the squeaking of her mattress; there are only so many noises that can be passed off as her simply shifting around in her sleep. Her wrist aches at such an awkward angle, but she continues, the burning euphoria just beyond the horizon. He moans, and she nearly follows him, a crest of a cry nearly bursting from her chest but it comes out as a small whimper. She pushes her earbud deeper into her ear, as if to pull him closer.

“Sorry, jus’ feel so good,” he says sheepishly, and she can tell that he’s biting his lip by the faint lisp in his words. It would be torture for the both of them, to be so close but unable to move any faster or harder to finally reach the deepest, most pleasurable part, just barely scratching the itch for intimacy. He whimpers pitifully, and she thinks she might fall apart at the sound, but her stupid vibrator leaves her teetering back and forth between over the edge. She wiggles her hips to try to get a better angle, but with just a hint of stimulation, it’s a torturously slow build up.

“There it is, pretty,” he says, breaths faltering. “That’s the spot. Make yourself feel good, lovie. Use me.” Her legs ache at the awkward angle, trembling with overexertion. She wishes that she could let go of it, leaving it on the mattress with her pussy and thighs holding it in place, so she can grind on it, unhindered by her own body’s exhaustion, eagerly chasing her high. It would also free her hands to tease her breasts again, pulling and pinching at her hardened nipples.

“Love the way you feel, babylove,” he whispers. “Fuck, so wet f’me.” He curses again and again, as if no other words can properly describe the feeling of her, so soft, so warm, so fucking good. She could only picture him in abridged visions, his undoubtedly pretty lips parted with his pretty whimpers sneaking through, his features pinched in pleasure. Her eyes roll back as her orgasm quickly approaches.

“‘M gonna come,” he says suddenly. “Are you close, too?” She whimpers, arousal slips down her swollen lips and into her furiously working fingers, eager to finish alongside him. “Yeah? Y’gonna come with me? Y’gonna come on my cock, pretty?”

She is so close, so unbelievably close, and she struggles to relax her muscles to hold off for just a little longer.

“So fuckin’ good, such a good fuckin’ girl,” he says sharply. His mattress squeaks now, unable to hold back the sharp jolts of his hips, and he lets go of all inhibitions, moaning freely. She could imagine his hand tracing up her belly, cupping her swinging breasts, and he would suckle on her nipples until her fervent hips faltered. He would brush his hands up the curve of her back, digging into the muscles of her shoulders until she fell forward. Faces nestled together, interlocking like pieces of a puzzle, they would breathe each other in, savoring such a close moment of intimacy. It would feel like a lifetime as they waited with bated breath, using each other to get the most pleasure possible.

She comes when he does, holding her breath to keep the moans from slipping, which makes it all the more euphoric, the chance of nearly getting caught at her most vulnerable and the faint lightheadedness making her vision foggy. Her orgasm leaves her legs trembling, slipping away from her still buzzing toy, falling forward into her sheets. She breathes in sharply, barely holding back a pained cry; fat tears of pleasure soak into her blanket as euphoria crashes and beats into her muscles. The heart-racing, earth-shattering, limb-thrashing orgasm makes her chest heave. Just like she wanted, she is left spent on her mattress, the powerful rush still lingering in her trembling body.

She flips onto her back, quickly pulling her bottoms back up onto her hips. In her drunken stupor, her earbuds fell out, and she can vaguely hear Tango’s praises. She picks her phone back up, eyes straining under the bright light, and closes out of the audio.

Her head is light, foggy with the residual high. A dazed smile flickers over her lips, exhaustion settling deep in her bones, finally satiated by her orgasm.

She scrolls through his account once again, this time reading through some of his other posts, like links to playlists and cute stories. Suddenly, the little message icon in the corner looks so appealing, teasing and taunting. Perhaps, she’s feeling a little giddy from her high or maybe it’s from the exhaustion, but she can’t seem to find a reason to not do it.

She sends him a message.

Meanwhile, Harry stares at the blinking cursor petulantly. It taunts him amidst a sea of white, a blank canvas in what should have been a completed midterm paper that’s due in a couple of days. His eyes sink closed, and he starts to drift off, only waking when his hand slips from his cheek, knocking his glasses askew. An old sitcom plays in the background, the canned laughter providing a break in the silence every five seconds. He sighs for the billionth time that evening, struggling to find motivation to even think at this point.

His phone dings, and he happily divulges the distraction, his brows furrowing as he reads a direct message from a user called honeyhi. He’s used to getting comments on his post, with the occasional direct message (which he usually deletes instantly because of poor past experiences), and now, he usually doesn’t think much of them. He isn’t doing it to gain anything from anyone. He just wants to put his thoughts out there, and it’s just an added bonus to get validation from beautiful people.

She doesn’t have a profile picture, not uncommon on that corner of the web, especially since his posts aren’t a lot of people’s taste. He wouldn’t usually indulge in them, deleting them usually instantly, but something compels him to open her message.

Not to be too forward, but I had the best orgasm of my life, listening to your audios. I’ve listened to your audios for a long time, and honestly, listening to you has become the highlight of my evenings ;)

Honey, you have no idea what that means to me.

Truly, his heart swells at her sweet words. It’s nice to get complimented on something you put so much effort into. He bares himself for strangers, expressing such an intimate part of himself for their shared pleasure, and it feels reassuring to get compliments.

I mean it. Also, Tango in the Night is arguably one of Fleetwood Mac’s best albums. Definitely top three.

Most people assume it’s a sex thing.

I wonder why.

He laughs a little at the dry comment.

So, what are the other two in your top three albums?

Pre or post Stevie Nicks?

Post, of course. What kind of question is that?

That was a test. You passed. I think we’ll get along just fine, Tango.

I think so, too, Honey.

—

Y/N rushes past the postman, nearly toppling over when her bag shifts slightly on her arm, her thick binders peek out of the top and dig into her arm. Her hand furiously slaps the elevator button, and she stands impatiently, her dangling keys shaking at her hip. The doors tremble as the weight teeters down to the main floor, far too slowly in her opinion. For a moment, she considers just running up the three flights of stairs to her floor, but that feels a little too eager.

She and Tango have their weekly phone call tonight, and her classes ran long today; that coupled with the stand-still traffic made her more anxious than usual to get home. She always calls first, since her schedule is the most complicated, and she’ll feel absolutely awful if she was late for their call. She feels silly getting worked up over such a small thing, but their friendship progressed beyond the occasional messages in the past month, and she honestly looks forward to their weekly talks. Tango is such a beautiful and humble person, and he is such a stable place of comfort. She knows that he will be understanding and have an independent, secondary perspective on any situation.

He is someone she can rely on for just about anything.

The bell dings above her, and the elevator doors finally part. After barreling inside, she sinks against the railing, glancing at the time, which is still just before her usual calling time. She sighs sharply when the doors begin to close, relief tugging on her shoulders.

However, a hand pushes through the lift’s doors before they can shut, and she bites back an irritated groan; she probably could have made it to her apartment by now if she had ran up the stairs. The man slides in and gives her a grateful nod, accompanied by a small smile. Much to her delight, he presses the ‘close door’ button quickly, and they’re met with no interruptions this time. It’s a quiet ride, despite her nervous feet tapping, and he taps away on his phone,

She admires him out of the corner of her eye, forgetting momentarily about her anxiety. Half of his hair is pulled back in a small bun, exposing the darker locks underneath, and a bandana pushes back the frizzy flyaways that would normally frame his face. The thick strands curl slightly at the ends; there’s one tight coil that she wants to tug on. She could easily become enamored with him, with his pretty green eyes and day-old stubble. His bag has H.E.S embroidered on the bottom corner. A coral colored, gem necklace rests beautifully on his tanned chest, which is mostly covered by a near see-through white top, covered with a baggy, gingham jumper.

After living in the building for two years, they have run into one another on several occasions but have never really spoken. He lives on the second floor, and he goes to the university as well.

When he leaves, after offering another nod and quick smile, she calls Tango. He answers after the second ring.

“Hey, sweets,” he grumbles, not as chipper as his usual self. Her heart sinks a little. He had his midterms last week, and she can only assume that the results are not what he had hoped.

“Oh, no,” she says. “What happened?”

“‘S nothin’,” he insists, but she can hear the irritation in his voice. “‘M jus’ getting myself worked up over nothin’. How was your day?”

Clearly not wanting to talk, he changes the subject, which is something Y/N has grown used to over the past few months. He doesn’t like to vent when he’s too upset because he’s afraid of lashing out and taking his aggression out on her. Thankfully, she has also learned how to distract him. Usually, his annoyance melts away within minutes, and he is his usual, bubbly self again.

“Well, let me tell you, I nearly killed the postman today, and someone nearly hit my car today.”

“What?” He asks incredulously. “Please, elaborate.”

And so, she does.

A couple hours later, Y/N’s in her kitchen, making avocado and tomato toast for the fifth time this week. Her roommate is gone for the weekend, thankfully, which means she can get more stuff done without interruptions (and she can talk to Tango for as long as she wants without getting interrogated about it). His mood had improved significantly after she was able to make him laugh at her own expense (he especially liked the story about how she grabbed her iced coffee too quickly this morning and spilled it all over the barista’s hand).

“I have a question,” he says quickly, as if he wouldn’t have the courage to ask if he held onto it for a moment longer.

“Okay,” she says slowly, almost fearful at the sudden change of tone in his voice.

“Would you be able to listen to something I recorded the other day?” He giggles nervously. “I dunno. I just feel a little,” he makes a little noise, “off about it.”

Stunned, she stares at her phone, the seconds ticking by before her very eyes, and despite the fact that the only reason why they know each other is because she listened to his audios, she’s a little taken aback by the question. Before she knows it, too much time has passed for her to brush off as anything but bewilderment. She stutters.

“I—uh—sure?”

“You don’t sound too sure.”

“No, I am.” Stubborn and not willing to back down, she digs herself a deeper hole, despite the odd feeling growing in her stomach. “Yes, I will listen to it for you.”

“Okay, then,” he says breathlessly. “I’ll send it to you.”

Neither know what to say now. Conversation usually came easy to them, so it feels so strange to be stuck in such an uncomfortable silence. Now, she’s gone and ruined everything because of her hesitation. Why did she even hesitate? There’s no reason to be embarrassed. They’re both very open, sexual people, and it’s nothing to get so worked up over. Maybe, it’s the fact that it’s him, and she knows him so well now. Compared to before, when he was just some stranger on the internet, she knows his likes, dislikes; hell, she has even spoken to his cat, and it feels wrong because he is her friend, and that’s not what friends are supposed to do.

“It’s not weird. Is it?” He asks shyly.

“Of course not.” She says it a little too quickly. Admittedly, it feels a <i>little weird, now that she thinks about it. It would be like walking in on your friend having sex. Then again, the only reason why they really know each other is because she listened to his audios (which is basically him jerking off to his dirty thoughts). However, it’s not an aspect they spoke about too often, usually after a couple of drinks. Their friendship, despite how it began, is purely innocent. They were each other’s comfort person; they were there to vent, laugh, and talk with. Neither ever hinted toward anything different, other than the occasional, playful flirting.

“No, I’ll listen to it for you. What are friends for?”

She doesn’t know why her heart is beating so fast.

“Thank you,” he says.

“So,” she says, “do you want me to listen to it now?”

“Eager, are we?” He hums teasingly.

“Shut up,” she scoffs.

“I mean, if you wanted to hear some dirty talk, all you had to do was ask.”

“Please, stop talking.”

“Y’know I’m always down to clown.”

“I’m hanging up now.”

True to her words, she doesn’t wait for him to answer before she ends the call.

Her phone dings a second later with the link along with another cheeky message. The link is to a private web upload platform, and she feels special for a moment. She wonders if she should just listen to it while eating her toast and go about her usual routine, or if she should do what she usually does when listening to his audios. Is that what he would want, though? Would it make him feel uncomfortable? Is it more weird to just listen to him moan in her ear while doing mundane tasks around the house?

Granted, they have had some conversations about sex and the like, but this feels so much more intimate, especially because he knows that she’s going to listen to him jerk off, not to even mention the obscene things that come from his mouth.

What does it mean for their friendship? Perhaps, it’s not even meant to mean anything, just a sincere favor asked between two friends. Maybe, it’s meant to be a step toward something more on his part. Is that even what she wants?

She brushes off that thought quickly, as she has for months, because deep down, she knows it would just end up in disappointment.

Oh, what a mess.

She’s headed on a downward spiral that has no chance of stopping unless it’s hit by a freight train to hell.

She opts to forgetting her toast and slips into her bedroom, falling onto her blankets giddily. She presses play on the audio, her heart racing as it loads, and leaves her phone face down next to her ear, eyes closing to fully immerse herself, trying to ignore her anxiety.

“Hello,” he says slowly, almost shyly, and it feels like one of their late nights again, with him talking through her phone and her cuddled in bed, listening eagerly. “I’ve just gotten home, but I’ve been thinkin’ about this all day. Couldn’t go to sleep before gettin’ it out there, y’know.” He giggles, a pretty little noise she’s heard many times now. He laughs a lot, sometimes at himself, but mostly in response to her. He even laughs at her corny, little puns, which she appreciated.

“And ‘m really hard right now, so that doesn’t help either. I haven’t really been able to come in the past two weeks. Been too busy with… life, I guess. But a friend of mine talked to me about the world of BDSM. She’s a kinky little shit.”

Y/N’s heart lurches, stomach twisting with an unrecognizable feeling, knowing that the certain friend he is talking about is her. She remembers the conversation well, even though she was a little tipsy and very high, mostly because it was also the first time they had actually spoken on the phone, and it began as it normally does, about mundane things that happened that week. Somehow, the conversation shifted to kinks, and she told him that she wouldn’t be opposed to more sinful acts in the bedroom, most of which her previous partners had not indulged.

“I’m pretty vanilla, I guess. I just love to love people. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that. I’ve never really been into that sort of thing, but now, I can’t stop thinking about it, and I’ve been kinda into some dark, dom stuff lately,” he admits slowly. “Dark for me, at least, which, again, doesn’t say much.” There’s another laugh, radiant and delicate.

“I dunno why, but I’ve been fantasizing about taking you into our room. A little lackluster, I know, but I’m not into the dark, dingy places, like those sex dungeons they have in the movies, where there’s lots of leather, red lights, music, quite the ambience.” He stops suddenly, and she could imagine his lips pursing to cease his ramblings. She wishes he wouldn’t do that so much; she wishes that he wouldn’t doubt himself and his beautiful way with words. If only he could be as confident in himself as she is in him.

“I just want to lay you down on our bed with our fluffy blankets pushed off to the side. Then, if either of us need to take a moment or stop, we can.” Her heart swells a little at his words. Even though he’s trying to talk about, in his words, “dark, dom stuff”, he is still so sweet and considerate, and she can’t help but soften. He trails off.

Faintly, she can hear him yank his belt from the loops, and it’s, honestly, one of the hottest things she has ever heard; the teasing glimpse of what could come far more erotic than anything any of her other partners could do. She could only imagine what it would feel like to have him in front of her, shirtless with his pants low on his hips; maybe he would be wearing the same floral pants he is in his profile picture, the ones that are unbelievably tight. She would be splayed on the bed, just observing this beauty of a man, waiting patiently for him to come and ravish her.

She’s sure that his tattoos cover more than just his arms, but how many more is a question that haunts her. The thought of a big tattoo on his thigh that she can grind on while he moans about how much of a good girl she is has led to many obscene dreams. She imagines black images carved into his chest, perhaps a trail of floating rose petals from his collar bone to his peck or a hellish looking snake wrapped around his waist. More vividly, she envisions a bold tattoo just beneath his belly button, one that she would scratch at while he violently pounded into her, one that she would kiss and lick before she would take him in her mouth.

Oh, what she would do to be able to feel his skin on hers.

She dips her hand beneath the band of her shorts out of habit, toying with the silky material of her panties. She tries not to think too much about her feelings, fearing it would deepen the ache in her heart.

“Anyway, you’d be on the bed,” he says, his usual slow, stifling voice pulling her deeper into the fantasy, “naked, on your knees with your pretty pussy facing me. You’re all tied up, starting at your wrists and ankles, and there would be a pretty knot down your spine that I can grab while I fuck you from behind.”

Her cunt throbs at the sudden turn. She could only imagine: her face pressed into the pillows, choking on the sheets, her muscles tight, aching beneath the restraints, and her voice raw, sobbing from overstimulation. Exhausted and wanton, she would take anything that he would be willing to give her. He would shove her face into the mattress, mounting her, and he would tug on the rope until it felt like it would permanently embedded in her wet skin, telling her how much of a good little slut she is, taking him so well.

She doesn't know why she’s drawn to rope play; perhaps, it’s all a part of the subtle nuances of the sex, the intimacy of tying the complex binds around your partner and the intricacies of sensory manipulation with such overwhelming stimulation. It’s so much more than just being bound while fucking. There is such a deep reliance on the other person to understand your body, your limits, your needs. It’s about trust and vulnerability. She thinks of it in such a melodic and romantic way; it must have resonated with Tango.

“Or I’d tie your arms to your legs, keeping you spread open for me on your back, with knots around your belly, the lead falling between your tits.” Her eyes flutter closed. While rope play is something that she has always wanted to try but never felt comfortable enough with another person to act on it. He would be different though. She cups her pussy, languidly running her fingers through her wet folds, feeling the arousal slip down her skin before settling on her sheets.

She pinches her clit, and her legs immediately jerk around her arm. Feeling far too sensitive for that type of stimulation, she simply strokes through her lips, focusing her ministrations on the delicate inside, close to her sopping entrance, enjoying the slow build.

“Then, I could hold onto your neck while I fuck you, and I like being able to see your face, to see how good I’m making you feel, to see tears of pleasure run down your pretty face. You could suck on my fingers while I fuck you, deep and hard. D’ya wanna choke on my fingers, pretty?”

She wants absolutely nothing more. She would gladly suck on his fingers if it meant that she could see the look of awe in his eyes, lust darkening his features when she bites teasingly on his nail.

“But if you’re on your knees, I could watch you in the mirror and still see your face. From behind, I can see your pretty, tight pussy take my cock.” He whimpers. “I haven’t decided which I would rather have.”

She can’t decide, either.

Then again, they could always have both.

“Of course, I wouldn’t give you my cock that easily. No, you’re going to be crying for me, begging for me to fuck you, and I dunno if I would fuck you right away or make you beg for it. I think for the first bit, after you’re all tied up for me, I’ll tease you, just barely touching you, pulling on the lead, the ropes tightening around your aching body. I think your tits would look so pretty all tied up f’me, babylove.

“When you’ve finally had enough, crying for me to stuff you full of my cock, I’d let you come, but I’d only use my fingers, never giving you what you really want. Maybe I’ll put a little vibrator on your clit and leave you there, having you come again and again until it hurts. I’d have you keep your panties on, of course. Don’t want you making a mess of the sheets, and then, when I finally give you my cock, I’ll put them in your mouth to keep you quiet, and so you can taste yourself.”

His moans are in the forefront in his sensual song, mixed amongst a symphony of bed and friction sounds. She matches his pace, flicking her wrist in time with the sound of him working his wet cock. She massages the entirety of her pussy, messily rubbing her fingers from the tip of her poor, swollen clit to her throbbing opening.

“Fuck, babylove, you’d be so good f’me, taking my cock so deep in your pussy. Would you cry f’me, pretty? Cry for daddy to fuck you into the mattress.” A rumbling groan finally breaks free, and she is so close to falling apart, her high festering into her muscles, burning through her nerves; her skin feels hot to the touch. She struggles to breathe, but she doesn't yearn for air as much as she does her end. Tears in her eyes, she clutches onto her blanket, tugging it in her mouth to keep from crying too loudly. She sobs, feeling a familiar tightness in her body, just beyond her grasp. Her hand still moves over her pussy, arousal seeping through trembling fingers, but she can’t reach her peak with such light, varied stimulation, her hips buckling.

“My pretty rope bunny,” he mutters. He’s desperate, truly just rambling on and on about anything that comes to mind. “My pretty honey,” he whimpers, almost inaudibly, “honey, honey.”

For a second, she thinks of the times that word has passed through his lips in less sinful situations, a slow, lulling honey when he’s trying to get her attention, sweet and innocent. That’s his special name for her, and she wonders if, possibly, he thinks about her in the same way she does, if he wishes to be with her in such an intimate way, just as she does. She thinks, incredulously, that maybe she isn’t overanalyzing the situation.

His bed squeaks faintly in the background, just barely heard over his withering voice. She can only begin to imagine what he looks like in that moment, legs tense, feet digging into the mattress, his hips thrusting to fuck himself into his fist. The head of his cock would peek through the top of his fist as he coerced his release free. She wishes she could see what he looks like when he comes, when he finally reaches his most euphoric moment. It’s such a primal thing to witness, to see someone liberated of all inhibitions, to observe them completely succumbing to their instincts. It’s such a beautiful thing to see someone acquiesce control and thrive so harmoniously with their body.

“I wanna wrap my belt around your throat.” He swallows thickly. She whines along with him. Perhaps, she’s just fooling herself, but she can swear that she could almost hear the sound of a leather belt squeezing in his fist. A pitiful pool of wetness slips between her ass cheeks.

“My cock hurts just thinking about how you’d sound.” He moans, mimicking the desperate heaves that would undoubtedly slip through her lips as he pulls his belt tightly around her throat. “Then, when you’re bratty, I can just wrap my hand around the belt and make it tighter.

“Please,” he mocks weakly, “please, sir, I’ll be good. But you’re just saying that to get what you want. You’re just a naughty, little slut aren’t you?”

“Yes,” she returns weakly.

“Maybe, I could get you a collar and pull you around with that. Would you like that?” He hums. “Of course, you would. You’re my pretty, little bunny.”

In any other instance, she would feel humiliated to be so aroused at being so weak and submissive to another, but he could convince her to do anything at this point. She’s close, toes curling and muscles tightening, and she waits for his familiar profession that he is also near the edge, but the silence that follows is deafening, a disappointing resolution to an intense narrative. It makes her stop completely, wet hand flipping her phone over to see that, indeed, she had listened to all of the audio. It knocks the air from her lungs when she realizes that that was it. She isn’t going to hear his cute little whimpers as he comes nor his sweet aftercare.

Frustrated from her ruined orgasm, she calls him instantly, and he picks up after the fourth ring this time, as if he <i>knows</i> that she is this needy and frustrated. She doesn’t give him the chance to greet her.

“That couldn’t have been all of it.”

“Well, hello to you, too—”

“I didn’t get to hear you come.”

“Is that what you wanna hear, honey?”

“Well, yeah, I always come with—” She stops before she says something she’ll regret, but by the sound of his laughter, it’s already too late. She wants to hide away in embarrassment.

“It’s only partially finished. I thought I told you that.” She can hear the teasing smirk he surely has plastered on his face, the cheeky bastard. “I just wanted to hear what you thought so far before I finished it. There’s no point in finishing something that I already feel isn’t worth the time.”

“Well, then,” she stutters quickly, “How does it end?”

“How do you think it should end?”

There’s a certainty in his words, as if he has already accepted her as a lover, and she knows that he is giving her the opportunity to initiate the next step. Fear squeezes her chest, and for a second, she worries that she isn’t brave enough to follow through. Every fiber of her being is pleading with her to just take that risk, but another, more rational side of her, is saying it’s better to say a quick I don’t know, and they would move on as normal.

“Where would you come?”

Oh, it feels so filthy to ask that, but it’s so relieving to hear the hum of approval that passes through his lips.

Her heart races, not like before; this is exciting and new and arousing, and it feels wrong. She doesn’t even know what he looks like; hell, she doesn’t even know his real name, and she’s so fucking ready and willing to give herself to him. There’s just so many reasons to not pursue him. She feels ashamed, almost, that she is weak for a man she knows nothing about.

“Hmm, that’s a good question. Where would you like me to come?”

But how can she not get weak when he asks her things like that?

Shivers bloom on her skin in sunflower blossoms. She knows what he wants to hear, and usually, she would tease him, telling him that he didn’t care if he even came or not, but the throbbing between her legs is relentless, and she’s just lust-drunk that she’ll say just about anything to get what she needs. She begins rubbing herself again, focusing solely on her clit this time instead of the entirety of her pussy in the palm of her hand. Breathing out shakily, she answers honestly.

“Everywhere.”

He moans, and she knows that was the right answer.

“Everywhere? Such a greedy girl. You want me to come down your throat? You wanna taste it? Maybe, I’ll have you choke on my cock, fuck y’face until you’re crying.”

After he was done fucking her, she’s sure that he would yank her up either by the rope around her breasts or by the belt around her neck (she can’t decide which yet) and put his cock by her mouth, rubbing himself over her lips and chin, but never quite pushing past the barrier of her lips; no, she would be the one to open her sweet mouth for him, her jaw lax and tongue wet as she takes everything he’d give her.

God, yes, she wants to taste him. She wants him to use her in every possible, degrading way: to use her mouth while she tied up, under his mercy, to fuck her face until she has tears dripping down her cheeks, wetting her heaving chest, to come down her throat until she’s choking on him, but he would pinch her nose and make her taste it until her vision was blurry.

“You’d take it all, babylove. Won’t you?”

He asks so innocently, his deep voice having a soft twinge, but she knows that it’s not optional, not that she would choose otherwise. She would greedily lap at his cum and drink it all, proudly showing off her empty mouth when she’s done. Maybe, he would insist that she keep it in her mouth and pull her into a wet, heated kiss, prying her lips apart so he can taste himself on her tongue.

“I could make a mess on your belly or your tits, and then, I could lick you clean. Or I could mark up your thighs and watch it drip onto the sheets.”

The thought of him marking her with his come is nearly enough for her to reach her peak. A voice in the back of her head chastises her for being so greedy; this is something she has fantasized about since they started talking, and it’s going to be over before it can even begin at this rate. She needs to distract herself, to focus on anything other than the painful throbbing between her legs.

“Or I could come inside you.”

That’s the last thing she needed to hear.

Only because it makes a thick bead of arousal seep into her sheets. It makes her finally give in and sink two fingers inside herself, and <i>fuck, she’s so wet and swollen and pliable. She sobs, truly biting back even louder cries behind gritted teeth. She curses again and again at the feeling coursing through her veins, heat spreading in her belly as her hips frantically move against her ministrations.

“By the sound of that moan, I think that’s definitely preferred. Such a filthy girl. Y’want me to fill your belly? Want me to mark you as mine?”

She just knows that he could fill her to the brim, but he would want to prolong the experience as much as possible, teasing her with his cock and coaxing her to beg for his cum.

She could just imagine the determined look in his eyes, so close to coming, but he would pull out, just barely teasing her trembling entrance with his twitching cock. He wouldn’t move, and when she would beg for him to put it back in and just fuck her until she couldn’t breath, he would say very simply: if y’want my cum so bad, put my cock back inside.

God, his face would be gleaming with this power, satisfied with seeing her so needy for his cum. Shamefully, she would put one of her hands on his hip while the other grasps his cock, pushing on him until he sinks entirely inside her once again, but he still wouldn’t move, simply filling her, the both of them twitching with arousal. He would demand that she make him come if she wants it so bad, as if it's a gift from the heavens.

“Are you touching yourself?” He asks, and only then does she realize that she was drowning in her fantasy; the sudden change makes her stop rubbing herself, her vision hazy. She parts her lips with wet fingers, slipping back down to her entrance, gently prodding inside until that euphoria builds once again.

“Yes,” she admits shamefully. “‘M so fucking wet for you.”

“Dirty little slut,” he says sharply. He has no room to judge, especially since she can hear the all-too-familiar sounds to him jerking his cock, wet sounds of his fist passing over the thick head echoing in her empty room. She is near tears at this point, so needy and high and horny, but she wants to make this last.

“Would you let me come? Please, can I come?”

It’s his turn to moan with approval, and she feels proud. His heavy breathing in time with hers, he seems to be lost in pleasure, voice hitching as he struggles to find words. Her orgasm swells to a near crest once again, but she wants to hear him finish. At this point, she knows what it sounds like, from the frantic ramblings to the guttural moans, and he’s not quite there yet.

“Do you think you deserve to come, honey? You think you’ve been a good girl f’me?”

“Yes, I’m a good girl—fuck—please, please, I need to come.” She stumbles through her words, what little power she held in her withering grasp deflating instantly from his words.

“I dunno, I think you’re a brat who just wants to get off.”

It’s painful how much his words impact her, volatile muscles spasming while she staves of hee end. She whimpers, sinking further in her headspace; she feels a cloud settle in her vision (or perhaps those are tears), overwhelming yet freeing.

“No, I’m your good girl,” she insists.

“I think you’ll have to prove it to me, honey,” he replies slyly. “I don’t think I’ll let you come quickly. I want you to beg for it. Can you do that f’me, babylove? Beg me to come.”

“Fuck, I’m so close,” she says. “Please, please, I need it. Please, let me come.”

“You can do better than that,” he says, voice cracking. Their harmonious sounds of excitement drive both of them closer to their orgasms.

“Oh, god—please, I—fuck—I need it so bad. ‘M so close, please.” She can barely speak coherently. Chills wrack her sore body, waves of throbbing pleasure threatening to break her. She wanted—no, needed—him to finish.

“Come f’me, Honey,” he says. “You’re my good girl, so good f’me. C’mon, babylove, come with me.”

She does. With ears ringing and eyes closing, she comes until her pussy aches. It feels never ending, euphoria consuming every part of her sweat-laden flesh, chilling and fiery, for hours—or perhaps only seconds. She can’t tell.

“Thank you,” she whispers, her vision blurry. Her body trembles with residual aftershocks of her intense orgasm. She lays spread open on her bed, her pussy still too sensitive to close her legs entirely.

“Thank you for letting me come.” In her daze, her limbs fall away limply. All she can do is exist at this moment. She vaguely wonders if he finished with her, the thought of his deep moans fueling another fire. A part of her is disappointed that she wasn't present enough to listen to him, but another part knows that more opportunities will come.

“You’re so welcome, honey,” he says sweetly. “I think we both really needed that today.”

She hums, still recovering from such a powerful end. She slowly regains her breathing.

“I guess I should be thanking you because that’s one of the best orgasms I’ve ever had,” he says. She laughs.

“You flatter me.”

“I’m serious. Nearly gave myself a pearl necklace.”

And just like that, everything continues as normal. Both know that the other is naked and satiated, but neither feels uncomfortable with the fact. If anything, it makes things relieved, open, or comfortable. They’re both giggly in the golden after-glow.

“What does this mean for us, Honey?”

As, yes, the dreaded ‘talk’. Fear immediately spikes in her veins, and she struggles to find her words. Before she can answer, he begins speaking again.

“Look, I really like talking with you, and I don’t want this to make things weird, but I meant what I said earlier. That was probably one of the best orgasms of my life, and I don’t think that I could live without your pretty little moans now that I’ve heard them. Maybe, we can do that again. We don’t have to put a label on it or anything, if you don’t want to.”

Her heart sinks. Is that all that he wants?

“Right, it doesn’t have to be anything serious, just us having some stress relief.” Her words are dry and forced, feeling like bile in her mouth. She grits her teeth. What the hell had she just gotten herself into?

“Hey, uh, it’s late, and I have to wake up early tomorrow. Same time next week?”

She hopes that he doesn’t think that she regrets what they did, and she hopes he doesn’t think too much into her abrupt ending of the call. It’s not a total lie; she does have work early tomorrow morning, but she has had more than a few days where she was running on two hours of sleep and a miracle. She just wants to get off the phone before he hears the contemplation in her voice.

“You think I can wait a week after that? You have too much faith in me.”

“I think you’ll survive, babe,” she says.

“Good night, babylove.”

“Good night.”

She falls asleep quickly after, dreaming of the nameless, faceless man who she bares her soul to.

Later that night, as Harry edits the finally finished audio, he thinks back to Honey and their mutual pleasure, feeling like an absolute idiot for saying that it was nothing serious. He wasn’t expecting her to agree so emphatically, so quickly.

Although, what had he expected? He was the one who suggested it. No matter, he can’t have a relationship right now, especially a long distance one. He would just end up getting hurt, but he likes her too much to stop talking to her completely. He finally took their relationship further even if it won’t lead to anything more.

—

“Are you ready to admit defeat?”

Y/N lets out a breathy laugh, despite her current situation, her hand rubbing leisure circles on her already sensitive clit, which still throbs from her first orgasm of the night. Tango murmurs praise in her humming ears.

She’s not really sure what they are, and she doesn’t want to think about it. It would only complicate things more.

Friends? Definitely.

Well, maybe not definitely, since she doesn’t even know his name, but what other word could she use to define their relationship? What sort of friends would say such filthy things to each other? Why would he call her ‘my honey’ so emphatically if they were ‘just friends’? Too afraid of misinterpreting his intentions and embarrassing herself, she doesn’t mention anything, and he never does either, but it keeps her awake at night, wondering what they could be if she could just put her feelings to words.

This would be the second hour of their phone call, and it only took them ten minutes for the conversation to turn into one of their “stress relieving sessions”. Both of them had a terrible day; she was late for the first day at her new job (they were understanding given the circumstances, but it still left a sour taste in her mouth), and he slept through an exam. She eased him into a submissive headspace quickly, babbling about what a good boy he is and how proud she is of him. Within minutes, he came, and she whispered all the filthy things she wanted to do to him until he was completely spent, his cock milked of all remnants of his seed, twitching and throbbing with empty orgasms.

He easily fell into the dominant headspace after his quick high, and he was adamant that he could make her come more than any of her other partners, even without him truly there. She knows that he can; hell, she has touched herself to his voice more times than she could count, but she likes teasing him, hearing him get all riled up and stubborn.

“Are you gonna come again, honey?”

“Nope,” she breathes, “Not even a little close.”

“You’re obviously lying or not trying,” he says sharply, and a sense of pride swells in her chest at her ability to get a rise out of him without even trying. She smirks.

“What are you gonna do? Punish me?”

“I might have to.”

She’s sure he would, too, but it would be in the most pleasurable way possible, with his mouth and fingers and cock stimulating her until she comes so many times she can’t take anymore. Her fingers trace her most intimate area, nails scraping against her quivering core. She sinks two fingers inside, feeling her sopping pussy swallow them easily, adjusting quickly and craving more. She tries to find that sweet, spongy spot inside her, but she can’t seem to reach it.

“Wish it was your fingers,” she mumbles, her movements certain and even, but it’s never enough for her greedy body.

“Yeah, lovie?” He croons, “they’d be so big in your tight little pussy.” She hums, wishing that he was there to stuff her in every way possible.

“Would you wear your rings?”

“For you? Of course.” Her eyes roll back at the thought; his thick fingers could tear her at the seams, and with the added texture of his rings, she would be coming within seconds. Her clit throbs, blood rushing in time with her racing heart, and she massages it harder, wanton and waiting for yet another release. “C’mon, babylove, Come for me. Make me proud,” he coaxes. His words make her fall over that edge once more, thighs shaking and pussy weeping. She’s sure there’s a creamy stain beneath her, seeping into her wet skin.

“Again,” he demands. She thinks she may break. “Keep going, babylove. Where’s that toy you told me about?”

He knows that she won’t be able to come much longer on her own, with the pain overwhelming the pleasure.

“It’s so far away,” she whines.

“Go grab it, love,”

Her legs tremble as she twists around, reaching blindly into her bedside drawer. She can’t close her legs too much without getting overstimulated; her legs ache and twitch. Once the toy is situated just above her clit, she ticks it on. Her body reacts immediately, limbs jolting about, hips ducking away, and her voice catching. Gasping, she almost wants to take the toy away, the stimulation being far too much.

He thinks differently.

“Turn it up higher, lovie,” he says so sweetly. Her chest feels like it could almost collapse into itself. Still dizzy from her orgasm, she’s not sure if she can take it, her body fighting against her. She wants to beg and plead for something, but she doesn’t even know what for. Is it for yet another orgasm that will surely be more powerful that any other? Or is it for the burning at every nerve ending to stop?

“I dunno—”

“You can take it, such a good little bunny for me.”

The vibrator ticks to the next setting, a sharp, persistent sound echoes in her empty room, followed by an even louder shout. She has not control anymore. Thankfully, she’s home alone or else it would be an awkward morning with her roommate listening to her cries of pleasure well into the night. Her hand shakes, but she presses the head of the toy harder to her clit. She lets out a guttural groan, feeling euphoria seep from every pore.

“There it is,” he moans, breathing growing ragged. He’s surely jerking himself off, basking in the pleasure with her, and it makes her arousal burn deeper. She wants to put on a show for him, to egg him on and make him feel as good as he makes her feel.

“There’s my pretty girl. Let me hear you, baby.”

She can barely squeeze out a few breathless whimpers from her chest, hedonistic—no, animalistic—sobs crash through her. Pain and pleasure fight for control, just as her mind and body do.

“Feel good?”

“Yes,” she says weakly. “Feels so good.”

She comes quickly with a silent cry, her lips parted and face scrunched. Saliva slips from her open mouth, and she is unable to wipe it away, lewdly dripping down her chin to her neck before finding it’s place on her dirtied sjeets. The recovery period is quicker this time; it’s either that or her body is becoming numb to anything but pleasure. It feels like it’s never ending with the vibrator still nestled tightly to her puffy cilt. Her lips are surely swollen now too, tender from too many orgasms, yet still sopping with arousal.

“Don’t take it away,” he says, “You got another one in ya. You can do it, lovie.”

His voice is muffled beneath blankets where her phone lies, lost in her ravenous bouts of pleasure, limbs writhing and tossing. Her body aches when she twists to put it back up by her ear to hear him more clearly, muscles tight from her previous orgasms. Legs closing slightly, she whines when the toy presses harder against her clit, hips ducking away from the strong vibrations, eyes fluttering closed. Her phone falls out of her grasp once more, but the light illuminates the dark room, casting a warm glow.

“Please—”

She’s not really sure what she’s begging for; it just slips out, a weak plea. Perhaps, she just wants him to be there instead of on the other end of a phone call, in some faraway place she doesn’t even know. The room would feel so much warmer with him here, her back pressed to his chest, their sweat mingling. Maybe he would wear those pretty lace stockings he showed her a picture of once, the glittery fabric coarse against her skin as he teases his toes along her leg, keeping them spread. His freckled and inked arms wrapped tightly around her middle, paying special attention to her tummy, he would whisper sweet things in her ear and press on the area right below her belly button, telling her of how he wants to grind his pretty cock against her soft middle until she is sticky with his precum, how he can fuck himself that deep inside her. She would feel him for days after.

“I know it hurts, baby, but just one more, then you can go to bed.”

It sounds so nice, the thought of sinking into her pillows for a good night's rest, but an orgasm sounds even better, one leaving her spent and satiated and sleepy.

“Such a good girl f’me.”

As much as she wants to, the sensitivity becoming nearly unbearable, she can’t stop; she wants to make him proud, to prove to him that she’s his good girl who can take it. Even though he’s not truly there with her to hold her and make sure she comes, she still wants to do as he says. Her legs tremble, threatening to close.

She squeaks when the vibrator hits a particularly sensitive angle on her clit, and she bites into her pillow to keep from crying out. Her hips work desperately, to reach that high for the last time, just one more, like an addict itching for one more hit. It’s her fourth orgasm within ten minutes, and this might just be her breaking point.

“I dunno if I can.” Her words slur, and she can feel spit dripping down her puckered lips. She suddenly wishes he was there to wipe it away, thumb soft and subtle against her skin, lingering on her puffy lips.

“One more, babylove,” he insists. “Just one more. You’re doing so well.” She bites back a mangled cry, eyes squeezing shut, her thoughts lost in a dark chaos. His voice is the only anchor amidst a dizzying high, coaxing her through her stupor with sweet words.

“My pretty girl, my good fucking girl, taking it so well.” His gravelly voice pulls her from drowning, his words gritty from his clenched jaw. “You’re not hurting too much, are ya?”

His deep voice is soft, lilting with a tender care she needs. She could simply melt, blanketed in the warmth of his rich voice.

“A little,” she admits, a dull ache in her belly when she clenches too tightly. “But it feels so good.”

The vibrations pulse through her body, leaving her voice shaky, and she shifts slightly, hips digging into the mattress. It settles on the underside of her clit, and it’s so close to that one spot, until finally—there, there, there—right there. She groans, low and guttural, drawn out from the depths of her chest, animalistic almost. Her body burns and trembles for a second before yet another strong, unrelenting wave drowns her. Every muscle in her body tenses as the head of the vibrator finds the one tender spot on her clit, catching at just the right angle that leaves her eyes teary, world dizzy. She knows it’ll be painful if she doesn’t pull away, a harsh orgasm building, but she can’t stop, not with him listening to her, waiting for her final bitter end.

She’s doing so good for him, such a good bunny. She trembles in the wake of such a violent euphoria, weak moans slipping in time with her belated breathing. It passes through in waves, the pain, a bittersweet burning welling deep inside her, but a different ache persists, one that leaves her yearning for more, one that makes her dig her feet into the mattress and press herself harder on the toy. Her toes curl, and her back arches, free hand twisting the sheets.

He hums appreciatively.

“My bunny likes it when it hurts. Doesn’t she?”

“Yes,” she sobs, “I want it to hurt.” Hips shuttering away from the relentless vibrator, Y/N feels her final orgasm build, pain lingering around the edges as her muscles twitch.

“Such a dirty little slut.” Her back arches at his filthy words, arousal pooling beneath her. She could feel it wetting her thighs. “Just f’me, right, honey? Just my pretty slut.”

She comes quickly, eyes rolling back as it overwhelms all of her senses. She feels tense yet relaxed. A broken cry breaks from her swollen lips as she shatters, falling apart for the final time. Her muscles quiver, tiny shocks lingering in the aftermath of so many orgasms in such quick succession. Her limbs ache. Her heart races. Her pussy throbs. She knows that this will be all she can take, her body completely spent. She can’t find the energy to keep her eyes open, and they roll back.

“You alright?”

“Yeah,” she says, still struggling to find her breath and collect her thoughts, but when she does, a smile breaks her face. She feels everything and nothing all at once, so perfectly numb. She finds herself laughing incredulously because that cocky little bastard was right: he made her come more times than anyone has before. She laughs until tears slip down her warm cheeks.

This is the part where the emotions start to become just as overwhelming as her release. So much sinks in all at once, and she realizes just how alone she is, and she wishes he was here to pull her back down to earth, to hold and to love. She feels deflated. The sexual release is such a rush, but it brings devastating lows. With tears in her eyes, she struggles not to cave into herself.

“You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah,” she lies, a sob curling in her lungs, forcing its way out in a blubbering mess. Once the first one escapes, the rest follow easily. She can’t seem to stop, heaving cries wracking her already sore body as she clutches onto her pillow. She fists her phone to her ear in an attempt to be closer to him, but that makes the feeling grow worse, settling to a black hole in her stomach, sucking all euphoria from her. Tears soak into her skin and sink into her ear, muffling his comforting words.

“Let it out, babylove,” he says softly. “I know, I know. I know. Sometimes it can just get really overwhelming.” His words are gentle, just as he is, and maybe that’s what makes this even worse. He is everything she wants. He is just so perfect for her in every way, but he is ao far from her reach. Maybe it would be better if he wasn’t such a good person. Maybe that would make the yearning go away. She’s quiet, slowly breathing through stuttering sniffles.

“Hey,” he says softly, “Go pee and clean yourself up, babe. Know you don’t like feeling all wet down there. It makes your peach all sticky.”

She nods, knowing full well that he can’t see her, but doesn’t move. She honestly doesn’t think she can.

“Go on,” he murmurs when he doesn’t hear the familiar rustling of her sheets. “‘M right here, honey.”

A few more tears squeeze out of her eyes at his words. It makes her whole demeanor crumble once again; she’s upset because he’s not really there, he’s not there to hold her and kiss her and love her, and that’s not fair. She just wants to have him here to tell her that everything will be alright; she wants him to be there to laugh with, to just be with. He is such a good part of her life, but she just wishes that he could physically be there in the way she dreams.

She cleans up quickly, tossing her spent underwear into her dirty laundry. Just as she had suspected, the remnants of her orgasms stained her thighs.

What’s that ache in her chest?

“Good girl, feel better, lovie?”

She nods and whimpers, unable to calm her trembling lips.

“Good, ‘m right here, babylove. Y’did so good, so proud of you.”

She crawls back to bed moments later, shuddering breaths and swollen eyes being the only remnants of her breakdown. She sniffles and wipes her wet eyes with the back of her hand, which smells vaguely of her feminine wipes.

“Sorry, if it was too much,” he says.

“No, no need to apologize,” she says quickly to get rid of any lingering guilt he has. It felt amazing, to be tested just beyond her limits, to be pushed to a shattering breaking point, to trust him to know what she can take. “It was nice. I just sorta—” Her voice breaks. “I dunno. Everything just got a little overwhelming. I think I’m better now.”

“What do you need from me, honey?”

She nearly starts crying again at how sweet he is. She almost could imagine that only a few minutes ago he was calling her his dirty little slut and demanding her to come until she could handle it.

“Just talk to me,” she says.

“So, I saw a couple dogs today,” he begins awkwardly. “Well, I was attacked by two little frenchie’s when I was walking to class, and it completely made my day ten-times better. They were so cute with their chubby little legs.”

He rambles on about his week, and it feels nice and familiar.

She’s nearly asleep when he begins talking about his mother. Apparently, she was visiting him last week, which was nice for about a day; then, he began realizing why he moved away in the first place: she is so smothering.

“And my mum is always nagging me to go out and socialize. She was like,” he breathes in, adjusting his tone to a falsetto. “Harry, you’re never gonna be able to find anyone if you don’t…”

He continues as normal, chattering away in his low, sleepy voice. She doesn’t think he even realizes his slip up, words spluttering out of his mouth so quickly that even he probably couldn’t hear it. She smiles as sleep finally overwhelms her.

Harry.

His name is Harry.

—

[peaterookie]

Trials and Tribulations of Scanning: Lupin III Manga

Hi!

It's been a while since I've made a proper Lupin essay, and this one is going to be a bit different from all the ones I've done too.

Throughout the years in the manga community, I've gotten very accustomed to the process of scanning and archiving this series, it's something that I sincerely do enjoy doing so I wanna just dedicate a post talking about it and also bring attention a huge project of mine.

Disclaimer that this isn't really gonna be a comphrehensive history with a bunch of details about the scanning process done on the series before I entered the fandom, I just wanna talk about certain parts that I think are worth writing and my experiences doing it myself.

Okay this intro's gotten long enough let's get started.

Let's talk about the tokyopop scans of the OG manga and HOW SHIT IT IS.

Oh poor og manga... you were doomed from the start from the moment you were uploaded publically. Because who the hell is going to want to read something that looks like this???

An important step when I scan my pages is cleaning, it is the process where you take the initial scans, which I call raws, and polish them to make it prettier. When you see the scans of the og manga, it is very very clear that the person did not bother to clean any of these at all.

The coloration of the pages (which should not have been there at all if they decided to scan in grayscale) gives it an unpleasant old vibe, and should have been editted to turn into something more black and white.

I honestly do not understand why anyone would just leave a page this bad and assume that people would be fine reading something that looks like this. I am very convinced that the quality detered some people from checking the manga out any further because at its worst, it's unreadable and the details of the art is hard to decipher.

It's very easy too!! I can easily take this place and edit it on my phone to turn it into...

This!

Ain't that much better already. and it only took me a minute to do just that, imagine just how better the rest of the scans would've been if the person gave a bit more effort to clean their pages?

One of the many things i've learned is that when you do something for a community, whatever you put out might stay there forever and become a permanent impact on the people using your product, so it's important to make it look good!!!

What is good about the OG manga + new adventures though is that there exists high quality scans of it, just in japanese. So while there is still no good scans of the english version, people can always find a better alternative elsewhere.

Shin Lupin III though... is a different story.

(insert cool transition here or something)

Here is what I really wanted to talk about.

Shin Lupin III, literally. has. no. good scans. It's all shit. You get trash or garbage and that is it.

"But Peater! What about the Tokyopop scans! They're pretty good right?"

You're absolutely correct! Until you realize that Tokyopop did not fully translate Shin Lupin III, leaving approximately 100 chapters worth of manga in horrible quality 😂😂😂

Those missing parts are the ultimate problem, and the guy that is now in charge of translating the rest of Shin Lupin, Oranges, does not do the scanning justice (the one above.)

I do not know what kind of source he uses, but it is absolute horseshit, and again, he doesn't seem to bother with editting them to make them look better. I'll just provide more examples, to really emphasize how horrible it looks. You can barely see what's going on with some of them.

Someone pointed a flashlight while scanning this

(Editor's Note: So it seems like Oranges did the bare minimum and fixed the scans on the San Francisco arc so he is slightly forgiven)

And what the Japanese scans? Hahaha, it gets worse.

From an simple look at it, you might be tricked into thinking that this is a good scan! has nice lighting, black ink, BUT THIS IS WHERE YOU'RE WRONG.

Look closer. The lineart is melding into each other, the cross hatching is blurred, the kanji is barely readable.

This is the works of an Al upscaling tool.

AND THEY DID THIS, FOR EVERY SINGLE PAGE! THEY LURE YOU INTO A FALSE SENSE OF SECURITY LIKE "omg!! san francisco scans!!" AND THIS IS WHEN THEY TRAP YOU INTO A MELTING POT OF AI SHIT TO NEVER BE ABLE TO HAVE GOOD SHIN LUPIN SCANS EVER AGAIN AND AM SICK OF IT!$_+$(2!(_(!_(+7(0#+#?@!

And so that's why I'm going to be doing something about it!

My project for this year is to rescan Shin Lupin III in higher quality. No AI upscaling involved, everything will be done by hand. Here are the previous panels again but scanned by me!!

See the differences now!! This is what happens when someone puts effort on their scans!! wowwwww

I've already finished scanning the raws for every single page, and now it is only time to clean them.

When will I finish this? I can't tell you, but I promise that it will be done and released before the year ends. I hope you guys are looking forward to this!!

Darn, I actually didn't get to talk much about my process and how i got into scanning huh? Maybe some other time if people are interested.

But for now, goodbye, and thanks for reading!!

[yours-the-author]

The Worst Thing I've Ever Drawn

I had the pleasure of watching the 1985 live action movie adaptation of Clue a week ago for the first time in a while. It's easily one of my favorite movies, combing over the top slapstick with genuinely fun wordplay and a touch of improve. The setting is great, the characters are fun, and it's just a fun old time when I get to sit down and watch it with the fam.

You're probably wondering what the movie Clue has to do with the title of this post (especially considering the generally abysmal quality of the "drawings" I post). Well, there's a particular character in the movie, Wadsworth the Butler, who is absolutely the star of the show (in a show fully of characters with their shining moments). He's clever, funny, but most importantly, he's very physically distinct, which is to be expected from the actor who portrays him: Tim Curry.

I, personally, put this acting gig way up on my reasons for liking him as an actor, as well as the fact that he did the audio books for most of Lemony Snicket's "A Series of Unfortunate Events" books (the few exceptions were always to let the author himself do some reading, which I also appreciated).

So yeah, I think Tim Curry is pretty cool. But as I was watching the movie the other week, I realized something that I couldn't get out of my head, and I had to act on it.

When I imagined these images in my head, I was thinking more of screenshots of certain scenes that I'd then draw over a little bit, like drawing a mustache on a character's face, for example. Unfortunately, I don't have access to technology like that (or if I do, I don't know how to use it), so I had to go about a different way: by taking pictures of the scenes with my phone, then tracing over them and adding the mustache-type details as I went. This is very inefficient and, again, I'm not the best artist in the world, but I worked hard on these, and I think they're pretty funny, so I'll share them with you now.

In the event of The Henry Stickmin Collection by Puffballs United becoming a live action movie (entirely theoretical), I present my personal choice of casting:

Tim Curry starring as Reginald Copperbottom:

You're welcome.

More under the line!

Another angle of the man of the hour, featuring fewer face wrinkles.

That Feeling When you spent so much money on that.

(please ignore how small RHM is, I can't understand portions evening when I'm cheating/tracing)

The (Toppat Recruits) gang's all here! (Henry is Not Okay)

Uh-oh! The leaders are fighting! (Featuring Sven looking on tearfully at an awful angle)

I don't think the gun was supposed to go off just then...

Look out, Charles! He has a gun!

(again, please ignore the weird proportions on Charles, he's Not Okay)

Give us a big, evil smile! He's committing daylight robbery!

Time to get serious! No more messing around! It's time to-

BRITISH DOWN! Spoilers for the end of the movie?!?!

[silver-blooded-synthetics]

@curseofmoons asked:

What would your muse's bio say if they were on a dating app? what kind of phone does your muse have, and how customized is it? does it have a basic case or something more unique? is the screen cracked? do they have a popsocket or other accessories on it? if your muse drives a car, have they personalized it in any way (bumper stickers, things hanging from the rearview mirror, etc.)? what are your muse's favorite scents, and what do they associate them with? what's the one thing your muse constantly does and wishes they could stop doing? did your muse's parents pass down any quirks or habits that your muse now does? what are they? Alma, Arda, Errol, pleaseee :)

What would your muse's bio say if they were on a dating app?

Alma: Astrophysicist, Bibliophile, and appreciator of the arts looking for a serious relationship. I have a strong curiosity and interest in learning new things. I'd love to get to know you.

Arda: I'm a daydreamer with a love for life and I'm looking to share that love with someone else. My schedule is busy because I am a medical student, but any time spent with me will be quality time. I look forward to meeting you!

Errol: Let's fuck ;)

What kind of phone does your muse have, and how customized is it? does it have a basic case or something more unique? is the screen cracked? do they have a popsocket or other accessories on it?

Alma: His phone has a shiny iridescent case with a silver stand that pops out and can be rotated. It also has a stylus that clicks into place inside the phone because of the model, and a black wrist strap attached to the case so he doesn't drop it and crack the screen.

Arda: She has a butterfly themed case that is white with blue and purple butterflies and pink flowers patterned on it. It also has a silver stand that pops out and can be rotated, as well as a stylus that clicks into place inside the phone because of the model. She has a pink wrist strap attached to the case so she doesn't drop it and crack the screen, and also a sparkly rainbow unicorn sticker on the back of the case.

Errol: He has a black case on his phone with gold circuit board detailing. He also has a black stylus, but instead of clicking into place on the phone itself, it is a separate item and clicks into place on the side of the phone case. It has a black loop stand that pops out of the case and can be rotated, as well as a gold skull keychain tied to the loop stand.

If your muse drives a car, have they personalized it in any way (bumper stickers, things hanging from the rearview mirror, etc.)?

Alma: His car is completely unpersonalized. the closest thing to customization is the color, which is a reflective silver.

Arda: doesn't own a car.

Errol: He has fucked up plushies like this and this in the back window of his car. He also keeps his driving gloves hanging by a chain on his rearview mirror when he isn't wearing them.

What are your muse's favorite scents, and what do they associate them with?

Alma: Petrichor (the scent of rain) particularly forest petrichor, but city petrichor is nice too. He associates it with nature and the earth being purified by rain. It makes him feel simple and clean again.

Arda: Lavender and mint. It's the shampoo and soap scent she uses, and is calming for her.

Errol: Menthol. He associates it with his cigarettes and it is also calming for him. The scent of Fire also is something he likes, but it takes him back to the memory of burning his old home down to the ground, so he gets a bit... weird, with that one.

What's the one thing your muse constantly does and wishes they could stop doing?

Alma: Being awkward and socially oblivious.

Arda: Daydreaming at inopportune times.

Errol: Lying without a real need to, just to get attention from people and see their reactions. He knows it's kind of fucked up, but does it without thinking.

Did your muse's parents pass down any quirks or habits that your muse now does? what are they?

Alma: Exploding when he gets angry. He got that from both his father and his mother, despite not being biologically related to Gayle.

Arda: Scrunching her nose when she laughs. She got it from her biological mother, even though she doesn't really know her.

Errol: Switching emotions drastically with no warning or time in between. He got it from Evander, despite not knowing his father.

[sacredjoanne]

Moon Sign Meaning & Personality Traits

The Moon Sign is basically where the Moon was chilling out in the sky when you popped into this world.

The Moon, being a speedy celestial body, does a quick lap around the Earth every 28 days and hops into a new zodiac nightclub every 2-3 days.

The Moon is the ultimate drama queen of change, personal growth, all things emotional, and of course, our primal instincts.

She’s the OG lady boss, embodying our deepest feminine vibes.

She’s also the fertility goddess in the sky, with her own VIP lounge in the celestial realm, and her changing moods decide if the tides will be chillin’ or spillin’.

Each zodiac sign is like a unique flavor in the cosmic ice cream shop, and your Moon sign is the one that gives your life that special zing.

So, understanding its qualities can give you the inside scoop (pun intended) on how to sprinkle some extra balance and happiness into your life sundae.

Ready for a wild ride through the lunar lanes to discover what your Moon sign spills about your emotional roller coaster?

I have detailed breakdowns for each of the 12 Moon Signs. Feel free to explore:

Aries Moon

Taurus Moon

Gemini Moon

Cancer Moon

Leo Moon

Virgo Moon

Libra Moon

Scorpio Moon

Sagittarius Moon

Capricorn Moon

Aquarius Moon

Pisces Moon

Aries Moon

These folks are buzzing with energy, shoot first and ask questions later, and always step up to the plate with the confidence of a lion walking onto a zebra farm.

Aries Moon folks have a fiery spirit and a compassionate heart, like a dragon who moonlights as a nurse.

They’re passionate, emotional, yet sensitive and empathetic.

Aries Moons are always the ones boldly making decisions like they’re on a game show and the clock’s ticking down.

Aries Moon signs are the life of the party, full of zest and pizzazz, living life large but also not feeling an ounce of guilt when they decide to hit the ‘pause’ button for some quality ‘me time’.

This is one of the most thrilling, fiery, and passionate signs of the zodiac.

They’re bossed around by Mars, the planet with the motivational speech on speed dial.

These guys have a ‘to achieve’ list that would make an overachieving beaver blush, and boy, do emotions fuel this ambition.

Now, if an Aries Moon hasn’t quite got a handle on their emotional rollercoaster, they can come off as a bit of a hothead.

Quick to frustration and anger, they can swing from ecstatic to cranky faster than a teen who’s just had their phone confiscated.

When they finally cool down, they’re more spent than a lottery winner in a Lamborghini dealership.

You wear your heart not just on your sleeve, but on your forehead, back, and probably your socks as well.

Sharing your intense feelings is second nature, even when it stings a bit.

So, if you’re the type who’d:

Leap off a cliff because you thought it might be fun.

Always first to dive headfirst into a project.

Believe that ‘impossible’ is just another word for ‘challenge’.

Well, my friend, you’re either an Aries moon or you’ve been drinking some serious Aries moon Kool-Aid.

Check my full Aries Moon breakdown here!

Taurus Moon

These folks are all about beauty, keeping their cool, chasing status, and enjoying life’s earthly delights.

Venus, the planet of love and ‘let’s chill’, has these folks under her thumb.

It’s as if they’ve swallowed a cosmic tranquilizer. They’re so subtle in expressing their feelings, they make Leos look like reality TV stars.

Imagine a mix of your favorite snuggly teddy bear and a dependable old St. Bernard, and you’ve got your typical Taurus Moon character.

They’re all warm and fuzzy on the inside, with an irresistible touch of sensuality.

They’re as devoted as a dog to a bone and as grounded as a potato on an Idaho farm.

These moon Taureans are dreamers with both feet on the ground, connoisseurs of beauty, and practical idealists.

They’re like those folks who fill their piggy banks with obsessive fervor, ready to spring into action when the rainy day arrives.

Now, don’t get me wrong, Taurus Moon signs can be a bit like a posh antique collector.

They’re old school, reserved, and can be a bit indecisive at times.

They’re as patient as a tortoise running a marathon and have a determination that would make a stubborn mule blush.

But hey, they’re not about to pull a rabbit out of a hat to impress you.

Nah, they’re too cool for that kind of show. Just sit back and enjoy their subtle, reliable charm!

Check my full Taurus Moon breakdown here!

Gemini Moon

On the surface, Gemini Moons are like air-filled beach balls – light, bubbly, and forever chatting.

But, peel back the layers and it’s like stepping into a Bermuda triangle of personality traits. Buckle up, it’s about to get wild.

Gemini, the celestial twins, embodies a freewheeling spirit, ever-changing moods, bright creativity, and sharp intellect.

Gemini Moons folks are like kids in a candy store of life – forever curious and always hunting for new adventures.

These folks have a Ph.D. in chitchat.

They’re like the Swiss Army knives of communication – they’ve got a tool, or rather, a word for every situation.

Nimble and resourceful, they dance through life’s curveballs like a pro ballerina in a mosh pit.

Got a problem? Dial-a-Gemini! They’ve got more solutions than a Sudoku champ.

With their smooth talk and innate diplomacy, they can talk their way out of a paper bag or even defuse a ticking time bomb of a situation.

Now, let’s talk about emotions.

As a Gemini Moon sign, you’re all about the feels.

You’re expressive, like a modern dancer on a caffeine binge. This makes you a catch in the love department.

But wait, there’s a catch.

You see, one moment you’re a sparkling firecracker, and the next, you’re as cold as Elsa in her ice castle.

This wild emotional switcheroo might send potential lovers running for the hills.

But hey, it’s all part of your charm! Embrace your emotional rollercoaster – it’s what makes you, well, you!

Check my full Gemini Moon breakdown here!

Cancer Moon

The Moon is the master of change, and Cancers are its faithful students, adapting faster than a chameleon on a rainbow.

Being water signs, Cancers enjoy sensual delights like a raccoon in a trash can full of gourmet leftovers.

Cancer Moons are all about the emotional deep dive.

They’re like the ultimate caregivers of the zodiac – nurturing, passionate, and so attuned to emotions, they probably cry at detergent commercials.

But hey, every coin has two sides, right? Cancer Moons can also come off as clingy, moody, and as demanding as a diva with a cold latte.

They feel things deeply and wear their emotions on their sleeve, their pants, and probably even their socks.

Cancer Moon signs are all heart. They ooze tenderness and compassion like a warm bowl of soup on a rainy day.

They’re hyper-aware of others’ emotions, like walking, talking empath detectors.

Born under this moon sign, folks tend to get lost in dreamy nostalgia and are forever on a quest for comfort and familiarity.

When the moon is chilling in Cancer, you could be moved to tears by a cute puppy video or a child’s innocent smile.

One day you’re all cuddles and giggles, the next, you’re as moody as a cat thrown in water.

Typically, these ambitious individuals feel a bit like a fish out of water under this sign, as their practical, goal-focused mindset does a 180, plunging headfirst into the pool of emotions.

It’s like asking a mathematician to write a love sonnet, but trust me, the result can be surprisingly beautiful!

Check my full Cancer Moon breakdown here!

Leo Moon

Welcome to the lair of the Leo Moon sign, the King and Queen of the zodiac jungle.

Their emotional rollercoaster ride often follows the “my way or the highway” route, and trust me, they are riding shotgun.

Leos strut around with self-confidence as if they’ve invented the concept.

These folks are more expressive than a mime on Broadway, bubbly as champagne, and are generally the life of the party.

Leo Moon ladies tend to be dramatic divas and experts in the art of flirting, while the gents can come off as more boastful than a peacock on a catwalk.

Leo Moon signs are like motivational powerhouses, radiating “We Can Do It” vibes.

Their unmatched zest and knack for self-expression make them the zodiac’s reigning champions.

Their emotional confidence, honed from their life successes, fuels their self-discipline, and they can hold onto money like a squirrel stocking up for winter.

With a vision clearer than an eagle’s and leadership skills rivaling those of the best generals, these lions can rally and inspire the troops with ease.

Their loyalty runs deep, and they stand by their loved ones like the best guard dogs.

They’ve got a sense of humor that can charm a hyena out of its laughter and a capacity for love that makes them the Casanovas and Cleopatras of the celestial kingdom.

With a Leo Moon sign, life is never a bore. It’s a wild, exciting jungle out there!

Check my full Leo Moon breakdown here!

Virgo Moon

We’re diving into the world of the Virgo Moon sign, the zodiac’s embodiment of perfection, purity, and “Hey, I just aced that!”.

Virgo moons don’t just feel emotions. They deep-dive into them like Olympic swimmers.

They’re more sensitive than a tooth with a cavity, but also more forgiving than a yoga instructor with a zen student who can’t touch his toes.

These folks work harder than ants at a picnic. They strive for perfection like it’s their morning coffee – essential and invigorating.

Practical and logical, they tackle life’s hiccups like a seasoned sudoku master cracking a puzzle.

Born under the Virgo Moon sign, you’re likely to be a cool-headed yet warm-hearted perfectionist.

You’re as reliable as a Swiss watch and more organized than Marie Kondo’s sock drawer.

The thing that gets your goat? When plans go haywire.

But people around you know they can count on you like a sturdy umbrella in a rainstorm.

Your creativity and detail-oriented nature are as appealing as a perfect cupcake, and beneath that, there’s a sense of humor that can lighten up any gloomy day.

Despite being reserved, perfectionistic, and more sensitive to criticism than a freshly peeled onion, Virgo moons always aim to please.

They might not make a grand show of affection in public, but behind closed doors, they’re all about heart-to-heart chats.

They’re the embodiment of ‘Still waters run deep.’

Check my full Virgo Moon breakdown here!

Libra Moon

Step into the world of Libra Moon sign, the zodiac’s love gurus. These folks don’t just trip and fall in love, they craft it like artisanal cheese.

When a Libra moon makes a move, it’s all about brewing something as harmonious and lasting as a classic Beatles tune.

Libra Moons are the zodiac’s diplomats, unrivaled in mood-reading skills.

If you’re having a worse hair day than a hedgehog in a windstorm, or being as passive-aggressive as a cat ignoring its owner, don’t expect them to stick around.

They can be as charming and sophisticated as a James Bond martini, yet as moody and indecisive as a toddler choosing ice cream flavors.

They’re tactful, refined, and their social radar beats any GPS. They might sometimes appear spineless or directionless, but hey, nobody’s perfect!

Libra Moons are as private as a hermit crab in its shell but their charm, sincerity, and romance shine brighter than a disco ball.

Equipped with a sixth sense for understanding human nature, they can read motivations and desires like a mind-reading magician.

They’re your friendly neighborhood social butterflies, and their genuine interest in people makes others spill their secrets as if they’ve unlocked the ‘share-all’ achievement.

The Libra Moon’s mantra? Embrace humanity, with all its flavors and quirks.

Check my full Libra Moon breakdown here!

Scorpio Moon

Welcome to the world of the Scorpio Moon sign, the zodiac’s real-life version of Sherlock Holmes with a dash of James Bond charm.

Notorious for their intense personality, these folks are as loyal as your favorite childhood teddy bear and as magnetic as a top-tier fridge magnet.

Scorpio Moons, true to their Scorpion spirit, have the fierceness of a hot chili pepper and the tenderness of a marshmallow.

They might be the Sherlock Holmes of the Zodiac, but they’ve got a horror movie monster’s fear of being alone.

They have a love language that’s about as conventional as hieroglyphics – you’ll find your surprise hidden in the depths of your sock drawer, or a secret note slipped in your lunchbox.

Occasionally, they might don a metaphorical mask, escaping reality for a bit like a hermit crab on a beach holiday.

Scorpios are as intense as a dramatic cliffhanger, as passionate as a Spanish telenovela, and as secretive as a ninja.

Their poker face can drive some folks up the wall, but if you can keep pace with their high-speed mystery train, you’re in for one thrilling ride!

The Scorpio Moon sign is a brave and ambitious daredevil with creativity as vivid as a surrealist painting.

They’re psychically tuned in, with dreams as prophetic as ancient oracles.

But beware, when they’re in a bad mood, they could make a honey badger seem cuddly.

Check my full Scorpio Moon breakdown here!

Sagittarius Moon

If you’re born with a Sagittarius Moon, you’re in for a wild ride! It’s like having an endless supply of solar panels powering up your personality.

You’re as outgoing as a door and see life through the most rose-tinted of glasses.

Your combo deal? Adventurous with a side of practicality. You can chitchat like a parrot and socialize like a high school prom king.

Sagittarius Moon folks are revolutionaries, aiming to smash the shackles of banal thinking.

Think William Wallace from Braveheart, but instead of fighting for Scotland, you’re battling for the freedom of thought!

You’re a self-improvement enthusiast, striving to upgrade yourself like a tech geek awaiting the latest iPhone release.

You attract freedom lovers like a magnet, that’s why you’ve got a fan club trailing behind you.

They’re explorers, travelers, and seekers of thrill.

They’re as passionate as Romeo and optimistic as a lottery ticket holder, but they can also be as self-absorbed and stubborn as a donkey refusing to budge.

With Sagittarius Moon, it’s all about finding meaning, about connecting, about philosophical deep dives.

Sagittarius Moon folks are social butterflies, spreading their infectious energy wherever they flutter.

They’re as open as a 24/7 convenience store, and as enthusiastic as a dog chasing a frisbee.

Check my full Sagittarius Moon breakdown here!

Capricorn Moon

When Capricorn Moon folks don’t feel secure, they become moodier than a teenager without WiFi, more pessimistic than a football fan down by four scores, and as paranoid as a cat at a dog show.

Their craving for emotional security makes them more materialistic than a magpie at a jewelry store.

The Capricorn Moon is like an odd blend of mermaid and mountain goat.

The result? Someone who feels things deep in their belly, but who never loses their footing.

These folks find their mojo, they cling onto it like a limpet to a rock, and boy do they know how to milk it for all its worth.

Once they commit, they’re as reliable as a Swiss watch.

Capricorn Moons are as practical as IKEA furniture, as solid as a rock, and as reliable as sunrise.

When something clicks in their head, they pursue it like a dog after a bone.

These are the people who make lists for their lists, who would have been hall monitors in another life.

They’re like worker ants, always striving towards their goals, their sense of duty putting superheroes to shame.

But don’t be fooled, Capricorn Moons are not all work and no play.

Capricorn Moon folks can seem colder than an ice cream in Antarctica and more stubborn than a mule, but that’s just them being shy.

Don’t worry, beneath the hard shell, they’re natural-born leaders and resourceful problem solvers.

Plus, their sense of responsibility is so strong, it could carry all your groceries up a hill.

The trade-off? They’d rather hug a cactus than navigate a crowd.

Check my full Capricorn Moon breakdown here!

Aquarius Moon

The Aquarius Moon sign is like the hipster of the zodiac – an advocate of progressive values, social justice warrior, and passionate humanitarian.

They’re as free-spirited as a bird let out of its cage, but with an intellect that could give Einstein a run for his money.

You’re as sensitive as an exposed nerve, but you’ve got this knack for reaching out to others with your unique gifts, kinda like a psychic Santa Claus.

And that quick wit of yours? It’s sharper than a tack.

I mean, come on, how many people can say their ideas might just be the next big scientific breakthrough?

They’re warm but often lose some heat in their quest to make everyone else happy.

Sure, they’ve got a short fuse and hold grudges longer than a dog holds a bone, and people often label them as eccentric and distant.

But hey, they’ve also got the ability to show compassion like nobody’s business.

Aquarius Moons can be as quiet as a mouse, but when they open their mouth, they’re straighter than an arrow and as critical as an old film critic.

They’re the perfect cocktail of philosophical, original, and innovative – perfect for careers in science, education, art, and research.

But don’t forget, they also come with a rich, emotional filling of anger, depression, anxiety, and jealousy, giving them a sensitivity that’s as complex as a 5,000-piece jigsaw puzzle.

Check my full Aquarius Moon breakdown here!

Pisces Moon

Their vibe? A creative cocktail of imagination, kindness, and a sixth sense, with a pinch of moodiness and a dash of shyness.

But the real magic happens when the Pisces Moon channels their inner Dumbledore and unites dreams and enlightenment with reality, transforming into a sort of mystical mind-merging maestro.

As a Pisces Moon, you’re like an emotional deep-sea diver.

Your feelings are as potent as a bucket of ghost peppers, and your bonds with others could outlast a Nokia 3310.

You’re sensitive, compassionate, and the type who’d willingly jump into shark-infested waters to rescue a kitten.

Now, as a water sign, you’re basically a human mood sponge, soaking up emotions like a chia pet absorbs water.

You love harmony, a calm vibe, and thrive in surroundings that are peaceful yet dynamic, like a Zen garden on a roller coaster.

Let’s be real, understanding a Pisces’ emotions is like trying to nail jelly to a wall.

Sure, they’re unpredictable and occasionally fickle, but they’re always genuine and curious about others.

They’re dreamers, but their aversion to structure and responsibility rivals a cat’s disdain for water.

They’re more likely to commit to something when they feel backed into a corner.

But don’t underestimate the Pisces Moon!

They can channel their vivid dreams and escapist fantasies into a spiritual springboard and, like magicians, transform pie-in-the-sky dreams into reality.

It’s like they’ve got a fairy godmother on speed dial!

Check my full Pisces Moon breakdown here!

Official post by Joanne at Sacred Joanne

https://sacredjoanne.com/moon/

[autumn-storms-and-coffee-rings]

i’ve been a bit absent on here, which was never my intention. this is my safe space, my happy place, etc. 

so i’m gonna use it now to detail the utter chaos of my last few months. i’m overwhelmed and don’t have much of an irl support system. feel free to skip over this.  

august

spent money out of my savings to travel to DC for a job interview. first trip out of NC since the pandemic began because i’m high-risk. very much wanted this job. didn’t get it. 

month-long allergy-induced asthma flare.

spent over $715 out of my savings on health insurance (cobra policy through my former toxic employer; still cheaper than an open market policy would be because my state didn’t expand medicaid and i have multiple chronic conditions). 

september

asthma flare continues.

allergy-induced sinus infection.

discovered my main allergy medication had stopped working at some point in the past few months. 

experimented with various allergy medications to find one that works. problem: i’ve been through every allergy medication on the market, so we’re cycling back through meds that had also previously stopped working. we’re hoping the time in-between has allowed my body to view them as shiny and new again. problem: i have life-threatening environmental and food allergies, so not having them under control drastically reduces my quality of life. and because of my propensity to grow tolerant to anti-histamines, this is bound to happen again. i’m not sure when. and i’m certainly not sure how i’ll handle it when i’m employed full-time. i’ve been getting up at 9am and going back to bed by 1pm for a bit because i’ve been SO SICK. 

developed a new topical allergy to coconut and its lengthy number of derivatives.  we’re talking weeks of red, itchy, painful rash and hives around my eyes and on my neck. spent time, energy, and money out of my savings to buy all new bath and body products.

mom broke a bone in her foot and needed surgery. she needs substantial hands-on caregiving due to her other chronic conditions that make it hard for her to have mobility. 

spent over $715 out of my savings on health insurance.

october

my 20 year old beloved car - perry after perry mason - had transmission lines leaking. i’m seriously attached to this car as it is my very first and only. normal car people couldn’t fix it because of his age - they had trouble sourcing the parts. cue spending three weeks finding a transmission place that would answer the phone and worrying about whether or not i’d need to dip into my savings for a (new) used car. 

continued experimenting with different allergy meds. i think i found one that works? for now? but we’re talking allegra 180 mg twice a day - double the recommended amount. 

spent over $715 out of my savings on health insurance.

november

FINALLY FOUND a quintessential redneck transmission place to fix my car. 

went to my surgeon to follow up on my sinus surgery from last year. that looks great, but i’ve got some kind of sinus obstruction. scheduled for a CT scan next week to see if it’s just...swelling or polyps or a tumor or who knows. may need surgery if it’s the latter options. 

finally went to a podiatrist about my foot. i have a high pain tolerance (i once injured my ankle and walked on it for three months before getting it checked out - turns out i’d fractured my ankle and crushed a tendon). anyway. my crappy genetics have lead to the development of a bunion. i do not wear high heels or pointy-toed shoes.  most people think a bunion is a growth, and it is in some cases. but in my case, because of my genetics and most likely undiagnosed EDS, this type of bunion is an early dislocation. i need surgery. MRI on the 20th of this month, follow-up for a surgery plan and maybe a surgery date on the 29th.

spent over $715 out of my savings on health insurance.

i initially thought my period of unemployment would be over in august when i landed that job i wanted in DC. then i thought maybe i’d get to move to my favorite city and out of my parents house - job or no job - at the end of october. then i thought maybe i’d get a fresh start and embark on my own life with the new year in january. now, i’m not sure what the time frame will even be. 

[dawnwritesstuff]

The first brick was normal. So were the first twelve, I think.

They could have all been normal, in theory. They probably all were. It must have been a hallucination. I probably have brain damage from an awful gas leak.

But I can't get myself to believe that.

It started while I was walking my dog, Escargot. We—my parents, my brother, and I—named him that because we found him trying to eat a little snail as a puppy. He's getting a bit old now, but I still make sure to walk him every day.

Anyway, we were on our usual walk, Escargot's leash in one hand and my phone in the other. I was in the middle of a call with my brother and we were talking about some movie. I can't remember which one, which is a bit odd because I remember I had some strong opinions about its dull plot and disappointing effects. At some point during that conversation, though I found myself staring at this church building. I'd seen it many times before, but I'd never taken a good look at it. It wasn't a particularly interesting building, just a one-story brick structure that took up a full block. The sign out front called it something strange, like "The Church of the Spiraling End" or something along those lines. It was a slightly unnerving name for a church.

Anyway, once I started staring at it I found myself unable to give much thought to anything else. I stopped responding to my brother with anything more than an occasional "Mhm" or "Yeah". He eventually said some bored goodbye and hung up, at which point I started walking toward the building. Its bricks seemed at that moment like the most interesting thing in the world, and I started to wonder how many there might be. So I decided to find out. It was quite a large building, though, so I decided to just start with one wall.

The bricks looked so detailed, like high-quality pictures instead of actual bricks. I know that sounds stupid, but that's the only way I can think of to describe it.

I started counting a row of them. I think somewhere in the back of my head was the thought that I could count vertically too and multiply them together, but the foremost thing on my mind was counting.

I don't know what exactly happened, or when, but by the twentieth brick, I started getting this sense that something was off. It was small, though, and almost entirely drowned out by the desire to keep counting.

By number fifty, I could tell something was definitely wrong. There was supposed to be something in my hand. A rope, maybe? But I couldn't bring myself to care. The bricks were far more interesting.

The world became blurred around me. Nothing seemed to matter except this line of reddish-brown bricks.

I don't know how long it went on, but it was far longer than it should have. I realized that by the five-thousandth brick. Soon after that, I stopped assigning them numbers, instead simply admiring and acknowledging each one.

I can't say much more about that time. It was so long, and every moment so captivating, yet I don't think you'd find a description of it particularly interesting.

Now I'm back home. In a room that seems familiar, yet different in some way. I have a cat now. I've always had a cat, according to my sister. My only sibling.

I never had a left arm. It was a birth defect and I don't know why I'd ever think I did.

I remember my cat, my sister, and living with one arm. I have memories of them. Those memories feel different, though, like they weren't always there. Like badly photoshopped pictures.

It was some severe gas leak. It was all a hallucination. It had to be. Because if it wasn't, I don't know what to do. I don't know how to live in a world where I'm a different person.

[cherokeegal1975]

Women's Academe of Magic, WIP 8/7/23

Not sure that's the best title, but I'm sticking with it. Looks kind of cozy in spite of the less than good drawing. I think I made the wolf sleeping on the floor too dark...I might just leave it though. Made considerable progress mainly by erasing a lot of the trace layer. I was tired of drawing only books and that bit is going to take forever no mater what.

This is a kind of digital restoration of my older works from the 80s and 90s. I noticed that the original work is faded out. I can draw so much better than this. I worry that people will think this is the best I can do. Oh no! I really can do near photographic quality art sometimes.

Here I'm not doing much of anything to make improvements. Straighter lines, more perfect circles, sharper details, but that's it. I'm sticking with the original style. Eventually I want to put this in a personal art journal so I can have it in print and bound in a book. It will have the best and my worst works and ideas all in one place. Not worthy for sale and no one will buy it anyway. I know, because I've tried.

What do you think of my idea? Would you try it? Plenty of artists have revisited their old drawings and drawn then again, only better. I'll do that to from time to time. But what about this "digital conversion" of older works like this?

And here's an example of how well I can draw now by the way:

This is one of our cats. Her name is Lilly and she's a street rescue. Just showed up one day and kept coming back. It became apparent that she was a lost kitty. So, my mother adopted her. Been with us ever since.

This is also one of the best drawings I've done so far; if a bit plain in the backdrop. I used a photo of her sitting on the kitchen counter as a reference. She's great at posing and sitting still long enough for me to get the shot with my phone.

You can see the contrast here with the two drawings. Years of practice and some tutorial books were a big help. Even though they were for colored pencils, the principles of how to draw and color still apply to digital.

[steamishot]

eventful pt 2

saturday was a rainy day and my one day to do “nothing” at home. it’s really cold in the house when its cold outside. we only have one heater that’s situated in the living room and would either have to get a space heater or open the doors to our bedrooms for the heat to come in. i did some work for my day job that i was procrastinating on. 

sunday, i was going to take my parents out to the great white at larchmont village for a breakfast. however, due to a power outage, the restaurant was closed. instead, i took them to bluestone lane 5 minutes away. i used my inkind credit and got the breakfast for free basically ($50 credit). later that day, i met up with matt’s family to eat DTF. their family usually doesn’t like DTF because it’s pretty small portions and not very filling. matt needed to eat cleaner/healthier and knew i love to eat DTF each time i’m back in town, so we opted for that. 

dynamics feel like they’re going back to two years ago, when the mom was nice. she gifted me a new old coach crossbody bag when she saw that my purse was a similar style. i had some quality time with her showing her how to make imovie videos on her phone. in retrospect, it seems like she was jealous (?) that matt was spending what seemed like a lot of time with me during residency and he had limited time/energy for her, so she complained more often and was (passive) aggressive. 

this time, we also got to meet M, T’s girlfriend. they’re like 18-20 years old and so cute.

monday was when i sat my ass down and caught up with work that i’ve been neglecting. i met up with my older friends M & J for shabu shabu dinner. the prices are so good for the quality in LA. we ate dinner and then hung out for a bit afterwards at a nearby starbucks. i’ve realized i’ve become a coffee > milk tea person now. there’s just too many variables with milk tea that could go wrong (i’m particular about the level of sweetness and intensity of tea) that i prefer now just going to coffee shops. also, coffee shops have non-caffeinated or decaf options that i enjoy. 

M is in the process of separating from her husband/moving back to her parent’s house. it’s been a long time coming for her, and a really tough thing to do. they have been having similar ongoing issues for at least five years where her husband feels obligated to live under the same roof as his parents (and thereby she does too) though it’s not beneficial for their relationship, and he does not/will not budge. i don’t know the details of their relationship - i.e. finances, and what exactly makes the most financial sense/what they’re able to afford, what she has actually attempted to change things, etc. though i see a little bit of myself in her, where we are able to sacrifice for our partners and hope it is reciprocated in the future. it is an uneasy feeling to think that after years of sacrifice, your partner will not budge. 

tuesday, i took my mom and grandma out to great white for the brunch i was initially planning on having with my parents. the food was good. unfortunately i made a dumb boo-boo and misinterpreted my meter. where i parked, there were two meters, one to either side of the head of the car. i stupidly looked at the wrong meter (i don’t know how to do LA anymore?) and assumed i was fine, only to come back to a damn parking ticket. i also got a haircut that day in chinatown with my mom’s company. flew out that night around 11:30pm. 

on the path to being healthier: since sunday feb 20, matt has completely cut off coffee AND he is functioning fine replacing it with tea. this is great because it saves him/us a lot of money. it was a huge lightbulb moment for me. i’ve been pushing him to do yoga, meditate, exercise more, go to therapy to ease his anxiety while ignoring this huge thing that he is excessively feeding his body everyday. on top of caffeine, it’s the horrible but good tasting food we’ve been eating all the time. we’ve also cut out fried and spicy foods. who knew what you consumed affects your body/mind... lol 

i was at my heaviest at 118 just recently, which i thought was a good healthy weight, since i’ve always struggled with weight gain. i also started consuming more desserts/sweets. before, things used to be “too sweet” or “too fattening” for me (which may be my subconscious thinking sugar/fat = bad). but i’m glad that i’m being more open to eating everything in general instead of being overly picky and then becoming scrawny as a result. now i feel like our diet is veering towards my preference of food. i almost wanted to order desserts today, but chose not to in order to be on this healthy diet with matt. 

[seeklovenet]

What Ought To I Write In My Sugar Baby Headline- Headline Ideas Allow You To Standout

What Ought To I Write In My Sugar Baby Headline- Headline Ideas Allow You To Standout

It’s a short description but nonetheless enjoyable and detailed; it'll work nice for men who dislike lengthy conversations and like to go straight to the point. You can just use one thing along the line of three keywords describing your self or your personality. Personality traits you could match with ("Foodie", "Good humorousness") often work. In my opinion life is to quick to waist time for errors. Don’t lie, as many sugar daddies want to know exactly what they're getting. That’s how you'll save time and keep away from long conversations that won’t get you anyplace.

If he’s fortunate to spot one thing attention-grabbing there, he’ll absolutely proceed the research. Don’t mention specific amounts as a outcome of you're going to get to negotiate them in a private dialog. Showing your desperation to get money won’t look good for potential sugar daddies. Use a fresh photo — the old picture of where you had quick black hair and weighed extra while now you’re a thin blond obviously isn’t what a sugar daddy expects to see in actual life.

Headline Examples For Bbw Sugar Baby:

Generally speaking, an ideal sugar child is a beautiful, smart & charming girl who will make you are feeling zero negative emotions. Paul Walton is a Dating Coach for Sugar Baby Bio who has been in the sugar daddy courting subject for over a decade. He has had particularly good success helping successful males join with attractive ladies and construct relationships based mostly on mutual advantages. He loves sharing his methods and expertise with beneficiant men and he's particularly good at serving to sugar babies develop the confidence necessary to succeed. He has been featured in several publications for his work in addition to Sugar Baby Bio. One day you need to lose weight once more, then hand over - restart - give up - endless loop.

Even although there are plenty of strict guidelines, scammers nonetheless discover their method to idiot many sugar babies and sugar daddies without any legal repercussions. I am a fitness teacher and a nutritionist and I really get pleasure from my job, especially the truth that I assist so many individuals through it. A life full of luxuries is what I seek and believe I will obtain sooner or later, and I would love to find a man who can present me with that.

What Are Some Components Of A Good Sugar Baby Headline?

Scammers know tips on how to use these instruments very nicely and they will be able to find out your real identification and your house tackle in a matter of seconds. Self-description sounds impolite and contains plenty of negativity. Writing about your needs without aggression is healthier because nobody likes to learn seeking arrangement banned me this. Her specialization is sugar guides, where she shares the simplest algorithms for fixing issues, finding sugar partners, and more. Lauren is our Writer—she focuses on offering relevant, high-quality, and attention-grabbing content material for our web site. She is an skilled psychologist, author, and coach with greater than 15 years of experience.

Verification on sugar relationship sites happens most often by way of mail or phone. Every sugar site member wants a little bit of privacy, and that’s okay. Lots of sugar babies use quotes by famous people, but we don’t recommend utilizing them. On most sugar daddy web site, there's one headline part. Or they might be known as sugar child taglines. That’s a flip off for most sugar daddies—as we’ve mentioned, they are trying to find emotional connection, not just for intercourse.

Seeking Arrangement Sequence

One of the good sugar baby greeting is that sex apeal. It always is the very effective for leading men by the nostril, discover that 'sugar' spot and add it to your profile headline. Sugar momma courting just isn't as popular as sugar daddy dating, but the tendency is altering. The amount of sites that add options for sugar momma dating is growing. Some new sugar momma-related courting websites are getting launched, and a few ... Yes, you need to use actual photos, which is why selecting a secure web site that cares about members’ privacy is necessary.

You can write some short words which intensify the constructive facet of what you count on, what you'll have the ability to supply. You can put one thing intriguing, like "Living in a moment, don't care what others suppose", "Let's do crazy issues together". Yes, you need to use a fake name as a sugar child. Moreover, 99% of sugar babies on sugar sites don’t even use their real first name.

Headline Examples For Online-only Sugar Child:

Nothing is extra essential than staying protected even in case you are a university pupil looking for sugar daddies and that is one thing you want to at all times keep in mind. When adding new data to your SA profile I always advocate being very careful because you don’t want to reveal your actual id or any of your personal information. Russian and Italian names will at all times spark a sugar daddy’s creativeness and make you look extra attention-grabbing. Most ladies don’t think too much about their username however rather select the one that's advised by Seeking Arrangement.

Your headline should be brief, candy, and to the point. It should give sugar daddies a glimpse of what you’re all about with out making a gift of too much data. You want them to be intrigued sufficient to want to be taught more about you. Avoid being too cutesy or using puns in your headline – sugar daddies are typically looking for a severe relationship, not an off-the-cuff fling. I love all seasons, making an attempt new meals at different bars and eating places. I love cardio, I stroll fairly often and enjoy an excellent run.

No details about your character, interests, and expectations. Let sugar daddies know precisely what you need from them and what you can offer in return. Don’t cover anything — but don’t try to show every little thing without delay in a vulgar method as properly.

[greysecono]

Where to buy flexify drones

#Where to buy flexify drones manual

#Where to buy flexify drones software

Now that you finally have an equirectangular image, you can put it back into photoshop and use a little know plugin called Flexify 2 to distort it into a tiny planet, an inception-like cityscape, a very wide-angle photo, or anything in between. Since photoshop recently removed the ability to project panoramas to the sphere and edit them like that after adding some clouds to the photo the best alternative is to open it in Affinity Photo and use their version of healing brush to hide any seams and warping we created in the process of creating some sky. Since drones are unable to point their gimble upwards the resulting panorama is not yet equirectangular (2:1 aspect ratio) so we will have to use tools like content-aware fill to recreate some of the missing skies.

#Where to buy flexify drones software

My weapon of choice here is Kolor AutoPano, its an old software but it gets the job done impressively well and has more options than I usually need. Just make sure to use a cylindrical projection and you should be fine as long as you stay away from anything made by adobe and export your image back to 16-bit. When you are done just export them as 16-bit.tiff files.įor stitching, you do have the option to pick between software like PTgui, Kolor AutoPano, pano2VR and I’m sure there are many more out there. Keep an eye open on how the highlights look in the shoot that contains the sun and how the shadows look in the darkest one of the set. Adjust the light and colors as close to the final look that you are aiming for as you can without using any local adjustments, curves, or the color grading wheels, and sync those settings across all of the 26 photos. To prepare your photos for stitching now is the time to take advantage of all the information in those RAW files in Lightroom. DNG files on your hands to work with and transform while retaining as much quality as possible. Now the hard part beings! You got home and you have 26.

#Where to buy flexify drones manual

Auto because the entire scene always has so much light variation depending on where the camera is pointing that it would be impossible to not get pure whites/blacks on full manual mode Also in my case, there is a lot of forest around me and the drone will try to overcompensate for how dark it is and give me blown-out skies so AUTO and -0.7 EV is how I shoot these panoramas most of the time. A good tip considering the limited dynamic range of this sensor is to shoot a bit underexposed so you avoid getting blown-out whites around the sun. It will take between 30 seconds and 1 minute depending on the lighting conditions. Just make sure you don’t cut off anything like tree branches or mountain peaks on the upper limit of the gimble rotation and wait for the drone to finish shooting before you fly to the next location. It shoots RAW and has a function to shoot a 360 panorama automatically the result of which will be 26 photos on your SD card. While being tiny, the DJI mini 2 has two key features for this. The thing with the 360 photography space is that it evolved a lot around phone apps and there is not one software that would serve you well from start to finish so I will try to guide you through a workflow I developed, in time to obtain the highest quality final photos, without losing data to jpg exports and resizes. The lesson I’ve learned from this experience is that you shouldn’t always be the one in control, just let the universe guide you, and the years of prior experience will come through and help you achieve amazing results and today I want to put out the knowledge I’ve gathered on 360 aerial photography over the years. The panorama is around 200 megapixels and the amount of details that made their way into the final image is insane. I took my little drone out to get an even better view of the zone and shoot a 360-degree panorama to capture the entirety of the scene and the results were mindblowing even for me.

[fluffyprettykitty]

The Parisian Agenda

Pairing: Tony Stark x female reader (no other specifications!)

Word Count: 2030 words

Outline: Tony flies you out to Europe for a big weekend surprise.

Author's Note: requested here. I wanted to write a paris fic for a while now so I combined my desire with this request and voila. Pure romance!

Warnings: swearing, pet names, p in v sex, dry humping, heavy kissing, scratching.

P.S: dividers by @firefly-graphics //​ banners by @maysdigitalarts

Main Masterlist ・❥・Tony Stark Masterlist

NSFW UNDERNEATH THE CUT. MINORS DNI.

“We didn’t have to take the jet.” You mumble shifting around in your seat and looking at your boyfriend, the multi-billionaire Tony Stark.

“Don’t worry, it has high-quality reusable energy and is non-harmful to the planet.” He winks at you as he is handing you a glass of orange juice. “Now drink. I need you to have all of your strength for tonight.”

“Tony Stark. You better not have pulled out this jet just to fuck me overlooking some old ass monument.”

“I promise I haven’t.”

“Boy, do I not believe you.” Oh, he had pulled that shit before. Multiple times.

You raise an eyebrow as he clinks his glass with yours, a very mischievous smirk behind his little goatee. He drinks his orange juice like is the most natural thing and then he brings out a silver plate filled with different kinds of cut fruits. He begins to feed you piece after piece while talking about a near grand opening that will take place in the Parisian office. 

Yet Tony remains coy about the place you are landing as he muses between the European offices and tells you about how he should open one in Marocco. 

~Several hours later.

When you land you are fast asleep and Tony quietly tries to escort you in his arms careful not to wake you. Of course, that doesn’t happen. When you open your eyes you are in his arms overlooking the city night lights. 

“Where are we?”

“Somewhere where you will take a shower and dress very pretty so we can go to dinner.”

“Oh, Tony.” You roll your eyes and adjust yourself on the ground recognizing you must be on the rooftop of a hotel. 

The hotel room is beautiful, wide open, with marble pillars and many statues inside.

“Are we in Rome?” You ask him, touching gently the statues.

“Nope.”

“Athens?”

“No.” He shakes his head as he begins to undress.

“You better not be lying.”

“Plenty of cities in Europe. Think the architect was just obsessed with statues.”

He reaches out for your arm burying his beard and nose on your shoulder as he begins to bite and drags you towards the bathroom mumbling that he won’t shower alone. 

After an eventful and steamy shower, he lets you dress on his own claiming he needs to overlook some key details and someone will be outside the door to escort you. 

He has left three different dresses on the bed, in different lengths and cuts, and colors. Different pairs of shoes are also on the chair waiting for you. Everything looked very elegant, but of course, they were all completely backless. You pick the one you prefer the most, feeling like a princess in it, and then sit down in the vanity parlor to do your hair and make-up. Once you are satisfied with yourself, you walk towards the rest of the suite reaching the dining room. There you find a big blue velvet box with a note on it telling you to open it. 

It was a beautiful opaque necklace. Extravagant and expensive. Tony loved his jewelry that much was true. You carefully put it on and headed towards the door. You feel a little weird walking out with no purse so you hold on to your phone carefully breathing in and out. 

Behind the door a young busboy greets you and you can immediately tell where you are from his distinct accent.

France. 

Or maybe any other french speaking country. 

You walk behind him as he points you to a candlelight passage overlooking the… 

“Paris.” You breathe out, looking at the Eiffel tower from a close distance. 

“Son of a bitch. I should have known.” You huff and walk a little bit more detrimentally on the footpath till you see him. Dressed in his black tuxedo with a wide grin on his face. 

“My lady.” He extends his right arm, placing his left behind his back and slightly bowing to you.

“I feel like I should have known.”

“My mom’s favorite city.” Tony smiles and there’s a glisten in his eyes. 

“Oh, I didn’t know that.” You smile back and squeeze his hand.

“Yes, when my father proposed to her, he also gifted her the Paris office. Quite beautiful overlooks half of Paris.” You follow his movements, listening to him talking. It was rare when he spoke of his parents like that especially his mother so you no longer feel the need to tease him. He pulls the chair for you, sitting on a small table close to the banisters.

“Is absolutely beautiful, Tony. Thank you.”

“Oh, wow, and I haven’t even fed you yet.”

“Tony.” You scoff as he is opening a champagne bottle and pouring the insides on two flute glasses. 

“You look absolutely ravishing, has anybody ever told you that?” He proclaims, holding the glass in his hand, taking in your figure.

“Only you, every single hour of my life.” 

“Smart man.”

“Only the best.”

“A toast then.” He smirks bringing his glass forward. You repeat his action hovering yours close to his.

“To health. And world peace.”

“I love world peace.”

“Oh, I know.”

“I also love you.”

“I also know. I love you too.”

“Good.” 

He clinks his glass and proceeds to take a sip staring at you as you are drinking yours. Truth is Tony was always in a flirty mood, especially in semi-public settings like this but something felt vulnerable and raw about tonight as if something hang in the air. You try to push it in the back of your head, Tony wasn’t the most open man in the world, he required a lot of patience and care.

Then dinner is served. 

Opting to skip appetizers, you start with thins strip of smoked salmon with sour cream, lemon, and dill with a side of ravioli and mushrooms with herbs and parmesan. A salad in the middle for the pair of you, a mix of lettuces with pomengrate seeds. Then for the main dish, there is cod, simply cooked with spicy herbs sided with white rice and black truffles. 

Conversation flew as Tony seemed to feel like retelling you his parent’s engagement journey. Apparently, his dad had first wanted to propose in Marocco, overlooking the dessert and some old palaces but unfortunately, there was a warning for very bad weather and then the trip had to be cut short cause of other business problems. In the end, he simply took her to the Jules Verne restaurant in Paris, overlooking the seine river, and proposed to her over dinner. 

“Does that restaurant still operate?” You ask him taking a sip of your wine. 

“Yes, it does.” He grins, almost wondering how clueless could you be. 

Then the waiter is coming around with the dessert of the night. Placed it in the middle of the table having already cleared it before. A chestnut puff pastry with vanilla cream, citrus zest, and opaline. He takes the knife and the fork in his hands and begins to cut a piece, and that’s when you first notice it. 

A diamond shining right against your face. 

“Oh, they left something in there.”

“Funny how that happens, huh?”

“No, you can’t see, is on my side.” You protest reaching out to take the knife from his hand and fumble with a pastry a little. 

“Maybe they dropped their spoon inside the mix.” Tony deadpans, a smirk trying so very hard to hide in the curls of his lips.

“It looks…” You pull it out and examine it. “Looks like a ring.”

“That it does.” He looks at you waiting for the clue to drop in.

“Why would they put a ring inside the pastry?”

“Funny how the mind of the average man works.”

“Tony. Is it?” 

“I mean it definitely is, isn’t it?”

“Oh my god.” 

“Bout time.”

You take the ring in your hands examining it around and pushing away a couple of crumbs. The design is simple and very elegant with a heart-shaped pink diamond in the middle, and several smaller diamonds adorning the silver band.

“Will you marry me, y/n?” Tony asks looking at you. 

“Yes, yes!” You exclaim and fall forward to reach for him. 

Then it all feels like a blur, a multitude of emotions overwhelming you. You don’t remember when you put on the ring or if you ever ate that pastry, all you know now is Tony breathing above you as he is railing you against the mattress. 

Slowly and sensually as if he is sealing a promise and eternity altogether. 

Your hands move on his back, your nails digging deep into his back, feeling his muscles move under your touch. The feeling of your engagement ring on his back has him acting up, looking at you with love and devotion and absolute possession. 

“I love you.” He breathes out, his hands cupping your face. “I love you so goddamn much.” 

“I love you, baby.” You pant out, his hands reaching out to your thighs to push your dress further up for final access.

“I will never let you go. Never, ever, ever.” The palm of his hand brush on your wet panties and you hiss at the sensation. Everything feels so electrifying right now. He pushes them to the side and quickly replaces the empty feeling of his touch with the tip of his cock. 

“Forever.” He muses pushing it inside as your mouth hangs open with the feeling of him. It feels desperate and raw and absolutely right. You need him, you need to show him how much. Your nails dig in on his back as he moves his hips rhythmically against your frame, his face one inch away from your face.

“I wanna see you. You’re so beautiful. A goddamn dream of a woman. My one and everything. My life and my heart and everything precious and holy in this world.”

Thrust followed by another thrust until his cock reaches for your cervix and you try your hardest to hold on to him as he is working your body better than ever.

He wants to show you how much he loves you, how much he cares for you, and how sure he is of his decision to make you his wife. His hand keeps your chin secure, as you try to hit your head back in pleasure and he is drawing orgasm after orgasm from you, never stopping looking at you. 

“You are the best. Better than anyone else.”

“I need to, I need to.”

“I know, I know. I got you. Come on, give it to me. Show me. Show me how you love me. ”

You moan out his name loud and clear for anyone to hear and your orgasm vibrates through your whole body. Doesn’t take long for him to cum as well, filling you up and thanking you over and over again for choosing him. 

Ten minutes later, and several kisses later he is railing you again, never stopping looking at your eyes, kissing your lips and your neck when you are cumming again. He doesn’t stop though. 

You don’t know how many rounds it has been or if you had slept for more than a few hours but you know that is night again as the lights from the outside are shining brightly while you are sitting on the balcony chair dressed in your bathrobe and admiring the way your ring glistens in the dark. 

“Happy?” His voice comes from behind you, followed by a kiss on your shoulder and then one on top of your ring before he settles a tray of food on the small table.

“Very.” You grin looking at him with love and utter devotion.

“You make me very happy.” He nods his head taking in your serene figure. 

“I could make you very sad, too.” You tease him, winking at him.

“You could never.”

“Hm. Don’t be so sure.”

He laughs and shakes his head. “Alright. Whatever you say.”

“When are we returning home?”

“Never if I can help it.”

“I like that.” You smirk and pick up a piece of chocolate truffle to throw inside your mouth. 

for updates please follow @fluffyprettykittylibrary and turn on post notifications!

[babyboibucky]

The Match - Part 10

Pairing: CEO!Bucky x Fem!Reader

Summary: Sam helps you out in planning for the launch while Bucky is away.

Word Count: 4.2k (woopsies)

Warnings: SMUT is back, angry unprotected sex, spitting, a tiny hint at scratching and choking, some hurtful words thrown in yada yada yada, kinda intense asjkcackansk

A/N: STRAP THE FUCK IN BECAUSE WE BOUTTA RIDE A DAMN ROLLERCOASTER OMG I’m nervous for this because I found this part very intense while writing it. And I hope it comes across as that to y’all as well because my fingers ached from how hard I was typing this part lmfao. Team Bucky vs Team Reader/Team Sam here we goooo sksksk enjoy

The Match Masterlist || MAIN MASTERLIST

You didn't accept Sam's invitation to connect in LinkedIn. Not yet. But it did give you several ideas, like maybe submitting a resignation letter? Get away from Bucky and his toxic ass? He has Mackenzie now, he can easily have her take over your position anyway.

However, you were also torn because you loved your job at Bucky's company. It paved way for you to improve your skills and you experienced a lot of growth too. And well, Bucky's there too but god, you hated him right now. As much as you wanted to wave the white flag, you didn't feel like it was the right thing to do.

You wanted Bucky to learn that not everything he wants, he can easily get. And Mark was right, that you weren't just a trophy employee or whatever. You were so much more than what Bucky probably thinks of you.

And you were going to prove him that.

-

"Hey, Bev. Can you ring up your boss for me? Tell him I want to go over some of the plans I made for the launch before I discuss it with Mackenzie tomorrow." you asked.

Beverly was about to lift the phone up when an unexpected visitor arrived. None other than Sam Wilson himself.

"I didn't mean to eavesdrop but did I hear you correctly? You've already made some plans for the launch?" he asked with interest.

You chuckled, "Sort of. Well, it's a rough draft of my ideas. I just thought it would be nice to get a headstart." you admitted.

Sam nodded and was about to say something when Bucky stepped out of his office, his brows furrowing upon seeing you and Sam conversing. Bucky eyed you before glancing over at Sam, patting his shoulder gently as a greeting.

"You checking up on us or what?" Bucky teased with a chuckle.

Sam shook his head, "Not really. Well, kinda. I figured that another presentation would be unnecessary, I mean. I'd love to work on the launch with your team instead of being on the sidelines for approvals." he admitted.

You shrugged, "I think that's a great idea too. Less time to waste, less back and forth." you pitched in.

Bucky frowned a bit, his jaw clenching at how you backed up Sam immediately. "That's fine, but I have a meeting in a few. Might last the entire day. Mackenzie won't be here until tomorrow too." he said.

"She and I can discuss her plans today and maybe I can pitch in some of my ideas too. She can present them tomorrow to you and Kenzie." Sam suggested, gesturing over to you.

Bucky stared at you and Sam alternately, his hands balling into fists at his sides. You could see his internal struggle about leaving you and Sam to discuss about the launch, without his presence.

You lifted up the folder in your hand, "I wanted to go over these plans with you but I didn't know you have a meeting. Sam and I can just refine these today, would save us a lot of time. We don't want to be rushing anything for this project at the last minute." you told him.

Bucky swallowed but nodded anyway, albeit with hesitation, "Yeah. Of course. I'll just catch up on the both of you later."

And with that, Bucky walked away but not without sparing you and Sam one final glance. His eyes met yours for a brief moment and you weren't sure, but you saw a flash of worry in his eyes before it was immediately replaced by his usual stern, ice-cold gaze.

You turned to Sam with a smile, "We can discuss in the conference room." you said and led the way.

-

The planning was seamless and you were surprised that you had so much fun exchanging ideas with Sam, to the point of almost forgetting about lunch break. It was quarter past noon when the both of you realized that it was way past lunch time.

"Do you want to grab lunch or order something instead? I honestly hate working lunch, just so you know." Sam said with a laugh.

You groaned, "I hate that too, honestly." you admitted with a chuckle.

Sam nodded, "Great, we can head out for a quick lunch?" he asked.

It didn't even cross your mind to hesitate, so you immediately agreed and even asked if you can take Beverly with you. You'd grown somewhat attached to her in the short time you've known her. Poor kid was being treated like an outcast by the other office girls. She always waited for you to have your lunch break too, especially that Mark has been pretty busy lately.

Sam was kind enough to agree about including Beverly for lunch. The two of you were about to head out of the conference room when Beverly peeked in, worry etched all over her face.

"I need your help." she whined, "I think I messed up Sir James' schedule. Mister Nakajima is on the phone and said that he's going to be an hour late for a meeting today. I forgot about Sir James’ meeting with another company today!" she explained, almost close to tears.

You rushed over to her and held her shoulders, "Hey, calm down. Did you tell Mister Nakajima?" you asked.

"I did and he got mad at me! Today is his only free day and he said that if he doesn't meet up with Sir James, the deal is off." Beverly said, stomping her foot on the ground.

You heaved out a sigh, knowing that the deal was very important. Mister Nakajima owned an auto manufacturing company which produces world-class materials for cars. Bucky had been working on convincing Mister Nakajima to be his permanent supplier for quite a while now. Big fucking deal.

You looked back at Sam, "Hey, I'm sorry. Can you give me a couple of minutes?" you asked with an apologetic expression.

"Take your time." Sam nodded with a smile.

You went over to Beverly's desk and took over the phone call, without knowing that Sam trailed behind you. He watched you carefully as you talked to Mister Nakajima, your demeanor calm yet confident.

"Hi, Mister Nakajima. I'm the company's Marketing Head and I would like to apologize for the mix up. Bucky has been working really hard on improving the quality of our products, he's been in meetings in and out. That being said, would it be alright if I take over this afternoon's meeting instead? Bucky worked on an amazing presentation and I honestly would love to go over it with you and just show you how this partnership would be beneficial for both our companies." you asked.

Fortunately, you were able to appease Mister Nakajima while also saving Beverly's ass for her honest mistake. As soon as the call was done, you reassured Beverly that everything was fine now and that you'll take care of Bucky. By the time you looked back at Sam, he was merely smiling at you.

"You're really good with people."

-

Lunch break passed by quickly, with you, Sam and Beverly engaging in all sorts of conversations. Even Beverly felt comfortable being around his presence. He mainly talked about his experiences at his first job, giving Beverly a couple of tips on how to navigate through the corporate world.

Sam was very kind.

The planning resumed after lunch and by the time Mister Nakajima and his associates arrived, the launch plan was pretty much refined with a lot of details. Sam excused himself to give you time to meet with Mister Nakajima, however, he said he'll be staying until Bucky comes back.

Presenting to Mister Nakajima made you nervous as fuck, especially that he didn't really work closely with you which might affect his decision. Luckily though, you knew Bucky's presentation like the back of your hand due to the fact that he had gone over it with you for a couple of times back when the two of you were still, well, fucking around.

Ah, the good old days.

The meeting with Mister Nakajima went perfectly well because as soon as you were done with the presentation, the old man simply asked for the contract to seal the deal. Although it wasn't you who actually worked on the deck, you had a sense of fulfillment. You were proud of yourself and you couldn't wait to dangle it right in front of Bucky's face.

"Thank you so much, Mister Nakajima. We are excited for this partnership." you said happily as you led him and his associates out of the conference room, just as when Bucky arrived.

He looked confused when Mister Nakajima greeted him happily, shaking his hand and telling him how good his presentation was. Bucky looked over at you, as if asking what the hell was going on. You merely shrugged and headed back inside the conference with Sam.

Bucky followed shortly and for some reason, he looked agitated. He was about to speak up when Sam beat him to it, giving him a hard pat on the back.

"The launch event is gonna be really good." he said confidently before glancing at you.

"You're lucky to have her, Bucky." he said before bidding goodbye, giving you one last look and a wink as well, something that Bucky immediately noticed.

When Sam left, so did the light atmosphere inside the conference room. Bucky turned to you with a scowl, his footsteps rushed and heavy as he approached you.

"What the hell happened with Mister Nakajima?" he asked gruffly.

You smiled as you handed him an envelope, "The partnership is a go. He signed the contract and his team will be keeping in contact with us and our factory soon." you explained proudly.

Bucky took the envelope from your hand and went through the contract before placing it back on the table. "I thought my meeting with him isn't until Friday."

"Beverly mixed up your schedule and before you even reprimand her, give the girl a break. It's her first job and with the amount of meetings you've been having, mix-ups are inevitable. What matters now is that I took over the presentation and Mister Nakajima signed the contract." you explained with nonchalance.

Bucky shook his head, "The end does not justify the means." he said. "Beverly should have been careful. My schedule is not a joke and if I miss another important meeting, that can fuck up the entire company."

You rolled your eyes, "Calm down, Beverly surely learned from today's mistake. It's done. The deal is on. Everything is peachy. The launch details have been planned out, Sam is happy with it. All I have to do is to secure your and Mackenzie's approval for it and then we can start with the execution. You're welcome." you said all in one breath, handing Bucky a USB containing the details of the launch.

You brushed past Bucky to leave the conference room but you were immediately pulled back with his hand around your arm. He looked down at you with an angry look on his face, almost fuming. You couldn't understand why the fuck he was so aggravated with you today. Sure, he had been testing your patience lately but it was the first time he actually looked like he was going to snap.

Not at the situation, but at you.

"Are you trying to impress Sam? Taking on my responsibilities while he's around?" he asked, eyes narrowing at you.

You scoffed, unable to believe what Bucky was accusing you of. Pulling your arm back, you took a step back and looked at him with disgust. "You're unbelievable, Bucky." you said.

"Had I not stepped in, we would have lost the deal. You promoted me for a reason, and I believe part of it is my leadership skills. And no, I'm not trying to impress Sam. I'm simply doing my fucking job." you hissed and tried to side step Bucky, only for him to block your way.

"Did he offer you a position in his company? What the fuck was the wink all about?" Bucky accused yet again.

"Oh my god, Bucky! You're blowing things out of proportion. He didn't. We talked about the event. That's it." you explained, pinching the bridge of your nose because Bucky was getting on your very last nerve.

Bucky had been fucking with you too much now and you could feel the last bits of your composure slowly slip away with every word that was coming out of his mouth. Coming for your job was one thing, but accusing you of flirting your way to another company? That was a low blow.

"Don't lie to me, I saw the notification on your phone the other day. Seems to me like Tinder matches don't work for you anymore, you moved on to LinkedIn now to find connections instead?" he asked and that particular statement struck a certain nerve.

You let out a bitter scoff, "Do you even hear yourself, Bucky? At least Sam was being professional and didn't use Tinder to hire a fucking consultant to threaten my damn job!" you slipped, unable to hold back.

The look on Bucky's face was a whirlwind of emotions-- shock, wrath, exhaustion-- and you felt like you were supposed to get scared. Gone were the blue orbs that used to make you feel safe, his eyes only held anger in them. And the thing was, your eyes looked the same as you held Bucky's gaze.

You were so fucking tired of everything, of Bucky.

"How did you-- it doesn't matter." Bucky said, shaking his head. "How much did Sam offer you?" he asked.

Your jaw dropped at the implication of Bucky's statement, "You are a fucking asshole, Bucky. Sam didn't offer me a fucking job. You really don't listen, Bucky. You never listen." you huffed out exasperatedly.

"Okay, maybe he hasn't laid down his offer yet. Perhaps, you let him fuck you too?"

Your vision blacked out upon hearing that and by the time you regained your senses, all you could feel was how your palm stung. You had walked up to Bucky and slapped him right across the face, hard enough to make the corner of his bottom lip bleed. Your entire body was trembling from rage as you stood in front of Bucky.

He tilted his head as he wiped the blood off from his lip, looking up at you with lust-filled eyes. And then his hand gripped your neck, tugging you close for a bruising kiss. You grunted against his mouth and pushed him away, slapping him again. Before Bucky could even recover, your fingers wrapped around his tie pulling him down to you for another kiss.

Walls crumbled down, tension was broken and needs were being fulfilled. The rush of emotions blurred the line between fury and lust with the latter obviously winning. All you could think about was the throb that you suddenly felt within your core begging for relief.

Relief that was denied from you for the past few weeks of playing cat and mouse with Bucky.

And with the way Bucky was kissing you, you knew he felt the same. It had been too long and both your minds were too hazy to even care that it was only five in the afternoon and that there were employees working just outside the conference room.

Was the fear of getting caught going to stop you? No, not now. Because you needed release and you were sure as hell going to get it. This wasn't like the other times you and Bucky fucked. You didn't care about Bucky at the moment, how he felt or what was going on in his mind. You just needed to release all your pent up emotions and you were going to use Bucky to get what you need.

Bucky pushed you against the table, your tailbone hitting the edge with such force that made you groan from pain.

"Yeah, why don't you make some noise so everyone can see how fucking needy you are for me?" Bucky growled, gripping your face with one hand, forcing you to keep your eyes on him as his other hand bunched your skirt up to your waist.

You let out a chuckle, "I'm not the one going to make noise here." you warned before reaching down to palm his erection.

Bucky hissed and bit his lip hard to prevent himself from eliciting a moan. His jaw ticked as he squeezed your face tighter, forcing you to open your mouth as his eyes scanned your features.

"Watch your fucking mouth, baby. I still own you, you're fucking mine." he said through gritted teeth, his eyes lidded as he looked down at you like a predator.

You kept your mouth closed but as soon as Bucky's fingers found your damp panties, you weren't able to stop your whimper. Bucky took the opportunity and spit in your mouth before crashing his lips against yours in a messy kiss. It was all tongue and spit, the way he kissed you as his fingers rubbed at your folds through the thin fabric of your underwear.

He kissed you like he owned you.

"I'm not yours, Bucky." you said as your hands quickly unbuckled his belt, unzipping his trousers and pulling out his hard cock from the confines of his boxers.

The groan that reverberated from Bucky's chest as you stroked him made you smirk. His hand on your face slid down to your neck, holding you tightly as he pushed aside your underwear and then he slid into you with no prior warning. The lack of foreplay made it hurt when he bottomed out, but the pain quickly turned into pleasure when Bucky started moving his hips against yours.

No words were further exchanged from then on. Only soft whimpers and hushed grunts could be heard. However, it was clear that even up until now, there was competition. You didn't want to make noise, didn't want to lose to Bucky. You didn't want to give him the pleasure of knowing how fucking good he was making you feel right now, with how each drag of his cock was making your toes curl inside your heels.

Your hands held onto his broad shoulders as he fucked you against the table, the fabric of his suit bunching up against your fingers. Bucky kept his gaze on you and not once did you falter, not even when the tip of his cock hit your cervix, almost punching the air out of your lungs.

Bucky held the back of your thighs and lifted you up, sitting you on the edge of the table and bending forward so he could angle his cock in a way that you would feel it deep within you. Your legs automatically wrapped around his waist, one of your hands scratching at his jaw as he continued to pound your sopping cunt.

"God, fucking missed this pussy. Can feel you clamping down on my cock, you gonna cum soon?" he asked, pressing the tip of his nose against yours.

You clamped a hand over your mouth, muffling the wanton moan that Bucky pounded out of you. Not wanting to be the only one to make noise, you clenched around him hard. Bucky let out a growl at how your walls squeezed his cock, his balls tightening as his own orgasm approached.

"Cum for me, Bucky." you whimpered, tipping your head up to lick at Bucky's mouth as your legs tightened around his waist to pull him deeper into you.

Bucky exhaled heavily through his nose, the veins on his neck popping out as he fucked your harder on the table. He kept his hand wrapped around your neck while the other held onto your waist so tight, you could feel his fingers digging deep into your skin. Even with your clothes on, you were sure that you'll be getting bruises from how hard his grip on you was.

"Go on, Bucky. Want your cum inside, want to feel you fill me up again." you moaned against his parted lips, darting your tongue out to taste his mouth.

The needy tone of your voice sent Bucky to the edge first. He uttered a string of curses under his breath as ropes of his cum painted your walls with their warmth with triggered your orgasm. Your body convulsed as waves of pleasure ran through your veins, starting from your fingertips down to your toes. Bucky kissed you and swallowed your moans as his thrusts slowed down.

It took a while for the both of you to recover from the intense fucking. Bucky nuzzled your neck with his nose, his heavy breaths warming up your sweaty skin. There was a short moment of peace that followed, the tension gone and was replaced by a heavy feeling.

You swallowed hard and slowly regained your senses. The release cleared your mind and the memories of the heated exchange from earlier were quick to come back. Bucky's accusations echoed in your ear and they were so clear it almost felt like he was saying them to you again.

Suddenly, you doubted Bucky's intentions when he promoted you. Was he really impressed of your skills at work or was it because you let him fuck you?

"Get off of me." you said, pushing at Bucky's chest until he straightened up.

Ignoring the emptiness you felt when his cock slipped out of you, you hopped down from the table and started fixing yourself. In the many times you had slept with Bucky, it was the first time that you felt disgusted with yourself.

You turned your back to Bucky as you adjusted your underwear, pulling down your skirt and pressing your palms against the fabric to iron out the creases. Your breath was heavy as you processed what had just happened. And just like that, your reserve broke and the strong facade you had built crumbled down into pieces, leaving you vulnerable.

"Hey, are you okay? Did I hurt you?" Bucky suddenly asked when he heard your sniffing, the darkness in his features gone.

His eyes were back to blue and there was nothing but genuine concern when he saw the tears in your eyes. Bucky tried to approach you but you quickly backed away from him, your arms wrapping around yourself as protection.

"Did you hurt me?" you scoffed. "In more ways than one, Bucky." you quickly added, wiping away your tears hastily with the back of your hand.

You were about to walk out of the conference but decided that it was probably time for you to actually speak up about everything. How you felt for him and how much you hated him for coming at you like that.

"I was going to admit that I like you. I thought about it and figured that I was too proud and a bit selfish for not considering your feelings when I rejected you." you explained.

Bucky blinked in confusion, "What? When?"

You shrugged, "The day you brought in Mackenzie. And I was more hurt than mad that you did that. Because you knew how much this job means to me and you had used it against me. You basically took advantage of my weakness, for what? To get me to cave in? Even when I clearly told you how fucking scared I was of the consequences of whatever kind of relationship we have?" you huffed out.

You didn't allow Bucky to speak, not yet. Not until you were done making him understand why you had been so hell-bent on keeping things professional.

"I wasn't born into a rich family like you, Bucky. I had to work my way up to where I am. Unlike you, I have a family to support and if I lose this job, it's not only me who would suffer. And it won't be easy for me to find another one, not after the reputation I'd have once we get busted." you further explained.

"I told you about it so many times and I wish you listened. Because maybe we could've figured shit out. Or I don't know, maybe the fucking was too good and you only wanted me for that." you shrugged.

Bucky quickly shook his head, "No. God no, you're more than that."

You chuckled again, a fresh wave of tears flooding the corners of your eyes. "It most definitely felt like it when you accused me of fucking Sam."

"Fuck, I'm sorry. Let me explain, please? I didn't mean to, I was too--"

"No, Bucky. You didn't listen to me when I told you how I felt about us. Now you're going to know how it feels to not to get what you want." you sternly said before walking over to the door.

You turned back at Bucky and refused to let his expression get to you. He looked devastated, his eyes glassy from the tears he had been holding back, his lips parted as he finally realized what he had done.

"Expect my resignation letter by tomorrow. As soon as we're done with the launch, I'm out."

-

The Match Special Tags:

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Everything Bucky Tag List:

@ddowii @jessou893 @stealapizzamyheart @bagelofthelord @mxnt @dontputyourfckingdrinkonmytable @jeeperky @ohladymacbeth @wildflowergubler @supraveng @twinerd14 @buckysmar @bakugouswh0r3 @sweetcoldharmony @wintersfilm @charminivy @amelia-song-pond @iamvalentinaconstanza @mcubqrnes @im-squished @tcc-gizmachine @sipsteacasually @prettyintopeerpressure @weloveyasmin @est19xxshit @bloodhon3yx @dressed-in-prada @lizette50 @thatfangirl42 @sunflowerbunny2 @unmagically @okiegirl24 @sugarpunch-princess @enlyume @vvipgotbb @slimeyderp @lyoongx @just-deka @nobody-will @jaziona92 @elisebuitron @dpaccione @suvikamahes98blr @buckybarneshairpullingkink @earthtonav @x-judyjude-x @nani-kenobi @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @belladonnabarnes @iloveangstposts @weenersoldierr​ @asemistablehundredyearoldman @reidbuck @lizzarooni @girlfriday007​ @bonkywobble​ @lost-in-the-stars03​ @its-yasbxtch​ @whoth3hellisbucky​

[tokusmuts]

Double A (Ayaka x Asakura)

Characters: Hidden male character x Imoto Ayaka x Yui Asakura

Category: Oneshot, Anal Sex, Threesome

P/s: This is my first story so really hope you guys will enjoy it

“1…2…3! Take a shot!"

Ayaka and Asakura - my two new wives are having a trip together, generally going around all kinds of places, and in each place, they take a few pictures to save, or send to me. must have a craving. It was also from the same intention that the two of them not only took pictures wearing clothes, but also had to take some pictures with only underwear so that passers-by would only think that they were taking pictures of Gravure, but the group took pictures. They couldn't go together, so they had to take pictures of each other. That morning, the photographer was Yui, and the model was Imoto, and the scene was a road near the seaport. I was lying at home enjoying a glass of watermelon juice when the phone rang for the first time, Yui sent me 2 photos of Ayaka in a pink and purple 2-piece bikini that accentuated her well-proportioned body, while she is still 18 years old. Although her breasts may be small but still fit to squeeze, the proportionate waist combined with the full lower body is suitable to bury my face between her legs to suck her wet cunt or put my dick in her butt to play Doggy style. The two girls then had a delicious lunch at the seaport before continuing their journey in the afternoon, and at sunset, they stopped at a grassland to take pictures. The model this time is Yui, and the photographer is Imoto. As soon as the photo was taken, my SMS popped up with a continuous notification with 4 photos in a row. Admittedly, Ayaka took really good photos by the color of the sunset perspective, but who cares about those things when the main subject of the picture is the hot girl Yui Asakura. Indeed, when a girl reaches the age of 25, everything seems to be developed to the maximum. She may not have a good height, but her voluptuous body is something that no rich man does not want: A cute face like a child but with round, smooth breasts, waistline Slim and quality lower body, you want to eat her wherever you look.

7.00 P.M

The two girls with armpits carried a bunch of gifts bought from the seaport, loaded them with two huge paper bags, and were still laughing and talking about all kinds of things when the smell of food hit them directly. Anyway, I still have to feed the two girls before they can be strong enough to fight all night. Of course, Ayaka was still going through puberty, so she excitedly ran to the dining table and started talking to me first, while Asakura was slower to put two bags of souvenirs in the closet before going back to dinner. While Ayaka was eating while talking about today's outing bit by bit, Asakura just added a few details to Ayaka's story and focused on the meal, but still didn't forget to ask me one question:

"Do the two of us look pretty today?"

“Isn't that enough for the two of you to be praised now?”

“Well, we still want to hear more!” - 2 of them replied in unison

"Pretty! OK?"

"Thanks, honey!"

Actually, from this morning until now, with the number of photos sent by the two girls, it is enough for me to masturbate to reduce cravings. But anyway, eating real food is better than looking at some pictures and imagining sex. But when I was still thinking about it, the two wives had already finished their meal. I advocate eating a little more to recharge so that I can make love later, so eat longer and let the two girls have a little time to relax, start the Elder Ring game sound from the living room, and so I have more time to rest. And when I was making milk for the two of them, Yui suddenly got up, she took her bag and went out but still didn't forget to tell me first.

"I'll go out and buy more tissues! The house is out of paper!"

"OK! Be sure to come back soon!"

So Ayaka and I will drink milk first, and also help her deal with Margit the Fell Omen. I didn't have any difficulty and easily defeated her making her frown even in displeasure

“You should have come out to help us sooner!”

“If the two of you can win on your own, then the victory will have meaning!”

"True! Anyway, let's go to the room and help me change clothes!"

“OK”

You must be wondering why I was able to get in with Ayaka to help her change clothes, right? The reason is very simple: I have to make love to my wives every day for at least 2-3 times a night, each other's bodies can see it all, so there's nothing to be afraid of anymore, right? Back in the bedroom, Ayaka took off her dress and let it fall to the ground until now I could see her body in flesh, not through pictures, she then put the dress in the washing machine so that tonight, all three people's clothes will be washed in one batch. She kept working and forgot that I was behind her and couldn't stand it anymore

“Can you go to the wardrobe to get me…Ah!”

Before she could finish her sentence, she was stopped by my arms hugging her from behind. She immediately noticed that I was starting to get hungry, so she also started interacting with me

"Honey, can't you take it anymore?"

"It's strange that I can stand seeing you like this!"

“But Yui-san hasn't come back yet! Do you need to wait?”

"No need! Soon, Yui will join the fray!”

After that was when I picked up Ayaka and threw her straight on the big bed, she lay there and started making erotic acts and inviting me to bed while I went to get a towel to tie her hand. I spread her arms over the headboard and tied them with the towel I found. After we finished our work, she and I started with a light French kiss, I must say that her lips are still really attractive even though I have tasted them many times, but I can't just only kiss her lips, right? And so my hand was warmed up by stroking the outside of her panties causing her whole body to contort non-stop, her thighs were constantly rubbing together making my hands stick even more tightly to her panties. After fully enjoying her lips, I once again looked at her entire body.

"So do you want to eat me now?" - she started flirting with me again

"Why not?"

I leaned down again and kissed her on the lips again before lifting her bra, which slid over her arms until it stopped at her eye level. Right! I used her bra to cover her eyes. And now that her breasts are liberated, but I can't yet rush in and suck those pinkish-red nipples even though they're all standing up, I still want her emotions to rise even more. And so now the other hand has also begun to work when its job is to play with her nipples, they are massaged so passionately that she let out heavy groans.

“Please…quickly suck my nipples, honey! Don't just play with them like that!"

Sure enough, her lust was on the rise, and I couldn't wait any longer and started sucking on her nipples. The sweetness of her nipples filled my mouth, my tongue kicking around it and sucking and pulling it up again. While I was massaging her nipples, her panties were all wet!

"Why is my wife's cunt all wet?"

"Because it wants to be cleaned by you, my dear!"

"Then I have to help my beloved wife!"

I moved away from her breasts and then go straight down between her legs, I slowly took off her panties and tossed it to the corner of the room. With this wetness, I didn't need to stimulate her any further so I immediately went up to her cunt and started licking all the sexual aftertaste on it and then used my tongue to straight into her ass. As a natural reflex, she clamped her legs together again, which also pressed my head more tightly between hers.

"That's right! Come on, honey! Kimochi!”

At the same time, Asakura also arrived home. The moment she opened the door was also when Ayaka's high-pitched moans were released and resounded, causing Asakura to rush inside and close the door. Looking towards the bedroom, she didn't know what else to say

"This girl doesn't know what to mean!"

This is also because this house has been warned several times by the orderly side of the street for causing disorder in the area. But even saying that she still couldn't stay out of the game. She threw the tissue bag and her long dress on the sofa, then slowly entered the room, taking off her yellow underwear but still not forgetting the sign

“You two played again without inviting me! It won't be okay for me to have to come in later like this!"

I was leaning over Ayaka's cunt but I had to look up and turn my head to see Asakura now completely naked. She slowly made her way to the bed and lay beside Ayaka, then took the blindfold that was supposed to be used to blindfold Ayaka.

"Eat me too, honey!" - Asakura said with her usual sweet voice

How could I refuse an offer like this, I took off my clothes, put my already hard cock inside Ayaka's cunt, and started to push her hard, Ayaka held my waist by her legs while my hands began to move to massage Asakura's body, one hand stabbing her crotch, the other hand squeezing her breasts hard, and my lips stuck to hers, I kissed her lips passionately even though Ayaka was still moaning louder and louder. My thrusts on Ayaka made her uncontrollable

“Come on, husband! I'm going to cum!" - said Ayaka when she was about to reach orgasm

"Me too, Ayaka" - I said while still engrossed in kissing Asakura

The speed of the thrusts showed no sign of slowing down but increasing, but I couldn't forget Asakura either. After enjoying her wonderful heart-shaped lips, I lifted her a little bit and her breasts were now level with mine, I opened my mouth without hesitation and took her breasts in my mouth. Sure enough, big breasts like Asakura made people want to suck more than Ayaka, but when it comes to the lower part, it's on par. Speaking of the clitoris, we need to back with Ayaka, she's already very close to orgasm, just a few more thrusts, and both she and I will reach orgasm.

“I'm cumming! I'm cumming! Come on, honey!"

And then whatever happened had to happen. After a final shout from her, I fired a full load inside her. Ayaka lay there gasping for breath while I moved my dick to Asakura's cunt.

"Next one!" - I said with a tone that couldn't be more satisfying

I leaned over Ayaka and brought Asakura's chest close to Ayaka's mouth. Ayaka was just waiting for that and immediately took Asakura's nipple into her mouth. And so while I was nudging Asakura's cunt, Ayaka and I each sucked on one of Asakura's breasts, and my hands kept pulling out and poking at Ayaka's cunt. This time the moaning duty was left to Asakura and she didn't let me down. Asakura's already-sweet voice when used for moaning has indeed increased by several times.

"I'm so happy, honey! Much more!”

And then similar to Ayaka, the more I pushed, the louder Asakura groaned, and in the end, she reached her climax. You would think that repeatedly fucking two girls will make me tired and can't continue, right? That's a very wrong thought because a normal day is 2-3 rounds, isn't it just 1 round like this today? And so I flipped them over and gave my beloved wives a Doggy-style round one each, and we just wrapped around each other and made love until 3 a.m., when they were both completely passed out. I lay between the two of them and fell into a deep sleep

[joealwyndaily]

With lead roles in the Sally Rooney adaptation Conversations With Friends and Claire Denis’s new film, there may be nothing the notoriously low-key actor (and Grammy-winning songwriter) can do about becoming deeply, irrevocably famous

When Joe Alwyn was starting out as an actor, he went to great lengths to psych himself up for scenes that required deep emotional excavation. 2016’s Billy Lynn’s Long Halftime Walk – Alwyn’s plucked-from-drama-school debut, in which he played the titular American soldier with undiagnosed PTSD – featured a scene that required him to conjure a full emotional breakdown, blubbering in the arms of Kristen Stewart, who was playing his sister. In the lead-up to the scene, he plodded around a car park set in Atlanta, Georgia, at 5am, like a stroppy teenager, getting himself in the headspace to force hot, salty tears out of his eye sockets. It wasn’t just him. “Kristen was storming around the car, hitting the car and working herself into whatever place she needed to get to,” Alwyn says. “I remember not wanting to go back and rest [while they were waiting to get started]. Hopefully I’ve chilled out on that a bit now.” At the time, they were two young actors carrying the weight of a £30 million movie on their shoulders, believing that if they didn’t sell this key moment, the whole project could be undermined. In the end, though the scene was well executed, the film didn’t quite wash its face at the box office. There’s only so much you can do.

Now, six years into a career that started in a whirlwind, Alwyn is realising that it’s better to just relax and let things happen. “Sometimes the more I sit apart and turn it into this thing – that you have to generate an emotion – the harder it is once you get there,” Alwyn says. He’s sitting in a London hotel’s banal restaurant picking at a French omelette. His hair, no longer carrying the weighty, pandemic locks he’s been sporting for the past two years, looks like it’s been tousled minutes ago. In Conversations With Friends – the new Sally Rooney TV adaptation that threatens to turn Alwyn into an object of great thirst like Normal People’s Paul Mescal before him – filming the emotional crescendo was a comparative breeze. As Nick, a married actor in his 30s who’s been having an affair with 21-year-old wallflower Frances (Alison Oliver), Alwyn wears his sadness in his facial expressions. But in a scene that arrives late in the 12-part series, sitting in a vintage BMW, on the phone to someone he loved and lost, Alwyn tries to prevent his voice from shaking and halt the quiver in his lip, the tears streaking down his face betray him. “I wasn’t being weird that day,” he says. “I think [the waterworks] probably did [come easily].” He chalks it up to the quality of the writing, but accepts that it might have something to do with his own personal growth, too. “There’s something weirdly cathartic about it. Even though it’s not you.”

Alwyn doesn’t remember the last time he cried in real life. But the most pivotal moments in his career to date have revolved around heaving sobs. While he has developed a reputation among the press as one of the most guarded rising stars, predominantly for his unwillingness to spill details on his relationship with Taylor Swift, he is becoming known in the industry for his sensitivity and vulnerability. “He’s an exceptional actor,” Billy Lynn director Ang Lee told me in an email. “He had a talent which is rare in my experience, and I can spot it a mile away.” Alwyn was in his second year of drama school when he was picked for the role, which represented a gamble for Lee and the studios that backed the film. A middle-class, first-time actor from Tufnell Park being flown into Georgia to play a Texan? It was a rogue move – there were any number of fresh-faced young actors with bums-on-seats star power that could have gone in his stead. But Lee wanted to make it work. “Because he was fresh, he had a certain innocence and honesty that I could explore. That was important to the movie, because it was a story about innocence and disillusionment from war.” You can see it in the film, too – a face that could be anywhere between 12 and 21 years old, those big, wet eyes that can express joy, hope and pain from one second to the next.

Conversations With Friends represents Alwyn’s career coming of age. In the time since Lee’s film catapulted him onto the upper echelon of Hollywood’s good-looking, boyish Brits wish list, he’s been hopping between supporting roles in films by auteurs such as Yorgos Lanthimos, Joanna Hogg and Claire Denis, and acting opposite (and learning from) the likes of Olivia Colman, Emma Stone and Saoirse Ronan. At 31, he’s just about aged out of teen roles and into a far more interesting space. In Conversations, his eyes are weighed down by bags that tell us much more about Nick’s backstory of depression and exhaustion than he is initially willing to. Like Lee before him, the show’s director Lenny Abrahamson (who also helped Rooney adapt the wildly successful Normal People) saw what Alwyn can do. “Subtlety, vulnerability, charisma,” Abrahamson says. “Watching Nick, the audience needs to feel how deeply attractive and compelling he is to Frances, while at the same time accepting that, from [Frances’ best friend] Bobbi’s perspective, he might plausibly come across as muted, even flat. Joe managed to find a kind of glow to the character when really closely observed – like a force that only operates over small distances.”

Abrahamson recalls a moment where Alwyn elevated Rooney’s work. “Frances tells Nick she doesn’t want to wreck his marriage and Nick’s line is that his marriage has survived several affairs already... but that he’s never been a party to them. Joe chose to play this with a self-deprecating humour which made what could have been a bitter or diminishing moment into a vulnerable and somehow impressive one.”

If the wider public hasn’t yet fully understood why so many important people want a piece of him, they soon will.

To hear Joe Alwyn tell it, the last six years have been... pretty normal, actually. Sure, he made his big-screen debut as a leading man while most of his drama school peers were fighting over panto gigs, and yeah, he did start dating one of the most famous women on the planet, but other than that, nothing to write home about. “[Newfound fame] was not really something I thought about a huge amount. There was no awareness of some kind of shift, I still felt exactly the same,” he says.

Billy Lynn didn’t totally complete his takeover of the zeitgeist, but he’s been landing supporting roles in high-profile films ever since. Alwyn’s life remains largely the same. He still has the same close-knit group of friends from school, he still lives in North London. When he’s not away working, his day-to-day involves going to the pub or the cinema, reading scripts (he fell in love with a Paul Schrader film he was attached to, but it ultimately fell apart due to the pandemic), playing football – that kind of thing.

Not even the paparazzi or the tabloids, who would dedicate a double-page spread to him if he sneezed and it sounded vaguely like “Taylor”, have been able to dampen his spirits. “I think because the precedent was set – that our choice is to be private and not feed that side of things – the more you do that, hopefully, the more that intrusiveness or intrigue drops off.”

Throughout our conversation, Alwyn directs lots of questions back at me, but he’s not deflecting, he’s genuinely interested. He tells me he still doesn’t get recognised in the street, but that may change once Conversations lands.

Luckily for Alwyn, there was already a Sally Rooney Male Lead Starter Pack waiting for him when he landed the role (short shorts, gold chain, inability to communicate feelings, check, check, check). He had seen and loved Normal People in lockdown and admired how tonally different it felt to everything else on TV at the time. “[Rooney and Abrahamson] are so good at just spending time with people in a room talking or not talking. It’s not hugely narrative-driven. I like the messiness of it, and the complexity of it.” Soon after he was cast, a mutual friend created a WhatsApp group with him and Paul Mescal called The Tortured Man Club, “which is I guess a reflection on [Mescal’s character in Normal People] Connell and Nick.”

They exchanged texts and eventually met in Abrahamson’s house in Dublin while the show was filming. “He’s a lovely, lovely guy,” Alwyn says. He still hasn’t met Rooney, though she was involved in the casting (she stepped back after the early planning stage). He has exchanged a few emails with her, including one discussing a playlist she made for the character of Nick (she does this for all of her characters, Alwyn says), which features songs from The National, Pavement and Kanye West. “I remember Sally saying about The National, Nick has that kind of downbeat, tired, but still vaguely charismatic quality to him as they do in their music.”

Arguably the biggest challenge he faced along the way was nailing down Nick’s very specific south Dublin accent. Abrahamson gave him the option of keeping his own, but they eventually agreed to stick to the original text (Sasha Lane’s Bobbi was already retrofitted as American). “I listened to people like Andrew Scott and Tom Vaughan-Lawlor and that kind of middle-class south Dublin accent. [Nick’s] is quite anglicised, there was the idea that he would have been to drama school in London, and he has a British wife and so maybe some of those sounds have been softened as well.” (Like fellow Brit Daisy Edgar-Jones before him, he ended up more or less spot-on).

He’s not currently worried about how the show, if it’s received even half as voraciously as Normal People, will impact his super-normal life. “I know it sounds slightly lame, but my only thought about it is that I hope people really like it.”

Alwyn's pandemic wasn't quite so normal. Somewhere in the stagnation of lockdown, he wrote a few songs with Swift on a whim, which went on to win some Grammys. Mucking about on the piano and trying his hand at composition for the first time since being in a band at school (they were called Anger Management and performed Marilyn Manson and Korn covers), he wound up creating the melody and first verse of “Exile”, arguably the standout track on Swift’s eighth studio album Folklore.

“It was really the most accidental thing to happen in lockdown. It wasn’t like, ‘It’s three o’clock, it’s time to write a song!’ It was just messing around on a piano and singing badly and being overheard and then thinking, you know, what if we tried to get to the end of it together?” It was surreal when his musings that quickly became sketches and then an actual track would go on to be produced by The National’s Aaron Dessner with vocals by Bon Iver’s Justin Vernon. “Sending it to Justin with the idea of doing a duet and getting voice notes back of him singing over the top and stuff was surreal. It was a perk of lockdown.” On the album’s credits, he goes by the pseudonym William Bowery (a mash-up of his great-grandfather’s first name and an area he likes in New York), but Swift eventually gave the game away. They kept his participation in Folklore and its follow-up Evermore (two co-writing credits on the former, three on the latter) a secret because they knew it was all people would talk about. “The idea was that people would just listen to the music rather than focus on the fact that we wrote it together.” While he has no plans to write more music, he cherished the experience. “It was fun to do it together, and I was proud of it. It was nice getting such a positive reception.” Is there a version of “Exile” out there with him singing on it? “Jesus, there’s probably a voice note somewhere that should be burned.”

After our dimly lit breakfast, we head for a walk by the canal in King’s Cross. It’s a warm, grey day, and there’s a woman running backwards down the path, glancing over her shoulder every other second to avoid clattering into us. “Maybe she’s in Tenet,” Alwyn quips, and then later, when she runs past us again the correct way, “maybe we’re in Tenet”. He’s dragging along a suitcase, as he’s about to head to Paris to put down some additional dialogue for Claire Denis’sThe Stars At Noon, the other massive project he’s got dropping in May (it’s premiering in competition at Cannes). He shot the film straight after Conversations last year, swapping Belfast for Panama. “The premise is two strangers meet in Nicaragua amid climate and political turmoil. They fall for each other and have to escape to the border. It’s a romance/ thriller... Jesus, I don’t know. We’ll see.”

Before he rushes off for his train, I ask a question that’s been looming over our conversation. Given the reputation he has developed among journalists for keeping schtum about his relationship (fair enough), how comfortable does he feel answering questions about his own life? “I honestly don’t mind. I’m probably not very good at talking about myself.” He hesitates. “I’m sure I’ve come across as guarded in the past. And it’s a mix of me being British and having a private life. But I don’t want to be going into these things guarded.”

There’s a difference between being guarded and being quite understandably private, we agree, before parting ways.

The day after our conversation, Alwyn goes viral for the most inconsequential thing – tell- ing an interviewer that he’s got no intention of confirming whether or not he and Swift are engaged. There’s only so much you can do.

PRODUCTION CREDITS: Photographs by Fumi Homma  Styling by Angelo Mitakos Tailoring by Faye Oakenfull Grooming by Jody Taylor Set design by Molly Marot Movement director, Harry Clark