#infidelity cw

[so-very-small]

I am thinking about a Tiny Wife, and a Tiny Husband. they live in the walls of a human couple’s home. got married young and rushed, drifted apart in their thirties, but it’s fine. the humans are in a similar boat. they all make it work. so the Tiny Husband does the majority of the borrowing, and the Giant Husband does the majority of the cooking, and it’s only natural that their paths cross. and they hate each other.

the Giant Husband sees this little guy as an absolute pest. destroying his herb gardens and stealing his food. so he lays traps, chases him, puts all his energy into catching this tiny. he doesn’t tell his Giant Wife. and yet, he obsesses. the Tiny Husband sees the Giant as an obstacle, and takes on the traps as challenges. he steals more than he needs, makes a show of his theft now that the human is aware. his Tiny Wife worries, but he persists.

because there’s a specific little feeling he gets around the Giant Husband that he hasn’t gotten from anyone in a long time. a sharp thrill in his chest, a flutter in his stomach. and it’s wrong, and he also might die, but he goes out anyways just to see him. and he has a very, very strong feeling that Giant Husband feels the same.

(he does.)

Tiny Wife is not stupid, though. initially relived by the extra alone time, she eventually realizes Tiny Husband’s gone more than he should be and he’s bringing home more than normal. she trails after him one night, and watches how her husband has this dangerous dance with the Giant Husband. the threats, the sharp comments, the danger, but more than that, how they look at each other. the light in his eyes when he comes home.

and Tiny Wife is a little bothered by how she isn’t bothered. if anything, she’s happy for Tiny Husband. she’s never seen that spark, and she’s never held it for him. she’s happy he’s getting that, even if it’s in an atypical way. despite this, she still feels an obligation to Giant Wife, and so one night while Tiny Husband and Giant Husband are trying to kill each other, she creeps her way into the massive bedroom.

Giant Wife is having tea, her soft face lit by candles. Tiny Wife makes her presence known from her perch on the nightstand, and Giant Wife does not seem as startled as she should be. introductions are made, and Tiny Wife breaks the news that their husbands are…. well they’re not fucking, she doesn’t think, instead something much weirder, but emotionally entangled regardless.

and the Giant Wife already knows. she’s at peace with it, god, she’s happy for the quiet with her husband so busy. it was an arraigned marriage, and she’s not bothered, don’t worry little one, perhaps since you’re free would you like to stay for some tea? Tiny Wife does. she has tea in the candlelight with this giantess, and when she walks home, she has a certain smile on her face that’s never been there before.

I like to think it works out. the Husbands come clean and the Wives laugh at them. everything changes, in the sense that Tiny and Giant Wives now have tea every evening and spend the nights together, and nothing changes, in the sense that the Husbands are still trying to kill each other.

(but now they also kiss sometimes, too.)

[starryeyedjanai]

Steve is getting married.

He’s disillusioned with his life because this isn't the life he thought he’d have. He had dreams of kids and a spouse, but not like this.

The thing is, he isn't in love with his fiance, but his parents expect him to get married if he wants to get his inheritance. So he proposes to a girl they set him up with and approve of and it's all neat and tidy and tied with a bow and he hates it.

They start the wedding planning.

She hates that he isn't as into it as she is, hates that he’s pretty much indifferent to her altogether so she tasks him with one, just one, of the wedding details while she deals with everything else.

He picks flowers. Should be easy enough, right? She tells him the colors she wants and lets him run free with it and he chooses a place based on the recommendation of a family friend.

He meets with the floral designer at the shop and-

He only has this one task, the only thing his fiance asked of him, and he can barely focus on it because the designer, Eddie, is breathtaking.

Talking with Eddie, hearing him talk so passionately about flowers and what they all mean when they’re paired together makes Steve feel more alive than any of the conversations he’s had with his fiance. She’s nice, she’s fine, but she doesn't make his heart beat faster the way it does when Eddie looks at him, when Eddie's hand brushes his.

The wedding is planned for just under half a year from when Steve and Eddie meet. Which, coincidentally, is just enough time for them to fall in love.

[sweetsuo]

𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐬

Toji Fushiguro x F!Reader

Cw. afab!reader. Cheating. Infidelity. Dacryphilia. Temperature play. Burning. Fingering. Smoking.

 Genre. [ fic. Smut. See tags for notes.] You're Megumi's girlfriend and his father is not someone you thought you'd catch the eye of in the kitchen.

Wc. 3.6k

This was fucked up. It was fucked up and you knew it was. It wasn’t supposed to be this way, but it’s the only way your heart squeezed in that sickeningly pleasant way – the only reason you wanted to sleep over any more.

You looked up at him, eyes dancing over the serenity in his features. Handsome. Somehow boyish in the length of his lashes and the way his lips parted in a slight laugh. He made you feel like an endangered animal – preciously encaged for safety and sanctuary yet never letting you see home again.

Your breath fluttered and you were completely certain he could hear the way your heart swirled in your eardrums. It was evident in the way his head tilted slightly as his deep gray-blue eyes went from your chest, to your lips, to yours eyes. You held your breath, rolled your lip between your teeth, and averted your eyes.

The tile of the kitchen floor was cold against your bare feet and Megumi’s shirt was big enough to graze your knees. The chill of the counter against the side of your hand reminded you of everything outside of the one in front of you.

“W-what?”

“Can I have the milk?”

Toji leaned his hip on the black marble countertop, hand laying over yours on the cardboard milk carton as he took it from you. It was a slight graze of a touch, but you felt the calluses of his fingers trickle across the delicate skin of the back of your hand. You repressed a shudder. Your chin dipped down. Your hand let go of the carton.

“Thanks. What’re you doing up so late, Princess? Gumi kick you off the bed again?”

You felt the warmth of his body as he shifted, bicep grazing onto your upper arm as he poured the milk into the coffee. The nickname always peeved Megumi in a way he couldn’t fully explain. You would reassure him it was fine, it’s just because his dad was a dick. Toji said it was because Megumi spoiled you.

“No,“ you watched as black espresso turned to a pretty caramel. Suddenly your tea wasn’t as appetizing anymore. For a moment your brows furrowed and you were aware that it was 3:15am, “why are you drinking coffee?”

Toji laughed. It’s deep and gruff and sounds like tires over a gravel driveway. This time you can’t suppress the shudder. It’s been this way since Toji came back from his business trip. You never met him up until the last semester. At least not in person. He was usually away. Megumi never knew what he did or how he afforded the house. 

Either way, whenever classes let up or between semesters, you’d come to his suburban home and basically live with him. You loved Megumi very much and you have for the year and a half you’ve been dating. You’d kiss him goodbye whenever you left to see your parents, but there was something about his dad that kept you coming back.

Maybe it was the first night you woke up in the middle of the night. Megumi had kicked you off the bed by accident. There was only so much room for two 20-years-olds and a large dog. It was bound to happen one day or another. It was simply unfortunate that you scraped your arm on a bent piece of metal from his bed frame, leaving a long scratch that pebbled red. You traversed down the steps and having forgotten your glasses on the nightstand, had to rummage through the drawers to find a band aid.

Toji was there, leaning on a counter by the sink, gazing out the window. The sweet scent of cherry tobacco lingered despite the open air. At first, your throat cinched around your thumping heart. You thought he was an intruder. You couldn’t see his features, but the way the moon abstractly bounced off them, you immediately knew who he was just by shape. Megumi got his good looks from someone and that someone was right in front of you.

“You’re bleeding,” he stated blandly, only taking a second to look at you from the corner of his eyes.

“I am?” You knew you were. That’s why you had your arm up like an injured paw and a hand in a drawer full of homeless kitchen appliances, “I am.”

“So you are,” he chuckled. Toji stood at full height and you swore you nearly gasped. The corner of his scarred mouth curled then flattened as he turned to you. He grabbed a paper towel, fingers grasping onto the tips of yours. His palm was warm, soft, tender on the flesh of your arm. The paper towel pressed to provide a temporary fix as he guided you along to the bathroom to pull out a bandage.

You remember every moment of that night; how the sink felt pressing against the small of your back and how his thigh leaned almost too heavily onto yours as he meticulously took care of the minor cut. In his defense, the bathroom was small – one of the ones that fit awkwardly under a staircase and only had a toilet and a sink. It didn’t excuse the way his hand brushed your hair back when everything was settled. You still felt guilty that you tilted your chin to better feel the backs of his fingers against your neck.

For as often as you felt guilty, soon to follow was an echo of his parting words.

“Mr. Fushiguro takes care of his guests – especially Gumi’s Princess.” His smile was strangely sweet when he exited the bathroom, leaving you to collect your staggered breath.

It was that night, and plenty of nights after, that you woke Megumi up by putting his hand on your cunt and asking if daddy could take care of you. The kisses he’d press to your forehead lingered warmly, lovingly. Bitterly.

Brought back by the metallic thwip of a bic lighter, Toji cupped his hand to the flame, lighting the cherry cigarette you would smell when you were lonely in your dorm. It overpowered the familiar scent of eucalyptus you’d once loved.

“For the same reason everyone drinks coffee,” He laughed once through his nose, expression slackening as his gaze lingered on yours. He dragged on the cigarette and exhaled for longer than usual. The swirl of smoke passing over the curve of his lips was beautiful. He quirked a brow, curiously entertained, “Withdrawal?”

You dry swallowed. He offered you the cigarette with an offhand comment you couldn’t quite hear. The end of the cig faced you and you leaned, wrapping your lips around it. The subtle graze of his fingers on your lips tickled. You never smoked before. Through thick lashes, your gazes met and you swore something passed over his. You sucked. You coughed. You secretly loved the taste of burnt cherry.

“That’s not how you do it,” his voice was dark navy and for a moment, as small tears welled from the remaining spasm of your lungs, you thought he would scold you for lying. Hushed, he pressed the cigarette back to your lips, “Try again.”

Obediently, your lips found their way around the stick. You had Toji’s attention on you in the same way a starling bird had a peregrine falcon’s. You felt wanted by something hungry.

You waited patiently for his order, looking up to him with those pretty, expectant eyes. You barely noticed his hand slowly pulling the cigarette. Your lips stayed connected. He felt your breath fan the backs of his fingers.

“Are you going to suck it, or what?” There was a bite to his voice and you took a long, nervous drag. The crackling burning paper filled the space between you. You tried to inhale it all and the burn made your eyes water. Toji’s head tilted by a minuscule as your lips detached, leaving a small string of saliva attached to the end. Bleary eyes matched his, desiring his approval. His free hand cupped your cheek, giving a slight tap, “I’m not going to spoil you like Megumi does, Princess.”

Strong hands grabbed under the thickest part of your thighs, hoisting you up and onto the cold marble counter. Megumi’s shirt was disregarded and hiked up to the crease of your hip. The hiss of hot ash sprinkled on your thighs matched the heady hiss your tongue made against teeth. Toji smirked. The burn was replaced by his rough hands smoothing over the supple flesh. He gripped your ass, hauling you to the edge of the counter.

This was wrong.

Your heart throbbed in your chest and even more between your legs. Your Thighs squeezed together as Toji leaned into your neck, biting hard. His thumbs dug into the junction of your thigh and hip, keeping you sat firmly on the counter top.

Megumi was upstairs.

Toji’s mouth trailed down your neck as the tips of his fingers traced up along bare skin. You could feel him smirk against your neck. Surely the warmth of his lips could feel how fast the blood pumped through you. You felt light headed, impatient for the touch of his chilled fingers. The man before you nudged his cheek onto yours and you felt the subtle graze of his spudding 5 o’clock shadow.

He said nothing, but you heard the change his breathing. Hiis middle finger slipped between your glossy lips - the touch was so cold, you gasped and your cunt clenched on nothing at all. The pad of his middle finger moved slowly in a circle, then traced down. It was so slow that your body writhed for more. To try and coax the digit in, your entrance throbbed. He headed to call to its beck. Rather than satiate your starving sex, Toji brushed up to your clit. Totally in control of you, his fingers dance in cruel repetition.

His spare hand trailed up your torso, pulling his son’s shirt up to expose you bit by bit. The shirt never came off, no. It’s not like he needed it to when you wore nothing underneath it. He’d be lying if he didn’t notice how your nipples perked and your stance shifted when he entered the kitchen. He felt your eyes on his back when he opened the fridge. Deliberately (and with the goodness in his heart), he allowed your longing gaze to linger on him. It was laughable that you were pressing your bare chest into the palm of his hand, The tissue malleable and molten under his touch. It was euphoric. You gave into his touch so desperately.

Toji’s grin widened, Cheshire-like against you. His breath was hot against your ear and the baritone of his voice was enough to make you swallow a whine, “Maybe Gumi doesn’t spoil his Princess like I thought. You’re really this cock hungry? I barely touched you,” his finger tapped on your swollen clit and you jerked in response, curling forward and trembling digit gripping onto his impossibly tight shirt. Practically on the brink of tears from the way he teased you, you wondered how hands so cold could feel like they burned like the ash on your thighs.

Fuck. Fuck.  

The hands gripping his shirt slapped the cold counter when you pulled your torso away to back on your forearms. Your brows knit and your chin tilted back. Megumi’s shirt draped over your tits like fine silk. What a fucking delicious sight. Desperate. That’s exactly how you looked with your nose scrunched and lips drawn in a tight line. Your fists were balled and legs spread wide, separated by his body. He admired that the first thing spilled on the freshly installed black marble was the drool of your cunt.

Toji persisted despite the painful ache of his cock. He wanted you to grovel for him, prove his suspicion that his son lacked the same skill to make you a drooling mess. Why? The answer was simple instinct to him. The aftermath of his divorce left him in shambles. But then again, papers were filed the second he fucked his sister-in-law on wifey’s new BMW (and doubled down on when she found the recording of him with the couple’s therapist). Validation, maybe. He had nothing to prove or no need for it. He just wanted to know that he could fuck anyone he wanted anywhere he wanted, no matter who they were.

You opened your mouth to scream in frustration. Your legs shook, every part of your body wanted something to fill you. Empty. Empty fucking. Empty satisfaction. The slap was followed by the sound of skittering upstairs.

You paled and your heart threatened to burst with anxiety. Complete silence took over the kitchen and your mind emptied, listening for the familiar sound of your boyfriend’s footsteps. Eyes looked over your shoulder and suddenly you were very aware of the fact that every entrance leading to the kitchen was an open walkway.

The man between your legs had paused then, lips slack as he listened. He had good hearing. Good senses. His fingertips sprawled on top of your mound, palm pressing against your fluttering entrance absent-mindedly. It was merely the dog. He trained it to only bark or alert of certain triggers. This was certainly not one of them. Your reaction though- he could work with that.

His fingers circled your clit and you feared he would continue his cruel tease. Toji could see through your expression like the Bermuda seas. He leaned forward, hand slowly tipping over your entrance as his words filled your mind, “What happens if you’re caught?”

Your breathing stopped completely. Dread, excitement, and two long digits filled you. Just as you had expected, every second of teasing coated your walls. Every nerve ending had been meticulously prepared for something to touch them, trigger them to ignite. Your walls spasmed readily and your knees gripped the sides of Toji’s hips. He experimented with you for a while, salivating when tears pinched past your lashes. In the back of his mind, he needed you to break before you got his cock. He was getting slightly impatient. His hands were cold and you could feel every single motion of his fingers in you. Your mind could paint a picture of every ridge his digits had to offer simply from his temperature.

He leaned over. His tongue was hot. With a single broad, strong, and long open-mouthed lap along your clit, you unwound. A free hand slapped over your mouth, muffling the near animalistic yowl you let out. He smirked.

Bet Megumi never heard that sound.

As soon as your walls slowed and your voice died out, Toji shoved the band of his sweats under his cock. He could tell by your blissed out glaze that you weren’t entirely processing what was to come. He could fix that.

Hands pulled you half-way off the counter. You yelped, shivering at the slick on the surface beneath you. Toji held you under your knees, practically forcing you to prop yourself up on your elbows. He cooed, “Good girl.” The way you stared at his cock like it were god itself had a dribble of precum roll down his length. A bare minimum of 8-9 inches stood at attention, positioned right under you. Your arousal drizzled over him and if your mind worked, you would’ve offered to lick it off like one would a warm sugar glaze.

He adjusted his arms so that the underneath of your thighs were supported by his hands and your knees hooked over his arms. Your own arms wobbled and shook. The muscle ache was blunted by his thick tip pressing onto your entrance. You had no option but to give him the reins. His focus was entirely on the junction between his tanned cock pressing into you. It was almost endearing, how this look of fascination came over his harsh features, enrapturing your gaze like a renaissance painting.

He guided your hips in a circle, bending his knees slightly to swirl against you. The scar at the corner of his lip twitched in gratification when you throatily let out a long high note. He lowered you onto him in bit by bit. Slight thrust in. Draw back. Slight thrust in. Draw back.

Every. Single. Time. He drew out, you wanted to cry out. You could take it. Toji continued to carefully make his way into you. He was large and he learned from mistakes of drilling in too soon. Sure, he slipped in easy enough, but he still met resistance to the stretch. He didn’t want to hurt you. Or at least that was until you opened your pretty mouth.

“Stop fucking around. I can take Gumi’s dick, I can take yours.”

Your lips formed into a pout and the words backhanded his ego. So this is what Megumi dealt with. Oh no, he couldn’t have that. You were obviously trying to get a rise out of him like the brat you were. Toji darkly chuckled, “So this is what’s got him around your finger, huh? You want me to ‘stop fucking around’?”

He pulled your right leg across his chest so that it rested along his left shoulder. The left leg was guided around his waist. “By your command, Princess.” He thrust in hard, shoving his cock through the tightness. The pace was relentless. Harsher, meaner, heavier than even Megumi’s was at his roughest. Your mind erased the fact that you were in the kitchen of a house. It erased the fact that your arms felt like they were going to tear. It erased the sweat under your palms as you white-knuckled the edge of the marble. It erased Megumi, peacefully asleep upstairs.

All you felt was the hot vibration of your clambering walls and the searing hot brand of his cock burning into your core. Everything fuzzed, scattered with every near full pull, then came crashing back with every push. The position itself allowed for the force of your own weight to freely bounce back on him without him needing to do much. He still gripped your limbs with such force there would be bruises.  He wrapped your other leg around his waist patting your thighs to grip him as he changed his thrusts to slow, deep. Toji peeled off the shirt, a glisten to his every muscle under the dim light as it reached over his head. Arms were up high as it was shimmied off, but his thrusts were controlled. Abs worked, tensed in a motion so beautiful that you were absolutely certain that this was and would be your only religious experience.

The shirt hit the floor. Toji licked his thumb. The palm of his hand rested along your pubic bone, tilted so that he could graze your clit in such a gentle, yet effective way that you reeled. You bucked with him, using your legs to draw him in more until you felt a sharp pleasure rake your cervix, claw down the up-side of your walls. He dragged out. He thrust in.

He was close and was grappling for why the hell it was taking you so long. He felt how you squeezed his cock over and over. Your breathing slowed whenever it happened and there was a certain flicker going off in your half-lidded gaze. Your walls got tighter each time, but never released. For once in his life, Toji Fushiguro thought he had met his match in stamina. There was a click of his tongue, “What the fuck are you waiting for? Are you a dog? Only can cum on command, bitch?” His words came from annoyance and impatience.

You nodded.

Trained her like a bitch, didn’t you?

“Cum.”

There was finally release. The hot iron brandish pressed hard into your walls, your abdomen, your throat. Your walls shuddered so violently, Toji nearly lost grip. A beat behind you, his cock thrusts jerked. You’re mouth opened with a silent moan, all muscles tensing in response. Hot. He was hot and fast and you felt each rope melt along your walls and drip off.

Pulling out his softened cock, Toji looked to the dark tile ground beneath you coated in a mix of a translucent glaze and thick white. He took mercy on you then, leaning and looping an arm under your back and pulling you to him. Your arms wrapped around his neck and for a sprinkle of a second he could see what Megumi saw. One hand held you up under your ass while the other pulled his sweats up. The house was quiet once more as he grabbed paper towels to clean you up.

After all was said and done, Toji sat on the couch with you on his lap, nestled into the crook of his neck. His hand supported your back as you sniffled your way back to the present day. He wasn’t great at aftercare and if he were being honest, any quick fuck had ended when he came (which was usually last). He was indifferent to the sniffles and indifferent to the way you made little sounds of comfort to yourself. You were doing what you needed to to keep yourself together. If that included reliving each moment Megumi placed a loving hand to your cheek and cooed at how well you did, then so be it. Who you craved at the end of the night wasn’t him. 

Toji wasn’t one to be possessive - yet he rubbed small circles on your back, believing that he could be. 

[prettyboykatsuki]

malice of a pretty face | scaramouche (wanderer)

✮ tags ; adapted from genshin canon but not genshin canon, gn!reader, forced marriage but they ally together, role reversal, scaramouche is called bride mostly jokingly, physically smaller than reader, reader has a female concubine in their bed and kisses them / had sex w them, reader is a tyrant ruler type, age gap (scara is 20 ish and reader is like 28), opium usage, raiden shogun is scara's mother who sold him out, political affairs, handjobs + making out 18+

✮ wc ; 3.4k

✮ a/n ; what if i want to be the tyrant emperor for a change huh. what then. also scaramouche is called bride but gender and stuff is whatever in this universe.

some background, this is not genshin techincally. its like adapted to be a royalty au. reader is a recent ruler of their homeland. scaramouche is a raidens son. he didn't get a lot of choice in coming but he has no political power in his homeland

(this is a rewrite of a concept i posted a while ago but i cant find the ask where someone tells me to expand so hope this finds u anon

✮ synopsis ; your "bride" hails from inazuma and comes to you dressed in white, with eyes full of lightning.

A knock on your door snaps you out of your pointless thinking. Your close companion and Royal Advisor clears his throat before addressing you. 

“Your bride has been prepared for you,”

“Come in.” 

The brown door creaks as it opens, the gold embellishments on either side catching light. The hallway behind is empy but bright. Your advisor stands behind your esteemed guest with a look of mild exasperation. Subtle as it may be, it makes the corner of your lip quirk in amusement. At the door is your betrothed. 

Your bride comes to you wrapped in white. 

“I’ll leave you too it,” Says your advisor, code for please get along that has you nodding your head. You hum quietly, waving him away. He sighs as he shuts the door, leaving your guest standing at the door awkwardly. 

As the rumors have said so many times over, the Raiden Shoguns only heir is strikingly beautiful. Pale thing he is, white as a porcelain doll and nearly half your size. Even in the lowlights of your bedroom, the blurriness of candlelight, you can see the sharpness of his eyes. A signature purple, the color of royalty and trademark of the Inazuman dynasty and bloodline.

For a peace offering, he reeks of defiance. Just standing there with his arms crossed, fists clenched and jaw tight. He looks like he wants to burn the entire palace to the ground where he stands. You’re sure if you picked him apart enough he’d tell you just that. Intel tells you he’s easy to provoke, and for a Prince of his nation - he’s quite the fighter too. 

You aren’t sure how much he knows of this by now. Or if he knows that you’ve learned all sorts of things about him.

Most of all, he’s intriguing. Beautiful but prickly and poisonous. You’re captivated by how much he seethes. You tilt your head as your leg up, your back against the wall. You glance briefly at the concubine asleep in your bed, back exposed. Your robe is half-fallen over your shoulder, the bandaging on your chest and shoulder visible. 

You take a long inhale of the pipe resting on your bed, lungs filling with opium before you push it. Another cloud of smoke fills the room, relief in your back as you exhale. You tilt your head at him. 

“Will you stand there the whole time?” You ask placidly. It angers him even more for a reason you’re unable to discern. 

“Why would I get near a belligerent tyrant like you?”

You chuckle. Despite himself, there’s a tinge of anxiety to his protesting. He’s young and on guard. You’re sure your reputation with the Royal Harem has served you no favors, so he must think you’re going to pounce on him. 

You shake your head. 

“I like to sedate my prey before I eat it. I won’t lay a hand on you.” 

Surprised by your deduction, a flush draws on his features. You smile wispily, before another thought crosses your mind. His name dawns on you, Scaramouche you think it was. 

“Ah, or is it this that’s troubling you?” You say, gesture vaguely to the naked person in your bed laying comfortably “Should I send her away before we speak?” 

Your conversation stirs her. Scaramouche stares on. Instead you glance at the woman before you as she wakes, turning to her side. Barren skin save for jewelry, she runs her hands through her hair as she yawns. 

“Oh, Your Highness. Already another round? I hardly got any rest.” She pouts. Her behavior is amusing to you always.

“Not today. My spouse has come to visit, so I’m sending you back to your chambers.” You say smoothly. She pouts, sitting up. The sheets that covered her so thinly have fallen, revealing the rest of her. A set of gold anklets that match with gold necklaces and gold bracelet. She sits up on her knees and wraps her around your neck.

“How cruel,” She whines, rubbing herself against you “How could you abandon when you favor me so much, hm?” 

“You’re quite clever aren’t you? Trying to seduce me in front of my lover, and all?” 

She pulls back to giggle. 

“So you’ve seen through me. I don’t care for being sent away, you know?”

“What would you like as reconciliation?” You say.

“A kiss goodbye,” She replies easily. This time you look to Scaramouche. His face is burning red. 

“Is it alright with you?” 

He scoffs “As if it matters what I think.” 

“I’ve asked you haven’t I?” 

“Do as you please.” 

You laugh. He says as much but he can't help but stare. He looks embarrassed, albeit you can’t imagine which thing is troubling him so much. It’s entertaining.

You kiss her goodbye as she’s asked, though you know what type of kiss she’s asking for. A deep kiss, the kind where you have to hold her by the nape of her neck. Salacious in nature, where she squirms and holds the front of your robe. You pull away with a laugh, rubbing her lower lip. 

“Send my regards to everyone. It might be some time before I visit again.” 

“How heartbreaking. I’ll do as you wish, Your Highness.” She stands to her feet, pulling herself out of bed and putting on the clothes left on the floor with a sigh. Her feet pad against the marble floor as she walks away. 

She stops to look at Scaramouche before leaving, bowing her head in respect before standing back. She whispers something to him (that turns his face into a blushing mess once more) before patting him on the shoulder gently. 

“I’m off,” She says, waving a hand but not looking back. The door clicks back shut a second time, leaving the two of you alone in silence. You take another drag from your pipe. 

“Come. Sit.” 

He does as you ask this time, stomping with a characteristic frustration that you stop to laugh at internally. He sits on the corner of your mattress, legs crossed. You get to see him up close this time. What delicate features he has, he couldn’t be any older than 21. The white silks he’s dressed in are fine. A thin, lace collar goes up to his throat.  A skirt with high slits about the legs and lacy socks to cover the legs. He’s wearing something over it too, draped over his shoulders. You can see the cut-out of his chest. You only glance. Any longer than this and you’re sure he’ll protest. 

“What troubles you, my bride?” 

He grits his teeth. 

“I’m no bride.” 

“I know,” You say, without any hesitation “You’re the only filial son of the Great Raiden Shogun. I may be a tyrant, but I am no fool.” 

This information surprises him. He wears his emotions on his face, as expected. He’s not gotten so far without being clever. The bounty on his head is insurmountable. There’s a tension in the room, an unspoken heaviness in the air. Quite a fragile thing he is. 

“Then this, this marriage  - it’s fraudulent isn’t it?” He says, angry. You hum. 

“I knew before we wedded. Under the law of Tevyat and in the eyes of the Nation, you are my betrothed.” 

He’s catching up to all that you know. You know it all. The rumors of the cold and unyielding Raiden Shogun. The desolate lands of Inazuma, the loss of childhood and the change in the young man. Rumors of the angry Crown Prince and his bleeding heart. How he was sacrificed for power to your hands, for the eternal vision of Inazuma. 

Of course you know.

“Then why…if you know about me, then why?” 

“The Raiden Shogun offered you to me to get in my good graces. There’s political fairs involved but the simply reason is because I wanted to. You’re easy on the eyes.”

He ignores your flirtatious comment as you expect. 

“What are the political affairs?” 

“Inazuma wishes to strengthen it’s naval army and a small nation requires resources. Since I’ve only just gained power after killing the Emperor, my position for the throne is destabilized and marriage was the best option to stabilize it again,” You explain, already bored just hearing yourself. 

“We don’t gain anything from joining hands with Inazuma as it stands. And plenty of people have vouched desperately for my marriage. The simple answer is because an offer like the only child of the Raiden Shogun, who’s beauty is world-renowned is quite the tempting offer.” 

He looks down, away from you and you resist your own laughter. 

“I despise you,” 

“I know that too. That pretty face of yours doesn’t leave much for imagination. What will you do my dear? Will you run? Cry? Scheme into driving a knife in my heart? Lure me into security and disappear?” 

“...You’re personality is quite twisted.” 

“I’m curious about the faces you make, that’s all. What will you do, how will you react, how you think. But I do not intend to make you miserable. There’s much to discuss,” 

“....Why are you posing as if you’re kind?” 

“A caged animal will lash out for it’s freedom,” You say, titting your head to one side “But a looked after one will never bite the hand that feeds.” 

“Wouldn’t you be the one closer to an animal with your tendencies?” 

“A beast, I hear so often. My point is the same. If I intend to make you even a begrudging ally, I’m not interested in angering you. Nor forcing myself upon you for that matter,” You add the last part intentionally. 

“Disgusting,” He says, all while staring at the curve of your neck and your body “Really,” 

“I do not intend to force you, but if you’re so against the idea - I think it’d only be fair I’m allowed to see my concubines. It’s your choice.” 

He frowns at your explanation. You grin.

“Are you so troubled by it? Would you prefer I only long for you?”

“D-don’t word it like that.” He says, a shake in his voice. You hum, taking a long drag from your pipe. 

“Maybe you’re the sentimental type? A lover from the homeland? Or perhaps, you’re just too inexperienced to be confident?” 

You can see the exciting look on his face. That type of shame that very few nobles wear. Most of them degenerates, or liars. Prim and properly deceitful. You look at Scaramouche’s honest face and feel something between your legs. How much he wishes to admonish you, or even push you away but is all too curious to refuse. An expression like that is a jewel, a diamond waiting for polish. 

You have to chip around it, bit by bit. Too much force and you’ll scratch his beautiful surface, you only pull at him gently. Tease him so tenderly he can’t scurry off. 

“Shut up. You know nothing about me,” 

“If you’re unsure, you can always try. I can teach you much easier than most,” You say. You wonder if he’ll call your bluff. But he doesn’t. He sits and folds his hands in your lap. He reminds you a bit of those Glaze Lily’s all the way from Liyue. Cold and blue and eye-catching. 

Scaramouche does not call your bluff. He shifts to cover his legs and something is overwhelmed inside you. You hold your breath a little. So skittish. 

“There’s nowhere for me to return to,” He says first, surprising you, a bitterness in his tone that pleases you “It’s not like I want to stay here or be your ally. But returning to a place that has discarded me is even more disgusting.” 

“So we’re allies for now. Understood,” You say, glancing at him “Then, are you giving me permission to sleep with you?” 

His eyes widen, face reddening to an impossible degree. A belly laugh leaves you. What a simple person in the end. 

“You―W-we have to consummate the marriage, don’t we? A-and if I stay here, I’ll have power. Leaving it open means it’ll be nullified and―” 

“You don’t need to explain yourself to me. If you feel too embarrassed about your desires, you may spread rumors about simply quelling my appetite,” You say with a mild expression, intending it with sincerity “It’d be a shame to do nothing when you’ve dressed up so nicely for your arrival. Come closer,” 

Your comment must bother him, but he resigns himself. He does as he’s asked, slowly getting on his knees and crawling towards you. His eyes are erratic, skin flush. He’s simply sitting across from you and he can’t look at you directly. You’re a little astonished by the extent of his innocence, especially with all the violent rumors around him. You blow out the flame of your pipe, and lean to one side away from you.

Then you stretch your legs out, placing your hands gently on his waist so he doesn’t startle. You manuever so he’s stradling you, his knees on either side of your thigh. Looking at him closely is exciting. There’s makeup on his face. Crushed pink pigment smeared on his lip and smoothed with oil and eyes lined with something dark. You reach your hand up to cup his face, and he manages not to flinch. 

Though you can hear his heart beat. It’s tremendously loud. Nervous.

“Relax, I won’t eat you, for now. I’ll take take responsibility. Have you kissed anyone?” 

“S-so what if I haven’t?” 

“We’ll start there. Close your eyes and follow me.” 

He listens obediently again, closing his eyes. His hands are clenched over his knee. You grab them and let them rest over your shoulders before sneaking your hand to the side of his face. You lean in to kiss him gently, his skin soft. He smells like lavender and oats, the hairs on his nape brushing against your fingers delicately. His lips are soft as you start slowly, opening your mouth just a little. He learns quickly, following your actions without trying to take lead. 

You pull away and do it again. Again and again and again until you’re used to the pace. You use your free hand to squeeze at his delicate waist, relishing in how easily he succumbs to the feelings. He lets out something like a moan that embarasses him near immediately as he pulls away. He’s clumsy but it’s cute, and makes you want to kiss him more. 

He turns his head, using his wrist to cover his mouth which you grab swiftly. You grab his chin too, rubbing your thumb on his lip. 

“Open your mouth and stick your tongue out,” You say, a little more eager than last. He makes a face but listens. You mimic him before kissing him one more time. The feeling of your tongue must surprise him. Either way, his body responds so beautiful. He nearly melts in your arms as you wrap them around his waist, fingers dancing to any bare skin you can. He makes a pretty, pitchy sound for you but doesn’t pull away this time. 

When you stop kissing him, his face looks hazy. Frustrated, he almost goes to chase your mouth but stops himself. You smirk just barely, before busying your mouth on his chin. Open kisses trace his jaw as you lean into his pulse. 

It beats under your teeth, his heart does, so red and so loud. For a minute you really do want to eat him alive, devour him in one swallow. But you restrain yourself from such desires, instead putting little marks on his body for tommorrow. So everyone knows not to say anything about his status. He can resent you later but for now, it’s a safety precaution. 

He makes sounds like a melody, a string insturment in the warm sun. There’s something divinely beautiful about him. His body reacts to your simple touches, a shiver running up his spine as you kiss his neck and grope him lightly. It excites you, those innocent reactions. Makes something stir in your gut and grow hot between your legs. 

You feel something shift underneath you. When you look, there’s something hard poking from his clothes. It makes a tent in the delicate fabric where he stands. You pull away just to stare at it, amused by how hard he is.

“Stop looking at it or I’ll gouge your eyes out,” 

“It’s cute,” You say with conviction, wrapping your hands around the base with the fabric and squeezing the base “I should get to look,” 

“W-what are you?” 

“I’ll bet a stuck-up prince type like you didn’t get much education. There are more ways than one to feel pleasure than sticking it in. I’ll show you, so don’t run away,” 

He doesn’t have the words to protest. He doesn’t refuse you, just watches through his hands. You rub him so slightly through the thin material. Can see it clear with your eyes adjusted. It fits easily in your palm, tip harsh pink and curved. You place your thumb over the tip, smearing the pre-cum leaking onto the fabric. He’s so sticky, so hard and hot in your palms. 

“It’d be better if I touched you directly, but you’re cute like this. So lewd,” 

He has nothing to say. A whine or protest gets cut short with a groan of pleasure. You laugh a little. You search the bed for a bottle of oil with your free hand. When you find it, you pull away and drip it into your hands. 

“Hold this up for me.” You say softly. He hesitates but does, pulling the skirt up until his cock is visible. You rub the oil into your hands, warming it before wrapping around the shaft. The skin-to-skin proves to be a lot for him, his body already trembling though you’ve hardly touched him. He’s much heavier like this, His cock is smooth and he’s near hairless, You can see so much of him, the plane of his stomach and the musculature of his thighs. 

He’s got lithe muscle, nothing too hard or too defined but there all the time. He’s got a dip in one of his hips and a mole that you’ll kiss some other time, just above where you’re touching. You wonder if there’s more. Once you have your way with him you’ll count. 

You stroke him slowly and easily. Any more than this might be cruel since this much action seems to be too much. You watchi his expression as you build to a steady pace, paying special attention to the head. His expression is debauched. Inexperienced as you expected, but perhaps even more than that - sensitive. He’s throbbing against the curves of your roughened skin, gasping and holding hard onto your shoulder as he tries to keep himself tight in one place. You lean your head forward, kissing just under his pec. 

“This is as far as I’ll go today. Cum for your beloved, hm? Show me your face?” 

That seems to do it for him. The use of lover in such a context pushes him over the edge and it only takes two more strokes to spill into your fingers. Thick, hot ropes of cum makes a mess of your fingers as he ruts his cock into your palms chasing his high.

When he’s finished, he nearly collapses into your lap. It sedates all of his previous angers, something you note in the back of your mind. 

You bring your hand up your mouth, tasting it. He gasps, scandalized. 

“That’s dirty!” 

“I’ve done worse. Besides it wasn’t bad. Hand me that,” You gesture. He tosses you the rag to wipe your hand with and you toss it in the basket at the end of your bed. Before he can push you away, you pull him into your arms and laydown. 

“What are you doing?” He says, indignant. 

“Holding you,” You say without blinking, looking down at him. You wrap your arms around his waist and let him cuddle into you “The concubines get angry if I don’t after,” 

“...Don’t talk about them right now,” 

You laugh “Right, sorry.” 

“....What about me?” 

You laugh a little at him pretending he isn’t worried. 

“I know you said not to mention it but I’m all worn out for today. So get some sleep. I’ll have my Advisor prepare more in the morning but you should rest.” 

“Ugh. Fine. If you insist,” He says, melting into you anyway. You laugh to yourself as he closes his eyes. 

You’ve signed up for something fun.

[fictionkinfessions]

Sometimes it feels like I'm cheating on my current boyfriend by pining for the loves of my previous lives. Is it emotionally cheating to never let go? Or is it cheating to forget them?

w

[swindlefingrs]

the order of certain scenes triggering with Cash between both Shadowheart and Gale is playing it as Cash and Shad admit their feelings for each other after freeing the Nightsong - which makes Gale FINALLY admit his feelings for Cash , telling her to choose between them, so she does

she chooses Shadowheart. Gale says he's ok with that.

the next night, they're about to attack Moonrise Towers so Gale leaves his Gale-shaped invitation for Cash at his tent, should she come by, but imagining she'd probably not want to see him

but she does

they both sit there under a night sky he'd been wanting to paint for her for weeks but kept waiting for the perfect time. now he thinks he may die tomorrow. she does, too. she still cares for him and he's trying not to care about her, but she's sitting so close. she is so handsome. so thoughtful, so kind. of course they fuck nasty and desperately, convincing themselves that the guilt of this indiscretion will be easier to bear when Gale's a martyr. this sin can be cleansed in that fire. both don't want to think about tomorrow or the consequences of these actions, just the closeness of right now.

but then he doesn't martyr himself.

everyone is relieved!

but there are consequences

more conflicted feelings, bonds more difficult to loosen his grip on, having to look Shadowheart in the face and pretend like everything's fine. knowing every hour they don't say something, this will get worse and worse

[dreamedfyre-a]

maybe I'll elaborate later but hel doesn't expect a.egon to (nor resents him for not) follow his marriage vows faithfully. they were both dragged into this he enjoys things and situations she doesn't so if he prefers to be elsewhere good for him. sure, it does suck that it's done as openly and disrespectfully as it is, but other than that he can live his best life out there.

HOWEVER i feel that also means she only values her vows to a point. if there was anyone she wanted who wanted her back i don't think she'd feel very guilty about it. if the targs are above the rules, why not this one? if ae.gon can be out there in brothels why can't she be with someone who cares? she gave her husband the kids she was supposed to give she did her duty (but she would have the sense to be very secretive about something like that and try to make sure no one would know)

[wwdits-kink-meme]

i crave mardjinn content. they should fuck inside the lamp mid-s4 while the djinn ignores nandor calling for him to make more wishes until marwa is completely satisfied. he lives to serve....HER 😜

-

[multi-lefaiye]

SALVATORE INKTOBER 8-9. OLD WORLD LEGACY

Clarence O'Malley (1903-1983) was a mountain of a man, the older brother to Leslie's mother Anna. Whereas Anna was never closely involved with the family business, Clarence was from a very young age. The Emerald Devils hit their peak during Prohibition, and this was when Clarence made his fortune smuggling whiskey around the United States. He very quickly rose through the ranks, soon becoming a key enforcer and overseeing many of the Devils' operations. Even when Prohibition came to an end, Clarence maintained his authority, ruling with an iron fist and a switchblade on him at all times. In the late 1920s, Clarence met his future wife, a spitfire of a woman named Daisy MacCarthy (1906-1980) who came from old money. Initially, Clarence pursued her for her family's money and influence, which she was fully aware of, but over time the two began to form a close bond. Within five years, they were engaged, and only a few months later, they were married. Their marriage was never particularly tumultuous, but they were rarely openly affectionate with each other. When Anna ran away to be with her little boyfriend, Westley, Clarence was disappointed. He and his sister had never been particularly close, but he missed her nonetheless, and he saw her choice a shortsighted cowardice. He had his men keep tabs on her, reporting back to Clarence regularly on Anna's whereabouts. If she ever noticed, she never said anything to him about it. Anna was stubborn, but so was Clarence, and so this continued for nearly 20 years. Then, in late 1959, Anna reached out to Clarence. She sent him a long, tearful letter, several pages long. In it, she lamented her decision to leave the family behind, begging Clarence to come see her. She couldn't take care of four children on her own, and she needed his help. Clarence, of course, accepted, happy his foolish little sister had finally come around. And so, in 1960, he paid Anna a visit for the first time in years.

aaaand another inktober!!! once again combining a couple prompts that work together thematically, as the two characters are directly linked. the original prompts are "lessons in masculinity" and "never fit for motherhood," and i combined them to be "old world legacy." basically referring to salvatore's mom's side of the family's *long* history with organized crime, haha!

i'll explain more about clarence and daisy in day 10's prompt, but for now, this is just some backstory about them. :D surely nothing will go wrong here. (something will go very wrong)

i did this in a pretty messy style just to get it done tbh... who needs neatness right now

art taglist: @skitzo-kero @anexor @chaieyestea @jezifster @transmasc-wizard @lychniscitrus @lower-ones-eyes @astral-runic @midnight-and-his-melodiverse @albatris @rosesandartss @invaderskoodge @lesbian-apple-yogurt @approximately20eggs @kingkendrick7 @presidentquinn

[alabonshay]

// Clarification on shipping with the Duchess: unless your muse is an old lady, probably not! She's a terrible partner anyway.

The Duchess is a flirt. She is the kind of person to try and steal over other people's wives if they're attractive. But as mun, executive decision is that I'm not writing her as a creep. Even if they are pretty, anyone younger than 35-40 is a literal baby to her. They're just going to remind the Duchess of her bratty kids. She may be nicer to them, but she is still going to roll her eyes if they approach her.

The Duchess is over 200 years old and has been a mom for over half of that. For perspective, dendies slow in aging around 50, then live around 3 times as long. She may be picky and superficial, but she still wants someone that she can relate to. The Duchess is way more likely to cruise from the wine-mom luncheon hour than anywhere else, so your 20-something muses are safe from advances from her.

[bythehearts]

to your service (alicissa)

It took Narcissa maybe 5 minutes to furtively sprint to the stables after hearing the news.

“Our emissaries have returned today,” Lucius had said, before launching in a detailed description of the diplomatic successes the had managed, but Narcissa hadn’t listened to half of it, only nodding when it seemed appropriate to do so, as her mind was already elsewhere.

Alice.

Alice was back.

When she enters the stables, she gladly finds Alice alone, with a few of the layers of her armor as she’s tending to the horse. She stops for a few seconds just to watch her, waiting for her to notice her presence.

“I was wondering when you’d show up,” Alice teases, a smirk perking up as she glances to the side to Narcissa.

“You shouldn’t be in a state of undress in these premises, you know?” she teases back, walking over to her, “An unsuspecting lady, or even - God forbid - the Queen herself might walk in at any moment”

Alice laughs lightly, “yeah, well, I’m told the Queen doesn’t mind”

Narcissa just smirks to that, “I’ll tell you what the Queen minds,” she retorts, “being left alone for weeks and not even receiving a kiss as some form of apology.”

Alice smiles, placing her hands on Narcissa’s hips to bring her closer, “now, that would be vile,” she jokes, finally pressing their lips together.

“I’ve missed you,” Narcissa exhales as their lips part.

“missed you too,” Alice replies with a soft kiss on her forehead.

for @sapphicmarauding prompt: knight

[rheallsim]

After the incident with the Butler and the cardiac explosion, Bertram goes to settle Corey down in her room. As he passes Beatriz they make eye contact, and Bertram doesn't like the look of cold confidence in her eyes.

The moment Bertram has his back turned, Beatriz makes a move on the Grim Reaper. :O Of course, Bertram notices what's going on.

I think this is the end, folks. :(

[fictionkinfessions]

Vent

Shit in my cannon just got really bad and they completely assinated my husbands character. I feel fucking sick bc he would never do what he did in the show and now I can’t really look at him the same. I haven’t even watched the season and I don’t think I will, but just from reading the posts about it I’m sick. I know he’d never but it still hurts to not only watch him cheat on me but fucking destroy his brothers marriage at the same time

— Dolores, The Umbrella Academy

x

[armoricaroyalty]

Previous | Chapter Start | Beginning | Next

author's note: this scene is so basic and yet it's one of my favorites from the chapter so far? I really love these two together, despite the circumstances...

Transcript under the cut!

Nakawe Palace // Armorican State Visit - Day 2

ANDRE | [offscreen] | Leonor? Where are you? LEONOR | On the balcony. ANDRE | G'morning. Are you working? LEONOR | Yes. ANDRE | Oh...can't you take the morning off? LEONOR | I took the evening off and I came back to 200 unread emails. ANDRE | The entire country would go to pieces without you. LEONOR | I know. [sighs] What do you want for lunch? ANDRE | Uh...I dunno, I just woke up. Why? LEONOR | Today's shipment of oysters arrived spoiled, and now the head chef is in crisis. Do you want chicken or beef? ANDRE | Chicken? LEONOR | Thank you. LEONOR | Now. Last night, you said you had something to tell me. ANDRE | [sighs] You're all business this morning...is any of that coffee for me? LEONOR | Help yourself. But you said we had to talk, so. Talk. ANDRE | I'll admit, part of me hoped you'd forget about it... LEONOR | Not likely. LEONOR | ...although I do appreciate the effort you put into distracting me. ANDRE | Well, if you give me another chance, I'm sure I can do better— LEONOR | Andre. We do not have unlimited time together. Enough stalling. It's not half as charming as you imagine it to be. ANDRE | [sighs] It's about Elise. ANDRE | [offscreen] She's leaving me. LEONOR | ...ah. [beat] Has she said so directly? ANDRE | [sighs] Not in as many words. But the night before I left, she said that our marriage was over if I didn't break things off with you. LEONOR | ... ANDRE | I love her, but...I can't do that. I made a promise to you. And I intend to keep it, whatever it costs me. ANDRE | [sighs] Her exact words were, "I won't tolerate this disrespect any longer." LEONOR | Do you think she intends to follow through this time? ANDRE | I think she got tired of waiting for me to get bored with you. She thinks you're my mid-life crisis. She doesn't understand how it is between us. LEONOR | [softly] And how is it between us? ANDRE | Leo...if I were divorced and I were entirely unencumbered, would there still be something between us? LEONOR | "Entirely unencumbered..." What do you mean, Andre? ANDRE | Your grandmother thinks I should seriously consider abdication. LEONOR | And what do you think? Are you seriously considering it? ANDRE | Elise has been the backbone of my reign. There's no point in beating around the bush. She's always been more popular with the public because she's one of them. If she leaves me and says why, the entire country will be crying out for my head. ANDRE | What would you do in my position? LEONOR | ...I would do whatever gave me the best chance at happiness. ANDRE | [laughs] Not very Armorican of you...where's duty, where's sacrifice? LEONOR | Hmph. You're carried that duty for over 15 years. There's no shame in passing the torch to a qualified successor. ANDRE | It won't be seen that way at home. The press will have a field day. They'll say I betrayed my wife, abandoned my family, and deserted my kingdom. LEONOR | The truth is always more complicated than what's in the press. ANDRE | Please. The only complicated thing about me is you. LEONOR | [laughs] You're such a romantic...you know I love you, don't you? ANDRE | I love you, too. ANDRE | Saints, listen to us...where do we go from here? LEONOR | Well, that depends on you. ANDRE | [sighs] Like every other damn thing. LEONOR | That's the burden of the crown, Your Majesty. ANDRE | Don't you start. [both laugh]

[echoestm]

@parvamundi || cont. from here

Ugh. It's that full-of-judgment elongated and dragged out 'mmhmm' that gets Christina rolling her eyes. What does Nicky know? This is what she gets for trying to trust in a ball-buster. She wouldn't have it any other way. What is family for if not to kick you when you're down and then laugh at you on top? "Could you not be mom?!" she tries to interject, but Nicky's already rolling on to her next questions, pulling a tiny scoff out of her cousin who flops into the seat nearest to her and tries to organize the mess of her thoughts and feelings.

"Okay, who says Wes isn't there?" Sometimes. And that's the point she wants to make but still recognizes as false in her heart of hearts. They're just socializing. Like, her boyfriend has seen her chat with Billy for a sec before they each amble on. Dating, even being boyfriend-girlfriend, doesn't mean the whole rest of the world ceases to exist. Shit, she spends more time with Lou, Nick and Sparrow, than she does with Wes. They go together because they go together but... And there goes that incomplete sentiment that she can't even finish internally but twists her up all the same. "I'm just saying, I don't like lose my shit when he hangs out with anyone else, you know?"

It's weak and stupid and not at all what she called about, but suddenly there's shame in wanting to gush in the unexpected difference she feels when she's talking to Billy versus spending time with Wes. "Ugh, whatever. Nevermind. What are you doing later? I want to get the hell out of here."

[kcgarashi]

actually i lied about sinday there’s also like the 99 hang ups she has from being cheated on in her two only serious relationships