#I know he's just a guy doing his job but. I care him so immensely & I do not have the words to properly describe it

[wolfsplosion]

guys I'm going to be in the same room as Gaten Matarazzo in like two weeks

[sulfursmells]

Dream Job

pppprrtttttttt oh kinda small, BBRRRPPPTTTT kinda heavy, PRRRBBBTTTTTTTT whew that’s a good one.

Every sound, every smell I’ve experienced them all. Everyday I get up shower and go to work. What is my job you ask? I’m a fart sniffer. I know the job that most of us would die to have, and I love every second of it.

Pro max gym is the first of its kind, anyone working out is free to rent a fart sniffer to save themselves the embarrassment of ripping on in the gym. It also helps the other gym goers not having to deal with the smell. It’s an amazing job i almost lost because one dude was too much for me.

A regular day like any other I look at my list and there is only one name he rented me for the whole day, Jack. He walked in standing 6ft, a big guy with an even bigger butt. I introduced myself and we got to work. He started with squats but he gave me a warning, “my friends call me Jack the Ripper, are you sure you can do this?” I reassured him that I was a professional. Jack shrugged his shoulders and began, each squat u got a face full of his ass. He just began but the sweat was immense, I had to hold my breath like I was swimming each time.

Then the first fart slipped it was small but pungent. “Oh is that all I can handle that.”I thought to myself, small bursts like this are no problem. Then the next came it was bigger than the last PPRRRTTTT. Oh okay that was definitely bigger but nothing I couldn’t handle. Then even bigger. PPPPPPRRRRTTTTTTT. *coughing* What the hell was that? I don’t even remember the last time a fart made me cough and I’ve hugged thousands.

Jack paused his workout for a second to look back at me. “Wow you really can take them I don’t smell a thing. Guess I can stop holding back.” He turns back around his ass looking over me. “Holding back!!!!” Before I could react his ass slams on my face. He moved on from squats to barbell lifts so he doesn’t have to get up. “This would probably be hot asf if I wasn’t horrified about how much worse his gas could become.” I didn’t have to wait as the next fart was the worst I’ve ever smelt.

BBBBRRRRPPPPPTTTTTTTTTTT. The smell of Burnt rubber and raw sewage invaded my senses. I convulced under him that fart too much for me. Jack didn’t care he asked if I could handle it and I said yes. BBBBBRRPPPPTPTTTTTTTTT That sound filled the gym - for two hours this monster let rip giant horrid farts rattling the chair I was laying on. The fumes made their way throughout the gym, no one could take his gas. After his set he got up, my unconscious body laying in the bench. He took me outside with him the gym vacant.

When I came too I saw my manager in front of me asking if I’m okay. He told me that he thought about firing me since he thought I was loosing my touch since everyone could hear and smell jacks gas but he realized that his gas was inhuman and there was nothing no one could do.

“Sorry little dude, they call me Jack the ripper for a reason.

[alicethenobody]

Thinking about how fucking ridiculously kind Dante is.

Trish lured him to Mallet Island through manipulation which lead to him “killing” (we know Vergil survived but he didn’t) his brother but he still forgave her and offered her his kindness, empathy, and even trust and friendship. His kindness impacted Trish so much she was able to become her own person outside of Mundus’ influence. Speaking of helping people change for the better, in DMC X he fights Credo and even though this guy is out for his blood he only wants to help him change his ways and manages to convince him to do the right thing. Which I think is what lead to him protecting Nero in his last moments. The canonicity of DMC X isn’t stated but considering the fact that we know Dante was originally supposed to have a longer campaign I can’t help but think a lot of the stuff in that game is remnants of those scrapped ideas.

He very openly felt bad for Griffon when Mundus killed him despite the fact that he’s loyal to the guy who killed his family and even gave him a respectful sendoff in DMC5. Generally he’s known for roasting his opponents but he still has a level of respect for them which I think is cool. In the first novel he even laments about the people who had to die on his missions, as he despises unnecessary bloodshed even if it involves bad people and popularized showing mercy among the other mercs in the business.

In the anime he often takes on jobs for free out of the kindness of his heart and is happy just being able to help people who need it even if he’s broke. Most of the money he DOES get goes to victims of demon attacks like Grue’s daughters and Enzo who lost his arm because he feels immense guilt for not being able to do what he feels like is enough for them.

He’s shown to be very protective of the younger generation through Patty and does everything he can to shield her from seeing him fight demons because he doesn’t want her to be traumatized like he was at a young age. He does the same thing with Nero, really, trying to keep him from fighting Vergil because he believes the result will either be his nephew getting hurt or him killing his own dad and having to live with that trauma like he did after he thought he killed Vergil. The way he looks at Nero and Kyrie fondly at the end of DMC4 before leaving Fortuna, he was willing to do whatever it took in order for Nero to keep that happy life with her. (Side note, Dante grew attached to Patty like, immediately. 15 minutes in he’s like “WHERES MY DAUGHTER?!” He’s so silly like that.)

It’s nice to see Nero is following in Dante’s footsteps too. In an interview it was stated Nero only really stepped into action in DMC4 because he wanted to protect Kyrie but in DMC5 we see a much more mature Nero who cares about civilians too, my favorite example being how he offered a total stranger food because he assumed he was just hungry. Dante in DMC3 was in a somewhat similar situation, though he was obviously a lot more selfish starting off than Nero ever was until he matured by the end of the game and took on the role of humanity’s protector like Sparda. It was his journey of “waking up to justice” like his dad.

Uhh… yap over. I typed this at 3 AM.

[sanzaibian]

Hiii! Im a scrawny white guy that just moved out into a new neibourhood that is strangely filled with fuckboys and my parents want me to cut my long curly hair to fit in. They want me to have a buzz cut or an undercut. Do you know someone who can help me?

“Welcome to the normal barbershop ! I… see you’re accompanied.”

Indeed, when you enter, the severe face of your mother is revealed behind your shoulder. She seems dead set on having a say in whatever you’re going to do, no matter how uncomfortable you look. You know that, as you’re a few years into university, you should really, like all your friends find yourself flat or flatmates, yet the only ones who would qualify are all related by blood. However, with the sky-high price for property, inflation eating into everyone’s pockets, and uni being just an hour away from home… the choice is obvious.

Even if it feels a bit constraining to have your quite controlling parents breathing down your neck.

“I…” You start, before being cut by your mother. - My son here needs an appropriate haircut. This… clump he caries around has to go.”

It is clear for everyone in the room that she wants you to have a haircut, not you… and that she seems dead set on you cozying up to the upper echelons of society. Not an objectionable dream, but not one she should force onto her kid. This malaise that grows out of it is broken by the arrival of a tall but thin guy, dressed in all white polos and chinos, wearing an expensive golden watch, luxurious black sunglasses and a single stylish golden earring. His jet black hair is parted in the middle in a tasteful style stinking of money – and hairspray – accompanying slightly folded amber eyes that frame a very handsome face.

“Greetings, miss.” He announced rather dramatically, smiling in a manner that would swoon anybody. “Don’t worry, I, Jonathan Nasukawa, heir to the famous Shimotsuke family, from the Uesugi clan, and to the de Clissons family, who studied under the famous master barber Dr. Davod, will take care of your son. I’ll make sure he’s… up to my standards.”

You are not impressed. In fact, you’re more weary of whatever bullying he may decide to make about your lack of self-care, or your lower social class… but your mother is comfortably taken by the smile of that certified ikemen. Her severe expression morphs into one of the most benevolent smiles that a human can make, and pushes you to him by your shoulders.

“My son will be more than honored to be able to be helped by all your expertise. I’m sure that, once he knows how to properly act, he will thank you for the immense service you are giving him.”

The ikemen’s smile becomes sinister, somehow… though your mother stays just as smitten by his through the roof charisma.

“Rest assured, he will.” His smiles becomes normal once again, as he places a hand on your shoulder. “Now, if you may, I have some work to do. - Well, I wouldn’t want to prevent you from doing your job… I just so happen to have a few things to buy, so I’ll get to this now !”

As the exchange devolves into civilities, you start advancing to the barber chairs, where you guess your mane that you actually really like is going to get chopped off. What a waste, you love the feeling of long hair, how it floats, how freely you can shape it. But before you can take a step closer, you are stopped by a soft hand on your shoulder. Expecting it to be your mother, you put your hand on it and turn around… only to notice it was Jonathan. The barber.

“I was going to say that we are not going there, but… are you trying something ?”

You vehemently deny, red appearing on all your face, making him laugh very elegantly.

“Hahaha ! Your expressions are so precious ! No, we’re going inside that special room, with the elite setup, for maximum comfort !” You stare at him, unsure of why he’s trying to do by playing into your mom’s delusions. “What, it’s comfortable for me too ! And it’s topical !”

You smile from that defense that paints an image quite different from the one he casts, that more of a laid-back and less… arrogant than the uptight and quick to point out ancestry he seemed to your mother. He makes you sit on the chair inside the private room, that feels incredibly comfortable, as he takes out multiple products, clippers and scissors.

“I’m sorry your mother made such a scene… I mean, we’re supposed to be the one uncomfortable, but you must have been so ashamed hearing her spouting nonsense like that.” Of that you agree. « Now, before you start making up ideas, I’m not a noble or anything. I just said that to impress her, because I know it works – I’m sure she would faint if she knew I lived in a small flat with three roommates to save money ! Though the lineage is correct, it doesn’t come with fortune, unfortunately.”

He speaks so much that you have a hard time saying anything. And in the time he took to explain every part of his trick, he washed your hair and put in some weird lotion. How industrious he is, expertly manipulating your hair while not stopping one second from talking… Although his claims to famous families were bogus, his claims to skill were visibly warranted.

“Now, let me talk about what I’m going to do. See, I’d like to keep your hair. It’s nice and long, and I’d likely trim it a little and find some ways to dress it so that you can have a good cut that will sway even the straightest of guys and the gayest of girls. « However… due to the whole situation, I have to give you a shorter cut. See, I know her type. She wouldn’t find anything but that a proper men’s cut. But don’t worry, I have here everything necessary to make you own that short cut.”

And as he said all of that, he used scissors to cut down most of the length, the locks falling one after another, in a shower of hair. Although you feel very hurt by this development, you can’t stay mad too long with him overwhelming your brain with words… Actually, is that a strategy he’s using ? As if he was-

“So the recipe for a short cut in the current trends is the curly undercut. Thankfully your hair is already curly, so I won’t have to change much, but there are some details that I’ll still have to fix. « But right now, I’m concentrating on the most important : the shape. Now that most of the mass has been dealt with, I’m shaping it so we can find the modern shape we’re trying to achieve. Now, you may think that looking like a mushroom is cringe… and to be honest, you’re right, but it’s only cringe if you of think it as much.”

God, he was so fast ! He drew the clippers, put a short guard, and tore through the sides of your hair, leaving only short fur ! And he even had the time to make the short part two-tone, with it being a smidge longer when connecting with the top of the hair ! He really is gifted ! But as he did that, what he told you about cringe kept on making rounds in your head. Although it feels almost wrong, like an incorrect leap of logic… you couldn’t find how. You could only find more ways in which it was correct.

If you’re the one to wear such a cringy haircut… should you be revising your stance on it ? It’s not as if you could get rid of it that easily… And looking at how much expertise Jonathan puts in cutting your hair… should you even ? Should you not accept that it’s your hair, and be… proud of it ? Of having your hair cut by such a gifted barber, who chose such a hot and trendy cut ? That thought feels weird… kind of… intoxicating. Like it’s opening a door that should not have been open, making you feel hotter than ever.

Because you decide that you are hot.

“And then, I just have to cut down the top to an acceptable volume ! See, it’s all about volume, about looking big and fluffy. It’s a pain to style – believe me – but it’s worth it, because it’s such a show off. « You know, you have a great nature of hair, you should absolutely not spit on that. Many people use chemicals to get a result resembling your hair, yet you have it naturally ! What better thing to show off !”

On that time, he switched to scissors and has cut the top of your air so it only kinda looks like a mushroom. Now, everything fits together… and it makes you feel so much hotter. It’s not cringe, you’re just hot, and you love it. But your brains latches on how high-effort this whole style is, and how great your hair is… Sure, you know that you check out a lot of guys who have great muscles, handsome faces, and generous crotches, but you never thought of that concept applied to you.

You never felt like you had anything much to be proud of, in your body, but seeing how he praises your hair, how many guys want to have hair just like yours… it makes something click for you. You do have something to be proud of. And it’s something others should get to enjoy. So why not use these high-effort techniques ? Why not put in work ? And what then would be wrong to get feedback for this work ?

It all feels so intoxicating… It feels so wrong… But it’s so good, so attractive, and it makes you so, so, sooo happy. So why stop ? Somehow the thought of annoying others by showing off just… doesn’t compute anymore. You’re happy showing others, they should be happy seeing what you’re good at.

“Now, please lie down in this machine. I know I said that your hair had a great nature and didn’t need to have any chemicals to get it like that… it doesn’t mean that it is well-taken care of.

« Thankfully, thanks to the product I put in your hair and the machine here, it should be looking good as new ! Don’t worry if it feels a bit weird at first, everyone gets surprised by it !”

As soon as you lie down in the machine, he activates it and goes out of the small room. You are left under the big… thing ? rectangle ? You can’t actually describe it much, it’s just weird. But it hums, and it feels quite warm… almost as if it was frying something. You don’t know, your head is just empty at the moment.

Suddenly, you feel your arms twitch. Then your torso. Then your core, and your legs, and the rest of you body. Thousands of small pricks invade your body as what was just a weird occurrence becomes something very uncomfortable. Your muscles are all twitching, all aching as if they were suffering from over-exertion. You don’t quite know why, and you would like to know why, but your head refuses to think of any answer, as it feels like it is absolutely frying inside the warmth of the machine.

You hear through all the noises of the machine the sound of tears, but don’t make much of it, as the rest of the sensations were invading you. Everything feels uncomfortable. You want to be out of this machine as fast as possible. But simply leaving the underside of the rectangle never occurres as a possibility in your embattled brain.

No, only bips from the machine, signaling it was turned off, broke your frying brain from utter nothingness.

You look around, seeing the tatters of your clothes on you. You think a little, when you realize that you should probably take them off. But then, the subsequent problem arose : how to cover your muscular body. Thankfully, when standing up, you see a collection of luxury boxers, fine jogging pants, a puka shells necklace and a black iPhone. You put them on, finding them to meet your standards, when suddenly, you see a mirror. Not the one in front of the barber chair, another.

Were you always blonde ? You can’t really remember, but… it’s the perfect position to take a selfie, isn’t it ? So you open the phone, enter your code, and move it up and down until you get the lighting perfect. Then, you take it.

Perfection.

Its very definition.

You look so hot, everyone’s gonna fall to their knees.

And when you leave the private room, opting for a heavy gait to show off your ripped muscles better, you notice your mom, who looks half-proud, half-horrified at you. But you don’t really care for her, what you really care about is all the people staring at you, checking you out. Even Jonathan Nasukawa, that ikemen, hyper-hot guy who cut your hair, looks at you proudly.

And as you rock your few remaining braincells to find somewhere you can show off better, you can only find one appropriate place to go.

“Yo, ma.” You hail your mother, who is very shocked at how you suddenly speak to her. “I have to go to the club, so let me leave the car before coming home.”

[hannieehaee]

maybe some extreme voyeurism with sub!seungkwan or hoshi cuz we can't find a lot of that on here 😭

18+ / mdi

content: sub!kwan, smut, afab reader, teasing, both exhibitionism and voyerism, penetrative sex, etc.

wc: 1058

a/n: i literally had no idea how to write voyerism so i tried writing both exhibitionism and voyerism sorry anon</3

masterlist

"c'mon, baby, why are you so shy? i thought this was what you wanted?", you taunted, legs flexing around the poor boy under you.

all that could be heard from him were cries and incoherent noises. if he was saying something, you were unsure as to what. but what was certain was the immense pleasure he was under.

you knew all his tells. his eyes were rolled back and his eyebrows furrowed, his fingers were digging impossibly deep on any skin available to him, occasionally slipping due to the clamminess of his hands, his hips were occasionally driving against yours, unwilling but unable to stop. he was completely gone, only having you in mind.

well, and maybe another thing.

as good as this must've felt for him, this was in actuality, a punishment.

after endless hours of whining at you all day, handsy as he whispered at you to ditch the guys and just head back to the hotel, you'd finally taken him up on his offer (not until making him wait all day long), jumping him in the elevator without warning.

you'd played your cards perfectly right, making sure to bring him upstairs only slightly before the guys headed back to the hotel in tandem. sharing a wall, you knew you had the perfect opportunity to get seungkwan a little more attention than he'd bargained for.

oh, and did you mention you kept the blinds open?

luxury hotels were funny, really. there really was no reason for the entire wall to be a window, yet it was, and it gave the perfect view for anyone else in the surrounding hotels to take a peak at the debauchery going on in your room.

you knew seungkwan to enjoy attention. every room he came into, he always drew everyone's eyes to him, whether it was on purpose or not. and this was something he took great thrill in. i mean, he was an idol after all.

so as much as that was punishment, you knew that deep down, he wanted to be heard. he wanted you to tease him and break him to the point where his pathetic whimpers would get back to his bandmates as they wound down from their day just one wall away. he wanted passerby's to see him getting manhandled by his pretty girlfriend.

but he was playing coy. it was all a game, but you'd break him.

"i asked you a question, angel. unless you want me to stop?", you asked, hips halting their movements.

he made some unintelligible noises again before finally shaking his head, mumbling stammered 'no's while his hips shyly attempted to entice you into moving again.

"no? so why are you being so quiet? how am i supposed to know i'm doing a good job at taking care of my kwannie?" you pouted at him, patronizing the red-faced boy who could barely breathe beneath you.

"it-it's good, i promise. i- i'll be louder, just please ..."

and that was all you needed to pull at all the stops.

squeezing around him, you readied yourself to spend all your available stamina on this boy as you began to bounce on him, immediately drawing whimpers from him.

you leaned down, hips never halting their movements, and ground against him while your hands dug harshly across his chest, leaving marks you knew he'd be teased about next time he walked into a dressing room with the boys.

redness overcame his face at the noises leaving him, a harmony of high-pitched cries accompanied by the endless squeaks of the mattress.

if you could hear the guys as they came into their room earlier, they probably couldn't escape the ruckus you were causing.

you knew all his erogenous zones and knew how to take advantage of them. your lips found his nipples soon enough, drawing high-pitched whines out of him when you bit and sucked at them, uncaring about the harshness with which you did it. he enjoyed it all the better.

there was no possible way for seungkwan to make any sensible sound anymore. it was all a mess of your name and a few curses here and there. none of it made sense, but it was all perfect. those sounds were all you needed to approach your own orgasm.

it didn't take long for the telltale signs of his orgasm to show, specially with his pleas becoming louder and somehow even more nonsensical. he cried out your name, voice breaking in the process as he pushed up against you with as much strength as he could muster.

the deflatedness in him afterwards was laughable, but it mostly instilled a sense of awe in you. that was your pretty boy, one that would soon be teased to hell and back by his friends.

leaning down on him, you pressed a kiss to his cheek, causing him to grunt at the sudden sensation.

you somehow managed to lean all the way over to the nightstand without getting off him, grabbing onto the phone you'd set up there earlier in the day. pressing the red button in the middle, you stopped the recording, giggling at the reaction it'd get out of seungkwan when you let him watch it later.

"think anyone saw us from outside?", you giggled, "bet they thought you looked so pretty."

"stop, you're going to make me hard again and i don't think i have anything left to give," he grumbled as he attempted to sit up, wincing when he felt you move around him.

"you like it. and i think you'll specially like how pretty you look in this video," you teased.

"yes, i do! which is why we should-"

"ya! seungkwan! is y/n even in there? shut the fuck up!"

that might've been vernon, you weren't sure, but it made you cackle nonetheless.

seungkwan's face was priceless as he got interrupted, groaning as he buried his head in your chest.

"fuck, not again."

"baby, i can feel you getting hard again. stop lying to yourself and let me make you cum again."

you partially wanted to push his limits, but another part of you also wanted to ensure your own orgasm. either way, it was a win for you.

he nodded wordlessly against your chest, whimpering when you tightened around him again.

you'd have to send vernon an apology note tomorrow.

[kitten4sannie]

𝐵𝑒𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝐿𝒶𝓉𝑒 𝒯𝒽𝒶𝓃 𝒩𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇

pairing: husband! san x fem! reader

genre: smut, fluff

summary: when san is forced to work overtime on your birthday, he wants to make up for it.

w.c: 4k

warnings: switch! san, pussydrunk san, switch! reader, praise, pet names, dirty talk, brief spit kink, begging, teasing, strength kink, oral (f receiving), squirting, unprotected sex, crying, creampie, breeding kink, brief cockwarming

a/n: this is a birthday present for my lovely best friend nora @cheollipop ilysmmm <3

song recs: get you by daniel caesar, yeah i said it by rihanna, aphrodite by rini

Masterlist

➽───────────────❥

When San’s boss set a fresh stack of files on the desk inside his already cramped cubicle, San found himself opening his mouth to protest, “Sir, it’s already half past 8…Do you think I could possibly work on this tomorrow? It’s my wife’s birthday today, and I wanted to–” 

“San, San, San,” his boss interrupted with an air of arrogance, setting his hands down on the salaryman’s tense shoulders. “We all have to make sacrifices in this company, you know? You’re not the only one. I’m sure your wife will understand when she sees the extra dollar signs in your paycheck at the end of the week.”

San sat still in his swivel chair, not letting the rage seep past his eyes, envisioning all the ways he could retaliate against the older man standing above him. His hand nudged his stapler. He glanced at his favorite coffee-stained mug that you gave him; it had various adorable cats painted on the porcelain. It’d probably feel immensely satisfying to smash it into the man’s head, but he would never give it up in such a way. Violence was never the answer, of course. Though he was extremely tempted to just rip his computer away from its cords and toss it at the man, he wouldn’t. He needed this job, and he needed to get this sudden influx of work done so that he could get home to you.  

Eventually, San blinked up at the man, replying like a robot that had just been rebooted, “On it, boss.” 

“That’s lovely to hear. That’s why you’re my favorite employee, Sannie boy,” the man chimed, smacking San’s shoulder in an overly aggressive manner. 

Once San gave his boss a tight-lipped smile and a double thumbs up that turned into middle fingers as soon as the man turned his back, he pulled his phone out to dial your number. “Baby?” he mumbled out in an extremely soft voice as soon as you picked up. 

“Hey, hun,” you replied excitedly, sliding your phone into the space between your shoulder and your neck so that you could put your cake into the fridge, sticking a candle into it. “Are you on your way home? I picked up a red velvet cake for us to share. It’s got this really fancy buttercream and these little gold flakes sprinkled all over it. I asked the guy and it’s real 24k gold! Isn’t that cool?” Noticing the overwhelming silence in the receiver, you closed the fridge and pressed your back to it. “San, are you okay?”

Opening one of the files and staring down at the endless strings of text informing him of sales percentages and various investments from clientele, San sighed, “I have to work overtime, baby. That old bastard isn’t letting me leave until I get all this shit done. I’m…” Frustrated at his lack of control over the situation, he raked his fingers through his gelled-up hair, not even caring that some of the raven strands began to stick out. “I’m so sorry, baby. I’m really, really sorry…” 

“San, it’s okay. It’s okay, love,” you said with a warmth that would hopefully give him some reassurance, hearing him let out a small sigh into your ear. “It’ll still be my birthday when you get back, okay? So just take a deep breath, get the work done, and come home to me.”

San opened a new document up on his computer to get started, slowly drawing air into his lungs and letting it out, smoothing his hair out a bit. He smooshed his cheek against his phone, allowing you to tell he was pouting when he answered as gently as possible, “I love you so much, baby. I promise I’ll be home as soon as I can to tell you in person.”

Feeling a smile tug at your lips, you idly rolled your wedding ring around on your finger, grateful to have such a sweet angel of a man as your life partner. “I love you too, darling. I’ll see you soon.” Pushing your lips together, you lowered your phone to your mouth to add, “Mwah.”

“Mwah,” San returned instantaneously, a similar smile forming on his face, much more relaxed than he was a few minutes ago. Once you exchanged goodbyes, he gave his knuckles a good crack and admired his silver wedding band for a few seconds before getting to work.

-

It was a little past 11 when San finally pushed past the front door and slid out of his work shoes, meeting your gaze from across your shared apartment, seeing you sitting at the kitchen table by yourself with the cake positioned in front of you and a small lighter laying on the table. “Baby,” he let out in a sigh of relief, dropping his suitcase onto the floor and walking in your direction to pull you up from the seat into one of his famous tight bearhugs, enveloping you in his warm, inviting scent. “Happy birthday. I love you.” 

“Mm, thank you, love. I love you too.” Just as you were about to ask him about work, he clutched the back of your head and pressed his lips against yours to give you a kiss, one that was gentle at first, but grew more firm in the next passing seconds. Despite missing the taste of his lips when he pulled away, you caressed his cheeks, rubbing your thumbs over his sharp jaw, feeling the scruffiness of the facial hair that was growing in. “How was work? Shitty?”

“Shitty,” he echoed, just as he pressed his mouth to your own jaw, leaving kisses along it, as well as your cheeks, your nose, your neck, and basically anywhere he could feel your warm skin against him. “But I’m home now, so I couldn’t be happier.” San brought his mouth to your forehead to give it a long kiss, running his fingers through your hair. “Do you want to light the candle or should I, baby?” 

“You do it for me,” you said, squeezing his shoulders a bit, before sitting back down in the chair, watching as San sat in the one adjacent to you. 

When you handed him the lighter, San brought it to the candle sitting inside the personal sized cake and lit the wick, admiring the way the flame illuminated your pretty face. “You’re so beautiful…” he sighed out, leaning his head against the palm of his hand, continuing to admire you, feeling as though he might begin to melt like the candle below. “My beautiful baby.” 

“Stoppp,” you whined softly, heat rising to your cheeks, still barely able to handle the way San looked at you after all these years — with such intensity visible inside his brown eyes that you wholeheartedly believed him when he said that he wanted to give you the entire world. You were his muse, after all. His angel from above. His everything.

“Never.” San gave you a gentle smile as he took your hand in his and brought it to his lips to kiss the top of your hand, singing a soft rendition of ‘Happy Birthday’ in his silky smooth voice, bringing a shy smile to your own face. Once he was done, he pressed more kisses into your skin, running his thumb over your knuckles as you gazed back at him. “Make a wish, love.”

“Why make a wish when I have everything I want now?” you asked, watching as he played with the wedding ring on your finger, the candle below beginning to melt into the frosting. 

San let out a sigh, pressing his warm cheek to your open palm, looking at you like he did years ago when you had first met, unbearably love-struck, lips parted and twinkling eyes full of devotion for his beloved. “Oh, my sweet girl,” he purred, guiding your hand downwards to press a kiss onto the pad of your thumb and following your intense gaze to his mouth. “But, right now, in this moment, isn’t there something you desire?” 

A familiar feeling of warmth flooded your core, thoughts of San taking care of you in ways only he was capable of suddenly urged you to blow the candle out. You knew what you needed. Of course, San was a devoted husband in every sense of the word, but in the bedroom, he brought that to a staggering degree, always willing to please you in every way he could, loving when you used him for your own pleasure, just as much as he loved giving it to you without any restraints. 

“What did you wish for, love?” San inquired, sticking one finger into the cake to scoop up some frosting and holding it up to your mouth, a playful smile tugging at his lips. 

You accepted his finger inside and sucked the sweet cream off of it, emitting a small ‘mmm.’ “I want you on your knees, Sannie. I want you to please me.” 

“Anything for you, my love.” San lowered himself onto the ground before you and began to loosen his tie until he could take it off, feeling a pleasurable heaviness envelop his body now that he was on his knees for his one and only. There was no place he’d rather be. After taking in a deep breath to steady his heartbeat, San began to slide his hands up one of your legs, lifting it up to leave a trail of kisses up to your thigh, stopping now and then to admire your soft skin and the intense gaze you were giving him. “I promise I’ll make you feel so good, my love. I’ll give you everything I have…” he murmured in between kisses, slowly reaching up underneath your dress to hook his fingers into your panties. 

“You promise?” you teased in a soft voice, lowering your other foot down to press into his crotch, the pad of it rubbing along his work pants, feeling the solid outline of his cock pressing against it. 

“I promise, baby,” he replied, his lips forming his signature pout, unconsciously spreading his knees apart, about to pull your panties from your hips when you pushed your foot down a bit harder, earning a small gasp from him, his fingers resting against your waist instead of continuing his quest to strip you. 

Biting into your lower lip, you relieved the pressure you had on him, slowly standing up out of the chair and just barely lifting up the front of your dress to give him an upskirt view. “Use your teeth.” 

“Yes, angel. Whatever you want, I can do…” San swallowed down some of the saliva that persistently tried to overflow and drip down his chin, gingerly kneading his hands into your soft thighs, pressing his cheek to it, looking up at your clothed pussy, his cock already throbbing away inside his pants. He moved his head up underneath your dress and got the lip of your panties in between his teeth and slowly pulled it downwards, audibly groaning as he witnessed a string of arousal drip from your heat and down your inner thigh.

Watching him with bated breath, you resisted the urge to grab the back of his head and fuck his face, desperately wanting to hear him whine and beg for you to come inside his mouth. “You can lick it up, Sannie. Go ahead…”

Your husband’s eyes practically twinkled with gratitude, choosing to pull your panties down the rest of the way and off of you, releasing them from his teeth and holding them against his crotch, rubbing them against his cock as he dragged his tongue up your inner thigh, catching your arousal on his tongue. “Fuck, baby, you taste so good. Let me eat your pretty little pussy, angel. Please, I need it.” 

“I think you can handle waiting a little longer, don’t you think, Sannie?” you mused teasingly, reaching down to press your pointer finger up into his chin, chuckling at the soft gasp that escaped his glistening lips. He was always like putty in your hands. Always ready to worship at your feet if you simply said the words. While that left you breathless, what you really relished was when you pushed him so far that he simply couldn’t hold himself back anymore and gave you his all, even if that meant passing out from pure exhaustion afterwards. 

“Yes, my love, I can wait. I can wait for you.” Your husband rested his hands down on his upper thighs, his teeth instantly digging into his lip as you took a step closer, your dripping pussy directly in front of his face. 

Holding your dress up with one hand, you used the other to spread your pussy apart, your slick dripping down your inner thighs, making sure to push your fingers together and rub them in an up and down motion, making small wet sounds with your movements. “You want your wife’s pretty pussy in your mouth, don’t you, Sannie? You want to taste me on your tongue? Lap my cum up until you’re drowning in it? Is that what you want?”

San felt like he was going to lose his mind, gripping his work pants so tightly, he feared he might tear into them, unless his cock burst out of them first from how painfully hard he was. “Please, baby. I need you so fucking bad,” he choked out, tears stinging the corners of his coffee-colored eyes, resisting the urge to smash his face in between your legs when you grabbed him by the hair and angled his head back, whimpering softly at the grip you had on him. He wanted to be good for you. He had to be good, but he needed you on his tongue like he needed oxygen. 

Once San uttered one last desperate ‘please’ in such a soft, tiny voice, you finally gave in, holding your dress up slightly with both hands and spreading your legs a bit more for him, feeling your core tighten and pulse at the sight of your husband’s teary eyes. If you were an angel, then he was heaven itself, and he probably saw you the exact same way. “You’ve been a good boy, Sannie, so come and get it.” 

Like a puppy hearing the dinner bell, San was on you, pushing his head up underneath your dress, his mouth connected to your cunt, tongue lapping at your wet folds like it was his one and only mission, hands kneading into your thighs out of habit. “Thank you, my angel. Thank you, thank you, thank you,” he moaned against your heat, slurping your arousal into his mouth and swallowing it down like you were an oasis and he was a weary traveler in search of a drink. He licked, and licked, and licked, not even thinking, before he reached behind you with his outstretched arms to pull the chair closer, guiding your hips downwards forcefully enough so that you had to sit down on the cushion below. 

“S-Sannie,” you gasped, surprised by his sudden display of strength, your brain going a bit fuzzy as he shoved your thighs apart, then held them up and out of his way so that he could bury his face deeper in between them. “You want it bad, don’t you?” 

San took a second to give you a dimpled smile, nuzzling your slippery inner thigh with his cheek, pressing a small, lingering kiss to your warm skin. “So bad, baby. You drive me fucking crazy.” His tongue was hot and wet against your cunt, practically melting against your folds, taking long, deliberate swipes up to your clit, before zoning in on it and sucking on it with a fervor that sent waves of pleasure through your lower half.

Unable to hold your voice back, you began emitting breathy, stunted moans, involuntarily bucking up into his mouth the more he licked and sucked at your clit, feeling your cheeks burn more and more the longer he gazed into your eyes. Though you swore you were used to the intense eye contact that San preferred to have with you, he still always managed to make you feel shy. 

San took another quick breather to comment breathlessly, “You’re so beautiful, sweetheart. So sweet for me. So perfect.” Taking in your pretty flushed face and glazed-over eyes, he squeezed your thighs in between his thick fingers. “Come here, baby.” He pushed your thighs farther apart and leaned upwards, taking your chin in his grasp and pulling you into a much-needed kiss. Once you let him into your mouth to explore it with his arousal-coated tongue, San lowered his hand from your chin the eagerly rub your pulsing clit around in quick, deliberate circles with his thumb, automatically bringing two digits from his other hand to your cunt, your greedy hole sucking them up to his knuckles, not hesitating to piston them in and out of you. Your muffled moans and whines were like an angelic hymn that made him want to build you a shrine and worship you day and night on his aching knees like he was doing now. Once your legs hooked around his small waist, he quickened the pace of his digits, your wetness now so palpable it was beginning to spill out of you and down his veiny forearm, emitting a knowing ‘mm-hmm’, breaking the kiss as soon as you began to tighten up around him. “Angel’s gonna come for Sannie, huh?”

“Uh-huh, gonna come, Sannie,” you breathed out, licking at your lips and tasting the remnants of yourself on your tongue, swearing you were about to come instantly at the visual of your husband quickly lowering himself back down to your cunt to slurp at it, licking near the outline of his thrusting fingers and back up to your puffy clit, eyeing it longingly, before pursing his lips and spitting your arousal back onto it, only to attach back on it like a magnet. 

As soon as he curled his fingers up and rubbed at your g-spot, hitting it in a way that had you fighting the urge to let your eyes roll all the way back into your skull, San spoke up, “That’s it right there, huh, baby? Right there?” As soon as you cried out for him, your throat hurting from how dry it was, San finger-fucked you into a state of pure ecstasy, not stopping until your arousal began to spray out of you and into his open mouth, coating his tongue. “Oh my god, look at you, baby. You’re squirting for me. You’re such a good girl.” He lowered his mouth onto your twitching cunt, not able to prevent a bit of drool from dripping past his swollen lips, lapping up the rest of your squirt with a few slow, lingering licks.

Once you had enough time to gather your bearings and catch your breath, San sat up and leaned in close to you, asking huskily, “Is there anything else my princess desires?”

“Your cock, Sannie. Give me your cock,” you answered instantly, not even caring about how desperate you sounded. You were desperate, and you knew San was too, given that he hadn’t touched himself a single time. 

Just as quickly as you had answered him, San was already lifting you up into his arms and laying you down onto the kitchen table, spreading your legs apart and fumbling with his leather belt to take it off. Once it hit the floor with a thud, San pulled his aching cock out and slapped it down onto your pussy, watching some slick leak out. "Are you ready? Is my princess going to take all of my cock in this pretty little pussy?"

You nodded as quickly as you could, ready to drool over the thought of finally being filled by him, knowing you’d probably come as soon as he did. 

San slowly moved his hips forward and back, sliding his thick length across your needy cunt, the slick sounds of your arousal making him groan. "Let me hear you say it, pretty girl. Tell Sannie how bad you want it." 

"I need it so bad, so, so bad.” Just as San’s cockhead began to stretch out your hole, your plush walls clenching around him, he pulled out, leaving you empty and ready to beg on your knees just like he had done earlier. “I need your cock, Sannie, please. I want to be full just for you. Please, please, let me have it. I’ll be such a good girl for you, I promise!”

"God, you’re so cute when you’re begging for me, princess," San sighed longingly, caressing and rubbing your thighs with his thumbs, burning the image of your teary-eyed gaze into his memory. “But, don’t worry, I’m here. I’m going to fill you up, okay?” Smiling at the sight of your furious nods, he pushed back inside of you, inch by inch, making you let out a long, almost relieved moan, not stopping until your lower halves were pressed together. 

Now that he was being squeezed by your tightness, San felt something switch on inside his brain, no longer concerned with teasing you, but instead overwhelmed by the desperate need to fuck you until you were a crying, cum-filled mess for him, and him alone. 

Loud, wet slapping sounds began to echo throughout the kitchen, along with the thud, thud, thud of the kitchen table being rocked back and forth into the tile flooring below. “You’re so good for me, baby, so good,” San praised into your ear, his warm body flush against yours, slamming his hips into yours, appreciating the way you had your legs hooked around his small waist, locking him in place. 

“Sannie,” you cried out, unable to stop pulsing around your husband’s thick length, feeling like you would go crazy from the way it was pounding into you. You reached your hands out, smiling when he immediately laced his fingers with yours, holding your hands down against the cool surface of the table. “I’m gonna come. It’s spilling out.” 

“I’m going to come too, my love. Let’s come together,” he encouraged, squeezing your fingers against his own, slowing his pace down and fucking you in a more deliberate way, his thrusts slow and deep, hitting your sweet spot every time. Just as you began to mewl and babble from the overwhelming pleasure, San pressed his lips onto yours, swallowing your moans just as you swallowed his choked ones. It felt so good, he didn’t even realize when he started to cry, his hot tears dripping down his cheeks and landing onto your heated face. “I’m going to fill you up and make you a mommy, sweetheart. Make you so full of my love. So, so full for me.” 

“Yes, please, Sannie, fill me up.” Just as your body shook and trembled, your cum pouring out of you and coating your joined flesh, San’s hot load came pouring into you, filling you up to the brim like always. 

“Here it comes, angel. Just for you. I love you so much,” he choked out, his voice raw and throaty from how hard he was cumming, blinking a few more tears away to focus on your pretty face, slowly going soft, but staying inside you, keeping you full of his warmth and love. 

“I love you too, Sannie. So much,” you replied wholeheartedly, wiping one of his tears away as you brought him into another kiss, this one as gentle and sweet as the love he always gave you. 

Slowly breaking the kiss, he pressed one onto your forehead, bringing you into a long hug, not planning on letting you go. “Happy Birthday, baby.”

➽───────────────❥

Apply for the taglist here ⇢ ♡

© kitten4sannie, 2023.

[allisonlol]

HII !! could you do dazai, chuuya and fyodor with a s/o that forgot pretty much everything from their past/forgets a lot in the present due to trauma? if possible male reader, and if not gn works aswell! thank you :))

a/n: felt this req hard LOL

warnings: memory loss, past trauma (not elaborated on)

(Dazai, Chuuya, Fyodor) With a S/O with Memory Loss From Trauma

Dazai

i feel like dazai can relate in some ways because he too has immense trauma but instead of forgetting it, he remembers it too well

therefore in a way he's grateful that ur brain is blocking those memories so u don't have to remember the pain

dazai had noticed your forgetful behavior the second he met you, and had already categorized it as due to trauma in your past

honestly finds your forgetfulness adorable but it also enrages him bc someone hurt you enough to cause it

simply does not comment on any of this though. if you mention that you forgot something that happened literally yesterday he'll simply smile at you (is that a hint of sadness in his expression?) and reassure u that it's okay

will text u updates throughout the day to make sure u aren't forgetting anything

pictures pictures pictures!!!! literally photographs everything u guys do together so you can always look back to remember :)

but unbeknownst to you, dazai will secretly do some deep digging into your past to find out exactly what happened and who to get revenge on <3

^trust me when i say they will deeply regret everything they had ever done to you

Chuuya

it's canon that chuuya can't remember what... the first 7 years of his life? so he totally understands

he won't question u at all abt the reasonings for your memory loss unless u wanted to talk abt it

does get worried abt your current forgetfulness though. with a job as strenuous as being in the mafia, having a good memory is important

^if any of the higher ups knew you weren't "sufficient enough" in that department, despite your other strengths, you would be disposed of

this added stress doesn't help you at all but chuuya does his best to keep you safe

^having a boyfriend who is also your executive is very useful in this aspect

leaves little notes and reminders on your desk so u won't forget anything important

hell, chuuya will even fill out reports for you if u were having trouble remembering the events that took place

i feel like he would also pay very close attention to everything u guys do together so, if you forgot, he would be able to tell you all about it

Fyodor

another one who categorized your memory loss as due to trauma the second he met you

unlike the others tho, he will question u about it

if you’re honest with him & say that it’s due to traumatic events, he’ll ask if you want him to do anything about it for you (in other words, find and eliminate the ones who caused it 😊)

^if you say no to this, he’ll nod and agree with u but secretly hunt them down on his own

however if you lie to fyodor and say that you’re just forgetful (not due to trauma) he’ll frown & keep asking probing questions until he gets the truth out of u

has he heard of privacy? like damn

^its out of love tho. not saying it’s right but fyodor shows his care by learning as much abt u as possible. he needs to know everything, good or bad

finds your current forgetfulness adorable, albeit irritating at times (remember who we’re talking abt here)

if you forgot an event or important piece of information he will get slightly annoyed with you & might say some insensitive things 😬

^tho once he sees that he’s upset you, fyodor will usually sigh and apologize

recommends u keep a journal for reminders, however he also logs all events that u do alone or together so you won’t forget in the future

taglist: @deadmitochondria @miycutie @scul-pted @exorcisedstraydog @chuuyasboots @shy-socially-awkward-intovert @beandaifuku @stygianoir @sonder-paradise @dreaming-of-ambedo @nervousyetconfidentway @beautiful-is-boring @irethepotato @serenareiss @thescrunkly @ashthemadwriter @mrsdostoevsky @creamygojo @disa-ster

[frvnkcastles]

I'd love something where the reader used to work at The Beef from the bear show, bur had to move to NYC and met Frank, she ends up feeding him the best Beef this side of the east coast and he instantly falls in love, then she makes him the Family Spaghetti and he's like "I wanna fuckin marry her" internally? Fluff?

But the reader is very much cooking out of stress as that's how she feels she can i guess win people over to stick around?

(I was the cunt in school on wedges day where I'd shout every one in my group wedges since otherwise I think they wouldn't stick around me,I wasn't smart enough for them but I paid for food.

I still do this with my baking business)

HONEY, DON’T YOU LEAVE ➵ F. CASTLE

Summary: You and Frank bond over your cooking, but you can’t shake the feeling that that’s all he wants from you.

Warnings: Hurt/comfort, language, feminine nicknames

Word count: 2k

Author’s note: Gahhhhh, I am so annoyed that I’m being so slow with requests but college is back in motion and it has NOT been a soft landing, I have been immediately flooded with things to do. On top of that I’ve just been really tired and unmotivated, but I’m trying my best to write at least a little every day! Anon, thank you so much for your patience. I don’t really do crossovers so it’s never specified where the reader worked before, but I hope you like it anyway! I’m sending you so much love <3

Frank fell in love with you quicker than he cared to admit. He had closed himself off from the possibility of finding someone new, not really interested in making connections of any kind, but you came and conquered his heart with immense ease.

It was complete luck, too. It wasn’t unusual for him to pay a visit to a diner for some food and coffee, but you definitely weren’t supposed to be there. You had a history of working in fairly successful restaurants, yet when you had moved to New York, you faced great difficulty with landing a job that you actually wanted. The places you thought were right on your level turned you down, but you needed money for rent, so you lowered your standards, and wound up working for a diner — the same one Frank stumbled into that night.

It had been mostly uneventful and quiet, and you were left alone with the responsibility of closing. There were no other customers except Frank, but he didn’t seem that open to conversation, so you stayed stationed behind the cash register.

And then, two armed men burst in, their faces concealed with ski masks as they held you at gunpoint. With shaky hands, you began to empty the register, but you didn’t have the time to hand over all the money when one of the guys was knocked out to the ground. You flinched, watching in shock and fear how your only customer beat up the other guy and wrangled the gun out of his hands only to whip him in the face with it. You didn’t know what to do, but it seemed he didn’t need your help — within a minute, both armed men were rushing out of the diner with their tails between their legs.

Stunned speechless, you stared at the tall, rugged man who remained. He caught his breath and then turned to you, his sharp features making you swallow. ”You okay, ma’am?” he grunted, his deep voice incredibly enchanting, and you managed a nod. He was about to turn and return to his seat but you found your voice and spoke up.

”Thank you. Let me make it up to you”, you uttered out, making him halt but the look he gave you was almost amused.

”You don’t owe me anythin’, ma’am”, he replied casually, but you weren’t budging.

”Well, I kinda do. Anyway, the food here is… not that great, so maybe you could let me cook for you? Um, we’re closed tomorrow so there’d be no one else here”, you explained, the words coming out of your mouth before your brain fully processed what you were promising him. You were really yearning to cook again, something other than eggs and bacon, and he had definitely earned it.

He eyed you up and down, weighing his options for a second before reluctantly nodding. ”Aight. If you insist”, he agreed, sparking a smile on your face as you nodded to confirm that you weren’t having it any other way. You told him what time to arrive, and as he returned to finish his sandwich, you couldn’t help but feel giddy.

The next day, you got to the diner early and started working on what you hoped would be a meal to remember. You were mostly excited, and at least cooking kept you busy, which meant you didn’t have the time to worry about being alone with the man. Although he had saved your life, it was hard not to be intimidated by him.

As soon as he arrived at the diner, though, he quickly proved to you that there was nothing to fear. He called you ma’am right up until you told him your name and insisted that there was no need to be formal, and when he introduced himself, he did it in a way that was undeniably charming — and polite. You had seen him around the diner enough to know that he wasn’t a chatty person, but as you brought out the food, he attempted to get to know you better and it made your heart race.

You maintained small-talk, but you couldn’t deny you were nervous to find out what he thought of the food. Once he dug in, though, his eyes immediately widened.

”Wow”, Frank blurted out, a little taken aback by the sheer deliciousness. ”Sweetheart, this is amazin’. Where’d you learn how to cook like this?” he inquired, far too curious to not ask.

With heat on your face, you smiled. ”Uh, well, cooking classes mostly. I used to work at a restaurant. Hopefully I will again some day soon. And a lot of practice at home, of course”, you explained, and nodding along your story, Frank divided his attention between the heavenly food and your equally enthralling voice.

”I bet you will. Your talents are wasted in this place”, he commented, making you chuckle softly.

He didn’t stop praising you throughout the meal, but he also asked follow-up questions, keen to learn everything about you. In return, he vaguely opened up about himself, though you could tell he was holding back a little.

That said, the time you spent in that diner over that meal was enough for him to get hooked on you. He kept stopping by for weeks until he finally got the nerve to ask you on a date, suggesting that you’d make dinner together. It hadn’t taken you long to start falling for him, either, so it was easy to agree to what you didn’t realize would bloom into a serious relationship.

Truthfully, you sort of skipped the casual phase. Frank could be an intense man when it came to relationships, even if he hadn’t really thought he would find himself in one. Nevertheless, he felt strongly about you early on, and your first date developed into constantly spending time at each other’s places and sharing a bed on most nights. He tried his best to impress you with his cooking, and while it certainly wasn’t awful, there was a lot you could teach him — and he received the help willingly, eager to listen to you and learn more about your number one passion.

The night that you cooked the spaghetti recipe that your family had followed for years, he was done for.

Maybe if he hadn’t been so captivated by you, and the food, he would have noticed the tension in your shoulders and the constant chewing on your bottom lip. You were quickly falling back into the bad habit of weighing your own worth based on your cooking, convinced that the moment you’d stop making all these elaborate meals for Frank, he would walk out on you. Your way with food was undoubtedly a perk of dating you, and right now, you were struggling to think of any other ones.

”I hope you like it”, you smiled nervously as you handed over the plate of spaghetti to Frank. He gave you an affectionate look and thanked you before giving the food a go, and in an instant, his heart soared.

The food was amazing, but so were you. You had so much talent in you, and when Frank looked up from the plate and met your gaze, he felt so much love in his heart. He admired you and everything you did, finding you so utterly beautiful and amazing and… God, he wanted to marry you.

He had to fight the urge to just announce it there and then, giving you a small smile. ”I’m speechless, sweetheart. You outdo yourself every time. I’m one lucky asshole”, he declared proudly, making you smile but you couldn’t hide the anxiety in your eyes. Would he consider himself lucky if you didn’t cook for him tomorrow?

He noticed the hesitation on your face, though. ”Hey, darlin’. Somethin’ wrong?” he asked with worry evident in his voice, and you rushed to wave it off.

”I’m okay. I’m glad you like it, baby”, you promised, reaching across the table to squeeze his hand.

Only a week later, the issue resurfaced. You came down with the flu and you were rendered useless for a couple of days, giving you a great deal of stress. Frank was all over you, providing you with medication as well as something to drink and eat — and he was not letting you do a thing by yourself. You were his patient to care for and any attempt to get up from the couch was shot down within seconds.

Once his attention faltered from you and he disappeared in the bedroom to find you a cozy sweater, you made your way to the kitchen. Sniffling and aching all over, you began taking out pots and ingredients, and the noise immediately alerted Frank.

”Nah, nah, sweetheart, what’d I tell ya? You ain’t doin’ a thing except rest tonight. You’re sick and you need to just lay down, aight?” he reminded with a firm tone, his hands coming to cover yours in an attempt to stop you.

Reluctantly, you admitted defeat but it didn’t take long for the frustrated, anxious tears to fill your eyes. Frank’s stern expression fell and he tilted his head down at you, concern taking over.

”Hey, hey, hey. I know it sucks but you need to listen to your body right now”, he sighed, trying to understand what was making you cry. You covered your face with one hand as the tears streamed down your cheeks, and with his heart breaking, Frank hauled you into his arms, shushing you softly while wrapping you in a tight embrace.

”I just don’t want you to leave me”, you admitted faintly, and right away, Frank’s eyebrows knitted together and he pulled back to give you a confused look.

”Sweetheart, I ain’t goin’ anywhere. Why would you say that?” he frowned, genuinely surprised by your confession.

With a sniffle, you shrugged. ”You love my cooking. And I guess it’s the main reason you’re with me. So, if I stop cooking… why would you stay?” you explained the logic that you had built inside your own head. But Frank didn’t agree with you, and the fond chuckle that he huffed at you was enough to imply as much.

”Baby, I do love your cooking, but it definitely ain’t the main reason I’m with you. I love you, hear me? I’m with you ’cause you’re so fuckin’ kind and understanding and real supportive. And you make me so goddamn happy. I’d still be just as in love if you stopped cooking for good, yeah? It’s great but it ain’t why I adore you so much”, he countered while lifting one hand up to your jaw and tipping it so you could meet his eye. He looked completely serious, and you really wanted to believe him.

”You mean that?” you asked carefully, and he wasted no time in nodding to confirm.

”I fuckin’ mean it. I, uh… I kinda wanna spend the rest of my life with ya”, he cleared his throat, and astonished to hear that, your eyes flew wide open and a wide smile curled your lips up high.

”Frankie… I want that, too”, you breathed out, earning a tender look from him. He leaned down to kiss your forehead, the soft feeling of his lips making your heart do somersaults.

”Hey, I’mma take over the cookin’ responsibilities this week. You just get cozy on the couch and I’ll whip somethin’ up for us, yeah?” he decided, and you shot him a teasing grin.

”Sure you can handle it?” you wondered, taunting him, and he responded with a mixture of a laugh and a scoff.

”My girl’s a comedian now, huh? Get outta here”, he grumbled, gently patting your ass to encourage you towards the couch.

He may not have been as good of a cook as you were, but he made an effort and stayed true to his promise, not letting you anywhere the kitchen until you were feeling much better. And even then, he insisted on helping or occasionally being in charge, just to show you that you were a team and you didn’t owe him anything.

[passionwillow]

Rocker in an age gap relationship would include..

I was listening to Close To You by Gracie Abrams and I can’t stop thinking of Rocker. Enjoy!

Warnings: Mentions of smut!

- Constant communication. Rocker would always make sure you’re comfortable in this relationship with him. With there being a gap in age, the way he looks at things and perceives them might be different from his partner. He always checks in on your thoughts. “How do you feel about this?” “Do you think of it differently?” “What are your concerns?”

- He never ever wants it to seem like he’s talking down to you. Yes, he’s older, he’s experienced more, but your experiences and knowledge matter to him. Immensely. He wants you to teach him things he doesn’t know, educate him on topics that matter to you. Just because he’s older doesn’t mean he knows everything.

- He acknowledges that your goals in life may be different from his. But he’d be your biggest cheerleader! Whatever it is you’re trying to accomplish, he’s right there helping you or cheering you on.

- He’s aware there may be a power imbalance and tries hard to level it. He’s older, the “man” of the house, but he would love to see you be independent and take care of yourself, make decisions and stick to them. But if giving him the control and letting lead the way is what you want, by all means he will. You trusting him with that responsibility would mean a lot.

- Would get turned on by you calling him out and setting him straight on things. Not so much arguing, but if you guys are disagreeing and you call him out on his bullshit, he’s falling more in love. His job makes him a little cocky (which is understandable really). You standing there with your hands on your hips, eyes narrowed as you correct him.. He melts.

- Having sex is a sacred thing to him. Sure, hookups happen, and he’s had his share. But with someone he’s so emotionally involved with, he’s careful. Especially because you’re younger.

- If you’re a little inexperienced or shy, he’s a softy. Showering you in praise and kissed, guiding and talking you through the unfamiliar things. You need to break, pause, stop, just say the word.

- If/once you’re experienced, he’s perfectly content to lay back and let you take the lead if that’s what you want. If you love being a pillow princess, he is thrilled and taking care of you every step of the way.

- Rocker is one of those guys that’s so soft with their partner and a dick with others. Especially if you’re younger, he feels obligated to show you how a man should treat a woman. And boy, is he treating you like a princess.

[sigcorp]

bg3 characters as retail managers in my boyfriend's* educated opinion

(*he refuses to post this so i'm doing it for him)

wyll - i think wyll would be a really chill manager, he'd let you goof off sometimes But after a while he'd still make you go do something productive. probably would have some random assignment like dusting the fucking lights or something if there's nothing to do but he's not too strict.

would get mad at a customer once and you'd be thankful you never have faced his fury (he'd never get that mean with you though)

basically the "haha yeah okay okay guys seriously go zone we can't all be standing here you're gonna get me in trouble" type of manager

lae'zel - insane workaholic. you'd dread working with her and she'd make your shift exhausting, but you also can't deny the place would go to shit without her because she's so on top of things.

you'd feel immense joy having her come up for a stupid item return that is against policy because she would absolutely never bend for it no matter how bitchy the customer got. not because she cares about you really but she'd be damned to go against policy for literally anything

karlach - literally so chill that you forget she's a manager until she has to call you to her office which freaks you out because you know you've been extremely lax around her and you forgot she actually has to do shit about that but it's actually just to give you your next raise. you love her and she loves you

shadowheart - when you first work with her you find her insanely intimidating and a little bitchy but after a few shifts you kind of get Why she's like that. wouldn't be a favorite manager but you'd probably sympathize with why she buys wine after her shift every night. if you're lucky enough to hang with her out of work you get special privileges (as in she doesn't scold you for standing still for 3 minutes like she does the others)

gale - nice, but unlike wyll who has a balance between pleasant chats and doing work, gale will literally stand there and accidentally force you to actually stop focusing on what you're working on to have a conversation with him. that can be a good thing, but then you're behind and another manager gets grumpy about it. chill guy but you never actually see him do much for his job. how did he even get to this position???

astarion - call HR.

halsin - dude knows how to run a place. he schedules everyone perfectly and there's always a feeling of harmony as you work together to get projects done. he's friendly but focused. he doesn't care if you don't finish your projects he assigns you so long as you were trying your best, but he would be a little disappointed if it happened too often

i feel like he'd definitely be the manager who actually gives the customer whatever they want even if you said you couldn't though 💀 he wouldn't be mad at you for saying no but he'd make you look like a jackass to the customer

minthara - i actually don't know her so idk but from what i gather i would say also call HR

withers - he's been with this company so long that he knows where literally everything is and every single specific policy and how to solve everything. he doesn't talk much and he doesn't really tell you what to do, he expects you to figure it out and leave him alone unless you need to ask where the most obscure item of all time is to help a customer. genuine lifesaver in those circumstances though

jaheira - the mom manager. checks on you when she notices you're clearly not feeling well. will cover any shift without complaints. you feel safe with her. she handles any difficult task because she doesn't feel like explaining to you how to do it, which is nice but as soon as you have no choice but to do it on your own you don't know how

[bambi-kinos]

Would you like to answer a few questions about you opinions about Paul. Peoples read him very different and of course as a human he too has good and bad sides. What are the things that stands out to you the most: pros and cons besides being icon and music genius. Not from beatle historians or anyone else's opinions just your personal views? In the Beatles, pre and post Beatles. How do you view him today vs from decades ago? (Don't know how long you've been a fan) do you think he's mostly happy or sad in private. I'm asking you this because to me you seem like the one on line blogger that seem to "get him". Also would you say that you are attracted to him? Have you seen him live? What are you favourite songs by him both as a Beatle and beyond. I'm a super-Paul-stan fan and proud of it and nothing you say can change my own opinions of Paul but because nobody is perfect. Ok I'll let you go now.

Had to think about this one for a couple of weeks.

My opinion about Paul is that most of positive and negative feelings towards him are earned. He deserves the reverence but sometimes people take it too far like when his stepsister Ruth called him a god with feet of clay or whatever lmao. That kind of behavior is incredibly cringe and its very embarrassing that people can talk that way about Paul. But I think that he's busted his ass for over 60 years so truthfully he's earned the accolades and praise that he gets. There are some people that get really pissy and mad that he's revered so much and the only thing that we can say to them is "get a fucking life." Paul McCartney has been working his shapely ass off for decades to get where he is and is still slamming out music at in his fucking 80s. When you accomplish half as much as he has than you can think about whining that he's too revered and too worshipped.

On the other hand Paul has done a good job of earning all the negative emotions directed at him. He's egotistical and isn't graceful about wearing that praise. He tries to pretend he doesn't care but it's so transparent and see through that it's actively irritating, I think it's this more than anything that can get people to bitch. There is a phony veneer to Paul where he's clearly doing a bit of some sort and it's aggravating because it's not entirely clear what the bit actually is. Like all the posts making fun of him for pretending to be """normal""" are not coming out of no where, it's real aggravation that he's worked his whole life to get where he is and he tries to go "heehee I don't actually want it I'm just a guy like you <3~" like cmon dude really. For fuck's sake.

When it comes to Paul himself, my take on him, idk. I identify with Paul heavily. I like to think I'm more aggressive than he is but who actually fucking knows. I went through a life changing trauma at a similar age. (I was diagnosed with type 1 diabetes when I was eleven years old which is the insulin dependent diabetes that you hear about a lot on social media. BTW if anyone else has diabetes type 1 or 2 I'm available to talk, my dad and my partner are both type 2 and I know a lot about both.) I can identify with how your life is heavily bifurcated between Before and After. I also identify with how Paul really struggles to come to grips with his family life, while it's clear Jim and Mary did love him a lot they also simply were not stellar parents and a lot of their success with Paul and Mike lies in the fact that they gave their sons a steady home life without chaotic disruptions more than that they navigated the trials of parenthood well. I identify with that as well because diabetes makes my life very chaotic, and my parents did work to smooth those things over; but on the other hand my folks also had nasty and ugly moments with me just like Jim did with Paul. So I know what its like to love your parent immensely and be loved by them and still have a deeply resentful and distrustful relationship with them. And I never had a John Lennon in the mix to disrupt things.

I think it left me and Paul in similar places though our birth order is reversed with him being the oldest and me being the youngest. I realized a long time ago that I was completely on my own in terms of my diabetes and the rest of my life (my mother made some treatment decisions about my diabetes that nearly killed me a few times before I took control of it completely.) A parent can love you immensely, try to do everything right, and still damage you profoundly. With Paul having to endure physical blows and attempted emotional manipulation from his father, I think he too realized that he was totally on his own and that Jim could not give Paul what he needed. That is why Paul has such a strong self preservation instinct and why he comes off as two faced and why MLH remarked that he did not want to be in a dark alley with Paul if Paul did not like him. I've had to do some nasty things for self preservation and I think Paul has had to do it too. Some of them we know about but the majority we never will.

I think that it's hard to be the first born or the last born kid. You get so much of your parents attention but they screw you up in so many ways. I know middle children tend to feel ignored but I'm going to tell you right now, you're being shielded from a lot because you're not getting the Eye of Morder trained on you. Maybe we should all be thankful for what we have, idk. I have a lot more in common with my oldest sister than any of my middle siblings.

Paul is ruthlessly out for himself. I think John dying actually changed that a bit, it made him somewhat less vindictive and he was more open to letting people in but he's never not going to protect himself first. Or else he wouldn't have married Nancy in the first place, Nancy's first cousin was Barbara Walters and through Nancy Paul has a direct line to the news media which means he has yet one more string of influence so that he can control his public image. Nancy and Paul like each other a lot and their relationship is sincere, but Paul also benefits greatly by it. Do you see how this goes with him lol, he can invest in sincere relationships (and to be clear he does love Nancy) while still benefitting from it materially and immaterially. Note that a lot of the negative stuff about Paul started fading out of the press after he married Nancy.

Other fans often think I'm being negative and hateful about Paul when I point out that he is a manipulator and that he has a ruthless streak in him but that can't be farther from the truth. I sincerely admire Paul's ability to arrange his life in such a way that he is safe from most tangible threats and that he has such a way of moving chess pieces so that his hand isn't visible. I find that a great deal more admirable and amazing than John's bluntforce "let me squawk like a chicken to a reporter and they'll shit on Paul for me because I took a photo with them" thing. John was very blunt and clumsy with his sledgehammer and that did get results but I think that Paul is a great deal more artistic and beautiful with his media manipulation. The fact that he can carefully line up his pieces, get the results he wants, and then his influence is never seen (unless you extrapolate your way backwards from the results) is, to me, a great deal more elegant and sophisticated than the Lennono approach to bloviating during interviews.

Paul learned this during the initial Beatlemania rush when he had scads of heterosexual men all on their hands and knees begging him to let them fuck him. He does things exclusively through dangling something people want in front of them and then lets them take a course of action that suits him. And despite the fact that he is the architect of these movements you can never trace anything back to him because he does everything through influence and suggestion, not by out and out coercion or bribery. It's actually kind of incredible. Last week my friend remarked "I think Paul could pull off a bank heist and never get caught" and she's right.

That's what I admire about Paul. That is what I think is beautiful about him. Not necessarily the music or the lyrics or the insane life. Just the fact that he is a very patient and careful human being that doesn't lose his cool easily. I want to know more about him because I want that, you know? Being able to control facets of my life with that much care and harmony.

But that wasn't always the case. Paul was very clumsy during the 1970s because he let his feelings rule him when he should have crushed John like a bug. It wasn't until after John died that Paul started building the fortress, that was when he finally realized "oh shit, I need to build a persona for PR. I can't just be me anymore." Wings Paul is in some ways the most honest Paul, he vomits his feelings everywhere and we get a lot of insights into his mind and home life. That was before he had formed his own network of influence and political chicanry. 1980s Paul is when he's investing in that network finally and then 1990s Paul is when he started putting it into motion culminating in the divorce with Heather Mills. All in all I find it fascinating that Paul was not able to pull these disparate parts of himself together until he was in his 40s and Linda died. What is to be done with such a man?

I think that Paul has always had disparate parts of himself that he hasn't been able to reconcile. This is of course not unusual, it is the work of our lifetimes that we must see, accept, and internalize our contradictory natures. It's Paul's bad luck that he has to do this all in the public eye. No one envies him that. It's hell on earth and my heart breaks for him sometimes.

When it comes to Paul's moods in private, I think he is more or less "happy." Paul himself has said that he doesn't overthink his actions, he just decides what he wants to do and does it and whether it pans out or not is a different matter. I think that he's the kind of person that doesn't ruminate and he doesn't overthink what he's doing. And if he does do that then he goes to his guitar and does the "tell it all my problems" thing which is actually music therapy. It clearly helps him a lot and it clears his head so that he can keep his problems in perspective. I do that with journaling and my common place book, and I should do it more. It clearly helps Paul which is a good habit to have. All in all during his day to day life, Paul is happy and accomplished and has a big family with lots of grandchildren. Clearly loves Beatrice to bits and would do anything for her. The fact that we never hear anything bad about Beatrice is proof that she inherited all the right things from Paul lmao, she knows better than to get in trouble. Interestingly I think Beatrice is Paul's mini-me and considering Heather Mills is the same kind of personality as John Lennon, it makes me think that John and Paul having children together would actually have worked out very well for them.

On the other hand we know that Paul carries his share of anger and bitterness and old grudges. "No one knows the real me, do they." We're lucky that we live in a time where we can be relatively open about our personalities as well as our wants and needs. Paul did not grow up with such privileges and is only just recently starting to feel his way to the place we have inhabited our entire lives. He's suffered greatly for it. He's a naturally reticent person but I think John Lennon is the only person in the world Paul could fully express himself with; even Linda did not get full access to Paul considering comments made by others about Paul's controlling nature which belies anxiety. Why was Paul anxious around Linda, his soul mate? Because there were still parts of himself he didn't want her to know. And so on.

I think that in some ways Paul's lack of rumination and cheeriness is a choice that he's made for himself. He's been "tired" of negativity and hurtfulness for pretty much his entire life, he's always wanted to bring light into the world. John once said that Yoko painting "yes" on the ceiling of her exhibit was what he liked about her because it was positive, unlike the self absorbed 'woe is me' bullshit exhibits other avante garde people put up. I think John was attracted to Paul for similar reasons. Paul tries to take the sad song and make it better. Paul transformed John's life and he saved John from a much harder and painful path like the common belief that John would have landed himself in prison if he hadn't met Paul. I don't think it would have happened precisely that way but it was certainly a distinct possibility that John was aware of and he knew that Paul saved him from it.

Paul does it for himself as much as anyone else. I think he's actively trying to avoid the traps that many of us fall into. Rumination, bitterness, regrets. These are things that poison a person's life and even without therapeutic language Paul realized that he didn't want his life to be consumed by it. That doesn't mean he doesn't have his well of pain to tap into but he wants to live and be happy. He said once that John wouldn't want him to be hurt and depressed and he was right. I think if we all approached our lives with that kind of attitude, "I deserve to be happy and I'm going to do what it takes to get there," we would all be much better off. Paul is a role model in more ways than one.

Paul is a sport, a one off. There is no one else like him and when he dies there will never be anyone like him ever again. Treasure him now while he is here.

I have never seen him perform. When he has his next US tour then I'll go, I don't care what it costs.

Am I attracted to him: yes and yes. I find it more like an aspirational attractiveness but I think he's intensely beautiful and he became more beautiful as he aged (though there is something very special and breedable about 22 year old Paul McCartney. It's deeply depressing that he never got pregnant.) That's different from being handsome, all of the Beatles were handsome but Paul is intensely beautiful. It's the kind of thing that gets memorialized in Sumarian poems. If we were told he was descended from swan maidens or something like that, it would not be a shock. There's a story in that somewhere lol, imagine Paul bathing in a lake and John steals his feathered coat so that Paul will marry him or something like that. IDK. Paul is very intense.

Beauty is sovereign. Beauty triumphs over all things. Paul is one of those rare people that handles (almost) all of his affairs adroitly. Every little thing he does is magic.

I'm a big fan of all of Paul's work, I genuinely enjoy London Town for instance and I don't get why some circles make fun of it. Synth owns what is the problem here. Some of my favorite Paul songs:

With a Little Luck

Probably my favorite "John, I love you, I'm sorry, please come home" song. It's just very Paul, the very carefully arranged harmony, the minor key in an upbeat tempo, with the almost mismatched lyrics before Paul brings it back to a major key resolution. It makes me want to find my partner and kiss them on their lower lip. (My partner has a very pouty lower lip, easily one of their best features.)

Let 'em In

I have an entire animated music video in my head about this song. I've actually been looking up how to teach myself art because I want to pursue it. First learning to draw, then learning to animate and all because I want to animate this sequence I have in my head. Oh Paul. I adore you.

Rock Show

This one actually made me stand up and dance around my house which never happens anymore. I just love the energy and Paul's silly voices. And Paul's platonic fascination with axe wielders rears its head again! I wonder if Paul ever fantasized about killing people with an axe.

Another Day

This is the anthem of my life lmao. At least I have a romantic partner but we're long distance until I can emigrate to the United Kingdom so again I identify very heavily with this Paul piece. Ahhh…

When it comes to Paul's Beatle work, I don't really want to reference anything there because Beatles music was such a community effort, even Paul's songs aren't fully his once the other three got their hands on it. That's not a bad thing but it does mean the Beatles were an engine unto themselves. Paul never had full control of his songs. My choices are not particularly enlightened but they are true which is all I can provide.

This was a really great ask to get, thank you for sending it in. Very flattered if I'm someone who "gets" Paul. I think it's more like he makes a lot of sense to me and it's very rare that he does something that does not make sense to me. I'm probably projecting a lot but we all do that so who cares?

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Lonely Souls Club 5

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as stalking, loneliness, noncon, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Two lost souls cross, but not all those are lost, want to be found.

Characters: Bucky Barnes

Note: can't stop today.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Bucky

“Dammit, that smarts,” Sam rubs his shoulder as he pulls of his mask, “you didn’t say she’d be armed.”

Bucky can’t help a snort. She’s even tougher than he thought. He never thought of the cane that way but it makes him happier to know she has it.

“Sorry, buddy, I’ll make it up to you,” he promises.

“Make it up to me? This isn’t exactly how I pick up girls,” Sam scoffs. Bucky gives him a look. Sam shrugs and chuckles, “I gotta give it to you, it’s creative, but did you ever think of just looking at her with those baby blues,” Sam narrows his eyes and squares his jaw, “give her the Zoolander–”

“I don’t know what that means,” Bucky grits and bites down.

“That’s the look,” Sam points at him, “anyway, dude, you owe me big time. Cap can’t be going around committing misdemeanours.”

“I told you, I’ll make it up to you,” he sniffs and rolls his shoulders, “I should go check on her.”

“Oh yeah, go play hero,” Sam winks.

Bucky tilts his head wryly but only gets another snicker in return.

“Hey, who knew you were such a softie,” Sam teases, “but you do strike me as the type to scoop up a broken bird from the gutter and help it fly again.”

“She’s not broken,” Bucky crosses his arms.

“I didn’t mean that–”

“Go,” Bucky snarls.

Sam sighs, “alright, just… I really hope this isn’t something weird.”

“I just… I want to talk to her.”

“Just talk,” Sam nods knowingly, “alright,” he raises his hands, “got it. I’m gonna go get some sleep. Do you remember what that is?”

Bucky just growls and glares. Sam snorts and struts off, rubbing his shoulder as he disappears onto the street.

Bucky turns and heads back down the alley. He slows his step as his lips move in silent conversation. He’s trying to figure out what to say. He goes to the door and hesitates, knuckles hovering by the grate.

He looks down at his gloved hands. He switches to his real hand and taps on the iron door, rattling it.

“Hello,” he calls through, “I… I got rid of that guy.”

He waits and sees the curtain move. There’s a lull as he stands anxiously, wondering if she’ll even face him. The locks twist back and she inches open the door, peeking through a narrow slit.

“Hello?” She squeaks shakily. He can hear the fear quaver in her voice, hear it thumping in her heart.

“Sorry, er, he ran off,” he explains, “but… but I scared him.”

She looks at him. Her eyes are doelike and gleaming in the moonlight.

“Who are you?” She asks.

He stretches his hand at his side and takes a breath, “Bucky. Bucky Barnes…” he answers. If they don’t recognise his face, they know his name.

“Bucky?” She repeats, then offers her own name, “thank you, sir.”

“Yeah, it’s my job,” he says coolly.

She’s quiet again before she replies, “it is?”

She doesn’t know him. She doesn’t know Bucky Barnes; howling commando, Cap’s henchman, the Winter Soldier. She has no idea and why would she? She has bigger worries.

“Kinda,” he answers.

“You’re a cop?” She asks.

“Not exactly.”

She lets the inner door open all the way and she uses the cane to get herself closer to the iron grate. She peers through at him, blinking in the darkness. He must be a shadow to her.

“You saved me,” she ekes out, “do you… I don’t have much, but do you like tea?”

His heart lurches. He has to keep from jumping and dancing. He has to stay calm. He swallows.

“Thank you, miss, that’s very nice–”

“I feel like… I owe you,” she says, “I can’t…” she looks down, “I couldn’t have done it myself.”

“I’m happy I heard the commotion,” he intones, “what kinda monster breaks into a nice girl’s place, huh?” He rubs his fingertips together, “if it isn’t too much, that tea sounds good.”

“Sure, uh,” she twists the inside handle but struggles to get the heavy door outward. He grabs it from the other side. She looks so frail the closer he gets. “Sorry, uh,” she retreats, backing up with a hand on her hip as she looks sheepishly around, “erm… small place…” she’s embarrassed, “I… I’m a bit slow, so give me a minute.”

He enters as she maneuvers herself with the cane. She wears a pair of sweatpants and a loose tank. She's stiff as she moves around, stopping to turn on the lamp before she goes to the kitchen. He closes the doors, securing them before he faces her again.

She puts the kettle on to boil and leans on the counter. He hears her laboured breath. She's in pain.

"I could take care of the tea," he cross the room, "just tell me where everything is..."

"No, I got it," she insists, pivoting as she plants her cane, "I'm fine."

He winces. He doesn't want to come on too strong or for her to think he doesn't know she can do it on her own. That's she has been.

"Yeah, no problem," he backs off. "Uh, rude awakening, huh?"

She doesn't answer. Nervously he watches her turn her back to him. She hangs her head and sniffles. Oh, she's crying.

"Sorry," she croaks, "I just... it's sinking in..." she shivers, "I... what would he have done if... if you..." She shakes her head, "you said this is your job. What does that mean?"

"Um, well, I... I'm supposed to protect people, you know?"

"But you said... you're not a cop."

"I work with some," he offers, not knowing how to explain what he is.

"So like... CIA?" She angles herself around.

"Something like that," he shrugs.

She nods, her eyes sparkling with confusion and unspent tears. She touches her hip again and hunches. She returns her attention to the counter as the kettle clicks. She pours a single cup of tea, "do you like anything in your tea?"

"No, I'm okay," he says.

He knows she measures out her milk and sugar particularly. Even then, she hasn't brewed a cup for herself. He feels bad but he doesn't want to make her feel worse, so he accepts it.

He goes back to the door and flips the lock back and forth. It's loose. He blows over the mug and hums.

"Looks like he did a number on the door," he says, "I can fix it... have to wait until something's open and I can grab a new latch."

"I'll call the landlord," she groans and he hears the metal frame of the pullout creak.

He looks at her, "well, I'll stay for a bit. Can't have someone else just waltzing in."

"Yeah," she shudders and grips the top of the can with both hands.

They stew in silence. He doesn't know what to say. He can hear her heart thumping still. His isn't much calmer.

"Do you mind if I lay down?" She asks with a sniffle, "my... my hips are... well, you can see me."

He does see her. He sees how beautiful she is. He sees how much she needs him. He sees them together. Taking care of each other.

"Yeah, that's fine," he retreats to the window, "I'll just keep an eye out."

The couch whines as she spreads her weight out. She suppresses a sob and it escapes her in a moan.

"Thank you," she ekes out and he hears her roll over. Despite her efforts to hide it, he can hear her weeping.

Her

Your head swells as your tears dry up. The sleepless night adds to the aches in your body and leaves you hollow. You let yourself onto your back, unable to repress a groan as your hips pang.

He's still there, standing silently at the window. It's been hours by now. You feel bad that he's stayed so long.

You sit up with effort, dragging your self against the back rest. You're dizzy from crying and the lack of sleep. You rub your temples.

"You don't have to stay, it's getting light out."

He looks at you. His blue eyes shine in the shadowy circles that surround them. He must be tired too.

"I could fix the lock..." he suggests again.

"I can't... ask that," you turn your legs over the edge of the mattress and reach for your cane, your fumbling fingers sending it to the floor.

He's quick. He strides over and picks up your cane, offering it to your reaching hand. You accept it and get yourself to your feet, sensing how he holds back from helping you.

"Thanks," you murmur.

He nods as you try to stretch your legs out, taking an uneven gait around the cramped space. He goes to the kitchen and rinses his empty mug. You glance over at him. He's strangely familiar.

His jaw is square and chiseled, he's broad and well-built. You can't help the glint of envy in you. You can hardly remember what it's like not to be this way.

"You okay?" He asks, catching you staring.

"Look," you rasp through your dry throat, "I appreciate it but... you don't needa feel sorry for me. I manage--"

"I don't," he insists.

"You must," you deflate, "I get it, but... feeling bad doesn't help me."

He lowers his chin. He moves his hands, watching his fingers open and close as he brings them before him. You didn't notice before the gloves he wore. Odd.

He grips the left one and tugs it, slipping it off as he takes a step towards you. He shows you his fingers, metal digits in black and gold.

"I don't feel bad," he says, "I just know what it's like."

You lean in to look at his hand. Not really his, it's metal but it moves like it's real. You marvel and peek up at his face.

"You can touch it," he says.

"Oh, I..." you give a soft chuckle, surprised by the suggestion.

"I can feel it," he wiggles his fingers.

"You can?" You blink at his shiny palm.

"Yeah, I know it's... insane," he says.

"Is that... part of your job?"

"Yeah," he keeps his hand out, "guess it is."

You consider his hand and shyly reach, touching his pinkie before quickly recoiling. How amazingly strange. You've never seen anything like that.

"You know, that lock will take me like twenty minutes to fix," he retracts his hand and points over his shoulder. "There's a hardware store close by..."

"I don't know," you scrunch your lips up.

"I can't leave you with a broken door," he clucks.

You rub your neck and heave, "I suppose... but I... I can pay you. Erm, I think..."

You go over to the draw and fish out the little tin labeled thumb tacks. Your emergency fund. You flinch as he approaches you quickly, holding his hand out over yours.

"Please, no, I don't want your money," he says.

"But..."

"Keep it, please," he insists. You look around, it's plain enough to see you need it. You put the tin back in the drawer. "Not that you owe me but you could do me one favour."

"Oh, sure."

"Will you have lunch with me?" He asks and your brows pop up in surprise. Huh?

"Lunch?"

"Sure, there's this noodle shop I love but... I'm starting to get stares, you know?"

"I..." you bite down on your cheeks.

"My treat," he chuckles nervously, "I... It's been a while since I had someone to eat with."

You swallow and let your hand drift down to your stomach, "I guess I could do that.”

[merriepy]

MAGNET

•. Chamber x fem!Reader

tags: soft angst + remote comfort, oneshot

cw: /

summary: During his vacation in France, Chamber decides to visit his lover who he had to leave behind due to his career

a/n: This story was written over the course of two or so years because I was procrastinating

Words: 2,3k

A lone cafe at the end of the road.

The small Jade Plants and Aloe Vera which were carefully placed by her in front of the entrance gave off a cozy feeling; one like home. Maybe that's why he felt so drawn to this place - as if pulled by a magnet. He always returned, even now.

Chamber's work at the Valorant Protocol has always been overshadowed by the distrust of his colleagues. Though he wouldn't say that they excluded him on purpose from certain missions, he knew that some agents avoided sharing their work and findings with him. Not that it bothered the weapon designer - he imagined that it would turn out like this the moment he stepped inside headquarters for the first time. He wasn't particularly upset. The Valorant Protocol was an elite squad, if they weren't the ones to suspect something bloody red behind his perfect reputation then nobody would.

However, that didn't mean that it wasn't exhausting for him. Sure - it was his job. The Valorant Protocol was only a stepping stone for his ultimate goal, and despite trying to be on friendly terms with the other agents, he treated it as such.

He always had this tension in his heart whenever he was on his way to visit his old high school sweetheart. Their past was a difficult one, leaving scars that they never managed to fix until they eventually ripped open everything they used to have - like a carnivore dismantling its prey. Somehow he wished that he could've done something to make it work out, but the damage it had caused was too immense. Eventually, he moved away, leaving her behind to pursue his ultimate goal, not trying to think about what must have been going on in her head at that time. He knew about the agony it would cause her, but he had to ignore the feeling of guilt for his own sake, though it was more than just 'being selfish'.

But he learned not to care.

And yet they would always return to each other - some form of guilty pleasure -before reopening the wounds that caused them to fall apart, with the pain growing bigger and heavier each time they acted on their desires. Deep down he would always year for her touches, for her voice to tell him that everything was okay until their fighting would drag him back to the cold reality. One he destroyed with his ego.

He couldn't help but smile when he saw that the interior still hadn't changed. Everything looked just like the last time he came to visit her. The Aloe Vera plants hanging from the ceiling in self-made clay pots, the dark brown counter with the 90's jukebox right next to it, the abstract monochrome paintings beneath a sign saying "It's Always Coffee Time", even the orange light from the sunset felt as if he was reliving a memory from the past. Slowly, he moved his left hand over one of the wooden tables. It brought him back to his time with Culverin and the French military where he used to visit this place by far the most.

"Vincent," her voice brought back so many emotions within him that he longed for during his absence, " I missed you." The man looked up as he heard the sound of a door closing in the back. Behind a counter stood a woman, her arms resting on the working surface made out of marble as she smiled at the guy in the middle of the room. Before he could reply she made a hand gesture. "We've closed already, no need to rush." He walked over to her and softly kissed her forehead, "I missed you too, (Y/N),"

She returned his kiss with a smile. "Do you want to drink anything?" she asked, turning on the coffee machine standing behind her without even looking. The man carefully sat down on one of the bar stools in front of the woman and just watched her doing her job before answering. "You know me," he whispered, "I'll take the usual." She laughed while playfully patting his head. "You never change, Vincent."

No, he never changed - at least not when spending time with her. Suddenly he was a 20-year-old aspiring PMC marksman again who used to visit his high school sweetheart's cafe on a daily base. He remembered it all so vividly, how they were sitting at the counter together until the middle of the night, how he could talk with her about everything, and how amazing the taste of her drinks was.

"Your order, mister~" she announced as she placed a cup of coffee in front of him before sitting down herself. She yawned, causing Chamber to frown. "Had a stressful day, my love?" He reached his right hand out and carefully placed it on her cheek. "You can tell me everything."

Her gaze wandered aimlessly through the shop, purposefully avoiding his question. She didn't want to start another fight by saying something wrong, so she just kept her mouth shut. "If you don't want to talk about it-" "No, it's ok," she answered rapidly, cutting the man off, "I merely had a lot of customers today. Nothing special."

Obviously, Chamber wasn't satisfied with that answer yet he didn't want to continue asking. He knew what happened in the past. So he just nodded, continuing to drink his coffee while waiting for the woman to start another conversation.

They ended up sitting in silence for at least 10 minutes. The sun had faded already, and most of the room was covered in darkness. Only the dim lights from behind the counter were visible. Chamber had just finished his drink and carefully placed the beautifully decorated cup before him. "Delicious as always, my love~" The woman smiled faintly, her hand tracing the sides of the counter as she still kept avoiding his gaze. "So... you're done?" The man flinched slightly at her peculiar word choice. "I mean, it's your place. If I should leave please-" "No no no!" she immediately yelled and cut him off. "It's not like that. I just, I thought you wanted to leave."

Chamber grinned as he stood up from his chair and walked over to his long-lost girlfriend. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close to him with his chest pressed against her back. Vincent grabbed a lock of her hair and tucked it behind her ear. "So you want to stay close to me, my love? My, I didn't know you missed me that much." She softly placed her hands on his and gave into his embrace. "I never said that I don't want to have you close by." He chuckled before kissing her neck a few times. Shivers ran down the woman's spine as she felt his lips on her skin. "So I can stay for a little longer?" he whispered into her ear once he was satisfied with his work. "I suppose," she answered, "but only if you tell me a little bit about your work."

It had been a while since he had talked with her about the Valorant protocol. She knew a lot, more than she should at the very least. He wasn't hesitant to give out classified information from time to time if she was interested in hearing it. He smiled and pointed to one of the benches to their right. "Let's go then, love."

He took her hand as he guided her over to their place. His grip was protective; firm yet comforting. She followed right behind him. When he sat down he pulled the woman onto his lap. His hands were wrapped around her waist once more as he made himself comfortable on the sofa. She reluctantly adjusted her position. Chamber laughed softly and started stroking her head. "I've missed you so much, my dear." Her expression seemed sad. "Yeah, I know."

She restrained herself from fully pouring her heart out. She knew that there was no place for her in his life. Not with Kingdom back then, and not now with Valorant. And it was selfish to ask. He had told her about so many things. Omega Earth, how the agents of the protocol defended humanity and all the struggles and hardship they went through. And the teleporter to the other side that he could help to finally get working. They needed him more than she did.

A soft touch trailed down the side of her body. It was her most sensitive place, the skin just above her waist. And he knew that, for he had stroked this place so many times when they were younger. Wilder. Free.

"I don't like how lost you are in thoughts, my love," he whispered into her ear with such a demanding tone. "Tell me what's wrong. Please." Chamber's head rested on her shoulder and he pulled her even closer, into a protective hug. It was caring. Loving. And she hated it.

"Vincent, I," she tried to find the right words. And maybe she even tried to drag out the moment. Maybe she was scared. Or maybe not. She couldn't tell as all those emotion clouded her mind. "I just can't anymore. I've missed you so much. And every time when I think you're finally over me and I'm finally over you. You just. Stand in front of my door. And I hate it." One single tear was rolling down her cheek, joining all the others that she had shed over him so many times already. "If I can't be with you... then we should finally draw the line."

His expression was unreadable. Somewhere between sadness and acceptance. She wondered if he saw it coming, that's she wouldn't keep up with their on-and-off-relationship for the rest of their life. "I have other plans," she continued, her voice cracking as she tried to hold back more tears. "I want to settle down, have my café, maybe a family if the circumstances allow it. But you're focused on your career, and that's ok, but you need to be honest with yourself. I need someone who sees me as their first choice. If you can't give me that- then leave me for good." Her hand reached out to him, visibly shaking, and softly trailing over his cheek. She smiled at feeling his skin on her fingers. "I want to go with you. Or want you to stay here. One of it, I don't care. I can start over somewhere else. Please, Vincent. Give me an answer."

Chamber placed his hand on her cheeks and softly stroked away her tears. His gaze carried a silent apology. It was enough of an answer for her.

Her heart was torn apart, and even though she wanted to be mad at him so badly, she knew that he was hurting as well. At least she liked to tell herself that because she couldn't face the faint possibility that he actually didn't care.  Despite wanting to do as she said and tell him get out, she buried her face in his chest and gave into his embrace one final time. As he reciprocated her hug, he placed a kiss on her forehead.

They didn't talk for they were being too pain struck to even mumble a single word. The woman's eyes closed as she listened to her lover's heartbeat.

Soft rays of sunlight were dancing on her skin as she got woken up by movement below her. As the girl tried opening her eyes which reacted badly to the sudden change in contrast. The street outside had yet to become as busy as usual, but she could tell that the people walking by were messengers of the soon to arrive morning rush. "Fuck, it's morning already! I can't open the café like this," she complained as she hastily looked around to find a clock somewhere. "I'll just call in sick and ask someone else to open the shop later today." While she was running around trying to organise everything for her coworkers later, Chamber had been simply watching her without leaving his place. It took a while for her to notice he was still there.

She tried to avoid his gaze knowing that she had to face him one last time until it was farewell. Her nails scratched over the wooden surface of the counter as she tried to hold back her tears. She was frustrated. With herself. With him.

He had approached her from behind in the meantime and trailer his fingers down her curves. "I want you to be happy, love." The sad tone in his voice echoed through the building, weaving together a melody of despair with the sound of her tears dropping down to the ground. "But if my job in the protocol is ever complete, I promise that I will marry you."

The pain ate away at her, and hearing his promise didn't make things easier for her. She wanted to forget but knew deep down that she could never get over him. "You promise?" she asked with her voice being but a mere whisper. He would return. And they could have a future together.

"Of course my darling." He placed one final kiss on her lips to manifest his promise before heading towards the door.

And as you watched him disappear into the sunrise, you trailed your fingers over your lips where he had just touched you.

You knew he would return.

For you.

[signanothername]

Hello. How are you?

I've recently been following you, and I really love your art and I love how informative you are. You honestly such a joy to see and listen to.

As a question, what is your opinion on Dream? I don't know if you already answered this or not. But I was wondering.

And, I saw how long that Killer question was, (I read it all), so you don't have to answer this either. You can use a few sentences if you want. But it's totally your choice.

Yeah, that's all. Drink water, eat food, surround yourself with people that love you for who you are, and I love you (PLATONICALLY) <3

Hi!! I’m doing well! Thank you <3333

And awww!! Glad i bring you joy! :D

And thanks for the reminders!! Appreciate them so much! Hope you’re doing great, Love you too! /p

And omg fave little guy no.3 time for another ramble hcchchhc

I actually absolutely ADORE Dream, he’s kind, honest, hard working, and very big hearted

Dream tries his best to be nothing but a joy to those around him, he strives to make everyone happy, and not just cause he’s a guardian of positivity, it’s just how he is as a person, he loves making people happy, to be the sunshine in their lives, even if people are thankless or completely unaware of how much effort he puts into making them happy

His unconditional love for Nightmare and the way he cares so much about him above anything and anyone else, the way it reflects on his actions and how Nightmare’s corruption never changes how much he loves his brother?? Crying i can’t why is this boi so so precious

Yet Dream makes really sad, i mean, he himself endured abuse from the villagers, but instead of relentlessly bullying him, they were taking advantage of his kindness and naivety as a child, he spread himself too thin for them, yet not a single one stopped to think that he is a child, people never truly cared for Dream as much as they cared about the golden apples and the apple incident is an obvious example of that

And i feel like this is one of the reasons he’s an absolute people pleaser, he was conditioned to believe he has to put the happiness of others before his own at such a young age, that it’s somehow his job to make people happy even if it makes him feel bad, and while Dream’s job is obviously to help people, it was never his job to put their happiness before his, but what’s a clueless child to do y’know?

And that’s something i like to believe he never truly grew out of until he expended his energy completely after centuries, even then, Dream still feels guilty when he puts his foot down and tells someone to stop something or when he isn’t willing to help them, the guilt still eats away at him but it’s something i believe he’ll learn to quell, that it’s not his fault, or his job to destroy himself for the sake of what others want

There’s also the fact Dream has to fight his brother, the one he loves the most, it obviously hurts Dream’s heart immensely, he likes to believe his brother is still there deep down, and while he’s half right, time and corruption changed Nightmare, which Dream learns to adapt to, that just like Nightmare changed he has to change himself if he wanted to catch up, it doesn’t change the fact Dream’s heart is beyond broken for losing his brother

The fact Dream had to endure 500 years of being trapped as a statue, the last thing he saw was his brother’s crazed look and countless dead bodies all killed by his own brother, the fact he was willing to talk to Nightmare regardless and the fact it never changed how much he loves Nightmare even when his brother’s actions horrified him, Dream obviously realizes that they were both only children who endured so much and who both experienced a very traumatic event

The thing is, Dream and Nightmare are twins, and unlike none twin siblings, twins tend to be a lot closer and they act as two halves of the same whole, and I feel like half of Dream just feels so empty, the half his brother used to fill, Dream feels so alone in the world, cause nobody holds the same burden he does, yet what does Dream do? Smile, hold his head high, and face the challenges of every dreaded day head on, he doesn’t falter or break even under the immense pressure of his job, his corrupted brother, and everyone’s expectations of him

That doesn’t mean Dream is happy or has a fulfilling life, far from it, he’s broken, and just like Nightmare, he has an inner child in dire need to heal, but he doesn’t let life, his burden, his past or dreaded future dictate how he views today, he survives day by day and is still willing to put on a genuine smile regardless

If that isn’t bravery, idk what is

[vera-king-hrfl]

Soft cock Zevlor blow job? Thoughts?

Ok sooooo yeah. I usually write Zevlor as a stallion, but my ask box does say "challenge me", and I aims to please. Perhaps yet another of those questionable decisions, but hey, Imma try? It's also G/N cause why not?

I swear to Bhaal if you guys awaken an ED fetish in me...

Zevlor’s hands are magic, his scarred body beautiful, full lips sweet and soft on yours. Everything about this man sparks a burning desire in you to please him, to make him feel even half as good as he does you. But Zevlor seems shy about himself, about his body, despite your enthusiastic reassurance that you find him beautiful. He's used that wonderful mouth and talented tongue to bring you to the heights of ecstasy several times in the recent past, but seems reluctant to allow you to do the same. He has even rebuffed your needy pleas for him to fuck you, to let you go down on him, seeming more than content to focus on your pleasure. As far as you know, he's never even climaxed in your presence, though his moans when he takes you apart do show that he enjoys you immensely. Tonight, you're determined. You are going to make the old Hellrider come if you have to tie him down.

You're making out with Zevlor on the sofa in your house, and though his lips and hands on you are hot and hungry, he keeps his hips still, even though you're straddling his lap and grinding against him for all you're worth. There’s nothing there to match the fervor of the rest of him, but he's panting with desire and you feel his need. Maybe... gasping for breath, you pull away and stroke his face. "I want to make you feel good, Zevlor. Please let me."

He hesitates, and you think you see something in his hellfire eyes. Apprehension? Embarrassment, even? But the desire is there too, even though he tries to protest. "You do make me feel good, darling. This is wonderful. Just let me take care of you." But you aren’t having it. He wants this, no matter how he might try to deny it. So you just hush him and slide down between his spread thighs, massaging the hard muscles there firmly. His soft moan is all you need to continue. Looking up at him, begging with your eyes until he finally grits his teeth and nods. You grin in elation and waste no time in snaking your hands behind him to unhook his pants. You reach inside and bring out his beautiful shaft. It's long and thick, but soft, and you squeeze a little, making him let out a delicious groan. But nothing happens, and you realize. He can’t.

You certainly don't care, but he seems to, and as you're lowering your head to lick at him he reaches down to stop you. "I'm... I'm sorry I..."

But you push his hand away and capture the head of him between your lips, sucking sharply before releasing with a little pop. "Does it feel good?"

He's quivering, panting a little, and you know the answer, but he's still protesting. "It’s not what... you deserve..."

You chuckle, swirling your tongue around his flaccid cock, making him whimper before looking up again. "Some may have differing opinions concerning what I deserve, but that's not what I asked you." Then you open your mouth wider and sink down, sucking him deeper before releasing again. "Does it feel good?" You ask more insistently.

He stares down at you for a few more seconds before finally nodding, and his voice is a breathy moan of want. "Yes... fuck yes it feels so good. Please..."

"Good. Now let’s get those pants off. I've been wanting this for a long time." He seems surprised that you don't care about his perceived failings, but he lifts his ass and lets you yank his trousers off and settle yourself between his now bare legs. You lavish his thighs with kisses, tracing your tongue in the creases between them and his body before taking his sweet manhood between your lips again. He gasps when you pull his hips forward until his ass is at the very edge of the sofa and throw one of his legs over your shoulder, sucking firmly for a few minutes, letting your tongue press into the underside. You grab his other leg behind the knee and bring it up until his foot is resting on your thigh, and spread his legs further. Then you release his cock for a second, but only to slick your fingers with saliva. "Hang on, Hellrider. I think you'll like this."

You start slowly at first, gentle, just playing at the tight entrance while keeping his shaft firmly in your mouth, rhythmic sucking, firm massage with your tongue. He whines as you probe a bit, but then growls softly. "Oh fuck yes... do that. Feels so... unnhhhh..." You grin around him. You knew it. You push deeper, curling your fingers, seeking that special place that will make him fall apart. His cock feels so good in your mouth, and you're able to shove the whole thing in, something you certainly wouldn't have been able to do if he were hard. You keep your tongue swirling, your fingers pumping until his hips are jerking and he wraps both powerful legs around your neck. It's amazing, this feeling, the strong Paladin losing himself in your hands, and you go faster and harder, shoving your fingers over and over into his tight gorgeous ass, desperate to make him come undone. His cock is leaking into your mouth now, delicious and hot, and you can feel his thighs around you quivering as he fists his hand in your hair. "Yes... that's it... so good just... just a little more. Fuck. Fuck... gonna come..."

A few more minutes, panting, growling, swearing, and his hips buck up a few times before you feel a more copious spill of fluid and taste the amazing salt-sweet-sulfer flavor of his seed as he releases into your mouth. Slowly you subside, letting him twitch and groan with both heavy thighs draped across your shoulders now, just holding your fingers inside his clenching hole and licking the last drops of spend from the beautiful cock in your grasp. He looks rather shocked when you smile up at him in obvious rapture. "You... you liked that."

You grin. "Oh yes, I loved it. Making you feel like that. I love everything about you." You ease your fingers free as he takes his legs down and let him pull you into his lap, kissing him softly. "I love you, Zevlor."

[thewulf]

Thank God For You || Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Summary: Request - My friend’s husband just got back from an eight month tour and their first baby was born about a month before he left. Now that he’s back any time he tries to comfort the baby or take care of him alone the baby gets more fussy and upset... Read Rest Here

A/N: So sorry I'm so slow these days. Work is kicking my butt. Here's a cute lil one to tide you guys over until things slow down! Loved this one. It's shorter but oh so sweet. Love Jake as always!

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Y/N

Word Count: 1.2k +

“Babe!” You ran down the stairs of your home stopping by the front door to look for your keys. You were still getting used to Jake being home after nine months away. He was shipped off to who knows what country, he couldn’t ever tell you, classification and what not, only three months after your daughter was born. Still being the emotional wreck you were, his mom moved in for a few months to help you out. And she actually did help. Her being there was literally your saving grace.

Jake walked out of the kitchen with a smile on his face. You, of course, had to return the smile to him. You’d missed him so damn much, “Hey.” He walked over to you stopping just shy of where you were.

“Hey.” Grinning, your eyes traced his face making sure to memorize every little detail you could. He loved his job, and you knew it, you just wished and prayed he didn’t have to go away for so long. But you knew what you were getting into all those years ago.

“You called?” He reminded you giving you a playful smirk when your eyes snapped back to reality.

“Yeah, I did.” You nodded, “I’m heading out to meet Allie at the mall. Nora’s down for her nap. She’ll need to be fed at three. Call me if you need anything. You got this babe.” You kissed his cheek trying to reassure the nervous father. He wouldn’t outright say it to you, but you weren’t dumb. You could see the hesitation, the looks over to you to make sure he was doing it right. It was hard and he was relearning it all with a brand-new baby to him. When he left she was barely three months and now she was becoming a toddler right before your eyes, almost a year old.

Nora Anne Seresin was a light to your life. She taught you so much about yourself. What unconditional love really looked like. You loved Jake, through and through but he could leave. You could never leave Nora, not ever. You finally understood what it meant, what all those moms said for years.

Jake picked out her name without even knowing it. He was putting names together after the two of you had found out you were pregnant. He was trying to mash up names like they had in Twilight. You rolled your eyes at him but couldn’t be giddier and happier. When he mentioned Nora for his mom and Anne for your grandma it just worked. You’d called the baby Nora all the way up to her birth, you certainly couldn’t have changed it then.

Jake nodded back to you, “Can you make it home by 3:10?” He asked.

“I’ll try, but you’ll be just fine. She loves you. She’s just got to get used to you again.” You squeezed his shoulder.

“Love you.” He pulled you back in for a hug before letting you go.

“And I love you.” You shut the door behind you praying Nora wouldn’t make a fuss.

But boy were you wrong. When you walked through the front door at 3:30 it looked like a bomb went off. And you heard Nora screaming from the kitchen. Poor Jake. Poor Nora. You sighed setting your purse down before heading to the scene of the crime.

“Oh, thank God.” Jake audibly let out a sigh of immense relief when he spotted you in the kitchen, “She won’t eat.”

You walked over taking the bottle from your overly stressed husband, “It’s okay. She might not be hungry.” Setting it down on the counter you motioned for him to follow you with the fussy baby in his arms.

He looked perplexed, “We’re not starving her?”

Oh, your poor confused husband. Clueless as all get out. Not that you minded, he was on a ship and couldn’t exactly do research on them. He was used to the newborn who sucked down food almost every hour on the hour, “No, she’ll let us know when she’s hungry. I try to keep her on track. 7:00, 11:00, 3:00 and 8:00. But sometimes she’s just not hungry.” You sat down on the couch patting the seat beside you.

He sat down with the red cheeked fussy baby in his arms, “You’re stressing your papa out Norrie.” You poked your daughter on the nose trying to distract her. She was confused. Her world as flipped upside down too.

She looked right at you giving you the biggest grin with that happy toddler giggle that made your heart soar, “That’s right, yes you are.” You poked her again earning another round of giggles and laughter.

Jake was looking down watching the entire interaction a bit defeated. His daughter wanted nothing to do with him and everything to do with you. When he tried to hand Nora off to you, you simply refused knowing how much they both needed this. She knew you, trusted you. She was just learning Jake. She needed to trust his scent, his touch, and his voice too. Jake pulled her back into his side. She looked to you, when you gave her a nod and smile she seemed to finally give in. Resting her head on Jakes chest he watched as her tiredness overcame her stubbornness. Her bright eyes drifted off into a sleep. You watched Jake as he watched Nora. He too was looking at her like you were looking at him earlier, studying her face.

When he looked back at you there was that sadness there that you’d seen earlier, “What’s wrong J?” You asked him, pulling him right out of his own thoughts.

He sighed looking away from you. Was he embarrassed? “Jake?” You asked again in a softer tone.

“She doesn’t want anything to do with me honey.” He admitted in low tone, almost so you couldn’t hear him.

“She’s learning you.” You grabbed his free hand that wasn’t holding her close, “This is so new to her. She’s only known me. Look at her. That’s not the baby girl you had to leave nine months ago. She’s brand new. Brand new almost every day. It’s a pleasure to watch.” You gave his hand a squeeze, “And look at her, she’s sleeping on you babe. That wouldn’t have happened last week. Cut yourself a break, you’ve been home for a week.” You prayed that your words meant something to him.

He nodded looking back and forth between the two of you, “How do you always know what to say?”

You grinned, “That’s why you married me? Remember?”

He grinned before shooting you a mischievous wink, “If I wasn’t holding this baby right now I’d be putting another one inside you right now.” He contained his laughter seeing your eyes widen in shock. He just knew exactly what to say.

You threw your hand over your mouth trying your best not to gasp and wake poor Nora up, “Jake!”

He shrugged, “What? It’s true. You’re more beautiful than I remember my dear. So damn gorgeous.”

You shook your head trying to hide that blush he always seemed to get out of you, no matter how many years you’d been together now, “Thank God for Nora.” You winked right back at him playing the game he was so good at.

“Thank God for you.” His gaze gave away just how much he really did care for you.

Biting your cheek to hide the massive smile you stood from the couch letting the two of them bond alone, “You’re a sap Jake Seresin.”

He nodded right along, “Only for you my dear. Only for you.”

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