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teapartyprincess4two · 3 months

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can you write another Matt story? I'm obsessed with your writing!! <3

Manage- M. Sturniolo

pairing: Secretary!reader x Boss!Matt

classification: smut w/ a plot

warnings: 18+, MDNI, use of y/n, power dynamic, sexual content, suggestive content, slight cursing, mentions of alcohol use, mentions of jealousy, literal sex

summary: You’re Matt’s secretary, in charge of overseeing everything related to his schedule. Everyday when you come into the office he suppresses the urge to take you then and there. When on a work business trip, he can’t hold back anymore.

—

You loved your job, not because it was your dream job, but because it was easy. You went into work, did what you had to do, and at the end of the day you could go home and disconnect from it entirely. There were some odd days when your boss, Matthew, would call you in your days off or call you from home to ask about something. But, for the most part, you could completely forget about the job once you clocked out.

Just because the job was easy doesn’t mean that there wasn’t rules to be followed. As the boss of a world renowned magazine company, Matt always made sure to enforce them. For example, deadlines had to be met, sales were critical, and the workplace environment was meant to remain professional. He was a strict, straightforward boss and didn’t play when it came to the rules. Another one of his big rules was time management, he hated when people were late.

You were running a little late today, and as the boss’s secretary that was completely unacceptable. You stayed up late last night with an old friend, catching up on life and drinking one too many glasses of wine. Before you knew it, it was midnight and you still weren’t home. By the time you fell asleep it was already 3 in the morning. As a result, this morning you woke up late, you had to force yourself out of bed and rush to get ready.

So, now you’re walking into the office an hour late wearing an outfit you would’ve never picked out if you were in your right state of mind. You avoid eye contact with your coworkers as you make your way to your desk that’s situated in yours and Matt’s shared office. That was the worst part, out of all your coworkers you were the only one who had to be with the boss throughout the entire work day. There was no room for mistakes, especially on your part.

“You’re late,” Matt grumbles as he watches you dump your things onto your desk. You looked frazzled, but he wasn’t going to make an exception for you just because you were his secretary. Sure he’d built a rapport with you from working alongside you all these years, but if he made an exception for you then he’d have to do it for everyone.

“I know, I’m so sorry Mr. Sturniolo,” you reply meekly, avoiding eye contact out of embarrassment. You hated this, you felt like a school girl getting reprimanded for missing homework. If he wasn’t such a strict boss, maybe you’d take the time to explain why you were late, but you knew better than that. He would just see it as an excuse and write you off as a lazy employee.

Matt takes a long look at you, you were wearing a skirt that was definitely not workplace appropriate. He hated how easily he got riled up at the sight of your legs. He looks away immediately, training his gaze on the computer in his desk. “I’ve got a lot of meetings today, Y/n. I need you performing at your best potential, so get it together,” he says sternly, trying to think about anything other than you in that tiny skirt. You finally situate yourself at your desk, adjusting your skirt so it won’t ride up. It’s no use, this skirt was definitely not meant for the office.

“Yes, sir,” you reply, turning on your computer and preparing yourself for the long work day ahead.

—

For the rest of the day you sit in business meetings taking notes and writing down important dates and deadlines. For the most part, you’re really bored, but you were already late today and can’t afford another mistake, so you try your best to pay attention so you don’t miss anything.

Matt sits next to you, watching as you mindlessly take notes on what the presenter is saying. These meetings were very important and it was imperative that he paid attention too, but he couldn’t help but let his eyes wander down to your legs. They’re crossed under the table, your ankle swaying back and forth rhythmically. If he could, he’d crawl under the table and spread your leg-

“Okay, Mr. Sturniolo, you’re up,” the presenter suddenly says, breaking him from his thoughts. Matt coughs awkwardly, adjusting his pants slightly to hide his growing erection. He stands from his seat, taking the remote clicker from the man and continuing the presentation.

Matt knows this information like the back of his hand, it’s all numbers and statistics that he’s memorized over the course of managing such a large company, but as you sit there with your legs on full display he can’t think straight. He stutters throughout the entire presentation and at one point completely zones out with thoughts of you bent over the desk, pushed up against the wall, or even squirming in your seat.

“Sir?” you ask timidly, he’s been quiet for a while and is just staring down at you. His eyes pierce into you, lighting your skin on fire. The other men were looking around confused as to why the presentation stopped.

Your voice breaks him from his thoughts yet again and he coughs awkwardly for the second time. “Would you like me to get you a water?” you ask politely, standing from your seat. As you do this, your legs uncross and Matt catches a glimpse of your lacy underwear. His brain is on fire with thoughts of you.

He forces himself to look away with a clenched jaw as you quickly adjust your skirt. “Yes that would be nice. Thank you, Y/n,” he finally manages to say. You nod your head and excuse yourself from the group of men briefly.

All of the men allow their eyes to wander on your body, taking you in like a tall drink of water. They were all silently wishing they had a secretary like you.

“Pretty girl you got there,” one man comments as he leans forward in his seat to watch you walk down the hall. The skirt ended right above the edge of your ass, lifting slightly with each sway of your hips.

Matt sends him a warning glare before returning back to the presentation.

—

“Don’t forget to book the flights for the company trip. You and I will be leaving two days early to make sure everything is in order. Make sure you account for that, okay?” Matt says as he rapidly walks from the conference room to your shared office. You walk behind him, holding your skirt down with your left hand as your right arm is holding the papers from the previous meeting. Matt needed to walk in front of you or he’d be staring at your ass and legs, unable to concentrate on anything else.

“Are you catching all of this?” He asks, waving his hand in the air to catch your attention.

“Yes sir, I’m just um- I’m struggling with these papers,” you admit, adjusting the stack of papers again so they won’t fall to the floor. He stop his rapid walking and looks back at you, feeling bad for leaving you with the brunt of the work all the time. If he was honest, he was very harsh with you and would often overwork you, but it was because he always found himself staring and admiring at you. If he wasn’t so harsh with you then he’d certainly cross the line of professionalism in your relationship and entire uncharted territory.

Matt takes the stack of papers from you, mumbling a small sorry as he does it. He’s careful not to graze your skin, knowing that your simple touch would send him into a frenzy. He couldn’t trust himself yet, especially not with the skirt you’re wearing. He needs an excuse to get as far away from you as possible right now.

“You can go to lunch.”

“Are you sure? It’s only 11 and I still have to book the fli-”

“Yes. Bring me a sandwich from the deli I like. You can finish that later.”

You’re confused, he never sends you to lunch this early, especially not after business meetings. He’d usually have you type up a report or schedule the next meeting, sometimes he’d even assign you busy work like reorganizing the files or shredding letters. You don’t question it though, you knew better than that. Instead you send him a nod and head out to grab lunch.

As soon as you’re gone he’s relieved, he makes his way into the office, dumping the stack of papers on your desk before slumping down on his chair. He sighs, it’s a sigh of relief, but also of frustration. Everytime he closes his eyes his mind is overtaken with thoughts of you.

The thought of you sitting so close to him everyday, those lacy underwear mere inches from him. Your legs on full display for him, ready to be spread open at any moment. That tiny skirt riding up every time you took a singular step. Even your hands as they expertly typed away on your computer. The thought of you was driving him crazy, he doesn’t know how he survives entire workdays with you so close. If he could have it his way, you would’ve been bent over your desk the second you arrived late to work, for the simple fact that you arrived late. Then he would’ve eaten you out until you were begging him to stop as punishment for wearing a skirt so short. But he’s your boss and he needs to control himself and his thoughts.

His eyes are squeezed shut and his jaw clenched as he tried to think of anything other than you, but no matter how hard he tried his mind always came back to you. His dick twitches at the thought of you pressed up against the wall, your skirt halfway up your abdomen as he fucks into you relentlessly. He thinks about how he’d pick you up and guide you towards his chair where he’d let you do all the work, bouncing up and down on him for hours. Your hair would fall onto your face and he’d have to push it back, creating a make-shift ponytail to use as leverage to fuck into you harder.

His hand starts subconsciously wandering onto his hard, clothed dick at the thought. No one is here to watch him, the door is closed and you’re off on your lunch break, if he’s quick enough he can get in a quick, satisfying release. The idea floats around his head as he imagines you on your knees, face covered in his cum. Your lips would wrap perfectly around him, just like they wrapped around the straws he’s watched you drink from. Then he’d lay you on the desk on top of all the paperwork as he fucked you until the desk broke.

One time won’t hurt, right?

Briefly he looks around the room, making sure no one walks in as he begins unbuckling his pants. This is the first and only time he’s allowing himself to go this far at the thought of you. An adrenaline rush surges through him as he pulls his zipper down, becoming anxious to touch himself. His dick is twitching, precum leaking out as if it’s crying and begging to be set free.

As he’s about to let his throbbing penis free of its constraints, the door opens abruptly, causing him to look up in shock and immediately scoot himself closer into the desk. He tries his best to hide himself under the desk, using the ledge to serve as a shield.

You walk in with a big, kind smile, a bag of food in one hand and two drinks in the other. “Here’s your sandwich, Mr. Sturniolo,” you say, as you place the bag and one of the drinks onto his desk. “They didn’t have the soda you like so I brought this instead, I hope that’s okay. If not I brought another option,” you ramble on, plopping an alternate drink on the table.

His face is red hot and he won’t meet your gaze, “That’s fine, y/n. Thank you.”

“If you don’t like it I can get something else, I just didn’t know which one you’d like-”

“Y/n. You can go,” he interrupts you sternly, embarrassed that he was almost caught. You stand in silence, taking the hint that your boss wanted to be alone. You grab the paperwork from earlier and a pen before dismissing yourself quickly, deciding to work through the rest of your lunch break in the break room.

When you’re gone, Matt lets out another sigh of relief before looking down at his pants. They’re unbuckled, exposing the hem of his underwear. He quickly readjusts himself before looking at the bag of food.

He wasn’t even hungry anymore. All he could think about was you.

—

You’re currently preparing to board the plane for the long awaited company-wide business trip. The trip is to a resort where other major magazine companies will be hosting a week long conference. You and Matt are leaving two days early to ensure that everything is in order. This means that it’s your responsibility to make sure that all the company presentations, spreadsheets, paperwork, informational brochures, documents, and other records are in order. The thought of it stresses you out, you can’t even begin to imagine what Matt would do if even a single thing went wrong.

Even if you’d have some time to yourself in the resort, the thought of actually working made you dread the trip. But you put on your best performance as you walk behind Matt in the large airport in search of your boarding gate. Your suitcase is heavy, filled with all your personal necessities, some casual clothes, and a plethora of work clothes.

“Mr. Sturniolo? I think you might be heading the wrong way. I wanna say that the boarding gate is over here,” you speak shyly, afraid to overstep when speaking with your boss.

“Matt.” he replies, he hates that you call him ‘Mr. Sturniolo,’ it was a constant reminder that he was your superior, your boss. A reminder that you’d never be able to be his unless he fired you or risked a workplace scandal. “I’m sorry?” you ask, unsure of what he meant by that. You knew his name was Matthew, but you’d never called him anything but his last name.

“Please just call me Matt,” he reiterates. After years of working by your side, he’s determined to finally make an impression on you that doesn’t scream ‘I’m your boss!’ You hum in response, finally realizing that he wants you to refer to him by his first name. The thought of being on first name basis with your boss was a little weird, but it humanized him a bit and made him seem less intimidating.

“Okay. Well, Matt I think you’re heading towards the wrong gate.”

He looks around the airport, then down again at his ticket, realizing that he is in fact heading the wrong way. “You’d be right, Y/n,” he replies with a playful grin.

He’s dressed very casually, it’s an outfit that you’d be able to wear to a grocery store, but still lounge around your house in. The look contrasted his everyday attire drastically, he almost looked… normal? He didn’t look like a man who manages one of the largest magazine companies in the world, a man who drives a sports car, a man who has a secretary ready to do what he says when he says it. No, he looks like a man who walks his dog in the afternoon, a man who reads books before going to bed, a man who washes the dishes after every meal. He just looked normal and that made him easier to talk to.

The two of you begin walking to your designated gate, Matt trails behind you and takes in your attire too. You’re wearing a pair of leggings, a fitted top, sneakers, and a cropped sweater. You look great, but the change of style opens his imagination to the thought of you being fucked in a domestic setting. He could imagine you on the couch, by the sink, or even in the shower. He hated how easily his mind wandered into sexual territory, but he loved thinking about it.

You two board the plane quickly. You take the window seat, letting Matt situate himself in the aisle seat. The flight isn’t too long, but you’ve prepared yourself with some activities in case you become bored or restless.

Throughout the entire flight Matt is still thinking about you. All he can do is hope you don’t look down at his lap and see how excited he truly is. Fortunately for him, you’re deeply immersed in a game of sudoku. You’re biting the end of your pen in concentration, your eyes wandering across the page as you try and figure the puzzle out. He wishes you were biting across his skin, or that your lips were occupied with something else…

He takes a look at your lips, then at the page in front of you, “6 goes here.” His finger points to a specific square on the puzzle, breaking you from your concentration. You pause your chewing, processing the information Matt just said. You write in the 6, that singular move solving the entire puzzle for you as you quickly fill in the rest of the boxes.

A big smile is planted on your face, “wanna try?” You extend the book and pen out for him. He doesn’t have anything else to do, so he shrugs and takes the items from you, “sure.” In the process his hands graze against yours, goosebumps raising along his arms immediately. “Okay, well while you do that I’m gonna go to the restroom,” you comment, getting up from your seat so you can head to the back of the airplane.

You shuffle out of your seat, pressing your stomach to the seat in front of you as you try to wiggle out onto the aisle. Your butt briefly grazes Matt’s knee, your thigh touching his inner leg as you weave your way through his legs. “Sorry,” you whisper to him, finally making your way into the aisle. He wishes he could grab a hold of your hips, rip off your leggings, and pull you down onto his lap then and there. Even with all these people occupying the rest of the airplane, he’d fuck you so hard you’d forget how to walk.

His eyes do a once over on your whole body as you walk down the aisle, your tight leggings leaving little to the imagination. A small groan escapes his lips, if this is how he was feeling during the flight how was he going to survive the entire trip?

Matt shakes his head, beating himself up for being such a pervert. He stares down at the sudoku puzzle in front of him, suddenly forgetting all the rules.

—

The resort is huge, much bigger than the resort used for last year’s conference. Every year a different company hosts the conference, this year your company’s top rival was hosting. They were known to show off and pamper their guests, which would explain the grandious size of the resort.

You and Matt walk up to the front desk with your suitcases trailing behind you, ready to check in. The clerk at the front desk offers you both a warm smile as he asks for the name of the reservation.

“Matthew Sturniolo, we’re here for a weeklong event,” Matt replies, taking his ID out for further proof of identification. As you admire the luxurious look of the lobby the clerk looks for the reservation on the computer. When he finds it he immediately pulls out his rehearsed speech before handing Matt a singular key card, “Awesome! Looks like you two will be in a master suite on the top floor. Here’s the keycard, if you have any questions feel free to use your room phone to ring the front desk. We do offer room service which can also be accessed through the room phone. Enjoy your stay!”

Matt waits for another key card, because there should be two rooms, but the clerk becomes preoccupied with the computer once again. “I’m sorry. I reserved two rooms,” he says politely, trying not to lose his temper. If there was one thing he hated it was incompetent workers, and if this worker wasn’t so incompetent he would’ve known that Matt had two rooms. The clerk looks up from the computer briefly before checking again on the reservation status, “Right! Well it looks like the rooms you previously booked were given to two other guests. A lot of people will be visiting us for this conference so they had to move a couple of people around to make room for everyone. That’s why you’ll be sharing a room now.”

You watch as the situation unfolds, ready to step in if Matt became too abrasive. As a secretary, you were used to dealing with mistakes like this and have become an expert at deescalating situations, especially with Matt as your boss. He has a tendency to lose his temper or make snarky remarks and then leave you to deal with the aftermath.

Matt’s about to lose his temper and the clerk can tell so he quickly interjects again, “Don’t worry, sir. The room is very large and is equipped with a Queen sized bed. If you have any issues, we will work with you.”

Matt’s about to say something he shouldn’t, but is stopped by your gentle hand on his shoulder as you speak, “Thank you! We will call if there are any issues.” You grab the key card from the desk and pull Matt away and towards the elevator as you offer the clerk an apologetic smile.

He’s tense at your touch, because it elicits something feral in him, but also because he’s still on edge from the previous conversation. “I’m sure the room is big enough,” you comment once you two are inside the elevator. You can tell he’s bothered, his jaw is clenched and his fists are balled up so tight it causes his arms to flex. Even though he’s clearly angry, he looks extremely handsome right now. If he wasn’t your boss you’d even go as far as to say he looked hot.

“Doesn’t matter. I reserved two rooms, we should’ve gotten two rooms.”

“Yeah, but we’ll make it work,” you say with a smile, trying to remain positive.

“That’s not the point,” he grumbles. The elevator dings with each floor, and each ding reminds him that he’s closer to having to share a room with you for an entire week. If he wasn’t able to contain himself at the office, or even on the airplane, how was he ever meant to survive an entire week with you?

The elevator dings one last time as you reach the top floor, the doors opening slowly to reveal a long hallway. You exit the elevator, Matt following suit behind you as you read the keycard. The keycard reads room #505, it’s all the way at the end of the hall, perfectly secluded in a corner.

This only sends Matt’s imagination more wild, he didn’t know how he was going to keep his hands off of you for an entire week.

—

After getting settled, Matt informs you that there’s a brief introductory meeting that you need to attend. He tells you to dress up professionally because a lot of important people were going to be there and to be prepared to take notes. You know this is a business trip, but a part of you was hoping to relax the first night. With Matt as your boss, you should’ve known better.

The living situation wasn’t that bad, the room was very large, complete with a queen size bed, two closets, and a restroom that had a his and hers sink. Before doing anything else you two got situated, Matt insisted on sleeping on the floor, but after further deliberation you insisted he join you in the bed. You were adults after all, it didn’t have to be weird. He protested at first, but the thought of sleeping in the same bed as you was exciting.

After that, you decided to take a shower. You needed to wash off the jet lag from the flight. While you were in the shower Matt’s brain was going wild with thoughts of you. The water slowly running down your body, being able to see your silhouette through the foggy glass, pressing you up against the glass as he fucked you from behind. He was itching to get up from the bed, barge into the restroom and finally make you his. But he had to remind himself that this was a purely professional trip, that you were only in the same room due to circumstance.

You’re currently lining your lips, adding all the finishing touches to your makeup. You decided on a black dress, it was simple and classy, but still fun. Your hair was perfectly styled to show off a silver necklace and matching earrings, they were actually a gift from Matt. He gave them to you one Christmas, mumbling something about how they were from the company, but in reality he chose them himself specifically for you.

Matt’s been dressed for a while now, waiting for you to get out of the restroom so he can make any last adjustments to his outfit. You’re taking forever though and he still needs to put on is his tie, so he decides to walk into the restroom and use the mirror adjacent to yours.

As soon as he walks into the restroom his eyes are all over you, admiring everything about your face, body, and outfit. He notices you’re wearing the jewelry he gifted you and he makes a mental note to gift you another set.

“You look nice,” he comments nonchalantly, his fingers working expertly to tie his tie around his neck. You smile at him through the mirror, popping on a thick layer of lipgloss before returning the sentiment, “you clean up nice yourself.” Matt sends you a smile of his own, flattening the tie against his button up shirt. His outfit matched yours, it was all black from head to toe. It was a nice coincidence that made you two look almost like a couple.

You reach out your hands to fix his collar, it was popping out slightly. “Lemme fix this,” you whisper, your fingertips grazed against his neck. His breath hitches in his throat as he tried not to look down, he had the perfect view of your chest from where he was standing. He’s in the perfect position to pick you up and fuck you on the bathroom counter. If he wanted to he could smudge your lipstick, and fuck you so hard you cry, ruining your makeup.

“Thanks,” he whispers back, placing his hands on your hips to move you away from the mirror. His touch sends a shiver down your spine, he’s never touched you like that before. Matt tries to focus his attention on his reflection, ignoring his once again growing erection.

You look him up and down, noticing the tent in his pants for the first time. He looks so sexy right now that you want to get on your knees and worship him, servicing his cock until it has nothing left to offer. Then you’d let him pleasure you as you sit on the countertop, his head between your thighs.

You shock yourself with your dirty thoughts, turning abruptly towards the mirror as you try ignoring the sexual tension.

—

The meeting was more of a cocktail party, it was the perfect setting to get to know everyone before the real work started. Most of the people here were men in power, followed around by their assistants, secretaries, and interns. There wasn’t much for you to do but follow Matt around as he introduced you to a few of his colleagues. You remembered most of them from previous business trips, but still did your rounds around the event.

After getting comfortable and introducing you to everyone, the drinks started. You dismissed yourself and wandered off to find a drink for yourself. Matt wasn’t a big drinker, especially not at events like this, but he let himself fall victim to peer pressure. He found himself drinking scotch, whiskey, and vodka with a group of extremely powerful and wealthy men. They were hooting and hollering, engaging in conversation about all the females in their field that they’d fucked. Matt didn’t have any stories to share on the subject, so after a while he bid the men goodbye to look for you.

He was kind of drunk at this point, stumbling slightly as he searched for you. You were at the bar drinking a martini while talking to a man. He, much like you, was an assistant to a very powerful man. The conversation between you two was casual and innocent, but as Matt watched he couldn’t help but feel jealous.

“Does your boss drag you along to boring events like this too?” the man asked, taking a sip of his own drink. You weren’t drunk, but you were getting there. You take a sip of your drink and look around the room, catching a glimpse of Matt in a far corner. He looked upset and drunk. “Mmm yeah, but the job is easy so I don’t complain,” you reply, your eyes trained on Matt’s approaching figure. His nostrils were flared, jaw clenched, and the fabric of his shirt strained against his flexed arms.

“Umm that’s actually my boss there. I better go,” you say, hopping off the barstool. Your dress rides up slightly, exposing more of your thigh than necessary. The man watches as you walk towards Matt without a word, before turning to the bartender and asking for another drink.

“Are you drunk?” You immediately ask Matt once you meet. He doesn’t say anything, instead grabbing your arm and looping it around his. This is his attempt at leaving the event while looking put together and professional. He dismisses himself from the few colleagues you run into on the way out as he leads you towards the elevator. You play along, but once the elevator doors close you pull your arm away.

“What was that about?”

“Didn’t like the way that guy was looking at you,” Matt replies in a gruff tone. He presses the button to your floor aggressively. “Okay, but why did we have to leave?” you’re feeling feisty, the martinis giving you the daring push you needed to express yourself.

“I wasn’t planning on leaving, I was just looking for you. But when I saw how that guy was looking at you, I decided it’d be better for us to go back to our room.”

You roll your eyes and scoff, crossing your arms, causing your boobs to pop out slightly from your dress. You didn’t need a protector, especially not when the man you were talking to was just being nice. Matt looks at you when you scoff, groaning at the sight of your boobs spilling out of your dress. “Don’t do that,” he instructs drunkenly, pointing towards your arms. You look down at your chest, noticing how exposed you are, but you’re too drunk to care.

“Don’t do this?” you tease, pushing your chest out further. Matt inches closer to you, his face dangerously close to yours. “Stop” he whispers sternly, allowing his arms to rest on your hips as his nose grazes yours. “Or what?” you’re taunting him at this point, trying to see how far he’d go with you. But you’re drunk and so is he, if you two were sober you’d never be this bold.

The elevator rings, signaling that you’ve reached your floor. The sudden sound is sobering, it pulls you both from your trance, causing you to pull away immediately.

The walk to your room is awkward, the sexual tension lingering as you adjust your dress. Were you really about to kiss your boss? You try convincing yourself that that only happened because of the alcohol, you’re too inebriated to act against your natural, feral instincts. You fumble for the keycard in your purse, opening the door nervously before walking in. How were you supposed to sleep next to Matt after that?

“I’ll sleep on the floor, Mr. Sturniolo,” you comment quickly as you sit on the edge of the bed, unstrapping your heels. The use of his last name catches his off guard, “I thought I told you to call me Matt.” You didn’t even realize you reverted back to using his last name, but there must be something telling you to remain professional. For the sake of this trip and for your job.

He’s standing over you, looking down at you with an intimidating look. You look up at him, leaning back into the bed slightly to get a better look at him, “Right. Sorry, Matt.” Whatever awkwardness you felt was quickly dissipating as the wetness between your legs grew. He used his knee to separate your legs, standing in between them as he took ahold of your face.

Matt leans down closer to you, his lips inches from yours as he says, “Make it up to me.” Without another word, he takes your lips in his. It’s a slow and sensual kiss, and your arms fold so that you’re now resting on your elbows. Matt’s now on top of you, his body fitting against yourself perfectly.

“You don’t know how long I’ve waited for this,” he whispers against your lips, holding himself up with one hand as he allows the other to trace from your face to your chest. He’s admiring everything about you, his fingers toying with the silver necklace around your neck. You’re watching him in awe, you’ve never known a man as sexy as him.

“Matt-“

“Shhh, pretty girl. You can moan my name all night long, but first I need you to do me a favor,” he says, pushing himself off the bed, you prop yourself up eagerly in the process. You watch as he unbuckles his belt and undoes his pants swiftly, pulling them down to reveal his underwear. Your mouth waters at the sight, his dick struggling against the cloth. You know exactly what he wants and you’re ready to comply.

“Open up, pretty girl,” he instructs, whipping his cock out and pumping himself briefly. You do as you’re told, kneeling between him and the bed as you open your mouth for him. His dick is big, but you’re so hungry for him that you don’t question how it’ll all fit.

Matt lets you take control from here, moving his hands to the sides of your face to caress a few strands of hair out of your face. He watches as you take his cock into your hand, pumping it slowly as you kiss from the base all the way to the tip. A groan escapes his lips when you finally wrap your lips around the tip, swirling your tongue around the slit in the process.

He moves his hand to the back of your head, moving his hips closer to you as he pushes himself into your mouth fully. Matt thrusts into your face slowly, using his hand to keep your head in place. Your eyes begin to water, small gag noises following each time he hits the back of your throat. “So good,” he moans, throwing his head back in pleasure as you hollow your cheeks around his cock.

He fucks your face faster, causing tears to brim at your waterline. You look so beautiful under him, taking him without a complaint. This is better than everything he’s imagined, you look so innocent under him with tour hands on your knees, pushing your boobs out for him. The sight alone is enough to make him cum, he pulls out of your mouth completely letting you catch your breath as he feverishly strokes himself.

You don’t miss a beat, moving your face closer to him so you can kiss the base of his cock and suck his balls as he continues stroking himself. He groans at your eagerness to please, pushing your face back and instructing you to open your mouth again. You do as your told, Matt laying his heavy dick in your mouth as his cum decorates your tongue. His moans fill the room as he praises you for taking him so well.

You take him in your mouth again, swallowing the cum in the process, bobbing your head up and down his cock a few times. You kiss his tip, a small whimper coming from Matt. You’re drenched at this point, the only thing you can think about is his dick inside you, your spongy walls clenching around him.

He watches attentively as you stand up seductively from your spot on the floor, your knees are red and your makeup is ruined. You look so sexy, he’s ready to go again. You kiss him, moaning into his mouth as one of his arms wraps around your waist and the other massages the skin right under the hem of your dress.

“Fuck me, please,” you whisper into the kiss. You asked so nicely that it makes his dick twitch.

He doesn’t have to be told twice, instead he guides your make-out session to the restroom where he turns you around so your ass is flush against him. You moan as he pulls your dress down, accidentally tearing the straps in the process to free your boobs. He’s watching you from the mirror, taking in how your boobs bounce with every movement.

Matt’s fingers trace along your chest, slowly reaching your nipples. He pinches your nipples between his cold fingers, eliciting another moan from you. “So beautiful,” he mumbles, trailing kisses from your neck to your shoulder. Your hands hold you up against the counter and your head is thrown back in pleasure, resting against his shoulder as you await his neck move.

One of his hands cups your breast as the other works towards moving your lace underwear to the side. He groans at the feeling of your wet folds against his fingers, you were all worked up and it was just for him. “So wet. Is this all for me?” he asks, locking eyes with you in the mirror. You bite your lip, nodding your head feverishly. All you want is for him to fuck you already.

“Use your words, baby.”

“It’s all for you Matt.”

He seems satisfied with your response because he finally lines himself up with your entrance, letting his tip sit there for a while before fully pushing himself in. You are immediately sent to a state of euphoria at the feeling of him inside of you, breathless pants and moans escaping your lips. Matt moans out your name as every fantasy he’s had about you flashes through his mind, none of them comparing to the sight in front of him right now.

One of his arms is wrapped around your waist while the other snakes around your chest so he can hold one of your boobs. Your head is thrown onto his shoulder as you try to anchor yourself to the counter with your hands. His hips snap back and forth as he pumps in and out of you, causing your body to rock against the counter top.

“You feel so good,” he moans, holding you tighter against him. You’re clenching around him, one of your hands reaching behind you to grab his neck. You turn your face towards him and capture his lips in a heated kiss as he continues fucking into you, his fingers pinching your nipples and massages your breast. You’re moaning his name into his mouth, a string of curse words following as you feel your climax approaching.

He picks up on your queues and doesn’t slow down, kissing you harder as he pushes you past your breaking point. Matt feels you clench around him one last time, a loud, high pitched moan following as you come undone on his cock. He pulls away from the kiss so he can see your fucked out expression through the mirror. You look so sexy, taking him entirely like a good, obedient girl.

He grins at the sight in front of him, pecking your shoulder before grabbing a fistful of your hair and fucking you harder than before. His orgasm is close, and he’s chasing it faster and faster with each thrust. One hand is gripping your hair as the other rests on the small of your back, he watches as your ass jiggles against him with each thrust. You’re whimpering at this point, still very sensitive from your previous orgasm.

“So perfect,” he mumbles. The room is filled with the sound of your whimpers, Matt’s groans, and your skin slapping against each other as he drops his warm, sticky load inside of you. This time it’s your turn to watch him from the mirror, his eyebrows are furrowed and his jaw is slack as his hips stutter inside of you, breathy moans tickling your back.

“Fuck,” he groans, snapping his hips into you one last time before pulling out of you completely.

Matt’s grip around you is still firm, holding you up so you can balance yourself properly. The two of you catch your breath before you turn to face him, a fucked out look on your face as you smile at him. He smiles too, snaking his arms around your waist and pulling you in for a genuine kiss. Not a ‘let’s fuck again kiss,’ but a genuine kiss.

“How am I supposed to work with you after that?” you joke, placing your arms on his chest.

“You’ll manage,” he says with a smirk, pecking your lips again.

—

MASTERLIST

A/n:

Happy Valentine’s Day enjoy this boss Matt story😋Kk byeeeeee

- L.A.M.B👼🏻💗

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arvindcelstra · 2 years

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Best Sales Force Automation Software in Africa, Mobile Sales Force Automation Solutions

Best Sales Force Automation Software, Mobile Sales Force Automation Solutions in Africa, Top CRM Automation, SFA App, Sales Force Automation Software, Sales Force Automation Solutions, Top Sales Force Automation Software, Van Sales Software, Sales Force Automation in Africa.

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zepskies · 5 months

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Smoke Eater - Part 13

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x F. Reader

Summary: Dean Winchester is the cocky, but well-respected Lieutenant at Firehouse 25. He leads by example, but he’s also known to break a few hearts. He’s starting to crave something he’s never had, though. Something stable. Something real.

That’s when he meets you, on a truly terrible day, trapped in a rickety old elevator.

AN: For those who didn't catch my announcement on Monday, I released Part 12 earlier this week! Now, on to a confrontation I think a lot of you have been waiting for...

🔥 Series Masterlist

Word Count: 7,200 Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Attempted sexual assault. Protective Dean, angst, hurt/comfort.

Part 13: “Boiling Point”

Usually, Christmas was your absolute favorite time of the year.

This holiday was a baker’s dream, and you and your grandmother used to volunteer at the church bake sale every Christmas Eve. Grandpa George had done his best to help you in the years after she died…but you just didn’t have it in you this year.

You considered it an accomplishment that you pulled down some of the decorations from the attic, putting them up around your house, and buying a little four-foot tree (also hauling it into the house yourself). However, you knew that you wouldn’t be alone on Christmas Day, at least.

Sam and Dean had already invited you over to spend it with them. You would have the chance to get to know Eileen better, and you would even get to meet the famous John Winchester…

But you still had one reason to dread the end of the month.

Nick Savage threw a Christmas party every year. It was equal parts celebration and networking, and as a top performer of the sales division, you were expected to come.

The problem was, this time the party was going to be held at his house.

“You can’t just not go?” Andréa asked, shortly before taking a massive bite of her burrito. The two of you were grabbing dinner together after another long day at the office, followed by a movie later.

You’d realized just how much you had missed your best friend.

“Yeah, that’ll be great for me. Josh will get to chat up the whole team and get them clamoring to kiss his dick. Nick will give him the Sales Manager position just to spite me,” you said, while picking at your taco salad. “He keeps pitting us against each other for his own enjoyment, but I swear to God he harps on me the most.”

Andréa frowned. “Are you sure Nick just doesn’t have a thing for you? It sounds like he’s a little boy, picking on a girl he likes.”

You pursed your lips. She still didn’t know the full extent on your boss’s thing with you. You hadn’t told her about the last time Nick cornered you in his office, dangled a promotion in front of you, and basically gave you an ultimatum: sleep with him, or don’t move up in the company.

You hadn’t told anyone, for that matter.

You were just trying to figure out how to not get fired, while still getting compensated for your hard work. Was that too much to ask?

Apparently, it was.

“I don’t give a flying fuck what he thinks about me,” you said vehemently.

It earned your friend’s gaze, and her raised eyebrows.

“Whoa,” she chuckled. “Easy there, Miss Congeniality. That’ll be sure to earn you the promotion.”

“No, really,” you said. You stabbed into your salad with a fork. “I’m so fucking sick and tired of having to tap dance my entire work life around him. He’s a goddamn child who thinks he can have whatever he wants just because Daddy gave him his own little kingdom!”

Andréa eyed you more with concern. Her hand reached for your arm. Meanwhile, you were forcing slower breaths through your nose.

“You okay?” she asked. “I don’t like the ‘crazy town’ look in your eyes right now.”

“I’m fine,” you grumbled. “Just hangry, I guess.”

You took another bite of your food. Andréa gave you a skeptical look, but she let it go for now, with a smirk.

“Yeah, well. Eat a Snickers, bitch. I don’t need you snapping on me again,” she teased.

You rolled your eyes, but you had to laugh a little. You shoved at her shoulder.

She gripped her own arm in fake panic. “Someone call the cops! This crazy woman just punched me out over a salad!”

You tried to shush her, even though you were giggling. Your head swiveled around in the restaurant, giving apologetic eyes to the people around you.

“Although, $20 for a few sprigs of romaine lettuce and a sliver of chicken? That’s worth punching somebody the fuck out,” she said, throwing down her napkin. “Let’s never come here again.”

“Agreed,” you nodded. “I don’t think they’ll let us back here anyway.”

A few days later, you didn’t want to admit you were stressing out over this night.

“Have I said thank you? Because I mean it. Thank you for taking time off for this,” you said, smoothing down the nonexistent wrinkles in Dean’s blazer.

He looked good in black. It was classic, and the new suit was smart without being “too much” for him. (Sam had taken him to his “suit guy,” as Dean called it.)

Dean grabbed your arms to stop your slightly flustered hands. He smirked down at you as his eyes once again took in your dark red dress. It was simple and sleeveless, but elegant, falling just above the knee. Of course, you had to be wearing the tallest pair of black heels he’d ever seen.

“It’s no sacrifice, believe me,” he replied.

You smiled, but he noticed something behind your eyes.

“You okay?” he asked. “Seems like you don’t really want to go to this thing.”

“I don’t,” you admitted on a sigh. “But my boss will know if I’m not there…I told you about the open Sales Manager position, right?”

“Yeah, I remember,” Dean nodded. His smile slid into a frown as he watched you bustle around your room, looking for your purse while you smoothed out the soft waves you’d managed to style your hair in, checking your eyeliner and lipstick too in the mirror.

“As usual, it’s down to me and Josh,” you said. “If I keep my numbers up and use tonight to network with my own team, get the rest of the guys on my side, maybe Nick will see that I’m the right choice.”

Dean came up behind you, resting a hand on your lower back.

“And this manager job…that’s what you want?” he asked.

You turned to him with a questioning look. “Well, yeah. I’ve been working here for five years, busting my ass.”

“And I got no doubt that you’re good at what you do,” Dean said. “But you do know, there hasn’t been a day since I met you that you didn’t have something crap to say about that job, and those people you work with.”

You frowned, and you thought about what he was saying. Sure, you complained about Nick, but did you really talk that much shit about your job?

“Everyone has things they don’t like about their work,” you reasoned. “Even you have your bad days.”

Though he tended to keep those days to himself, you knew when he’d had a tough call at the firehouse. You’d been trying your best to be a listening ear if he needed it, or if not, at least a soothing presence. It was more often the latter with Dean.

He acknowledged your point with a nod. “Okay, fair enough. I don’t know…I just think you’re wasting your talent.”

Your brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“Sweetheart, you’re like…an artist. It’s nothing me, or Sam, or Andréa, or anybody in your life hasn’t told you before,” said Dean. “You went to school to do your dream. And I know life happened. But I also know that when I walk into the firehouse, it’s exactly where I’m supposed to be. Can you say that when you walk into the Savage building?”

You took in a breath. You understood what he was saying, but as much as you wanted to indulge the fantasy of owning your own business, being your own boss, creating your own menu, and giving people quality baked goods…you had to live in reality here.

Opening a brick-and-mortar business was expensive. And most restaurants, even bakeries, weren’t profitable for at least one to three years. You still had plenty of bills, and not even a car since the accident.

“I’ve invested too much time here to quit, Dean,” you said.

The conversation died there, but it left something new and awkward between you two. You tried to put it out of your mind while he drove you both over to the “filthy fucking rich” side of town, through a massive gate, and into a wide parking lot that had a valet driver waiting. Nick’s ridiculous house was a monument to trust fund kids everywhere.

Dean reluctantly handed over the keys to the Impala.

“No donuts in the parking lot.” He eyed the 20-something-year-old valet with all due scrutiny. “Trust me, I’ll know.”

You smirked and slipped your arm around his to tug him up the steps, toward the large double doors of the house.

“Come on, Rambo. Baby’ll be fine without you.”

“You don’t know that,” Dean quipped back. Still, he moved his arm out of yours, just to wrap it around your waist and pull you against his side. His lips pressed against your cheek.

“You look sexy as hell,” he said lowly near your ear. “Did I forget to mention that?”

“No.” Your smile deepened. “But doesn’t hurt to mention again. I might just have to reward my boyfriend for humoring me tonight, getting all dapper himself.”

You and Dean made it up to the porch and you knocked on the door. He shot you a raised brow as his lips tugged upwards.

“Oh, yeah? We talkin’ lace or satin?” he asked. His lips brushed your temple.

You pretended to think. “Little of both, actually. It’s new. And it’s red…and I might just be wearing it right now.”

Dean’s brows shot up in surprise. His gaze subtly dragged over your every curve, as if he had x-ray vision to spy through your dress. You maintained an enigmatic smile.

“Oh, you’re diabolical,” he muttered. His hand moved down to playfully squeeze your ass. You had to bite your lip to stifle the sound you made, as that’s when the doors finally began to swing open.

Dean’s hand moved up a respectable few inches, resting on your waist.

You both smiled and greeted the attendant who let you into the house.

A quick text let you know that Benny and Andréa were already here, each holding a flute of champagne. You and Dean met up with them in the huge living room space (which might has well have been a grand hall, for how large it was).

It held 50 people easily, but the party was already spanning the entire house, of at least two stories. It made your house look like a modest Barbie Dream home, without the pool attachment.

And Nick Savage was at the center of it all, greeting each guest and their “plus ones.”

When he spotted your group, he smoothly excused himself from the conversation with Josh and his wife, and headed over to you.

“Incomiiing,” Andréa quietly sing-songed. She sipped her champagne.

You steeled yourself, and you did your best to give a polite smile when Nick arrived with a pleasant “Merry Christmas.” You forced yourself to remain still when his hand fell on your arm, and he reached out to shake Dean’s hand in greeting, followed by Andréa and Benny.

“Welcome, you guys,” he said, giving you a smile that hid just a hint of a smirk. “Justin let you know where everything is, right? Lotsa drinks, the good stuff, I promise. Plenty of food, hot chocolate and eggnog fountains, if that’s your thing. And a hell of a lot more out back by the pool.”

“Great, thank you,” you nodded politely.

“All right! Let’s party,” Nick fist-pumped in the air. He pointed towards you and Dean. “You need a drink in your hand, stat.”

“I’m fine for now. Going to wait until I have something to eat first,” you replied. If you were going to get a glass of wine, it wouldn’t be one that Nick handed to you.

He pouted a little, but he looked at Dean next. “How about you, big guy? What you drinkin’?”

Dean shot you a glance, but before he could respond, Nick interrupted.

“You look like a whiskey guy. Am I right?” he asked.

Dean inclined his head. “Guilty.”

“Perfect. See? I’ve got an instinct for people,” Nick said, tossing you a wink as he headed for the nearby bar. “I’ll be back. You crazy kids relax and have fun.”

You had to admit, he knew how to turn on the charm when he had to. But who the hell said crazy kids under the age of 45?

“He’s uh…got pep,” Benny remarked.

Andréa snorted and tapped her glass. “He’s a few shots in already.”

“You think?” Dean asked.

You nodded in agreement, rolling your eyes. If there was one thing you could count on, it was for Nick Savage to be drinking.

“He knows how to act when everyone’s watching,” you said.

You looked up at the high-vaulted ceilings and expensive artwork on the walls, not noticing how Dean glanced at you with the edge of a frown.

At the very least, the food was excellent. It was served in a large back room that served as a banquet hall, meant for entertaining.

There you and Dean actually had a good time, with you sipping on red wine and Dean on a glass of the “good stuff,” all while playing cards with Andréa and Benny and a few of your coworkers on the sales team.

“I just can’t believe Adam quit, to join our main competitor, no less,” said Marv. “I had absolutely no idea he was thinking of leaving.”

He was the team gossip. He prided himself on knowing every coming and going on the sales floor, which confounded you, since Marv was also a bit of a hermit. He either kept to his office like it was a bomb shelter, or you could catch him in the break lounge grabbing yet another coffee, all the while keeping his ear perked up for scraps of conversation.

“Yeah, you did, Marv,” you replied with a smirk. “You’re the one who saw Adam’s resignation letter on his own desk.”

He hadn’t even handed said letter to Nick yet.

“Well, I knew it then, obviously,” Marv said, with his hands open wide. “It leaves us without a manager…which I think, not for long.”

His eyes met yours knowingly.

You smiled. “We’ll see. I think Josh is playing kiss-ass tonight.”

You turned your head and spotted Nick and Josh taking shots of tequila together at the bar, with the latter wincing at the burn with a lime peel in his mouth. Josh’s wife was sitting off to the side, rolling her eyes.

Your gaze focused on your boss for a moment. You shook your head at the state of him, with a loose tie and the top buttons undone on his shirt, laughing boisterously and egging Josh on.

Fucking frat bros.

“That’s your boss, huh?” Benny remarked.

“In all his Cuervo-stained glory,” Marv replied. He shook his head as well.

It made you realize something.

As nice a time as you’d been having, for about an hour at most, your good mood soured the moment you were reminded of the office politics. Of Josh and Nick and everything in between. Was this really what you wanted for the rest of your career?

The rest of your life?

Maybe Dean was right, you thought. You knew you were good at your job. You knew you were fortunate to even have a job that paid your bills…but maybe “being good” wasn’t enough for you.

If there was one thing you’d learned from your grandfather’s death, it was that peace was precarious. And sacrificing too many parts of yourself, for money, wasn’t a fulfilling life or even a happy one.

You wanted to be happy. You also wanted peace.

So you leaned over and laid a hand on Dean’s, which rested on the round table.

“Hey,” you whispered.

His head bowed near yours. “Hmm?”

“Wanna get out of here?” you asked. He raised his brows at you.

“Really? I thought you needed to stay and schmooze with your people,” he replied.

You smiled and drew your thumb across the inside of his wrist. “I think I’m done.”

Dean looked a bit confused. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. And you brushed your lips against the corner of his mouth. “You were right. It’s not worth it.”

A flicker of a smile began to tug at his lips, but his brows drew together.

“Hey. Are you sure?” he asked. “Don’t bow out just because of me—”

Your hand tightened on his wrist.

“No, baby. It’s me. My choice,” you said. “Let me just use the restroom real quick, and we can go.”

Dean nodded, and you stood.

“What, are you leaving?” Andréa asked. She was tucked into Benny’s side with a piece of red velvet cake poised on her fork. “You didn’t even finish your cake!”

You laughed. Turning down dessert was a big deal for you, but you’d live.

“It’s okay,” you said. “I just need to call it a night, but I’ll be back in a sec to say goodbye. Hold on.”

Andréa blew out a breath as you walked away from the table.

“She’s gonna miss the White Elephant gift exchange. Last year, someone got a 60” smart TV,” she said.

Benny whistled.

“I wouldn’t mind an upgrade,” he said. He shot Dean a glance. “What do you think the guys would do if we showed up with something like that to the station?”

Dean scoffed. “I think the Chief would have a damn conniption.”

Bobby was old-school. He thought they had enough distractions from the job as it was.

“Probably right,” Benny chuckled.

Andréa smiled in amusement. But her eyes clocked the way Nick glanced your way as you walked by, down the hall and to the right. She sipped at her glass of pinot grigio to wash down the rich cake.

Still, she discreetly watched the man down another shot before he took his leave of the bar. He laughed at something Josh said and waved him off.

She gave Nick credit for not stumbling on his feet, and only swaying slightly on the same path you took down the hall. It didn’t mean he was following you, necessarily. This house was like a small Smithsonian. And yet, something niggled in the back of her mind.

Andréa remembered how you’d acted at dinner the other day when talking about Nick. And how drained you��d seemed lately when she saw you after work. She’d thought that was just about finding your way after George’s death…

Marv distracted her with a question as Dean and Benny continued to talk, and she answered him with her usual charm. But she kept one eye on the hallway, waiting for you to come back.

She made it about another minute before she turned to Benny and Dean, leaning in close.

“Hey, Dean,” she said. “Maybe you want to check on her? She’s taking a while.”

Dean didn’t look concerned as he checked his watch. It hadn’t been all that long, but he still pulled out his phone to text you.

“She left her purse here,” Andréa said. She started to get up out of her seat. “I’m just gonna go see if she’s okay.”

Benny grabbed her hand before she left the table.

“What’s wrong, babe?” he asked.

“I’m not sure,” she said, but she met Dean’s confused gaze. “Okay, look. I’ve been noticing some things with her recently. I have no evidence except for how well I know that woman, but something’s off with her. It happens every time she talks about that asshole Nick.”

Dean’s brows furrowed as he tried to read between the lines.

“What’re you saying exactly?” he asked.

Andréa let out a breath. “I’m saying, I’ve got a bad feeling.”

You hummed as you washed your hands in the bathroom. Wine runs right through me. I should know better.

You’d also been trying to quell your anxieties and just get through the night. But you realized now that there was no kind of calm like the peace you had, now that you knew what you needed to do. Starting tomorrow, you were going to start looking for a new job.

A knock at the door made you jolt slightly.

“Someone’s in here!” you called without looking over your shoulder. You finished washing your hands and dried them on the hand towel hanging on a silver wall rack.

The door cracked open, but before you could protest, a man stumbled in.

Of fucking course it was Nick Savage.

“Excuse me?!” you breathed in shock. You watched with wide eyes as he pushed the door closed and seemed to take notice of you for the first time. He smirked.

“Oh, hey,” he said. Somehow, he was only slurring a little. He straightened his white blazer. The black satin shirt he wore was wrinkled and he smelled heavily of tequila, and that was with a couple of feet of distance between you two.

Your shock finally melted into a glare. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Gotta take a leak. It’s my house after all,” he shrugged, leaning a hand on the wall closest to the door for balance.

You shook your head, and with a huff, you tried to get by him.

His hand wrapped around your arm. “Hey, we didn’t get a chance to catch up tonight.”

You shoved his hand off of you.

“Don’t you ever in your life touch me again,” you warned him. Your eyes were as hard as your voice. “I don’t think there’s anyone on the planet—no. In the whole damn universe who sickens me more than you, Nick Savage.”

Nick straightened a little, frowning at you. Whatever he saw in your gaze, he didn’t seem to like the challenge. When you reached for the doorknob again, he grabbed your arm and shoved you hard into the nearest wall.

You gasped as the air rushed out of your lungs. Before you even realized what was happening, you felt his clammy hands on your bare shoulders, his hot alcoholic breath on your face. You raised your hands in defense, pushing against his chest.

He was taller and stronger and pinned you harder against the wall, with his knee shoving its way between your legs. You stared up with wide eyes of fear, and his hand clamped over your mouth to stifle your scream.

Your nails bit into his arm and wrist, trying to peel back his sweaty hand, just an inch to free your voice and let you breathe. To your left you heard the door bang open.

Please—

And the hand was peeled away entirely.

You could only blink and watch as Dean barreled through, grabbing Nick and bodily hurling him away. Nick opened his mouth to spout something angrily, but Dean continued to stalk forward and grab the man again.

Nick attempted a lazy swing at Dean’s head, but he bat it away. His fist connected roughly with Nick’s face, snapping his head back with a cry.

It was almost too fast for you to track what was happening right in front of you, but Dean dragged the drunkard the rest of the way across the bathroom, even over the tub, and slammed him against the beige tile so hard that it knocked a few of them loose. Nick’s head smacked audibly against them and he groaned at the impact.

The men were around the same height, but Dean was honed by years of firefighting and fueled by rage. One hand gripped high on Nick’s collar, while his arm pressed against the man’s chest. Then into his throat.

“Give me a reason,” Dean said, in a voice much calmer than he felt. Behind his eyes was wildfire.

“What?” Nick choked.

You finally broke through enough of your shock to know you had to do something.

“Dean!” you uttered. You cautiously went to him, but he glanced at you over his shoulder in warning.

“Stay there,” he told you firmly. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” you said, even though your voice shook. “Let’s just go.”

Despite the blood dripping down from his likely bruised nose, Nick chortled a laugh. It earned Dean’s slow head turn, returning his attention to the decision at hand. His fist tightened in Nick’s shirt.

“You heard me,” Dean said. His voice was laced with steel. “I said give me a reason not to break your miserable fucking neck.”

“Dean,” you gasped.

“Not sure that’s a good idea, fireman,” Nick slurred. “I clearly don’t have all my wits about me right now. Can’t be held lia…li-ble for my actions, now can I? I’ll have your badge by end of the week.”

You let out a harsh breath and finally went to Dean. You laid a hand on his back. Every muscle was tense and straining under his white dress shirt.

“Dean,” you pressed. “Let him go. He’s not worth it.”

Nick smirked lazily in Dean’s face. It was the look of a man who was used to getting his way.

“I’d listen to her,” he said, with a mocking glint in his eyes. “Or I could just fire her on Monday. Make it easy on myself.”

Dean seethed. His forearm slowly rolled harder into the man’s neck, pressing on his windpipe. The sounds of choked air were satisfying.

“Yeah, or I’ll have the police down here in ten minutes or less,” said Dean. “I’ll clue you in on a little something. My dad’s a cop. I’ll reckon he’ll be happy to put a fucking douchebag like you in the can with the real charmers.”

Dean gave a mocking glance to Nick’s silk shirt, his gold pinky ring and loafers.

“How long do you think it’ll take for one of ‘em to make you their little bitch?” Dean said.

Nick glared back at him, with a frisson of intimidation behind his eyes. He glanced at you over his shoulder. Dean noticed and tightened his hold.

“Don’t you look at her, you piece of shit!” he warned. His voice was low and dangerous. “Make your choice. You gonna come down to the station easy, or difficult? Please say difficult.”

Nick held up placating hands. He shifted uncomfortably against the wall; one foot was planted on the ground while the other was in the tub. The shower curtain was half off its hooks.

Dean eased up enough for Nick to take a breath.

“Okay, let’s say we do that,” he said, with a cough. “I’ll get bail. Then I’ll fucking walk, ‘cause I own this town.”

“You mean your dad does,” you snapped.

Nick rolled his eyes. “Same name, same shit, sweetheart.”

Dean grit his teeth and tightened his grip again in warning. You wrapped your hand around his arm, but he didn’t budge.

Nick met his eyes.

“How about this. Get your greasy fucking hands off me, and we’ll call tonight a wash,” he proposed. “No foul, we all take our balls and go home.”

He then snorted at his own joke. “Balls…”

Dean tilted his head, but didn’t move a muscle. “Or?”

Once again, Nick smirked.

“I’ll report you to your boss for assaulting me in my own house. And uh, she’ll be fired, obviously.” He shrugged. “By the time my lawyers get done with her, she won’t be able to sling lattes at Starbucks.”

Dean’s face was stony, tight with outrage. His whole body was coiled like a spring as every cell in his body fought against ripping this man apart.

But he still felt your hands around his arm, trying to pull him back.

“Dean, don’t. He’s not worth your career. Please,” you begged.

The bathroom door pushed open again, and he heard Benny’s voice.

“Hey, brother.” He dropped a careful hand on Dean’s shoulder. “Come on, now. You got him. Ease up now.”

Dean’s teeth ground together. He looked down, and his stare bored into Nick’s. Dean pressed his forearm into the other man’s throat again, enough to almost feel the give as the man struggled for breath.

“Remember how that feels,” Dean said icily. “20579, Dean Winchester. The next time you want to threaten my badge, that’s my number.”

Nick’s eyes widened slightly. At the time, Dean took it as fear. But really, it was recognition.

Winchester, Nick thought.

Dean then leaned in closer, so only Nick would hear his next lowered words.

“First and last warning,” Dean said. “If you touch her again. If I hear anything more about you giving her a hard time, not a dime in the world is gonna save you from me.”

When Dean finally pulled his arm away and let go, Nick’s face was red and spluttering as he coughed and slumped into the bathtub.

Dean turned on his heel in anger and disgust. Andréa was supporting you with her arm around yours, but she released you to let Dean take over. You stared up at him with tearful eyes, and you reached for his hand.

He took it with his left, holding you steady. He then wrapped an arm around your shoulders and guided you out of the bathroom.

The air was tense and silent inside the Impala. It was a long drive back to your house, and Dean hadn’t looked at you once in 20 minutes. His gaze was firmly on the road. He hadn’t even turned on the radio.

You had his suit jacket draped around your frame, but your insides still felt cold. You glanced over at him and stared at his profile for a moment, wishing you knew what to say to break the silence. To reassure him that you were fine. (Even though it would've been a lie.)

He felt your stare and turned his head towards you.

“How long has this been going on?” he asked. His voice was gruff. “Andréa said she’s been noticing something off about you for a while.”

Your lips pressed together. “Can this part wait until we get home…please?”

Dean’s jaw ticked, but he turned back to the road ahead.

The car was silent for the rest of the hour.

It was a relief to turn the key into the door lock and step through the threshold of your house. Dean followed you inside and tossed his wallet and car keys on the side table by the door.

Somehow he always managed to miss the little basket you put there for exactly those things, but you weren’t about to remind him.

You slipped off your heels and went into the kitchen to grab a glass of water, to steady yourself. Dean leaned against the counter and crossed his arms. He didn’t say anything, but you still felt his eyes on you.

With a sigh, you turned and met his gaze.

“Just tell me,” he said. “How long?”

You took in a deep breath, and let it out slowly.

“It started before I even met you, Dean.”

His brows raised high. He tilted his head at you as incredulous anger tightened his face.

“What?” he said. “You gotta be fucking kidding me.”

You shook your head and grabbed his arm. “Okay, come here.”

You led him into the living room and sat beside him on the couch. You explained that it started small, with compliments on your clothes, your hair. Then it was lingering looks, “innocent” brushes of his hand, touching your arm, your shoulder.

When you’d tried to put distance between you and Nick, the drunken shenanigans began. The comments grew heinous and sickening, and so did his threats.

And nothing you did worked. Not distance and professionalism. Not refusing his advances outright. Not threatening to go to HR.

All while you spoke, Dean was quiet, but on edge. You saw it in how he gripped his knee, with his other hand fisted against his mouth, elbow resting on his thigh.

But the hardest part of the conversation came when you told Dean about the day of the car accident—how Nick had demanded you come to his office and gave you a sickening ultimatum.

At that, Dean could no longer remain still. He got up and started to pace across the living room. He was a man of action, you knew, and his reaction was almost everything you’d feared.

I should've told him, you thought. You knew.

Although you now felt relieved, even in your guilt, you also knew this next part wasn’t going to be fun either. Because Dean finally erupted.

“And you didn’t tell anyone?” he asked.

Briefly, you closed your eyes. “No.”

“Why? Why the hell didn’t you tell me?” His hand buried itself in his hair as his jaw clenched. Even if your friend Andréa hadn’t known, she’d still seen enough to suspect something. It completely blew his mind, in the worst of ways.

“Jesus Christ!” he shook his head. “Why am I always the last one to know when something’s going on with you?”

Tears watered in your eyes as you looked up at him. You opened your mouth to speak, but he cut you off.

“I mean, really. What are we doing here, huh?” he exclaimed, his hands open wide. “Honestly, tell me. Because if you can’t trust me, then I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

Your eyes widened, a trill of panic lacing down your spine. You stood up and went to him.

“Dean, please, it wasn’t about that,” you said. You implored him with your eyes to understand. “I wanted to tell someone…God, you don’t know how bad I wanted to tell you. But I knew how you’d react. Just like this. I didn’t want to make the situation worse!”

He frowned deeply. “You didn’t want help? You didn’t want me to protect you?”

“Don’t put words in my mouth,” you snapped. But then, you sucked in a shaking breath, trying to calm yourself. You got closer and rested a hand against his chest.

“Of course I’m grateful that you protected me. Dean, I love you for it.”

You grasped the ends of his jacket with both hands. All you really wanted to do was bury yourself in his warmth and sleep for the next ten years. You were still raw and frayed inside.

Dean looked down at you, and his heart clenched. He couldn’t help but hold you back. His arms wound around your lower back as he pulled you against him. His chin rested above your head, and you sighed in relief.

“I thought I could handle it,” you confessed, in a smaller voice. “I worked so damn hard…I wanted to fight for my job. But Nick knew I didn’t have the money or the resources to fight back for real if I reported him, or even if I sued him. And before tonight, I didn’t have enough to take to the police.”

Dean pulled away just enough to see your face. He grasped your arms, gentle but firm.

“I’ll take you to the station right now,” he said. “My dad can help you. Hell, Sam can help you.”

You bit your lip and shook your head.

“You heard him, Dean. With his money and connections, he’ll get off. And then he’ll make both of our lives hell,” you said. “He’ll go after your badge—”

“He can fucking try,” he snapped.

“Stop, okay? I don’t want that,” you pleaded.

A sharp breath escaped through his nose, and he let you go.

“You’re fucking impossible, you know that?” he said. “How can I help you if you won’t let me?”

He was beside himself with frustration, and even hurt. You knew it in the way he tried to walk away from you, but you reached for his arm to stop him, with tears burning in your eyes. You didn’t want him to think that you didn’t want his support. That you didn’t trust him.

Because that couldn’t have been any farther from the truth.

“I’m sorry!” Your tears finally escaped, trailing down your cheeks. You tugged him back towards you, earning his furrowed glance. “I was…scared. I…I didn’t know what to do. Maybe I just didn’t want to deal with it at all.”

The longer Dean looked at your face, the more he crumbled.

Once again, he turned to gather you back into his arms. And there your tears fell in earnest. Your body trembled with quiet sobs, and he held you tighter. His heart broke a little more as his hand soothed over your hair. He shushed you more gently, pressing his lips to your forehead.

“Okay. It’s okay. Don’t apologize. You shouldn’t have had to deal with this, let alone for this damn long,” Dean said. His gaze raised heavenward for a moment as he mentally kicked himself. You didn’t deserve this, or his anger either.

He just couldn’t believe he hadn’t noticed any signs, like Andréa had. All these months… It threatened to drive him up a fucking wall.

“You’re safe, and I’ve got you,” he said, continuing to hold you securely against him. “We’ll handle this, like everything else.”

After a moment, you nodded, letting out another shaky breath. You squeezed your eyes shut and buried your face into his chest.

You already knew you must’ve looked a state, after the night you’d had, but you didn’t truly realize it until you were looking at yourself in the bathroom mirror. Mascara and lipstick smudged, hair disheveled, tears staining your cheeks.

Ugh. You hastily scrubbed your face clean with makeup wipes. Then you tamed your hair, brushing through the frizz and calming it back into relative normalcy.

You went for the zipper of your dress next, but you couldn’t get it down all the way. You turned to look over your shoulder.

“Dean,” you called.

He was in your room, rifling through his bag to grab the clothes he’d brought to sleep in.

“Yeah?” he answered.

“Come ‘ere a sec?”

He obliged you, drawing into the bathroom. His white dress shirt was only half unbuttoned, the sleeves rolled up. You met his eyes in the mirror.

“Can you unzip me?” you asked.

Dean looked down where your hands were holding both sides of the zipper on your dress. He took one side from you and unzipped it the rest of the way, stopping at the small of your back. He caught sight of the red, sheer lingerie underneath.

Noticing the way he paused, you smiled slightly. You turned toward him and tugged the dress down the rest of the way, so he could see the rest of the ensemble. It was a simple corset-style nightie, but true to your word, the lace was paired with satin trim lines.

Your hands ran up his sternum and undid the last buttons on his shirt. You grasped near his collar and leaned up on your toes for a slow kiss. Dean unconsciously held you to him by your shoulders, his eyes closing at the feel of you.

But when they next opened, he caught sight of the bruise on your shoulder. It was about the size of a thumbprint.

His throat tightened. After a moment, he parted from you, but he didn’t continue where you left off. You looked up at him in confusion.

“Baby?” you asked.

Dean shook his head. He couldn’t answer you; couldn’t even articulate what the hell was in his head. So he just turned and went back into the room for his change of clothes. It left you frowning, bereft, and worried.

You changed into an old shirt and some shorts before you got into bed. You slipped under the covers and watched Dean. He sat with his back to you as he unclipped his watch and set it down on the nightstand. By now he’d changed into his faded, gray Lawrence Fire Department shirt and a pair of sweatpants.

Your throat constricted with emotion, namely with anxiety.

“Are you still mad at me?” you asked.

Dean paused. He glanced back at you, saw you laying there with a hand gripped into the covers. His brows furrowed when he saw your shining tears.

He turned and got into bed with you. He slid his arm under your head and wordlessly encouraged you to come closer. His free hand soothed across your arm.

“I’m not mad at you,” he said at last. But he was still upset, and deeply unsettled. As the night replayed in his mind, he knew that at the root of his fury, there was fear.

“I just keep thinking,” he said. “What would’ve happened if I hadn’t called out of work tonight.”

You looked down at that. You laid a hand on his chest.

“I wouldn’t have gone to the party,” you said. Though if you were honest with yourself, you probably would’ve thought yourself safe with Benny and Andréa. “I just…I really didn’t think he would try to—”

You tried to take a breath to steady yourself, but it was a tremulous release. The memory flashed behind your eyes, the remnants of panic and fear under your skin.

You didn’t realize you were crying until Dean’s hand was caressing your cheek, brushing away your tears.

“All right, shhh. I’m sorry, sweetheart. It’s over,” he said. Once again, he pulled you into his arms and held you close. Guilt hit him between the ribs for upsetting you all over again. “I promise you’re safe, and I’ve got you.”

You did your best to take in deep breaths, letting them out more steadily. Dean wanted to put the matter to bed for tonight. He really did…but he couldn’t help pressing one last thing.

“Just tell me you’re not going back there on Monday, unless it’s to HR,” he said.

You paused, shook your head a little. You didn’t want to rev him up again, but you knew Nick.

“He doesn’t make idle threats, Dean,” you reminded him. “But there’s a reason why he waited until tonight, at his house. He’s not going to try his luck at the office, where everyone’s watching.”

“You don’t know that,” Dean retorted.

You saw his point, but you almost didn’t want to acknowledge it. You couldn’t afford to quit.

“I still need my job, for now,” you said. “But I will start looking for something else, so I can get out as soon as possible. I promise.”

Dean wasn’t happy. Both of you knew it. You also sensed that he wanted to argue more, but was holding back for now. You appreciated that.

You truly didn’t want to get into it anymore with him. You just wanted to close your eyes and try to forget about tonight, knowing that you’d fail.

Dean still held you, with his hands rubbing up and down your back. His touch and his heartbeat soothed you until you managed to fall asleep.

AN: Dean knows, and it ain't pretty. What did you think of the confrontation? Unfortunately, I'm drawing from real events here (not myself).

Next Time:

The mystery of "Azazel" thickens, Dean deals with another tricky fire, and the reader has a realization of her own...

“Yeah, well. This one’s a rat bastard in human clothing,” you replied.

“Ooh, sounds like my old biology professor,” Jo chimed in. She was drying out some newly clean glasses behind the counter along with Ellen. “He had a reputation for scoping out freshman girls.”

You made a gagging sound as you reached for the delectable martini glass Ellen slid your way.

“Men are disgusting,” you said. Jo snorted.

“99.8% of them, yeah,” she said. But her gaze drew towards the door when Dean Winchester came in. And she added, “A few of ‘em are all right.”

Was it just you, or was there a softer look in her blue eyes when she noticed Dean?

Keep Reading: PART 14

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Series Tag List (Part 1):

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb

@vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @iprobablyshipit91

@melancholictearz @nic-kolas @katherineann814 @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @lacilou @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @brianochka @branj19

@agalliasi @venicesem @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @xsophianicolex @deansbbyx @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @ultrahviolentart @chernayawidow @beskarfilms @mimaria420

#Boiling Point #Smoke Eater #Part 13 #dean winchester #Firefighter!Dean Winchester #dean winchester x reader #Dean Winchester x female reader #firefighter!Dean Winchester x Reader #dean winchester x you #firefighter AU #dean winchester AU #spn #supernatural #benny lafitte #zepskies writes

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antiporn-activist · 2 months

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A Marketplace of Girl Influencers Managed by Moms and Stalked by Men

https://www.nytimes.com/2024/02/22/us/instagram-child-influencers.html

Seeking social media stardom for their underage daughters, mothers post images of them on Instagram. The accounts draw men sexually attracted to children, and they sometimes pay to see more.

Feb. 22, 2024

By Jennifer Valentino-DeVries and Michael H. Keller

The ominous messages began arriving in Elissa’s inbox early last year.

“You sell pics of your underage daughter to pedophiles,” read one. “You’re such a naughty sick mom, you’re just as sick as us pedophiles,” read another. “I will make your life hell for you and your daughter.”

Elissa has been running her daughter’s Instagram account since 2020, when the girl was 11 and too young to have her own. Photos show a bright, bubbly girl modeling evening dresses, high-end workout gear and dance leotards. She has more than 100,000 followers, some so enthusiastic about her posts that they pay $9.99 a month for more photos.

Over the years, Elissa has fielded all kinds of criticism and knows full well that some people think she is exploiting her daughter. She has even gotten used to receiving creepy messages, but these — from “Instamodelfan” — were extreme. “I think they’re all pedophiles,” she said of the many online followers obsessed with her daughter and other young girls.

Elissa and her daughter inhabit the world of Instagram influencers whose accounts are managed by their parents. Although the site prohibits children under 13, parents can open so-called mom-run accounts for them, and they can live on even when the girls become teenagers.

But what often starts as a parent’s effort to jump-start a child’s modeling career, or win favors from clothing brands, can quickly descend into a dark underworld dominated by adult men, many of whom openly admit on other platforms to being sexually attracted to children, an investigation by The New York Times found.

For this investigation, the reporters analyzed 2.1 million Instagram posts, monitored months of online chats of professed pedophiles and interviewed over 100 people, including parents and children.

Thousands of accounts examined by The Times offer disturbing insights into how social media is reshaping childhood, especially for girls, with direct parental encouragement and involvement. Some parents are the driving force behind the sale of photos, exclusive chat sessions and even the girls’ worn leotards and cheer outfits to mostly unknown followers. The most devoted customers spend thousands of dollars nurturing the underage relationships.

The large audiences boosted by men can benefit the families, The Times found. The bigger followings look impressive to brands and bolster chances of getting discounts, products and other financial incentives, and the accounts themselves are rewarded by Instagram’s algorithm with greater visibility on the platform, which in turn attracts more followers.

One calculation performed by an audience demographics firm found 32 million connections to male followers among the 5,000 accounts examined by The Times.

Interacting with the men opens the door to abuse. Some flatter, bully and blackmail girls and their parents to get racier and racier images. The Times monitored separate exchanges on Telegram, the messaging app, where men openly fantasize about sexually abusing the children they follow on Instagram and extol the platform for making the images so readily available.

“It’s like a candy store 😍😍😍,” one of them wrote. “God bless instamoms 🙌,” wrote another.

The troubling interactions on Instagram come as social media companies increasingly dominate the cultural landscape and the internet is seen as a career path of its own.

Nearly one in three preteens lists influencing as a career goal, and 11 percent of those born in Generation Z, between 1997 and 2012, describe themselves as influencers. The so-called creator economy surpasses $250 billion worldwide, according to Goldman Sachs, with U.S. brands spending more than $5 billion a year on influencers.

Health and technology experts have recently cautioned that social media presents a “profound risk of harm” for girls. Constant comparisons to their peers and face-altering filters are driving negative feelings of self-worth and promoting objectification of their bodies, researchers found.

But the pursuit of online fame, particularly through Instagram, has supercharged the often toxic phenomenon, The Times found, encouraging parents to commodify their children’s images. Some of the child influencers earn six-figure incomes, according to interviews.

“I really don’t want my child exploited on the internet,” said Kaelyn, a mother in Melbourne, Australia, who like Elissa and many other parents interviewed by The Times agreed to be identified only by a middle name to protect the privacy of her child.

“But she’s been doing this so long now,” she said. “Her numbers are so big. What do we do? Just stop it and walk away?”

In investigating this growing and unregulated ecosystem, The Times analyzed 2.1 million Instagram posts, monitored months of online chats of professed pedophiles and reviewed thousands of pages of police reports and court documents.

Reporters also interviewed more than 100 people, including parents in the United States and three other countries, their children, child safety experts, tech company employees and followers of the accounts, some of whom were convicted sex offenders.

This is how The Times found its sample of 5,000 mom-run accounts.

The accounts range from dancers whose mothers diligently cull men from the ranks of followers, to girls in skimpy bikinis whose parents actively encourage male admirers and sell them special photo sets. While there are some mom-run accounts for boys, they are the exception.

Some girls on Instagram use their social media clout to get little more than clothing discounts; others receive gifts from Amazon wish lists, or money through Cash App; and still others earn thousands of dollars a month by selling subscriptions with exclusive content.

In interviews and online comments, parents said that their children enjoyed being on social media or that it was important for a future career. But some expressed misgivings. Kaelyn, whose daughter is now 17, said she worried that a childhood spent sporting bikinis online for adult men had scarred her.

“She’s written herself off and decided that the only way she’s going to have a future is to make a mint on OnlyFans,” she said, referring to a website that allows users to sell adult content to subscribers. “She has way more than that to offer.”

She warned mothers not to make their children social media influencers. “With the wisdom and knowledge I have now, if I could go back, I definitely wouldn’t do it,” she said. “I’ve been stupidly, naïvely, feeding a pack of monsters, and the regret is huge.”

Account owners who report explicit images or potential predators to Instagram are typically met with silence or indifference, and those who block many abusers have seen their own accounts’ ability to use certain features limited, according to the interviews and documents. In the course of eight months, The Times made over 50 reports of its own about questionable material and received only one response.

Meta, Instagram’s parent company, found that 500,000 child Instagram accounts had “inappropriate” interactions every day, according to an internal study in 2020 quoted in legal proceedings.

In a statement to The Times, Andy Stone, a Meta spokesman, said that parents were responsible for the accounts and their content and could delete them anytime.

“Anyone on Instagram can control who is able to tag, mention or message them, as well as who can comment on their account,” Mr. Stone added, noting a feature that allows parents to ban comments with certain words. “On top of that, we prevent accounts exhibiting potentially suspicious behavior from using our monetization tools, and we plan to limit such accounts from accessing subscription content.”

Influencers use TikTok, too, but Instagram is easier for parents to navigate and better suited to the kinds of photos that brands want. It is also home to a longstanding network of parents and brands that predated TikTok.

From time to time, Instagram removes child-influencer accounts for unspecified reasons or because people flag them as inappropriate, The Times found. In extreme cases, parents and photographers have been arrested or convicted of child exploitation, but barring evidence of illegal images, most of the activity does not draw the attention of law enforcement.

Like many parents, Elissa, who received the threatening messages about her daughter’s photos, said she protected her daughter by handling the account exclusively herself. Ultimately, she concluded, the Instagram community is dominated by “disgusting creeps,” but she nonetheless keeps the account up and running. Shutting it down, she said, would be “giving in to bullies.”

The account’s risks became apparent last spring when the person messaging her threatened to report her to the police and others unless she completed “a small task.” When she did not respond, the person emailed the girl’s school, saying Elissa sold “naughty” pictures to pedophiles.

Days later, the girl tearfully explained to her mother that school officials had questioned her about the Instagram account. They showed her images that her mother had posted — one of the girl in hot pants and fishnets, another in a leotard and sweatshirt.

Elissa had reported the blackmail to the local sheriff, but school officials only dropped the matter after an emotional interrogation of the girl.

“I was crying,” the girl said in an interview. “I was just scared. I didn’t understand what was going on.”

‘Walking Advertising’

In today’s creator economy, companies often turn to social media influencers to attract new customers. Giants like Kim Kardashian, who has 364 million followers on Instagram, have turned the phenomenon into a big business.

Young girls strive to do the same.

In the dance and gymnastics worlds, teens and preteens jockey to become brand ambassadors for products and apparel. They don bikinis in Instagram posts, walk runways in youth fashion shows and offer paid subscriptions to videos showing the everyday goings-on of children seeking internet fame.

“We costumed somebody for ‘So You Think You Can Dance’ thinking that would be huge P.R., but we ended up finding out the bigger return on investment is these microinfluencers,” she said. “We have parents that will spend thousands of dollars to buy styles that no one else will have. That’s our best market.”

The most successful girls can demand $3,000 from their sponsors for a single post on Instagram, but monetary gain can be elusive for others, who receive free or discounted clothes in exchange for their posts and have to pay for their own hairstyling and makeup, among other costs. Even youth fashion shows, including events in New York that coincide but are not affiliated with New York Fashion Week, charge the girls to participate and charge their parents to attend.

In interviews, parents defended spending the money to promote their daughters’ influencer ambitions, describing them as extracurricular activities that build confidence, develop friendships and create social media résumés that will follow them into adulthood.

“It’s like a little security blanket,” said a New Jersey mother whose mom-run account has led to paid modeling jobs for her daughter and invitations to work with sought-after choreographers. “She can help pay for college if she does it right,” she said.

A mother in Alabama said parents couldn’t ignore the reality of this new economy.

“Social media is the way of our future, and I feel like they’ll be behind if they don’t know what’s going on,” the mother said. “You can’t do anything without it now.”

One 12-year-old girl in Maryland, who spoke with The Times alongside her mother, described the thrill of seeing other girls she knows wear a brand she represents in Instagram posts.

“People are actually being influenced by me,” she said.

In 2022, Instagram launched paid subscriptions, which allows followers to pay a monthly fee for exclusive content and access. The rules don’t allow subscriptions for anyone under 18, but the mom-run accounts sidestep that restriction. The Times found dozens that charged from 99 cents to $19.99. At the highest price, parents offered “ask me anything” chat sessions and behind-the-scenes photos.

Child safety experts warn the subscriptions and other features could lead to unhealthy interactions, with men believing they have a special connection to the girls and the girls believing they must meet the men’s needs.

“I have reservations about a child feeling like they have to satisfy either adults in their orbit or strangers who are asking something from them,” said Sally Theran, a professor at Wellesley College and clinical psychologist who studies online relationships. “It’s really hard to give consent to that when your frontal lobe isn’t fully developed.”

Instagram isn’t alone in the subscription business. Some parents promote other platforms on their mom-run accounts. One of them, Brand Army, caters to adult influencers but also has “junior channel” parent-run subscriptions ranging from free to $250 monthly.

“Message me anytime. You will have more opportunities for buying and receiving super exclusive content😘,” read a description for a $25 subscription to a minor’s account. For $100 a month, subscribers can get “live interactive video chats,” unlimited direct messages and a mention on the girl’s Instagram story.

The Times subscribed to several accounts to glean what content is being offered and how much money is being made. On one account, 141 subscribers liked a photo only available to those who paid $100 monthly, indicating over $14,000 in subscription revenue.

Some of the descriptions also highlight the revealing nature of photos. One account for a child around 14 years old encouraged new sign-ups at the end of last year by branding the days between Christmas and New Year’s as “Bikini Week.” An account for a 17-year-old girl advertised that she wasn’t wearing underwear in a workout photo set and, as a result, the images were “uh … a lot spicier than usual.”

The girl’s “Elite VIP” subscription costs $250 a month.

Brand Army’s founder, Ramon Mendez, said that junior-channel users were a minority on his platform and that moderating their pages had grown so problematic that he discontinued new sign-ups.

“We’ve removed thousands of pieces of content,” he said. “The parents’ behavior is just disgusting. We don’t want to be part of it.”

‘The Wealth of the Wicked’

“You are so sexy,” read one comment on an image of a 5-year-old girl in a ruffled bikini. “Those two little things look great thru ur top,” said another on a video of a girl dancing in a white cropped shirt, who months later posted pictures of her 11th birthday party.

For many mom-run accounts, comments from men — admiring, suggestive or explicit — are a recurring scourge to be eradicated, or an inescapable fact of life to be ignored. For others, they are a source to be tapped.

“The first thing I do when I wake up and the last thing I do when I go to bed is block accounts,” said Lynn, the mother of a 6-year-old girl in Florida who has about 3,000 followers from the dance world.

Another mother, Gail from Texas, described being desensitized to the men’s messages. “I don’t have as much of an emotional response anymore,” she said. “It’s weird to be so numb to that, but the quantity is just astounding.”

Meta does not provide public information about who uses Instagram, so The Times analyzed data from the audience firms Modash and HypeAuditor, which estimate follower demographics based on their own algorithms.

The proportion of male followers varied greatly in The Times’s sample, according to the estimates. Many accounts had a few thousand followers who were mostly female. But while men accounted for about 35 percent of the audience overall, their presence grew dramatically as accounts became more popular. Many with more than 100,000 followers had a male audience of over 75 percent, and a few of them over 90 percent, the analysis showed.

To be sure, not all men following the accounts have bad intentions. Some are grandparents and fathers of the young influencers. Many have inoffensive profiles and simply post compliments or greetings, and mothers react appreciatively.

“In responding or even hitting ‘like’ on it, it boosts your algorithm,” said a mother in Florida whose 16-year-old daughter has been an Instagram influencer for six years. “We tried shutting comments off at one point, and some of the brands didn’t like that.”

Brands that feature children from mom-run accounts face similar challenges.

Dean Stockton, who runs a small clothing company in Florida called Original Hippie, often features girls from the Instagram accounts, who earn a commission when customers use personalized discount codes. After initially deleting many male followers, he now sees them as a way to grow the account and give it a wider audience because the platform rewards large followings.

“The Bible says, ‘The wealth of the wicked is laid up for the righteous,’” he said. “So sometimes you got to use the things of this world to get you to where you need to be, as long as it’s not harming anybody.”

Mr. Stockton said he deleted male followers who were disrespectful or sexual in their interactions. An examination by The Times of the three dozen brands that are popular among mom-run accounts found inappropriate, predatory or pornographic followers in almost all of the brands’ accounts, including Original Hippie.

Many of the men posted pornography, or their bios included sexual language and emojis that child protection experts say pedophiles can use to signal interest in children. For instance, one follower of a children’s dance wear brand described himself as a “thong & anl sx lover.” A user named “sexy_69nazi” followed a children’s apparel company and exclusively posted pornography.

Chixit, a brand selling swimwear and other clothing, describes itself as “an International Sorority,” but business records show that it was run by Philip Russo, who advertised himself as a tutor operating out of his home in the Hudson Valley of New York. Other websites registered to Mr. Russo’s email are a tutoring business and inactive domain names describing sex with animals.

After The Times reached out to Mr. Russo, the website for his tutoring business went offline. He did not respond to multiple messages seeking comment.

‘Girls Become a Currency’

The vast world of child-influencer followers on Instagram includes men who have been charged with or convicted of sex crimes, and those who engage in forums off platform where child sexual abuse imagery, including of girls on Instagram, is shared.

The Times traced the account of one follower, who goes by the moniker “jizzquizz,” to a man named Joshua V. Rubel, 39. He was convicted in 2008 of sexually assaulting a 15-year-old girl and is listed on the New Jersey sex offender registry. (Instagram’s policy bars sex offenders from using the platform, and the company said it removed two accounts after The Times pointed them out.)

Another account belongs to Daniel Duane Huver, a man in Lansing, Mich., who told law enforcement in 2018 that he had “top fan status” on girls’ pages, a designation bestowed by Instagram’s sister company, Facebook. The police searched Mr. Huver’s cellphone after it was confiscated by his probation officer and found hundreds of images and videos of children, including many considered inappropriate and sexually suggestive and two believed to be illegal (showing minors engaged in explicit acts.)

Mr. Huver told officers he was sexually attracted to children and masturbated to images of them, according to police records. He was charged with possession of child sexual abuse material, but the prosecutor in Eaton County later dropped charges, citing insufficient evidence because of the poor quality of the imagery.

Mr. Rubel did not respond to requests for comment. Mr. Huver said that the police mischaracterized his words and that the lack of prosecution was evidence he had done nothing wrong.

In monitoring multiple Telegram chat rooms, The Times found men who treat children’s Instagram pages and subscription services as menus to satisfy their fantasies. They trade information about parents considered receptive to producing and selling “private sets” of images.

A group with more than 4,000 members was highly organized, with an F.A.Q. page and a Google sheet that tracked nearly 700 children, identifying them by hashtags to help members find them within the long chat history. The group’s logo showed a child’s hand in an adult hand.

The Times asked the Canadian Center for Child Protection, an organization that monitors online child exploitation, to review links and other potentially illegal material posted by the Telegram groups and elsewhere. The center identified child sexual abuse imagery involving multiple underage Instagram models from around the world, as well as sexualized videos of others, including a preteen girl wearing a thong and a young teenager raising her dress to show her bikini bottom.

Men in these groups frequently praise the advent of Instagram as a golden age for child exploitation.

“I’m so glad for these new moms pimping their daughters out,” wrote one of them. “And there’s an infinite supply of it — literally just refresh your Instagram Explore page there’s fresh preteens.”

A small group of men go even further and cultivate business and patronage relationships with mothers.

One man posts videos and photos on Instagram of girls thanking him for shopping sprees, gifts like iPhones and iPads, and cash. If he does not receive a message of gratitude quickly, he sometimes shames the mother and daughter on his private Instagram account.

Another makes recommendations about increasing visibility by using specific hashtags and photographers. But two mothers said they became suspicious, and stopped working with the man, after he suggested they make certain their daughters’ nipples and other private areas could be detected through their outfits.

A third man tried to persuade a mother to sell her daughter’s used leotards because many men, including himself, were “collectors,” according to a recording of the conversation.

“In retrospect I feel like such a stupid mom, but I’m not stupid,” said a mother of a young gymnast, who dealt with similar men before she realized they were predators and received threatening messages from several of them. “I didn’t understand what grooming was.”

Sometimes the men flirt or try to develop virtual romances with mothers, offer to protect them and become possessive and angry if they interact with other men.

“It’s almost like the girls become a currency,” said the gymnast’s mother, who did not want to be named.

This feeling of ownership and jealousy can drive attempts at blackmail, The Times found.

Instamodelfan, who sent threatening messages to Elissa, sent blackmail threats to at least five other mom-run accounts. When one mother responded, he demanded that she sexually abuse her child and send him photos and videos, emails to the mother show. She refused and contacted law enforcement.

The Times communicated with a person identified on Telegram as Instamodelfan who said that he lashed out at the mothers because he believed other men got illegal images of children and he wanted them for himself.

Reporters also received information from an anonymous tipster, who they later found was linked to the blackmailer, indicating that some parents had produced explicit imagery of their daughters.

The Canadian center reviewed the imagery and said it included illegal nude photos of two girls. One girl’s mother said she was shaken to learn of the photos and did not know who could have made them. The other girl, now 17, said in an interview that the photos were for her and a girlfriend and that she told law enforcement that they had been stolen.

Others images either were borderline illegal, were too poor quality to be conclusive or were digitally altered, the center said.

Several mothers who had been identified by the tipster said they reached out to the Federal Bureau of Investigation, which, they said, had conducted an investigation. The F.B.I. declined to comment.

Ultimately, the gymnast’s mother said, a federal agent told them to stop talking to men online.

“They told everyone to get off Instagram,” she said. “‘You’re in over your head. Get off.’ That’s what they told us.”

‘My Limit of Pedophiles’

Meta failed to act on multiple reports made by parents and even restricted those who tried to police their own followers, according to interviews and materials provided by the parents.

If parents block too many followers’ accounts in a day, Meta curtails their ability to block or follow others, they said.

“I remember being told, like, I’ve reached my limit,” said a mother of two dancers in Arizona who declined to be named. “Like what? I reached my limit of pedophiles for today. OK, great.”

Mr. Stone, the Meta spokesman, said “there are lots of reasons an account might face limitations or restrictions based the account’s activity,” and therefore it was difficult to know why parents encountered these problems.

Ms. Pastore of LA Dance Designs said it was “very much overdue” for Instagram to add the ability to filter by age and sex to help identify suspicious followers. “If you’re starting to gain a following, there needs to be some sort of way to control it,” she said.

Even some egregious violations led to no action by Meta.

One parent reported a photo of erect male genitalia sent in a direct message. Another reported an account that reposted children’s photos with explicit captions. A third reported a user who propositioned her child for sex, offering $65,000 for “an hour” with the girl.

In response to those three reports, Meta said either that the communications did not violate “community guidelines” or that its staff did not have time to review them. In other cases, Meta told parents that it relied on its “technology” to determine the content was “probably” not a violation.

Separately, The Times found comments that included links to sites identified by the Canadian center as trading illegal, nude imagery of children. None of those reports received a response from Meta.

Former Meta trust and safety employees described an organization overwhelmed despite knowing about the problem for years.

“You hear, ‘I reported this account, it was harassing my daughter, why is he back?’” said a former investigator for the company who requested anonymity. “There are not enough people, resources and systems to tackle all of it.”

In recent years, conspiracy theories like QAnon, which claims Democratic politicians are trafficking children, have led to an excess of unfounded reports that have muddled the evaluation of child abuse tips, three former Meta trust and safety employees said.

A 2020 document that surfaced in a lawsuit described child safety as a “non-goal” at Meta. “If we do something here, cool,” the document said. “But if we do nothing at all, that’s fine too.” The lawsuit was brought against Meta and other companies claiming damage from using social media. Lawyers for the plaintiffs declined to provide more information about the document.

In documents from 2018 included in a separate lawsuit making similar claims of harm, a top Facebook executive told Instagram’s chief executive that unless changes were made, Facebook and Instagram were “basically massive ‘victim discovery services,’” an allusion to the considerable evidence of abuse on the platforms.

Mr. Stone, the Meta spokesman, disputed the suggestion that the trust team was understaffed and underfunded, saying that 40,000 employees worked on safety and security and that the company had invested $20 billion in such efforts since 2016. He also referred to a previous statement about the lawsuits, saying they “mischaracterize our work using selective quotes and cherry-picked documents.”

In addition, he noted that Meta reported more suspected child abuse imagery to the authorities than any other company each year. In December, it announced plans to encrypt its messaging services, which would reduce the reports.

‘It’s All Over Instagram’

Experts in child protection and development say young people should never be made to have negative feelings about their bodies. But clothing that is appropriate in a gym or dance competition may take on an unintended meaning when shared online.

Children’s dance attire regularly features strappy bra tops, sheer fabric and bikini bottoms, and popular cheer outfits combine sports bras with little skirts — part of a long-term trend toward more revealing clothing for girls.

“In the dance world we’re in, they’re half naked all the time and their legs are in the air,” said a mother in Massachusetts who declined to be named. “And if you’re not used to seeing that, maybe it’s different.”

Lynn, whose granddaughter in Texas is an ambassador for a cheerleading brand, said there was no logic to the reactions her posts received. Photos of the girl’s feet attract the most extreme comments, she said. “You can’t stop weird people, I guess.”

Still, many of the would-be influencers suffer. In some instances criticism of the posts, and accompanying bullying, becomes so severe that mothers turn to home-schooling.

“She got slaughtered all through primary school,” said Kaelyn, the mother in Melbourne. “Children were telling her, ‘We can’t play with you because my mom said too many perverts follow you on the internet.’”

In the United States, parents have substantial leeway in making decisions about their children. But people who suspect illegal behavior on Instagram quickly discover that the authorities are overwhelmed and typically focus on the clearest-cut cases.

Even the most unsettling images of sexualized child influencers tend to fall into a legal gray area. To meet the federal definition of so-called child pornography, the law generally requires a “lascivious exhibition” of the anal or genital area, though courts have found the requirement can be met without nudity or sheer clothing.

There have been criminal prosecutions against parents accused in child sexual abuse cases.

In Louisiana last year, a mother was arrested and charged with working with a photographer to produce illegal images of her daughter in a thong bikini. In Texas, a mother was sentenced to 32 years in prison in December for producing nude photos of her 8-year-old daughter with the same photographer. And in North Carolina, a mother is awaiting trial on charges that she took her 15-year-old daughter to a photographer who sexually abused her and she failed to get medical help when the girl tried to kill herself, according to court documents.

Still, those prosecutions are rare, and some male followers of the mom-run accounts openly welcome the windfall.

“As long as this stuff legally exists, I just enjoy it :),” one of them wrote on Telegram.

“Exactly,” another responded. “It’s all over Instagram.”

#there's no hope for women

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thechaoticplayer · 2 months

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that anon wasn’t me but they are absolutely correct and i feel like i should give my two cents worth about all of this among the sea of hate towards the nijisanji livers. i’m not bootlicking the company, but i feel like it’s hypocritical for people to sent hate to the talents after doki said MULTIPLE times not to since she was also a victim of such behavior (and plenty of dragoons no longer even feel safe in her community because of the immense amount of people who are only there to harass and don’t even care for her) this is a rant that just shows that the issue is gray and that we’ll never really know what’s going on as outsiders

tell the remaining members to graduate because their fanbase will follow them is stupid, acting like they didn’t work their asses off to get where they are and haven’t invested so much in their current persona. ike, elira, and vox are some of the most popular talents so that it makes sense for anycolor to force them into making the stream. saying that vox doesn’t care about mental health after his charity stream and saying that it was just for show need to shut up because we’ll never how how he’s really feeling behind the avatar. elira specifically doesn’t deserve the disproportionate amount of hate and disgusting things she received from it from what was essentially revenge porn to art of her being abused, have these people not been taught that if you don’t have anything nice to say don’t say anything at all? it costs NOTHING to spam hate on your private account instead.

while i agree that the 2% merch sales and 1/4 (after youtube) of the supas should be raised, that doesn’t mean that the livers aren’t making any money and are poor as several of them have mentioned being able to pay off student loans and have turned their lives around with the money. while it sucks that selen made no profit after investing 200k into projects, maria has mentioned before that covers were more of passion gifts to fans rather than something to make money off of (i DO think that they should be paid for their projects, but that’s just how it goes unfortunately). last cup of coffee was taken down because she didn’t have all of the proper permissions and rushed posting it as a sweet gift to fans, management had full intentions to put it back up.

accusing livers of being bullies based on speculations is idiotic as it just hurts innocent people in the crossfire. these may just look like anime women and men to you, but they are REAL PEOPLE and streaming for nijisanji is their main livelihood! have some empathy, it’s hurting their mental health (the mental health some “dragoons” seem to care about so much)

this goes to say, i am on doki’s side because NO ONE should have to go what she went through, but i just want to show that there are two sides to a coin. i think that nijisanji needs better management, to allow their talents more freedom and a higher percentage of merch sales/supas, and stop treating their livers like shit! stop the harassment and move on, it’s what doki has mentioned multiple times that she wanted! don’t be one of the reasons another liver may have to go what she went through because you have an irrational hate boner for the company

also stream mani / gilty x gilty by maria marionette, finana ryugu, POMU RAINPUFF, meloco kyoran, and kotoka torahime

guys this shit right here

This right here

We need to like post this everywhere bc holy shit people need to understand

You are 100% right!! I agree with everything you just said, esp the "graduate and get out of the company" because they really did bust their asses off to get where they are now and it's a childish way of thinking

#chaotic.text #nijisanji #nijisanji en #vtuber #nijien #Kurosanji #Selen tatsuki #Vox akuma #elira pendora #ike eveland #Black company

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thisisthinprivilege · 9 months

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Since I keep seeing "$61 billion weight loss industry"....

This is a super old figure, folks.

In 2022, the US market cap of the weight loss industry was $75 billion [1, 3]. In 2021, the global market cap of the weight loss industry was estimated at $224.27 billion [2].

In 2020, the market shrunk by about 25%, but rebounded and then some since then [1, 3] (Tell me thin privilege is socially constructed without telling me that thin privilege is socially constructed).

Also disturbing, "Multi-level marketing companies constitute a major force in the [US] weight loss market, with the top 8 firms accounting for $3.4 billion in 2020 sales. Included in this group are Medifast, Herbalife, Shaklee, BeachBody, AMWAY, USANA, Isagenix and more." [3]

By 2030, the global weight loss industry is expected to reach be valued at $405.4 billion [2].

-ATL

References

LaRosa, J. March 10, 2022. "U.S. Weight Loss Market Shrinks by 25% in 2020 with Pandemic, but Rebounds in 2021." Market Research Blog. Available here.

Staff. February 09, 2023. "[Latest] Global Weight Loss and Weight Management Market Size/Share Worth." Facts and Factors Research. Available here.

LaRosa, J. March 27, 2023. "U.S. Weight Loss Market Partially Recovers from the Pandemic." Market Research Blog. Available here.

#statistics #fat discrimination #weight loss #weight loss industry #fat liberation #diet culture #dieting #diets #FAQ

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fullsunrise · 5 months

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Playing With Fire (M)

Word count: 1.8k

Pairing: Johnny x Original female character

Genre: Office AU, some angst, light smut

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol, Johnny is a bully, heavy sexual themes, non-explicit smut (don't hookup with your coworkers!), uh semi-public sex

A/N: Uhhh I don't know what this is, but it's pretty much self-indulgent lmao

There was nothing quite like early winter in the city, with the twinkling lights tangled in the bare trees and a to-go coffee that was almost too hot. This early in the morning, there was no one around. It was calming, and Nari wanted to appreciate the silence before all hell broke loose. She sat on the unoccupied bench outside of her building, savoring the last five minutes she had until she had to face her worst nightmare. That nightmare happened to have a name: Johnny.

Johnny Suh from Sales. Even thinking about him made Nari’s eye twitch. Ever since she was forced to work with him on her latest project, he made it his sole mission to make her life a living hell. Never once in Nari’s career has she had to work with someone so egotistical, cunning, and above all else: annoyingly attractive.

Although she had been working at her company for the last two years, she had never heard of him. Not until she saw an unfamiliar name CC’d on an email from her boss. Confused, she made her way to her boss’s office.

“He's been here almost as long as you have, I believe,” her boss told her. “Great guy, it should be a breeze working with him.”

It was hilarious how wrong he was. Nari’s reality was most definitely not a breeze, but more like a hurricane. Whatever higher being set this up was surely laughing at her now as she struggled against the powerful storm.

To stand any chance, Nari knew she needed any advice she could get. And who else was more equipped than Jaehyun? After years of working at law firms across the city, Nari was sure he was the only person who could understand how to deal with egotistical monsters.

“I'm just saying, maybe try to avoid any interactions with the guy. I mean he's clearly a prick,” Jaehyun said, then took a sip of his beer.

“Trust me, I've been trying to avoid him but it's impossible when we have to work directly together,” Nari replied.

It was hopeless. Johnny was too smart. Careful not to push it too far, he was only condescending to her face. He made sure his actions spoke for him, though. Like last week when he went out to lunch with their project team, he accidentally forgot to invite her. And just a day ago, she swore he was whispering about her to another coworker in the kitchen. Then he laughed loud enough for Nari to hear, only confirming her suspicions. It was subtle, but enough to make her go insane.

“Don't let him get to you,” Jaehyun offered. “You know he's only doing this because he feels threatened by you.”

Threatened? Why would Johnny be threatened by her? Nothing about her was particularly threatening. Sure, Nari was good at her job but she never did anything that would cause someone to dislike her. And certainly she would never step on anyone just to get a promotion. In her corporate life, Nari made sure to remain honest, social, and professional. Unlike Johnny, who couldn't have a more opposite approach.

“I’ll try,” she replied. “But enough about me. How's it going in your world?”

“Same ol’ bullshit as always,” he chuckled.

They spoke about their jobs for a while longer, laughing at random anecdotes from the week. Nari didn't speak about Johnny again, and shortly the thought of him was washed down along with her Gin and tonic. Somewhere between her first and third drinks, Jaehyun asked her how her dating life had been. It caught her off guard only for a moment as she reached for an answer in her muddled brain. With her thoughts slowed, the best she managed to pull was a horrific yet comical dating story. Jaehyun laughed along with her and shared his own. It was always weird talking about her love life with Jaehyun but it was still nice nonetheless. But she would never get used to it, even though there were no lingering feelings left between them.

Nari came back to her apartment feeling a bit lighter after seeing Jaehyun. While he helped her forget about Johnny momentarily, Nari dreaded tomorrow. It was the day of the company holiday party. Normally Nari looked forward to it every year, but the idea of running into Johnny made her stomach churn. Sure, there were going to be a lot of employees and plus ones but the chance of seeing him wasn't zero.

The next day quickly flew by, with little to no urgent work that needed to get done. Nari always appreciated slow work days, but today she wished the day lasted a bit longer. Because as the moon rose in the sky, she knew could no longer hide.

The rooftop lounge was packed with her coworkers spread out across fancy bar top tables. Nari and a few of her team members claimed a spot close to the bar. While she was promised it would limit any unwanted interactions, the idea of walking up with all eyes on her made her mouth dry.

“I’m gonna get another drink,” Nari shouted on top of the loud music.

Much to her relief, Nari didn't recognize the people she passed on her way to the bar. No Johnny in sight, her shoulders relaxed instantly.

“One Old Fashioned, thanks,” the guy with slicked back hair in front of her ordered. Ugh, what kind of person would order that?

The guy with the slicked back hair turned around, and the moment Nari locked eyes with him she was frozen in place. The worst scenario Nair conjured in her mind was happening right now, in real life.

Johnny looked at her for a second before turning away to talk to his friend. That didn't bother Nari, but the fact that he decided to brush past her like she was invisible set her off.

Chasing after Johnny wasn't how Nari expected to spend her night, but there she was pushing through the crowd. Johnny moved fast, but she was able to catch up in the bathroom hallway.

“Why?” The liquor coursed through her veins, giving her the courage to speak up.

“I don't know what you're talking about,” Johnny deadpanned, as he turned around to look straight through her. It was clear he was avoiding her question, which in turn only made her angrier.

“Don't play dumb, you know what you're doing,” she accused, her voice raising.

“You're going to be a bit more specific than that, sweetheart,” he said, crossing his arms across his chest.

“So you're just going to pretend like you haven't made my life a living hell the last few months?”

“I think that's too harsh,” he answered, his expression softening. That look could've worked on other women, but Nari wasn't going to give in.

“It's the truth, you've hated me ever since that day.”

“When did I say I hated you?”

Jaehyun’s words echoed in her mind. “Admit it, you’re threatened by me.”

Bingo. Her words seemed to strike a nerve with Johnny, because the next thing she knew he grabbed her arm and pulled her into the bathroom. Warning signs went off in her head immediately, but it happened so quickly that she couldn't break away.

“You don't know what you're talking about,” he seethed, taking a step closer to her.

Was he always standing this close? The temperature was rising, and Nari could feel the blood rush into her cheeks.

“I think I do,” Nari breathed, trying to sound confident. But her quivering voice didn't fool him.

His kisses were feverish against her skin he left bites along the curve of her neck. As he made his way down to her collarbone, Nari’s eyebrows scrunched together. With her lips slightly parted in pleasure, Johnny took the opportunity to steal the air from her lungs in one swift motion. His lips were rough and chapped from the cold, but the way they molded to her own left her utterly breathless. When he abruptly bit her lower lip and gazed at her, she knew she was done for. Deep desire pooled in his eyes and her body craved more of the pleasure he brought. Nari knew right then and there that she had no plans of stopping him.

“No, you don't,” he asserted, breaking the kiss for only a second before diving back in.

Her back was flush against the wall now, the cool tile contrasting against the heat of her skin. Johnny held the side of her jaw forcefully, with his other hand tracing the contour of her waistband. Out the window was her moral compass along with her dignity, her judgment clouded with pure desire.

The sensation of his hand dipping lower only added to her bubbling lust. Without warning, he snaked his hand out of her waistband. Nari whined at the loss and Johnny chuckled in amusement.

“Oh?” he mused, his grin never leaving his face. “You don't like that?”

Nari could only shake her head in response, her brain too muddled to think clearly. Satisfied with her frazzled state, Johnny resumed his motions. Her gasps bounced off the bathroom walls as she chased the high, no longer caring who could hear. With each moan that escaped her lips, she began to fall apart. Strands of hair came loose and tears of pleasure pooled. Her release was imminent, but before she could reach the climax Johnny suddenly stopped.

“I'm sorry, did you want more?” he asked, forehead pressed to her own.

Falling from her high, the reality of the situation came back into focus. What the hell was she doing? Not too long ago Nari couldn't even fathom being in the same room as Johnny, let alone letting herself unravel in front of him. It almost sickened her how quickly she folded under his spell. He knew exactly what he was doing and Nari was willingly falling right into his trap.

“Please,” she replied as she tried to catch her breath.

That was all Johnny needed to continue. With her pleasure still heightened, it took Nari only a few minutes to fully come undone. If Johnny wanted, she would let him take her right then and there. All the sirens in her head told her it was wrong, but why did it feel so right?

“See you tomorrow,” he snickered as he pulled away from her. Giving her a quick once over, he left the bathroom without another word.

Left alone with nothing but her reeling thoughts, Nari glanced at her reflection in the mirror. Disheveled hair and smudged mascara. Nari could barely recognize herself. As she attempted to fix her unruly state, Johnny’s words mocked her. Their little affair was going to cost her. She wasn't going to get fired over it, no, but her impulses were going to cost her the little bit of sanity she had left. Johnny was going to take it all and ruin her beyond recognition.

#nct 127 #nct fanfic #nct #nct 127 fanfic #johnny nct #johnny suh #suh youngho #johnny nct smut #johnny suh smut #nct smut #nct 127 smut

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beautifulpersonpeach · 7 months

Text

Y’all, please stop sending me questions you can google or questions on topics you already know my answer to, or questions that you know nobody this side of the internet has any answers to.

I understand it could be nerve-racking and unsettling to not have answers you want or to not have them presented in the way you want.

But this is not about you. And I’m quickly losing patience for the people in my inbox who simply cannot resist the impulse to center their own desires and expectations over whatever is actually going on with their biases and/or within HYBE which nobody here actually knows.

What I do know,

- is seeing akgaes complain about BigHit neglecting Jimin for years because out of all the vocal line members, he never had a solo OST project. Like, before BTS’s PET era, this was one of the topics his akgaes would be getting hit tweets on practically every month. This was their raison d’être. How could the company that shunned solo work allow that solo opportunity for other members but not Jimin? Nobody got any answers or even acknowledgement of this great disservice from the company, for years. Not until early 2022 when Jimin casually mentioned that he was never interested in that sort of opportunity in the first place until a friend personally asked him as a favour.

- is seeing akgaes claim the company never acknowledged Jimin’s historic BB Hot100 win, when anybody can google to see that’s clearly not the case. I’m convinced the only reason this continues to be a talking point is due to akgaes and their sympathizers centering themselves in an equation that has nothing to do with them. Jimin has said his team acknowledged it, we can see this from their main sm profiles and the members’ personal sm pages, just as was done for Jungkook, we know HYBE’s management highlighted it as the main accomplishment in the quarter to their investors, and his achievement was positively highlighted in many articles on the k-side. But just as with the cake situation, the people complaining about this want the company to respond in a way that reflects their own personal expectations regardless of the reality of what actually happened, what the members have already said and what they actually wanted at the time.

- is seeing akgaes assert blindly for months that HYBE partnered with Billboard to delete Jimin’s week 2 and all D2C sales. Assert that HYBE masterminded the buttfuck that was the deletion of sales by Hanteo, by Billboard, by *insert random industry player*, only for it to be revealed that Billboard treated every HYBE artist mentioned in their expose article dishonourably, including NewJeans who akgaes have decided for whatever reason is why their chosen idol is not getting the recognition they want for him. It’s been clear that issues with shipping and stocking are not even limited only to BTS members much less just Jimin, and so HYBE must be sabotaging TXT, Enhypen, and the other artists in the company they’re supposedly pushing to replace BTS and Jimin. HYBE must’ve also been behind BTS’s sales irregularities on Hanteo as well as other groups’ including Twice and EXO’s sales deletions in the past.

- is seeing akgaes assert for almost a year that the decision to use Weverse albums and not provide an option for physical versions was forced on J-hope by the company. His akgaes demanded answers for months and received no answers and no acknowledgment. Only for Hobi to reveal almost a year later that he chose that option out of his own desire to try something very different, despite advice to the contrary from others within the company including other BTS members.

Notice, all of this have been things to be legitimately upset about, but akgaes taking control of the conversation has only served the purpose of redirecting any focus away from the members, to render them powerless, shifting focus away from third-party industry players who work independently of HYBE and have their own motivations, and towards the company where they aim to remove their chosen member from to exert more control. 10 times out of 10 this has been the case, even when it’s not just irrational to arrive at that conclusion, but flat out counterproductive. I don’t even like HYBE, but it’s annoying to constantly point out obvious holes in logic or in situations that anybody with any knowledge of how BTS has operated for years can easily see.

We’re not actually privy to the full conversations the members are having with the company about their career strategy and goals.

What we do know is that like any other team, resources are allocated and the results nearly every time have been greatly influenced by their own input. We can judge for ourselves that despite the members working within the constraints at BigHit, such as:

- Yoongi being told he couldn’t release D-2 in 2019 due to unknown constraints but released it in 2020 to no issue,

- Yoongi being told he couldn’t give Jimin a song he wrote due to PDogg’s refusal but this not hampering the artistic output of either artist,

- Jimin being refused his request to have a visual album but no expense was spared for his very elaborate production choices…

…that while the company sometimes says no to the members for reasons we don’t know (and can’t know, we’re fans not A&R managers for BTS), in retrospect these decisions appear tied more to logistical and strategic constraints, sometimes incompetence, rather than malicious intent. The company still supports the members’ projects and all seven members are happy enough with their current management over any other option, that they’ve chosen to renew their exclusive contracts early, not just once, but twice.

I too want Jimin to have received nominations for the MTV EMAs. I want that for all my biases but especially Jimin because his chart and sales performance dwarfed most of the competition, but even more so because Jimin released one of the most remarkable works of art created in 2023. And it deserves to be recognized and celebrated.

But already, the conversation is shifting towards HYBE propping up Jungkook to shaft Jimin, deliberately refusing to submit his work (which just like the other claims about Billboard and Hanteo, none of these people can provide any evidence to support except this happened to another artist years ago and HYBE bad), etc - all akgae talking points that have as little basis in reality we know as any other conspiracy theory you see in any solo space in BTS fandom. These theories only support the idea that the members are in direct competition with each other, do not deserve their team, and should leave the group. Because there’s a whole host of explanations for what we’re seeing here, but the constant impulse to reach for that particular reason is because it leads to only one goal.

I already said months ago after the Billboard article, that it served the purpose of handicapping Jimin’s chart performance to look overly reliant on Asian buyers (read Chinese money) reducing its legitimacy for Western awards, and we’re already seeing that play out. This has nothing to do with HYBE, and everything to do with the carelessness of the fandom in blowing up funding sources while aiming to shatter yet another Western record. When history has shown us every time BTS as a group did this, the industry responded by looking for a way to handicap the group. Which was then done for Jimin as he was the first to break that record.

HYBE could’ve sent his songs to radio. His songs have very good commercial quality. HYBE could’ve sent Still Life ft Anderson Paak to radio too as it had very good commercial quality. But we also know the members chose their roll-out strategy and suit of promotion tools and this likely influenced decisions like why some songs were sent to radio and others weren’t. And the first thing I noticed about all the EMA nominations is every artist had their songs sent to radio. Every single one. And so if the Billboard expose didn’t completely handicap Jimin, then it’s possible because his songs weren’t sent to radio he wasn’t even in the running in the first place. Here, feel free to blame HYBE all you want. I blame them too, but just as I did in Hobi’s case, I also believe this was in part influenced by his own decisions and hold him responsible as well.

I don’t baby any of the members in BTS. I’m not their mother. And when I see things I don’t like, I don’t absolve them of all responsibility and place it squarely on the company, because the members know more than me about their own situations, and are grown Korean men who have all the privileges and options that entails, and who continue to remain in a team they keep saying they respect and are grateful to.

I cannot want more for my biases than they want themselves. That’s not why I’m here. I don’t see myself as their advocate, contract lawyer, mother, manager, or girlfriend. I’m their fan and so I’m ARMY. I’ll support them as much as is within my means and preferences, object to actions of the company that directly impact me or on issues that I find morally repugnant based on having all the facts at my disposal, not based on fan theories made by groups of people who have a history of working outside of the members own interests and desires.

I can manage my disappointment on various things while recognizing all the above. Perhaps after this first set of debuts, both the members and HYBE will rethink their promotion strategies, make modifications, and maybe they won’t. That’s their cross to carry, not mine.

This is my position on everything that happens in Chapter 2 and 3, (because all these grumblings will only metastasize when the members come back, as that’s how it’s typically goes in every k-pop fandom, regardless of the fact this only ever works counterproductively for the artists).

Please read this the next time you mean to send me an ask on a related topic. While I might share your disappointment, I don’t share your anxieties, and I don’t have the answers you’re looking for. The only people who do are the members and they don’t owe you any explanations unless they think it’s necessary. I’m not trying to be rude, condescending, or harsh. This is what I genuinely think.

#BTS #bts chapter 2 #Jimin #jungkook #jikook #hoseok #Namjoon #Yoongi

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dailyniallnews · 6 months

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Niall Horan: Cynics fuelled me to succeed with Modest Golf

Niall Horan has opened up on the cynicism he faced when he launched his golf management company in 2016, detailing how it fuelled him to make it a success.

Speaking in the December edition of bunkered, the chart-topping musician reflected on the launch of Modest Golf Management in 2016.

The boutique firm was dismissed by many naysayers as a non-credible ‘plaything’ for the former One Direction star.

However, seven years on, it has built an enviable stable of clients – amongst them Tyrrell Hatton and Leona Maguire – and has expanded its reach with the opening of a new office in the US, whilst also diversifying its business interests.

It’s all a far cry from the early days, when the skeptics were out in force.

“To be honest, I kind of expected the cynicism,” explained Horan. “There are agents on the range who have been there for a long time. They know the tour inside out and they’ve had their pick of the players for a long time. When they saw me turn up and try to get involved, they were bound to be a bit like, ‘Who’s he?’

“We heard bits and pieces here and there but that just gave us more drive – a healthy drive – to prove them wrong. Not in a ‘we’ll show them’ kind of a way. More, ‘we really want to do this’.

He added: “Six or seven years ago, golf looked the same as it had for many years. The governing bodies had been run by the same people for a very long time and so on.

“I’m not going to lie, it wasn’t easy to begin with. It was hard getting turned away from things pretty much constantly, but I always knew that if we stuck to it and worked hard then we’d get there in the end. Now, we’ve got a great relationship with all the governing bodies and all the agents, too.

“Slowly but surely, it’s turned around and people have started to realise, ‘Oh, wait a minute, maybe they are in it for the long haul.’”

Mark McDonnell, who co-founded Modest Golf with Horan, added: “To this day, I still get people saying to me, ‘Is Niall really involved?’. I mean, of course he is! Obviously, he can’t be at every single event and in every single meeting but, throughout all the major decisions and moments in our company’s history, he’s been there.”

“This has never, ever been a pet project for him or a little plaything to occupy his time whilst he figured out what he wanted to do next. And to be honest, I felt like it did me a disservice when I heard people say that.

“I know there are celebrities out there who’ll put their name to something just to make a quick buck and I would never stake my own career on that. I knew Niall’s passion for golf was genuine, and that’s why it was really easy for me to want to get involved.”

Horan also expressed his hope that his involvement with golf will help encourage more young girls to take an interest in the sport.

“I always say this but, you know, I’ve got 40 million Twitter followers and a few more on Instagram,” he adds. “If me posting about golf here and there makes just one per cent of my followers take an interest in golf, well, look, I’m no mathematician, but it’s a lot!”

“Don’t get me wrong, I know a lot of them will be like, ‘oh great, he’s talking about golf again!’ But I guarantee there’s quite a few who’ll read that tweet and go to the driving range, or go to Topgolf, or even just try to get involved in some shape or form. It’s just about letting them know the sport exists really.

“You never know how many will go, ‘Well, if Niall thinks it’s cool, it might be cool.’”

Read the full interview with Niall Horan in the December edition of bunkered, on-sale now from all good newsagents.

#niall horan #bunkered magazine #13nov23

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lonestarbattleship · 6 months

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Battleship Texas much closer to securing permanent home in Galveston

The first step is a ten-year lease with the port, coming in at $20,000 a month or more depending on the weather

By Chris Gray

"This artist's rendering projects what the USS Texas could look like once it is safely housed along the heart of Galveston's waterfront. "

"Battleship Texas cleared an important hurdle in its quest for a permanent home this week. During its regular meeting on Tuesday, the Galveston Wharves board of trustees authorized the creation of a lease between the Port of Galveston and the Battleship Texas Foundation, which operates and maintains the historic warship.

'It’s a big step for us,' said Tony Gregory, the foundation’s president and CEO. 'We feel like it's a big win. It’s taken a while to convince the port that we should be where we're going to go, but in the end their leadership responded. We think we have a good agreement, and we're excited to move forward on it.'

The proposed lease would be for 10 years with two additional 10-year options, explained port director and CEO of Galveston Wharves Rodger Rees. Once it has been drafted and signed, which Rees said could happen at the board’s next meeting later this month, the foundation would pay the port $20,000 per month in rent; plus $1.2 million (another $20,000 a month) in case an extreme-weather event or other dire scenario forced the port managers to take drastic measures with the ship like towing her out to sea.

Now, 'there's some hoops they've got to jump through but not ours,' Rees said. 'What we did is try to help them with their permitting process by giving them a home.'

The ship, which served with distinction in both World Wars, was towed from the San Jacinto Monument to a dry-dock facility in Galveston's harbor in August 2022.

Greg Eckmann Photography/Battleship Texas Foundation

According to Gregory, now that the foundation has struck a deal with the port, it can finalize its agreement with Landry’s, Inc. for the multibillion-dollar company founded by island native and Houston Rockets owner Tilman Fertitta to manage the ship’s day-to-day operations, effectively adding it to a portfolio that also includes Kemah Boardwalk and Pleasure Pier. The foundation plans to permanently berth the ship in the area around Piers 19 and 20, the most commercial area of the port and property already controlled by Landry’s.

'Landry’s is excited about the positive progress made to secure a permanent home for the Battleship Texas in Galveston,' said Landry's deputy general counsel Dash Kohlhausen in a statement. 'We look forward to continue working with the City, the Wharves Board, and the Battleship Texas Foundation to make this a reality for Galveston.'

The next step for the foundation, which towed the USS Texas to Galveston from its longstanding home at the San Jacinto Monument in August 2022, is to secure the necessary permits from the trio of agencies which share jurisdiction over the waterway: the U.S. Coast Guard; U.S. Army Corps of Engineers; and Galveston Texas City Pilots, an association of ship captains whose boats escort larger vessels in and out of the port. It could take up to a year for those permits to be approved, Rees said.

Meanwhile, the ship, which served in both World Wars — notably off Omaha Beach during D-Day and as part of Operation Torch in North Africa — has been undergoing an estimated $60 million in dry-dock repairs since arriving at the Gulf Copper facility on Pelican Island. According to Gregory, those repairs are scheduled to be completed next summer. The foundation has already started a capital campaign to raise another $15 million for construction of its permanent housing, including the necessary mooring plus a ticket-sales building, public restrooms, and exhibit space.

Finally, hovering over all this is the not-insignificant question of whether the old battleship will sell enough tickets — about 283,000 a year, according to the foundation’s math — to offset the necessary maintenance, restoration, and marketing costs. On this count, at least, Gregory is confident she will.

'We feel like the reason our agreement with the port is such a big step is because we are in the best spot to attract the most tourists on the waterfront,' he said. 'We have two cruise terminals to our West, one cruise terminal to our East, with another being negotiated. We're near the restaurants, the Elissa, the bars; we’re near the Strand.

It could take another $15 million to prepare the necessary facilities to house the ship along Piers 19 and 20, foundation CEO Tony Gregory said.

Battleship Texas Foundation

'It’s a little bit like the real estate agent said: ‘Location, location, location' Gregory added. 'It’s the best location in Galveston for being successful in attracting people to come onto the ship.'

For the foundation, which took over upkeep of the ship from Texas Parks and Wildlife in 2019, the end is now in sight. The extraordinary patience necessary to steward the Texas through this painstaking and expensive process finally seems to be yielding tangible results.

'I tell people all the time, if you get involved with the Battleship Texas, whether you're a vendor or a regulatory agency, it's a legacy project and you need to be a little more patient and a little more committed to get it done, because she's an old ship and she needs a lot of care,' Gregory said.

'So we're confident,' he added. 'Believe me, there's always regulatory obstacles, and we've overcome a lot of them in the past couple or years. We’re optimistic that we can address whatever else needs to be addressed.'"

Article from the Houston Chronicle: link

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theflybitteneye · 5 months

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WIP ROUND UP!

NOT FOR SALE!

To do:

Fix her hand (oopsie I broke it.)

Finish sewing her bloomers.

Finish sewing her blazer.

Finish her stockings (including a stump cover for her leg.)

Make her wig.

Make a hat (bowler or bonnet? Still undecided.)

Make her shoes (booties? Slippers?)

Make her umbrella gun (inspired by the real life Bulgarian Umbrella.)

Here's my thicc, steampunk, WW1 black-and-white, vaguely Silent-Era cartoon, one armed, one legged prostitute-assasine Smart Doll WIP. If that seems like a dense concept, you need to get on my level of neurodivergency, clearly.

The idea behind her is she's like, this "exotic entertainer" in a vaguely turn-of-the-century WW1 steampunk setting. She officially employed under the ruse of being something like an all-in-one, singer, dancer, conversationalist, "professional company and party attendant for high-powered men and women" escort. Soft, feminine, "silly," and physically disabled, she's actually a highly effective contract killer who gets away with it by acting like a helpless empty headed bimbo who uses people's own mysogyny and people's prejudice against her being obviously disabled and a sex worker to her advantage.

The kind of backstory I had in mind was that she managed to survive a bombing of her hometown when she was little that took both her right limbs and caused severe nerve damage. Due to an error in message decoding, her town was reported to be taken by enemy forces. The monarchy, taken by spurise by this development and panicking due to the geographic advantage of the localtion for attack on the capital, opted to hastily bomb it without any other evidence or confirming how the opposition's army could have taken the town without them knowing until now. They didn't know until after the whole area had been leveled they just blew up their own citizens over a mistake. It left her (pun not intended, but welcomed, ha) fighting to balance chronic pain and addiction to painkillers for the rest of her life, and surviving on sheer spite for authoritarian incompetence. She loves destroying the lives of high powered figures as much as she loves being paid for it. Because her ability to feel pain had been altered so drastically, she can take a hit, stabbing, and even a gunshot like it's nothing so long as it isn't lethal. The extreme sports of "when life gives you lemons." Her go-to weapon is her parasole that fires small poison pellets at close range, that can also be converted into a disguised sniper rifle by swapping out attachments. Her signature trick to things going tits up is letting herself get battered up a bit, than crying on command like a helpless girl. Pitiful as possible. She can hold her own in a brawl, but it's often more effective to let her targets attack her and make a big scene. Have them die slow painful deaths hours later when their organs give out seemingly out of nowhere in the company of witnesses after she's long been "saved" by her handlers. Assault being common for escorts in her line of work, no one thinks the wiser. Even if they do, she's just a "poor, simple, crippled girl" who just got beaten up by a client, how would that make them look if they accused her of fowl play?

I'm not really writing a story persay in mind for this character, it's more so just the fun of character development and narrative through character design, but maybe I'll use the idea somewhere someday. Really I just love that contrast of innocently dangerous, and wanted her to physically embody that. As an animator, obviously, that Silent Era aesthetic is something I'm living for. Osamu Tezuka is post-WW2 obviously, but the vibes I'm kind of going for is if he worked for Fleischer Studios. Blackjack, but make it Out of the Inkwell.

Her eyes are handmade and hand painted out of acrylic, and her body's obviously very heavily moded. I gave her much more generous cleavage, and tried to give her the chubbyiest thighs, tummy and butt I thought I could get away with, but, looking at her I think I might have been able to give her some more pudge. For anyone unfamiliar with the issues with trying to mod base dolls into plus sizes, the joints can pose problems when making it look right. I prefer dolls with more extreme figures and bodies and like the challenge and look of making dolls with different body types and fat distributions, so I'm experimenting more and more with doll "mid-sizifying" I suppose you could call it. Eventually I'd like to get to trying to do a full like, proper "plusizification." Taking a thin doll and trying to put like, an approximate 100 lbs on her if nothing for the joy of the logistics of it alone. It'd be cool to try it with a Smart Doll or Dollfie Dream, something with an interior skeleton. I think that'd be the best results. I think I might as well make body parts to fit over those endo skeletons from scratch, though. I only have Smart dolls at the moment to work off of, but if anyone is interested in commissioning some chubby to full plus-size Smart Doll custom option parts, let me know. I'll happily give you a discount while I'm just experimenting with all this.

Her head is of course also moded. I wanted her to look like she was punched, so her cheek is swelling a bit. She's a Smart Doll Journey if I remember correctly.

Her leg is a mixed media. Fabric, wire, metal, a pen. Those interior skeletons make Smart Dolls fantastic to put robotic limbs on--- extremely easy to attach. I wanted it big and cartoonish, the foot looking like a big heavy oversized metal boot, and also to look like a highly engenieered peg leg instead of a proper prostetic. Vaguely inspired by Hiccup from How To Train Your Dragon's leg, which the suggestion it's spring operated. You know, antiquated but advanced as most fantasy steampunk is.

Her tattoos are all flowers that have some meaning in Victorian flower code. The big one on her chest being an anemone. It represents a warning or notes something as "forsaken." Used to ward off evil spirits, disease, death, and bad luck. So it's kind of an omen of bad shit happening. A protection and a bad sign. Because I'm trash I'm tempted to name her "Anne Amie." "Amie" is the feminine word for "friend." It also sounds both like "anemone" and "an enemy" when run together out loud. That might be a play on words, punny name so loaded it might rip a fabric in the universe, haven't decided yet, but there you go. I might just decided I accept my crimes against the English, French, and flower-based languages. We'll see.

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usafphantom2 · 5 months

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Canada selects Boeing's P-8A Poseidon as its new multi-mission aircraft

The partnership with Canadian industry will provide long-term economic prosperity to Canada 🇨🇦

Fernando Valduga By Fernando Valduga 11/30/2023 - 18:52 in Military

With the P-8, Canada guarantees the interchangeability of allies NORAD and FIVE EYES.

The government of Canada signed a letter of offer and acceptance of foreign military sales for up to 16 Boeing P-8A Poseidon aircraft, as part of the Canadian Multimission Aircraft Project (CMMA).

Canada joins eight defense partners, including all allies of FIVE EYES, the intelligence alliance that also includes the United States, the United Kingdom, Australia and New Zealand, and becomes the fifth NATO nation to have selected the P-8 as its multi-mission aircraft. The first delivery is scheduled for 2026.

“The P-8 will strengthen Canada's defense capability and readiness, and we look forward to delivering that capability to the Royal Canadian Air Force,” said Heidi Grant, president of Business Development at Boeing Defense, Space & Security. “Together with our Canadian partners, we will deliver a strong package of industrial and technological benefits that will ensure continued prosperity for Canada's aerospace and defense industry.”

The P-8 is the only proven in-service and production solution that meets all CMMA requirements, including range, speed, strength and payload capacity. This decision will benefit hundreds of Canadian companies and bring decades of prosperity to Canada through the support of the platform provided by our Canadian industrial partners.

The acquisition of P-8 will generate benefits of almost 3,000 jobs and $358 million annually in economic output for Canada, according to a 2023 independent study by Ottawa-based Doyletech Corporation.

“This is a very important day for the Royal Canadian Air Force and Boeing,” said Charles 'Duff Sullivan, managing director of Boeing Canada. "The P-8 offers unparalleled capabilities and is the most affordable solution for acquisition and life cycle maintenance costs. There is no doubt that the P-8 will protect Canada's oceans and borders for future generations."

The partnership with Canadian industry will provide long-term economic prosperity to Canada.

The Poseidon Team is the cornerstone of Boeing's Canadian P-8 industrial partnership, composed of CAE, GE Aviation Canada, IMP Aerospace & Defense, KF Aerospace, Honeywell Aerospace Canada, Raytheon Canada and StandardAero. The team is based on the 81 existing Canadian suppliers for the P-8 platform and more than 550 Boeing suppliers in all provinces, contributing to the company's annual economic benefit of approximately CAD$ 4 billion for Canada, supporting more than 14,000 Canadian jobs.

With more than 160 aircraft delivered or in service and 560,000 collective flight hours, the P-8 has proven capabilities for anti-submarine warfare, anti-surface warfare, intelligence, surveillance, reconnaissance and humanitarian assistance/disaster relief response.

Tags: Military AviationBoeingP-8A PoseidonRCAF - Royal Canadian Air Force/Canada Air Force

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Fernando Valduga

Aviation photographer and pilot since 1992, has participated in several events and air operations, such as Cruzex, AirVenture, Dayton Airshow and FIDAE. He has work published in specialized aviation magazines in Brazil and abroad. Uses Canon equipment during his photographic work in the world of aviation.