#also I lost five pounds in two days

[quadrantadvisor]

I'm taking adderall for the first time in two years and my brain is freaking out but in a different way from before so.... ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[rootedinrevisions]

Kinktober 2024: Day 20

THIS IS PART OF THE FRIENDS (WITH BENEFITS) DON'T SERIES! T

PROMPT: “I love it when you say my name like that, baby.”

KINK: Morning Sex

WARNINGS: 18+ MINORS DNI. SMUT (P in V. Lots of kissing and touching.)

WORD COUNT: 3.5k

TAG LIST: See Comments

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I'm going to be honest I was really struggling with my original idea for Kinktober Day 20. It was a different Kink with a different character but it wasn't coming together like I wanted. I had started and scrapped it five or six times. But I also had this that I wrote a few weeks ago. I wasn't going to post it because I didn't think it fit with the story I originally was writing it for (a Jake series that I've since abandoned cause I wasn't loving how it was coming together) but I feel like it could fit the Kinktober theme so here it is! Hope you like it! xx

The morning sunlight filters through the blinds, casting a soft glow over the room. You slowly stir awake, feeling the warmth of Jake’s body pressed against yours, his arm draped comfortably over your waist. His chest rises and falls with the rhythm of his deep, even breaths, and for a moment, you let yourself relax into him, enjoying the unexpected comfort of waking up in his arms. This isn’t how things usually go.

Your relationship with Jake has been easy, with no strings attached. At least, it was supposed to be. But now, with the way he’s holding you so protectively, it feels different. You remember last night—how you’d planned for another casual hook-up, but instead, after, you’d ended up tangled together under the covers, watching a romcom of all things. And then, instead of leaving like he always does, Jake stayed.

Your heart pounds softly in your chest, the weight of the situation settling in. Is this still just a fling? Or is something else happening between you two? The lines are starting to blur.

You shift slightly, careful not to wake him just yet, and glance over your shoulder. His usually cocky, confident expression is softened in sleep, his features relaxed, and suddenly, you’re hit with a wave of vulnerability you weren’t expecting.

You know you should probably move, maybe get up, but something about this moment feels too good to let go. You bite your lip, torn between the easygoing fun of what you had before and the undeniable change that seems to be happening.

Just as you're lost in thought, Jake stirs, his arm tightening slightly around your waist before his voice rumbles low in your ear. “Mornin’, darlin’.”

His voice, deep and gravelly from sleep, sends a shiver down your spine, and you fight the urge to smile. You manage to reply softly, “Morning.”

Jake shifts behind you, pulling you closer for a second before he stretches and rolls onto his back, his hand trailing down your arm as he moves. The bed feels colder without him wrapped around you, and you can't help but miss the warmth. He runs a hand through his messy hair and glances over at you, his usual cocky grin making an appearance. “Sleep well?”

You nod, still feeling a bit off-balance by the situation, and try to keep things casual. “Yeah, I did…you?”

“Better than usual,” he says, surprising you with the sincerity in his tone.

You sit up slowly, pulling the covers around you, suddenly feeling a bit exposed—not physically, but emotionally. This isn’t what you signed up for. Friends with benefits doesn’t include waking up in each other’s arms, watching movies together, and it certainly doesn’t include the softness in Jake’s eyes when he looks at you right now.

You’re about to say something, maybe ask him about breakfast or make some quip to lighten the mood, but before you can get the words out, you feel Jake’s lips press against your bare shoulder. It’s not just a kiss—it’s gentle, lingering, almost like he’s savoring the moment. And it catches you completely off guard. Jake’s mouth has been everywhere on you before, but this? This feels different. It’s tender. Intimate. Too intimate.

Your breath hitches slightly as you glance back at him, and you’re met with a gaze that’s softer than his usual playful smirk. His green eyes seem to be studying you, watching your reaction carefully. For a second, your heart pounds a little harder, and all you can think is what are we doing?

“Jake…” you start, your voice barely above a whisper, unsure of what you want to say. You feel like you should address this shift, but before you can even form a coherent thought, he’s already leaning in again, his lips brushing against your collarbone this time, trailing upward to your neck.

The air between you thickens, and any words you might’ve had dissolve in the heat of the moment. Jake’s hand slides along your waist, pulling you back down onto the bed, your body instinctively responding to him. You should stop and talk about this, about what this all means, but when he moves closer, you can’t seem to find it in you to pull away.

Jake’s lips linger for a moment, his breath brushing against your skin. It sends a shiver down your spine, not from cold, but from something much deeper. Something you hadn’t expected to feel this morning, or maybe ever in this situation. Sure, Jake has touched you plenty of times before, in ways that have sent your pulse racing and your skin burning. But this—this feels different.

Your heart begins to beat faster as his hand, which had been resting on your waist, tightens ever so slightly, pulling you closer. You can feel the heat radiating from his skin, the way his muscles flex just beneath the surface as he shifts beside you. He presses another kiss, this time closer to the nape of your neck, slow and deliberate, as if savoring the contact. It sends your thoughts into a spiral, the question lingering in your mind—What is happening?

Before you can fully process it, Jake’s hand begins to move, sliding from your waist up along your ribs, his touch light and teasing. His fingers graze the band of your bra, tracing the edge in a way that makes your breath hitch. You shift slightly under the covers, your body responding to him even as your mind races to catch up. Every touch feels deliberate like he’s taking his time, savoring every second. It’s not the hurried, frenzied touches you’re used to—it’s slow, almost reverent, and it makes your heart pound in your chest.

His hand moves back down, slipping under the hem of your shirt, and in one smooth motion, he pulls it up over your head, tossing it aside. You don’t even think to stop him—you don’t want to. The cool air hits your skin, but it’s quickly replaced by the warmth of Jake’s hands as he cups your sides, his thumbs brushing against the fabric of your bra. His lips find your neck again, this time pressing a series of kisses, each one sending sparks through your body.

You open your mouth to say something—to ask him what this is, what it means—but before you can, his hand slides around your back, expertly unhooking your bra with practiced ease. He pulls it off, tossing it somewhere in the room, and you suddenly feel exposed in a way that’s both thrilling and nerve-wracking.

Jake doesn’t give you time to think about it. His hands are on you again, skimming over your bare skin as his mouth moves lower, pressing a kiss just below your collarbone. His touch is slow and patient as if he’s in no rush to get anywhere, and it drives you wild. You can’t help the way your back arches slightly, your body reacting to him before your mind can catch up.

As his lips trail down your chest, you feel his fingers hook around the waistband of your underwear, tugging them down with the same deliberate slowness. The way he’s taking his time—like he wants to memorize every inch of you—sends a flush of warmth through your body.

You reach up, your fingers threading through his hair, pulling him back to you. His lips crash against yours, the kiss deep and consuming, filled with a hunger that makes your head spin. There’s an urgency now, but it’s not the same frantic rush as before. It’s something deeper—something that makes your heart race as much as your body responds.

Jake’s hands roam your body with a familiar ease, but this time, there’s a softness to his touch, a kind of reverence that makes your skin tingle. His mouth moves back to your neck, trailing down to your chest, and you can feel the heat between the two of you intensifying. Every kiss, every touch, feels deliberate, like he’s savoring the moment in a way that leaves you breathless.

Before you know it, you’re completely lost in him. His mouth is everywhere—on your skin, your lips, your neck—and all you can do is let yourself fall deeper into the moment, feeling the weight of him, the warmth of him, as he moves against you. You’re no longer just two friends sharing a casual hookup. This is something more. And it terrifies you as much as it thrills you.

Jake pushes your legs a little further apart as he reaches down and wraps his hand around himself. He spreads the precum that formed at his tip around the head with his thumb before pumping himself a couple of times.

He then presses the tip through your folds as he gently pushes into you. His eyes find yours as his hips slowly move until they are pressed flatly against yours. Jake leaned in and pressed a kiss to your lips before he started slowly moving in and out of you.

Your breath started to hitch as he moved in and out of you, each thrust feeling like it was a little deeper than the last. Slowly his pace started to quicken.

“J-Jake,” you moaned as you started to move your hips up to meet his.

You feel his lips curve into a smirk against your neck before he whispers, “God, I love it when you say my name like that, baby.”

Baby. That was new. He’d never used pet names before.

But you didn’t have time to overthink it because his hand slid down your stomach until one of his fingers started rubbing circles on your clit. You felt your back arch up off the sheets as the knot in your stomach tightened even further.

“F-fuck,” you cried out, feeling your orgasm right there.

“Not yet. Wait for me, baby. I’m…I’m almost there,” Jake breathily said as he picked up his face even further. Your hands grabbed at the sheets as you tried to hold it off, but it was getting nearly impossibly.

“Okay, come with me baby.” He breathed after a few more thrusts. Your toes curled and you cried out as you felt your orgasm wash over you. It was the most intense one he had ever given you. It left you feeling slightly dizzy as you laid there trying to get the air back into your lungs.

Once the intensity subsides, your breaths gradually even out, but the room still feels heavy with the lingering heat of what just happened. Jake shifts beside you, his body slightly resting on yours as if he’s reluctant to let go. His skin is warm, slick with a light sheen of sweat, and his chest rises and falls against your back. Slowly, his arm drapes lazily over your waist again, pulling you even closer until there’s barely an inch of space between you.

He presses a soft kiss to your temple, a gesture that feels impossibly tender compared to what had just transpired. It sends a strange flutter through your chest, and you can’t help but close your eyes, sinking into the feeling. His lips linger there for a moment, as though he’s savoring the closeness, his breathing still a little uneven as it fans across your skin.

You lay there in silence, the warmth of his body cocooning you, and for a fleeting second, it almost feels like more than just a fling. Jake holds you like you’re something precious, his grip on you gentle but firm, like he’s afraid you might slip away if he loosens it. His fingertips lazily trace small circles on your hip, an absent-minded gesture that sends ripples of electricity through your skin.

But even as your heart skips in response, your mind is racing. The intimacy of it all—of him kissing your shoulder earlier, of the way he’s holding you now—feels too close. Too much. Like it’s crossing a line you weren’t prepared to cross. You stare up at the ceiling, the fan spinning lazily above you, trying to quiet the thoughts spinning in your head.

What are we doing? It’s the question that’s been eating at you for weeks now, but after moments like this, it feels impossible to ignore. You’ve been telling yourself for months that it’s just physical—that this friends-with-benefits thing is working. But lying here, wrapped in Jake’s arms, the weight of his body still pressed against yours, you can’t help but wonder if it’s something more. And if it is—what does that mean for the two of you?

Beside you, Jake’s breathing has slowed, becoming more even, and you can feel his muscles relax against you. He looks so at ease, so content, like this is the most natural thing in the world. It’s disarming, seeing him like this, without the cocky smirk or swagger. Just Jake, quietly holding you in the early morning light.

He doesn’t say anything—maybe he’s thinking the same things, maybe he’s not thinking at all—but the silence between you feels charged, like there’s a conversation you should be having but neither of you is ready to start. You know you’ll have to face the reality of what’s happening between you eventually, of what it’s becoming. But not right now. Not yet.

For now, you’re content to stay here, tangled up with him in this moment. His arm still draped over you like he’s anchoring you to him, his breath warm against your neck, and the lingering heat from the sheets creating a bubble you don’t want to burst just yet. It’s safe here, in the quiet aftermath, even if it’s complicated. Especially because it’s complicated.

Eventually, Jake shifts beside you, the movement pulling you out of your thoughts. His arm loosens around your waist, and you can feel him adjust himself behind you. There’s a slight pause before he moves, as if he’s hesitant to break the moment, but then he finally leans back. You hear him run a hand through his tousled hair, the sound of it brushing against the pillow beside you.

With a small sigh, you push yourself up slightly on your elbows, feeling the cool air hit your skin as the blanket falls away. You turn your head just in time to see Jake glancing at himself in the small mirror on the wall, running his fingers through his hair again, making sure it still looks good. It’s such a Jake thing to do—caring about how his hair looks even after everything that just happened—and you can’t help the small smile that tugs at your lips.

He catches your eye in the reflection, the corner of his mouth quirking up into a lazy grin. “Pull yourself together,” he teases lightly, the heat from earlier still lingering in his tone. “You look a little... well, you know.” His eyes flicker over you in a way that makes you feel warm all over again.

You roll your eyes, but there’s no bite behind it. Instead, you push the covers off and slide out of bed, your legs still a little shaky as you stand. You make your way over to the bathroom, splashing cold water on your face and doing your best to hide any signs of what had just happened in the bedroom. The cool water is refreshing, helping you regain some sense of normalcy after the heated intensity of the morning.

When you finally feel composed enough, you step out of the bathroom and make your way through your apartment, finding Jake by the door. He’s already pulling on his shirt, his movements casual and unhurried, as if the last hour hadn’t completely turned your world upside down. He glances at you as you approach, a knowing smile tugging at his lips, but he doesn’t say anything.

The two of you walk out together, the easy silence between you feeling both comfortable and charged, the weight of what just happened lingering in the air between you. The sun is just beginning to rise, casting a soft golden light over the parking lot, and for a moment, everything feels almost normal—like this could be any other day.

You head toward your car, the cool morning breeze brushing against your skin, but before you can reach the handle, you feel Jake’s arm snake around your waist. He pulls you close, his body warm against yours as he leans down to press a quick kiss to your temple. The gesture is light and easy, like it’s something he’s done a hundred times before. And maybe he has—but it still feels different now.

Your heart stutters in your chest as the warmth of his lips lingers on your skin. You wait for something more—for him to say something, to acknowledge the shift between you—but instead, Jake gives you a small smile, his signature smirk just barely there, and turns to walk toward his truck.

You blink, watching as he pulls open the door and climbs inside, the engine roaring to life. His truck pulls out of the lot, disappearing around the corner like it’s just another day. Like nothing extraordinary just happened. Like he hasn’t turned your world upside down in the span of a single morning.

And you’re left standing there by your car, fingers still hovering near the door handle, your mind spinning with a thousand thoughts. What just happened? He kissed you goodbye—and went on about his day like it was nothing. Like it was routine.

But it didn’t feel routine, not to you.

Your stomach twists, a confusing swirl of emotions rising inside you. You’re no stranger to Jake’s touch, to the way he holds you close in private, the way he knows exactly how to make you feel good. That was the arrangement—the simple, no-strings-attached setup that the two of you had fallen into. It had worked perfectly at first. Fun, light, uncomplicated. But this morning, something shifted. And it scares you.

You press your lips together, your fingers tightening around your car keys as you replay the morning’s events in your head. The softness in Jake’s kiss. The way he held you like it was more than just a fleeting moment. The way he kissed your shoulder earlier, something so intimate it almost felt like a confession in itself. But none of it made sense. You weren’t supposed to feel like this. He wasn’t supposed to feel like this.

Right?

You lean against your car for a moment, trying to sort through the haze of emotions clouding your mind. There’s an ache deep in your chest—something that wasn’t there before. It’s that feeling you’ve been trying to ignore for weeks now, the feeling that this wasn’t just about hooking up anymore. Not for you. And maybe not for him either.

But then why did he just leave? Why did he act like this was nothing more than your usual routine?

You bite your lip, trying to shake off the growing uncertainty. Maybe you’re reading too much into it. Maybe this is just what happens when you start spending too much time together outside of the original arrangement. Lines blur, things get messy, and suddenly it’s not just about sex anymore.

But the worst part is, you don’t even know what you want. You don’t know if you’re ready to confront whatever this is becoming. If you’re ready to have that conversation with Jake, to open up the possibility of things going wrong. Because things were good—before they got complicated. Before last night. Before this morning.

You sigh, the cool breeze brushing your hair as you glance toward the empty spot where Jake’s truck had been parked moments ago. Your mind is a jumble of emotions—confusion, longing, fear, and something else you’re not quite ready to name.

What if Jake feels it too? What if he’s just as confused as you are?

But then again... what if he doesn’t?

You unlock your car door and slide into the driver’s seat, the weight of uncertainty heavy on your chest. You don’t know where this is going, or what happens next, but one thing is clear: things have changed between you and Jake. And you can’t go back to the way things were, no matter how much you might want to.

As you sit there, staring out at the quiet street ahead, you wonder if Jake is thinking about you now, if he’s replaying the morning in his mind like you are. Or if, for him, this is still just part of the arrangement—a fun, easy fling that hasn’t crossed any lines.

Your fingers tap against the steering wheel, the echo of Jake’s kiss still lingering on your skin.

You thought you had it all figured out. But now, standing on the edge of something new and uncertain, you realize that maybe—just maybe—you’ve fallen in deeper than you ever intended to.

And the scariest part? You’re not sure if Jake’s ready to follow you there.

[wonton4rang]

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pairing: bnd legal line x reader.

warnings: +18, smut, rough sex, spitting, and idk lmk if i missed something.

summary: bnd legal line mtl (most to least) to rough sex.

note: this had to be discussed and i can't go to sleep without doing so !!!

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sungho; even though it wouldn't be his go to type of sex, he would do it more often than you'd think, taking you from behind while he held your neck with one hand and held your arms in your back with the other, he would moan in your ear, pressing his body more onto yours and making you feel so full while your cheek pressed against the cold wall. he would tell you how good you feel and his hips would be accelerating their pace before he came inside of you, showing some possessiveness he usually didn't have. i also strongly believe he would have a small/ recurrent strength kink.

riwoo; he's a wild card tbh, i can't seem to read him that well when it comes to sex or maybe i am not paying attention, but i do think he could have his days, switching from cowgirl to doggy style, his hand having a grip in your hair and you almost crying out on how hard he was fucking you. it felt good, specially because it was a weird thing to happen during sex w u two, it made you excited and it made him feel bigger when he handled you like that. pulling out to come in your ass is the ultimate thing he would do to show his "dominant" side. and btw, you know about dancer stamina right? cause if you always did two rounds, you'll do at least four of five before he lets you go today.

jaehyun; myungjae has such a whiny voice and a hyper and sweet personality that we all the time see him as a mere sub but oh, let me tell you that he can also be very rough when it comes to fucking you. i feel like he would be drinking with you or just very happy and horny when he tells you about this thing he wants to try, it was basically him overpowering you and yes please!! he would hold your legs open with his hands on your thighs, pressing them down and watching how his dick gets lost each time he pounds into your soaked pussy, i can definitely see him lowering one of his hands so he could play with your clit and maybe even insert his thumb with his cock in your pussy. telling you how dirty you looked taking his dick and finger into your pussy like a slut, dirty talk would be his thing 100%

taesan; i just know he is messy and i don't make the rules!!! he would grab your hair, spit in your mouth with a grin on his lips and fuck you so fast and rough you can barely think straight. he would fuck you in missionary because he needs to see your face, he needs to feel you close and he certainly needs to be able to spit in your mouth after slapping your face once or twice. he ain't much of a talker but he would let smalls "so pretty, so hot" that would give you a hint on how good he is feeling, as if his moans and the way his dick twitched inside of you were not enough. i don't think it'll be a reccurent thing tho, he is probably more into regular sex rather than rough but he has a HUGE size kink that takes over every once in a while.

leehan; and the prize to the messiest mf goes toooooo, hear me ouuuuut. every time he went up to you and told you he was horny and needed to fuck you, you just knew what was coming (asides from u two yk) you regularly got on top of him and ride his dick but when his hands gripped your hips and he dropped you on the bed just so he could straddle in the back of your thighs and fuck you in prone bone??? you were quite literally fucked, he wouldn't show mercy on you, fucking you fast and hard, so deep that it even made you shake each time the tip of his cock hit your cervix. that until he layed you on your back, slapping your pussy after spitting on it, he is so dirty and you can tell he is enjoying it way too much when he smiled at you before slamming his hips against yours once again.

overall, taking into consideration the frequency with the one i think it'd happen, for this one i think I'll go:

MOST.

leehan. not a surprise.

sungho. he is actually really close to leehan's place tbh. not because he would like rough sex itself but he just likes the dominant part of it, how strong he feels during it.

jaehyun. iykyk, he can be cute but he is a man after all, and he is also a very energetic person so he would fold you a thousand times and come back for more.

taesan. i personally think he would enjoy it A LOT but it's just that his personality doesn't show this eager desire of rough sex :') i've said it before but i don't think he is really into sex in general and he does gives off vibes of being more in a "calm" side so yeah.

riwoo. almost same as taesan's, but i also think it's because he is a submissive person so it wouldn't be something very reccurent.

LEAST.

what do y'all think?

[paradiseismine]

Hi!!

Today was my birthday and I don’t know if you have requests open, but if you do, could you please write a Mike Wheeler x Munson!Reader? In which Y/N is Eddie Munson’s younger sister and secretly dating Mike and, well, getting into spicy things in his basement?

I would thank you a lot ✨

Hands off - Mike Wheeler x reader

Pairing: Mike Wheeler (Stranger Things) x Munson!f!reader

Warnings: smut, secret affair, blowjob, face sitting, slightly inexperienced Mike

Love note from Nina: first of all, happy belated birthday, darling! 🎂 I hope you had a great day. Second of all: HELL YES, and here you go.

“Hands off, Wheeler boy” Eddie had warned (partly jokingly, but not entirely) when he caught Mike staring at you once. “That’s my little sister, don’t forget that”

But it’s not like he could forget that, really. You’d hang out with Eddie and tag along for D&D campaigns pretty frequently - the gang’s new Druid. You didn’t attend Hawkins High, though, but went to some fancier school in the neighboring town instead. You had gotten the book smarts whilst Eddie had gotten the street smarts, as he’d always say.

Tonight, you had joined the gang for another D&D campaign, on Mike’s basement, as usual. Y’all had been playing for a good five hours or so (with an strategic stop to order a pizza), and besides the fact that the campaign pretty much always took place on a Saturday, it was getting late.

You had caught Mike staring at you a couple times - he was also sitting right next to you, knees “accidentally” touching yours from time to time as the game progressed. There was something about him that made you feel so pretty, so desired, you could barely resist the temptation to touch his thigh under the table. Ugh, you had to come up with a plan, what could you possibly do t-

“Should we wrap and get going, guys?” Dustin suddenly asked, interrupting your thoughts while checking his watch. He didn’t say it, but he clearly wanted to call Suzie before going to bed. Lucas and Will agreed, and so did you and Eddie.

After another round or two, the gang decided to stop the game on a cliffhanger, just to keep things exciting and pick up from where you left off in the following week. Bidding each other goodbye, the rest of the party walked up to the front door and left on their bikes.

“Fuck, you go ahead, I think I forgot something in the basement” you scratched the back of your head, trying to seem nonchalant. “See you at home?”

“Sure, munchkin” Eddie agreed, not seeming suspicious at all. “Just take care on the way home later”.

Going back to the basement meant getting Mike alone - everyone else had gone home and he had to clean up the mess. You walked down the stairs normally, making sure he’d hear your footsteps, just so he wouldn’t be caught off guard.

“Nance?” he asked, sounding puzzled, before seeing you at the base of the staircase, his beautiful hands closing the box in which he’d put all the D&D stuff. “Oh, it’s you” he smiled. “Are you okay? Did you forget anything?”

“Well, actually, i didn’t really forget it, it’s something I’ve been thinking about all day…” you said, mischievous.

Mike looked at you quizzically, wanting your tone to be as naughty as he believed he’d heard.

“Can I-can I help you with that?” He stuttered, head lowered to look into your eyes as you approached him, your chest now nearly glued to his.

Michael Wheeler had fantasized about you pretty much since the first time he saw you - waiting for Eddie next to your scooter in the Hawkins High parking lot, looking like a model in your leather jacket, long hair and red lipstick. He’d get lost in his words when you two spoke, his palms sweating and his heart pounding.

“I’m pretty sure you know you can” you looked up at him maliciously. “Or did you think you were being discreet back there” you pointed towards the D&D table with your head, “Touching your knee to mine every five minutes?”

Mike audibly swallowed. He had been caught red handed.

“Y/n, I-“ he started, nervously. “It’s just… You’re so pretty, and I know you’re Eddie’s sister, so I could never…” he bit his lip, embarrassed. “You know, no matter how much I wanted to… And believe me, I really do…”

You pushed him lightly towards the basement’s couch, and he fell back seating on it. His eyes went wide as you sat on his lap, one leg to each side of his waist.

“Eddie told you to keep your hands off of me, didn’t he?” Mike gulped, nodding with eyes still wide open as you slowly unzipped and took off your leather jacket, setting it aside. The white top you were wearing underneath was tight fitting and had a very low cut - besides, you were visibly not wearing a bra. “Well, he didn’t say anything about me touching you, so…”

You put your arms around Mike’s neck, gently running your fingers through the hair on his nape, your naughty eyes staring at his plump reddish lips. He could barely breathe, but his throbbing erection involuntarily pressing up against your core spoke for him.

“Tell me to stop” you whispered before your lips lightly touched his - and needless to say, Mike never told you to stop. You kissed him chastely at first, but as he seemed to gain confidence, you soon asked for entrance in his mouth with your tongue, and that innocent kissing soon turned into a full make out.

Mike’s hands went straight to your breasts, fondling them hungrily as he moaned into the kiss. You felt an instant rush in between your thighs, your arousal nearly painful; but you still wanted to play the game on the hard level.

“No, no, no” you broke the kiss to whisper to him, as you gently held his wrists and put his hands back on his lap. “Hands off, lover boy, only I get to touch you.”

Mike sighed, feeling dizzy with lust. He had never gotten drunk, but that’s what he imagined being drunk would feel like.

You kissed him once again, softly biting his lower lip, your hands pulling him closer by the collar of his Hellfire t-shirt. Mike timidly moaned as you touched him, his body quivering, aching for more. Soon, your lips found their way to his neck, kissing it, biting it, driving him crazy.

“Could I give you a little love mark, baby?”

“S-sure, I’m yours, whatever you want” he moaned, enchanted by you.

You bit and sucked lightly on his neck, leaving a small purple bruise behind, gently kissing it to relieve the pain afterwards. Mike’s hands grabbed your ass harshly, squeezing it. You couldn’t help but moan at the touch, right on his ear, nibbling on his earlobe.

“Again with the hands, mister? That’s not very Prince Charming of you, I’m afraid. Do I have to tie up those hands to make you behave?” you had grabbed his neck lightly, eyes studying his expression.

“Do you… do you want to tie me up?” he asked, trying to conceal the excitement in his voice.

“I’d love to, can I?” as he nodded, you took off your belt and tied up his hands with it, making a firm knot to secure it.

“Will you… will you still let me please you, y/n?” he nearly begged, his body squirming for relief in those tight jeans. “I always dreamed of making you cum”, he confessed.

You chuckled. He was so adorable, ugh.

“Have you ever had a girl sit on your face before?” you asked softly.

“No, I-“ he said, feeling a bit shy. Mike wasn’t very experienced at all, but it’s not like he was going to admit that to you. “I don’t think so”

“Can I?” you gave him your naughtiest look.

“Sure, beautiful” he agreed, eyes hypnotized by the sight of your perky nipples nearly ripping through the thin fabric of your shirt.

You stood up and stripped for him, garment after garment falling on the floor as he watched, tied up hands trying to palm his own erection for relief. You were so beautiful, and somehow, even more beautiful naked. He sighed, lustful, his face flushed as you approached him again.

You positioned him on the couch and slowly lowered your hips to Mike’s face, carefully adjusting your clit to where his lips were. You held yourself on the couch, not putting your weight entirely on him.

He licked your entrance delightedly, your smell and your taste making his head spin. He flicked his tongue to your clit and earned himself a moan, only to repeat the movement and keep hearing your moans. Your pussy was soaking wet for him, and you couldn’t bring yourself to reprimand Mike when his hands, even tied as they were, reached up to finger you as his tongue kept working on your clit.

“I’m so wet for you, Mikey” you moaned, your hips swaying onto his face. “You drive me wild, I want to cum for you so bad”

Mike whimpered as he kept eating you out like you’d be his last meal, and if Eddie found out about what happened tonight, it would be.

As his fingers curled inside you and his tongue relentlessly massaged your sensitive clit, getting you to moan more and more, legs shaking uncontrollably, you came on his mouth. Mike licked you through your high, still in disbelief that such a pretty girl was wet for him, moaning at his touch, desiring him.

You got off of him and lowered your body once again, kissing him and tasting yourself on his drenched lips.

“You taste so good, princess” he praised, still out of breath.

“I bet you do too, love” you pulled him up so he’d be seating on the couch again. Your legs were still shaky from such an intense orgasm, your head feeling light and dizzy, but you couldn’t wait another moment to have him.

You bent at your waist, hands on his knees, giving Mike your most devilish kiss. He lowered his head, and you immediately knew what he wanted. Putting your naked breasts to his face, he took one of your nipples in between his lips and suckled on it hungrily. His dark eyes were low and seemed in ecstasy.

“Can I give you a-a love mark as well? I mean, here?” he bit the side of your breast gently.

“Sure you can, love” you replied, nearly moaning.

Mikey sucked and sucked onto your skin, leaving a purple bruise behind, before repeating the same step at a slightly different angle. When you looked down, he had left a heart shaped bruise on your chest.

“I swear you don’t even exist, baby boy, I made you up” you chuckled and nuzzled your face onto his neck before pulling up his T-shirt to remove it.

You could hear Mike pulling air in between his teeth as you kissed his chest and his belly, working your way towards the hem of his pants. You looked at him in an inquiring way, hands on the button and zipper of his dark jeans.

He nodded rapidly, and you lowered his pants and underwear to his ankles, eager to take him in your mouth.

“Hold my hair back, will you?” You asked, and even with his hands tied, Mike managed to do it.

Soon enough, you had taken most of his length in your mouth, bobbing your head up and down, your hands on his balls and perineum, gently massaging him. Mike’s eyes would squeeze shut and roll back in pleasure, his lips red from so much biting and kissing, faint moans escaping them.

“Princess” he said, his voice barely audible. “You’re so good… Can I cum in your mouth?”

You simply opened your mouth and kept jerking him off as a response. Mike’s knees were shaking (and would’ve buckled if he wasn’t sitting down) as he let out a louder, satisfied moan and released his warm seed into your mouth. You swallowed it immediately, in slight disbelief that even his cum tasted good.

“Did… did you swallow it?” He asked, amazed.

“Of course, silly” you stood back up and kissed his nose playfully. “You taste so good, how could I not?”

“Thank you” He smiled, embarrassed.

“How long have you felt like that?” You sat beside him on the couch, grabbing your clothes back from the floor. “You know, being attracted to me and stuff?”

“I, uhm…” his cheeks had turned pink. “Ever since I saw you that day on the parking lot, waiting for Eddie” he confessed. “Yelling at him for not doing the laundry” you both laughed.

“You caught my eye that day too” you admitted, head tilted to the side. “I just thought I wasn’t your type, you know? I’m quite different from the girls at Hawkins High.”

“You’re way prettier than all of them” he shrugged honestly. “And a lot funnier, more interesting, more intelligent…”

“Do you want to… Keep seeing each other like this?” You suggested, hand lightly caressing his after you untied him.

“Kinda like… dating in secret?” He inferred.

“Eddie would kill you if he found out, wouldn’t he?” You laughed, understanding his point.

“Absolutely”

[b33zlebubz]

RECKLESS ABANDON--------

CHAPTER ONE - school, life, and a punch to the face TASK FORCE 141 X READER (PLATONIC) MASTERLIST || AO3 LINK || NEXT CHAPTER TAGS: gender neutral reader, angst, fluff, slow burn found family, PTSD, trauma bonding, kidnapping, reader is a foster kid in high school, family drama, blood, violence, guns

"After your life falls apart at the seams very early on, you work hard to keep the small amount of peace still have. Foster care is rough, work is draining, school is a drag...but you eventually find yourself in a good place. All of that quickly goes to waste, however, when your family's unfinished business finally finds its way back to you."

If hell is real, you’re pretty sure you’re dead.  

Time drags on; seconds feeling more like hours and hours feeling like an eternity—punctuated only by the shriek of the occasional bell.  It’s a familiar limbo you’ve grown to tune out in favor of your daydreaming, interrupted only by the end of a period or the sound of your name being called from across the room.  Your pencil taps idly against the desk with the beat of your heel against the floor.  Untied shoelaces pull taught under your feet when you shift to lean forwards, squinting at the equations scribbled across the whiteboard by a wrinkled, dark hand.  Numbers and letters swirl together.

Mrs. Hall.  An elderly, frail, equally as tired woman—worn down by decades of bullshit brought on by stubborn, unmotivated students much like the kids behind you, whispering and snickering in a way that made your eye twitch with deep irritation.  Still, you’re not much better, your mind lost in thought staring at rain that pounds against the ground of upstate Texas until the sound of your name stirs you from the depths of your own brain.  When you look up, confused, Mrs. Hall stares back at you with an expecting stare—and a few students are turned around to stare at you.

You’re also pretty sure if hell is real—it's the American Public School System.

“Uh…”

“The three X’s in number five,”  Mrs. Hall taps the equation on the board with the marker.  “On the homework.”

“Right.  Sorry,”  your tired eyes flicker down to the chicken scratch on the paper in front of you, scanning the crumpled paper for the answer you hastily scribbled down earlier that day.  “Three, square root of two, and negative one?”

“Incorrect.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, scratching at your neck as you try and fail not to notice when one of the boys behind you stops whispering mid-sentence and stares daggers into the back of your neck.  Shit.  Fuck.

That’s the last time you do someone else’s algebra homework.  Math, in all its forms, was your academic Achilles heel.

The rest of fourth period escapes you.  After what feels like a lifetime and a half of talking and scribbling on your paper, the bell rings out across the classroom.  Like Pavlov’s dogs—the students instinctually rush to life—shoving chairs and throwing backpacks over their shoulders, eager to get on with the day.

You're quick to sweep your things into your backpack and high-tail it towards the door of the classroom before a certain boy behind you can notice you've left already.

Mrs. Hall says your first name again.  You stop in your tracks, not missing how your fellow student sends you an angry look as he strides past to leave—crumpling the homework you did for him the night before to add to the effect.  He must be telepathic, because you swear you can hear his voice without him even saying anything.

"You're dead."

Your feet shuffle towards the door, "can't talk, gonna be late—"

"I'll write you a pass."

"I have lunch next, though."

"No you don't."  Mrs. Hall scoffs, shooting you an unamused look from over her rectangular glasses.  "You think I don't know your schedule by now?"

You awkwardly shift your weight from one foot to the next,  "worth a try."

"Sit,"  she gestures beside her.

You hesitate, almost arguing further, but you sigh instead.  Getting lectured actually sounded much better than whatever hell waited for you out in the hallway the second you walked outside.  You let your backpack fall from your shoulders as you drag it over with you to collapse into the chair beside your teacher's desk.  Your eyes flicker up to where her frail hands card through some papers.  

"You graduate in two months, dear."  She reminds you, as if you haven't been scratching the tallied days into a spare notebook like you're on death row.  "Your test scores are average but all the homework seems to be…lacking.  If you even do it at all."

Average.  A word that's been thrown around a lot regarding your name, which you intended to stick with.  Average meant nobody would stick their nose in your business—that you could blend in with the crowd and avoid any and all weird glances and low whispers.  You made the mistake of showing off once, to snap back at your dickhead classmate; only to end up doing his bidding for the rest of the semester.

You figure Mrs. Hall won't take very well to being told that the reason you aren't completing your homework is because you're too busy doing Ben Davis's under the threat that he won't smash your face against the lockers again.  Broken noses are a special level of hell, but it still isn't as low as the torture that is highschool.

"Maybe I joined some sports,"  you quip sarcastically.  "Don't have as much time as I used to."

She only deadpans at you.

You stare innocently back at her.  If you play dumb enough, maybe she'll finally give up.

"I'm not attacking you.  Just worried.  If you need some extra time because—"  she lowers her voice and the bracelets around her tiny wrist jingle as she waves it about,  "---because of your family life, or anything…I'm willing to give it to you."

Your brow lowers, annoyance beginning to nip at your nerves as you sit up a little straighter.

Pity.  You've long grown tired of it.  You weren't some fragile orphan—no.  You were an adult who, in two months, would finally be free from the clutches of your frustrated social worker and the slew of whatever excited, naive couples the system dumped you on.  People have been tip-toeing around you your whole life, and it never fails to make your fists clench.

"My grades are average, you said,"  you say, stern—poking the score on one of your tests with a pointer finger.  "I don't need help."

"I don't doubt you don't need help, sweetheart.  But you're a smart kid.  Really smart, if you put the effort in.  I'm just saying if you ever need any extra—"

"I'm fine.  If you really wanna help, you won't make me late to my next class."

Mrs. Hall seems to freeze, stunned at the bite her otherwise quiet student seems to bear.  The clock ticks above your head, the rain pitters against the window outside and, for a moment, shame floods your senses; but it fades as the seconds pass and that concerned look on her face deepens.

You're the first to look away, picking up your pack and turning for the door.  "See you tomorrow, Mrs. Hall."

"Wait."

You stop, tossing your head back with a sigh.  "What?"

"Tie your shoes, sweetheart,"  she says, her voice kind as she turns away to tap your stack of tests on the desk.  "You'll trip walking around like that."

You only frown and duck out the door.

The rest of the school day passes in a familiar haze.  You space out throughout two of your classes, goof off for the rest, and get your shit handed to you the second school is out.  Ben takes the time to lecture you as well after he levels you in one punch—and you sit rubbing your jaw, bored, as he goes on and on about how you did that shit on purpose and next time, you're fucking dead.

He needed a perfect score to pass the class.  In a low moment of pain, you promised it to him despite the fact that your algebra skills had much to be desired.  Still, with a little bit of extra effort—you managed to make it through most of the second semester without a black eye.  

You're the one that always bleeds; but a part of you finds it funny how he always finds a way to talk himself into angry tears, storming off somewhere distant while kids scramble to get out of his way to avoid the same fate as you.

And, as always, you pick yourself up, wipe the blood from your face onto the sleeve of your jacket—and walk away.

Because that's all you can do.

The rain settles deep in your clothes as you make your way home, music loud in your earbuds.  It's silent and gray, as it has been all week, and your thoughts are mere static as you drag your feet back to your front doorstep.  Your bed is calling for you after such a shitty day and the bruise forming on your left eye is just making the blankets seem all the more welcoming.

You barely notice how your door is already unlocked when you enter.

Inside, the house is just as silent and empty as the rest of your street.  Rain drips to the floor in a steady rhythm as you pad across the living room of the house, dropping your backpack to the floor.  Muscle memory leads you to the bathroom—where things are, as usual, spotless.  

You've seen plenty of bad homes and residencies during your time in the system.  Most of them blurred together in a long string of things you wished to forget; either by the caretakers' fault or your own.  This house, though, was high on your list of favorites.  Your folks were never around, and if they were, they were asleep.  When you weren't working; you usually had the house to yourself.

"Fuck,"  You breathe, prodding at the swelling flesh around your eye. You run some water over it and the irritation dulls slightly as dried blood turns the water pink.  Excuses run rampant through your mind as you scramble for a way to explain the injury---because you're pretty sure they won't believe you if you said you tripped again. 

That's when you catch movement from your doorway.  Shuffling.

You whip around just as the movement disappears, and suddenly the quiet house turns eerily silent.  Your eyes lock on the doorway as the sink continues to run and water continues to drip from your clothes.  

Nothing.

You turn the sink off.

Your brow furrows, eyes locked on the cracked door of your bathroom as your hand grabs hold of the first weapon you can get your hands on—a shower curtain rod.  One foot after the other, you peak around the corner.

Again, nothing.

Out of some itch of paranoia—or just completely on coincidence—you happen to turn your head to the wall next to you.  Instead of an empty corridor like you expected, you're met with a face.

A face that immediately lunges at you the second your eyes widen.  

You stumble to the side with a yell just for the individual to grab your arm, and the curtain rod falls to the floor with a clatter.  You struggle as he yanks you to the side and around the corner and, before you have the chance to react, cold metal is pressed to your back.

"Don't fuckin' move,"  a voice hisses in your ear, and you stiffen.

You wheeze, struggling against his hold, "who–"

"Your gardian fucking angel,"  he sneers, shifting to clap a hand over your mouth.  You thrash again—but it's useless.  The gun presses painfully into your side.  "I said don't move."

A thump echoes through the room, and suddenly you see why.

You fight to keep your breathing under control as you stay firm against your captor's geared chest, still as a statue.  Your heart slams against your ribs and your ears as you listen to each heavy footstep against the floor, and your eyes widen whenever a second soldier creeps down your hallway.  Standard camo and green clothes shuffling as he walks.

You catch the long muzzle of a rifle over the soldier's shoulder, and suddenly you find yourself leaning into the gun pressed into your back.  The hand on your mouth tightens, silently shifting you away from the door.

The shifting of gear and the click of the rifle echo in the silent house as your nails dig into the skin of your captor's wrist.  You watch a muscle in his stubbled jaw twitch near your face as the sound of your first name echoes through the hall, sing-song and taunting.         

You squeeze your eyes shut.

Think.  Think.  Think.

“If y’know what’s best for ya’…”  A thick Scottish accent taunts from down the hall as he nudges the curtain rod with his foot, causing it to scrape against the wood floors.  “You’ll quit puttin’ up a fight and show yourself.”

You glance over to meet your captor’s gaze.  A flicker of anger crosses his eyes, nose wrinkling into a scowl.  He has a scar across his cheek.  

Then, suddenly, he shifts, pulling you further away from the doorway.  His grip on your shoulder is deathly tight as it digs into your clothes.  He lifts his finger from the trigger of his gun only to bring it to his lips in a silent command to stay quiet, stay with me.

Panic burns bright and all-encompassing through your veins.  For whatever reason—all your body will let you do is shake and listen. 

He ducks around the corner, pulling you with him.  You have to force your feet to move.

The Scottish soldier stops just at the end of the hall, hulking frame and what must be at least thirty pounds of gear making him a jarring sight against the flowered wallpaper of your foster home.  He must have an earpiece of some kind; because you hear him whisper every so often as he sweeps the hallways.  

"They're here,"  he mutters.  "Little fuck's just good at hiding."

It's tiny and muffled, but in the deathly silence of the house you can make out two voices in his earpiece that reply to him.  One female, the other male.  You can't decipher what they say but their responses make him growl in frustration.

"C'mon, we don't got all day…"

Tense, your captor shoves you along to another room.  He signals something down the hall, where you spot more movement in the house.  More soldiers—these ones dressed in similar, dark garb to the man who still presses a gun to your side. They have bigger weapons, concealing helmets.

Startled, you trip over your shoelaces.

Your captor scrambles to grab you before you clatter to the floor.  He curses just as the Scottish soldier whips around, gun pointed and ready.

There's a solid two seconds of complete silence.  Your gaze meets with the Scott and his eyes widen.  Then, he spots the other man with a gun pointed at you.

That's when all hell breaks loose.

You scramble to your feet and bolt.  The Scott is the first to grab you, and he's met with teeth deep in his arm.  He yells out as you kick free, gagging on the metallic substance that floods your mouth.

There's shouting.  Movement.  Gunfire lights up your house with noise and lights as you wipe your mouth, stumble, and fly down the stairs in a blind dash for your front door.

Instead, you run directly into something solid—Landing you flat on your ass.  Again.

Panting, panicking, your eyes rake up dark figure; past two giant boots, a geared chest, and hands that clench a rifle in their grip to meet a masked face and bored eyes.  You scramble backwards against the wall with a yelp.  The sound of yelling, gunfire, and heavy footsteps flood the rest of the house as the masked man's eyes widen at you.  You stare at each other; you, sizing him up and him, confused.

"Graves?!"

"Oh, for fuck's sake!"

"Commander!  We lost the kid!"

"Does anyone have a visual??"

"L.T.!"

The skull-faced man finally leaps into action at the sound of what must be his rank—because he's suddenly moving faster than you can realize more soldiers are flooding around the corner.  In a flurry of practiced movement, he grabs them.

You yell out as he knees one of the men and shoots the other.  Blood splatters across the walls and your clothes.  Then, he fires twice more at the soldier unconscious on the ground—and the house goes quiet other than your pounding heartbeat.

The towering man before you shifts, and the floorboards creak under his feet.  He rolls his shoulders and let's out a breath as he stands, slowly, up to his full height.  He turns, and the same blood that splatters across the walls runs in tiny rivulets across the skull of his mask.  His voice thick and low when he speaks.

"You broken?"

Your shaking hands lower from your ears as your eyes then rake across the corpses at his feet, but it's no use.  Through the ringing in your ears, your racing mind is unable to put together what he says for a few minutes.  It's even more impossible to tear your eyes away from the blood splattered against the patterned wallpaper.

You swallow and shake your head.

"Good."  Nonchalant, he lowers his gun and shouts down the hall.

"Johnny, you with me?"

"Over here, L.T.,"  grunts the Scottish voice from down the hall.  "That little shit Graves—"

"Let 'em go.  We'll deal with 'em later.  We got what we needed."

Johnny curses in response, but mutters a begrudging "copy" as he saunters over—nursing the clear bite mark in his arm. 

Then, the Lieutenant's eyes shift in your direction.  His hand twitches, almost reaching out to you, and you pull your legs closer to your chest against the wall.  Blood soaks your untied laces.  You clamp a hand over your mouth as you will your breathing to settle.  It doesn't.

He freezes.  Then, to your relief, he turns away and presses a finger to his ear.

"Bravo 0-7 to Actual; five shadows have been compromised on the property.  Looks like the Shadows got the word the same time we did.  Could be others, too.  Things got bloody, but…"  The lieutenant's eyes meet yours again as he speaks.  Through the bloodied skull mask, his gaze holds a calm resolve that's probably supposed to be comforting, but it only makes your skin prickle.  

"...we got the kid."

It's quiet, but you can hear static before someone speaks on the other end of the communication device.

"Copy that, Bravo.  We'll clean up the mess,"  A female voice replies.  "Bring 'em home safe, boys."

"Roger that."

[servuscallidus]

Gazawi families that have reached out to me

@osama-family Osama Al-Anqar, his wife Rana Raed Al-Anqar and their infant daughter. It's unclear if they're moving with Osama's brother, Ahmed, who lost a leg, and the widowed wife and children of his other brother, Mahmoud, who has been martyred. They're extremely low on funds, 210/50.000£ . They're taking English pounds. gofundme. As far as I can see, it hasn't been vetted, but I don't have access to a pc rn so I could only do so much

@mohammedmoner. Muhammad, his wife Walaa and their four children: Fina (12), Salma (11), Omar (6), and Batoul (1). They need supplies and hope to be able to leave Gaza. €50/20.000 . gofundme. As far as I can see, it hasn't been vetted

@abedallhferwanagaza, operates also from @olaferwana. Ola Ferwana and her three children: Yaman (7), Qusai (5) and Mira (10 months). Her husband went to Egypt a few days before the war started and has been unable to reach them since. They need supplies until the Rafah crossing reopens. They have a tiktok. €1.549/35.000 . gofundme. Vetted

@abu-samir Shadi Sameer Ashour and his child, who needs surgery. €53/50.000. gofundme. Vetted

@eyad-alanqar255 Lyad is moving with the rest of his family and four children, his nephews Nasser, Jana, Mohammed and Hind. He's suffering from respiratory issues caused by phosphorus and needs medical intervention. €60/40.000. gofundme. Vetted

@mahmoudkhalafff. Mahmoud is currently studying in Ireland and is trying to help his family trapped in Gaza. His hope is that they may reach Egypt and temporarily settle there. The family is composed of eight members, some (I think four) of which are children. €23.815/30.000. gofundme. Vetted

@fatma--gaza Fatima Alnqar, Bilal Fader and their five children: Yazan (12), Fadl (11), Zina (10), Rajaa (7), Basma (1 ½). They need supplies.€5.272/20.000. gofundme. Vetted

@dinafamily1. Mohammed Abu Zour, his wife and their three kids. One of the kids has contracted hepatitis and his wife is pregnant and in need of a cesarean section. They're trying to leave Gaza. €1.056/30.000. gofundme. Vetted.

@hayanahed. Haya, her parents, her two brothers and her three sisters. Both Haya and her sister Amal suffer from allergies to penicillin derived medications. They're trying to leave Gaza. €80.644/100.000. gofundme. Vetted

@farohablogsworld, also @farah-mohanad. Mohanad and Farah, they're trying to rebuild their house and raise enough money to buy necessities. €1.313/32.000. gofundme. Links to their facebook and instagram. Vetted

@karamalmadhoun0, also uses @karamfamily0 and @karamalmadhoun2. Said, Basma and their children Eman, Karam and Mahmoud. They're trying to leave Gaza to rebuild a life and so that Karam can complete his education. €18,325/20.000. gofundme. Vetted

@familyetaf1234567. Etaf, her husband Youssef and her five children: Moataz, Moatasem, Maria (7), Adam (4) and Amira (3). They've escaped Gaza and are currently in Egypt but need money to pay rent, buy supplies and allow the children to continue their education. €2.008/50.000. gofundme. Vetted

@fattmawurd. Rawan Ayyad is trying to help her family escape Gaza. Donations are slowing down. 8,727/50.000 $ CAD. gofundme, use this link because not all the links on their blog work. As far as I can see it hasn't been vetted.

@drfarhatblog. Husam Farhat, his wife and their children: Sham, Muhannad and Muhammad. They're trying to leave Gaza to build a life in Malaysia. 9,319/29.500$ USD. gofundme. Vetted.

@haninahed. Hani Nahed, his wife Shirin and their children: Rital (12), Rawaa (10) and Nahed (6). I can't figure out if they're currently in Egypt or in Gaza, but they need money to buy supplies. €5/30.000. gofundme. Hasn't been vetted

@hebamatar124, also uses @hebamohammedsy and @heba-mater. Heba and her three children are trying to leve Gaza. One of the kids, Amir, has a serious skin disease that is worsening. 1,050/30.000$ CAD. gofundme. Hasn't been vetted, but the family is known by people with other, vetted, fundraisers.

@ahlamramadan, Ahlam, who has been suffering from kidney failure for the past years and needs medical help, her 10 children and 22 grandchildren. They are all currently living in a tent and need supplies and money to leave Gaza. €560/20.000. gofundme. Vetted

@abood-gaza2, Abood and his wife Maria, pregnant and in need of medical help. They're trying to leave Gaza. $8,819/40.000. gofundme. Not vetted, but Abood's brothers @/mohiy-gaza2, prev @mohiy-gaza, and @/ahmadresh, whose blogs are vetted, vouched for them.

@ahmedomar3, also uses blogs with ahmedomar followed by a number. Ahmed Al-Habil, his wife, their four children Omar (10), Khadija (9), Ali (6) and Zain (3), and Ahmed's elderly parents. €4,769/50.000. gofundme. Unvetted, although one of his terminated blogs might have been vetted, vouched for by his brother @/aya2mohammed (vetted)

@mohammed-swierh-2. Mohammed Abu Swierh, his wife and their children Mira (6), Bakr (3) and Maria (1). They're trying to leave Gaza and rebuild a life somewhere safe. 25.056/60.000$ USD. gofundme. Unvetted

@familygazaamal. Shaima and her four children Magdy, Walid (9), Abdel Rahim (8), and Amal. Her husband has been stuck in Egypt since the beginning of the war and they're trying to reach him and leave Gaza. 4.335/30.000$ USD. gofundme. Unvetted bu vouched for by @/asmaamajed2 (vetted)

@ahmadallouhahmad. Ahmad Al-Louh, his wife and their children Orhan and Helana, Ahmad's four siblings and parents are trying to escape Gaza. €6.573/50.000. gofundme. Vetted

I'll update the post with new gofundmes if I receive more asks, so check out the original post now and then

[thegainingdesk]

Borrowed

“Fuck!” I barked as hot coffee spilled down my front. This always seemed to happen when I wore a nice shirt, always when I had to meet clients, always on a fucking Tuesday. God I hated Tuesdays.

Fifteen minutes of frantic dabbing with wet paper towels later I sat slumped in my chair. Not only had I not managed to shift the coffee stain, but now I'd also made my shirt wet enough that my thick body hair was plainly visible through it.

“Maybe someone has a jumper?” Owen asked.

Sandra shook her head sadly. “We asked around,” she said. “The weather's been so lovely, not sure the last time anyone brought a jumper in. There's a couple in lost and found but…” She trailed off and lifted up two jumpers - one lurid pink with three kittens covered in glitter, the other a red Christmas jumper implying Santa was about to do unspeakable things to a reindeer.

“Not really the thing for a client meeting,” Owen said, making a small sucking noise through his teeth.

“Someone else is going to have to do it,” I said. “It's in ten minutes, there's no way my shirt will be dry in time.”

“I always keep a spare shirt or two in the stationery cupboard,” Graham said, appearing round the corner eating a donut. “It'll be a bit big for you though!” he added, slapping the firm ball gut that took up his torso.

I bit my lip. On one hand, I'd look absolutely ridiculous, my lanky frame swallowed up by a shirt intended for a man surely a hundred pounds or more heavier than me. On the other hand, I'd look more presentable than I currently did. And besides, it would be kind of hot to have real, tangible evidence of just how much bigger Graham was than me - okay, so forty-five year old obese dads aren't exactly everyone's fantasies, I can admit that, but for me, Graham was my dream man.

“Thanks Graham,” I said. “You’re a lifesaver.”

A minute later I was stood in our stationery cupboard holding up a piece of fabric I could use as a light blanket. The tag said 2XL and I thought about how Graham filled his shirts - gut straining gently at the seams, the hem riding up by the end of most days to reveal a wedge of hairy fat. There were some trousers as well, neatly folded beneath the shirt. I held the pair up to my waist and boggled at how much wider they were. I imagined filling up clothes so big and felt myself grow hard.

I peeled off my own wet, stained, size small shirt and hung it on the door handle to dry a little. I slipped my arms in Graham's shirt and buttoned up the front. The shirt swallowed me. The hem hung down below my crotch, the shoulder seam lined up somewhere along my upper arm, so that the cuff hung down past my thumb, the whole thing billowed around me. I pinched the fabric and held it out in front of me - it seemed like there was a foot of space left in every direction.

My cock throbbed. I checked the door was locked, then checked the time. I had a few minutes, and Sandra was already on delaying duty. I bunched the shirt up, unbuttoned my fly and pulled my aching cock out. I stroked rapidly, keen to finish in a timely fashion. I tried to imagine myself filling the shirt. How much bigger would I be? Would I be shaped like Graham, with a firm gut, or would I be softer, flabbier, wider? My left hand raked over my trim stomach and my breath hitched as I moved it away, out to where I'd held the shirt just a moment ago. I bit my lip to stop myself yelling out as I shot cum across the floor of the cupboard, and as it dribbled over my fist.

Hit by post-wank clarity, I immediately felt like an idiot. How did I think I was going to clean this up? I frantically grabbed my wet shirt and did my best to wipe up the thick cum on my right hand and cock, struggling a bit to get it out of my pubes and stopping it getting on my trousers or Graham’s shirt. Then I knelt down and wiped up the mess on the floor.

A knock on the door. “Just coming now!” I choked.

“The clients are here,” came Graham's voice through the door. “That shirt alright?”

I looked down at myself. I looked fucking ridiculous, like a child wearing his dad's suit for a play. “Yeah Graham, cheers. It's perfect.”

I wadded up my coffee and cum covered shirt and threw it into a corner that I hoped no-one would look in over the day. I tucked the excess fabric into the waistband and rolled up the sleeves, hoping the overall effect was “loose and casual” rather than “four sizes too big”.

-

I panted softly as I squelched my way into the office. When I woke up, the weather was blissful - bright sunshine, a little warm maybe, but with a light breeze to make it bearable, the sky clear apart from a couple of distant picturesque fluffy clouds completing the picture. Of course, once I was halfway to work, the heavens abruptly opened, necessitating me to run from my tube stop through torrential rain to my office.

My body wasn't exactly built for running these days. That day with Graham's shirt had flicked a switch somewhere deep in my brain, and since then my appetite and waistline had expanded in rapid conjunction. Now my soaking shirt clung to a round, soft gut, plump tits and wide love handles, and my damp trousers made my wide, plush thighs and fat pad uncomfortable.

I was met with noises of sympathy from my much more weather-prepared co-workers as I dripped across the floor, but couldn't fail to notice the whispers and pointing as soon as I passed. My weight gain wasn't exactly fresh office gossip at this point, but I'm sure it being highlighted by clinging wet clothes didn't exactly help matters. I sighed as I sat at my desk, the cold clothes against my skin making me shiver.

A shadow fell over me and I saw Graham stood meekly above me. “I've got some spare clothes,” he said quietly, looking around to see if anyone was listening. “I'm not sure if you, you know, if they'll fit or anything, but you're welcome to them if you like.”

I saw his eyes flick to my swollen gut and my heart jumped as I realised that Graham - Graham! The office fat guy! - wasn't sure who was bigger out of the two of us. I shuffled my legs slightly to adjust my hardening cock, but knew that my overhang would largely keep my arousal hidden.

“Oh, uh, yeah, thanks Graham, that would be great,” I thanked him. “I've actually borrowed your shirt before, you know,” I told him. “You wanting to keep it a secret all of a sudden?”

Graham grew more flustered. “It's not that,” he said. “I'm happy for people to borrow it whenever, you know. I figure it's best if there's a spare shirt around and at least if it fits the fattest- I mean, that is, if it fits me it… well.” He cleared his throat and looked around again. He lowered his voice further “I wasn't sure if you'd be happy to, you know, have people know you were borrowing my clothes. You know since…” He gestured feebly towards me and I felt my heart pump harder.

“That's fine Graham,” I said. “Thank you again.”

“If you ever want to talk to someone,” he said, not moving yet. “I get it, you know, the uh,” he shifted his feet nervously, “weight thing. I was probably about your age when I started to put on a bit, back when Vanessa had the twins and well… anyway. I just wanted to say that I know how it feels, and if you ever wanted to talk to someone who understands…”

“Thanks Graham,” I said. “For the shirt and the offer.” I stood up so that we were almost belly to belly. “I best go get changed.” Graham grinned and gave a small wave as he walked away.

I looked at the shirt on the hanger in front of me. Was I really the same size as Graham now? I'd certainly fantasized about the idea often enough, and the shirt in front of me looked… well, it looked normal. I thought back to that day a couple of years before when I was shocked at the size of Graham's clothes; now they looked the exact same as all the others I had hanging in my wardrobe at home.

I pulled off my damp clothes and put on the shirt. It fit perfectly - the collar wasn't too tight, the shoulder seams hit the right place, it tucked perfectly into my waistline. A little snug, perhaps, around my gut, but then most clothes did these days. The buttons were definitely straining more than they did around Graham's belly, weren't they? He'd have surely bought the next size up by now if this was how his shirts fit everyday.

I sucked in as I bent down to pick up the trousers, keen not to stress the buttons anymore and stood back up with a loud grunt. Advanced acrobatics like “bending over” and “standing back up” were getting a little strenuous these days. I looked in the waistband and froze. It was a 42 inch waist. I'd gotten rid of my last pair of 42s months ago, and in the meantime my 44s were starting to pinch painfully when I was particularly bloated. I looked back at my soaked trousers and imagined drying in them. These would have to do - maybe just for the morning until my clothes dried.

I had to suck in as I struggled to button the trousers, and immediately felt the familiar vice grip of too small clothes as I let my gut hang out fully. The fabric confined my legs and hips, making my torso explode out of the top like bread dough, and I could imagine the angry red marks I'd see once I took them off. The legs felt like skinny-fit jeans, all the way down to my calves. Surely Graham couldn't wear these? I didn't think I'd be able to sit down all day.

“Those forty-twos aren't too big, are they?” Graham asked when I gingerly came out the stationery cupboard, feeling like an overstuffed sausage casing come to life. “I only really use them if I'm feeling a bit bloated,” he explained.

I shook my head and gave a strained smile. “They'll stay up with a belt,” I said. I saw Graham's eyes flick down to the full-to-bursting fabric with no belt in sight.

He gave a thin smile. “Well then,” he said. “Glad I could help. You know where they are if you ever need them again.”

I was back in my own trousers by lunch, after promising Graham to buy him a new pair since I'd ripped the seat on his.

-

I licked the sugar and jam off my fingers as I walked up to Graham.

“Hey man,” I said, before stifling a belch. “I don't suppose I could borrow that spare shirt you keep?” I gestured down at my shirt, where jam from my donuts sat next to grease from that morning's sausage roll on the shelf of my gut. “Breakfast got a bit messy this morning.”

Graham’s eyes widened a touch and I could see him perform a series of mental calculations. “I've lost a little weight since the last time you borrowed a shirt,” he said after a moment. “I'm down to just plain old extra large these days.”

“It looked like the same shirt when I got some staples the other day,” I told him. “Maybe you just forgot to swap it out.”

He smiled weakly. “Ah, yeah, that's right,” he conceded. “Must not have brought in one of my new ones yet.” His eyes flicked down to the farthest extent of my gut, where its swell strained the buttons of my 4XL. “So you umm, I mean that is, if you think, but well.” He desperately reached for a polite way to tell me I was too fat for even the clothes that were too big for him. He lowered his voice. “Weren't you saying a while ago you shop at one of those plus-size shops these days? I never really went to those, even when I was, well, before I lost some weight.”

I grinned and shrugged. “Worth giving it a go, right buddy?” I slapped the top of my belly. “Us big guys are used to squeezing into places.”

He grimaced at the suggestion our sizes were comparable and gestured towards the cupboard where he kept his spare shirts. “Help yourself,” he mumbled.

I unbuttoned my own shirt and dropped it in a heap on the floor. I picked up Graham's from its hanger and held it out in front of me - did I really used to fit in clothes this small? I grunted as I bent down to pick up the trousers and held that out in front of my waist too - god they were narrow. My own hips were a good half foot wider, even while holding them like this. I'd have liked to have tried them on too, but they were a non-starter, I knew. A shame that I couldn't go all the way with my little game, but oh well.

I put the shirt on, even the shoulders a little too narrow to slip my arms into comfortably, and slowly started buttoning, my fat fingers slow and clumsy. The neck was a complete no go, fat oozing over the collar when I attempted. The buttons over my tits were snug, but broadly doable. The top of my gut - starting to become a real problem. At the very diameter of my soft ball gut the two sides were inches apart. Determined to make a show of myself in front of the office before I left in a few weeks, I sucked in as far as I could and tugged on the shirt hard. After a few moments of struggling, huffing and puffing all the buttons were precariously lodged into their respective holes.

I let my gut out slowly, so as not to tear any seams or send the buttons scattering. Even at the largest I dare let my gut hang out, I was still sucking in a little.

Every inch of fabric was filled with me, inflated to its limit. I could almost hear the cloth creaking. The buttons had huge ovals of hairy, dimpled skin showing between them. The bottom of the shirt hung around my heavy love handles like bread loaves and several inches of my gut hung clearly out the bottom. The waistband of my trousers were hidden beneath cascading fat, and my soft arse hung out at the top.

I grinned as I walked out the cupboard. “Cheers for the shirt Graham,” I called across the office. Disgusted and embarrassed faces turned towards me as they took in the sight of my morbidly obese body forced and squeezed into clothes meant for the merely clinically obese. I began walking towards Graham as I spoke, giving everyone a good view. “I don't think it's really going to work,” I said as I gestured towards my body. “I swear we used to be the same size?” I shrugged. “Ah well, I can cope with a couple of stains for today.”

Graham blushed bright red as I approached him, the only person forced to engage with the spectacle unfolding in front of everyone. “Oh well,” he said, staring resolutely at his computer screen.

A flash of a thought began to nucleate into an idea. Did I dare? I think I did. I made a show of wrinkling my nose a little and then- “ACHOO” - a not quite believable fake sneeze as I let my gut expand to its fullest extent. Two buttons pinged off the and I heard a small rip to my side.

“Oh god!” I feigned humiliation. “I'm so sorry Graham, your shirt! I'll buy you a new one!”

Graham paled. “That's fine,” he insisted. “Didn't fit anymore anyway, destined for the charity shop.”

“No, no,” I replied. I stroked my hand around my gut, feeling the contrast between strained fabric and exposed skin at the fresh tear in the shirt's side. “It's my fault and this spare shirt’s helped me out no end of times.” I pretended to ponder for a moment. “I swear it used to fit…”

My cock was rock hard beneath my gut as I returned to the stationery cupboard to put my own shirt on.

[loucifersbitch]

attempting to do this thing so here's the start of week 1

“Remind me again why we decided to come to Alaska for our vacation,” Tommy muttered as he placed another log into the wood stove and closed the door, making sure the damper was open.

Buck continued to bounce around the room, unpacking toiletries and organizing suitcases.

“Aw, c’mon, babe, it’ll be fun! We’ve got five days of relaxation ahead of us,” Buck said. “Plus the hiking and shopping and sightseeing and the helicopter tour and -”

“Sweetheart, if you wanted a helicopter tour of mountains, I could’ve flown us myself. We wouldn’t even have had to leave California,” Tommy interrupted.

“There’s also the hot tub,” Buck added, hopeful. “Where’s your sense of adventure?”

Tommy chuckled, “It got lost in the blizzard that’s supposed to hit in a few hours.”

“Ah,” Buck scoffed, waving him off, “a little snow storm won’t be enough to stop us. Besides, it’ll probably miss us anyway.”

“Maybe you’re right,” Tommy said, walking over to Buck to help him with the last of the bags. “Doesn’t matter what we do. I’m just happy to be here with you.”

Buck laughed, “You’re a dork, you know that?” but he was blushing all the same.

“Yeah, but you like it.”

“I do,” he nodded. “I really, really do.” He placed a hand low on Tommy’s back, pulled him close, and kissed him softly.

“Now,” Buck said, “what would you like for dinner?” He walked over to the small kitchen in their cabin and started going through the bags of groceries they had brought. “We have pasta or pasta or pasta,” he said, pulling out box after box as he went, “or pasta or pasta. Did I mention pasta?”

“Sweetheart, why did you bring so much pasta?” Tommy asked, laughing as he walked to the kitchen to see.

“You know how some people panic and over-pack underwear? Well, I think I did that with the food. I also brought way too much produce, two dozen of my homemade granola bars, and five pounds of trail m-  It’s not funny!” he griped, acting put-out but then laughing at himself right along with Tommy.

“Well,” Tommy mused once his laughter died down, “I think I’d like pasta for dinner.”

Buck smiled. “Coming right up!”

Before Buck could get too far, Tommy grabbed his wrist and pulled him into a searing kiss. The dazed look on Buck’s face when Tommy leaned back was as gratifying as the first time he saw it.

“Um,” Buck blinked, “wha- what was that for?”

“Nothing in particular. You’re adorable and looked like you needed kissing,” Tommy shrugged. “Now, how can I help with dinner?”

Later, as they were sitting down to eat, Buck looked out the small kitchen window and groaned. “I stand corrected about the blizzard missing us.”

“Don’t worry, Evan, I’ll keep you warm tonight.”

tag list

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@flyboyhan @buffaluff

[jinx-xxed]

Sick Days

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆ .。.:*

A/N; Sick fics are my absolute fav thing ever!! Also idc if they didn’t have showers just let me live in this lie, maybe they’d figure it out with magic or smth idk

Summary; Ban takes care of his overworking, sick partner.

Content; Reader is sick, pretty domestic and fluffy, Ban is very sweet, Ban plays doctor basically

Wc; 1.4k

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆ .。.:*

It’s late morning when you trudge down the stairs in the Boar Hat tavern, one hand holding the railing to keep yourself balanced. The day outside is gloomy, the normally bright blue sky now covered by dark gray clouds threatening rain. It matches how you’re feeling perfectly.

You’d woken up feeling like shit and as much as you’d wanted to turn over, pull the blanket over your head and ignore the day, you couldn’t. You have a mission to do with the rest of the Sins and you aren’t able to just miss it, even though your head is pounding. Your whole body feels strangely cold despite the fact you’re both a fire wizard and incredibly resistant to frigid temperatures, and all of your senses feel muffled. To top it all off, your nose is stuffy.

You find your place at one of the tables within the main room of the tavern, groaning slightly at the way your body aches any time you move. You don’t know why you were feeling like this and it’s pissing you off. You have a mission to go on, damn it, you weren’t going to let some sudden illness make you stay behind.

You barely register when food is set in front of you but you were still able to mumble a ‘thank you’ to whoever had brought it. You pick at the food and take only one or two bites, the meal putting a little warmth back into your body.

Your name is suddenly shouted loud enough to pierce through the cotton in your brain.

Your head snaps up—making the pounding in your head worse for a brief second—as your captain exclaims your name. It seems you’d been so lost in your muddled mind that you didn’t comprehend him trying to get your attention by saying your name five times. “Yes?”

“Are you feeling alright?” Meliodas asks, concern creasing the features on his face.

“I’m fine.” You say simply. Before you can react, the blond is pressing the back of his hand against your forehead. He shakes his hand when he retracts it like he got burned, a wince on his face.

“Jeez, you’re burning up.” He puts his hands on his hips with a sigh. “Well, I’m taking you out of this mission then. You’ll need to stay here.”

You stand, holding back your groan at the way your head throbs and limbs ache. “What?! I’m fine, I can go on the mission. I can’t just- I can’t stay here doing nothing.” You insist.

He looks at you with a raised brow. “I’m not letting you go on a mission like this one when you’re obviously sick, that would just be irresponsible. It’s best that you stay in the tavern and rest, alright?”

Everyone currently in the Boar Hat knows that wouldn’t happen though. Even if you’re sick, you would continue to work on whatever you could. No matter how you felt, you’d keep working. You see illness as an obstacle that you simply had to walk around and ignore, despite how bad it may be. However, if you did keep working, you would only get sicker.

Meliodas was clearly a little conflicted. He wanted his teammate to rest but he wasn’t sure if anyone else could stay behind-

“I’ll stay with her.”

Ban comes to stand beside you, putting an arm around your waist to keep you stable because you’re swaying on your feet. You don’t hesitate to lean against him.

Meliodas begins to protest, “Ban we’ll need you on this mission-“

“I’m sure you’ll be just fine without me. Besides, you want them to get better don’t you?” Ban asks with a dumb smirk on his face, knowing he’s won when the captain narrows his eyes slightly.

Meliodas sighs. “Fine, you two stay here then. Everyone else, let’s get going, we don’t want to be late.”

King and Gowther follow Meliodas out where Diane is waiting. Elizabeth goes to follow as well but she briefly pauses before you and Ban. “Sir Ban, please make sure they get better! All the medical supplies are in the bathroom upstairs.” She tells him.

“I got it, princess, don’t worry.” Ban reassures her. She nods and hurries to catch up to the rest of the group.

He then looks to you who’s leaning heavily against him now, looking half asleep where you were standing. You jolt back to full consciousness when you hear the door shut behind Elizabeth. “Alright you, why don’t you go upstairs and take a hot shower? I’ll get some soup ready.” He tells you gently.

“Mmkay.” You mumble before slowly heading upstairs.

You did as he said and got into the shower, the water scalding hot. It feels nice against your freezing body, the steam rising in the room also helping to clear your stuffy nose. You stay in there for a long while.

» ☆ «

Ban understood the fact that you were probably taking a pretty long shower, as you usually would if you’re sick, but eventually it became so long that it was almost concerning. Surely the hot water would’ve run out by now?

The soup was done so he decided to go and investigate. He heads upstairs and doesn’t hear the shower running and upon further investigation, he finds the bathroom empty. He calls your name, voice echoing down the empty hallway. He doesn’t get any kind of response. Maybe you’d fallen asleep?

He goes to the ladder attached to the attic where your room is. The trapdoor leading into the attic is open so he peeks inside, looking for his sickly comrade. He finds you in the right corner of the room closest to the door where a desk is tucked against the wall. As he pulls himself up fully into the room, he sees the papers scattered on your desk that you were attempting to read over and work on.

“Seriously?” He demands, his annoyance evident in his tone.

You jump at his voice, looking over to him. “What? These papers have to get done-“

“For fuck’s sake, you’re sick.” He goes over and lifts you out of your chair by your underarms. You let out a sound of protest but don’t fight him as he sets you down on the floor. “The damn papers can get done when you’re better. The reason you’re probably sick in the first place is because you overwork yourself, you know.”

“I’m just doing my job.” You insist.

“Well, your job can be put on hold for a little while. Now go downstairs, there’s food waiting.” He orders. You sigh but listen to him, then descending the ladder. He follows shortly after and shuts the door behind him.

You sit at one of the tables and a bowl of the soup he’d made is put in front of you, steam rising from its surface. You take your first bite, the warmth spreading throughout your body. It’s delicious. It has plenty of ingredients that make the soup full of flavor but still make it perfectly nutritious for your sick self.

“Do you like it?” Ban asks as you begin eating more of the soup. He sits next to you at the table, also giving you a glass of water.

You nod, swallowing another bite before speaking. “Yes, it’s really good. As expected of something made by you.”

He smiles at the praise, resting his cheek on his hand. “I’m glad.”

You finish the bowl of soup relatively quickly and then get seconds before you’re satisfied. Now after taking a hot shower and having the warm soup in your stomach, you’re feeling incredibly tired. Ban can tell by the way your head dips a little. He stands with a small smile, “ready to go to bed?”

“Mhm.” You respond.

He lifts you off your seat with ease, holding you bridal style. You nuzzle into his chest, eyes closing as you’re carried upstairs. He brings you into his room; that way it’ll be easier to keep an eye on you and get to you if you need anything.

He lays you gently in his bed, pulling the sheets over you with an extra blanket added on. “Do you want the cold towel for your head?” He asks softly. You nod.

He quickly goes and gets the towel which was lightly dampened and then frozen. It’s folded so it can easily fit against your forehead. A small rumble escapes from your throat in thanks as the cooling sensation brings some relief to your headache.

He’d closed the curtains beforehand and turned off the light so it was a dark as possible in the room. He kisses your cheek and brushes hair off your forehead. “Sleep well.” He murmurs before leaving the room, quietly shutting the door behind him.

You curl up under the covers, perfectly content in their comfort, and let sleep finally take over.

[accio-victuuri]

xiao zhan elle september issue cover story

Xiao Zhan believes in simplicity. But in acting, he increasingly likes multi-faceted and complex characters.In other words, this is an authentic state of human existence. At a time when everything is being simplified, Be willing to admit that people are different,Seek communication possibilities, Be sensitive and defend complexity, This must require love and courage.

01.

After entering the entertainment industry, these things quickly became part of his daily life - cameras, spotlights, display screens, shields. Due to his profession and popularity, countless "Xiao Zhan" have emerged, including huge portraits on the facades of high-end shopping malls, the projections of an astonishing number of fans, or the appearance of characters in the film and television dramas that have been released one after another.

Right now, in the dressing room after the shooting, Xiao Zhan is holding his box of whole grain salad, vividly imitating the scene of meeting director Zheng Xiaolong.

"I was a little confused, so I asked the director whether he wanted me to be thinner or stronger. He said, 'Thinner, of course thinner, it will look so good and sharp.'" After a while, when we were taking the final photos, Zheng Xiaolong saw him again, "He said, 'Wow, you look good like this.'" From then until now, he has lost more than ten pounds.

Xiao Zhan, the source of all fission, is decent and relaxed. The glamour seen by the outside world is an added value for him. Sometimes he even forgets about it, "Really no one will care about you." Then he continues to talk about his work.

The most recent one is "Legend of the Hidden Sea", which was filmed in Hengdian for 5 months. The previous one, which also took 5 months to shoot, was "The Legend of the Condor Heroes: The Greatest Hero" directed by Tsui Hark. This is often the case with large-scale movies and long TV series. Once you join the crew, it takes four or five months. In 2022, his main filming work was "Where Dreams Begin" and "Sunshine by my Side", in 2021 it was "Yu Gu Yao", in 2020 it was "Ace Troops", and in 2019 it was "Douluo Dalu" and "Oath of Love".

There are constant offers for plays, so sometimes I can’t decide whether to lengthen or shorten the time between plays.

In the second half of 2019, when filming "Oath of Love", Xiao Zhan filmed during the day and recorded the variety show "Our Song" at night. Both were very challenging. The former was his first time to play the leading role in an urban drama, with little experience and great pressure; the latter was difficult because of the harmony, "You have to memorize all the harmonies that are different from the tune of the song and not be carried away."

"At that time, I felt it didn't matter. I would sleep for an hour or two and wake up feeling healthy again. But now my mind says it doesn't matter, but my body is protesting."

This year, he was filming in Hengdian. Later, one day, he found that his tonsils were inflamed and swallowing was very painful, but he went to work as usual. It was not until the director came over and asked him, "What's wrong with your eyes?" that he saw his eyes swollen in the mirror. By the afternoon, "I looked like a frog."

He had to go to the hospital. The symptoms themselves were common and could be stopped by taking medicine. But what he couldn't do was exactly what the doctor advised most: you need to rest.

More importantly, "My perception will become dull. I am really afraid of this, afraid of becoming mechanical and formulaic." He put the emphasis on the word "really". He chatted with his seniors, "They also said that you have to live and experience life."

In fact, a life in the spotlight is somewhat contrary to the life of ordinary people, but the profession of an actor requires him to touch as many wrinkles of life as possible.

A while ago, he watched a monologue in a variety show that depicted the current workplace situation of young people. Before entering the entertainment industry, Xiao Zhan had a studio and worked. He could understand the depression brought by work, but the new vocabulary and new tools that appeared in the workplace weakened his sense of resonance. He found that he was gradually disconnected to a certain extent.

02.

In early June, Xiao Zhan had a short vacation and went back to his hometown Chongqing. He likes to take walks very much, and one night he walked for several hours, visiting the old street, Jiefangbei, and the place where he used to work.

In 2014, 23-year-old Xiao Zhan graduated from university and worked as a designer in a design studio. Every weekday morning, he would transfer from Line 2 to Line 3 at Niujiaotuo Station, push through the crowds, and squeeze onto the light rail. Several times, he was pressed so hard that his face was pressed against the glass window.

He simply leaned against the glass to look at the Jialing River below, the strange reefs exposed in the dry season and the various people, some swimming in winter, some jogging, some fishing, with a very optimistic spirit.

He still likes to observe the people around him——

"Why are you still here so late?"

"People walking hurriedly must have just got off work and are in a hurry to go home. Their expressions and behaviors are just like when I used to catch the subway. It's the last one and you have to run. They are very panicked. Some takeaway guys are rushing forward regardless of their own safety. There are also some very leisurely people who sit there drinking beer, and then go home and start a new day."

"Everyone has their own wonderful story. It is everyone's life that makes up our society. So it's wonderful. Everyone is the protagonist. We are all filming our own biographies. What will the story of tomorrow be like?"

At that moment, he was like all those who have been busy working in a foreign country for a long time, and finally found that "I haven't been here for a long time, and there have been quite a lot of changes." "In fact, I am not particularly happy, and I don't have any other feelings. I am living, that's all."

Two and a half days later, Xiao Zhan left Chongqing for work and returned to Beijing, then to Shanghai, and then to France. This time he also called his parents. This was a long-awaited family trip, from France to Switzerland and back to France in a week. Every detail of the trip was magnified, their happiness, quarrels, or just ordinary walks, "all very vivid."

On the day they parted, they finished their meal at a restaurant in the south of France. The car that came to pick him up arrived and he had to leave first. Before leaving, his mother hugged him and told him to take care of himself. Rarely, his father also hugged him awkwardly.

"I used to think that work was everything and life wasn't that important. It was nothing more than having a place to sleep, getting up, going to work, finishing work, and resting. But now that my parents are older and I haven't lived with them for a long time, you feel as if each other's lives, even family members, are getting further and further apart." He especially doesn't want this to happen.

The way to avoid suspension and regain a sense of reality in life is not difficult to say. "When you have time, go out and take a look. The important thing is to feel life and the world. Even if it is something terrible or cruel, it is life, and it will burst out with energy when you need it."

03.

Halfway through the interview, Xiao Zhan suddenly said that he had a conflicting attitude towards long interviews. On the one hand, he was worried that he was not growing enough and would appear timid during the conversation. On the other hand, he wanted to unearth some subtle feelings through the conversation because he felt he was not good at recording them in words.

Observation, feeling, understanding and expression are the key to an actor's creativity.

"Dialogue is also muscle memory." Xiao Zhan said, "Although I am very i, I am not autistic. Because I think actors need to learn to express, express your inner thoughts, and digest the content handed to you by the other party."

Before the filming of "Sunshine by my Side" began, he met with the main creators and held several script meetings to deepen their understanding of each other and the characters. In the early stage of "Legend of the Hidden Sea", the producer also mentioned that he would discuss the script in detail and talk about a scene with many of his own understandings.

Xiao Zhan is not a professional actor. When he first entered the industry and filmed "Fights Break Sphere" and "The Wolf", he had strong doubts and asked himself, am I suitable for this? Constantly denying and overthrowing himself made him lose confidence.

Sometimes he is asked what he would be doing now if he had not participated in the talent show, debuted, or entered the entertainment industry at the age of 23. He has thought about it, but he has not looked back.

If you can't act well, then spend extra time taking acting classes, watching the monitor more often, and asking seniors for advice. With your full strength and hard work, you will slowly find the way.

Later, when the filming of "Sunshine by my Side" started, Xiao Zhan played Xiao Chunsheng, a child of a Beijing compound, who was completely different from him, even his accent was very different. He felt insecure. Before filming many scenes, director Fu Ning ran over and whispered to him, Zhan Zhan, don't be afraid, just speak bravely, if you feel it, just say it, in fact, the audience can feel your emotions and what you want to express.

He also gradually gained more self-awareness: "Technique may not be my forte, it depends more on feelings. Only when I have my own feelings can I have the confidence to interpret it. If I rely purely on some techniques, I think it is not moving enough."

It has been 8 years since Xiao Zhan made his acting debut. Looking at his resume, he has played leading roles in various TV series and movies. But he still feels that he is a newcomer and hopes to work with more experienced production teams in the future.

He doesn't think too much, and he doesn't actually know the work plan divided by year very well. He only cares about what the work arrangements for the next stage are, rather than "asking about things too far ahead."

"I still feel like a child, but actually I'm not anymore. It seems like I'm still in high school, but actually I've grown up." A child's mind means having curiosity, desire to explore, and imagination.

He puts these curiosities and explorations into the characters. "I mean, for me, when I dig into the character's background and past, I discover the complexity and contradictions of the character as a person and present them. In this way, some of his choices and motivations may be understood by the audience, and the work may be good, and you will have the current audience, right?"

source

[melanieph321]

Ruben Dias x Reader - Not Ready Part 1/12

Part 2 and Part 3 are out on my Patreon for FREE!

This story is so beautiful, hopefully you'll think so too! 🥹

Readers sister dies in a tragic car accident, leaving reader and her boyfriend Ruben in the urgent custody of her niece and nephew. Readers life is suddenly flipped upside-down since having children hadn't been the plan for her and Ruben's life together. At least not now when his football career was reaching great new heights.

Enjoy! 💞

You could really get used to this life, because who else has an amazing girl boss who let's you off work in the honor of your birthday?

Well you did.

Instead of spending the last hours of the day sorting out paperwork, you were rushing off to see you your boyfriend who had surprise for you in the park.

"Oh my god, is he going to purpose?"

"I have no idea." You squealed, cellphone pressed to your ear. Your best friend Laleh was on the other end, helping you speculate why Ruben specifically wanted to spend the afternoon with you in the park.

"Do you think he had anything to do with you getting off work so early?"

"I really don't know. I would be surprised of he did."

"Yes, me too. If he did, what the hell was he thinking, leaving me to finish all this work by myself?"

You laughed. "I'm so sorry Laleh. I really owe you."

"Damn straight you do. Just make sure to send me a picture of the ring, okay?"

"I promise. Love you. Bye."

You hung up the phone and practically ran the last distance towards the park. Your heart pounded in your chest as you sighted it ahead. What if this was it? What if after three years together, Ruben, was finally ready to tie the knott. Lord knows that you were. Ruben was simply the man of your dreams.

"Y/N."

You spotted his tall figure amongst the trees. He stood with his hands in his pockets, hair stirring gently in the wind. The way your heart fluttered when you saw him could only mean one thing, no?

"Ruben, what is all this?"

He suprised you with a full on picknick. A blanket was laid out on the grass below. Beside it was a basket containing fruit, red wine and a fine collection of cheese.

"Happy birthday baby!" Ruben welcomed you to sit down.

"I can't believe you. Isn't today your rest day?"

Ruben lay down on the blanket, leaning forward to kiss you. "I can rest right here." He smiled.

You were perplexed. The amount of love you had for your boyfriend was simply too hard to grasp. He had gone so out of his way just for you. It made you giggle, how he cut you a slice of cheese with such caution, wanting it to be just the right amount to put on your cracker.

"Here you go."

"Well, thank you." You bowed with courtesy.

Ruben put down the cheese knife and licked the tip of his fingers. He licked them clean since his diet as a professional football player didn't allow him to have any dairy. Wine was also off limits. It was all just for you to enjoy.

"So..." He said, clasping his hands together as he rested on his side. "How does it feel to be twenty-five?"

"Old." You murmured through a mouth full of cheese and crackers.

"Old?" He frowned. "But I'm twenty-seven."

"Exactly my point. Twenty-seven is so old and now I'm getting closer to that age."

"Right." He snorted.

"Don't get me wrong baby. You look amazing for your age, but that's because you work out. I on the other hand...."

"If it's your fitness that you're worried about you can always come with me to the gym."

"Nah, I'm good." You chugged down the last of your cracker, dusting of the crumbs that had fallen into your lap. Ruben looked to you with admiration, the sun irritating his eyes.

"Did you know that my mom had my sister at twenty-one."

"Really?"

"Yeah, and me at twenty-seven."

"Interesting."

"Yeah and now my sister is trying to get pregnant again at thirty-one as if the two children she has isn't enough work already."

"How are they?"

"Emmy and Vale?"

"Yeah?"

"Oh, well they're great, I guess. Emmy has just started her forth year in primary school and Vale lost his first tooth the other day."

"Really?"

"Yeah. His dad forgot to slip him the money from the tooth fairy though. My sister totally freaked out."

"Tooth fairy?" Ruben tilted his head.

"Yes, the tooth fairy. Didn't you grow up with the concept of a wealthy winged midget sneaking into your bedroom at night, collecting all your teeth?"

"Erm...no. No, I didn't. " Ruben looked horried.

"Hmm.....I thought the culture in Portugal wasn't too different from the rest of the countries in Europe."

"It isn't." Ruben sat up. "But I guess my family wasn't into that kind of stuff."

"What stuff?"

"I dunno, make believe stuff. Fairytales etc."

"Oh."

"Yeah, my dad was the worst. When I first lost my tooth he made me stand in front of the bathroom mirror and pull the tooth out myself."

"Really? That's horrible."

"I still remember being hunched over the bathroom sink with blood pouring out of my mouth while hearing my dad flush my tooth down the toilet."

"Ruben, that's—"

"My dad for you." He smiled. It was obvioulsy a fond memory to him. A traumatic one to you.

"I just can't imagine myself raising children right now." You said, falling back onto the picknick blanket, a sense of peace washing over you. It was such a lovely afternoon. "If anything I'm still a child myself."

"How about a dog?"

You had gone to shut your eyes, but quickly reopened them. Ruben was standing up, hovering over you with a cardboard box in his hands.

You brought yourself to sit up. "Ruben, what is—"

Something shook the box. Followed by a low squeal. A frail attempt of a bark.

"Ruben....you did not."

His smile broadened. "I did." He lowered the box for you to see what lay within, and looking up at you with the most precious eyes was a brown sausage dog, less than four weeks old.

"Oh my god." You quickly reached for it and brought the puppy into your lap. "Ruben I can't believe you did this!"

"Happy birthday!"

You looked up at him, feeling how the dog nibbled at your fingertips. "What made you even want to do this?" It was such a commitment to get a dog. Ruben had never expressed the desire to get one before, although, you knew that he was good with them, seeing as his family had own several back home in Portugal.

"I guess I just thought it was time." He shrugged.

"Time for what?" You cried. Yes, actual tears were welling up in your eyes. Even more so when Ruben joined you on the blanket, petting the fluffy creature in your lap. He then looked to you with such a gentle gaze. "For us to start a family." He said.

"Oh, Ruben." You kissed him, apologizing for your wet cheeks. Ruben didn't mind, however, wiping them away with a stroke of his thumb. "I love you Y/N. I always will."

"I love you too."

It was the best birthday of your life, filled with wet kisses and a puppy. Hopefully it was the beginning of forever with Ruben. It's all you ever wanted

Part 2 and Part 3 are out on my Patreon for FREE!

[formulauno98]

Yacht Girl Summer - Chapter Five / Monday - George Russell x Reader, Toto Wolff x Reader

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: Very mild spice. This is going to be a slow burn and if you're uncomfortable with the idea of two-timing don't read this.

Author’s Notes: Disclaimer, purely fiction. No use of Y/N and minimal descriptions because I want everyone/anyone to be able to enjoy this.

MONDAY MORNING

At long last, the storm had passed and as you’d slept, the crew had managed to get the electronics working well enough to move the yacht and anchor in a calm bay. 

Emerging from your quarters for breakfast, the sun shone brightly, casting sparkling reflections on the sea surrounding you, a stark contrast from yesterday’s stormy grey skies and relentless rain. 

Monday morning was a quiet affair, with the group nursing hangovers coupled with lack of sleep from being kept awake all night. Undoubtedly the surprising revelation that George had walked in on Toto having sex in the garage also hung heavy, Toto and George uncharacteristically subdued. For once, you were not the quietest at the table.

"That storm last night was wild, wasn't it? I thought we might get blown off course." you said, trying to fill the awkward silence.

"Indeed, nature always reminds us who's in charge out here." Toto replied.

Glancing between you and Toto, a hint of tension in his voice, George added, "Yeah, quite a night. Thanks for keeping an eye on her, Toto."

You could feel yourself turning rouge at the memory of Toto pulling you into the small cupboard yesterday evening, the intimate moment electric with sexual tension. For the last few days your crush on Toto had spiralled but you never dreamt that it might be returned. 

Toto merely raised an eyebrow, a knowing smile playing on his lips "Just ensuring everyone stays safe. Wouldn't want any of my guests lost at sea."

George laughed, his smile not quite meeting his eye as the conversation turned to your companion’s hangovers.

"Ugh, my head is pounding,” Cara moaned, sipping gingerly on her coffee, “That game was killer George.”

“I know!” exclaimed Marion, nursing a herbal tea, “"I think I might have to be teetotal for the rest of this trip.”

Chuckling, John chimed in, “"Ah, you ladies know how to live! Last night was a blast though. Nothing like a thunderstorm and some racy revelations to liven things up. You lot are a surprisingly wild bunch.”

John smirked, his eyes darting to Toto who was sat quietly, "Speaking of which, boss, any plans for tonight? Perhaps a quieter affair?"

Toto pepped up, “We'll see how the day unfolds. The crew need to dock in Porto Cervo to assess damage and restock supplies so perhaps we can explore after lunch."

– – – 

As the yacht glided into the marina, the picturesque town of Porto Cervo unfolded before you. There were already a few large boats moored and the crew expertly steered into a vacant spot. The view was glorious, the buildings painted in pastel hues and the streets bustling with life. You couldn’t wait to go for a wander in the afternoon and clear your thoughts.

As the anchor went down, Toto turned to the group. "Just to let you know, I’ve invited some friends to join us for lunch. They’re eager to meet you all."

George raised an eyebrow. "More guests?"

"Just a few old friends. They’re in town and it would be rude not to invite them." Toto replied.

– – – 

The guests arrived shortly after the yacht docked. A group of older Italian men, clearly good friends of Toto, greeting him with hearty embraces and speaking animatedly in Italian.

"Everyone, meet my friends, Stefano, Flavio, and Marco," Toto introduced them, turning to you and George. "And this is George and his girlfriend."

The men turned their attention to you, their eyes lighting up with interest.

"Bellissima! A pleasure to meet you," Stefano said, taking your hand and kissing it lightly.

"Toto didn’t mention he had such beautiful company," Marco added, his smile wide.

"We are lucky men today," Flavio said, his gaze lingering on you a bit too long.

George’s jaw tightened, and Toto seemed to notice, a slight frown crossing his face.

– – – 

As lunch progressed, the Italian men’s flirting became more overt. They regaled you with stories of their exploits, each trying to outdo the other, while George and Toto watched with seemingly growing irritation.

"You must visit my vineyard in Tuscany," Marco suggested, leaning in closer. "I’ll give you a private tour."

"Or perhaps a ride in my classic car collection," Flavio offered, his eyes twinkling.

You laughed politely, feeling the tension between George and Toto. George’s face was a mix of jealousy and frustration, while Toto’s usual calm demeanor was replaced by a more protective stance.

"You all are too kind," you said, trying to tactfully deflect their advances. "It sounds wonderful."

"You should definitely go," Cara chimed in, winking at you. "A vineyard tour sounds amazing."

"Maybe we could all go," Marion suggested, her eyes dancing with amusement. "Make it a group outing."

John and James exchanged amused glances, clearly enjoying the spectacle.

"I think George might have something to say about that," John said, nudging George playfully.

– – – 

Leaving Toto to talk business with his associates, the rest of you decided it was time to explore shore. Stepping foot onto dry land for the first time in what felt like forever, you and George, along with John, Marion, James and Cara, decided to explore the small streets along the edge of the marina. 

"Those men were quite something, weren’t they?" Marion said, linking arms with you.

"Yes, very charming," you replied, glancing at George, who seemed lost in thought.

"You seemed a bit on edge, George," John observed. "I’ve never seen you like that."

"Well, those guys were practically drooling over her," James said, laughing. "I’d be on edge too."

George stayed quiet but you sighed, feeling the weight of the situation. "It’s nothing, I just want to enjoy the day," you said, trying to lighten the mood.

It became quickly apparent that George, John and James were not interested in browsing the small boutiques so the group decided to split up, the men going off to explore the coastal path while you stayed shopping with Cara and Marion. The irony was not lost on you that a few days ago you felt awkward in the older women’s company but were now relieved to have escaped George.

Picking up a silk scarf and thumbing it delicately, Cara broached the subject, “So my darling, you and George. You don’t seem as loved up as you I thought you would be, a young couple and all. Is everything okay?”

Shocked that Cara was voicing this since you didn’t know her terribly well, you stuttered slightly, “Yes… well…no.”

Her eyes kind, she came over a little nearer, “You know, dear, George is a good man. His job just takes so much of his focus. I’ve experienced the same with James. They get over excited and it feels as if nothing else matters.”

Floored that the older woman shared your experience and had so neatly verbalised it, you turned to her, eyes wide, “You feel like this too?”

“Not so much any more, but we’ve had our ups and downs.” Cara said kindly before gesturing at Marion who was trying on earrings across from you, “Marion will agree, won’t you?”

“Oh yes,” Marion nodded, “I almost left John one season. Our children were young and I was left at home whilst he was gallivanting around the world, forgetting our existence entirely. It was shit to put it frankly”

Surprised that the women were opening up to you in this way, you tried to choose your words carefully, “It’s just... he’s so distant lately. It’s like he forgets I’m my own person.”

Shooting you a sympathetic look, Cara advised you, “"It’s understandable to feel that way. But sometimes, we need to remind those we love of what they could lose. Men like George can be wonderful partners, but they often need a little nudge to realise what’s right in front of them."

Countering, Marion nudged you on the arm, “And if George isn’t giving you what you need, you owe it to yourself to have that conversation. It’s not about hurting him, it’s about being honest. You never know, he might step up and surprise you."

You smiled at the two women before you, grateful for their advice, “"I know. It’s just hard. I don’t want to hurt him, but I also don’t want to lose myself."

“Have a chat with him.” said Cara, her blue eyes firm. “That’s the only way you’ll know.”

“I will.” you said, resolving to take their advice and have a sit down with George to tell him how you had been feeling. “Thank you, this is helpful. I’ve felt so alone.”

Sympathic, the two women fussed about you, Marion putting her arm around you, “Oh my darling, you’re never alone. Please talk to us any time. About anything.”

Although you thanked her, you knew you couldn’t yet broach the subject of Toto. That was a whole other issue and now was not the time to get into it.

MONDAY AFTERNOON

As the afternoon wore on, the group reconvened on the sun deck of the yacht, Toto’s business associates readying themselves to leave. 

"So, what did you think of Porto Cervo?" Marco asked, his eyes twinkling as he looked at you.

"It’s beautiful," you replied, trying to keep the conversation light.

"You must come back soon," Flavio said, his smile widening.

"And maybe next time, without the storm," Stefano added, laughing.

“And without George.” joked Flavio, eyeing your boyfriend.

"I’m not sure about that," George said, his tone flat.

– – – 

Having bid the men goodbye, Toto then broached the topic of the evening’s plans to the group, suggesting an evening out in Porto Cervo.

"How about we hit Billionaire tonight?" he proposed, looking around eagerly to gauge everyone’s enthusiasm.

"Ooh yes, I’ve heard it’s amazing!" Marion exclaimed, clapping her hands. "We have to go!"

“I thought you were now teetotal?” her husband chimed in, “That lasted all of what… eight hours?”

Marion playfully slapped John, “I don’t need to drink to have a good time.”

“What do you all think?” Toto asked, noticing that you, George, Cara and James had not said anything.

“If Marion’s going, I’ll go.” said Cara, “But I’m definitely not drinking.”

“Spoilsport,” said James, “I’m up for it Toto.”

Turning to you and George, Toto raised his eyebrows, daring you to talk.

"Sure, I could use a night out," George agreed, though he glanced at you with a hint of concern.

"Sounds like fun," you said, trying to shake off the tension from earlier.

“Great,” said Toto, “Be ready by ten.”

MONDAY EVENING

Turning around in front of the mirrored door in your cabin, you surveyed your outfit.

“Wowser.” said George, sidling up to you and planting a kiss on your neck, wrapping his hands around your waist, “I mean wow.”

In all fairness, your floor length slip dress was a little risqué, semi sheer and adorned head to toe with light blue sequins, you shimmered like a mermaid in the golden bedroom light, “Is it too much?”

“Not at all.” said George, stepping back and admiring you once more, “As long as Flavio isn’t there.”

You laughed, “Stay by my side at all times.”

“Where else would I be?” he replied, leaning in to kiss you softly.

“You don’t look so bad yourself,” you said, caressing his arm gently, surveying his neat navy trouser and linen shirt combination. Resort chic.

“Oh yeah?” he said, intensifying the kiss, breaking apart to tweak your strap and add, “Can’t wait to take this off later.”

You laughed, toying with the buttons on his shirt and replying, “Me neither.”

Perhaps your fears were unwarranted. When things were good with George, they were really good, and he did look handsome in tonight’s get-up, hair flopped to perfection.

Or so you thought. Until you emerged from your cabin to meet with the rest of the group and spotted Toto.

He was wearing cream chinos and a navy linen shirt, unbuttoned just enough to reveal a tantalising amount of upper chest, sleeves rolled back on vein popping forearms. As you made your way over, you locked eyes with him, his eyes full of desire as he took in your outfit for the night. You gulped. He had definitely just checked you out.

– – – 

The crew having shepherded you all down to the marina, three sleek black sedans were waiting for you. 

“You two come with me,” said Toto, gesturing at the third car in the line. “I hope you don’t mind a third wheel.”

“Not at all. Not at all.” said George, always eager to please his boss.

Having reached the car first, Toto opened the door for you with a charming smile, "Ladies first."

You thanked him as you slid in, trying to ignore the flutter in your stomach.

George made his way around to the other side of the car, looking slightly affronted but remaining polite as he slid in beside you, grabbing your hand in his, "Toto, you really know how to pick the best places."

Toto replied, "Porto Cervo has its charms." before bending down and asking with a dashing grin, “Would you mind moving across to the middle?”

You obliged as Toto settled in the seat beside you, his commanding stature filling the tight space.

As the car set off along the marina, you tried not to think about the fact that Toto’s knee was pressed up against yours, jostling as the car glided over the cobbles.

Attempting to break the tension, you looked out of the window at the passing buildings, “This town looks so beautiful at night, it’s like something from a movie.”

Toto grinned, his eyes crinkling, "Indeed. And with the right company, it becomes even more enchanting."

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see George’s jaw tightening, his grip on your hand becoming slightly firmer.

In a slightly strained voice, he spoke up, "It’s definitely got a unique vibe. So, Toto, what’s the plan for the night? Any special surprises?"

Toto grinned, "Just a night of good music, great company and perhaps a few surprises. But let's see where the night takes us."

“Mysterious,” said George, his mind whirring into gear.

For the first time you felt the tension between George and Toto. The dynamic of their relationship was a strange one. It had been known to shift between father and son, friends and equals and irate boss and employee, George always eager to impress Toto. This, however, was all new territory.

Trying to calm him, you shot George a reassuring smile and squeezed his hand, "I’m sure it’ll be a fun night.”

Softening at your touch and returning your smile, George eased up, "Yeah, you’re right. Let’s just enjoy ourselves."

– – – 

As the car pulled up to the entrance of Billionaire, the vibrant energy of the exclusive club spilt out onto the street. Lights flashed and the sound of music and laughter filled the air. 

The valet opened the car door for Toto and you quickly followed suit, stepping out, feeling the excitement of the night ahead.

Extending a hand to help you out, Toto glanced at you expectantly, "Shall we?"

Accepting his large hand in yours, you felt the electricity between you once again. Careful to not hold on for too long, once righted you let go and turned to George with a smile "Let’s go."

George shot another strange look at Toto as he slipped his arm around your waist possessively, making your way into the club.

– – – 

Having found John, James, Cara and Marion once inside, you were now all settled into a plush booth, beginning to relax and enjoy the evening. Drinks flowed freely and the conversation turned lively. 

"This place is incredible!" Marion shouted over the band playing, raising her glass. "Here’s to an unforgettable night!"

"Cheers to that!" John echoed, clinking glasses with everyone.

You noticed Toto sitting close to you, his arm resting casually on the back of the booth. George was on your other side, his arm protectively around your waist. The proximity of both men not helping your situation.

– – – 

As the night progressed, the music drew you to the dance floor. Catered to an older European crowd, some interesting tunes were being played but you made the most of it and let loose.

You, Cara, and Marion danced together, laughing and letting the music take over. If someone had told you a few days ago that you’d enjoy tearing the dance floor up to Abba’s Dancing Queen with the two older women you would have called them crazy. But stranger things had happened. 

It wasn’t long before George gave in and joined you for a few songs, his enthusiasm making up for his lack of rhythm, "You’re amazing," George said, pulling you close as you swayed along to Chic, your hips bumping awkwardly as you tried to steer George towards the beat. You smiled, trying to focus on the moment.

"Mind if I cut in?" Toto asked, his voice smooth.

George hesitated but nodded, stepping aside. Toto took your hand, spinning you around effortlessly, keeping perfect rhythm. Dancing with Toto felt different - intense, almost electric.

"You've got some moves, Toto," you said, looking up at him.

"So have you," he replied, his gaze locking with yours. The world seemed to fade away as you moved together, your surroundings a blur as you admired the man in front of you. 

Slightly disappointed when the song ended, you broke apart from Toto who turned to Marion with an invitation for the next dance. Making your way back to the booth, the Italian men from lunch had arrived, joining the group. It emerged that Flavio owned the club and seemed to know everyone there.

"There you are, bella," Marco said, taking your hand. "Shall we dance?"

Before you could respond, Toto reappeared. "She’s with us tonight," he said firmly, his protective side showing.

"Relax, Toto," Flavio laughed. "We’re just having fun."

George, noticing the tension, joined the group. "How about another round of drinks?" he suggested, trying to defuse the situation.

– – – 

Feeling overwhelmed, you made your excuses and stepped outside onto the terrace for some fresh air. The cool breeze was a welcome relief from the heat inside and the turmoil that you were feeling. You leaned against the railing, looking out at the twinkling lights of Porto Cervo.

"Mind if I join you?" Toto’s deep voice came from behind you.

You nodded, feeling the tension between you. "It’s beautiful out here," you said softly.

"Not as beautiful as you," he replied, stepping closer.

You turned to face him, the intensity of his gaze making your heart race. "Toto, I..."

Before you could finish, he leaned down, capturing your lips in a kiss that left you breathless. It was everything you had imagined and more.

After a few moments, you pulled away, your mind racing. "I can’t do this, Toto."

Toto looked at you, his eyes full of longing, "Why not?"

Taking a step back, your voice trembling slightly you replied, "Because... because it’s not right. I’m with George. I’m flattered but…"

Just as you were starting to articulate your feelings, you were rudely interrupted by John’s loud laughter. Jumping apart, the two of you tried your best to act natural as he joined you out on the terrace.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here? Stealing a quiet moment, are we?" he said, swaggering over.

Trying to maintain composure and forcing a smile you replied, "Just needed some fresh air. It’s boiling in there."

Laughing, John exclaimed, "I bet! Those Italians really know how to throw a party, don’t they?"

His demeanour shifting totally, Toto smiled at John, "Indeed. They certainly do."

Slapping Toto on the back, John was drunk and clearly wanting to have a chat, "You know, I was just telling George that he’s a lucky man. Not every day you meet someone who shines as brightly as this young lady, isn’t that right, Toto?"

Toto smiled firmly, his eyes flicking to you with an unreadable expression, "Absolutely. George is a very lucky man."

Blushing and feeling the weight of both their gazes you replied, "Thanks guys, you sure know how to make a girl blush."

Leaning on the railing beside you, looking out at the view, John continued, "So, are you two coming back inside? The party’s just getting started."

Taking a deep breath, needing a moment to gather your thoughts, you countered, "I think I’ll stay out here for a little while longer. I need a bit more fresh air."

John seemed okay with this, "Alright but don’t stay out here too long. You’ll miss all the fun!"

Giving you a final, lingering look before turning to follow John back inside, Toto added, "Take your time. We’ll see you in a bit."

As John and Toto disappeared back inside, you leaned back against the railing, trying to sort through the whirlwind of emotions. The kiss, Toto’s words, John’s interruption - it was all too much. You needed to make some decisions and soon. But for now, you allowed yourself a few more moments of solitude, letting the cool night air calm your racing heart.

– – – 

You stayed outside for ten minutes before returning to the club, trying to act normal despite the kiss still lingering on your lips. 

"There you are!" Marion called out. "We were wondering where you went."

"Just needed some air," you said, forcing a smile, feeling like the worst liar in the world.

“Heyyyyy…” said George, dancing over to you, two drinks in his hands and a cigar in his mouth, “There’s my girl. I missed you.”

He was drunk out of his mind. Possibly not the worst thing as he would be less likely to notice your nerves. “Hi love.” you said, steadying him as he wobbled beside you, setting the drinks down precariously on the edge of the table.

“Do you want to dance again? He asked sweetly, taking your hand in his.

“Sure.” you said, hoping you could distract yourself from what the hell just happened out on the terrace. Toto had called you beautiful and kissed you. Knowing full well that you were in a relationship with George. What was he playing at?

You didn’t see Toto for a while as he had disappeared into the crowd, likely chatting business somewhere. Instead you hung onto George, who was all too eager to try and impress you on the dancefloor and whisper his plans for what he had in store on return to your cabin.

– – – 

As the night progressed, the music at Billionaire ramped up and the drinks flowed more and more freely. Marion and John, in particular, were far gone, their laughter becoming louder and their movements more erratic. All you could do was watch on in amusement as they twirled aimlessly.

Slurring her words and waving her glass around Marion exclaimed, "This music is amaaazing! Whoo!"

Attempting to dance with his wife but stumbling a bit, John added, "You’re the best, Marion! Let’s show them how it’s done!"

Sitting at the booth with the rest of your group, you smiled as you leaned into James and said, "I think we need to rescue them before they fall over."

Nodding, trying to suppress his laughter, he agreed, "Yeah, probably a good idea. They’re a bit out of control."

Not faring much better was George, trying to keep up with the conversation at the table but slightly slurring his words.

Gesturing wildly he told the group excitedly,  "And then, Toto here, he’s like the king of the yachts! No one can beat him!"

Smiling, slightly amused, Toto ruffled George’s hair affectionately, "Easy there, George. Maybe you’ve had enough."

You watched the scene unfold with a mix of amusement and concern. Despite the drunken antics around you, your thoughts kept drifting back to the kiss. Toto was acting like nothing had happened.

Just as you were contemplating slipping away for another breather, Marion stumbled over to the booth, nearly knocking over a table.

Giggling uncontrollably, she leaned down to hug you tightly, "You guys, you’re the best! I love you all!"

Trying to join in and almost falling into the booth, John added, "Yeah, what she said! Best night ever!"

Amidst the laughter and chaos, Toto caught your eye, a knowing look passing between you. Despite the fun atmosphere, the unresolved tension hung heavy in the air.

– – – 

As the night came to an end, the group stumbled their way out of the cars and back up onto the yacht, the crew helping your tipsier companions safely up the passarelle and into their cabins. You felt a mix of emotions - confusion, excitement, guilt. George held your hand, but your mind was on Toto.

As he had headed to his cabin, he had given you a lingering look before disappearing down the hall, "Goodnight, everyone."

“Goodnight boss!” shouted George, still struggling to stand up straight.

“Goodnight.” you added, much more quietly.

Entering your cabin, George turned to you, sensing your distraction. "You okay?"

Closing the door behind you, you took a deep breath, knowing it was time to confront the truth. Your heart raced as you met George's gaze. "George, I need to tell you something..."

He looked at you with concern, his grip on your hand tightening. "What is it?"

Your voice trembled as you forced the words out. "Tonight, out on the terrace... I kissed Toto."

The confession hung heavy in the air, the silence stretching between you. George's expression flickered with shock and hurt, his thoughts racing as he processed your words.

Before either of you could speak further, a knock on the cabin door shattered the moment. Toto’s voice followed, cutting through the tension. "We need to talk."

And with those four words, the night that had begun with the promise of lighthearted fun took a sharp turn.

Part Six

Taglist: @prettiest-at-the-party @noooway555 @annewithaneofthegreengable  @xoscar03 @totowolfffcheco @justzluv @kravitzwhore @bborra @a-beaverhausen

[octuscle]

I'm tired of being fat and dateless can you make me a hairy muscle freak who likes having his snake drained if you get what I mean

I'm tired of being fat and dateless, can you make me a hairy muscle freak who likes his snake emptied, if you know what I mean

Well, you're not exactly the catch of the day… Well beyond 300 pounds. It's amazing that you made it to the age of 55 with your blood values. You look much older with your bad skin. Yes, you won't get a date like that… But I'll see what we can do for you.

It's not easy for you to get out of bed in the morning. Neither is taking a shower. You struggle into your jogging suit and sit down at your computer with a box of donuts. Before the pandemic, you were sometimes still in the office. Since then, you've only been able to work from home. You rarely leave the house anymore. What's the point? You take a break after two hours. Dealing with suspected money laundering cases is an annoying job. You drink a large glass of water with a shot of grapefruit juice. And do a few squats and a few press-ups. You've been trying hard to lose weight for two years. You've already lost many kilograms. But the flaps of skin that now hang from your tits and hips are an expensive price to pay. But you feel better for it. But now back to the computer. You get paid by the case.

You have a lunch break with friends. At a vegetarian restaurant a quarter of an hour away. It's raining and at first you wanted to go by car. But you're not a wimp and any exercise is good. So you take the bike. Yes, you look anything but sexy in those rain overalls. But you enjoy the looks when you take it off. You've been training hard and eating healthily for five years. You look quite respectable for a man of 50, even if the sins of the first 45 years of your life still show. But now you don't need to hide among colleagues who are sometimes 15 or even 20 years younger. The food is delicious and it's fun to chat with your colleagues, who you meet far too rarely in the office. It's not easy to lead a team that only works from home. Okay, you're not a good example today, but you try to be in the office as often as possible. If only because you enjoy the bike ride. And because it's close to the swimming pool.

The lunch break took a long time. The afternoon was short. Nevertheless, you finish work at 18:00. You have HIIT at 19:00. At 44, you are one of the oldest participants. But you easily outperform some much younger ones. Your job has been your life for eleven years. But sport is your passion. Giving your all during the day and even more in the evening is your motto. When the course ends at 8 p.m., most of the participants are panting and crawling into the shower more than they are walking. You hit the weights again.

At 11pm, Mike, the gym manager, switches on the emergency lights and turns off the music. Your signal that it's time to end the workout. You are once again the last one on the training area. You pull your T-shirt over your head, drop your pants and post up in front of the mirror. Not too bad for a man in his early 40s. Mike approaches you from behind, hugs you and grabs your nipples. Damn, this guy knows exactly where your on switch is. You're actually a disciplined nerd. But for once you give up an hour of your precious sleep for a good fuck. And if you spend the night at Mike's, you also save yourself the trip to the morning gym before work. So you fuck another round straight away.

Amazing pic found @rickmuscleguy

[nemo-in-wonderland]

There's such a sad love Deep in your eyes a kind of pale jewel Open and closed Within your eyes I'll place the sky Within your eyes

There's such a fooled heart Beatin' so fast In search of new dreams A love that will last Within your heart I'll place the moon Within your heart

As the pain sweeps through Makes no sense for you Every thrill is gone

Wasn't too much fun at all But I'll be there for you-ou-ou As the world falls down

Falling As the world falls down Falling Falling in love

"AS THE WORLD FALLS DOWN" - Labyrinth

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

SO.

I was listening to some very perfect music a few days ago, music that ended up fuelling this VERY self-indulgent Mephistea Artwork and of course, as it always happens when I listen to music, the brain starts working and branching out with ideas would go very well with an idea that has been brewing in my brain ever since I drew the whole " sudden proposal" from Mephisto to Aranea.

And my brain cannot stop thinking that Mephisto's corruption of Aranea would start VERY early on.

Like, we are talking "as soon as Aranea is done with her vengeance" early on.

So, between the moment when Aranea signed her contract with Mephisto and the moment she exacts her revenge for Halim's death, I calculated it would pass around 5 years, that Aranea would spend in Cania to study *directly* underneath Mephisto himself (it was one of the clause of the contract that she herself had put. She reckoned that her soul would be lost anyway, so, in for a penny, in for a pound).

During those 5 years, Mephisto would start taking an interest in this curious Warlock of his, who was SO hyperfixated in acquiring as much power as possible to destroy the people that had taken Halim from her in the cruelest way possible.

Like, I love to imagine that in those five years, he saw in Aranea the same kind of focuse, obssessive need that often pervaded himself as well; the same kind of relentless mania; the same fury and ruthless ferocity that he felt deep within his soul each time he tried to overthrow Asmodeus.

And this left him quite enrupture with Aranea.

So, I like to imagine that, sometimes after Aranea was done with her vengeance, he would actually start to plan his moves to have more than just her soul.

He wanted to corrupt her in her entirety, so that she would match his soul completely.

AND THAT'S WHEN REALIZED THAT "AS THE WORLD FALLS DOWN" WAS JUST *PERFECT FOR THEM, AT THAT STAGE OF HER RELATIONSHIP.

The lyrics, the music, the whole scene was *precisely* how I imagine Mephisto would behave with still innocent Aranea (which is why I drew her with shorter hair and a bit younger than how I usually draw her).

How he would organize a ball for the sake of parading his prized warlock around, when, in truth, he started his seduction of her, his call toward his darkest side, with him whispering in her mind while she constantly looking for him through the crowd, moved by something she cannot, for the love of her, understand nor explain.

And well, if you know this part of Labyrinth, then you know precisely what the atmosphere would be!

And by the gods, these two have me by the throat fml.

I adore them so much. SO MUCH.

Also, fml, am living for their height difference and I like to imagine that Mephisto gave her one of the heaviest dresses possible, so that the only way she could dance if she is dancing with him.

That being said, now I will go to sleep a bit because I was up until late to finish this and I am *tired*.

But I hope you will like it anyway! <3

--Nemo

[darl-ingfics]

Sicktember Day 11: ALT - "I didn't mean to wake you up."

Fandom: Seventeen

Sickie: Vernon (stomach flu), Joshua + Dino (regular flu)

Caregiver(s): Joshua, Dino

Word Count: 1,953

As he trudged through the door of the dorm behind the rest of the hip hop unit, Vernon believed he had never truly felt this tired before. The week had been excruciatingly long. Seventeen had been asked to attend a collaboration stage with a handful of other artists on Saturday, which had been derailed when over half of them had gone down with the flu. Or, to put it more specifically, two separate flu viruses that had assaulted them from all sides. No one had thought much of it when Seungcheol had made the decision to send Seokmin home on Monday with a cough and low-grade fever, and still didn’t after lunch when Mingyu barely made it to the trash can before throwing up. It was overwork, exhaustion. Or at least it was until Seungcheol had to run out of the subsequent meeting with their management team to avoid throwing up in the room with them. It was at that point that everyone (members, managers, EVERYONE) realized something bigger was going on, and subsequent tests revealed that, while all three members had the flu, the virus infecting the two rappers was different from the vocalist. 

But that hardly mattered when everyone knew they were in for a rough week.

The group had been picked off one by one until only five healthy members remained on Friday: Jeonghan, Soonyoung, Wonwoo, Seungkwan, and Vernon. Their managers considered cancelling their appearance on Saturday, but Jeonghan (acting leader) and Hoshi (actively leading also) had convinced them to just send BSS, since both Soonyoung nor Seungkwan had been spared thus far, and Seokmin, as one of the first to get sick, was starting to turn the corner and argued he’d be healthy enough to get back out there if they pumped him with meds the morning of. They had, of course, been taking measures to keep the last healthy members as germ-free as possible. So their managers reluctantly agreed. But their hopes were ended with Soonyoung throwing up at 2am Saturday morning, and Seungkwan spiking a fever at 7. And because it was too late to back out now, the group chosen to represent Seventeen had been the hip hop team, since neither Seungcheol nor Mingyu had thrown up for 48 hours, and Wonwoo and Vernon hadn’t been sick at all.

The performance had been perfect. There was nothing better than sharing the stage with their colleagues, combining talents and seeing their fans eat up the interactions. 

What was less perfect was the dull throbbing assaulting Vernon’s brain. As each song wore on, it became harder and harder to ignore the pounding in his skull, the pulsing at his temples. He started to feel claustrophobic in his own skin; the sweat pouring down his face, sticking his hair to the nape of his neck, adhering his clothes to his body, was agonizing. 

Even more agonizing was that Vernon immediately knew he was getting sick. There was nothing he could do about it now. Except pray he hadn’t caught the stomach bug. 

Thankfully, the rest of his bandmates didn’t seem to pay much mind to his listless silence on their journey home. Wonwoo was usually quiet after performances, recharging his social battery, and the other two clearly weren’t back to a hundred percent yet, so everyone was mercifully quiet and lost in their own thoughts on the drive back. Vernon certainly appreciated their distraction to hide his own condition, but at the same time, he had nothing to distract him from the growing pressure in his abdomen. But he could, and definitely was, owing that to the placebo effect. 

When they arrived home, they were met by a welcoming party in the living room. 

“Hey superstars!” Jeonghan smiled brightly from his spot on the chair with Chan wrapped around his abdomen, (Vernon didn’t have the energy to figure out how Chan was doing that, but knew that an unwell Chan wanted nothing more than to curl into one chosen hyung’s body and not let go, so he figured physics didn’t apply to him.) Jun waved from one of the couches, but the effect was dimmed since it was only one hand waving from around Minghao’s head, as the younger dancer was slumped against Jun’s left shoulder while Jihoon’s head was pillowed on his right thigh.

At Jeonghan’s words, Soonyoung’s head appeared from the back of the other couch, hair smushed up and face red with the pattern of the throw pillow. “How’d it go?”

Seungcheol chuckled adoringly, rubbing Soonyoung’s cheek. “Fantastic.” The dancer captain nodded contentedly before falling back against the couch. Vernon smiled in spite of the horrible feeling in his gut, moving quickly away from his members to escape into the void of sleep. If he could just fall asleep right now, maybe he could avoid the inevitable. 

As Vernon hurried to his room, his feet automatically stopped outside a closed door. There was only one thing he wanted as much as, if not more than, sleep. Vernon considered the handle carefully, then tapped twice. There was no response. So he pushed it open. The hall light fell on the bed, on a deeply asleep Joshua’s arms already wrapped around Seungkwan. Vernon’s heart sank. Both of them looked so peaceful, yet so obviously ill, so in need of this sleep. Vernon wasn’t selfish enough to take the few steps to awaken his chosen comfort person. He closed the door with the gentlest click possible, and scurried to his own room, rubbing tears out of his eyes with a mix of frustration and embarrassment. 

***

Vernon had been able to sleep for all of an hour before his body decided enough was enough. He awoke to the worst pressure he’d ever felt in his abdomen, a tangled, cramping pain as if there were a monster writhing beneath his skin. His head was pounding worse than before. His skin was clammy and sweaty and too tight. He was going to throw up. And soon. 

There were no memories between the moment he woke up and the moment he was in the bathroom, emptying the contents of his stomach. In fact, Vernon would very much like to not be present in this moment at all. The churning in his stomach, the horrifying, acidic feeling of bile in his throat, the loss of control, the desire to instantly clean everything… Vernon would rather suffer anything else than vomiting. 

He had no idea how long he’d been in the bathroom, how many times he’d lurched over the toilet, when a hand, ever-so-gentle, was placed on his back, right between his shoulder blades. And, try as he did, Vernon couldn’t stop his muscles from tensing, an automatic, uncontrollable response of ‘get the fuck off me.’ A sign that his body knew exactly what it wanted and would reject anything else. 

And his attempted comforter knew it too. The hand withdrew, only to be replaced by the softest of grips on both of his shoulders as Chan’s voice whispered in his ear, soft as honey: “It’s okay. I’m getting Shua.”

As Chan’s soft footsteps retreated, Vernon hung his head in defeat and felt tears threatening. This was the very last thing he wanted, to be a burden to others. Now he’d likely insulted and hurt Chan by rejecting his help, and Chan was going to wake Joshua, who was also sick and needed his sleep, and the roiling of his stomach had yet to stop, and both Joshua and Chan would probably stay up to take care of him, which was the worst possible outcome in all of this, not to mention how horrific his entire body was feeling at the moment, and…

Vernon’s brain stopped completely when gentle hands wound around his abdomen, and he was enveloped in a cloud-soft hug from behind. The contact, the only thing his body wanted, opened the floodgates that had threatened for the past hour, and he let out an unrestrained sob.

“Oh, sweetheart, what’s wrong?” Joshua asked, his grip tightening ever so slightly to calm the sobbing without upsetting the rapper’s fragile stomach. 

“I don’t feel good,” Vernon cried. 

Joshua clicked his tongue. “Oh, Sollie. It’s gonna be okay, baby.” Vernon sobbed again, falling back into Joshua’s arms. “Have you thrown up?” Vernon nodded. Another sympathetic tongue click. “I know you hate that.” One hand left Vernon’s stomach and pushed his hair back from his forehead. The other stayed firmly in place over his abdomen, the warmth already soothing the pain there. Vernon closed his eyes as he nodded again. “Think it’s gonna happen again?” Instead of nodding, Vernon’s face screwed shut with another round of tears, prompting Joshua’s finger to smooth over his cheeks. “Oh, sweetie, I know. I know. It’s gonna be ok-ay…” The elder broke off coughing, leaning away and retracting his hand to bury his face in his sleeve. Vernon whined against his will as Joshua’s fingers left his face, and his eyes swam with new tears, this time with guilt at his selfishness. It was only a moment before the fingers were back in his hair. “Sollie, it’s okay.” 

“I’m sorry…”

“Hey, hey, none of that.” 

“You shouldn’t be here…”

“Honey, please…”

“Hyung, you’re so sick too, I can’t…”

Joshua’s hands cupped Vernon’s face, gentle but firm. “Chwe Hansol, listen to me. It is one in the morning. You are in a heap on the bathroom floor, throwing up, which is something you fear with a burning passion. You need to focus on you. I will be fine. I am going to sit here with you until you are ready to go back to bed, and then I’m gonna stay with you until you fall asleep. Got it?” 

Vernon’s answer was to collapse forward against Joshua, face buried in the older man’s shoulder and arms scrambling for purchase around his waist. Joshua couldn’t wrap his arms back around him fast enough. 

They had been sitting like that, Joshua rocking them back and forth, for an indefinite amount of time when Vernon heard a whispered, “How can I help?” He squirmed enough to see that it was Chan, leaning in the doorway, looking incredibly young. Vernon felt like crying again for rejecting the younger’s help earlier. 

“Can you grab us a water, please?” Joshua replied quietly. “Maybe a damp towel too?”

“Of course.” The younger man sprang forward, pulling a clean wash cloth from the cabinet below the sink and dowsing it with water. He handed the cloth to Joshua before disappearing into the hallway. 

“Okay, love, I need to sit back just a bit, there we go.” The older man pressed the damp cloth to Vernon’s forehead, smoothing the damp material across his overheated skin, cradling both cheeks and the nape of his neck. Vernon’s eyes slipped closed. 

“Thank you, Shua,” he slurred. 

“Anytime, love.” 

Vernon didn’t realize he’d fallen asleep sitting up until he was jostled awake, hands tugging at both of his arms to try and stand him up. He pushed himself to his feet, only stumbling a little bit as his knees shook from sitting on them too long. His supports (Joshua and Chan, of course), wrapped his arms around their shoulders as they led him back to his bed. Vernon crawled under the waiting covers, his entire body sighing with relief at the soft surface of his bed after the cold discomfort of the bathroom floor. He settled further when he felt Chan slide into the bed against his back, Joshua climbing in on his other side. 

This was all he’d wanted. Warm and content, safe with his best friends in the entire world, Vernon let sleep pull him under once more. 

[justporo]

A much better gift

A/N: We have a second giveaway fic! And this time it comes with Gale - and smut! This one is for @85blackcat and includes her wonderful OC Bellamy. I hope you enjoy your fic! Also I cannot help it apparently to make Gale at least somewhat lightly dominant...

Warnings: explicit sexual content, vaginal sex, light dom/sub dynamics, clothing kink, thigh riding, creampie

Summary: Bellamy prepares a gift for her wizard's birthday - which entails a silk robe and lots of delicate lace.

~~~

Having to spend days and nights with companions didn’t allow for much privacy. Specifically not for a slowly budding romance and relationship. Gale and Bellamy had barely taken the first few steps together as the party had arrived at Baldur’s Gate. But their adventure was still far from over. And while each of them wished for nothing more than to be able to spend time together and get lost in each other as often as possible, duty kept knocking on their door - that and Shadowheart when she felt she had to remind them of how thin the walls were at the Elfsong.

So, how do you figure out a life together when constantly being watched by at least five other people? Some of which - on top of that - couldn’t keep their godsdamned mouths shut. Astarion especially didn’t let a single opportunity slide to throw in a sassy remark about the wizard and druid growing closer. And while Gale had resorted to answering a snarky remark with another one Bellamy didn’t feel particularly keen about having her relationship to the wizard so on display.

But quiet moments these days were rare. And to be able to share them as just the two of them was even rarer.

But tonight, at least tonight, Bellamy would make good use of a special occasion.

It was Gale’s birthday. Nobody besides her knew since Gale had figured there wasn’t time for such “profane nonsense”, as he had called it.

But Bellamy wouldn’t let the opportunity slip away. For days she had been turning around ideas in her head about what she could possibly do for her wizard.

But what gift could you possibly give to a prodigy wizard who apparently already had everything?

In the end the answer had been easy: time - and herself. A private evening together. Maybe a little sneak-peek into what could be once they got past all of this.

And so Bellamy had used utter caution to prepare for a wonderful night together: she had arranged for a special dinner and wine at the Elfsong to be brought up to their room. She had sneakily asked the favour of all of her friends to not disturb them - at least for this one evening. Surprisingly, even the vampire had quickly agreed. With a raised eyebrow and mocking smirk playing around his lips, but still.

And then finally: Bellamy had sought around the tailor shops in the city to find the perfect wrapping for her gift, so to speak, made of delicate lace and shimmering silk.

Now Bellamy was perched on their joint bed in their room at the tavern. The day had thankfully been pretty boring all in all. For hours the party had walked around the city to investigate - and found out nothing new. So they had called it early for that day and Bellamy had snuck up to Gale’s and her room under the pretence of an oncoming migraine. When Gale had looked immediately worried she had felt a twinge of guilt for misleading him. But she’d make it up for him later.

She was waiting for him to come up and check on her as she knew he would certainly do at some point. The wood elf had draped herself on the bed in the lingerie and silk robe she’d gotten specifically for this. Two glasses of wine were already poured and the light from outside was already dim.

Bellamy’s heart was pounding as she waited for her beloved to discover this special kind of gift. And as she did so, watching how the low orange light of the lanterns threw dramatic shadows on her silken robe, she felt nervousness creep up inside of her.

But as she pondered if she should have just gotten him a tome at Sorcerers and Sundries, her thoughts were interrupted by the door opening.

Gale was in his normal, comfortable camp clothing and had his nose in a book, just like usual. That was probably also why it took Bellamy softly clearing her throat to catch his attention and look up from his reading as he closed the door behind him.

He almost dropped the small book he’d held as he was met with the sight of his lover sprawled out on the end of the bed and precariously clothed: dark hair cascaded over her shoulders like a waterfall of velvet right to where the delicate silk robe was opened just enough to allow a peek of the lacey secret lying beneath.

“Well, that’s certainly a kind of headache you must be having, my beloved,” Gale remarked as he couldn’t rip his eyes away from the surprising sight in front of him. The book in his hand was loosely dangling from his fingers now, the literature momentarily forgotten.

“Happy Birthday, Gale,” the druid whispered softly and moved slowly to get up. She felt the robe slide over her body as she did so, revealing more of what lay beneath. Gale’s eyes sparked at her, lips parting slightly at the sight of it.

“So you tricked me, Bellamy?” he murmured with a slight tease and in a low voice as the druid gracefully slid off the bed and stepped over to the wizard, delicately wrapping her arms around her lover’s neck, fingers combing through soft brown hair.

“It appears so,” she whispered back with a teasing smirk spreading on her lips. “And now you’ve walked right into my trap. You have no choice but to celebrate your birthday with me now.”

Their faces were so close now, the tension created between them already palpable as they shared conspiratory glances at each other.

Bellamy felt Gale’s warm hands slide under the hem of her robe, his fingertips wandering over her hips until they met lace. When he found it, a strained groan slipped from his lips as his warm eyes took on another quality. There was real heat in them now.

“Well, if I am left without a choice,” Gale started softly, his lips not an inch from hers now. His voice was low and promising. Bellamy felt his fingers digging into her hips, making her gasp from how the slight pain sent jolts throughout her body. “I think I’m going to start by slowly unwrapping my gift. If I may-”

Gods, wasn’t she glad she hadn’t just gotten him some dusty books.

The wood elf arched her back a little so her boobs squished against Gale’s chest and bit her lip. The friction made Gale groan again and had her pressing her thighs together.

“I’m all yours,” she answered breathlessly, staring up into the eyes of her beloved wizard, almost desperate already for him to make his words come true.

“Marvellous!” was the last thing he said before he finally pressed his lips to Bellamy’s.

Immediately, there seemed to be no space between them anymore. Gale’s tongue slipped into her mouth, swallowing the moan coming from the druid directly from her open lips. She felt the definite proof of his desire for her as he pressed his groin against her, fueling the heat between her own legs. Hands tangled in hair and delicate fabric as they stumbled backwards until Bellamy’s legs hit the edge of the bed. Almost stumbling onto it, Gale’s arms around her made sure she stayed as close to him as possible. His hands were cupping her behind now as he made his knee slide between her legs.

Almost in shock she tore away from him as Gale used his leverage to make her grind against his thigh now while he held her - trapped between the edge of the bed and his own body. She whimpered at the delicious friction as he made her slide along his leg, knowing that he must feel her heat and that the delicate lace lingerie would do nothing to keep her slick from spreading all over him.

“Is this your equivalent of shaking the gift box to guess what’s inside?” Bellamy burst out as she clawed at his arms for balance as he had her almost on her tiptoes and fully at his mercy.

His eyes sparked and he grinned as he made her grind against him a final time: “Maybe it is, I’m always up for a good game of guessing.”

Bellamy huffed, Gale softly chuckled.

Then he leaned forward until it was inevitable for Bellamy to let herself fall onto the bed. With his hands on her waist Gale quickly lifted her up onto the bed and followed closely behind.

He didn’t give her much of a break, daft fingers from spellcasting quickly unlacing her robe and tossing it off to the side to reveal what was waiting underneath. Only then did he pause shortly, observing how his beloved writhed beneath him in nothing but lacey swirls and flowers that barely left any room for imagination.

“Gods,” it spilled from his lips as his eyes wandered over her body and he used one hand to run it through his hair.

Coquettishly Bellamy let her hands roam her own body for a moment as she gave her lover ample room to admire her: “I hope the gift is to your liking, Gale, I don’t think there is a way to return it.”

The wizard’s gaze snapped back to hers. Bellamy could see how his eyes softened, how love entered the delicious cocktail of emotions in his eyes. There it was again, this warmth and this genuine smile.

Instead of answering he leaned forward, kissing her again, incredibly gently this time.

“I’m so glad you don’t have a return policy,” Gale mumbled against her lips in between kisses, softly lowering himself onto her and tangling his limbs with hers. Bellamy simply laughed as she felt the same warmth Gale was so obviously experiencing spread through her chest.

But the heat quickly rose from a simmer to a boiling point again, the fire rekindled, as they kept kissing. Their hands wandered over each other’s bodies. Bellamy made quick work of the wizard’s clothes, teasing him for how he had to keep up with her. She gasped when she had finally freed his aching hardened length and was rewarded with a rumbling groan as she began stroking him.

She was compensated in turn by Gale’s hand sliding between her legs as they kept kissing. His fingers quickly pushed the soaked lace to the side and began teasing her. Without hesitating Gale’s index entered her while his thumb found her clit.

If she had thought she was a mess before the wizard quickly proved her wrong.

Breaking the kiss she almost unwillingly arched her back until it was painful beneath him as Gale fingers started pleasuring her. She stared up at him, mouth open in a soundless moan and unable to do anything more but clawing her fingers into his arm.

A second finger entered her as he pressed the pad of his thumb to her sensitive bud and had her eyes roll into the back of her skull. There were no coherent thoughts anymore, no clever plans or teasing remarks - only boundless lust and the desire to feel more of it, all of it.

“Gale,” Bellamy pressed out as she bowed her body to the wizard, the need for more primal inside her. “Please,” she pleaded, digging her fingers into his arms a little harder, her back almost lifting off the bed as Gale’s fingers plunged into her again.

Thankfully, he understood. The wizard withdrew from her, making her almost sob at the sudden loss. But Gale was quickly on top of her hands, gliding over her body, squeezing her tits, before journeying over her arms and then pressing her hands down on each side of her head. Meanwhile, his hips ground against her, his dick rubbing against her heated, slick core. He kept going like this for a few more strokes until he finally entered her effortlessly, all while his eyes bored into hers and he filled her to the brim.

“Gods, you’re truly a gift sent by the heavens,” it burst out of Gale once he had adjusted to the sensation of being inside his lover.

Bellamy threw her head back in a laugh. “Can you believe I almost just got you a few boring books?” she asked, ending the sentence in a breathless gasp as she felt Gale withdrew and then slowly and forcefully thrust into her again.

“Oh thank goodness you didn’t,” Gale groaned and began picking up a steady pace, rolling his hips into her, each time a little harder. “As much as I enjoy theory, the practicality of things is often much more enticing. This is a much better gift!”

Bellamy could only helplessly stare at him for almost holding a lecture while fucking her.

But further conversation was futile as they moved together now, staring into each other's eyes. Bellamy’s legs wrapped around Gale’s hips as he kept fucking into her, his pace becoming more ragged quickly.

Then Bellamy fell first.

She felt the tension in her body snap as she arched her back into the oncoming wave of her orgasm. In the back of her mind she noticed Gale forcefully twitch inside of her as he joined her in her fall and spilled inside of her.

They rode out the waves - Gale resting his forehead on Bellamy’s chest and her arms now softly wrapped around him. Both of their chests were heaving as they recovered slowly.

Then Gale softly mumbled something into her chest, still inside of her.

“Hm?” Bellamy simply made, too lazy to bother with actual words at the moment.

Gale lifted his head, looking at her with a smile playing on his lips: “I asked if I could wish for the same gift for next year, my beloved Bellamy.”

The wood elf simply laughed and grabbed his face for a kiss.

“For the next and every year after, my beloved Gale.”