#vita familiare

[dedoholistic]

Diario Culinario di una Mamma in Quarantena di Valeria Gatti. Recensione di Maria Teresa De Donato

WWWItalia.eu – Quotidiano di Cultura, Politica e Tempo Libero

Diario Culinario di una Mamma in Quarantena di Valeria Gatti. Recensione di Maria Teresa De Donato

[viovio]

urbanspook is shit and only now am I just properly hating it. you can't pay me to watch it though

[pikminenjoyer]

Starting Jingo rn

[chisungie]

.

[forgottenbones]

Jeeves and Wooster ~ Lost in Adaptation

[maurobroccalifecoach]

Scopri il "Piccolo Manuale di Conversazione Domestica" di Mauro Brocca e impara come la PNL può trasformare la comunicazione e le relazioni in famiglia. Migliora l'ascolto, risolvi i conflitti, rafforza l'autostima e crea armonia nella tua vita domestica.

[divulgatoriseriali]

Disney e la Psicologia dello Sviluppo: Esplorare, Apprendere e Crescere con i Cartoni Disney

Disney e Psicologia dello Sviluppo è una guida che trasforma le storie Disney in preziose chiavi psicologiche per genitori e bambini. Con questo libro vi offro un modo delicato per affrontare argomenti emotivamente impegnativi durante la visione dei film Disney preferiti, arricchendo l’esperienza con suggerimenti pratici e stimoli per l’intera famiglia. Continue reading Disney e la Psicologia…

[joelmillerisapunk]

Tastes like strawberries

Dbf!Joel miller x f!reader

Masterlist

Wordcount: 6,367 (ma bad)

Summary: after accidentally sending your dads best friend a provocative photo meant for someone else you go to "apologize" in person.

Warnings: 18+, age gap (make it your own), handcuffs, scissors, power imbalance, alcohol consumption, f&m oral receiving, joel wrecks your clothes, unprotected p in v, reader has hair and wears a dress, just two consenting adults

Notes: this wasn't meant to be so long. But here we are. Thank you for reading hope you like it <3 Thank you @syd-djarin @joelslegalwhre and @mountainsandmayhem for beta'ing sending you all smooches! and @saradika-graphics for the divider <3 <3 <3

The soft glow of your phone screen illuminates your face in the dimly lit room. Your heart races with a mix of excitement and nerves as you craft the perfect message to the guy you've been chatting with on Tinder. His name is Joel, and he seems different from the others—charming, mature, and undeniably intriguing.

With a deep breath, you attach the sexy photo you'd taken earlier, one that you hope he'll find irresistible. You type out a flirty caption, double-check the name at the top of the chat, and hit send before you can second-guess yourself.

The next morning, you wake up to a message notification. Your heart leaps, thinking it's Tinder Joel, but as you reach for your phone, a sense of dread washes over you. The message is from your father's best friend, Joel Miller, a man you've known since childhood and who has seen you grow up. The preview of the message from last night is enough to make your blood run cold.

11:58PM: I think you might have sent this to the wrong person, sweetheart.

Panic sets in as you read the full message and your face flames with embarrassment. You type out a flurry of apologies, each one more frantic than the last. Joel's response is swift and unexpected.

8:05AM: It's all good, baby girl. You don't need those Tinder boys when I'm right here for ya.

The message is accompanied by a winking emoji, and despite your mortification, you can't help but feel a thrill at the familiarity and warmth in his words. 

—

Determined to apologize in person and clear the air, you find yourself outside the sleek glass building that houses Joel's wine company Vita Vino: where every sip is a celebration of life. You certainly don't feel very celebratory at this moment as the receptionist leads you up to the top floor, where Joel's office overlooks the city with floor-to-ceiling windows.

You step into the office, where you see the cityscape sprawling behind Joel. He rises from his desk, a smile playing on his lips, his presence commanding the room. "Come in, sweetheart, was hopin’ to see ya," he says and winks.

You manage to find your voice, despite the fluttering in your chest. "Mr. Miller, I can't tell you how sorry I am. I was mortified when I realized - I don't know what I was thinking, it was meant for someone—"

He cuts you off with a gentle raise of his hand to still your frantic words. "Please call me Joel, you know better than callin me that. It's okay darlin. Really. These things happen."

You look up at him, searching his face for any sign of judgement, but find only a calm, reassuring smile. "I just—I never meant for you to see that. I feel so stupid.”

Joel's smile broadens, and he takes a step closer. "You have nothing to feel stupid about. You're a beautiful, confident woman. Ain't no shame in that. Listen, what you sent—it was for my eyes only from the moment it reached my phone. I want you to know that you can trust me. I would never disrespect you by sharing that with anyone.”

His words resonate with you, and you feel the weight of your embarrassment start to lift. "I appreciate that, Joel. I really do."

He takes a step toward you, closing the distance between you two. His hand lifts, and you feel the warmth of his fingers as they gently tilt your chin up, forcing your gaze to meet his. "You've got nothing to thank me for darlin. I'm just being honest with you."

The intensity of his stare sends a jolt of electricity through you. He's close enough now that you can feel the heat radiating off his body, and the scent of his cologne fills your senses, making your head spin. But before you can respond, he releases your chin and moves to the side, gesturing toward a large, framed map of the world's wine regions that hangs on the wall. As you both turn to look at it, your bodies are almost touching, and you can feel the subtle brush of his arm against yours.

"I want to show you something," he says, pointing to a very tiny out of the way region highlighted in gold. "It's where we get the grapes for our signature blend. You know, just like those grapes, sometimes the best things in life are unexpected surprises." 

As he explains the intricacies of the wine-making process, his hand drifts to the small of your back, a possessive gesture that sends a shiver down your spine. His touch is light, but the message is clear—he's staking a claim. 

As Joel's hand lingers on the small of your back, his thumb traces small, intimate circles that make it hard to focus on his words about wine. The room seems to shrink, the city outside the windows fading into insignificance as your awareness narrows to the man beside you.

 You swallow hard, your breath hitching as Joel's thumb continues its maddeningly delightful exploration. The heat from his hand seems to seep through the fabric of your clothes, branding your skin with his touch. "Joel," you whisper, your voice barely above a murmur. His name feels foreign and familiar on your lips.

He turns to look at you. "Yes, darlin'?" he replies, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through you.

You take a deep breath, steadying yourself against the intoxicating effect he has on you. "I -I should go," you say, though the words feel hollow even as they leave your mouth. The last thing you want is to leave this room and the spell Joel has cast over you.

A slow smile spreads across his face, and he shakes his head slightly. "Do you really want to leave?" he asks, his hand pressing ever so slightly into your back, urging you closer.

The question hangs in the air between you, charged with anticipation and the promise of something deliciously forbidden. You know that saying yes will irrevocably change things between you and Joel Miller—the man who is friends with your father—but in this moment, none of that seems to matter. 

The air between you crackles with tension, the weight of your decision pressing down on you. You're acutely aware of the way your heart is pounding in your chest, the way your breath has become shallow and rapid. Joel's eyes are locked onto yours, a silent challenge that dares you to take a leap into the unknown.

"No," you admit, the word tasting like a confession. "I don't want to leave."

The smile that lights up Joel's face is predatory, triumphant. "Good girl," he murmurs, the approval in his voice sends a thrill through you. He steps back, giving you both a moment to breathe, to let the gravity of your decision settle in the space between you. "I've got something special I've been saving for an occasion like this," Joel says. He moves toward a polished wooden cabinet on the far side of the room. The cabinet is locked, but he produces a key from his pocket with a flourish that makes you smile despite the tension coiling in your belly.

Inside the cabinet is an array of exquisite bottles, each one surely holding a story as rich and complex as its contents. Joel's hand lingers over them before finally selecting one with a label that looks older than you are. "This," he says, holding it up to the light so you can see the liquid within, "is a 1947 Cheval Blanc. One of the finest vintages ever produced."

Your eyes widen at the sight of it. "Joel, I can't... that must be worth a fortune," you protest weakly, even as part of you yearns to experience such rare luxury.

He chuckles softly, shaking his head as he retrieves two crystal glasses from the cabinet. "Money isn't everything, darlin'." His gaze meets yours again, filled with an intensity that takes your breath away. "I can't think of anyone I'd rather share this with than you."

You watch in silence as he expertly uncorks the bottle and pours a small amount into each glass, the wine swirling like liquid rubies. He hands one to you and then raises his own in a toast. "To unexpected surprises," he says with a knowing smile.

The wine is velvet on your tongue, rich and complex with layers of flavor that seem to unfold endlessly as you sip it. You close your eyes for a moment, savoring the experience—and when you open them again Joel is watching you with an intensity that makes your knees weak. The atmosphere in the room has shifted, becoming charged with a desire that's as intoxicating as the wine you're sharing.

"You look so beautiful when you enjoy something.” 

As the last drops of the exquisite wine coat your throat, you lower your glass, your senses heightened by the rich flavors and the man standing before you. Joel's gaze is fixed on you, his eyes dark with desire that mirrors the pulsing need growing within you. He takes a step closer, the heat of his body enveloping you as he reaches out to brush a stray lock of hair behind your ear.

"I want to show you more than just wine," he says, his voice a low growl that sends shivers down your spine. "There's a whole world of pleasures I can introduce you to.”

“Joel, I dont know what to say.” 

“Nothin’, you dont have to say anything pretty girl.” 

As the last drops of the Cheval Blanc dance on your tongue, Joel takes a step closer, his gaze never leaving yours. He reaches out to take your glass, setting it aside on a nearby table. His fingers graze yours in the process, sending a jolt of electricity up your arm. You're acutely aware of the warmth of his body, the way his shirt stretches across his broad chest, the subtle hint of stubble along his jawline.

Joel turns back to the wine cabinet to return the precious bottle to its place of honor. As he opens the cabinet door, there's a soft clinking sound, and something metallic tumbles out from one of the shelves, landing with a thud on the plush carpet at your feet.

You both glance down simultaneously. There, gleaming under the soft glow of the office lights, is a pair of handcuffs. They're not just any handcuffs—they're high-quality, with a polished finish that suggests they've been well cared for. Your eyes widen in surprise, and you can feel a heat creeping up your cheeks as you look back at Joel.

"Well, that's not something I expected to show you today," he says with a sheepish grin, rubbing the back of his neck in a rare display of awkwardness.

You stare at the handcuffs and then back at Joel, your heart pounding in your chest. "Are those...?" You trail off, unable to finish the sentence.

Joel chuckles softly, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he nods. "Yes, they are.”

You're not sure what to think, you can only imagine how many women he's used those on, right here in his office. The thought sends a thrill through you, a mix of jealousy and excitement at the idea of being one of those women, of sharing in this secret, kinky side of Joel that he's kept hidden from the world. "I didn't peg you for the type," you say.

Joel's eyes lock onto yours, the playful glint in them replaced by a serious intensity. "There's a lot you don't know about me, darlin'," he admits. "And there's a lot I'd like to show you, if you're willing.”

You know that picking up those handcuffs would be crossing a line, stepping into a world of pleasure and exploration that you've never experienced before. But the thought of surrendering control to Joel, of letting him guide you through uncharted territory, is exhilarating.

Slowly, you reach down and pick up the handcuffs, the cold metal warming in your grasp. You hold them out to Joel, your heart racing as you give him a silent nod of consent. A slow, approving smile spreads across his face as he takes the handcuffs from you. 

His fingers brush against your wrists, sending sparks of electricity through your veins. You hear the soft click of the handcuffs as they close around your wrists. The sensation of being bound, of being at Joel's mercy, is both thrilling and terrifying.

"There," he says, his breath hot against your ear as he steps in front of you, a predatory glint in his eyes. "Now you're mine."

The words send a jolt of desire through you, pooling low in your belly. You're aware of the way your body responds to his words, to the dominance radiating off him in waves. "What are you going to do with me?" you ask.

Joel's smile is wicked as he reaches out to trace the line of your jaw with his finger. "Whatever I want," he says, the promise in his voice making your knees weak. "But don't worry, darlin'. I'm going to make sure you enjoy every single second of it.”

He guides you toward the large, mahogany desk that dominates his office. The surface is clear, save for a sleek laptop and a few neatly stacked papers. With a gentle hand on your shoulder, he urges you to sit on the edge of the desk, the cool wood against your skin a stark contrast to the heat radiating from his touch.

Joel steps back, his gaze raking over you as he begins to undress and it's as if time slows down, allowing you to take in every inch of his mature, ruggedly handsome form. Joel's suit is tailored to perfection, emphasizing his broad shoulders and muscular arms. Each movement he makes stretches the fabric across his toned body. With practiced ease, he removes it and then unbuttons his crisp, white dress shirt. His chest is a canvas of sun-kissed skin pulled taut over defined pectoral muscles. A smattering of gray hair dusts his chest, trailing down his toned abdomen and disappearing into the waistband of his trousers. Joel's hands move to his belt, and with a flick of his wrist, he unbuckles it, the metallic clink echoing in the quiet room. He slides the leather out of the loops with a slow, deliberate motion. His trousers follow, pooling at his feet to reveal a pair of black boxer briefs that hug his powerful thighs and leave little to the imagination.

His arousal is evident, straining against the soft fabric, and you can't help but feel a thrill at the sight. As he pushes his boxer briefs down, his cock springs free, thick and heavy with desire. His cock is a thing of beauty, perfectly proportioned to his large frame, with a defined shaft and a bulbous head that glistens with a drop of arousal. It's clear that Joel is a man confident in his sexuality and the effect he has on you.

"Eyes up here, darlin'," he teases, but the heat in his gaze tells you he enjoys your appraisal. Joel's eyes twinkle with mischief as he reaches into the top drawer of his desk, the sound of metal against wood sending a shiver of anticipation down your spine. He produces a pair of scissors. The sight of them in his large, capable hands is intimidating. "These," he says, holding up the scissors for you to see, "are going to help me unwrap my present." His voice is filled with a promise that sends a thrill straight to your core.

You swallow hard, your breath hitching as he steps toward you. "Joel, wait—" you start to protest, but the words die on your lips as he places a finger gently against them.

"Shh... trust me," he murmurs, and there's something in his eyes that makes it impossible for you to do anything but nod in silent acquiescence. With a tenderness that belies his strength, Joel takes hold of one of the straps of your dress. The cold steel of the scissors brushes against your skin as he carefully slides the blades beneath the fabric. You feel a momentary resistance and then—snip—the strap gives way, falling limply to your side as Joel cuts through it with practiced ease. The front of your dress sags slightly, revealing more of your cleavage than intended. You can feel the heat rising in your cheeks as Joel's gaze darkens with desire. "You are exquisite," he says reverently, his fingers tracing the newly exposed skin along the neckline of your dress.

Before you can respond, he's moving again, this time cutting away the other strip of fabric that hold up the rest of your dress. The material falls away from your body like petals from a blooming flower, pooling at your waist and leaving you feeling deliciously exposed under his hungry gaze. 

"Joel!" you gasp, both startled and exhilarated by his boldness. "My dress—" 

He silences you with a kiss—a deep, searing kiss that leaves no room for doubt about how much he wants you right now. "Don't worry about it," he says when he finally pulls away, “I'll buy you ten more just like it.”

With your heart pounding in your chest, you watch as Joel's attention shifts to your bra. The scissors glint in the soft light of his office, and you can't help but hold your breath as he positions the blades against the delicate fabric of your bra strap.

"I've been wanting to see these since the moment ya walked in baby," he confesses, his voice a low growl that sends a shiver down your spine. With a swift, precise movement, he snips through the strap on one side, then the other. The bra loosens around you, but it's still held in place by the underwire and your modesty is preserved—for now.

Joel sets the scissors aside and hooks his fingers under the remaining fabric of your dress and bra. He tugs gently, peeling away the layers of clothing that separate you from his touch. You lift your hips to assist him, and with a final tug, he frees you from both garments. You're sitting before him now in nothing but your underwear, feeling more vulnerable and exposed than ever before.

Joel's eyes roam over every inch of exposed skin with an intensity that makes it clear just how much he appreciates what he sees laid out before him on his desk like some kind of erotic feast prepared just for him. "You are absolutely breathtaking," he murmurs appreciatively as his hands follow where his eyes have just been caressing every curve along its way. Joel's hands continue their exploration, his fingers skimming over the soft fabric of your underwear. You can feel the heat of his touch through the thin material, and you can't help but arch into his touch, seeking more.

"Eager, aren't we?" he teases, his fingers tracing the edge of your underwear before dipping beneath the fabric. His fingertips graze your sensitive flesh, and a gasp escapes your lips as pleasure courses through you. "I like that," he murmurs, his voice thick with desire.

Your body responds to his touch with an eagerness that surprises you. He hooks his fingers under the waistband of your underwear, pulling them down slowly, his gaze never leaving yours. "Lift up for me, darlin'," he instructs. You do as he says, lifting your hips so he can slide the underwear down your legs. Once they're off, he tosses them aside carelessly, as if they're nothing more than a bothersome impediment to what he truly wants—you. Now you're completely exposed to him, sitting on the edge of his desk with your hands cuffed and your legs spread slightly. You feel vulnerable like this, but there's also a sense of empowerment in knowing that you've driven him to such lengths of desire.

Joel steps back to appreciate the view, his eyes darkening with lust as they roam over your naked body. "You are a masterpiece," he says reverently, his gaze lingering on the apex of your thighs before traveling up to meet your eyes. "And I am going to worship every inch of you."

Before you can respond, he drops to his knees in front of you, his hands gripping your thighs as he buries his face between your legs. His tongue swipes across your sensitive flesh, and a moan escapes your lips as pleasure shoots through you.  Joel's tongue delves deeper, lapping at your folds and teasing your clit with gentle flicks. You gasp, arching into his touch as he explores you with a skill that leaves you panting for more. His hands squeeze your thighs, holding you in place as he devours you. You feel the world around you melt away as his attention focuses solely on bringing you pleasure.

As he works his magic between your legs, Joel's other hand travels up to cup one of your breasts, tweaking a nipple gently before rolling it between his fingers. The sensation sends shockwaves of desire coursing through you, heightening the pleasure he's already coaxing from below. Your hips buck against him in response to the exquisite torment and ecstasy that overwhelms you.

You can feel yourself growing wetter by the moment under his ministrations, and when Joel finally takes your clit into his mouth with a soft suckling sound that echoes in the quiet room, it's almost too much to bear. He sucks gently at first before increasing the pressure until your whole body tenses and shudders with release.  As the waves of pleasure crash over you, Joel's mouth never leaves your sensitive flesh. He laps at you with long, languid strokes, drawing out your orgasm until you're left trembling and gasping for air. Your body is still pulsing with the aftershocks when he finally pulls back, his lips glistening with your arousal.

He looks up at you, his eyes dark with lust. "You taste as sweet as I imagined," he growls, his voice rough with desire. He brings his fingers to his mouth, sucking them clean with a groan of satisfaction. The sight of him tasting you is incredibly erotic, and you feel a fresh surge of arousal at the thought of him enjoying your pleasure so thoroughly. "Come on now, be a good girl and follow me,”  he says, rising to his feet. He reaches for the chain between the handcuffs, using it to guide you off the desk and toward the plush leather couch that sits against the far wall of his office. 

You stumble slightly, still dizzy from your orgasm, but Joel's strong arm wraps around your waist, holding you steady. He positions you on the couch, your back against the soft leather and your hands still cuffed, placing them above your head. He kneels beside you, his body looming over yours as he captures your lips in a searing kiss. You can taste yourself on his tongue and it makes you dizzy. "Spread those pretty legs for me, darlin'," he murmurs against your lips, and you comply without hesitation, eager for whatever he has planned next. He reaches down to stroke your inner thighs. "You're so wet for me, so ready," he says, his voice filled with approval.

He positions himself between your legs, the tip of his cock nudging against your slick entrance. You look up at him, your eyes meeting his in a silent plea for more. He responds with a slow, deliberate thrust that fills you completely. The sensation of him inside you is overwhelming, and you can't help but cry out in pleasure.

"That's it, such a goodgirl, aren’tcha?" he groans, beginning to move inside you with a rhythm that quickly has you panting and writhing beneath him. "I know baby, s'big but you can take it darlin. C’mon take me inside that pretty pussy.”

His thrusts grow more urgent, more demanding, and you meet each one with a desperation that matches his own. The sound of skin on skin fills the room, punctuated by your cries of pleasure and his low, guttural moans.

Joel's hand snakes between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing it in time with his thrusts. The added stimulation is almost too much to bear, and you feel another orgasm building within you, stronger and more intense than the first. "Come for me, darlin'," he commands. "Wanna feel you make a sweet mess on my cock."

His words push you over the edge, and you explode around him, your body convulsing with the force of your release. He continues to thrust through your orgasm, drawing it out until you're left limp and boneless beneath him. 

Just as the waves of your orgasm subsides, Joel slowly withdraws from you, leaving you feeling empty and exposed. He stands before you, his cock glistening with your arousal, and there's a predatory glint in his eyes that sends a thrill of anticipation through you.

"On your knees, darlin'," he commands, his voice a low growl that brooks no argument. You scramble to obey, the handcuffs clinking together as you shift your position on the couch. He steps closer, his cock at eye level, and you can't help but lick your lips in anticipation.

Joel's cock is a sight to behold—a testament to his virility and raw masculinity. It's thick and long, with a prominent vein running along the underside that pulses. The shaft is smooth and warm to the touch, the skin soft yet taut over the steel-hard erection beneath. His girth is substantial. The head of his cock is a deep shade of pink, almost purple with engorgement, and it glistens with a bead of precum that entices you like the sweet promise of a popsicle on a sweltering summer day. You can't help but lean forward, extending your tongue to taste him. The salty-sweet flavor of his essence dances on your taste buds as you lap at him, eliciting a deep groan of pleasure from Joel that vibrates through his body and into yours.

"Open wide," he instructs, his hand fisting his shaft as he guides himself toward your waiting mouth. You part your lips obediently, and he slides inside, filling your mouth with his impressive girth. He tastes musky and salty, a heady combination that makes your head spin.

"That's it, baby girl," he groans, his fingers threading through your hair as he begins to thrust gently into your mouth. "Take it nice and deep."

You relax your throat, trying to accommodate his size as he sets a steady rhythm, fucking your mouth with slow, deliberate thrusts. You can feel the head of his cock hitting the back of your throat, and you fight the urge to gag, wanting to please him, to show him that you can handle everything he gives you.

"Such a good girl," he praises, his words spurring you on. "You look so fucking beautiful with my cock in your mouth."

His praise washes over you, filling you with a sense of pride and arousal. You moan around him, the vibrations making him hiss with pleasure. His grip on your hair tightens, and he pulls you closer, pushing deeper into your throat.

"Fuck, yes," he groans, his hips jerking as he hits the perfect spot. "Just like that. Don't stop."

You can feel the tension building in his body, the way his thighs tremble slightly with each thrust. You know he's close, and the knowledge that you're the one bringing him to the edge fills you with a sense of power.

Suddenly, he pulls out, his cock leaving your mouth with a wet pop. "Not yet," he says, his voice strained. "Wanna come inside ya baby, make a mess in that tasty cunt."

He helps you to your feet and guides you back to the desk, bending you over it so that your ass is in the air and gives you a light smack to one cheek. He reaches between your legs, his fingers easily sliding into your soaked pussy. "Goddamn baby, you're still so wet," he marvels, his fingers pumping in and out of you with a rhythm that quickly has you panting for more.

Without warning, he pulls his fingers out and replaces them with his cock, slamming into you with a force that makes you cry out in surprise and pleasure. He sets a brutal pace, his hips slapping against your ass with each powerful thrust.

"You feel that, darlin'?" he growls, his hands gripping your hips tightly. "That's me claiming what's mine."

His words send a jolt of desire through you, and you push back against him, meeting each thrust with one of your own. You can feel another orgasm building, the pressure coiling low in your belly.

"Come for me one more time," he commands, his hand reaching around to strum your clit with quick, expert strokes. "Wanna feel you milk my cock."

His words push you over the edge, and you come around him, your entire core pulsing around his girth and with a final, powerful thrust, Joel buries himself deep inside you, his cock pulsing as he finds his own release. You can feel him filling you up, the warmth of his seed spreading through you as he groans out his pleasure.

Spent, he collapses on top of you, his body heavy and sated. After a moment, he pulls out and helps you to stand, his hands gentle as he uncuffs you and massages your wrists.

"You are somethin’ else that's for sure babygirl," he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. 

You smile up at him, "I'm glad I could make you feel good," you reply with a soft voice.

Joel chuckles and gives you a quick, playful swat on the ass. "Make me feel good? Baby girl, you blew my mind."

He reaches into a drawer and pulls out a sleek, black whip. "Next time," he says, holding it up for you to see, "we can play with this. But for now, I think we've both had enough excitement for one day."

You stand there for a moment, still reeling from the intensity of your encounter, and then you remember—your dress is in tatters on the floor. You gather the remnants of your clothing, holding them up in front of you like a shield. "What do I do about this?" you ask.

Joel looks at you with a mischievous grin, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "What size are you, darlin'?" he asks, reaching for his phone on the desk.

You tell him your size, still feeling a bit flustered as he dials a number and speaks into the receiver. "Hey, Lexi? Yeah, I need you to pick up a dress for our guest here.” He looks at you questioningly, and you repeat your size for his benefit. "Got it. And make it something nice—surprise me.” There's a brief pause as he listens to his assistant's response before hanging up the phone with a satisfied nod. "Lexi will take care of everything," he assures you with a wink that sends butterflies fluttering in your stomach once again despite yourself.

True to his word, less than twenty minutes later, there's a knock on the office door. Lexi, Joel's assistant, enters the room with a professional smile and several shopping bags from high-end boutiques. "Here you go, Mr. Miller," she says, setting them down next to where you're standing, like this is completely normal. "I hope these will suffice."

"Thank you, Lexi," Joel responds with a nod of appreciation. "I'm sure they'll be perfect." Lexi exits the room as quickly as she came in, leaving you once again alone with Joel. He gestures toward the bags with a playful smile. "Go on, darlin'. Pick your favorite."

You rummage through the bags and find an elegant black dress that looks like it would fit you perfectly. It's sophisticated yet sexy—just like the man who bought it for you. With a shy smile, you hold it up for Joel to see.

"Perfect choice," he says approvingly. "Why don't you try it on?"

You slip into the dress, feeling its soft fabric hug your curves in all the right places. When you turn around to show Joel, his eyes light up with appreciation. "You look stunning," he murmurs sincerely while walking over towards where you were standing before wrapping an arm around your waist then pulling you closer so he could whisper into your ear "But then again I knew you would." His words send shivers down your spine causing goosebumps to form all over your skin despite how warm it was inside his office at this moment.

 As Joel takes a moment to drink in the sight of you in the new dress, you can't help but feel a deep sense of satisfaction. The way his eyes darken with desire, even after everything you've shared, is intoxicating. It's clear that his interest in you isn't just a fleeting attraction—it's something much deeper and more intense.

You smile at him, your heart fluttering in your chest. "Thank you, Joel," you reply softly. "For everything."

He chuckles and shakes his head slightly. "Don't thank me yet, darlin'. The day's still young. Now what do you say I get ya home safe."

With that tantalizing promise hanging in the air between you, Joel helps you into your coat—a thoughtful gesture that makes you feel cared for. He escorts you out of his office and down to the parking garage where his sleek black sports car is waiting. The ride back to your place is filled with easy conversation and shared laughter, the chemistry between you two undeniable and electric.

When he pulls up in front of your building, he turns off the engine and turns to face you. "I had a great time with you today," he says sincerely, reaching out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear. "I hope this isn't the last time I get to see that beautiful smile of yours."

You look up at him through your lashes, feeling bold despite the vulnerability coursing through you. "I don't think that will be a problem," you say with a playful smirk. 

Joel grins back at, “that's my good girl.” 

As you step out of the car, the cool  air wraps around you. You turn to say goodbye, but he's already getting out of the driver's seat, coming around to your side of the car.

"Let me walk you to your door," he says, offering his arm with a gentlemanly charm that belies the fiery passion you've shared. You accept with a nod, and together, you walk toward the entrance of your building.

The silence between you is comfortable, filled with the unspoken knowledge of what transpired between you two. As you reach your door, you turn to face him, your heart pounding in your chest. "Thank you again, Joel, for today," you say softly, "for everything."

Joel smiles at you. "The pleasure was all mine," he replies with a wink and leans in close enough that his breath ghosts over your lips when he speaks again. "But I have a feeling we're just getting started."

With those words hanging in the air between you like a promise of more incredible days to come, Joel takes a step back and heads back toward his car parked by curbside leaving only echoes behind him.

As the door to your building clicks shut behind you, you lean against it. The memory of his touch, his kiss, his words—they all send shivers of delight coursing through your veins. You can't help but smile to yourself as you replay the events of the day in your mind, each moment more thrilling than the last.

You're startled out of your reverie by the buzzing of your phone in your purse. Fishing it out, you see a notification on the screen - a new message from Joel. Your heart skips a beat as you open it, curiosity and excitement mingling within you.

1:07PM: Can't wait to unwrap that pretty little package again." 

The words alone are enough to send a jolt of desire through you, but then you notice an attachment—a picture. With trembling hands, you open it and find exactly what you were hoping for - a photo of Joel's large burly hand wrapping around his even thicker, larger cock, hard and ready for you once more. You realize he must have taken that in his car.

Your breath catches in your throat as you take in the sight of Joel's arousal, so potent and vivid on your screen. The knowledge that he's thinking about you, that he's hard and ready again so soon after your encounter, sends a thrill of power through you. You type out a quick response, your fingers flying over the keys with a boldness that matches the newfound confidence he's awakened in you.

1:10PM I hope you're not driving and texting that picture. Keep your eyes on the road, Mr. Miller.  you tease, adding a winking emoji for good measure.

His response is almost immediate, a testament to his eagerness. 

1:10PM Don't worry, darlin'. I'm parked outside your building. Couldn't resist sending you a little something to dream about tonight.

You can't help but smile at his words, your body already aching for his touch once more. But before you can respond, another message comes through with an address.

1:11PM Tomorrow, 8 PM. My place. Wear something comfortable and easy to take off.

1:12PM Yes sir.

1:13PM Oh baby you're walking Into whole new territory calling me sir. I'm going to put that pretty mouth to good use tomorrow.

Just as you're about to put your phone down a last message comes through 

1:13PM And leave the underwear at home.

[fanaticsnail]

You're So Much More To Me

Masterlist here, Pollen Masterlist here

Word Count: 5,500+

Synopsis: Desperate to impress the Straw-Hat botanist as you travel with his unruly bunch of pirates, he goes against your warning and immediately goes into uncharted territory and does the unthinkable.

Themes: Eustass Kid x gn!reader, penetration - reader!receiveing, MDNI, 18+, smut, pollen fic, dub con, confessions of love, pining, longing, falling in love, kid pirate shenanigans, straw-hat!reader, sex, dom!kid x dom!reader, passing mention of pregnancy (not related to reader or Kid, just passing mention), swearing.

Notes: I said give me a couple days, and it grew from the measly 650 words to the fic you see here today. I have enjoyed this series, and I hope you enjoy it too.

Tag list: @sordidmusings @nerium-lil @feral-artistry @since-im-already-here @writingmysanity @indydonuts @gingernut1314 @i-am-vita @carrotsunshine @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @sunnyferr

Hunched over his personal desk in captain’s quarters aboard the Victoria Punk, Captain Eustass Kid hung his head low and grit his teeth in a tight clamp. Pants around his ankles, his belt jingled with every cruel piston he made within his balled fist. As he reached the edge of climax for the upteenth time, the gateways slammed tightly shut and withheld him from ecstasy.

He squeezed his eyes firmly shut and he bit-back his whimpered plea. The coppery and familiar taste of blood flooded his mouth from how harshly he bit down on his tongue, lips and inner cheek. He huffed, panted and shuddered as the tingles of his withheld release refused to flood from the small slit in weighty ropes of ribbon-like cum. 

“Nnghm… p-please, please, p-... f-fuck, n-no-...!” he choked out his cry, desperately trying everything to jump off that ledge and usher himself into his blissful release. 

Glancing down at his cock in his palm, his knob twitched in a mocking dance of perpetual taunting. The ribbed veins swirling beneath his shaft grew almost a vibrant blue against the pale hue of his skin. His knob was a bright, shiny red mirroring the intensity of his dark crimson hair. 

You warned him not to go to the plants growing on the east-side of the island. Something about the sticky yellow tufts in the center of the vibrant petals, Kid didn’t know. He didn’t pay any attention after you had the gall to bark an order at him. Who did you think you were? He was the captain here, not you.

So, with heavy eye contact and a defiant grin plastered on his lips, he walked directly into the field of flowers. Watching as your eyes went wide in horror, Kid’s smile only grew as he stooped down to pick one of the flowers. He arched his brow up at you as your horror only grew more desperate, your expression pleading with him to halt his motions. Your body froze, your hands thrust out in front of you as a warning. 

In response: he raised it to his nose and took a lengthy inhale of the sickly sweet aroma, several particles rushing into his lungs and nasal cavities. You shook your hands out in a rapid flurry to halt his emotions with a repetition of “No, no, no, no, no.” Kid didn’t care, in fact: he took it further. Opening his mouth, he threw the bulb between his lips and swallowed the thing whole.

After all, who did you think you were? Some kind of expert on plants and flowers? His shock overcame him as his body flushed both hot and cold at the same time, his hands tingling and vision growing cloudy at the heady scent.

It only hit him once he reached his quarters that that was exactly what you were: an expert on plants and flowers: The Straw-Hat's botanist.

And now he was regretting not heeding your warning as both a local of the land, and an expert in your chosen field of botany. 

Tears began to prick from his eyes as he squeezed his tip tightly and chastised himself. He had never been this built up before, and he did not enjoy edging himself at the best of times. There was not a patient bone found in his body to endure the halt of pleasure from releasing from his steely cock. As he was now induced to edge himself in a perpetual motion, he had no choice but to seek out your help. 

Just as he managed to wince while tugging his trousers over his painfully erect cock, he heard a gentle rap at the door. Kid hissed in a sharp inhale, snapping his eyes up to the door and growling at the intrusion. He needed to be rid of this feeling, and he wanted desperately for you to be the one to help him with this burden.

Offering an exchange-program as the Straw-Hat botanist was the best decision you had ever made. You were a native to the land the one-armed captain was taking his crew exploring, and your face lit up at the opportunity of visiting home at the Nakama meeting with the Straw-Hat, Kid and Heart Pirates. You were kind and compassionate, informative and professional, polite and reasonable: all of the things Eustass Kid was not.

Sitting at the lengthy dining table beside some of the quieter members of the crew, you slowly flicked through your cataloging journal and pouted at the scratchings in the margin. ‘No cure for the pollen, aside from the inevitable,’ you shook your head, looking to the assortment of crew and noticing a few were a little more friendly with one another with physical touch than you were with your own crew.  

You knew it would be an awkward question, asking if any here would be willing to sleep with their captain, while knowing they would have to face him day in and day out as they continued to serve him. The closest member of the crew to Captain Kid is his right hand man. You deduced that Killer would’ve been the first to seek him out and assess the situation.

As the minutes turned into hours, and the first day drew itself to a close, you seemed to be the only one panicking internally. You knew your place as a foreigner aboard the vessel to not attempt to halt a direct order, but you tried to prevent the Victoria Punk from leaving the docks and setting sail regardless. 

Eustass Kid barricaded himself in his office for three days: nobody going in or out from the fear of being the target of his anger and wrath. You knew the sinister act that was occurring behind that closed door. You knew exactly what was occuring while Kid remained in solitude, in an attempt to come down from the flower induced psychosis. 

And you knew it wouldn’t happen without aid.

“Killer, sir?” you turned your attention to the blonde first mate and closed your book shut. He turned to face you, rolling his shoulders back to square them before approaching you.

“Yeah, Straw-Hat Botanist?” he responded, his expression unreadable behind his blue and white mask, but his tone indicated a lazy humor in his cadence. You gulped back your resolve, stood up from the dining table, and attempted to lower your voice to halt any more attention drawing itself to you.

“Is there a member of your crew close enough to your captain to, um-...” you grit your teeth, gritting your teeth and begging Killer with your eyes to understand. He remained silent and stoic, gently folding his arms over one another and leant back on the table behind him. 

“Close enough to-...?” he continued with a small snicker in his tone. 

“You’re gonna make me say it, aren’t you...?” you mutter beneath your breath before turning to him, “I didn’t want to alarm you all back in the field, but what your captain did was beyond reckless. The flower he consumed was a potent aphrodisiac that has no cure aside from sex. You’re only meant to smell the damn thing, a simple whiff of the pollen powder is enough to drive a person insane with lust.”

Killer hummed for a moment, bobbing his head in a soft nod as he took in your words. 

“And, what? What does that mean for him?” he asked with a soft shrug, “Captain’s been in there for a couple days now. Maybe he’s just sleeping it off?” 

“I don’t actually know,” you responded with a shrug of your own, “And I highly doubt he’s sleeping. We have a parlor in town that people can go to for services to rid their bodies of the pollen in their system if they’ve accidentally doused themself without a partner.” You frowned, pursing your lips and crossing your arms, “But your captain decided he wanted to weigh anchor and return me to my crew all the sooner instead.” 

Killer hummed again in deep thought at this new information, lulling his head to the side. 

“Well then, I’ve got some news for you, Botanist,” he unlaced his arms and sauntered over to you. Holding your bicep by curling it within his fingers, he began marching you down the corridor towards the captain’s office. “One: our captain does not readily fuck his crew. I don’t know what your Straw-Hat Captain does, but we don’t do that here.” Before you had a moment to process his vulgarity, he held up his other hand to silence you.

“And, two: you’re a botanist, and this is a new discovery for such a hazardous plant. You should be jumping at the opportunity for study,” Killer’s tone held a subtle smirk beneath his mask, gently reaching the captain’s door and halting in front of it. “You a virgin?” You were taken aback by his unbridled statement. 

“Yes, I’m a botanist. I'm a bloody good botanist,” you first said, your brows furrowed and heckles drawn up, “And no, I’m not a virgin. I’m also not a professional from the aforementioned parlor.” Killer let out a small, shrill chuckle that seemed uncharacteristically high for such a hulking individual. 

“You find my captain attractive?” Killer asked after he teetered off his laugh. You huffed, your shoulders deflating in response to his question with a soft flush pooling at your cheeks. “It’s better you help him out than one of us. It’d make our jobs more tricky here if one of us slept with him.” 

“You expect me to help him out with this after he did something against my explicit orders?” you growled at him, pouting and folding your arms over your chest in response. 

“Who knows, you might like it?” Killer shrugged before slowly backing away from the door, “And this should be a groundbreaking discovery. ‘What does happen when you eat one of those things?’ could be the title of your research paper,” Killer turned away and called out to you over his shoulder, “I’ll keep the crew away for you until I see your faces. I’ll put on some pasta. Basil and capsicum pesto alright, or you prefer lamb bolognese?” 

“Bolognese,” you pouted your muffled response, another shrill laugh eliciting from behind Killer’s mask in response. You balled your fist and tentatively reached up to the wood of the door and knocked on the frame.

“The fuck is it?” a muffled voice spat from beyond the door. You heard a soft squeak pulling itself from his throat, and the slow divots of metal slowly raking up the entrance of his pants up to the hilt. You hesitated, huffing out another exasperated breath before you simply pushed the door open. 

Immediately entering the room, you turned to face the door and hastily shut it behind you and locked it. You stared at each divot and crease in the door, noticing the weighty cracks within the wood splitting with the swollen water damage to the Victoria Punk. Shaking your head, you could physically hear the breath being pulled from his throat in a raspy quake. 

“You feeling alright, Captain?” you hum at him, a knowing and hint of mockery found in your tone. He growled in response with a curt, “M’fine. Never better.” 

While many in your culture used the pollen as a fertility aid for pregnancy, or as a cure for impotence, only the pale dust from the plant was meant to be used in crafting balms, salts and perfumes. Only the smallest fleck of dust was enough to rouse even the least sexually active: heightening the libido tenfold for a time.

This idiot captain ate one of them. 

Turning to face him, you cocked your brow up, looking down your nose at him and assessing the damage. His teeth were grit so hard they would surely break, his pupils blown with eyes creasing in the corners. His entire face was covered in a damp sheen of glistening sweat, and his cheeks and tip of his nose had the hue of the softest pink. 

“You sure?” you angled your chin down at his pants. His blush darkens, his top lip curling and snarling up at you and his brows slinking down his forehead. 

“Absolutely,” he sneered in return. You hummed in mock thought, gently removing your shoes and placing them by the door. The next to follow were your socks, which you slowly removed from your feet in a soft coaxing manner. 

“Not even a little bit affected by the flower?” you asked him, slowly reaching up and shrugging off your jacket, and mandated metal and leather harness, “Not even a smidgen?” You could’ve sworn you heard him whimper out a whispered “fuck” as you removed your shirt, but elected to ignore it.

“None whatsoever,” he growled in response, his tone holding a soft whimper at the end of his confession. You nodded along, slowly hooking your thumbs into the hemline of your pants, slowly and tentatively inching them over your hips and over your ass. 

“Are you completely positive?” you asked him, slowly floating your knowing gaze down to where his cock was straining painfully hard against his patterned pants. He sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth, hissing at the pain his cock was currently in. 

His entire abdomen felt like it was on fire, his body ready to explode at a moment's notice. You knew he was suffering, and he knew you knew he was suffering. That fact alone made him want to fuck you into submission, rail you against his desk until you were so pumped full of his cum, you would leak with every step well into next week.

“You come ‘ere to gloat, s’that it?” he bit down hard on his lip, his cock twitching and begging to make a home within your body. He refused to give in, instead choosing to clamp his teeth down harder.

“No, actually,” you halt your next step, standing in front of the locked door on the other side of the room in nothing but your undergarments, “I came here to help.” Kid’s eyes fell glazed and half-lidded, drinking you in but forcing himself to remain behind his desk. 

“W-Why would-...?” he began, halting as his breath hitched in a soft whimper at the back of his throat. His cock was dancing behind his pants, the restraint causing tears to begin to prick at the corners of his eyes. 

“One: because your first mate said it’d be less awkward for me to help you than one of your crew,” you confess with a soft smile, Kid’s eyes snapping up in horror. You gently wave your hand in front of him with a softness in your features, “Only he knows what’s going on. He’s going to keep your crew away until we come out.” Kid gulps back a mouthful of saliva, his bottom lip quivering. 

“Two: because you took me to my hometown for free,” you admit, slowly stepping towards him. His eyes trailed your body with every step, listening as you continued, “Botany is my specialty, and this is a plant from my hometown.” He nodded, his eyes meeting once more with yours as his lips parted in humility. 

“And, three:” you stepped around his desk, closing in towards him and avoided his watchful gaze, "I want to help you with this, if-...” You trailed off, halting before him and gazing deeply into his eyes once snapping back up to meet his caramel hue. 

“If…?” he whispered, his body all too eager to join with yours, but holding back his restraint until you stated your terms. 

“...If you admit you were wrong,” you lulled your head to the side, crossed your arms over your chest and leaned your hips back on his desk. He growled in response, pouting and fighting the urge to simply take what he needs from you without inhibitions. 

He knew you were right, and he was wrong. He knew he should’ve known better and trusted you in the first place. He knew that if he said those things, you would be bouncing on his cock and having his tension released from his body and finally experience the orgasm he had been edging himself towards for the past three days. 

“And if I don't?” he narrowed his eyes at you, his body arching away from the table and desperately yearning for your touch. You inch away from him and hold a searing look at him in response. 

“Then I will leave,” you slowly trace your fingers over your shoulders, turning your face away, “And you can find someone else to help you with this.” You begin to remove yourself from his desk and you look over towards your clothes, muttering below your breath, “This was a mistake. I’m such a fucking idiot.” Lips pursed tightly shut, you bite at the flesh of your cheek and pout a little.

Just as you begin to make your way towards the door, you feel a strong arm coil itself around your waist and tug you back into a wall of warm flesh and muscle. 

“You were right,” his husky voice uttered darkly into your ear, his teeth gently grazing the flesh of your neck and causing it to pucker and dimple beneath his breath. “I was wrong,” he pressed his lips against your skin, his desperation being felt with every rake and twitch of his lips and teeth on your skin. 

“You’re not an idiot,” he continued, his right hand diving immediately beneath the hemline of your undergarments. His fingers danced dangerously close to where your arousal begged him to touch and toy with. “I think you’re pretty fuckin’ smart.” 

His hand dipped lower, his body stiffening and huffing out a soft laugh at hearing your voice hitch. Chuckling, he continued toying with you, stimulating you in slow and teasing motions. Biting back his urge to simply take you, he couldn’t hold it back any longer. 

“I need you,” he pleaded, his tongue dipping out and flicking against your neck, “Are you ready, or do you need more-.” You halted his train of thought by slipping off your undergarments and stepping out of them. 

“-Do your worst, Captain,” you challenged him with a soft giggle, “I bet you’ll cum immediately.” He laughed at your taunt, immediately slipping his cock out of his pants and recoiling at the pain of his stiffness. 

“Will not,” he huffed, flicking his knob over your entrance and biting his lip to stifle a swift hitch of his breath, “M’not some teenager. Not my first time fucking.” You braced your hands on his desk, your body turned towards it while you looked over your shoulder at him. 

“It is your first time with pollen, though,” you informed him, biting your lip as you felt the warmth from his tip meet with your entrance. “While I haven't had any experience with it, myself. I've heard stories.”

“Y-Yeah, well. M’not one of them ‘stories’.” His cock was larger than the ones you’d taken prior. His whole body was ignited and angry with the unnatural swelling from the aphrodisiac. Sparing a subtle look at his face, you were hypnotized by the concentration on his brow. 

He was holding back from swiftly entering you with reckless abandon, fighting with his feral urges to simply dive in and bottom out in one fell swipe. His eyes were soft and pleading, his lips quivering as he leashed himself to hold back from ruining you. 

“Captain?” you whispered, his eyes immediately snapping up to yours as he slowly pressed his cock flush with where he desperately needed to puncture you with it. He darted his eyes between yours, his metal hand discarded and lying beside him with a cruel thud. 

“Y-Yeah?” he asked you. His voice staggered, sounding almost whimsical and innocent in comparison to his prior aggressive behavior and attitude. You slowly rocked your hips back against his, prompting him to immediately move his hand from his cock to your hips to steady you. 

“I can take it,” you reassure him shyly, “When I say ‘Do your worst,’ I mean it.” His breath hitched as he felt your body begin to suck him in through your entrance, stretching to accommodate his width with a soft wince at the sting. 

“Do your worst.”

At that final reassurance from you, he immediately bottoms out. His cock drags itself up and slams its blunt tip against depths that have stars and lightning shoot sparks in your vision. He is overcome with the way your body morphs and molds itself to accommodate for his great length and width, his breath coming out in gruff pants as soon as his pelvis meets with your asscheeks. 

And as soon as it began, it was all over. Ropes of his thick cum shot up into your body and spurted back in a viscous wave of ecstasy. His abdomen tightened, his balls sucked up into his stomach and his release coated your insides with a groaned cry in gratitude.

“Mnghh-... fuck. I’m c-cumming. F-Fucking cumming,” he cried, burying his forehead into your neck and holding your hips within his forearm. He made no effort to rock or thrust within you, simply lingering in the hot hold your body had on his shaft as his knob twitched through his bliss. 

You closed your eyes and leaned back and lulled your head against his shoulder, feeling the waves of his orgasm continue to flood you. His lips pressed against your shoulder blade, pressing soft and gratuitous kisses against your flesh as his twitches began to become less frequent. 

“Y-You-... hhah-... you were right,” he said, sniffing back a soft sob as he came down from his high, “‘Bout the flower, and about the cummin’ too quick.” You chuckled, a soft smile beginning to draw up your cheeks.

“I don’t blame you,” you reassured him, turning your head and nuzzling your cheek against his forehead still buried in your shoulder. “It’s been three days, you’ve probably got-... oh fuck-...” Kid tore his forehead away from your shoulder at the sound of your alarm. 

“‘Oh fuck’ what?” he asked, searching your face for further explanation, “What: ‘oh fuck’?” You gulped back, your body twitching and straining around his cock.

“You’re still really hard,” your voice betrays you in a soft quiver. Arching your back, you slowly roll your hips back against his and rock on his cock. He huffs a soft pant, whispering a string of curses and pleas as you slowly took the lead in testing how stiff he was. 

“Captain-... fuck-... When you take a partner, how-... shit-... How many rounds do you last usually?” you ask him, feeling him begin to take slow and sharp motions against your grinds and rocks to match your pace. 

“I can go two, maybe th-three if I-... f-fuck this is-s good-... rest for a couple minutes in between,” he admitted to you, his parted lips huffing and chanting as he continued to rock into you. You whimpered, feeling his cock pulse and swell within your body, his thrusts becoming once again desperate and throbbing. 

“A-And when you’re b-by yourself-... a-ah-... How m-many?” you ask, your own stomach beginning to constrict, your body contracting around him and urging him all the closer. His motions pick up further, his body frantically chasing his high with each motion more desperate than the last.

“Fuck! Fuck! I-I’m c-cumming again-... fuck, fuck, fuck,” his voice cried out your name, mourning another hasty release. His motions became more languid and staggered, his forehead placed in the center of your spine as his cum shot up once more into you. 

As soon as his cock released the final spurt of seed into you, his shaft twitched and his cock immediately surged into a new round of arousal. He growled, his urges being propelled to piston his cock harder and faster into you. 

“Most I’ve done by myself is six,” he admitted with a soft pant, kicking aside your ankles with his cock still buried within you. He withdrew his hands from your hips, gently urging you down to lay your chest against his desk atop a litter of paper, mapping equipment. 

“Fuck,” you manage to curse, feeling his hand push down at the middle of your back as he sleeved himself in and out of you to use you as he needed. “S-Six in a day?!” your whimper caused him to laugh in a gruff rumble, pushing on your back to deepen the arch. 

“Six in an hour,” he confessed, his feet stepping out of the pant legs pooled at his ankles. You shrieked in response, feeling your orgasm begin to build at the pit of your stomach once more. 

“Were you-... fuck-... Bored or something?” you joke back at him, feeling trapped beneath his hand with each cruel slap of his hips meeting your ass, “Just wanted something to-... mmm-... Do between sh-shift rotations?” His heavy boot came to join your hips beside you, switching angles and reaching further depth that hit a spot within your body that had you cry out in bliss. 

“N-Not bored,” he huffed and panted, his motions becoming more desperate as he drove himself faster within you. “Fuck you feel so fucking good.” He whined, his pace becoming more clumsy and staggered as his hand reached between you and the desk, desperately clawing at your groin to stimulate you with his hand while shattering your insides. 

“W-What h-had you so built up for-... f-fuck, f-f-fuck,” you attempted to relay as his palm ground itself against you, your voice whining as he sheathed himself completely in your body. Rocking while sheathed as completely in you as he could, he focused more on motioning his hand to have your release twitch and erupt in his hand alongside his cock. 

Just as you feel the sparks begin to ignite, Kid leans down against your ear in a deep lunge and groans out a stuttered confession.  

“You did.”

At that, your body immediately ignited, your coil in the pit of your stomach releasing in an instantaneous snap. You cried his name, your body contracting around him and ushering him into his third orgasm inside your body. The viscos splashback of his cum seeped out of your body and oozed down your legs in heavy glubs. 

His foot slipped from the desk, his torso flopping clumsily on top of yours and caging you beneath him. He tested a few more, deep rocks of his hips, his body squirting a few more bursts of his seed from the small slit on his knob. Panting and catching your breath, you attempt to turn around to face him over your shoulder. 

“The fuck you mean ‘you did’?” you whispered, a look of confusion knit over your face. He huffed a soft laugh, shaking his head and retracting his torso from meshing with yours. 

“I mean just that,” his eyes almost rolled back at the sight of the heavy mess pooling at your center and seeping down your thighs. He retracted his cock from your body, giving the crease of your asscheeks a gentle tap and smearing his cum over the divot. “You're fucking incredible.” 

Reaching over your hips and hooking up your torso, he aided you to stand and turned you to face him. Your shock was evident on your face as your eyes met his. His lips were parted, and his caramel orbs held nothing but honesty and sincerity. 

“When we first met, way back on the Thousand Sunny,” he nodded to you, attempting to implore your understanding, “You were so animated when you spoke about your home. Killer doesn't normally leave my side, but he did to listen to you.” 

“I remember,” you nod at him, wincing as you felt a crewd squelch of arousal seep from your body and onto the floor at your feet. You both looked down at it, laughing at the mess before turning back to one another. “Killer was asking about food, Heat was asking about family. Got me feeling homesick like some child on their first camping trip away from home.” Kid laughed at you, raising his hand and hesitated before cupping your cheek. 

“You were so cute, and your smile just-...” he shook off his sentiments and flicked his eyes onto the floor, “Made me want to see it more. I decided to sate Killer’s curiosity of your cuisine, chart a course to your hometown, and hope Luffy would let me borrow you for a bit - just for a chance to get to know you better, s’all.”

“Mmhmm…” you arch your brow, crossing your hands over your chest and pursing your lips, “And the six times?” Kid gulped back, his blush grew deeper and looked over to the pile of your clothes in the corner of the room. 

“When you first put on the harness,” he nodded to the corner of the room. You turned to look down to the pile of clothes laying in a neat pile in the corner of the room. “I know it's stupid, I know I make my crew wear them so I can keep them safe, but-...” He trailed off, coaxing you to face him once more with his hand collecting your chin. 

“...It was like you accepted me as your captain, and that, in some way,” he smiled at you, his lips curling up in a genuine, crooked grin, “Had me wantin’ to make you mine properly.” You sighed, smiling while shaking your head and lowering your eyes to the floor. 

“It's only temporary, and you’re currently taking me home to my captain,” you confirm with him in a short, chaste whisper. “We'll likely not see each other in some time. I’m just a passenger to you, nothing more.”

“You’re so much more to me,” he whispered softly. Gently leaning forward, he pressed his lips to your forehead and cradled your neck with his right hand. You slowly slotted your hands around his middle and hooked them up to hover over the base of his shoulder blades. You felt a probe of interest twitch at your abdomen, prompting you to grin and shake your head against his chest. 

“Did it not go down?” You remove your head from his chest and place your chin and throat on his chest to stare up into his scarred face. “Still feel under the effects of the flower?” He chuckled down at you, shaking his head and cradling your shoulders against him. He nudged his patterned pants over the mixture of fluids pooling at your feet with his boot, covering the mess.

“Not the flower, no,” he uttered with a wide grin drawing up his lips, “It’s just you.” You growl behind closed lips, unhooking your arms and giving him a playful and gentle tap on the chest before removing yourself from his arms. 

“Well, I for one am hungry,” you turn and search his desk for something to clean yourself up with. “Killer is making bolognese, and I’m not gonna sit around and wait while your crew dives in. They’re as bad as Lu- ah!” 

“-Let me have you, just one more time, alright?” Kid whispered huskily in your ear, gently groping your thigh and holding you in place, “Just once more, as myself. Let me show you how much you mean to me before you run off to Straw-Hat.” His hands travel over to your center, gently coaxing away your inhibitions by massaging your cares away. 

“Captain,” you whine at him, closing your eyes and leaning into his touch with a warning in your tone, “I want dinner. Let me go and-.” He cut you off by turning your body towards him, hovering his lips just above yours. 

“Let me kiss you first, at least,” he demanded from you, his tone almost possessive and desperate. He immediately broke contact between your legs and hooked his arm over your shoulders and uttered, “I reckon I can convince you to stay a while longer.” 

“You drive a hard bargain, Captain,” you whisper against his lips, almost tasting the air he’s breathing. He chuckles, attempting to surge forward and claim your lips with his. You dodge his attack, his lips finding purchase on your cheek instead of your lips. He groaned before trailing a subtle chain of peppered kisses towards your lips.

“You gonna listen to me this time? Not gonna do something stupid, no matter how fun it seems?” you murmur, attempting to fight what your body so desperately craves to give into. 

“You talkin’ ‘bout the flower?” he mouthed against the corner of your lip, playfully biting at your flesh, “I did that ‘cos you told me not to. Wanted to impress you or somethin’ stupid.” He attempted to kiss you once more, to which you turned away and playfully laughed at his attempt.

“That was incredibly stupid. I am not impressed by your idiocy,” you admit, gently turning back towards him and darting your eyes between his. “I am, however, impressed by your stamina.” You looked down at his already hardening cock, before returning to his eyes, “How long are you gonna be? I can already taste that pasta, and I’m so, so hungry.” 

“Oh, Sunshine,” he growled a rumbled purr into you, brushing his nose with yours, “Let me take another two from you, and I’ll have you on my knee and feed you ya’ damn pasta.”

[laragazzadagliocchitristi]

Oggi ho ricevuto il commento del secolo, quello di cui avevo proprio bisogno per proseguire nel migliore dei modi la mia vita.. stavo parlando con mia madre e mio padre salta su con l'ipocrita lezioncina di vita (ipocrita perché lui non ha un matrimonio felice e tratta mia madre come un essere inferiore) che nelle storie bisogna venirsi incontro e sopportare perché nessuno vuole una persona arrogante e con un brutto carattere, sottointendendo come secondo lui io sia così (anche se lui di me conosce solo il mio nome e a volte sbaglia pure quello) e su come le mie storie siano finite per colpa mia, così a cazzum giusto per buttare un giudizio. Si perché se le mie storie sono finite è solo colpa mia e non dei miei ex stalker, bugiardi patologici, narcisisti, tossici, violenti, ubriaconi, immaturi e impotenti. E sempre mia perché non ho sopportato abbastanza, perché in una relazione non si deve stare bene no, ma si deve subire secondo certe persone. E io mi sono sentita in colpa per aver sprecato anche troppo del mio tempo con persone che non meritavano nemmeno un briciolo di considerazione, e ho lottato da sola per non fare finire storie dove amore, rispetto e considerazione erano a senso unico. E ok che può capitare di incontrare uomini sbagliati nelle vita, e avere relazioni non felici o che naufragano, ma un padre, quello che dovrebbe essere esempio e guida, quello non dovrebbe essere sbagliato.

-laragazzadagliocchitristi

[weirwoodarrow]

( based off of cesar saccaggi’s incipit vita nova) how long till we get alicent walking into aegons rooms to see a vase of very familiar red flowers and killing herself on the spot huh hbo

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Xia Meng, also known as Hsia Moog or Miranda Yang (Sunrise, Bride Hunter)—For those who are familiar with Hong Kong's early cinema, Xia Meng is THE leading woman of an era, the earliest "silver-screen goddess", "The Great Beauty" and "Audrey Hepburn of the East". Xia Meng starred in 38 films in her 17-year career, and famously had rarely any flops, from her first film at the age of 18 to her last at the age of 35. She was a rare all-round actress in Mandarin-language films, acting, singing, and dancing with an enchanting ease in films of diverse genres, from contemporary drama to period operas. She was regarded as the "crown princess" among the "Three Princesses of the Great Wall", the iconic leading stars of the Great Wall Movie Enterprises, which was Hong Kong's leading left-wing studio in the 1950s-60s. At the time, Hong Kong cinema had only just taken off, but Xia Meng's influence had already spread out to China, Singapore, etc. Overseas Chinese-language magazines and newspapers often featured her on their covers. The famous HK wuxia novelist Jin Yong had such a huge crush on her that he made up a whole fake identity as a nobody-screenwriter to join the Great Wall studio just so he can write scripts for her. He famously said, "No one has really seen how beautiful Xi Shi (one of the renowned Four Beauties of ancient China) is, I think she should be just like Xia Meng to live up to her name." In 1980, she returned to the HK film industry by forming the Bluebird Movie Enterprises. As a producer with a heart for the community, she wanted to make a film on the Vietnam War and the many Vietnam War refugees migrating to Hong Kong. She approached director Ann Hui and produced the debut film Boat People (1982), a globally successful movie and landmark feature for Hong Kong New Wave, which won several awards including the best picture and best director in the second Hong Kong Film Award. Years later, Ann Hui looked back on her collaboration with Xia Meng, "I'm very grateful to her for allowing me to make what is probably the best film I've ever made in my life."

Anita Ekberg (War and Peace, La Dolce Vita)— I'm going to be frank with you. Every time I look at this woman, I lose my ability to form sentences.

This is round 4 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Xia Meng:

Anita Ekberg:

“I haven't seen much starring her (YET) but the scene of her in the Fontana di Trevi in La Dolce Vita is some of the most jealous I've ever been of Marcello Mastroianni maybe and that's saying a lot. Cinema history. Historical.”

[letterful]

Romanticism is the primitive, the untutored, it is youth, life, the exuberant sense of life of the natural man, but it is also pallor, fever, disease, decadence, the maladie de siècle, La Belle Dame Sans Merci, the Dance of Death, indeed Death itself. It is Shelley's dome of many-coloured glass, and it is also his white radiance of eternity. It is the confused teeming fullness and richness of life, Fülle des Lebens, inexhaustible multiplicity, turbulence, violence, conflict, chaos, but also it is peace, oneness with the great `I Am', harmony with the natural order, the music of the spheres, dissolution in the eternal all-containing spirit. It is the strange, the exotic, the grotesque, the mysterious, the supernatural, ruins, moonlight, enchanted castles, hunting horns, elves, giants, griffins, falling water, the old mill on the Floss, darkness and the powers of darkness, phantoms, vampires, nameless terror, the irrational, the unutterable.

Also it is the familiar, the sense of one's unique tradition, joy in the smiling aspect of everyday nature, and the accustomed sights and sounds of contented, simple, rural folk — the sane and happy wisdom of rosy-checked sons of the soil. It is the ancient, the historic, it is Gothic cathedrals, mists of antiquity, ancient roots and the old order with its unanalysable qualities, its profound but inexpressible loyalties, the impalpable, the imponderable.

Also it is the pursuit of novelty, revolutionary change, concern with the fleeting present, desire to live in the moment, rejection of knowledge, past and future, the pastoral idyll of happy innocence, joy in the passing instant, a sense of timelessness. It is nostalgia, it is reverie, it is intoxicating dreams, it is sweet melancholy and bitter melancholy, solitude, the sufferings of exile, the sense of alienation, roaming in remote places, especially the East, and in remote times, especially the Middle Ages.

But also it is happy co-operation in a common creative effort, the sense of forming part of a Church, a class, a party, a tradition, a great and all-containing symmetrical hierarchy, knights and retainers, the ranks of the Church, organic social ties, mystic unity, one faith, one land, one blood, `la terre et les morts', as Barrès said, the great society of the dead and the living and the yet unborn. It is the Toryism of Scott and Southey and Wordsworth, and it is the radicalism of Shelley, Büchner and Stendhal. It is Chateaubriand's aesthetic medievalism, and it is Michelet's loathing of the Middle Ages. It is Carlyle's worship of authority, and Hugo's hatred of authority. It is extreme nature mysticism, and extreme anti-naturalist aestheticism. It is energy, force, will, youth, life, étalage du moi; it is also self-torture, self-annihilation, suicide. It is the primitive, the unsophisticated, the bosom of nature, green fields, cow-bells, murmuring brooks, the infinite blue sky.

No less, however, it is also dandyism, the desire to dress up, red waistcoats, green wigs, blue hair, which the followers of people like Gérard de Nerval wore in Paris at a certain period. It is the lobster which Nerval led about on a string in the streets of Paris. It is wild exhibitionism, eccentricity, it is the battle of Ernani, it is ennui, it is taedium vitae, it is the death of Sardanopolis, whether painted by Delacroix, or written about by Berlioz or Byron. It is the convulsion of great empires, wars, slaughter and the crashing of worlds. It is the romantic hero — the rebel, l'homme fatale, the damned soul, the Corsairs, Manfreds, Giaours, Laras, Cains, all the population of Byron's heroic poems. It is Melmoth, it is Jean Sbogar, all the outcasts and Ishmaels as well as the golden-hearted courtesans and the noble-hearted convicts of nineteenth-century fiction. It is drinking out of the human skull, it is Berlioz who said he wanted to climb Vesuvius in order to commune with a kindred soul. It is Satanic revels, cynical irony, diabolical laughter, black heroes, but also Blake's vision of God and his angels, the great Christian society, the eternal order, and `the starry heavens which can scarce express the infinite and eternal of the Christian soul'.

It is, in short, unity and multiplicity. It is fidelity to the particular, in the paintings of nature for example, and also mysterious tantalising vagueness of outline. It is beauty and ugliness. It is art for art's sake, and art as an instrument of social salvation. It is strength and weakness, individualism and collectivism, purity and corruption, revolution and reaction, peace and war, love of life and love of death.

— from Isaiah Berlin's The Roots of Romanticism.

[orotrasparente]

a volte devi solo accettare che stai cambiando e non sei più la stessa persona che eri mesi fa, che va bene ed è giusto che quasi tutto quello che ti sembrava familiare ora non fa per te, che nella tua vita ora c’è da fare pulizia e c’è posto solo per chi è pront* a vivere la nuova versione di te

[comefiorineldeserto]

Per me è fondamentale condividere la mia vita con qualcuno che comprenda la mia salute mentale, la mia direzione familiare e il caos della mia quotidianità. Ho bisogno di sapere con certezza che, nonostante tutte le difficoltà della mia vita, la persona al mio fianco mi apprezzi per come sono. Voglio sapere che a prescindere da quanto possa essere complicato il mio mondo, ci sia qualcuno che possa sempre ascoltarmi e comprendermi alla fine della giornata.

[1-800-local-slut]

My Crazy Wife and Kids

Rio x Black! Fem! Reader

Warnings: bad parenting (not outrageous, they just don't know what their really doing), reader had a hard childhood, light child endangerment, arguing between reader and basically everyone, angst with a fluffy ending, the reader is Caribbean because I really understand the struggle of trying to understand Caribbean parents, mentions and allusions of smut, mentions of cancer, reader works as a pimp under Rio

Guess what's harder, raising three girls vs running a drug empire? Rio and his wife are the proud parents to three girls and struggle to raise them and change the way they were both raised

Please let me know if you enjoy, likes and reblogs are appreciated! Also I'm taking request for Rio and every character I write for, I wanna write more stuff for my baby daddy! <3

This is a long one lol

Important info: The oldest daughter is nine, the twins are seven

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The car was silent. The twins sat beside their oldest sister, Valentina. Amancia and Alvita squirmed in their seats while Valentina stole glances at the front of the car. Her father, Rio, kept his hands gripped on the steering wheel and his eyes glued forward as he drove them home from church.

Their mother had their iPads sitting in her purse. She'd taken them as punishment the moment they got back in the car. It felt like riding to your doom, sitting in the car with two angry parents like hers.

The sun beaming outside did nothing to ease her nerves, and the thought of winding down the window and risking sending her mother into a lecture was not one she was willing to act on.

Don't get it twisted; the girls were by no means treated awfully by their parents. But when you have an old-world Caribbean mother who still 100% believed in spankings, there's no telling what you're in for after a day of acting up.

The more familiar the streets got, the more anxious she got. Sure, she was supposed to just go to the bathroom and take the twins with her. But how could she resist taking a little walk outside? And how could she resist going to the corner store?

When they got back with bunches of (stolen) candy and got caught by a deaconess, Amancia decided that was the best time to bust out that swear word she heard their mom call some lady on the phone.

Amancia called her a cunt, and Valentina could feel her ass start to throb from the spanking they were about to get. Alvita bit the deaconess the moment she tried to grab the three of them.

It was over then.

They were sitting in the driveway now, and Valentina realized that Alvita had snot running down her nose and her hair that their mom perfectly styled that morning, and Amancia was staring off into space as if she accepted her fate.

Her mother cleared her throat as daddy turned off the car. He let out a weary sigh and ran a ringed hand over his face. Her mom cleared her throat and turned back to look at them.

"Go take a shower. Valentina, you first."

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"Why on God's green Earth did she call that woman a cunt? I don't know," his wife sighed as she wrapped the scarf around her hair.

"Because she heard you call that lady a cunt on the phone last month. I knew something was up; I saw her little ass twitching to use the word," Rio chuckled, opening the sheets for her to come into his arms.

"You think this is funny? I had to be the bad guy again," she asked as she crawled into his arms. The silk of their red sheets covered her, and the TV played Empire in the background. Rio reached over and turned off the bedside lamp. The large room was dark now and was only illuminated by the glow of Cookie Lyon beating her son with a broom.

"It's funny because that woman is a cunt. You know it, I know it, and Vita just said what we were thinking," he yelped, the pinch getting him hard.

"Yes, Sister Jefferson is a cunt. Our kids will respect authoritative figures." She was getting upset now. She shifted away from him slightly, and Rio didn't miss it. Rio wasn't sure what to say next, so he figured it was best to just agree.

"You're right."

"So why don't you act like it?" Silence.

"What do you want from me?" He asked after a moment.

"I want you to stop leaving me to punish our kids all alone. I know I pushed them from my pussy myself, but I didn't put them there alone. You just stood there like a fucking idiot while I dealt with them, and I'm sick of being the bad guy." During their confrontation with their three daughters and forcing them to call Sister Jefferson to apologize, Rio more or less stood there. In the past, she did ask him to not just be the fun parent, but sometimes it still slipped his mind.

"So you're mad I didn't yell at them? You're mad at me because I didn't chase them down with a stick or make them write out sentences 100 times? Don't piss me off." It wasn't that serious, was it? An annoyed huff was his answer.

"Yeah. The girls adore you, and I'm just the bitch who takes their shit and sends them to bed. Then you have the fucking audacity to say it was my fault she called that woman a cunt. What about you? You remember teaching our kids Spanish, yeah? So when you're going on and on swearing in a way that would kill your mother, you think they don't understand you. Come off it, you prick." She rolled even further from him now. He had a feeling she was pissed off earlier at dinner after she called the girls down and even after she tucked them all in.

"You wanna call me a prick louder, ma? Maybe Amancia will hear you and use that one next Sunday." It was a mistake, and he wanted to suck the words back into his throat. It was an intrusive thought that he didn't have time to stop from slipping out.

He could hear the craziness turning in her brain. He didn't just marry her for no reason; he married her because she could hold him down. And to hold Rio down, you have to be a bit crazy in your own right.

He was on the ground with a thud, and the TV was off.

"Did you just fucking push me?!"

She was silent now, the way he had been during the confrontation earlier.

"Hello? I know you hear me? Did you really just throw me onto the floor?" A pillow slammed into his chest, and he knew it meant he was not welcome back in this bed.

"So now we're just throwing each other off things, right?" More silence, as she pulled a pair of headphones onto her head, and he could hear the sound of the ocean bleeding through. Pulling an eye mask over her face, he just huffed and headed to the door.

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The sun shone through the kitchen as she chopped up sausages to make breakfast. It was 5:30 now, and the girls would be up soon. Where her fucking idiot of a husband was, she didn't really care. How dare he! Leave her alone with the kids?

It had been a while (nine years) since her first pregnancy. He wasn't as useless back then. And she knows she was not alone in that bed making that baby. She didn't want to do things the way she did.

Yes, she struggled at times to show affection, but that wasn't her fault. She didn't have a mom to show her how to hug or any older sisters to teach her how to be a girl. She had to learn about femininity from watching the older girls around her shitty neighborhood. Hell, until she met Rio she wasn't even sure about having kids.

When they asked where grandma was, the last thing she wanted was to explain was that her mom killed four people in a gang fight and that she herself was born in jail before she was released to her grandma who was hardly around. That she spent one day every weekend driving to a prison to see her mom. That even as a grown adult, she still gets collect calls from her mother and her husband sends money for her books and does whatever her can for her in jail.

It wasn't entirely her choice to keep the girls from their grandma. Grandma expressed no desire for them to know that she sold her whole life to kill four people.

Growing up the way she did, why did everyone just expect her to be a model mother over night? Good at all the emotional shit that came with kids? She wasn't and it was fucked that her dickhead of a husband may as well be a totem pole the way he just stands there sometimes. Behind her the fridge opened. Speak of the devil she supposed. Still she ignored him.

Since she was a fuck up, since everything he said was bad for the girls then it was better she didn't speak to his dumbass at all.

"Good morning baby." After 13 years of marriage his voice still made her wet. Still she relented.

"How did you sleep? It wasn't the best for me, my back hurt and I had to sleep on the couch. You wanna rub it out for me baby?" He was testing her, testing the waters to see if she was still steamed. He was very close to getting slapped with a pan.

Nothing from her as she poured three cups of lemonade for the girls who she heard moving around upstairs. Returning to the stove, she started scraping the food into three plates. She felt his hands creep up her sides.

"Look. Look baby, I'm sorry. I know you're not the best with being affectionate with the girls and I know you struggle to figure out how to go about things with them. But I want you to know we're a team. I'm gonna start acting like it baby." His apology was smooth and deep in her ear. Still she could hear the honesty in his voice and tears bubbled up in her eyes.

The girls had a lot to do today. From Valentina's dance classes after school, the Amancia has a piano class and Alvita has science classes at her advanced tutoring company after school. And knowing she wouldn't have to be pissed off at her husband all day was a lot better.

"It's hard. I want to be closer to them so bad but I can't. I don't know how to be a good mom, or how to comfort them or teach them anything that isn't violence. All the books and youtube videos in the world can't teach you how to be a parent. I want to think I'm doing good so bad. I would fucking die for my girls. I would kill for them and end up in jail right next to my momma for them and I just can't seem to prove that to them. And it would be a lot easier to have someone for them to be angry at instead of me when they do something wrong." She sniffled, whipping tears from her eyes and turning into his chest.

He smelt so good. Like leather and the Dark Temptation body wash she picked up for him last time she went to Target and she made a mental note to buy it again. His strong arms wrapped around hers and he pressed a kiss to her scarfed head. One hand rubbed her back while she cried.

"Mama, the girls love you. You are a great mother. Just by being here you do more than so many people who up and run. They look up to you like you're the Sun. You're the only mom they have and I can see that they wanna be just like you. I'm sorry that I was being the fun parent. You know my entire life, I said I would be there for my kids for the good and the bad. And I've just been sitting back for the bad like my grandpa did. He left my grandma to struggle with me and Nick.

For a long ass time I thought my grandma was just hard on me for no reason. Now I know it's the stress of having to be with someone who's only there half the time and I'm sorry I put you through that."

When he mentioned his grandma his voice cracked. She pressed a soft kiss to his shirtless chest and she nodded against him, wrapping her arms around his smooth frame. She ran her fingers over a small scar on his back that he got when he was putting the cribs up for the twins.

"I'm sorry I pushed you off the bed." One of the girls was using the toilet, while the shower turned on again and it sounded like one of them (probably Amancia) was still in bed and she knew she'd have to get her up soon. A deep chuckle resonated through him and sent tingles through her entire body.

"It's alright, I'm sorry I was being a prick."

He stole a piece of sausage from the scrambled eggs and popped it into her mouth. She chewed and swallowed before giggling.

"Shhhh, Amancia might hear you." She teased, and he smirked down at her in response.

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"Aw don't be pouty baby. You'll look so good in that tutu." Rio snickered, sipping from his wine glass and placing it back on their marble counter top. It was a mother daughter dance recital and she was less than thrilled to get this invitation. No actually. She was thrilled. She was thrilled to do something with her daughter, not with a fuck ton of people watching but she would never be ashamed to show off with her princess in front of the whole world.

Valentina was fidgeting around, doing little dance moves and dancing around with her little sisters. How could she say no to that? The woman would be prancing around on stage, matching pink tutu. She was married to a drug lord and helped run his empire with an iron fist. She wasn't used to being in the spot light and as ironic as it was.

"You don't have to do it if you don't want too."

The girls stopped playing. Valentina was standing in front of her mother who was sitting on a chair in front of their kitchen island. She looked like she felt bad for even asking and it put a knife in her heart. She realized then that she didn't hide her emotions as well as she hoped.

"No, no I want too! I was just thinking about how awful those other moms and daughters are gonna look dancing next to us. We're gonna eat them up, trust." Scooping up Valentina with a hug, she nibbled on her cheeks and kissed her silly. Her little princess squealed in delight and she twirled her around.

She needed a drink and a smoke. Rio chuckled as she pulled a cigarette out her pack and lit it. She stole a sip from his wine while she looked at the paper.

"Fuck, I can't make this rehearsal next week." She exhaled the smoke and Rio pushed the sliding door that led to the patio open next to her.

He slid into the seat next to her and heard the girls start up a round of Mario Kart. She rested a head on his shoulder and he wrapped an arm around her shoulder, pushing an ashtray towards her.

"That's the first one. What do you have?"

"I have a mammogram, and I pushed this one back twice already." Rio always got nervous when she had to go to the doctor for any reason. Especially when it was a titty doctor as he liked to call them.

"Yeah thats important. I'm sure Val will understand."

"I feel awful. You know my grandma had breast cancer, and I'm sure I'm okay but I need to be sure. I want to be here for the girls as long as I can without my tits trying to kill me." Rio rubbed her shoulders. He stood up, now standing behind her and rubbing her shoulder blades.

"Don't worry about it ma. I'll go for you." He joked, nuzzling his face into her neck. Her phone rang on the counter and she saw it was one of her girls. Was it ironic that she handled sex work for her husband when she'd just die if one of their daughters was a hooker? Yes. It was also ironic that she was concerned about her tits killing her when she was in the middle of a cigarette.

"Mhm, sexy." She chuckled, running her hand over his crotch before turning around to face forward and. Her bit his bottom lip, brown eyes basically fucking her.

"Hello?" His hands slipped down her sides and up to her chest. Her breath hitched and her legs twitched.

"Go do something with the girls and stop groping me Christopher."

"Ouch." He laughed before kissing her neck once more and slipping out of the room.

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"Why?" Rio glanced at his wife and back at Valentina.

"I don't want to go today." Valentina muttered while picking at the mac and cheese. Pulling her jacket on, she was preparing for the chill of approaching winter.

"What are we paying 400 dollars a month for then? I can't force you to enjoy it but you will go. Did something happen, is someone bothering you at those classes?" Rio questioned. His wife gave him a small glance as if to say 'thank you for stepping in'.

"Nothing happened at ballet. It was school." Valentina lightly kicked the bag with an engraved 'V' on it that they had custom made for her.

"People have bad days baby." Deep down he was worried. Oh God what if she got touched and didn't want to tell them and was running from ballet? What if she's being threatened with violence? What if she's been expelled and didn't want to say? That's just like Valentina not to tell them that. She mumbled something.

"Is someone bothering you? Is it a teacher? A student?" Rio asked putting down the rag he was using to wipe down the counter. Valentina looked down at the table. Now Rio was going to have to fight someones dad. Great, just what he needed.

"You can tell me whose bothering you or I can go down to that school and figure it out." Her mother, was now sitting next to Valentina and looking into her similarly brown eyes. They always looked so similar. Sometimes, when Rio looked at Valentina he felt like he was looking at baby pictures of his wife.

Then Rio noticed it. The small bruise on her arm. It was so small and the color of the bruise wasn't so bad that it was noticeable. Their kid got her ass kicked. He knew Valentina was always the more timid one of his kids, not like the fiery Alvita and calculating Amancia who never hesitated to strike (speaking off, he hoped they weren't fighting someone at after school right now) but he always thought she would never be in a fight. He didn't realize her timid nature would inspire someone's anger.

"V, did you get in a fight?" Tears filled her eyes and before he knew it his wife grabbed her car keys.

"It was Terra! It was Terra and I don't want to see her at ballet!" Terra. Of course it was that little cunt and her whore mom probably encouraged this. His wife has had beef with with Mrs. Lipston since last month at the last pool party they all got invited too by Mr. and Mrs. Kerian. Martha Lipston made her dislike of his wife's new swimsuit very well known to all the other moms.

She also made her approval of Rio's ability to open beers with his teeth very well known. Rio personally thinks Martha Lipston looks like a horror game monster with all her plastic surgery. She was just hating because his wife was fine as hell.

"Put your coat on and lets go." Her mom demanded. Rio glanced over, he knew where this was going. Because his mind was going there too, was actually thinking about planting drugs on Mr. Lipston and calling DCFS on them for child endangerment.

It was a whole family of assholes trust him, dude borrowed his fucking lawnmower and kept it for seven months. Who needs a lawnmower for seven months? He knew his shitty lawn wasn’t growing that fast. Rio refused to buy a new one and just let him keep it like his wife suggested.

Rio was really bugging out over his lawnmower too. He spent nights up, wondering what the hell he was doing with his lawnmower for so long. She’d wake up next to him, asking him if he was still worried about the damn thing? That lawnmower had emotional significance to him and he didn’t like it being gone for so long.

He insisted it was the principal and one morning Rio couldn’t see through the lawn and tripped on a rock. That was it for him, he had to beat down their front door as nicely as he could. Would you believe his lawnmower was broken? How do you break someone’s lawnmower? Why not just tell him that you broke his lawnmower? Rio had half a mind to take him to court over his lawnmower and almost did. That was the last time Rio tried to be neighborly to any of these people, it pushed him to give up on humanity itself.

"I don't want to go." Valentina sniffled and pushed her mac and cheese away.

"Some little white bitch isn't gonna beat the crap out of you, and you're not gonna do anything about it. No, you're going to smack the shit out of her and if her mom tries anything I'm slapping the implants out her chest." He could see the nerves from her. Deep down, his wife was doing this out of a place of fear.

Fear that her kids was gonna get hurt and next time hurt real bad. He remembers how they met too. It was high school, when she got into a fist fight with some girls who had been going back and forth with her and her friends for months.

When she got caught alone, she got knocked upside her head with a padlock and ended up with a mild concussion. He was in the nurses office because he was skipping class in there with a fake headache. When he heard about how she got hit but still held her own, he knew he needed some of that.

Even better was how a week later she hunted down each attacker and beat the snot out of them one by one. To her, the only way to be safe, was the be more dangerous then whatever was about to attack you.

"I'll get thrown out of ballet school mom, please just drop it." "

You'll go." She growled sternly and pulled her earrings from her ears She was ready for a fight but Rio could clearly see that his daughter was not. She must've been hit something fierce.

"I don't want to get kicked out!" Her tiny voice cracked and her mother stopped for a moment of hesitation.

"Enough. Just enough both of you. Valentina, your mother is doing this because she loves you. She wants that little girl to know she doesn't just walk all over you and get away with it. I'm not sorry to say in this house you don't get your ass beat that way and deliver no punishment.

You don't have to get her in class, but you will have to face her again. In school, ballet class or in the parking lot of your school. How you do it is up to you. Fight her, we can go to the school or whatever but don't take something like this laying down." Valentina looked down with a huff. He ran a hand over her small one and she glanced softly at it. Then he focused on his wife. She glanced down and was chewing on one of her nails.

"You know what I'm about to say. Our kid isn't a fighter like us and that's fine. We didn't fight because we wanted too, we fought because we had too every day. We had our share of people trying to whop our asses. You already know that we gave our girls a life where they don't have to fight every day. That's okay. That's what we wanted. You don't gotta force our girls into a life they don't want the way that happened to you. Okay?" She nodded, and looked guilty. Like she felt guilty about her fear of something happening to her little girl.

Rio glanced at the clock, and at this point they were late to ballet. The clock ticked away. Nails scratched away at the counter and Rio waited for one of them to say something. Valentina broke the silence.

"I want to get back at her. But I can't stop thinking about the consequences. What if she tells on me? Or I get kicked out of ballet?"

"So what if she does? If someone hits you, you hit them back. I promise we will not be mad at you no matter what you do baby." Valentina silently nodded.

"I'll get her tomorrow morning in math." Valentina's mother ran her hands through her daughters braids and pulled her into a hug. Rio couldn't fight the smile that spread across his lips. He would count this as a win in the dad book.

"Okay. Do whatever you have to do for you. And keep your head up no matter what."

An understanding from the mother who always felt she knew best for her kids. Some fight put into their daughter. An ass whopping tomorrow morning. Maybe they weren't the best parents yet, but at least they were getting somewhere.

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