#waldorf penthouse

[vieuxsriche]

[realtycentral-blog]

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[austinbutlerslovers]

Under the Mistletoe

Label Mature 18+

Summary it’s near Christmas and you’re ecstatic to indulge in the festivities especially with your handsome fiancé Patrick by your side. However as the evening wears on you begin to realize your relationship isn’t as blissful as it seems.

⚠️ Hardcore Smut ⚠️ Patrick almost having a violent psychotic break • name calling • toxic relationship dynamics •kiss it better •restraint•dirty talk •mild choking•edging• fingering •love bites•pinning •size kink• cock warming• male dominant•P in V against a wall���multiple orgasms •cream pie• mild after care 🔗MasterList

📖 Proof Reader @purejasmine 3 parts upcoming (maybe more) : 🔗 Silken Secrets •🔗 Drenched in Shadows TBA

Under The Mistletoe

The Waldorf Astoria Christmas gala is dazzling, a picture perfect scene of Manhattan excess. Everything sparkles: lights, dresses, diamonds, and you thrive in it. You’re the darling of the Upper East Side tonight, flitting between friends and admirers, your laughter bright and carefree.

Patrick watches you from across the room, leaning against the bar in his Tom Ford tuxedo, a glass of champagne in hand.

He is the epitome of perfection. Chiseled features, every muscle precisely defined under his tailored suit, and sharp, cold blue eyes that command attention.

The lights from the Christmas tree reflect off his perfectly styled hair, making him look almost ethereal. But beneath the surface, his mind churns.

—She’s exhausting. Beautiful, yes, but insufferable tonight. How much longer can I keep this up?

You’re chatting animatedly with a group of friends, oblivious to the way his gaze pierces through you. When you glance his way, you catch his sharp smirk, and your heart skips. You love that smirk—it’s confident, seductive, and just for you.

“Patrick, come here!” you call, waving him over. The group makes room for him, and he steps in smoothly, placing a possessive hand on your lower back.

Now under the mistletoe, someone teases, “Oh, Patrick, you know the rule!”

Patrick’s grin widens. “I don’t follow rules,” he quips, pulling you close to him. His lips press to yours, firm and commanding, eliciting a chorus of playful cheers. But the kiss isn’t sweet. It’s a performance, sharp and calculated, and you feel it.

Later, as the party winds down, you’re in the car heading back to Patrick’s penthouse. The silence is heavy. You’re perched in the passenger seat of his immaculate Lexus, prattling on about holiday plans, your friends vacations, and what you want for Christmas.

“And Sophie is spending New Year’s in St. Barts—ugh, can you imagine? It’s so cliche to flaunt it like that,” you chatter, oblivious to his mounting frustration.

Patrick’s jaw tightens, his cold gaze fixed on the road ahead.

—I should pull over. Quiet her. Permanently. The way she talks, her voice, that incessant laugh—it grates. But not yet. Not tonight. Keep the mask on.

“Are you even listening to me, Patrick?” you pout, crossing your arms.

He pulls into the parking garage, kills the engine, and steps out of the car without answering. You’re left fuming as he strides toward the elevator, leaving you to follow.

His penthouse is immaculate—gleaming marble floors, sleek minimalist furniture, and floor to ceiling windows overlooking the city.

Patrick removes his jacket, draping it over a chair with deliberate precision. You, still sulking, remove your fur coat and kick off your heels tossing your hand bag on the couch.

“Are you going to ignore me all night?” you demand, your voice sharp with irritation.

Patrick turns, his cold gaze locking onto you. “You’re such a spoiled brat,” he says evenly, his tone devoid of warmth.

You blink, stunned. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” he says, stepping closer. His presence overwhelming, and for the first time, a flicker of unease crosses your mind.

“The whining, the entitlement, the need for constant attention—it’s exhausting, darling,” he says, his tone sharp and cutting.

You open your mouth to retort, but he’s already on you, his hands gripping your arms as he pushes you against the entry wall.

His movements are firm bordering on violent as he holds you in place his face inches from yours.

“Patrick, you’re scaring me,” you whisper, your voice trembling.

“Good,” he says, his smirk cold and dangerous. “Maybe you should be scared.”

His hand moves to your jaw, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. “You walk around like the world owes you something. Do you even realize how ridiculous you sound?”

Tears brim your eyes, but your body betrays you, heat rising in your core as his grip on your jaw tightens keeping you firmly in place.

His sharp gaze flickers with something darker, more sinister, but he reins it in.

—She’s useful —break her…not entirely. You need her for connections —for appearances..to fit in

“Don’t cry,” he says soothingly, his grip loosening as he leans in closer, “You’ll ruin your makeup,” he whispers against your ear.

He pulls back, his sharp eyes locking onto yours with a detached precision, and before you can say anything, his mouth is on yours, kissing you with an intensity you’ve never known before.

His hands roam your body—firm and commanding—groping your waist, sliding up to squeeze your breasts

You pull back sharply, when his touch grows too rough, the possessiveness behind it making your heart race.

“Patrick—” you gasp, but he silences you, his hand wrapping around your throat tightly enough to make you stop.

“Quiet,” he orders, his voice low and commanding as he holds you in place. “You wanted my attention now you have it” he confirms his blue eyes locking onto yours with a sharp intensity.

A soft, involuntary sound escapes your lips as his grip tightens just enough to make your breath hitch, and your body betrays you as the slick evidence of your arousal forms between your thighs.

Patrick catches the flicker of desire in your eyes, his sharp gaze narrowing with dark satisfaction, and without hesitation he firmly presses his knee between your legs, slowly spreading them apart.

“You enjoy this, don’t you?” he observes, releasing his hold and lowering his lips down your neck, leaving a trail of sharp bites and kisses that make you gasp.

“Of course you do,” he rasps, his voice low and rough, as he yanks your head back, offering your neck for more of his mouth to mark and claim.

“A spoiled brat like you loves being put in her place,” he whispers against your neck, his hands sliding down your body, roughly pulling at your dress, bunching it up to your hips.

His fingers skim along your inner thighs, pausing just long enough to make you squirm, his eyes darkening with satisfaction at your impatience.

“So spoiled” he taunts his voice filled with lust.

His fingers press against your soaked panties, rubbing slow, teasing circles that make your hips writhe instinctively.

You can’t help but moan softly, aching for more, the tension in your body melting into pure need as he takes his time tormenting you, letting your hips roll against his hand.

“Stop that,” he orders, his hand firmly gripping between your thighs, the sudden restraint sending a surge of heat through your body. “You’ll move when I let you.”

“Patrick, please,” you whimper, your voice desperate, barely above a whisper.

He pulls your panties aside, his fingers sliding over your slick folds with maddening precision. “Please what?” he asks, his voice laced with dark seduction. “You don’t even know what you’re begging for, do you?”

His fingers slide inside you, and you gasp feeling each slow thrust hitting the perfect place within.

You moan softly as his sharp gaze remains locked on yours watching you struggle to remain still. The overwhelming sensation makes you clench helplessly around his fingers, the pleasure so intense it leaves you trembling against his hand.

“Look at you,” he whispers, his lips brushing against yours, refusing to kiss you fully. “My spoiled little brat, always getting exactly what she wants.”

You moan loudly as his thumb finds your clit, circling it with just enough pressure to make your thighs tighten against his hand.

“Don’t you dare stop Patrick …I-Im going to come” you whine softly, your voice laced with unmistakable entitlement.

“Of course you’re going to come” he mocks, his eyes gleaming with wicked satisfaction. “A spoiled brat like you always gets what she wants”

You cry out, choking back a sob as your body arches against him, the rush of release flooding through you as his fingers thrust into you relentlessly, making you orgasm with perfect precision.

He doesn’t stop as you come, his thrusts growing more intense, his fingers pushing deeper, his thumb working a devastating assault on your clit.

“One is never enough,” he says, his voice dark and commanding. “You’re going to come for me again.”

He leans in, his lips finding your neck, his mouth rough, his teeth grazing and nipping at your skin, making you clench around his fingers with each stinging bite.

Your moans grow louder, your body trembling as the pressure builds feeling him thrust impossibly faster.

Then, just as you’re on the brink, his fingers pull away abruptly, leaving you reeling, your breaths coming in short, desperate gasps without his touch.

Before you can protest, he grabs your thigh, roughly lifting it and pressing you back against the wall. The contrast of his height and unyielding strength sending a thrill through you.

“You can’t even wait for it, can you?” he taunts, his fingers moving to unbuckle his belt, his smirk deepening as he watches you squirm.

“I cant—” you confess your voice trembling hearing the sound of his zipper lowering in the silence.

Your eyes drop instinctively, your body writhing as he reveals his cock, the size and hardness making you bite down on your lip, all your thoughts blurring into one desperate need to have him inside you.

He teasingly strokes his hand along his impressive length, his sharp gaze pinning you in place. “This is exactly what you need,” he says, his tone low and dangerous as his hips align with yours. “To have me tame the spoiled little attitude right out of you until you’re begging me to let you come.”

You gasp sharply feeling the thick, blunt tip of his cock press against your wetness, the slick sound of your arousal filling the silence as he pushes in just barely.

A broken moan escapes your lips, your hips instinctively shifting toward him, desperate for more, but he pulls back just as quickly, leaving you aching.

“Please Patrick” You whimper, your eyes wide and pleading meeting his sharp gaze. His smirk deepens, a flicker of satisfaction crossing his face as he takes in your desperation.

“Already begging?” he taunts in disbelief. “You can’t even handle a second of patience without falling apart can you,” he mocks with amusement.

He smoothly pushes in again even slower, parting you inch by excruciating inch as you clutch his shoulders feeling the size of his cock.

Then he thrusts into you hard, a cry ripping from your throat as he fills you completely in one brutal motion.

The sudden fullness of his penetration has you gasping, your body pinned helplessly between him and the wall, his grip on your thigh tightening to keep you in place.

“What’s the matter?” he pauses, letting you struggle against the overwhelming size of his cock, the sharp ache radiating through you as he holds you still, refusing to move.

“Too much for my spoiled little princess?” he grins, his voice dark and cutting as his sharp gaze locks onto your flushed face, watching every tremble and gasp with satisfaction.

He holds you in place he thrusts into you with unyielding force, each drive of his hips erasing every coherent thought from your mind.

Your lips part, gasping and trembling, releasing broken breathless moans as your chest heaves with every breath.

“You’re an absolute mess for me,” he taunts, his voice uneven as he thrusts harder, his pace unrelenting as your moans grow louder, spilling freely now, your body trembling under his control.

The pressure builds impossibly fast, his cock thrusting with a relentless speed, hitting that perfect spot over and over until your thighs quake and you’re left gasping his name.

His hand grips the back of your neck, his sharp gaze locking onto your eyes now dazed in bliss, a testament to how thoroughly he’s taming you.

“Completely ruined… just like I knew you’d be,” he rasps with satisfaction, seeing your face blushing radiantly in surrender. “My perfect little fiancée, undone entirely on my cock.” He breathes, desperation lacing his voice as he loses himself in the moment.

You moan for him, lost in pleasure your hands gripping the back of his neck, your nails digging into his skin as his pace grows faster, harder, each thrust forcing a gasp from your lips as your body struggles to keep up with his brutal pace.

The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the space, drowning out your whimpers and cries, your body jerking with each unrelenting thrust.

“Patrick… please…” you manage, your words broken between desperate breaths, your chest heaving as you struggle to form a coherent thought.

Your muscles clench involuntarily, each punishing thrust drawing a raw cry from your lips, your body reacting helplessly to his relentless force.

“You act so spoiled —so untouchable —but look how easily you break for me,” he pants, his grip tightening on your thigh, yanking you closer while his other hand presses your hip firmly against the wall, pinning you in place as he pounds into you with unyielding control.

Your mind goes blank, your moans turning into incoherent cries as he dominates you.

Your orgasm tears through you, your sobs catching in your throat as your body clenches and quivers against him.

His teeth graze along your jawline as he groans in pleasure, his pace never faltering as he uses your trembling body to push his own release.

Then he tenses every muscle, and with one final thrust, he comes in you, the ferocity of his movements leaving you helpless against the force of him.

He groans, deep and broken as he thrusts into you one last time, his release pulsing through you, his satisfaction undeniable as he claims you completely.

When he finally pulls back, he glides his cock out slowly, leaving you aching and weak against the wall

He’s breathless as he tucks himself away, fastening his pants with a precision that feels almost indifferent.

You’re left stunned and incoherent, your body a mess of pleasure and exhaustion as you catch your breath.

Stepping back, he loosens his silk tie and unbuttons his dress shirt with casual ease, a smirk playing on his lips as his sharp gaze rakes over your trembling body.

—She’s so entitled, insufferable at times, yes… but look at that face. Perfect. Flawless. Even as a spoiled brat she serves her purpose.

—The satisfaction of knowing she can give me exactly what I want keeps her useful to me—but nothing lasts forever, and when her purpose runs out, so will my patience.

Patrick’s eyes remain steady on yours for a moment before the familiar sharp smirk forms on his lips—it’s confident, seductive, and entirely just for you.

“Come, darling I’ll run you a bath,” he says casually as he walks away, his tone calm and composed, as if what just happened was the most natural thing in the world.

As he disappears into the master bedroom, you remain standing there your body still stunned, unable to deny the heat still coursing through you—and how much you hated —and loved seeing him lose control.

🔪 END

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[lanawinterscigarettes]

Happy Birthday, B (Blair Waldorf x gn reader)

Summary: when you're too late to celebrate your girlfriend's birthday, you vow to make it up to her

Warnings: SMUT, swearing, cunnilingus/vaginal fingering (Blair receiving), light praise kink

A/N: so blair's birthday was november fifteenth and of course I don't remember until early morning the next day so please take this as an apology fic for forgetting (I love you B I'm sorry </3)

It was Blair's birthday, and you'd fucked up big time by doing the one thing you swore you wouldn't: not showing up.

You'd gone on a business trip right beforehand, promising you'd make it back in time to celebrate it with her. Your plane was supposed to land early enough on the fifteenth of November so you'd make it, but between flight delays and unexpected turbulence of course that didn't happen. Now you were arriving just after midnight on the sixteenth with an overdue birthday gift and a very angry girlfriend.

"Baby, I'm home," you called out as you entered your shared penthouse where you had the limo drop you off, frowning slightly when she didn't immediately come to greet you at the door. You supposed you couldn't really blame her all things considered.

"Baby?"

You dropped the shopping bags full of her birthday gifts- all of which were highly expensive designer and luxury brands, as you got only the best for your beloved -in the front walkway of the penthouse before continuing your search. When you finally found her, she was in the bedroom, pouting while staring down at the sheets.

"Baby," you cooed out as you moved to sit next to her on the bed. She simply huffed and turned away from you, clearly upset. "Baby, I'm so sorry I wasn't here sooner, my flight got delayed, and then it got cancelled, and-"

"I don't care about any of that," she spoke suddenly, her voice snippy and full of irritation. "It was my birthday, and you were supposed to be there with me."

"I know, baby, I know, and I'm so sorry," you desperately tried to apologize, wanting nothing more than to see her happy again. "I brought you some gifts I think you might enjoy," you added in hopes that perhaps that would be the thing to lift her spirits again.

You noticed her eyes lit up very briefly at the mention of you having gifts for her, but it was gone just as soon as it appeared, that same sullen expression returning as she mumbled out "Whatever".

The guilty frown on your face only deepened even further at that. "Baby, please," you pleaded, now starting to feel a little hopeless. "There has to be some way that I can make this up to you."

It was as if you'd said the magic words, because the next thing you knew her previously pouty lips had curled upwards into a mischievous smirk. "Oh, I'm sure I can think of something," she purred in a low and sultry tone, her gaze already darkening with the oncomings of lust.

That's how you found yourself with your face between her thighs in the earlier morning hours after her birthday, doing something that would certainly always make it up to her no matter what you'd done wrong, and that included missing her birthday.

She mewled and whined at the feeling of your tongue dragging along her wet slit, gently lapping up her sweet juices. One hand rested on her thigh, making sure her legs were kept spread while the other was inching closer and closer towards her aching hole itself.

Her back arched upwards almost immediately the moment she felt your fingers nudge inside her, expanding her velvety walls as you slowly pushed them in. "God, yes," she moaned loudly as her hands reached down to rest on top of your head, directing your mouth on where to go. "Just like that, God- Just like that, so good-"

The sound of her being expressively happy rather than angry at something you did only boosted your confidence and made you want to please her even more, which was definitely achieved judging from the loud whimper she let out when you changed course and decided to start lightly sucking on her clit.

"I- I'm gonna cum-" She announced right as her hips began bucking up against your face, your fingers intentionally plunging deep within her when she said that.

You could feel her body tense up underneath you, and you peeked up at her from your spot between her thighs, watching as she tilted her head back while biting her lip, trying to muffle her sounds of ecstacy the best she could. You were just about to pull away when you felt her hand shove your mouth back against her swollen clit.

"What, you didn't think we were done, did you?" She said with an obvious scoff, spreading her legs a bit further apart to give you some more room. "You owe me at least one more orgasm as well as whatever's in those bags that you brought me before you can even think about being forgiven."

She drove a hard bargain, but that was why you loved her. "Of course, baby. Whatever you say," was your only response to the demands that were being made, your fingers beginning to pump in and out of her at a quicker speed than before as you went right back to eating her out.

Blair was known to most to be hard to please, but you knew exactly which buttons to push in order to get back in her favor, and you intended to use them to your advantage. After all, the birthday girl deserved to be spoiled.

"This just in: B allegedly received apology head from her tardy partner after they didn't make it back in time for her birthday. At least, that's what's been gathered from what the neighbors say. Talk about a noise complaint. Here's a tip: next time, B should gift them with a watch so they'll remember to keep an eye on the time, or perhaps a calendar so they'll never forget her special day. Or at the very least she should hide their passport from them so they can't jet off somewhere without her. They might've left you hanging in the first half, but from what we've heard they always know how to keep you properly satisfied in the end. Happy birthday, B. Here's to hoping it wasn't a total disappointment. You know you love me. XOXO, Gossip Girl."

End notes: I'm so obsessed with this even though it was written super duper fast haha

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[theblue6ook]

Other Lovers PT 4

Summary: After, Y/N’s ex-fiance cheated on her, she is in a state of depession and acceptance. Her ex is in the stage of bargaining.  

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x fem!reader

a/n: Hello everyone. I’m back. Sorry, these were up later than they were supposed to be and thank you for being patient during my personal emergency. I also have two fics coming out soon! We’ll be back to our normally scheduled uploads ;)  [B (23) Y/N (22)] [Eventual slow burn with Bruce] [Y/N/N is your nickname]

Y/N was typically the early bird at the office. It was normal to see her trotting in around 6 am. She was a classic worker bee with a never-ending workload. Today was different. She officially arrived at the office around 4 am, still sporting her silk red gown. Mud and rubble hung from the wet hem. Blotchy and swollen from crying, her eye makeup barely clung to her cheeks.

Not sure where to go, or what to do, she lay on the Wayne Enterprise balcony, Level Fifteen. The sky was a deep, silky black. Y/N stared up into the dark void. She saw nothing. Honestly, you could never really see the stars in Gotham, not with the thick smog, but still, she stared, lying on the cold concrete.

If anyone saw her here, she was sure she would get fired. Or should be.

Y/N couldn't even remember what prompted her to come here. After catching Russ at Mary Anne's, or I guess catching him in his new apartment, she just started walking. It was completely on impulse. She didn't have a destination in mind, and yet, somehow, here she was. At the office, bathed in sweet darkness.

Her bare back pressed against the gritty concrete, hair fanning around her head. She slid her fingertips over her bare ring finger. It felt freeing. It felt lonely. My best friend of nine years. Gone. Sighing, she squinted up once against, trying to find the tiny lights behind the clouds. They were there. Somewhere.

-

Bruce perched on The Waldorf, one of the nearby buildings, and stared at Y/N, who lay emotionless. The black Gotham sky moved above her, surrounding her in inky darkness. She stopped crying a little over two hours ago but still did not move from her spot on the balcony. Bruce sighed, stepping off the rooftop to move in her direction.

He swung up onto Wayne Enterprises and moved into the penthouse. Still covered in his cowl and leather, Bruce moved toward his bedroom to grab some clothes. His goal was to get her off the balcony and out of the office before the morning workers started showing up. You can only keep employees off a closed level for so long, and he didn't want to raise suspicions.

Grabbing a plain black sweatshirt, Bruce swiftly tugged off his armored leathers and pulled the soft material over his head. He could blame his sweat on a morning workout. Throwing on some grey joggers, he took his personal elevator down to level fifteen. It only took him a few steps off the elevator before he could see her through the window panes. She laid still. Bruce would have thought she was asleep if it wasn't for her wide eyes still staring at the sky. Sliding the door open, Y/N sat up quickly and covered herself with her arms, shocked. It was almost as if she had just realized she was still wearing her silk gown. 

Quickly and embarrassed, she asked, "What are you doing here?"

"What am I doing here? What are you doing here?" Bruce leaned against the doorframe, waiting for a response. Y/N turned away from him and huffed, laying back down. It didn't seem like she even knew the answer. "No one knew where you were. Not Carrie. Not Alfred. I was upstairs, so I figured I'd see if you were here." 

"What were you doing at the office at 6 am?"

"At my penthouse, Y/N."

"Oh." Honestly, she had forgotten he had a penthouse. Bruce's richness tends to allude her. Hesitantly, she flipped her phone over, flicking the screen on. Six missed calls from Carrie. Seven from Alfred. She was so fucking screwed. "Shit."

Finally, Bruce walked over to her and bent down beside her. He tilted his head, looking at her. She sat in a damp dress, and her makeup had run down her cheeks, but she was still Y/N. He put his hands around hers and said quietly, "C'mon, let's get you upstairs. I'll let Alfred and Carrie know I found you."

Y/N finally looked up at him and lightly nodded. Pulling her off the ground, Bruce embraced her, rubbing his hands up and down her cold arms. Finally, he led her inside the office and up to the penthouse.

The penthouse held a different vibe than the office. Y/N's eyes widened at the sight of it. While the office had been consistently updated to balance the flow of working people, the penthouse seemed frozen in time. It held a gothic charm, something that could only be described as Old Gotham. Large, cathedral-like windows covered the living room wall, and jewel tones littered the surrounding area. It was similar in wood tone and style to Bruce's office now that she thought of it. Y/N couldn't help but wonder if this is what Wayne Enterprises had looked like in its heyday.

Placing his hand on the small of her back, Bruce led her to one of the plush leather sofas. He placed his hands on her biceps and spoke softly to her, "I should go tell Alfred and Carrie that I found you, but if you want to wash up, there's a bathroom in that room over there, okay?"

Y/N nodded once again, seeming to have lost all interest in talking. How could she talk when she was just so embarrassed? Not only did she call her engagement off, but now her boss had to take care of her. As Bruce walked off, she threw her head back groaning, and stood, heading towards the bathroom. 

It's probably not employee etiquette to shower at your boss's house, but Y/N needs one. So she turned on the water. Hot. So hot, it almost burned her skin. She felt like she needed to scrub violently. Wash every cell Russ had ever touched, caressed, loved. The water pattered against the tile floors, but it still wasn’t enough to drown out her thoughts. What Russ had done had finally, really sunk in. It was branded into her mind. The way he thrashed against Mary Anne. The way he raised his hand to her. It was engraved into her bones. 

She lifted her head to the faucet, letting the water run down her face. It was all getting so overwhelming. The fan. The water. The silence. The thoughts. Knocking. There was knocking. She quickly shut the water off. Wiping her face with a towel. How long had she been in here? “Yeah?”

“I just wanted to let you know I’m leaving some clothes out for you. I have to go run down to the office. There’s a meeting.”

“I can come with you-”

“No. Stay up here.”

Throwing a towel around her, she approached the door and cracked it a decent amount. “I can seriously change and come with you.”

“I think you should stay up here," he argued, "Mental vacation.”

“I don’t want a mental vacation.”

“You’re taking one.”

“Fine,” she sighed.

“I’ll be back in 30," his eyes quickly darted to her bare legs, "Just get comfortable and hang out until I'm back."

She watched him look back at her one last time before finding his way out of the bedroom. Turning toward the bed, she noticed a pair of sweats neatly folded. She picked up the sweatshirt, folded it in her hands, and slipped off her towel. You never realize how tall a person is until you try on their clothes, and this pair of sweats swallowed her whole. She had noticed they looked worn well. Curious, she brought the sweatshirt up to her nose and breathed in. The scent could only be described as Bruce. 

There was a light hint of cologne, something expensive, surely, but overtop of that, she could smell rain. Gotham rain and leather. These were no back closet finds. These were his. She wasn't sure why she felt surprised. It was his penthouse, and they were his clothes, but the sentiment made her grin. 

Stepping out of the bedroom, her pants dragged against the ground. She stepped over to the leather couch once again and buried herself into the pillows. Staring up at the ornate ceiling, she grabbed her phone off the coffee table, ready for the insane amount of calls that awaited her.

She turned her phone in her hand and finally switched off the Do Not Disturb. She expected calls from Carrie or Alfred, but immediately a call from Russ came through. She denied it. Another call from Russ. Denied. Looking through her phone history, he had now called seventeen times. Lighting up her screen once more, there was another call from Russ. Frustrated, she answered it.

“Usually when someone is denying your calls it’s because they don’t want to fucking talk to you.”

“Babe-”

“Don’t call me that. I’m not anything to you. Clearly.”

“It wasn’t like that. It was a mistake. After, all the things we’ve been through Y/N-”

“That’s what makes it so much worse. All of that and still you find someone else-”

“It wasn’t like that-”

“You were moving in together, Russ!” She sat up, angrily. 

“I made one mistake. One fucking mistake, Y/N. I don’t think that’s worth giving up on us.” She rolled her eyes. Here he goes again, saying the same shit.

"Maybe it's you, Russ. Maybe you're not fucking worth it," she spat at him, tears in her eyes again. She didn't mean that, and she knew it, but some part of her hurt, and it wanted him to hurt too.

“You think it’s been easy with you? You think you’re a cakewalk, Y/N. I just needed someone who’s not all about work all the time. Someone who makes time for me.”

“Great. Hope you got her.”

“You’re not better than me, Y/N. You’re not.”

“I never said I was.”

“No, but you’re acting like it,” he said. “Besides your job, what do you even bring to the table?”

“What table, Russ? You can’t afford one.”

She heard him promptly cut the line. Angrily, she chucked the phone into the couch diagonal from her. Russ was always like this. A glass canon. He could dish it out, but the minute it came back around, he could never take the heat. Hearing a ding come from the elevator, she turned with a frustrated look on her face. 

“Woah,” Bruce raised his hands, “I’m back early I know, but let's take a breath.” 

Y/N rubbed at her eyes, and looked back up at him, “You went down to the meeting in sweats?”

“I said I was going. I didn’t say I was looking nice," he defended himself, and for the first time in fourteen hours, Y/N began to chuckle. Gradually, her chuckle turned into a deep laugh, and she laughed hard. "Oh god. What is my life? I can't believe you went down there like that."

“I look better than you did earlier,” he said, plopping down beside her. “Besides, I didn’t really sleep last night. I’m tired, cut me some slack.”

“Yeah, same,” she whispered. 

Silently, Bruce sat thinking. He looked over at her one more time before opening his arms to wrap around her. She let him wrap his hands around her waist, but she didn't expect him to pull them down onto the couch. Pushing up onto his chest, she looked at him bewildered. He glanced at her with a lazy grin, “Let’s just take an hour-long power nap. Right here.”

“You do know you have like seven beds up here right?” she whispered to him, like they were the only people in the world.

Bruce grinned at her once more, opening her arms to give her a chance to escape. Instead, Y/N grinned back. Just this once, she was going to cut herself some slack. Slowly, she leaned down, placing her cheek against his jaw, and tucked her head into the crook of his neck. Their bodies easily slid together, legs molding, arms wrapping around each other. The scent of leather and rain flooded her senses. She had never felt so safe. @pank0w @moejoeflow @padsfirewhisky @maxinehufflepuffprincess

[avengerscompound]

The Tower - A Weekend Away

The Tower - A Weekend Away

Series Masterlist

Pairing:  Avengers x OFC, Bruce Banner x Bucky Barnes x Clint Barton x Wanda Maximoff x Steve Rogers x Natasha Romanoff x Tony Stark x Thor x Sam Wilson x OFC (Elly Cooper)

Word Count: 3728

Warnings:  smut (FMM Bisexual threesome, oral sex, vaginal sex, anal sex, train)

Synopsis:  Steve, Tony, and Elly go away for their first public appearance after the groups outing.  Tony tries to make their weekend away special for all of them.

Author’s Note: Requested by hopefullylost13 on Wattpad. You can send in your requests too.

Takes place after the end of The Tower.

A Weekend Away

By a funny series of events, the first official public outing that any of us did in our relationship after Tony had spilled the beans about us being in a polycule was when Steve, Tony, and I attended a gala in DC about Climate change.  Steve, Tony, and Bruce had been invited to be key speakers at the event, and at the time of their invitation, we were still trying to push the narrative that I was just in a relationship with Tony.   So I was supposed to go with all three of them as Tony’s date.  However, when the bomb dropped, Bruce freaked out and refused to make any public appearances until the story had cooled off.  He needed the public to get used to the idea of us all being together, just in case the stress of being bombarded by questions brought out the Hulk.  There was talk about one of the others taking his place, despite being unable to give his speech.  We’d also considered someone going other than me.  Natasha and Sam were both floated as possibilities because of their experience volleying the questions from the press.

In the end, we just decided to leave it.  I’d been excited to finally go out with them, especially to do something like a gala, and no one else particularly wanted to go.  It was a little nerve-wracking.  The reception to us coming out had been mixed and while the negatives seemed a minority, they were certainly the ones that made themselves loudest.  Steve, in particular, faced a lot of negativity regarding his position as Captain America.  He hoped that getting back in the public eye by pushing for things like clean energy and free health care would make it clear where he stood and turn people’s attention away from his non-traditional relationship.

I was mostly excited.  I had wanted to go public with the relationship for a long time and never got to go on dates.  This wouldn’t be any regular date either.  It was a weekend away.  Science.  Dressing up and parading around with two of my boyfriends.  It was exciting.

Tony had had our clothes specially tailored for us.  He was going to wear a red tux with black lapels and a black vest over a red shirt.  It was tailored perfectly to him, so it made his waist look slim and his chest broad, and he was wearing it with the collar open.  He looked hot.  Steve on the other hand was wearing a powder blue tuxedo with a double-breasted vest in the same blue over a crisp white shirt and a pale pink bowtie.

I’d been having regular meetings with a designer for months, and we'd settled on a sheer black lace gown.  It was sheath cut, and embroidered into it were black vines that wound up my body, red and blue flowers dotted the vines along with glittering gems.  I was gonna look hot in it - if I do say so myself.

Because I was so excited about going away with them, both Tony and Steve even agreed to extend the stay over the weekend so we could go to the spa and have afternoon tea together.

I was being very spoiled and the best part was, that it wasn’t just me being spoiled and because there was an event, it wasn’t triggering any of my trauma about receiving gifts.  Tony wasn’t just spoiling me.  He was spoiling Steve too.  We needed to be here.  I needed the gown.  It was amazing.

The first part of being spoiled was the hotel.  Tony had booked the Presidential Suite at the Waldorf Astoria.

Tony’s penthouse was pretty luxurious, but it didn’t feel anywhere near as opulent as the suite.  While it was not as large as Tony’s penthouse, with two bedrooms, a large dining room, living room kitchen, study, and one and a half bathrooms, it was still plenty big.  There were huge arched windows that spanned the living room, dining room, and master bedroom, and each room had chandeliers.  There was even a small one built into the canopy over the king-sized, four-poster bed.  All the furniture was Victorian era and made with dark hardwood with gilt edges.  It was very un-Tony but very beautiful.

“Wow,” I said as I followed the bellhop into the room.  We had a lot of things with us for the gala, and after a short tour through the hotel suite, he wheeled the luggage cart into the bedroom and began to unpack for us. 

“This is a lot, Tony,” Steve said as he took a slow lap of the large living area.

“You say that so often I should have it printed on your business card,” Tony said.  He looked over at me. “What do you think, honey bun?”

“It’s amazing,” I said, approaching him and wrapping my arms around his waist.  His arms closed around me and he kissed my temple. “Thank you, Tony.”

“See, someone appreciates me,” Tony said.

“Sorry.  I know,” Steve said.  “Everything’s just been getting to me.  The press.  This gala.  And you know my upbringing.”

“How have I ended up with nine romantic partners that all have money trauma?” Tony asked.

I beckoned for Steve to come over but looked up at Tony.  “Well to be fair, I don’t think Thor has money trauma,” I said.

He laughed. “That’s true.  Next time I’ll take him away.”

Steve approached us both and put one hand on each of our hips. “I’ll try and relax,” he promised.

“That’s what I like to hear,” Tony said.  “And aside from the gala, we don’t have to go anywhere.  We’ll go down to the spa and there's afternoon tea, but all we have to do besides that is nothing.  No work.  No press.  Just us.  So I say, we order dinner to be sent up here, and then we can try breaking in some of this very fancy-looking furniture.”

I ran my hand up Steve’s chest and curled my fingers into the fabric of his shirt.  “And try and keep in mind, you’re doing this for us.  How long have I wanted to be taken somewhere by … well any of you?”

He gave a small nod.  “You’re right.  It’s been difficult, but it does feel a lot nicer getting to live our truth.” 

I tugged him down and he brought his lips to mine.  We kissed slowly and deeply, lips moving together and tongues flicking out to meet.  Steve hummed softly into my lips and Tony made a small, impatient sound as his fingers flexed on my side.

I was just about to pull back from Steve and start kissing Tony when someone cleared their throat on the other side of the room.

We all looked over at the same time, and Steve’s face flushed red.

“Sorry to interrupt,” the bellhop said, looking even more awkward and embarrassed than Steve did.  “I’ve finished.”

Tony slid right into his usual public bravado, strolling over to the guy as he fished his wallet out of his inside jacket pocket.  “Thank you so much,” he said, putting his arm around the guy’s shoulders and leading him toward the door.  “Couldn’t have done it without your help.”  When he reached the door, he pulled it open and guided the man through, pulling out some cash from his wallet and slipping it into his hand like it was a magic trick.

“Right.  Thank you,” the bellhop said.  “I hope you enjoy your stay.”

“I have no doubt we will,” Tony said.  He closed the door and turned back to us laughing.  “Why, Captain,” Tony scolded.  “Here you were mad at me for outing us and you’re just making out with two people in front of strangers.”

“Tony…” Steve sighed.

Tony clicked his tongue.  “No, no.  I forgive you,” Tony said.  “That bellhop though…”

Steve sighed and shook his head, while I stifled laughter. “Okay.  No fighting boys.  I’m sure that bellhop has seen things that would even make Tony blush.  He’s not gonna remember us kissing for long.”

“True.  There are a lot of unique tastes in the world.  One time this guy…”

“Nope!” Steve interrupted.  “I don’t want to know.  We should order dinner.”

Tony went and grabbed the room service menu.  “I’ll handle it.  They have some nice share platters here.  You two go make out some more if you like.”

Steve shook his head but his lips tugged up at the sides as he tried not to laugh.  “This is going to be a long weekend, isn’t it?”

“It is and I love it,” I said, taking his hand and leading him to one of the couches.  “Now relax, honey.  Just imagine what he’d be like if Bruce was here too.” 

We did make out and when Tony was finished on the phone with room service he came and joined us.  By the time there was a knock on the door, Tony’s shirt was open and my lips were tingling.  Tony jumped up and skipped over to the door to let in the bellhop with the food.  They laid it out as Steve and I straightened out and came to join Tony at the table.

He’d gone overboard.  There was a seafood tower that included lobster, crab, shrimp, oysters, scallops, tuna, and salmon, a charcuterie board with a selection of artisanal cheeses, cured meats, and bread, and if that wasn’t enough, he’d ordered us each a main, steak for Steve, risotto for me, and a double cheeseburger for him.

“Tony…” Steve sighed when we were alone again.

“I know, I know. It’s too much,” Tony said, waving him on.  “Like you don’t have the appetite of four people.  Just enjoy yourself would you.”

“Thank you, Tony,” I said and kissed his cheek.

He smiled and rubbed my leg.  “You gotta stop being so nice to me, El.  I don’t know what to do with all that positive energy.”

“Okay then.  Goddamn it, Tony.  I hate eating.  Grr…” I teased.

He laughed and nudged me.  “That’s good.  Keep practicing and I’ll believe it.”

The food was delicious and as expected, Steve ate a lot.  Tony and I finished eating, well before Steve was done.  I climbed into Tony’s lap while we waited for him, pulling my feet up and curling my arm around Tony’s shoulders.

“Hello, dear,” Tony said, running his finger along the neckline of my shirt.  “Are we feeling a little frisky?”

“Yes,” I said.

He kissed my throat, grazing his teeth over the sensitive spot at the corner of my jaw.  “You can’t wait for the dear Captain to finish eating.”

“He takes too long,” I said, pouting playfully.  “Carbo loading,” I added with air quotes.

He laughed.  “That’s true,” he said. He lifted my shirt off over my head and tossed it aside.  “Still, we should be patient.”

“I suppose,” I agreed, and unfastened my bra.  I tossed it in the same direction as Tony had thrown my shirt, but it landed two feet further than the shirt did.

Tony cupped my breasts and leaned in, swirling his tongue around my nipple, and then pulling it into his mouth.  I moaned, pushed my chest out toward him, and looked over at Steve.  Steve raised an eyebrow at me and then took a very deliberate bite of his steak.

Tony pulled back with a pop.  He looked from me to Steve and then back to me again and he brought his lips to my ear.  “Maybe we need to try and tempt Steve to hurry.”  He said it quietly but not so quietly that Steve wouldn’t be able to hear.

I nodded.  “I think so.”

He guided me back onto my feet and his hands slid up under my skirt and grabbed the waistband of my panties.  He dragged them down and I stepped out of them.  “Get up on the table and sit down in front of him.  Let him see what’s waiting for him.”

“Oh god,” Steve said with a soft laugh.

I climbed up onto the table as instructed and sat down in front of Steve, spreading my legs and putting them on either side of his plate, my knees bent and my skirt hitched up.  Tony got up and began packing up the used dishes from behind me.

Steve’s eyes ran up and down my body, but he continued eating.  “Why buy all this food, if you don’t want me to eat it, Tony?” he asked.

Tony laughed.  “We’re not rushing you,” he said.  “Just making sure you know what’s for dessert.”

Steve chuckled and shook his head.

“What is it, Cap?” Tony asked. “Wishing for a nice peaceful life?”

Steve laughed a little louder. “Who, me?  Doesn’t look that way.”

I grinned at him, shifting where I was, and spreading my legs a little wider.  His eyes flicked up to me and he raised an eyebrow.  “Be patient now.”

I giggled and nodded.  “Yes, sir,” he said.

The fact he was just making me wait was incredibly sexy.  He didn’t take his eyes off me, but he also didn’t rush.  He and Tony would talk from time to time, but he never seemed to rush his meal.  Not that he didn’t also appear turned on.  The way he was looking at me was nothing short of ravenous.

Finally, he finished his steak and he moved the plate aside.  “Now, we were saying something about dessert?” he said, grabbing my thigh and dragging me to the edge of the table.

I squealed and fell back on my elbows as he lifted my legs over her shoulders.  I didn’t even get a chance to adjust how I was sitting before his mouth was on me.  He sucked on my pussy like he was starving and I was the only thing on the buffet.  I grabbed hold of his hair and linked my ankles behind his back.

“Oh fuck,” I gasped.  “Steve…”

“That mouth, good for things other than rousing speeches, huh?” Tony joked.

“Yes,” I mewled.  “He can tell you off too.”

Tony laughed and sat back on the chair, putting his feet on the table, one ankle crossed over the other.  “Yeah, he is good at that too.”

The teasing seemed to spur Steve on.  His tongue swirled around my folds, pushed inside me, and then flicked up to my clit.  He sucked and licked at my cunt in a way that I couldn’t get a bead on.  It made me writhe and squirm on the table, my fingers gripping his hair and my hips bucking against his mouth.

I was fighting it, trying to hold it together, but it was no use.  Steve had learned exactly how my body worked and what I liked best and he seemed to be doing everything to bring me over.  “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” I chanted.  My muscles were all clenched and my toes curled.

“Oh, honey,” Tony teased.  “Let it happen.”

“I don’t know if it was Tony’s words that set me over, or that I was just so damned close it wouldn’t have mattered what I did, but I came.  Hard.  I fell back on the table, arching my back and bucking up into Steve’s mouth.  He groaned and pulled back, wiping his mouth.

“Jeez, Steve,” Tony teased.  “You took forever with your entree, but you rushed your dessert.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not done,” Steve said, pushing up from the table.  He picked me up and threw me over his shoulder, making me squeal once again. “Come on, Tony.”

Steve carried me into the bedroom with Tony hot on his heels.  He dropped me onto the bed, but before he could climb on top of him, I put my foot on his chest and pushed him back.  “Nope,” I said.

He pulled back.  “What’s wrong?  Is it too much?”

“You have been very judgemental of Tony today,” I said.

“Yeah.  You sure have been,” Tony agreed.

“And you have been a little antagonistic,” I said.  “And now I want you two to kiss and make up.”

Steve turned to Tony and held out his hand. “I’m sorry, Tony.  I know you’re just trying to spoil us.”

Tony took his hand.  “It’s okay.  I’ve been trying to get a rise out of you, I guess.”

“I know,” Steve said and pulled him into a harsh kiss.

I bit my bottom lip as I watched them kiss.  It was always like watching a battle of wills when they kissed, neither of them wanting to concede control to the other.  Steve’s hand bunched into Tony’s shirt and he pushed him back toward the bed, the kiss breaking when he tossed him down on the mattress beside me.

“Elly, how about you straddle Tony’s face?  I can’t be the one having all the fun,” Steve said.

I did as I was instructed, putting my knees on either side of his face and my hands on his chest.  As Tony started to lick slowly and languidly at my cunt, Steve stripped off his clothes.  I watched him through hooded eyes as I slowly rolled my hips on Tony’s face.

Steve got up on the bed behind me and pushed me forward, so I was lying on top of Tony.  With my face so close to Tony’s crotch, I started to open his pants and push them down his thighs.  He was rock hard and precome pooled at the tip of his cock.  As I licked it off, Steve pressed his cock against my entrance, and with a hard snap of his hips, he shoved deep inside me.

I gasped, clenching around him. The sound was joined by a deep moan from Tony, who grabbed my thighs and dug my fingers into my flesh.

It was hard to focus with Steve filling me the way he did, each thrust shoving me forward, and Tony’s tongue lathing up my slit.  Especially given how recently I'd come.  I was wound up and over-sensitive.  I did my best though, pulling Tony’s cock into my mouth and curling my tongue around it.  Each thrust from Steve pushed me onto Tony's cock, and soon I was gagging and drooling all over it.

Tony would lick from my clit to that place where Steve and I joined, and as soon as his tongue reached Steve, the super soldier would jerk into me and moan loudly.

It was a good thing we were in such a large suite because we were not quiet.  Our moans echoed off the walls.  Even with my mouth full I couldn’t keep quiet.  I was moaning and drooling and gagging around Tony’s cock, and the closer I got to my release the louder I got.  My fingers dug into Tony’s thighs as I tried to keep myself together, my nails biting into his skin.

It was no use.  Between Steve’s thick cock hammering into me, and Tony’s tongue lathing over my oversensitive clit, sent me careening over the edge. I cried out, releasing Tony’s cock and arching my back.  “Oh fuck,” I gasped as I clenched around Steve’s cock.

My cunt was still clenching with my orgasm when Steve pulled out of me.  “Turn around, El,” he said, giving my butt a swat.

As I slowly turned on top of Tony, Steve climbed off the bed and went and grabbed some lube.  “Looks like you’re in for a treat,” I said as I began to grind down on his cock.

“I’m a lucky boy,” Tony said, his hand curling into my hair.  He pulled me into a kiss, his tongue coaxing my lips apart.

Steve moved between Tony’s legs as he lubed his cock.  He tossed the bottle beside Tony and lifted his legs so I was bracketed between Tony’s knees.  Steve guided me down onto Tony’s cock, making us both moan.  Tony’s moan only got louder and more animalistic as Steve pushed in.

I cradled Tony’s cheeks and looked down into his eyes.  “He’s so big isn’t he?” I asked.

Tony nodded.  “Yes.  Fuck.  He’s huge.”

“It’s good isn’t it?” I asked.

He nodded again and his head fell back with his lips parted.  Steve chuckled softly and patted Tony’s leg.  “You’re doing really well, Tones,” he praised.  “Taking me like a champ.”

Tony moaned again and his back arched under me, and Tony began to thrust.  Each thrust of Steve’s hips pushed me up and down on Tony’s cock. Tony was barely keeping it together.  He clenched his teeth and the tendons in his neck pulled taut.  I looked back over at Steve who looked completely lost in his own pleasure, holding on to Tony’s thighs as he railed into the brunet.  “He looks good taking you, huh?” I said.

“Mm-hmm,” Steve hummed.  “He’s gorgeous.”

I leaned back against him and he pulled me into a kiss.

Tony wasn’t able to hold on too much longer.  He started to writhe under me and he beat his fits on the mattress.  I broke away from Steve and looked down at Tony.  “Why are you fighting it?” I asked him.

He shook his head, unable to form words.

Steve reached past me, putting his hand on Tony’s throat.  “Come, Tony.”

It seemed to be all it took.  Tony’s whole body shuddered and he bucked up into me and released with a roar.

Steve kept thrusting and pulled out suddenly.  “El, knees, sweetheart,” he said.

I hurriedly got off Tony and onto my knees in front of him, looking up at him and opening my mouth.  Steve pumped his cock a few more times over me and released into my mouth and over my lips and chin in thick ropes.  “God damn,” he cursed.

There was a moment before we both just stayed right where we were, not moving, and just breathing heavily.  Steve was the one who broke first, reaching down to help me to my feet.  “Come on, pretty girl.  Let’s get you cleaned up.”  He reached for Tony next, taking hold of his hand. “You too, Tones.”

It wasn’t long before the three of us were in the tub together, a little cramped, but still able to relax in the warm water. 

“Mm this is nice,” Steve hummed.  “Thank you, Tony.”

Tony chuckled softly and linked his fingers with Steve’s.  “It was my pleasure, Cap.”

~ The End ~

[raeflora]

I’ve got some quick spicy questions about chuck and blair for you!!

Do you think Elenaor or Dorota heard them on that piano in 4x07 also how quickly they ended up in Blair’s bedroom? Also do you think in season 3 they were misbehaving in Blair’s penthouse often or they preferred doing that in Chuck’s or in a dorm? We are definitely seeing them together sleeping in Palace or Empire rather in blair’s house but i am curious of your thoughts about this!!

In 6x08 when blair shows up in Empire they kinda suggested like they were gonna have sex and i was fully convinced they did for years. But when i read in some fic that they fully reunited on their wedding night i was like..omg that would make actually sense. Cuz even tho they were struggled to keep their hands away from each other..especially blair haha ( pool girl she was so horny all the time) and chuck was very obligated to their pact which i think included that they cant kiss themselves. I would really want to know what you think about it even though that question is so silly

I wanted to add last question here but the the first 2 ended up much longer that I planned so i will ask it later.

hi!! these are such good spicy questions tysm 💖💖 so I think eleanor and dorota were definitely aware of what was going on but they probably didn't hear anything, and if they did they just pretended it wasn't happening sksfhjsk like they're both used to how blair and chuck are so they know how to avoid them. I think they probably had sex on the piano once and then went to her bedroom bc they were so full of "hate" they needed to keep getting it out of their systems (I don't think they necessarily had a conversation about it rather they instinctively knew where it was going) ooh in terms of s3 that's such a good point!! I think they definitely did have sex in the waldorf apartment but more during the summer, as once she starts at nyu she spends more time in her dorm so he goes to see her there instead of her apartment. for 6x08 I thought the same when I first saw it!! but then from the way she says kiss me chuck bass in 6x09 I feel like if they'd had sex a week before she wouldn't be so desperate for it (but as u said she spends most of s6 being horny for chuck so maybe it's possible) thematically I think the idea of them finally having sex again after their pact for the first time being on their wedding night is so beautiful, but there's some room for interpretation. personally I think they definitely showered together in 6x08 and maaaybe there was some intimate touching (without kissing to honour the pact) but they actually had full intercourse again on their wedding night. also I think if lily and bart hadn't been at dan and serena's thanksgiving and everything had been ok they would've definitely had pocahontas roleplay sex afterwards like chuck was so down for it 😌😌

[riptidewaters]

My Sunshine

Blair Waldorf x Chuck Bass

Requested by @miaandthediamonds (Soo sorry for the delay, this was in my drafts forever and I forgot to post it)

‘You could stop you know?’ Samantha Adams said holding Alexis Bass-Waldorf’s hair back, lifting her head up from the toilet, Alexis smirked, ‘Now- where’s the fun in that?’ This is mostly how Friday nights went for the two best friends, Alexis drinking and Sam holding her hair back as her puked the remnants of her parent’s fancy dinner. This one was no different, yelling a ‘Bye Mom! I’m going to Sam’s for the night!’ Alexis closed the door and walked towards the waiting bike on which her ‘boy of the night’ would be waiting for her, stopping at a public restroom and discarding her meek sweater and long pants for a glittery dress that barely covered her ass. Getting back on the bike, they got off at a club showed their fake id’s and made there way inside, quickly blending in with the sweaty bodies dancing to a song that rendered irrelevant to most of the people who were basically dry humping on the dance floor. The boy she was with- Lucas? Or maybe it was Liam, motioned for her to follow him. Leading her to a dark corner of the barely lit club her produced two small plastic bags, each with one dosage of cocaine, grinning, Alexis grabbed the bag and inhaled the pack mouthing a ‘Thank you’ to the boy. Pulling him in for a kiss she made out with him for a few minutes, then getting considerably bored, she pushed him back and made her way towards the dance floor. A few minutes in she felt a hand snaking towards her waist, turning around Alexis’s eyes met with that of a man that looked at 25 or 28, trying to push him away she muttered, ‘Not interested, sorry’ ‘Oh come on!’ He said pulling her closer, struggling for a few seconds she finally lifted her foot up and pressed her 3 inch heels in his toe, ‘Fuck!’ He swore loudly, walking backwards, ‘You could’ve said you weren’t interested you bitch!’ He said, ‘Yeah? Well I did dickward!’ ‘

'You’re asking for it SLUT!’ and with those parting comments the man, escorted by security, was thrown out. Unaware of the damage he had caused to the young heiress.

______________________________________________________________________

Running to the restroom, tears flooding out of her eyes, Alexis threw open the cubicle door and sank to the floor, kneeling and head in the toilet she inserted two fingers in her mouth trying to puke and get rid of the remnants of parents fancy dinner. A few minutes later pulling herself up, she shakily got her phone out, wiping her tears and offering a confident persona, dialing a familiar number she took a deep breath, ‘Hey Sam! I’m- um- I’m drunk, could you- um- could you pick me up?’

______________________________________________________________________

Alexis took a shaky breath as she hung up the phone, her heart pounding in her chest. She leaned against the bathroom stall, her reflection staring back at her from the cracked mirror above the sink. Mascara streaked down her cheeks, and her hair was a tangled mess from the chaos of the night.

As the effects of the cocaine started to wear off, she felt a pit of dread growing in her stomach. It wasn’t just the nausea; it was the realization that she was spiraling, just like her parents had years ago. They had always warned her about the dangers of excess, about how their youthful indiscretions had nearly destroyed them both. But in her defiance, Alexis had chosen to walk the same dark path, fueled by a cocktail of rebellion and inherited self-doubt.

When she stepped out of the club into the cool night air, she spotted Sam’s car pulling up to the curb. Sam jumped out, worry etched on her face as she hurried over to her friend.

“Alexis, are you okay?” Sam asked, her voice trembling slightly.

Alexis nodded, though she knew she was anything but okay. “Just take me home, please.”

The ride back to the Waldorf penthouse was silent, Sam glancing over at Alexis every so often, unsure of what to say. When they finally arrived, Alexis quietly thanked her and slipped out of the car, sneaking inside the house without making a sound.

As soon as she closed the door behind her, she let out a long, shaky breath. She was safe for now, but she knew she couldn’t keep this up. The weight of her secrets was becoming too much to bear.

---

The next morning, Alexis tried to go about her day as if nothing had happened. She joined her parents for breakfast, forcing a smile as she sipped her coffee. Blair and Chuck were deep in conversation about something trivial when Blair’s phone pinged with a notification.

“Ugh, it’s Gossip Girl again,” Blair muttered, rolling her eyes as she glanced at the screen. But her expression quickly shifted from annoyance to horror as she read the post.

Chuck noticed her change in demeanor and immediately grabbed the phone from her. His face paled as he read the message aloud:

“Spotted: Alexis Bass-Waldorf leaving a club with a nose full of trouble. Just like Mommy and Daddy, huh? Guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

The room fell silent as the words hung in the air. Alexis felt her heart drop to her stomach as her parents turned to her, their eyes wide with a mix of concern and disbelief.

“Alexis, is this true?” Blair’s voice was soft, but there was an edge to it that sent chills down Alexis’s spine.

She wanted to deny it, to come up with some excuse that would make it all go away. But as she looked into her mother’s eyes, she knew she couldn’t lie anymore.

“I… I’m sorry,” she whispered, tears welling up in her eyes.

Blair and Chuck exchanged a glance, and for a moment, Alexis could see the pain in their expressions. They had tried so hard to protect her from the mistakes they had made, but it seemed history was repeating itself.

Chuck stepped forward, his voice gentle but firm. “We need to talk about this, Alexis. We need to figure out what’s going on and how we can help you.”

Alexis nodded, knowing that this was the moment she had been dreading. But maybe, just maybe, it was also the moment she needed.

The tension in the room was thick as Alexis stared at her parents. Blair and Chuck had always been pillars of strength to her, but now they looked vulnerable, fragile even. The weight of disappointment and fear in their eyes was almost unbearable.

Blair took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. "Alexis, we love you," she began, her voice trembling slightly. "But we can't help you unless you're honest with us. How long has this been going on?

Alexis wiped a tear from her cheek, looking down at her hands. "I don't know... a while," she admitted. "It started with just partying, like everyone else does. But then it got... worse."

Chuck's face tightened as he asked, "Worse how? The drinking, the drugs, the... bulimia? How deep are you into this?"

She winced at the mention of bulimia, shame washing over her. "I... I didn't want to end up like this," she confessed, her voice cracking. "I thought I could handle it, but it just got out of control. I didn’t want to worry you."

Blair reached out, placing a hand over Alexis's. "Sweetheart, it's not about worrying us. It's about you. Your health, your future. We’ve been down that road, and trust me, there’s nothing glamorous about it. It nearly destroyed us."

Chuck nodded, his tone softer now. "We’ve made mistakes, Alexis. We know what it’s like to be young and feel invincible, to think that the rules don’t apply to you. But the truth is, they do. And we don’t want you to learn that the hard way."

A tear slipped down Alexis’s cheek. "I didn’t want to disappoint you…"

"You haven’t disappointed us," Blair said, her voice firm but filled with love. "But we are worried. And we’re here to help you get through this, no matter what it takes."

Alexis looked up at her parents, feeling the sincerity in their words. For the first time in a long time, she felt a small sense of hope. Maybe she didn’t have to do this alone.

"I don’t know how to stop," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "Every time I try, it feels like I’m losing control. And I’m scared."

Blair squeezed her hand. "We’ll figure it out together. We can get you the help you need, whether it’s therapy, rehab, or anything else. We’re not going to let you go through this alone."

Chuck nodded in agreement. "You’re our daughter, Alexis. And there’s nothing more important to us than making sure you’re okay. We’ll fight this battle with you, every step of the way."

Alexis felt a wave of relief wash over her. She had been so terrified of their reaction, but now she realized that all they wanted was to help her. Maybe this was her chance to finally take control, to break the cycle before it consumed her completely.

"Thank you," she whispered, tears streaming down her face now. "I’m ready to get better. I don’t want to be like this anymore."

Blair pulled her into a tight embrace, holding her as she cried. Chuck joined them, wrapping his arms around both of them in a protective hug.

"We’ll get through this," Blair whispered into Alexis’s hair. "Together."

For the first time in what felt like forever, Alexis believed her. And maybe, just maybe, things would start to change.

[siennafordman]

was that SIENNA FORDMAN i saw heading towards the water? you know the TWENTY-FIVE year old from LANIKAI COVE? can you believe she's only lived  in manoa bay for THREE YEARS, it seems like so much longer. last i checked she was known around town as the ELITIST because of her tendency to be CUNNING and CRUEL, but what else did you expect from a SCORPIO who reminds you of A BIRKIN CARRYING DADDY’S BLACK AMEX CARD, A PERFECTLY TIMED EYE ROLL, IMPENETRABLE EMOTIONAL WALLS TEN FEET HIGH, THE MOST DEVASTATING COMMENT YOU’VE EVER HEARD DROPPED FROM GLOSSED LIPS. since hayden's disappearance she has been happily working as the HEIRESS AND MANAGER at LUXE, but that's all about to change because the eye HAS set their sights on exposing all of their lies, as well as [REDACTED]. i really hope she doesn't incriminate herself.

BASICS

full name: sienna bridget fordman pronouns: she/her nicknames: sisi hometown: manhattan, new york city birthday & age: october 27th / 25 years old relationship status: single sexuality: straight, but not narrow occupation: manager and heiress of luxe education: bachelors degree in art history from columbia university

BIOGRAPHY

sienna bridget fordman was born in manhattan to arthur and elizabeth fordman, an entrepreneur and a fashion designer who had built an empire of department stores together. sienna grew up with the shiniest of silver spoons in her mouth, always dressed in the best that her parents' stores had to offer, and expecting nothing less. despite generally distant parents, her childhood was nothing short of idyllic, doted on by the finest nannies that money could buy, knowing in her heart that she was special.

such a privileged and entitled upbringing with very little emotional attention from her parents left sienna as a somewhat abrasive teenager. well, we can call it like it is; she was the cruel dictator of hudson school for girls, the modern-day blair waldorf. harsh punishments were given out for the crimes of a mis-matching outfit or for talking to some boy she had her eye on. ruthless and cunning, she had hoards of minions poised and ready to do her bidding, and they absolutely did.

given that her parents owned a beautiful beach-front mansion in lanikai cove, as well as a branch of their junior clothing store luxe, sienna spent her summers in manoa bay, the warmth and lushness a welcome change from the concrete jungle of manhattan. her summers here were magical, full of boat rides on crystal-clear waters, love notes scribbled in the sand, and nights full of stars that she thought would never end. although still someone abrasive and occasionally cutting, she was a different person in the summer. kinder, lighter, someone she almost liked.

these trips continued until the summer before her sophomore year at college when something happened that made her all but run from the town and back to manhattan. for the next three years, she hid out in her parents' penthouse, going quietly to and from her classes at columbia, her social media accounts totally silent. her next instagram post was a picture of her in a cap and gown, clutching her art history degree as if nothing had happened, and nothing more was said.

feeling somewhat lost after graduation, sienna decided to face her demons and return to manoa to take over the branch of luxe there and learn the family business that she would one day inherit. of course, there are ghosts in that town that she is terrified of encountering again, but as her father always says, nobody keeps a fordman down. after all, she was special. that's what everyone had always said. nothing could touch her.

sienna's true passion is painting in the little room overlooking the ocean at her parents' mansion. every day she spends at least an hour in the little studio she built for herself, beautiful landscapes of manhattan, of idaho where her grandparents live, of manoa itself. she'd never let anyone ever see the paintings, but if she did, they would certainly have a few questions about the sombre figure of a little girl that stands with her back to the viewer in the corner of each painting.

EXTRA INFO

languages: english, french social media handles: siennafordman everywhere likes: designer brands, the ocean at 6 am, oil paints on a large canvas, mango smoothies, driving around town in my bronco. dislikes: fake-nice people, cauliflower, being vulnerable, smalltalk fears: having made the wrong decision hobbies: painting, surfing, yoga, photography

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE

height: 5'4 build: slim and curvy eye color:  green-blue hair color: blonde piercings: earlobes tattoos:  a small lowercase 'm' on wrist

CONNECTIONS

jasper st. james: they spent a summer together five years ago that was abruptly ended when he ghosted her, leaving her heartbroken and extremely lost. the two haven't spoken since. lorelei "lore" lyons: the most unlikely of friends. for years, lore was nora's weird little sister but after nora's death, sienna took a liking to the younger girl. they support each other.

WANTED CONNECTIONS

friends: even a total bitch needs a friend or two enemies: you really think this girl doesn't have a few enemies? friend with benefits: yeah, she's got rock-solid walls up, but she still has an itch to scratch

[jodithann827]

Pretty Woman 9/11

Rating: Explicit / posted on AO3 / tagging @today-in-fic

Summary: zero plot in this chapter. Pure smut. You’re welcome 🔥

Sleeping Beauty’s Castle Suite

Wednesday

7:23 am

It was a dream. This is the first thought that penetrates Scully’s brain as she peeks one eye open to a glimmer of sunshine. Opening them wider, she realizes it couldn’t be a dream. They aren’t in the penthouse at the Waldorf, and she’s not in her tiny apartment; notably absent are the sounds of Missy’s soft snores. That means it must have been real. The entire day. The evening. Oh my god, she thinks, the kissing. She immediately begins chastising herself. One rule. There is only one rule Missy taught her when she started working the streets. Kissing is personal. Kissing can lead to feelings, and feelings can never happen. But I feel better than I ever have, she tells herself. She lets her thoughts drift to the man currently curled around her naked body. His soft and gentle yet powerful hands, his shining eyes, and his bright smile. His incredibly plump and yummy lips… damn it, she thinks. She, Dana Scully, the most independent person she has ever known, has become dependent on one single man. How am I going to get out of this? Do I want to get out of this?

Before she can lose herself any more in her thoughts, he stirs behind her. “I don’t want to wake up because that means the day is closer to being over,” he admits in a whisper that sends shivers up and down her spine. “I don’t know if I’m going to be able to let you go.” She closes her eyes and licks her lips, unsure of how to respond. She’s doing everything she can to hold it together.

“I need to get up and get ready. I have a few things to tie up at the office. I’ve arranged for another car. Langly is still here and will take you back to the Waldorf when you’re ready. Stay in bed for a bit if you want. Order breakfast when you’re ready. There’s no rush on checking out. It’s all taken care of.” He nips her bare shoulder before reluctantly exiting the bed and heading—stark naked—towards the bathroom. Scully takes in the magnificent view.

“When do you leave for New York?” She calls, sitting up and pulling the sheet with her to cover her exposed form. He comes out a minute later, toothbrush in mouth.

“A-roun ine-ocock” he says, and she laughs. The toothbrush is one thing, but his morning erection is clear and his hair is sticking up every which way on his head. He is a sight for sore eyes. Pulling the brush from his mouth, he hastily swallows the toothpaste. “Around 9:00 this evening,” he repeats.

“Mulder! That’s disgusting!” she exclaims, still laughing at him.

“You know, Scully, laughing at a man in his birthday suit is probably not the most supportive thing one can do.” She stifles another laugh and looks him up and down again. She swears she can see a glint in his eye and feel the heat radiating from his body, even this far away.

“How fast do you need to get back?” she asks, flirtation dripping from her words.

Mulder strides self-assuredly back to the bed. His hands move to her face and he pulls her into a slow and deep kiss that she feels from her core to her toes. His tongue mingling with hers, the minty taste permeating throughout her mouth. Releasing her, he replies, “Well, seeing as how I’m the boss, I can be a little late.” He pulls the sheet from Scully’s grip. As it falls, he moves toward her chest, grabbing handfuls of both of her supple breasts. Scully throws her head back as Mulder latches onto a puckered nipple. There is no doubt about it, the man has a talent with his tongue. Scully weaves her fingers through his messy hair, pulling softly; something she’d learned earlier in the week that he thoroughly enjoys. They’d been so frantic in their fucking the previous evening that they hadn’t taken time to touch or explore, something they’d both enjoyed throughout their days together.

Mulder moves over Scully, pushing her back gently onto the bed, but is surprised when she pushes his shoulder, forcing him onto his back. So mighty for such a small person, he muses. Small in stature but a larger-than-life character.

She positions herself over his body and seductively slides down, headed for a single goal. She captures his erect cock in her mouth and Mulder hisses. She takes him all in, then slowly pulls off, then repeats the process. She circles her tongue around his tip while clutching his balls and then grazing her nails gently over them. She continues this pattern for a few minutes, all while Mulder is puddy in her hands, if his shrieks and moans are any indication. Knowing he’s approaching dangerous territory, and not wanting it to come to an end too quickly, he breathes deeply, trying to stave off his impending orgasm. He wishes, suddenly, that he had elastic-girl’s arms so that he could reach for Scully, touch her, and give her immense pleasure.

Suddenly, Scully’s thrusted onto her back, and before she knows what’s happening she feels Mulder's lips on her swollen clit and not one, but two fingers enter her wet pussy.

“Oh god, Mulder,” she moans. She goes to touch him but he stills her hands. Moving up her body, he kisses every inch until reaching her mouth. He slips his tongue past her lips, savoring every taste. Unexpectedly, he takes her arms and places them over her head, holding them in place.

“Keep them there,” he instructs. She shivers and nods, playing along. Returning to his task, he licks a path down her chest, detouring her breasts, down her torso, to the sweet spot between her thighs. He pauses and bites the juncture where her thigh and hip meet. Not one to favor one side over the other, he repeats the process.

Scully’s breathing becomes labored, her chest heaving. He continues sucking and playing her like a fiddle with his fingers. Her purrs and moans spur him on. Her howling of his name becomes his singular focus, and judging by her noises, she’s very close.

“Cum on my lips, Scully,” he says, working his tongue and fingers simultaneously.

“Mulder, Jesus. Please. Deeper, harder. Don’t stop fucking me like that,” she shouts, and then she is plunging over the edge, sounding his name with something between a moan and a shriek.

With barely any time to recover, Mulder climbs up to a sitting position on the bed and pulls Scully to his lap. They are pussy to cock, eye to eye, lips to lips, and heart to heart and he synchronously fills her mouth and nether regions. As rapid as the previous evening had been, this is sweetly sluggish and steady, in the best possible way. Every thrust, nip, and lick is felt by both parties. She’s on the verge of saying the dreaded “L” word, but she bites Mulder’s lip instead.

“God, Scully, you make me feel,” he pauses, searching for the right words, but the best he comes up with is, “alive.”

“I love it when you slide into me like that, Mulder, I want it over and over again,” she admits.

“Baby, you’re going to make me cum, but I won’t do it without you,” he tells her. He can’t quite reach her clit, given the position they’re in.

Suddenly, Scully does something she never thought in a million years she would do. She pulls his finger to her mouth, wets it, and then moves it toward her ass. He doesn’t penetrate, but applies enough pressure that she, and subsequently he, is soaring. Lost in the moans and names are sighs and kisses.

***

“No, it’s silly,” she mumbles into his chest. Snuggled into each other, Mulder ducks his head to nip at her ear while gently running his hands up and down her back.

After their screwing and shower—which led to more passionate sex against the shower wall— Mulder called the office, again making an excuse for his tardiness, before pulling Scully back into bed. They lounge together, talking, laughing, and enjoying an exuberant amount of kissing.

“It’s not silly if it’s something you used to think about,” he points out to her.

“Well, you know I always wanted to go to Disney, so of course I always dreamed of the fairytale,” she explains.

“Like the prince and horse, and tights and all?” Mulder asks, scrunching his nose. Scully lets out a laugh, nodding.

“But then I grew up and realized that fairytales were just that, a fantasy,” she adds.

He’s sad for her and her loss of innocence, on multiple levels. He grudgingly glances at his watch and mumbles. “I really have to get going this time.” Slowly rolling to the side, he delicately slides her off him. As he dresses, he feels her eyes burning deep into his soul.

“I’ll be at the office for a little bit, but would love to see you at the hotel before I head for the airport. Do you have anything planned for the afternoon?” Scully’s heart aches. She knows it’s coming to an end, but can’t quite wrap her head around it. She can’t imagine spending a day without him. Instead, she swallows her racing thoughts down and responds with, “Actually, my sister is meeting me at the hotel for a bit. I texted her while you were finishing in the shower.”

Now fully dressed, Mulder leans over the bed, drawing Scully’s lips to his. Upon letting go, he says, “Have a safe ride back. I’ll see you a little later.”

[ellaafox]

Gossip Girl

The concept of "old money" is prominently featured in the popular television show "Gossip Girl." The characters in the series, particularly the elite residents of Manhattan's Upper East Side, come from wealthy, established families with long histories of financial success. This notion of old money is reflected in their luxurious lifestyles, designer wardrobes, extravagant parties, and exclusive social circles. The characters' prestige and influence are often tied to their family's wealth and legacy, highlighting the allure and power associated with inherited financial resources. Through the characters' interactions and storylines, "Gossip Girl" portrays the complexities and dynamics of old money in a modern, gossip-fueled society.

In "Gossip Girl," the concept of old money is a recurring theme that plays a significant role in shaping the lives of the characters and driving the storyline. The show follows the lives of wealthy and privileged teenagers attending elite private schools in New York City, giving viewers a glimpse into the glamorous and often cutthroat world of high society.

Characters such as the Van Der Woodsen and Waldorf families are portrayed as epitomizing old money, with roots in generational wealth and prestigious social standing. They reside in opulent penthouses, frequent high-end fashion boutiques, and attend exclusive events where their status and privilege are constantly on display.

The contrast between old money and new money is also explored in the show, with characters like the Humphrey family representing a more middle-class background thrust into the world of the ultra-rich. This dynamic creates tension and conflict, highlighting the complexities of social hierarchy and the challenges of navigating relationships and power dynamics within the elite circles of New York City.

Throughout the series, themes of wealth, power, privilege, and status are prominent, providing a commentary on the role of money in shaping identities, relationships, and lifestyles. "Gossip Girl" ultimately delves into the intricacies of old money and new money dynamics, offering a glimpse into a world where wealth and influence reign supreme.

In "Gossip Girl," the characters are known for their impeccable sense of style and their lavish wardrobe choices. When it comes to old money outfits, the characters often exude a sense of sophistication, elegance, and classic taste that reflects their privileged upbringing and social status.

Some key elements of old money outfits in "Gossip Girl" include:

Tailored and classic silhouettes: Characters like Blair Waldorf and Serena Van Der Woodsen are often seen wearing tailored pieces such as structured blazers, pencil skirts, and A-line dresses that exude a sense of refinement and timeless elegance.

High-end designer labels: Old money characters in the show are frequently dressed in designer pieces from luxury fashion houses such as Chanel, Marc Jacobs, and Oscar de la Renta. These high-end labels contribute to their polished and upscale aesthetic.

Rich fabrics and textures: Old money outfits in "Gossip Girl" often feature luxurious fabrics such as silk, cashmere, and satin, adding a touch of opulence and sophistication to the characters' ensembles.

Statement accessories: Accessories play a significant role in completing old money outfits, with characters often seen wearing statement jewelry, designer handbags, and on-trend shoes that elevate their looks and showcase their refined taste.

Overall, old money outfits in "Gossip Girl" are characterized by their attention to detail, timeless style, and luxury, reflecting the characters' privileged upbringing and social status in the glamorous world of Manhattan's Upper East Side.

[vieuxsriche]

[youdontjustgiveup]

August: Chapter 12

( ao3 | ff )

Previous Chapters: [link]

Summary: Blair confronts her inner demons.

Pairing: Chuck x Blair

Word Count: 3.7k

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Eating disorder

----------------------------

Blair found herself straddling him, thighs pressing firmly against his sides. Leaning against him, she moaned, her warm breath caressing the sensitive skin of his neck before nibbling playfully at his earlobe. Chuck quivered beneath her, his hand instinctively finding its place on her waist, like he needed something to hold onto.

His desire thrust forward, and Blair’s mouth went a tad dry in anticipation, a stark contrast to the growing wetness elsewhere. Craving more, she slowly rocked her hips, encouraging him to continue creating the sweet friction that had her teetering on the edge of coming undone. Her eyes rolled back. 

They were tangled in his limousine, that damn vehicle that was like an extension of him, even for a simple trip to the next block. The idea of making the king surrender in his own castle increased her own power to unimaginable limits. To have Chuck here, in this private sanctum that defined him, felt deliciously impish, like she was conquering not just him but everything that surrounded and made him who he was.

One look into his lustful eyes gave Blair the confidence to let go, to unleash the Blair she had always been, and she moved closer to brush her breasts provocatively against him. She relished having him at her mercy, almost certain she would never tire of it. When Chuck closed his eyes, she began planting kisses along his neck, each one met with moans and frantic pants, as if she were stealing the very air from his lungs in the most exquisite way. A smile played on Blair’s lips; a laugh desperate to escape her throat. 

The parts of her body he craved most rubbed against him, teasing and promising. 

He seemed to regain control at one point; his hands roaming with greedy abandon, mapping every contour, every curve. The intensity grew, tempting her to savor the moment a bit longer, but enough was enough. With a subtle yet firm movement, Blair thwarted his advances. It was her turn. Rocking her hips more assertively, she obliterated his willpower. He would succumb to her every desire.

A fiery need threatened to consume Blair if she didn’t have him in that limousine at that very moment.

“What do you want?” she dared to ask.

“You,” he responded. 

“What else do you want?”

“Only you.”

“Where do you want me?”

“Everywhere.”

Her nimble fingers fumbled for his belt, skillfully undoing its restraint, and sought out the button of his pants. His face was a canvas painted with the most pleasurable and beautiful expression; a visage contorted by desire so palpable that it hung in the air like an intoxicating fragrance. This was the moment—the point of no return—and as the seconds passed, she marveled at the absence of fear.

It surprised her how ready she felt. The doubts that typically accompanied her in such moments were conspicuously absent, replaced by a profound sense of liberation. Mind and body merged as one, creating a harmonious symphony of need that resonated through every fiber of her being. It was not just an act of the body but a liberation of the soul. 

Just as the music reached its crescendo, a flash of black transported Blair to her bed—not just any bed, but a familiar one. Her surroundings shifted, revealing her childhood room in the Waldorf penthouse, smack in the heart of Manhattan. The bedroom glowed with blue sky and creamy vanilla hues, with her favorite Audrey Hepburn-framed photo perched in the far corner, illuminated by a dangling chandelier. The air carried the sweet scent of innocence.

Now, the one sharing the space with her wasn’t Chuck, but Nate. They were both hunched over textbooks, ostensibly preparing for an English exam due on Monday. Neither of them seemed remotely interested in the study notes Blair had painstakingly arranged. While Blair tried to summon up the courage to take a daring leap into the depths of intimacy, Nate appeared more engrossed in his phone, as if anywhere else would be a better place to be. What on earth was up with him? 

Truth be told, Blair’s invitation to the penthouse had been disguised as a study session, yet deep within, it had the intention of catapulting their relationship to the next level. Lately, Nate had grown increasingly distant, and a nagging suspicion clung to Blair—that somehow, she was the one to blame. He was tired of her, tired of their childish relationship. Nate wanted something more than holding hands, chaste kisses, and the role of a glorified coat rack for her shopping bags. What he truly needed was her unwavering commitment, putting everything on the line to make their love bloom. The time had come.

Faced with Nate’s current lack of interest, Blair swiftly closed the textbook and tossed the charade of studying to the floor. It was now or never. Climbing onto Nate’s lap, the room seemed to pulsate around her, its boundaries dissolving into a blur. 

“What are you doing?” Nate said.

“Guess,” she tried to sound seductive, but even to her own ears it sounded strained.

“We’re studying.”

They were not. 

She brushed off his comment and pressed herself against him.

“You know… I have better things in mind.”

“Like what?” Nate shot her a puzzled look. His hands remained at his sides, avoiding contact.

He couldn’t be that stupid. Trying to get any interest from Nate felt like an impossible task, so she abandoned words and leaned in to kiss him. However, Nate tilted his head, dodging her lips.

Nate grabbed her arms and pulled her from his lap. A wave of anxiety crashed over her. It was like plunging into the void only to find solid ground at the bottom.

“Look, we better study, or we’re going to fail.” 

What a weak, pathetic, and painfully lame excuse. 

Nate took another quick look at his phone and burst out laughing at whatever it was he had just received. 

The sinking feeling intensified, bringing with it a twinge of nausea. Blair clutched her arms and resisted the urge to sprint to the bathroom. Despite her eyes welling with tears, she shook her head. He would not see her cry. She was better than that.

Nate remained glued to his phone. Whoever was holding his attention on the other end was more captivating than her; that much was evident. Another burst of laughter escaped him, and the smile on his face was like a succession of daggers piercing her heart, one after the other.

“Oh man, Serena cracks me up every time,” Nate’s voice cut through the air like a cold gust of wind.

Serena.

Her body tensed involuntarily. The air in the room seemed to thicken, making every breath a struggle. Her heart raced like a drumbeat, echoing the rapid pace of her thoughts. It was always Serena. Why couldn’t Nate see her? Was she not pretty enough? Thin enough? Nice? Funny? The once familiar surroundings took on an unfamiliar, almost threatening quality. Desperate to escape this invisible enemy, she tried to focus. A lump formed in her throat, making it difficult to swallow, and a shiver ran down her spine.

Blair ran to the bathroom.

And then, with a gasp, she woke up. 

Blair sat up straight in bed, her heart pounding like it had just run a marathon. Beads of sweat clung to her forehead, and the haunting remnants of the dream draped over her like a heavy shroud. The soft glow of dawn in her Hamptons bedroom made the well-known place seem strangely surreal.

Struggling to regain control, Blair took a deep breath, but the incessant chorus of Serena’s name persisted, a relentless echo in her mind. Serena, Serena, Serena. Its insidious grip twisted her insides into knots. Undeterred, she kept trying, filling her lungs with more air.

In an attempt to cling to that first fragment of her dream’s mosaic, she conjured up every detail as if each were an anchor that would keep her grounded in reality. Nate was no longer her boyfriend, they were not in her childhood bedroom, and Blair didn’t have to plead for his love and affection. Not anymore. 

Still, it proved futile. Despite her best efforts, the interior of the limousine became more and more diffuse, drifting like mist, just out of reach. The pleasure that had once consumed her dissipated, slipped away, and every attempt to recapture it ended in disappointment. The dream that had begun with such promise ended like all the others. That ill-fated study day with Nate kept creeping back to haunt her. It was not the first time, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. 

The usual queasiness tightened its grip on Blair, escalating with each passing second. She stumbled out of bed, the low temperature of the earlier hours doing nothing to alleviate the clamminess that clung to her skin. The room seemed to constrict around her. 

In a desperate rush, Blair hurried to the bathroom, each step fueled by the urgency to escape her most shameful nightmare. The acrid taste of bile lingered in her mouth, a vile prelude to what was about to happen. With a violent convulsion, her stomach clenched painfully, unleashing a gut-wrenching heave. The acidic burn surged through her throat, a merciless reminder of how sick she really was.

The cold, unforgiving tiles beneath her bare legs provided a paradoxical comfort. Blair clung to the porcelain, her face drenched in sweat and tears. Trembling hands fumbled for a tissue, trying to stem the torrent as her body rebelled against her. The retching sounds echoed, a haunting symphony of misery, as the grotesque ordeal unfolded.

Seated on the floor with her back pressed against the wall of the bathtub, she wanted nothing more than to disappear. Tears continued to stream down her face as she shut her eyes. Why couldn’t she stop?

In the darkness of her own self, she once again sought control through the rhythmic cadence of her breathing. Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out. And repeat. Her chest rose and fell steadily. It was only a dream, a nightmare. But could it truly be labeled as such when its vivid scenes reflected the reality she had once lived? The nightmare was a fragment of the past, not a reflection of the present, Blair reiterated. Then, why did it still feel so ominously close, as if its spectral breath lingered on the nape of her neck? 

The weight of failure and inadequacy bore down on her. A constant disappointment. Never enough.

White dots danced in front of her eyes, and dizziness threatened to engulf her. Blair squeezed her eyes tighter. 

Then, a reassuring hand settled on her knee, preventing her from succumbing to the encroaching darkness. Chuck’s. He had stayed. He had spent the night by her side, a fact that had slipped through the fog of her sick and desperate thoughts. His touch, gentle yet firm, became a lifeline, his thumb tracing circles as if infusing the strength she didn’t know she needed. It was so tender that she could almost cry. Again.

Blair found herself in a tricky spot, uncertain about how to act around him in the aftermath of the events from the previous night. Should she kiss him? Ignore him? Pretend like nothing happened? Kick him out of her bedroom? It was a maze of conflicting emotions that forced her to mourn the boundaries of their friendship up until that very moment. The line had been crossed, irrevocably so, and no amount of sweeping it under the rug could change that. Despite everything, only one thing was clear: she needed him. Couldn’t they roll with the punches and have it all, whatever that meant? Did she want it all? Did he?

It didn’t matter. One day, Chuck would find out that there were plenty of better options out there. He might get tired and leave, just like everyone else.

In a quick motion, Blair wiped away her tears with the palm of her hand, reluctant to let Chuck see her in such a pathetic state. Over the years, she had carefully crafted an image, and even though she was certain he could see right through it, it didn’t matter. Something had changed, and she refused to give him any more reasons to run.

Chuck’s hand left her knee, delicately parting the sweat-drenched strands that stuck to her neck. 

He was still wearing the same clothes. His jacket had been discarded, leaving him in a crumpled white shirt that hung loosely outside his pants, a few buttons undone. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, and his purple socks stood out against the disheveled ensemble. He looked… well… he looked hot. Blair managed a smile. She might be a mess, but he was a mess, too, and that realization offered some comfort.

“Feeling any better?” Chuck inquired, genuine concern flickering in his eyes. 

“I feel like shit,” she confessed. 

“You look like shit.” 

If there was one thing she appreciated about him, it was that he didn’t beat around the bush. Returning the same frankness, she gestured at his appearance.

“I know, I know. Not my finest hour either, I admit,” he conceded, assessing himself. 

“Clearly,” Blair remarked. “And, darling, a shower wouldn’t be the worst idea. Much needed, I might add.”

“Only if you join me.”

“You wish,” she replied without thinking, an instinctive response she’d thrown at him a million times, but in this moment, within the confines of the bathroom, it felt different, heavier. Chuck looked at her as if she were the sole oasis in a desert, silently confirming that there was indeed nothing he’d rather be doing, but memories of past rejections, averted kisses, and chilly encounters resurfaced. As her sanity slipped away, Blair anchored herself in the fact that Chuck wasn’t Nate. He wanted her, and he had made that crystal clear. Time and time again. His desire for her was a tangible and consistent reality. 

Yet neither of them did anything about it. 

“What happened?” Chuck asked. 

“Bad dream.”

“What was it about?” 

“Nate,” Blair admitted. Her mind was drained of energy, every part of her body weighed a ton. Then, she remembered that not everything had been bad, and she let out a subtle chuckle. Well, it all hinged on your definition of bad. “And you.”

“What’s so amusing about me haunting your nightmares? Were you plotting a hundred ways to kill me?”

“I don’t need a hundred. Just one. And you damn well know which one.”

“I’m still savoring the memories.”

The weight seemed to lighten a bit. Playful teasing and banter, ingrained in their nature. It was just so easy with him. Too tempting to resist. 

“Don’t worry, I won’t dispose of you just yet.” 

“Spill, Waldorf. What were we up to? I’m all ears.”

“I’m not telling you.”

Blood rushed to her cheeks.

“Were we in the shower by any chance? Trying to rid ourselves of this dreadful odor? I know how much you value hygiene.”

“Shut up.” Blair turned to him and slapped his arm.

“Is that some secret fantasy of yours? I could fulfill it.”

Blair put a hand over his mouth just to stop him from talking about them in the shower, fantasies, or anything else that would tighten the rope of desire that kept stretching between the two of them. He playfully nipped at her hand and took the opportunity to pull her onto his lap.

Their eyes locked, and Chuck’s intense gaze zeroed in on her lips. He wanted to kiss her, she could tell, and she would be lying if she said she didn’t want to kiss him too. Would it be like this from now on? Fighting the urge to kiss him senseless at any given moment? Then, a simple realization struck her—she hadn’t even brushed her teeth.

“Seriously, Chuck, you need a shower,” she said, diverting the impending kiss before either of them succumbed to their deepest and most immediate impulses.

“I don’t want to leave you alone,” he protested.

“I’m fine.”

“Are you?”

“I’m better,” Blair replied honestly, a subtle smile playing on her lips.. 

“You can shower in here,” she offered. 

Chuck wrinkled his nose, a mock look of horror. “Not in a million years will I resort to washing my hair with fruity shampoo.” 

“Forgive me for not choosing the very essence of a lawnmower humming under the moonlight. You know, the epitome of masculinity and refinement.”

“Exactly.” 

“Stop pretending. You’re worse than me when it comes to pampering yourself.”

“Beautiful, my pampering is a refined art. You wouldn’t understand.”

Blair loved when he called her beautiful.

Chuck released her and stood up, positioning himself in front of her mirror. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to straighten his appearance, all to no avail. Blair smiled to herself as he continued his efforts to tame his unruly hair. Eventually, Chuck moved on to smoothing out his shirt. The next thing she knew, he was handing her a toothbrush with toothpaste already on it.

As they both stood in front of her mirror, Blair brushing her teeth and Chuck trying to fix what couldn’t be fixed, she couldn’t resist savoring the domestic moment. The desire to hold on to it, to not let go, rekindled a warmth in her. Everything that had felt so right the night before couldn’t possibly be wrong, could it? Each moment only reaffirmed that the boy beside her not only wanted her but cared for her deeply. And he would go to great lengths for her if she asked. What more could she possibly want?

“What are you thinking?” he asked.

Blair rinsed out her mouth, erasing all traces of toothpaste, and dried herself with the nearest cotton towel. “What are we, Chuck?”

“We’re Chuck and Blair.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that we understand each other better than anyone else.”

“Is that enough?”

“I don’t know.” 

Their eyes met through the mirror and Blair almost looked away, unable to confront him when she was so unsure of herself. Chuck Bass, notorious womanizer, what made her different from the rest? Why should she be special? Couldn’t she be just another one of his games? An entertainment until something shinier came along. Another Serena van der Woodsen. But despite numerous opportunities, he hadn’t shied away—from that first party to last night, he’d been there, he’d chosen her. He had stood by her against all odds. So maybe, just maybe, that was enough.

Then, why was she so determined to resist happiness? Why couldn’t she stop the wheel of the past from spinning?

Blair still couldn’t answer. Fear, self-doubt, the lingering sting of hurt.  

“Let’s take it slow,” she blurted, letting her heart speak for her.

“Okay.”

“You’re not mad?”

“No. Why would I?”

He placed a hand on her lower back, pulling her closer. Her head rested on his chest. “Because you’re you. You’re Chuck Bass.”

“Then let me show who Chuck Bass really is,” he said, kissing the top of her head.

After a while, Chuck lifted her up in his arms, and she found her legs instinctively wrapped around his waist. One of his hands was under her ass, helping her up. The thrill of anticipation rumbled inside her. 

Blair bit at her lip. “I know this Chuck Bass already,” she remarked.

A devilish gleam lit up Chuck’s eyes. “Oh, you’ve barely scratched the surface with this one.”

If last night was just a taste, Blair couldn’t shake the feeling that the real feast of her life was waiting for her.

With one arm securely wrapped around her, Chuck guided Blair back towards the bedroom. Once there, he gently placed her on the bed. 

“What are you thinking right now?” Blair traced the lines of his face with her hand, smoothing a frown that threatened to appear. 

“A lot of things.”

“Can those things be said?”

“No.” 

As he made a move to step away, she reached out, her fingers curling around the fabric of his shirt, silently expressing that she didn’t want him to go anywhere. 

“I should go.” His eyes did that thing where they didn’t match his mouth. 

“Don’t worry,” she reassured him. “I’ll behave.” 

“I don’t think you’re the one who needs to behave.” 

“Is that so?” 

“Mm-hmm.” 

“Do you want to behave?” she probed. There was nothing more exhilarating than hearing him confirm his desire. 

“You know I don’t,” he replied. “But if you—”

“Then don’t,” Blair said. 

[austinbutlerslovers]

Upcoming Austin Butler as Patrick Bateman Excerpt :

Inspo: Austin Butler portraying Patrick Batemen as a psycho in upcoming film adaptation 🫠 this pic 📸 and a dozen DMs 💌

Under the Mistletoe

The Waldorf Astoria’s Christmas gala is dazzling, a picture perfect scene of Manhattan excess. Everything sparkles: lights, dresses, diamonds, and you thrive in it. You’re the darling of the Upper East Side tonight, flitting between friends and admirers, your laughter bright and carefree. Patrick watches you from across the room, leaning against the bar in his Tom Ford tuxedo, a glass of champagne in hand.

He is the epitome of perfection. Chiseled features, every muscle precisely defined under his tailored suit, and sharp, cold blue eyes that command attention. The lights from the Christmas tree reflect off his perfectly groomed hair, making him look almost ethereal. But beneath the surface, his mind churns.

She’s exhausting. Beautiful, yes, but insufferable tonight. How much longer can I keep this up?

You’re chatting animatedly with a group of friends, oblivious to the way his gaze pierces through you. When you glance his way, you catch his sharp smirk, and your heart skips. You love that smirk—it’s confident, seductive, and just for you.

“Patrick, come here!” you call, waving him over. The group makes room for him, and he steps in smoothly, placing a possessive hand on your lower back.

Now under the mistletoe, someone teases, “Oh, Patrick, you know the rule!”

Patrick’s grin widens. “I don’t follow rules,” he quips, pulling you close to him. His lips press to yours, firm and commanding, eliciting a chorus of playful cheers. But the kiss isn’t sweet. It’s a performance, sharp and calculated, and you feel it.

Later, as the party winds down, you’re in the car heading back to Patrick’s penthouse. The silence is heavy. You’re perched in the passenger seat of his immaculate Lexus, prattling on about holiday plans, your friends vacations, and what you want for Christmas.

“And Sophie is spending New Year’s in St. Barts—ugh, can you imagine? It’s so cliche to flaunt it like that,” you chatter, oblivious to his mounting frustration.

Patrick’s jaw tightens, his cold gaze fixed on the road ahead. 

I should pull over. Quiet her. Permanently. The way she talks, her voice, that incessant laugh—it grates. But not yet. Not tonight. Keep the mask on.

“Are you even listening to me, Patrick?” you pout, crossing your arms.

He pulls into the parking garage, kills the engine, and steps out of the car without answering. You’re left fuming as he strides toward the elevator, leaving you to follow.

His penthouse is immaculate—gleaming marble floors, sleek minimalist furniture, and floor to ceiling windows overlooking the city. Patrick removes his jacket, draping it over a chair with deliberate precision. You, still sulking, remove your fur coat and kick off your heels tossing your handbag onto the couch.

“Are you going to ignore me all night?” you demand, your voice sharp with irritation.

Patrick turns, his cold gaze locking onto you. “You’re such a spoiled brat,” he says evenly, his tone devoid of warmth.

You blink, stunned. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” he says, stepping closer. His presence overwhelming, and for the first time, a flicker of unease crosses your mind.

“The whining, the entitlement, the need for constant attention—it’s exhausting, darling,” he says, his tone sharp and cutting.

You open your mouth to retort, but Patrick is already on you, his hands gripping your arms as he pushes you against the entry wall. His movements are firm bordering on violent as he holds you in place his face inches from yours.

“Patrick, you’re scaring me,” you whisper, your voice trembling.

“Good,” he says, his smirk cold and dangerous. “Maybe you should be scared.”

🔗 Under the Mistletoe Available (ofc smut) Brat x Bateman

[terrainofheartfelt]

✨Six Sentence Sunday✨

from the fic I just wrote tonite!!!

Vanessa leans down, turning her head, trying to get him to meet her eye. Failing that, she puts her arms around him, hugging him tightly.

Dan takes in an uneven breath, the lump in the back of his throat threatening to break open. “No. Don’t –” he gently pushes her away. “I don’t want to cry. Not here, in the middle of Waldorf’s creepy ass penthouse.”

“Okay,” Vanessa says softly, but she sets a hand on his shoulder anyway, and Dan doesn’t have the heart or the strength to shake her off.

[hiddenbabygirl22]

Blair and Eleanor

The Waldorf penthouse was bustling with laughter as Blair entertained her friends Serena, Kati, and Isabel. They were discussing plans for the weekend, their laughter filling the room. Blair wore her usual confident expression, reveling in her role as Queen Bee.

But Eleanor Waldorf had her own plans for the evening. Earlier, Dorota had discreetly informed her that Blair had been sneaking in late all week, well past curfew. Eleanor decided it was time to remind her daughter that, despite Blair’s independent airs, she was still very much her mother’s little girl.

Eleanor entered the room with a composed but unmistakably firm look. The laughter came to an abrupt stop as the girls turned to see her.

“Blair,” Eleanor said, her voice calm but firm, “we need to talk.”

Blair straightened, but a hint of worry crossed her face. “Mother, I’m with my friends right now. Can this wait?”

“Oh, I don’t think it can,” Eleanor replied. “I understand you’ve been coming home past curfew every night this week. You know the rules, young lady.”

Blair’s face flushed, and she tried to deflect. “Mother, please,” she muttered, a touch of petulance in her voice, “I’m not a little kid.”

Eleanor raised an eyebrow, unfazed. “You’re certainly acting like one. And since you’re so eager to disregard the rules, I think an early bedtime is exactly what you need tonight.”

Blair shot her mother a look of disbelief, her cheeks going pink as she felt her friends’ curious eyes on her. “Mother, I can’t just—”

“Enough, Blair,” Eleanor cut her off. “I’ve laid out your pajamas in your room. Say goodnight to your friends, and up you go.”

Blair opened her mouth to protest, but her mother’s stern expression left no room for negotiation. Reluctantly, she turned to her friends, mumbling, “Goodnight, everyone.” She hoped her embarrassment would end there.

But as Blair trudged up the stairs, Serena, Kati, and Isabel exchanged surprised glances, their curiosity piqued. They waited a moment before sneaking up to the staircase, just in time to catch a glimpse into Blair’s room.

There, on her bed, Blair found her pajamas laid out—a soft, pastel set with little bows that looked far more childish than her usual sleepwear. She groaned but changed quickly, hoping to get this over with. She didn’t realize that, from the cracked doorway, her friends could see her attire, and their eyes widened as they took in her surprisingly innocent appearance.

When Blair finished changing, she heard her mother’s footsteps approaching, and she hurried to her bed, climbing under the covers just as Eleanor entered. Her mother walked over and pulled the blankets up to Blair’s chin, tucking her in with practiced care.

“Now, Blair, perhaps a story will help you relax,” Eleanor said softly, picking up a well-worn storybook from the bedside table. Blair blinked, taken aback. “Mother, I don’t need a story,” she whispered, her cheeks flushing.

“Nonsense, darling. After a week of sneaking in late, you could use a little quiet time,” Eleanor replied, ignoring her protests, “And you always go beddy bye much quicker after mama reads to you, don't you?"

"Yes mama." Blair addmitted shyly.

Outside the door, Blair’s friends covered their mouths, exchanging wide-eyed glances as they watched and listened. It was as though Blair was transformed; all her haughty airs seemed to vanish as she nestled under the covers, listening to her mother’s voice with rapt attention, looking every bit like a mama’s girl.

When Eleanor finished the story, she leaned down and kissed Blair on the forehead. “Goodnight, sweetheart,” she said softly.

Blair, already drowsy,and thumb in mouth, murmured, “Goodnight, Mommy,” slipping into sleep without realizing her friends were listening to every word.

As Serena, Kati, and Isabel quietly made their way back downstairs, they could barely contain their surprise. The Queen Bee of the Upper East Side, sucking her thumb, tucked in and read to like a little girl—it was a side of Blair they never would have imagined, and one she’d likely be mortified for them to know.