#but when i move i only have my schedule to abide to so i can work on my own time!!

[keii]

Is there an explanation on why I was able to draw faster back then compared to now? Was it because I had to draw a lot for uni and then in my spare time I also drew, so it was just out of habit? Is it because I'm more critical of my work now than before where I just drew for the sake of drawing something? So now that I've been out of uni, I want to draw things outside of my comfort zone? I think I just answered my own question LOL I think it's because I don't want to just limit myself to character portraits and I've been working more on experimenting on different styles... Whereas back then I think I drew faster because I didn't really go outside of what I already knew. Not only that, but I would draw for the sake of posting on social media! Not because I enjoyed what I was posting. Now that I distanced myself from posting consistently from social media, I don't have that mentality of wanting to place my self worth as an artist based on how it's received online. I just draw what I think is fun! And tbh I have a healthier relationship with my art ever since. I think that's it... With that being said... I can't wait to get my own space so I can draw without any interruption.

[hannieehaee]

18 + / mdi

content: pantysniffer!mingyu, pervert!mingyu, the unexpected return of this mingyu, established relationship, smut, afab reader, oral (f receiving), face-sitting, etc.

part 1

wc: 1384

a/n: i randomly thought abt a continuation to that one mingyu fic i wrote like a month ago and now here we are

masterlist

you thought he would've been done with this by now. i mean, you were dating; exclusively. you had been dating for about a month, so it was quite strange for mingyu to still have this habit.

when you'd first met your boyfriend, you had only been roommates. he was clean, he kept things tidy, he was respectful of your space, and most important of all, he was really hot.

you hadn't known him very well until first moving into his shared apartment, only having ever heard your best friend vernon mention him in passing. which wad why you were in utter shock upon moving in with vernon and mingyu, now realizing that your best friend had been gatekeeping this muscly hunk from you.

admittedly, you had a bit of a crush on him, but you were an adult and you also appreciated the friendship you had quickly built with mingyu, deciding to not act on anything, or even give off any type of hint of your school-girl crush on him. this platonic dynamic, however, did not last long. but its demise was not your doing.

it all started some random afternoon, in which you had headed over to take a shower at the usual time you tended to. having roommates, it was just easier to have a schedule, so you'd always abide by it. except today's routine was quickly interrupted by the unexpected sighting of your panties in mingyu's hand, pressed against his nose while he breathed in the scent. you had only wanted to ask him for extra conditioner, not bothering to knock on his door (your bad), but absolutely not expecting to find the culprit to all your misplaced panties from the past month.

like any reasonable girl, this interaction ended with you letting mingyu fuck you into next week, but only after being thoroughly eaten out by the man as he lost himself between your legs. in very predictable fashion, this resulted in a relationship arising between the two of you, immediately informing your friend vernon that he would now have to third wheel as the three of you continued to be roommates.

you had thought that was the last of it. the last time mingyu would let his depraved tendencies thief you of yet another pair of panties. i mean, he had the real thing now, so there was no need for a washed out scent of your cunt for him to get off to, right? wrong. you had forgotten your boyfriend was obsessed with you, and by result, the lacy panties he knew you wore day after day.

that's why it shouldn't have been surprising when you walked into his room (which was pretty much yours by now) to find him in the same position you had a month before. you wanted to be scandalized, but much like last time, you were incredibly turned on at the thought of mingyu being so addicted to you he'd seek your panties if he couldn't have you immediately.

he noticed your arrival, not stopping his movements even as you neared him, closing the door behind you.

"baby ... left me all alone. 'm sorry, just needed you so fucking bad ..." his movements on his dick sped up, whining and pouting at you for fulfilling your adult duties and leaving him on his day off to go to work.

"gyu ... baby. wanted me that bad? couldn't wait for me to get back?", you were close enough now to caress his cheek, making him lean into your hand as he moaned at your condescending tone.

"mhm," he nodded, "can i have it? want the real thing, baby. wanna drown in it."

"how can i say no to you, pretty? c'mere, let me-"

"my face! sit on my face, baby, please!", it wasn't too common for him to beg for you, only ever happening when he was overly pussydrunk for you, so you were taken aback for a moment.

surprisingly, you had never sat on his face to date, despite his constant insistence on eating you out almost every day that allowed for it. to be fair, you two worked a lot, and had only been dating for a month. there hadn't been enough time to explore more positions or even explore each other as much as you'd want to.

"gyu? are you sure? what if i-"

"its fine!", he was suddenly not as dizzy from the arousal the scent of your panties had given him, all focus now on the thought of your thighs encompassing him as he licked at you from below their weight, "i can take it, baby, i promise."

it took a bit of enticing from him to convince you, with him beginning to kiss your neck and sneaking his hand under your shorts to run his fingers up and down your already-wet panties. he succeeded too quickly, knowing you had as little power to resist him as he did you.

and so now you were sitting on his face, worries buried deep in your brain as your boyfriend's tongue delved into the farthest depths of your cunt. you couldn't help yourself in holding onto his hair and begin riding his tongue, too blind on pleasure to even think.

what you hadn't realized was that your boyfriend was off even worse than you, constantly moaning against your cunt while his hand remained occupied on his own dick. he had never felt more turned on, falling in love with the weight of your thighs on his face.

"gyu ... feel so- so fucking good, shit! please ..." you had no idea what you were begging for. there was nothing more mingyu could do to make you feel better than he already was. he had managed to render you senseless, with no coherent thought left in you.

"so fucking good .. shit, so tasty, baby. ride me just like that ..." that was what you could make out of his mumbled words muffled by your cunt, but regardless, knowing he felt pleasure from the simple act of sucking on your clit made you even more aroused.

you began to ride him at an animalistic speed once you realized your orgasm was approaching, face now wet from the tears of pleasure he had pulled from you. mingyu was in no better state, humping his own hand at a similarly inhuman pace, cumming halfway through your own orgasm.

you fell limp on the bed, wearily removing your weight from his face and letting yourself become boneless while he somehow managed to get himself up to get some wet wipes to clean up the mess, but not without attacking your mouth with his tongue for a few seconds before actually getting up, moaning at the whine you let out at your taste on his tongue.

"shit. we have to do that again. we have to do that every time from now on. we-"

"okay, slow down," you giggled as he cleaned you up, "i need to recover. you're crazy, gyu, jesus christ."

"what? is it illegal to love pussy?"

"as much as you do? it should be. also, you're still stealing my panties? gyu, i-"

"listen!" he interrupted you again, now having thrown away the dirty wipes and wordlessly positioning the two of you so you could lay against each other under his covers, "it was an emergency, okay? i was so horny, you have no idea. and your panties were right there! it's like crack, baby. i couldn't help myself. are you mad?", he was pouting by the end of his explanation, paying no mind to how ridiculous he sounded.

"of course not, gyu. it's actually kinda, uh, i-"

"oh my god. you still like it?! you like when i sniff your panties and i'm the perv?", he gasped, now facing you as he berated you.

"shut up! i'm not the one going around sniffing people's panties, okay? you're the perv!"

"nuh uh, baby. can't turn this on me. gonna be stealing your panties even more now. i dont care if i can have the real thing, want both. gonna make you sit on my face every day too. cant even pretend you dont love it anymore," he was smug about it, knowing he was completely right.

"fine. you can steal my panties. happy?"

he dared giggle in response, "very."

[proseandpretrichor]

Library Love | Loki x Reader

Summary: The TVA's beloved librarian unintentionally set up Loki with her favorite regular, unknowingly sparking a budding romance between the couple Warnings: None, just fluff Word count ~ 2489

Loki often found himself in the TVA library. It was where he found a certain peace for himself, a little bit of familiarity in such a different atmosphere. 

Because of such a frequent habit, naturally Loki had acquainted themselves to the patterns of the book-clad walls.  

The only working librarian, Dorace, was scheduled from 7am-3pm. Although she was hardly there for all of that time. Most of the system was done on paper, only the analog of the amount and names of books were kept on the very ancient computer at the front desk. Books were checked out and returned via sign out sheets attached to clipboards, only enforced with the good ole honor code. The only room in which Loki abided by religiously. The floor wasn’t never consistently all that busy, just a few stragglers looking for research for their reports and casework, and there were even less regulars. 

In fact, until today, Loki had convinced himself he was the only regular… 

It was a stereotypically boring day, with only a gloomy feeling aura separating it from all the rest. Loki had plopped himself at black leather clad armchair by the fire he claimed each day, reading a psychoanalysis from Asgard. 

After a few hours in which Loki had neither moved nor looked up from the worn pages, Dorace appeared in front of him with a mug clasped in her age worn fingers, steam rolling from the liquid almost like a dance it partook with itself. 

“Here’s a cup of tea for ya, love, figured I’d make you one before I leave.” She informed him, handing him the cup.

“Are you departing for the day?” Loki questioned her, taking a moment to glance up from his novel for the first time since he sat down to peer at the spindly arms of the large clock hanging over the small front desk, nestled between the two arms of the staircase rising to the second floor. 

10:34 AM, a bit earlier than the old woman usually lasts. 

“Are doing alright, my dear Dorace? Is there something that ails you today?” He asked eyes sweeping her form for any signs of illness. He found none that stood out at first glance. 

“Just a little ache in my knees, either it's my arthritis or it is going to rain. Regardless, both require me to be off my feet. And if it is the latter…” She paused to look out the window over her spectacles that had drooped down her nose from peering down at his seated position, before she continued, “I have no interest risking a cold, while strolling back home.” 

Loki hummed, taking a sip of his tea before joining her gaze, searching the cloudy sky. 

“If you need anything while I’m gone, searching a book or making another cuppa, Y/N can assist you.” She followed her words with a shaky pointed finger. Loki followed her motion to find you in the corner of the second floor, tucked into the little nook of the loveseat situated in the bay window. Next to you were a rather impressive stack of books. 

“I didn’t even notice her there.” Loki muttered mostly to himself. 

“Yes, I often forget she is there myself, very quiet, never troublesome. Got me the kettle actually, so sweet. Been here longer than myself I think.” Dorace supplied him, trailing off in volume seemingly lost in thought before turning, “Have a lovely day, dear, stay dry.” 

Loki responded only with a wave, knowing she had reached a distance at this point that rendered her unable to hear his farewells, even if he gave them. 

After a few minutes, Loki found his mind wandering from his pages to you. Sighing in defeat he closed the book, placing it onto his lap before returning his eyes to you. 

You had moved onto a different book at this point. Out of boredom, perhaps, Loki considered before deciding against it, you had looked too engrossed in the words when he first noticed you to be bored of its contents. You must be a fast reader, he concluded. 

The more he watched you the more restless he became. Suddenly he rose from his chair, and began making his way to the grand staircase. Pausing only for a moment to consider his actions before shaking off his doubts and climbing up the stairs. 

Your eyes stayed flowing across the page as he approached you. Even still as he stood before you, his eyes trailing down your appearance. 

Your frame was curled into itself, thighs pressed impossibly close to your chest, which in turn pushed the topmost slopes of your breasts up straining against the seam of your top. You were dressed comfortably yet the fabric clung beautifully against your curves, as if they were embracing you into a hug refusing to ever let you go. Your hair was pulled up from the nap of your neck absentmindedly with a few stray pieces falling into your gaze. Fuzzy slipper-like boots were covering your feet, which were slowly tapping in the air to the rhythm that encased your world with some background music which was floating from your earbuds.  You had on wide thin framed glasses that kept slipping ever so slightly with every twitch of your nose which Loki recognized as a sign of your deep engrossment in the novel, a romance novel, he assumed by the very poetic cliche title, something that didn’t deter you from its pages. 

Several moments had passed, yet you had still not lifted your gaze from your enchantment or noticed the tall dark-haired man’s presence. 

So ever so uncharacteristically light, Loki cleared his throat which finally alerted you to his figure. 

You jumped a smidge from your seat with a gasp, hands flying up to rip the earbuds from their place, melody still echoing through the speakers, “You scared me, god.” you scolded softly, cheeks flushing in embarrassment. 

“I’m ever so sorry, my lady, I was hoping you would notice me on your own but I was worried as the time passed on it might heighten your fright.”  Loki apologized with a bow of his before reaching down and clasping one of your warm hands into his own and raising it to his plush, pillowing lips. He gently pressed his lips to the top of your hand, before all too soon he removed his lips and lowered your hand whispering, “Please accept my apologies, my dear. I hope I have not upset you.” 

An eruption of butterflies danced around your tummy as you looked up through your lashes, to find his captivating gaze already locked onto your features, sincerity and adoration swirling in his green irises. 

Realizing he had spoken to you, you bowed your hand to your hands that were fidgeting in your lap, “No, no! It is not your fault at all, I’m sorry, I get so lost into the world sometimes, I really need to be more aware of my surroundings.” You hastily blurted, you were so proud your voice was not withering with nerves when you spoke. 

Much to your delight, the handsome stranger let out a deep melodic chuckle,  “I find that trait to be very admirable.” He motioned to sit opposite of you on the loveseat. “May I?” 

“Oh, yes! Please go ahead, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to keep you standing.” You scrambled to move your stake of books onto the side table you moved over to the bay window. 

“No apologies necessary, my lady,” He assured you will sitting down swinging one lag on top of the other before resting his chin on his closed fist perched onto his knee turning his head to look at you, “Dorace was quite taken with you when she when she came to alert me she was leaving. I just wanted to become acquainted, since we are the only ones in the library at this present moment. “ He followed his words with a twirl of his fingers motioning around the room. 

As you followed with your gaze, you noticed that indeed he was right. “Well, it is wonderful to me you…” You trailed off realizing you didn’t know his name. 

“Loki, Pleasure to meet you, my lady.” 

“My name is Y/N,” You responded with a wide grin. “Do you come here often, Loki?” 

“Yes, I do find myself here quite often.” He nodded. 

“I do as well.” You agreed, rubbing your hands around your arms. You were not chilly, but under his intensity you felt as though your veins were made of lightning bolts, but also exceedingly vulnerable, like he was peering into your soul. What scared you most was not that he quite possibly had the capability of such a thing, but what he might find once he did.  Did he like what he saw? Why do you care? You were not quite sure, you knew it was irrational, but part of you knew that whatever binded lovers together, was weaving your lives together. 

You ended up talking for the rest of the day. Once it had shifted well into the evening, you finally realized the world outside of your little bubble.

Loki was absolutely wonderful. He was brilliant, he exuded such care in developing his intellect. He was quite funny, his jokes were not of the dumb pun type humor most men liked to exhibit while talking to women. Loki’s jokes were witty and well-timed, they were truly laughable. He also seemed to be delighted in making you laugh, always trying to draw out as many of your giggles as possible. 

You were familiar with his existence, a very smart girl like you would know at least a few things in relation to him thanks to what the humans called norse mythology. He was always portrayed as cunningly evil and selfish, only using his magic and other talents for his gain and benefit. 

In addition, it was quite a large deal when the TVA started pursuing him as a variant, even more so when Morbius convinced him to work with them. The employees couldn’t believe how Loki was able to make such a large character switch. 

You were not like them. You knew you didn’t know his story which would have most likely explained his actions thusly, and that there had to be more to the god then just the human legends. In a few short hours were proven correct and you couldn’t be more thrilled, and possibly beginning to fall in love. 

As you two made your way out of the library, there was a nervous silence blanketing over you both. 

You hoped he enjoyed his time with you and found you as likable as you found him to be. Once you made it to the double doors, Loki, ever the gentleman he was raised to be, opened it for you before following you out. After locking the door, you turned to face him. 

You did not anticipate the space between the two of you and turned to find him only a few inches from yourself. You could feel his warmth breathe fanning across your lips, before his fingers brushed yours causing a zing to run up your arm. 

You stood like this for a few seconds before he moved his hands to tilt your chin up so you would be forced to look him in the eyes. 

“I thoroughly enjoyed our time together, darling.” he said before interlacing his fingers with yours and giving you a gentle squeeze. “I hope to see you again.” 

“Really?” you looked at him quite shocked, “I wasn’t sure if you liked me.” 

“Quite the contrary I am afraid…” He whispered his face moving close enough to feel a ghost touch of his lips,your eyes searching him for any sign of deception. “I am quite taken with you. You are intelligent, kind, bright, and the most beautiful woman I have had the privilege of knowing in my thousand years of living.” He admitted to you and you felt your heart race. Is this really happening? Surely you were dreaming. 

“May I kiss you?”  he almost pleaded with you, as if he would not breathe any longer without it.

“Please.” You practically begged, and if it was anyone else, you probably would have felt shame, but you couldn’t not in this moment and certainly not with him. He has only existed in your world for a short time and he has surely ruined the ability for anyone else to try their way into it now. 

He looked into your eyes searching for any hesitation, finding none, he finally pressed his lips against yours. If Loki was not holding your chin in his fingertips, you would have been convinced that this was a dream. His mouth was soft and tasted of cinnamon and sugar and slotted so perfectly with yours, a perfect fit, like they were molded intentionally with the thought of the other in mind. He brought his free arm to wrap around your waist gripping your hip tightly, pulling you as close as physically possible. 

The sudden movement,  warranting a gasp from you as you pressed your palms against his firm suit clad chest. 

Loki used this opportunity to sneakily slide his tongue into your parted mouth, pressing his warm tongue against yours. 

As the kiss intensified your hands moved to his neck twirling the tendrils which had curled down his nap. 

The kiss lasted several moments before you both reluctantly pulled away for air, both of your swollen lips gasping in huge gulps into your depraved lungs. Loki tilted his head down to press his forehead against yours resting in the bliss of this moment. 

Finally, you both pulled away. Loki bringing both of his hands to intertwine with yours, “I would very much like to see you again, Perhaps a date, if that pleases you?” he asked you hopefully. 

You smiled up at him allowing him to relax just a smidge. Standing up on your tiptoes, you brushed your lips against his once more before answering his question with, “Yes, I would be delighted, Loki!” 

You wanted to bottle up the look Loki gave you as a response. You wanted to hide it away from others so it was only something for yourself to see whenever you please. His mouth stretched into such a beautiful grin causing his eyes to sparkle in pure happiness. 

Silently he offered you his arm, which you gladly took. He curiously accompanied you home and after bidding eachother a goodnight with another kiss you, closed the door, leaning against it for a few moments to catch your breath. 

You wished you could find yourself at the time of the date wishing to already see Loki once again. This budding relationship with Loki was going to be life-altering, you could feel it, and you could not be more excited for the memories of the life that awaits you.

[alucart]

actually fuck it lmao

got hired late september. started actual work in october. started off as a seasonal worker. every day i woke up for work i was dreaded it. it was so much work. i was fatigued everyday but i still had to give it my all or else i was "lazy". if i moved too slow i was considered rude to customers. if i dont smile im rude. if i take a minute to process something then "something is wrong with me." like. Okay. lmao.

obviously when applying for jobs i dont list the fact that im bipolar. hell, i probably have adhd. but beside the point, the fact i have to act a certain way just to keep a job thats barely paying me shit was so. annoying. the fact that while working seasonal i had to put up with so much shit was ridiculous. november and december was so awful. im still mad i had to wake up at like 4am to get to work at 5am and then the store wasnt even busy until 12am. and we had to wear red and make sure everything was perfect bc the ceo was coming to the store? LMAO?

after my seasonal hours were over i thought i was free. i wasnt working for like two weeks but i at least got to spend time with my family. clean. take care of myself. i actually got back to drawing, something i havent been able to do for months. and then they called me back for a full time position. of course i took it because i wasnt finding anything else but it mightve been the worst mistake like ever.

like i must preface, that i got the job for the seasonal position in the first place without an interview, and like, yes i knew that was fishy at the start but also, ive been looking for a job for over two years so i was desperate. somehow the full time position was even worse than the seasonal position. my manager felt more annoying.

not to mention at this point they were making me do shit that i was never hired to do. why am i organizing clothes? i take returns? why are you making me cover in the handbags department? i work in returns and help people with online orders? why are you making me pack online orders? I WORK IN RETURNS, HELP PEOPLE WITH ONLINE ORDERS AND I HAVE PROCESS RETURNS FOR ORDER PICKUPS THAT WERE NEVER PICKED UP?

honestly madness. i had many breakdowns. over not wanting to go back to work. one time i had a stomach virus and had to stay home from work and was so miserable and literally panicking because i thought i could lose my job from being sick. i had a coworker that they also hired full time and she got fired because she "took too many breaks" meanwhile there was another coworker that took way more too many breaks.

while working there i saw many people get fired. like i dont know. and it was constantly understaffed. one time my manager asked me if i could work for 50 hrs one week and i told her "i'll think about it" only to find that weekend she changed my schedule without asking. (i had a breakdown that weekend).

when they had me set up my availability i had changed it so i would get mondays and tuesdays off because i realized i need two days off in a row instead of two random ass days and they didnt even. abide by that. and by the time it was like that on my schedule i already lost my job because i "violated company policy" because i accidentally scanned some fake coupons. which mind you, i never did anything wrong at the job beforehand so i shouldve really got a warning instead of being straight up fired.

but i honestly think they just wanted to get rid of me because i couldnt get enough people to sign up for a credit card, which again, i work in returns, so most people doing a return do not want to apply to a card. to expect someone in returns to have someone sign up for a fucking credit card everyday is insane. telling people that its not really a credit card is even more insane. the fact that im still stressed out over this because im fucking unemployed is. insane!!! and i dont even know if i can get unemployment. i feel like crying.

[fcb4]

Revival at the Kitchen Sink

Asbury University to end nonstop 'revival' service, lists new guidelines and final schedule

"We recognize life for the students had to return to normal, they have to go to school, they have midterms next week," "They know this is a gift, they have received it as a gift, so we are going to challenge them with now you take this to your job, your family, your church."

"I feel as though maybe we were the candle and now we are just passing that flame on to other churches and other schools,"

Abby Laub, communications director of Asbury University, said the campus will return to normalcy.

The university will also no longer allow live streaming of the service.(WDRB news report)

All God given outpourings are purposed to open us up to the abundant life in Christ provided by our union with the Holy Spirit.

It’s an anytime, anywhere for everyone gift!

“The promise is for you and your children and for all who are far off—for all whom the Lord our God will call.” -Acts‬ ‭2‬:‭39‬ ‭

Your kitchen sink can become your altar and sanctuary when you are living out the joys and realities of a life full of the Holy Spirit.

Brother Lawrence (mid 1600s): “I have quitted all forms of devotion and set prayers but those to which my state obliges me. And I make it my business only to persevere in His holy presence, wherein I keep myself by a simple attention, and a general fond regard to GOD, which I may call an actual presence of GOD; or, to speak better, an habitual, silent, and secret conversation of the soul with GOD, which often causes in me joys and raptures inwardly, and sometimes also outwardly, so great that I am forced to use means to moderate them, and prevent their appearance to others.”

If crusty old Catholic saints aren’t your vibe how about a Holy Ghost encounter while you’re waiting for a sandwich?

‭‭Acts‬ ‭10‬:‭9‬-‭10‬ ‭“About noon the following day as they were on their journey and approaching the city, Peter went up on the roof to pray. He became hungry and wanted something to eat, and while the meal was being prepared, he fell into a trance.”

Dear Saints your Savior has never left you alone, He dwells within you by His Spirit and His living and abiding Word. Times of spiritual refreshment come through the presence of the Lord! (Acts 3:19-20)

The Spirit is uncontainable and unpredictable like the wind -Jesus (John 3:8).

This is the secret to living in the Spirit vs a religious paradigm of searching for where the Spirit may or may not be in some form, measure or meeting. You can not and need not schedule union with God when you live, move and have your being in Him (Acts 17:28).

All our chore times, reading with our children, car rides, laundry folding, gardening, family feasting, worship services, prayer times, small meetings, outreaches and good works of service are overflow opportunities for the living water within you (John 7:38).

May all the meetings we have witnessed and the ones that are sparked from them encourage us all to pursue lives of expectation and enjoyment through the miracle of the mundane, a humble and holy life offered to God in love and service.

Artist: Jack Baumgartner

[agirldying]

👁️ anon here

tw// victim blaming (probably, maybe?) of abuse, invalidation and wishing to be abused worse.

Recently, I became an open book. An annoying one, because I tend to overshare, and that oversharing lead to me sometimes blurting things about my abuse/trauma that happen on the daily basis (yep, still living with two of my abusers), and sometimes I think I do it on purpouse just to have a validating reaction (Ik it's not healthy, I am working on it), but usually the reaction is...

Not validating? Sometimes they just tell me "That's just how parents are" (even when I know this is *not* how parents should be) and sometimes the answer is a straight up "That's your fault, you should've moved as soon as you could" and sometimes that just makes me wish my abuse is as horrible as sometimes I feel it is.

Like, I didn't move out because, I don't think I could do it on my own, and I think that's also the only reason why I didn't get kicked out in the worst moment, because they also think I wouldn't do it. They essencially tell me I am useless (not straight up "You're useless" but usually it's implied in what they say when I fail to do something or spend too much time away from them) on a weekly basis, and tbh, I sometimes believe what they say, because usually I can't keep up with routine (tired, messed sleep schedule (insomnia), I can forget tasks even if they are in front of me, spaces quickly become disorders, slow in doing chores) and that lead to me deciding tl stay here until I end college because that's the only way I can do it.

Sometimes I wish my abuse was worse because of that. That it left me a wound for days or months just so I could cry about it without thinking I am just being sensitive, that the problem is not me not being able to keep up with everyone else my age because I am simply incapable of it becase of *me* being *me*, but because I have a good reason to not be able to keep up. Sometimes I wish that I was abused worse just so I could hurt and be angry at whoever did it, not be able to go on in the day with the same person because I still love them.

And I apologize to everyone who suffered more than me, because I think that they would wish for their abuse to be over while I wish mine was worse.

Hi 👁️,

I hear you. Some people are so ill-equipped to respond to someone talking about their trauma to the point that they end up causing more damage. To say "that's just how parents are" is incredibly minimizing and dismisses the traumatizing aspect of your experience. And of course, telling you that it's your fault is victim-blaming. Nobody should make you feel like you have to explain yourself, especially in the decisions you made or didn't make during your trauma. I hate that anyone has ever said those things to you.

It's so awful because I can see how that might make you wish your abuse was "severe enough" to not be minimized. But please know that your abuse is severe enough. You shouldn't have to suffer more just for people to believe or validate you, you already deserve those things. You are a survivor, just like the people in scenarios you may deem as worse. That's really all that matters, not how bad your trauma was.

I think sometimes being invalidated can create a vicious cycle of what is essentially traumadumping. I have been guilty of this. I've been gaslit so many times that I always want to talk about my trauma in hopes to not only outnumber the times I've been gaslit but to now silence my inner critic that perpetuates the gaslighting. That's part of what makes the validation so essential to me, and I wonder if that resonates with you.

This is a philosophy I abide by: everyone's trauma is equal. Everyone is so different that some people respond to certain events differently than others. This means that something that may not be traumatizing to you may be for someone else. That's why it's not about what happened, it's about how your trauma affects you. So for someone to say "you have to go through xyz to be valid" is absurd and impractical. You don't even have to be a survivor to be valid, you know?

I also just want to say that it is common regardless of what kind of trauma you've been through to have mixed feelings about your abuser. Often times it is someone we know and love which can make it hard to just instantly hate them. There are many complex factors for why we feel the way we do, and that's okay. You don't have to hate your abuser. But sometimes a part of our healing journey is learning to be angry (this was me). I would say that, if you want to be angry with your abuser but just aren't, give it time. It took me several years but it's possible. It's important to be patient with yourself in your recovery process. Give yourself the patience and understanding you wished people had given you.

I hope I could help. I'm here if you want to reply or need to talk about anything else.

[brodie-483]

These days I feel stuck in a fog, surrounded by people telling me what to do and me doing anything I can to make them happy. But I don't feel happy anymore, especially because people want different things and it's so draining listening to people suggesting and telling me what I should be doing.

My girlfriend has been pressuring me to move across the state to live with her. In a small country town where i will have no family or friends nearby. Where I will have to quit my job I already have and start all over again. She has already proceeded to buy a small unit on her own without even talking to me. But she is enslaved with her own family duties, she spends more time with her family than she does with me. I only get to spend about 12 hours a week with her and that's only on weekends. We hardly get to spend any time together because of her busy schedule and her family commitments.

Her family spend so much time together, especially her mother who I find intolerable at times. It's like she has to revolve her whole life around her kids. She can be so judgemental on her daughters boyfriends and we all feel it. Whenever we have hard days at work, like everyone does and we want 5 minutes to unwind or complain she shows no empathy or interest in our lives yet expects us to listen to hers and abide to her every demand. To be honest, my girlfriend wants me to spend couple of nights at her family home but I feel so much negativity there. I like my girlfriends sisters, they're nice and cool. I feel like us boyfriends are kept around to serve and work for them and I'm honestly fucking tired of it.

I fully understand her family commitments BUT she wants me to abandon my commitments to my family. I am 27 years old and still live at home with my mother and brother. Mum has Stage 4 lung disease (COPD + Emphysema) and I have been caring for her all my life, I don't recall any time she was physically healthy. For the past 3 years, her and I have been trying to find any caring health services who would provide care such as helping her shower, help her with her oxygen tank changing, do cleaning around the house, help with her shopping. I'm not able to help as much as I would because I work night shift full time therefore I sleep a lot during the day. But mum and I have had no luck with finding anyone who would provide that type of care because she is a couple of years under the age of 65.

My brother who is older doesn't care at all about my mum's health troubles, he stresses her out just for asking him to pay fortnightly board. Then when asking him to do house chores, he doesn't do it. He is so lazy, all he does is smoke, game or watch YouTube videos for hours on end.

I've grown so tired of having to listen to everyone else's opinions, issues and thoughts yet when I try to bring anything up I get ignored or made out like the bad guy. I suffer with Bipolar type 2 and BPD so I already have a difficult time with my own head. Then all this external trouble just pushes me further to the edge. Honestly, I just want to disappear and be left alone. I feel like a failure to myself and to everyone in my life. I feel like no matter what I do now, I'm going to be hurting someone.

I really don't know what to do anymore, to be honest I just want to give up at this point. Am I a bad guy? Am I a horrible son or boyfriend? What should I do? Do I move away to my girlfriend or do I stay at home to care for my dying mother? Please if anyone could provide some advice or guidance I would be very grateful.

[chaoschaoswriting]

I want to be a writer as a job- what tips do you have?

This is a surprisingly challenging question, so I'm going to go out on a limb and assume that you mean you want to write fiction as a career. So, here's what I have to say about that

Tips for Aspiring Authors

First and foremost, you need to remember one thing when planning to write fiction as a career, and it's something few aspiring authors like to hear -

Books are products - if you want to make a viable career out of writing, it's time to start thinking about it as a craft.

If you want to write purely what takes your fancy and only when the muse strikes you, I encourage you to do this. However, if you intend to make livable money writing fiction, this approach may hinder your success. Here are my tips:

1. Study the Craft Seriously

Writing is a craft as much as an art and you should treat it as such. Though you don't need to abide by the 'rules' of writing (I honestly believe there are few actual rules to writing) it pays to know them. Learn about tropes and cliches, learn why they work before you discard them. After all, they became common because they were effective when they were first deployed.

Just as Picasso and Dali were entirely capable of producing mainstream, classic pieces of art before they developed distinctive styles, you should learn to deploy basic standards effectively. This will help you as you build your own style, allowing you to break rules and undertake unusual techniques effectively.

2. Read as Often as You Can

Stephen King once said that those who lack the time to read lack the time to write, and while I don't believe only those who read voraciously can write good books, I do think it's supremely arrogant to assume that you can excel at any craft without considering the work of those who have come before you.

Read as often as you are able to, and read widely when you can. In a pinch, watch TV shows and movies - the medium may be different, but there is much to learn from common story structures in any medium.

3. Know Your Market

I don't believe that it's necessary to write in only one genre, but I do think it's wise to consider the conventions of every market before you move into it. Publishers are businesses - they need to be able to sell your books if they are to pay you.

I wouldn't recommend that you chase trends, of course, but simply be aware of which themes are selling well when you approach a publisher. If your story has any of these themes be sure to let agents you approach know.

4. Set a Routine

Just as is the case with any craft, productivity in writing is often dependent on the right work balance. Treat writing as your work as much as you are able to and set a routine. Even 20 minutes a day is better than a sporadic schedule.

If you cannot write every day, set aside time on days that you do have some wriggle room in and do your best to write. Yes, there will be days when the blank page torments you but that, as they say, is the way of life. Learning to cope with this possibility will be a part of your job.

5. Learn to Take Constructive Criticism

No one likes to hear that something they have worked on for months or even years is in need of improvement. Nonetheless, no book is perfect - if you secure an agent or land a book deal you will be in business with people who know the market intimately. It is their job to know it intimately.

As such, it is not a good idea to discount their advice or critique without consideration. Of course, if you feel very strongly about certain points, it is also wise to have a constructive discussion with them. Learning to take critique in a relatively calm and neutral way, without reacting defensively, is crucial - start by getting constructive critique from people you trust and respect. It's often easier to hear it from friends.

6. Learn How to Approach Agents and Market Your Books

Being able to create a synopsis, query properly, and create basic marketing strategies is a part of the authors' job, too, especially if they work with small publishers or aim to self publish. Getting ahead of the curve is a smart idea.

These tips are pretty basic, and mostly matters of opinion. Others may tell you differently, but for what it's worth this is my advice. While they don't actually concern how you can improve your technical ability to write fiction, these tips are important. In all honesty, writing well is only half of the actual job of writing. What's more, it is the half of the job that most people focus on to the detriment of the actual business of making connections, preparing a book for querying, and actually dealing with publishers.

If you want a long, successful writing career, these things are just as important as the actual writing itself.

Here are some resources which can help you to fine-tune your actual writing skills and get started (and here are some story prompts):

5 Mistakes to Avoid When Writing Romance

6 Ways to Improve Romance Writing

6 Tips to Write Better Sex

Ways to Create Effective Horror

The Strengths and Weaknesses of First Person Narration

[dameronology]

"aw, you're blushing." / "no, i'm just cold." + poe dameron please for the fall prompts ❤️

of course (x)

Fall on Ajan Kloss had been something of an unexpected miracle.

Summer under the jungle leaves had been thick and unbearable, sticking in the air and on your skin for three straight months. It didn't help that Poe Dameron had only become seemingly clingier during that period - which was fine, because you loved him as much as a human was capable of loving anything - but fucking hell, he was a perpetually warm individual. That meant wrenching him off of you in the middle of those sweaty, summer nights, and forcing him to walk at an arms length just so you wouldn't suffocate between the stuffy air and his perennial body heat.

Autumn, though? Autumn was different. It was crisp and clear and quite frankly fucking freezing, so you welcomed Dameron's presence by your side. Even more so on the icy mornings that you would wake up in the Falcon, to find the windows glazed over with condensation and anything outside of the blanket to be too unbearably cold for you or Poe to fathom.

"G'morning," Poe's voice was always raspy in the morning. He pressed a kiss to your temple and pulled you closer, warm torso a saving grace against the October cold.

"Morning," you said, snuggling further against his collarbone, "What time d'you have to be up?"

"Not til ten," he replied. "The General moved my meeting so I could have more time in bed."

You glanced up at him, thinning your eyes. "Did she actually do that or did you move your entire squad's schedule without telling her?"

"Yeah, that sounds exactly like something I would do," he gave you a sweet smile and a shrug. "I also paid them ten bucks each to stay shtum about it."

You could have scolded him, but that would have made you a hypocrite. You were just as bad if not worse than Poe when it came to tip-toeing around the General. Always making your own way of doing things and ignoring official guidelines and regulations- obviously you behaved when you needed to but would Dameron have ever fallen in love with someone who abided by the rules? No. You enabled one another and really, that had been where all this trouble had begun.

"I'm not gonna complain," you shrugged.

"Why would you?" Poe shot back. "You get more time with me-"

"- don't flatter yourself."

A wicked grin made it's way onto Poe's face; he grabbed you by the waist and rolled over, placing one leg on either side of your torso and pinning your hands above your head. A few black curls fell around his face as he did - the sleep in his eyes was long gone now, priorities instead replaced by the urge to find every single way to annoy you that day.

"Are you blushing?" he asked.

"No, I'm cold," you said. "Because you just ripped the blankets off of me and it's fucking freezing-"

He moved again in seconds, torso crashing on top of yours as he dropped back and wrapped the blankets around you both. It was a pointless idea at that point, because the warmth that had been beneath them seconds ago was now gone.

"I'm still cold, Poe."

"I can think of ways to warm us up."

[x-infernhoes-x]

She’s My Collar- Basilio x Reader

Title: She’s My Collar

Genre: Romance, Smut, Porn with Plot

Warning(s): Mentions of Semi-Public Sex, Car Sex, Mentions of Alcohol, Implied Consent, Basilio nearly murdering someone because they spoke badly about you

Description: KAI IF YOU’RE READING THIS, THIS ONE’S FOR YOU AND ALL OF YOU BASILIO SIMPS 

NOTE SOMETIME AROUND 3:00 AM YESTERDAY NAWALA YUNG ORIGINAL PUTANG INA I WAS THIS CLOSE ON FINISHING IT SHDJGFHJBDKJBSEDVGSJHGBKHGSFKJBGBKJGBJGLJBGWL  AN HOUR’S WORTH OF WRITING G O N E AND I HAD TO REWRITE EVERYTHING I AM STRESSED AND DSBJKGBKJFSDGNB SO ENJOY.

4:31 AM NOTE UPDATE YESTERDAY: langya ayoko na. matutulog na nga ako, sakit na ng likod ko.

6:50 PM NOTE TODAY: I’M GOING TO FINISH THIS BEFORE MIDNIGHT COMES. ALSO, DON’T DRINK AND DRIVE KIDS!!

12:10 AM NOTE TODAY: The note above this one is a lie. I managed to continue this after family night lmao but enjoy still. Tried my best to make it gender-neutral as possible but yeah :’) I kinda failed successfully I think???

  You and Basilio have been dating for quite some time now. Although he was a messy guy you made sure that you had his back and helped him out to work on how to keep his sloppy tendencies at bay and in turn he would shower you with love and affection that you would usually get from the demi-god of war. Basilio was the perfect guy, he was a sweet lad who made your lonely days better, he made sure that you were cared for in any shape or form and he always had your back in everything and he would give you anything you would ask for in the world. The two of you barely even fought and if you were to fight, it would be more of a joke one than an all-out screaming match. He was the best thing that has ever happened to you and you constantly thank Bathala for it and Basilio thought the same. The two of you were a match made in heaven.

 Although despite your busy schedules keeping the two of you apart, you both made sure that you and your loving boyfriend would get the chance to hang out together. Often, you and Basilio would frequent the Diabolical together, just basking in each other's presence, tucked away in some booth Hank had reserved for the two of you, or sitting by the bar just chatting about each other’s day. You could recall Hank telling you that whenever you were around or that when someone ever mentions your name, Basilio seemed to calm down and would eagerly listen into whatever conversation had said your name. There was a time where Basilio nearly knocked someone’s teeth out because they were talking badly of you and it took Crispin, Maliksi, Hannah, Amie, Alex, and Hank himself to hold back the younger twin and prevent him from punching someone’s lights or teeth out or even prevent a murder from ever happening.

 “Alam mo, (Y/N) pag naririnig ni Basilio na dadaan ka rito, parang siyang aso na di mapakali. Kulang nalang na magkaroon siya ng buntot e.” Hank joked as he was cleaning the freshly washed glass, watching Basilio flush red, face buried into his forearm as he groaned in response while you let out a small chuckle.

 Now looking back, that memory seemed to be far away from you. Tonight happened to be your anniversary with Basilio and instead of a cozy night in, he wanted to do something different.  Basilio wanted to take you out dancing and bar hopping around Bonifacio Global City’s luxurious bars (sometimes you wondered to yourself how the hell can Basilio afford this.) and maybe take you sight seeing around the place when you got the time. Pacing around your living room in your apartment, you were about to shoot him a text message when a knock at your door had interrupted you from doing so, nearly dropping your phone in the process. “Sandali  lang!” you yelled to whoever was outside the door. If there was one thing you learned from dating Basilio, it was being vigilant. You had to make sure that the person on the other side of your door was your boyfriend and not some kind of Aswang or any malicious person who had a personal grudge against the twins and Alex. Taking a peek at the pee hole your door had, you were greeted by the sight of your boyfriend, Basilio grinning up at you as he waved. Instead of wearing his suit, Basilio was in his casual clothing for tonight, his long silken locks pulled back in a half-up, half-down man-bun.

 Opening the door, you then welcomed him with open arms before proceeding to smack him playfully on his arm, an amused smirk on your lips as you opened your mouth to speak, your tone light and teasing, “Took you long enough! Siguro na-traffic ka no?” Basilio could only roll his dark eyes at you as he placed a loving kiss upon your head. “Hindi a, si Kuya Crispin kasi e, sobrang tagal niya sa banyo kaya ayun.” Pulling himself away from you, he then offered his arm for you to take with a grin, his head tilting towards the direction of the door as he spoke, “So ano? Tara na?” “Siyempre naman.”  

 After making sure your apartment was locked, the two of you went down towards the direction of the parking lot and took a couple few selfies inside the elevator, you and Basilio were off. While in the car, the both of you would scream along to the lyrics of Ang Huling El Bimbo by Eraserheads while in traffic. On your way to BGC, both of you were surprised to see Maliksi and his significant by the stoplight, taking the advantage of the long-ass stop to chat with the Prince of the Tikbalangs and his fiancé. Your conversation was cut short when the stoplight had changed from red to green, saying your goodbyes to each other as Basilio drove away to your very first destination, which was none other than XYLO at The Palace.

  In all honesty, you’ve heard about this bar but it was the first time you got to enter the place itself. The both of you got lucky that the place wasn’t as packed and that you got there early before the actual party had started. Both you and Basilio then made your way over to the bar to grab your first drinks of the night. The two of you chatted for a while, occasionally nodding your heads to the beat of the song. After a while, the night seemed to kick in and both of you were already at what seemed to be your 3rd or 4th bar of the night, this time you and Basilio were jumping up and down to DJ Khalid’s song ‘All I Do Is Win’ before the both of you screamed along with the rest of the patrons, “Putang Ina, Alak Pa!”  and time seemed to flow faster than ever as you and your loving boyfriend went in and about around BGC’s classiest bars, downing every single drink you two could manage and take or even dance along to the songs the bars provided while occasionally sharing a kiss here and there, not minding the reek of alcohol and sweat clinging on each other’s bodies as the two of you laughed.

 Sometime around 10:30, you and Basilio were shitfaced to oblivion but both of you were used to it. You had lost count on how many drinks you’ve managed to down yet you and Basilio couldn’t care less, you were certain that you heard your phones ring but you two never got the chance to answer them because Basilio was busy doing body shots on you or you making out with your boyfriend in some hidden corner of the bar. You were starting to get the hint that after your little make-out session at Club Haze, he was focused on one thing and you knew what that meant, despite being inebriated out of your wits. So what do you do? Put on a show for him of course.

 You knew Basilio was sitting by the bar because you told him you were going to use the bathroom to freshen up a little bit since the club felt a little bit humid. What he didn’t expect was you sashaying over to where the dance floor, the last notes of Nelly Furtado’s Maneater fading away only to be replaced by Doja Cat’s Streets. To you, the sound seemed to have slowed down and you weren’t sure because it was the alcohol’s effects taking over, nobody else in the club mattered but your boyfriend alone.  The figures around you seemed to blur and Basilio was the only one you had your eyes on as your body moved to the beat, eyes half-lidded and lips slightly parted, and even from afar, you could see your demi-god of a boyfriend shuffle in his seat, his cheeks brightly flushed even under the lights of the dark club (yes, Basilio even tried to hide his raging boner from everyone but he was failing miserably). You knew that he was watching you closely like a predator ready to strike and even from afar you can tell that he was getting impatient with your games and that made you smirk. You knew that Basilio had a thing for Semi-Public sex and your several other experiences with him were proof of that, hell the two of you almost got caught one time and you were internally thankful that you weren’t. But tonight, Basilio’s going to abide by the rules of your own game and not his.

The opening bass beat from Beyonce’s Yonce/Partition was your cue to take things up a notch by making your way over to the bar where you had stood upon the counter (you had asked the bartender and the rest of the patrons who hung around the bar save for Basilio in advance and they seemed to agree with it just as long as you were careful) and made your way down the counter, hips sashaying and your body with every beat and drop before stopping to where he was, a smirk on your face, your hands running up from your thighs and right past your chest in a sensual manner, leaning in just so you could ghost your lips over Basilio’s eagerly waiting ones before pulling away with a wink. Once your little show was done and you had gone down from your counter with the help of the bartender you had just spoken to before making your way over to the dance floor once more to dance just as your song, She’s My Collar by Gorillaz began to play only to be caught short when you felt a hand grab you by the wrist.

Despite being drunk you were still smart and quick to retaliate towards whoever had grabbed you only to be surprised to be looking right directly at your boyfriend’s dark obsidian gaze, his breath slow and ragged and you knew you were in it for real this time the moment he said, “We’re leaving.” In a tone, you’ve never heard from him before and that seemed to send shivers and chills up your spine as he dragged you away from the bar to head right outside.

Honestly, the whole trip back to the car seemed to pass you by like a blur, you would occasionally stumble on your own feet, which prompted Basilio to sling you over his shoulder like you were nothing but a sack of potatoes (at least it gave you a perfect view of his ass). The moment you arrived at your car, however, you were thrown haphazardly into the backseat after Basilio had unlocked the door with ease and then entered the vehicle as well, quickly pulling you up on his lap where he locked his lips with you in a heated kiss, hands roaming around your body with such need and you could feel his erection straining against the fabric of his dark jeans. You were surprised at first but once the initial shock and surprise had worn off, you kissed him back as well with the same passion and need that he emulated from his kiss, your fingers and hands made a quick undo of his man-bun and top, hastily unbuttoning them, eager to touch the skin underneath it and leave marks on it. Basilio could only groan in response to your touches, his tongue exploring your mouth like uncharted territory, his hands groping your behind with such force that made you moan out his name, a quiet hiss of “Tangina.” Soon followed your surprise.

 In your mayhem of desire and lust, you didn’t notice Basilio play Chase Atlantic’s song Devilish on the radio.

 Clothes were thrown around and about in the space of the car and in that blur of clothing being discarded around, you were honestly surprised when Basilio had lifted up your lower half towards him, his lips trailing kisses down your stomach and thighs before his head disappeared in between your legs, bestowing you the best oral you’ve ever had received from him in your years of dating. You couldn’t thrash around with him holding you so tightly against his face as he went down on you but your hands were free to roam and tug at his long silken locks, his name spoken like a prayer  and just as you were about to reach your peak, he had pulled away from you, a sadistic yet innocent smirk placed upon his now glistening chin and lips coated in your slick as he spoke, “Not yet, babe.”  Winking at you, he gingerly set you down before he leaned over to where his now discarded jeans were as he pulled out his wallet, fishing out a condom and a small pack of lube for him to use. Once the foil was open and the rubber was on his already hard dick, he then proceeded to open the pack of lube, rubbing it on his length before instructing you to get on your hands and your ass up for him.

 And by Bathala you began to see stars the moment he had entered you. Your nails seemed to dig on the dark leather surface of the car’s upholstery, your back arched to the extreme and you were certain that you could feel Basilio trailing kisses along the expanse of your neck, shoulders, and back, his hands guiding you on his length while yours snaked around to reach for him, tilting your head sidewards to catch his lips in an open-mouthed kiss, his manhood still relentless at fucking you senseless and in between the thrusts and moans, you were thankful that the windows were tinted from the outside or else the two of you would’ve been caught. Throughout the whole night, you two spent it by doing it on every single surface inside the car, doing every single position the two of you could think of, taking each other to new heights with every pose the two of you did, and yes, let’s just say you were sore the morning after that.

 Once the morning came around, the two of you were still naked and you were sure that after your last round with your loving boyfriend, you felt the waves of your hang-over wash over you like a wave, making you groan out in pain. Everything was sore with you and your body was littered with hickies, bruises, and scratch marks while Basilio, who had his healing factor with him thanks to his demi-god status, was relatively unscathed but he did have some hickies of his own to present to the world. Shuffling, you gently nudged Basilio awake as you spoke, “Babe, anong oras na??”

 At your action, your boyfriend, still groggy from sleep, could only groan at this, his hand reaching out to search for his mobile phone to check the time. Squinting, he then saw the time on his phone but the color on his face seemed to drain the moment he saw several missed calls and messages from his twin brother and the Babaylan-Mandirigma herself. “SHIT!” Basilio managed to cry out of sheer panic, his head accidentally hitting against the roof of the car, making him hiss even more, hands holding the spot where he had hit his head. “Lagot tayo kay Bossing, (Y/N), kagabi pa niya tayo tinatwagan kasama ni Kuya Crispin.” At the mere mention of Alex and Crispin’s name, you seemed to understand the sense of urgency before the two of you began to clean up the car, dressing up as you did so, attempting to make yourselves look more presentable and cover the tracks from yesterday’s events. Once done, Basilio was driving like a speeding madman in a rush to head back where his brother and Alex were at.

 It took him at least an hour to arrive at their destination with Alex taking the role as today’s designated driver while Basilio sat in the back with his brother. “San ba kayo galing? Kagabi pa namin kayo tinatawagan ni Crispin, (Y/N), Basilio. Ano ba nangyare, ha?” Alex spoke, her eyes flickering over to where Basilio was, sheepishly scratching the back of his head as he spoke, “Sensya na ho, Bossing. Nag-sight seeing kasi kami ni (Y/N) kagabi tas nag-bar hoping kami tas pagkatapos nakatulog kami dito sa kotse.” A little doubtful of this, Alex could only glance at you from the corner of her eye, expecting for you to react but you held your emotions close to your heart as you spoke, “Totoo po yung sinasabi ni Basilio, bossing. Di po naming sadya na di kayo replyan ni Crispin. Di na po mauulit.” Nodding, Alex then excused the both of you and the car ride was silent, save for the fact that the radio was playing Last Friday Night by Katy Perry. You did feel a little bit cold however and you couldn’t help the fact that something was missing until Crispin screamed out in surprise, horror, and disgust, finally noticing the thing you were missing. Ah shit. “TANGINA BASILIO, ANO TO!?!?!” Crispin managed to yell out, holding up your lace underwear for everyone in the car to see with Basilio quickly snatching the piece of clothing away from his brother, tucking it in his pocket before he responded, “ANONG-ANO KA DIYAN KUYA!?! WALA KANG NAKITA!!”

You silently prayed to Bathala for him to forgive you but you were sure as hell Alex won’t. You made a mental note to not ever do it in the car you guys use for missions ever again.

[darth-nikeon]

Beauty and the Beast incorrect quotes

Beast: What’s up guys? I’m back.

Belle: What the- you can’t be here. You’re dead. I literally saw you die.

Beast: Death is a social construct.

Babette: On a scale from “damn Daniel” to “fre sha vaca do”, how are you feeling?

Mrs Potts: In between “it’s an avocado, thanks” and “how did you defeat Captain America”, but as a solid answer I would say “I don’t need a degree to be a clothing hanger”. How about you, Lumiere?

Lumiere: Probably “road work ahead”.

Cogsworth: I speak many languages, and this is none of them.

*Beast is cooking*

Belle: Any chance that’s for me?

Beast: It’s for Lumiere . I’m planning on making some bad choices tonight, and I need them on my side.

Cogsworth: I never realized the forethought that went into being a disappointment.

Lumiere: Truth or dare?

Belle: Dare

Lumiere: I dare you to kiss the hottest person in the room

Belle: Hey Beast

Beast, blushing: Yeah?

Belle: Could you move? I’m trying to get to Babette

Beast: What did you guys get in your yearbook?

Belle: 'Prettiest Smile'

Mrs Potts: 'Nicest Personality'

Lumiere : 'Most likely to start a bar fight'

Babette: 'Least likely to start a bar fight, but most likely to win one'

Beast: Bye Belle! Bye Cogsworth! Bye Lumiere ! Bye Babette! Bye Belle!

Cogsworth: You said ‘bye Belle’ twice.

Beast: I like Belle.

Mrs Potts: There are seven chairs and ten kids. What do you do?

Belle: Have everyone stand.

Lumiere: Bring three more chairs!

Cogsworth: The most important ones can sit down.

Beast: Kill three.

Lumiere: Do you take constructive criticism?

Babette: I only take cash or credit.

Babette: Lumiere and I have the kind of easy chemistry where we finish each other's-

Lumiere: Sentences.

Babette: Don't interrupt me.

Lumiere: I made tea.

Babette: I don’t want tea.

Lumiere: I did not make tea for you. This is my tea.

Babette: Then why are you telling me?

Lumiere: It is a conversation starter.

Babette: That’s a lousy conversation starter.

Lumiere: Oh, is it? We are conversing. Checkmate.

Lumiere: Lol heads up if you try to make a candle with food coloring, the food coloring will just sink to the bottom of the glass, and when the flame eventually reaches the bottom all the food coloring will catch fire and become one giant tall flame that you cannot possibly blow out and the glass will start to crack and then you'll throw your tea on it in a panic and then the extremely hot food coloring will boil and sizzle horribly and then the glass will shatter. Please take my word on this lmfao

Cogsworth: What did you do Lumiere?

Lumiere: A MISTAKE

Mrs Potts: You have to apologize to Cogsworth

Beast: Fine.

Beast: 'Unfuck you' or whatever.

Wardrobe: Hewwo.

Cogsworth: Hihiiiiii!

Lumiere: Greetings, Humans.

Mrs Potts: Three kinds of people.

Babette: I want pudding.

Wardrobe: Four kinds of people.

Chip: WHAT’S UP FUCKERS?

Mrs Potts: Five kinds of people.

Gaston: So what’s for dinner?

Lefou, staring at the food they just burnt: Regret.

Gaston: You're the love of my life and my best friend, I would do anything for you.

Lefou: I want you to eat three meals a day and have a decent sleep schedule.

Gaston: Absolutely not.

Lefou: You often use humor to deflect trauma

Gaston: Thank you

Lefou: I didn't say that was a good thing

Gaston: What I'm hearing is, you think I'm funny

Gaston: Lefou...

Lefou: Oh no, 'Lefou' in b-flat.

Lefou: You're disappointed.

Gaston: I am not out of control! I'm a law abiding citizen!

Lefou: Really? Name one law

Gaston: Don't kill people?

Lefou: That's on me. I set the bar too low.

Gaston: While I’m gone, Lefou, you’re in charge.

Lefou: Yes!!!

Gaston, whispering: D'arque, you’re secretly in charge.

D'arque: Obviously.

Lefou: In your opinion, what’s the height of stupidity?

D'arque : *turning to Gaston* How tall are you?

Mrs Potts: WHAT’S YOUR TYPE

Beast: Anything, honestly, but book nerds especially

Mrs Potts, desperately, as Beast bleeds out: YOUR BLOOD TYPE

Beast: Oh! B positive.

Mrs Potts: DONT TRY TO CHEER ME UP JUST TELL ME YOUR BLOOD TYPE

Beast:

Cogsworth: Name a more iconic duo than my crippling fear of abandonment and my anxiety. I'll wait.

Lumiere: You and me!!!

Cogsworth , tearing up: Okay.

Lefou: Name a more iconic duo than my crippling fear of abandonment and my anxiety. I'll wait.

Gaston: You and me!!!

Lefou, tearing up: Okay.

Mrs Potts: Treat spiders the way you want to be treated.

Beast: Killed without hesitation.

Mrs Potts: No.

Mrs Potts: Okay, truth or dare?

Beast: Truth

Mrs Potts: How many hours have you slept this week?

Beast:

Beast: ...Dare

Mrs Potts: Go to bed.

Beast: I don’t like this game.

[momoliee]

It’s probably too early for The Meta No One Asked For That I’m Gonna Write Anyway about XQC, alas…here we go

Dr. Xie Qingcheng, 32, male, straight (so far), 180 cm with only one current family member.

Xqc is introduced as a cold, aloof and apathetic retired doctor who has no passions, cares about nothing except for his sister, and unless he’s angry, you can barely get an emotional response out of him.

Through meatbun’s character notes on how he has no favorite food, no favorite color or animal, no personal preferences outside what’s most practical and how he’s very very responsible and rules abiding and honest and sober and serious, and through he yu’s POV that continuously paints him as this heartless cold blooded person, I dare say we were…deceived by this so far shades of gray picture we had of him.

Xqc was born into a finically stable middle class family consisting of two cops for parents and a younger sister that came into the world 8 years after him. When he turned 13, and his sister was only 5 at that time, his parents were fired from their job due to a case they shouldn’t have been investigating going wrong, and they had to move to a rural area. Not long after that, he witnessed both his parents’ deaths and saw their corpses with his own eyes, the site was bloody and there’s no way it didn’t traumatize a pre-teen like him. He then was tasked with taking care of his sister, becoming a doctor despite not wanting to, owing others favors and spending all his money on smth that’s yet to be revealed instead of enjoying it. He got married, not to a woman he loves but to someone whom he thought of as “suitable and appropriate”, got cheated on and went through a divorce before losing full interest in the marriage life. He was finally able to retire (we don’t know why yet) and live a quiet, normal, boring life.

I believe xqc loved his parents, I believe he loved them so much cause in chapter 20, he mentions how he thought he wouldnt be able to live past the grief, he wouldn’t be able to go on or move forward, how the grief completely overtook him. He also mentions how he used to play with knots and handcuffs when he was a child, which shows how close he was to them. So for a child who had a good stable life with two loving parents to suddenly fall from a class to a class, suddenly lose both parents and see their corpses with his own eyes, that must’ve fucked him up big time. I’m talking “when can I fully register all of this” kind of fucked up. But he didn’t have time to fully absorb all of this, didnt have the time to sit down and cry, he had a sister, she was only 5, where will they get the money from? What were they gonna do? How was he going to continue school while caring for her? He didn’t have the time to sit down and grief, to sit down and adjust. For a child who had a normal life and didn’t have to worry much about the money like every other middle class kid, he was suddenly burdened with poverty AND loss, and duty and responsibility. Good bye to the days of playing with handcuffs and knots huh?

You ask me, why does xqc not have a favorite food? I answer you, because many many nights, he didn’t know what to feed his sister, much less himself. Cause I bet that many nights, he would have to give up his portion for Xie Xue, to make sure a kid like her is full. Cause he couldn’t afford to be picky, couldn’t afford to choose; whatever was edible will be eaten, taste and flavor be damned. He had to start working from a young age, balance school, babysitting and working all at once. The last friend he made (I think) was that Chen Man guy whose parents were friends with his parents, back when they were alive and life was good. He didn’t have time to make friends, or go out, or have a favorite color or visit the zoo and decide on a favorite animal. No, he had to study, and study hard to become more financially stable and support Xie Xue, he had to raise his baby sister and protect her, he had to work or else how will he put food on their table? Yet he never lost his soft kind heart, cause when his sister asked for a laptop, he bought her one just so that she wouldn’t feel less than any of the other children.

Xqc had to SURVIVE, he had to make do with what he had and what he didn’t have. He didn’t have time to sit down and cry or process his trauma, didn’t even have time to think of adolescent love or his youthful days or do what kids his age did. And all of that carried forward into his adult life. He pushed his emotions back so hard and had his practical, business like mind take care of everything in order to make it through the days. He started to believe that passionate emotions such as love and hate and lust and desire were all a waste of time, a distraction from his duties, smth that will rock the delicate balance he created with his everyday busy schedule. Emotions will stunt you, emotions will delay you, crying and not going to work today means no food to feed his hungry sister with. That’s when he started thinking, strong emotions are a DISEASE, they will take up your time, cloud your judgement, have you make reckless decisions that you’ll regret later. And he couldn’t afford any of that right? Strong emotions are for the weak, they put you in crutches and disable you from moving forward. Wasnt that what he told his ex wife? If he had submitted himself to his grief back then, where would his sister be? Where would he be? How could they have grown up to be healthy and successful adults?

So this man taught himself practicality and duty and priorities. He stopped thinking about himself, about what he wants and what he feels, and instead started making sure that those around him are happy and content and safe and well taken care of. He no longer had desires or passions, he only had rules and regulations. If a person lost their sense of taste, would they still want chocolates and burgers? Would they still have cravings and foods they’d rather swallow medicine than eat? No. If so, how will they decide on what to eat every day? They’ll simply start following a “perfect nutritional plan” and “balanced diet”. They’d eat what they have to eat, when they have to eat, and in the exact portion they need. To them eating would be another chore they have to do every day to keep their bodies going. Similarly, with xqc, graduating, working, marrying, taking care of his sister and auntie, these all became “tasks” and “chores” that he had to abide by and follow. They became the dietary plan for his life till he dies, the outline he shall follow, the textbook rules he will carry out, no need to think of what he “wants” or “desires”, what will make him “happy” or bring him “joy”. He no longer listened to his emotions when making decisions. Even when marrying his ex wife, he married her cause she was “a suitable match”, not for her looks or personality or anything. Feelings are life’s taste buds, and once you remove them, everything becomes tasteless and mundane, and practicality/logic takes over. He stopped knowing what it felt like to choose based on your preferences, cause he stopped having the luxury of choice ever since that night when he was 13, and he no longer was able to re-teach himself the meaning of free will and choice.

So when he yu, in chapter 20, asked him how he would’ve acted if Xie Xue had died, and he said, “I would’ve continued living as I am today till my last breath,” he wasn’t being “cold” or “heartless” or “indifferent” as he yu likes to say. He was being practical and methodical and thinking with a logical approach, rather than an emotional one, just the way he taught himself to throughout all these years. His almost 2 decades of pure survival mode and severely repressed feelings spoke in the form of autopilot. “I would do what I have to do, what I’ve always done every day of my life so far cause what choice do I have?” Is what he meant to say.

But I believe that he’s a soft hearted, kind and loving person. He never says no his sister, never says no to his auntie, helped that homeless man as best as he could, taught he yu that he was normal and that he wasn’t a monster, believed in treating his patients with words instead of medicine prescriptions, believed that the mentally ill deserve to live normally instead of being locked up. I believe that underneath all the shit he has buried, there’s a lot of passion and love that’s been kept dormant for 19 years.

In conclusion, idk where meatbun is gonna take his character but I genuinely hope he gets to heal, and start having more color and flavor in his life. Start allowing himself to live, not just survive.

[scapegrace74-blog]

New Ways of Turning Into Stone, Chapter 2

A/N I should really think of story titles with fewer words in them, huh?  Thank you so much for the warm reception to the first chapter of my latest fic!  Of course, we all want to know what caused Janet to force Jamie to seek out grief counselling services.  But before we get there, I think we need to know a little bit more about the good doctor herself.  So no Jamie in this chapter, but never fear, he’ll be back in the next one!   Trigger warning for fertility issues.  The working chapter title is “Psychiatrist, Heal Thyself”.

Friday evening arrived, announced by two days of nearly pristine pages in her planner.  Exhausted by the work week’s hectic schedule, Claire stood ambivalently at the doorstep of each dawning weekend.   It wasn’t that she minded the time alone.  Quite the opposite; she was fond of her own company.  But a quiet mind was a mind open to whispers of the past, and those she couldn’t abide.

“What are yer plans fer the next twa days, then?” Geillis asked as she locked the office door.  Her friend was well-versed in Claire’s many coping mechanisms, even the ones Claire barely acknowledged herself.

“Oh, you know, the usual,” she replied as they got into the lift.  “A few classes at the gym, tidying my flat, maybe a run.”

“Christ, tha’ sounds like a punishment, no’ a break!  Ye need tae recharge, Doctor Beauchamp.  Would ye stop tae smell the flowers, jus’ fer a second, fer me?”

Watching the floor numbers slowly tick down, Claire considered her friend’s oft-repeated counsel.  It wasn’t that she doubted the sincerity or sense behind the plea: clinically, she knew the healing power of relaxation, of doing something for the sheer pleasure of it, or of doing nothing at all.  She had been on the treadmill of mindless momentum for so long, though, she wasn’t sure she remembered how to to step off.

The bell dinged and they walked together across the lobby.  Everywhere, people were milling about, rushing with a mobile tucked between chin and shoulder, meeting friends for an après-work drink.  They reminded Claire of ants, engaged in alien activities she could only interpret from a distance.

“I’ll take it under advisement, Geil,” she placated.  They had reached the pavement outside their office, where each weekend they parted to go their separate ways.

“Alright, hen.  Call me, if... weel, ye ken ye can always call, right?”

The back of her throat constricted, squeezing moisture towards her eyes.  Rather than risk speaking, Claire nodded emphatically, gave her friend a quick hug, and walked away without a backwards glance.

***

The next day dawned with a moist crispness to the air.  Having lived in the capital long enough to know that any pleasant weather might be short-lived, Claire threw the windows of her flat open to the timid breeze.  Pushing her utilitarian furniture against the walls and rolling back a threadbare Oriental carpet she’d inherited from her uncle, she proceeded to mop and then wax her floors.  Curls restrained in a kerchief, she’d donned her oldest yoga pants and sweat top for this Saturday morning cleaning ritual.  The kitchen was next.  By the time she reached the bathroom, she was perspiring and a number of ringlets had escaped confinement.

After a much-needed shower, she decided to apply a hot oil treatment and throw together an egg-white omelette.  She ate on the couch, the morning paper balanced on her knee.

Ten o’clock.  Only twelve more hours to go before bedtime.

***

Emboldened by the continued clear skies, Claire decided to try a new running route after lunch.  She usually ran the perimetre of Holyrood Park before finishing up with a hard sprint to the rocky nub of Arthur’s Seat.  Today, she took the tram to Corstorphine Hill, the site of an under-visited walled garden according to an article she’d read online.  Dirt paths meandered the park,  entering and leaving oak woods whose grassy skirts were embroidered by sunlight and bluebells.  It was all quite enchanting, and by the time she came across the walled garden, her heart beat with a long-lost weightlessness.

The garden itself was a pocket wonder; tiny but bursting with botanical life.  And while she didn’t literally stoop to smell any of the vernal blooms, she thought Geillis would be quite satisfied when they shared their usual Monday debrief of their weekend activities.

Walking downhill in search of a water fountain, a muddied roar travelled on the springtime wind.  It took a moment to place it, but she recalled that Murrayfield Stadium was located just to the south of the park.   Never a huge sporting enthusiast, she hadn’t been aware that a Scottish national rugby match was being played that afternoon.

Thoughts of rugby called to mind her newest patient.  With his height and bulk, she could imagine him following the sport, if not playing it himself.   Reason enough, she mused, to wander past the stadium as she cooled down.

With her mind pre-occupied, she completely missed the queue of people until it was too late.

“Frank!” a shrill voice broke her reverie, sending an icicle of dread down her spine.  Her heart kicked back into high gear, while her eyes scanned about for an approaching threat.  A tow-headed boy ran past, chasing a squirrel.  She stepped automatically out of his way, but managed to stumble over a tree root in her haste.

“Franklin!  Come back here this instant an’ apologize tae this lady!  Ye near knocked her o’er.”

Turning round, Claire was confronted by a hugely pregnant pale-haired woman, presumably the mother of the young boy who was now scuffing his feet through the leaf litter on his reluctant return.   She looked for a quick escape, but there were families everywhere.  She’d completely forgotten that the Edinburgh Zoo shared the hill with the park.

“I’m terribly sorry,” the mother offered.  “He’s sae excited tae see the pandas, ye ken.  An’ I canna chase after him as I used tae.”  As she spoke, the woman rubbed the globe of her belly, her eyes alight with the mysterious joys of impending motherhood.  It suddenly hurt to breath.

“No... errr, it’s fine, really,” she stammered.  “No harm done.”  Which was patently untrue, but the damage was pre-existing and beyond repair.  “Congratulations,” she choked out, the word like chalk in her mouth.  

The woman seemed eager to strike up a conversation. With a mumbled apology, Claire took off at a run, weaving down the path to the pavement, turning east and sprinting back to the safety of her flat, nearly three kilometres away.

***

As the evening wore on, it became impossible to overlook the truth of the day’s events.  No matter how hard she tried to pretend otherwise, Claire still wasn’t recovered from the ordeal that befell her over two years’ ago.  The irony of being a grief counsellor who couldn’t manage to overcome her own grief was bitter on her tongue.  What right did she have to counsel others in behaviours she couldn’t master herself?

She didn’t begrudge Frank his happiness, but she envied him greatly.  Their inability to conceive had torn a fatal wound in their relationship.  Both of them had suffered, both of them had lost a spouse.  But where Frank had quickly moved on to find another, more fertile partner, Claire felt like she was trapped in a never-ending cycle of self-blame and contempt.  No matter how far she ran or how diligently she planned the tidy compartments of her life, the anguish found her.  It was a corrosive shadow that dogged her days, always ready to darken her brightest moments.

It was well past eleven o’clock and she lay watching the flare of headlights chase each other across her bedroom ceiling.  A bottle of prescription pills promised sweet oblivion from inside her night table drawer.  She resisted for as long as she could, but as the minutes crept by, weary resignation won out.

Swallowing two of the capsules dry, she lay like a corpse wrapped in an Egyptian cotton shroud.  Slowly, the dry ice fog and discord of approaching sleep pulled her down, down, down below the waves of consciousness where nothing could harm her.

[myheelsdontmatchmysweatpants]

Or Red Lilly with Iida 👀

Thank you so much for sending an ask! Sorry this took me forever but i hope you like it!!

Red Lily (Passion) with Tenya Iida

Warnings: MeanDom/Tenya Iida, SubFem/Reader, impact play, handcuffs, use of “sir, good girl”, oral sex (fem receiving) consent check, orgasm denial, degradation, vaginal fingering, no condom, d*cryphilia. 

Also big shoutout to @doinmybesthere @patchworkpuzzle @eyebagsbutglam for helping me out!! I love all of you!!

The first time Iida found out that you sleep without clothes he gave you a two-hour lecture.

“What if there was a fire and you needed to evacuate immediately? What if someone broke in? What if you sleep walk and get out of your apartment? What if- “

“Tenya!” You grab his arms, concerned that they are going to fall off with how aggressively he was chopping them. “I understand that you are just trying to help, but I am comfortable sleeping like that. Could you please respect that?”

He looks down for a moment, the sun glare on his glasses making it impossible to see his eyes. When his shoulders drop, and he visibly relaxes you know he has calmed down. “I am sorry my dear, you’re right. It is important that you are comfortable.” He kisses your cheek. “Let’s go to bed now.”

Two years later

Iida was done, done with the day, done with people, done. Done. DONE.

He was late to the agency because of a villain backup that he couldn’t help with. When he finally ended up getting to the agency, he had to calm down several interns because number one hero Deku had stopped by. One of his engines went out because a villain on his patrol was able to get some sort of substance in his exhaust. This meant he had to go to Mei Hatsume because she was one of the few who could fix it. She tricked him into activating a “baby” of hers that exploded effectively covering his entire hero suit in ash and soot.

Numerous other things happened through out the day that soured his mood even further. The last thing was him getting home late, not 30 mins, not 1 hour, but 4 hours late. He had to take his hero suit to be cleaned and ended up taking a shower at the agency. All he wanted to do was go to bed with you.

Iida sets his stuff down by the door and removes his shoes. Walking carefully, so as to not wake you he opens the bedroom door and glances at your shared bed.

Iida’s breathing stops for a moment, the sight of you making his heart skip a beat. Laying on your side, one of your hands laying on his pillow; the blanket between your legs. Moonlight peaks through the curtains, bathing your naked form in a soft light that makes you glow.

As he shuts the door, he can feel his pants getting uncomfortably tight. You are so beautiful and what better way to ease the stress of a horrible day than to bury himself in your tight heat.

He walks up to the bed, reaching out to caress your face with his knuckles. Your eyes slowly open hazy, and unfocused from sleep, eyelids fluttering.  “Mhm… Tenya?” A soft smile appears on your face and you grab his hand, turning your head to kiss it.

“Sorry I woke you darling, why don’t you go back to sleep?” Iida feels guilty, waking you up just to have sex with you. He moves to pull his hand back but you clutch it tight, he looks at you, raising his brow in question.

You push yourself up with one hand and sit on your knees in front of him, still holding his hand. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes you take a quick moment to stretch, arching your back and lifting your arms up in the air. You hear Iida suck in a breath and open your eyes with a smirk.

“Now why would I go to sleep when you clearly need some help turbo.” You lower the hand not holding his and graze your fingers over the obvious bulge in his slacks.

Iida shudders when you touch him but doesn’t react any further, more worried about your sleep schedule. “Don’t worry about me love, nothing I can’t take care of on my Ohh.” His sentence gets cut of when you give him a squeeze through his pants. His forehead pressing against yours you can hear his breathing getting heavy.

“Don’t worry about me love.” You repeat his words back to him. “Nothing we can’t handle together.” You place his hand that you were still holding on one of your breasts and grab the bottom of his shirt. As you pull it up, he reluctantly lets go of your warm chest and takes his shirt off throwing it behind him. You are already unbuttoning his pants before he throws his shirt and as you work to pull them down, he grabs your hands.

“Let me do this okay? Can you lay down for me? I want to look at you.” His eyes pleading, his face weary and tired you can’t help but abide by his wishes.

You lay back down on the bed, your legs bent at the knees resting to the side. Your hair is splayed out on the pillow a hand on your chest the other to your side resting with the palm up. Iida doesn’t move for a moment, entranced by the goddess in front of him. It’s only when you say his name on a breath that he remembers what he was supposed to be doing.

He undresses in a flash, quick and efficient his clothing forgotten in a pile next to the bed. Now its your turn to admire your partner. His dark blue eyes, chiseled jaw, and wide breadth of his shoulders. Iida worked hard to maintain his physique for hero work, and it showed in the way his muscles flexed as he moved to hover over you.

You both look at each other for a moment longer before Iida leans down to kiss you slow and deep. His lips melding with yours, his tongue meeting yours in a soft caress. You reach your hands to cup his face, but he grabs your wrists and pins them above you.

When he breaks the kiss, you can’t help but whine, arching your back and lifting your head to meet his lips once more. “Y/N.”

The authority in his tone makes you shiver in delight and submission. You lay back down on the bed, once again resting your head on the pillow as you look at his innocently. “Yes Tenya?”

His eyes darken further, almost black in the light. The hand not holding your wrists softly moves up from your hips to your breast. You sigh in contentment until his large fingers pinch one of your nipples and you yelp.

“Now dearest, I understand that you just woke up however – “He pulls on the nipple and you whimper, your eyes starting to water a sadistic smirk crawling up his face. “– I do believe you know better than to address me like that.”

“S-sorry, Sir. I’ll be good, I promise.”

He waits a moment after your answer then lets go of your nipple, rubbing soothing circles over it with his thumb. “That’s better. Now, I’m gonna handcuff you and you are going to keep your eyes shut understood?”

You nod your head before closing your eyes. “Yes sir, understood.”

You feel him shift on the bed and hear a drawer open before the sound of metal clinking together fills your ears. You fidget in anticipation before a sharp pain blooms on your breast. You cry out when Iida slaps you but keep your eyes shut, not wanting to anger him further.

“I thought you said you would be good for me dear. That also means staying still.” Iida lets go of your wrists locking one of them in the cuff before wrapping the chain on the reinforced hook he installed on the bed. Before he cuffs the other wrist, he softly grabs your chin and tilts your face up.

“Y/N, open your eyes for a moment darling.” When you do your eyes immediately connect with his, no longer dark with lust but softly filled with tender love and concern. “You ready for this? Let me know if you are too tired, we can stop.”

You shake your head and give him a soft smile. “I’m ready Tenya, I need you too.”

“Tell me the safe word.”

“Axel”

He kisses your nose, eyes quickly darkening again. “Good girl.”

Before he can ask you to shut your eyes again you do and lay still. “Thank you, sir.” You feel him shift again and you other hand is cuffed; he pulls on the chain to make sure its secure and double checks that the cuffs aren’t too tight.

When you feel the bed shift you know he crawled off of it. You try to listen, to hear any sound that lets you know what is going to happen next but there is only silence.

All of a sudden you feel to large palms on your thighs, giving them a squeeze before pulling them apart.

“Such a perfect pussy.” Iida lightly drags his nails down your legs, a breathy moan escaping your lips. “Look at you, such a good girl for Sir.” You feel a breath of air, the slick of your arousal on your cunt and thighs going cold.

It’s difficult, holding yourself still but the feeling of his large hands on your body keeps you submissive. His hands on your body, however, do not help with the anticipation. Iida isn’t moving, you can almost feel his eyes on your core but no movement, no dipping of the bed or shifting of his hands.

You whimper, trying to relay your need for touch you finally feel the bed move under his weight. “Are you trying to tell me something dear?”

You almost open your eyes, needing to show him just how bad you need his touch, but you don’t. “Please, sir. Please touch me, I-I need you.”

Silence, and then Iida slaps your pussy. You can’t help but arch your back and yelp, eliciting another slap from your lover for moving.

“I don’t remember this being about you. I vividly recall you saying that we were helping me.” Iida wrenches your legs apart father before shoving his face into your cunt, he licks a broad stripe up from your tight hole to your clit before biting to little nub.

“Ahhh! I’m sorry! I’m sorry sir you’re right!” You can feel the tears escape past your eyelids and Iida huffs before biting the inside of one of your thighs.

“Of course, I’m right now you will lay there and be obedient or I will punish you as I see fit.”

“Yes, sir.”

Iida kisses the mark he left on your thigh and continues kissing and biting until he gets to your core. “Fuck you look so good- “He licks you again, humming as your taste blooms on his tongue. “– taste good too.” He continues his ministrations, alternating between biting your thighs and licking at your sex. You can feel the faint tightening of your core, but he isn’t licking hard enough, not giving you enough attention for the feeling to build.

Iida relishes all the little whimpers and moans that escape your mouth. He can tell you’re getting frustrated with the lack of stimulation but like a good girl you are following his orders. After he has decided you deserve a reward, he slots his mouth over our cunt and starts dipping his tongue in and out of your slit.

The needy moan you let out at finally feeling something has his cock twitching. As you strain against the hand cuffs, resisting the urge to grind against his face Iida wraps his arms around your thighs and pulls you impossibly closer.

You choke out a sob when he moves his mouth up to lick shapes onto your clit and gently suck it. He hums against you and the extra stimulation has you crying.

“Please S-sir, I’m m’gonna cum. Can I please cum?” Your thighs are shaking but you’re too focused on holding your orgasm back to care.

Iida thinks about it for a moment, slowing down his movements just to hear the frustrated cry from your mouth. He backs away from you for a moment, chuckling at your frustration.

“I don’t believe you’ve earned the right to do that yet.” He leans down to give you one last swipe of your tongue before sitting up.

The tears fall in earnest now, your need for release clouding your mind. “N-no, please sir I’m – I’ve been a good girl! Please sir I- “You let out a wail when Iida slaps the inside of your thigh.

“Are you such a needy slut that you can’t even follow orders?” He slaps your other thigh and growls when you don’t answer. He adjusts his position until he is at your side, wrapping an arm around your torso to pinch at one of your nipples before running his whole palm down your aching cunt. “Do you like it when I punish you? Is that it?”

You finally calm down enough to shake your head. “N-no, I don’t like it s-sir.”  You are still crying, the tears running down your cheeks and wetting the pillow beneath you.

“I think your lying to me, because every time I hit you.” Iida lifts his hand up and slaps your clit, his fingertips rough from hero work. “You look like you enjoy it slut.”

You can’t help it when you feel the sharp pain on your clit you moan, the feeling slowly fading into pleasure.

“I told you, you like the pain, don’t you? My naughty little pain slut.” He hits your clit again twice in quick succession. “Do you want to be a good girl for me?”

You nod your head, tilting it to the side to rest on his shoulder. “Y-yes, I wanna be a good girl sir.”

He kisses your forehead. “If you can cum just from me slapping your clit then I’ll reward you with my cock yeah?”

“Yes sir!” You force your body to relax, knowing you’re your too tense the pain won’t give way to pleasure.

As Iida repeatedly slaps your clit you can’t help but utter a jumbled mess of words.

Yes sir…. thank you, sir, …. feels s’good…. m’close…please ..... harder ….

When you finally cum you back arches completely off the bed, your mouth open on a silent scream as tears pour down your face.

Iida lays there for a moment, watching as you come undone, he almost finishes right then and there. Before you can catch your breath, he is crawling on top of you and pushing your legs to your chest. He shoves two fingers in your hole scissoring them to open you up before he puts his cock in.

You only have enough energy to moan as he fingers you, your eyes shut from exhaustion instead of obedience.

Iida is intently watching his fingers move in and out of you, clearly you don’t have any control over your body anymore and yet your cunt still pulls his fingers in. When he pulls his fingers out, he shoves them in your mouth, without even a thought your sucking on them to clean them off.

“Good girl.” He lines himself up and thrusts into your cunt, balls deep in one go. No letting you adjust to his size he is now just after his own release.

It doesn’t take long for him to finish; he was already close to coming when he was slapping you. The sounds coming from your mouth and the tears streaming down your face, he will never get tired of it. Right as he is on the edge of cumming he feels your walls start to tighten again, he holds back just long enough so that your orgasm hits and you milk his cock for all its worth.

Iida stays like that for a moment holding your legs and enjoying the post orgasmic bliss until you let out a little whimper. He gently pulls himself out of your abused hole, wincing when he hears a small groan fall from your lips.

After he puts your legs down, he leans over and cups one of your cheeks and kisses your forehead. “You did such a good job my dear, I will be right back to clean you up.” Iida stays there until you give him a nod and gets off the bed without jostling you and heads into the bathroom. When he comes back, he has a warm washcloth and with a light touch he wipes the insides of your thighs and your slick folds.

You still haven’t said anything, but he knows you like the back of his hand and doesn’t push. “Let’s take a shower love, need to clean you up.” Iida takes your cuffs off and rubs your wrists you slowly open your eyes and focus on his face. He smiles down at you and kisses your nose. “I love you dearest.”

“And I you Tenya.”

[kaijurakunsobs]

Mr. Malum

master list for this series

this took me far too long to complete, I keep getting sidetracked with other stuff...I need to work on a schedule, that I will ignore, cuz I have the attention span of a boiled rock.

this chapter has a different name due to the song Mr. Malum from the Dear Hunter, being the only thing I would think of while typing this chapter

Summary: Heisenberg has a secret that he clearly intends on keeping for himself but honoring your own word of not working for him unless you know what's going on with his factory, you offer him a deal that could benefit you both. A trip to the village, distrust dripping for these people's faces, and the whispers filled with fear is enough for you to learn that...Mr. Heisenberg and the other Lords are more than what they seem.

"Rise and shine, sweetheart! we have a lot of work to do today" Heisenberg screams, throwing the door of your room open, making you sit and scream in surprise, the sound of his laughter is enough to cut your fear short and replace it with humiliation.

Before you can even respond the man is out and waiting in the kitchen, at least, he gave you time to compose yourself, running your fingers through your tangled hair and cursing yourself for going to sleep with damp hair, the tossing and turning did nothing to help, making the rat's nest that's your hair so much worst. Perhaps you should consider cutting it short, that would make it more manageable.

Joining him in the kitchen it's strange, half hoping to be met with his usual snark, instead, he's drinking coffee and looking over some papers, another mug has been placed on the table, the acrid smell of black coffee incites you to get close and take the warm mug in your hands, the taste is strong and it's enough to fully wake you up.

"We are going to be working on the west wing, some of the vents have been giving problems which is making the place overheat" a blueprint it's pushed towards you, the areas to be inspected are circled with red pen. "Since you are a lot slimmer, you will be getting into some hard to access places, keep the print, that way you will know what to fix"

Looking down at the print, you contemplate your situation.

It's, quite clear, that you can't escape, he said so yesterday, talking about the possibility of Miranda killing you or him catching you before she did. You can't refuse to work for him either, even after you told him you wouldn't do it until you knew what was going on in the factory, and it seems he decided to politely forget about that part of the conversation. There's no way out of this...but there's a way to try and twist his arm.

After all, you are not stuck here with him, he's stuck in here with you.

Putting down the mug, taking a moment to stretch your back and casually take a seat across from him "Yeah, this? sounds like a you problem" resting your head on your hands gives you the right amount of time to see him go from triumphant into anger "However! I'm willing to strike you a deal"

Father was a man who cared for his employees and sometimes caring for others means being, rather, unfair with those seeking to start a partnership, or so he said. "You have to assess how desperate you are when they come looking for you, but never push too hard on your luck, or you might lose the perfect cath, ask for realistic demands never for the Sun", those were his words, and you will be forever grateful for them.

" A deal?" leaning closer to you he looks at you from above his shades, a mocking smile on his face "What kind of deal are you offering? you have nothing to offer and I have everything you could want"

"Oh! but I do have a lot to offer, years of experience as a mechanic, the promise of optimizing your production rate, my family's factory for you to dismantle and get spare parts from...my silence?"

At that, he straightens up, face unreadable and impassive, hes thinking and considering. And you know it by watching him light up a cigar slowly, taking a couple of drags before expelling a large smoke cloud up to the ceiling. "I'm listening"

"Excellent, my demands are easy to meet, so don't worry" with careful movements you get up from the chair, unhurried steps carrying to stand behind him, snaking your hands up his arms and towards his shoulders, bending down to place your head close to his "All I ask from you is this, fitting clothes, a pair of gloves like yours and a leather apron, an actual bed, for you to repair the hot water, and have my own set of tools" you smile sweetly at him letting your right hand play with his hair "See? nothing too hard to get"

He's impressed with your boldness, not fearing getting your pretty hand burned with his cigar and pressing that delicious body of yours so close to him. And, indeed, your demands are nothing but reasonable compared to the blind devotion and absolute silence he's expecting from you, let alone, access to whatever is left from your factory.

The next time he expels smoke he does it in your direction, getting no reaction of you "And how do I know that you won't try and rat me out, doll? just trust your word and give you everything you want? I think I'll pass and just force you to do it"

"Well, I understand, it doesn't matter that I'm a woman of my word, words can be twisted and forgotten, sir. But...if you don't feel comfortable with a verbal agreement"

Your next move is not just bold, and you know it, you are weaponizing your own body, using it to make him lower his guard a little. Letting go of his shoulder to sit on his lap, back towards him, taking your sweet time to grab one of the paper sheets where he was jolting down notes and his pen. "We can do a contract if you prefer, that way I will be legally bound to do whatever it says and since you are a Lord, it will be just a formality"

There's a moment where you feel like gagging when his hands find your hips and push you to be closer to his body, it's his time to rest his head on your shoulder, looking at whatever you plan on writing down.

"Then do it, darlin'. Do your silly contract, which I expect you to abide by because I will do my part if that means I get to have you like this always"

"Of course, my Lord"

Immediately after you start writing down a rather simple contract, making sure to write everything you want and what you will be giving in return. The whole time he stays still, occasionally moving his head to blow the smoke away for you or the table in general, one hand squeezing your hip.

You are careful when offering the pen for him to sign the paper, tactfully placing your hand as to obscure a piece of the pact, he either doesn't care or thinks you are doing it to prevent the paper from slipping and messing his signature. Once he's done you sign quickly, smiling inwardly at your victory.

"Let me read this you" clearing your throat you begin to speak clearly and loud "I, Lord Karl Heisenberg, in full use of my mental capabilities, promise Miss Y/N L/N, to fulfill the following...One, provide her with proper clothing, which shall include a leather apron, heavy-duty gloves, and boots...Two, a bed and blankets for her to sleep in, making sure to place the bed in her bedroom...Three, acquire a new complete toolset for her...Four, repair the faulty got water pipe in the bathroom..."

The pause is done on purpose, looking at him over your shoulder to see his shit-eating grin morph into either confusion or anger "FIVE...make sure the kitchen is well stocked with all kinds of food, to ensure proper nourishment for my employee. The employee won't be expected to cook meals for me"

The hand on your hip shoots up to grab your neck, forcing you to be fully against him, his breath fans over the side of your face as he speaks "You little bitch, who do you think you are trying to swindle? you asked for four things, not five"

"Did I? I don't remember saying just four, sir...that's why contracts are so useful you see, after all, words can be twisted and forgotten" there's a small adrenaline rush when he growls so close to you, that you can feel the vibrations against your chest, almost crying out with joy when he let you go, clearly annoyed with your small victory.

"Fine, if that's the case!" his rudeness comes back with a vengeance when he pulls you off, doing quick work of walking to his room "Stay where you are" after that, only the distant lull of the machines can be heard, then there's the sound of his voice, almost whispering and growing slowly irritated by the second. It takes him a couple of minutes but he comes backs, dropping a bag full of money on the table.

"Since you are so hellbent on these demands of yours...and I have so much to do, for the foreseeable future, YOU are going down to the village, look for and get the seamstress to take your measurements, YOU are going to the Duke and buy whatever food we might need and tell him what tools you need, YOU are bringing said groceries from his Emporium all the way here, after all, your contract says I have to provide with clothing, food and put a bed in your toom, which means, it's YOUR responsibility to buy and transport the food while all I have to do is provide you with the money"

He got you...and he got you good, that's why making detailed contracts is always important, or you leave legal windows for the other party.

"Or...I can do all that for you, minus the clothes, if you sleep in my bed from now" his smile is wolfish and nasty, eyeing you the same way a starving dog would look at a defenseless chicken, it makes you question your flirting tactics from earlier, but you won't let him win.

"Well, you are right, I never said you needed to bring the groceries here" quickly you snatch the money from the table, getting up and walking to the door as if he didn't say anything about sharing his bed "I shall take my leave and come back before lunch, have a good day, sir!"

The door opens and with a side glance, you take his coat from the hook on the wall, scurrying off before he can say or do anything about it, almost bolting through the factory into the main entrance, afraid he will catch up with you and send you out into the freezing weather with nothing to shield you from it.

The trek down into the Village is something terrible, the terrain is irregular and some of the cobblestone steps are loose, trying to make a mental note of anything that might make you trip on your way back becomes a game, occasionally kicking some of the stones away and praying that you might now slip and fall.

You only stop to look at the 4 statues located past the bridge, taking a bit to admire the enormous things, their rotten features that have been consumed by the elements, and the weather, there's a pedestal of some sort in the middle but nothing else, following the path you find yourself looking at the Duke, slowly dozing off sitting inside his cart and his merchandise im plain view. The sound of your boots against the floor and snow, alert him of your presence.

"Ah! but it isn't our lovely Y/N, did Lord Heisenberg sent you for something, or are you here to acquire something for yourself?" hes already rubbing his hands together looking at you with interest

"You know me so well! I do come to run some...errands...Heisenberg set me to find the seamstress and to get groceries, his entire kitchen is empty, also, to place an order for me!"

The man laughs at your expression filled with pride, trying to uncover what or how you managed to get out of the factory on your second day there, smiling approvingly at whatever trick you used. "Of course, of course! tell me more about your shopping needs and I shall have them covered in no time"

"Oh, I wanted to know if I could write you a list and come back for the groceries on my way back?"

"Whatever you might need, miss Y/N" He's quick into offering you a pen and notepad, remarking the importance of treating all his customers with great care, and prideful of his service.

It takes you a bit to write down everything the kitchen lacks off and placing the order for your tools, gloves, and boots your size, acting a bit selfish by asking him to get you soap. The Duke reassures you that he will have your order as soon as possible and your groceries packed by the time you come back.

"Before I leave, by any chance do you know where I can find the seamstress? Heisenberg sent me out and told me to ask around...the prick"

"I do, it's an easy trip just go through that door and walk until you see the Maiden of War, a statue of a woman with a sword, easy to see! from it go west into the village and look for a house with teal walls, or simply ask for Sabina's house, but be careful Y/N, the people there might not take kindly to your presence"

The Duke was right, as soon as you enter the village, people start to stare and talk in low voices as you walk past them, you can hear them call you "Lord Heisenberg's bride" which makes you scrunch up your nose, others are more concerned of your status as an outsider and the small group of people praising Mother Miranda for giving you a home in this place. At the mention of her name, you have to force down the taste of vile down your throat and keep on walking to Sabina's place.

The house is easy to spot in the sea of gloomy colors, the teal exterior pops like a sore thumb, it's clear the house has seen better days, but you are no one to comment on the current state of the place, limiting yourself to knock on the door and wait for a response.

Sabina is, probably, no older than you, but the expression lines and tiredness of her face make her look a lot older, as soon as she sees you, she ushers you inside, eyes glued to the floor and speaking softly...she's scared of you.

"I was asked by Lord Heisenberg to come, he told me..."

"YES! I...I was made aware of your need for clothes and something like an apron, I received a call from the Chruch and expected you a bit earlier, now im afraid this order might be too hurried" fear masked as anger, you know about that, that's the only thing you have felt lately "please strip down so I can properly measure you"

The woman moves quickly, retrieving her tape and something to write on, while you are shedding the coat, pants, and boots off, leaving only the shirt on.

When she comes back you see her grimace and reach out for the shirt, out of instinct you slap her hand away, the terror in her eyes growing and becoming a burden that makes her freeze in her spot, making you feel a bit of guilt for causing her to do that face. "...Im sorry, I don't feel comfortable with people seeing me in my underwear"

Sabina only nods, trembling hands reaching out to start the process of taking every measurement required to make your new clothes, taking a second you jolt down each number and asking you what kind of fabric you would like for the pants and shirts, if the apron will need pockets and how many, any special requirements she should be aware of.

"Cotton undershirts" you blur out, avoiding to look at Sabina "I...need undershirts that are of a soft material" unconsciously reaching to touch your left side, the woman seems to understand, adding the undershirts to the list.

"I will have everything in the next four days if that's ok with the Lady, if not, I could have it done by tomorrow morning"

"No...four days is ok, how much do I owe you?" you ask absent-mindedly, dressing quickly to avoid losing any more body heat.

Sabina, who was halfway through putting her take away, stops to look at you, an uncomfortable expression on her face followed by a forced smile "I'm just pleased to serve the Heisenberg house, my lady"

You begin to protest but Sabina starts to push you out of the door, talking over you loudly, repeating like crazy how honored she feels, and for you to have a nice day, slamming her door shut and leaving you confused out in the snow.

This time, people avoid you, ducking their heads down, bowling lightly, and muttering praises to have someone from the Heisenberg house come to the village, but all of them speak with reverence, terrified of your existence. Miranda made you feel like a thing and these people make you feel like if you could kill them where they stand any minute now, like you are above them and more important. It's disgusting.

"Did you had a good time with the villagers, miss Y/N?"

"No!? Duke, it was horrible, the way people looked at me like if I was either a God or the Devil himself, it gave me your creeps" you are so lost looking at the crates, sacks, and bags that you have to carry back, that you don't notice him twistedly smile at you "What is wrong with these people?"

"We all need to believe in something, this village, just happens to believe in the protection and love of Mother Miranda and her lords and ladies, divine beings on Earth, but you might be right, perhaps it's not a godly figure what they're chasing after, but the devil" this time you do see him smile, the jolly man from last night is gone, replaced by a being of mischief and secrets that makes your skin crawl.

Hurriedly you pick up everything and balance it all in your arms, finding a way to trust the bag full of lei into his waiting hands and bolt it back into the fabric, distantly hearing him laugh over the sound of your pounding heart.

You only stop right in the middle of all the four statues you saw that morning, uneasiness nestling inside you...just what is going here? what are the lords of this place and why is everyone so panicked by them? why would anyone feel love for a monster like Miranda?

Wondering, if you did the right thing by making a deal with Heisenberg, knowing, he might be the devil incarnate.

[liquidheartbeat]

She Didn’t Choose This Life: Flashback

Barry’s fork and knife clink loudly against his plate, as he scoots his chair backward, hands perched on his inflated abdomen. “God, I am stuffed,” he says, already regretting finishing off four T-bone steaks and all the rich, decadent sides that rounded off the meal. 

From across the table, the eyes of the woman responsible for his predicament widen, as she cuts into her barely-touched steak. “Oh, really?” Iris asks, chuckling.

“What?” Barry asks, tilting his body forward. 

“Well, we’ve been dating for almost a year and this is the first time I’ve ever seen you full. Like actually satiated.”

Barry chuckles as he nods, slight unease shooting through him. It’s a simple explanation, really, but he can’t tell her that being The Flash has increased his caloric requirements, because he hasn’t figured out how to tell her that he is the Flash.

And it’s not because he doesn’t want to, it’s because, everytime he scrounges up the courage, he finds out another unsavory secret about her lifestyle. 

When they first met, she’d introduced herself as an art buyer, but conveniently left out the part about also international money laundering. That discovery had come months later, in the dead of night, when she’d slipped out of the bedroom for a phone call with one of her partners but wasn't nearly as quiet as she’d thought.

Of course, that led him down a rabbit hole where he also found out about the tax fraud and other financial crimes that would put her away for life if she was ever caught. Crimes that, if committed by anyone else, he’d gladly help prosecute as a member of the police department. But she’s not anyone else, she’s Iris, the first woman he’s ever fallen completely, wholeheartedly in love with. 

And yes, her misdeeds probably should make him love her less, but his heart doesn’t abide by common sense. Even from across the table, as she hides a lifetime of secrets under her smile, he knows the same lips that lie to him about her whereabouts and the source of her wealth tell sweet truths to him in the middle of the night. About how much she loves him and needs him. 

The same hands that gleefully count dirty money, help massage away aches she doesn’t know the truth origins of at night. The same hands that consort with criminals bring his body to romantic peaks, over and over again. 

And the same eyes that stare into him before he leaves her apartment each morning, connect with his soul, and let him know her love is real. 

As real as his is. 

“Barr,” she says sweetly, as she dabs butter from the corner of her mouth. “Did you hear me?”

“Hmm?” He asks, snapped back to the present. 

“I said...I’m glad you enjoyed dinner, because it’ll probably be a few more months before I sweat out my hair to cook again,” she says as she stands to gather her half-empty plate and glass. 

Barry laughs, gathering his hands on the table as she walks over to the counter. “It’s a shame a cook as good as you hates it so much.”

Iris returns to the table, walking over to where he’s sat. “I don’t hate it, it’s just time consuming, and my jobs…”She pauses, playing off her flub with a smile, “I mean job ...is very demanding. Doesn’t leave much time to cook.”

Barry frowns, nodding slowly. Another lie, and an unnecessary one at that. But she doesn’t notice his disappointment as she gathers his empty plate and saucers. “If I wasn’t with you,” she continues as she walks his dishes to the sink,” I probably wouldn’t cook at all.”

His smile returns slowly -- a truth, however small, makes him feel special. “Oh, really?” 

“Pretty sure. But my man likes to eat,” she says with a smile as she turns towards him, “So I have to oblige him from time to time.”

“So you cook...just for me?”

“Duh.” As she nears him, she pushes her slightly frizzy hair behind her ears,.

“Well, what else are you willing to do just for me?” He asks, eyes sparkling with mischievous intent as she stands over him.

Iris rolls her eyes fondly. He’s so stinking cute, extra cute when he’s confident, but she doesn’t have time. Not tonight. 

After their dinner, she has another engagement with a potential business partner that could potentially double her income for the year. Of course, she can’t tell Barry that. He’s a sweet, by the book CSI, who definitely won’t take kindly to her extracurricular activities.  

Shaking her head fondly, she steps backward, but he catches her by the skin of her flowy cotton top and pulls her into his lap. “Barry,” she protests, but only for a moment because his hand shoots to the base of her head and guides her open mouth down towards him. 

For a skinny guy, he’s way stronger than his physical makeup should allow for. He effortlessly twists her legs around his waist, and pushes their bodies together. But she doesn’t question it. She embraces it, moaning harshly as he kneads her ass in his hands. 

They haven’t had sex in a few days, and not just because of her schedule. He works long -- sometimes odd -- hours. But she assumes it’s par for the course, for a CSI. And she’s this close to putting on a show for her kitchen appliances, especially as he slinks his fingers towards the seat of her cotton shorts, dipping one near her slit. But that little touch of pleasure snaps her back to reality. Dinner and a little makeout sesh is the only thing she can offer him tonight. 

“Barr,” she breathes, as she catches his hand. But he’s defiant as he curls his finger against her.“I can’t,” she whimpers. “Not tonight.”

“Why not?”

“I gotta...prepare for work tomorrow.”

He lets out a loud sigh, face wrinkling in dissatisfaction. It’s a look she's becoming increasingly familiar with, appearing any time she mentions work. 

It should strike her as odd, but doesn’t. “Oh, babe,” she says with a pout, as she runs a hand through his hair. “Don’t be mad, please.”

He sighs again. “I’m not mad. I’m…” Disappointed. Wish you would tell me the truth , “ he thinks, but he actually says: “Upset. You've been ‘working’ so much lately. And Friday nights are supposed to be our uninterrupted time.”

Iris pouts, hating when she disappoints him. Hating that she has to keep such a huge part of herself from him. Of all the men she’s ever dated, no one has ever made her feel as loved, as safe, as desirable as Barry Allen. 

And yet, she feels she doesn’t fully deserve the love he gives so easily. Love -- true love -- isn’t shrouded in secrecy and shadow lives. But what will he think of her if he finds out who she really is? 

Just cancelling an overnight date has him looking like she punctured his lungs, and she can barely stand it. Biting her lip, to quell the trembling, she brings her other hand up, and rests them on his shoulders. 

He’s so tight and fraught with tension, and her touch seems to intensify it. God, he’s really mad at her. She tilts her head, managing a soft smile as her hands move in tandem across his shoulder blade, increasing the pressure as she moves. His eyes flutter closed, defiantly, her hands attempting to squeeze the displeasure from his body. And then she leans down, pressing a soft kiss just underneath his earlobe. “I promise, I will make this up to you,” she says, softly, “Okay?”

She lifts her head up to meet his face, still rife with displeasure.

“When?”

“Tomorrow-- promise.” In actuality, she has another client meeting tomorrow, but it doesn’t have as much riding on it. And she can’t possibly stand to see Barry look at her like this twice in one week. So she’ll have to reschedule.

“Fine,” he agrees.

Iris smiles, and thumbs his chin, happy for the compromise. “Thank you, baby, for being so understanding. I’ll make it worth your while.”

"Any time with you is worth my while,” he says earnestly, his words nearly drawing tears to the surface of her eyes. 

But she sniffs, hoping to keep them at bay. She can’t close this deal if she’s an emotional mess. And then she smiles, offering him one last kiss for the night. 

Though the need in his return drags one kiss into four, five, and six kisses. At least until she manages to snap her neck backward and pry herself from his lap. 

As she stands, she fixes her clothes, which almost ended up in a pile on the floor. Her eyes catch the time on the clock and she realizes she has less than 25 minutes to get ready before her business meeting. 

“So,” she says, casually, “Do you want me to walk you down to the lobby?”

“No, that’s alright,” Barry says as he stands. “Unless you want me to beg you to change your mind in front of your neighbors.”

Iris laughs softly. “No, definitely not.”

Barry stills, taking in the sight of her. She projects an effortless beauty, even with no makeup, slightly frizzed hair and pajama shorts. He takes a step forward and leans down to kiss her on the cheek, knowing that if he aims for her lips, he might not be able to stop himself. 

And while he’s not happy she’s working on a Friday night, at least she’s cleared Saturday for them. She leans up into his kiss, softly palming his shoulders with her hands. When they part, she holds his gaze. 

Two beautiful, chestnut brown eyes looking up at him sweetly. “I love you,” she says softly. 

His response is effortless. “I love you too -- now, tomorrow. Forever and ever. 

She squeezes her hands together excitedly, and does a little sidestep. It’s an obvious attempt to make fun of his saccharine tone, but he doesn’t mind -- in fact, he welcomes it, shaking his head from side to side. 

“Anyway,” he says through a growing smile, “I’m going to head out, and let you handle your business.”

She nods. “Okay.”

“Just please... be careful. I don’t know what I’ll do if  something happens to you.”

His words are weighted with hard truths she doesn’t yet know he knows, yet his tone still uneases her. “What could possibly happen?” She asks, feigning obliviousness. “I have like the safest job in the world.”

He sighs, loud and hard, but goes forward with her charade anyway. “By the time you return from the museum, it’ll probably be really late. Dangerous. You have to be careful.”

“Oh,” she says, eyes widening. Of course, he thinks she’s going to the museum. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll be careful.”

“You are going to the museum, right?”

She pauses, just long enough for him to prepare for the lie to come.

“Uhh...yeah.”

His brows furrow as he crosses his arms across his chest. “Are you sure?”

She forces out a laugh, hoping to quell his rising concern. Because if she doesn’t get him out of here now, her entire evening will fold. 

“Yeah. I’m sure.” She smiles fluttering her eyelashes “Come on, honey. I gotta get ready.”

He takes a moment to contemplate whether or not to call out her obvious lie, but ultimately decides against it. “Okay,” he says. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

She smiles wider. “Bright and early,” she says, as she glances at the clock, growing wearier of his presence. 

“Yeah,” he deadpans, out of options. “Bright and early…”  

************************

  Five minutes later, Barry swivels absentmindedly in his office chair, chewing on the dead skin of his thumb. Caitlin, who’s been watching his skittish display, glances over to Cisco, who pretends he doesn't notice her pleading gaze. Eventually, he sighs and begrudgingly casts down the chain of sour straws he’s snacking on, and scoots forward. 

“Dude. Just go talk to your girlfriend," he replies, voice filled with disdain. 

Barry shoots him a warning glance, in no mood to deal with his best friend's judgement over his choice of partner.  “Don’t.”

“Fine.” Cisco throws his hands up. “Then do...that...all night. But I’m going home.”

Barry sighs. When it comes to his relationship, talking to Cisco is like talking to a brick wall. He turns to Caitlin, hoping his other best friend can offer some advice.” Caitlin stews in silence a moment, carefully gathering her words. The things Barry uncovered about Iris are damning, and a stark contrast to the straight-laced businesswoman persona she presents outwardly. But she’s also seen the way Iris looks at him, those rare moments they all hang out, like he hung the moon just for her with his bare hands. 

Yet, still, she has to ask:  “Do you think she could be seeing someone else?” Her words are careful, knowing how touchy of a subject this is.

Barry huffs. Almost offensively. “No.” At least he hopes. “But she’s definitely still lying about her plans for tonight. Probably another dirty deal she doesn’t want me finding out about.”

Unable to resist, Cisco presses a hand into his chest. “Iris West? A LIAR?” He gasps.  “You don’t say.”

Barry shoots up from his chair, a second away from lunging at Cisco but Caitlin blocks him with her body. “Cisco. Please,” she scolds him backwards, gently pushing Barry in the chest.

That seems to calm him, as he flops back into his seat with a sigh. But Cisco pushes forward.

“Cool it, Cait. Alright. I’m not the one who’s leading on our best friend -- she is.”

“She’s not leading me on!” Barry yells, scooting to the edge of the chair. “She’s just…”

“...Not just an art dealer,  apparently, not in good standing with the IRS -- or at least she won’t be--and in no danger of becoming a Girl Scout troop leader. Or a nun either,” Cisco retorts.

Barry shrugs, unphased by his recounting of events. “So she’s not perfect. But I have my own secrets. “

“Yeah. You’re the Flash, but, she's a criminal, who lies to you constantly. About what she does, where she goes. How many times, since you found out, have you had to save her from the trouble she’s gotten into?”

Barry sighs; he’s almost lost count of the number of times Flash has scooped Iris from the pits of danger, during a business deal gone bad. Shadowy figures, unrelated to her business dealings, looming in dark alleys after she’s left some abandoned building, scorned men whose pockets she’d bled dry, but who couldn't pursue legal action due to their own dirty dealings, who took things into their own hand. 

One by one, he’d laid out anyone who crossed her path and had the audacity to even breathe at her wrong, which all amounted to silent acknowledgement between her and Flash. Because she damn sure hadn’t told him -- Barry Allen -- about these chance meetings. 

Another reason he had to be cautious around her. She held her cards too close to her chest. 

Cisco takes in a sharp breath. “I just want better for you man. You deserve someone who doesn’t lie to you.”

Barry holds Cisco’s gaze. “She might be a liar, but when she tells me she loves me, it’s not a lie. And because of that, I can’t just throw away our relationship -- we can get past this. I know it.”

Cisco rolls his eyes and twirls his hair round and round his finger. “Whatever.”

Caitlin, who’s grown tired of Cisco’s negativity, faces him. “If you’re not going to offer Barry any understanding, you should probably excuse yourself.”

“Fine,” he says as he shoots up, “’I‘ll go.” But when Barry finds out something else about Iris that he can't handle, I can’t be the person he vents to anymore. ” He pauses and turns towards his friend, who’s struggling to bite his tongue. “It hurts to see you like this, man.”

With that, Cisco makes his exit, leaving just Barry and Caitlin in the room. Awkward silence fills the space he leaves, as those little stubborn nuggets of rationale, in between Cisco’s snark, tries to penetrate his brain. 

Slowly he looks up at Caitlin, a fervent lea in his eyes. “What do you think I should do?”

“I think you and Iris need to have a talk. A long talk, about what you know about her. How dangerous this game she’s playing is. But most importantly, what you need from her, going forward if you’re going to work, romantically. Which I imagine is total transparency.”

Barry nods slowly, taking in her advice. These are things he already knows he’ll eventually have to do, but he still still isn’t ready, He doesn’t know how Iris will take him knowing the truth about her, and he’s not ready to deal with any potential fallout.  “You're right,” he says, the only answer he can scrounge up. “I wish you weren't, but you are.”

Caitlin tilts her head sympathetically, unspoken words fighting to be free. 

“What?” “

  “You….also... need to tell her you’re the Flash. I know, you have reservations. But if you’re willing to stay with her, through all she’s doing, she deserves to know who you are as well.”

Barry sighs, letting his head fall into his hands. There’s a universe of lies between them, and he worries their relationship is too new to handle such added weight. But he can’t continue to live like this, and can’t let her continue to live like this. They’re either going to be together, without secrets, or...He pauses, unable to let the rest of the sentence form in his head, then shoots up. “Okay. I’m going,”  he says, finally. “I’m going to go talk to her.”

“Goo-,” Caitlin starts, but he’s gone in a flash of lightning, before she can finish her statement.

  ************************

Iris steps out of her bathroom, with barely a minute to spare before Randolf Helming, the owner of the Helming Hotel chain arrives. He’s looking to cut his tax bill in half, by funneling some of his cash into a few high end art pieces, and he thinks Iris can assist him. What he doesn’t know is that the pieces she’s going to sell him are forgeries that only 1/10 art experts can spot. So she’ll pocket his commission for her time and also the value of the real paintings she’ll sell again to an unsuspecting schulub, later in the year.

Probably to some secluded older gentlemen, who buys art for social prestige, thousands of miles away in Prague or Berlin.

A hefty journey to travel, but a necessary trip if she’s going to do better at covering her tracks. Over the past few months, some of her old dealings have started to catch up to her, and she’s had more than her fair share of brush ups. 

Oddly, though also fortunately, enough, she was saved each time by Central City’s guardian angel: The Flash. Though, at this point, it almost felt like he was her own personal angel, always seeming to be in the right place when she was in the wrong place.

She’d think it strange if not for the multitudes of people he saves everyday. 

As she makes her way into the living room, she takes one last look at her appearance in the big mirror hanging over her fireplace. Her previously frizzed hair has been tamed into a low pony-tail, and her face has been painted with a light dusting of makeup. But it’s her attire, a chic red, high-waisted skirt and black fitted blazer blazer that's sure to wow any potential business partner. 

A knock at the door pulls Iris away from her thoughts. She pulls at her skirt, not wanting to give Randolf the wrong idea -- she might be dressed to the nines, but this is not a romantic engagement; she has to work to do-- then waltzes over to the door. 

“Mr. Helming “ Iris says warmly, as she opens the door. “I’m glad you could make it.” 

The silver haired man, who hovers around around 5’10 and is dressed in a light gray suit, lets his eyes travel unabashedly down Iris’s body before he greets her. “It is my pleasure, Ms. West.”

He takes a huge step into the apartment, nearly brushing his body against hers. Uncomfortable with the closeness, Iris steps backward, letting out a nervous chuckle. She doesn’t usually entertain her clients -- legitimate or otherwise -- in her home, but she figures that someone as high profile as Mr. Helming has too much to lose to act out of turn.

Still, the hairs on the back of her neck stand at attention as her attempt to create distance does nothing to soften his gaze. “Well,” she says, running her hand over her hair, “Let’s get down to business, shall we?”

“Oh, yes,” he mimics, seemingly remembering the reason for his visit. “Business. Lets.”

Iris smiles politely and steps aside to give him ample room to enter further. He strides past her, and heads for the couch, taking in the sight of her place as he walks. “Wow. The art world has treated you quite, well, huh?”

Returning from closing the door, Iris walks over, proudly. “Yeah, I guess you can say that."

At the couch, Randolph takes a seat in the middle of her cream colored sofa, and spreads both arms across the back. Iris, who was gearing up to take a seat next to him, pivots and takes a seat in the black recliner sitting adjacent to the couch. 

He frowns and scoots his body towards the end nearest to the chair, seemingly oblivious to her discomfort.  

“So. I hear you’re trying to lessen your tax burden,” Iris says, diving straight into business."

“Yeah.” He crosses one leg over the other. “My hotels are doing well. But as it goes, I owe the government 10s of millions this year in taxes and so I need a tax write off. And a big one.”

Iris smiles. “Well, you’ve come to the right place. I just so happen to have a direct connection to the Murdock Estate, who handles affairs for the late oil painter, M.N. Murdoch. They’re looking to unload a couple of pieces for the right buyer.”

“And when you say right…”

“Well, aside from the assets to afford the seven figure price tag, they’re deadset on selling it to an astute businessman -- someone who understands the value of fine art.” But who can’t tell a forgery from a real pieces.

He nods, pleased with her response. “Well, let’s see these paintings.”

Iris pulls her phone from her pocket, and opens up the PGN files of the paintings, still on display at the Central City Art Museum and hands it over to Mr. Helming. He takes the phone, finger sliding haphazardly across the screen, sending him back to her home screen. 

“Oops,” he chuckles.  I clicked off of the screen. Can you fix it?”

“Of course.” Iris reaches for the phone. As he releases it, his fingers graze over hers, sending a wicked chill through her. 

His skin is somehow cool, yet sweaty at the same time. Iris draws her fingers in awkwardly as she retrieves the phone and reset the screen. From the corner of her eyes, she sees him wipe his palms on his pants leg. Her return is smoother; managing to hand over the phone without making skin to skin contact. 

Randolf takes a moment to look over the pieces, genuine contemplation painting his face. His concentration on the task at hand eases her growing anxiety a tad, though the silence that settles over the room still tickles her nerves.

She glances over to the table, where the unfinished bottle of wine she and Barry had for dinner sits, and her mouth nearly waters for a glass. But she doesn’t drink while doing business -- at least not this kind.

When she looks back over to Randolf, he’s done with her phone and also eyeing the wine. “I could go for a glass, myself,” he says over a prickly laugh. 

Iris opens her mouth to respond, then realizing no words are coming out, pushes out a choked response. “Right.  Of course. Is Merlot okay?”

He nods. “That’s just fine. Though, if you have something a little stronger, I wouldn't object.”

"No,” she says quickly. “Just the Merlot -- I’m not much of a drinker.” She stands and smoothes down her skirt, and walks across her living room, towards the kitchen. 

Iris had already cleaned up from dinner, so she goes to the cabinet to retrieve two wine glasses. Even though she doesn't drink on the job, she has to at least pretend to indulge him if she wants to close the deal. 

Glasses in hand, she turns for the island and lets out a loud shriek when she notices Randolf is standing just feet away, at the other side. “Sorry. I didn’t hear you walk over,” she quickly offers towards his slightly offended expression. 

“Oh.” He relaxes some. “I am quite light on my feet -- blame my wife.”

Iris quirks a curious brow. “Your wife?”

“Ballroom dancing,” he says, settling his weight over the island. “She makes us go once a week. On my one off day too.” 

She smiles politely. “That is very sweet. I’m sure you two have a lot of fun.” Feeling more comfortable at the mention of his wife, Iris walks past him towards the table where the wine is sitting. 

His shoes scuff her floor as he turns, a sound that easily penetrates her eardrums. Iris turns just in time to see his outstretched arm, reaching for her. She  pulls away right before he lands and steps backward. He presses forward, trapping her between him and the table. 

“What are you doing?” She asks, now on high alert. 

He sighs harshly, his body drooping from the aggravation as his face contorts into a frown. “Oh come on; surely, you know how this works, Iris.”

“How what works?”

“I could get art from any buyers in the city. Men much more accomplished than you. If I came to you, it’s because of an added incentive.”

“Which is?” 

“ You.” He tries to press his body into hers, but Iris pushes him in the chest. He stumbles, but only barely, as Iris rushes to the other side of the table, grabbing the half-empty bottle of wine as a weapon.  “Get out. NOW,” she commands voice loud and firm. 

Much firmer than her nerves on the inside. There’s no way she can overpower him, physically. And this high up, no one will hear her screams from her penthouse. 

“Or what?” He asks, casually rounding the table, completely unphased. 

“Or I will bash your fucking skull in.”

She raises the bottle higher, hoping to appear more threatening. He chuckles, nearly spits at her attempt. “Oh, you’re not going to hit me. Not if you want to keep doing business in this town. Remember, I have a lot of rich friends. One word from me, and you’re toast.”

“Excuse me?” She asks, overcome with offense at his audacity. 

 “You heard me!” Randolf yells as thrusts himself towards her, and tackles her to the ground.  

The bottle of wine falls from her hand, shattering into a million pieces on the floor around them. He tries to kiss her and Iris squirms underneath him, fighting to free from his grip, shards of glass digging into her exposed flesh. She yells, the stinging pain piercing all her nerves.

 “Shut up!” He yells, wedging his leg between hers as he plants a firm hand round her neck. 

Iris freezes, pinned in place, chest heaving up and down as his tar-black eyes singe a hole through her.

“There.” His smile is dark and haunting. “This isn’t so bad is it?” 

Unwilling to let the last sight of her be a disheveled, powerless woman, Iris spits clean on his face. His hand shoots to the spot in disbelief, face as red as the blood trickling from the wounds on her leg, “Oh, you’ve done it now!” He yells, drawing his hand backward.  Iris presses her eyes shut, preparing for the blow. But where she should feel stinging pain, possibly a broken nose, she only feels a gust of wind and the relief of Randolf’s body no longer being on top of hers. 

The crash that follows is deafening as the force propels Randolf into her walls. And that’s when she sees a red blur, wrapped up in blazing lightning, delivering the final blow that knocks Randolf clean out. 

His limp body falls to the floor, his skull cracking against the luxury vinyl tile that covers her kitchen floors. The masked hero, who she now registers as The Flash, comes into focus. She watches him watch look over Randolf's unmoving body, making no effort to check on him.

Iris uses her depleted strength to stumble upward, grunting as fresh shards of glass pierce her hands. She lets out a guttural cry, nearly tumbling over from the pain. 

From the shock. From the devastation. 

He runs over and catches her, letting her body crash into his soft, open arms. She can’t even scrounge up the energy to wonder how or why The Flash has yet again saved her from herself. She’s completely overwhelmed at the fact that this night couldn't have ended so much worse.

And then come the tears, a ravenous stream down her face. Iris presses her hand into face, to block the sight of her 

“Oh, God. Are you bleeding?” Asks the masked man in panicked frenzy, though his voice unmasks him immediately.

Slowly, Iris raises her head, every odd encounter with the Flash she’s had over the past few months settling into place like a finally-finished puzzle. All the she time she almost met her demise, but didn't. 

He looks at her, fear coursing, over the lingering anger in his eyes, but that voice is unmistakable. It’s the same voice that awkwardly asked her out nearly a year ago, and grew giddy when she agreed. The same voice that’s crooned sweet “I love you’s” in her ear since that first night he nervously admitted it, over frozen yogurt.

“B-” Her throat is dry and ragged. “Barry?” She pushes out. 

With a sigh, he tears his cowl off, revealing fully the face of the man she loves more than she knew was possible. His cheeks are bloodshot red, his eyes puffy, and glossy, a clear sign his own tears will soon spill forth. 

“Oh, Iris,” he groans, sweeping her up into his arms. 

Now knowing this masked hero is the man she loves, has been the man she loves, she melts further into his chest, every bit of hesitation to maintain an air of control falling away. She cries, shamelessly, unabashedly, into his chest as he rocks her. 

She has a thousand questions, and knows he does too, but she can’t scrounge up a single one, only caring that he’s here now. That he’s saved her. Again. 

As Iris goes silent, Barry’s mind races a thousand miles a minute. He’d taken Caitlin’s advice and headed here to talk to her about her lies, never imagining the scene he’d walk in on. He can’t think straight, can’t even worry about his former objective, he’s only grateful that he got here in time before…

“Fuck!” Yells. Iris jumps against his chest, but he’s unperturbed. “You could’ve. He could’ve…” He continues, trying to push past the ugliness these sentences conjures in his brain, but the defeated shame on her face stops him. 

He kisses her cheek, and stands, lifting her in his arms, bridal style, though the apartment is devoid of the the joy of a burgeoning marriage. The air is heavy, as heavy as both their hearts, as her body in his arms. Yet he soldiers on, through the resistance. When he arrives at her bedroom, he kicks the door open with one foot and carries her over to the bed, covered in the black, floral comforter he’d bought her as a gift early in their relationship. 

Before he knew of the lies and deceit.

As her raw skin makes contact with the bed, she hisses in discomfort. “I’m sorry!” he’s quick to say, swiping a comforting hand over her head. 

“It’s okay, Barr,” she croaks Her voice is thin, barely meeting the air. She's afraid to bring up the obvious, knowing now that the sweet, gentle man she’s been getting to know over the last year is The Flash. A masked hero, a force of nature, keeping the city from descending into anarchy. But she has to express her gratitude somehow. “Thank you.”

He swipes a gentle hand down the side of her face, lingering on her beauty, then leans down, planting a soft kiss on the side of her face. “You don’t have to thank me,” he says, as her straightens his posture. “Now, I’ll be back.” He turns away from her and heads to the bedroom door. 

Iris sits up on the bed. “Where are you going?” 

“To see if that asshole is still breathing. Hopefully, he’s not. But if he is, I have to drop him off at Iron Heights.”

His response is dry, matter-of-fact, and it sends a tingle down her spine. “But. You can’t. He’ll talk.”

“It’s okay.” Barry continues to walk away from her. “He didn’t see my face.”

“But. Still. I don’t think jail is the right path for him.”

She isn’t saying what she wants, and he knows it. But he’s too amped up to care. “So I’m supposed to let the man who almost raped my girlfriend go free?! Is that what you want?”

“No. I…”she sighs, long and hard. “I just…”

He turns, the painful implication settling inside of him. Even after all of this, she’s worried about her dirty business deals. “What? You’re worried that the police will find out what you’ve really been doing all this time? How can you afford to live like this?” He motions around the apartment. 

Iris gulps, the judgement in his tone hurting more than the gashes on her legs. 

“Well, newsflash: the police -- me, I -- know, and have known for months. And what you’re doing, honestly? You deserve to be in jail.”

“Well why didn’t you say anything?” She croaks. “Why haven’t you turned me in?”

He chuckles, offensively. “Because...I love you more than your mistakes. And I was trying to give you time to either stop this or be honest with me.” He shrugs, painfully. “Guess it’s too late for that.”

“Barr, I’m sorry. I--.” She sighs, letting her head fall forward in shame. “ I’m sorry.”

Barry sighs. “Yeah. Me too.” He casts one final look of disappointment over her, one that softens ever so slightly when she raises her head and he meets her sad, concerned eyes. “Look, we can talk about all of this later. All that matters right now is that you're safe."

Iris nods meekly.

"I’ll be back in a sec to help clean you up,” he says, before flashing away, leaving her alone in the room....