#wine serving area

[fishmaelly]

Home Bar in San Francisco Inspiration for a mid-sized contemporary open concept dark wood floor and brown floor family room remodel with gray walls, a stone fireplace, a wall-mounted tv, a standard fireplace and a bar

[chelseafcazul]

Family Room Home Bar Mid-sized contemporary open concept family room makeover inspiration with gray walls, a stone fireplace, a wall-mounted tv, a regular fireplace, and a bar.

[spencerreidenjoyer]

we've already done it in my head | spencer reid x reader

You have fantasies about Spencer, and you feel bad about it when you have to see him at work. Thing is, he has fantasies about you too.

wc: 4.8k, rating: explicit

tags/warnings: professor!spencer, post prison!spencer, bau!reader, fem!reader, sexual fantasies, masturbation, daddy kink, getting together, hookups, friends with benefits (?), mentions of public sex/exhibitionism (they don't actually do it), fucking with feelings but neither of them really realise it yet lol...

a/n: i am insane and that's all i'll say about this fic. jk i started this at the top of the month and i'm glad i've finally finished it. this was such a crazy one to work on, aside from being swamped with school work. thank you to my lovely friend from twitter vic who kept encouraging me to work on this hehe. inspired heavily by taylor swift's guilty as sin? (obviously) and chappell roan's picture you just for those horny yearning vibes yknow? please enjoy this insanity!!! (crossposted to ao3)

Spencer rushes in from the university when Emily calls. It’s a serious case, one that Emily decides Spencer needs to be pulled away from his teaching for. She doesn’t feel good doing it – the whole team knows how important teaching is to Spencer, but he understands all the same when he comes into the round table room. Spencer sits down at the last empty seat next to you, his hair a mess as he sets down his things and flips open the case file. He turns to smile at you, before Penelope starts the case brief.

It’s a long, tiring day of work after landing in California, the BAU having been called in to investigate the murders of young moms in the area, and you need a glass of wine and a nice hot bath to even fathom everything you’ve seen today.

You should just turn in for the night, the Bureau being particularly kind with their budget as you all get individual rooms. Your drowsiness should put you fast to sleep, but your mind is racing with thoughts of Spencer.

Spencer’s been in his nice suit all day, filling out his shirt nicely. You’ve noticed his stubble growing in, and his hair is messy and gorgeous. You can’t help yourself for feeling this way, as guilty as you feel about it. You’ve been harbouring your crush on Spencer for way too long, in the couple of years since you joined the BAU. Spencer is a sight for sore eyes for sure, but his kind gentleness despite the horrors of what you all do for work is a welcome reprieve. 

While his sweet nature was what had you falling for him in the first place, Spencer could be extremely sexy, even if he didn’t know it. 

Today was especially tough for you. You and Spencer were sent in to interrogate a particularly uncooperative suspect, playing into the good cop-bad cop dynamic. Your coaxing wasn’t doing anything, and Spencer had ended up raising his voice in an attempt to intimidate them. He’d slammed his hand on the table, a loud clang against the metal, and his large figure only served to crowd the suspect in to scare them further.

You only got to know Spencer after the mess that was him getting wrongly sent to prison, but Spencer supposedly wasn’t like this before prison. Still, you found Spencer’s quiet intimidation incredibly attractive, and you had to keep your composure in the interrogation room earlier.

And your mind drifts to Spencer from earlier, his rough callousness with the suspect, his glare wild and intimidatingly sexy, you end up thinking about him.

About Spencer, who is so kind and sweet with you and the rest of the team, seeming like he couldn’t hurt a fly. 

About Spencer who could also be domineering and intimidating. He seems like he’d only pull it out if you asked, but the duality has you hot under the collar. 

Your eyes slip shut, mind swirling with thoughts of Spencer, about having him all to yourself, about him wanting you. 

About his large hands on you, making you feel so small under his firm grasp. 

About him pinning you down on the hard, cool metal of the table in the interrogation room. 

About him caging you in with his arms, the look in his eyes almost crazed and full of lust for you. 

“Spencer,” you gasp, before Spencer kisses you fervently. His stubble is rough against your skin, but you don’t care. Spencer kisses you like he’s a starved man and you’re his next meal, with such desperation that you feel weak in the knees.

“You’re gorgeous,” Spencer says. He kisses your jaw, down your neck, and his large hands are all over your body. You feel so secure in his grasp, he feels you up and drinks his fill of you. He gropes your tits, your thighs, your ass, manhandling you into spreading your legs, so he can press the hardness of his cock to your cunt. “Look what you do to me.”

You whimper, fully indulging in this wet dream as you slide a hand into your underwear. “Spencer,” you gasp.

“You’re so hot, you make me feel crazy,” Spencer hums, rolling his hips against you. You’re separated between layers of fabric, but Spencer humping you like this turns you on to no end. 

You rub at your clit in tight little circles, your wetness aiding the slide as you get yourself off to the thought of Spencer.

“Spence,” you moan, frustrated. While Spencer’s hardness grinding against you is literally a dream, you want to imagine his cock buried inside of you. You’re perfectly capable of moving this along, so you do. 

Magically, Spencer’s clothes are off and so are yours, the perks of a fantasy being that you don’t have to awkwardly stumble through taking your clothes off. You have a hazy picture of what he’d look like naked in front of you. You imagine toned muscle, a slight pudge to his tummy from his time in prison, his pecs filled out nicely. You imagine his cock would be pretty, as pretty as he is, veiny and thick and all sorts of perfect. 

“You’re too fucking good to me, baby,” Spencer groans, the blunt head of his cock pressed up against you now. He rubs off against you, sliding over your clit, your folds, over the wetness leaking from your whole. “Gonna fuck you so good, just like you deserve.”

Without hesitation, Spencer’s cock slips into you, the perfect thickness to make you feel full as he slides in inch by inch. 

You slip your fingers into yourself, aided by how impossibly wet you are just at the thought of Spencer, and your groan weakly. Two fingers aren’t enough, not when you bet Spencer could fill you up, like he’d split you in half on his cock. 

He pushes into you until he’s pressed flush against you, buried inside of you to the hilt. He starts to pound into you, like he’s uncaring of what you need, but the way he treats you turns you on impossibly.

Your fingers aren’t enough to satiate you, but you thrust them in and out of you in an effort to mimic how Spencer fucking you might feel. You moan, a little louder than you’d like.

“Spence–” you gasp, in your fantasy. It should be scandalous, Spencer taking you over the table in the interrogation room. You don’t know if the thought of people being behind the one-way mirror turns you on or not – being watched, letting Spencer take you in front of everybody. You like the thought of Spencer being so obsessed with you, so desperate, needing to fuck you right where you work.

The metal table is cool and harsh against your hips, but you don’t care if it hurts as Spencer fucks you relentlessly, quickly taking on a brutal pace. It’s exactly what you need, what you want Spencer to do with you, being rough and frantic enough to make you scream his name.

You whimper his name under your breath, bashful even while in your fantasy. 

Spencer has you pinned down, but it’s not like you intend to get away. You want to savour this even if it’s only in your mind, shameful as you’re getting off to the thought of your coworker. You just need this out of your system, need Spencer out of your system, and then tomorrow you can face him like a normal, well-adjusted person. 

“Fuck,” you gasp, palm grinding against your clit, fingers pressed inside of yourself. You’re shaking, with the thought of Spencer fucking you until you can’t take it anymore, the ideal of him in your mind too perfect, until you’re moaning into your hand as you orgasm. You sob, clenching tight around your fingers, feeling your slick gush out as you ride your high.

You don’t mean to fall asleep, but after both a long day and a crazy good orgasm, you end up passing out with a tissue clenched in your hand, with your panties and sleep shorts kicked off to the foot of the bed.

---

Spencer can’t stop thinking about you.

He shouldn’t, not when you’re his coworker and also one of the people he’s friendliest with in the unit. 

Spencer would say he couldn’t bring himself to trust many, especially after coming out of prison, but you were the one he warmed up to the easiest. A new face in the BAU wasn’t uncommon, but Spencer had found himself drawn to you. You were kind and warm to him fresh out of prison, your tenderness a welcome reprieve as he’d gotten accustomed to being back at the BAU. With your intellect and quick wit, matched with your beauty, Spencer could not help but be attracted to you – but that’s besides the point. 

Spencer knows how much your friendship with him means to you, and he’s certain that that’s all you see him as: a friend. 

Yet, he can’t stop himself from thinking about you in those pants. Those pants that hug your curves just right. Those pants that make your ass look great – not that he was looking – especially when you’re leaning over an interrogation table, trying to play the good cop with the suspect from earlier.

Spencer had hung back, trying to get a read on the suspect while you spoke to him. Him getting to ogle your figure and stare at how good you looked in those pants was unintentional, but he definitely wasn’t complaining. 

Spencer only felt a bit bad wrapping his hand around himself in the shower, mind flooded with thoughts of you. Water, almost scorching, running down his body, his hand moves fast and reckless, exhaling harshly as he gets himself off. 

He can’t get you out of his mind, your gorgeous figure, your pretty face, your wide eyes and thick thighs and soft lips – he shouldn’t be thinking of you like this. You were a coworker, a friend, for God’s sake, and yet he can’t stop imagining you under him. 

He can’t stop imagining pressing you against the table in the interrogation room – your lithe frame underneath him, making you look so small, making him feel so big. 

He presses his growing problem to your perfect ass, watching you writhe underneath him. You keep looking back up at him, with your wide, wet eyes and your flushed cheeks, looking like you need him to give you exactly what you need.

“Please, daddy,” you whine, and Spencer is groaning and undoing his belt before your pants get pushed down too. Stroking his cock quickly, Spencer easily finds his way to your entrance, wet and dripping with your slick. He pushes into you, pressing kisses to your neck as you groan with the intrusion. 

“Daddy,” you whimper, “Feels so good.”

“Yeah?” Spencer coos at you. Spencer feels you press yourself back up against him, pushing his cock deeper, and he loses all sense of control as he starts to fuck you hard. He feels like a madman, unable to hold himself back as he takes and takes and takes, fucking into your tight wetness, his head spinning with how good you feel around him. 

You’re whining and moaning under him, your noises music to Spencer’s ears as they echo off the walls. Your cunt is wet and sloppy as Spencer fucks you, wanting to give you everything you need and more.

“Fuck, baby,” Spencer groans, his hand tightly fisted around his cock. The way the tip of his cock leaks is easing the slide, as he pictures in crystal-clear detail how your cunt would draw him in, slick and messy be fucks into your perfect, tight cunt. “You’re too good to me.”

“Daddy,” you sob, your hands clawing down Spencer’s back. Spencer gropes you greedily through your clothes, grabs your tits and feels his fill of your waist, your perfect ass, your thighs as he rocks himself back and forth between them. 

“Gonna cum inside of you, love,” Spencer grunts, his pace unrelenting. His hands are on your thighs, gripping you tight, both fucking into you and dragging you onto his cock over and over. “You’re gorgeous. Gonna make a mess of you.”

You’re whining underneath him, making him feel too good, as you clench around him tight and moan even louder. Spencer can’t help himself, thrusting into you hard and fast and eager until he’s cumming.

He spills into his hand, the thick white ropes of his cum washed down the drain with the spray of the shower from above him. Visions of you flash through his mind, your gorgeous frame, your pretty face, your mouth on his. 

He’s barely towelled off before he’s knocked out in his bed, too tired to even process feeling guilty about jerking off to you. 

---

Sure, perhaps it’s childish to try and avoid Spencer all day, especially when you have an active case all of you need to be working on. You must be a fool to think that getting yourself off to Spencer would help, because all you can think about is your fantasies of him last night, how you imagined him bending you over and taking you– Not helping, you remind yourself.

Emily must secretly be on your side or be able to read your mind or something, because Spencer is relegated to work on geographic profiles and speed-read through case files back at the police precinct, while you get sent out onto the field to chase down your killer. 

But you can’t avoid Spencer forever, and you aren’t any good at it either. You feel like Spencer’s eyes are on you the whole day when you and him are in the same room, but you never look up at him to find out. While you could chalk up your nerves to a serial killer still being out on the streets, you don’t have any more excuses at the end of the day when you’ve finally caught him, and the team decides to get dinner to celebrate.

You purposely wedge yourself between JJ and Emily when you sit down at the table, trying to avoid Spencer, and you think you’re successful with getting away with seeming a little out-of-it when you end up slipping away early, claiming you had a rough sleep last night.

You’ve barely settled down in your hotel room for the night, finally feeling like you can relax, when there’s a knock at your door. You have no clue who it could be, but you open the door, and–

There Spencer is. 

“Hi,” you say curtly, feeling embarrassment wash over you all of a sudden, because all you can think about is getting off to the thought of him last night. You feel your cheeks warm, but you hope it’s not obvious that you’re blushing. Then, in an attempt to seem somewhat normal and well-adjusted, you add, “What’s up?”

“I should be asking you that,” Spencer says, his eyebrows furrowed slightly. “What’s up with you today?”

You press your lips together in a thin line before you say, “Nothing’s up. I’m fine.”

“Come on,” Spencer prods, his head cocking to the side as he deadpans. “You know I can read you like an open book. Something’s up.”

You frown, Spencer stoking the flames of brattiness in you. “Yeah? Tell me what’s the matter, if you can read me so well.”

Spencer’s eyes widen slightly. You watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows.

“I- I thought we said no inter-group profiling,” Spencer says, his voice a little weak, and for the first time, you see Spencer look a little helpless. It’s kind of hot. 

Do you make him… nervous?

“Yeah, but if you insist on thinking something’s up with me…” You shrug, smiling. Spencer just blinks at you.

No. You couldn’t possibly entertain the thought. 

Spencer clears his throat. You watch him fidget with his hands just slightly, before he puts them by his sides to seem confident. “Well, you’ve been avoiding me, on purpose or not – both attest to your desire to avoid me somewhat. You could barely look me in the eye all day, which means you might be embarrassed or guilty of something, likely having to do with me.” Spencer says, his voice even, but he isn’t looking at you. 

You raise your eyebrows. His explanation is both specific and vague, and you feel slightly called out and safe from his scrutiny at the same time. But, you can’t shake off the feeling that there’s something more to Spencer’s words, the way he’s looking at you like he hopes you can’t pick his brain apart. 

So, you turn it back onto him, “Then, what do you think is the problem? You aren’t looking at me either, and you were fidgeting with your hands. Is something up with you, then? It almost sounds like you’re projecting, Dr. Reid.”

Spencer freezes, like he’s a deer caught in headlights. You can practically see his brain running a mile a minute, overthinking every possible outcome, overly self-aware of himself, his actions, his thoughts.

You try to stop yourself from smiling, because Spencer is kind of cute like this. “You wanna tell me what it is then, Reid?” 

“When did this become about me?” Spencer squeaks, his usually cool facade quickly disappearing. There’s a look in Spencer’s eyes, as he nervously looks you up and down, and oh– “I just– Well, I– You–”

“I’m thinking we might be on the same page, here,” you say, smirking. “Wanna tell me what it is?”

Spencer furrows his brows, his mouth agape as he looks up at you, but you’re putting your hand on his chest and trailing it down slowly. “Oh–”

“Tell me, Dr. Reid,” you cock your head, eyeing him up and down lazily. When you look at Spencer’s face, he’s shocked, enamoured and turned-on all in one. 

“You’re… attracted to me,” Spencer says, somewhat uncertain. “The same way I’m attracted to you.”

“And what makes you say that?” You hum. 

“I thought I heard you last night. Through the walls,” He says timidly, nothing you’ve seen from him before. “Thought I should’ve gone over to help, but I realised you were, um– You were pleasuring yourself. To- To me.”

“The walls are thin, huh?” You laugh, a little sheepish, but you note how Spencer’s becoming shy at the thought. “Did you…?”

His eyes grow wide. “Did I do what?”

You smirk. “That tells me everything I need to know, Reid,” you say, laughing.

“Well, you shouldn’t presume–”

“Shut up and kiss me, Reid,” you huff. You pull Spencer closer to you by his tie and you press your lips to his. 

It’s too perfect, when Spencer’s mouth is finally on yours. His hands cupping your face, Spencer kisses you hard and eager, like he can’t believe that he finally gets to have you. He kisses you like he’s starving, desperate for you as his next meal. You moan as his hands reach for your hips, pulling you in closer to him, greedy as he feels you up.

“Did you fantasise about this too? About me, like this?”

“This is better than I could’ve ever imagined,” Spencer says breathily. “You… You’re so attractive.”

“Could say the same about you,” you laugh, reaching to unbutton his shirt. His tie is already loose, hanging around his neck, but you want to see more. You undo the top few buttons, revealing more of his chest. You trail your finger over the exposed skin, letting your nail graze it slightly. You hear Spencer inhale sharply, and grin to yourself, proud of the effect you have on him. “So, do you want to just stand around and talk, or do you want to fuck me?”

Spencer’s eyes widen, and you chuckle. As if he hadn’t expected this was how it was going to go. Spencer purses his lips. “I mean, absolutely. I want to fuck you. But, um– We should definitely talk about this though.”

“Later,” you say, waving him off, before you lean in to kiss him again. Spencer grabs your waist again, like he needs to have you close. He lifts you slightly, making you squeak, but the both of you stumble over to the bed, unable to keep your hands off of each other, unable to keep your mouths off each other. You sit down on the bed, Spencer crowding you in with one of his knees on the mattress.

You loosen his tie and take it off, while Spencer moves to unbutton your shirt. HIs hands move deftly, eager to undress you, and he pulls away to marvel at the curve of your breasts in your bra when he pushes the satin shirt off of you. “Wow.”

“Wow yourself,” you say. You appreciate the view: a dishevelled, eager Spencer Reid in your bed, his hands all over you, his shirt half-undone, revealing tanned skin and a gorgeous body. “Need you to fuck me right now.”

Spencer laughs, perhaps a little incredulously, and he instead moves to take his shirt off instead. “I’ll- I’ll do that.”

“Good,” you say, distracted as you admire Spencer’s frame, the lines of his body, the softness of his stomach. He’s so hot you might die. “Very good.”

“I’m glad you like the view,” Spencer says, a little timid, like he’s shy to show off in front of you. He meets your gaze when you look up at him, caught in the middle of ogling him with no shame. 

You smile up at him sheepishly. “Please fuck me, Spencer.”

“Okay,” Spencer smiles, warm and gentle. He helps you slide your pants and underwear off your legs before you spread them. Spencer’s jaw drops, his eyes focused on the slick mess of your cunt. “Oh, my God.”

“Yeah?” you laugh, thoroughly amused with his reaction. “Show me how much you want me, too.”

Spencer’s hands are quick to push down his bottoms, dress slacks and boxer-briefs on your floor in an instant, wrapping a fist around himself as he works himself up for you. You can’t tear your eyes off of him – “Spencer, you’re… big.”

“Am I?” Spencer asks, and you’d lose your mind if you weren’t expecting Spencer to fuck your brains out. 

“You are,” you say calmly, because if you let yourself sound any more excited he might think you were insane. “But I can take you.”

Spencer grins. “Good.”

His fingers press against your cunt after you tell him to do so. His slender digits pick up all the slick that’s leaking from your hole, spreading it around messily as he toys with your clit. You shudder with the sensation, throwing your head back against the pillows. Then, one of his fingers slips into you, and he coaxes you open with a care you haven’t felt from most partners before. “How’s that?”

“So nice,” you groan, getting used to the feeling. He fucks you on his fingers, slow and careful, intent on stretching you out until you’re comfortable. You whimper and whine, feeling embarrassed at how vocal you’re being, but Spencer is kissing your breasts without a care in the world, and then you’re thinking about letting him know that you do feel good. Your next gasp is less ashamed, as Spencer coaxes a second finger in.

You’re panting as Spencer fucks you on his fingers, the repeated motion only working you up even more. The squelch from his fingers fucking you is obscene, and his eyes are wide as he looks at you. “You’re perfect,” he whispers. 

“Fuck me, Spence,” you say. 

Spencer bites his lip as he sits up and settles between your legs. He’s tugging at his cock as he lines himself up with your entrance. He slides his length along your folds, wet with your slick, and you groan at the friction. You grunt, wanting more, “Come on, Spence.” 

His hand on your leg, Spencer leans forward so he can press into you, and Spencer is practically folding you in half so he can fuck you. You moan at his thickness deep inside of you, filling you up, and the stretch is so undeniably amazing. Spencer’s length drags against your walls, such a delicious sensation deep in your bones, and you sob a little.

“Does that feel good?” Spencer asks softly, his voice tender. 

“So good, Spence,” you gasp. Spencer kisses your cheek, down your neck, and waits patiently for you to give him the go-ahead.

You feel his cock twitching inside of your heat, both your fantasies unable to live up to the real thing. Confident, cocky Spencer in your dreams is just that – a dream. The Spencer right in front of you is perfect, more perfect than what you’ve dreamed: shy but so attentive and sweet. He takes such good care of you. It makes you lose your mind a little bit.

“Fuck me,” you insist, and Spencer puts his hands on your hips as he starts to move. He fucks you deep, just the way you need him, and you cry out as he digs into your soft flesh, holding you tight so he can fuck you hard. The way Spencer pounds into you has your whole body trembling, pleasure coursing through you like electricity, till your mouth has fallen open and your toes are curling. 

“You’re so much better than I imagined,” Spencer groans, eyes squeezed shut as he puts all his energy into railing you. “Can’t believe this is real.”

You clench around him just to hear him moan, and you’re proud of yourself when his hips stutter and a groan rips through his throat in his pleasure. He glares at you. You grin, as Spencer keeps fucking you.

“What- Oh, fuck– What did you imagine? With me?” You gasp, as Spencer rolls his hips in a particularly deep thrust.

Spencer squeezes his eyes shut, before looking down at you, like he’s really contemplating if he should say this. “I– I pictured bending you over the interrogation table. Fucking you, making you scream my name, taking you right there, I–”

You moan as Spencer hits that perfect spot inside of you, your legs trembling as you gasp, “I– Why did we have the same fucking fantasy? Fuck–”

“What? You thought of me that way too?” Spencer sounds incredulous, like he can’t imagine you thinking of him that way– As if he isn’t drilling you into the hotel bed right now.

“Fuck, Spencer– Oh, my God– Yeah, I– You had me pinned down on the table, and you were fucking me in the interrogation room, in front of all of them–”

“God, you’re perfect,” Spencer grunts, burying his head in your shoulder as he uses the leverage to fuck you deeper, harder, faster. You can’t stop moaning Spencer’s name, simply too overwhelmed with the pleasure he’s giving you, the way he’s fucking you into the mattress. This is all you’ve ever wanted. Spencer fucking you like a madman, giving you all the pleasure you need but still being greedy enough to take and take and take. 

“Please! Spencer, you– I’m gonna cum, I can’t–” You cry, sobs wracking their way from your throat, so loud but you can’t be bothered to keep yourself quiet. Spencer groans your name, a sweet, sultry sound, and you feel like you’re going to lose your mind. 

“Cum for me,” Spencer hums. “You’re so perfect, and you’re laid out like this all for me. You’re so fucking hot. Show me how good I make you feel.”

You’re sobbing as your orgasm hits you, overwhelmed by Spencer’s filthy words and his filthier actions, so intense as he fucks you into next week. It’s too good, and you lose yourself much sooner than you expect. Your pussy clenches tight around Spencer with your orgasm, sending him over the edge as he fills you up, cock twitching as he cums inside of you.

He collapses on top of you, his weight comfortable as you both catch your breath. Your mouth feels dry, but you don’t care when Spencer is leaning over to kiss you again. It feels so right, this wild feeling you only thought existed in your dreams.

The next morning when the team is gathered in the hotel lobby to head to the hangar to fly back to Quantico, Emily gives you a pointed look, and Rossi is clapping Spencer on the back with a knowing grin. You apologise sheepishly, while Spencer grows red, avoiding eye contact with the rest of the team. He only meets your eyes, and the two of you share a smile. You can tell neither of you want this to end here. Maybe you’ll talk about it when you get back home. 

[teaboot]

I do not have Boy Knowledge to trade, but can I ask for dinner party hosting tips???

Sure!

I grew up broke but the great-grandparents passed on all their old etiquette, so *fart noise* got a lot of old fashioned shit kickin around, this is what we'd do

PREP:

Clean the house in advance. And not just common areas- the whole place. Minimum the kitchen, living room, bathroom, entrance. Take out all the trash, no dirty dishes, scrub out the toilet. (This is less vital with super casual close friends and family.)

Have snacks ready before arrival. Ask in advance about any allergies and accommodate. Same for actual food.

Aim for business-casual clothing. Jeans are okay if they're well-fitted and clean, with no holes, but nothing acid-wash. Sleeveless shirts should be at least three fingers wide, typically women-only but fuck gender conformity I don't give a shit.

Put coffee or the kettle on a minute or two before you expect people to arrive. Coffee should be fresh and kettle should be boiled around the same time folks arrive.

Have a place for people to put their coats and shoes. An area rug works for shoes, ans if you don't have a coat rack or closet for jackets it's handy to have a bedroom cleaned out and a bed made so people can keep coats, scarves, bags, and purses somewhere.

In some cultures cooking doesn't start until guests arrive. The way I was raised, cooking starts much earlier, and things should be coming out of the oven after they've been there a few minutes and had time to chat.

Set the table before guests arrive: Typical setting when I was younger was matching placemats at every seat, plate next. Fork on the left, knife and then spoon on the right. Wine glass on the right, saucer on the right, cup on saucer for hot drinks. Cloth napkin under the spoon and knife on the right, unless rolled with a napkin ring, in which case it could be set at the top of the plate, on the plate, or on the right hand side. Salt, pepper, and a butter dish is to be set out- one of each for every four to six seats is a decent rule of thumb.

DURING:

Guests are expected to announce themselves by knocking or ringing the bell. When this happens, usually a younger member of the family is sent to answer the door and let them in. Hosts follow shortly after, and hugs and greetings take place. The host offers to take people's coats and bags, or otherwise indicates where they can be placed. Shoes come off and are left at the door.

Tour of the house. This doesn't happen every time, but a quick, "let me show you around" may happen if you expect to be there a full day or longer, or if someone needs to politely stall for time, or if the host is especially happy to have you there or to show you something. This usually skips bedrooms, but a nod will usually be given to indicate adult's rooms, and kid's rooms may be peeked at to show off or do introductions with small children.

Offering seats. Usually starts in the living room, where, "can I get you anything?" Is asked. Options usually include wine, beer, water, some kind of juice, coffee, or tea. Possibly ginger ale or cola, but not usually much in the way of sodas.

At this point, a tray of cookies, biscuits, crackers, or other small snacks might be set our to be shared. Here, it's polite to eat a little and join in on smalltalk.

Dinner. When food is ready to come out of the oven, someone in the host's home will announce that dinner is ready, and guests and hosts will relocate to the dinner table and pick seats. (If there is not enough room at the dinner table for everybody, children's plates will be set at a folding table elsewhere, or in the vacated living room area.)

Some hosts will have guests line up in the kitchen and serve their own food one at a time. The way I was taught, hosts bring food and serving utensils to the table and sit once everything is placed. Dishes are then passed in a circle from person to person as people fill their own plates. It is generally assumed that you will take your portion in such volume that everyone else can receive the same amount as you, or more.

Meal usually includes a meat-based dish, a starch like rice or potato, one to three vegetable dishes, and a bread like a bun or roll that may be buttered.

It is here preferred that you ask for something to be passed rather than reach over food. "Could you pass me the..." or "may I borrow the ..." are good ways to ask.

Elbows stay off the table. You may rest your forearms on the edge if you like, depending on how formal we're talking, but no elbows.

Napkin is spread out flat on your lap to catch anything that may drop or spill. Some people may choose to tuck I into their shirt collar to protect their suit or tie, but I've only really ever seen old folks do that, or people doing it to babies and small children.

It is polite to eat everything on your plate, especially if you served yourself. Once everyone has eaten their plate, seconds may be offered or mentioned. It's considered rude to go in for second servings if others haven't finished their firsts yet. This is a good place for conversation to pick up.

Once everyone is finished eating, a member of the hosts' house (usually a kid, sometimes a volunteer guest assisting) will clear the table, gathering empty plates and such from the guests and taking them to the kitchen to be cleaned. Drinks might be refilled now, and dessert forks or spoons might be brought in.

Dessert usually happens. While the meal itself is traditionally homemade, it is perfectly normal for dessert to be store-bought.

The serving of dessert is much less communal than dinner. The person dishing dessert will normally take a stack of plates and send a runner (again, usually a kid) to take stock of who wants dessert and carry theirs to them.

After dessert, dishes will again be gathered and removed, with the exception of cups. Coffee and tea is customary at this point, and alcohol will disappear. This is when conversation comes back in full swing- talking and unwinding is the goal here, and letting any liquor digest so drivers who may have had a sip will be safe to drive afterwards.

END:

Someone will sigh and take note of the time. This is different depending on the group, but a second round of hugs will be in order. Farewells will be made at the door. If there are plenty of leftovers, the host may insist the guest take some. Borrowed dishes and containers will ostensibly be returned at a casual future meeting, possibly as an excuse to meet up and chat over coffee.

It is polite of the guest to offer a hand with cleaning up. It is polite of the host to insist they not. If they are an acquaintance or someone to be impressed, the guest will not be allowed to help clean unless they make it clear that offense will be taken otherwise. If they're a close friend or family member, they may be accepted with some minimal pushback.

The host might start cleaning while the guest is still at the table. This is not intended as an insult.

It is polite to leave around the same time that children begin getting ready for best- usually around 8, 8:30, 9-9:30 on special occasions.

If the weather is especially terrible, or driving conditions are poor, the host might offer the guest a bed for the night. If this is done, it is best to fetch them clean sheets and blankets, a fresh towel, and whatever else they might need. They will be expected to stay no later than breakfast the following morning, unless further plans have been agreed upon. An especially prepared host might have a spare set of pajamas (close friends and family only, usually) and a new toothbrush ready for use.

I think that's everything? A lot of it is weird unspoken shit but yeah lol that's most of what I remember.

I'd love to hear what everyone else grew up with!! Share with me your food culturrrrrrre

[targaryen-dynasty]

A LITTLE PREDICAMENT.

Aemond Targaryen x female!Targaryen!Reader x Aegon II Targaryen

While you share little sympathy with any of the people present, you know you can’t get any closer to learning about your heritage than you are right now. Aegon and Aemond are served to you on a silver platter, and if there is one thing your grandmother has taught you, it’s that there certainly is one way to charm yourself into a man’s heart to get what you desire.

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT-MDNI; canon typical incest/targcest (reader is the granddaughter of Saera Targaryen), threesome, p in v, oral (m receiving), semi public sex, voyeurism, high valyrian, reader has silver hair and lilac eyes

WORDS: 4.3 K

NOTES: I finally put my thoughts of this scene into words! Enjoy! Thanks to @sylasthegrim and @zaldritzosrose 🤍

The stench of sweat and wine alike fills the brothel, following you as you roam through the crowd of patrons and whores, pushing past the several curtains that separate the lounging chambers from the more… private areas. 

Is that what your grandmother had in mind when she sent you away to learn more about your Targaryen heritage? You highly doubt it, but the madam, Sylvi or so you have learnt, does everything in her power to make your stay as pleasant as possible. Perhaps that is just because she owes your side of the family something neither women dare tell you, yet you care too little to delve deeper into the topic. 

Saera Targaryen has grown frail over the years, approaching the age at which the Stranger had taken her own mother back in 100AC, and rests on her laurels she’s earned herself over the years working in the pleasure gardens of Lys before she eventually built her own kingdom in form of a pleasure house in Volantis. 

Therefore it definitely is not a surprise you’ve taken after her. Partly, at least, because although you wander through a brothel, your long, silver curls and lilac eyes catching the attention of several men around, it has always been up to you to decide if you grant them your attention or not – the earned, well-deserved respect and reputation of your grandmother clearly coming in handy. 

You balance a tray with a chalice full of wine and two goblets on your hand as you prowl through the busy rooms, even though getting drunk is not what most men come here for. There is nothing out of the ordinary taking place – until a flash of silver hair comes into your vision. 

You have grown used to the presence of the late king’s second son, Prince Aemond Targaryen, by now, visiting the brothel almost every night to seek comfort in the arms of Sylvi. And since tonight was no different, you’re certain the brothel has been granted the presence of not one but two Targaryen men at once; the newly crowned king donning an attire no commoner could ever afford. 

Blending in with your surroundings never was too difficult, not when everyone was occupied anyways. You place the tray aside and cling to the walls and curtains as you follow him and his entourage, trying your hardest to make out what they say while not getting caught. 

But even before you can fully process the bits of information you’ve gathered, Aegon starts to pull aside one curtain after the other, revealing the private quarters for the well-paying patrons. While most of them do not care, that much can not be said about the patron within the third room. 

Where you haven’t heard his voice before, his howling laughter all but bounces off the walls. “Aemond the fierce,” he mocks in between laughter, pointing at his younger brother. “You have come so far, and yet you still lie with your very first.”

With Aegon stepping towards the settee, an embarrassed Aemond comes into view, and while you share little sympathy with any of them, you know you can’t get any closer to learning about your heritage than you are right now. Aegon and Aemond are served to you on a silver platter, and if there is one thing your grandmother has taught you, it’s that there’s one way to charm yourself into a man’s heart to get what you desire. 

In a quick act, you slip out of the flimsy piece of Lysene silk that hugs your curves, baring yourself completely. You swallow thickly as you make your way toward the room, striding past the king’s men and into it. 

“Nyke gōntan daor nūmāzma naejot mazverdagon ao umbagon, ñuha dārilaros,” you say, clearly talking to Aemond. Your voice is smooth, despite the slight Lyseni accent weaving itself through it. I did not mean to make you wait, my prince. 

The prince is clearly dumbfounded, but not as much as the king whose laughter has suddenly died off again, the cocked eyebrow indicating that he’s just as surprised as his younger brother is. None of the people involved speak, yet curiosity is written all over their features. 

“My… My apologies for letting you wait, Prince Aemond.” Your eyes flit over to Sylvi, a meek smile on your lips. “Thank you for keeping him occupied while I tended to another patron, madam.” She gives you a soft smile, one that a mother gives, and nods to you before she leaves the room – figuring your intentions. 

You walk around Aemond, softly grazing your fingertips over his shoulder as you come to stop in front of him. From where you stand, you can see Aegon sitting up a little straighter, curiosity and lechery alike flickering in his eyes.  

“Have you found a new whore, brother? Do you fuck her like a hound? Woof!” Aegon mocks, his eyes dragging over your naked frame. 

While the prince clearly is surprised by your actions, there’s also some sense of vulnerability still surrounding him, making him shun away from the encounter. 

Raising a brow, you tilt your head down to look at Aemond who’s not meeting your gaze. “My apologies, my prince, but have I known that His Grace intended to join us tonight, I would have prepared… finer quarters for us.” It’s a bold statement, you know that, one that allows Aemond to take charge in this conversation, to save himself from any more embarrassment. 

And much to your surprise, that finally stirs something in him. 

Aemond tilts his head, meeting your eyes, before he turns slightly to look at Aegon. One of his large hands clasps around your wrist, effortlessly pulling you on the settee right next to him. There might be a hint of protectiveness and jealousy coming over him, having no desire to let his brother take advantage of you now, but it’s also the want to consolidate and prove his superiority, that he’s not the failure his brother makes out of him. He has looked more like a wounded dog rather than the fierce dragon prince he is when Aegon has caught him with Sylvi, but that is no more.

“Oh, this is completely sufficient for His Grace. Besides, we do not mind the company, do we?” Aemond asks you now, trailing his hand over the curve of your waist. “The more the merrier.”

The proximity and his touch causes a shiver to run down your spine, and for a moment it’s you being at a loss of words. You lean into his touch, an amused smile on your lips as you look over to Aegon. “Are you sure that is what you want, my prince?” you ask in a low whisper that’s only for Aemond to hear. “I am certain there would be another woman gladly taking care of His Grace…” you speak louder now, gaze flitting over to the king’s dumbfounded entourage, silently watching the exchange. “... or rather his squire.”

But the king wouldn’t be a Targaryen, if he didn’t enjoy a challenge every now and then. 

His lips curve into a wide smirk, almost smug, as he flicks his hand to dismiss his following. “Ah, it seems you have found yourself a feisty one, brother,” he notes. “I wouldn’t mind being entertained by both of you at once,” he suggests, the smirk growing even wider. “It would be a shame not to share such beauty with your own blood, would it not?”

You feel Aemond’s grip on your waist tighten, squeezing your flesh almost painfully harsh. “Very well,” he agrees, his jaw clenching almost as if he’s biting down the words. “You may stay and watch if that’s what you desire so much, Your Grace, but you will not touch her.”

The elder raises his hands in feigned surrender, chuckling. “Of course, I won’t, brother,” he assures in a sarcastic tone. “I shall only watch the delightful performance you two are about to put on for me. And it will be my turn to join when she begs for me to finish what you can not.”

“Save your breath,” he spits. “You will not hear such words leave her lips. I guarantee it.”

Sensing the tension growing between the brothers, both very clearly sharing the hot blood of the dragon, you know it’s your time to de-escalate the situation before it goes any more wrong and ruins your chances of retrieving the desired information. 

You gently place a hand on Aemond’s chest, your fingers tracing a soothing pattern, and flash him a reassuring smile. Only once you notice his tensed muscles easing very slightly do you turn to Aegon, smile widening as you speak in a sultry tone. 

“Now, my king, do not get ahead of yourself,” you say. “You first ought to see what your brother is capable of. But I assure you, you do not have to worry about me being unsatisfied.”

The prince’s annoyance at his brother momentarily vanishes with your gentle touch and words, the possessive heat he feels only fueled by it. His hand moves up from your waist, gently wrapping around the back of your neck, bringing your face closer to his. “Indeed,” he agrees with a smirk. “You best watch and learn, Aegon. I shall be generous enough to give you a show worth watching.”

With his warm breath fanning over your lips and his intense gaze all but burning into yours as he speaks, you feel yourself unable to wait any longer for something that initially was not what you wanted, acting before thinking and pressing your lips to his for a heated kiss. 

A sense of urgency weaves itself through his movements when both his hands clasp around your waist, pulling you right into his lap without breaking the kiss once. He is hard and heavy beneath you, nestled tightly between your soaked and swollen folds. You subconsciously start to grind against him, sliding back and forth and coating him in your essence. 

Aemond’s soft grunts and groans rumble in his chest and you swallow them greedily. Your hands entangle into the hair at the nape of his neck, and you tilt your head back to whimper against his lips the moment the tip of his cock rubs against your pearl. 

You have all but forgotten that it’s not just the two of you in this private space, at least until Aegon’s heavy breaths ring in your ears. But you can’t bring yourself to look at him, not because you’re embarrassed by the current predicament you’ve found yourself in, but because Aemond seizes all of your attention by lifting your hips to align his hard cock with your entrance. 

A shuddered breath slips past your lips at the feeling of his cock slowly stretching you open as you sink down, his grip on your hip growing harsher with the tight embrace of your wet and warm cunt. 

Once you’re fully seated, his grip urges your hips back and forth, not giving you a moment to adjust to his size and the painful sting of accommodating his girth. The tip of his cock brushes your sweet spot with every movement, coaxing one sweet sound of pleasure after the other from your lips already. 

You dare looking at Aegon sitting on the settee with you, albeit not longer than a few seconds, and while you notice his gaze neatly fixed on you and his brother with a smirk remaining on his lips, you also see that the sense of mockery in his eyes slowly starts to fade away to something entirely different.

Quickly averting your gaze, you focus on Aemond, leaning over him to brace yourself with your arms slung around his neck. Your walls clench around his solid weight inside of you as they start to move faster, the grinding becoming more determined and purposeful. 

It’s the quiet, strained ‘fuck’ the prince beneath you releases with his head tipped back that causes a surge of boldness and confidence to soar through you, tearing your gaze off of him to lock it with the king’s. Flitting down, your glossy eyes fall to his hand rubbing and squeezing his hard cock through his black breeches at the sight of you mounting his brother like he mounts his beloved dragon. 

With his back facing him, Aemond does not seem to have a clue about what his brother is doing, yet you’re not quite sure if he even cares about it or his presence in general. If anything, it could be counted as the validation he’s come to crave. 

Blissful moans start to pour from you as you finally find the most pleasing rhythm, the tips of your fingers burying themselves into the plane of Aemond’s broad, muscular shoulders. He barely hisses at the pain, too occupied dragging his nose along the curve of your neck and shoulders to your tits, before one perky bud is immediately embraced by his lips. 

You continue grinding down on him, sucking his hard member in with each movement, sobs and moans of pleasure steadily streaming out of your mouth. It’s the gentle nips of his teeth that make your eyes squeeze shut in delight, the fire inside of you causing you to tear your eyes off Aegon. 

The angle in which you grind your hips down on his allows you to rub your pearl against the base of his cock, the wispy, silver hair at it dragging against it enough to slowly tighten the knot inside of you. 

But much to your surprise, the pace and rhythm doesn’t seem to be sufficient enough for Aemond, despite the grunts and groans that rumble in his chest, and you soon enough find yourself ripped away from the growing pressure inside of you, flipped over to lie flat on your belly, facing Aegon now and looking up at him with wide eyes. 

You hardly have time to catch a glimpse of Aemond from over your shoulder before he positions himself between your parted thighs, forcing his cock inside of you in one, swift thrust that knocks the air straight from your lungs. You scramble for anything to hold onto to keep yourself grounded, knuckles turning white from how tightly you're fisting the sheets. 

His upper body slightly bends forwards and towers over yours as he rests one hand at your shoulder and the other at your hip. The pace of his thrusts is nothing short of ruthless, and he uses the grip he has to pull you back onto his cock for your bodies to meet halfway, the most obscene sounds of skin slapping on skin perfectly audible, hardly drowned out by Aegon’s grunts and groans. 

“Are you enjoying the show, Your Grace?” Aemond suddenly rasps between heavy breaths, voice laced with a hint of mockery and challenge. “Perhaps even learning something useful about how to pleasure a woman?”

You spot Aegon’s gaze darkening slightly at his brother’s words, clearly trying to hold back any sarcastic remarks that tingle in the back of his throat. “Oh, I am enjoying this very much,” he replies, voice strained. “But I do not need any lessons from you. I know my way around a woman’s body just fine.”

Aemond huffs, and although annoyance sparks within him, he masks it well behind a smug smirk and a low chuckle. His hands grip your flesh tightly, surely leaving some bruises the following days. 

“Oh, truly?” Aemond says sarcastically. “Then perhaps you would like to indulge us and demonstrate your skills, hm?” 

No matter how hazy and clouded your mind has grown by the reckless pounding of Aemond, it turns crystal clear the second you fully process his words. Aegon seems just as dumbfounded by the offer as you are, yet he’s quicker to speak and act.

Rising from his position on the settee, he lets out a low chuckle. “Well, I’ll play along,” he rasps, already undoing the laces in the front of his breeches. “I shall certainly not decline this invitation.”

He pulls them down enough to free his cock, hard and standing to full attention. You swallow thickly at the sight, and clench down harshly around Aemond which makes him choke on a groan. 

Aegon walks up to your side as if he means to drive his brother away to take his place, but Aemond merely scoffs at that, and serves a harsh slap to your arse that makes you squirm and whine. “You may use her mouth, and her mouth only,” he clarifies, tone firm. “She is mine, and I shall not let you claim more of that.”

Cocking an eyebrow at his words, Aegon raises his hands in surrender. “Very well, then,” he replies, climbing onto the settee. Not a moment is wasted by him once he’s settled in front of you to tap your lips with the tip of his cock, silently commanding you to part them for him.

But you don’t allow him to slip past your lips right away, and instead drag your tongue over the tip, following the small slit and gathering some of his arousal before you trace it along the vein on the underside of his cock. He’s all but purring at that already, your little performance riling him up to the point he’s just desperate for relief. 

Aemond’s stones are heavy and the pouch they sit in is slightly slagged, hitting your pearl perfectly each time he snaps his hips into yours and fills you to the brim, sending shivers up your spine. It only makes your desire to have Aegon’s cock in your mouth more adamant, and eventually you stop your teasing and take him inside. 

While you’re propped up on both your elbows, you wrap your hand around the bit of his cock that doesn’t fit into your mouth, moving it along in rhythm with the bobbing of your head. 

Each one of Aemond’s thrusts pushes you toward Aegon, forcing him deeper down your throat as if you aren’t struggling already. “That’s it,” Aemond grunts, voice strained, and the snaps of his hips increase to the point your whines become hiccuped, caught in your throat and muffled by Aegon’s cock. “Such a damn good girl for us.”

Aegon is generous enough to pull back completely every once and then, allowing your lungs to fill with air before he sinks back into the warmth of your mouth again. You bring one hand up to rest on his thigh as a means to slow his pace and force, but his desire is getting the worst of him. 

Droplets of your saliva dribble from the corners of your lips, down your chin and throat with how fast he pushes into you, meeting his cock halfway with the force of Aemond’s thrusts. The lewd sounds of their soaked cocks sliding in and out of your holes fill the room, hardly drowned out by their bawdy grunts and groans and words of praise.

You hollow your cheeks and press your tongue flat to the underside of Aegon’s cock, allowing him to claim your mouth however he pleases, the added stimulation causing him to choke on a gasp. He trusts frantically into your mouth at this point, and you know he’s close already with how he throbs on your tongue.

Aemond forces his hips into yours with such determination, he is close to shoving you up against his brother with the force of his need, your arms almost buckling under the weight he puts onto you. You can tell he’s racing for completion, effectively pulling you with him in the process. 

With the pace of his hips not faltering once, your peak washes over you in an ambush. The pleasure in your body gets intense enough for your legs and arms to tremble, his hand that rests at your neck trailing down to seize your hip to support you. Your walls clench around his cock tight enough for him to draw in a sharp breath, but the assault on your cunt doesn’t cease. 

Yet he’s not the first man to surrender to the pleasure. Despite your struggles to please him accordingly, Aegon’s peak follows closely behind yours, ripped from him by the reckless pace his brother has set up. 

“By the Sev–” he heaves, interrupted by a strained groan. 

It might have been the tight embrace of your cunt around his cock, or the sight of you eagerly swallowing every drop of his brother’s seed, but not long after his throbbing cock spends itself deep inside of your quivering walls, causing you to roll your hips against his to prolong his peak. 

His hands trail up and down your sides in pure bliss, and when it’s all over, he releases a sigh of relief, almost as if some sort of pressure has been taken off of his shoulders. 

But you don’t get the chance to relinquish it for too long, both men pulling out of you at once. Aemond’s almost comforting grip on your body leaves far too quickly, prompting you to topple onto your side. 

Your wide eyes flicker between them, and while Aegon is busy tucking himself back into his breeches, not caring about you and your overall presence, Aemond has a somewhat suspicious glint flickering in his eye. 

Even if he’s aware of your antics, it’s now or never, for you certainly won’t be welcomed around him again after the brazen takeover – it was not what he requested after all. 

Putting on a confident front, you roll onto your belly, propping yourself up on your forearms and dangling your feet in the air. 

“Now, I believe you both owe me something,” you start, keeping your eyes locked on Aemond. He’s of more importance to you despite his brother being the king, solely based on the rumors you’ve heard. “A reward for my services, if you will.”

They exchange a glance and scoff, both of them clearly surprised by your audacity. “You will receive your coins on the morrow,” the elder states, shrugging his shoulders before turning towards the exit.

“‘Tis not coins I want,” you retort with a shake of your head. 

Aemond’s still completely bare as he speaks, standing in the room with his newfound confidence. “And what exactly is it you desire, hm?” His tone is slightly derogatory, subtly remembering you of your place – making clear that you’re in no position to desire anything at all.

You know he’s not asking because he wants to fulfill your wish, but rather because he’s just curious to learn what else you could possibly want from them, and it seems to be the same for his older brother for he’s turned around to look at you again. 

“What I desire is the chance to learn more about my heritage,” you reply, gaze scanning both men. “I have only just recently come to Westeros to learn more about the mighty House Targaryen, although my grandmother has told me several stories. But I want to hear it from those with first-hand experience, and I do not think there is someone better to help me with that than you.”

Aemond’s eye narrows in suspicion. “And who might your grandmother be exactly?”

“Princess Saera Targaryen.”

While Aegon releases a scoff of disbelief, Aemond’s eye widens in surprise. “The Saera who left Westeros and disgraced our family name?” 

The weight of your grandmother’s reputation is heavy to bear, and you struggle to acknowledge this part of it. “Yes, I am her granddaughter. And I understand the disdain many might have for her, however, all I know is that she left Westeros and lived her life in Essos, never to return. I am merely curious about my family, and hoped that you, as the sons of the late King Viserys, would have the knowledge I seek.”

Aegon laughs out loudly, but this time you’re the one at the end of his humiliation and mockery. Averting your eyes to the ground, you press your lips into a thin line. There is unease in both their faces, and you figure that you probably won’t get the answers you desire from them anytime soon.

“I… well… it seems that you are not quite yet willing to share your knowledge,” you say, quieter, before rising from the settee. You walk towards the curtains, pushing them aside to make your exit, and continue without looking at them, hesitating to truly leave them. “Do not worry, I shall not trouble you any further. Perhaps I ought to seek answers in Dragonstone, then.” 

The glance they exchange goes unnoticed by you, but soon enough you feel Aegon’s sturdy chest press against your back and his heavy breath fan over your bare, sweat-covered skin. “Ah, no need to rush off so quickly,” he says, planting a hand on your waist. “I wouldn't be so quick to dismiss us just yet. Maybe we’re just a bit hesitant to open up. Perhaps a little persuasion on your part might… convince us.”

You feign a sigh, pretending to be reluctant but secretly enjoying the attention. “I am all for persuasion, Your Grace,” you say, your voice sultry. “But I believe I should be rewarded first… at least a little. After all, my services have proven to be quite delightful, have they not? And I do not plan to persuade you for free.”

Spinning on your heels, there is little space between you and Aegon. But you don’t budge, not when you’ve your mind set on it. 

“You are quite demanding, aren’t you, my dear?” Aegon asks, his voice deep. It’s clear he’s amused by your bluntness, judged by the smirk draped across his features, yet he’s also enticed by the prospect of sharing you with his brother for a second time. “But if that’s what it takes. What kind of reward do you desire, then?”

And so it happens that, after they have given you bits of information about House Targaryen that have not made it into the history books, you find yourself entangled in the sheets again, a mess of limbs and sweat and promises to give you answers to everything your heart desires. 

Aemond Taglist: @persephonerinyes @dr-aegon @schniiipsel @thekinslayed @baizzhu

@legitalicat @eponaartemisa @peachysunrize @blackswxnn @decaffeinatedparadisepost

@mfedits @luvdella @jays-bullshit @justarandomgal @gelacat0413

Aegon II Taglist: @dr-aegon @palmer-hjp

[bunnys-kisses]

hihii can i pls request churros w a martini & glass of water + lewis !! thank uu💗💗

bakery menu

want to suggest your own story? then drop an order in the inbox! thank you for this one! i find myself on a lewis kick lately (i mean c'mon, he's just so charming)!

churros ("if you don't shut that little mouth of yours, i will stuff it full. okay?") + martini (mafia au) + glass of water (aftercare) served by lewis hamilton (formula one)!

cw: smut/pwp, mafia au, aftercare, roleplay, sane and consensual, power play, mafia boss!lewis, missionary sex, unprotected sex, "virgin"!reader, reference to au-typical violence

moanco was beautiful. it was the kind of place that felt picturesque. there was beauty to the area that left you stunned, even after all this time in it. it seemed like every day the sun shined.

but there was a small issue, you were.. wrapped up in a situation. you never expected yourself to ever find yourself involved with the mafia but here you were. in front of one the head boss of a division of a family that hailed from the united kingdom.

the man seated across from you was handsome. his dark eyes loomed over you like an impending force, the rings on his fingers looked expensive but could also deal damage if he were to throw a punch. surprisingly there were no guards around.

you were in his dining room, he smiled at you and then took a sip of his wine. you shifted in your seat unable to take a sip of yours, the nerves ate at your stomach.

"you look scared." he noticed, "there's no reason to be scared."

you swallowed, "i think i have good reason to be scared. you're a scary man, lewis hamilton." you tried to reach for your glass but found yourself too shy.

he chuckled, "i guess you should've thought of that before you took out that loan from the family. it wasn't a small amount either." he rapped his fingers against the expensive table, "actions have consequences, miss."

you replied, "i'll do anything to make up the cost, i've already told you my reasons for why i had to take the money." you swallowed, "it was greatly needed and i'll do what i can to make it all back to you, sir."

he rested his cheek against his hand and smiled at you, "sir, huh? i like the way you say it. comes off your tongue so easily. but, i can think of a few ways that you could make it up to me. i'm not an easy man to buy, dear."

you swallowed, "i don't know if i have much to give in all honesty." you ducked your head. you heard the chair lewis was sitting in be pushed back and him walk towards you. you caught sight of his perfectly shined shoes.

he took you by the chin and made you looked up at him. he smiled at you, most likely a lot softer than he would towards most people. he rubbed your cheek with his thumb. his rings felt nice against your hot skin. he said, "i could get a pretty price for you."

you leaned back, "no, no. please, anything but that. i..i don't want to be sold."

he crowded your space more, both hands now on your face. he raised his eyebrows at you, "well, you'll need to pay back somehow, right? you're running out of options, dear."

"please sir." you swallowed, "please, please, please. i.. i can't!" you felt the anxiety buzz in your mind

"if you don't shut that little mouth of yours, i will stuff it full. okay?" he said, almost like a promise. he didn't want to hear your grovelling. he hated when people grovelled.

you leaned a little further into his touch, not knowing what else to do. you were running out of options, "i..i wouldn't mind being yours... personally. if i can pay it back through sex." you looked up at him, a glimmer in your eye as you hoped he'd accept your offer. it was all you had to give, to give him your body.

he chuckled, "you want to pay me with sex? i guess you must have a whole bunch of fun tricks then?"

your gaze adverted his, "um.. sir... i'm actually a virgin.. only i've ever touched myself." you felt pin pricks of anxiety along your neck.

lewis laughed, it was the kind of laugh that came from deep in the gut. he pulled you up to him from your chair, he looked down at you with a smiled, "you're willing to give em your virginity. well, aren't i special then."

slowly you were brought to lewis' large bedroom. this room alone was worth more than the rent of your tiny studio apartment in a bed part of town. you swallowed when his hands were on your back.

he already taken the necklace off of you and now he was slowly pulling down the zipper of your dress. exposing the skin of your back to him. he placed a hand in the center of your back and rubbed it, "mmm, so soft. so delicate. i could break you in two."

you swallowed, "you wouldn't, right?" you wanted to reassurance.

he chuckled as he got the dress down off your body. then wrapped his tattooed arms around you. he kissed at your jaw and you shuddered. he said, "of course not, it's going to take a long time to make it all back for me. i can't break you on my first ride, that's just a bad investment." his hands then lingered to the waistband of your cute red panties.

everything about you was painfully cute. you were dedicated to making it all back to him. to not be under the thumb of the mafia, but lewis had a hunch that it would take a long time before that happened.

and by the curves of your body and the softness of your lips. how pretty your breasts felt in his large hands. oh, he had every intention of keeping you around for a while.

he kneaded your breasts through your thin bra, he whispered in your ear, "someone was anticipating tonight. were you hoping to get lucky, miss?" he pinched your nipples through the thin fabric.

"i wanted to dress to impress, sir." you said meekly, "in case anything happened." you could feel his erection in his slacks as he rubbed himself up against you.

he kissed the base of your neck and said, "so sweet. maybe if you're a good girl, next time we meet, i'll get you something a little more expensive." it was clearly obvious that everything came from a value pack at a department store. not that he minded obviously, means he could rip them in the future and have them replaced with ease.

however the idea of ripping something off you that cost more than a semesters tuition also made something stir in lewis' gut. so many things to do with this little treat in his home.

he got you fully undressed then told you to get on the bed. he undressed as well and you got a good look at his toned body. you swallowed and tried to advert your gaze to show some kind of respect to the boss. he chuckled and said, "don't hide yourself, beautiful. you can look."

you made eye contact with him and he smiled at you. the most dangerous man in this part of the continent. he was smiling at you, and it made heat pool in your gut.

he didn't kill you on the spot, but rather he was about to fuck you as he got those calvin klein briefs off. when he exposed his hard cock to you, you wanted to look away again. but catching onto your tricks, he said, "eyes on me, beautiful. i like to see the woman i'm fucking's face." then got onto the bed with you.

you were soon under him. he had you by the hips as you rested on your tailbone. the perfect angle to slot his cock into you. you said, "i don't know if it'll fit."

he chuckled, a bit of danger in his tone, "oh. it better fit. or else i'm going to throw you to my boys and when they're done with you, anything will fit that pussy of yours." he could practically feel the skip in your heartbeat. he grabbed at your hips as he rubbed his cock across your slick pussy. he didn't quite sink in yet, wanting to tease the both of you first.

"please, sir. don't hurt me."

"oh, no, no. when you came into my house. i was wondering how to clean up your blood all over the wall. they don't make that paint colour anymore. but watching you over the course of our meal made me hungry for something else." he took his cock in one hand and guided his cock into you, "in this world, my dear. when you are given a gift, you hold onto it. and you, are quite the gift." he pressed a soft kiss against your cheek.

you winced at the feeling of his cock inside of you, the heft of it in your sweet pussy made your insides feel warm. you shivered a little and his lips were on you.

"where have they been keeping you all this time." he kissed at your jaw, "mmm, you feel perfect." he rocked against you. he could feel the pleasure go to his brain, "such a pretty thing. yeah? you like this?"

you nodded and reached out for him. you were getting into the groove of it all. you could feel the heat across your body, it almost felt like burning. your core throbbed for him. this dangerous man fucking you.

he chuckled, "perfect fit for me, and on your first time too. sometimes it takes a while for little things like you to fit around me. but you're just a nice fit. should i be worried that you were lying to me about being a virgin."

you batted your eyelashes at him, "no, sir. i wouldn't lie to you." and he pressed his chest up against yours. you held onto him tighter as the two of you moved together. your movements were soft and unsure. a sign that you hadn't done this before.

he captured your lips once more and moved faster. he found his pace as he thrusted. he could feel the sweat on his back and your nails digging into his skin. he swallowed back the pleasure as he continued to move. you were just so fucking cute.

who let you even take that loan out? they should've just given you the money based on how precious you looked. there should've been no questions. he heart hammered deep in his chest. for such a cold man, when he was with you it all melted.

he could feel the pleasure hit him in the chest as he thrusted up against you. god, you were perfect. the kisses were sloppy and soon his pace had gained enough speed that it was a tad erratic. he yearned for the rush of pleasure that was hitting all the right parts of his brain.

you really were something.

"sir." you said.

"shh. shh, be a good girl. just let me fuck you." his voice was a tad tight.

you dug your nails into his strong shoulders, right up against his tattoos. his lips were on you as you moaned against him. you tightened your legs around him as he bumped his cock into you. when you pulled away. you gasped, "i love you."

he chuckled, his smile big at the sight of your blissed out state, "oh don't worry, honey. i love you too." a slip in the little play you two were having. but he couldn't help it, not when it came to his wife. (oops).

you tensed up and held onto him tightly you. you came around his cock, a wet ring formed around the base of his heavy cock as he continued to bury it inside of you. you let out a small noise and it drove him wild.

he continued his pace, it was a little erratic. this was less the sexy roleplay you two were doing and more two lovers tumbling in the sheets together. oh well, lewis didn't care. he just loved the feeling of you.

close after your orgasm, he had his own. he held onto you by the sides then kissed you on the lips. he groaned into the kiss and tensed up as he finished inside of you. when he went over the peak, he relaxed against you. his face ended up in your chest as he relaxed against you.

"mmm, honey." you said softly.

"you are crazy." he said as he looped an arm around you. he kissed the side of your face, "when i said we could try anything, i wasn't expecting mean mafia boss takes advantage of a poor girl."

lewis hamilton was your husband, had been for two years now. while the fact he was a head boss was true, you were far from an innocent young lady who fell into his trap. you were his wife, the most precious thing to grace this planet. lewis worshiped you like a divine being, so it was hard for him to be so rough with you.

he kissed at your face and said quiet 'i love you's as he made sure that every inch of you was okay. that he didn't take your little roleplay too far tonight.

he got you in one of his old t-shirts, then he got you under him. not to fuck you again. but to just hold. his grip on you was firm, but not painful. he was one of the scariest men in europe. but in the warm intimacy of your shared bedroom, he adored you.

eventually he looked at you, those dark eyes gleaming in the yellowing light of the lamp. he traced patterns across your arm as he said, "next time, how about you be the mean mafia boss. and i'll be the poor in debt fool. maybe you can put those rope skills to use.' his bare thigh rubbed against your soaked cunt.

you held his face then kissed him, "sounds like a plan to me, mister hamilton." then smiled at him. <3

[steventhusiast]

STWG prompt 20/4/24

prompt: accidentally kidnapping a mafia boss

pairing/character(s): steddie

i somehow wrote 1.8k... enjoy

. . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

Steve doesn’t think he’s ever been this distracted by a customer before at work. He’s just so… hot. Like, the usual customers he serves are rich and well-dressed, sure. But they’re businessmen well-dressed, and that can’t even begin to describe this particular customer. He’s been calling him Hot Guy in his head for the past thirty minutes.

Hot Guy is in a suit, yes, but that’s not even the best part of this man’s look. The suit’s all black and hugs his waist deliciously, but it’s everything else that has Steve practically drooling where he stands by the bar, waiting for his next round of drinks to be made. Hot Guy looks a little less pristine and perfect than the usual businessmen; his hairs up in a messy ponytail, strands of a fringe framing his face, and he has beautiful silver earrings on and an expensive looking chain around his neck. And every time he moves just so, Steve gets to see a peek of a tattoo on his chest as his half-unbuttoned black shirt moves. Gorgeous…

“All ready for you, Steve.”

He’s snapped out of it by the bartender on shift, and looks at the bar to see, oh yes, all of his drinks are ready. He offers the bartender a smile and a thank you, and gets to balancing them on his serving tray.

See, he can get a little distracted by hot customers, but he can’t be seen as a slacker. He cannot afford to lose this job.

He and Robin finally were able to move to Chicago four months ago, and it took him three months (and a good chunk of his emergency savings) to find a job as a waiter at some restaurant. It’s not even a particularly nice job. Sure, the restaurant is fancy as hell, and the customers tip really fucking well, but the pay leaves much to be desired. Like, a usual customer (rich) tips him more than he gets paid for a whole shift! And he’s not complaining about the tips, per say, but when the restaurant’s clientele can tip that much… surely the restaurant can afford to pay their workers a decent wage!

Just as he manages to balance the drinks on his tray, he notices his newest co-worker, Danny, fiddling with his own collection of drink glasses. Danny looks awfully shifty as he glances over his shoulder at a table and then takes a small sachet out of his pocket, tears a corner and pours it into one of the wine glasses.

Steve’s eyes narrow at the action. What the fuck?

Over the last week of Danny working at the restaurant, he has thought him to be unpleasant at best and suspicious at worst. The one time Steve tried to make conversation with him, just asking where he worked before there, he got a glare and a clipped comment about not getting personal. Now that he thinks about it, Steve doesn’t even know Danny’s last name.

He watches Danny pick up the tray, do a final glance around the restaurant (either not perceiving Steve as a threat or not seeing him stood five feet away), and walks toward the table area.

And he’s not saying Danny would poison a customer. He’s not saying that, because that is insane. But. What’s the alternative? That Danny got a request to put, like, powdered vitamins in someone’s drink? It’s just shifty that’s all!

And, like he said, he can’t afford to lose this job.

That includes if it gets shut down for becoming a murder scene. Or him accidentally abetting a murder by not doing anything!

What does he even do? He’s going to look genuinely insane, whether he's right or wrong.

Danny reaches a table (it’s the table Hot Guy is seated at) with his tray, and plasters on a customer service smile as he starts dishing out the drinks. Steve keeps an eye on the (possibly) tainted wine glass as Danny puts it down in front of- in front of Hot Guy. Shit.

Steve’s heart starts speeding up as he watches Hot Guy pick up the wine glass, inspecting it and giving it a little swirl before starting to lift it, and- fuck it.

Steve bolts over to the table, definitely knocking over another server’s tray as he goes, and has to shove the wine glass out of Hot Guy’s hand to stop whatever’s about to happen.

The liquid splashes onto Hot Guy’s chest (Steve hopes the poison isn’t, like, corrosive), then the glass shatters to the floor, and Steve’s left heaving as he catches his breath. Not from the exercise, but from the adrenaline rush. Because Steve is- oh god, he’s in Hot Guy’s lap.

He scrambles to stand up, cheeks bright red, and chances a glance at Danny. On the surface, Danny looks shocked and apologetic to the rest of the businessmen at the table, but Steve sees his right eye twitch and his ears start to tint red. Okay. So. Even if he looks crazy, maybe he made a good move.

He looks back toward Hot Guy only to find that he’s already being watched with an inquisitive gaze. The man still has his hand held up like he’s holding the wine glass still, and he has one (perfectly manicured) eyebrow raised at Steve. Steve feels his cheeks heat up even more under his attention.

“I am so sorry, sir.” Steve finds himself blurting out, but Hot Guy just shakes his head at him, oddly calm.

“I’ll get you another drink, Mr Munson.” Danny says, giving Steve a pointed glare before walking away.

Hot Guy- No. Mr Munson looks like he’s about to say something, but Steve needs to get him somewhere he can tell him what happened away from other people and before Danny tries it again, so he boldly puts a hand on the man’s shoulder. The possibility of looking crazy be damned.

“Let me help you get cleaned up, sir.”

Mr Munson considers him for a moment more, and then nods. Maybe he sees the frantic, anxious look in Steve’s expression, or maybe he just wants to yell at Steve outside of the view of his assumed co-workers.

"I'll be right back. Don't talk business without me." Mr Munson addressed his table before following him off.

Steve leads him to the customer toilets, and then takes him to the staff hallway just behind them. Mr Munson’s eyebrows raise at that, and at the serious expression on Steve’s face.

“Sir, I’m so sorry for that, but I… This is going to sound insane, but I think my co-worker poisoned your drink.”

He levels Mr Munson with a serious expression as he speaks, trying to negate the craziness of what he’s saying by showing he’s not joking. Through doing so, of course, Steve also gets the chance to get a better look at Mr Munson’s face, which is just… like he said earlier, gorgeous. And that’s not even talking about the deep brown of his eyes.

Mr Munson doesn’t even flinch at Steve’s words, just looks down at the wine on his shirt with a vague look of disgust.

“I see.”

He doesn’t sound surprised. What the fuck? Who is this man?

“You don’t seem shocked.” Steve finds himself saying, and then his eyes widen and he smacks a hand over his mouth, “Ignore me! I don’t want to get involved in any, um. Not crimes. I’m going to stop talking now.”

As he keeps talking, Mr Munson’s face contorts into an amused smile, and his gaze wanders over Steve’s form, then back up to his eyes. When Steve’s done rambling, the man laughs.

“No. I’m not shocked.” Is all Mr Munson says, “But unfortunately, you are involved now, sweetheart.”

Steve feels the colour drain from his face at the words and the serious tone Mr Munson speaks them in, but before he can even squeak (or scream) in response, the Staff Only door slams open, and Steve is greeted with two pistols pointed at him.

Then he squeaks. And puts his hands up in a surrender position, even though the two men glaring at him don’t look like police officers. They’re wearing suits, like they’re customers of the restaurant. And they completely ignore Steve in favour of scanning over Mr Munson.

Holy shit. What the fuck is his life? Robin will never believe him when he gets home. If he gets home.

“Put the guns down, boys.” Mr Munson says from beside Steve, and then (gently) puts his hands on Steve’s arms to push them back down to his sides, “No need for all that, sweetheart.”

“Sorry, Eddie. We thought- you just disappeared, and we heard glass shattering, so-” One of the gunmen says, stumbling through his words slightly.

“We thought you’d been kidnapped. Again.” The other says, looking unimpressed.

Eddie rolls his eyes, and Steve notes how he hasn’t removed his hands from him yet.

“I’ve been told that- sorry, sweetheart, what’s your name?” Eddie starts, maintaining eye contact with Steve only.

Sweetheart. Kill him now. How is his dick still working in these conditions, and why is 'sweetheart' doing it for him? Maybe it's more to do with Eddie himself than the word...

“Steve.” He squeaks out.

“Right. Steve, here, thinks my drink was poisoned by his co-worker. He’s the culprit for the glass, and this,” Eddie gestures to his wet shirt, “and then he took me here to clean me up.”

“What’s the name of this co-worker?” One of the gunmen ask Steve, voice intense, and when Steve just blinks at him he takes a step forward like he’s about to put a hand on him. Steve can’t help his flinch in response.

Which Eddie apparently feels, given the way he tsks at his men and takes a step back, pulling Steve with him.

“No threatening my possible saviour, Jeffy. This isn’t an interrogation.”

“His- His name’s Danny. I don’t know a last name.” Steve says finally, and gulps when Eddie rubs his thumbs back and forth where his hands are still on him.

“Good boy.” Eddie says softly, and Steve can’t help the shudder that runs through him.

Okay. It's confirmed. Apparently being mildly traumatised by guns doesn’t stop him from getting horny. Good to know. Hopefully Eddie doesn't notice how red he's gotten again.

Eddie finally lets go of him to step toward his men.

“You heard the man. Gareth, go get a sample of the wine that spilled on the floor and figure out if Stevie here is right, and Jeff, go tell everyone else who we’re looking for and find Danny.”

The two gunmen leave with their orders, and Eddie turns back to Steve. He’s looking at Steve with that intense gaze once again, eyes dragging down to his beat-up Reeboks and back up to his dishevelled face.

“Now, how can I reward you for probably saving my life, sweetheart?”

[bweeeb]

"GIRLFRIEND"

Carmen Berzatto x Reader (you)

( @softmullet : i want me some tender love from carmy 😩 ) Notes: I believe that if things had gone well in the last episode of the second season, it could easily have gone something like this, I hope this story is enough for you, and i hope u like it. Thank's for the request

Summary: When Carmen's "girlfriend" comes up at the opening of The Bear, at the end of the night they both realize something

It was family and friends night at the restaurant, the first service at The Bear, and Carmen couldn't be more anxious about it. He wanted everything to go well, to serve good service, good food, a good place, he wanted it to be perfect. You went with your friends, Melissa and Isis, to the opening of The Bear. Although Carmen was aware that you might be there, since he was the one who invited you, he hadn't thought you would actually go.

— Cousin, your girlfriend is at table 29.

Richie, who was in charge of the dining area, approached Carmen working in his station. — She's your girlfriend already, right cousin?

— She's here? Carmen asked, not stopping his food preparation.

— Damn, man, figure it out and make her your girlfriend quick. That's what Richie said before leaving the kitchen, leaving Carmen thoughtful

You and Carmen started going out frequently four months ago. Your confidence in what you did, your smile, and the unusual comfort you transmitted to Carmen made anxiety spread through his body. But for the first time, it wasn't the bad kind of anxiety—it felt good to be near you.

Sitting at table twenty-one, you smiled towards Richie, who approached the table with a bottle of wine and a smile on his lips.

— Y/n. Richie said your name as he stopped beside you before continuing; — Excuse me, girls, would you like some wine? I know it's what you like.

— Hi, Richie. You greeted him and your friends smiled.

— Yeah, I’d love that. Isis smiled at Richie following Melissa’s confirmation beside her.

— How sweet, thank you.

— Thanks. — you thanked politely as you saw him filling your glass. — Things are really good around here, dude. Carm didn't tell me it was all so fancy.

— What do you mean, cousin didn't show off with those fancy cutlery?

Richie teased Carmen, causing laughter from your lips and two mischievous smiles directed at you by your friends.

— Yeah, I don't know, I guess he didn't want to involve me in this. You said shrugging your shoulders as you took a sip of your wine.

— I think he wants to involve you in everything, Y/n Bear. He’s just not good at it... — the older man nodded and started stepping back — Now I’ll let you enjoy the night, if you need anything, I’ll be at your disposal. He said before disappearing into the dining area.

— Oh no, stay. Isis murmured watching Richie leave while biting her thumb distractedly.

— He's too old for you. You said laughing out loud and snapping Isis out of her daydreams.

— Regardless, sister. Your boyfriend’s friend is hot.

— Carmen is not my boyfriend. You huffed looking at the glass in your hand.

— Oh really, you’re still at this? You sleep at each other's houses, fuck like rabbits, and I feel like the loneliest person in the world when I see you two. What are you? Friends? No way. Melissa said rolling her eyes before laughing and drinking her wine.

— We’ve never talked about it. He didn't grow up with a good image of relationships, I don't want to force anything, sometimes he just wants a fling.

— Right, a fling of a hundred and twenty-one days. Wake up, baby, you heard the hottie, he wants to involve you in everything. Isis said sighing.

— But what if he doesn't want to... he probably didn't even want me here. You said laughing nasally, remembering Carmen’s vague mention a week ago, saying you could come if you wanted to.

— Believe me, Y/n, you have enough personality for him to want you! — Melissa smiled leaning back in the chair — I bet twenty bucks he’ll come here just to bring your dish because he’s totally in love with you.

— As if he had time, this is a restaurant and it’s full, Mel...— You said laughing again.

— I think he’ll come, I mean, would he really not? Isis shrugged drinking her wine again.

— Alright, let’s see...

Not long after, the conversation that you three had started was interrupted by the huge smile on Melissa’s face. The dishes were placed in front of you and Carmen's eyes fell on you like a magnet.

— Hi.

— Hi, everything is really good, Carm. Congrats.

— Thanks. Uhm, yeah...— Carmen said and at that moment he was grateful not to have anything special to present on your plate because you were too beautiful for him to focus on anything other than you at that table. — You look beautiful and I hope you all have a good time. Enjoy! He said stepping away from the table with a glance before disappearing back into the kitchen.

— He’s obviously busy and still came to say hi to you. Melissa smiled and groaned while throwing her head back.

— You look beautiful, that’s the compliment I’ve heard the most on all my dates and this was the first truly sincere one I’ve heard, my god. Isis said smiling while looking at you, smiling at your plate.

— hmm, yeah, he’s sweet.

— I want my money. Melissa said before starting to eat like you and Isis.

°°°

The end of the night had come, the place was less noisy, the last customers were leaving, the kitchen was starting to be cleaned and that meant Carmen was less hectic if everything had gone well.

You had left Isis and Melissa behind in the dining area with Niel and Richie while you looked for Carmen.

Passing by Sydney who was leaning on the counter, you stopped to look at her for a while.

— Hey, Syd. Are you alright? You asked and received a nod from the girl who seemed tired.

— Yeah, I’m fine, it’s just...you know...all of this was crazy and it was my first night working like this for real, so... it’s a lot. She vented and you sighed agreeing.

— I could say I understand but in reality, I don’t understand the pressure you guys have in the kitchen, but I can guarantee you did a great job, everything I ate, the service, everything was great. You said and Sydney smiled at you, understanding why Carmen liked you, it was simple.

— Thanks, Y/n. I think you should tell him that, he’s a bit worried.

— Where is he? You asked, twisting your lips.

— Office. Sydney gestured with her hands, showing you the way and with a grateful smile, you went after Carmen who was found by you sitting in the office, now Natalie’s, with his hands on his head.

— Hey, Chef. You said, standing at the office door waiting for him to let you in.

— Hi. Carmen responded, adjusting his posture and freeing his lap for you to sit on his thighs. There was the confirmation you needed.

— What’s wrong? You asked, sitting on him and wrapping your hands around his neck.

— I think I could have done better. He murmured

— You can always do better, Carmy, but what you guys did here today was great. The girls were delighted even with the damn glasses on the table. You murmured and saw Carmen close his eyes, closing his arms around your waist. — You know I wouldn’t lie to you if I had any complaints about this place, and I can assure you that things, at least out there, were great. How were they here?

Your voice was calming for Carmen who forced himself to open his eyes and look at the beautiful thing in his arms. — We should be more organized.

— Hm, things like that always happen, you guys will get the hang of it, this was the first service, my love.

And there was the nickname that made Carmen feel like a prematurely lovestruck teenager.

— I’m really happy you liked it, beautiful. Carmen murmured, bringing a hand to your left cheek.

— You. Should. Relax. — With each pause, you planted a peck on Berzatto’s lips. Once you felt him still tense.

— Why are you so perfect, fuck. Carmen whispered, sucking on your neck and pulling you in for a longer, more heated kiss. — Did you like the wine you drank? He asked, pulling your body closer to his.

— It was you who chose it. Now it makes sense. You laughed softly, playing with the curls of the man below you. — I loved it, thanks.

— I'm happy that you came, I thought you wouldn’t. Carmen admitted, which made you make a confused face.

— I almost thought you didn’t want me to come. You murmured, embarrassed, and Carmen frowned, pulling your face to look at him.

— I love when you’re near me, please, stay close. He asked with conviction in his words.

— Okay, I will.

— Listen, I-I want you to be my girlfriend, Y/n. But I want to do this right...— Carmen started and before he could finish you stopped him, agreeing.

— I love you, Carmy. You asking me to be your girlfriend or not, it’s okay, we don’t need to do this like it’s a race. You agreed softly, looking into his eyes until the mood was broken by Richie shouting from the other side of the kitchen:

— Allright, cousin, enough of the mushiness. We need to close this restaurant. The older man appeared in the doorway and looked at you two with a bored face. — Didn’t know we could have sex at work.

— Shut up. Carmen said while you got up from his lap and Richie disappeared from your sight.

— Hey, want to sleep over? I’ll finish quickly. Carmen offered and you smiled, nodding your head gently.

— Sure. You said watching him leave the office and come back in a second.

— And hey, I love you too.

---

Requests are open ✨

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

Musician Age Gap AU Pt 7

When Kara receives a text from Lena that her ride to the restaurant has arrived, she half expects to see Lena waiting for her inside. She's only a little disappointed when to find the seat empty. What's more strange is that the driver doesn't take her to a restaurant, but rather a hotel.

Before she can wonder if maybe the restaurant is inside the hotel, a young woman emerges from the lobby and approaches the vehicle.

"Kara?" she asks a little breathlessly. Kara nods. "Hi, I'm Jess, Lena's assistant."

"Oh," Kara says, her stomach dropping. "Did she need to reschedule, or...?"

"Oh! No! Nothing like that, she's upstairs waiting for you." Jess hands her a keycard, offering a congenial smile. "Penthouse."

Blinking in surprise, Kara accepts the card with numb fingers. "And I just..."

"Yup! Staff and security are expecting you, so just go on in."

"Oh-kay..."

Jess holds the lobby door open, but doesn't follow her inside. When Kara pauses to look back, the woman is slipping into the same car Kara had just exited. As the car pulls away from the car, Kara takes a moment to collect herself.

This is fine. This is happening. And she's fine. She can do this.

Drawing her shoulders back, Kara presses further into the lobby, navigating herself to the bank of elevators with minimal fuss. When she presses the button for the penthouse suite, the car doesn't begin to move until she swipes her keycard against the sensor.

Catching sight of herself in the reflection of the doors, Kara feels flushed but exhilirated. For the first time in a long time, she feels... desirable.

When the elevator doors open, it spits her out directly into the middle of an expansive living space. Though a savory aroma fills the air, there's absolutely no one in sight.

"Hello?"

"In here!" Lena's disembodied voice calls from Kara's left. Kara drifts towards that direction, eventually turning a corner into a kitchen area bearing evidence of intensive cooking. Lena looks up from a saucepan she's stirring to grace Kara with a warm smile. "Hey."

"Hey," Kara echoes. Lena wears a stained white apron over what looks to be a black jumpsuit, pants long and elegant against her fair skin.

"I figure this is probably not what you expected for tonight, and I should have warned you, but I promise the food'll be as good as any restaurant's."

Only then does Lena seem to actually absorb what Kara is wearing. Green eyes widen minutely, then track up and down Kara's figure.

"Wow," she breathes.

A rush of pleasure floods Kara. She'd been mindful of her look even beyond the dress. She'd left her hair in a chignon, exposing the understated dangling earrings that brushed her bare neck. A gold cuff encircles her right wrist, catching the light as she leans against the island between them.

"Wow yourself," Kara returns in a low voice. She gives a teasing smirk. "I admit, when you said 'something fancy' I didn't think you meant chef boyardee."

Lena blinks, then throws her head back in a peal of delighted laughter. By the time she turns back to the pan, she has to scramble to save whatever is cooking.

"Oh shit!" she curses, still giggling as she  fumbles to turn off the heat. "That was close--- you're a menace!"

Kara lets her grin linger, watching Lena slide the pan onto a trivet. Then it's her turn to stare when Lena removes her apron, revealing a neckline that swoops lower than her sternum, accented by several strands of long, delicate chains looped around her neck. When Lena removes her hair tie, long hair spills around her shoulders.

With the intense styling from the show, her hair is soft and silky, as dark as ink in the overhead lights-- which Lena soon dims as she nods towards a small table set up with a pair of place settings.

"The wine cabinet is on that side. Care to pick something while I serve up?"

Kara readily obeys, if only to have a moment to calm her racing heart. She settles on a white she thinks will pair with the chicken she'd seen in the pan. She pretends not to see the label, one she does not recognize that she's sure is worth her half her yearly salary.

"Oooh, good choice," Lena observes when they converge at the table. As Kara sits, and Lena leans a little to deposit a plate in front of her, the inner curve of one breast becomes visible for the briefest moment.

Kara clears her throat, waiting for Lena to take her seat across the table. "You're full of surprises today," she tells her host.

"Let's just say I like to keep a girl on her toes." A mischievous glint sparks in Lena's eye as she lifts her wine glass. "To you," she toasts. "For making a certain niece slash goddaughter very happy."

"To both of us, then," Kara counters. Their glasses clink, and she's suddenly struck by how intimate her circumstances currently are. It's quiet in the penthouse, the only noise the sounds of their forks and knives clicking.

"Thank you," Lena says quietly. "For coming. I should have told you I didn't intend to bring you to resturant."

"I understand," Kara reassures her. "I can't imagine what the press would say if we were seen together--"

"What? NO. That is NOT what I meant." Lena leans forward, placing her hand on Kara's. "Are kidding? I would have absolutely zero shame being seen with you."

Kara flushes. "Oh."

"I wanted to spend time with you," Lena continues. "But being out there... it would mean sharing myself with the entire city. And the only person I want to share myself with tonight is you."

Her words descend to a low rumble, a tone that sends heat straight to her groin. She shifts in her seat, subtly adjusting in an effort to ease sudden arousal. It doesn't work.

"I hope you know how highly I think of you."

Kara's brow furrows. "That's part of what I don't understand. You don't... you don't know me."

She expects a denial, a claim of some profound connection that somehow explains everything. But Lena doesn't do that.

"You're right. We don't know each other very well. But do you know what I see when I look at you?"

"Honestly... no," Kara confesses. "I really don't."

"I see a busy woman who took time out of her evening to take her niece to a concert. Someone ran into a celebrity and didn't ask for a single thing except directions. And I see someone who saw a phone number on the back of a ticket, and had the courage to call it."

Lena gazes at her with even focus. Kara does her best to hold eye contact, until a flush creeps up her neck.

"I want to know more," she continues. She shrugs, lifting her wine glass to her lips. "Does it have to be any more profound than that?"

Kara considers her words, and to her surprise her anxiety about the whole thing begins to ease. Maybe Lena is right. Maybe Kelly is right too.

Maybe, sometimes, it's nothing more than two people enjoying each other's company. And sometimes, it doesn't need to be anything more than that.

"No," Kara agrees softly. "I suppose it doesn't."

The woman in front of her brightens even more, somehow. Lena leans back in a dignified sort of slouch, and Kara feels herself respond in kind. Her muscles loosen, and her grip on her fork eases.

"In that case," Lena says, "we have a whole evening ahead of us. Whatever shall we talk about?"

Kara meets her gaze, and relishes the energy she channels into it. Time to meet Lena exactly where she is.

"Anything you like."

---

'Anything' ends up spanning Kara's work, her family and even her limited travels, and she can't bring herself to feel self-conscious about how little it is. Despite having three times the worldliness at half her age, Lena listens with rapt attention, drinking it in.

It's easier to share than Kara thought it would be. She goes on and on, but it doesn't feel like too much, even when she figures it should be. Still, she makes a point to redirect the conversation to Lena, when they transition from the table to the couch for their second glass of wine.

"What about you?" Kara asks.

Lena snorts. "What about me?"

"Well, do you like to travel?" Kara settles into the cushions, letting her legs stretch a little. She notes the way Lena's gaze flits towards them for a brief moment before lifting back to Kara's face. "I mean, clearly you do travel, but do you like it?"

To her surprise, Lena shrugs. "It's part of the job. I don't really ever get the tourist experience, though. I think this afternoon is the closest I've come to it."

"Well, I'm always happy to be your travel guide to National City." Kara grins. "Next time I'll show you the karaoke bars I went to in college."

Lena stares at her, eyes sparkling pleasantly. "You said next time."

Instead of denying it, or trying to explain it away as a slip of the tongue, Kara tilts her head. "I did, didn't I?"

"You know..." Lena purrs, shifting to sit a little sideways, letting one finger brush the skin of Kara's shoulder. "I only had dinner in mind when I invited you out tonight."

"Mhmm," Kara hums.

"But ever since you showed up wearing this..." Lena's finger strokes the strap of Kara's dress. "I can't stop thinking what it might look like on my floor."

Kara's breath catches.

"No pressure," Lena continues, voice deep in her throat as she leans a little closer. "I just want you to know that you look.... ravishing." Lena's nose bumps the skin of Kara's neck. "And that I'd love to make you feel so, so good..."

Before she can think twice about it, Kara turns her head to meet Lena's lips with hers. Almost immediately, Lena gives a little moan, her hand coming up to cup Kara's cheek, deepening the kiss.

Kissing Lena feels less like fireworks, and more like a languid descent into velvet bliss. Lena feels soft, tastes sweet, and responds to Kara as though she lived inside her brain. Just as Kara reaches to tug Lena closer, the woman levers herself over to straddle Kara's lap. Now, both of Lena's hands are on Kara's face, and Lena's long hair brushes Kara's chest as she perches there, chin dipped to give Kara all her attention.

It's not until Lena's right hand begins to drift down towards Kara's chest that Kara pulls back for air.

"Wait," she urges breathlessly.

Lena pulls back immediately, concern plain over flushed cheeks. "Sorry. I didn't mean..."

"No, it's-- you're-- it's fine," Kara stumbles over her words. It's a struggle to form any words, let alone rational ones, past the cotton of desire stuffed between her ears. "It's just-- I haven't--"

Lena's brow furrows. "Ever?"

Kara barks a laugh. "No. Just a while." Letting her head fall back against the cushion, she sighs. "I don't want to do anything we both might regret..."

"Regret?"

Suddenly, Lena sounds small. Young in a way she hasn't before. Kara opens her eyes in time to see Lena's brightness dim, a shutter close behind her eyes.

"No, hey--" Kara reaches for her, but Lena pulls back, refusing to meet her eye. "Lena..."

"If you don't want this, you've got a shitty way of saying so."

Kara blinks in surprise at the shift in the woman's tone. But it's not anger that undercuts her words, but hurt.

"Not wanting isn't the problem," Kara murmurs. She reaches for Lena's wrist, and this time she lets her. "Usually, it is. But not this time. Not with you."

Lena looks at her, expression guarded, but says nothing.

"But I'd be lying if I wasn't afraid of what where this might lead. If tonight isn't... enough."

What had Lena said before? That she felt drawn to Kara... and if Kara were a magnet then Lena is the sun, with a gravitational field that could swallow planets-- and Kara-- whole.

"So... what do you want?" Lena asks soft.

"You." The answer is an easy one. "But maybe, whatever this is..." Kara waves her hand, encapsulating whatever invisible string was drawing them together. "Maybe it can last for more than tonight?"

Finally, Lena features soften into a timid smile. "Pen pals are cool too."

"Pen pal--!" Kara's incredulous exclamation gets swallowed by another kiss, this one soft and gentle, lingering.

"Friends, then," Lena murmurs. She looks into Kara's eyes, her gaze unfathomably deep. "And a reason to come back to National City."

When Kara leaves that night, Lena kisses her cheek one last time.

"You have my number," she murmurs, letting her hand run the length of Kara's arm as they part. "Use it."

When their fingers tangle together, Kara gives Lena's a squeeze goodbye.

"I will."

[khaire-traveler]

🌠 Subtle Nyx Worship 🌌

Go star-gazing, especially out in nature where you can see the stars more clearly

Learn about the different constellations as well as any Greek myths associated with them

Pay attention to the phases of the moon; learn what their meanings are

Try veiling

Get a candle that reminds you of her (no altar needed)

Wear jewelry that reminds you of her

Wear silver jewelry

Keep a picture of her in your wallet

Have a stuffed animal horse or owl; have a stuffed animal of any nocturnal animal

Have imagery of the night sky, stars, space, horses (especially in a chariot), owls, nocturnal animals, or foggy nights around

Meditate at night; try to relax at night; sit in darkness silently for a bit

Get a telescope; use it to observe the stars

Leave a glass of water/salt water on your windowsill at night

Take a bath/shower with only the light of candles/dim lighting (SAFELY!!!!)

Support space-related organizations such as NASA

Learn more about space, stars, planets, etc.

Engage in relaxing activities or ones that you're passionate about

Have a bedtime/nighttime routine

Keep a dream journal; write down your dreams; try to interpret them

Drink black tea or coffee (or anything that relaxes you); add honey if you want

Drink red wine or red sparkling grape juice; raise a glass to her

Pick and save flowers still wet with evening dew; dry or press them; great if the colors are ones you personally associate with her

Feed neighborhood cats, dogs, birds, etc., especially at night (please make sure it's safe to leave food out in your area; do not attract predators!!!!)

Burn a relaxing incense at night; lavender, jasmine, patchouli, etc.

Write poetry about the night, stars, space, etc.; it doesn't have to explicitly name her

Try to practice meditation; practice mindfulness

Ground yourself regularly, especially at night

Make your space comfortable and relaxing for yourself; sleep with cozy blankets, decorate with dim fairy lights for nighttime, sleep with stuffed animals, etc.

Learn getting comfortable with change; go outside your comfort zone, do something spontaneous, cope with stress during an unpredictable situation, etc.

Let go of things that no longer serve you

Dance or sing at night; enjoy yourself at the end of your day

Play with pets before bed to tire them out so that they can sleep better c:

Watch movies or shows at night with loved ones; something you'd all enjoy

Light a bonfire or small fire at night; enjoy the peace of the night around you

Go camping; sleep under the stars

Keep a personal diary; write down positives and negatives; make it your own

Make a list of things you enjoyed and disliked about your day at the end of your day

Feel your feelings; cry if you need to, etc.

Practice listening and observing your surroundings/people around you; don't make yourself paranoid, just passively observe

Practice patience and compassion, especially towards yourself

Spend your evenings decompressing, whatever you need to do to unwind; drink a warm drink, eat something comforting for dinner, read a book, etc.

Try to cut down your screentime before bed

-

I'll likely add more later, but for now, this is my list of discreet ways to worship Nyx. I hope it's helpful, and take care! 💜

Link to Subtle Worship Master list

[nvuy]

tumblr did not let me post this as a proper answer because tumblr hates me. BUT the council says: BEHOLD. an excerpt from my potential extended hijacked spin off boothill fic that that may or may not be potentially finished and posted so........... take it..................... anon you might not ever see this post but the brainworms are so huge and genius and i think you cooked......................

“Tha’s the hardest part… still bein’ here.”

There’s smoke in the air, and it curls around the windshield of your car. He’s called shotgun, as per usual, but that’s because you refuse to let him drive. Especially at night. He makes you feel sick when he takes corners faster than he slams the brakes at red lights.

The car hasn’t moved for a while. The drive had been rocky; there was no destination. Just away from the city for now. You’ve managed to find a secluded area deep in a stretch of trees, and there hasn’t been a car that’s passed on the dingy highway for ages now.

Smoking does nothing for him. He doesn’t have lungs to fill anymore, and the taste never appealed to him, but it helped take his mind off of everything.

Boothill felt the tug of the cigarette between his lips, and he let it go from his mouth before he watched as you shakily held it to your lips.

It’s disgusting. He snickers slightly when you cough and scrunch your eyes shut. You hand the cigarette back to him slowly.

You fan at your face, careful not to spill the half full bottle of wine balancing between your legs and the car seat. It’s one of the fancy brands Boothill snatched off the shelf on the way out of the bar from earlier after the manager had ordered him out. Something about not serving crooks. Whatever.

Your car reeks of smoke.

As much as the smell clogged your lungs, you hope it stays this way. 

“‘Specially since, y’know, it woulda been better if one o’ my dads lived, or my sisters, or even–” He takes another drag of the cigarette. “But, nah. Fate’s finicky like that. Leaves the worst ones standin’. That’s why we’re still around.”

And he’s right.

You take a sip from the bottle. You’re tipsy now. Definitely. You feel lighter than usual, and you’d worry about driving back somewhere to stay for the night.

You can’t drive in this state.

Boothill could drive back. You're too drunk to panic over how badly he swerves over the road.

And if he can’t, you could just sleep in the car for the night. It wouldn’t be the first time.

And, with him, maybe you would be okay.

Your vision is blurry, and there's an incessant burning beneath your eyelids. You quickly wipe your eyes. “Yeah.” God, you wish it was you who had disappeared. It would’ve saved your parents the heartache. You can’t even look at your reflection anymore. “Yeah, I get it.”

Boothill doesn’t say anything at first. He repeats your reply in his head like a mantra.

Instead, he blows smoke from his nose slowly in a long exhale, and then says, “I know you do.”

Furiously, you wipe your eyes again and tear your eyes away from the rearview mirror. You can’t will yourself to look. Though you feel nothing on your shoulder, you know the past sits behind you, and her hand rests on your skin like a weight.

Sometimes, it’s hard to even look at him, for when the metal of his body is reflective enough, you don’t see yourself, but her staring back at you.

He’s not sure what to say. Instead, he thinks it wise to potentially fry your car battery. He steals your phone charger hooked into the car and finds the slot that fits it best on his hip. Good enough. Hopefully it gives him enough juice to get through the next couple days.

“Oh, give it here.” You grab the wire from him. “You’re gonna break my damn charger.”

You peer at his ports curiously as he takes another drag of the silhouette, before you mumble something about the shape being a ‘USB-C’ and plug it into the right slot on his hip.

A small red light flashes to life above the port.

Boothill hums. “Thanks, sugar.” He doesn’t have to look at you, but the telltale scent of wine on your lips is enough for him to know. “You drunk?”

After a moment, you nod slowly. “Yeah.” Then, you twist in the chair to face him, bringing the bottle to your lips again. Your seatbelt is still on, even if the car has been parked for an hour. There’s a pang in your chest, and it tightens. “I miss her.”

She’s still staring at you in the mirror, but it’s not really her. Whatever this thing is, it’s not her. But it’s there, and it makes your heart race.

Boothill nods. “I miss my family, too.” He leans over and punches your thigh playfully. “But, I know your parents want ya to live for as long as you can. I know she would, too.”

You exhale. You’re beginning to feel sick now. Your stomach can’t take another blow from the wine, but you raise it to your lips anyway.

It burns when you swallow, like fire.

“That’s rich coming from you.”

He stops. Then, he turns away and raises his eyebrows in exasperation. “Just tryin’ to lift ya spirits.” Still, as exhausted as he feels, his rests a hand on your thigh. It’s comforting, the weight of metal, and it takes your mind off the fingers on your shoulders.

“I don’t think you’re the worst,” you mumble. You actually think you’re worse. Then, you shrug lightly. “I don’t want to lose you when you go.” You hear him exhale, somewhat to rid the smoke from his mouth, and also in the form of a sigh. “I know you won’t believe me, but I think I care about you.”

After you admit it, you pull the rim of the bottle to your lips again.

And then again.

And again.

Three sips later, you’re on the verge of collapsing, and Boothill snatches the bottle from your hand and stands it up by his feet on the car floor.

Your lips are stained a dark red, as is your tongue, and there’s a dark flush on your neck.

Sweat gathers over your skin, even if it’s freezing outside. The smoke is warm, and your legs are shaking.

“I just don’t want to lose you.”

Boothill turns his head and stares out the window. The stars are bright out here away from the city. It reminds him of home. None of that awful light pollution back there in that boring old planet that he loved to death.

If he could’ve, he would’ve taken you there.

That place doesn’t exist anymore.

He feels you would’ve loved his daughter. He feels she would’ve loved you a lot more.

“You ain’t gon’ lose me,” he whispers. He’s still not looking at you. He’s not sure if he’s lying, but he knows he wouldn't lie on purpose. Not to you. Not now.

He squeezes your thigh reassuringly. “I ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

Boothill hears the sound of your seatbelt unbuckling, and a shaky exhale follows.

Maybe you’re drunk out of your mind, and his breath stinks of tobacco, and it’s awful on your tongue, but you leap over the centre console of the car as best you can and hurriedly press your lips to his.

It hurts, and it makes him dizzy, and you feel like you’re floating, but he reciprocates, pressing further against your mouth. Your teeth clink, it’s messy, it’s awful, but it satisfies a burning in your stomach.

You snatch his hat and toss it in the back seat. His nose is cold, and it smushes against your cheekbone.

It lasts too long, and not long enough, for after a moment, he pulls his hands off your hips grabs your chin gently to push you off him.

You try to fuse your skin with his. Your stomach presses to his. Boothill’s eye softens and a grin grows on his lips when you sigh in defeat.

He laughs gently. “Easy, beautiful. I know you’re drunk as fudge.” He instead moves your head to his chest and pulls you gently into him. “Just sleep it off. You’re g’nna have the worst hangover in the mornin’.”

You hum and shift in his lap.

It falls silent for a moment.

“You’re so uncomfortable,” you murmur.

Boothill chuckles louder and blows a teasing cloud of smoke on the top of your head that you frantically wave away. He stares out the window again, and all the while, his free hand gently pets the top of your hair. He’s mindful that his joints can very well tangle easily.

“I bet,” he answers.

You murmur something he doesn't hear. Despite your complaints, you still fall asleep on his chest before you feel him lean down and his lips press to your hair.

[blueparadis]

╰┈➤ ATLAS✦ DILUC RAGNVINDR.

⟣ ──┈ · · · + synopsis ➢  Wearing a bunny outfit was indeed a good idea to attract customers but little did you know, it would attract the attention of the owner of Dawn Winery.

+

⟣ ──┈ · · · + cw ➣ bar tender!fem!reader x diluc rangnvindr, explicit smut, piv sex, semi-public, unprotected, cunnilingus, s/d dynamics, soft-dom!diluc, mentioned aftercare. 1,4k word count. | blog navigation + koct’23 masterlist. |

“What a pleasant surprise is this” The familiar deep voice puts a cease to your merry humming. You turn around facing none other than the owner of Dawn Winery, Diluc Raghvinder, your master. Has he been waiting here? Alone?  In the dark? 

You try to brush him off by stacking the bottles from the crate one by one, carefully and slowly so as not to break any of them. “I had to get more customers somehow,” your tart reply makes him walk towards the door and press the knob to close it. He is standing right beside the door. If you were to go out of the wine cellar, you have to solely depend on your luck and so far it has not been shining on you lately. 

“I’m not done talking,” He scoops you against his body as his voice echoes in the room. 

“Well, it can wait, can't it, master Diluc? The bar is overflowing with customers by Archon’s grace and I need to be on my way to serve them.”You struggle in his grasp as you speak, trying to get out of his arms that caged you the more you tried to retaliate against his touches. This is not the first time he has been sneaky, actually, he has a history. You have gotten used to it somehow. You would have let him turn the wheel like he usually does but not right now.

“Wait. Wait.” With a low husky voice, a huff in between he speaks again. This time softer, “I— I’m sorry, alright? I shouldn't have snapped at you the other day, when I said you weren't doing your job right enough.” His breath fanned against your ears as he slid his nose all over your upper chest, at the exposed area, and having his arms locked around your stomach was not helping either. 

“Let me go—I've got work to do.” You still protect, try to deflect his soft, slow, and steady touches. It always starts like this but ends up with him sinking his teeth onto your skin, marking you his, reminding you of him wherever you try to go, however far you try to run.

“Don’t,” Diluc muttered, undoing the strings of the first hook. You could feel your boobs relax, chest muscles free of tension and pressure. “You have done enough,” Turning you towards him to face his body, he slipped his fingers along your inner thigh at the lining of your dress playing with it. He must add that the stockings added a great flavor to your dress, not to mention to your alluring aura and how you carried yourself around the elites, guests, regulars, and normal customers but it is a hindrance now. “You have done enough my sweet bunny.” He repeated with a honey-dewed tone before tearing the stockings, running and sliding his hands up and down your thighs. His touches are not gentle anymore. It is rough and intense. 

“Wait— Sir Diluc,” You moan as his tongue travels along the column of your throat followed by his soft lips placing open-mouthed kisses. Diluc does not provide you another chance to talk, to resist rather you are lost in his crimson gaze as he pulls the string at your back undoing most of it, at least to have a good look on your nipples.

“Your nipples are hard.” He exclaims looking at them, insatiably making you push his chest but he is bigger than you, stronger than you. Even if your hands are mobile and free, there is nothing much you can do. It is adorable that you are still resisting. “Tell me bunny, did it turn you on walking around like this among those customers?” He leans towards your face whispering, “Or does the thought of making me hard during work turn you on?” 

Holding both of your palms in one fistful grab he arches his hips against your waist letting you feel his boner. If his hungry gaze did not make you wet while you were serving drinks at the bar, feeling his hard-on sure did. Diluc actually gave you time to answer yet it led to nothing but another disappointment. His patience was running out of time. You were like a rabbit in his trap and he could not just wait to devour you, have his way with you.

“Ya’know it is rude not to answer, especially your master.” He says with a brooding look on his face. His voice is steady, nothing mere of annoyance can be pointed in his way of talking either but the way he keeps his eyes on you tells everything. 

“nei—neither.”

“Sorry. What was that?” Now he is just playing with his food. “Couldn't hear you properly. Come again?” He paused, looking at your hands that rested perfectly on his chest. “Or I should just check it by myself,” Before those words could register in your brain, he swiftly turned you around, pushing you onto the table. 

“Wai-wai-wait-wait” you blabber but it is too late. You could feel his hands over your ass cheeks, caressing roughly and now your red bunny outfit was in tatters. Your face laid hot against the glass of the wooden table as your master crouched down. Taking a good look he exclaimed, “what a pretty little liar.” 

His fingers are now teasing your wet clit, exploring and rubbing them. “What a fat pussy you have,” he says before lapping his tongue from the base to up your buttocks. An elongated groan escaped his mouth along the strain in his trousers growing more and harder to bear. 

“Ahh! Sir Diluc, please . . . more.” A stifling moan finally escaped your lips. Diluc spread apart your pussy lips apart and started to suck and lick alternatively with so much zeal, as if he was given the an opportunity to taste the finest wine in Mondsndat. 

The squelching and sucking noises were getting louder and louder while your body was slowly giving in, submitting to his urges. Your mind might be heavy on how unethical it is to have a physical relationship with your boss, but there is no way your body can deny him now. He has become your need, your saviour.

“Sir Diluc . . . Sir . . .Diluc. . . Diluc.” 

There was no response other than the wet noises that Diluc elucidated with his mouth at service. But seeing you all fidgeting and restless, your arms stretching to reach your clit, legs quivering and growing apart further he finally stood up. Unzipping his pants, springing free his cock out his trousers he grabbed your hips. 

“I’m putting it in,” He said but rather delayed it by smearing the cockhead with your juices. A jolt full of shivers ran through your nerves, skin coating with goosebumps before he pushed his cock to the tip in one full strong stroke. He was not joking when he warned you. Another prolonged groan before Diluc started to snap his hips against yours — deep and rough, calculated and hard; each stroke hit your sweet spot with so much precision that you had to cover your mouth from moaning loudly.

With your shame coagulated at the core of your throat, Diluc rasped, “This is my house. My property.”He hovered above you, kissing your shoulders, and said, “Tell me, darling, who exactly do you fear ?” And a harsh slap landed on your ass eliciting a shrill moan from you. His strokes are getting more erratic now. “Keep those pretty moans coming. Think you can do that for me?” he coaxed as he pulled you up holding you against his body, close to his chest.

“Yes. ’course. Sir Diluc.” You reply with vision blurred, the red bunny outfit layered at your belly button and the bottom part was in ruins. Diluc could not help but be impressed at your obedience. “Good Girl.” he praises “My good girl.” As he grabs your tits before hammering his cock into your hole again, panting and moaning; singing along with you in the same melody. 

Your nostrils could no longer smell the sweet aroma of the wines, rather the smell of sweat mixed with expensive cologne hit your nostrils. With a few longer and broad strokes he cums, and finishes inside you. His hands let go of the harsh hold on to your body but clasp around you with his cock still inside you, as both of you come down from high.

You finally reciprocate his touches as you hold his palms, and interlace your fingers with his. As you kiss his hand, he murmurs, “Didn't know scolding you would make you wear a bunny outfit.”

You tilted your face to see him. With a smirk you reply,“didn’t know wearing red would do the trick.” with a wink.

[inky-duchess]

Fantasy Guide to A Great House (19th-20th Century) - Anatomy of the House

When we think of the Victorians, the grand old Gilded Age or the Edwardians, we all think of those big mansions and manors where some of our favourite stories take place. But what did a great house look like?

Layout

All great houses are different and some, being built in different eras, may adhere to different styles. But the layout of certain rooms usually stayed somewhat the same.

The highest floors including the attic were reserved the children's rooms/nursery and the servants quarters.

The next floor would be reserved for bedrooms. On the first/ground floor, there will be the dining room, drawing room, library etc.

The basement/cellar would be where the kitchens and other food related rooms would be. Servants halls and boot rooms may also be down here too along scullery, where sometimes a maid would clean.

Rooms used by Servants

Boot Room: The Boot Room is where the valets, ladies maids, hallboys and sometimes footmen clean off shoes and certain items of clothing.

Kitchen: The Kitchen was usually either in the basement or the first floor of the house, connected to a garden where the house's vegetables were grown.

Butler's Pantry: A butler's pantry was where the serving items are stored. This is where the silver is cleaned, stored and counted. The butler would keep the wine log and other account books here. The butler and footmen would use this room.

Pantry: The Pantry would be connected to the kitchen. It is a room where the kitchens stock (food and beverages) would be kept.

Larder: The larder was cool area in the kitchen or a room connected to it where food is stored. Raw meat was often left here before cooking but pastry, milk, cooked meat, bread and butter can also be stored here.

Servants Hall: The Servant's Hall was where the staff ate their meals and spent their down time. They would write letters, take tea, sew and darn clothes. The servants Hall would usually have a fireplace, a large table for meals, be where the servant's cutlery and plates would be kept and where the bell board hung. (these bells were the way servants where summoned)

Wine Cellar: The wine cellar was where the wine was melt, usually in the basement. Only the butler would be permitted down there and everything would be catalogued by him too.

Butler's/Housekeeper's sitting rooms: In some houses, both the butler and the housekeeper had sitting rooms/offices downstairs. This was were they held meetings with staff, took their tea and dealt with accounts.

Scullery: The scullery was were the cleaning equipment was cleaned and stored. The scullery may even also double as a bedroom for the scullery maid.

Servery: The Servery connected to the dinning room. It was where the wine was left before the butler carried it out to be served. Some of the food would be delivered here to be carried out as well.

Servant's Sleeping Quarters: All servants excepting perhaps the kitchen maid and outside staff slept in the attics. Men and unmarried women would be kept at seperate sides of the house with the interconnecting doors locked and bolted every night by the butler and housekeeper. If the quarters were small, some servants may have to share rooms. Servants' bathrooms and washrooms would also be up there, supplied with hot water from the kitchens.

Rooms used by the Family

Dining room: The dining room was where the family ate their breakfast, lunch and dinner. It was also where the gentlemen took their after dinner drink before joking the ladies in the drawing room.

Drawing room: The Drawing Room was sort of a living/sitting room. It was mainly used in the evenings after dinner where the ladies would take their tea and coffee before being joined by the men. It could also be used for tea by the ladies during the day. The drawing room was seen as more of a women's room but any of the family could use it. The drawing room was a formal room but could also be used for more casual activities.

Library: The library is of course where the books are kept. The family would use this room for writing letters, reading, doing business with tenants and taking tea in the afternoons.

Bedrooms: The bedrooms would take up most of the upper floors. The unmarried women would sleep in one wing with bachelors at the furthest wing away. Married couples often had adjoining rooms with their own bedrooms in each and equipped with a boudoir or a sitting room.

Nursery: Was where the children slept, usually all together until old enough to move into bedrooms. They would be attended to be nannies and nursemaids round the clock.

Study: The study was a sort of home office where family could do paperwork, chill and write letters.

Dressing room: Dressing Rooms where usually attached to bedrooms where the family would be dressed and their clothes would be stored. The valets and ladies maids would have control of the room.

Hall: The hall was where large parties would gather for dancing or music or to be greeted before parties.

Furnishings and Decor

Most of these Great Houses were inherited which means, they came with a lot of other people's crap. Ornaments from anniversaries, paintings bought on holiday, furniture picked out by newly weds, all of it comes with the house. So most of the time everything seems rather cluttered.

As for Servant's Quarters, most of the furnishings may have been donated by the family as gifts. Most servants' halls would have a portrait of the sovereign or sometimes a religious figure to install a sense of morality into them.

[prodbymaui]

Dinner Served

hmm, I got a really big problem

PAIRING: mark lee x fem!reader

GENRE: pure filth, public sex, oral sex (giving)

WORD COUNT: 1.3k+ words

SYNOPSIS: already in a dinner with your boyfriend, yet you still craves for something else.

A/N: 'golden hour' got my brain all mush up, enjoy this 1k+ words about pure filth with the one and only, mark lee. stream golden hour and happy reading, everyone!

A fancy dinner at a 5-michelin stars restaurant, something that one could expect from the one and only, Mark Lee, the ever so romantic man most people would do anything to be with. Too bad for them because clearly, the man they desperately desires only have his eyes fixated on you, full of love and adoration.

''We'll have creamed spinach stuffed salmon, smothered filet mignon and a bottle of wine for now,'' Giving the waiter a small smile, Mark dismisses him. He taps away on his phone, eyebrows scrunch to the center in concentration.

''Look-- we're nearing to finish my new single, kinda going through the concepts I want on the music video right now,'' The screen tells you how much progress was made, making you smile in a proud manner. ''What are your plans for the music video?''

Mark doesn't hesitate to go on about his plans and all, why would he? You've always made sure that your boyfriend won't be wary of crossing the 'talking too much' boundaries whenever he excitedly shares his adventures on his job. You love to see and hear him ramble about it, even though most of the time you can't understand anything.

Though, as much as you love the way he's so dedicated about his music, sometimes, the extreme passion results to the lack of attention towards you. It's not like you want him to choose you over his passion, no. You just couldn't prevent the feeling of longing.

Throughout, you nod at him and give comments or questions as interest pricked you from time to time. Now that Mark is distracted on his phone while he searches yet another story or TMI to tell you, you take in his appearance. Wearing his black dress shirt tucked in to his black jeans, watch and rings dawning his wrist and fingers, his quite long blonde hair braided on one side-- letting the other side falls naturally. You thank every possible gods and deities to exists that you are the lucky one to have Mark Lee as your lover.

''Oh,'' Flinching in a faux surprise, the spoon hitting the floor makes a slight tud sound, catching Mark's attention. You get off your chair to pick it up under the table, getting on your knees as you hold on to the hem of your dress, preventing it to ride up.

''Get back, babe. We'll just ask the waiter for a new one.''

''It's okay, I could just wipe it with the napkin,'' You rumble a chuckle when you hear a sound of disgust from Mark, taking back what you said, informing him that it's just a joke. You catch a glimpse of Mark's blonde strand peeking at you from under the table slightly.

''Have you found it?''

''Yeah, I found it,'' Shoving your face at the clothed crotch, you lap the outline of his dick, smiling against it when you feel him jerk, enjoying the reaction.

He gulps, eyes wavering as it roams around the place, observing the different groups of people who's busy chatting and eating. They seem to be indifferent to what's happening around them. Mark sighs, closing his eyes for a quick second before he turns his attention back on you. ''Just be quick, please?''

''Babe-- what do you think you're doing? Get the fuck out of there!'' He whispered but in a shouting manner, afraid that people might notice and see your face situated right in front of his dick. Humming in stubbornness, you fondle the bump, looking up and batting your eyes innocently at Mark when he lifts up the table cloth, cursing when his dark eyes meets your doe ones.

Your lips curves to form a cheeky smile, fingers working their way to open his pants and pull down the zipper, you place a gentle kiss to the certain area which you assumes his tip. Mark, himself, pulls down the front part of his jeans, revealing his near-hard shaft, waiting to be devoured.

Taking the cock in your hands, you move to lick from his balls to the slit of his tip, wiggling your tongue with a weak attempt to dig in the parting line. Giving you a last look, Mark fixes the table cloth, enough to cover your figure and slouches, enabling you to have a much better and easier access.

You suckle the tip lightly, spitting to have it wet. It is when you realizes that you don't have much time before the waiter comes back with your food and wine, so you relaxes your throat, opening your mouth widely enough as you take him fully.

Mark must've been sensitive because his hands travels down to grasps the back of your neck, his hips thrusting upwards slightly as he tries to cut your process of prolonging the activity. You closes your eyes shut, bobbing up and down while you adjusts to his girth, feeling his thighs flexing against your cheeks.

The dick is long enough that you have to use your hand to cover the rest of its length, pumping and circling it, matching the pace of your mouth. With the cock being wet enough, you stays on the head, mouthing and sucking it eagerly, as if you have little to no patience of having his release on your tongue. You let your hands do the work for the remaining length, biting your lip when you see the color of your lipstick staining his cock a bit.

Taking a breath, tears that prickles your eyes earlier finally escapes your lids, running down your cheeks as you push Mark's shaft inside your throat again, reaching the farthest that you can. Oh how you wish you could see your lover's expressions right now. If things are different, Mark will be cursing and whining loudly, his hand will be gripping your hair in a ponytail as he fucks your mouth.

But you're in a public place right now, and he can't do what he usually does, giving you the upper hand and power to control him because what can he possibly do? Thrust his hips feverishly while he holds your head in place and risk the public seeing their dear romantic boyfriend material, Mark Lee, railing his lover's mouth like it's her pussy?

Of course, he wouldn't do that. So you take advantage of it, pressing your nose near into his pelvis, pulling off of him as you passes the work to your hands again, moving your lips to take in one side of his balls, wetting it while you let your tongue taste his flavor, closing your eyes.

Your cheeks makes a contact with the spit on his cock, smearing it messily at the right side of your face. The mixture of saliva and tears on the surface of your skin feels so fucking dirty but that's what makes it hot, especially that you're not caged in the four corners of your bedroom, the possibility of someone noticing your figure under the table stirs the feeling of thrill inside you and Mark.

It isn't that long before your boyfriend tightens his grip on the back of your neck, signalling the nearing of his release. Yet the odds seems to not favor Mark right now as your ears rings at the footsteps you're sure is coming your way, pulling off of Mark completely as you sit back on your chair, fixing yourself before someone comes.

The activity would've been naturally pulled off if Mark didn't let his usual awkward and nervous persona take over him, fully giving it away as the waiter's eyes widens, clearing his throat while he tries to stop the stuttering when he places the foods and wine on your table. Smiling at him, you say your thank yous.

''Can I get a new spoon, please? And here's your tip, I apologize for the trouble,'' The waiter have no choice but to nod, hoping he wouldn't see the same scenario when he comes back with your new spoon.

[sephsbat]

Altars & Shrines in Hellenism

In Hellenism, the practice of setting up altars and shrines to the gods plays an important role in religious worship and devotion. Altars and shrines serve as physical focal points where offerings, libations, and prayers can be made to the deities.

Altars

Altars in Hellenism can take various forms, but typically consist of a raised platform or table upon which offerings are placed. Altars are often made of stone, wood, or even simply piled earth. The size and design of the altar can vary depending on the space available and the specific needs of the practitioner.

Altars are usually set up in a dedicated religious space, such as a home shrine, a temple, or outdoors in a grove or sacred area. They are oriented to face the east, toward the rising sun, as a symbolic gesture toward the divine.

Common offerings placed on Hellenic altars include incense, candles, flower petals, fruits, grains, and libations of wine, water, or honey. Practitioners may also leave small votive objects, such as statues or figurines, as gifts to the gods.

Shrines

Shrines in Hellenism are small, dedicated spaces set aside for the veneration of a particular deity or group of deities. Shrines can be located both indoors and outdoors, and they often incorporate images, statues, or other representations of the gods.

Household shrines are a common feature in Hellenic practice, allowing practitioners to maintain a personal connection with the divine in their own homes. These shrines may be as simple as a small table or shelf with a statue or symbol of a deity, or they may be more elaborate, with multiple images, offerings, and ritual tools.

Outdoor shrines, known as "sacral landscapes," can be found in natural settings, such as groves, springs, or hilltops. These locations were considered sacred to the ancients and were often the sites of temples, altars, and other religious structures.

Visiting and tending to both altars and shrines is an important part of Hellenic religious practice, allowing practitioners to honor the gods, make offerings, and seek their blessings and guidance.

Sacred Spaces

In addition to altars and shrines, Hellenism also places great importance on the concept of sacred spaces - specific locations that are dedicated to and imbued with the presence of the divine.

Temples

The most well-known sacred spaces in Hellenism are the temples, which were grand structures built to house the physical representations (cult statues) of the gods. Temples were considered the dwelling places of the deities, and they served as the primary sites for public worship and ritual activities.

Temples were often located in prominent positions within a city or in natural settings, such as on hilltops or near bodies of water. The architecture and decoration of a temple were carefully designed to reflect the attributes and domains of the deity it honored.

Natural Sanctuaries

Beyond the constructed temples, Hellenism also recognized certain natural locations as sacred spaces. These included groves, springs, caves, and mountains, which were seen as inherently holy due to their physical features or associations with particular gods and mythological events.

Natural sanctuaries, known as "sacred landscapes," were often the sites of altars, shrines, and other religious structures. They were believed to be places where the veil between the mortal and divine realms was thinner, allowing for more direct communication and interaction with the gods.

Household Shrines

As mentioned earlier, individual households in Hellenism also maintained their own sacred spaces in the form of domestic shrines. These small altars or dedicated areas within the home were important centers of private worship and devotion, allowing practitioners to maintain a personal connection to the divine on a daily basis.

Household shrines were often located in prominent areas of the home, such as near the hearth or the entrance, and they were tended to through the offering of libations, prayers, and other rituals.

Regardless of the specific form, sacred spaces in Hellenism served as conduits for communication with the divine, providing opportunities for both individual and communal religious practice and devotion.

[navstuffs]

Nude painting class

Pairing: RookieRE2!Leon x BustyF!Reader

Summary: You and Leon continue meeting in weird circumstances.

Warning tags: au, written with busty/curvy reader in mind, but anyone can read it, SMUT MINORS DNI, nudity, blowjob (m receiving), mask/hidden identity, cum, nudity, tiny cum play, deep-throat, switch!leon, leon loves your tits, ingrid is my oc

Author's Notes: hiiii! my husband gave the ideia (again) for the second part of traffic stop (spoiler alert: he gave the idea for the third/final part as well and it is THE BOMB!!). HABEMUS smuuuuuut! which i want to remind you all, i am no expert, and i hope to continue improving (since for the final part i will def need it)! hope you have fun reading it!

part 1 | my leon's masterlist

"Nude painting?"

Your friend Ingrid nods her head, excited. You look at yourself: short floral dress, make-up-ready. That wasn't exactly what you had in mind when you came all the way from Raccoon City to celebrate Ingrid's birthday. You came to have fun, get wasted, and end up in some strange man's arms. Not to paint.

"What happened to the Ingrid that loved drinking and partying?" Ingrid simply shrugs, resting against the passenger seat from the rideshare app. Well, it is her birthday, not yours.

"What about you? When are you leaving Racoon City?"

It is your time to shrug now. You decided to stay when Ingrid and most of your friends moved at the end of high school. You never thought of moving away.

"I love you, but Racoon City has nothing in there. It is a small town everyone leaves as soon as they can. What possibly can keep you there?"

A sudden pair of blue eyes crosses your mind, and you feel your face heating up. Ingrid opens a smirk, holding you in the arm.

"Wait, wait, there is someone?" You bite your lips, shaking your head.

"No, there is no one!" Ingrid holds into your arm, pressing you to tell her.

No, there wasn't. You only met Officer Kennedy once and never saw him again. It is not like you were looking hopeful at every police car that passed. Which you weren't. Or wondering if Leon was thinking as much of you as you thought of him.

You try to take Officer Kennedy out of your head for tonight. He is probably five hours away, doing who-knows-what. You are there to have fun.

-x-

Chris crosses his arm, watching Leon walk back and forth, both already dressed in robes. Chris has a malicious smile on his face: he was the one who convinced Leon to do this. Leon needed the money to help pay for his college anyway.

"I swear, you are fine! We are like, what? Five hours away from Racoon City? Who the fuck would see you? And you are going to be wearing a mask anyway!"

Leon knows this. He knows he is very far away from his workplace, yes, he would be wearing a mask to hide his identity. All of that should serve to ease Leon, but it doesn't. He has this strange feeling inside of him, growing since he arrived. 

Before they leave their locker area, Leon is handed a black full-face Venetian mask. He has his hair back with gel, making it all spiky. They are taken to the paint room, Chris giving a thumbs up before they enter the main room.

Leon is trying hard not to place his hands in front of his dick when he gets to the room, although he is still technically covered. There are around twenty to thirty women in front of blank canvases, all eyeing them up and down. His job is to pose and maybe walk around. Easy peasy, Chris mentioned, and you don't even have to talk.

Leon lets his eyes glance around the room. Most women are excited, talking with each other. That's when Leon notices a woman he never thought he would see right here, his heart beating fast against his chest. One that has not left his mind since the traffic stop.

Leon could not believe his bad luck.

-x-

Ingrid is vibrating with excitement when the models start to come out. You warn her to ease on the wine, but Ingrid says it is her birthday, so she can do whatever she wants. Your eyes went from the stronger one with dark hair to the leaner blonde one, hair pulled back with gel. Why did you feel like you knew him?

"Can we touch them?" Ingrid interrupts your thoughts, excited.

"We can NOT touch them, Ingrid! Not if you want to get kicked out of here!"

You hear screams and claps around, and when you turn back, they take their underwear off. Well, great you lost the strip tease. Your eyes go from the brown-haired one to the blonde. Well, it seems he was hiding some muscles in there.

Your eyes go down to his abs, and it stops just above his pubic hair. Should you dare to look more? Oh, fuck it. It is Ingrid's party, you are there to have fun, you remind yourself. You look down at his cock, and you gulp, staring at it a little longer than you should.

"Okay, I get the brown-haired one, you get the blonde one," Ingrid whispers, startling you.

Your stare finally crosses with the model, and he is highly interested in you. You immediately look away, cheeks heating up, focusing on your canvas. You grab the first brush and paint you find and start painting.

The following two hours feel long for both you and Leon. You must look to draw your model, but if you had glanced three times during that time, it would have been too much. Ingrid, half drunk by now, kept her eyes focused on him every time he passed. You barely moved, his leg brushing lightly against your back.

"I think he likes you," Ingrid whispers, covering her mouth.

"Ingrid, he does not!"

"He keeps passing here, staring at your tits. I think he is getting hard as well."

"Ingrid, he isn't staring at my tits!" You say more loudly than you should. Ingrid slowly turns away, and when you go back to your side, Blonde's cock is literally inches away from your face. You don't move, paralyzed, analyzing from the corner of your eyes. He has some pubic hair in there, not entirely shaved (which gave him more charm). You watch as it suddenly twitches in your line of vision, making you lick your lips.

You hear a low clearing of the throat, and you look up, a very intense blue eyes staring at you right back. With your cheek heating up, you lock in his gaze, wondering what would happen if you shove his cock down your mouth.

"And class is up! Let's see what you did, people!" The teacher announces, waking you and the model for your trance.

He quickly moves away from you as you stare at your horrible paint, half of what was supposed to be a human body done in there. Ingrid's paint looks much better.

"Hey, yours look good!"

"You can focus more when you aren't flirting with your model!"

"I was NOT flirting!"

-x-

Leon slams the locker door open, frustrated. It is far away from Raccoon City, Chris said, you will be fine, he said. And yes, Leon would have been fine if he didn't find himself in front of the woman who had been pestering his mind for the last couple of months. Leon had lost count of how many times he fapped for you, your boobs on his mouth, your tits around his cock, as you took him in your mouth, your boobs bouncing as you rode him.

"...bathroom? Oh, shit, I am so sorry!"

Of course, it had to be you, lost on your way to the bathroom and entering the model's locker room instead. Blonde has his back turned against the door. You can't see his face, but you notice as he quickly grabs the mask before him in the locker. Your eyes start going down to his jeans pants and the line of his underwear. Neither you nor he move until you mutter, embarrassed.

"I am really, really sorry."

"I don't think it was an accident. You came here looking for something, didn't you?" Leon tries to mask his voice, going deeper. Inside, he is freaking out. What if you run away screaming, pervert? He is a cop, for Christ's sake! He has stopped you in traffic before, this would be so unethical in levels he didn't even know of.

You stay quiet until Leon hears the door closing and being locked. He turns around, and you look timid by the door, looking anywhere but him, rubbing the front of your dress with your hands.

"Come here. Sit." Leon says, pointing to the bench in front of him. Leon is thankful you don't look up as you sit. You would notice his nervousness, even through the mask, his hands shaking.

He first looks at your cleavage, a tiny part of your green bra poking. Leon wants to touch and grope them, feel them against his hands, but he holds himself back. Leon gently grabs your chin to look at him.

"I saw the way you looked at me in that class. I know you want me, don't you?" You nod, forgetting about Ingrid outside or that you could get in trouble for this. Leon opens a smile, but you can't see it. "Then come on. Open your mouth. "

Leon doesn't have to say twice. You open the button of his jeans, pulling down his underwear with your shaky hands, causing it to fall altogether. He is hard already, leaking. You waste no time shoving down your mouth.

"Shit. Fuck. Li-like that," Leon groans. Not even in his wildest dreams he thought he would have your pretty lips around his cock. And it feels much better than he imagined in any of his fantasies.

You start to move your head down Leon's length as you go deep into your throat, and Leon thinks he can't survive much of this. Leon looks down at you, pulling your dress down and your bra up much rougher than he intended to expose your boobs. Surprised, you moan as Leon places his hand on the top of your head, keeping you moving. 

Your boobs are finally in his view, and he can't believe it. They are exactly as he remembers. Leon watches you rub your legs against each other when he gropes one of them. He could cum like that.

Leon starts bobbing your head up and down, trying to keep his moan as low as possible. The small locker room is filled with his whimpers, and you know you will never forget about them. He is rough but gentle at the same time, making sure you are not gagging and leaving you space to breathe.

"I am clo-close. So close," Leon stutters, and you think you heard that voice somewhere before. "I want to cum all over your boobs."

You nod, your wetness asking for your attention, but focusing on Leon for now. When Leon thinks he is close, he pulls his dick out of his mouth with a plop, and Leon releases his cum all over your tits and bra. You watch, astonished, as the man in front of cums, moaning loud. The only thing you can properly see is his blue eyes rolling, making sure he covers your boobs with his cum.

When he is done, he looks down at you, his breath noisy against the mask. Leon's breath hitches when he sees your index finger pass on top of his cum and take it to your lips, licking it clean. 

Oh, you wanted to kill him.

With a sudden shot of lust into his blood veins, he lifts you up and makes you turn around. On all fours for him, legs spread apart, your hands support themselves in the walls before you. You are soaked, Leon notices, soaked because of him. When Leon places a warm hand against your ass, a sudden knock on the door makes you both jump.

"Hey? Is someone here still?" The voice of the manager of the place sounds curious by the door.

Silence.

You hear the insistent knock, looking at Leon over your shoulder. He lifts his hand up, motioning for you to stay silent.

"Still here," Leon answers.

"Going to lock the building in less than ten minutes, man! Hurry up!"

"I will be out soon!" Leon answers.

The steps start going away, and you suddenly remember Ingrid. Has she even left? With all strength in the world, you straighten up, your hands going to your bag. There were at least three missing calls from her and five text messages wondering where you are. Decided, you start organizing yourself, not even looking at the man before you. You look around for a towel or anything you can clean yourself, and Leon offers you one. 

"Thanks." You clean your boobs, deciding what to do about your bra. With a sudden decision, and to make you remind you of him, you take it off, placing it on his hand. You smirk as he stares at you. "So, you can remember tonight. Remember me."

You pull your dress up, and Leon watches as your nipples hard against the fabric. He doesn't want you to go, he wants to touch you more, but Leon occupies himself, pullings his underwear and jeans up. You two stare at each other for a moment before you nod.

"Well. It was nice, mhm fun."

Say something, Leon. Say anything. Don't let her go like that. Leon doesn't say anything, simply watching you leave, a little disappointed, the door closing behind you with a click.

Leon throws the mask away, finally giving a good breath. His forehead is sweaty, and he could barely breathe on that thing. The back against the cold locker calms him. Leon finishes organizing himself, feeling a little sad you didn't recognize him from before. How would he be if he was wearing a mask? Leon didn't want to be recognized. Leon shakes his head, ignoring the sad feelings on his chest. He let himself go too far.

It is time to forget you.

-x-

Ingrid is sitting down by the parking lot alone. You apologize a hundred times, and she is furious, thinking you got killed or kidnapped before she calls the rideshare app. You promise you will pay her back when you see a motorcycle coming out at the side of the building. 

The man wears a dark helmet, and you just know by the clothes that this is the model you gave a blowjob. He seems to stop, watching you two alone in the parking lot, his leg on the ground. Again, that familiar feeling is in your chest. He seems to be waiting on something, his stare focused on you and Ingrid. Like he is keeping an eye on you and Ingrid, all alone in that parking lot, late at night.

"Come on, it is here! No more letting you out of my sight tonight!" Ingrid grabs you by the arm. You shot one last look at him before getting into the car.

With a sudden realization and the motorcycle passing fast in the opposite direction, you remember why you felt so familiar: the model had the exact eyes of Officer Leon Kennedy.