#time to cry over a canvas for 20+ hours

[owliellder]

The Finer Details

Post DI! Leon Kennedy x f! Painter Reader

MDNI 18+

(Session 1, Session 2, Session 3, Session 4, Session 5, The Reveal)

Description: Leon realizes that retirement is in his best interest now that he's getting older. All of his accomplishments as an agent mean he's truly earned a painting to commemorate..

Warnings: Not Proofread, Age gap! (reader is anywhere between mid-late 20's and Leon is 40), Porn w/ Plot, Use of she/her pronouns, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Alcoholism, mentions of trauma/PTSD/depression, P in V smut (wrap it NEOW), Leon cries during sex 💔

Tags: Older Leon Kennedy, Younger afab!Reader, Leon is SAD but he is your muse, Crying, mentions of Leon masturbating, starts off with Dom! Leon and Sub! Reader, falls into switch territory because that man needs some serious TLC, Praise kink, Hickeys, Handjob, Nipple play, Oral sex (m! and f! receiving), and a heavy dose of Aftercare

Author's Note: This chapter is a tad shorter, my apologies. I almost didn't finish it cause my meds started to make me feel real gross tonight, but I managed! I am determined and powerful and strong 💪

Cross posted on AO3

Session 4: Adding Details

Ever since the last painting session with Leon a few days ago, he's been a lot more lively. He jokes more, laughs more, and flirts a lot more. Specifically with you.

It's only been a couple hours into the next session and he's already called you 'sweetheart' five times. You counted. Hard not to when the man decides to put on the most seductive tone to say it, honestly.

You've begun to reciprocate Leon's flirting since clearly he's not one to hide what he's after.

"Alright Romeo, I need you to stay still and in position for just a few minutes longer. I don't think you want me to accidentally paint you with those goo-goo eyes." Watching his poorly hidden panic made you giggle, his eyes averting to somewhere to the right. "Actually I need you to keep your eyes up here, not over there."

Leon groaned and rolled his eyes before turning them to look back at the spine of the easel, doing his best to hold a lax expression. "You're making this difficult. You have the picture!" He complained, eyebrows raising as he gestured to the stand sitting next to you.

"Yeah but- sit still- you're making the same goofy look in it like you were before." Once he resumed his position, you walked over to him from the easel to get a closer look at his expression, humming softly all the while. Leon was beginning to sweat, mostly due to having to sit still for as long as he had but now partially from your sudden proximity.

After getting a good look, you walked back over to the easel to continue painting, to which he let out a small sigh. He wanted to get to know you more, he should've tried that before you started the actual painting, but better late than never.

The man kept quite for roughly thirty minutes longer while you added smaller details to his face on the canvas, using probably the thinnest paintbrush he's ever seen.

"Is that thing even adding paint to the portrait? Or are you just pretending to get me to sit here longer?" There was that suggestive tone again, and maybe it was your mind playing tricks on you as they began to strain, but you could've swore he did that cheesy eyebrow wiggle at you.

You shook out your arm to give it a good stretch before placing it back where it was. "It's doing something. Don't get your panties in a bunch."

Leon threw his head back with a laugh at your response, causing you to give him a quick glare before huffing out your annoyance. "Alright, clearly you're growing antsy. Let's take a short break." You stood up from the swivel chair and rolled your shoulders back, cleaning off your paintbrush with the solvent sitting next to you in a small mason jar. You had a couple of the windows open due to the fumes of the paint and solvent, so no worries there.

"Thank god..." Leon stood up with a loud and exaggerated groan. He wasn't young anymore, holding even a relaxed position like that was hard work on the body. "Thought I was gonna lose my legs." The dramatics this man possessed was funny, you had to admit.

"It's not that bad and you know it." You set down the paintbrush and turned around to see him mocking you with his hand. "Do I need to circle back to calling you a toddler? Cause I will."

Leon used the hand he was mocking you with to wipe across his eyebrow before letting his arm fall back to his side. "There's no need for extremes." Your lazy eyebrow raise at his response was all he needed to immediately follow up with "Sorry, ma'am."

It didn't sound genuine, but you'll take it. You nodded before walking over to the bathroom, scrubbing the paint from your hands to the best of your abilities. You had to use dish soap since oil paint was hard to wash off, that oily sheen was a pain in the ass when trying to hold a paintbrush.

The painting was really starting to come along. You worked fast while still remaining diligent. Oil paints were difficult to use, needing extreme patience due to how slowly it dried, how easily it could smear, and how hard it was clean off. No matter how nice you wanted to dress for Leon, you had to wear your painting outfit: A designated cheap and oversized outfit you picked out years ago for the sole purpose of taking a beating. You would wipe off your paintbrushes onto it to avoid having to use a paper towels or a rag each time.

Regardless, you were still as cute as ever to Leon. In fact, seeing you care so much about your work to be covered in paint was only making him fall for you more. Oversized clothes looked real good on you, so good that he'd been busy thinking about how you'd look in his clothes, hence that nearly blissed out expression you had to snap him out of earlier.

You both decided to sit over in the living area, Leon splayed out across the soft rug to give his joints a rest. He'd gotten a good look at how the painting was coming along before assuming his spot on the rug.

It was non-stop compliments from him. You could handle compliments, you've heard so many over the years regarding your art, but Leon's compliments were different. Instead of only complimenting the art, he decided to slip in little comments about you directly along side them.

"I went back to the White House over the weekend to look at the other portraits you'd done..." He started, head resting on his arms as they laid behind his head. "Just to get a feel for how mine would look once it's done."

"Is it living up to the standard so far? There's quite a bit more that needs to get done, and then it has to dry." You looked down at him on the rug, massaging your hand so it didn't cramp up more than it already had. "There's no standard for you to live up to, sweetheart. You could draw a stick figure and I'd be blown away."

You laughed at the suggestion, turning your head to look out one of the large windows to try and hide your smile. Wooing a painter was easy, apparently.

"You're just full of little accolades, aren't you, Mr. Kennedy?" You sighed, resting your chin in your hand as your elbow sat on your thigh.

"I can't help it. Being painted by such a pretty girl brings out the worst in me." Never in all your years of being alive had someone worked so hard to flatter you. Every single comment he made included something that had you flustered and struggling to respond.

Leon sat up on his elbows and looked over at you, that smirk as clear as day. He loved the way you could barely handle yourself at his compliments. "What're you thinkin' 'bout over there, angel?"

You let your hand fall into your lap as you looked back at him, giving his smirk a soft smile in return. "I could ask you the same question, calling me all these nicknames and such." It was only fair of you to ask, curiosity getting the better of you.

A little caught off guard, Leon hummed and pursed his lips, eyebrows furrowing slightly as he thought. What was he doing, exactly?

"Well, whaddya think I'm doing?" Yeah, that was good. Instead of answering himself, he'll just drag it out of you. "Well, if I didn't know any better, I'd think you're flirting with me." Your smile turned a bit more mischievous as you leaned towards him.

"Well, you'd be absolutely right, then." He responded with a chuckle, lowering his volume so he could fall right back into a seductive tone. "I got lucky enough to get my own painting. Even luckier to have you be the one painting me."

You gave him a small "mhm" as you nodded your head slowly, your tongue peaking out to wet your bottom lip as you listened to him talk. It took awhile, but eventually you managed a reply. "So... what exactly are you looking to do with all that sweet talk, hm?"

"Take you out on a date." His response was fast and it caught you off guard. Leon was so forward with what he wanted. When it came to the few people you'd dated in the past, you had to practically drag any sort of info from them. Your silence had brought him to sit all the way up now, body facing you as he sat with his legs crossed. "Is it working at all?"

It took a couple more seconds for you to nod, moving your hand to cover your mouth as you giggled. "Yeah, I think it is. Might need to keep it up just in case, though."

"Bummer, now I get to distract you even more while you paint me?" You stood up and placed your hand flat on his face, gently pushing his head back as you walked past him. "I'll paint on you if you distract me."

The session lasted a total of five hours, pausing for a couple breaks in between. You were now thoroughly painted out; hand cramping, eyes straining, and even with the windows open the smell of the paint and the solvent to clean it off the brushes had given you a slight headache. Leon was definitely tired also, given he actually fell asleep in the chair.

You decided to call it a day at that, patting him on the shoulder to wake him. "Time to get up and take your meds, old man." Leon startled awake, sucking in a harsh breath through his nose as he reoriented himself. When did he fall asleep?

You had already walked into the bathroom to wash your hands off, giving him the opportunity to wake up enough to stand. He yawned, walking over to look at how far along you'd gotten.

The painting immediately pulled him from his sleepy state, eyes widening with shock. You said you still had quite a bit left to do and it looked like this? It was like you'd ripped this straight from the 17th century. Leon was in awe. He looked good in this- no, far better than good. You'd captured his likeness better than the photo.

Seeing the man staring at your painting with his jaw dropped after walking out of the bathroom made you smile. "You like it?" You asked quietly while shaking your hands out as you hadn't dried them off all the way.

"No, I love it. You've got magic in those hands of yours, sweetheart." Leon crossed his arms, walking over to stand right in front of you. You clicked your tongue at him before your hand in front of him dismissively. "I wouldn't say it's magic, just years of drawing and painting endlessly until I got to the spot I wanted to be."

Leon closed his eyes and shook his head playfully, chuckling as he did so. "So humble of you." He followed you back over to the easel, watching you cover up the paints you were using with curious eyes. "About that date..."

You cocked an eyebrow, looking up at him through your eyelashes as you continued to carefully cover your paints. "What about it?"

"Just wondering when and where you'd want to go." The man grinned at you lazily, doing his best to disguise how nervous he actually was. "Hmm.." You glanced over at the wall clock you had sitting far above the light switches next to the entrance door, taking note of how late it was. "I'm pretty tired and I'm sure you are too, but how about we order something to eat here?"

Leon seemed surprised by your suggestion, grin widening as he nodded vigorously. "Plus, I am not going out looking like I just got assaulted with a paintball gun."

The two of you decided on something easy; pizza and soda. Leon opted to wear one of your many aprons to avoid getting any grease on his suit which made for an easy joke about him being a house-husband. Even though it was a technically a first date, both of you felt so comfortable with each other already, like you'd known each other for years. It was strange, but in a good way.

Leon was easy to get along with once he opened up. He really was a charming guy, even managing to get you to laugh with those corny ass dad jokes he loved so much. How such a man had gotten away with being single for so long baffled you.

The same went for you. Leon felt like you being single was just a fluke. There was no way someone as talented and gorgeous as you hadn't been swept off your feet yet. It was selfish of him for thinking it, but fuck was he ecstatic about that.

It was about 11pm when the two of you decided to call it a night, the hours spent bonding over random, seemingly meaningless stuff had really loosened both you and Leon up.

"Am I able to come back tomorrow and see you?" Leon asked in such a soft voice, motorcycle helmet in hand as he the other rested up against the doorway leading out of the building. He felt vulnerable for wanting to see you again like this.

"I won't be here tomorrow, need to give my hands a bit of a break." You giggled quietly, holding your palm out in front of him for emphasis. "But I can give you my address if you want to visit. I don't mind."

Those butterflies in his stomach fluttered at your proposal, barely able to nod after feeling his phone vibrate in his pocket once you texted him your address. He tried to act confident, having gone over every scenario possible in his head, yet you'd gone off script and he wasn't quite sure what to do anymore.

Seeing how flustered he'd become, you waved him closer, smiling as he bent over slightly. Leon thought you were gonna whisper something to him, that thought alone had him blushing, but feeling the gentle press of your lips against his had him struggling to breathe. He barely had a chance to react before you pulled away, his lips parted slightly as he stared at you.

You reached up and gently patted his cheek, running your hand along the stubble that had started to grow back. "Let me know when you wanna come over tomorrow, alright? Give me a little time to get dressed. I've looked ratty enough around you."

Leon wanted to protest that statement, you were far from ratty, but you just shushed his stuttering and nudged him out the door, giggling as he stumbled down the steps. He kept turning his head back to look at you every couple steps, feeling like some lovesick teenage boy who couldn't get his feet to work.

He was a little scared to drive home considering how uncoordinated he felt, but he made it back in one piece. Once sat on his bed, all he could think about was you and that damn painting. Leon didn't know what he was expecting when it came to that, honestly, but you seriously outdid yourself in his eyes.

Then you just had to flirt back with him, agree to a little date, and kiss him? Do you even know how hard it was to hide his boner from you?

He really did feel like a teenage boy, a simple kiss having him harder than a rock. Not to mention the drive home was uncomfortable since he had to position himself just right on the seat or else the constant vibration from his motorcycle would seriously cause him to crash.

Leon was weak. He hadn't felt this way in such a long time, but he guessed the newfound attraction came with the subconscious acceptance of his retirement. It's what made sense in his head.

God did he want you, masturbating in the shower to you wasn't enough, he needed you. All he could think about was your soft hands touching him, his hands all over your body, maybe even those pretty eyes of yours looking into his as he loved on you all night long.

The age gap was a bit of a worry to him in the beginning, mostly being insecure about his own age, but that worry was quickly brushed off when you kissed him tonight. You were a big girl. You knew what you wanted.

Leon felt so lucky that you reciprocated. All he'd felt since his retirement was grief, guilt, and pity for himself. Now you had him feeling like he was on top of the world and he couldn't ask for anything more. This little bit of sweetness in his life was so enticing, and of course he was going to follow it for as long as you'd let him.

[safetycar-restart]

i live for drivers being hopeless painsluts 🌹❤️

lando, craving brutal punishments from his brat tamer gf. stepping on him, spitting on him, spanking his soul out, pulling his curls, you name it. he is sub destruction incarnate.

carlos, who goes crazy for being whipped and bound, whining and crying for mercy: yet loving the sting.

charles, being a masochist for overstimulation — being extremely vocal, the #1 screamer of the grid, #FACTS. 80% soft sensitive sub, 20% mind break enthusiast, 100% fun. he's so loud falling apart, moaning like a god. fuck yes!!

pierre enjoys humiliation via being bent around into ridiculous poses. like a human furniture kink. two words: spreader bar.

george likes the endurance test that is shibari. he is the canvas of his rigger domme, he is rope art embodied.

lewis losing his mind over getting double stuffed with dildos. in a classic spitroast position. his domme will toy his ass while he shoves another dildo down his pretty throat. wow, he can gag like no one else. it gets heated, lewis wants to be absolutely demolished. he's the king, he can take it all.

yuki, who adores temperature play and getting pinched!

- george's long legs anon... indulging in some kinky ideas, love your blog so much 💙

Oh god this is amazing. Anon I am in awe of how many incredible thoughts you drop in one go. It’s truly inspiring.

LANDO: I love brat Lando!! Lando is an interesting one because as much as he’s a brat, he also has this extreme desire to do well? He wants you to be proud of him, despite the fact that he can’t stop talking back and pouting. Pain play is the obvious solution, because yes he’s bratty but then he’s so good as he’s punished, taking everything you give him and waiting for the praise he knows is coming.

CARLOS: Carlos and whipping? Yes. Yes absolutely. I think Carlos loves pain that stings? Whips, spanks, pinches etc. he even likes when you scratch your fingers along the area you just spanked. And he has to be bound, because he can’t control how much he shakes. It’s so good though, and he’s so relaxed when it’s over.

CHARLES: honestly I don’t think Charles even realised that overstimulation counted as pain play until you? He just loves being pushed to his limits, and yeah he’s LOUD. He’s always loud no matter what you’re doing, but the moment you start overstimulation he turns into a screamer. And mind breaking? Fuck yes. He wants to taken apart until all he can do is desperately bounce on a dildo and whine, head empty.

PIERRE: we’ve spoken about Pierre’s love for intense pain play before, but we’ve never touched human furniture before and oh my god? I also think Pierre wants it to hurt. He wants to be made to get on his hands and knees on a wooden floor with no cushions, wants to feel the ache in his knees.

GEORGE: I don’t think I’ve ever talked about shibari with George and I can’t believe I haven’t? George loves intense shibari, wants to be twisted into positions that make his limbs ache, wants to have rope marks against his skin for hours. Honestly I could speak for hours about this.

LEWIS: double penetration? Oh my god. Obsessed. I think that’s the one thing that can make Lewis’s mind completely silent? And I actually think he prefers when you’re not fucking him? Have him on a dildo, have him suck another, and then swop your attention between the two and comforting Lewis. Eventually he just melts, letting the two dildos go as deep as they can, completely relaxed.

YUKI: got I want to pinch Yuki!!!! He would make the cutest squeaks, at first acting like he doesn’t love it but you can literally see the way his cock twitches. I also think he bruises quite easily? So often you’ll pinch him a couple times and the next day you’ll see bruises there, which is just incredible and Yuki is very proud of them.

[blueberryjam1201]

The Moon movie

Director: Kim Yong-Hwa

Producer: Choi Ji-Sun

Release Date: August 2, 2023

Runtime: 129 min.

Distributor: CJ Entertainment

Country: South Korea

Cast: Doh KyungSoo, Sol KyungGu, Hong SeungHee, Kim HeeAe

Finally, I was able to watch this breathtaking movie and I wish to share a couple of words.

All under the cut together with few snaps🍪🍪🍪

If you still haven’t watched, please take note this review consists of many spoilers!

Enjoy!❤️

First couple of minutes we learned about past events, which was a great idea because we would not waste time later with explanations.

Woori - the lunar spaceship is heading for the moon together with three astronauts. However, an unfortunate accident occurs, and two of them lose their lives, leaving SunWoo - the main character alone in space, fighting for life.

Accidents are happening one after another. An eventful two-hour movie run is holding us at the end of our seats almost all the time! SunWoo is receiving indescribable help and thanks to that he survives.

Now, I'll write my personal opinion which is both Yes and Nay nay.

The positive part:

Firstly, I am in love with this movie's visuals and animation. I could make a screenshot for most of the views and places, print it on a canvas and hang it on the wall all over my home!

Smart choice of music used.

Actors are a heaven. I am KyungSoo biased, but they all had a big impact on the script.

If we're talking about THE acting that made us forget how to breathe, then it will definitely be KyungSoo, Kyunggu and HeeAe! All three were fabulous and carried this movie on their back.

If we are speaking about the comedy side, yes we had it! Special thanks to Jo HanChul who made sure to make us smile every time he is on the screen.

...and! Hong SeungHee, this girl! She made me laugh a lot, but her character was a crucial part of the main plot. Her ideas were like a breath of fresh air. And even if she every time made us laugh, thanks to her SunWoo was able to be heard by the world. Recording his voice and streaming it on YouTube. Funny but at the same time the most effective.

I hope she and KyungSoo will have a drama together in the near future.

The Nay nay:

As I mentioned before, this is my personal. I didn't like the way SangWon died. He was badly injured so should be e.g. floating powerlessly and speaking with SunWoo by communicator, but he just stood next to the widow, which was weird. And the way they talked was a little comical, I laughed inside...

I didn't like the timing of the scene when SunWoo was upset with ex-director, blaming his father's death on him and acting like a spoiled brat. I get it! But, just a few seconds ago he was crying, fighting for life and survived thanks to this man! Maybe it's just me but this doesn't seem in place.

That's not a bad point, just a side note - don't expect a thirsty, cold-blooded, heartbreaking thriller.

This movie was made for everyone and I was totally happy with this. Take your son, mother, grandmother, husband, or whoever you wish to!

Summary:

The scene where SunWoo is landing on a near side of the moon will make everyone tear up, I guarantee! I have many favourite scenes but the last 20 minutes including the post-credit scene I can count as one long favourite.

If you are looking for this kind of drama which will take you for a long space journey, with an eventful plot and no filler scenes, top notch actors, and gold jokes then I recommend this movie for you!

It will stay for a long time on my favorite list.

Meanwhile, thanks for reading.

If you made it to the end, please check the caps below and leave a heart ❤️

Thanks!

[barrenstars]

basic info & background.

full name:  roselle swanson

nicknames:  rose

age:  verse dependent ( usually 20s / 30s )

gender:  cisfemale

sexual orientation:  pansexual

occupation:  verse dependent

height:  5′1″

background.

rose's grandmother was a moon witch who was manipulated by their coven and used for her raw power. the abuse she dealt with and the control they had over her entire life resulted in her mental health spiralling, which ended in suicide. the coven, desperately wanting to maintain their reputation, claimed it was because of the woman's extensive use of her magic. they stated that using lunar energy as often as she did resulted in the gradual loss of one's sanity. this is tied to the old tale that if you stared at the moon for too long you'd become a 'lunatic'. because of this, rose's father didn't intend to stick around. so when he was old enough to move on with his life, he did, and the coven let him as he wasn't a witch nor a warlock.

later on in his life, rose's father married and had two children, one being roselle, and the other being her younger brother, ethan. he settled down in a nice city in france and life was relatively simple, just as he wanted. until roselle began to showcase signs of moon magic and her father knew he was out of his depth. leaving it alone was too dangerous, so in a panic, he reached back out to the moon coven, who accepted them back. they packed up and moved back to the coven with her father having hopes they had changed and wouldn't treat a child as they had his mother. this time there were rules, rose wasn't to be used or trained too harshly, and the coven agreed. but it didn't take long for that promise to be broken as little roselle at the age of nine, was losing her spark. she'd come back home crying, drained of energy and worked to the bone. a few years later, having watched his daughter slowly become less of herself, her father packed up their things and whisked them away in the dead of the night, running away and escaping them yet again. only this time, the coven had something to chase.

from then roselle and her family lived out in the country, secluded and surrounded by trees. it was a cosy life and roselle was happy she didn't have to spend every waking moment thinking about magic, the moon, and the connection they had. however, she did continue practising her magic, as it had become so intertwined with her that not using it was too strange. and her father didn't have an issue with it, and allowed her to whilst supervising her. over the years, into her teenage years, rose had developed her own approach to lunar magic, and she had found a way to use it freely without losing her sanity. storing moonlight into crystals and using it in small doses worked tremendously, and it even deepened her understanding of the moon and the magic it freely provided for her. life was good and well until her father's moods began to drop and he began to take violent turns. no one knew why.

unbeknownst to roselle and her family, the moon coven had been hunting them down for years, and instead of going in and snatching rose, they worked on destroying everything around her so that her will was broken and she'd become a blank canvas for them to paint however they wished. they manipulated her father with their magic, temporarily possessing him and having him lash out at his wife and two children. over the years they worked on chipping away at their relationships, turning a once-happy home into chaos. and when everything fell apart, they struck.

roselle was no older than seventeen when the coven came for her in the dead of night. she was in bed, in her room which she still shared with her brother when she heard her mother screaming hysterically in the early hours of the morning. running to check on the situation, roselle found her mother, dead, covered in her own blood with her father standing over her, cleaver in hand and nothing behind his usually kind eyes. the energy he gave off wasn't his own, roselle knew this and ran back to her room where she woke her brother up and made him help her barricade their room. the manipulation of their father's mind ceased, and the coven took the next step into getting rose for themselves.

when her father came too and realised what had happened, he broke down, which prompted rose into opening the door and letting him inside. it was clear then what was going on, but they didn't have a moment to think before the house was raided by the coven members, and the house suddenly burst into flames. they checked each room, the flames which engulfed the house being ineffective on them as they looked for roselle, and when they found her she didn't stand a chance. rose attempted to protect her family, but was overpowered in seconds and knocked unconscious. when she awoke later, her house was ash, and her father and brother were gone along with her mother, having been left to burn while rose was dragged out.

after coming too rose was laying sprawled on the grass, surrounded by her coven as they chatted idly to themselves, not expecting roselle to awaken so soon. they'd already cast binding spells, tying roselle to them, however, it was evident they were ineffective as roselle came to and, in a fit of pure emotional rage, used her magic to send them flying across the massive countryside yard. it was then roselle turned on her heel and ran. she ran and ran until she was so far away from them she could relax. ever since then, she's been on the run from her coven, always looking over her shoulder, and not easily trusting anyone.

as of now, roselle is constantly on the move, not staying in the same country, state, city, or even town for too long. she tries not to make friendships as her life is too chaotic and she's always on the move, leaving behind everything she's created. she's become emotionally closed off, keeping her feelings bundled up somewhere inside of her while she focuses on destroying her coven with the vast grimoires she has stolen from them. rose is constantly seeking knowledge, building her power, and trying to enjoy the life she has before she knows her time is up.

every so often she returns back to her old family home, visiting the house she grew up in to pay her respects to her dead family and leave the site gifts and offerings, despite the damage the fire has caused.

disclaimer: roselle is an oc that can easily fit into any verse, whether it's fandom verses, original lore verses, or anything of the sort, so please shoot me a message if you wish to write / plot with her! anime / manga face claim is available upon request! / theme song.

[citizen-20]

Introduction

I like to dance. And, contrary to the popular belief that white girls can't dance, I like to think I’m pretty good. I like and do a lot of the things that you could probably already guess by looking at me. I like Starbucks coffee, though my achingly empty wallet limits that addiction, I like getting “white girl wasted”. I like to wear my black Uggs year round and often pair them with the only pair of Lululemon leggings I own; see wallet comment once again. All in all, I’d say I am a perfectly average 20-year-old girl with perfectly average interests. I like reading and watching movies. I enjoy shows less, especially ones with like 27 seasons and 30 episodes per season. They are just way too much of a commitment, and a movie does everything a show does in 2 hours, so. I become obsessed with most fictional guys, at least for a time, and I squeeze every ounce of serotonin possible from anything that makes me even remotely happy. Until it doesn’t really do anything for me anymore. Although I know that is not a unique experience. Pretty sure I’ve never had one. Which is fine. I kinda like being able to relate to every other person on the planet.

Sometimes when I get freaked out about dying, I just remember that everyone is gonna have to. I think about how my mom, my siblings, and my best friends will all one day die. And I know ... .that's really morbid and it’s sad to think about it, I get it; I swear I’m not a sociopath. But is it also somehow comforting? Like I don’t need to worry because literally no matter what I do or think, I’m not alone. Even when it comes to super scary things like dying. 

I got a little off-topic there. Anyway, I also really like to paint. They're not good by any means obviously. And I only ever do it occasionally, like when my feelings feel like boiling over and I don’t like crying really any more so I have to have an outlet. So I grab a canvas and randomly grab different paint colors and sort of smear them all over until I get an accurate representation (at least to me) of whatever it was I was feeling. Sometimes a certain color will speak to me and I just have to get it on the canvas. But most of the time I just let my hands do the work and don’t think too much about it. I think that’s the part that really helps, the not thinking part. I always feel like there is so much to think about, so getting a couple hours break is nice. Afterward, I can’t hang any of them up. Not because I’m embarrassed about how bad they are. But whenever I look at them I remember what I was feeling when I painted them, and I don’t always like remembering. 

Something else I feel like I can get on here and keep it to a one-page minimum is that I have a very good memory. Like an elephant. Although the things I remember are entirely useless and serve no purpose I guess, besides the fact that I found them worthy to remember. So they must mean something. I guess I’ll just have to hold off until the moment arises when being able to rap all of Eminem's “The Real Slim Shady” becomes useful.

[iizuumi]

Smol oikage dump. Enjoy  ∠( ᐛ 」∠)_

[nythroughthelens]

(This is one of the most personal pieces of writing about myself and my snow photography that I have ever shared. It includes Cure lyrics, a smattering of beautiful painful memories, etc. It was shared 5 years ago when my book New York in the Snow made it into The NY Times.)

It's early morning. I am 10 years old.

I'm sitting at the kitchen table furiously scribbling details onto a blueprint that I've painstakingly drawn over the course of the last five days.

The blueprint is for my own chocolate factory fueled by my fourth reading of Roald Dahl's Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.

The drawing and its details are etched onto blank newsprint sheets that my family refers to as scrap paper.

---

My father fell into his job as a union pressman for the Daily News out of necessity.

He had just moved to New York City with next to nothing aside from his wife, a suitcase full of clothing, and a few dollars.

Having only completed a Junior High School level education in the poor farming community he lived in growing up, he didn't have a lot of choice when it came to joining the workforce.

When someone introduced him to the newspaper Pressman's Union, his life changed. The union took him in and trained him in the brute art of loading printing presses endlessly.

He worked nights for the next 20 years loading printing presses for the Daily News. His knees and back suffered as did his general mood. He was an irascible character that I rarely saw. But he was an irascible character that kept a roof over our heads and food in our stomachs.

In 1993, he moved from loading printing presses for the Daily News to doing the same exact thing for the New York Times. This was a huge deal for him. Even though he was still breaking his back literally and metaphorically, the clout of working for the Times vs the Daily News was enough to make him smile (a rarity) and celebrate when he got confirmation of the upward move to the Times.

I grew up with an understanding that the New York Times was a paper that held weight in the minds of many. But it was the place where other people got mentioned and written about. It was a place to admire other people, not the people I grew up with or even people like myself who were living on the bitter edges of poverty barely eeking out an existence.

Because of my father, I grew up with newspaper.

I relished the large amounts of blank newsprint scrap paper that existed in our house. It was the kindling for my escapist imagination.

On this blank newsprint canvas I would scrawl out information about my endless Dungeon and Dragons campaigns and story arcs, and draw blueprints for my future fantasy wardrobes reminiscent of the one in Chronicles of Narnia.

---

It's a grim, rainy afternoon. I am 25 years old.

I have just celebrated my birthday and I am sitting on a couch I rescued from the trash at one point.

I have been living on my own for the last seven years having been disowned by my parents due to religious differences.

The only break in the loud silence of being disowned came in the form of a phone call from my mother when I was 20 years old. She called to let me know that my father died.

I start listening to a Sigur Ros album.

The music swells to an emotive crescendo. It's the type of crescendo that propagates self-reflection. I start to try to imagine my future and start bawling. It's not pretty tears that I cry but rather it's soul-wrenching ugly streams of futility and despair that pour down my face.

I've been working seven days a week in dead-end jobs for years and I am so tired.

My roommate and his girlfriend come home right at that moment. He sees me on the couch bawling and sits next to me. Without any words exchanged, we hug for a good half hour while I sob uncontrollably. I feel his ribs poking out and it reminds me of how fragile existence is.

I go to sleep that night the same way I have been going to sleep for years, recalling a blizzard that happened when I was a child.

My father had to stay home from work that night since the trains were not running. Our neighbors offered use of their sleds and my parents happily took them up on the offer.

As soon as my father stepped outside, his face erupted into a huge grin as he pulled me and my brothers on the sled through the streets of Flushing.

The wind kissed our faces and the snow swirled like confetti in a ticker-tape parade.

I looked up at the street lights and realized that in that moment, everything was full of wonder and magic.

And I returned to this moment every night for years when bedtime was the only thing I looked forward to.

----

It's almost midnight. It's the Winter of 2012.

I am feverishly checking the weather forecast to figure out when the first snowflakes will fall to the ground.

I listen to The Cure - Plainsong on repeat. It's my ritual before every snowstorm.

The chimes start and as the lyrics kick in, I get goosebumps:

"I think it's dark and it looks like it's rain, you said

And the wind is blowing like it's the end of the world, you said

And it's so cold, it's like the cold if you were dead

And you smiled for a second

I think I'm old and I'm feeling pain, you said

And it's all running out like it's the end of the world, you said

And it's so cold, it's like the cold if you were dead

And you smiled for a second

Sometimes you make me feel

Like I'm living at the edge of the world

Like I'm living at the edge of the world

It's just the way I smile, you said"

I have felt like I've been living at the edge of the world for what seems like an eternity.

It's these lyics I hear in my mind when I walk seven or eight miles in snowstorms trying to capture what loneliness, isolation, and nostalgia have felt like trying to survive alone in New York City.

I lose myself everytime I go out in the snow.

I lose the feeling of hunger gnawing its way through my stomach for years.

I lose the crushing feeling of futility I used to feel heading to endless dead-end jobs hoping to keep the lights on for another month.

I lose the years of wondering if my family ever thinks of me.

I lose the bits of myself that suffered the most.

I lose the anger, the sadness, the loss.

I am cleansed by the flakes as they flutter in the night air and land on my nose and eyelashes.

I am, momentarily, that child in my neighbor's sled looking up at streetlights marveling at the wonder of existence.

----

It's today.

I walk to the newsstand.

I open the New York Times and see my book, New York in the Snow, staring back at me.

I grin for what seems like an eternity.

----

(shared before another season of sharing my snow photography)

[kimmexart]

Hi! Can I request a male matchup for Voltron?

𝗔𝗣𝗣𝗘𝗔𝗥𝗔𝗡𝗖𝗘: 20 years old, 5'1", Southeast Asian. Chubby with brunette bob cut hair, chocolate brown eyes, and a small beauty mark on my forehead. My style is in between soft grunge and soft punk but loves to wear Korean makeup style

𝗣𝗘𝗥𝗦𝗢𝗡𝗔𝗟𝗜𝗧𝗬: Muggleborn Ravenclaw with a patronous spirit of Hummingbird, an INFJ (last time I checked at MBTI test), my enneagram is 4w5 and my moral alignment is Neutral Good. I may have a slight introverted tendencies and awkward nature, I describe myself as fiery, swears like a sailor, confident, jokester, and, passionate. Religious, super talkative, sometimes hyper (because of excitement), giggly (I always laugh for stupid reasons), nerdy, actually sweet and nice though I can be aloof, intimidating, and scary when I get so angry. I tend to become really fiesty, stands boldly on what I believe (claiming myself as a realist though some of my views doesn't makes sense), and unbothered to be true to myself, clumsy, stubborn, young-at-heart, unfortunate and inattentive. I have "no bs" towards the people that I hate, sarcasam and savagery is my main language. But on the other side, I overthink a lot and cry over small things many times, small mistakes leads me to provoke me even more that sounds like a drama queen, yet recognizes a soft spot for dumb jokes, cheesy pickup lines and prefer people with a good sense of humour who see myself as equal. Chill in academics, but very competitive that manages to the top even for my dreams---I'm very dedicated on what I want for my life, and I display modesty and gracefulness towards some people that deserves respect. One notable feature about her is her multi-potentiality due to being naturally gifted in artistic fields (this includes singing).

𝗜𝗡𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗘𝗦𝗧𝗦: Arts, choir, poetry, karaoke, literature, history, makeup, beauty pageants, fun/deep/dumb conversations, expanding my knowledge in Christianity, documentaries (about saints), reading interesting stuffs, talking about social issues, and creative writing, chilling both indoors and outdoors.

𝗛𝗢𝗕𝗕𝗜𝗘𝗦: Drawing, singing, dancing when nobody's around (I'm very bad at it), sharing nerdy or opinionated thoughts, walking like a model (if I ever feel so confident), sleeping, listening to music (from rock to kpop), chatting or browsing on social media, watching videos on YouTube, making terrible jokes/puns, watching cartoons, writing, reading interesting things, and conceptualizing my artworks. I also used to study Italian language a bit

I match you with…

Matt Holt

-With the war, Matt never had time to meet anyone to fond over. when he finally returned to earth he never thought of a serious relationship only flirting here and there but

-The first time he saw you, you caught his attention almost immediately you looked so different from everyone else

-he couldn’t take his eyes off you from that moment.

-He could tell that you were much harder to approach, you stayed silent only nodding to his words when he first introduced himself but when you finally began to open up

-he adored the way you’d blush at his dumb pickup lines

-and how you’d bite back taking him by surprise but he laughed at your response never taking offense

-you taught Matt how much more different earth was now and helped him get accustomed to his home planet 

-Or how you could talk about something for hours on end, Matt could never get bored of you

-For dates, matt would take you out on little picnics, stay home and watch movies in a pillow fort

-even going out to sing he’d blare out the lyrics as loudly as he could just to watch you smile and giggle

-the two of you would sit in a comfortable silence as you’d draw one another

-matt would notice your little hums when you were to focus on the canvas to even notice him staring

-(Matt was never good at drawing so his drawings of you would look kinda wonky)

-The patient with you when you’d cry or aren’t having a good day

-when you wanted to be right beside him as you cried he’d be there for you or if you wanted to be alone he’d give you your space and support you from afar

-He enjoys spending his time with you,

he wouldn’t mind if the two of you spent the rest of your time together.

————-

if you have any constructive criticism please tell me! i havent wrote in a while due to writers block and have gotten rusty!

[shinymooncolor]

Hi!

So - had two prompts that I’ve combined into this chat!

As always @lumosinlove is the mastermind of this wonderful fandom. 💖

I want to thank you all! Over 20 snippets and chats now. You guys are absolutely incredible and I can’t believe the feedback and love and good vibes I get from you. Thank you! I’m all done with prompts except for one which is the next chat - so I’ll be open for your ideas 😍

@frombeauxbatons and @canesinthecrease just because you inspire me ❤️

The boys are being naughty at a team event. Don’t worry. Consent was given on all accounts - they’re good boys! But they’re also a bunch of frat boys with muscles.

Remus plans a prank. He blames dumo and James. Nado organizes. Sergei wins. Timmy loses. Dumo is a prankster too. Olli is sneaky. Sirius is not in on the prank. Kuny is Kuny. Nat is amazing. Kris is an ally. Nado is also the team’s phoebe. (Friends reference)

Sweater weather chat #14

——

Saturday 5.22 pm

Nado created a group chat.

Nado named the group chat THE BIG LIONS HEIST 2020.

Nado added James, Remus, Dumo

Nado: hey Re. Remember the plan? We need to get all the boys to take the selfie before he notices

Remus: Nado. We’ve gone over this multiple times. I’ll get the phone from Sirius. I still think this is a disaster but you and James are very convincing

James: it’s a fucking awesome plan. He won’t notice I bet

Nado: also extra points if you get him all worked up😂

James: I don’t wanna spend an entire evening looking at Sirius trying to hide a hard-on

Nado: why not? It’s funny 😂

Dumo: why did remus get the easiest job?

Remus: I’m the only one who gets to put my hands in Sirius’ pocket.

Nado: awwww jealous?? You know we see him naked like several times a day?

Dumo: you’re not supposed to look.

Nado: I’m curious about the human body!

James: well we’ve all had sneak peaks. Still scared of Sergei

Dumo: he should hAve a tramp stamp saying heavy machinery

Nado: lets get him drunk!!!! Brady can ink him!!!!

Remus: you are not inking anyone without their consent. Also; have you met his wife? She’d skin you all alive.

Dumo: she would. I’ve seen her make a reporter cry.

James: why?

Dumo: the reporter insinuated things about Kuny. Not sure what he said but based on the cursing and sunny having to physically restrain her I think it was bad

Nado: yikes anyways we got everyone on board. I’ll kick cap out the group chat once you’ve swiped the phone. Now go get your tuxes on. We’ve got rich old ladies to woo.

Dumo: you’re not supposed to take them home.

Nado: I never saw that rule. Older ladies knows some shit. Damn. Cougars are wild!

Remus: I’m not treating sex injuries

Nado: you treated Kuny’s groin last month?

Remus: that was from the ice.

Nado: sure it was 😜

Dumo: I’m ending this. Go change and BEHAVE tonight

——

Saturday 8.54 pm

Nadotheman removed siriusly from the group chat

Nadotheman added Remus to the group chat

Nadotheman changed Remus to Loops

Blizzard: did you do it? You have the phone?

Loops: yes. I did my part. Your guys are up

Nadotheman: okay here are the rules for the 2020 lions heist (this year we’re doing truth and dare the lions way - so mostly dare)

1. We have 3 hours and cap’s phone. Each team member has to get a selfie with cap in the frame. The best (dirtiest) photo wins 😜

2. CAP CANT KNOW

3. Leo and Walker are starting and they get to chose the next one. You’ve all got one photo each

4. To be considered we need the photo sent to this chat before midnight.

5. Remus is the ref on this little game.

6. If you lose. You’ve gotta tell us 3 secrets. He he we get to pick when.

DamnFoxy: how is this a prank on cap?

Prongstar: he’s always being swarmed and it’s fun. He’s our canvas and we need to fill in the blanks. It’s like hide and seek meeting truth and dare meeting Pictionary meeting Snapchat

CarbO’Hara: so we can start? Cause Kuny’s been snogging that girl for 4 minutes now? Does he not need to breathe?

Nadotheman: that’s two points for Leo!

CarbO’Hara: @newt-leo? WhY? I saw him first?

Newt-Leo: he’s snogging someone at the shrimp buffet. That’s open season. Also he’s still not come up for air? And it was my turn to start @krisvolley and @prongstar you’re it

KrisVolley: @blizzard & @lewilliam you’re up

LeWilliam: blizzard is cheating!!! He got his girlfriend’s friend to kiss him!!!! And Nat was touching cap’s butt

Blizzard: read the rules man. I’m not cheating

LeWilliam: but it’s unfair?

Blizzard: not my fault. I’m winning.

Loops: @lewilliam I’m pretty sure Nat and blizzard saved cap from a handsy old lady.

Blizzard: @sergei_81 & @kaneyoudigit you’re up

Kaneyoudigit: Hahahaha hahahha pretty sure sergei and me are gonna win.

Dumodad: sergeu just manhandled a very confused looking Sirius all the way back to the toilets?

Nadotheman: wait. Where’s Kuny?

KrisVolley: yeah Sergei definitely won.

Kaneyoudigit: I’ve got a pic too!!!

Logantremblayzzz: well you’ve got only half a cap. Sergei got himself and cap giving thumbs up.

Sunnysideup: you forgot you were supposed to be in the photo @kaneyoudigit 😂

Prongstar: so it’s not even 10 and Kuny’s already half naked in the bathroom. It’s like you guys aren’t even tryin. Didn’t even get a selfie with cap in it yet. Also he wasn’t supposed to know.

Sergei_81: he not know game he think I just want pic for Kuny. Keep try but I’m win.

Krisvolley: well that was smart. Back to the game boys. @dumodad & @logantremblayzzz you’re up

Sergei_81: why you sound surprised? Brat. I’m smart.

——

Nadotheman: everyone got their pics in?

Walkietalkie: yeah. Finno was last with Olli. They’ve just sent it - nice job Olli 😜 timmy didn’t send one tho

Loops: I don’t think I want to know. Olli. How the hell did you get cap to do that?

Ollibear: I just asked him to get some fresh air with me. How could I know timmy was getting acquainted with a girl behind the curtain? 😇

DumoDAD: acquainted? Is that what it’s called now?

RussianGod: at least I go to toilet for hookup

KrisVolley: you’re all terrible.

Sunnysideup: you sent a selfie with you and cap in front of the girls kissing in the corner....

KrisVolley: I’m a proud ally!

Talkiewalkie: to be fair you both look incredible uncomfortable

KrisVolley: it’s a stupid game

Timmyforrealz: HEY?! You losers hear about privacy?

Ollibear: if you want privacy don’t hook up with someone behind a curtain at a fancy nightclub.... also you didn’t send a pic. You’ve lost.

Timmyforrealz: I didn’t lose hah. Maybe I lost your dumb game

Prongstar: don’t blame the game for her dumping you. Also you lost some buttons on your shirt, your tie is a disaster and your dignity is hanging on by a thread

Timmyforrealz: she didn’t dump me. I decided not to pursue it further!

Russiangod: whatever u say. Come on who win?

Loops added siriusly to the group chat

Siriusly: WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON? Why am I in all of these selfies?

Loops: you’re cute when you’re annoyed. I had nothing to do with this😇

Prongstar: captain my captain. It was all loops’ idea. We’ve got a selfie collection for you.

Siriusly: you idiots have spent an entire evening running Around trying to take selfies with me and not tell me?

DumoDAD: it was fun. You didn’t catch on when Sergei asked you to pose in front of Kuny clearly going at it?

Siriusly: I thought it was a prank on Kuny? Like steal his clothes and all/ wait didn’t you steal his clothes?

Nadotheman: we should’ve. Dammit

Sergei_81: loops who win????

Loops: timmy lost.

Siriusly: wait it that why Nat was patting my butt? She said I’d been sitting in something? @blizzard!!!!

Blizzard: 😜

Siriusly: should I be offended? She did ask if it was okay. Wait. Why did I have to be in the photos? You’re not doing another collage?

Prongstar: of course! Last year was cap sleeping in different places.

Siriusly: you’re all idiots. How did you even get my phone??

Loops: ...

Siriusly: oh.

Talkiewalkie: awwwwww... 😜

Timmyforrealz: anyone seen my wallet?

Ollibear: I give up. 🙏🏻

[headcanonsandcupcakes]

hola muh dude: so I hear your a maiko shipper? Possibly? Do you have any random Headcanons for them two?

Hey my friend!!! I am so sorry I am getting back to you late on this! I had so many thoughts going around my head regarding these two, that I had to take time to write what I really wanted on this :) Yes, I am a Maiko, Zutara, and Jinko shipper :) But Maiko will always be #1! Are you ready for a lengthy headcanon? Warning: It is also a little depressing :(

- The childhood crush between Zuko and Mai wasn’t one-sided. Zuko also took an affection to Mai, however, it wasn’t as intense of a crush like Mai had for Zuko.

- As they got older, the playing field became level. They had their first kiss together and also hung out with each other outside of Azula (although it was limited because she was threatening). Mai was also the reason why Zuko got into knives and swords. He saw her playing with a small one, and decided he wanted to like knives too, because she liked them. Eventually the interest progressed into swords :)

- Zuko was actually going to ask Mai to be his girlfriend the day after the Agni Kai. However, that never happened. 

- Mai attended the Agni Kai to support Zuko, as she knew he could beat the general. Once she saw that it was Ozai that would be dueling Zuko, she realized it was game over for Zuko. Even as the years passed, she never liked to think about that day. 

- Zuko was banished the day after the Agni Kai, and she never got to properly say goodbye. They kept in touch as best as they could via messenger hawk, but Mai noticed that Zuko drastically changed. It hurt her so much to know that he was going to a TON of pain and turmoil, and she couldn’t do anything about it. Being “friends” with Azula didn’t help matters either, as Mai had to hear horrible commentary about Zuko from Azula. It disgusted her that Azula didn’t even care about her own brother.

- Despite everything that was going on with Zuko, Mai was his shining light. Besides searching for the Avatar, Zuko would look forward to her letters, as that was his only happiness. This explains why he couldn’t get close to Song or Jin, and why it seemed like their relationship came out of nowhere, because they were regularly in contact (until Zuko and Iroh went on the run). Zuko felt a sense of loyalty to Mai, and didn’t want to hurt her by dating other girls. 

- Although Mai had a lack of passion for everything else, she was quite passionate in the bedroom. She is the one who was insistent on cheering up Zuko in “Nightmares and Daydreams”, by having sex, which Zuko graciously accepted. That time was not their first time, however, but rather their first time was during their Ember Island vacation (after ruining Chen’s house). To say the least, Zuko is very awkward, and Mai took charge of most of the activities that night (despite it both being their first time).

- Mai and Zuko dated for two years after the war ended, but took a break because Zuko was struggling with Fire Lord duties and felt that he couldn’t be a proper boyfriend to Mai. Mai rebounded fast, and started dating a councilman’s assistant. Zuko was jealous, but knew that he couldn’t give her what she needed and wanted. 

- Mai ended up dating this man for three years, and many of the nobles thought they were going to get engaged. During this time, Zuko didn’t date anyone and still was madly in love with Mai (this didn’t impress his advisors, who were in insistent on setting him up with someone for an heir). Additionally, although Mai was dating this other man, she still kept in touch with Zuko, and would even visit the palace to check up on him. 

- However, a day came where Mai broke up with the other man. She told Zuko it was because she didn’t see a future with him. Nothing happened between Zuko and Mai for 8 months, as they enjoyed just being friends and being in each others’ company. But, that didn’t last too much longer, as Zuko couldn’t stand to let her get away again. So, he asked her if she would like to try again with their relationship, in which Mai responded, “took you long enough, you’re the one that I want in my future.”

- Their second time dating was a huge success. They realized that the time apart, as well as maturing a little bit, really helped solidify their relationship. They still had their fights, sure, but it wasn’t as unstable as it was when they were teenagers. 

- They dated for a year, until Zuko proposed to Mai. He proposed by getting down on one knee, and presented her a knife that he welded himself. This was the first time he ever saw Mai cry, as she exclaimed, “Yes!”

- Their wedding was absolutely beautiful, and they enjoyed a nice honeymoon on a remote island near the Western Air Temple. They enjoyed married life for several years, and cringed at Uncle Iroh and Mai’s mother’s asks about children. Zuko made a decision a long time ago that he NEVER wanted children because of his childhood, and Mai supported his decision.

- When Mai finds out that she’s pregnant, she’s nervous on Zuko’s reaction (at this point, he was willing to give Tom Tom or Kiyki the throne). She hid it for a few weeks, until Zuko asked her why she was getting sick, eating weird things, and being much moodier than usual, that she confessed. His mind went blank for a moment, but tears automatically streamed on his face. He was already in love with their baby, and realized how stupid he looked for not wanting children.

- When he first felt the baby move in Mai’s belly, he started bawling his eyes out. He loved Mai being pregnant, and enjoyed catering to her every need. One of Mai’s favorite things that Zuko did for her when she was pregnant was that he would heat his hands and place them on her lower back. He also gave into every craving she had, including fire flakes with pickles and ice cream (this was a favorite request of hers). He also was a helicopter husband, as he wanted to ensure that her and the baby were always safe.

- When Mai was in labor, he broke the Fire Lord tradition of not being in the room. He wanted to be there for his wife and see the birth of his daughter. When their daughter was born, they gave her the name Izumi, meaning fountain, where it all started. He was afraid to hold Izumi, as he thought that his daughter would be afraid of his face. After some reassurance from Mai, he held her in his arms, where she looked at him with big golden eyes. He thanked Agni for this blissful moment, and the life he had. It was at this moment that he swore to Izumi that he would always love her, and would NEVER hurt her. 

- Zuko and Mai took to parenting rather well. They wanted to both be hands-on parents, and didn’t want nannies or wet nurses involved at all. Even though Mai always showed a blank canvas, Izumi and Zuko were the only ones that could make her smile and cry of happiness.

- A year and a half after Izumi was born, Mai started to get really bad headaches, to the point that she would have to be bedridden for the day when she would get them. Zuko got really worried, and insisted on Katara coming to the palace to see what the problem was, but Mai told him to back off. She was convinced that it was due to lack of sleep or stress. He did eventually write to Katara, much to Mai’s dismay, and Katara said she would come to visit as soon as she was able (she just had Bumi five months prior to Izumi’s birth, but he was a handful).

- One day, when Izumi was two years old, Mai fainted and had a seizure out in the gardens. Izumi was too young to understand what was going on, and cried for 20 mins until one of the guards found them. Zuko was informed of what happened to Mai during a budget meeting, where he left to the infirmary without saying a word.

- The Fire Sages confirmed that Mai had a death in her brain (cancer wasn’t really studied during their time, but essentially Mai had stage 3 brain cancer). Mai only lived for 6 more months after that. Zuko took time off from his Fire Lord duties (Uncle Iroh stepped in) to take care of Mai at her bedside. Aang, Katara, and Bumi moved into the palace full time to take care of Mai as well.

- Every night, once he put Izumi to bed, Zuko would fire bend in a feral manner. He was incredibly angry that life was dealing him this card, and was also very stressed, because of the pain his wife was going through and also trying to stay strong for their daughter (he had surpassed his Book One anger, that’s for sure). Uncle Iroh, Ursa, and Aang were the only ones keeping him from not going on a rampage, although they understood why he was feeling this way.

- During the last three weeks of Mai’s life, the Gaang came in to check on Zuko, as well as help with the care of Izumi. Zuko was distracted because he knew Mai’s time was coming soon, and wanted to be with her for every moment. However, they had a two year old daughter, and that two year old had needs. So, the Gaang stepped in to feed and put Izumi to bed when she couldn’t stand being at her mother’s bedside any longer (she’s a toddler, it happens).

- Katara tried her best to heal Mai, however, she was too far gone. On the last day of her life, she looked up at Zuko and Izumi with glassy eyes and rasped, “I love you”. Mai died a few hours after that. 

- Izumi was too young to understand what had happened to her mother, however, it didn’t make it easier for Zuko to tell his own daughter that her mother, his wife, the light that kept him going during his banishment, the one that always had faith in him, was no longer on this earth. Although he wanted to be sad and completely disengage from the world, he couldn’t because he needed to stay strong for his daughter. 

- However, Zuko was still numb after Mai passed. He didn’t eat or sleep for two weeks, and went through the motions of the day as if he wasn’t in his own body at all. Even with taking care of Izumi, he wasn’t really “there”. Katara took notice of this, and told Zuko that he needed to grieve. So, he grieved the only way he knew how: being incredibly destructive. He burned an entire wing of the palace that was abandoned for decades. He sat in the middle of the flames and cried for many hours. 

- Mai was buried near the fountain where it all started. Mai always said that she loved that fountain, so Zuko made the decision to bury her right there. For many years after her death, Zuko made it a point to visit her grave every day. Even if he was incredibly busy with Fire Lord duties, he would commit to seeing her and talking to her. The silence when he didn’t hear anything back was always so hard to hear. 

- Izumi doesn’t remember her mother at all, however, Zuko will always talk about Mai to ensure that her legacy is prominent. There are many times in Izumi’s life where he wished she was around to see how amazing of a person Izumi had become. Even when it has been 15 years since Mai’s death, Zuko still aches for her. Before he goes to sleep every night, he kisses the painting that they took together when they were teenagers and says, “goodnight my love”.

[owliellder]

The Finer Details

Post DI! Leon Kennedy x f! Painter Reader

MDNI 18+

(Session 1, Session 2, Session 3, Session 4, Session 5, The Reveal)

Description: Leon realizes that retirement is in his best interest now that he's getting older. All of his accomplishments as an agent mean he's truly earned a painting to commemorate..

Warnings: Not Proofread, Age gap! (reader is anywhere between mid-late 20's and Leon is 40), Porn w/ Plot, Use of she/her pronouns, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Alcoholism, mentions of trauma/PTSD/depression, P in V smut (wrap it NEOW), Leon cries during sex 💔

Tags: Older Leon Kennedy, Younger afab!Reader, Leon is SAD but he is your muse, Crying, mentions of Leon masturbating, starts off with Dom! Leon and Sub! Reader, falls into switch territory because that man needs some serious TLC, Praise kink, Hickeys, Handjob, Nipple play, Oral sex (m! and f! receiving), and a heavy dose of Aftercare

Final Word Count: 22.6k

Author's Note: Ta-da! I put a lot of work into this last chapter, like actually becoming the president for a couple hours, but I really wanted to make it worth everyone's time for sticking around and reading all the way through.

Thank you so much for following along! All the sweet comments from you guys never fails to make my day!

^//v//^

Cross posted on AO3

The Reveal

Almost three months.

It took almost three months for Leon's portrait to fully dry after it had been varnished. You'd checked it almost daily after the two month mark due to Leon's constant pestering. He was understandably antsy, and admittedly, you were too.

There was a lot of convincing involved, but you managed to keep the man at home while you transported the painting to the White House. He worried it would be damaged en-route. Such a little worry wart.

Setting up the painting's respective spot a column away from Chris and Claire's seemed very appropriate; tall, fake bushes sitting on either side of where it would be placed, a warm yellow bulb lighting up the inside of the decorative archway, and the patterned golden frame where the canvas would forever be now hung empty in that portrait hallway, waiting to be pieced together and completed.

The shiny gold placard had already been screwed onto the frame, words zapped on it via laser:

Leon S. Kennedy

USSTRATCOM Agent from 1998 - 2011

D.S.O. Agent from 2011 - 2017

You knew how long he'd been working as an agent, but it was still baffling nonetheless. Nearly 20 years of non-stop intense and usually very traumatizing work, what a feat.

Moving on, you'd worked out the plans for Leon's farewell party with the President and a few coordinators over the span of a few days, making sure to store the painting in a secure room for the time being. It was to stay covered with a violet piece of velvet cloth up until the reveal at the party, no one was allowed to see it besides you, the President, and the various security guards working the grounds.

After another two extra months of waiting, the farewell party was drawing near. There had to be enough time given for invitations to be sent out to people, wait for said people to RSVP, and allow travel time. And at this point, Leon was busting at the seams; extremely nervous, excited, and even a little scared at the prospect of it all.

Your words from that second painting session all those months ago never left his mind: "Seeing the portrait once it's finished is going to be an incredibly emotional ordeal. It's a reminder that this is truly the end of an era for you, Mr. Kennedy..."

The man clung to that, doing his best to internalize it and mentally prepare himself for what was to come. He was hoping you were exaggerating, but from what Chris, Claire, and even Jill have told him about their experience after the fact, he knew deep down that you'd seen it all too well before.

What Leon failed to realize was that he wasn't alone anymore. Sure he had his friends to help, but he'd never had someone to come home to everyday.

During the last few sessions, he had asked to stay with you at your apartment, citing the potential aftermath of the party as reasoning. However, you really didn't need him to explain his reasoning, you would've let him. Even if he just felt like it, you would've welcomed him with opened arms.

Besides, he'd already been staying at your place for longer periods of time over the months. You'd visited his house a few times, but he made sure to whine and complain about how bare and boring it was. If you remember correctly, Leon had said, word for word, that your apartment "felt like a warm hug". With that, he shelled up with you in only a couple weeks before the painting had dried. He made special effort to learn your routine, wanting to give you the space that you needed while also maximizing his time spent with you.

Leon was an actual angel, you were wholeheartedly convinced. Some days you would come home after working on another painting to the man cooking dinner, having bought an expensive wine to share with you. When your hands would start to ache and your back and shoulders were sore from the long hours spent holding a paintbrush in an awkward hunched position, he would set aside anything he had going on just to give you all the massages, kisses, and love that you could ever want.

Nothing was ignored when it came to you and your wants and needs. Leon admitted awhile back that he felt guilty for intruding on your space, though you were very quick to shut that down. He was far from a burden, actually lining up more with a dream come true.

And just like he did with you, you spared nothing while getting to know the in's and out's of the man that occupied your mind, heart, and home. You learned his favorite meals, watched his favorite shows and movies with him, returning the massages when he would return from the gym, and paid extra attention to how he liked to be held at night. Who would've guessed that the Leon Kennedy loved to be the little spoon?

What you spent the most time on was making sure to listen when he suddenly went on tangents about his past. They really did haunt him. You would wake up in the middle of the night to him huddled at the top of the bed, arms wrapped around his legs and head between his knees as he did his best to cry quietly. All you could do for him in those moments was pull him against your chest, gently rocking him back and forth while whispering sweet nothings, just until he felt either ready to talk or ready to fall back asleep. If he just wanted more comfort, then that's what he got, obviously.

He was only recently put on a couple medications to help him better manage his PTSD and anxiety since he really had to cut back on the alcohol in order to take them the way he needed. Definitely worth it to both you and him seeing as his nightmares lessened in intensity and frequency.

Now here you were, straightening out Leon's tie for him since his hands were failing him, nerves getting the better of him. He had taken his meds a few minutes ago, wanting to have the full effect during the party to combat any destructive behaviors during it, so it was no wonder his hands were still trembling.

"You're going to do so well, Leon." You smiled, giving him a gentle pat between his pecs after tucking his tie into his suit jacket. He was staring straight ahead, eyebrows furrowed with worry as he stared at himself in the mirror. "You've made so much progress and I couldn't be any prouder."

He licked his dry lips before slowly looking down at you, giving you the best smile he could, which was really just him pulling his lips back tight. If it weren't for you constantly being around to encourage him and push him to get better, he would not be able to attend his own farewell party.

How had he managed to get so far without this level of love and care? Where would he even be without you? Hopefully later when his mind isn't racing a million miles per minute, Leon will be able to tell you just how lucky he is to have you in his life.

Leon watched you in the mirror as you walked around to stand behind him, straightening out his suit jacket in random spots until deciding to just wrap your arms around his midriff, pressing the side of your face against his back with a content sigh. He brought his still-trembling hands up to hold onto your arms, rubbing his thumbs up and down across your soft skin.

His eyes settled back on his own face after staring at your arms linked around him, letting out a shaky sigh of his own as he attempted to just focus on this moment. You were perfect, ethereal, a true work of art. He wouldn't trade any of this for the world.

It took some time, about an hour, before Leon's medication was starting to kick in. You were definitely a big help, he couldn't give all the credit to his meds.

His relaxed demeanor wasn't easy to spot, the man was just naturally rigid, but you waited until he let you know that he was ready; ready to go to his farewell party, ready to see the portrait you painted for him, ready to put in the effort into accepting the next chapter in his life.

The drive to the White House was seamless, having been picked up in a blacked out SUV that held four personal guards, courtesy of the President. Leon wasn't going to complain, he actually kind of liked the pampering effect that came with being driven around by a dedicated entourage.

Almost all good feelings were drained from Leon when the car finally pulled up to the front of the White House where more guards stood waiting to escort the two of you inside. It was still early in the night, but the sun had set long ago, making for quite the beautiful atmosphere.

He could see numerous party attendees walking up the stairs, dressed up in their fanciest outfits for him. He held your hand the entire way up the stairs and into the entrance hall with a grip that was sure to leave your hand hurting. No matter, you could tell he needed you. That vice grip he had was well worth it for his comfort.

There were quite a few more people than either you or Leon expected. It seems as if all available agents, young, old, and retired, had been sent an invitation for tonight, along with quite a few high-ranking government workers. Luckily, this was a private event; no reporters, no news, only those who had been fortunate enough to be invited.

The first to spot you two was Chris who quickly made his way over to pull Leon into a bone-crushing hug, giving him a few solid pats on the back before letting go. Leon only reciprocated the hug with one hand, the other refusing to let go of yours, though his grip had loosened by now.

"Where's Claire?" Leon muttered, leaning to the side to scan over the sizeable crowd. "She's.." Chris turned around to also scan the crowd, squinting a bit as he looked. "She's somewhere. My wife is with her, her family, and Jill."

Leon pursed his lips with a curt nod, humming quietly in acknowledgement before standing straight again. He glanced down at where his hand held yours, squeezing it again for just a second as if to remind himself that you haven't gone anywhere.

Chris had turned back around to see the small gesture Leon gave to you, a coy smirk on his face. "What uhh... what's all this, huh?" He subtly pointed between you and the other man, voice lowered.

Leon cleared his throat and looked around to make sure no one was close enough to hear despite the volume in the hall. "... M'gonna save that for the-.. the speech." Chris just nodded, crossing his arms before slowly turning to look through the crowd again. "Alright, well, let me go find the family and bring them over before you're swarmed." And with that, Chris made his way back into the crowd.

Unfortunately, Leon had been spotted by the rest of the partygoers before Chris could return with everyone. Many pleasantries were repeated while also returning small talk with the people he recognized, which was a lot. You managed to avoid most of it, only being questioned a few times due to the rather obvious hold the man had on you. Despite having attended the last few parties like this, most people unable to recognize you as the artist. A blessing and a curse.

The next couple hours were spent eating finger foods, conversing with whoever, and enjoying the way Leon started to flow with the event. He soon found his way to Chris, Claire, their partners and kids, and Jill which really helped him loosen up. He needed the more familiar faces, having now let go of your hand fully to talk more animatedly with them. You made sure to stick by his side as long as you could, letting out a soft laugh every time you noticed his quick glances over to you to check if you're still there.

The time eventually did come for you to part with Leon, signaling a couple guards to follow you down a few hallways until reaching the room where the portrait sat, still covered with the violet cloth. The decision to keep it back here for so long was made by the President, wanting less of a sudden reveal and more of a build up.

Normally it would already be hanging in the entrance hall, covered and ready to be revealed, but not wanting to risk any potential damage, you were asked to hold off bringing it in until the President was ready to give the speech leading up to Leon's.

It'd been set in the golden frame rather quickly with the help from one of the guards that walked down with you. You had the guard to hold it up for you so you could give it one final good look before he was instructed to lead you back. After recovering, you took the portrait in both hands, holding it close as you were escorted back through the halls and into the main entrance hall.

By now everyone had directed their focus closer to the center of the back wall. Next to where the President stood, your own art easel was now set up. That was mostly as homage to you and it wasn't like anyone besides you would understand that it's yours, though Leon did pick up on that little feature. He'd been staring at the back of that thing for months, counted the various old streaks of paint on the pale wood over and over.

It made his farewell all the more personal, struggling to mask the feeling of the ever-growing pit in his stomach from the friends he was still standing next to.

The sound of a mic being tapped drew everyone's attention in to the President, the volume in the hall quieting to a whisper, soon completely silent as he began to speak into the mic;

"Ladies and gentlemen, I stand before you to honor and pay tribute to a true hero, a dedicated public servant, and a loyal friend who has served our nation with unwavering dedication for the past 19 years. It is with great respect and admiration that I address you on this occasion, as we bid farewell to a remarkable agent who has exemplified the very best qualities of service and sacrifice." As the President spoke, Leon held his breath, hands gripping onto his suit jacket to keep from trembling again.

At this point, you'd silently walked along the side with the guards from before, bringing the covered portrait up to the front before carefully placing it on your easel. "Throughout this nation's history, these agents have played an essential role in ensuring the safety and security of our nation's people and have consistently placed their lives on the line to protect the sanctity of our democracy. And today, we acknowledge one agent who has done so with unparalleled devotion."

"This retiring agent has been a silent sentinel, ensuring the continuity of our democratic ideals. Through countless hours of training, vigilance, and selflessness, they have demonstrated a level of commitment that is nothing short of extraordinary. But beyond their exceptional professional duties, this agent has been a friend and a confidant to those of us privileged to work alongside them. They have been a source of strength, a steady hand in turbulent times, and a symbol of the unbreakable bond that can form within the ranks of those who dedicate their lives to service."

You positioned yourself opposite of the President, placing your hands behind your back to keep your posture tall as you now smiled at the crowd, subtly scanning for Leon. His eyes were already on you when you found him, and your smile only widened further.

It prompted his own nervous smile, toying with the buttons on his jacket while turning his attention back to the President, wanting to remain respectful to his, honestly, very flattering speech so far. You followed Leon's eyes, seemingly having the same idea to just watch and listen.

"The sacrifices made by our agents often go unnoticed by the public, and that is by design. Their commitment to duty is matched only by their humility. But today, we pause to recognize and celebrate this retiring agent's dedication, valor, and sacrifice." The President continued to address the attendees in the room, giving you a quick nod before returning his focus to everyone in the entrance hall.

The President outstretched his hand towards Leon standing in the crowd, now staring at him with a prideful yet relaxed look. "To Mr. Leon S. Kennedy, our retiring agent and loyal friend, thank you for your 19 years of dedicated service to our nation. May your retirement be filled with the peace and contentment that you so richly deserve. You leave behind a legacy of honor and courage that will never be forgotten." The crowd of attendees clapped and cheered briefly, causing Leon to reach his hand up to wipe across his face. A poor way to hide his red face. He's done that before, hasn't he?

Once the crowd quieted back down, the President finished his speech with a classic, "May God bless you, your family, and may God continue to bless the United States of America. Thank you" before the crowd picked back up cheering and clapping. You clapped along with them, laughing at Leon's flustered expression. He could barely hold back his smile, not really have expecting to be so well recognized for his service.

Leon's queue to make his way to the front was when the President walked over to stand next to you, making sure not to block the covered portrait from anyone's view. He'd recited this speech to you countless times, even more to himself when he was alone, but all those eyes staring at him were causing him to fumble. He messed around with the mic once he was standing in front of it, and that was your queue to walk over and stand next to him, placing a loving hand on his forearm.

That's all he needed, just a little extra encouragement from the person he relied on the most. His speech was short and straight to the point, never having been a man of professional word, yet he still managed to slip in some words of praise for you and all the help you provided him during his rough patch earlier in the year.

Neither you or Leon had outright said it to each other, let alone to anyone else, but hearing him announce to the entire hall of people that you were his girlfriend made your heart soar. Speaking about you calmed his nerves, and he wanted everyone to know just how lucky he felt, like he'd hoped for earlier.

He bent over slightly to whisper in your ear, covering the mic with his hand to make sure it didn't pick up his voice. "Now, why don't you go ahead and show us all that masterpiece you spent months working on?" Oh, now you were the flustered one, giggling nervously as you gave his arm a gentle squeeze before walking over to where the painting sat on the easel.

"Ladies and gentleman," Leon's eyes followed you as he straightened his posture out, speaking into the mic once more with a wide smile gracing his features, "I'm honored to have the wonderful artist herself present my very own portrait to you." As he spoke, you carefully lifted the cloth from where it was draped over the painting, finally revealing the ever-awaited portrait to everyone.

Just like with Chris and Claire's, Leon was sat in that soft maroon chair, slightly off center, but his position was different with his right ankle rested atop his left knee, elbows on the arms of the chair while his hands rested in his lap, fingers interlaced. His smile was soft and partially crooked while he looked forward with relaxed eyes, a few strands of hair painted to sit in front of his brow. And to tie it all together, it had a lovely green background, a dark forest green as the base while a sage green was used to add texture. The vintage look had always been your favorite, and Leon fit it so perfectly. He was nearly timeless.

Many "ooo's" and "ahh's" were heard amongst the clapping from the crowd, along with a handshake from the President. Before you could turn to face Leon, you felt his arms slowly slink around you from underneath your arms, the weight of his head now pressing down on your shoulder. You could feel his grin when he tilted his head to kiss your jawline, beginning to gently rock you side to side. Getting to show off your work was always so rewarding, but just knowing Leon was handling everything so well was a feeling you'll truly never forget.

He was happy. That's all you ever wanted for him. The man has truly earned his portrait in that agent hall of fame.

The portrait was soon brought down to the aforementioned hall to be hung up and displayed for good, a few small groups trailing down to get a better look at it. Chris was the noisiest about it, telling Leon it looked like it belonged above a grand fireplace, to which said man agreed with.

Chris, Claire, Jill, and their respective families stared at it for quite some time alongside Leon and you. They all chatted while Leon stared quietly, taking in every little fine detail you'd added. You changed his position some, and did he really smile at you like that? He really did look lovestruck. Of course only he could tell that. Hopefully.

He surprised himself with how okay he felt after seeing the painting. You warned him multiple times that it would most likely be overwhelming and emotional, and while it was, it wasn't in a bad way. The most compelling thought he had right now was to just sweep you off your feet and smother you with love.

Leon asked one of the guards to take a picture of him with everyone, including you, in front of his portrait. Then, just a picture of you and him standing in front of it, easily becoming the background on his phone.

The party went on for only an hour or so more before people started to trickle out. You and Leon were some of the first to leave, saying all your thanks and goodbye's with hugs and handshakes.

The moment the two of you walked into your apartment he practically pounced on you before the door had shut, large hands gripping tight on your hips as he sloppily made out with you. He just had to show his gratitude for all your hard work.

Your lips tasted so sweet and your soft little moans were driving him wild, he couldn't help the groan that rumbled from his chest. Full blown sex had been held off by you, not wanting to rush him into anything while you helped him manage his problems. Honestly, he was glad you'd held off on him, because now that he was feeling like his own person again, it made waiting all the more fulfilling.

Leon hoisted you up into his arms after you'd kicked your heels off, holding onto the back of your thighs as he carried you to the bedroom. You wrapped your arms around his neck, giggling against his lips as he carefully navigated around the short hallway and into the bedroom.

You looked so good splayed out on the bed for him, that beautiful dress you chose was insanely flattering on you. It had to go though, so after yanking off his jacket he made quick work of your dress, fumbling with the zipper for a moment before pulling it up and over your head. Your bra and panties didn't last either. He'd only gotten to see you naked a couple times before, but god, he'll never get tired of seeing you this way, acting all shy like you weren't his favorite view.

Leon was so eager to get his hands on you that he neglected to take off his suit, opting instead to hover over you and bury his face into your neck. He wasn't a good artist, but he loved to cover your neck in shades of red and purple like you were his own little painting, akin to leaving his signature all over you.

He only pulled away once you tugged on his hair, listening to your begs and pleas for him to get his clothes off. As much as he wanted to prolong this night and tease you, he couldn't hold himself back. He needed to feel your soft skin against his.

"So perfect." Leon mumbled against your skin, licking and kissing his way up your stomach and to your breasts after practically ripping off his clothes. His hands found their way back to your hips, pressing them firm against the bed to keep you from squirming away as he nipped at one of your nipples, pulling it into his mouth.

He moaned as he sucked and circled his tongue around your nipple, his eyes falling closed. The other couldn't stay neglected, so he brought one hand up to pinch and tug at your other nipple, sighing when he felt your body press against his as you arched at the sensation. He loved when your moans would pitch, so cute.

His cock was pressed against the inside of your thigh, rutting against it when you would tug at his hair. Once he decided your nipples had enough attention, he sat up and grabbed the backs of your knees to place around his waist. The new position offered Leon the perfect opportunity to drag his leaking cock through your folds, pressing it down with his thumb so the tip would nudge your clit with every slow thrust forward.

You were so wet, so delicate. He could've fucked you right then, slid right into that juicy little pussy, but he needed to take care of you first. He would never forgive himself if he hurt you.

Reluctantly, the man pulled his dick away from you, letting out a poorly concealed whine at the loss. He ran his hands up your thighs before moving one hand so he could circle your clit with his thumb, the other hand back on your hip to keep you steady.

"L-eon~!" You brokenly moaned out, pleading to him with your watery eyes. You needed more; his fingers, his cock, anything. He couldn't say no to that, stopping his assault on your clit to drag his middle and ring finger through your drenched folds to wet them properly. He brought your right leg to sit over his shoulder, hand gripping the top of your thigh as he leaned forward, studying your face closely as he gently teased the outside of your slit with his middle finger.

He moaned with you as he slid his finger in, keeping his eyes trained on you as he started to tentatively thrust his finger in and out. "Yeah?" Leon whispered, licking his lips as you barely managed to nod. "Yeeeaah, there's my girl..." The rumble in his voice was music to your ears.

His ring finger was soon slid in next to his middle finger, switching between scissoring you and making a partial 'come here' motion with them. After only a couple minutes you were leaking all over his hand and the bed, the wet sounds of your pussy mixed with your moans making his cock jerk and drip with precum. Leon clenched his teeth as he slowly pulled his fingers from you, immediately bringing them to his mouth to suck off your juices. He let out an audible sigh after swallowing, repositioning his dick to slide through your folds a couple more times before nudging your hole with the tip.

"Look at me, baby..." Leon's hushed demand brought you to open your eyes, if only half way. He made eye contact with you before leaning forward further to kiss you, all the while finally pushing into you. He soaked in your gasp, his eyebrows furrowing as you tensed up. "Relax.. let me in~..."

"It's only me.." He panted, tilting his head to kiss the corner of your mouth as your eyes shut again. "It's only me, baby..." he repeated this a few more times as he eased his cock inside of you, the stretch only stinging for a moment before it turned to pleasure. He filled you perfectly, you could feel every bit of him, especially with his right hand adding a bit of pressure to your stomach.

Leon sat still for a minute to give you time to adjust, taking the way you moved your hips as a sign to move. He pulled out, all the way to the tip, before slowly thrusting back in. He managed to choke out a quiet "Fuck-.." when you clenched around him. "Taking me so well.. such a big girl~.."

He always knew just how to talk to you, making sure to take his time buttering you up. You were putty in his hands, and between his words and the feeling of him reaching so deep inside of you, you could barely think.

It didn't take long for him to start to lose his composure, the sound of wet skin slapping together filling the room as his thrusts intensified. "All mine. All for me." The grip he had on your thigh was sure to leave a bruise, but that was the last thing on your mind.

The hand he had pressing on your stomach moved further down so he could circle your clit with his thumb again, jaw tight as he looked from your blissed out expression to where his hand was playing with you. "Oh fuck! That's it!" Leon growled, eyes glued to your cunt as he plunged in and out of it. "Cream this dick, mamas~... Cum on my cock so I can fill this pretty pussy up.."

The way you gasped and moaned when you came was enough to warrant a noise complaint, but screw your neighbors. You needed this just as much Leon did.

"Oohhh fuck yeah.. Milk me, baby~... shit-" Leon's thrusts stuttered to a stop while pressed flush against you, abs flexing as he pumped ropes of cum into you. Once you managed to open your eyes, all you could do was stare at the man, flushed pink and sweaty, sitting between your legs. Both of you moaned in tandem as he pulled out, Leon groaning to himself as he watched his cum drip from your pussy. Truly a work of art meant for his eyes only.

He leaned over you again to plant a quick kiss on your lips, chuckling when he felt you smile. "Let me go grab something to clean you up, okay?" You could only nod in response, reaching your hand up to caress the side of his face before he stood up from the bed. He walked across the hall into the bathroom, wetting a soft rag with warm water before making his way back over to you.

Leon made sure to be gentle when cleaning you, the warmth from the rag soothing your tender skin. You were able to sit up on your elbows and watch him, using his gentle touches as a way to calm your still racing heart.

After wiping himself off with the rag, he tossed it over in the general direction of your laundry basket. It was a problem for later. Right now, he wanted lay back on the bed and pull you up so you could lay on top of him. Along with just how nice it felt to hold you, he loved the weight of you on him. So that's what he did, pulling you onto him after laying on the bed, running his fingers though your hair on the back of your head.

"Leon." You muttered against his collarbone. His eyebrows raised, yet his eyes were closed. "Mm?" His right eye peaked open when he felt you giggle. "What?"

"I love you." His fingers paused their ministrations at your words. You lifted your head up to look at him, growing worried with his shocked expression. "Sorry, is that too-" you choked on your words, stopped mid-sentence by Leon's arms suddenly squeezing the breath out of you with a very tight hug. He pulled you up just a little further so he could smush his lips against yours.

"I love you too!" He breathed out excitedly. "You don't know how long I've been waiting to tell you!" You tapped his arm and he immediately relaxed his grip, mumbling a small, "Sorry, my bad.." when you took in a deep breath.

"You're adorable, Leon." You shook your head with a smile, brushing the hair from his face to give him a much gentler kiss before settling you head back against his chest with a quiet sigh.

Leon was still a tough man, but you made him soft. Only ever soft for you.

Side note: I totally forgot to add in the pussy eating i am so sorry. i thought i did but it was literally just a thought that never manifested 😭

tags!: @greywardensaywhat @xkittiecatx @httpsuguru @httpsuguru @k-fallingstar @lysa1201 @bobastayhigh @pocketstoriesstore @agent-dessis-posts @klee-iii @missjoenowhere @mi-zer-y @bigtiddiesimp @finsternisle @sweets3rial @sodacolablast (there's a few of you that tumblr wouldn't let me tag for some reason)

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

Imagine:

Warnings: Smut, fluff, quarantine bae

This is a short imagine, Enjoy!

“Goodmorning!!”

Y/N walks into the Physical Therapy office with a glow that could put the sun to shame and a bright white smile that lit up her face like Christmas lights. She sanitized her hands at the front desk before walking further into the office, saying Goodmorning to Miss Kim who usually doesn’t speak but Y/N’s chipper attitude must have rubbed off on her. Y/N looks up and notices a sign posted on the desk window saying:

Please Wash Your Hands Before Checking In For Your Appointment!

“Let’s see if our patients actually abide by that today,” Y/N was thankful that the place was empty for now. All of the exam room curtains were drawn and the exercise equipment sat neatly in a corner. Y/N made it to the check in desk for appointments, walking around and dropping her purse on the empty chair beside her. Humming, Y/N takes off her windbreaker jacket, fluffing out her braid-out. She has on a scrub set with flowers on the top in pretty spring colors.

Y/N jumps straight into work, placing the clipboard for signing in at the top of the desk. There were medical files for the patients that were scheduled to come in today neatly piled in front of her. They were expecting at least 20 people. Some came for therapy because of a motor vehicle accident, others because of work related injuries. Sanitizing again, Y/N takes her seat, sighing because her legs felt like jello and her ankles reminded her of Bambi taking his first steps.

The reason for her happiness and muscle spasms is because of her man; Erik. Being home for the past two weeks meant two times the dick she was already receiving. She woke up with an attitude because he left the toilet seat up and basically used up all of her exfoliating scrub that she used for her pum-pum. In the middle of his snoring, Y/N barged back into the room, water dripping from her brown skin with her shower cap on her head. She picked up her pillow and started beating Erik out of his sleep....

Hour and a half ago:

“Get yo’ ass up!” Y/N yelled like a mad women while beating Erik with her pillow, “GET UP!”

Erik simply rolled over on his belly. All she could see now was his durag and muscular back.

“You think I’m playing,” Y/N yanked the covers from his body exposing his Under Armour briefs in navy blue. Y/N starts whipping Erik’s ass with her tiny hand. Erik’s hips start swiveling from side to side. He grunts angrily, his hand coming up and behind him to roughly smack her hand away.

“Erik GET UP! Why did you use up half of my exfoliating scrub?! I just bought this stuff and it ain’t cheap!”

“Girl...you waking me up out of my sleep because of some scrub?” Erik flips his body over to lay on his back. Rubbing his eyes, Erik mumbles to himself before completely sitting up. Bags under his eyes and a scowl on his face, Erik shakes his head at her, using all of his restraint to not grab Y/N up off her feet.

“That scrub, I spent my money on. I have to go to work I’m already frustrated that they have these offices open with this virus going around and here you go pissing me off further,” Y/N throws her hands up, ready to walk away but then she remembered the toilet seat, “And another thing, what’s your problem with closing the toilet? I don’t want my ass falling in the toilet, Erik.”

“Did you close it?” He asks with a glint in his eyes and a groggy voice.

“Yes, I did, what’s your point?”

“Then it shouldn’t be a big deal. You went pee-pee, get over it,” Erik fell back in bed, bringing the covers to his chin, “All loud for nothing I’m TIRED. Take that noise somewhere else.”

“Fucking asshole,” Y/N lifts her leg to the bed, kicking Erik hard. Erik sat up again, his pectorals jumping and his biceps flexed and ready to attack. Y/N stood her ground, unbothered with Erik’s wrathful expression.

“Kick me again. Gon’ head...”

“Erik, I don’t have time for this-“

“Oh, no, you do. The time you spent in here yelling at me your shower could have been finished. Just hurry up and get the fuck outta here so I can sleep.”

“Just know, I’m not making that baked Mac and cheese for you tonight!”

“You’re so simple acting! Damn,” Erik covers his head with a pillow. Things were silent for only two seconds before Erik removes the pillow from his face, sitting up in bed again. Fuming, Erik kicks the covers from his body like a child having a temper tantrum, getting out of the bed and heading toward the bathroom.

“See, look what you did, girl! Now I gotta piss!” Hot-tempered, Erik lifts the toilet seat Damn near breaking it, “I should take a shit too have this whole bathroom lit up while you’re in there!”

“Erik, DONT play with me. I don’t need to be smelling your toxic fumes,” Y/N was in the middle of cleaning her pussy, “Wait a minute...”

Y/N pulls the shower curtain back, peeking her head out with a disgusted look on her face. Erik simply laughs, a good hearty laugh with his hand clutching his chest.

“Did you just fart?” Y/N says while cover her nose.

“Duh, I ain’t shit on myself,” Erik flushes the toilet, going to the sink to wash his hands and brush his teeth, “finish washing up, funky butt.”

“I’m not the one with the funky ass, smelling like you ate a whole can of beans-“

“Aight, then scoot over I’m coming in-“

“NO!” Y/N shouts, “No, I don’t want you in here I’m still pissed with you.”

“Girl, get over that shit,” Erik takes off his briefs, “I’m getting in there fuck you talking bout.”

“UGHHH,” Y/N rinses her body off, trying to ignore Erik’s rock hard body pressed against hers.

Of course, Erik couldn’t help himself when his hand came down to smack Y/N’s ass, “Get loud on me again and ima fuck you up.”

“Erik move back and take a shower,” Y/N rolled her eyes, “When you going back to work?”

Erik howled, his laugh so loud in Y/N’s war she clinched.

“I’m getting on your nerves that much, Damn...you wasn’t saying all of that when I fucked you all those times.”

“I know, I’m still questioning my morals-“

“Then as soon as I do go back to work you’ll start acting up again apologizing in my ear about why you’re acting the way you are,” Erik leans down to speak into Y/N’s ear, “I’m sorry baby, I just miss the dick,” He says trying to mock her voice.

Y/N stood quiet, no response because she knew he was right. She wanted to be mad at him so much but that’s her baby. Erik smiles evilly at her reaching down to grab her chin, turning her head in an uncomfortable position since her back was turned to him.

“You dont acting up?”

“But I was never-“

“You done?” Erik repeats himself.

“.....yeah.”

“Pass me my soap...get in that bedroom and arch your back I want some pussy.”

“Babe,” Y/N says with a pout.

“Take your lil ass in there!”

“Okay but why are you yelling?” Y/N was ready to give him more attitude but she changed her mind at high-speed when she saw the fiery look in his eyes. Y/N left the shower, not even bothering to dry off. She arched her body on the edge of the bed, little booty tooted in the air, cool air on her pussy.

“This nigga is about to destroy my whole body,” Y/N says to herself, waiting patiently with her chin resting on her folded arms, eyes studying the pattern of the sheets on their bed. Y/N couldn’t complain, she finally got Erik to be consistent after dealing with his “I don’t do relationships” mess. Consistency will get Y/N to give her pussy up whenever he said so. Consistency will get his dick sucked like it was dipped in chocolate.

Just when Y/N was daydreaming, the feeling of her pussy being licked from the back down knocked her senseless. Erik was enjoying his meal while jerking his dick. His noxious tongue thrashing almost stroked Y/N unconscious. He was eating her like he hadn’t eaten all quarantine. His belly would be gratefully filled with her syrupy essence.

Erik squeezes Y/N’s smaller yet round booty, before spitting on her pussy from the back, leaning back to admire his canvas, “I plan on smashing these lil cakes to smitherines, girl,” Erik went back to licking her up.

“Aight, bae, you gotta stop,” Y/N couldn’t handle his tongue so early in the morning. Her thighs started to close but Erik held them open while using the strength of his neck to eat her pussy.

Y/N’s hand found the top of Erik’s head. She mushes him away, her body slacken. Erik hit her ass for moving his head away, “Ima give you a nasty ass slow kiss when I’m finished so you can taste how good this pussy taste...don’t mush me again, Y/N.”

“Fuck!” Y/N didn’t listen, her body twisting and her hand swiping the air. Erik was purposefully scooting his head away while torturing her clit with his sucking.

“Okay, ZADDY SHIT!” Y/N tried to stay still but the way he was slurping all over her pussy made that unfeasible, “SHIT! I wanna tap out...”

“Uh-uh,” Erik wasn’t letting go.

“Okay...okay...fuckkkkkkkk...let go of my clit MOTHERFUCKER!!!!! GODDD!!!!”

Y/N started shaking, crying, squealing. Erik’s hands wrapped around her thighs, keeping her in place so he could continue sucking the life out of her clit. When she was finished feeding Erik her cum, Erik’s wet face reappears.

“Got you out of your lil mood, didn’t I?” Erik and his hard ten inches were ready to impale Y/N’s dripping cunt, “Come on girl, toot that ass up I’m tryna get in there.”

“Daddy just shut up and fuck me now because I know I’m not gonna be able to walk after this-“

“Then toot that motherfucking ass UP. You know the drill, get in position.”

Y/N arched her back more, breathing slow as she waited with anticipation. Erik didn’t warn her when he was about to stuff his dick inside of her pussy when he was trying to punish her. Squeezing her hands into fists, Y/N waited as her pussy convulsed.

“Babe-“

Erik purposely waited for her to speak so that he could put all of him inside of her. Y/N’s entire body crawled away from him, his dick leaving her pussy. Erik grabbed her ankles, pulling her back with force. Y/N was slapping Erik’s hands away but he was stronger. Each time she tried to crawl away Erik would drag her back like she was a damn doll.

“Where you going? Don’t run,” Erik held Y/N’s hips in place his dick back inside of her pussy like it never left. Maybe it was because it was early in the morning but she couldn’t take his back shots. His dick was constantly stroking her G spot and he was so deep that Y/N could feel it in her chest. Y/N was talking mad shit so now Erik had to show out in her pussy. Erik was beating up Y/N’s pussy. Long, hard, and deep strokes. Erik leans forward, one of his hands on her head while his hips stroked her pussy at a tempo Y/N knew was meant for her to be made an example of.

“Okay,” Y/N felt herself read to cum already. Erik’s hand on her head to hold her in place was so deathly Y/N kept her mouth shut the rest of the time. Her lips trembled and her eyes leaves hot tears from the way he bruised her G spot.

“Stay crying for big dick but wanna run from it,” Erik says calling her out, “You don’t get to run this is what you ask for.”

Y/N wanted to say she didn’t ask for this but her body was saying other wise. The intensity of the sensation was so overwhelming she didn’t care that he ordered her to arch her back. Now, her pussy was creaming. Erik was juicing her peach. She felt the wettest out of all the times they had sex. Maybe it was because he was the angriest he’s ever been. Maybe Y/N should act like a brat or a bitch more for him to fuck her like this.

“Lil booty freak taking Daddy beating this nut deep inside your pussy from the back...laying there letting Daddy take this pussy...Lil ass like it when Daddy bring this pussy back hard on this dick, huh?”

“Oh my God-“

“Just keep still while I drill this nut deep...fuckkkkkk...I can see now yo’ ass Gon’ end up with a baby growing in you with all this fucking. Can’t even count how many times my nut been up in this tight ass pussy.”

“Daddy, oh my God-“

“I don’t care either I’m nutting all in this pussy-“

“Unh, shittttt...fuck me!”

“I got you-“

“Take this sweet little pussy-“

“I’m taking my sweet little pussy”

Y/N screamed.

“Got that pussy hitting right with that ass matching these strokes...ahhhh fuck, hold still I’m about to nut....

“Wassup itty-bitty!”

Y/N sat up nice and tall after being brought out of her daydream. Clarence, one of the other Physical Therapists was nibbling on an orange while standing next to her. He peeked over her shoulder, seeing if she was occupied with something since he called her like five times.

“You Aight over here?”

“...yeah,” Y/N looked over the desk to find two patients waiting to be seen, “Did they just come in?”

“Yeah, a little after I did.”

Y/N noticed both patients. One was a middle aged women who was involved in a pedestrian accident with a car. She was jogging when a car backed up and hit her. The other patient was a young women around early 20’s who had severe back pains from a bus accident.

“I like your scrubs,” Clarence says while studying the floral patterns.

“Thanks,” Y/N gives Clarence a smile. Clarence smiles back, sure to show off his dimples just like her man except Clarence doesn’t have deep dimples. He’s 6’0, and from Ghana. All of the ladies loved Clarence. Y/N knew that he was feeling her even when she told him on multiple occasions that she has a man. His persistence wouldn’t let up.

———-

Things were steady and getting the patients in and out was a breeze. Y/N’s belly was currently growling and she instantly wished she’d at least brought in a snack to hold her over. Y/N planned on buying lunch from a carry out within the shopping center of the office. It was the perfect time to go grab something to eat before patients start piling up again. Clarence is currently wiping down a room that was recently used.

“Still with that boyfriend, Y/N?” He asks casually while spraying down an exam table. He asked her like he wanted to know what the weather was like. Y/N dreaded the day he would ask her that again.

“Yes, Clarence,” Y/N chuckles, “And I don’t plan on leaving him.”

“Why hasn’t he put a ring on your finger yet? It’s hard to find good girls like you. What is waiting on?”

“There is no rush,” Y/N grabs a pen to finish writing information into a patients report. Just before she could close her file, Y/N’s phone vibrated. Glancing at it, Y/N could see that Erik was currently sending her texts.

I’m bored

Well do something productive like reading a book instead of playing video games.

Just when Y/N flips her phone over so she could go back to work, another text comes through, most likely from Erik again.

I’m about to call you.

Before Y/N could tell him anything otherwise Erik was FaceTiming her. Y/N rolls her brown eyes before answering the FaceTime. Clarence was talking to another coworker of there’s so Y/N didn’t need to worry about anyone eavesdropping. Y/N answers the FaceTime, her heart fluttering because of the dick down Erik gave her before work. Staring at the screen, Erik was still in his sleep wear with a durag on his head. His controller was in his lap and from the pout on his lips and the puppy dog eyes Y/N could tell that being cooped up in the house and away from Y/N for at least three more hours is killing him.

“Ooooh, I like you’re hair, Miss lady, can I pull it from behind?”

Y/N looked around her to make sure no one heard it, “Yes, You can ZADDY. Just as long as you’re gentle this time around. I like tender love and care too.”

“So you rather go oooh and ahhhh then Unh and Fuck when you’re crying and drooling and begging to cum-“

“Erik, SHHHHHH,” Y/N tried not to laugh, “Babe, it may be dead at this place right now but I am on the clock.”

“My bad, ma-“

“Itty-bitty, lets go get some lunch,” Clarence stood at the desk like a patient waiting to be checked in. She hadn’t heard his footsteps and honestly she wished she did.

“...Who?” Erik says through the FaceTime, his face all scrunched up with confusion.

“Is that the boyfriend?” Clarence brings his face into the camera, “sup’ boyfriend, I’m Clarence.”

Erik was stone faced looking at Terrence. Y/N was holding her breath, unable to look at her phone because she knew her man was pissed off.

“Who is itty-bitty?” Erik finally says. Clarence caught wind of his abrasive tone, backing away from the camera, “Just a nickname, brother, my fault.”

“Only nigga giving my girl a nickname is me.”

Y/N cleared her throat loudly, “Okay, babe! I’ll talk to you when I get home, okay? Love you,” Y/N gave Erik smooches, not sticking around to hear him argue before hanging up.

“Damn, yo’ man is nothing but a hot- head-“

“And you don’t know when to sit back. I was on the phone with my man, if I wanted your attention, I could have gotten it.”

“Chill, itty-bitty,” Clarence was tickled by how bothered Erik was, “Shit, he ain’t playing about you is he?”

Y/N flat out ignores Clarence, standing up from the desk and grabbing her bag. While Clarence laughed and joked about Erik Y/N pumped hand sanitizer into her hand before walking off. In her scrub top pocket her phone was going off the hook. Y/N knew not to ignore his constant texts. Y/N pulled out her phone, her heart in her throat

Do I gotta come up there?

Who the fuck is that nigga?

Don’t let no other nigga put his face in your phone again. That’s disrespectful.

Y/N answer my texts. Do I gotta come up there?

The fuck is itty bitty? I don’t like that shit.

Panicky, Y/N calls Erik before exiting the office.

“Babe?” Y/N says with caution.

“Don’t babe me. Who the fuck is Clarence?”

“My coworker-“

“Where are you?”

Y/N chewed on her bottom lip nervously, “Erik...why?”

“Because I’m coming up there. And what’s up with this itty bitty shit? You let him call you that?”

“I don’t he just does it-“

“You need to correct that nigga, matter of fact-“

Y/N could hear Erik moving around in the background, probably putting on his jordans uncaring of the fact that he was wearing loose fitted basketball shorts with his dick swinging.

“Babe, I know you’re not coming up here to my job,” Y/N says with a shaky voice, “Babe stay home.”

“Nah, I’m coming up there. He gon’ need physical therapy once I’m done breaking his goddamn limbs don’t nobody fuck with mines.”

“Erik, chill-“

“I call you nicknames, Y/N. I can tell that nigga was peeking so he could see what his competition looking like. Then, you’re there with him for 8 hours...all close to you, smelling how sweet you smell, making you smile, listening to your voice...”

“Erik, are you jealous of Clarence?”

“Jealous? Of that nigga? TEH,” Erik could be heard closing a door, “I’m not jealous, I’m territorial. Jealous is when you want something that’s not yours. Territorial is protecting what’s already yours.”

Y/N stood quiet, a smile fighting to form on her lips.

“My babe, is my babe. Therefore, don’t look, touch, wink, wave, stare, flirt, compliment, hold, anything that’s my job.”

“Babe, pleaseeeee don’t come up here because I know how you can get. Don’t be so upset about this fuck Clarence-“

“The reason I get mad is because I know exactly what they’re trying to do, I’m a man, I know. It’s not because I don’t trust you...I’m on my way.”

“Erik-“

“I’ll see you when I get there.”

Click

Y/N was reluctant to go back inside her job now. She only lived ten minutes away if she drove. Erik is a reckless driver who weaves in and out of lanes. He would probably do 70 MPH to get to her job. Y/N decided to wait for him instead of going back inside so she could bribe him with a shrimp cheese steak sub and save Clarence from an ass whipping.

———

Pulling up in an all black Mercedes-AMG in the hood was a risky thing to do but that was the least of Erik’s worries.

“Nah, let me put this heat away,” Erik places his chrome gold pistol in the glove department. He didn’t want to make Clarence shit himself and Erik didn’t use his gun for play. It’s not like he didn’t think about doing it though. Erik is very protective over Y/N. Still pissed off, Erik gets out of his SUV, securing it afterwards and pocketing his keys. The thought of Clarence all close to his girl calling her a nickname had Erik’s blood boiling over.

Sure enough, Erik did leave the house in a pair of black basketball shorts with his dick free. His crisp white T-shirt, gold chains, and black durag has all the hood girls that were leaving the hair store doing a double-take when he walked by. Y/N is still standing outside of her job, a male security for the shopping center talking her head off. When she spotted her boyfriend’s usual bop in her peripheral, Y/N lifted her back from the wall, a big beautiful smile on her face to distract Erik because he couldn’t resist her smile.

“Hey babe,” Y/N called out to him, the security dude looking towards the direction of who Y/N was referring to. Erik and him locked eyes. Erik squinted his with suspicion, ready to call out the security but he got the hint before Erik could even say anything.

“Aight, sweetheart, you be safe out here,” He walks away before Erik even approached. Of course, Erik’s anger piqued when he saw another man talking to Y/N. Finally within her space, Erik gave the security dude one final death look before looking down at his girl.

“Niggas getting real comfortable around you, I can understand, because you’re fine ass fuck but I don’t like this shit. Looks like I gotta beat the shit out of every nigga up here in this goddamn shopping center-“

“Erik...baby...daddy,” Y/N made her voice all sultry and low, blinking her lashes at him. She rubs his chest, talking to her in that low sweet voice that had him hard and ready to fuck in minutes.

“Don’t do that, I’m mad right now...Why are you waiting for me outside? I wanted to make a grand entrance into your job. That nigga wanna put his face in my girl phone let’s see if he try that shit now,” Erik doubles back to open the door to enter the Physical Theray Office but Y/N stops him.

Y/N rolls her eyes, “I was just about to head to lunch, want something to eat?”

Erik’s eyes swept over Y/N’s work attire, “Nah, I wanna meet Clarence...let go of me, girl.”

“Baby,” Y/N made her voice soft again, “You’d rather pick a fight with someone I don’t give two fucks about than spend time with me? I can get you a foot long shrimp cheese steak with everything and some fries with hot sauce and ketchup.”

Erik rolls his eyes, bringing his left hand to rub his belly, “I am hungry. Didn’t eat since this morning.”

“Let’s go then-“

“Itty- what’s up?” Clarences exited the office with another coworker, some new young girl who did clerical work. Y/N was sure that Clarence was fucking the girl with the way she was pressed up against his back giving him googly eyes. That itty didn’t fall on deaf ears. Erik was in full on attack mode before Y/N could even stop him.

“Clarence, right?” Erik approaches him, “You got a problem with staying in your lane, bruh. I’m sure my girl told you already that she got a man. Now...I came all the way up here to put my hands on you but I ain’t even about to do that,” Erik turns, grabbing Y/N, “This girl right here, she’s mines. Whatever goes down at work she’ll tell me, and then I’ll pull up and put my hands on you...do you understand what I’m saying Clarence? So this is a warning. Figured I should come up here so you know I’m serious.”

“Man,” Clarence laughs in Erik’s face. Y/N could tell by the way his hands shook that he was scared to death of Erik. Clarence wanted to appear unbothered while the young girl behind him watched, “You wasted your time coming all the way up here. That’s yours, cool, I don’t want no problems.”

“You got a habit of laughing at shit that ain’t funny.”

Y/N knew that Clarence was provoking Erik. People within the shopping center started paying attention to them and now Y/N was afraid that Erik will end up bashing Clarence’s face in.

“Erik, the food, remember?” Y/N wrapped her arm around Erik’s bicep, “Let’s go,” she was up on her tiptoes, placing a soft kiss to Erik’s cheek.

“Remember what I said-“

Clarence cuts Erik off, “No need to repeat yourself over and over-“

“I’ll repeat myself however many time I need to...this lame ass nigga man-“

“Lame?! I’m not the one out here acting a fool over a chick who ain’t even all that-“

Erik’s first cocked back swiftly. Y/N didn’t see it coming. Frozen with fear Y/N covered her mouth in shock. Clarence stumbled and flinched, hands coming up in surrender.

“Look at you, weak as fuck,” Erik’s fist was centimeters away from hitting Clarence. Erik wanted to shake Clarence up. If he wanted to hit him, he could have stomped all over him until he was a bloody pulp but the thought of Y/N’s job being jeopardized stopped him. Clarence peeked at Erik through his fingers, slowly backing away before straightening his body.

“I would have bloodied you up but my girl needs her job. Doesn’t mean if I see you I won’t fuck you up. Don’t you ever disrespect my girl like that. I bet you learned your lesson today, didn’t you?”

Y/N shared a look with the young girl she worked with, noticing how turned off she was when Clarence cowarded away. She wrenched her eyes away, yanking on Erik’s arm to get his attention.

“Babe, I think he heard you, let’s go before some shit pops off.”

“...I’m coming, baby girl,” intensely, Erik gives Clarence one final look before wrapping his arm around Y/N’s shoulder, “Aight Clarence, I hope you and your child have a good rest of your day.”

Erik!”

“Nah, that laughing shit got me hot, then this nigga had the nerve to get big on me...kiss me before I turn around and put his ass in the ground, he don’t know, I’m really a cold-blooded killer.”

Y/N grabs his chin to make him look at her before they walked inside of the carry out. Erik was being stubborn, trying to look everywhere else but at her face. Clarence and the young clerical worker were too busy flirting and avoiding coming anywhere near Y/N and Erik.

“Aye, you missed me?”

Erik kisses his teeth, “what you think?”

“Nah, I want you to tell me,” Y/N wrapped her arms around Erik’s waist.

Erik’s lips twisted up to fight a smile. The outraged look in his eyes seemed to clear and now they were affectionate and soft like Y/N loved.

“...yeah, I missed you.”

“Okay. If you missed me then let’s enjoy lunch and then I can clock out early and we can go home. I don’t want you all worked up over this bullshit. He ain’t got all of this, you do.”

“Damn right I do,” Erik pulled Y/N closer to his body, his hands coming down and around to grab her ass, “all of this is mines-“

“Okay, baby,” Y/N didn’t want to get Erik too worked up since they were in public. Y/N slipped away from his firm grip to open the door. When she walked in, there was a Latino couple with N-95 masks on. Y/N and Erik sanitized there hands with some wipes that she carried with her everywhere before walking towards the front to order food.

“Miss Y/N! How are you? Same thing as usual?”

“Hello Mr. Dean,” Y/N avoided touching any surfaces and Erik lingered behind her, “Yes same thing for me, a shrimp salad sandwich and for him he’ll have a shrimp cheese steak with fries.”

“Foot long or half?”

“Foot long, and can you add extra cheese and lettuce to that please?” Erik says over Y/N’s shoulder.

“Of course, anything else?

“Two kiwi strawberry Mistic’s for me, how about you baby girl?”

“I’ll just have water I’m not in the mood for anything sweet.”

“Yeah, cuz you’re already sweet enough,” Erik bites his lip all tantalizing while his hands caresses her butt.”

“Daddy, chill, wait until we get home-“

“You mean wait until we get in the car?

[canary3d-obsessed]

Lost Tomb Lewks, Part 4

(Masterpost) (Other Canary Amusements)

Warning: vague Spoilers for Season 1 of The Lost Tomb Reboot

Look 17 is this gorgeous knife. 

I’m not a “knives are sexy” person, or I should say, I never WAS a “knives are sexy” person before.

I do have a strong affection for my Alaskan ulu kitchen knife, which is a godsend for anyone who is arthritic (me) or who is an upper-limb amputee (my family member) or is hemiplegic (different family member), but that’s as much attention as I’ve ever paid to a knife. 

Until now:

(*whisper* lick it)

Ahem. 

This is a kukri, a traditional knife of the Gurkha people in Nepal and India. It’s similar to a machete but it has a downward-curving blade, which means you can slash downward forcefully without bending your wrist. It’s excellent for cracking crustacean shells heavy chopping, as well as combat. Wikipedia doesn’t know why there are notches near the base of the blade but sure does have some theories. 

The handle looks to be a mix of metal and ivory. Hopefully antique ivory, or ivory from a properly-compensated voluntary donor. [That is a joke, the ivory trade is bad, don’t kill elephants, etc.] The case is topstitched leather with snaps to keep the knife from escaping.  Did OP just spend an hour learning too much about knives? She did. Does this mean she’s going to also make an effort to learn something about watches, a critically overlooked area of her menswear commentary? It does not. 

Look 18 is a classic explorer’s rig that looks like it came out of the Banana Republic catalog back in 1987 when the name “Banana Republic” still kind of suited the clothes sold there. (Google it and be startled) This look features dark brown trousers that are comfortably loose but still well-fitted and flattering. The shirt is two warm tans--a dark one for most parts, and a lighter one through the chest and inner arms. This gives it a nice depth and keeps it from looking bland. This outfit also features Wu Xie’s watch, which...is round? and tells time.

(more after the cut!)

This look features the first of many, many, many times that a character will shine a flashlight directly into the camera. Which makes it painful to watch the show on my tablet in the dark when my bedmate is asleep. Knock it off, characters!

Side Note: Wu Xie’s room has some good features. He’s got a giant bulletin board holding framed photos of all the adventures in which he was played by a different actor. This makes it easy to move his photo collection when his uncle decides to be a dick about the rent. 

Wu Xie’s bed is big and comfy-looking, with a variety of patterns and textures; appropriate for a person who’s planning on dying, or having an increasingly complicated love life, or both. This bed has room for a 100-year-old boyfriend, a 20-year-old girlfriend, and a thousand-year-old crustacean-brained princess, as long as everyone’s friendly. 

It also has a padded headboard, which is so important when you are dating a paper-mache person with a fragile head. This padded headboard also has curved head/neck support things that look just the right size for a person to grab onto with both hands and hold on for dear life. It looks antique, which means Wu Xie bought it for the aesthetic value and definitely not for fucking, right? Definitely not. For fucking. 

Wu Xie tops off Look 18 with the handsome swamp green coat from their recent tomb adventure, now completely unmuddy thanks to the world’s greatest dry cleaner, and with a strappy, practical backpack.

This warm-toned outfit and the buttery colors of the room are perfect for having an intimate, deeply truthful conversation...

....in which you gently crush your dear one’s heart into powder.

Look 19 is Xiao Ge’s blue hoodie and black pants combo, which we finally get to see in the full light of day. 

The hood is good for hiding in when you want to cry. 

This hoodie looks black in low light, but is actually navy blue with black piping, placket, and zipper. 

The ensemble features black trousers with an eye-catching vertical silver-toned zipper on the front pockets. Black boots and black tactical gloves round out the look.

Side note: each of the Iron Triangle guys has his own backpack style. Wu Xie’s is an olive green expedition pack. Pangzi’s is two-tone canvas and leather. 

Xiao Ge’s is black tech fabric, and features a chest strap to keep it from shifting around when he is kicking asses. The black straps coordinates well with the black piping on his hoodie. 

This outfit is a good one to wear while you exchange tender gazes of pure unconditional love with the guy who is crushing your heart into powder. 

I don’t need to look at Pangzi I know what Pangzi looks like and anyway I glanced at him already today.

Did OP slow these gifs way down purely to keep from giving anybody eye strain? She did. OP is considerate of your eyes. Speaking of eyes, awww. Xiao Ge sure is bros with Wu Xie, you guys. 

Look 20: Liu Sang! Liu Sang! Liu Sang!

Actor Liu Chang, a man who can wear literally anything and make it look fucking amazing, makes his entry onto the scene in a good, but understated, suit. 

Most of the suit is a charcoal grey, but it has a single light grey lapel and pocket flap, to keep things interesting. He’s wearing it with black Oxford shoes that have a small red, white, & blue tab poking out the back. So he’s dressed conservatively, but with a bit of flair. 

He’s accessorized the look with perfectly fine, but not very interesting, black wirefame glasses that he’ll replace with cooler ones after some time underground. He’s got a cartilage piercing in his left ear with a flat black oblong earring. Because of his extreme hearing, he’s wearing noise-cancelling earphones. 

This look says, “normalize the use of adaptive tech.” These are probably - in real life - not as effective as the larger over-ear headphones a lot of noise-sensitive people use, but their sleekness and elegance match the rest of Liu Sang’s accessories and clothing. 

Because of his noise sensitivity, Liu Sang pukes as soon as he gets out into the crowded street. He vomits neatly into a drain, however, in the way of someone who’s used to managing this symptom and isn’t going to let it spoil his outfit. We stan a neuroatypical king. 

More Lewks coming soon!

[polyamorousmisanthrope]

📷I took five minutes to vacuum my closet the other day. It was part of my routine cleaning, no big deal. It was just a quick thing to check off on my cleaning list. I removed some boxes of stuff in the bottom, a few pairs of slippers, and vacuumed. I replaced the stuff and went on with my---

No. I didn't.

No, I looked at the bottom of the closet in a state of shock and burst out laughing.

I have spent a large portion of my life trying to get organized. When I was a child, "cleaning my room" really did mean tossing everything I could think of where to put it in a closet so that it looked tidy when Mom poked her head in. I was the child with the cubby under the desk in grade school so stuffed with papers and junk that it was simply impossible to add or find anything.

This level of disorganization bothered and embarrassed me. It really hurt and made me feel like a failure.

As a teenager, my backpack also became a mess of papers, random items, books, and paraphernalia (no, not that kind. In many ways, I was hopelessly square)

As an adult, it wasn't much better. My desk was full of bills to be paid, papers I didn't want to face, things that were vaguely sentimental but not enough to display anywhere. My closet?

That was still the place where I hid stuff I didn't have a place for but wanted the room at least to appear a little tidy.

How long from a stuffed closet to a tidy closet?

It took about thirty years.

I wasted a lot of that time, though. I addressed it in cycles. "Starting now, I'm finally going to get organized!" I'd spend several hours a day over a few weeks cleaning, organizing, and playing possessions Tetris with my home. After a month or so, know what? The house would look great!

Then, inevitably, the house would no longer look great. I'd clean the kitchen well enough to prevent food poisoning, but more than that? Not so much.

Ever done that? C'mon, it's okay. We all have.

Being tidy over time is all about consistent action.

You can, indeed, get the house clean with heroic effort, just as you can work really hard to train for an athletic event.

The problem comes in when you do something intense for a short period. As I mentioned in my last post, heroic effort is unsustainable.

Several of my favorite housekeeping systems (Flylady and Unfuck Your Habitat) talk about starting very small – shining your sink or making your bed. They are so right!

It's not about getting tidied or organized quickly. It's about developing consistent habits. For a lot of people, that's enough.

But for some…

Executive dysfunction can interfere with consistency.

If you have organizational or distraction issues, habits may not be enough. Autism, ADHD, and a host of other neurodivergent issues centered around executive dysfunction make it hard to do things that seem pretty obvious to the neurotypical person. What? You need to wash the dishes after a meal? No kidding. Go do it!

As I was writing this article, I broke for dinner. Guess what is in my sink right now?

I thought about it, got up, scrubbed the pan a little, realized it needed to soak some more, and sat back down here to write. Sure, sure, I'll get to it after I finish this, no biggie. But if my sink was full of dishes other than that pan, if I had laundry on my sofa, a desk drawer full of unaddressed bills, and my phone beeping that I needed to get up and get my car to the garage to get the brakes done, would I be getting back to that pan in any reasonable amount of time?

*Hollow laugh*

People with executive dysfunction issues can find their problems painful.

Maybe some people laugh and think it's cute to be disorganized. It never felt cute to me. It hurt because I had a hard time doing what I wanted to do. I was utterly desperate to get my life under control. Completely and utterly desperate from the time I was nine years old. That's a heavy load.

Jokes about executive dysfunction aren't cute.

I know the whole "squirrel!" joke about distractibility is mean to make people feel better and okay with themselves. I never wanted to be okay with chaos. I wanted the chaos to stop. It hurt. It interfered with accomplishing what I wanted to. It was exhausting. It used up time I wanted to spend on other things. I wanted a clean canvas so that when I jumped from obsession to obsession to obsession, I could feel like I was using that time intelligently rather than as a distraction from things that were bothering me.

Late fees, court cases, and lost jobs aren't cute, either.

There's an ADHD vlogger that I really like named Jessica McCabe. She's brilliant and adorable, and being a little bit of the manic pixie thing is part of her brand. It gets people to listen to broad issues of executive dysfunction. People will accept and listen to that stuff sometimes and find it palatable if someone is small and young and cute. (She's a LOT older than her looks or mannerisms would indicate, by the way).

So, the brilliant part. Quite sure McCabe knows what she's doing with that because sometimes she drops the adorable thing. The pain of being disorganized or having a hard time directing attention is very, very clear. If she weren't so cute, it would be unlikely as many people would listen to the important things she is saying. There's more to her than cute by a long shot. (And don't get me started on the sexism of it).

But that whole "cute" thing about disorganization. It's not so cute when unpaid bills land you in court. That has happened to me. With money in the BANK, that has happened to me! (Or without money. *shrugs* That, too). It's not cute when you have to buy a car at interest rates that are close to what you'd pay on a credit card. Yeah, that's happened, too. That we're in good financial shape now is a miracle.

There is a cultural narrative of *giggle* *giggle* "I'm so distractable!" to try to ameliorate the pain of being disorganized. Know what? It's not funny. It hurts.

Proscriptive solutions won't work.

I use a Bullet Journal just about with the out-of-the-box method that Ryder Carrol posted in that first video he did about it. I tried it, and it clicked.

Know what wouldn't have clicked? Someone making me do it when I was fifteen.

This is where you, if you have problems with executive dysfunction, might wonder if I can provide an answer for you. Know what? I can't.

I can say, "You need a Bullet Journal." I mean, I'll think it. I wouldn't say it. Know why? It won't necessarily work for you.

What I will say is that you need to find methods that work for you.

"Okay, smartybrat," I hear you cry, "if you can't offer a solution, what do I do?"

Create systems that support you

This is going to look different depending on how you think. Does a beepy reminder go bing! and prompt you to do stuff? Do you like to have a menu of tasks that you choose from depending on how easily they grab your attention in the moment?

What primes you to take action?

What plans have you followed through on (c'mon, you do have some if you're alive past 20), and what about them made you feel good?

My husband doesn't use a Bullet Journal. He plans his day using a calendar app. If there's an interrupt to a task, he'll move it to another free time. When you first try this, I strongly encourage you to multiply your estimation of task time by at least four until you get good at estimating how long something will take. If you have executive dysfunction issues you're struggling with, I'd bet at least a nickel that you're not good at estimating how long things take yet.

What stops you from taking action? Can you remove the interrupts?

A simple example would be to take the dirty clothes hamper's lid off if that's enough to discourage you from tossing your clothes in the hamper. Still, I'm not talking about "Tips 'n Tricks" here. I hate tips 'n tricks! They're like taking a Tylenol when you cut off your leg. You need to extrapolate that to life systems to support how you want to live.

Your system is useless until you define "good enough."

I could skip the next two or three times I need to vacuum my closet, and I wouldn't care. If I get to it every year or so, it's absolutely good enough. "Good enough" means I address my paperwork file once a week and clear it out. I don't have to do it every day unless I feel like it. "Good enough" is walking for five minutes on the hour around my living room until I get my 10,000 steps in. I don't have to walk for three miles unless I want to. "Good enough" is spreading up the bed and tossing the shams at the head. I don't have to bounce a quarter off the damn thing unless I get a wild hare to do that sometimes. Don't give yourself an image of perfection you have to attain, or you'll do nothing.

It's okay for "good enough" to change

Remember how it took thirty years to get to vacuuming a closet? There was a time when that chore wasn't on the "good enough" list, and ya know what? That's fine. Have your "good enough" be slightly, but only slightly, ahead of what you're currently doing if you want to make improvements. Incremental improvements over time, and I mean decades, are pretty dramatic when you look back.

Good enough can stay good enough

My exercise parameters have me getting in an average of 10,000 steps a day as measured over a month. That is never going to change. If the Spirit moves me, I'll do more. But I'm not going to keep raising the bar over and over and over. This is it. I'm good. I'm maintaining.

It takes decades to get your life in order. What small thing will you do today?

[prettyinlimegreenboots]

5 - “You’re one of the most important things in my life.”

There’s a few cuss words. I sobbed while writing this so I would recommend having some tissues handy. A character is in the hospital but no one dies. Buckle up boys and girls - 2900 words of emotional rollercoaster.

There was a strange comfort being in the four walls of the building, almost familiar. Almost as if they should name a wing of the hospital with how often they found themselves in there. Once again, he had gotten the call that no spouse ever wanted to get. Race had found himself in the emergency room, this time, surprisingly, no fault of his own. His appendix had ruptured with him needing emergency surgery.

Running a hand through Race’s unruly mess of hair, he leaned over and kissed his forehead, thanking all of his guardian angels that his snookum was going to be okay.

The familiar beeps calmed him slightly, knowing that it was unlike he would wake up anytime soon due to the anesthesia.

Sitting back down in the chair next to the bed, he swore, trying to get comfortable in the chair. He wanted to have a word with the hospital chief about getting comfortable chairs for loved ones who had to sit in them all night long. But that was a battle for another day. His phone vibrated as he pulled it from his shorts.

“Hey Kat.” His voice was soft and tired, as his eyes swept over Race.

His sister-in-law was a godsend. She was always checking up on the two of them and she was a really good listener when they both needed someone to talk to. “How is he?”

“Asleep. Doc doesn’t think he’ll be awake today. Better chance in the morning.” Spot sighed. “They said if he didn’t have the surgery when he did, we would’ve lost him.”

He hadn’t spoken those words out loud yet; yet they were the ones he couldn’t get out of his head. “Hey, he’s going to be okay. You have to focus on that. How are you? Do you need us to bring you food?”

“What time is it?” He croaked, clearing his throat.

“It’s 4:30. What time did you get there?” She asked as he could hear Jack in the background saying something to her.

His eyes looked at the clock on the wall, groaning softly. “I got here at 1. No, you don’t have to do that, I’ll get something from the cafe.”

“Spot, you know that food is crap. Let us bring you something.” Kat said softly. “Besides, don’t you want something more comfy than jeans? Does Racer have clothes to come in?”

He looked around the small room. His canvas bag was thrown in the corner with a bag that held Race’s clothes, necklace and wedding band. “He’s not going to want to wear jeans home.”

“We can be there in 30 minutes. Tell me what you want.” Spot bit his lip as she said that.

He sighed, leaning his head against the wall. “Whatever is fine. I’m not picky. Just get him a pair of PJ pants and a hoodie. Thanks Kat.”

“You’re welcome, Spot. Text me the room number and we’ll be up soon.” She promised as they hung up. Texting her and Albert quickly, he shut off his phone, not wanting to deal with anyone else.

Quietness wasn’t something that was associated with Anthony Higgins. Spot tended to hate the hospital visits due to the quietness that surrounded the room while they were admitted. Leaning forward, he grabbed Race’s hand, sighing before dropping it and pushing himself to his feet. Walking over to where the bag was, he grabbed Race’s wedding band, slipping it back where it belonged, kissing it before lacing their hands together.

Knowing that Race was going to be okay, Spot let his guard down. Every emotion he had pushed down for the last three hours had bubbled up to the surface. He bit his lip trying to keep the tears at bay but lost that battle. Gripping the lifeless hand tighter, he let his head fall to the bed, losing the battle with his tears.

He sobbed, gut wrenching cries, letting go of the fear and worry of possibly not seeing his husband ever again. It had been touch and go for a while in the surgery bay. The doctor had told him it was the worst case of appendicitis he had ever seen, not that that calmed Spot down any. And now, with the quietness surrounding him, he let it all go. He rubbed his eyes, getting rid of the tears that were there, only for more to rush to take their place. Race would never let him down if he saw Spot like this.

“It’s a good thing you’re not awake to see me as a mess.” Spot spoke quietly, voice thick with emotion. “Dammit Race, I know this wasn’t your fault but you can’t keep giving me heart attacks. I'm not as young as I once was.”

Sitting back in the chair, he scooted it closer to the bed, not letting go of Race’s hand. “You’re one of the most important things in my life. I hope to God you know that, Racetrack. I know we exchange ‘I Love Yous’ all the time but you’re one of the most important people in my life - Jack and Kat are up there too. I vow to start telling you that more, along with a hell of a lot more ‘I Love Yous’”

“Let’s make a pact - no more hospital visits for the rest of the year, okay? It’s July and we’ve been here 5 times already. I think they should just name a wing the Higgins-Conlon wing or at the very least give us a frequent flyer card.” Spot cleared his throat, looking up at the unmoved Race. “Baby, I’m just glad you’re gonna be okay. Just sleep, you’re really good at that and I can’t wait until I see those pretty blue eyes staring back at me.”

He trailed off, hearing a gentle knock at the door. Seeing the door gently pushed open, he tried to smile at Jack and Kat as they walked in but a sigh was all that he could muster. Unlacing his fingers with Race, he stood up and met them, pulling Kat into a hug he desperately needed. Jack patted his back, stepping around them, sitting in the chair Spot just vacated.

Kat pulled back, looking her brother-in-law over. “You doing alright?”

“Just had a good cry before you got here.” Spot chuckled before nodding. “Waiting for him to wake up on his own but I’m doing alright.”

She dropped a duffel bag in the corner before giving him a McDonald’s bag. “Got you food. Sit down and eat.”

“Yes mom.” He gave her a look, walking around the bed to sit in the opposite chair from Jack. “Thank you for bringing this.”

Jack smiled at him. “You’re welcome. You drove Kat up the wall by not calling.”

“Sorry, I didn't want to call when I didn’t have news.” Spot shot them an apologetic glance. “Doc said it was the worst case of appendicitis he’s ever seen. He was surprised that Race was as upbeat as he was when they took him down for surgery.”

Jack shook his head. “Did you have any indication that he had appendicitis?”

“None!” Spot shook his head, starting to eat the chicken nuggets they brought him. “It was just a normal morning. We parted ways and headed to on our merry way until I get a call at 12:20 that he’s been rushed to the hospital with an apparent case of appendicitis.”

Kat gave him a look. “When are they going to release him?”

“Don’t know. They won’t give me a whole lot of details. They do want him to have at least 2 rounds of antibiotics and finish another bag of saline before they release him.” Spot sighed. “I know he’ll be on an antibiotic for a week or so.”

Finishing up his food, he dropped the bag on the ground, sighing. “Thanks again for bringing the bag and food up.”

“You’re welcome. Do you need anything?” Kat stood beside Race’s bedside, running her hand through his hair.

Spot thought about everything. “Did you let Tyson out?”

Tyson was their year old Boxer puppy who was a ball of energy and a goofball. Race had insisted they adopted from the animal shelter and immediately fell for the puppy who’s paws were too big for his body.

“He eagerly greeted us at the door.” Jack laughed. “We’re going to stop by the house and pick him up on our way home that way you don’t have to rush home.”

Nodding, Spot smiled. “Thanks, I really appreciate you two. You’ve been a godsend for us.”

“That’s what family does, Spot.” Kat smiled. “Let us know when you’re heading home and we’ll have food for you guys so you don’t have to worry about that when you get home.”

Spot looked at his hands, willing Race to wake up. He didn’t know what to say to Kat and Jack at the moment.

“Hey you okay?” Jack looked over at his brother-in-law who had thrown his head back sighing loudly.

“I’m tired of spending time in a hospital. I’m tired of feeling so damn helpless while watching him sleep.” Spot groaned. “Can we just wrap him up in a giant bubble so that I don’t have to jump every damn time my phone rings with an unknown number?”

Taking a deep breath, Spot tried to calm down. “Sorry.”

“No you’re good.” Kat reassured him as Jack chuckled, causing Spot to raise an eyebrow.

“Sorry, I was just imagining Race in one of those hamster bubble balls, rolling around in the world.” Jack shook his head chuckling, causing Spor to chuckle with him. “He’d be a bigger menace in one of those than if he just walked around - bumping into everything and having a trail of destruction behind him.”

Kat walked around the bed to him, crouching down. “It sucks that you two have been in the hospital so much this year. I wish there was something we could do.”

Leaning over, he kissed her forehead before giving her a quick side hug. “You’re doing it by being here and bringing me food and clothes.”

“Hands off, lady, he’s mine.” A croaky voice called as Spot looked towards the bed. A smile crossed his face as his brain recognized the voice.

Spot stood, followed by Jack and Kat, looking over at Race. “How are you feeling?”

“Like my lower half has been taken out, ran over and put back in place.” He groaned. “What the hell happened?”

Spot pushed the nurse’s button, smiling at his husband. “You had appendicitis and needed emergency surgery. You’re going to be fine.”

“That’s good.” He nodded, looking at his older brother and sister. “And you guys came to keep Spottie company?”

Kat ran a hand through his hair smiling. “Brought him food, you guys some clothes, and check up on you but we can leave if you want?”

Yawning, Race snuggled into the bed. “Nah, you can stay. Spottie?”

“Yea Race?” He leaned over the bed so Race could see him.

“I love you, Pooks. Thanks.” Race’s eyes slid closed as a huge sigh of relief coasted through Spot’s body.

A knock on the door sounded as a young nurse peaked her head in. “I saw that someone hit the nurse’s button.”

“He was awake for a few minutes before falling back asleep.” Spot said, as she washed her hands before coming beside the bed.

Jack and Kat stood up and motioned to the door. “We’re going to get going. Let us know when you’re heading home.”

“Thank you for everything. And thank you for taking Tyson.” He gave them both hugs before watching them walk out.

The nurse looked at him. “Did he say anything about pain?”

“No, he just asked what happened before falling back asleep.” Spot said as she made a note on a pad of paper.

She watched the monitors for a moment before adjusting something on his IV. “Next time he’s awake just let us know. We’ll get some food for him. Is there anything I can get you? Something to drink?”

“I’m alright but thank you.” He smiled, watching her wash out before shutting the door behind her.

Sitting back in the chair, he laced their fingers together, giving them a squeeze, laying his head down on the bed. It was always the biggest relief when Race woke up after surgery, signifying that he was on the mend. He changed into the sweatpants Kat had brought before taking his place in the chair next to Race’s bed.

Several hours later, after many turns at Words with Friends with Kat, he heard movement from the bed. Looking up from his phone, he heard a groan and a couple of cuss words, before seeing the gorgeous blue eyes. “Hi handsome.”

“I look like shit, Spottie but I love you for thinking I’m still handsome.” Race croaked, reaching for the remote so he could adjust the bed. Meanwhile, Spot hit the nurses button.

Spot leaned forward grinning. “You always look handsome, stud. I’m sure you’ll look utterly gorgeous on your deathbed too.”

“That won’t be for a while.” He hissed as he attempted to move his arm as the IV tugged. “You all alone?”

“Nurse is on the way. Kat and Jack left right after you were awake and were going to pick up Tyson and take him over to their house for the night. I’ve been kicking Kat’s ass in words.” Spot grinned watching Race carefully. “How are you feeling?”

Race sighed. “Hungry and achy. Remind me never to do an appendectomy again.”

“That’s impossible since they took it out. But go for the gold.” Spot stood up, leaned over and kissed him. “I’m glad you’re alright. You gave us a scare there for a moment.”

Race looked at their laced fingers. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to make you worry.”

“I know but I’m glad you’re awake and talking. Hate being here without you being conscious.” Spot shrugged as the door opened.

“Glad to see you awake, Anthony.” The doctor said as he washed in before approaching the bed.

Spot stepped back, allowing both the nurse and doctor easy access to the bed. They spent the next few minutes checking over the incision and adjusting his fluids. The nurse left him with a menu, no restrictions, before telling them to use the nurse call if they needed anything.

“That was worse than a cattle prod.” Race groaned, opening up the menu and glancing at his options. “Have you eaten?”

Sitting in the chair, Spot nodded. “Kat and Jack brought nuggets and fries from McDonald’s around 5.”

“That was 3 hours ago. Want anything?” Race asked, looking up at him. “Actually, kick your shoes off and hop up here.”

“Race ….” Spot looked at his husband.

He sighed. “Sean, look I know the last few hours haven’t been easy and you look like a wreck. Hop up here so I can cuddle you properly.”

Following his husband's request, Spot snuggled into Race’s chest, being careful of his incision. “Isn’t that better? Now what do you want to eat? It’s been 3 hours since you ate and I don’t want you tearing down the halls cause you’re hungry.”

They got food figured out as Race wrapped an arm around Spot. “I love you. Thanks for holding down the camp.”

“I love you too.” Spot glanced up at him, biting his lip. “It’s a good thing you’re a heavy sleeper. I may have broken completely down this afternoon before Kat and Jack came.”

Race smiled sadly. “May have? Either you did or you didn’t.”

“I bawled like a baby. Might’ve even said the hospital should give us a frequency card.” Spot grinned.

Race kissed his forehead. “I’m sorry I missed it.”

“I’m just really, really glad you’re gonna be okay, Race.”

Spot said. “I love you and I hate when you’re not by my side; sorry for being a sap but today put some things into perspective.”

Race chuckled. “I’m always the sap in the relationship so I’m glad you’re taking that position. What was put into perspective for you?”

“You’re one of the most important things in my life. I know we say I Love Yous all the time but I don’t know if I’ve ever told you how important you are to me. I don’t want to lose you. Yea, this was out of your control but this is the fifth time one of us has been in the hospital this year and I don’t know how much more my heart can take.” Spot sighed. “Don’t leave me, Anthony.”

Race’s arms tightened around him. “I love you too, Sean. I will try to be more careful. You’re one of the most important people in my life too and I love you so much. I’m sorry I’ve caused you so much pain and hurt but from now on I will try to be more careful.”

Spot nodded against his chest as his eyes closed, listening to Race’s steady heartbeat. He felt Race kiss his forehead before he closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep. All was going to be okay in his world.

Holy crap! That was a section. What did you think? I absolutely love writing the two of them!!! What an emotional rollercoaster!

[mimithings97]

Heartache (M)

Summary: You didn’t know such a feeling was so real, so vivid, so hurtful. But it had happened and happened to you before you could stop it. Tae had become written into your life hard and fast, so when you leave you question that maybe, just maybe, you weren’t willing to unwrite him.

Pairing: Taehyung x Y/N

Genre: Angst, Smut, Fluff

Warnings: Heartache for starters, Unprotected sex, Oral (male receiving), Swearing, Nude modelling, Taehyung’s a sappy mess, Mentions of Alcohol

Word Count: 6k

A/N: Can’t lie in saying how morbid it is that I enjoy writing angst. It’s light angst though and a lot lighter than how fucking whipped Tae is at the end. Much love for the bub though, so, enjoy x

Ahhh jungkook features as well forgot to mention. Still love him. Nothings changed there.

Heartache.

Cringy, you once thought to yourself. 

How could you be so dependent, so set and so immersed in something that your heart actually aches? 

It didn’t make sense to you until the day words were spoken that couldn’t be taken back, bags were reluctantly packed and more tears were shed than there is water in the Thames. Heartache was real, vivid and the hardest thing you have ever had to live through in your 24 years of life. 3 weeks of a deep set dropping in your stomach that couldn’t be shaken despite the booze intake, the occasional listening to his voicemails and the relentless tears.

Your mother told you that if you built up too many walls it would hurt so much more when someone knocked them down. You had told Taehyung this on the first date, your first date, ever, with any man. You had always drawn a line between pleasure and dependency, settling for short flings and the occasional online relationship (purely for the sexting) instead of the commitment and responsibility that weighed on vulnerable shoulders when you bear your entire self to another in a relationship. Taehyung knew this. But he fell and you fell harder. You fell completely and utterly under his spell for three years. 

And then he told you he wanted to marry you. Bastard didn’t even propose, just mentioned that one toxic word of marriage and you instantly laid the bricks of that wall he had so unceremoniously knocked down all those years ago.

It felt so adult yet so childish leaving someone over the concept of marriage, but when talks of marriage turn to talks of children and one party wants something completely different to the other, what kind of relationship is there to continue. 

So three weeks later, just as the physical pain of emptiness and heartache has begun ebbing away, the emotional trauma of your decision begins to cave in on you.

To Jungkook:

11:31pm

You: I know I said I’d stop this

You: But I really dont know if this is worth the pain

You: His mum sent me a get well soon card today bc he told her i was ill and that’s why i hadn’t visited

You: I’m never going to not love him

You: How does anyone get over this shit its not fair

11:35pm

Guk: Oh noona

Guk: It’ll take lots and lots of time and lots and lots of tubs of ice cream and wine but youre both adults who want different things and not everything is meant to be

Guk: Sacrifice for the greater good right

11:35pm

You: There’s no fucking greater good here

You: I hate this

11:37pm

Guk: Noona you know that down the road hyung wants children. I don’t think marriage was that big, but he’s always wanted to be a dad

Guk: It’s not fair of him to ask you to have something you don’t want but its also not fair to leave him without the thing he’s always desired the most

11:40pm

You: Its just too hard to take

You: It feels like three years for jack shit

11:41pm

Guk: If you’re really struggling that much, noona, talk to him. I know he wants to talk to you still, he’s tried to contact you everyday. Maybe it will give you some closure or just help you see what’s right

11:41pm

You: Love you

Your phone is down as soon as Jungkook mentioned talking to him. How could you take one step forward and a million steps back by talking to him? It would be like hanging just what you want right in front of you but no touching, no talking to them after that 5 minutes of hell, no seeing them ever again. Closure is what you need but never what you’ll want.

The sheets that surround you, nuzzled closely into your neck and still unwashed even after three weeks just to keep that tiny scent of Tae over you naked skin, warm you to the point your eyes drift. You don’t mean to fall asleep so easily, but when every little action weighs so heavy on you during the day, sleep comes too easily. However, so does the nightmares of crawling alone in the black abyss.

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

Resuming work was never easy on a broken soul, but alas, here you were, with three weeks of sick pay under your belt you’d rather not have and 20 children at your feet.

Ironic isn’t it.

You break up with the only man you’ve ever loved because you can’t face a future of settling down with children, yet you wake up at the fucking godforsaken hour of 6 am to tend to a bunch of five and six years olds every day. No, you didn’t hate children, but they weren’t the joy of your life either. You were good at your job and you had this mad psychological complex that if you could help a child at five or six like you had so desperately needed at that age, then maybe you’d make their life just that little bit easier and that little bit brighter. Taehyung always found your reason for working so admirable - fuck that look of pure adoration in his eyes when you told him - so he found it equally hard to come to terms with when you told him the opposite. When you told him you couldn’t have your own children because the responsibility scared you. His ears were ringing at the point where you told him you also didn’t want to share him and his kindness, even so, the damage had been done, whatever the reasoning.

“Y/N! Jennie said you were back,” it’s a tight smile from you and a loose hug, but it’s amazing you’ve managed that with the way your head is far from in the room let alone the conversation at hand. “God, I hope you’re better, you were out for a while.”

You squeeze a weak laugh out, “Yeh, it wasn’t all that fun.”

“For a second me and Jennie were thinking you might be pregnant.” The heartache subsides, rivalled by the very distinct feeling of sickness. The ball of energy in front of you persists in conversation, but it’s to drowned ears and for a second you think you’ll faint. 

You miss your name being called. Shit, you don’t even know where it’s coming from, because the all-consuming feeling of this tide of emotions has swept you far from your spot in the classroom. Marie in front of you still calls, asking if you’re okay, but it’s the tug on your skirt, not harsh, but enough to garner a reaction that casts your eyes down.

“Miss Y/N?”

It’s Jojo, eyes wide and glaring up at you, still clung to the material of your skirt.

“Miss Y/N, why are you crying?”

You instantly draw the back of your hand to your face and it catches a cascading tear, much to your shock. You face must morph into a mortified expression at the thought of so carelessly crying at work, in the presence of the kids you look after with a smile and a skip in your step each day.

“Miss Y/N, it’s okay to cry. You can draw with me if you feel crying…” he shakes his head, “sad. Sad I mean.”

You feel Marie’s hand on your back, but Jojo’s eyes sweep you into a frenzy of more tears before you find yourself kneeling on the floor by the table. His table, where he sits alone each day, with paper and paints, or pencils, or chalk, sometimes he just folds it and hands it to you saying he made his paper into a flower. He already has one of his drawings on the go but scribbled over it thoughtlessly before starting out on a series of words. ‘To miss Y/n’.  Your eyes well further, but his words stop you.

“I think sometimes that drawings can make you better. Can make better the sadness.”

---

“Tae are you still going at it?”

You peer around the corner of the door, leaning half in half out of his man cave to study your boyfriend at work. 5 hours he’d been couped up in there.

“Hmm.” 

He didn’t let you see his art until the product was finished, completely finished, because sometimes he’d say he was done and then go back when he’d found the smallest error only to get pissed off that you had witnessed anything other than the completed masterpiece.

“Tae, you’ve been in here for hours, just come out to help me cook.” You plead with him over the canvas, not daring to peak any further.

“I know, I’m sorry.”

He hasn’t looked at you since you came in, his brow well and truely glued into a furrow and the tea you’d brought him earlier cold and untouched beside him. You lower your tone into a more serious one.

“You okay?”

Silence.

“Done.” He doesn’t sound relieved or happy at the finalising of a five-hour art project like most would, like he normally does. He’s merely, ‘done’.

With an apprehensive tone, you ask, “Can I come see?” A gentle nod and you round the canvas, his arm dropping the brush in favour of tugging at the skin of your waist until you’re gently seated in his lap.

It’s beautiful and it’s simplistic and there’s so much life and emotion in it that you know the five hours weren’t all spent with brush to canvas but with him mulling over the memories and thoughts it conjured up.

“Your grandmother’s house?” Your voice is soft, not a pitying soft, but a soft that lets him know he can talk freely.

“Hmm,” he presses a kiss to the shoulder exposed by the shirt that hangs off you loosely. “Wanted to do something for her.”

You let the silence and the painting speak for itself for a while as his hands brush at your sides and you lean into his head that rest against you, chin to shoulder as his warm breath lulls you into calmness.

“You miss her?” 

“So much.”

“Painting makes it better?”

… another kiss and a sigh, warm.

“Mmm. Sometimes painting and drawing just makes the sadness a little easier, just makes it better.”

---

You see Tae in this tiny boy, this boy who draws to ease the sadness, who coups himself away on his table to be alone, too afraid to cry in front of the other boys and girls. Is he doing it too? Is he alone and painting? 

Then Jojo slides you his paper, wordlessly and your eyes with dried tears, prick once again, heartache replaced with something completely different, regret. And now hope. It’s those small boys words on paper, insignificant to him, and probably tiny in the grand scheme of things, but it’s his words that make you seek out for the one thing you know you can’t live without, the one thing that will heal your sadness.

‘To miss Y/N, i hope your crying gets better soon. Its okay to cry but its also good to make you happy. I hope you find your happy. From Jojo.”

You’d already found your happy, you just had to get him back.

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

“Y/N!?” 

And it merely takes your name for you to lose every word on your tongue. Any word you could’ve conjured at that moment couldn’t have described how you felt. He looks dishevelled, and beautiful, hair unwashed and falling into his eyes, white top littered with stains and his pyjamas bottoms you bought him for Christmas hanging off his hips. 

His eyes lull from their immediate shock before he turns to look at his apartment, running a frantic hand through his hair and stumbling on his words. 

“Shit. I- I mean. I wasn’t really thinking- I didn’t expect you.”

You probably shouldn’t have come. Some people would’ve turned and gone the other way. Maybe that was the right thing to do, was that the brave thing? Were you being a coward by rooting to the spot and not being able to speak a word?

He looks at you, then behind you somewhere, then back into your eyes and his gaze sinks so far into yours, you think you might just cry there and then.

“Dooo you want to come in?” He sounds apprehensive, he probably thinks you are too, but all you want to do is be back in his apartment just like three weeks ago, touching him, talking to him unhinged, perhaps feeling the skin beneath his shirt where his heart lies, feeling if his heart has ached as yours has.

With blinking eyes that try not to glaze over, you nod, short and curt, and you miss the puff of air his mouth rings out with relief. 

He dashes away once you’re past the threshold, scampering around as if to distract you from the surrounding environment - it’s dusty, too cold and dark with the way the curtains shut out summer light and you barely recognise his floor as wood with the way food scatters and clothes are strewn.  Small shards of light reflect from out of the study and your eyes naturally draw there only to find a mess, door open just enough for the hoard of half-finished painting and wasted canvas’ to come into view. The door is closed by Taehyung like he knew where your gaze would lead you.

“I-I’m fucking sorry about this, it’s gross and it’s messy and i-”

“It’s just like mine.” The corners of your mouth turn up sympathetically but also because you’re relieved he’s not okay. It’s awful to say but heartache has clearly done a job on him too and for that you’re relieved. “Don’t worry, it’s just fine.”

“Just fine,” he mutters under his breath with a half-laugh. 

You’re still stood stuck to the doormat, jacket hanging tightly to you like a defence mechanism and your hands remain tight to your sides. When his eyes find yours, you seize up further like it’s the first time he’d ever seen you.

---

You’d told Janice one too many times for this situation to be coincidence. You may or may not have told her you were a sucker for exhibitionism. She’d found it all shits and giggles until the art class she headed entered into ‘naked form’ week and it was too good of an opportunity to pass by. 

So the robe drops and you’re way too aware of the last time you shaved - you think you’d be prepared, but pair a hangover with a 7:30 start and bodily care wasn’t the first thought to come to mind.

Janice gives off a flow of instructions, pointing to your body like you were a cow on show, and telling the artists to ‘admire her form, the way her body dips and flows and let you brush or pencil do the responding as though her body was talking to you’ - you almost scoff aloud at her waffle because art is so full of shit.

Exhibitionism kink or not, you’re thirty minutes in and the way your hip cramps and you eyelids lower, there is nothing alluring or desirable about this. 

But then the door on the far wall swings open all too harshly for your eyes to feign jolting away. And they blow out further when they’re met with the masculine figure uttering apologies and skidding halfway from door to seat with his urgency.

‘Just women’ she said. ‘Nothing to be worried about,’ she said. It ruined the whole ‘i like being stared at by fit men’ at first but then put you a little at ease that some 70 year old man, trying to spice up his last years of life with a too expensive art course, wouldn’t be staring your tits down. 

Yet here you were, with a man with eyes too beautiful to be tarnished by the view in front of him, gazing in shock at your naked body.

“Mr. Kim, it’s nude form week. Guessing you didn’t get the email?”

You only have your imagination for what his voice must sound like because he only shakes his head, throat too dried and scorched from you laid out, baring it all in front of him for him to say anything.

But your imagination didn’t do justice in those two hours of torture. Because his voice telling you he’s ‘sorry for interrupting the session’ and even ‘sorrier for being so unworthy of staring at something so beautiful’. 

You’d always hated cringe. But cringe never sounded so good when it was spun off Taehyung’s silk tongue.

---

“Can I get you anything?” 

It’s him who breaks the silence, and it’s a godsend because you were two seconds away from spinning on your heel and cowering out of the entire thing.

“N-no. Thank you, Tae.” 

He groans at the timidity of how you say his name and nickname at that.

And silence soaks the atmosphere again, tenser this time because greetings have been uttered, drinks offered and there’s nothing more to say that unspoken words of the past.

That’s what you thought you were here to do at least. To tell him you’re sorry, first and foremost, because you’d never intend to break a soul as tender-hearted as his. Then you were supposed to tell him that you loved him, and you would always love him, and that sacrifice must be made for the greater good.

Jungkook had told you that once. But he’d said Taehyung must be the one sacrificed and you should be the one salvaged - until you realised there was no greater good in that situation, no salvation to be had.

“I’ll sacrifice myself,” words come out loud and unexpected as your train of thought is voiced. They’re too loud also, and they break the atmosphere to his shock, so his brow furrows like he doesn’t understand. “I- I will sacrifice myself for you.”

His face falls and you can’t bear the way his words stutter and his throat fills with a choked cry, as though he’d held it in as soon as your presence had hit him. It must have done the same to you because your body befalls you and tears and on the floor as you work your feet towards where he is rooted.

“I can’t ask that of you. You know I can’t do that,” he closes his eyes when your  body meets his, hands firm on his cheeks because they’re wet with tears and his shoulders are hunched in pain, “please.”

“Please.” You reciprocate. 

This is it for you. You’ll do anything for this quivering shell in front of you. You’ll plead. You’ll beg. You’ll give up your livelihood and every mantra you have ever told yourself about self-preservation because fuck it, some things are too good that you have to lose yourself in them. 

“You- I-”

“I’m- I might not be ready for kids now. I will though. If that’s what it takes. Fuck it I’ll marry you tomorrow.”

He chokes on a sob when his eyes meet your pleading ones and a quick hand wipes the stains from his cheeks so he can see every expression you give to him - untainted and full of love.

“We can take our time over this or we can have it all at once, but it has to be we. I’ll really do it for you, I have to Tae,” another sob and a whimper, “isn’t that what we’re here for. Kids.” You’re babbling now in a frenzied expression of all you have to give, and you’re so lost in his eyes that you laugh out, “‘be fruitiful and multiply or some shit.’ I’ll do it, I swear to you.”

“You’re not even Christian.”

“I would be if you told me to.”

“Fuck.”

He kisses you quick and without care, wanting to feel everything you have to give him like it’s what keeps his heart beating - and it’s beating fast because you finally find fingertips under his shirt and against the pounding that intensifies underneath.

He grapples at your hair, then waist, then hair again because his hands can’t decide on what he wants most. So you grab at them yourself and intertwine fingers as though he’d never left you. Each knuckle deserves a kiss and that’s what you give when your lips part.

“I’m so sorry-” you keep kissing across his hand, “I ever left,” and bring his hands to your neck, “never again.”

The tears subside in his eyes as they do yours. There is still relief, hot and painful inside your stomach because you have come back to him and he has taken you back, as if there were never to be anything but the two of you as one, yet now he finds your lips in something that claims more than just love. Possession. He has to know you’re his.

You were correct when you thought his room would be as sorrowful as yours - heartache as painful as what you had felt. 

Food containers stripe the floor dirty. Towels strewn and clothes dirty and forgotten. Again the blinds are closed as though you’re not here at 5 in the afternoon when the sun begins to fall into the red and purple hues of evening. 

But the blinds leave enough of a gap that his face is haloed, angelic and all too beautiful for your eyes to feign staring when your mouth departs his. Eyes glow amber and skin glows golden and you never want to look away, not from him, not now.

“You really want this don’t you.” There’s no question to the way Tae speaks. Instead, it’s disbelieving, like he can’t quite fathom that it’s really your shirt he has under his fingertips and your smell that lingers under his nose. Heartbreak had slowed his heart enough that it’s beating too fast for him to keep up with, so he slows it down.

“I really want this- You. I really want you.”

“And everything that comes with me? You’re sure?”

It’s a loaded question but at this point it is so light on your shoulders you laugh, grabbing and pulling up his shirt so you can sink lips to his chest, trying to find the beat of a heart somewhere there. 

“You act like you’re a chore, Tae.” You’re eyes soften when he still looks like you like he’s young and vulnerable. “Baby, I am so sorry I ever did this to you. Left. And made you feel like that.” 

Your hands map his skin delicately and you preserve how it feels because you hope, but never know, if you’ll feel it again.

“Never again, yeh?”

“Yeah.”

Clothes are shed until he looks at your naked body like the art that he first saw it as. He wants to paint it, remember it and cherish it as though he’s never seen it before. Every scar and blemish, precious to his vision, but the painting would only be worth it to him because he’s all who gets to see you.

“You’re not gonna turn off the lights?” 

Something that you’d told him was a habit of yours. Maybe something, a subconscious body image thing that was another way of saying, ‘I can’t give my whole self to you, I’m sorry’. He’d ran with it as though it didn’t hurt his pride. But now, as you push him down on his bed and clamber over his thighs, he’s so grateful he never got to see you in this light, because he loves it all the more now.

Fingertips tremble over your thighs when your hips find his, naked crotch so close to where he throbs. 

“Tae,” his eyes don’t meet yours, pieced, instead, onto where your bodies are so close to meeting like his gaze can fuse them together. “Tae, it’s me. Relax.”

Purposefully, your hands find his hair and coax him into a state of submissiveness, because his body still quaked underneath you no matter the words you uttered. 

You can’t lie when you say sex was a factor in your relationship you had missed. There was a heartfelt bond that went deeper than sex.

Admittedly the flatmate before Tae, the friends before the boyfriend and your parents who knew you better than you admitted to yourself had all said you were sex before substance. Some hated you for it and some laughed. Some said, ‘I wish I could be as emotionally detached as you’ and some thought you were the local gal whoring about like bodies were meant to be used. Then, somehow, Tae flipped the whole thing on its head. Made you feel butterflies before orgasm and it had you spellbound. 

So, no. Sex wasn’t it for you when you were with him. 

Yet, here you were, over your man gleaming with the physical sweat of want and need as well as the even more apparent glow of how his body lit up for only you.

“How do you want me Tae, what can I give you?”

“Fuck.” His hands fall over his eyes, not comprehending that you’re his and you’re this plaint. No, he wants you to take over him. “Anything, baby. Fuck. Anything.”

Instantly nails brush over the hardness that had been laid out under your folds obediently since you’d found yourself on top of his crotch.

A man could only control himself so much and immediately Tae found his dick twitching and his hips leaving the mattress in favour of chasing your hand.

“Y/N, I really don’t know if I’ve got it in me for teasing, I’m so horny I could cum!”

Well then.

The outburst has you struggling to fight off a laugh because he seriously is that desperate. Not the laughing kind either. The all-bearing, stripped clean and pleading kind of desperate.

So, you sympathise and let your lips find his, hand still trailing lightly so he doesn’t cum early, but enough for the need to remain.

“You wanna be inside me Tae?” His tongue is on yours yet the words are clear. 

“Urgh, fuck, please.”

Your eyes peer between your bodies, mapping where his muscles, tight with restrictions, create a V-shape down to the very distinct outline of a red hard cock. You think it’s photograph worthy in the moment, something worth slipping the camera out for, and if you hadn’t kept his dick pics from months ago maybe you would. But:

“Please baby, -need it.”

You deny yourself the simple pleasure of slipping him in because Tae whining and pleading is something worthy for the spank bank. You drop lower down the bed so his hips meet your eyes and the skin glistens so beautifully in this light you have to leave his dick untouched just so you can kiss around the area. 

His stomach, thighs, crotch, they see it all, lips and tongue mapping bold strokes because he tastes just as you remember and you want to savour it.

“Y/N ple- oh fuck,” and the taste of his dick beats anything that preceded it, let alone the noise that came with it. 

His tip is taken care of first, small licks and stripes with your tongue, so he’s unsuspecting when you choke him whole.

“FUCK.” 

Hands grab your hair violently. He’s deep and hits the back of your throat so you choke, unashamed of the noise. You’re past that and you know he likes it anyways. 

You set a rhythm, and it soon becomes clear he’s going to cum from it and that you very much want him to. Your hand finds his balls to fuel the process and the other one snakes to your core because there’s nothing that beats Tae’s moans when he’s getting a good sucking. 

“I- Fuck Y/N, I can’t- Shit!”

He’s close. Stomach seizing and balls throbbing in your palm so you sink back down again and take the choke like you want it and you want his cum more. It’s fast from there.

“Love you. I’m cum- Fuckkkkk,” salt and warmth line your throat, but only for a short while because he came quick. His hips stutter a few times and your eyes water when you continue to take it. 

Then it’s cold and silent. Yet somehow you feel buzzed. Like someone cumming down your throat was enjoyable. Like you’d do it a thousand times over if it meant he’d say he loved you again.

The hands that had once set deep into your scalp and verged on making you horny now pulled at your cheeks to lift you to eye level. 

He’s sweaty and a mess. 

“You’re sweaty and a mess baby.” 

His laugh is unfiltered, wholesome and worthy of the way your heart stutters.

“Because someone’s got a mouth on them sent from the gods.”

Blush overtakes your cheeks, whilst your stomach tumbles over at the fact that your blowjob skills are up to scratch - you thought a month off might have done something to your ability but clearly, you’re still on point. The bitter taste in your mouth tells you enough. 

“What’ve I done to deserve you coming back.”

Sincerity returns into his eyes as well as his words, and somehow you feel his dick twitch again from underneath you. He’s so soft under your hands so you keep feeling at his skin to reassure you he’s real.

“Nothing. You’re enough. You’re it.”

You kiss and kiss again, keep going until the fire ignites in him once more where it still flamed for you.

“Please.”

His voice is low no matter how much he whines so a guiding hand slips him into where you’re filthily wet. And he’s huge despite seed already spilt. He’s loaded like it was meant for you and not your mouth, throbbing enough so your pussy can feel it.

And suddenly you realise it’s bare. Complete bare. As in, bare enough that you are willing to take on a child kind of bare.

His eyes tell the story when yours find his, wide and curious. They roll back into whites when you pull up fully and then sink back down, milking him for all he has so he knows this is your full intention. Naked in every sense.

“Shit, Tae.”

“Fuckkkkk,” he doesn’t swear often, but sex is a must and the quirk of your lips tells him just how much you like him losing himself in pleasure.

He hits deep from here, cock lodged far in and even further when he begins to take control. 

His feet plant and his hands pull you down so skin flushes to skin and he can pump up into you with unadulterated need. 

Your teeth have to clamp onto his shoulder with the way he hits your cervix, it’s uncomfortable yet you love it. That kind of sex where everything is so fulfilling that you just can’t mutter ‘stop’. How could you say such a thing anyway when he’s groaning that he loves you with every upbeat.

It hits good once. Twice.

“Tae, fuck. There.”

Three times. 

“Here?”

Again.

“Oh my fuc- Fuckkk,” and there’s nothing you can do when you’re so stimulated you tumble deep and hard onto him and continue to do over and over in waves. 

He’s finding his end in the way your pussy grips him. 

“Baby. Y/N, Cunt so good, jesus.”

You’re burning when he’s going so fast the headboard bangs louder than your moans. So your hand quickly finds his balls underneath you and that does him, unravels him to the point he quakes.

“Holy- Love you. Love you. Fuck. Love you.”

Your ears might ring but that’s all you hear for the next minute. His mantra that keeps his lust alive until his love is so set in stone the words are not needed. 

Your hand, winding into his hair and the thrum of your heart against his tells him enough.

It’s this. Silence and tranquillity yet with the constant buzz of electricity all around you.

You’re still there entangled, limbs on limbs and lights touches on bare skin as the slither of light through the blinds turns ruby red in the heat of sunset.

You know his eyes must glow golden from where the sun angles on his face so you can’t help but spare a glance. And you’re right when you imagined it as beautiful because the sun bathes him like it was meant to. 

He’s still awake because his eyes flutter when you trail the outside of your fingers down his cheek and then onto his lips. It’s even more apparent when he brings his hand up to yours so he can kiss each knuckle individually.

“You came inside.”

It weighed heavy on you, the obvious factor that had happened earlier. And before allowing the beauty of the moment to settle in you had to see his expression when you mentioned it.

Yet there’s nothing but closed eyes and the slight smile that had been painted on his lips since you’d told him how much you wanted him.

“Mmm.”

“And you’re okay with that?” It’s not harsh, just a question from you. A security query because you have to know what this was for him. Caught up in the moment or something deeper?

His eyes bolt open at the question though.

“Are you?”

You almost have to think. Almost.

“Yeah. Yeah, I am.”

“And so am I.”