#Life is too short to waste time matching socks...

[tgmsunmontue]

Life is too short to waste time matching socks... (5/5) COMPLETE

Hangster and Bob/Javy/Nat - set post mission with the Dagger Squad having been made a permanent squad.

PART ONE PART TWO PART THREE PART FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

                A week later nothing seems to have changed. Bradley and Hangman are still polite and friendly with each other, Hangman still flirts in his own terrible way and Bradley continues to be completely oblivious that he’s flirting. He hasn’t stopped staring after Hangman when he thinks the other isn’t looking. It’s painful.

                “They’ll figure it out, they’re both smart. I mean. Despite a lot of evidence to the contrary, and the shit I give them both, they are intelligent,” Natasha says, a little annoyed that they’re discussing Hangman and Rooster when she’s got both Javy and Bob in bed. Finally. But they agreed to take things slow, so they’re all dressed in pajamas, but matching ones because Javy had gotten them as gifts and had mumbled something about still sleeping together even when they were apart.

                “But they’re not acting like they’ve figured it out.”

                “Do you seriously think they’d be acting differently?” Bob asks, snuggling down further between them, the only one of the three of them happy to fall asleep in the middle, liking the combined heat of all their bodies with no need to stick half his body out from under the blankets to cool down.

                “It’s been a couple of days, give them some time to adjust.”

                “Adjust to what? They’re fucking each other, not getting personality transplants,” Natasha mutters, even if she hasn’t actually seen any evidence that they’re anything more than friends…

                “So the hope that they might be nicer when they’re getting dicked down is in vain and I should shelve it?”

                “Oh, no. Jake is definitely easier to deal with when he’s getting laid on the regular.”

                “So is Bradley...” she murmurs, because he has been much happier this week.

                “Your best friends are weird.”

                Natasha and Javy both grumble, because there isn’t any disputing it. She’d definitely put money on them finally getting their shit organized though.

                “Who is your best friend?” Javy asks.

                “Uh. Well. Both of you…”

                “Oh Bob…” Natasha says, rolling over so she can face him rather than be held by him, nestles into him and captures his lips in a soft kiss. Going slow she reminds herself. That’s what they all agreed on.

                “Well, you’re lucky you have normal best friends…” Javy says, and he’s kissing the back of Bob’s neck, which is a little unfair because she knows it’s one of his most sensitive spots.

                “Normal is overrated,” Bob says.

                “And we’re your girlfriend and boyfriend as well remember…” Natasha says, catching Javy’s eye.

                “Yeah. Yeah. I know…”

                She watches as Javy kisses his fingertips, reaches over and presses the same fingertips to the apple of her cheek.

                “Sweet dreams. Both of you.”

…            …            …

                “Come on, in here…”

                “We’re not teenagers, we don’t need to sneak around.”

                “Excuse you, pretty sure there’s money riding on whenever we finally get our shit together.”

                “Is our shit together?”

                “You know it is. Now come on…”

                Jake hooks a finger in Bradley’s waist band and drags him toward the little used teaching room. Little used because the carpet got wet and it never dried out properly, so the room always smells musty and needs to be aired out for at least an hour before use. That and it’s at the end of a long corridor so it’s simply avoided and not a room people generally walk past.

                God, the sneaking around is stupid and juvenile and they will get in trouble if they are caught, but also it’s kind of hot how they just can’t seem to keep their hands off each other now that they’re letting themselves touch. Also he notes that Jake only pushes for this when they’re technically not on the clock, either before or after when they’re meant to be working. So a technicality, but definitely one Jake would argue until he was out of breath.

                “Wanna get my mouth on you…”

                “Don’t need to ask me twice,” Jake gasps and he’s already leaning against the door, hips flexing beneath Bradley’s hands. His knees click as he kneels and he hopes Jake appreciates the pain he’ll no doubt experience later. Not that he’ll have any regrets, but he’ll still complain and make Jake run his hands over him in the vague facsimile of a massage. It’ll probably lead to more sex, but that’s on the cards anyway. He runs his nose up the fly of Jake’s pants, presses his face into the warmth there and grins as Jake groans and presses back.

                “Oh hell no, we do not need to see this…”

                Jake goes stiff and pulls away and Bradley stands so fast he gets a head rush, turning to the voice and oh shit… Coyote, Nat and Bob are all standing there and they’ve clearly had more time because all three of them are tucking their shirts back in as they come closer, out of the corner where they’d obviously been… doing exactly what he and Jake had been about to do. Similar enough anyway.

                “I knew it! I fucking knew it!” Bradley says to Jake.

                “Yeah babe, we both did. You three aren’t subtle,” Jake says to the others and Coyote just flips him a finger which Jake returns with a grin.

                “And you think the two of you are?” Natasha asks, and she sounds pissed and Bradley knows he’s going to get a sharp dressing down. “Okay… Now isn’t the time to get into this. How about we all go our respective ways and we can meet up for breakfast tomorrow,” Natasha suggests, and Bradley is already nodding. Getting out of here and maybe drowning his embarrassment with alcohol would be a good idea. Or letting a good orgasm wash it away works as well.

                “Dinner. I have plans most of tomorrow,” Jake counter offers and Bradley frowns. They don’t have plans, other than being in bed all day… Oh.

                “Lunch, or even brunch. I’m giving you the shovel talk.”

                “Why did you work so hard to get us together if you’re going to turn around and give me the shovel talk?”

                “Hangman, the shovel talk is a right of passage. Also you’d already put in some work, I was just getting very sick of him being an oblivious idiot.”

                “Hey!” Bradley objects, he’s not that bad. They’ve made it work.

                “Bradley. I love you. Your attention to detail and ability to hit targets is magnificent. However Hangman could have walked around with a t-shirt with property of Bradley Bradshaw on it and you would have made a comment about the amazing coincidence of there being someone else having the same name as you and also wanting to fuck Hangman.”

                “For the record, I don’t think you’re quite that bad. But I did think I was pretty obvious.”

                “He was,” Coyote and Bob say at the same time and Bradley takes in Coyote’s arm around her waist and how Bob is also holding Coyote’s other hand.

                “We’re talking about this…”

                “Of course we are. But not tonight.”

                “Always knew you were the smartest of all of us. We will see you at dinner tomorrow.”

                “Brunch!”

                “We’ll see.”

…            …            …

                The only benefit of watching Bradley get dressed is knowing that he’ll later be allowed to undress him. He won the battle of meal time and they’re meeting for an early dinner.

                “Here. You can have the third pair as well…”

                He hands the third pair of socks over and Bradley looks at them, lips slowly curling into a smile as he takes in the little peppers and flames with the words hot stuff all over them. Then he’s pressing them into Jake’s chest and giving his a filthy kiss.

                “They’re much better suited to you.”

THE END

Additional head canon which doesn't fit the fic - they end up gifting each other socks for birthdays and totally using them to give each other subtle messages about what kind of sex they're in the mood for. It starts off as an accident the first time - one peach emoji and one eggplant sock and Jake making a quip about mixing things up but then it becomes a THING.

[prncssie]

minors mdni

hobie is always down to help you study.

it starts on a wednesday night. you’re both lazing around in your apartment. candles are the main source of light and the smell of lemon zest wafts through the walls. tyler the creator’s dogtooth is lulling through your kuromi speaker.

it’s hobie’s choice. you both knew you’d be too focused to fiddle around with the music. if given a choice, you will turn into a two hour doom scrolling session of funny videos and cute cats anyway.

you’re lying on your stomach, neck deep in your pink ipad. hobie lays behind your with your feet on his chest. he absentmindedly runs his fingers along your calves. occasionally, his fingers dig into the muscle and provide you with temporary relief.

he catches up on his usual forums, criticizing the government and the rich. it’s bit ironic, he knows, to be so deeply in love with you but hate where you come from. his morals go out the window with you, though. especially when you turn and look at him with a sad brown eyes and a grimace. all he wants to do is remove hardship from you life, forever.

unfortunately, he has to be realistic and there is only so much he can do. “what?” his hands rub over the balls of your feet, covered in frilly white socks.

you’re always complaining you’re cold, despite never actually getting up to change the temperature and wearing the thinnest layers of clothes. today is no different. you’re wearing a flowy white tank top with matching shorts. he tells you it reminds him of a paper bag. you tell him to shut up.

“i don’t wanna do this anymore.” your cheek drops to your bed amid your complaining. your brain is fried with all the unnecessary reading you’re being forced to do. what you thought was supposed to be a quick little study session turned into hours of you curating a study guide for this unit.

hobie stopped by a while ago, bringing takeout with him. he originally came when you both thought you’d be finished soon but seeing how you weren’t, he stays by your side to keep you company.

“then don’t.” he shrugs. he’s not being helpful, he’s aware, but he never went to college and he doesn’t plan on it. like he will ever spend years at a government institution and follow their rules just to get a piece of paper. “ ‘s all a scam, anyway. meant to keep the average person down and pump ‘em right out to capitalism.” he looks up from his screen, his apologetic smile all mocking and sarcastic. “not that you would know anythin’ ‘bout that. basically invented it yourself.”

you narrow your gaze and huff when you turn away. “you’re so annoying.” if he didn’t have a hold of your leg, you definitely would have kicked him in his jaw. “not everyone got bit by a radioactive spider and is in a band.” you grumble into the palm of your hand.

at this, hobie is scoffing. he sits up, pushing your legs onto his lap. you can feel his finger between your shoulders and can only guess he’s pointing at you. “be serious, love. when’s the last time you spent your own money?”

“that’s not what we’re talking about!” you whine, both to evade his question and display the distress currently ruining your day. “i’m tired of this. just wanna download it into my brain.”

the screen of your ipad goes dim, as if on purpose. it’s reminding you of the control is has on you when you tap it to pull it out of sleep mode. you much rather would like to chuck it across the room but then you’d have to buy a new one. not only does that entail spending money you didn’t want to spend but also an earful from your boyfriend about how wasteful you are. about how you’re fueling the fucked up ethics surrounding consumers and producers.

you didn’t want to experience either.

“okay, okay.” hobie’s pointing finger is eventually replaced by his hands. they engulf your shoulders but press and roll them till you’re no longer as tense. “tell me how i can help.” he peers over your side to get insight on your progress. all he sees in a bunch of words, having no concept of what you’re studying. he’s willing to help, though, how ever you’ll have him.

you shake your head with a drawn out sigh. at this point, you need a break. maybe it would be better to come back with a fresh mind and clean slate. “you can’t. i’m just not gonna finish ever.” you snap the apple pencil back in its case and flip the cover over the top.

you officially give up, pushing the tablet away from you. your body flops on top of your mattress and your eyes flutter closed. what else are you to do than take a nap and hope your study guide studies itself. “jus’ won’t do it.”

hobie rolls you over by your waist. you didn’t protest and he likes that. it’s so easy for you to snowball and begin to complain about everything. he lets you, knowing you’re just expressing your frustrations but he can’t deny that he still likes to prevent it when he can.

“you been buggin’ me all week about how you need to pass this test. you’re not going to not do it.”

you feel the mattress dip from his weight when he leans to pluck your ipad up from above you. you gripe and grouse loud enough for him to hear you only to be met with it plopped down right in your chest.

you just barely open one of your eye to see if he’s serious about his opposing stance. when you see him looking right back at you, you know he is and that only further annoys you. “but i’m not doing it, not right now. i can’t.”

he pulls you until you’re seated, despite your purposefully limp body making it difficult. “you don’t really have a choice, sweets.” if you don’t do it now when he’s here to hold you accountable, you won’t do it at all. “i’ll help you. come on.”

“you can’t.” your exasperated by his insistence. he’s always like this, always forcing you to do things you don’t want to. in hindsight, you’re grateful because it’s usually something you really should do. “you don’t even know what i’m talking about.”

“i don’t have to know what you’re talking about to help you. you’re one studying, not me.”

you have no idea how much has passed since that conversation. truthfully, you have no idea if time is passing at all.

how your study session escalated like this, you have no idea. hobie and his infinite horniness is really the reason behind this, as he is with almost everything.

“read the next line.” he speaks from above you. he’s still seated, however you’re lying on your stomach again. you’re back, focusing the best you can due to the conditions of this time being. your bonnet is hanging halfway off your head from all the sliding you’ve done.

hobie is gripping one of your ankles, the other free to move behind his back. unlike other times you take too long to follow directions, he states his piece again. “i know you heard me, babydoll.”

it originally started out pretty enjoyable. you’d read out your little facts, tell him what it meant, show him you understand. in return, he’d praise you with soft words and grind the baby blue vibrator against your clit.

the first few times, you found the waves of your orgasms to be pleasant. it served as the perfect incentive to motivate you to study. however, now is an entirely different story. instead if a reward, it operates as a punishment. you’ve been pushed far past the point of overstimulation and lost count of the number of times hobie had you creaming all over yourself.

your lips tremble and you do your best to ignore the soft buzzing between your legs. much to your dismay, it’s still on and on the lowest setting. how long is stays like that is up to you. “in – infants first experience trust versus mistrust.” your hand flies behind you when he presses just right. the usually enjoyable feeling is underlined with pain and has you wanting to snap your legs close.

“move it before i do,” hobie says after giving you opportune time to correct your decision. he doesn’t like being mean with you, would much rather spoil you and never see you lift a finger. sometimes he does have to put his foot down, though he never really revels in it.

you hesitate, blubbering about how rude and unhelpful he is. you’re only lifting one finger at a time off his wrist. he wouldn’t care if you weren’t simultaneously attempting to pull away from him.

“gonna tell you again one more time, angel.”

your hand is gone before he finishes his sentence.

you don’t see hobie smile your obedience but you hear it, hear how lighthearted his voice is when he speaks again. “so trust and whatever. what about it?”

he’s still so gentle with you even like this. he only holds tight enough to keep you still and sometimes he takes pity on you. like this time when he turns the vibrator off. just enough to let you think.

you can’t think, though. you’re blank and growing more restless the longer nothing forms in your head. it’s such a simple topic until there’s three different people who theorize the meaning behind it. “something with nature and nurture, i think.”

“something? you think?”

hobie can’t believe what he’s hearing. you knew your fate when you said it, yet you continue to speak it. to your defense, you weren’t all that confident in your response. if it didn’t align with what you said before, he’d catch it and somehow you would end up back in this situation again. either blamed for not expanding earlier or for being incorrect now.

“it’s not a direct response,” you immediately defend yourself. you look over your shoulder, hoping to plead and response. “psychology is like a big written response test. everyone’s brain isn’t the same.”

he cocks his head, tenderly stroking your calf. by now, he’s used to your excuses and isn’t interested in negotiating the answers with you. “yeah? is your test written response?”

you suck your teeth and face the decorative pictures on the wall in front of you. what does he want you to do? break into the classroom and take the answer sheet? “you’re so mean to me. you hate me.”

hobie only rolls his eyes at your dramatics. while he did expect it at some point, your constant protests still has the same effect on him. “you’re such a crybaby. not gonna be sayin’ that when you pass.”

he turns the vibrator back on and reinstates his grip on your leg. he doesn’t have to, not with the way you collapse. your face is in your hands, muffling your garbles. if it was any other day, he’d feel betrayed. how dare you keep him from hearing what sounds he’s causing. today though, he’s more lenient.

you’re trembling when he circles it between your folds. you reach, seizing a hold of your cinnamroll build-a-bear. you feel a bit of guilt for your poor bear having to witness such lewd acts but the feel disappears the moment he turns it on the highest setting.

it’s so sudden, both the settings change and how quickly a weak watery stream comes out of your pulsating hole. you shriek through the rhythmic clenching until you’re whimpering.

your pussy is aching, tightening around nothing and begging to be filled. your clit may be sensitive but your need is not yet satisfied. “oh my god ‘bie. can you please just fuck me. i’ll study and be quiet and do whatever you want. please.”

hobie only laughs. it’s genuine though, soft and sweet when he pats your lower back. “can’t baby. that’s not what we’re doing here. if you do well next week, maybe.”

you feel like crying. how much longer did he intend on doing this? how much longer are you going to be tortured? is this how you die? you know your complaints would be ineffective in receiving the results you want so you sniff, sucking it up. you’ll just agree for now and get what you want later.

surely enough, on next tuesday you’re excited to show him your high marks. thanks to his unconventional methods, you make a ninety-four. and just as he’s suggested, you’re rewarded with an amazing night full of no sleep.

[sunmontuewrites]

TO DO LIST OF DOOM

For today (Friday) and the weekend... Pinning it because this is a little ridiculous.

OTHER

Go and visit dad + cut his hair

Lunch with Civil engineering candidate (Sunday)

Lunch/Dinner out with family on Saturday

Lunch with Materials research group

HOUSE + GARDEN CHORES

Change sheets on bed

15 3 loads of washing

Fold 20 pieces of washing x5 times

Dust end room

Dust bedroom

Wash CPAP machine

Clean toilet

Cat litter

Water plants

Pharmacy - foot cream + candle?

WORK STUFF

Weekly report + application numbers

Social events for rest of the year

Tidy away digital files

Approve timesheets

ODR for GSSR

Learn how to do Review of Grade search

Go and collect keys from Security

DAILY ROUTINE STUFF

Morning routine - Friday / Saturday / Sunday

Evening routine - Friday / Saturday / Sunday

Breakfast - Friday / Saturday / Sunday

Lunch - Friday / Saturday / Sunday

Dinner - Friday / Saturday / Sunday

Moisturise - Friday / Saturday / Sunday

Morning coffee - Friday / Saturday / Sunday

SELFCARE GOALS

Facial / Manicure / Pedicure

Dye hair

20 minute walk - Friday / Saturday / Sunday

10 minute stretching - Saturday / Sunday

Drink 1L water - Friday / Saturday / Sunday

Watch 911 episode with kids - Saturday / Sunday

Do one sketch per 911 episode

WRITING GOALS

What to Write Weekend - post

Write 10k total (tracking here)

Law of Thermodynamics >250 words Friday / Saturday /Sunday

FFSD >250 words Friday/Saturday/Sunday

Post chapter for Upon which our souls touch

Finish I'd know you anywhere

Finish Life is too short to waste time matching socks...

Post chapter of Caring, Keeping and Collecting Transformers - A Guide

Post Saga of Solitude chapter

Post AO3 chapter

Answer AO3 comments

KIDS + HUBS

Change sheets on beds

Clean cat bowls

Bathroom basins + mirrors

Vacuum

[vespersposts]

Babe

We all know that Daiki hates vegetables, but if you're the one cooking them, that's okay too. 🍅🥦🥕

For this story, I wanted to play a little bit with the theme of expressing your feelings: some people are naturally inclined to share their thoughts, and some people struggle a little bit more, and maybe Valentine's Day is a good opportunity to take an extra step. 💙

I hope you enjoy it,

Vesper

You have known each other for a long time, but sometimes you still wonder what’s going on in his head.

Especially when he is so quiet and silent. 

Today, however, the situation is worse than usual, as he has even offered to help you with the houseworks, without specifying the details of his reward. 

The main event is to clean up the black hole he calls the 'drawer of my basketball stuff'. 

Daiki's not messy, he's just lazy: he doesn't take the trouble to fold his shirts, uniforms, shorts or hang up his socks but he gets upset when he can't find what he wants to wear, especially if it's for practice or a game. He will chase you around the house yelping like a hungry puppy until you, exhausted by his complaints, plunge your magical hands into that pandemonium of technical clothing and pull out what he wants; each time arousing his amazement and unleashing an exaggerated gratitude that is both sincere and mischievous.

But today is different.

You can tell by the way he follows your instructions without distraction, you can see it in the way he meticulously folds his clothes and places his terry socks in the compartments. He doesn't complain, he doesn't find an excuse to go for his phone, he doesn’t try to lift you and throw you on the bed, claiming a sudden dizziness because of the little attention you're giving him.

He behaves well, very well, that's why you have mixed feelings. 

"Are you in the mood for something different for dinner tonight ?" you ask, turning your eyes to his, busy trying to figure out if the arm bands he holds in his hands are the same colour or not.

"Your choice babe, I'm up for anything!" he replies with a smile.

"Veggie burgers and mashed potatoes?" you offer, aware of the avalanche of complaints that will soon overwhelm you. Veggies are a forbidden, dark spell in his vocabulary, especially since it was your revelation that chips are not real food, let alone vegetables.

Daiki blinks and returns your hug, running his big hand down your back before leaning in for a chaste, lip-smacking kiss.

" All right babe, gonna eat veggies if it makes you happy ! " he sighs, shrugging his shoulders in a surrender that is as easy as it is suspicious.

You tie your hair up in a ponytail, wash your hands, open the big fridge in the kitchen, arrange carrots, celery, onions, cabbage and shiitake mushrooms on the chopping board and sigh. From the kitchen window, your gaze falls on the pedestrian street where, under the yellowish light of street lamps, you see many people enjoying the cold, clear evening. They walk slowly, hand in hand, flowers and presents swinging from their arms. Some are posing romantically in front of the large maple tree, others are exchanging shy glances, while scattered singles are looking around nervously, sure that someone exciting, their beloved maybe, will suddenly appear around the corner. All that love frenzy for no apparent reason, as if Cupid himself was shooting arrows at them or there was a virulent epidemic of romance in the air.

Only then you realise what a day it is,above all you realise that you have not prepared or bought anything for him. Valentine's day was about to slip through your fingers, caught up as you were running from one end of your life to the other, trying to carve out a few hours just for the two of you. Hours you wasted cleaning your house, teaching him the useless art of folding clothes and matching socks, instead of celebrating what you achieved in your relationship. You should have told him how happy you were to turn your head and find him beside you, buy a sweet treat to share, or at least dress in something nicer than an old cartoon hoodie and leggings. Small signs of care, so unusual to someone as independent as you, but that instead came so easy from him, who isn't the best at speeches, but who affirms his feelings every day through small gestures addressed to you and you only.

You look at the ceramic bowl full of the tangerines he peeled without even asking, because he knows how much you like them; but he also knows how much the smell of orange oil on your fingers annoys you. You touch their firm slices, the white veins, the cold white surface of the bowl, lost in your thought until you sense his figure behind your back. You feel the warmth of his large frame, the good smell of his skin, his strong arms sliding around your waist, his chin resting on your head, his hands lazily caressing your womb and hips until he feels you relax against his chest.

" I forgot it’s Valentine's day" you admit, earning an amused chuckle behind your shoulders "It just slipped off my mind" you repeat, almost horrified at your own alleged negligence.

" Are you apologising for forgetting a sappy commercial festivity ?" the boy's voice adds ironically, then closes his lips on your head, on your temple, turning you gently around to look into his eyes to put your guilt at rest for good “Who cares, babe” he concludes, caressing your nape with his long fingers .

"I'm so sorry, Daiki, I didn't mean to" you confess, lowering your eyes and feeling your body wrapped by his broad shoulders, his arms holding you tightly, his nose bumping into yours just to give you a fleeting eye contact before closing your mouth with his, chasing away those bitter, meaningless words. You feel his warm hand on the back of your spine, his knee slipping mischievously between your legs, his lips leaving yours only for the time of those words. 

"Let me make it simple: as long as I have you, fuck Valentine's Day! " he exclaims, shifting the attention of his incredible eyes from yours to a spot on your neck which he first rubs with his thumb and then closes between his lips, determined to give you an everlasting memory of the night. You try to answer, but all he wants is to know that you will give in. You feel your body go soft, almost liquid, under the touch of his fingers. You call his name and he moans in response, pressing you against the kitchen counter, stopping his love attack as breathless words escape your lips: "I love you with all my heart". 

You can almost feel him shiver, you can see him blink, his eyes get a little moist and he looks at you with genuine astonishment, for you are rarely so brave in expressing your feelings. He smiles at you and brings his lips to yours for a second, enjoying yet another provocation he can't seem to let go of. "That’s quite a gift, babe, let me return the favour " he adds, making you sit down on the kitchen counter to thank you, peppering your smiling face with little kisses until you, bothered by all the senseless sweetness, push him away with a gentle shove.

"You’re so annoying! " you giggle, as you get some more kisses and a new set of teases. “But still, you love me with all your heart!” he fondly corrects you, caressing your cheek with his long fingers, bringing his lips close to your earlobe, never taking his mischievous gaze from your eyes. 

“I definitely do” you nod, eliciting an amused look. 

You bend your head towards him, letting your cheekbone rest against his skin, breathing his breath, tightening your lips, preparing yourself for the most sensual of offers, which is not long in coming.

[cedigcrafts]

Here's my Odd Sock Collection (so far)

I am of the philosophy that life is too short to waste time trying to find matching socks, and I lose steam with socks after making the first one, so to combat that I only make one at a time from each yarn I have.

These are all made with fingering/sock weight yarns from UK indie dyers, so it can be a little pricy but absolutely worth it!

I have another sock currently on the needles, with yarn from Cheshire Yarn Hand Dyed and another 2 yarns in the post from Soggy Kookaburra (both on Etsy) so there are plenty more to come!

I also just realised I have e another 3 yarns that I've used for other things and not the socks, so there will be another 6 socks to be made in the coming weeks/months

[pronouncingitwang]

[image text:

The Girl Who Will Become a Dyke and the Boy Who Will Become a Fag Ponder the French Kiss

by Judy MacLean Mark climbed in my bedroom window and into my bed. We were sixteen. I kept the light off. We could see each other fine in the glow from the streetlight. "Did Cinderella enjoy the ball?" he asked. At last I'd been invited to a prom with one of the acceptable boys the really cool girls dated. "Yeah," I answered. "Doesn't sound like it was much fun. Was it as good as bodysurfing at Galveston?" My favorite thing to do in the whole world. I stretched out on the bed. "Well, no." "As much fun as Alberto's coffeehouse on folksinging night?" "Mmm. Depends on who's singing." "Just as I suspected. Boring as a stuffed armadillo." "No, Mark, it's just - well, Galveston and folksinging are things I like automatically. Proms are things you have to learn to like. It's part of being mature." I tickled him in the ribs. "Something you'd know nothing about."

He poked a finger in my own ribs. I laughed, raised a pillow high, and socked him over the head with it. "Oof, no fair!" Mark cried. "Sh-h, you'll wake up Mom and Daddy," I said, giggling. We both caught our breath and lay down side by side. We were the same height, five-six, and scrawny. Mark had dark-framed glasses. Until two weeks earlier his wavy black hair had been as long and scruffy as he could get away with and not get expelled. Now it was short. He needed to cut his wind resistance during track season. "Seriously, Andi, why do you waste your time at a prom?" "Because I want to be the kind of girl who goes to peace marches and gets a National Merit Scholarship and reads existentialism and goes to the prom." I pushed my frizzy blond hair across my eyes and thrust out my chin. "I vant to taste all uff life," I said in my best throaty foreign-movie-actress voice. "I'll be honest, it destroyed my supreme respect for you that you even wanted to go," Mark said. "Every grown-up says high school is the best time of our lives, and this is our only chance to enjoy it," I explained. In truth I hadn't been able to think of much to say to my date, Brad. The chance that he - or any of the other acceptable boys - would ask me out again was roughly the same as that of an iceberg floating up Buffalo Bayou.

I'd spent most of the night watching Denise Garrison across the table in her low-cut shimmery green dress. To Mark now I said, "I finally understand why boys like girls with big breasts." "Some boys." "I mean, all those pictures of Marilyn Monroe and Brigitte Bardot always look plastic. But Denise Garrison was there-" "Denise, from trig? With the big nose?" I elbowed him in the ribs. "That's why you need to go to proms. People look different." Denise had been aflame with her own beauty. Her soft brown hair, toasted with gold, was pulled back from her face, curling energetically down her neck. The curve of her tanned cheekbones, golden in the candlelight, matched the curve of her breasts below. Vitality sparkled off her. She made little teasing remarks to Chip, her shy boyfriend, who blushed. Her beauty had warmed me the whole evening. She must think her nose was too big too, but how unimportant that seemed at the prom. I danced in a hazy fantasy of being the one who finally let her know how beautiful and fascinating she was. That little tantalizing smile and those teasing remarks would be turned on me. We'd become friends, there would be slumber parties…

"Betty did something weird," Mark said gloomily. Betty was the school slut. A lot of boys went to her for sex, but she wasn't the kind anyone would take to the prom. Mark had felt daring asking her for a first date on prom night, though he wouldn't set foot at the prom itself. She was pale and sweet- faced, with thick black mascara. Her shoulders were always anxiously scrunched. I sat up, cross-legged, perpendicular to him, and arranged my blue- and white-striped nightshirt over my knees. "Oh, yeah, I forgot," I said. "How was your date?" "2001 was far out. You'll love it. I'd even go see it again with you. And Betty's not like you think. She's smart. She's read Stranger in a Strange Land too. You should talk to her sometime." I was silent. In public, at school, only losers talked to Betty. "You know what your problem is, Andi? You want to be a hippie and Miss Popularity at the same time." "Well, what's wrong with that? How's that so different from wanting to be a hippie and a track star at the same time? And what did she do that was so weird?" "We were necking, you know? In the car." "My, my. Mark necking. That is weird." "Shut up, Andi. Anyway, she put her tongue in my mouth."

"French kissing," I said knowledgeably. "Yeah. Ever do it?" "Not really. Well, almost. Maybe." "She shouldn't have put her tongue in my mouth, should she? I mean, I'm s'posed to do that to her, right?" I didn't answer. I hated to admit I wasn't sure. "Think about it, Andi. The boy has the phallus, right?" We had learned to call it "the phallus" while reading D.H. Lawrence. "Yeah?" "And the phallus goes in the girl, right?" I giggled. "So I should stick my tongue in her mouth, right? Not the other way around." "I don't know," I finally had to admit. "The girl's not supposed to do it to the boy. I'm sure of that." Mark slapped a mosquito that must have entered along with the hot Houston night air when I let him in. He sat up beside me. "Andi, let's try it. That's a way to figure it out." "French kissing?" "Yeah." "Okay." "First, we try it the way I think is right," he said. We moved closer and stuck out our chins so our mouths would meet. Mark slid his tongue between my lips. "And-thi?" he mumbled softly.

"Mmmph?" He pulled his tongue back out. "I think you gotta open your teeth," he said, barking an apologetic laugh. "Sorry, I forgot." Our mouths joined once more. When I felt his tongue on my lips, I opened my mouth as wide as I would for the dentist. Mark stuck his tongue into the resulting cavern, moved it right, left, up and down, where it gently grazed my own tongue, and I felt slippery wet skin with little bumps. He snapped it back in his mouth. "Okay, now the other way. You put your tongue in me," he said. I shot my tongue straight into his mouth the minute our lips touched and did a quick exploration. "What do you think?" Mark asked. "Both ways seem pretty much the same to me." "So you think it's okay that Betty kissed me that way?" "Probably. Your phallus didn't fall off, did it?" Mark socked at me with a pillow, but I dodged. We lay down side by side. The reflections of passing headlights moved across the bedroom ceiling. I smelled his cologne (Canoe) and mine (Miss Dior). "You know what Coach Gleghorn told us on Friday, Andi? He said, 'I am here to wake up the hero in each of you.' Cool, huh?" "Oh, here we go again about Coach Gleghorn."

"You gotta admit, he's not your average coach." "And you gotta admit he's human." "Andi, I couldn't tell anyone this but you. Sometimes, after Gleghorn says stuff like that, I feel a force coming up from the track, pumping my legs faster." "Let me know when he makes you able to leap tall buildings in a single bound." "Stop being sarcastic. This is real. The stuff he says goes way over the heads of those guys. Do you think he knows I'm the only one who really gets it?" Mark was the third slowest on the team, probably no more than an outer blip on Coach Gleghorn's radar screen. But I said, "Sure." "Do you really think so, Andi? Really?" "I'm starved. I'm getting some food." I'd been nervous about my date and hadn't eaten dinner. There had been nothing to eat at the prom. In the kitchen I sliced cold roast beef and rye bread. Then I found some celery and green pepper sticks. I added blue cheese, strawberries, jalapeño olives, tortilla chips, and two big hunks of chocolate cake, piling it on one plate, with two forks. I took a carton of milk and two of my parents' crystal champagne glasses. Back in the bedroom Mark and I propped pillows against the wall, put the plate between us, and ate avidly.

"You know, Andi, there's not too many kids at school who could be on a bed like this together and everything would be okay." "I know. They're so immature." I poured milk into the delicate fluted glasses. We clinked them and raised them in toast to each other. "There might not be two other kids like us in the whole city," he said. "Or the whole country. Most people think all a boy and girl could do on a bed is fuck." I turned on my side and propped my chin on my hand so I could look at him. I picked up the last crumbs of chocolate cake with my fingers. "We might be the first boy and girl to be friends like this in all of history," Mark said. "Yeah. Back in olden times, girls always had chaperons. They never had a chance to be alone with boys." "I've never read any books about anyone like us, have you?" "No, you're right," I said. "We might be the first. But when I grow up, I'm gonna write a story about us. Then the whole world will know." I yawned big. Food hitting my stomach finally made me sleepy. "Cinderella's tired. Time to go," said Mark. "Will you knock off that Cinderella stuff?" Mark cranked open the window and climbed out. I knelt on the bed and leaned over the sill, the sweet scent of gardenia rising from the bush out- side. I watched him walk across the lawn to his dad's Ford, thin-shouldered and jaunty in his jeans and denim work shirt.

Mark and I went away to different colleges. During our sophomore year he wrote me a terse letter saying he realized he was a homosexual. That summer in Houston he hung out with a group of young men and one intense, thin, angry young woman, who scared me. I felt they were misfits, contagious misfits, like the kids everyone avoided in elementary school because they had "cooties." I didn't see much of Mark until after we both graduated. By then I had finally met my first woman lover. Mark and I reconnected in one of Houston's first gay liberation groups. One steamy summer night, about six weeks before the group imploded from its own conflicts, Betty rode up to the church basement meeting hall on a big Harley-Davidson. After the meeting I finally took Mark's suggestion from six years earlier and talked to her. Turned out Mark was right. Betty was smart. Sweet too.

/end ID]

Source: Love Shook My Heart; New Lesbian Love Stories - edited by Irene Zahava

[watchmegetobsessed]

GOOD TO BE HOME

A/N: well it's been quite a day here and last night i was sure i wouldn't write anything for a long time, but so many of you have reached out to me with kind words, so thank you for that! i have cooked up this short little blurb, i felt good writing it so i hope to feel motivation to create from now on as well!

PAIRING: boyfriend!Harry X Reader

WORD COUNT: 1.5k

masterlist

Finding a home when you’re constantly on the road is impossible and it’s something Harry has been battling since the beginning of his career. No house felt like home after spending weeks on the road just to start traveling again a few days later. He lived out of his suitcases, slept on airplanes and in hotel beds, missing that feeling of familiarity and comfort his home gave him before fame.

No custom furniture, framed pictures with his friends and family or fuzzy sock collection could make him bring back this feeling and it was slowly rotting him from the inside. The turning point came when he met you.

As an event coordinator you met him at a party in New York that you were working at. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you all night as you were running around, taking care of anything and everything like a pro, carrying yourself with so much confidence that it completely swept him off his feet. As the night neared its end he worked up the courage to go up to you and introduce himself, thanking you for the amazing work you put into the party. The conversation stretched long, having a few drinks until the party completely died down and it was time to head home. He asked for your number and took you out the next day not wanting to waste any more time. The rest is history, it’s been three years now and Harry is still just as head over heels in love with you like he was the moment he laid eyes on you. Though these three years have been hard with him always traveling around and you being bound to New York because of your work, at times you went without seeing each other for even an entire month, but you both knew it was worth the wait and pain you felt when you were apart.

Harry had been thinking about asking you to move in with him for over a year, wanting to come home to you from anywhere in the world, but he wasn’t sure you were ready to take this step. Six months ago however he finally sucked it up and asked, anxious to see your reaction, but you just smiled at him cupping his cheek in your palm and said:

“Thought you’d never even ask.” Two weeks later you ended your lease and moved into an apartment in Manhattan with Harry.

The upcoming months he had quite a few projects, flying to Europe and Australia, working in the studio, he spent more time away from you than with you, he barely had time to process the change in his life.

Now he is heading home after another day at the studio, you texted him earlier that you’re cooking dinner so he made sure not to get home too late. He is tired, all he wants to do is cuddle up with you on the couch, watch whatever show you are obsessed with at the moment and dose out with you in his arms.

He keys himself into the apartment, the smell of your cheesy pasta recipe filling his nostrils right away, making his stomach growl. When was the last time he ate? Was that the banana he had around noon?

“Babe?” he calls out, kicking his shoes off, putting on the fuzzy slippers you bought for the both of you in matching lilac color.

“Bathroom! Just a moment!” he hears you call out from the master bathroom.

Some instrumental music is playing through the speakers in the living room and he notices that you’ve lit the fireplace, adding to the coziness of the apartment. He pads his way to the coffee table, eyeing all the lit scented candles in the middle, your favorite fall ones; cinnamon pumpkin, salter butterscotch and pecan pie.

Harry remembers the time when he made fun of you owning so many candles, basically one for any and all occasion. You had an entire cardboard box filled with them and spent almost an hour sorting them. Now as he takes a deep breath he can’t help but be grateful that you kept them all, because he loves coming home smelling them. You always light one according to the mood and since it’s been raining almost all day, you whipped out your cozy ones.

He runs his hand over the thick throw blanket you bought together, debating on the color like an old couple in the middle of the store. At last, he just wanted to see you happy so he let you choose whichever you wanted. You chose the one he liked and insisted that you’ve changed your mind and liked that one better. He couldn’t stop smiling as you waited in line at the cash register. He loves to pull it over the two of you when you’re cuddling on the couch and he feels your cold feet pushing against his legs, it keeps the warmth of the two of you perfectly, like a little bubble he never wants to leave.

Walking into the kitchen he sees the food on the stove, still warm and his mouth waters right away. Two plates and utensils are already set on the counter, you were probably just about to set the table, so he grabs them and brings them to the dining table, setting them on each sides of a corner because he knows that’s how you like to sit, you told him that on your very first date.

“It’s easier to talk and… I can do this,” you said with a playful smile and hooked your feet around his ankle, not moving it for the rest of the evening.

You still do that, play footsies and poke him around with your feet aimlessly probably not even realizing it, but he does and he absolutely loves it.

He grabs a bottle of white wine from the fridge and two glasses, bringing them to the table just when he hears the bathroom door open. He could pick out the sound of your footsteps out of even a thousand others, he often thought about turning them into the base rhythm of a song.

Harry smells you before even seeing you, your strawberry scented lotion signaling your arrival ahead of you, making him smile as he lifts his head to look at you.

Wrapped in a fluffy robe and wet hair, you’re walking towards him with a gentle smile and he opens his arms for you right away. You nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck, pecking the skin under his jaw a few times before you pull back.

“Hi, how was your day?” you ask smiling at him, squeezing him tight around his abdomen with your arms.

“Mm, long,” he breathes out before leaning down to kiss you.

“You hungry?” He doesn’t even have to answer, you see it in his eyes that he is in fact hungry, but not for food in the first place. Chuckling you swat his chest playfully, before peeling yourself out of his hold. “Let’s feed you first, superstar.” As you bring the food to the table he fills up your glasses with wine, taking his usual seat, pressing a kiss to your cheek as you join him too.

You eat and talk and laugh, he tells you about how Mitch messed up one of the songs today big time and then all he said was oops, you cackle at the way he imitates him and his cheeks almost hurt from the smiling as he watches you. When you’re done eating, he wants to take up on cleaning up, but you insist to at least split the tasks, so you stand shoulder by shoulder at the sink as he washes the plates and you dry them, humming along to the music that’s still playing in the background and he thinks about how he wants all his evenings to be like this. If nothing else happens for the rest of his life, he’d die a happy man, because with you, everything is perfect.

And when he looks around, drying his hands as you put away the wine glasses, gently swaying your hips to the rhythm, he realizes that… he is home. You made this place his home, but even if it was destroyed suddenly, disappeared into nothing, he would still have a home, because now he realizes that home is not a place. It’s you. The way you say his name, touch his face, smile at him, take care of him, your smell, your laugh everything you are.

“What are you thinking about?” you ask, running your hands up his chest until they meet behind his neck. He wraps you into his arms, kissing your forehead gently. He doesn’t want to be corny and tell you about the realization he just made, besides, he knows it would make you cry and even if he knew they would be happy tears, he doesn’t want to bother this perfect little moment with you.

“Just… it’s good to be home,” he tells you softly, capturing your lips in a chaste kiss. He’ll never feel like he doesn’t belong anywhere again. He’ll always belong to you.

Thank you for reading! Please like/reblog if you enjoyed!

[little-diable]

Dripping Syrup - Tom Holland (smut)

Just a small fluffy tho smutty drabble. Remember your feedback and your comments are very much appreciated. Enjoy my loves. xx

Summary: Who would have thought that it would only take a few drops of syrup to push the two roommates closer together, finally falling into place in one another's embrace?

Warnings: 18+, shower sex, pretty fluffy, slight breeding kink

Pairing: Tom Holland x fem!reader (1.8k)

The sweet scent of muffins filled her nostrils as the first sun rays began to dance on her face. Slowly her eyes fluttered open, trying to catch a few more minutes of the morning bliss, but the loud “fuck” that echoed through the apartment ripped her from her drowsy state.

(Y/n) shot out of her bed, stumbling into the kitchen with her fuzzy socks sliding against the wooden flooring. There he stood, chest bare, legs hidden beneath a pair of dark sweatpants. Tom kept jumping around the kitchen, trying to cool his aching finger without letting the sizzling pan out of his gaze.

The chuckle that spilled from her lips ripped him out of his frantic state, eyes meeting hers. He couldn’t help but let them wander, down the exposed legs she hadn’t covered just yet. Deep down he felt his adrenaline shooting through his veins, what a view, a view he could certainly get used to.

“Morning to you too.” (Y/n) stepped closer, reaching for her coffee cup before pressing a small kiss to his burning cheek. Tom wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her against his half naked frame, holding onto her for dear life. The sweet scent of her shampoo stuck to him, pushing him back into the daydream he’d slip into as he would take a shower, imagining her body pressed against his.

“I made us some pancakes.” The boyish grin he wore left her heart jumping in delight, eager to spend her morning with the roommate she had been crushing on for weeks. From the second she had moved into the apartment there had been some kind of tension between them, growing with each rising of the sun, strengthening their bond with each wakening of the moon and the twinkling stars.

“You’re a lifesaver.” (Y/n) smiled at the plate he pushed into her free hand, settling down on their sofa. Slowly Tom began to prepare a plate for himself, making sure to place himself right next to her. As if they had studied this routine for days, (y/n) moved her legs towards his, keeping him chained to her, moaning at the taste of the pancakes.

Both ate in silence, sharing glances every now and then - with widening smiles on their lips. How they ached to feel one another, hoping to experience what they were oh so needy for.

She had her eyes focused on his lips, watching the small drops of syrup that stuck to his skin, dripping onto his plate. (Y/n) couldn’t stop her hand from moving towards his chin, collecting the sweet drops. His eyes followed her thumb, how she brought it towards her mouth, sucking it clean. A gasp rolled off his tongue, filling the silence like a book that crashed from the shelf, falling onto the floor with a loud thud.

Suddenly both snapped into action, plates getting placed down on their small table, heads moving closer. Something about this moment, about this morning, felt all too good to be true, like a dream they had managed to turn real, like a written page ripped out of a book, allowing them to experience the stories only heroes would get to live through.

Their lips met clumsily at first, trying to get used to one another’s skin, the feeling of their burning vessels pressed together. But the longer they kissed, the more they fell into place. Tom tugged her into his lap, sucking on her tongue to hold onto the sweet taste of the syrup, mixed with the coffee she had sipped on.

(Y/n) gave him a slight push back, allowing him to rest comfortably on his back with her straddling his waist. Not once did they break apart, lips hungrily chasing one another, hoping that their moment wouldn’t end just yet, they hadn’t reached the end of the chapter, couldn’t stop the story as it was just starting to take on its pace.

Cold hands found their way underneath her shirt, stroking along her sides to move closer to her bare chest. (Y/n)’s hips met his, rubbing her core against him, all too excited to overthink her movement, not once did she wonder where her confidence came from. Tom made her feel things she would only read about in the books she would find comfort in, the lives she longed to live.

“I don’t think I can stop myself if we go any further.” His raspy voice shot shivers down her spine, vibrating on her middle with an electric buzz following shortly after. “Don’t stop, please.”

Her whimpers rang in his ears, hands wandering to her behind, gripping her close. He rose from his position, didn’t want to take it further on the couch, wanted to offer her as much comfort as possible. But as her eyes found the clock above their counter, she mumbled his name, stopping him from walking towards his room.

“Class starts in an hour, how about we shower together?” The sly grin she wore on her lips found its way onto his swollen ones, feet changing their direction towards his bathroom, stumbling right into it. He placed her down on his sink, making sure that she wouldn’t fall before he turned on the shower.

Tom stepped out of his trousers, underwear barely hiding his hardening cock, the outlines that left her mouth watering. Greedy hands reached for him, pulling him flush against her frame, kissing him again as he tugged on her shirt. Her naked upper body burned in heat, his strong gaze studied every inch of her skin, making sure to perpetuate the view in front of him in his mind.

“You’re beautiful, absolutely beautiful.” His accent thickened with each word he spoke, projecting him losing power over his senses. (Y/n) pulled on the waistband of his boxer shorts, letting the elastic snap against his skin. The cheeky grin she shot him seemed to push him into the right direction, undressing himself with some kind of arrogance and confidence laced in his glance.

She didn’t waste any more time, hopped down from the sink and undressed herself, stepping into the shower without giving him a chance to admire her. But Tom was just as impatient, following her into the steam filled cabin, hands pushing her against the cold shower tiles.

Water cascaded down their bodies, leaving their skin glistening. His hands cupped her breasts, squeezing her nipples, while her hands moved closer to his cock, making sure to tease him before she would touch him. Slowly she wrapped her fingers around him, pumping him, stroking his every vein.

“I need you-” a small moan left her as he tweaked her nipple. “I need you to fuck me.” The growl that clawed through him left her clit pulsing in excitement, walls fluttering around nothing, praying that he would finally give in. (Y/n) had lost count on how many times she had touched herself to the thought of him, trying to imagine how his cock would split her in half, leaving his marks as she would climb higher and higher.

“Somebody’s impatient.” How foolish he was. Both felt impatient enough to cry out in frustration, wondering who would make the next and final move. He dipped his head under the stream, wetting his hair before he gave her a harsh tug, hand moving around her throat. Tom held her in place as he brushed his length through her folds, toying with her for a few seconds too long.

She growled his name, holding onto the last drops of air that lingered in her lungs, burning with each breath she took. Just as she felt herself passing out, losing focus on the man in front of her he gave in, loosening his grip, pushing into her tightness.

Their moans got mixed together, dancing around the room while they tried to adjust to one another. His cock perfectly filled her, her walls hugged him tightly, a perfect match for the two that had fallen in love days, weeks, months ago.

“Feels so good, fuck, you’re so tight.” His breath crashed against her lips, Tom grasped her leg, hugging it around his waist, slowly beginning to pull out of her. He was careful at first, making sure that (y/n) felt comfortable and safe, not wanting to hurt her. But as his name fell off her lips, urging him on to fuck her roughly against the tiles, he snapped into motion, making sure that he would coax the most powerful orgasm out of her.

“Tom, please-” (y/n) tried to grasp his hand, pulling it closer to her aching clit, the sensitive bundle of nerves that begged for his attention. Soft fingers met her skin, circling her in the right tempo to match his ferocious thrusts, cock slipping in and out of her as if he was fucking her on their last day on earth.

Their bodies meded together, like snow that met the ground on a warm day, like water that met other bodies to follow the stream to the ocean. They fitted together perfectly. His heavy pants filled her ears, followed by her own moans. Soon they would reach the high they had always dreamt of, bodies connected in the most intimate way.

“Look at me, want you to look at me when you cum.” (Y/n) couldn’t protest, glassy eyes found his. She moved one hand up to the one he left placed around her throat, holding onto him to stabilize her trembling frame.

“Fill me up, god, please.” She kept on blabbering, too drunk on his taste and the adrenaline she worked on. But Tom found pleasure in her words, moaning in confirmation, urging on his thrusts, adding more pressure to her clit with his thumb. He would push her over the edge, would make her wait for his release while she would scream out his name.

“There you go, let go for me.” Like a guiding hand in the darkness he clung to her, allowing her to cum on his cock, walls fluttering around his length. She pulled him closer, making sure that he wouldn’t let go, that he would follow her words and paint her walls white. Her head fell against his shoulder, breathing against his skin as Tom’s orgasm took over every inch of his body.

His warmth filled her, cum dripping down her legs, bodies trying to come down from their powerful highs. Neither of them moved, both stayed placed in the shower, bodies still connected like their hearts.

Today they would cling to one another, would make sure to savor their moments together, fueled by the fire they had awoken in the shower, a fire both would try to keep alight till their last breaths would leave their love drunken souls.

Follow my sideblog @little-diableswriting for taglist reblogs

[wardenannie]

Hey hi, wherein levi a assassin but falls in love for hanji and they have too much hot sex.

#assasinLevi #nerdHanji

Fictober day 9: Assassin

-

They meet at the hotel bar. Dressed to the nines. Their suits are almost matching, save for Hange's red bow tie. Beneath their finery they are armed to the teeth.

There is little pretense between them. Hange sips a glass of vodka on ice. Levi sips water, watching Hange across the otherwise empty space.

It's well past midnight. Only a few people linger in the bar, all of them sit in booths with their heads down, nursing away their woes with dark colored booze. The bartender is distracted by their phone, playing some mindless, colorful game over a set of drying glasses. 

They meet one another's eyes. Slate mingling with wine. A smile passes across Hange's face. It is knowing. Goading, even. A challenge. They know why he’s here. An acrid taste fills his mouth. 

Levi feels his pistol, heavy in his side holster, but he doesn't reach for it.

"Vodka, four-eyes? On the job?"

He slides over a seat, nearer to Hange.

Hange's smile widens, "just loosening up, short stack. How's Lobov?"

"A bastard. Erwin?"

"Uptight... have you considered our offer?"

Levi sighs, sliding into the seat beside Hange. He can feel the warmth of their body, even through the jacket of his suit. He runs a hand through his hair, pushing it away from his eyes.

"You know why I'm here, Zoe."

Hange's smile falls and they shift slightly in their seat, "You really want to try?"

Again, he is acutely aware of his sidearm. 

“No. You know I don’t,” he sighs, sipping his water and suddenly wishing it were something much, much stronger. He needs it to be able to handle what comes next. 

“But you’re a professional,” Hange’s sigh is more obvious than his own. Their shoulders slump slightly and they sip their drink. “Could we at least screw one last time before you try to off me?” 

Their smile is sad, not at all sexy, but warmth still spreads through Levi’s middle at the suggestion. Being in the same sordid profession, they’ve been meeting up for trysts for literal years. Neither of them claim any sort of exclusivity, but each knows that the other isn’t seeing anyone else. 

What exists between them is the closest thing an assassin can have to a relationship. 

“You really think I’m going to kill you?” Levi asks candidly, but he’s already reaching into his pocket for a room key. 

Hange slides off of their stool, placing a crisp twenty dollar bill down on the bar; far more than their single drink must have cost. 

“I think you’re going to try,” They’re grinning again, as though their life doesn’t hang in a supremely delicate balance on this night. “But not before you bed me one last time.” 

They wink and Levi scoffs at them, but he’s already offering them his arm which they gladly take. 

The elevator ride to the room ends with Levi backed into a stainless steel wall, arms wound around Hange’s neck as they suck a bruise into his throat. Their fingers are already on the buttons of his dress shirt, tugging fruitlessly at the knot in his tie. 

They barely make it to the room fully clothed. Panting and red faced Levi flicks on the lights and joins Hange on the bed, pushing their jacket off of their shoulders as he goes in for another kiss. 

“Levi,” they moan his name against his mouth, making his cock twitch and his body shiver. There is so much emotion packed into that single utterance. But Levi doesn’t want to think about that as he hastily plucks two knives from Hange’s belt and tosses them away, forgotten. 

Hange rids him of his weapons as well as they frantically undress each other. Sidearm, the stiletto in his sock, the ricin capsule he keeps taped to the inside of his sleeve. All of the armor and arms are peeled away, piece by piece until they are left bare and flushed before one another. 

Hange wastes no time in shoving Levi backward into the pillows.

“You haven’t even tried anything yet, Levi,” they pant, cupping his face and kissing him with a gentleness that belies their goading. “I’m surprised.” 

They bracket his hips with their knees, fingers finding the stiff shaft of his cock and aligning him with themself. They tease him for a moment, letting the head of him part their slick folds, becoming wetter with each pass. 

Levi can’t formulate a response. All of his brainpower is focused on the fire in his loins. He doesn’t want to think about the assignment, how horrified he had been when it landed on his desk. He doesn’t want to think about laying a single finger on Hange Zoe in malice or malcontent. 

Finally, Hange sinks down onto him and banishes all coherent thought from his mind. They are tight, muscles bearing down on him, and wet, taking him easily to the hilt. Their pubic bones bump clumsily for a moment before Hange finds their pace. 

“Fuck,” he hisses, eyes fluttering closed as Hange sets a steady, bouncing pace against his lap. “I couldn’t.”

“Couldn’t- hah- couldn’t what?” Hange hangs their head, sweaty face shadowed by their hair. They puff out hot little breaths, fingers curling into the sheets

Levi sits up, muscular abdomen rippling with the effort. He catches Hange’s hips in his hands, gripping them with bruising force. Eyes flashing in the dimly lit room, Hange’s face distorts with pleasure above him, he breathes back, “Hurt you.” 

“Oh,” Hange says. 

Rocking his hips upward, pulling them down with one hand, he lifts the other to push the hair of of Hange’s eyes; revealing how they seem to glimmer with welling emotion. 

Puffing his flushed cheeks, Levi fucks into them more enthusiastically. It feels like their pussy is sucking onto him, resisting each shallow egress of his intruding cock. 

Inclining his neck Levi peppers hot, open mouthed kisses along the line of their jaw and down their neck. His free hand trails to catch them by their waist as their back bows and his lips suck a mark into their collar bone. Their arms are around the back of his neck, cheek pressed to his as they pant and writhe in his lap, hips rocking frantically towards orgasm. 

“You close?” Levi hisses, biting back a moan as their cunt begins to bear down on him with more vigor. 

In answer their nails dig into his shoulders and they seat themselves one final time in his lap, moaning enthusiastically. Wet spills around the base of his cock as they tighten impossibly further, settling into a persistent squeeze round his cock. It only takes a few more pumps of Levi’s hips to bring him over the edge as well. 

He pulls out just in time, spilling with a series of quiet moans onto Hange’s abdomen. 

They collapse backwards together, into the downy cloudscape of the pillows and white hotel linens. 

“You still haven’t tried to kill me,” Hange jests softy, that same sadness from before has reappeared in their eyes. 

They lay face to face on the same pillow, breathing in each others breaths. Levi’s eyes stray to the floor, in the corner, half hidden beneath a drape; his pistol. He can’t use it, he won’t. 

He awakens at four AM. The numbers blink red and blocky on the face of the clock. In that crimson glow he is faintly able to make out the silhouette of his stiletto on the floor beside the bed. 

Remembering his contract, his fingertips twitch, as innate as a reflex. Regaining full consciousness, he curls those same fingertips into a tight fist, nails biting his palm. 

Levi rolls onto his side, facing Hange on the bed. Their face was serene in the dark, peaceful. Their lashes brush their cheekbones. 

Reaching out that same balled fist, his fingers slowly unfurl, and he touches Hange’s cheek. 

He’ll have to reconsider Erwin’s offer. 

[simplyotometrash]

Hello there! I absolutely ADORE your Obey Me hc’s! (Especially the Asmo ones, I am weak for this man-) I was wondering if you could do a scenario where Asmo finds out that GN!MC has an absolutely awful fashion sense? Like mc’s idea of “fashion” is just a neat looking t-shirt and sweatpants and Asmo is HORRIFIED

I absolutely can because that is MY fashion sense! I am also soft as fuck for Asmo so I am always happy to take requests for him <3

Fashion Mess

Asmodeus x GN!MC reader

Warnings: Tooth rotting fluff

Your boyfriend was an absolute icon. He was the king of fashion and luxury. You were positive that he did not have a bad angle or unfashionable clothing. You had seen him wearing sweats or shorts on occasion if he did not feel his best but they still were top quality and matched whatever shirt he chose.

You, on the other hand, had the fashion sense of a white tourist dad or an emo teenager. It was shorts and some sort of button-down shirt that never matched or was all black. There was no in-between for you.

Asmo never truly saw your poor fashion choices because he often picked clothes for everything you guys did together. He even picked outfits for your day-to-day life without even being asked. The only times you picked your own clothes anymore were when Asmo wasn't around for whatever reason (such as modeling jobs). Today was one such day.

He had a big job booked for part of the morning and left before you were even out of your pajamas. A kiss and a quick "be ready for our date later" was all you had gotten. Nothing out of the ordinary when he was in a rush. You thought nothing of it until you got back to your bedroom and realized he hadn't even set out clothes for you. Maybe you were a bit spoiled on having him pick out nice clothes, it was a bit jarring to get to choose your own clothes for your date.

It was going to be a mistake.

You spent literal hours tearing through your closet in hopes to find something good enough to go out on a date in. All of the good outfits were locked away in your boyfriend's bedroom, which was locked at the moment because he didn't trust Mammon not to nick things from his room to sell. All black was not a choice you were willing to make for your date so you opted for your nicest pair of shorts and a short-sleeved, floral button-down shirt. It didn't look too bad, right?

No one else in the house seemed to think your clothing choice was bad. Yes, you went out of your way to ask. You even were sure the outfit looked good! Sure, your socks didn't match and were long like a suburban dad's, and your sneakers were a bit beat up, but it was better than socks and sandals!

"My sweet darling, what in Devildom are you wearing?" Asmo's voice sounded, frankly, offended. You turned to see his face matched the tone.

"What? These are nice clothes."

You were sure your boyfriend was about to have a heart attack based on how the color drained from his face. He wasted no time taking you by the hand and practically dragging you off to his bedroom.

"My love, sweetest Earthly creature to grace the Devildom, that is not an outfit I will let you walk outside wearing. And I absolutely will not let you wear it on a date." You couldn't help but laugh at his dramatics. It was cute, really, seeing his reaction.

"Asmo, I like this shirt!"

"And it isn't a bad shirt. It does not, however, go well with those shorts or your shoes. Oh, Diavolo, your shoes are an eyesore! Remind me later to buy you new sneakers if you want them because those look worse for wear." His tirade continued as he dug through the closet, picking out nice clothing for you to change into as well as a better pair of shoes.

"I also won't let you wear that shirt on a date. It's not worthy of being date attire. Perhaps a vacation or a trip, but not one of our dates."

There was no room to get a word in as if you wanted to interject. There was nothing to be offended by. You were getting a free show and he was ranting about your poor clothing choice.

"I love you, truly my darling, but we need to start moving these clothes over to your room so that they're available when I'm not home. I plan on going through your clothes later, so be prepared to model every last piece so we can choose what to burn. We will be getting you a new closet of clothing."

You really needed to choose your clothes more often, if only to see these reactions.

[bruhlsbees]

second chance ; 1/5 || writer!daniel x fem!artist!reader

(gif credit to @/magsam)

summary: you continue to dwell on your past as you prepare to open your art gallery

warnings: daniel's boss is a little creepy - like flirty but in power creepy, idk how to tag that, nothing bad happens she just obvi wants in his pants (but don't we all), 18+ although no smut

word count: 6,637

pairing: writer!daniel x fem!artist!reader

a/n: here's my soft fic!! please enjoy!! :) also i should note that writer!daniel is based around sebastian from ich und kaminski - i just changed the name to daniel, but really only loosely based so that's why i'm not considering this to be a sebastian fic!

He woke to the lull sound of music being played in the shop below his flat. With a groan, he pulled his head from under the pillow, squinting at the sun that peeked through his curtains before turning towards the clock on his nightstand.

12:17 PM

Another groan left him as his face fell back into the pillows. He had to be at work by one and he wasn’t even out of bed - and he should be on the road leaving in thirteen minutes! This, however, was not uncommon for Daniel - he was often late, running behind from sleeping off his hangover or just simply not caring enough to pick up his feet and move quicker.

He was half tempted to call off, tell his boss that he had a relative that passed or that he was ill.

“I thought your great-aunt just recently passed away?” Daniel’s boss questioned over the phone, her tone more annoyed than confused. He could hear the restaurant clatter through the phone, indicating that it was a rather busy day.

“Yes, that was on my mother’s side, this one is on my father’s,” He picked up a pair of socks off the ground to see if they were clean or at least passed the smell check. “Tragic, I’m not sure what I’m going to do without them.”

He sniffed the socks and threw them away from his face in the same motion, holding back the cough as he shook the smell out of his nose. Daniel knew he had been putting off laundry for too long, the clear evidence being the pair of socks he mistakenly picked up.

Moving to the bathroom to take a shower and get around for the day. Daniel kept his cellphone pressed to his ear, held by the crook of his shoulder while he waited to hear what his boss would say to him.

“Fine,” She finally responded after a moment. Her tone was short, biting like a sting, “But I expect you back on your next shift. We can’t afford to keep losing waiters.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Opening up the medicine cabinet he grabbed his deodorant stick, swiping it a few times under each armpit before feeling satisfied enough to move on, “I’ll be there.”

When he heard the click he swiftly let his phone drop from his shoulder, catching it with his hand before setting it on the top of the toilet next to his sink, continuing to get ready for the day. Even though he wasn’t going into work today, he could still at least get ready instead of basking away in his own stench from the previous night.

Finally pushing himself out of bed after laying for another few minutes, Daniel rummaged through the clothes on the floor, finding the cleanest uniform out of the dirty clothes before tossing them on his bed, moving to the bathroom to get ready. When he got to the bathroom, he nearly cringed at the sight of him.

It was quite obvious that he had a long night, the dark circles around his eyes screamed that he didn’t sleep well and his hair was matted to his head. He couldn’t remember who he had over, or what her name even started with. Was it an s? Sienna? Sierra? Sally? Who fucking cares.

He did a half-assed job brushing his teeth, more so focused on just getting the taste of whiskey out of his mouth so that nobody assumed he was drunk on the job. He already got let go from another job for that.

After the taste was most of the way out, Daniel quickly rinsed his face off and pulled his hair back into a low bun. He didn’t look bad - but it was clear that he had a rough night.

Surprisingly he was out of the door sooner than he imagined. Ascending down the stairs, he made sure to have his steps extra heavy to piss the store owners under him off. A smirk was present on Daniel’s face when he jumped one by one down the final few steps, hearing the store owner yell for him to ‘bugger off’ from inside.

“Kiss my ass.” Daniel mumbled, pushing the door open before making his way onto the sidewalk, pulling out a cigarette from his pocket and lighter, sparking the stick as he made his way down the road to work.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

Everything felt so off, yet so right. Something was missing, but you couldn’t pin what it was just yet. The gallery exceeded your expectations - Vee exceeded your expectations, she always seemed to go above and beyond when it came to your work.

“And how does she like it? Do we get her seal of approval?” The museum’s art curator questioned, standing off to the side so that you and Vee could take it all in.

He was a short man, the rectangle frames glasses that were a bright orange that matched with his orange suit. You wondered if perhaps the glasses were real, or were they fake and more of a fashion statement? Did he have a matching pair of glasses for each outfit?

You didn’t realize how out of it you were until you felt Vee nudge you, answering for the curator.

“She loves it, do forgive her, she’s just taken back is all.” Vee explained, smiling towards the curator as he nodded, relief washing over him as he continued to showcase the room in the museum that was dedicated to your work.

You let out a sigh and trailed behind Vee. You felt bad for not being so animated, but you couldn’t help it - you just weren’t in the best mental spot right now. It was quite obvious too, at least to everyone around you. When the three of you reached the back of the gallery, the curator turned and pulled his lips into a tight smile.

“Well, if there is anything else we can do before your opening, please, let us know,” He turned to Vee and bowed her way in goodbye, “You have my number, just call if there is anything.” He turned on his heels and made his way out of the room, his footsteps echoing until he left and then...nothing.

You let out a soft exhale and sat down on the bench that was placed in front of the back wall, staring up at a few of your paintings. Your shoulders were slacked, a frown on your face as you toyed with your bracelet that was on your left wrist, twirling the string around your fingers. Moving around the bench, Vee took a seat beside you, letting her purse fall to the ground at her feet, looking up at your pieces.

“If this isn’t something you want to do anymore, I can let him know,” She began, your head shooting up, looking at her with wide eyes, “He won’t be pleased, but I suppose it’d be better to hear from me than you.” She stated, eyes flickering from one painting to the next.

You shook your head, shocked that Vee would even suggest canceling the opening. What made her think that? Did she think you didn’t want this anymore? No, of course you wanted this, this was something you’ve dreamt about since you were a little girl.

“What are you saying, Vee? Of course I want this still, you’ve worked so hard and did such a wonderful job with this, I wouldn’t want to have all your hard work go to waste.” You explained, looking towards her now. She smiled, staring at the painting off to her right before turning her head the other way towards you.

“My dear, this isn’t about me. This is about you. My job is to get you where you need to be and make your dreams come true. I won’t be upset if you change your mind. We can wait to open your gallery, wait until next year or this winter perhaps. Whatever you wan-”

“I want this. I just-” You let out a sigh and dropped your head again, looking at your feet for a moment before back up at the wall, tears in your eyes, “I just thought it would be different, I suppose.”

“What do you mean?” Vee questioned, her left hand resting on your back, her right on your hands, squeezing them. You didn’t know how to put it into words, and that was the issue. You didn’t know why you felt the way you did, or where it came from. The room wasn’t empty, yet at the same time, something was missing.

“I just, something is missing...and I can’t figure out what it is,” You began, standing up from your spot on the bench and circling it, looking now from the back towards the front of the gallery. “When I come into this room, I want to love it, I do love it, but something just isn’t right about all of it. It feels incomplete, but what is missing?”

Nodding slowly, Vee let out a sigh and stood up, picking her purse from the floor and swinging it over her before walking over to you, standing beside you as she joined you in staring at the work you’ve created in the room.

“You want to know what I see in this room? A young, talented woman who has spent the last fifteen years making something of herself,” She began, her voice quiet, like a grandmother’s gentle tone. “A woman who went from nothing to having a large home, a gallery space, yet at the same time, a woman who doesn’t feel complete because she is still living in past regret.”

You glanced away from her at the last part of her speech. It wasn’t that you were hiding your tears from her, but she was right, and you were a fool to still be living in the past.

When she continued, your head faltered back to its original position, looking straight ahead. This was supposed to be your day, yours, and yet even after everything, Daniel was still the one on your mind...the one who still controlled your emotions and work.

“I don’t mean to be brash, dear, but if he wanted to make an appearance in your life, he would have done it by now. It’s time you put that past away and look towards the future,” Wrapping her arms around you, Vee pulled you close, extending her left hand out to motion around the room, “Think of all that you’ve done without him. Is he truly the one you wish to have by your side when you open your gallery? The one who didn’t want this for you in the first place?”

By this point you were crying, silently weeping in Vee’s arm as she gave you a hard reality check. It was true, all of it, why were you still hung up on him? For all you knew he had moved on himself - living with a pretty wife and a couple kids with a backyard and porch. You made it this far without him, and damn did you do a good job, so why were you still holding out on the chance that he would show up? Were you still that much in love with him?

“Sweet girl, it’s time to move on from him. He’s caused you enough pain. Look at how much you’ve done, truly, look around,” You opened your eyes and looked around the room, smiling weakly at all your work, “Never have I worked with someone as talented as you. The past five years have been a pleasure and I just want you to be proud of what you’ve done.”

“I am,” You whispered, looking at Vee now. You knew there were tears running down your cheeks as you could feel them, dripping from your jaw and onto your shirt. You sniffled and wiped your cheeks dry before letting out a sigh, “You’re right. I need to stop letting him ruin my day. This gallery, it’s beautiful! I should go and tell the curator he’s done an excellent job. I’m sure he thinks by now I’m either stuck up or a bitch...probably both!”

You laughed with Vee, leaning in as she kissed your temple before patting your back once, “I don’t think you should worry too much about that. I’m sure he’s probably dealt with worse drama queens,” She began to lead you out of the gallery, her arm still wrapped around you, “Come on, how about we go get a pastry and head home, yes?”

Nodding, you kept your own arm wrapped around her, following her out of the museum and to your lift that you had taken that day. The city was beautiful, but you were ready to retire back to the countryside where your home was.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

He had made it into work exactly four minutes late, and his boss was at the door waiting for him with a scowl on her face. She was a mean bitch, Teresa, his boss - thin and blonde, always a stern look on her face like she ate something bad. She was his height, which only made arguments worse. Teresa liked to find your weakness and make that her target.

Daniel was rather confident, not taking much heat and just letting it roll off his back, but he was shorter, average, but still short. Standing at only five feet nine inches, Daniel knew quite a few women who were his height, if not taller. So when it came to him and Teresa yelling in the kitchen at the restaurant, she always seemed to find a way to stand herself up to seem taller than he was, making her both look and feel like the alpha.

Tucking the fallen pieces behind his ears, Daniel sighed and went to grab an apron that was hanging up beside the time clock where Teresa was standing.

“Sorry, traffic was busy.” He stated, going to punch in his work number. Before he could, Teresa stepped to the side in front of it, hands on her hips as she blocked him from clocking in. He took a quick step back before running into her, eyes furrowed together. “Um, is there something-”

“You’re late,” She pointed out, as if he didn’t already know. She moved her hands from her hips and to cross over her chest, her breasts pressing together causing Daniel to swallow, eyes looking ahead of him at the time clock. “If we weren’t so desperate for staff, you’d be out of here.”

It took everything for Daniel to not roll his eyes at the comment, shuffling in his spot as he became fidgety, wanting to get away from Teresa and go to work. This wasn’t the first time she had cornered him before - taunting him with her breasts and charm, making him sweat through his uniform.

No, of course he didn’t think she was hot - well, maybe, but she was a bitch. A stone cold bitch who wouldn’t be getting anywhere near his pants. That promise he would keep. He’s had his fair share of questionable hookups, but Teresa the Tyrant would not be one of them, no matter how hard she tried.

“Are you sure it's we and not you?” He toyed, his eyes flicking over towards her. He held back his smirk when her arms fell, mouth gaping before she glared and moved out of the way.

“Get to work,” She ordered, moving out of the way and into the office that was beside the timeclock, in the back of the kitchen. “And I’m docking this!”

“And I’m docking this!” Daniel mimicked, making a face as he mumbled to himself, punching into work and grabbing an apron, wrapping it around him before heading through the kitchen and to the main seating area to start waiting on his section.

The two other waitresses, Kali and Lana, were already working, moving tables around for what looked to be a big party coming in. The restaurant Daniel worked at was rather nice, more formal than most around town, so most people came to the restaurant if they were looking for something special. The host, Will, at the front sighing in relief at the sight of Daniel walking in.

“Finally! Thank God you’re here!” Will began, handing Daniel his things frantically, “We got a huge party coming in. Teresa just sprung it on us when we opened,” Daniel’s eyebrows furrowed, stuffing the pens and orderbook in his pocket, trying to keep up with Will, “Whole party booked the restaurant. It’s just us four tonight. Party is almost reaching forty-”

“Forty? Forty people? And four waiters? What the hell was Teresa thinking?” Part of Daniel wished he had called in, but the four of them were a good team, he couldn’t bail on them. Tucking his hair behind his ears as it fell in his face, he sighed and shook his head, “What do I need to do before they get here?”

Will seemed to relax a bit when Daniel offered to help, wrapping the last bit of silverware before handing the basket to Daniel, “Set the tables. They’re sitting at four tables, ten each. We each get a table and their food is being cooked now so hopefully everything goes smoothly.”

Nodding, Daniel took the silverware, shifting the basket to sit on his hip before moving to the tables, “Yeah, hopefully.”

It didn’t take long to get ready, most of the work already being done before Daniel had clocked in. After the tables were set up and the four of them did some last minute cleaning, the guests soon began to come in, sitting in their assigned spots - the restaurant growing loud quickly.

As the oldest waiter, and the one with the most experience, Daniel didn’t stress too much about his table, focusing on Kali and Will who were the youngest of them, only in high school. He noticed Kali was especially having a hard time balancing all the food on the tray, wobbling as she went to sit it down to begin passing them out. He knew this night couldn’t get any worse, but Hell, Teresa really did throw them a curveball.

When Daniel was refilling glasses, he couldn’t help but grow curious, what was this all about? What were so many fancy rich pricks doing here?

“If you don’t mind me asking, what’s the occasion?” Daniel asked, doing his best to sound charming rather than nosey. He smiled down at the group at the end of the table he was at, watching as they paused from their conversations to turn to Daniel.

The one man, who turned his nose at the sight of Daniel, scoffed and adjusted his posture in his seat, “Oh you don’t know? Well, if you must know, we’re a group of art collectors,” He pulled out the flyer from his suit pocket and handed it to Daniel, who took it and began unfolding it as he continued, “There’s a new art gallery opening. We plan on going and potentially buying some of her pieces.”

Nodding, Daniel continued to listen until they began to ramble about rich people things that rich people talked about. Reading over the flyer, he recognized the art museum. It was a rather posh one, one that had famous art pieces that people would travel from all over to see. This artist must have been a rather big deal to be having a pop-up in the art museum.

It was the style of art he recognized first. He had seen it before. Where he couldn’t put his finger on, but he knew he had seen the art before. Reading over the name didn’t help either - Cassie Kane?

“Cassie Kane? Like Citizen Kane? What is that, some sort of pen name?” He couldn’t help but laugh at the name, finding it to be ridiculous. He was a writer - well, aspiring writer. He always found pen names to be rather odd, not something he was ever a fan of.

The table laughed at his joke, but Daniel knew that it wasn’t what he said that was funny, but him in general. Rich people always liked to laugh at the waiters, finding whatever came out of their mouth to be funny - as if they were their dancing monkeys.

“You’ve seriously never heard of her? Come now, she’s one of the most aspiring artists right now! It’s not everyday you see someone so young and talented open up a gallery of their own work, let alone in such a famous museum!” This time it was the woman beside the man who spoke, baffled at Daniel’s lack of knowledge in the so-called ‘Cassie Kane’.

“Forgive me, I’m a writer, not much of an artist.” He explained, pulling his lips into a thin smile. His patience was growing weak with these upper-class snobs and his feet were sore. All he wanted to do was go home, smoke a few cigarettes, have some drinks, and pass out on his couch.

“Well, nobody knows much about her. Like I said, she’s young. From what I hear though, she lives in a manor that was passed down to her by a great-aunt or something. I believe she took care of her before her death and her aunt gave her the house,” Another woman said, sipping her champagne before continuing, “A single woman, all alone in that big house. No wonder she has all those paintings, poor girl probably has nothing better to do.”

They erupted into laughs at the woman’s comment, the woman’s own laugh sounding far too similar to a donkey for Daniel to keep his composure, sipping their drinks and continuing on with other conversations.

Before Daniel could finally escape though, giving up all interests on even trying to talk with his table - the original man quickly reached out to Daniel as he turned to leave, pulling at his apron to gain his attention.

“You asked her name, yes well, she’s actually from here. That’s why we’ve stopped by. We wanted to get a look around her hometown before travelling to see what inspired her pieces. Here! I have a photo actually.” The man dug his photo out of his pocket and unlocked it, searching on Google for the artist before pulling up a picture, handing his phone to Daniel who took it, holding it in front of him.

“She’s the one on the far left,” He explained, “In the red.”

Scanning through the line of people, Daniel nearly dropped the man’s phone when he finally reached the artist. He knew he had seen the art from somewhere, and who left town to become an artist? He should have known - it was the only person who he could have thought of. You, you were Cassie Kane.

“You must have known her? She’s about your age! Did you go to school with her?”

The questions became far too much for Daniel, who all but cowered back, closing his eyes for a moment before opening them, “Um, no, sorry, I don’t,” He lied, clearing his throat, “Must have been in different classes than me.”

“Well she’s opening up the invitations to everyone in town. Free admission if you show that you live in town. Perhaps you should go - check the gallery out for yourself and broaden your horizons a bit. Whole town is rather dense from what I’ve seen. No wonder she’s letting you all come for free.”

And after three painfully long hours of listening to the rich snobs joke and whine and bicker, Daniel finally had enough. With a smile, Daniel let out a mocking laugh, pathetically sounding like a snob before his face fell, his table - and the others as well, falling to silence.

“If I wanted to broaden my horizons, I’d go to the zoo, at least there I can enjoy what I’m looking like,” He turned to the woman who had originally spoken up after the man - who’s laugh sounded far too much like a donkey, smiling wickedly down at her, “That reminds me, I heard they’re opening a petting zoo in town - maybe you can go and say hi to the rest of your cousins for me. What exactly do donkeys eat by the way? I’m curious to know.”

He let out a whine line a donkey, mocking the woman before leaning over the table and reaching for the champagne bottle in the ice bucket, pulling the cork off with his teeth and spitting it back out down the table. At this point the whole room was silent, watching as Daniel finally cracked.

When he noticed everyone was staring, after drinking a healthy amount from the bottle, he let out a sigh and let the champagne run down his beard and onto the front of his shirt, hiccuping.

And without another word he made his way lazily from the dining room and through the kitchen, sipping on the bottle until he made it to the back of the kitchen, pushing open Teresa’s door and tossing his apron at things at her, watching as they bounced off her and onto the floor.

“What the he-”

“I quit,” Daniel said, cutting her off. When she looked at him confused, and of course pissed like always, he could only smile and brave it, “I quit. Don’t bother docking me because I’m not coming back. Better yet, don’t even bother paying me today,” He looked down at the champagne bottle and waved it at her, “Consider this my tip.”

And before she could get another word out, he turned and headed out of her office, smirking to himself as he listened to her scream for him to get back as he left the restaurant, heading through the filled parking lot, and back to his apartment.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

After dinner that night, alone in your study like most, you attempted to work on your laptop, going through emails in hopes of maybe finding something that was worth your wild. To your avail, however, nothing jumped out at you.

It was all the same - the coupons from the candle store you liked, the newspaper from your hometown you still followed, and the countless number of spam emails that seemed to always flood your inbox.

Slamming your laptop shut, you let out a huff and fell back into your seat, looking around your office. Your hands found your face and you ran them up and down, groaning before letting your body go slack, arms draped over the arm rests as you twisted side to side in your chair.

For such a busy woman, life often felt lonely to you. Living in your great-aunt’s old manor didn’t help either. The ghosts of those who lived before you seemed to be the only friends you had.

That, and the animals you had out back.

Pushing yourself up from your chair, you made your way out of the office and down the hall, going down the grand staircase. Your slippers scuffed across the floor as you made your way through the hall and into the breakfast nook, opening the door that led outside into the backyard. You had quite a few animals - the acres in your backyard reserved strictly for the farm animals that your great-aunt had before she passed.

Vee suggested that you send them off to someone else, seeing as though you were a busy woman who didn’t need the extra stress of animals. But you couldn’t do that to them, this was their home, more of their home than your own. You made it work, getting up early to feed them and take care of them before work that day and then spending evenings, like tonight, with them.

Opening the gate that secured the perimeter for them, so they wouldn’t wander outside of their area and onto the road to get hit, making your way into the fenced area. Most of the animals were already tucked away for bed, the occasional moo from one of the cows echoing across the hills. You didn’t mind though, sometimes coming in was more for you than it was for them. It helped get your mind off things.

Sitting on the stool you kept out for milking the cows, you rested your elbows on your knees, your chin on your hands. You knew it was rather ridiculous to be sulking so much - being such a successful aspiring artist with a manor and so much that many didn’t - but what nobody seemed to realize was how lonely you were. God, did you know it - you reminded yourself everyday.

But it wasn’t that you were appreciative of all that you had, no, you were more than thankful - but everyone had their one wish in life, and yours - still to this day even after everything, was that by some miracle Daniel would come back, that he would show up at your door on his hands and knees to beg for your forgiveness.

Vee reminded you daily that your dream wasn’t good for you.

“If he loved you as much as you like to say he did...why isn’t he here now? Why has he been gone for the last decade and a half? That doesn’t seem like the man who deserves you, let alone crying over.”

She was right though - he wasn’t worth your time of day.

Letting out a sigh, you wiped away the stray tears before the ‘baah’ from one of the goats made you jump, turning back to see one of the babies prancing your way, a smile growing on your face. It was late, and the mischievous goat should have been sleeping.

“And what are you doing up?” You scolded playfully, much like a mother would to their own child. You watched the baby goat sprint at you the last few feet, butting it’s head into your leg before pawing at the ground to get your attention, wanting to be lifted.

“Oh come here,” Bending down, you lifted up the baby goat and held them in your arms, watching as they got comfortable before tucking their head in the crook of your arm. “Which one are you, hmm?”

Twisting the collar your way, you looked at the name tag and smiled.

“Marlene, hello there sweet girl. What are you still doing awake? I believe it’s past your bedtime.” You heard the muffled ‘baah’ from under your arm and stroked her back, keeping her held in your arms while you enjoyed the moment.

Rocking her gently, you listened as she soon lulled into a sleep, your own head bobbing slightly as you grew tired yourself. Leaning back against the fence pole, you let out a yawn, adjusting so the wood wasn’t digging directly into your spine before your petting slowed.

“Just a minute...I’ll put you up in just a minute.” You whispered, your head falling back as you entered your sudden slumber.

Although your minute became minutes, then hours, until you woke to the erupting sounds of all the animals around you, growing impatient for breakfast. Groaning, you sat up, your back painfully stiff as you cracked your eyes open, looking around to see the animals eyeing you, running rampant as they waited for their food.

“Shit!” You hissed, standing up, stumbling as you lost balance before rushing around to get everyone fed for the day. God, did you really fall asleep out here? How tired were you? You must have been rather tired, seeing as though you slept on a stool propped against the fence post all night.

Thankfully though it didn’t take long, doing your regular morning chores until you were finally able to head back inside, or rather trudging back inside. Your body was painfully sore and while you slept a while, it was a rather shit sleep.

When you made it through the breakfast nook, into the hallway to go back into your room, you stopped at the sight of Vee who was coming down the stairs, looking for you.

“There you are! I looked everywhere for you, did you forget that we were supposed to meet with some of the other museum directors tod-” She paused, nose turning and she sniffled the air, “What is that smell?”

“Me, probably,” You stated, watching as Vee looked at you confused, before you motioned behind you, “I fell asleep out back last night...just woke up actually. I’m sorry, I’ll go get ready an-”

But before you could leave and go get ready for the day, Vee held out her hand, stopping you before pulling out her phone, texting with one hand while you waited patiently, swaying slightly as you still woke up. When you heard the noise from her phone signaling she had sent a text to someone, she lowered her hand and smiled.

“Vee, you didn’t have to do that. I’m sorry I-”

“Please, look at you. Better yet, smell yourself. You reek! Go take a shower and come back down. I’m craving a mimosa. You and I will get breakfast together, think you need a break from all the museum directors breathing down your neck.”

You could only smile, nodding towards Vee before going in for a hug, stopping suddenly when she took a step back. “After your shower. I’m not letting you stink me up too.”

Letting out a laugh, you shook your head and made your way up the stairs, throwing your clothes off and into your laundry basket before heading into your bathroom to take a quick shower for the day.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

As much as yesterday was odd for Daniel, the new day had been even more odd. He wasn’t expecting much - maybe a phone call from his boss about his outburst yesterday - in fact, Daniel might have rather had that, then what he had been going through all morning.

“So let me get this straight...you want me to take your grandfather to the art gallery? I don’t see why you can’t just do it, Will.” Daniel explained, standing near his t.v. stand while Will, the kid from the restaurant, sat on his couch beside his grandfather, and Kali, the other girl from the restaurant, sat on his other side.

It would take a bigger idiot than Daniel to believe the mask he was wearing. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to give the man a ride and earn a few extra bucks, given how he was now out of a job, he just wasn’t ready to face you again.

“I got school. Remember? I’m only in high school still. Kali can’t cause she doesn’t have her license yet,” Will explained, shrugging his shoulders before motioning to his grandfather, who looked to be falling asleep, “Besides...he wants to go see an old student - that old student just so happens to be the girl you’re still obviously in love with-”

“Hey now, Will, I appreciate it...but I’m not still in love with her. That’s in the past, and I’ve moved on.” But had he? Had he really moved on?

Frowning, Will nodded and looked down, Kali glancing towards him before standing up, making her way to Daniel. Grabbing onto his arm, Kali smiled weakly at Daniel.

“Maybe if you don’t wanna go and see her, just go to appreciate the art? Who knows, maybe there will be a story there worth writing about? This could be your big break!” Kali suggested, trying to convince Daniel in any way she could to go. “Besides...you’re out of a job now, what exactly are you doing that’s keeping you from going?”

Opening his mouth, Daniel went to say something before realizing what the kids were doing - they were trying to help him out, cause after all...teenagers seemed to know more than he did.

Kali was right, even if he went and didn’t run into you, there could be a potential story there, something he could write about. That, and Daniel did always get along well with his high school art teacher, so maybe this wouldn’t be all that bad? It’d be good for him to get out of town.

Sighing, Daniel looked at Kali one last time before back at Will, then his grandfather who was now snoring on his couch, “Fine...I’ll take him. But if you guys are trying to set something up, you’re wasting your time. That’s in the past-”

He was surprised to feel the sets of arms wrap around him in a hug. Laughing lightly, Daniel awkwardly patted Kali and Will’s back. “Guys...come on now, you offer a bum cash and it’s going to take a lot for him to refuse.”

Feeling Kali pinch his side, Daniel jumped back, yelping before watching the two laugh now, Will’s grandfather now waking up and looking around, as if he were trying to figure out where he was at. Okay, so maybe taking care of him wouldn’t be all that fun, but it couldn’t be all that bad? Right?

“So, when do we leave?” Daniel asked, watching Will and Kali help his grandfather up before making their way to the door.

“Tomorrow morning. If you leave at six, you’ll get there by four - give or take traffic - we already have your room booked so you just have to check in once you get there.” Will explained, opening the front door to begin heading down the steps and outside.

Following the trio, Daniel helped in any way he could with getting the old man down the steps, making sure he didn’t slip and fall. When they finally got outside and loaded him into the passenger seat of the car, Daniel took a step back, eyes furrowed.

“Wait...six in the morning? Jesus...I haven’t got up that early since-”

“Since the Christmas banquet breakfast that you were late for, yes, we know,” Kali stated, shutting the passenger door before turning to look back up at Daniel, “Just...wake up on time. Will and I will be over here just about that time on our way to school. So just be ready, okay?”

Nodding, Daniel let out a huff and pushed his hair back, “Yeah, yeah, I can do that...you know I’m the adult here, right? You guys really like to boss me around, huh?” When he felt Kali hug him again, he could only soften, hugging her back. “I’ll be up, just - don’t expect a whole lot out of me on this. I’m getting him there and back, that’s it.”

“Totally, and if you so happen to fall back in love with the girl you can’t seem to get over, then that’s all the better.” Will noted, helping Kali in the backseat before getting in the car himself.

Shaking his head, Daniel made his way to the left side of the car, looking at Will and Kali, “Hey, how did you guys even find out about her? I mean...I’ve never brought her up before.”

“Well after yesterday’s incident, Kali and I looked her up and found some old photos of you guys from high school. I knew you went to our school so I asked my grandfather about you guys and, well, he told us the rest. It was Kali who suggested you go.” Will explained, motioning to the backseat towards Kali who was grinning.

Kali was a sweet girl, who was maybe a little too obsessed with love stories - but Daniel couldn’t deny their obvious findings. Especially after yesterday, they were right to assume some pushed down feelings of his.

Daniel could only hope that if he got the courage, he’d be able to tell you how he felt, how sorry he was after all these years. But after all these years, would you even want to hear what he had to say?

[tgmsunmontue]

Life is too short to waste time matching socks... (4/5)

Hangster and Bob/Javy/Nat - set post mission with the Dagger Squad having been made a permanent squad.

PART ONE PART TWO PART THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

                “It says two to six people. You could have brought Phoenix and Javy as well,” Jake says, looking at the description for the room and turning to look at Bob.

                “Why would I want to bring them?”

                Jake exchanges a look with Rooster, because they know that Bob has slept with both Javy and Nat, but if the man wants to keep that on the downlow then Jake will respect that. Except the Dagger Squad are quickly becoming a squad where it’s impossible to keep secrets.

                “Just stating it as fact. Mean nothing by it. You guys just seem pretty tight these days. I approve,” Jake states, slapping Bob on the back and stepping past him to pay his entry fee, letting his hip rest against Rooster’s as they exchange an eyeroll, because it was pretty foolish of them to think that maybe Bob would be the weakest link in whatever Trace, Javy and Bob have going on.

                It’s a horror themed escape room, apparently their tour bus has broken down, they’ve sought refuge at a nearby house and are now trapped in this house by the local serial killer who will be coming back to kill them in an hour unless they escape. Delightful. They enter the room and it’s dark, bookcase, chair, desk, a fake plant… He’s never done an escape room before but Bob had assured him he’d like it. Which in hindsight maybe wasn’t a thing to take on trust. He’s aware they’re trying to force him into situations with Rooster, they’re not subtle. But he also doesn’t think they’re completely innocent either and he’s starting to think that maybe they’re right and Rooster might be more into him than he thought.

                “I’m just going to go and use the bathroom and make a quick call.”

                Jake doesn’t even try and hide the eyeroll this time, goes to exchange another look with Rooster, who has one of the books in his hand and is running it over the side of the bookcase, and then a drawer on the desk pops open.

                “What the fuck?”

                “Magnets and wires. First time?” Rooster asks, smirking and god, Jake wants to kiss him just as much as he wants to shove him. Instead he pulls the drawer out and empties the contents onto the desk, holds up a key which is clearly for the door leading further in, rather than the door the entered through, and which Bob left by. Fine. He doesn’t mind spending time with Rooster at all. He puts the key in and turns it, hears something click behind him and then there’s the sound of several somethings falling to the floor. Rooster is screaming and he turns to find him standing there looking pale, surrounded by fake, covered-in-blood, severed body parts.

…            …            …

                Bradley is pretty sure he’s going to draw blood with how hard his nails are digging into his palms.

                “You don’t like a little horror there Rooster?”

                “No I fucking don’t. Get enough scary shit happening to me at work. Why couldn’t we be rescuing a kitten or something?”

                “Because Bob chose this. And don’t worry. You’re okay. I’ll save you. I’ve had practice remember?”

                “God you’re an ass.”

                “Maybe, but you’re not scared anymore are you?”

                “I wasn’t scared!”

                “Not anymore…” Jake insists.

                The kiss Jake gives him is brief, just a dry press of lips and it’s over so quickly he thinks he might have imagined it, except Hangman is squeezing his waist and then letting go and he immediately misses the warmth, wants to press back into it. He’s starting to think that maybe it was Hangman that gave him the socks. It seems like his way of flirting, little bit silly, but also something he can completely deny if he gets asked and he thinks he isn’t going to get the answer he wants. Bradley wants to give him the answer he wants.

                “Thanks for the socks,” Bradley says, and he can’t really tell if Hangman is blushing or not in the poor lighting of the room, but Jake hip checks him and reaches for the door that has opened after the fake body parts had tumbled to the floor.

                “You’re welcome. Now come on Bradshaw, I want to get on the leaderboard for this room and then take you out where we can do more of that.”

                “Yeah. Okay. And if we don’t make the leaderboard?” Bradley asks, because he’s hopefully about this answer too.

                “I’ll take you out anyway.”

                “Deal.”

…            …            …

                Natasha pushes the chair out with her foot and gives Bob a smile as he grins and settles into the seat; Javy slides his hot chocolate across and she takes a sip of her own drink that Javy bought for her. She doesn’t miss the fact that Javy stretches his legs out so his ankle rests against Bob’s, all while his arm rests on the back of her chair. Hmm. Maybe Bradley was onto something.

                “I’m a genius. They’re both super competitive. An escape room forces them to work together and communicate, and it’s an enclosed space.”

                “So you’re saying we’ve forced them together in a small space in which they’ll likely rile each other up. kill each other and that it already looks like a murder scene?”

                “Uh…”

                “Pretty sure any bodily fluids coming out won’t be blood…” Javy says dryly and Natasha pulls a face.

                “I don’t want to think about them…” she says, and she looks between Javy and Bob contemplatively. “However I did have some thoughts.”

PART FIVE

[mrs-hollandstan]

could a write a mob tom with a plus size reader who’s a virgin and is self conscious of her body. and with a ddlg kink too? thank you xxx

I hope I did the ddlg kink justice. I am uninformed lol. NSFW below

[[MORE]]

You knew Tom thought you were stunning. He'd approached, unabashedly in one of his clubs and you'd been inseparable ever since. But the thing was… he was growing weary with no sex to keep him calm. He knew you were a virgin and he'd never push you, but what he couldn't understand is why you seemed so shy around him and the topic of sex. You were confident everywhere else (it seemed) but when it came to him touching you, you'd find a way to cower. He discovered though, that calling you baby girl brought something so primal out of you. He intended to use that. And the opportunity presented itself at one of his clubs, in his office, 

"Darling, c'mere." He demands, drawing your attention from the window looking down on the club. You strut over, setting your wine glass aside and leaning against the desk between his spread legs, "I noticed something and I'd like to… discuss it while we have some time alone together." You stare down at him, pinch in your eyebrows, 

"What do you mean?" You ask. He pats the desk before him, waiting until you lean against the wood to draw his crossed hands from his lips, 

"You know you're… delectable to me. I just," he reaches out, brushing your thick thighs apart to brush his fingertips over your panties. He smiles when you gasp, "I think about you a lot and how gorgeous you'd be laid out beneath me, writhing in pleasure." You clamp your thighs closed, Tom retreating just in time. He stands, towering over you from your laxed position with a cocky smirk, 

"Now sweet girl-" 

"I just… you've been with so many beautiful women and I-" 

"I hope that sentence is going to end with, 'I am so much better'. You do know that right. Why would I waste my time trying to keep you happy if I thought you were worse looking than any other woman I've been with." He diffuses, playing with your fingers with a cocked eyebrow. You sigh, 

"But it's not true. Those girls can pull off outfits I couldn't."

"Uhm, I'm sorry, but when you wore that green and red plaid dress thing with that cream colored turtleneck, didn't I excuse myself to go take a cold shower?" He poses. Staring up at him, you nod, 

"Yeah." He leans down to tuck hair behind your ear and catch your eye,

"So why are you constantly tearing yourself down? You're the most gorgeous girl on this planet. And I would love to show you how much you mean to me." He tells you, pressing his hands to your hips over the blue velvet dress you wear. His eyes are dark and the thrill of his office window being an easy place to be seen unless you're across his desk or on his leather couch forces so much lust to course through your veins. You swallow and stare at him a moment longer before nodding, 

"Yeah… okay." You tell him. He smiles and leans in to kiss you, 

"Good girl. Now… take everything off, and go kneel on the couch for daddy." He purrs. Your breath catches in your throat and he chuckles darkly, 

"Oh, you thought I didn't know? Yeah… your obsession with being called baby girl tells me all I need to know. But I'll be easy for your first time, promise." He purrs before he's moving from your body and towards the office door, flicking the lock on the red door as you stand before the couch, drawing the zipper down and letting your dress drop to the floor. Tom licks his lips as he watches, hands tucked in his pockets while you strip from the strapless bra and matching thong you chose tonight. He hums, shedding his jacket and starting to unbutton his shirt as you climb onto the couch on all fours, 

"You're so gorgeous." Tom murmurs as he drops his shirt to the floor, kicking his shoes off and shedding his socks before he works on his belt. You watch him, licking your lips when he presses his pants and boxers down, reaching into his desk for a condom, 

"You don't have to." You tell him. He meets your eyes, 

"I'm on birth control and… I wanna feel your cum on me daddy." You coo. You giggle when Tom's cock twitches. He abandons the condom and comes to kneel between your legs, stroking himself and pressing his tip to your entrance before he spits and presses himself into you. You gasp, head falling forward as he fills you, hands pressed over your bottom. He pauses, nestled deep inside of you, 

"So good baby. You okay?" You nod, chewing your bottom lip, 

"I'm not completely innocent. I've masturbated before so its… not as bad." You reassure. He hums before he's wrapping a hand in your hair, 

"You're a naughty little thing eh?" You nod, pressing your lips together,

"Yes daddy." He hums again before he gently moves, drawing another gasp from you. He grips your hip hard in one hand, your hair in the other. You moan and whimper, tipping your head back. He wraps your hair tighter, 

"You're my good girl huh?" He purrs. You nod, 

"Fuck… please, faster." You pant. Tom reaches beneath you to rub your clit, listening to you moan loudly before he places his foot on the couch beneath him and presses into you deeper and quicker. You cry out each time he presses his deepest, your body buzzing in pleasure, 

"C'mere baby." He poses, pulling out of you. You turn to look at him, swallowing and shaking your head when you stare at him, slouched on the couch, holding his cock up for you. He clicks his tongue, 

"Darling I've got you, come here." 

"No. I-I can't be on top."

"And why is that?" He poses, already knowing the answer. You cower away from him, 

"I don't… I don't want you to have to have my body in your face." You nearly whine and Tom clicks his tongue, moving toward you, 

"There is absolutely nothing wrong with you. I wouldn't ask for your body in my face if I didn't want it. I want you and that's it. The same way you want my cum on you, I want you on top of me. I just wanna make you feel good, make you see how fucking perfect you are." He tells you. Younstare into his deep brown eyes, swallowing when he holds his hand out, 

"I'm not gonna be thinking how ugly you are while you ride me because its not true. Health isn't determined by what you weigh and any outfit you fill out is gorgeous on you." He reassures. You stare down at his hand again before taking it and gently moving over him. He takes his bottom lip between his teeth, guiding himself back into you. You both groan before Tom presses his hands over the tops of your thighs and you move back against him. He hums once more, watching you find your groove in a few short moments. He stares up at you through his lashes as you bounce on top of him, hands rested back on his knees. He presses his hands over your breasts, sliding them down your sides and feeling the slopes and grooves of your tummy and hips. He leans up, sucking one of your nipples into his mouth, heart stuttering in his chest at the way you hold the back of his head as he laps and sucks at the pebbles of both of your nipples. He wraps an arm around your waist, leaning back and pressing you chest to chest. You wrap your arm around his shoulders, holding the back of his neckas you press your cheek to his and he holds your bottom, 

"Shit. I'm so fucking close." 

"Me too." You moan. He presses a thumb to your clit, rubbing softly until you squeal and your back arches as you cum, breasts pushed into his face. He grunts, meeting each movement of your hips with a hard thrust. He maneuvers you until you're on your back before he draws out, stroking himself as he kisses your knee and squeezes his eyes shut as he cums, spilling it across your belly in short spurts. He groans, stroking every last drop from himself before he collapses between your spread legs. You lay panting for a moment before glancing down at the mess that paints across your belly. He hums, finding a few tissues on the floor beside the couch to clean up with before he watches you rise and pick your dress up, shielding your body from him. He plays with the hem of the velvet for a moment before patting the cushion beside him, 

"C'mere baby. Sit with me for a minute." You move to sit beside him. He draws your clasped hands back to reveal you to him. He sighs, 

"I promise to prove to you that you're worth all of it. You're beautiful and I love all of your outfits. You always look stunning and I just… I just want you to know that your beauty is part of the reason I'm still here. You'd be surprised how many men look at you and talk about you behind these doors baby." He tells you, stroking his fingers through your hair. You stare down at him, 

"I just… don't feel like someone like you should be with someone like me. You should have a toothpick thin girl on your arm." 

"I've had my fun with those kinda girls. I love you and I'm not going anywhere for a girl like that. You're stunning and funny and perfect to me in every way. I love your stupid little pajamas you roll into bed in. You're it babe. And I really wish you'd quit hiding from me." He tells you. You sigh,

"I just don't want you disappointed and rethinking your life when your enemies realize what your girlfriend looks like."

"I don't give a fuck what all those assholes think. You're my girl and that's it. No if, ands, or buts about it." He dismisses, "I have my own flaws and I'm not letting them get the best of me. You're beautiful and that's it." He tells you, relaxing against his couch with your skin pressed to his. Moving forward, you lean against him, head pressed to the top of his shoulder, 

"I do love you. And I'm glad you were my first." 

"And I'll be your last. You really think I'm letting you go? You looked like a fucking goddess on top of me." Giggling you stand, pressing your feet through the hole of your dress. You slide it on, 

"I need to go downstairs and get something stronger than wine." You tell him. He hums and just as you reach for your thong, he snags it, tucking it in the breast pocket of his suit jacket which he holds in his lap. A fiesty twinkle sparkles in his eye as he gives a nonchalant shrug, 

"One, you can do it without panties, especially if I might want another round from you and two, I keep souvenirs baby. Now…" He stands and pulls his boxers and pants back on, "why don't you fetch daddy a neat whiskey on the rocks eh?" And the twinkle burns brighter, mischief adding to the effect and confirming you're in for a long night.

[sunmontuewrites]

WEEKEND AIMS/GOALS...

(and Friday as well again) Still split into sections... but my brain is feeling much improved compared to last week. Things with a triple asterisk are higher priority because I didn't do them last weekend.

ALSO, just realised, if I do everything this weekend REALLY well I can let them slide a little bit next weekend which is a 3-day weekend so I can write more. *gleefully rubs hands together*

WORK STUFF

OPEN DAY

Emails less than 40 by end of the day

Face for dragon/taniwhā before 8.30am

Put bottle of wine in fridge for getting through this week

TIME MANAGEMENT & SELFCARE

Friday Breakfast / Lunch / Dinner

Saturday Breakfast / Lunch / Dinner

Sunday Breakfast / Lunch / Dinner

Morning routine Fri / Sat / Sun

Evening routine Fri / Sat / Sun

Watch TV episode Fri / Sat / Sun

Shave

Facial / ***Manicure / Pedicure

OTHER CHORES - KIDS + HUBS

Change sheets on beds

Clean cat bowls/feeders

Mirrors and bathroom basins

Vacuum house

***Mop floors

***Kitchen bay window

***Mow lawns? (Lawn mower still broken?)

***Sweep outside

Kitchen

HOUSE CHORES

Clean/dust bath

Cat litter tray

15 loads of washing

Change sheets on bed

Clean the toilet

***Dust lounge / bedroom / dining room/ hallway

Fold all the washing

Clean CPAP machine + order new hose

End room dusted, vacuumed and mopped

GARDENING 🤮🤮🤮(I deleted baking/cooking)

Weed gardens in front of bedrooms

Dinner Saturday night (frittata)

Dinner Sunday night (roast chicken)

WRITING GOALS

Post "What to Write Weekend post"

1k words Sat / Sun

2k words Sat / Sun

3k words Sat / Sun

4k words Sat / Sun

5k words Sat / Sun

POSTING FANFIC WORKS

Finish Laws of Thermodynamics - last chapter - finished / posted

Chapter of Fine Fine Sunshiney Day - finished / posted

Online & Anonymous chapter - finished / posted

Where do I know you from chapter - finished / posted

Sagas of Solitude - finished / posted

To Wake, perchance to dream chapter - finished / posted

Together or not at all... - finished / posted

Cyclone/Maverick - finished / posted

Getting to know you - finished / posted

Life is too short to waste time matching socks - finished / posted

Caring, Keeping and Collection Transformers - A Guide - finished / posted

BINGO 1 - finished / posted

[hansolmates]

jungkook; give me five more minutes (loving you) | m

summary; jungkook’s the banker, and he’s investing in your time

pairing; bf!jungkook x fem reader

genre/warnings; idol!au, tooth rotting fluff, established relationship, very (and i mean very) lazy clit stimulation, ust

w.c; 953

a/n; today’s prompt is established relationship! the first of many fics for @btsghostiewritersnet​ BGW Bingo Bash! not so subtly inspired by the jonas brothers 5 more minutes as my kink is long cuddly mornings in bed. please enjoy and if u like it pls consider giving it a share! 

“No. No no. No no nonono—” 

Between each rejection at your prospect of starting your day, kisses blessed the bare skin on your shoulder, each “no” balmed by his slightly chapped lips. You could feel the pout in his kisses, the rumble in his morning voice tangling with his childish request. 

“Hobi is going to come back and get the water gun if we’re not out.” 

“Five more minutes.” 

His fingers skirt to the space between your tank top and shorts, easily finding their destination to your panties. You don’t bother to swat him away, you feel like your body is melting into the duvet accompanied by your boyfriend’s chest pressing you further into the mattress. His head is tucked between your neck and collarbone, cuddling you with a force so snug you wonder if you’re dating a grown man or a koala. 

You hum appreciatively when your slick lets Jungkook find his rhythm. Jungkook’s smile burns into your shoulder, murmuring happily about how weak you are for a good morning touch. 

“Five more minutes to add into a lifetime of happiness,” he mumbles into your neck. 

“Sounds like something that needs to go into your album.” 

You don’t know when the tables turned. One day, Jungkook decided to be the banker in your relationship and constantly barter time like a currency. He ensures that it’s worth it, that five, ten, forty minutes adds to the time you’re spending with the love of your life. And surely, it isn’t a waste of time if you both are happy, right? 

It used to be you, the one who wanted more more more of him. Waiting for him to finish a livestream so he can call you on his private number, or re-watching cheesy interviews where Western hosts ask for the nth time, “who’s the ____ in the group?” 

Jungkook’s now the one matching Jimin head-to-head on lateness. He lingers too long in your apartment, standing outside your doorway like a kicked puppy, even though it’s him that needs to leave (three minutes). He urges you to stay up for one more episode of the anime you’re currently binging, even though your eyes are glazed over and you can’t speak more than three words at a time (twenty-four minutes). He acts like lovestruck highschoolers when ending a call despite being miles away—”You hang up first!” but someone says, “no, you!” (7 minutes). 

You let your body wind back, grinding up against Jungkook’s basketball shorts but he holds you steady, refusing to let you move. You do manage a brief brush at his hardness, and he sighs in your ear, rubbing contented circles to reach a high you’re sure is far from reach. 

“Alright, you horny bitches.” 

Hoseok does not have the watergun today, but instead holds a clean white t-shirt and a Ziploc-packed sandwich, Nutella staining the plastic. He looks disinterested at the two of you, covered by the fluffy duvet. 

Jungkook hides his face with your hair, huffing. He’s still thumbing you, content. “Five—” 

“Hell no. You had more than five,” Hoseok shoots his stare to you, “and then some. Let’s go, you gotta eat in the car.” 

The older one leaves, but keeps the door ajar. Without any reluctance, you untack Jungkook’s hand from your panties. You take care to hold his large hand in both of yours, sitting up and observing Jungkook’s petulance like a child being scolded. 

Maintaining eye contact, you lick his thumb and pointer, smirking at the way your slick coats the digits. You’re relishing in the way his pupils dilate with hunger, knowing it’s far too late in the morning for him to get a taste of his own. He swoops you into his arms, peppering kisses to your cheeks as he cradles you. 

“I love you. I love you loveyoulove—” 

You giggle, reaching for his cheeks with both your hands to squish the soft flesh. He looks  adorable like this, just his head peeking from the thick comforter, your palms moulding his sleepy, happy face. You did wish he could offer you more time. At least for today, the banker is officially bankrupt. 

Forcing him to pucker his lips, you press some chaste pecks to his lips. “I love you more,” but you push him off the bed, using great force as you manage to shove all that muscle into a standing position. 

“That’s a goddamn lie. I love you way more.” 

“No, I love you—Jungkook stop trying to fake-fight, you need to go!” 

“Two more minutes!” you throw a pillow at him. He takes one step back. You throw your Cooky plushie at his head, bouncing off his frizzy bird’s nest and into his hands. The pink bunny smirks tauntingly at his creator. “Now that’s just mean.” he pouts, placing the plush on the floor. “We didn’t even finish what we started—” 

He’s already making his way towards you, one knee on the bed until Jimin slides in, socks helping him gain momentum as he grabs Jungkook by the ankle, throwing him off balance. “Y’all are nasty,” Jimin shakes his head before looking at you, “not so much you. I like you. Kook though? Nastiest.” 

Jungkook’s not just late today. He’s Jimin-late today. 

There’s a mini-struggle, with you slamming the door in their faces while Jungkook is grumbling with an extra slice of bread in his mouth. The flat is finally empty and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. At ease, you make your way back to Jungkook’s room. The window is cracked open, and you see him waving frantically at you, putting the “call” symbol to his ear as Jimin shoves him in the backseat. 

As always, he manages to steal a little time. 

[bold-writing]

The One With Whiskey Eyes || 1 || Prologue

Summary:  Soulmate AU Split 2016. Not everyone had a soulmate, there were many in the world who were unmarked. Iris Mayfair, however, has been forced to hide her skin for nearly thirty years. She doesn't have just one or two soulmates-even three would make people sneer and judge; no, she has twenty-three legible marks on her skin; with a blurry, unfinished twenty-fourth blooming across her flesh.

Warnings: Descriptions of violence, descriptions of abuse, swearing.

Words: 2700+

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~1~

Soulmates were common, but not for everyone. The first words spoken between two people who are destined to be together, forever etched into the skin like a tattoo from fate. Everyone’s varied, depending on the people and the chance encounter that would be their first meeting. Some had a simple ‘hello’ or ‘nice to meet you’ while others could have more complexity to them, like ‘well, it took you long enough’ or the unfortunate ‘how much of an idiot do you have to be?’

There were even people who had more than one soulmate, usually receiving a bitter encounter with those who lacked a soulmark; more often than not, those with a soulmark were hated by the un-marked, but those with more than one were absolutely despised.

 It was for that reason that Iris Mayfair kept herself covered from head to toe in her oversized clothing for as long as she could remember. Since she was a child, every few years one or more soulmarks would appear on her body. By the time she was in her twenties, she had twenty-three soulmarks along her skin. Some were simple, others were complicated, many were downright confusing; Look, look! We have matching socks! and Finally, I get the light!

 Only recently did another mark begin to appear, still foggy and unreadable, along a bare patch on her chest. It was short, probably nothing more than one word, and it made her curious since no other marks were quite that simple for her. Though, one on the inside of her arm was hello my dear.

 It was due to her soulmarks that she had led such a rough life; not many outsiders knew of her marks, but her parents believed her to be a monster, a freak of nature that wasn’t meant to be. They were unmarked, having met and fallen in love through the connection of their empty bodies. For as long as she could remember her body was covered and she was forbidden to show her skin. There was one mark that was shown on the back of her left hand unless she wore gloves, in small, neat writing that looked meticulous and practiced—Sh, sh, shh, quiet now.

 This mark, as well as a few others, were still readable but now bore burns or scars from her parents’ attempts as removing them from her skin. If they couldn’t be taken off, they attempted to try to cover them up.

 Iris had fled home when she was still young, lying low and scrounging by until she was eighteen and legally capable of renting a tiny apartment that she afforded with a meagre job. It wasn’t often she went out, opting instead to stay home and out of sight. Running away before she was able finish school, Iris taught herself what she could through her love of reading.

 She read as much as she could find about soulmarks, and as far as she could tell the most ever recorded on a person was three. Her twenty-four made that record pale in comparison.

 It was through her readings that she learned about Dr. Fletcher, who had had been researching Dissociative Identity Disorder and the effect it had on those with soulmarks. For months, Iris debated on whether or not to contact this doctor, worried that she would either have to expose her greatest secret—and therefore her scars—or if she would have to pay her.

 Lacking in money as she was, holding down a management position as best she could, it wasn’t as though she could afford a therapist of any kind.

 However, she finally worked up the courage to call the woman and was relieved to know that she was willing to speak with her in complete confidence and no charge. So, trying to find the same courage she had to make that phone call, Iris made her way to Dr. Fletcher’s office in the early afternoon between two of the woman’s appointments.

 It took several flights of stairs to get up to her floor, making Iris regret wearing so many layers when she left her apartment. It was still early spring so it hadn’t gotten warm yet, but even in the summer her sleeves were long so she’d become mostly accustomed to it. However, with a shirt, sweater and coat on she was sweating by the time she reached the designated floor.

 Taking a moment to compose herself—unbuttoning her coat for some relief from the heat—and checking the time on her phone, she then reached forward to knock on the expensive looking wood, beneath the gold name plate fastened to the door.

 “Come in!”

 Hesitating only a moment as she glanced at her gloved hand, which held the mark, she opened the door and timidly slipped in through a barely-there gap.

 “Miss. Mayfair?” the elderly woman asked as she rose from her seat, offering a friendly smile, and motioned the young woman further inside. “Please, come and sit. May I get you anything to drink?”

 “No. No, that’s alright, thank you,” she answered, barely flicking her eyes up to her before they returned to the floor. “I hope I am not interrupting your schedule.”

 “Nonsense, child, plenty of time.” Iris moved forward to take the seat that she motioned toward, sinking into the overstuffed cushions. “You mentioned that you wished to speak of my work with soulmarks,” she began gently, sinking into it slowly. “Would you care to elaborate?”

 “I…I have many soulmarks,” she began, folding her unmarked hand over her marked on, even though she had yet to remove her gloves. “I read in one of your articles that you believe several marks could mean a soulmate with Dissociative Identity Disorder; a mark for each personality.”

 “Yes; I have not proven the theory yet, however. I have yet to interview a patient who has met their soulmate…well, there was one but she only had one mark from the original personality, she never met the personalities.”

 Iris’s shoulders slumped at the news, sighing softly.

 “If you don’t mind me asking, have you met your soulmate?” Dr. Fletcher asked carefully, leaning forward in her seat as she carefully looked over the young woman before her. She was in her late twenties, that much she knew, maybe early thirties if she was to push it, with dark blonde hair and pale, pale skin—like she never set foot in sunlight—and her eyes, from the brief glance she had, were a gorgeous amber-brown, like whiskey. She was short, barely more than five feet, and remarkably skinny if the thinness of her neck proved anything. Her clothing hid the rest.

 “No, I have not,” she admitted, once more looking up at the other woman’s face only briefly before she looked away again.

 “And…how many marks do you have?”

 Immediately, Iris flinched and clenched up. Should she say?

 “A lot,” she dodged, glanced at the back of her palm as though she would be able to see through the black glove that she was wearing.

 “More than three?” Dr. Fletcher pressed, her tone remaining soft and gentle.

 “Many,” Iris choked out, hoping that she wasn’t making a mistake.

 Her eyes widened at the simple word, leaning in closer as she lifted a ring-decorated hand and tapping her fingertips along her lips. “Would you tell me how many?”

 “I…would rather not.”

 Iris fidgeted in her seat, repressing the urge to turn and run. After all, she had been the one to contact the therapist in the hopes of getting some answers. “May I at least see some? However many you are comfortable with.”

 Swallowing against the lump in her throat as she raised light whiskey eyes up to meet the doctor’s interested stare. Finally, she pulled off the black glove of her left hand to reveal the neat, tight writing, then rolled up her sleeve to the elbow to show three more along her forearm—Oh, the eyes, look at them eyes encircled her wrist, Hello my dear running along the inside of her forearm near her elbow, and He’s told us about you, little one, he really likes you beginning at her elbow and running along the outside of her forearm toward her wrist.

 All four were in different handwriting. The one on the outside of her forearm was marred with a long scar running through it, distorting the words slightly but they were still easily legible due to the thinness of the scar. It had been sewn shut carefully, preserving the mark.

 Dr. Fletcher reached out, pausing long enough to meet Iris’s concerned eyes to seek her approval, before she clasped her hand to turn her arm this way and that as she looked over the marks, examining the scar as well. “Fascinating,” she murmured, the chill of her rings almost causing Iris to pull back. It had been a long time since she had been touched by anyone, even voluntarily. “Were you born with them all?”

 “No,” she responded, slowly pulling her hand away and lowering her sleeve. “I was born with one, but the others appeared over time.”

 Resuming her original seat, Dr. Fletcher rested her fingers against her lips again. The woman before her was interesting all on her own; she was shy and timid and the way she was crumpled in on herself reminded the older woman of her more abused patients, who had gone through trauma or abuse during their life. Reluctance to meet her eyes only further supported the theory. Knowing how some reacted to soulmarks, especially those with several, she assumed it had something to do with the very reason she had come to see her.

 And that scar; it was too neat to have been an accident.

 “Miss. Mayfair, would you please tell me…how many soulmarks you have?”

 So many attempts to find out the number of marks on this woman proved to be too much for her, because Iris abruptly stood as she quickly shook her head and pulled her glove on quickly.

 “I’m sorry to have wasted your time, Dr. Fletcher, I should be going,” she quickly excused as she rushed around the chair to head for the door.

 “Miss. Mayfair, please-”

 Yanking the door open, Iris nearly barreled into the person that was standing on the other side, hand poised to knock before the door had been opened so abruptly. Both of them jumped back at the appearance of another person, Iris meeting with the young man’s light blue eyes before she immediately ducked her head down again, staring at her feet as she self-consciously began to close her coat, even though all of her markings were once more covered up by her clothes.

 “Ohh, babe, I’m loving that coat,” he praised when her motion drew his eyes to her wool coat—one of the few things she actually splurged on for herself when she saved up enough extra cash. Technically, it was out of fashion now, but she’d taken very good care of it and the man’s keen eyes noticed that detail immediately.

 Iris went absolutely still at his words, thinking of that exact sentence that was presently wrapped around her right bicep. The only thing to move again was her eyes, which snapped up to his again in complete shock. He was grinning at her crookedly, revealed white teeth and faint laugh-lines around his eyes.

 This man? He was…no, that wasn’t possible.

 One of twenty-four soulmates was a curse for someone. To have to share among twenty-three other people was just cruel.

 And Iris doubted she would survive through twenty-four different soulmates. The people meant to love her and protect her the most beat her and cut into her in more ways than just the physical. Those memories were not so easily brushed aside.

 Before she fully comprehended her own actions, words were spilling forth from her lips, “I can’t,” she blurted out, feeling the burn of tears as she looked away from him so she wouldn’t have to witness his reaction. “I’m so sorry, but I can’t.”

 Rushing passed him in the next instant, flattening herself against the doorway abruptly so as not to touch him, Irish flew down the stairs as quickly as her short, slim legs could take her while she continued to clutch her coat tightly against herself.

 She was already to the last flight of stairs before “Wait! Please, wait!” was shouted from above, echoing through the open concept building, followed by the thundering of footfalls as the man rushed to follow her. The booming echo of his steps made her flinch as she leapt the last three steps and dashed out the doors and turned a sharp right. Ducking into the alley beside the building and rushing down far enough to hide in the side alcove, out of sight, Iris silently prayed that he would look around and give up when he couldn’t find her fleeing down the street. She couldn’t wait there all day.

 She shook like a leaf from head to toe, hands clutching at the lapels of her undone coat in a grip so tight she wondered if she’d ruined the material. For how long she’d stood there, hidden from view, she wasn’t sure. However, no one came out shouting for her and no one came down the alley. Taking the time to calm her breathing and quickly rearrange her appearance, Iris eventually peeked around the corner before pulling up her hood and taking the chance to leave the alley.

 Not daring to glance back for the doors, the trembling woman walked back home as calmly as possible, avoiding any attention she could.

 Sitting in the chair that she had vacated in Dr. Fletcher’s office, Barry’s mind was reeling. He thought of the writing that twined the back of his calf, in soft, feminine scrawl, and the words that he had always feared would be said. None of them knew who would be the one that heard them, and it faintly broke his heart that it was him, but he was relieved that it hadn’t been Kevin or one of the more gentle personalities that had been born of Kevin’s need for them.

 “Doc, what was that?” he finally asked, raising bewildered eyes to the elderly woman that sat silently across from him, giving him time to process. “What…what did I do wrong?”

 “Oh, Barry, you did nothing wrong,” she assured, her tone motherly and kind. “Miss. Mayfair called me last week about soulmarks, stating that she had quite a few that were all different styles of writing and she wanted to speak to me about some of my research on reasons for multiple soulmarks. She was only here for a few minutes but…I think she’s been hurt for her marks before. She was so scared and timid and she wouldn’t look at me. I think she’s just scared of getting hurt again.”

 Barry’s heart sunk at the same time that anger sparked within him. “Someone hurt her?” he demanded, leaning forward abruptly.

 “I don’t know for sure. She didn’t say much, but she has four marks on her left arm alone from palm to elbow. When I asked how many she had, she only said ‘a lot’.”

 Barry swallowed thickly as he shifted in his seat, thinking over her words as he repressed the urge to run after her again. By the time he got through the entrance doors, she was nowhere to be seen, he’d have no way of finding her.

 “So she’s ours? She’s got one for all of us?”

 “Well, from your reaction I dare say she’s definitely yours,” Dr. Fletched answered with a smile, getting a hesitant one in return. “Tell me…does the writing of your marks all match?”

 Yes. They did. It was one of the few things that all of the personalities agreed on. The writing was the same for each of the words and phrases on their body. They had even had debates and arguments about which mark would match which personality—no one had ever believed that Barry would be the one to get one of the harshest sentences. Most of them were kind, some were hesitant or afraid, but that was the only one that showed immediate rejection of some kind.

 In truth, they had all thought that Dennis would be told those words. Now Barry briefly wondered which ones would actually be said to him.

 Jade was going to have a field day with this new development.

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