#do things really have to get worse before getting better

[dyingswanpavlova]

"Your girl" - Part 1 | The Salesman x Reader

Summary: After getting attacked at the train station, you get rescued by a mysterious stranger. But is that really better?

Warnings: dead dove do not eat, kidnapping, attempted rape, violence, murder, hints of blood and gore, trauma talk

He was a twisted motherfucker. And you knew it was your own fault you ended up in his claws. But how could you have possibly known? After all, at first he seemed like the good guy.

Looking back, it was entirely lost on you, how he managed to pull that off.

You remembered vividly how it felt when you sat on the cold bench in the waiting area of the underground train station, just like you did every evening of your life. Except for Sundays. Sundays were reserved for books and tv shows, to numb out your mind. Sundays were for you.

Your thoughts had been occupied with work and the feeling of your lower body slowly freezing off.

UTI, honey. You'll get UTI, if you sit on cold surfaces for too long. Your mothers voice took up a lot of space in your head, despite the fact that the last time you saw her was years ago. It still made you feel uneasy, but there was not much you could do. She was your mother, your inner voice, your compass. The part of your mind that still relied on her advice didn't know that she was long gone from your life and for a reason.

The first thing you noticed was a pair of cold hands reaching for you. Everything seemed to be cold that day. And God, you hated the cold.

His cold hands reached for you and before you even realized it, he had you pinned against the bench, trapped in-between him and the cold surface. You didn't have time to react at all. His one cold hand went up to cover your mouth, while his other cold hand cupped your breast through the fabric of your clothes.

Of course you struggled. It was a reflex. You tried to fight him off as soon as you realized what was going on. You struggled and squirmed, at some point you even tried to knee him in the crotch. But he straddled your waist, keeping you down with his weight and you knew where this was leading.

You hadn't even seen his face. His ugly ass blue hat with the dove on top was pulled down deep in his face and you couldn't make out his eyes. Not that it would have changed anything, but it made everything even worse for you.

But what was by far the worst thing, wasn't the cold. It wasn't even the fact that the station was empty except for the two of you. The worst thing was that no sound came out when you opened your mouth to scream. No sound at all.

Oh, how you had feared that. The dream came often, frequently even and it was a shitty feeling every time, wanting to scream but no sound came out. Your throat was tight, your tongue useless, your lips parted in a silent plea.

No.

This was the end, you were sure.

He'd violate you and if you were lucky, he'd leave you like that, on the cold bench, to fend for yourself. But that wasn't your biggest fear. Your biggest fear was what would happen if he didn't decide to leave you like that.

Maybe it'd be quick. A blade to your throat and within a few minutes everything would finally be over.

But what if not?

A knot built in your stomach as you saw your future right infront of you. Sold off to some twisted people, spending the rest of your life as a tool for someone else's pleasure, someones amusement, someones-

No, being violated wasn't your worst fear.

Being sold off was.

At some point people would believe you were dead and then they'd stop searching.

Tears streamed down your face and your body shook with suppressed sobs as he ripped at your shirt impatiently. Your lips parted in another desperate plea, but still, no sound.

You were done for. This was your end. You couldn't breathe.

Until, suddenly, you could again.

You let out a shuddery gasp when you felt his weight lift off of you. You were frozen solid after you backed away against the wall.

The man appeared out of nowhere, looking like someone from a novel or a movie.

His hair, which looked like it was normally slicked back neatly, hung into his face as he dragged the man off you, his expression twisted into something you couldn't read.

You took a deep breath. In. And out. In. And out.

You were safe. The police would come, the man would get arrested and he wouldn't ever touch you again. You would finally see his eyes and-

Oh God.

You winced outwardly when you heard the cracking sound and the man with the blue hat went limp in his arms. His unreadable expression turned into something resembling smugness.

You watched in horror as he tossed the lifeless body onto the train line. The train came on time. Of course it did. Punctuality was a good deed, especially here in South Korea.

What you witnessed then was probably the most gruesome scene of your life and you immediately knew you would never get that picture out of your head.

The sound of a gunshot forced you back to reality and you winced painfully. When you looked up, you saw him still pointing his gun at the security camera in the left corner of the area. On his face a subtle smile. The twisted smile of an avenging angel...or an obvious demon.

He pushed the gun back beneath his waistline and held out his hand to you.

The man who had almost destroyed your life was dead, scattered across the train station in blood and gore and the man who would undoubtedly destroy your life held out his hand to you.

You heard your mothers voice again, small and subtle.

Don't take his hand, honey. Something's most definitely wrong with him. I bet he's dangerous.

That was what made you take his hand in the end. However bad he was, he couldn't possibly be worse than her, could he?

A few minutes later, he made a point of passing about every car on the highway.

"Where do you live?" His voice was like silk. It was terrifying.

After what had happened, you felt like you had stopped breathing for a while and just now were you slowly getting back to it again.

No ins and outs. Straight up hyperventilating.

"I- I don't know." You gasped out truthfully.

He cocked a brow and briefly glanced at you from the drivers seat.

"You don't know?"

You frantically shook your head.

"I always take the same path. From the train station, take a turn left and- and-"

"Where are you from, sweet girl?" His voice sounded so calm, as sweet as honey. It was almost offensive, it was infuriating.

"Yorkshire." You whispered without missing a beat.

He hummed softly and briefly eyed you up and down. "England, hm? I should have recognized from your grace and beauty."

Was he fucking flirting with you? After he just...just murdered someone?

"What takes you to South Korea then? School? Uni?"

"Work." You murmured, not even recognizing your own voice. But at least by now it was back. Fucking betrayed by your own body, wonderful.

He raised his brows as he passed another car in a nerve-wrecking speed.

"Work? You look a little young to be that far from home, working here. Do you even speak the language?"

You subtly shook your head and he nodded.

"I work with...with computers." You mumbled absentmindedly. In your head, the scene from earlier kept repeating like a broken record. All that blood...

He hummed again. An odd sound. He radiated such a calm energy, it was truly confusing.

"You were awfully quiet earlier." He remarked.

You swallowed back the lump in your throat and looked out of the window.

"Ah. Sore spot. I get it."

At first you had thought he might be taking you to the police station. But then you realized; after he just butchered someone down without flinching? Probably not.

Still, you had hope. That was until you saw the city sign disappear in the rear view mirror. This wasn't good. Maybe for once you should have listened to your mothers voice.

"Where are you taking me?" You asked quietly.

He didn't respond, just kept his gaze firmly on the highway before you. You kept glancing at him for a while, before eventually you looked down at your hands. You hadn't even realized how much they were shaking. You wanted to ask many, many questions.

Who the hell are you?

Where are we going?

Why did you kill that man?

...Am I next?

But all you managed was a quiet, desperate exhale.

"Are you hungry?" He asked matter-of-factly.

You thought back to the massacre and immediately felt nauseous again, so you shook your head.

"Yes, you are. You need to keep your strength. Don't worry, sweet girl. We'll be home soon. I'll take good care of you."

The cold sweat that broke out on your body was nearly painful. You knew he wasn't normal, but you couldn't yet tell to which extent he was crazy.

Was he just a little twisted?

He was a killer after all. And now you were with him. In his car. Maybe, just maybe you could...

You glanced down at the doorhandle, when his calm voice made you jump.

"Don't even think about it, sweet girl. That won't work. I'm driving so fast, the second your body hits the pavement, your head will explode like a balloon."

The was that tightness in your throat again. But this time something was different. He had his hands on the steering wheel, not on you. You could still breathe.

Suddenly you saw yourself again, sold off. And damn it, suddenly exploding didn't sound so bad anymore.

You furiously tugged on the door handle, but it didn't work. It was locked. You kept trying it desperately, a soft passing your lips. After a few moments you realized it was pointless.

Slowly you tilted your face back towards him, only to realize he was already watching you. He was still smiling that subtle, not at all genuine, smile, but this time something was different. It was like a cold fury had taken possession of his eyes.

Maybe he wasn't a demon. Maybe he was the devil.

"That one was free. Because we don't know each other all too well yet." He said slowly. "But next time, I won't be so forgiving."

You looked back at the street ahead of you. And suddenly you realized something. Maybe he was worse than your mother.

God, what a terrifying thought.

About half an hour later, there you were. Home.

A great apartment complex, somewhere God knows where.

Suddenly it hit you. He hadn't covered your eyes. Not in the car, not infront of the house, not in the elevator.

You weren't leaving this place, at least not alive.

He led you inside one of the apartments. To your surprise, everything looked pretty normal, except for the part that it looked fairly expensive.

The walls were painted in a warm apricot color and the floor was made of dark wood.

He led you deeper inside and you realized, it was indeed a normal flat. The couch was made of black leather and there was a giant bookshelf, next to a big tv. For some reason the sight of the bookshelf brought you an odd sense of comfort.

How bad could a person be, if he was well-read?

Your mind soon wandered off to Hannibal Lecter and you dismissed the thought.

"Sit."

You sat down on the couch as instructed. All the while you were careful to keep your shoes off the cream colored carpet so you wouldn't get it dirty. It was odd how your mind worked.

He followed your gaze, his expression unreadable again.

Then he crouched down before you, so you were eye level with him. His eyes were of a pretty brown and soulless to the core. You shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. He sized you up for a while, until eventually he sighed. An exaggerated, mocking sound.

"How do you like it here?"

Your insides twisted.

"It's pretty." You said in a choked whisper.

He laughed, a hearty, yet sarcastic sound.

"Look at you. Just look at you. Being my good girl already." He said slowly.

He leaned in so close that his breath tickled your ear. You forced yourself to stay still.

"The door can be opened only by me. The same goes for all windows. All the walls are soundproof. There's no way you can get out, until I want you to. Do you understand?" For the first time, his voice was low and you could grasp the subtle threat. He didn't pretend to be cheerful for once.

Or was it truly pretense?

You forced yourself to nod.

And just like that, his twisted smirk was back.

"Very well." He swiftly stood up. "What would you like for dinner?"

You slowly tilted up your head to read his expression. Read his intention. Read his character or the lack of it. But there was nothing. Nothing for you understandable, nothing that made any kind of sense.

"I'm not hungry." You whispered.

He pretended to pout, but eventually held out his hand to you again. A bittersweet deja-vu. As much as you wanted to refrain from taking it this time, you were far more afraid of what would happen if you refused him.

You hesitantly took his hand and he pulled you up to your feet.

"Maybe a nice, hot shower then?" He purred.

Of course. This time, it wouldn't be a faceless man with a blue hat to violate you, it would be him. The devil himself. You could already feel it, smell it and taste it. In the shower, on the bed, the kitchen counter, the floor and against the wall, until he grew tired of you.

That was why you were there. That had to be.

Before you could react, he had led you back to a spacious bathroom. Everything looked ridiculously clean and expensive. The freestanding tub was sparkling and the fluffy towels begging to dry you off.

He'd bend you over the tub. Maybe push your head under water. You knew he would. Just a minute more.

Instead, he gently ushered you inside.

"I'll get you something clean to sleep in." He said matter-of-factly. "I'll leave it infront of the door. Take as much time as you need."

With that, he disappeared and closed the door behind him. Your eyes widened almost comically. You then rushed forward to lock the door, which worked with ease. Next, the window. You tugged on the handle, desperate to open it. Not that it would have made any sense, you were too high above the street. But the thought of opening the window still filled you with hope. Like maybe, at least there would be one way out.

When nothing worked, you tried to break the glass. But you quickly noticed it was no normal glass. He hadn't lied. The windows provided no way out.

You slumped down below the sink and cried for a while. To no great surprise of yours, your tears ran dry quickly and you just sat in silence for a while.

You were trapped.

And you had no idea what you were here for.

After what felt like half an hour, you got up with shaky legs and decided to check if the door was truly locked. It was. You unlocked it and perked your head out, only to realize he had left you a bathrobe outside, as well as slippers and a nightdress. It was pretty basic, made of cotton. But it wasn't revealing or anything. The thought was oddly comforting. You picked up the clothes and disappeared back into the room, where you locked the door and sighed.

Your eyes settled on the tub and you thought, why the hell not?

You made quick process of it. You got rid of your sweat-soaked clothes and stepped into the tub. The water filled up the tub rather quickly. At least the warmth of it provided some kind of comfort. You poured some scented lavender oil in and sunk deeper down.

You didn't dare close your eyes though. You were still sure he would come and take what he wanted. Mayhe he just wanted you to be clean first? He would come. He surely would.

But he didn't. Minutes passed, another half an hour. And he didn't come. You rinsed off and stepped out of the tub. The giant, fluffy towels felt heavenly against your skin. It was almost like you were in a hotel. Except for the murder and abduction part.

You slipped into the nightdress and the slippers and towel dried your long hair. Then you folded the towel neatly and placed it on the radiator. After a few long, deep breaths you carefully stepped outside. The cold air brought you back to reality as you followed back the same path he had led you earlier. You were surprised to find the living room empty, but you heard rustling sounds from the kitchen.

And then your gaze settled on the door.

It were less than five steps. You could make it. You could. If you were quick and took off the slippers, you could stealthily...

"Sweet girl?" That fake sweetness again, with the hint of underlying warning to it. You swallowed thickly and looked up. He stood in the doorway and looked at you with something resembling a warm smile.

"How was your bath?"

You stood frozen. Five small steps. If you thudded against the door loud enough, maybe someone might hear. Alert the police. Rescue-

"I asked you a question."

"Good." You whispered. And involuntarily added: "Thank you."

Good girl, purred your mothers voice.

But all he did was smile.

"Come, I made dinner. Just a few bites."

Your mind drifted back to Hannibal Lecter and you nearly spat. A careful glance into the kitchen and...

Pancakes. You gasped in relief.

He tilted his head to the side, smiling softly.

"You don't like pancakes?"

"I do." You whispered involuntarily.

They might be poisoned, but the fact that you hadn't eaten anything since lunch at work got the better of you. He slowly guided you into the kitchen and sat you down on one of the chairs, before he sat down opposite you.

He caught you staring down at the food suspiciously, which made him chuckle.

"They're not poisoned."

When you still didn't move, he rolled his eyes and took a bite off your fork. He chewed and swallowed with a smug expression.

"See?"

You reluctantly moved. They weren't bad. Pretty good even. You chewed carefully and never took your eyes off him. He did the same. And he still looked so unbelievably calm.

After you finished eating and downed a glass of water, you stared at him...expectantly.

His smirk widened.

"A curious little bird, aren't you?"

He narrowed his eyes somewhat and reached out to touch your cheek. "You cried."

To your surprise, when you flinched, he pulled his hand back and hummed softly.

"No need to cry, sweet girl. I'll take care of you. All you have to do is agree."

You already regretted asking. "Agree to what?"

He leaned back and bared his teeth in a predatory smile.

"Being mine."

Your brows furrowed in confusion and straight up stress. The calming effects of the bath were slowly fading away.

"What?"

"Mine, sweet girl. My girl."

"Your girl?" You asked somewhat incredulously, which was something he didn't seem to appreciate.

He reached out and cupped your face in his hand, his grip firm, but not painful. Yet. Your heart immediately skipped several beats.

"Oh, you will agree, sweet girl. The question is, will you agree willingly? Or do I have to make you?" He narrowed his eyes even further.

"Who are you, sweet girl?"

You stared up at him with wide, fearful eyes. Something told you that there was no right answer to that question.

And then, in a rare fit of courage, you said your name.

He took a long, deep breath and slowly dropped his hand from your chin.

"That's very tragic, sweet girl."

With a disapproving tsk he shook his head.

"Unfortunately, that was the wrong answer."

[drgnflyteabox]

a little continuation of this. john price x cashier fem!reader. verbal abuse, anxiety, yelling, hurt/comfort, price comes to your retail rescue<3<3 1.4k words

The only good part of a 5am wakeup is watching the sunrise slowly climb the sky.

There’s a quiet sort of tiredness that lets you appreciate it more — and though the lot associates have made a joke about the morning crew and their sunrise photos, there’s an element of truth there that’s both funny and a little beautiful.

It’s a drag to wait outside the doors for a manager to open them, trying not to make eye contact with the early-bird oldies and the impatient contractors who think they should just be allowed in before everyone else based on the amount of money they spend.

When the doors open and the 6am hardware warriors stroll in, ready and chipper, you’re half asleep leaning against your counter.

Another good thing about the early shift is the lack of uptight managers. None of them want to wake up before ten, so you’re safe to lean and lounge while waiting for customers.

A call comes through your earpiece after a few customers, nearing the cusp of 8am.

”Hey, we’ve got the guy coming your way,” your head cash – Lisa – says, voice crackling in the mic. The guy is a rude jerkoff, some contractor who thinks abusing staff is the way to get good service and better prices.

What’s worse is that your managers allow it. In fact, you get warnings like this all the time. The guy is here, the guy has a big order, make sure to cash him out fast or he’ll start shouting. Be pleasant. Smile.

The guy is walking down the store lumber aisle with a pinched expression on his face and two other employees dragging his stacked carts behind him.

You try to ignore his caustic vibes, thinking instead of the pink, purplish sunrise you’d seen earlier. Clouds like magic, cotton candy, floating above you 

You ignore the incessant tapping of his feet, the annoyed groan he makes when you lift a package of insulation up and find flat saw blades.

Sure, you can’t accuse him of stealing. But you can make a cheery, passive aggressive comment–

“Oops, I guess you forgot these!” you chirp, scanning them a little slower than necessary. It’s not mature, but it does make you feel a little better. Nice try, bozo.

Playing the idiot cashier helps with these types. Why are you mad, sir? I’m just a cashier? And though you could answer more questions than you do, you don’t. Playing the ditz makes life easy.

Lisa’s definitely judged you for it, but hey. She’s not stuck at the register like you are.

Sometimes, it works. You get a scowl, but they’ll go quiet. Sometimes.

Today, it backfires.

“Excuse me?” 

Oh here we go, you think. It’s way too early for this.

“What was that, sir?” you play dumb, voice squeaking.

“Are you accusing me of stealing?” his volume raises. You see redness crawling up his neck. Fuck.

“No, no, I only meant–” you try to backtrack. Fuck, fuck. This is the result of your hubris. Your reasoning flies out through the massive lumber area doors as his rage climbs.

“No? No? Because I think you just accused me of stealing. Do you understand how much I spend here, you moron?”

“I do, I didn’t mean to imply–”

“Get me a fucking manager, now,” he snaps. God, you have no clue if he acts like this to get his way, to get discounts, or if he’s really this angry half the time he comes in.

Regardless, the effect is real. You’ve never been good with anger, and you’re shaking a little as you press the call button on your pager.

“C-Can I please have a manager down to lumber cash?” you broadcast to the store.

All you can think of is looking away from his angry gaze while you wait. Oh, a bubble bath – you have an aloe and green tea bubble bath packet at home waiting for you.

Hot water. Bubble bath. Manager to fix this mess. Maybe a hot chocolate after work?

A couple minutes pass. Longest minutes of your life.

No answer. The guy taps his foot, sighing loudly, angrily. You try again.

“Can I please have a manager down to lumber cash?”

Oh fuck, is that someone else in line? You turn away bodily, speaking again into your mic. Trying to look like you’re doing something about the wait.

Another couple minutes. Despair washes over you like a cold blanket of snow.

“Need a manager at lumber cash,” you try.

Typical, really. Lisa is likely on break, and you have no idea who’s managing the store at the moment.

You imagine it’s likely Cody, who’s good with contractors like this because he's personable but he’s also lazy it almost cancels out. Also, he takes a smoke break every 5 minutes.

And never takes his pager.

“What the fuck is taking so long?” you hear behind you.

“I’m sorry,” you say, turning. “My manager is busy at the moment but–”

“Busy?” his voice is like a gunshot in the airy space, an absurd volume for the time.

“Yes–”

“Do you know–”

A third voice cuts in.

“Think you better learn a little patience, mate,” British?

Oh, shit. It’s that guy from before. He’s got one hip a little cocked, a frown on his face like he’s smelled something bad. His boonie hat is titled down, nearly covering his eyes. You can see them because you’re shorter than he is.

“Excuse me? And who are you? Mind your business,” the guy says.

“I think you’d better let the nice girl check me out while you wait,” he motions for you towards the parallel cash desk, and you’re grateful to just follow.

You scurry away from the guy faster than is appropriate, calling out again as you cross the open space towards the other cash desk for a manager.

You can only hope they arrive while you’re helping this one. John Price, you think his name was. He's a memorable man. Him and his moustache and his expensive company.

John Price has left the guy flabbergasted. He also has twice as many carts as him, and when your eyes widen to see them he just says take your time in a smooth, deep voice.

Oh man.

You do take your time, already calmer for John’s presence. Strange maybe to feel safe in the company of a stranger, a contractor no less, but it’s a nice change of pace.

Beep, beep. You scan methodically. John has no hidden items, and he doesn’t pressure you. He leans up against his lumber order and watches you check underneath things, under the cart, doing everything you’re trained to do.

“Start early?” he asks.

“Hm?” you lift your head. “Oh, yes. 6am.”

He whistles.

“Hard worker, I see,” he helps you lift a heavy bag of concrete.

“Thank you,” Marx look away, you think. Your face is only a little hot.

Cody strolls in the lumber doors missing his apron and – you guessed it – his pager. You fix him with a look as he smiles in greeting.

“Need a manager when you’re free,” you rush. Cody is nice, but you’re kinda miffed now.

“Oh, sure,” he says, walking by you toward the breakroom.

John Price raises a brow.

“Not everyone’s up to the task, eh?”

You feel hot again.

“It’s just early.”

John smiles. He looks remarkably silly doing it, you think. His facial hair makes him look approachable, cuddly. Like a teddy bear.

John’s order totals double the guy, which isn’t really a victory for you but it feels like one. Ha! See, you aren’t the richest guy here. You feel vindicated. Cody looks miserable cashing him out, which makes you just a little guilty.

“Will that be cash or card?” you ask, finger hovering on the POS.

He pays with card. You certainly do not notice how he cradles the machine. You aren’t that down bad.

Only you are, and his fingers are huge. His knuckles are hairy.

When you go to hand him the receipts, printed twice for record keeping, he manages to slip a 50 into your hand before you notice.

“Oh, no! I’m not allowed to–”

He folds those big bear paws over your hand, enclosing the cash in it with a sh sh sh as you protest.

“For the trouble,” he winks.

“You didn’t give me any trouble,” you try. The warmth of his palm, the roughness of his calluses. You’re a goner.

He chuckles, and you wonder how he can be both so intense and so disarming.

“You know what I mean, sweetheart,” he squeezes your hand, pushing it gently back towards you until you can put it in your apron pocket.

“Thank you,” you squeeze out.

“Don’t let him get to you,” he says.

“I’ll try,” you thank God or the universe or whoever that Cody and the guy finished a while ago.

“Attagirl.”

Yeah, you’re a goner.

[aliceinborderlandsquidgame]

We meet again | In-ho x Fem!Reader | PT4

Summary: It was only one night for fun, you never thought you would see him again. Even less in a place like this one.

P1 P2 P3

Warnings: S2 Spoilers - Canon violence - Pregnant!Reader - Non canon background for In-ho - Use of (Y/N) - Heavy Angst - Protective!In-ho - Panic!Reader - grammar mistakes -

"You must be joking" Were your first words after listening to Gi-hun's plan. "Do you even know how many guards are out there? Or how prepared they are?"

After another round of voting things had ended in a tie. Not much time after it a fight had occurred inside the men bathroom. Gi-hun had said how most likely the ones who voted circles would attack the X group during lights out.

And while it scared you to no end, specially for your dear baby, his plan was still something your mind could not get. If they had all the power to make so many peopel vanish and also kill them off like it was nothing...what chance did they had against them?

In-ho who knew very well how much that plan would fail (even if he was not inside the games) was only worried over you.

Since the talk during the last game he had got protective. He was by your side, making you be behind him and having a protective grio on your arm or hand.

The rest did notice but no one commented a thing, besides it would only make the athmosphere uncomfortable.

Jun-hee was the only one who had asked you during one go to the restroom. She was not judging, her own baby's father was here after all. She was just curious on what was the story of you two. Why you two seemed to be so apart at the start and now were close.

"Its almost a story you would read on a book" Jun-hee said as you cleaned your hands and laughted.

"Barely, it all started as a one night thing. Then I was so stupid that I forgot the pill. We did not see each other for months and now...we are here"

"But he cares. He cares so much. Really I can see it on how he looks at you!! Even before the migle game"

"Yeah...I do care for him too. I want us to get out and try to live together or be a real couple..."

"Well, we may be able to leave but the plan of Seong..."

"Its crazy. We wont make it. I- I cant even help them"

"I cant either, only thing I can do its hide once the lights go off" Jun-hee tried to make you feel better. "Its better like that, we need to think not only for ourselfs but our babys"

"You are right, but Jun-ho wants to help..."

"You are worried for him" She indicated "Thats cute"

"And a pain, I wish he would have said no to that plan"

"Maybe he is thinking in you and the baby. Maybe he wants to leave really badly and sees no other way out"

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~

Once you two returned the place seemed to be under lots of pressure. There was a tension, how some circles would look at Xs and back. It was unnerving and maybe even worse than the games themselfs.

"Can we talk?" In-ho came towards you "Alone" He added seeing Jun-hee besides you who nodded and went with the rest of the group.

In-ho moved so you two were away from everybody.

"Its this about Gi-hun's plan?" You asked and he nodded.

"Yes, it is. You should hide when the lights go off and not participate when we go for the guns" In-ho said in a serious tone. Even if the guards would never (if they liked their lives) put a hand on you unless he said so, the rest of the players were out of his control.

"I know, I cant do much anyways" You responded touching your belly "Why did you end saying yes ? We could win tomorrow ...."

In-ho took a deep breath. The reason were multiple ones. On one part this would be a good chance to get himself and you out from the games. If he did things right. And on other part he did not want to risk on tomorrow voting. Even if during the night Xs fought and lived nothing did for centrain said they would not vote circle next day.

"I believe in him" He lied "I understand its a dangerous move on our part, but I dont trust the others, not for tonight and not for tomorrow's voting"

You wanted to tell him to back off from it. You did not want to lose him in case the plan went wrong. But his next words shattered you.

"And I want you two out of here. Another game would cause you much stress, its not good for you our the baby...the little one has been strong so far but there is nothing like being safe and out of here"

When he said "little one" there was a small soft smile on his face, you could see how his hands wanted to reach and caress your belly once more but he held himself back.

"Hide well, I mean it. I dont trust any of them"

"I will, please dont worry about me"

Impossible. You and that baby are the most precious things to me right now.

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○

In-ho insisted on staying besides you when the lights went off. Just in case.

He had one hand wrapped around your waist and had pushed your head into his chest. He told you to close your eyes and ignore all of it, that if someone even dared to come near the bed where you two were hide then he would kill them. Of course he did not use these exact words in order not to scare you.

The screams of pain were terrible to hear, In-ho tried to shh you and tell you that it would soon end while also keeping a watchful eye.

Finally it was time, he kissed your cheeck on impulse and told you to not intervene. He went out just as the guards started to get inside the room.

You saw one coming towards him, but before it could even check the infamous chip inside his neck (as Gi-hun had explained earlier) he took them with force and in a clean move ended their life while also taking their gun.

The next was a small exchange of bullets and screams, the guards were finally leaving but one was left behind. Even if you saw them as nothing as monsters...their seemed scared.

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~

"Stay here, no matter what you hear. Stay here with Jun-hee. It will be safe" He assured you, like he knew more than what he was letting out.

"But what if you- what if something happens to you?" You asked him with tears already falling, not knowing that he would be safe.

It broke his heart to see you like that. So worried over him when there was nothing to be worried about. But he could not tell you, not here.

"Shh, I will be fine. I promise you" After a small pause he added "I promise both of you" His hand resting on your belly.

"In-ho, its time" Gi-hun said softly when he saw the exchange, part of him felt bad for interrumping the sweet moment. And was feeling guilty already, he knew he could not let In-ho die.

"Yes, on it"

"I love you, both of you" In-ho softly said finally leaving.

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○

The gunshots would be hear from the room, you flinched everytime, worried that one of these was mean for In-ho.

"Breath (Y/N)" Jun-hee reminded you when she saw you starting to panic. "They will be alright"

"Jun-hee...dont tell me things you can guarnate" You whispered hugging her and she just held you there. It was true, she could not be sure if they would make it.

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~

In his mind this part was supposed to be easy, trick Gi-hun into thinking that he and the rest had died. But it would mean making you believe that he was dead as well.

He pressed his lips on a thin line, worried over you and the baby. His little one. The only good thing was that he would be able to pull you out from the games but-

But you would have to believe that he was indeed dead.

"Take player 344 from the room, bring her to my room and call the Doctor too. Do not harm her" He ordered to one of his most trusted square guards.

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~

Once more the guards entered, pulling everybody to their knees and demanding them to be under control.

You started to tremble not because of the imposed figure of a saqueare guard over you, saying something about you having to go back with them. Your mind was working on In-ho..was he? Was he really?

Jun-hee despite the protest of player 333 went towards you and the guard to try and keep you there saying how you had nothing to do with the attack. But the guard only pointed their gun to her, that broke your somehow dazed state.

"I will go, just let her be"

"No (Y/N)!" Jun-hee tried to go towards you but was held back by Player 333.

"Dont worry Jun-hee" You said giving her a sad smile.

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○

You had no idea where you were being taken. The guard did not say a word but also kept a slow peace like he was taking care over you.

You two made it a elevator, all black inside. The guard urged you inside and pushed some buttons till it started to move.

The doors opened revealing a dark corridor the guard guided you towards a big black door, he opened it revealing a big screen now turned off and a black couch. But there was another guard, however this was only had his face covered by the black fabric only his eyes were seen.

You took note of a few medical tools and you started to get nervous.

"Stay calm, I was told to check on your health and your baby, please sit here. We can move you to the bed to examine your baby"

Now you were confused, why check your health? What about Jun-hee?

"But there is another woman who-"

"I was only told to check on you. Please" He said tone incredible soft.

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○

After the examination the Guard (who told you he was a doctor) said that the baby was healthy, but that you needed rest and more food.

Both guards went to leave, but you stopped them.

"W-wait, im not going back?" You asked confused.

"Player 344, you have been eliminated from the games" Was the only response you got and were left alone in the dark room.

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~

"Sir, player 344 has been examinated and left in your room" The guard said to their Boss who just nodded back.

"I will be there soon"

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~

Hours passed, you were scared. You stayied on the bed, too tired to move, this bed was too confortable too, and after listening to the Doctor's words you imagined this was good for your baby.

Even if you still felt bad.

You had been crying for the last hours, not beliving that In-ho could be dead, no in fact part of you refused to believe it.

And Jun-hee your friend...the one who was in the same desesperated situation as you. You could not believe she was still there...

Outside the door stood In-ho in his Front Man clothes, he was scared of your reaction, would he tell you it was him ? What was he supposed to do ?

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~

The doors opened making a sound, you had fallend asleep after crying. One hand on your belly like you were protecting it even in your sleep.

In-ho felt his heart go down and up, the sight was...beautiful in a strange way. Why could things dont be easier? You could wait for him like this everyday, the three of you could live together and he would be such a good father.

His gloved hand went to touch your face, slowly tracing your cheeck. Your tears broke his heart.

Your eyes started to move, and he pushed himself away. Not wanting to scare you.

Once you finally woke up you saw a dark figured, a black mask, you moved away against the wall.

"W-who are you?" You tone was evident, you were scared and confused.

"Im the Front Man, player 344 you have been eliminated from the games and will be sent back"

"What? Wait, does this mean I-"

In-ho held up his hand dont wanting you to continue, things were already too difficult for him.

"Your situation was analyzed and so decided that you wont continue"

"But- there is another woman! Jun-hee, player 222, she needs to be out as well" You exclaimed getting up and going closer to him.

"Player 222 will continue in the games. Thats final"

"B-but why?"

"Should you not be happy for you and your baby?"

"Im, but im not a hearthless person, if I can get out because of my situation then she can too"

In-ho took a deep breath, he could not believe how even now you were thinking in others.

But he that was part of your charm as well...

"Its a final decision, besides you are soon to give birth. That was what the Doctor said, we cant let that happen in here"

Without thinking his gloved hand went to your belly, one more time, he needed to feel it just one more time-

"Dont touch me" You said in grith theeth taking his hand and pushing it away. In all honestly I hurted him more than any pain he had endured before.

"You are a monster, you- You keep the games going and let others die. You are nothing but a piece of shit"

In-ho knew you were nervous, scared, angry and much more. But your words cut deep, his soul breaking.

"You will be send back home soon. I recommend you dont try to talk about this to others. Nothing good will come from it" These were going to be his last words for you when he turned back.

"W-wait, player 001, In-ho...is he"

"Player 001 has been eliminated" Were his final words, he did not turn when he hear your cry, knowing he would not resist going back and comfort you.

No, instead he went away. Blocking your cries. Outside a guard stood still waiting for orders.

"Check on her, make sure she does not hurt herself and that she eats her food tonight. All of it"

A bittersweet goodbye

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○

Final note: An epilogue will be out !! 💜

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○

Tags:

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@love-you-louise @fantasylovestoryme @sleepyycatt @nightdark-dreamdark @lindsay00000 @ourlovesarang @smally97 @zigmasstuff @aleemendoz @the-disaster-in-waiting

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I could not tag some of you 😔

[just-some-random-blogger]

I said I was going to reblog this when I woke up. That was today and now I'm sleepy and about to go to sleep but I REFUSSSE TO DO SO BECAUSE MY GOSSHHH THIS GOD MEEEEE SOMMEEEEEE TYPAAA WAYYYYY HELLO????????? 😫😫😫😫😫😫

Even if it was in a different way, you had a hard time refusing him when he used the same charm tactics as his twin brother.

I cannot put into words how this like... Changed my brain???? Like it's so beautiful and sensible and yah. That part. That would 100% happen if you were dating a twin like hello? Also idk the thought just makes me swoon ))))):

“Reckon we’re past that, hmm? Your problems are our problems, and all.”

JSJDJDJSJJSJSJSJJSHSHSHHSHA HES SO STUPID THIS IS WHY HES MY FAVE BB GIRL ARE YOU SINGLE IM TRYNA GET YOU PREGNANT AYO MY GUY WHAT DO YOU MEANNNNNNN WHEN YOU SAY THIS UR SO SILLY WTFFFFFF IM GIGGLING LIKE I GET PAID TO DO IT

“That’s a big deal.” He hummed, sympathizing with you to make you feel better. “Bloody inconsiderate, if you ask me.” But you weren’t asking him, and somehow his justification of your feelings only made you feel worse. “What? Not allowed to speak my mind?”

HE REALLY SAID SIS LOUDER AND

“If you’d rather, we can forget the elixir and grab dinner instead. I’m not Fred, but I’m pretty damn close.” He gave you a cheeky smile, earning an honest laugh from you.

NASJJSJSBSJJSJSB IM SO SORRY THE GEORGE GIRLIE IN ME WANTS SO GO HELL YEAH LETS MAKE THAT RAT FREDDIE RUE THE DAY HE WAS BORN 😫😈😈😈 HES JUST SO DARLING I LUV HIM HES SO SILLY AND STUPID FUCKKKK

“I was not getting sloshed, I was doing business.” He corrected, defensive over the fact. “S’pose you were hoping I’d take a little longer, yeah? Give you some more time to cozy up with my brother?”

“Blimey, Fred. If you took any longer, I’d imagine you’d have to move in with the lad.” George took your side on the matter. “At least she wouldn’t have to worry about you missing dinner again.”

👏THAT👏PART👏 RIP HIM TO SHREDS GEORGE. ANNIHILATE THAT GINGER GIT

“Yeah, right. What else did he fill in for, sweetheart? Anything you think I should know?”

“Yeah, but I bet you would’ve let him, right?”

EXCUSE ME

He grabbed your hand, spinning you back around to face him. He pulled you into him, his athletic build never leaving him even after he stopped playing quidditch.

.... WHAT ABOUT IT

“Bitching and moaning cause I couldn’t be home to take you to dinner… if you were so upset, why didn’t you come to me, princess? Tell me what was wrong?”

❓❓❓❓ DI BALE SANA NANDITO KA???? HELLO

(tr: NEVERMIND IF YOU WERE ACTUALLY HERE. and the pick is let's go stupid/idiot)

You could smell fire whiskey on his breath, feeling his chest heaving with anger against your own. As angry as you were, you couldn’t help but feel a rush of arousal run through you. The slight sneer on his face, the fire in his eyes, and the protective hold he had on you was sending your head spinning with thoughts much less pertinent to the topic at hand.

I fear I may be quaking in my boots... It's not the only thing quaking.

“See, Princess? She’ll always tell me the truth.”

NO CUZZZZ

His grin faded, slowly sinking into a scowl as your disobedience remained clear.

I love icarusing myself WHAT ABOUT IT WEASLEY

“So you don’t care who’s between your legs?” He continued, unrelenting as you stared him down. “Doesn’t matter who, as long as there’s a cock in you? As long as someone’s taking care of your pretty pussy?”

HES GOT SUCH A DIRTY MOUTH ON HIMMMMMMM FUCKKKK OFFF

“Doesn’t matter, sweetheart. When I’m done with you, I’ll be the only person you can think of. Surely then you won’t be able to forget who you belong to.”

Raw. Next twin.

“My little whore needs more?”

“Asking a lot from someone you aren’t being very good for.”

Brat tame me then 🙄✋ I dare you also

Silently, he sunk to his knees between your legs, pulling you to the edge of the table by your hips. He didn’t spare a single glance at your face before his tongue connected with your core, the warm wetness of his tongue even more pleasurable than the rough pad of his thumb.

VIOLENTLY SHAKING IM ILLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL

“Oh, god.” You gasped, your legs resting over his shoulders in attempt to stop the constant trembling of the lips. “I’m yours, Fred, fuck!” You exclaimed, a sheen layer of sweat forming over your forehead as the knot in your belly began to tighten. “Only you can make me feel this good. Nobody else.” You whined, your fingers tightening on the locks of hair as you began to tug at the strands. You could feel him smiling against you, happy to finally hear you admit the truth.

UghhhhhhhhhhHHHHHHHHHHHHH SO GOOD NEXT TWIN LMAO HAHAHAHHH

Green-Eyed Monster | F.W.

For the first time ever, Fred Weasley finds himself jealous over the only person in the world he needn’t worry a bit about.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x f!reader

Word count: 8k

Warnings: SMUT 18+, unprotected sex, oral + fingering (f!receiving, (lots of) dirty talk, name calling, praise/degradation, dom/sub dynamic, some nipple play, touch of a breeding kink, possessiveness/jealousy, some toxic themes, established relationship, swearing, drinking, arguing, angst, fluff, sorry if miss any!

first hp fic in a very long time! what better to post than this mess (jealous, possessive, sexy mess). basically pwp—let me know what you think! (Barely edited at all lmao my apologies)

You sat quietly at George’s desk, eyes focused on a piece of parchment as you both tried to break down the recipe George had scribbled down. There was a hiccup, a hitch in the plan of brewing a batch of Euphoria Elixir for the joke shop, and it was pushing back your plans to place them on the shelves this week. After a few hours of quiet deliberation on his lonesome, George decided to seek your help in hopes of speeding up the process.

So, the two of you put your heads together and re-read the ingredient list a million times, wondering how the hell it turned out murky green instead of sunshine-y yellow. The cauldron sat smoldering across the room, a rain cloud above it as the bubbly mixture spilled over the sides. Upon first glance, you had stated the absolute obvious.

“Isn’t that supposed to be a rainbow?” You raised an eyebrow, looking at your brother-in-law as he collapsed in his chair.

“Yes, you git.” George rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. You shot him a sharp look, warning him to be nice if he wanted your help. You knew George didn’t mean any of the insults—he was simply frustrated and maybe even a little embarrassed that he could not figure it out by himself. “Sorry, Y/N.” He conceded, realizing he came on a bit too strong.

“S’alright.” You assured him, stepping towards the desk where he sat. “Where’s the ingredient list? We’ll start there.” You offered, knowing you would help no matter how poor of a mood he was in. You loved George almost as much as you loved Fred, if you had to compare. Even if it was in a different way, you had a hard time refusing him when he used the same charm tactics as his twin brother.

After spending so many years in a relationship with Fred, it would be obscure for you not to have a bond with the closest person to him. Over the years, he’d surpassed a friend and had grown into your own brother. You were certain that no matter where life took you and Fred, George would always hold a special place in your heart. When the two opened their shop in Diagon Alley, you volunteered most of your free time to help them in any way you could, and whether it was tweaking new products or doing some of the dirty work, you never really minded.

That evening in specific, Fred was off on some ‘official business’, which really just meant meeting with a potential product buyer at The Leaky Cauldron. Last month, George took the burden of doing so, and they decided it was only fair for him to do it this time. Unfortunately for you, as much as you loved supporting them, it did interfere with your evening plans with him. So, sulking and trying your best to swallow it down, you distracted yourself with stocking shelves downstairs to prepare for another busy day ahead.

You were actually near grateful when George emerged from the office, calling out to you in desperation. It gave you a break from the monotonous back and forth, and someone to talk to. If it could not be Fred, you decided George was the next best.

“So, what’d’ya think it could be?” George asked, peeking over the cauldron that was still spitting back at him. He dodged out of the way, trying his best not to get any of the splashback on his new jumper.

“Well, from what you’ve told me, seems like you put all the right stuff in.” You deducted, pursing your lips slightly as you read over the list for what seemed like the millionth time. “Sad as it sounds, I doubt we can save it now, even if we figure out what happened.” You said, recalling your potions knowledge that Snape had relayed over the years.

“Right, but I’d like to know what’s wrong before I try again.” He explained, taking a moment to look over your sad expression. His eyebrows furrowed, his head cocking to the side as he tried to figure out where it was coming from. “What’s got your knickers in a twist?” Your eyes flickered upwards to meet his, your cheeks tinged red from the heat of the room. Your lips dipped into a frown as you shrugged your shoulders, brushing him off so you did not need to explain yourself. “I know you better than that. Come on, now.” He urged, placing his palms flat against the desk as he leaned towards you, a challenging look in his eye.

You narrowed your brows, keeping a stony expression as you met his gaze. “What’s it to you, Weasley?” You shot back, unsure of where your defensive nature was coming from. Perhaps you weren’t willing to discuss your relationship problems with your boyfriend’s twin brother, or maybe it was because you felt foolish for being upset at all.

“Reckon we’re past that, hmm? Your problems are our problems, and all.” He responded, also unsure of why you were being so reserved with your thoughts. Usually, you were an open book, especially with the two of them.

“My problems aren’t your problems, Georgie.” You shook your head, shutting down the ridiculous notion. “Let’s get back to the real problem, yeah?”

“No, I don’t think so.” George disagreed, his concern now over something completely different. “Is it about Fred?” At that, the tips of your ears began to burn and you shifted uncomfortably in your seat. “Ah, I see.” A devious smile crossed his lips.

“It’s not a big deal.” You covered your tracks, tapping the ink-less quill against the worn parchment.

“I have a hard time believing you, considering you just lied to me.”

“Lied is a strong word,” you rolled your eyes, quickly realizing that there would be no escaping the conversation. “I didn’t lie about anything.”

“What’s he done?”

“Nothing!” You exclaimed, a dry laugh leaving your lips. “It’s just… I’m just being dramatic.” And it’s true, you were being dramatic. Well, maybe not fully, but that’s what you were trying to convince yourself of. “I just miss him, I suppose. I know you both have been busy, but I think maybe I underestimated how busy you would actually be.” You continued, knowing it was wrong to confide in his twin brother about your relationship issues. Still, it felt good to get it off your chest, to voice the concern and have someone shoot you down, just so you knew you were being irrational. “This is the third night in a row we’ve canceled our plans. I’ll get over it. It’s no big deal.”

“That’s a big deal.” He hummed, sympathizing with you to make you feel better. “Bloody inconsiderate, if you ask me.” But you weren’t asking him, and somehow his justification of your feelings only made you feel worse. “What? Not allowed to speak my mind?”

“No—“ you let out a defeated sigh, slumping down in your seat. “I know that, but I was hoping you would tell me I’ve gone mad, instead.”

“Blimey, Y/N, you’re allowed to be upset. We're busy, yeah, but you’re still his girlfriend.” George said, jumping slightly when the rain cloud above the cauldron let out a crack of thunder. “If you’d rather, we can forget the elixir and grab dinner instead. I’m not Fred, but I’m pretty damn close.” He gave you a cheeky smile, earning an honest laugh from you.

“S’alright, Georgie. Thank you, though.” You appreciated his kindness, but you were sure it would only make your predicament even worse, considering Fred’s recently acquired short-fuse when it came to you and George spending so much time together. It was odd for him to be so protective, so jealous of the one person in the world he needn’t worry about, but it seemed as though the new trait was permanent. Perhaps it came from the fact he was also missing you due to your busy schedules, and how it sometimes seemed you and George were most often left at the shop alone.

“You know, I have noticed that lately.” George continued, leaning against the desk as he reminisced over the last few weeks. “Always seems to be us stuck here together.”

“Mhm.” You mumbled, slowly realizing that you weren’t as insane as you previously thought if he was noticing all of the same things. “Let’s just figure this out so I can get home.”

So you did. A grueling hour spent recounting George’s every step in brewing the elixir left the two of you puzzled and even more frustrated. By that point in the night, you were hunched over the long list of his steps you had jotted down so you could (hopefully) discover what he missed.

“I dunno, Georgie.” You sighed. “Seems like you did everything—“ you cut yourself off, leaning closer to the page on the desk as you caught something you hadn’t seen before.

“What?” He asked, his head snapping towards you. “What is it?”

“You said when you let it simmer, it was turquoise.” You said, looking up at him.

“Yeah, so?” He replied, confused why it was such a big deal.

“It’s meant to be blue.” You explained, a grin on your face as you relayed the information to him.

“Turquoise… blue… same thing, innit?” He asked, standing and walking over to you.

“Maybe to you.” You giggled, pointing to the piece of paper where he missed the step. “After you add the shrivelfig, you have to stir it until it changes color.” He walked up behind you, placing one hand on your arm as he leaned over your opposite shoulder. He smelled of butterbeer, likely due to the one he’d been nursing the entire time you sat together. You immediately noticed the warmth of his body, how similar it felt to how Fred touched you, but how drastically different it was all the same.

“Blimey, you’re right!” He exclaimed, his voice still soft so he was not yelling in your ear. “What would I do without you?” He gave your arm a gentle squeeze, leaning closer and pressing the side of his face to yours in a makeshift hug. His hand dropped to your back, lingering there as the conversation continued.

“It’s nothing, really.” You smiled, closing your eyes to enjoy the warmth for a moment. “So now you know. You can do it again, but make sure to stir it until it’s blue. By tomorrow, we’ll have it bottled and on the shelves just like we planned.”

“Our number one girl, saving the day yet again.” He sighed in relief. “I better get to it—“

Before his thought could finish, the door to the office swung open, cutting him short. Your eyes turned upwards, landing on a slightly drunken version of the boyfriend who’d abandoned your evening plans. The gloss of his eyes and the goofy smile on his lips led you to believe so, and the redness on the apples of his cheeks only solidified it. Only his cheeky grin didn’t last too long when he processed the scene in front of him, how close the two of you were, how heavy George’s hand seemed on your back and how rosy your own cheeks were.

Quickly, his jaw tightened, his gaze narrowing as he tried to decipher the whole situation. His nostrils flared ever so slightly, and his arms raised to cross over his chest. Immediately, you knew what you’d be in for; a long, tiresome argument that changed absolutely nothing. Instead of fighting the silent accusations, defending yourself for no real reason at all, you watched him with the same intensity while you awaited a snide comment.

“So what’s all this, then?” Fred asked, his face clearly conveying all of his emotions.

“Helping Georgie make the elixir while you were off getting sloshed at The Leaky Cauldron.” You muttered, noticing George straighten himself up in hopes of avoiding any further damage.

“I was not getting sloshed, I was doing business.” He corrected, defensive over the fact. “S’pose you were hoping I’d take a little longer, yeah? Give you some more time to cozy up with my brother?”

“Blimey, Fred. If you took any longer, I’d imagine you’d have to move in with the lad.” George took your side on the matter. “At least she wouldn’t have to worry about you missing dinner again.” At that, Fred’s eyes cut to you, immediately understanding where the underlying tension was coming from.

“Is that right?” Fred’s voice was no louder than a whisper, all of the pieces clicking together in an instant. “I don’t suppose the two of you had dinner? Let him fill in for me while I was gone?”

“No, we did not.” You snipped, standing as you gathered the ingredients for George’s second attempt at the brew.

“Yeah, right. What else did he fill in for, sweetheart? Anything you think I should know?” At that, your eyes widened and your face turned red. Your entire body felt like it was engulfed in flames, appalled that he would even think such a thing.

“Piss off, Fred.” You muttered, stepping out from behind the desk as tears stung your eyes. George shot you a sympathetic look as you pushed past his brother and out into the stairwell. You trodded down to the main level, swiping fallen tears away from your cheeks as you rushed out the front entrance of the building.

The cool air of the night was nice, especially after spending so long cramped up in the tiny office space, but it was not as freeing as you might have hoped once you heard footsteps following behind you. Without acknowledging him, you pulled your keys from your pocket, hoping that maybe he forgot his own set and you wouldn’t have to deal with his drunken arguments tonight if you got inside before him.

Of course, you knew that was childish and cruel, because despite being upset with him, loving him was the only thing you knew how to do. You unlocked the front door, holding it open with your boot-clad foot as he stumbled his way behind you. As soon as he passed through the doorway, you continued on your journey to ignore him and tossed your keys on the counter.

“Hey,” Fred reached out, his warm hand landing on your arm, stopping you from running any further from him.

“What?” You snapped, immediately regretting the harshness of your tone. He recoiled at the sound, shocked that you spoke to him in such a way. Usually the two of you saw eye to eye on everything, and in your long standing relationship arguing had never been your thing. Until you left school, you were certain the two of you had never been angry at each other, ever.

“What the bloody hell was that about? I leave for a few hours, and the two of you get on like that? Does that happen every time I step out?” You couldn’t help but roll your eyes again, wondering why this became such a problem in the few short months you’d been graduated.

“Merlin, Fred. You’re acting like you caught us in a broom closet.” You tried again to make your way to the bedroom, unwilling to argue a point he knew was blasphemous anyhow. “We were working, not fucking.”

“Yeah, but I bet you would’ve let him, right?” He grabbed your hand, spinning you back around to face him. He pulled you into him, his athletic build never leaving him even after he stopped playing quidditch. “Bitching and moaning cause I couldn’t be home to take you to dinner… if you were so upset, why didn’t you come to me, princess? Tell me what was wrong?” You could smell fire whiskey on his breath, feeling his chest heaving with anger against your own. As angry as you were, you couldn’t help but feel a rush of arousal run through you. The slight sneer on his face, the fire in his eyes, and the protective hold he had on you was sending your head spinning with thoughts much less pertinent to the topic at hand.

“Maybe I would have if you spared me the time of day.” You argued, finding yourself short of breath as you realized just how much he towered over you. “But, as it seems, you’ve been too damn busy to spare me a second glance.”

“Christ, when did you get so needy?” His rebuttal came easy, like he’d been waiting to have this fight for weeks. “Weren’t satisfied at home, so you thought my brother could do it for you?”

“Are you daft?” You hissed, feeling his fingers tighten on your hips. You hated that the feeling made you forget about your troubles, urging you to push the argument to the side and settle it in a better, more pleasurable way. “If that’s what I wanted, you think I’d be up here arguing with you?”

“That depends, sweetheart. Were you planning on getting caught?” He raised an eyebrow, the thud of his heart against his chest letting you know just how worked up he was. There was no way he truly believed you would do that to him, especially after all you had been through together. You wondered if maybe the lack of time spent with each other was getting to him, souring his thoughts because he missed you just as much as you missed him. “We may be identical, Princess, but he could never give you what I can.”

You hated to admit it, but for some strange reason, jealousy looked really good on him.

“What, a headache and a poor mood?” You decided to play his game if he wasn’t willing to listen to reason. If he wanted to fight, you could do it too. “I’m sure he could manage. In fact, he could probably do a hell of a lot more.” That seemed to strike a nerve in him, pushing him over the edge in an instant and changing the entire mood hanging heavy in the room. He no longer wanted to talk, but rather prove a point.

He took a step backwards, never easing his hold as he pushed you towards the kitchen table. He didn’t stop until your ass hit the edge, a mischievous look in his eye replacing the earlier annoyance. He had you locked in place, no intent to back down as he stared down at you over the bridge of his nose. Then, a small smirk turned the corner of his lips, leading you to believe he was also thinking of a much more simple way to solve your problems.

“Maybe you just need a reminder of who you belong to, yeah?” He asked, his voice quieter than it was before. You felt your mouth run dry, your eyes never leaving his as a dull ache between your legs began to pester you.

That would make you feel better, but he had pissed you off enough that you wanted to refuse him the satisfaction.

“Maybe we should get Georgie up here. According to you, he’d be the one to set me straight.” There was a slight venom in your tone letting him know you wouldn’t be letting anything go so easily. A low chuckle shook his shoulders, his eyes gleaming with a sinister look you weren’t sure you’d ever seen from him before that night. He shook his head ever so slightly, playing into you as he reached one arm behind you.

Your heart raced as you awaited a response, wondering if maybe you pushed him too far and crossed a boundary you could not double back on. You didn’t have to wonder long, because without a second thought, he cleared all of the items littering the table with one swift move of his arm. Papers scattered everywhere, floating through the air and landing all over the floor. Broken products and half finished merchandise for the shop tumbled off the edge, falling less than gracefully onto the tile below. Without ever breaking eye contact, he raised an eyebrow, daring you to say it again.

“You think he can fuck you better than I can?” He asked, giving you the opportunity to change your mind.

“Right now? Yeah.” You spat, wondering if he’d ever drop the act and get on with his day. “Seems like all you want to do is get on my nerves.”

“Yeah?” He challenged, his face so close to yours you could feel his breath on your skin. The tip of his nose grazed your own, his normally warm and comforting irises engulfed by his lust-blown pupils. Or perhaps it was anger that gave him the new look—you weren’t quite sure. “You’d rather go home with him at night? Wake up next to him every morning? Is that really what you want, princess?” He taunted, knowing very well that your heart was his, even if he found himself caught up in a few moments of doubt.

Still neglecting to give him any gratification, you nodded your head despite the sickening feeling that washed over you at the thought. As if he called your bluff before you ever said it aloud, he laughed at the certainty in your action, which only seemed to anger you further.

“If that’s the case, seems like I’ve got my work cut out for me tonight.” He responded, brushing the comment off as if it were nothing. If there was one thing Fred couldn’t ever turn down, it was a challenge, and since coming upstairs with you, it was only further proven to him that’s all this was. “Maybe I’ve gotten too comfortable, sweetheart. After so long, you think you’d know that you’re mine, huh?” Before he continued his tyrant, he used his hands on your hips to lift you onto the table with ease. The ache between your legs had grown stronger, more intense and impossible to ignore. You could feel the wetness soaking through your panties, and the thought of his strong arms lifting you so carelessly only made you spiral further. “Maybe I expect too much of you.” He theorized, recognizing the gleam in your eyes because he’d seen it a thousand times before.

He let his hands trail under the hem of your jumper, settling on the button of your jeans as he undid it with ease. You never let your eyes trail from his face, realizing that no matter how upset you were, it could never take away from how much you loved him. He was beautiful, his fiery red hair and the freckles splattered across his cheeks and nose creating a perfect picture. The softness of his complexion and the gentleness hidden deep in his expression assured you that whatever the two of you were doing was nothing more than an act. He knew you were his just as well as you did, but he knew the only way to settle the (admittedly, misguided) fear was to hear you say it aloud.

You helped him pull the fabric from your legs, wrapping your arms around his neck as you lifted your hips from the table. He discarded the clothing on the floor, paying no mind to it as he returned his hands to your bare legs. His eyes searched your face, carefully looking for any sign of discomfort. Instead, he was met with a pleading expression that only seemed to fuel his too large ego even further.

“No matter,” he disregarded his earlier rant, his eyes growing heavy as his hand fell between your legs. His fingertips grazed the thin fabric separating him from your core, a shiver running down his spine as he noticed the arousal that had soaked straight through. “I don’t mind having to show you. Least I’ll get to have my fun too, yeah?” He applied slight pressure to your aching clit, watching to see your reaction. Your eyebrows knitted together, your lips parting slightly as your hips moved forward into his hand, your body betraying your mind and begging him for something more.

At that, a grin encased his face, happy to see that he hadn’t lost his touch, even if your lives were vastly different and ever-changing by the day. He knew exactly how to make you feel good, and he took pride in it.

“See, Princess? She’ll always tell me the truth.” He taunted, his voice quiet as his eyes trailed down to his hand. You swallowed hard, knowing he had you in a stalemate. “Tell me again, who do you think knows how to make you feel good? Who does it best?” He was on a power trip, unwilling to slow down until he heard you admit it. Still, you stood your ground, pressing your lips tightly together so not a single sound could pass through. His grin faded, slowly sinking into a scowl as your disobedience remained clear.

He removed his finger from you, tracing the hem of your panties as he hooked his finger through the side of the fabric resting on your hip. He awaited an answer, giving you the opportunity to change your mind. When you kept your stoicism, he gave one, hard tug on the lacy fabric until it snapped in two. He used his other hand to do it to the opposite side, giving himself easy access to you without hearing a complaint on your end.

“So you don’t care who’s between your legs?” He continued, unrelenting as you stared him down. “Doesn’t matter who, as long as there’s a cock in you? As long as someone’s taking care of your pretty pussy?” Your cheeks flushed, your chest burning as the filthy words washed over you. “Doesn’t matter, sweetheart. When I’m done with you, I’ll be the only person you can think of. Surely then you won’t be able to forget who you belong to.”

His hand connected with your bare cunt, his fingers trailing through your arousal and settling over your clit as he began to trace slow circles into the sensitive area. Your legs trembled at the contact, finally feeling some relief from the nagging sensation that had been taking over.

“Fuck. Fred.” You whispered, giving yourself away immediately. He let out a low hum, pleased with the sound and knowing he was the reason for it. He had you where he wanted you, and now he just had to keep up the pace. You could feel his hardening length against your leg, distracting you completely from the pent up anger and frustration.

“That’s it.” He encouraged, his middle finger sinking inside of you as he let his thumb take over on your clit. “That’s my girl.” He made sure to accentuate the claim, never once letting you forget it. “All you needed was a little help remembering.” Slowly, he pumped his finger into you, keeping time with his thumb as he began to work you towards a climax. “You want to say it for me? Tell me what I already know?” Instead of responding, you let out a whine, your hips bucking forward into his hand. Although it wasn’t what he was looking for, it was just enough for him to keep going.

He curled his fingers as he pumped them into you, begging for a reaction as your hand wrapped around his bicep for support. You felt the tense of his muscles as he worked at you, only pushing you closer to insanity. You were his, undoubtedly and wholeheartedly, and you would be crazy to ever want anyone else.

“Stubborn little thing tonight.” He remarked, his eyes focused on the point in which his hand met with you, never breaking his stare as he watched his fingers disappear into you. “What’s gotten into you?”

“Need more, Freddie.” You replied, your eyes squeezed shut as you felt the pleasure pulsing under your skin. It had been a long time since you felt him this way, and your impatience was quite clear.

“My little whore needs more?” He teased, applying a little more pressure with his thumb. A gasp fell from your lips, sending your upper half leaning forward until your forehead rested against his. “Asking a lot from someone you aren’t being very good for.” He chastised you for your behavior despite being the one that caused the problem in the first place.

“M’sorry, my love. S-so sorry.” You rushed out, his fingers brushing against the sweet spot inside you only he knew how to find.

“That’s not what I want to hear sweetheart, and you know it.” His tone was firm, unrelenting as he continued his torment. You let out a groan of frustration, wishing he’d quicken the pace and give you what you wanted, even though you refused to give in to him.

He leaned forward, closing the gap between your mouths as he grew tired of waiting for the words he wanted to hear. He tasted like the whiskey that had been fuelling his poor mood, sweet and bitter all at once as his tongue grazed your bottom lip. You hated how easy it was for him to turn you into a mess, hated how easy it was for him to make you forget you were angry at all. You pulled him closer to you, holding his arm tightly so he would not pull away. You were stubborn, but despite that, you were showing him everything he wanted to see through your actions alone.

You broke from the kiss as a particularly intense wave of euphoria pulled your stomach. Your forehead continued to rest on his, holding you upright as he continued to give you just enough to keep you satisfied.

“Say it, princess.” His voice was low, raspy and laced with desire as he watched you turn into a mess below him. “Tell me you’re all mine. Tell me I’m the only one who can make you feel like this.” Instead, you connected your mouths again, letting a desperate moan out at the same time. He drank in the sound, his cock throbbing as his hips jutted forward into nothing. He was almost more desperate than you were, which only allowed for you to take him less seriously.

“G-gonna have to try harder than that.” You found a peculiar pleasure in leaving him on edge, giving him a taste of his own medicine as he continued to torture both of you at once. “Show me why I should say it, Freddie. Seems like you’re all t-talk.” You stuttered, tripping over your words as you tried to keep your composure.

He withdrew his hand from you, making you cry out in frustration from the loss of pleasure. Your eyes met his, desperation written all over your face as you protested his actions. Silently, he sunk to his knees between your legs, pulling you to the edge of the table by your hips. He didn’t spare a single glance at your face before his tongue connected with your core, the warm wetness of his tongue even more pleasurable than the rough pad of his thumb.

You laid back on the table, your hands sinking downwards and tangling in the soft locks of hair. Although you were denying him of the statement he wanted to hear, you could not deny that your last argument was wholly untrue. Fred was determined to prove a point, and he was doing it well.

You weren’t far off from an orgasm, his tongue making quick work at pushing you to the edge. The sounds falling from your lips were telling of your current state, and as delirium began to set in, your defenses began to break down.

He suctioned his lips around your clit, adding his fingers to the mix and returning to his earlier pace to torture you further. Every nerve in your body was ablaze with desire, need seeping from every pore as you realized just how badly you needed the release. Sick of the game, you finally broke in fear he would leave you hanging yet again.

“Oh, god.” You gasped, your legs resting over his shoulders in attempt to stop the constant trembling of the lips. “I’m yours, Fred, fuck!” You exclaimed, a sheen layer of sweat forming over your forehead as the knot in your belly began to tighten. “Only you can make me feel this good. Nobody else.” You whined, your fingers tightening on the locks of hair as you began to tug at the strands. You could feel him smiling against you, happy to finally hear you admit the truth.

Pleased with your confessions, he curled his fingers against your g-spot one last time, generously giving you the very thing you’d been pleading for. In a mess, your entire body tensed as the pleasure took hold. The orgasm washed over you, leaving your heart racing against your chest and your head swirling with filthy thoughts for the boy between your legs. A hum of approval let you know he was more than happy with your performance, and he kept his pace until he felt you relax against the table below you.

Once he knew he’d gotten the most out of you, he rose to his feet, towering over you as you laid below him. In the dim moonlight, you could see your orgasm glistening on his chin, only furthering his cockiness as he ran his tongue over his bottom lip so he did not waste a drop of it.

“Always taste so sweet, princess.” He whispered, using one hand to free himself from his pants and his boxers. “And it’s all for me.” He continued, slipping his shirt from his head. He used it to wipe his face clean before tossing it on the floor to join the growing pile of clothes. With shaky hands, you lifted your upper half from the table and pulled your own jumper over your head. “Isn’t that right?” He stepped toward, settling between your legs as his hands ghosted over your bare thighs.

You let out a whimper, his grip landing on your already sore hips as his eyes raked over your entire frame. Your gaze flickered to his cock, hard and aching for relief as he continued to tease you. His fingers tickled your stomach as he trailed his touch upwards, his palm landing flat against your breast as he gave it a gentle squeeze. He let the pad of his thumb brush over your hardened nipple, sending another wave of pleasure through you.

“Answer me, sweetheart.” He wasn’t playing anymore; he wanted to hear the words, and he was done with your obstinacy. He pinched your nipple between his thumb and forefinger,

“Yes,” you huffed, already forgetting the pleasure from your first climax as a whole new wave of need began to take over. “I’m yours, Fred. All yours.” You reiterated your earlier statement, now willing to do whatever he wanted of you to prove the point.

“Tell me how bad you want it.” He shot you a twisted little smile, almost as if he was getting off just from the thought of you begging for him.

“I need it, baby. Need to feel you, please.” You whined, reaching for his arms and pulling him closer. “Want you so bad, Fred. Been waiting all night for it.” You felt the tip of his cock connect with your cunt, his expression faltering as soon as he felt the wetness.

“God, you make it so hard to be upset with you.” He hissed the words through his teeth, using his hand to guide himself through your folds as he sucked in a sharp breath. He settled himself just over your already sensitive clit, pushing his hips forward ever so slightly to apply pressure to the spot. “Sound so pretty when you’re begging to be fucked.”

Slowly, he let his tip run back through your arousal, settling the head just at your entrance. He pushed himself forward, but just barely. You whimpered as you braced yourself for the feeling, only to be let down when he stopped himself from going any further.

“Fred,” you warned, catching his eye so he could see your desperate face. You hoped that if he did, he would stop being such a tease. “Please fuck me.”

“What was that?” He smirked, turning his head slightly so his ear was closer to you. “Didn’t quite catch it.”

“Fred, stop—“ you cut yourself off, letting out a huff of annoyance. You knew chastising him for his actions would only make him less likely to give in, even if it was incredibly hard to hold it back. “I need you to fuck me.” You repeated, clearer and louder in hopes of swaying his decision. “Can’t wait any longer, baby. Please.”

At that, he pushed forward the rest of the way, sending your entire body raising with goosebumps. The stretch as he filled you was exactly what you craved, and as he reached the hilt, his tip brushed against your g-spot so delicately that it almost made you come undone right then and there. Your eyelids grew heavy with satisfaction, focusing on how full you felt with him inside of you, knowing that he for certain would always be the one for you.

“That good enough for you, Princess? This is what you wanted?” He asked, letting himself rest inside you for a moment. He felt your walls flutter around him, pulling him even further and making it harder for him to resist you.

“Mhm,” you hummed, giving him a tired nod of agreement. You could feel him throbbing inside of, desperate for a release just like you had been moments before, but he was still trying to prove his point.

“Nobody else gets to have you like this, sweetheart. You’re mine.” He whispered, now sober from the alcohol but intoxicated by an even stronger, deadlier force; you. “He couldn’t fuck you like this, and you know it.” As he spoke, he withdrew his hips and slammed them forward into you again. The action stole the breath from your lungs, twisting your stomach with pleasure as your nails scratched over his skin.

He began at a pace, slower than normal but the force behind his movements making your head spin. You moaned quietly, lost within the feeling of being so close to him. He never failed to take your breath away, never failed to amaze you with his every move. You were so in love with him it sometimes felt like there was no room within your heart for anyone or anything else.

“Tell me, Y/N.” He ordered, his stare never wavering as he fucked into you. As much as he wanted to succumb to the sensation of you wrapped around him, he found it hard to push the thoughts of your earlier arguments out of his head. “You think he’d fuck you like this? You think he could make you feel this good?”

“No, Freddie.” You gasped, feeling the strength of his thrusts increase, sending the legs of the table wobbling. His fingers tightened on your hips, likely leaving behind angry red marks that would fade into reminders of him for days to come.

“That’s it, Princess.” He panted, his chest heaving as he tried to resist the pull of pleasure. “Don’t you think, not even for a second, that anyone can give you half of what I can.” You both knew this to be fact; nobody in the entire world could ever compare to him. “And why do you think that is?”

“‘C-cause I’m yours,” you managed to stutter out the response, watching him as the statement washed over. He brought his hand to your thigh, your legs wrapped tightly around you as he pulled you back on him with every thrust. His head fell back on his shoulders, the dim light of the room casting a beautiful hue over his already breathtaking features.

“That’s right,” he grunted, slamming his hips forward again. There was a thin layer of sweat sheen on his chest, the toned muscles of his abdomen flexing every time he moved. The exposed columns of his neck made your mouth water, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed back his own groans of pleasure. “Was that why you were mouthing off? You just needed someone to take care of you? Just needed me to fuck you?”

“God, yes.” You moaned, feeling the pressure in your belly begin to reach a peak.

“You gonna cum for me, sweetheart? All over my cock?” He smiled, looking down at you so he could appreciate the view. “Come on now, making a fucking mess of it.”

“Fuck,” you whimpered, his words hitting you hard and causing the tightening knot in your belly to tense even further.

“That’s my pretty girl. Just like that.” He continued to encourage you, studying your expression as pleasure began to twist it.

It didn’t take much more for you to descend into another orgasm, your entire body quivering as you cried out for him, singing his name like a hymn and he was the god in which you prayed to. Your throat was raw, raspy from the constant string of moans passing your lips. You were tired, almost too fucked out to continue on, but he was having none of it. He didn’t slow his pace as you came down from the high, instead speeding up and ensuring that he pulled your entire body down on him as he fucked into you.

“Freddie, please.” You breathed, feeling the threat of overstimulation begin to creep in. He would have had sympathy had he known you couldn’t take it, but he was confident in your ability to keep up with him.

“What’s wrong, Princess? Wanted it so bad and now you can’t handle it?” He asked, his eyes glazed over with lust as he felt himself approaching his own orgasm. You frowned at his words, now on a quest to prove your own point as you tried to ignore the stinging beginning to set in.

“I can t-take it.” You huffed, a shiver running down your spine as he reached upwards and palmed your breast. He gave the supple flesh a gentle squeeze, his eyes closing in bliss as he let himself slip out of the persona he had created.

“Being so good for me—just a bit longer now.” He whispered, his voice far away as his eyes settled over your face once more. “Bloody hell, Y/N.” he groaned, his forehead creasing as his eyebrows furrowed together. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

He slipped his hand between your legs, his thumb landing atop your clit. He traced slow circles, knowing you were a bit further behind him and unwilling to climax without giving you at least one more. He could see how tired you were, but it did not deter him from his commitment to pleasing you.

“I love you, Fred.” You whispered, softened entirely by the sweet look in his eyes. All of his previous anger fled, leaving him just as the boy you’d fallen so hopelessly for.

“I love you, sweetheart.” He hummed, his hips stuttering and his stature faltering. “Give me one more, yeah? I know you can do it.” And he was right, your entire body was ablaze with another orgasm much more powerful than the last two.

“Together?” You gasped, reaching up and settling your palm on his cheek.

“Yeah? You want to cum with me?” He encouraged your train of thought. “Want me to fill that pretty cunt? Really show you who you belong to?”

“Fuck yes, please.” You cried, your fingertips tangling in the locks of hair hanging over his ears. Your walls clenched around him, drawing him in and effortlessly finishing what you had started.

You felt his hips stall, a low growl leaving his lips as he pulled you down on him one last time. He managed to whisper your name as he spilled his release into you, the feeling of him filling you completely sending you spiraling on your own accord. You let out a defeated sigh, the tail end of it turning into a whine as your body went rigid. Your nails scratched at the skin of his arm, your hand on him the only thing keeping you tied to earth instead of floating up and through the clouds.

The both of you rode the high together, euphoria infiltrating every nerve in both of your bodies as he leaned down towards you. Ever so gently, he laid his head on your chest, which was still heaving as you tried to catch up from the lack of oxygen. He placed a plethora of small kisses against the warm skin, his eyes fluttering closed as he appreciated the comfort that came with your company.

Silence hung heavy between you for a few moments, neither of you sure where to go from there. You were still strung out on bliss, barely remembering what got the two of you in the position until he spoke again.

“M’sorry, sweetheart.” His voice barely broke through the room, so timid and shy that you almost missed it completely. “I know you’d never do that. Just got in my head, I s’pose.”

“I… I get it.” You sighed, twisting a lock of his hair. “If I walked in on that, after us being so.. you know. I’d likely feel it too.” You confessed. “I was upset that we had to cancel dinner. I am upset, but not at you.” You tried your best to explain yourself despite exhaustion eating away at your mind. “I’m just upset because I miss you. You’re so busy now, and I’m happy for you, really, but I miss you too.”

“You think I was bloody happy about it?” Fred chuckled, the tip of his fingers tracing shapes into your skin. “I’d much rather be here, with you.” At that, you relaxed completely, understanding that you had gotten too far into your own head. “It’s my favorite place to be. Always has been.”

“Mine too, Fred.” You hummed, smiling softly at the thought.

“I reckon I was a bit jealous, ‘specially at the thought of you and George spending so much time with each other. Would rather it be me, you know, sitting at the shop and laughing with you all night… taking you out for dinner… loving you.” Another gentle kiss was placed to your chest, just before he looked up to meet your eyes. The soft, warm, familiar sight made you feel at ease. He was back to being your Fred, the one you missed all along.

“Darling, you have nothing to be jealous about.” You promised, smiling as he placed a quick peck on your lips. “Though, if it means we get to have brilliant sex like that, by all means do what you have to do.” You explained. “Bloody brilliant, at that.” Without any further words, the two of you descended into a fit of laughter and the clouds that previously hung above your head seemingly cleared in an instant, easily proving to him there was really never a need to worry at all.

[emchante]

oh my god, why would you mention daniel cumming in his pants? that's like... way too hot 🫠

like the idea of older divorced dad daniel cumming in his pants like a goddamn teenager because that's just the effect you have on him?? yes. even better if it's a time where you're just fooling around and making out on the couch and grinding against each other. and he just can't help it and cums in his boxers, and he's maybe a little embarrassed about it before he realizes how hot you find it

oh nonnie you have me dead with this ask. it’s been marinating in my inbox for awhile now, and every time i see it.. i go a little feral. let’s jump back into this au, shall we?

18+ content below, minors dni.

it happens to daniel. a lot.

it’s been with him all his life, gets too excited over the smallest things. he remembers a time with his ex, cumming just from the dirty talk she had whispered in his ear, while being sat atop his lap. no grinding, no nothing. just the words were enough to send him over the edge.

and you? he thinks the issue has gotten worse since he first lay eyes on you. the time he watched you through his window like a perv, watching as you innocently fended to your garden? he could’ve came without the palming, but alas he needed to touch himself, trying to ground himself as he thought about the filthiest scenarios with you.

and now that you’re his.. well it happens all too often. the first time it happened though, he was more embarrassed than ever.

the night had started innocently enough. you had come over, opted to make dinner for him and the kids— nothing unusual. it was nice, it felt super domestic when you were all sat at the table, chewing away at the food with some small chatter in between.

it was as soon as the kids were upstairs though, that you were all over him. he hadn’t expected it, that you’d jump onto him. he caught you with ease, both hands holding your ass as he tried to kiss you back with as much energy you had put into it yourself.

he had to ask though, where this all suddenly came from. he tried to pull back, tried asking you about it, but your lips just kept attacking his. “sweetheart,” he tried, before being caught in another kiss. “i need to—” another kiss, “ask what’s going—” another, “on?” he finally finished, and you pulled your head back.

“what do you mean?” “don’t get me wrong, i love the attention.. i love this a lot. but it’s so sudden, what changed from dinner to now?” he asks, placing a chaste kiss onto your lips.

he really doesn’t remember what happened between then and getting to the couch. something about you complimenting him, how hot he looked when he wasn’t trying. he didn’t care though, because things were only getting hotter.

his back was against the couch pillows now, you on top of him as your lips fought for dominance. his large hands were resting on your hips, occasionally squeezing them to try distract you, trying to cheat his way into winning.

your hands were on his shoulders, gripped tightly onto them as you tried to hold your ground against him. it made it easy for to start grinding down onto him, seeing as you had a way to keep yourself stable.

you felt daniel falter, the grip on your hips loosening as his fingers went slack momentarily, along with his mouth. you had won the battle for dominance, tongue slipping into his mouth as your hips continued to grind rhythmically onto his. 

it takes a couple moments for daniel to snap out the daze, but when he comes back to his senses he’s replicating your movements, bucking his hips up to meet your moves. his hands find their way back to the original spot they were rested in before, putting more strength into making sure your clothed cunt was hitting against his erection.

he felt giddy, like he was on cloud nine. your tits bouncing in front of him, your cunt rubbing against his cock, your mouth owning his, and the soft praises that escaped you between breaths— it was all too much, really.

that’s all it took for him to cum right then and there in his boxers. his head tilted right back, eyes squeezing shut as his mouth once again went slack. the moans that escaped him were delightful, ranging from higher, more whine-like moans to deep, breathy groans. his hips continued to buck, though a stutter momentarily made it’s way into the rhythm as he rode out the orgasm completely.

you watched as he came down from his high, chest panting as his eyes couldn’t open fully from being in such a daze. it took him a minute before he realised what had happened, the sticky feeling in his boxers reminding him where he was.

his eyes widened as he tried to sit himself up properly, but with you still on top of him he didn’t make much progress, and his eyes warily looked into your own.

your hand moved up to cup his face, thumb slowly dragging over his cheek before teasing his lips gently. “what’s up, dan?” you asked dragging your thumb off his lip, letting it pop back into place. you watched as his adam’s apple bobbed, a gulp evidently just passing.

“i— come on, sweetheart,” he starts, shaking his head lightly as he sighs. “i fucking came in my boxers like a teen. you’ve got to understand my issue?” he laughs dryly, anticipating the laugh that’ll escape you. whether it’s a teasing laugh or a grossed out laugh, he doesn’t want to know.

that’s why it surprises him when it doesn’t come, and you’re just watching him with a raised brow. “why is that an issue, dan?” you ask him, allowing your free hand to trail down his body. past his shirt, lingering over his crotch before moving to the waistband of his slacks and boxers, and slipping your hand in.

you feel his cock already hardening again, as well as the slight jerk of his hips. still sensitive. “this,” you start, squeezing his cock as he lets out a low groan and tries to squeeze his thighs together, “is fucking hot, daniel. you have no idea” you murmur, moving your face right infront of his again.

“let me show you how much i love it.”

so.. divorced dad! daniel is back..? 👀 neglected our resident dilf for too long! he’s back with a bang<3

[luciathcv]

sick kisses - sjy

summary: jake can't resist a kiss when you're sick || warnings: none || genre: fluff, established relationship || word count: approximately 450

You currently felt like you were on your deathbed. Okay, maybe you were being dramatic but you truly did feel really sick. You lie in your actual bed, not your deathbed, covered up by your duvet as you scrolled on your phone.

You'd been sick since last night but you didn't tell your boyfriend because you thought it was one of those things where you just sleep it off and are fine in the morning but instead it got worse in the morning. You texted Jake telling him that you were sick and you saw that he read it but he didn't respond. You just sighed before going back to scrolling.

You had a fever that luckily went away after taking medicine a few hours ago but of course, you still didn't feel the best.

Suddenly, you can hear the front door open from your bedroom and the sound of your boyfriend's voice. "Where are you, princess?" He called out. You didn't even have time to answer before he was walking into the room. He had a plastic bag in his hand as he walked over to the bed.

"Jake, what are you doing here?" You asked.

"Taking care of my sick girlfriend." Jake responds as he empties out some stuff like ginger ale, medicine, and some candy. "The candy's for when you're feeling better." Jake explains and you just glance up at him. "I got you some soup, let me go put it in the fridge. I'll be right back." Jake says and before you could even respond he's leaving the room.

When he comes back, you say, "Jake, you didn't have to get me all that."

"I know." Jake sits down on the bed next to you. "But what kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn't? Hm? A bad one." He says.

"You shouldn't even be here. You can get sick." You point out.

"I'll take my chances." Jake says before getting under the covers and pulling you against him. "Come on, give me a kiss." He says.

You give him a look, knowing that's just an easy way for the germs to spread, but he obviously doesn't care as he waits. You lean in and kiss him and he kisses you back. After a few moments you both pull away.

"You're definitely getting sick now." You point out.

"What can I say? I needed a kiss from my girl." Jake simply responds, softly smiling as he holds you close.

And, of course, a week or so after you finished being sick, Jake himself had gotten sick all because he loved you too much and he couldn't not get a kiss from his girl.

ᥫ᭡ link to my masterlist

[asheepinfrance]

jewish patrick posting on main and I will not apologize. I don't really like this one but I wanted to write this because the idea's been swimming around my little jello brain since the holidays. still not proof read and banged out in like a half hour, so it's sloppy but i just want it out there. anyways, as always hope you enjoy this late chanukah fic because better late than never, and feel free to leave tips and such :) much love

Patrick can categorize his fond childhood memories into two categories: the Mark Rebellato Tennis Academy (specifically the moments involving Art, girls, beer, or a combination of the three), and holidays. Not the fake holidays, like the massive Christmas party his parents threw each year for “networking” purposes with their primarily Catholic business associates, but the real ones. The ones he’s had to explain to his friends, and the ones he winces at when they horribly butcher the ‘ch’ sound in. 

He can vividly remember being scooped onto his father’s hip, a ball of high energy, wide smiles and a head of curls that grew upwards more than they did down, his mother steadying his hand as he lit the skinny candles stuck into place on the menorah, an heirloom from his paternal side. The fire would shine back in his warm, brown eyes and turn them a deep, rich amber, and he’d scurry off to find whatever incredibly extravagant gift he’d been bought. 

So when it’s finally the first few days before the big old First Night of Chanukah, within your equally big First Holiday Season together, and Patrick’s giddily propping up the menorah near a window, he can’t help but feel a little rush of excitement at getting to explain everything when you say, “Hey, is that the Chanukah thing?” He gives a quick nod, a grin he’s just barely holding back on his lips, as he continues putting everything in proper order. He had to make sure his mom would approve of the set up, whether or not she’d see it. If his mother would approve, meaning not be utterly horrified, that means it’s passable.“Mhm. Don’t you worry, I got you all these sweet-” 

“So it’s like Jew Christmas, right?”

He turns to you slowly, eyes wide and pained like you’d just admitted to cheating. No, actually, this is worse. “Baby… my love…”, he places a hand on your shoulder, squeezing it softly, “Never say that shit to me again.” It’s not a genuine threat… mostly, but the comparison irks because, no, it’s not ‘Jew Christmas’. It’s Chanukah, and Chanukah’s Chanukah. So he makes a decision, then and there, to become your personal Chanukah guide. And he takes his position remarkably seriously.

When you return from work the next day, shoulders sore from your increasingly-heavy purse, all you really want to do so bury your face into Patrick’s lap and sleep there. He, though, has other plans, pulling you inside by the hand before you even have the shot to get your boots off. It smells like… hashbrowns?? The scent’s enough to get your mouth watering and your stomach seemingly clawing at your abdominal walls, but Patrick holds you in place. “Eyes closed,” he says with that stupid, gorgeous smirk that you will kiss off of his face later. Not right now, though. You’re too tired. “Patrick, really, can I just-” He presses a finger to your lips, a grin that’s just trying to goad you into doing as he said. You don’t comply though, so he reluctantly hands you a coin. “It’s a little chocolate coin. Go on, try it, they’re terrible.” You unwrap it gratefully, hands faltering when you stare down at the circular candy. “Patrick… why is it… dusty?” You gaze in mild horror at the mysteriously powdery, gray looking thing. That cannot be safe to eat. He shrugs, unphased, padding towards the kitchen. “Oh, they’ve all got this weird, mystery gray shit on them. Ignore that.” You choose to put it on the coffee table when he’s not looking. Just in case.

The rest of the night is just as uninformative as anything taught by Patrick ought to be. He explains the hashbrowns as latkes, and when you ask “What’s the difference?”, his apt reply came: “I dunno.” It’s sweet, though, that he made them for you (he hopes you don’t find the McDonald’s bags from which they came) and when you question, “Why no gafiltee fish?” he looks at you like you’re the most precious idiot he’s ever come across. You guess you know what he must feel like now. “You don’t eat that on Chanukah, babe. And that’s not how you say it, either?” I bite a hunk off a hashbrown, exasperatedly, “Then how do I say it, hm?” He thinks it over a moment with a hum and a tap of his chin. “Oh, you know.” Jackass.

He’s insistent you light the candles for him when the time’s come, but you wave him off. He takes it in stride, mumbling something that must be Hebrew under his breath as he lights them. He’s got a radiant energy to him like you’ve never seen before. One that’s letting that same little Patrick, with the wide smiles and curls that grow upwards, relive childhood just a moment. You think you get the appeal now, even if you’re still thoroughly uneducated, when you see the flickering flames light his eyes up that perfect shade of amber, and he smiles like he’s finally let some weight he’s been carrying for ages go. You wrap your arms around his stomach, chin propped on his shoulder, and you both stand and stare at the small fires flitting about like fireflies tied down by string. It’s perfect because Patrick’s perfect, and there’s still seven more nights of this to go. Gifts are given, accompanied with strings of “I love you”s in his direction and softly spoken “yeah, yeah… I know”s back in yours. But the knit sweater he gifts you is nothing in comparison to just a single kiss, and when he pulls back complaining with a scowl, and a “You taste like McDonald’s hashbrowns, babe”, you can’t even find it in yourself to be mad about them not having been homemade.

[stitchposts]

Heyo! Had two questions - one a little less relevant to your blog but I thought I'd shoot my shot :D

First off, do you have any experience with visible mending using embroidery techniques? Both my denim jacket and favorite sweater are getting worn out after years of constant wear, and I'm unsure how do deal with some of the holes. My main issue is that the very ends of the sleeves are simply... splitting open? Like the fabric got so thin from whatever stress I apparently put it under, it fecking disintegrated. It seems simple enough, straight line on an edge, but I'm worried about messing it up anyway.

And, speaking of my jacket, with it falling apart a little and me seeing more about battle vests and the like, I've been wondering about trying to embroider it, maybe make some patches... I have a bunch of cotton embroidery floss that was gifted to me years ago, but not only have I not embroidered much since learning it in school more than 15 years ago, this is also literally my only (wearable) jacket. The other two are a 10 year old fake leather coat that is peeling itself and also doesn't fit right, and a windbreaker in terrible colors that, if I remember correctly, is too badly damaged for me to know how to easily fix it. Meaning just going ham on it is a big risk. Do I try to find my first new jacket since 2019 and hope to stumble upon one satisfactory in both price and fit? Do I just pray and start fixing up my denim jacket? What else do I need anyway? I got thread and sewing needles big enough to fit it, but nothing else.

Help.

Thanks! <3

This post got kinda long even for me, sorry. First off, this is all embroidery related imo, this is still about stitching on fabric. A square is always a rectangle but a rectangle is not always a square. There's nuance under the umbrella of 'embroidery' here and this counts.

There does reach a point when clothing can't really be repaired anymore, and after that point, historically became rags, or the patches used to repair other clothing. You'll eventually need a new jacket, but if your choice is to immediately find one now or to repair your jacket and buy time to be able to locate one, it seems a bit obvious to me what the option to follow here is, especially if you like the look of visible mending.

This is the part where I wanted to add a cut, but tumblr is glitching out and refusing to add one. So I guess everyone is just subjected to this now. Sorry, and I'll try to have an actual pretty embroidery picture up for everyone to see this week since my furnace is no longer trying to blow up. So: visible mending is at the core applying mending techniques to clothing, and instead of trying to make them invisible repairs, using the stitches or extra material that reinforces the repair to creative visual interest and turn it into a design feature. The stitching itself is done to reinforce the fragile parts of your garment. Sometimes it can be darning, other times it's adhering new fabric to back/cover the fragile parts. It depends on the repair which to use, or even which method the mender prefers. It's not always clearcut and even then, sometimes we prefer doing the thing we know better more than a brand new technique and we bruteforce it to work. So, dealer's choice on darning or patching here, but I'll get to both of them. My opinion of your situation is that you have nothing to lose with trying to repair your jacket that fits you. It's already falling apart, and it's better to stabilize it before it gets worse before there are giant gaps in the fabric. Clean it gently by hand by letting it soak in a bucket or a tub with some ph neutral detergent - do a couple rinses of letting it soak, until the water runs clear and stops smelling foul. Then lay it flat to try on a towel, don't hang it up to dry as that will put more stress on the fabric, I find the shoulders are usually one of the first places to give out on my stuff but I am very broad shouldered. In my opinion, gaps in the fabric at high stress spots like the cuffs should have new backing fabric added to the weak spots, and then the visible mending can adhere that in place. If you were to make new embroidered cuffs you could just sew them on, and protect the integrity of the base fabric, the same way patches do. But you may prefer other options. For darning there's a few ways to go about it. Darning itself is using new threads to weave through the holes in fabric, and stabilizing it past the delicate thin edges of the base fabric. A dear friend of mine lives and dies by her Speedweve loom these days, and I've seen her work with it. She is one of the top 5 trusted fiber artists in my life so I vouch for these looms being cool as fuck and very functional without having used it myself. I also got her this particular book called Darned Easy, by Sally Simon, that I find interesting that has a lot of patterns in it for darning - I grabbed it at a used book store at some point. I messaged her before I made this point because she follows this blog and would know this part is about her. Hi bud. She's the only one who gets to see the rest of the interior of the book, because it was published in 1981 and I'd rather not use this blog to host scans of books that are that recently published.

You don't need a loom for darning if you know what patterns to follow to darn using your needle, and there are a lot of ways to make darning decorative in the manner you want for visible mending, just use your contrasting threads to stand out on the ground fabric. There's also other books available, a HUGE amount of them because darning's existed for millenia, but this is the resource I physically had on hand that I wanted to use as my example so it's the one you get pics of.

On the other end of repairs, you can applique on patches or reinforcing material, then quilt the material into place, with the quilting being the surface embroidery you are pushing through the layers of fabric in order to adhere them into place. Before anyone replies to this op telling them to fucking look up sashiko, please get off my post. I take umbrage with a lot of embroidery designs being referred to as 'sashiko.' This type of repair on existing clothing genuinely is one of the origins of sashiko as a necessity of life - it was that a pattern was laid down on the clothing or items that needed to be repaired or pieced together, and then quilted into place with running stitches that formed the design, which reinforced the clothing and allowed the fibers to be usable for longer. I really despise the words 'sashiko' 'wabisabi' and 'kintsugi' tossed around casually out of historical context by every fucking art blogger under the sun. Fabric was fucking expensive pre industrial revolution, so preserving clothing mattered a lot. Many different cultures have preferred methods (very often extremely regional even within a country) for mending in a manner that is similar to what we know of as quilting or applique today, but there's a certain obsession with anything Japanese in particular that bloggers love to describe as mysterious and wholesome when it's just a visually distinctive fucking way to repair a hole in a garment and quilt things together to make it warm and functional.

Anyway. My first vest I made, it did eventually disintegrate. I knew it would happen because fucking entropy of the universe and so I managed to find a new vest I could afford at the time when I happened across it, and kept it in a back closet till I was ready to transform it into my dragon vest. I repaired that first vest until almost every seam was paper thin and shredding. I loved it a lot. I wore it daily for years and years. I'm still sad I can't wear it anymore, even though I kept my back patch from it, and I still don't know what the fuck I am going to do with that patch. Eventually fabric is destroyed, after many many years of service and wear. Things die. You can't put resin on your embroidery and make it live forever. But when things finally do perish, you can use the base fabric that is still good to make new patches. You get to design and plan a new battle vest or projects you want to start. If you're not sure yet about how badly you'll be hit emotionally by seeing something you put hundreds of hours into disintegrate into nothingness, then hold off on making this particular jacket your battle jacket holding a lot of purchased patches and such, instead of as a test springboard for learning repairs. This is not me being facetious or jokey. It hits people pretty hard to lose, especially the first time this happens. We're humans that hold bonds with things we like, especially things with that much personal hand investment on it. It won't be a failure on your part if you decide to learn repair and extend the life of this jacket, when this jacket does finally bite the dust. It will happen. The accomplishment here is how much service and use you get out of the jacket past when you thought you'd have to throw it away far earlier than if you had learned to repair it.

[ya-zz]

Ramattra Drabble

"Oh, so now I'm the bad guy, Ramattra? Just because I tried to help you!?"

"You know nothing about what I am going through-"

"Then help me understand! Help me help you!"

He freezes for a moment, but his systems were too wrapped up in anger to let go. "You will only make matters worse and I cannot-"

"I'll make matters worse? Really? Is that how you think of me? You really think that I'm not capable of helping you!?"

The omnic watches the anger roll down your cheeks but all his words seem to get caught in his vocaliser.

"Every time I try to help, you shut me out! You accuse me of making things hard but I am trying to do what I can with what little I can offer. I'm sorry that I'm not some... some complex machine, who knows the answer to everything. I am fucking sorry that I can't be of use for you anymore than what I already am."

Ramattra just stares, optics glued to your teary eyes. The cracks in your voice, the pain behind your words, causes his own mechanical heart to begin shattering.

"You are right." He speaks slowly, almost as if he's trying to reason with himself, too. "You are trying. I have seen you try. I am sorry."

The tears don't stop falling as you stare at him with blurry vision. You want to speak, but the apology alone caught you off guard.

"I have been selfish, putting my needs before your own. I... I will be better. I am sorry for hurting you. Please, I do not wish for us to continue like this. I will let you in."

"I need your word because I can't keep doing this, Ramattra. I'm reaching my limit..."

"You have my word. I will not forsake you." He takes a step forward, a reassuring hand against your cheek. His thumb rubs against your cheek, soothing the heartache.

"I trust you."

"I know. You always have."

[artstennisracket]

Jealous/Possessive Patrick, Art tells him he slept with a guy, even though Patrick and Art aren’t dating. So Patrick fucks him saying things like “Was he better than me?”

i feel like this is something that would most definitely happen. considering Patrick’s ego. I always go for stanford era when idk what era to write in since it’s the easiest to write fics in (in my opinion). it did get really dirty really fast so lmk if the tone change is too drastic. (my mind really ran away from me LMAO)

cw: nsfw(18+), dom/sum undertones, dirty talk

They had just gotten back from the dining hall. The three of them, Patrick, Art, and Tashi, got lunch together using Art’s meal credits but Tashi had practice afterwards. So Art and Patrick headed back to Art’s dorm.

Once they’re settled in sitting next to each other on Art’s bed, Patrick turns the TV on to America’s Next Top Model.

“you actually watch this show? that’s so gay.” Art chuckles.

Patrick scoffs, “it’s 2009 babe, gay is not an insult anymore.”

“i know it’s just funny that you watch this show” Art shrugs.

“and you’re also not exactly the straightest guy I know.” Patrick smirks.

Art’s face turned beet red and he looks scared almost, “who told you?! tashi? it had to be tashi.”

Patrick scrunches his eyebrows together, very confused, “what did you finally come out of the closet? and you didn’t tell me?”

Art shakes his head no, he pulls the collar of his shirt up to cover his face. He answers Patrick, mumbling, “…i slept with a guy.”

Patrick is stunned. Somehow that revelation is so much worse. The thought of Art sleeping with a girl? Hot. The thought of Art sleeping a guy? That wasn’t him? Okay still hot but he wanted to be the one doing it. Scratch that, not hot. He’s the only guy that should be able to fuck Art. “you slept with a guy. you told my girlfriend. and didn’t tell me?”

“i mean i wanted to, but i was just kind of just, really embarrassed.” Art says letting his shirt fall back into place.

“why were you embarrassed?”

“because i was really drunk, like wasted. And i was at a party and we kissed. then one thing led to another and we were in his room and he fucked me.” Art says but Patrick can tell that Art’s hiding something else.

“and what else happened?” He asks.

Art responds, “no that was it.”

Patrick studied Art’s face and body language before he makes his move. He moves quickly, pinning Art to the bed, holding his hands above his head. Now in this position, Patrick is straddling Art. “tell me the truth.” Patrick whispers, leaving forward so their faces are almost touching.

Art starts to break a sweat, blush reappearing on his cheeks, “that’s it i swear.”

Patrick isn’t satisfied with that answer. “you can either tell me or i can tickle the answer out of you. your choice.”

“okay fine imoanedyournamebyaccidentmultipletimesthatnight” Art rushes out.

Patrick barely got any of that but he got the most important parts of “moan” and “your name”. He put two and two together, smirk reappearing on his face. “awe you moaned my name? That’s so cute, you really did miss me.” Patrick pauses before speaking up again, “you know, if you wanted me to fuck you all you have to do is ask.”

Art squirms under Patrick’s grasp. “that’s— that’s not-”

Patrick can feel Art start to grow hard under him so he cuts him off, “that’s not what? you don’t think i can do better than him?”

“i never said— but tashi-”

And what Patrick didn’t hear was a No, so he starts kissing down Art’s neck, still keeping his grip on Art’s wrist. Art lets his head fall back against his mattress. Patrick whispers right into Art’s ear, “i’ll show you better.”

Patrick wants to take his time taking Art apart because he is so going to enjoy this. He starts by moving down Art’s body and unzipping his shorts. He palms Art’s semi hardness, looking up to see the reaction on Art’s face. Art’s already squirming and Patrick’s barely begun. He pulls down Art’s briefs, wrapping his lips around Art’s tip. He hears a loud gasp from Art and continues. He’s swallowing down Art’s cock, letting it hit the back of his throat. Art is starting to moan like crazy, hands gripping the sheets below him.

Patrick pulls off Art’s cock and goes to pull off both Art’s shorts and briefs. He looks up at Art, “do you have any lube?”

Art nods sitting up on his elbows, grabbing some from his nightstand and passing it to Patrick. Patrick takes the lube applying it to his fingers as well as Art’s hole. Art gasps during the application from how cold it it. “relax babe, i’ll take care of you.”

Patrick slowly pushes his first finger in. It takes a minute for Art to adjust, but in no time he’s begging for a second. Patrick goes to add another finger but before he pushes in he asks, “did he have you begging like this too huh? like the desperate slut you are?”

Art could feel himself getting harder which he didn’t even know was possible. Art blinks a few times trying to regain his train of thought and remember but he honestly can’t, “n-no i don’t think so.”

“seeing how desperate you already are with one finger, i’m sure you did.” Patrick responds before he adds another finger in pumping his fingers in and out of Art’s hole. It’s not long before Patrick deems that Art is ready. He flips Art over so he is face down, ass up. He lines himself with Art’s entrance before he pushes in all at once.

“fuck” Art exclaims. He feels so full, Patrick is genuinely stretching him out right now.

“there you go baby, how’s that? does it feel good?” Patrick asks slowly going in and out. Art is still a bit tight around him.

“really really, good patrick fuck.” Art moans.

Patrick pulls all the way out and says “you’re still a little tight so you’re gonna have to hold yourself open for me okay?”

Art nods, moving his hands back towards his ass. He uses his hands to spread his cheeks, holding himself open for Patrick. Patrick almost finishes at that sight alone. He takes a mental picture before sliding back into Art. “holy fuck you’re still so tight.”

“your so fucking big patrick, fuck.”

“was his dick bigger than mine huh?” Patrick asks. He grips Art’s hips and starts drilling into him.

“ah, ah, oh- fuck, jesus fuck, no it wasn’t i swear.”

“does he fuck better than me? does he stretch out your fucking hole like I do?”

Art shakes his head no as best he could. He could start to feel his eyes watering up from the overwhelming amount of pleasure he was feeling as Patrick slammed into his prostate.

Patrick grabs Art’s hair, pulling his head up so Patrick could whisper in his ear. “i asked you a fucking question, use your words you dumb slut.”

Art is trying to remember how to formulate a sentence, he can’t even think straight while Patrick is still drilling into him. Art tries to shake his head no again, “…ah- n-no.”

“no what?”

“n-no he doesn’t fuck me better than you do.” Art responds as tears start to roll down his cheeks. Patrick lets go of Art’s hair causing him to fall back onto the bed. He pulls out for a second making Art whine at the loss. He turns Art to lay down on his back before pushing back inside of him.

“did he fuck you raw like this?” Patrick asks, he moves his hand so he can jerk Art off at the same time.

Art shakes his head before he remembers to verbalize his answer, “no he didn’t, wore a condom.” Art’s pupils are so blown out right now and he definitely looks a little spacey.

“maybe your not such a dumb cockslut after all.” Patrick smirks before he quickens his thrusts again.

“ah fuck, only for you.” Art moans. He doesn’t even really know what he’s saying at this point.

“that’s right baby, your mine. you’re my personal little fucktoy so you better not let anyone else fuck you like this ever again.”

Art doesn’t even know why that turned him on so much but he’s finishing all over Patrick’s fist before he knows it.

Patrick isn’t too far behind, finishing deep inside Art. He pulls out slowly, watching as it leaks right out of Art’s hole.

Maybe Patrick was being a little possessive but he didnt lie about anything he said. Art really does and will always belong to him, the same way that he will always belong to Art.

[oh-no-its-bird]

*wiggles seductively* hi birb, what are ur thoughts on the tailed beasts + jinchuriki

Woah Oni how did u get in my asks box

UMMM TAILED BEASTS AND THEIR JINCHIRUKI OK LETS SEE

I've had (and posted about) a few scattered thoughts ab both the tailed beast and their jinchuriki before, so let's see what I remember off the top of my head

I think Utakata is contender for my favorite Jinchiruki— we don't see much of him but what we do intrigues me. I'm a sucker for a man in slutty, slutty robes and his bubble ability is both interesting and cute to me. I wish there was more content for him

Other than him tho, Gaara is ofc, fucking amazing as a character. I think his entire situation is a great example of the lengths people will go for power, and how willing some parents are to destroy their own children in the hopes of power.

Its a theme that fits in very interestingly specifically in the earlier chapters of naruto, when we are seeing the shinobi world from the shiny eyes of children, who think the whole thing is "cool" and treat the many tiny tragedies and traumas of the adults around them as much more lighthearted than they could be read as. Idk, it's fun to think about

I know we all joke about how "oh its stupid of people to have mistreated the jinchuriki, they're literally walking nukes just be nice to them omg ur signing ur own death warrant rn" but it's easy to see in text why people are so scared of them— especially civilians

They're walking nukes! They have demons in them! The propoganda machine works overtime to make people fear jinchuriki, both on purpose (other villages fear mongering) and just due to natural cultural beliefs (literal demons in rural Japan. The fear writes itself.)

I do think there's an interesting middleground there of like. A jinchuriki being treated with kindness literally only out of fear. Which is still better than blatant abuse, but also still fun to think of the ramifications of being raised like that

I think it's also interesting to see the difference of how many jinchuriki were treated in their villages— some for sure got it worse than others, even if there was a solid through line between all of them of different degrees of "people are scared of me and no one fucking likes me"

I do wish we'd gotten more of the jinchuriki's all together, I love fics where they get to come interact together as some sort of messy family.

Similarly, I love the biiju as just. The world's most dysfunctional family. They are so fun as characters, most of them just want to be left the fuck alone but have no issues with flattening humans if they come too close and I love this for them

I think the relationship between biiju and their jinchuriki are so fun, they are both victims here, they are both justified in hating eachother. But if they are able to overcome that hate and get along— its just really interesting to see. That takes some real strength, on both their parts.

A human trusting a demon, a demon trusting a human. Its desperation that got them there. Desperation and exhaustion and a wish to be free.

The tragedy really writes itself

I've read several fics that take an angle of "since the biiju were sealed, the natural balances of the world have been thrown out of wack" where they'll have things like nature getting more violent or common yokai having dissapeared in the years following the biiju's sealing

I think that's super, super fun and I personally like to use the hc of "yeah no, yokai were super common like ~60 years ago but then Hashirama sealed the Biiju and they all just kinda of dissapeared in the following years. Almost like they sensed the absence of the big spirits and went into hiding in response"

Super fun! Instantly adds several fascinating implications about the naruto world and how it works and how the biiju interact with it by just existing

I also love, love, LOVE to think about the initial reactions to the biiju being sealed back in early konoha. Bc like. Ok so you have this culture, this Japanese culture, that largely revolves around the spirits and respecting them in the hopes that they will leave you be. Generations of people raised with the rules of "leave yokai the fuck alone"

And then you go and have your leader seal one of THE biggest yokai inside of his wife.

The bad karma is off the fucking charts. I refuse to believe everyone just nodded and went "wow what a great idea! Nothing bad could possibly come from this!"

No, no, there were for sure different camps of people who were different levels of horrified / disgusted / terrified / etc.

I think maybe the younger, less superstitious, more ambitious and power trippy people might have been some flavor of pleased, while the older more superstitious people just. "Oh god what have you DONE what have you LET INTO OUR HOMES!!??!"

I imagine that in the following year, Hashirama had to work overtime in appeasing people for fear as whispers of "this village was a bad idea, look now we've gone and angered the kyuubi. He will break free and kill us all and we'll deserve it for being such fools as to try and keep him sealed" grew louder

I remember someone told me that in the manga, we got a couple panels of where it looked like the uchiha had made a shrine to the fox after Kurama was sealed? Which just. Fascinates me. Because it shows that there was some sort of effort made to presumably appease him, which, again, oh man the implications

And then ofc Hashirama goes and gives all the other villages the keys to getting their own Biiju. And people start to fucking hunt them.

And then all the yokai are dissapearing and the bad omens are only getting worse and—

Well, you get the picture.

Anyways, yeah. Early Konoha and general shinobi world reactions to the biiju being sealed fascinate and delight me in equal measure. There's so much room there for practically anything ur gay little heart desires

Oh on that topic, I think it's also interesting to think ab like. Maybe at first, the jinchuriki were genuinley revered. Again, like, culturally, most people are gonna see (especially big) spirits and start trying to appease it so it leaves them the fuck alone, right?

So just. Thinking ab how at first, the jinchuriki were treated with largely (terrified) respect. Especially when they were no doubt first put into already respected and powerful people.

And then, yk, time passes.

People get more used to the idea of jinchuriki as more "honored demon containers" and more "demons themselves."

Jinchuriki are placed into children. Jinchuriki are used in the war effort. They're given names. Faces to fear. People who have killed loved ones— put into bingo books besides other shinobi, just another man to fear.

Theyre... human.

(Theyre hated.)

Nost yokai aren't around anymore, and while many still give their respects at shrines and crossroads, its not with the same urgency and genuine belief as before. Many of the new generation pay no respects at all, and the lack of consequence from the still gone yokai does nothing to convince them to start

It becomes easier and easier to let the "terror" to win over "reverence."

Anyways just. The changing of attitude towards jinchuriki as they become more normalized as just another person over the years. Also something that's fun to think about

Anyways that's what I got, thanks for stopping by my ask box Oni, love u

[flightfoot]

do you have any chloe redemption fanfiction recommendations ? preferably with the group of her alya nino mari and adrien - its so hard to find any 😭

Hm. There's a lot of fics where she's a good guy, but ones where she actually has to go through a redemption instead of getting a personality replacement... those are far rarer.

There are a few I recommend above all others.

---

In Direct Opposition by @generalluxun

Alya Cesaire is a brand new student to Francis Dupont, to Paris even. The first student she meets is one Chloé Bourgeois, and Alya is determined to make a friend. Things advance Chaotically. Her new 'friend' is definitely a handful, and suddenly Paris has a supervillain and two brand new superheroes! Alya finds herself balancing a lot of things, trying to live up to her ideals and those of her icons. And then reality seems to contradict itself. As time progresses it seems to happen more often. Becoming a hero, battling villains, staying alive, working through friendships. Something is lurking, tweaking events at times, changing them, and no one seems aware. Alya will need all her wits to get to the bottom of this. Her investigative mind can only get her so far though, and then she needs to rely on her friends. This is not a foe you can beat head on.

I betaed this entire fic, it’s really good! I adore the focus on Alya’s philosophy here, her determination to be a hero, to help people and defeat evil - and that defeating evil means trying to reform the people doing bad things when possible, to try to save EVERYONE, even the “villain”. I thought it was really clever the ways Alya would redirect Chloe and subtly encourage her to be a better person, while also trying to get the people around her to give her a second chance and keep an open mind.

Also Alya and Chloe are an adorable sapphic couple XD.

---

Hold Me By Both Hands by @angelofthequeers

“I know he said never to take you back,” Plagg mutters. “But he’d change his tune if he knew.” He looks Adrien straight in the eye and, more serious than Adrien’s ever seen him before, says, “There’s someone you gotta meet. He’s been looking for that book for ages.” How differently might the events of season 2 have gone if Adrien had also known of Master Fu from the start?

This is one of my top Miraculous fics of all time, it's a fix-it for all of seasons 2 and 3 basically, and has several interweaving plot threads from many of the characters, including one of the best Chloedemptions I've ever seen. It has a very The Good Place kind of feel to it, with Chloe initially being motivated to try and become a better person for selfish reasons, but then slowly discovering internal reasons to strive for improvement, to be a bit kinder.

---

The Queen's Requiem by TinyTulip

Fleeing Paris in disgrace, Chloe Bourgeois sought a fresh start in New York against her own will, but the city that never sleeps has other plans. Thrust into a whirlwind of ghostly attacks and her mother’s relentless demands to rebuild their family’s tarnished reputation, Chloe soon uncovers two stolen Miraculous, the Raven and the Bear. Dark and dangerously alluring. Surrounded by unlikely allies and haunted by her past, the Queen’s hardest battle lies ahead. --- Chloe’s heart skipped a beat, a mix of dread and confusion washing over her. That voice—it was unmistakable. “Chloe! Hi, it’s me. Aeon!” Time seemed to slow as the familiar girl approached the table, her friendly wave and wide smile at complete odds with the tension now gripping Chloe’s chest. Aeon didn’t just say her name—she’d announced it, loud and clear, with no regard for the consequences. Chloe’s face flushed, her mind scrambling. Her friends exchanged confused glances. “Uh, Claudine, who is this?" But things only got worse when that blasted girl with those braids came bounding in after Aeon with a familiar boy with blue hair and a guitar strapped to his back not too far behind her. Chloe stifled the urge to scream.

So this one is currently ongoing, but has the potential to become the best Chloedemption fic to date. I love how Chloe re-evaluates herself and her values after hitting rock-bottom, and manages to find a friend group for herself who knows nothing about her past. And the whole plot thread of her being tugged around by others machinations, knowing that Zoe's father is a bad person but keeping on telling herself otherwise because he actually listens to her and helps her, even if it's for a price... it's just very in-depth.

[ckret2]

Pardon me, however, have you ever considered getting help on WAIGLZ or any other fic of yours? Such as a ghost writer or someone to help you with art so it can get done faster?

I am just curious because I thought it would be really coolio to work with you or something, idk.

Please have a truly wonderful day/evening and toodaloo! ^ ^

+ Btw, if I sound rude at all, that is %100 not intentional tone is kind of hard to translate through text lol

I appreciate that the question is meant kindly; but why would I want somebody else to tell my story for me?

It might not make a difference to an audience member; y'all simply just wanna see the rest of the story, it doesn't make a difference who made it because from the consumer's end it still reads the same.

But it makes a hell of a lot of difference to the writer.

If i wanted a ghostwriter I could just chuck my outline into chatgpt. it would be just as good—which is to say it would be very bad—because in both cases it'd be written by someone/something that doesn't intimately understand the vast web of ideas the story's built on and the hundreds of tiny tiny goals I'm looking for places to thread into the story and the exact themes I'm trying to achieve and exactly where and how I want to make it funny and make it heartwarming and make it hurt; and in both cases I'd have to rip the product apart and edit it to sound like the story i'm trying to tell rather than sound like a 40% accurate retelling of my story that was based off of a barebones summarization.

Like, how many times have you seen Gravity Falls? Probably at least once or twice? If you sat down with an episode summary—only the summary, not the transcript or gallery—and tried to rewrite the script word-for-word and redraw the episode shot-for-shot, do you think you could get every word and every angle right? And you've already seen the episode! You remember the finished product! Imagine trying to guess at all that based off of the summary alone if you'd never seen it before!

So now instead of writing my own story i'm merely editing SOMEONE ELSE telling a water-downed version of my story. It takes me just as long if not longer; and on top of that there's no joy in it.

And if that's what i wanted to do with my life... at least shoving it in chatgpt would get me a first draft to edit faster.

as for art: about a decade ago i was writing/drawing a fancomic and tried to split it with friends so i was writing and they were drawing. it slowed down the whole thing immensely. took 4x longer to get art than doing it myself would've taken.

At the time, I updated multiple times a week (my art was worse then lol); and when I asked someone else to do art I had to keep choosing between:

delaying my next post for days while patiently waiting for a friend, with no guarantee they'd actually finish;

impatiently waiting and trying to find a way to politely repeatedly pester them about finishing the art; or

give up on waiting and do the art myself, which would hurt them deeply, especially if they'd already started it and I just went "nah you're too slow, I'll do it myself."

The thing is, I put my passion project ahead of my other hobbies. Why would somebody else put my passion project ahead of their own hobbies? It would be unfair and unkind for me to ask somebody to do that; but I'm not willing to slow down and wait for somebody to do some art for me when it's finally convenient for them; so therefore I'd better do my own art.

[weirdocat83]

Canon divergence Arcane au!! Post-apocalypse AU!! (Ofc with a side of timebomb)

Based on the part of season 2 where Viktor is literally taking over the world and also the alternate universe where he literally succeeded.

I think it’d be interesting to see a jinx/ekko/jayce team up. Would they get along? Absolutely not. Jinx literally blew up the council room and Jayce created hextech which contributed to a loss of wealth for the undercity. Jinx and Jayce would kill each other if not for the fact that they’re probably the only people who have survived.

If you’re asking why jinx, Ekko and Jayce, it’s because Jinx and Ekko could conceivably avoid Viktor’s control (we literally see jinx avoid it and Ekko has the Z-drive) and Viktor straight up has a soft spot for Jayce and while the Viktor who is Actively Causing the apocalypse may not show it, AU Viktor could have shown him how to survive in the Apocalypse. Also Jinx and Ekko just have incentive to keep him alive considering he’s probably the one who would know how to kill Viktor best (considering the whole AU thing and being his partner for Years)

I think this kind of au would be an interesting way to dissect the darker parts of their characters.

We see a lot of that from jinx in the show and I do think she would struggle to find the will to Stay Alive when literally everyone else is gone. Tbh I think she’d mostly be there on spite and murderous intent for Viktor. She is in Survival Mode which, all things considered, isn’t a bad thing in the Apocalypse. To an extent, they all are. The apocalypse def made her crazy less strange and more helpful. The ability to make weaponry out of basically anything and a willingness to blow up anything that moves is useful all things considered.

Ekko is grappling with the fact that pretty much all the firelights are dead or won’t last long while also trying to keep Jinx and Jayce from killing each other (intentionally or not). He’s lost a lot of people in a short amount of time and is Not Coping Well. He’s always focusing on what’s in front of him but it’s all kind of really bad rn tbh. He’s more temperamental than usual and it matches up badly most of the time with Jinx. She knows this logically but also doesn’t really know what to do abt it. Sometimes to get their minds off everything they talk abt traveling far away from everything where Viktor hasn’t reached yet and living the rest of their lives peacefully. They know it’s practically a pipe dream but sometimes a dream can be all you need to hold out some hope. Ekko is usually the strategist, planning where they go and when. In battle/right before he can give brief warnings because of the Z-drive and has had to adapt to using more force than he’s used to in order kill Viktor’s minion things.

Jayce is… weird honestly. He just went through one apocalypse to get back to another which is arguably worse. He’s prepared and knows what this is like but sometimes the “rich kid” personality still shines through. Like, he’ll eat raw food and sleep on the floor but he’ll still complain abt how he misses his bed and the feasts the kirammans used to throw. I feel like he’d learn a lot abt the undercity from mostly Ekko but also jinx. Jayce being pretty useless without a proper lab would be pretty funny when Jinx and Ekko have always operated without one. Jayce is usually the one getting resources like food/shelter.

I think it’d be interesting to see them fight and interact together considering they’re all so different and we never really see them together in canon.

Ekko and Jinx spend a lot of time together in this au both out of necessity and because they know each other better than anyone. Sometimes their relationship reminds Jayce of his and Viktor’s ‘partnership’. Jayce would get closer to the two even if he’ll never truly understand them. I think Jayce and Jinx would go from “I am two seconds from murdering your ass” to a weird type of sibling-ish relationship. Meanwhile Jayce and Ekko would be bonding while planning what to do next. Also every time Jayce mentions Viktor, Jinx and Ekko both look at him in the “I Know What You Are” type of way. They know better than anyone that just because someone is your enemy, that doesn’t mean you stop loving them.

[things-arent-what-they-seem66]

(Evan)

⚠️content warning, this story deals with domestic abuse⚠️

Adam met Evan not long after he fell. Adam was performing at a bar to make money when after he got paid he was approached by an Envy demon. There was something mesmerizing about the aquatic appearance of the man who was colored in deep purples and greens. His eyes a soft pink color.

Evan: That was amazing, I don’t see many singers as talented as you are, especially when they are as handsome as you are. My name is Evan.

Adam: My name is Adam, I am glad you liked my songs.

Adam wasn’t surprised he got so much attention, after he fell the lamb like features he gained made him quite unique in Hell. They went and started having drinks together and one thing led to another and they ended up in Evan’s home in the Envy Ring making out. Since Adam was a fallen angel and not a Sinner he could travel through the other Rings outside of the Pride Ring. Evan took Adam to his bed and they had sex. Adam who wasn’t used to being on the bottom wondered if it was meant to be this rough and painful, but he went along with it because he didn’t want to seem weak. Afterwards they were relaxing on the balcony Adam looking down as cum leaked out of him. Part of falling made it so he had a dick and a pussy.

Evan: I didn’t know that this was your first time being the bottom, I probably shouldn’t have been as rough.

Adam: It’s alright.

Adam noticed that Evan didn’t apologize and just shrugged it off, he was nice in every other way.

Evan: I like you a lot Adam and I would like you for my boyfriend.

Adam blushed, before he had just been given a wife and told to make babies with her. He also had one night stands in Heaven, but he was the one to approach the person. It was nice to be approached for a change.

Adam: I would like to be your boyfriend.

Evan: Good, I would like to show you around the beach tomorrow.

Adam: That sounds nice.

What Adam didn’t know was that soon this with Evan would slowly take a dark turn.

Six Months Later

Evan growled and threw the plate at Adam, narrowly missing his head as it shattered into a million pieces.

Evan: Damn it Adam! How many fucking times do I have to tell you not to do that!? Are you this fucking stupid or are ignoring me!?

Adam blinked back tears, he didn't want to cry again and make Evan more angry. That always seemed to make things worse.

Adam: I-I-I'm sorry! I didn't mean to!

Evan: For someone who "didn't mean to" you sure as shit do it a lot. This shit better be clean by the time I get back from work or else you'll really fucking get it.

He grabbed his coat and slammed the door behind him making Adam burst into tears. He didn't know how this happened, Evan could be so sweet but sometimes he would flip a switch and just be verbally nasty to him.

And now he's throwing things......

Adam wiped his face and grabbed the broom, he needed to clean this up.

When he was done he cleaned himself up and got ready for his own job. Adam left and as he walked down the sidewalk the tvs in a store came to life.

Charlie: Are you a sinner looking for redemption to go to heaven to be with your loved ones? Well look no further! Here at the Hazbin Hotel we -

Adam listened for a moment and he thought about home in heaven, his son, everyone. He missed them.

Maybe..... Maybe he could give it a try? He obviously needs a little space from Evan and this would provide that.

After work, he'll go. If they will have him.

[hayhenna]

Get a Room! Pt 1 🩵♥️

_a shanks x buggy fic making everyone in the ship uncomfortable&

---

The Red Force had never been quieter—or tenser. The crew was used to the occasional chaos, but this? This was a whole new level of uncomfortable. Ever since Buggy had begrudgingly boarded the ship again, and he and Shanks had "reconciled," the two captains had been utterly inseparable.

“Do they think we’re blind?” Limejuice muttered, scrubbing a plate furiously in the kitchen. Just as he said it, Shanks and Buggy stumbled in, lips locked, oblivious to his presence.

“Oh, *come on!*” Limejuice groaned, tossing the plate into the sink and storming out, leaving the two captains oblivious to the fact they weren’t as sneaky as they thought.

On deck, things weren’t much better. Benn Beckman leaned against the mast, a cigarette between his lips, watching Shanks and Buggy tucked into a shadowy corner. Buggy’s ponytail was askew, Shanks’ cloak was barely on his shoulders, and they were entirely too preoccupied with each other.

“You’d think they’d at least *try* to be discreet,” Benn said to Yassop, who was trying (and failing) to clean his rifle without hearing Buggy’s muffled, “Shanks, stop it—wait, don’t stop. Fufufufu~.”

“Yeah, well, I’m drawing the line,” Yassop said, standing up.

Marching over to the pair, Yassop cleared his throat loudly. “Captains. Do you mind? Some of us would like to eat, sleep, and work without... that.”

Buggy pulled back, his face a mixture of annoyance and embarrassment, though the lipstick smears on his cheeks weren’t helping. “Oh, I’m *so sorry*, Yassy, I didn’t realize your delicate little sensibilities couldn’t handle two *adults* enjoying themselves!”

“Buggy,” Shanks said, his tone soft but warning. He quickly covered Buggy’s mouth with his hand before the clown could dig the hole deeper. “What he means is, we’ll, uh, tone it down. Right, Buggy?”

Buggy’s muffled response sounded suspiciously like, “Like hell we will.”

“I mean it,” Shanks said, though the smirk tugging at his lips betrayed him.

That evening, Benn, Yassop, and a few others cornered Shanks in his quarters.

“Captain,” Yassop started, clearly exasperated, “you know we’re happy for you. Really, we are. But you two are... well, it’s getting out of hand.”

“It’s not just that we can hear everything,” Benn added, “it’s that we can’t escape it. The kitchen, the deck, the supply room. You’ve got to rein it in.”

Shanks chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “C’mon, guys, don’t tell me you’re not happy for me. Buggy and I finally—”

“We are happy,” Yassop interrupted, “but this is too much. Can’t you, I don’t know, hold back a little?”

Shanks’ smile faded, replaced by a rare seriousness. He looked down for a moment, his hand gripping the edge of his desk.

“You don’t get it,” he said quietly. His crew froze; this wasn’t the playful, easygoing captain they were used to. “I’ve waited almost twenty years for him to feel the same way I do. Twenty years of wondering if I ruined everything by letting him go. And now... now I finally have him.” said with a blush in his smile with his hand holding the shirt simulating holding his heart.

The room went silent. Shanks looked up, his voice soft but steady. “If that means you’ve gotta put up with a little inconvenience for a few days, then so be it. I’m not wasting any more time.”

Yassop sighed, his frustration melting into guilt. Benn put a hand on his shoulder, signaling it was time to drop it.

By dinner, things had only gotten worse. The crew sat at the long dining table, trying desperately to ignore the fact that Shanks and Buggy were suspiciously absent. It wasn’t long before the sounds of muffled laughter—and something that sounded suspiciously like a moan—echoed down the hall.

“*For the love of God,*” Limejuice muttered, slamming his fork down.

“Think of it this way,” Benn said dryly, “at least they’re not fighting anymore.”

“Yeah, but at this rate, I’d almost prefer the fighting,” Yassop said, rubbing his temples. “When’s the next port? Because if I have to listen to one more night of this—”

A particularly loud thud from above made everyone freeze in place, forks hovering mid-air and conversations dying instantly. The room grew heavy with an awkward tension as muffled sounds of pleasure drifted from the hall—soft laughter, breathy gasps, and the occasional telltale creak of furniture. The noises only seemed to escalate, showing no signs of stopping, making the crew shift uncomfortably in their seats, exchanging uneasy glances while pretending not to hear.

Trapped in the dining room, they exchanged nervous glances, too polite—or too terrified—to step out and interrupt whatever was unfolding just outside. "Why the hall?" someone whispered in exasperation, only to be shushed by a frantic wave.

“Land can’t come soon enough,” Benn muttered.

As the days went on, the crew stopped bothering to intervene. Yassop tried a few more times, only to be met with Buggy’s sharp tongue and Shanks’ sheepish apologies. But every time they thought about Shanks’ quiet confession, they gritted their teeth and bore the annoyance, telling themselves it was worth it to see their captain this happy.

No body wanted to risk seeing something that would haunt them for nights to come. As the sounds outside escalated, some crew members stared intently at their plates, while others silently prayed it would end soon so they could escape without an image they couldn’t unsee. Even if it meant listening to those two grown men moan into the night.

----

Part 2