#you'd be lucky if you heard him say anything like it himself but please let him hear it so he can pretend to not approve in front of others

[skyheld]

@championsofthegate asked: “the fates already fucked me sideways.” (Alras @ Ameridan lmao) | MEME PROMPTS | accepting

"Not exactly elegantly put, but I see your point." He smiles, amused. It's not the worst he's heard. Drakon's Ciriane lords prided themselves on their cunning and wit, but pour enough wine down their throats and they became as vulgar as their uncivilized Alamarri or Avvar counterparts (or, indeed, as any elven general who'd spent more time in an army camp than at a palace).

Things are different now, and not so different. Even at this small, peaceful gathering, a soirée seemingly held for pleasure, there's an undercurrent of violence: the nobles drifting around the lavish room all too prepared to shed their rustling silks and pounce like beasts at the first sign of weakness. "But was it fate? You've come a long way from your clan, and not, perhaps, in a direction you wanted. But it was you who touched the orb, by your own choice, was it not?"

[astonmartinii]

i like a girl in uniform | lando norris social media au

pairing: lando norris x fem vet!reader

little leo leclerc needs a trip to the vet, lando was just being a good friend but the vet tech was definitely a plus

based on the request by: @volleygal06

MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

charles_leclerc

liked by landonorris, yourusername and 1,304,893 others

charles_leclerc: this dramatic little boy decided he wanted to eat every piece of grass he could find and got poorly, thank you to austin vet clinic for helping us out and getting him back into shape :)

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user1: leo is so dramatic, he's so me

user2: leo leclerc is the dramatic girl representation we need in the f1 paddock

pierregasly: please word your texts better, i thought someone had actually died

charles_leclerc: he nearly did!

landonorris: he did not, you're just a helicopter parent

pierregasly: wait why was lando with you and not me?

charles_leclerc: he just happened to be there and i needed a lift

landonorris: because he was freaking out

charles_leclerc: but he conveniently he decided he really cared about leo's wellbeing when he saw the vet tech

pierregasly: ohhhhh i see

landonorris: what! no! i'm a good friend!

charles_leclerc: sure, jan.

user3: fuckboy lando has re-entered the chat

user4: his slutiness knows no bounds

yourusername: he's such a precious little guy, i'm glad i could get him back to feeling himself. good luck to both of you this weekend!

charles_leclerc: thank you so much for your time, you definitely were the calm we needed

yourusername: ahahaha you're just a good dad to your fur baby

landonorris: thank you! any chance you can be my lucky charm this weekend?

yourusername: do you flirt with all the vet techs like this?

landonorris: only the cute ones

yourusername: i see...

landonorris: but i can still interest you in a coffee?

yourusername: i'll see if i'm free

user5: that was .... tragic

oscarpiastri: well that was something

alexalbon: you'd think he'd be better at it by now

georgerussell63: i have to have faith he's better at this in person

maxverstappen1: i'm kind of enjoying this show tbf

landonorris: i can read this?

alexalbon: take the constructive feedback

yourusername

liked by landonorris, charles_leclerc and 11,563 others

tagged: charles_leclerc

yourusername: never a boring day here, leo was just the loveliest boy ever

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user6: okay turns out i am no better than lando

user7: if you heard barking that wasn't me

landonorris: are you sure he was THE loveliest boy, or are you just being nice because he's a puppy?

alexalbon: bro is jealous of a dog

yourusername: i'm sorry lando, but leo was a very brave boy

landonorris: i can be brave too!

oscarpiastri: you wouldn't let me sit at the same table as you at a restaurant because i ordered salmon

landonorris: well yes but that's also because it's you - when i go on a date with y/n, if she ordered salmon i would live with it

yourusername: when i go on a date with you?

landonorris: our date on sunday?

yourusername: oh really?

landonorris: i'll pick you up, wear something pretty x

user8: i have no idea whether that worked or not

user9: it was a loser move, but i would cave as well

user10: lando is unbelievably lame but he's also a millionaire f1 driver so i guess he can do what he wants

alexalbon: no it was lame and you guys should continue to tell him that

landonorris: trust the process alex

georgerussell63: the last time we trusted the process your dms where you tried to go on a maccies date were leaked

yourusername: i am NOT coming if you're taking me to mcdonalds 🤨

charles_leclerc: he takes after his mother :)

yourusername: awwwww, based on how many times he pissed on you, i think he's definitely a mummy's boy

charles_leclerc: tbf i'll do anything she says too

yourusername: @landonorris take notes if you want a date ^^

user11: american races i will never not complain about you but you have given me entertainment before the cars have even gotten on track

user12: idk this kinda proves my theory that the american races are just one big humiliation ritual for f1

f1tea

liked by user14, user15 and 18,304 others

tagged: yourusername

f1tea: the vet tech, y/n y/ln, who helped leo is in the paddock for qualifying.

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user16: oh wow she's actually so pretty

user17: also like she just looks like a normal fucking person

user18: that's probably because she is a normal person

user19: okay queen is turning a fucking look

user20: she looks so effortless i love her already

user21: i beg you people don't get parasocial already, she's a vet tech who will probably just be here for the weekend

user22: not if lando has any say in it 😭

user23: i honestly think good for her for having him so down bad but i also pray for her for when the twitter girls catch on

user24: they've already found all of her personal details poor gal

user25: so like which garage is she in this weekend?

user26: she came in with alex and leo so i think it's a safe bet to guess ferrari

user27: i think the 13 year olds would actually have an aneurysm if she was in the mclaren garage

user28: i kinda want to see the meltdown

user29: the way ted kravitz shoved his microphone in her face killed me

user30: girl was so fucking confused

user31: the way she said 'i guess i'm a charles fan? i don't know i met him yesterday and he offered me tickets after i helped leo?'

user32: alex trying not to laugh right next to her when ted was asking her so many questions

user33: lando just fell to his knees in the mclaren garage

yourusername

liked by alexsaintmleux, landonorris and 24,509 others

tagged: f1 & charles_leclerc

yourusername: thanks for the hospitality charles and ferrari! this has been a dream come true x

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user37: girl rocked up to her job, met THE leo leclerc and got a paddock pass

user38: why does leo never eat a load of grass when i'm on shift

user39: ugh why does this stuff not happen to me :(

charles_leclerc: i'm glad i could repay you beyond leo's vet fees!

yourusername: i did not know this sport was so god damn stressful and it wasn't even the race 😭

charles_leclerc: are you sure you can't make it tomorrow, there's still a ticket with your name on it?

yourusername: just say you and alex want a free dogsitter

charles_leclerc: guilty!

charles_leclerc: no but seriously if you wanna pull a sick day, we have a ticket for you

yourusername: all of my managers follow you on instagram, so i think that might be off the cards now

charles_leclerc: ..... oh

yourusername: it's like you people forget you're famous

user40: she's not here for the race :(((

user41: rip y/n y/ln in the paddock 2024-2024, forever in our hearts

user42: we'll never forget the ted's notebook episode of him being humbled by her

landonorris: you're not here for the race ? :(

yourusername: i have a job babe

landonorris: but but but i never got to take you out

yourusername: i technically never even agreed to that

landonorris: but hypothetically if i happened to be in your vicinity on sunday evening, would you change your mind?

yourusername: i'm sure you'll be out celebrating mr racer boy

landonorris: so you think i'm good 😊

yourusername: well you're starting third so i guess so?

landonorris: don't count out a more lowkey celebration ;)

alexalbon: is this loser son of a bitch actually going to secure a date

landonorris: i told you guys to trust the process

yourusername: i can literally read this right now ?

landonorris: I'M DOWN BAD LET A MAN LIVE

landonorris

liked by danielricciardo, oscarpiastri and 1,429,788 others

tagged: yourusername

landonorris: i told the pretty girl i'd win something for her desk and i did ;)

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user43: holy moly he did it

user44: this is possibly bigger than his first win

user45: proved he can drive and is not completely sauceless

user46: is he at the vets in his sweaty-ass racesuit?

oscarpiastri: YES HE IS AND HE RAN BEFORE WE COULD DEBRIEF SO NOW I HAVE TO WAIT FOR HIS WHIPPED ASS TO COME BACK TO THE PADDOCK BEFORE I CAN GO TO BED

landonorris: your tone seems very pointed

oscarpiastri: it is indeed very pointed, i am so tired and you're so down bad that i'm going to have to sleep at the track

landonorris: well that sounds like a you problem

oscarpiastri: you are such a failure in this department that i'll let you off but i expect a tow next weekend

landonorris: anything i don't mind

oscarpiastri: this is levels of down bad i have never seen before

yourusername: i happen to like my men desperate and pathetic

landonorris: hehehhehehehhehe :P

user47: i now know way too much about these people

user48: at least all this public humiliation was worth it in the end for lando?

alexalbon: this pizza in the car date is very reminiscent of the proposed hotel maccies date ....

yourusername: why are you always up in our business

alexalbon: i've known this gremlin for far too long, if anything i'm looking out for you

yourusername: please refer to my previous comment about my preferences

alexalbon: you people are perfect for each other 🤨

yourusername: i can't deny a pretty boy when he's worked so hard to impress me

maxverstappen1: pretty sure that's just his day job to drive fast

yourusername: LET ME HAVE THIS FUCK OFF

landonorris: i knew i had one shot for you to take me seriously

yourusername: oh i was always going to say yes to a date, i just wanted to see just how much you wanted it

landonorris: well i wanted it and i want many more SO BADLY

yourusername: we'll see what we can do...

landonorris: HEHHEHHEHEHEHHEHEHE :)))))))))

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, landonorris and 34,109 others

tagged: landonorris

yourusername: someone tell this man he has a job and he has to leave

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user51: y/n's photography has shown me what the lando girls see for once

user52: i agree i am MOVED

yourusername: 🤨

user53: bro went on one date and thinks she's special

yourusername: more dates than you :P

user54: ugh finally a wag that fights back

landonorris: but i don't wanna leave you 😩

yourusername: i don't particularly want you to go either but somehow zak has gotten my personal number and wants you at the airport and i'm scared he'll get my address next

landonorris: tell him to fuck off next time

yourusername: he's your boss? WHAT IF HE GETS MY ADDRESS

oscarpiastri: not to sound like a sweat but he is actively looking for your address with cartoonish steam coming out of his ears

yourusername: LANDO IF YOU LIKE ME AS MUCH AS YOU SAY PLEASE MAKE SURE YOUR PSYCHO BOSS DOES NOT COME TO MY HOUSE

landonorris: ugh anything for you i guess

user55: i'm not sure how we got here but they're so hot

user56: he is PUNCHING SO BAD

landonorris: she's a literal goddess i know

yourusername: take notes ladies xx

landonorris: no but seriously, i don't want to leave you - can't you come to brazil?

yourusername: sorry babe i have a job i need to go to

landonorris: PLEASE

yourusername: but what about all the sick animals :(

landonorris: i guess :(

user57: what kind of spell is he under it's been THREE DAYS

landonorris: i love a girl in uniform

yourusername: even if it's scrubs covered in cat piss

landonorris: i find you sexy in anything, but preferably nothing ...

yourusername: right back at you xo

fin.

note: babes i am SWAMPED but i hope you enjoyed!

[biblio-smia]

part one | part two | part three

mike hasn't been himself in a while.

he's been there, physically, barely. you chalked the first few days of the lack of anything from mike up to his new job working security at the local mall. the new title came with longer hours and a sort of haze over mike, the little energy he already had draining into the negatives. on the occasional night you stayed for dinner, there was a faraway look in his eyes and your words had to leave your mouth three times before mike really heard them.

next came the forgetfulness.

first it was to call you before he went to bed that night. you hung around the landline in your kitchen for hours before you slipped into unconsciousness in your dining room chair.

you didn't bring it up.

then came the second saturday since mike had started working as a security guard, the day you and mike would usually have a night in with dinner and drinks.

you'd kissed abby goodnight and shut her door quietly, almost spinning into mike as he came up behind you.

"i'm so sorry, i'm really, really, tired," mike sighed, his arms wrapping around you as his chin sank on your shoulder. your hands immediately set to soothe his muscles, hoping he'd get better sleep tonight.

"it's okay," you assure, pressing an understanding kiss to mike's cheek. "do you need me to tuck you in, too?"

mike laughs, an arm wrapped around you as he walks you out. you find comfort in the fact that he doesn't really want to let go, pulling you in for another warm hug and smothering you with quick kisses. quiet laughter fills the air and mike holds onto your hand until you're too far to touch, not retreating inside the door frame until your car has turned the corner of his neighborhood and disappeared.

so, even though you haven't had a proper conversation with mike in more than a few days, you don't bring it up.

mike forgets to make dinner again. last time he'd been lucky, a few stray vegetables coming together to save his ass with soup; it looks intentional enough for abby despite her usual groaning.

this time, not so much.

you’re up extra early to help take abby to school. at least, that’s what you say you’re there for, though really your mission is to make sure mike leaves with his uniform on his back the correct way. everyone is running late as mike flips over a pancake to reveal a blackened outside with a still-raw inside.

“ohhhkay,” you say, taking the spatula from mike and gently pushing him towards the door. you turn off the stove and throw the failed breakfast attempt out, checking the fridge only to find it almost completely barren.

looks like mike hasn’t even had time for groceries. you shouldn’t feel bad that he hasn’t had time for you.

you feel mike’s frustration grow as he can’t find his keys, abby’s impatient pointing to the time adding to his stress.

“hey.” your voice is grounding as you pull mike in by his slightly-wrinkled white collar, undoing a button in the wrong hole and smoothening out his shirt. “did you check your pockets?”

mike did not.

his hand digs into yesterday’s jeans and his fingers closed around the cold metal of his keys. there’s a smile on your lips as you pull mike in for an intoxicating kiss (mike doesn’t even hear abby gag).

“thank you,” mike whispers, one hand gratefully on your elbow.

“don’t forget to eat something, please.”

mike nods, kissing your cheek once before bolting out the door. if he drives fast, he might still make it on time.

you turn to abby with a smile, grabbing her backpack and her tiny hand.

“how about we pick something up for breakfast?”

abby cheers, no longer aware of how much silent reading time she’d missed.

when you pick abby up there’s a frown on her face and you feel bad for dragging her to the grocery store. abby doesn’t complain because she hates upsetting you, a nervous desire to be a “good kid” in front of you still standing strong. though her eyes light up when you place a candy bar in with the rest of your items at the very end, knowing it was for her by the way you smiled.

“don’t tell your brother.”

abby shakes her head and holds your hand tighter, grinning. mike always said you spoiled her, but you felt like going on a little bit of a rebellious streak.

abby helps you put away groceries (as best she can with her thin arms and small stature) and you let her pick tonight’s menu. to no one’s surprise, she chooses spaghetti and meatballs. you’d anticipated this dish being a popular one, pulling out the ingredients immediately.

abby draws while you cook, though mike’s kitchen was different from yours and you’d somehow burnt the sauce. really, all you had to do was heat it up.

you supposed you’d gotten lost in your head (now you could understand where mike was most of the time). but then abby’s face scrunched and her voice cut through.

“is something burning?”

you bite back a curse (not in front of abby!) and taste the sauce to see if it was worth salvaging (it wasn’t). you tossed the few cents’ worth and tried to scrape off the black stuff it left behind. you gave up and pulled out a new pan, making one of the easiest meals known to man without fault this time.

abby’s in bed. not even a sugary high could compete with a full belly and warm coaxing from you (though you’re glad mike’s running late, missing how much longer it takes you to lure abby to sleep).

keys jingle on the other side of the front door and you know staying was the right decision when you sigh at the sound. your shoulders are hunched as you sit at the dinner table, plate of spaghetti only half-touched.

the front door creaks open and you don’t rise to greet mike with a kiss as you usually would. mike barely notices, busy sniffing the air and trying to identify the hint of something awful. he locks the door behind him, kicks off his shoes, remembers to hang his keys. the place looks tidier than he left it.

he’s quiet, wondering if abby left the kitchen light on when his socked feet lead him in front of you.

your chin rests in your hands as you look up at him, slowly. there’s a tired, forced smile on your face and mike suddenly remembers dinner.

he opens the fridge and is convinced he’s traveled back to a week and a half ago with the state it’s in. mike glances at the stove and identifies the main smell that had hit him upon arrival.

“you..?” mike can’t finish, pointing instead to the fridge and the pot of pasta.

you nod, your eyes never leaving him despite your head not really moving. you’re different tonight.

“you didn’t have to.” mike is tiptoeing the line between grateful and annoyed. he’s an adult and these are his responsibilities. but really, what would he had done without you?

“yeah,” you reply and mike is worried you’re going to break up with him. his heart quickens his pace and he’s suddenly nervous. “are you going to tell me what’s wrong now?”

“what?” that wasn’t what mike was expecting. “nothing’s wrong,” he shrugs, shields coming up immediately.

“really?” you’re hoping he’ll just spit it out so you don’t have to ask again. but you underestimate how stubborn mike is. “because this is the first actual conversation we’ve had in, like, a week.” it’s been longer than that, but your head is starting to spin.

“i’m just… tired.” mike shrugs again, turning towards the cabinets to pull out a bowl, immediately guilty as he gets ready to eat the food you had to make.

your expression is unrelenting as mike glances over, his eyes darting back to his plate to avoid yours.

mike is startled by how quietly you creep beside him, hands pulling the pot and the pincers closer.

“i’ve got it,” mike insists as you begin reaching for his bowl (because, even now, you still care). “i said, i’ve got it.”

ceramic smashes against tile. the both of you are forced to freeze now, the threat of stabbed feet keeping either of you from walking away.

“mike, if i’m too much for you right now, you have to communicate-”

maybe that’s it.

“you are being too much,” mike blurts out heatedly, his honesty evidently shocking you. “i’m not a kid. you don’t have to take care of me.”

you need a second to recover. to let mike’s words sink in.

“i don’t mind it, mike, i really don’t. if you need me to pick abby up, fine. watch her? i’ve got it. if you need me to take care of dinner, i’d be happy to. i’ll do it all without you even having to ask, because that’s how i love you.”

mike is twelve years old again, feeling himself shut down completely, watching as his mother pleads for him to speak to her. she gives up eventually.

“it doesn’t even feel like we’re in a relationship anymore, michael. and if you need a break, that’s fine, i just want you to talk to me.” the pressure in your chest is lifted with the relief of saying what you’ve been meaning to but is immediately restored (and heavier, if possible) by mike’s silence

it had only taken a few more years for michael’s home to be completely broken, shattered into tiny pieces like the ceramic bowl on the ground.

michael is difficult. he knows this.

it has been floating in his head for years but it is hammered in now: michael schmidt is hard to love.

mike is silent now, watching your lips move but not quite grasping any sound coming out of them; not quite there, lost somewhere else like he has been for weeks.

at last he has the sense to do something.

he walks carefully through the remnants of the bowl on the floor, finding the broom in a different place than he’d left it and returning to the kitchen.

you’re gone and mike’s head snaps to the sound of the doorknob.

“i’m not gonna wait around forever.” you say before you slip out into the dark of the night.

mike sees your headlights faintly through the curtain before they disappear down the street.

mike begins mindlessly sweeping up what’s left of the bowl, left alone with no one but himself to blame.

he has been abandoned, once again, but can he really call it abandonment when he pushed you away first?

requests for mike schmidt are open!

[rootedinrevisions]

Old Flames, New Wounds (Kinktober 2024: Day 4)

SUMMARY: Years after a bitter breakup, you find yourself face-to-face with Jake “Hangman” Seresin at The Hard Deck, reigniting all the anger and unresolved feelings you'd buried.

PROMPT: "I could help you feel better."

KINK: Hate Sex

WARNINGS: 18+ SMUT. (P in V sex)

WORD COUNT: 4.9k

TAG LIST: @omgbrianab I @shanimallina87 I @fanficmom94 I @smoothdogsgirl I @djs8891 @saucy-sassy-sparkly I  @alipap3 I @dudinhastuff I  @lunatygerqueen   I  @hookslove1592

If you would like to be added to any of my Tag Lists please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added!

The last thing you ever told Jake Seresin was that you hated him. And you meant it.

That smug, cocky pilot had taken what little spark your short-lived relationship had and snuffed it out with his dismissive attitude. He called you “too much,” oversharing, saying you revealed more about yourself than a “new girlfriend” should. The accusation still stung every time you thought about it, as if wanting to connect was a crime in his world. You, in turn, made it clear that he was nothing more than a flirt—a man who couldn’t resist checking out other women right in front of you, even on dates. You told him off, and before he could toss another patronizing smirk your way, you let him have it, “I hate you, and I hope I never have to see your stupid face again.”

And for years, you didn’t.

That is, until tonight.

You were settled at The Hard Deck, your favorite spot at the bar, engrossed in the latest thriller you’d picked up, occasionally chatting with Penny between chapters. It was a quiet evening. The salty sea air was soothing, and the bar’s familiar warmth offered a welcome break from the world outside. At least, it was peaceful, until you heard that voice.

That same, infuriating drawl you’d spent years trying to forget. Your stomach dropped as you turned in your barstool and saw him. Sure enough, there was Jake “Hangman” Seresin, laughing it up and playing darts with his buddies like he hadn’t left a trail of bitterness in his wake.

You turned back around, pulling your book closer, determined to avoid him. You had no interest in rekindling any form of conversation with him, let alone acknowledging his presence. But of course, you weren’t that lucky.

You could feel his eyes on you before you heard his footsteps. When Penny rang the bell after an older guy made a fool of himself, Jake approached the bar to order another round. His gaze zeroed in on you, like a predator stalking its prey.

“Well, well, well,” came that smooth, too-familiar voice. “If it isn’t the woman who swore she never wanted to see my face again.”

You clenched your jaw, your eyes narrowing as you met his smug grin. “And I meant it,” you muttered under your breath, trying to focus on your book.

Jake chuckled, clearly enjoying himself. “Still sticking with that story, huh? You sure you're not just a little happy to see me? Admit it—missed this face just a bit.”

You scoffed, setting your book down and looking at him, deadpan. “I’m serious, Seresin. Seeing your face again is like getting hit by a truck I didn’t see coming.”

Jake smirked, leaning against the bar with casual arrogance. “Aw, c’mon, sweetheart. That’s a bit harsh, don’t you think?”

Your blood boiled at the way he called you "sweetheart." He hadn’t earned the right to use nicknames, not after what had gone down between you two.

“What’s harsh,” you shot back, “is the fact that you’re still under the impression I care about anything you have to say.”

Jake raised an eyebrow, his grin widening. “That a challenge?”

Before you could snap back, Penny interrupted, sliding him his drinks and giving you a look that said Don’t let him get under your skin. You took a breath, trying to calm the fire building inside you. But Jake wasn’t done.

“Still got that attitude I see. No wonder things didn’t work out between us,” he teased, his voice just loud enough for some of the others to overhear.

Your patience snapped. “You’re right, Seresin. It didn’t work out because you couldn’t go five minutes without checking out some random woman while we were out. I guess commitment wasn’t your strong suit.”

The mood around the bar shifted as people started to pick up on the personal nature of your jabs. Rooster, sitting nearby, exchanged glances with Coyote, and even Penny gave Jake a warning look.

But Jake, being Jake, didn’t back down.

“Funny,” he mused, “I don’t remember you being the poster child for a great girlfriend either. A little too eager to unload all your baggage on date number two.”

That stung. Hard. The words hit you like a slap to the face, and for a moment, you were speechless. But the hurt quickly morphed into anger.

“At least I wasn’t a shallow, self-absorbed asshole who could barely hold a conversation unless it was about himself,” you shot back, your voice sharper now.

Jake's smirk faltered, and for a moment, something more than cocky amusement flickered in his eyes. But it was gone as quickly as it came, replaced by that infuriating grin once again.

Before things could escalate further, Phoenix stepped in, laying a hand on Jake’s shoulder.

“Cool it, Hangman,” she said, her tone firm. “We’re here to have a good time, not start a bar fight.”

You crossed your arms, glaring at Jake, who simply shrugged, looking like he was enjoying every second of getting under your skin. “No fight here. Just some honest conversation between two... old friends.”

“Yeah, old friends,” you muttered bitterly, grabbing your book again, though your mind was far from the words on the page. The tension lingered, thick in the air, as Jake gave you one last glance before heading back to his game of darts.

But you knew this wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.

You tried to focus on your book, but the words blurred on the page, your mind still spinning from the last encounter with Jake. How could he waltz back into your life like nothing had happened, that same irritating smirk plastered on his face? The memory of his smug tone and condescending remarks gnawed at you, making it impossible to concentrate.

You took a sip of your drink, trying to shake it off, but his voice and presence lingered in the back of your mind. It didn’t help that every so often you could hear his laugh—loud and obnoxious—coming from across the room as he played darts with his friends. You gritted your teeth and forced yourself to keep reading, anything to ignore him.

For a while, it worked. He left you alone, and you tried to convince yourself that he wasn’t worth the space in your head. The bar around you carried on as usual, people laughing, talking, music playing. But peace was short-lived.

About half an hour later, you heard him again, this time back at the bar. He was ordering another round for the guys, and you kept your head down, praying he wouldn’t notice you. You didn’t want to deal with him again, not after the way the last conversation went.

Just as you turned the page of your book, you heard a giggle next to you. A girl, clearly tipsy, leaned over the bar, swaying a little as she tried to catch her balance.

“Oh my god,” she slurred, her eyes wide as she whispered to her friend. “That guy... he’s been looking at me all night. He’s so cute.”

Curious, you glanced up and followed her gaze, and sure enough, it was Jake. He was standing at the end of the bar, waiting for his drinks, casually leaning against the counter as his eyes swept over the room—apparently landing on the girl next to you.

Your stomach twisted with irritation. Of course, Jake was back to his old tricks.

The girl’s friend giggled back, but you couldn’t help yourself. Before you could think it through, the words slipped out.

“Trust me,” you muttered under your breath, just loud enough for the girl to hear, “he’s not the kind of guy you want to go home with.”

The tipsy girl blinked at you in confusion, her smile faltering slightly. “What do you mean?”

You leaned in slightly, your voice low. “I mean, he’s a flirt. He’ll sweet talk you, charm you, but once you’re hooked, he loses interest. He’s not worth the trouble.”

Unfortunately, you underestimated how close Jake was. He clearly overheard you because the next thing you knew, he was standing right behind you, his voice dripping with faux innocence. “Oh really?” he drawled. “That what you think of me?”

You turned in your stool, and there he was—his green eyes glinting with amusement, that same cocky smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. Of course, he’d heard you.

“You’re eavesdropping now?” you shot back, refusing to let him intimidate you.

Jake raised an eyebrow, pretending to be hurt. “Just happened to catch a warning about myself. Thought I’d see if you still felt the same way after all this time.” He leaned closer, lowering his voice. “Still hate me, sweetheart?”

You crossed your arms, glaring up at him. “That hasn’t changed, Seresin.”

The girl next to you, sensing the tension, awkwardly shuffled away, leaving you and Jake alone at the bar. He took her place, casually leaning against the counter again, his smirk never wavering.

“Funny,” he mused, “I don’t remember doing anything that terrible to deserve all this hate.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “That’s because you’re too self-absorbed to notice.”

Jake tilted his head, a faux-thoughtful expression on his face. “Self-absorbed, huh? Are you sure you weren’t just a little too sensitive back then? Maybe reading into things that weren’t there?”

You could feel the heat rising in your chest, his words poking at an old wound. He was doing it again—dismissing your feelings like they didn’t matter. “Sensitive?” you repeated, your voice sharp. “No, Jake. I wasn’t being sensitive. You were a walking red flag. You couldn’t even keep your eyes on me during a date without checking out every other woman in the room.”

He chuckled, not taking you seriously. “Come on, you’re exaggerating. I was just being... friendly.”

“Friendly?” you shot back, incredulous. “You were flirting with other women while we were out together. Hell, you probably flirted with the waitress the night you broke up with me.”

Jake’s smirk wavered for a split second, but he quickly recovered. “Oh please,” he muttered, his voice low, “You’re acting like I was the worst thing that ever happened to you.”

“Well,” you said, your eyes narrowing, “you weren’t exactly the best.”

Jake’s playful grin faltered for real this time. Something in your words hit a nerve, and you could see the flicker of irritation in his eyes. He opened his mouth to say something, but before he could, Penny stepped in again, sliding a drink in front of him.

“That’s enough, both of you,” she said sternly, giving you both a look. “This is a bar, not a battlefield.”

Jake took the drink from her, his eyes never leaving yours as he stepped back. “We’re just having a conversation, Penny,” he said, his voice deceptively calm.

Penny wasn’t buying it. “Sure. But keep it civil, alright?”

Jake nodded, but there was still that glint in his eye. He downed his drink in one swift motion before setting the glass back on the bar. “Well, I’ll leave you to your... reading,” he said, his tone laced with sarcasm. “But don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll still be around if you decide you need a little reminder of what you’re missing.”

You clenched your fists, biting back the retort that was on the tip of your tongue as he sauntered away, that damn smirk back on his face. You hated how he could get under your skin so easily, how he made you feel like the years hadn’t changed a thing between the two of you.

The bar had thinned out as the night wore on. Most of the pilots had already left, and only a handful remained—unfortunately, Jake was one of them. You were doing your best to ignore him, nursing your drink and pretending he didn’t exist. As long as he stayed on his side of the bar and you stayed on yours, everything would be fine.

After a trip to the bathroom, you came out into the dimly lit hallway, wiping your hands on your jeans. That’s when you saw him—the guy who had been hovering around you all night. He’d tried talking to you earlier, hitting on you with a few drinks in hand, but each time you politely turned him down. You weren’t interested, and you’d made that clear.

But now, in the narrow hallway, there was no way to escape him.

You felt your chest tighten as he stepped closer, his eyes glinting with something darker than the casual flirting from earlier.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he said, his voice low and slurred, “you’ve been giving me the cold shoulder all night. You don’t have to play hard to get.”

He moved in, his breath heavy with alcohol, his hand reaching out to touch your arm. You recoiled, pressing your back against the wall, but there was nowhere to go. Panic surged through you as he pinned you there, his body looming over yours. You wanted to scream, to fight, but your body was frozen, your mind struggling to process what was happening.

His grip tightened on your arm, and you felt the walls closing in. You opened your mouth to shout, but no sound came out. Fear had swallowed your voice, leaving you powerless.

Just then, the men's bathroom door swung open with a creak, and you turned your head, desperately searching for help. Your heart skipped a beat when you saw him—Jake Seresin. Of all the people who could have walked out in that moment, it had to be him.

He caught your eyes instantly, and something in your expression must have set him off because his face shifted in an instant—from his usual cocky smirk to a look of deadly seriousness.

Without a second’s hesitation, Jake crossed the hallway, his eyes locked on the man pinning you against the wall.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Jake’s voice was ice-cold as he grabbed the guy by the shoulder and yanked him off you with surprising force.

The man stumbled, caught off guard by the sudden intrusion. “Hey, man, back off. This one's taken,” the guy slurred, trying to square up to Jake, but Jake wasn’t having any of it.

“She said no,” Jake growled, stepping between you and the drunk. “So I suggest you take the hint before this gets ugly.”

The guy laughed, clearly not understanding the danger he was in. “What, you her boyfriend or something?”

Jake didn’t miss a beat. He stepped forward, his chest puffed out, radiating that cocky, intimidating confidence you had always hated but were suddenly thankful for.

“Yeah, I am,” Jake said, his voice calm but lethal. “And I don’t take kindly to assholes like you thinking they can put their hands on her.”

You blinked in surprise, your heart still racing, but Jake’s presence was grounding, pulling you out of the fog of fear. He slid into the role of your protective boyfriend so seamlessly, like it was second nature. And for once, you weren’t going to argue with it.

The guy looked between you and Jake, finally realizing he was outmatched. Jake towered over him, his jaw clenched tight, and for a moment, you thought the guy might try something, but then he backed down. He mumbled something under his breath and turned to leave, but not before Jake grabbed him by the back of his shirt and shoved him toward the door.

“Get out,” Jake ordered, his voice low and dangerous. “Before I make sure you never step foot in this bar again.”

The guy stumbled out, muttering curses under his breath, and with a final glare at Jake, he disappeared into the night. You stood there, still pressed against the wall, your heart pounding in your chest.

Jake turned to you, his expression softening now that the threat was gone.

“You alright?” he asked, his voice gentler than you expected.

You nodded, though you were still trying to catch your breath. “I—I think so. I just… froze.”

Jake’s eyes softened, a hint of concern flashing through his usual bravado. “Hey,” he said, stepping closer, his tone low and reassuring. “That guy was a creep. None of this is on you.”

You managed a weak smile, grateful for the fact that he didn’t push for more details, didn’t make you feel small for freezing in that moment. Jake Seresin, of all people, had been the one to step in when you needed it most, and it was throwing you for a loop.

As if sensing the shift, Jake tilted his head, his smirk returning just slightly.

“So,” he said, a glint of playfulness back in his eyes, “still hate my guts, or am I back in your good graces for the night?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, despite everything. “You’re still an ass, Seresin,” you muttered, but there was no real heat behind the words.

He chuckled, leaning against the wall beside you. “Fair enough,” he said, looking a little too pleased with himself. “But for tonight, I’ll take being your ass over letting that guy get away with anything.”

You rolled your eyes, but there was a part of you—however small—that was thankful for him tonight.

As the night began to wind down at The Hard Deck, the bar had mostly emptied out, leaving just a few stragglers nursing their last drinks. You were still on edge from the earlier incident, even though you tried to push it to the back of your mind. You told yourself you were fine, but the knot of anxiety in your stomach said otherwise. Jake had gone back to his friends after the confrontation, but every now and then, you caught him glancing your way, keeping an eye on you.

You finished your drink and set the glass down with a quiet clink, deciding it was time to head out. As you stood from your stool, you felt Jake’s eyes on you again. He was still with the last few pilots who hadn’t called it a night yet, but you could tell he was paying more attention to you than to them. You waved Penny a quick goodbye, thanking her for the company, and made your way toward the exit.

Just as you reached the door, Jake caught up with you.

“You heading out?” he asked casually, but there was an edge of concern in his voice.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you replied, trying to brush it off. “Just gonna get home before it gets any later.”

Jake glanced around, then looked back at you, his expression unreadable. “Let me walk you to your car.”

You hesitated, feeling that familiar mix of annoyance and gratitude at his sudden protectiveness. “Jake, I’m fine. It’s not far—”

“I know,” he interrupted, his tone firm but not pushy. “But I don’t want to take any chances. You’re still a little shaken up, and I don’t trust that guy from earlier.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but something in his eyes stopped you. He wasn’t being smug or cocky—this was different. He was genuinely concerned. Reluctantly, you nodded, letting him follow you outside.

As soon as you stepped into the parking lot, you spotted him—the guy who had cornered you earlier. He was lingering near the far end of the lot, leaning against a beat-up car and lighting a cigarette. Your heart skipped a beat, and your body went tense as you instinctively took a step back.

Jake immediately noticed your reaction and followed your gaze, his expression darkening when he saw the guy. Without missing a beat, he stepped in front of you, shielding you from the man’s view.

“Yeah, that’s not happening,” Jake muttered under his breath. He turned to you, his jaw set. “You’re not driving home tonight. I’m taking you back to my place, and we’ll come get your car in the morning.”

You blinked, surprised by his sudden decisiveness. “Jake, that’s not necessary, I—”

“It is necessary,” he interrupted, his voice leaving no room for argument. “I’m not letting you drive home with that asshole lurking around. What if he follows you?”

Your heart raced at the thought, and despite your instinct to argue, you knew he was right. The guy hadn’t exactly backed down earlier, and who knew what he was capable of, especially after a few more drinks. You sighed, your frustration ebbing as you realized Jake was just trying to keep you safe.

“Fine,” you muttered, crossing your arms. “But only because I don’t want to deal with him.”

Jake smirked, though the usual cockiness was tempered with something softer, more serious. “Good. Let’s go.”

He led you to his truck, unlocking the door and waiting for you to climb in before he got behind the wheel. As he drove, the hum of the engine and the quiet of the night settled between you. For once, Jake wasn’t talking or cracking jokes. He kept his focus on the road, glancing over at you occasionally, making sure you were okay.

The ride to his place was quicker than you expected. When you pulled up outside his apartment, Jake turned off the engine and gave you a soft look.

“I’ll grab you something to wear,” he said, opening his door.

You followed him inside, feeling a little out of place. His apartment was surprisingly neat for someone you used to consider a mess of a person. Jake disappeared into his bedroom for a moment, then returned with a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt.

“Here,” he said, handing them to you. “Bathroom’s down the hall. Make yourself comfortable.”

You took the clothes and nodded, retreating to the bathroom to change. Once you were in his clothes, you felt a little more at ease, the comfort of the soft fabric and the faint scent of his cologne oddly soothing. When you returned to the living room, Jake was already setting up the couch for himself.

“You can take my bed,” he offered, tossing a pillow onto the couch. “I’ll crash out here.”

You shook your head, feeling a twinge of guilt. “No, Jake, you don’t have to—”

“Not gonna argue,” he said with a grin. “Bed’s yours for the night.”

But before you could protest further, a strange feeling settled over you—one of safety, of knowing Jake wasn’t going to let anything happen to you tonight. And despite everything, despite how much history lay between the two of you, you found yourself unwilling to sleep without him next to you.

“Jake,” you said softly, your voice almost catching in your throat, “can you just… stay with me?”

He paused, clearly surprised by your request, but the seriousness of your tone seemed to strike a chord with him. He nodded slowly, tossing the pillow back onto the bed.

“Alright,” he said quietly. “I’ll stay.”

You both settled into his bed, the tension from earlier fading into something softer. As you lay beside him, the weight of the night began to lift, and for the first time, you felt like maybe—just maybe—you could trust him to look out for you.

As you and Jake lay side by side in the dark, the tension that had built up throughout the night refused to dissipate completely. The silence between you felt heavy, and though you’d initially felt a strange comfort in his presence, the weight of old wounds still lingered beneath the surface.

Jake shifted beside you, his usual cocky demeanor slipping back into place as if he couldn’t help himself.

“You know,” he said, his voice breaking the quiet, “you’ve really got to loosen up.”

You blinked, staring up at the ceiling, not quite believing he was starting this now. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“I mean, come on,” Jake replied, his voice laced with sarcasm. “You’re always so wound up. It’s like you can’t let go for even a second. What’s the matter? Been a while since anyone helped you relax?”

You clenched your fists beneath the covers, anger flaring inside you. “Excuse me?”

Jake shrugged, seemingly oblivious to how close you were to snapping. “I’m just saying, when’s the last time you got laid?”

You turned your head to face him, your eyes narrowing in the darkness. “That’s none of your business, Jake,” you said, your voice low but biting.

He raised an eyebrow, not backing down. “Oh, come on, it was a joke.”

But it didn’t feel like a joke. The frustration of the past two years, the unresolved anger and tension between the two of you—it all bubbled to the surface. 

Before you could stop yourself, the words slipped out, quieter than you’d intended, but they carried the weight of a confession you hadn’t wanted to make. “The last time I was with someone was you.”

Jake went still beside you, the cocky smirk falling from his face. For a moment, he said nothing, clearly not expecting that. The air between you grew thick with the sudden shift in mood, the flippant nature of the conversation disappearing.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he finally muttered, his voice low and disbelieving.

You shook your head, looking away from him. “Why would I joke about that?”

Jake chuckled and said more to himself than you, “That explains so much. I could help you feel better, you know?”

The silence that followed was almost unbearable, the tension in the room intensifying. Jake shifted again, this time turning toward you, his eyes searching your face in the dim light.

“I’m sorry. That was uncalled for. I didn’t—” he started, but whatever he was about to say was lost as his gaze locked onto yours, something unspoken passing between you. 

The anger, the resentment, the desire—it all came to a head, and before you knew what was happening, you were reaching for him, your lips crashing into his.

The kiss was messy, heated, full of everything you’d both been holding back for far too long. It was like all the pent-up frustration and unresolved feelings had been waiting for this moment, and now that the dam had broken, there was no stopping it.

Jake groaned against your lips, his hands gripping your waist as he pulled you closer, his touch rough and demanding. You matched his intensity, your fingers tangling in his hair as you kissed him harder, your body reacting to the fire igniting between you.

The years of distance, the bitterness, it all melted away as your bodies pressed together, the heat of his skin searing against yours. His lips moved from yours to your neck, biting and kissing with an urgency that sent shivers down your spine. You gasped, arching into him, your fingers digging into his back as if trying to ground yourself in the whirlwind of emotions that had taken over.

“You’re so goddamn frustrating,” you whispered against his ear, your breath hot against his skin.

“Trust me, the feeling’s mutual,” Jake growled, his hands slipping under your shirt, his touch leaving a trail of heat in its wake. His lips found yours again, and this time, the kiss was even more intense, a clash of lips and teeth that left you both breathless.

Whatever restraint had been holding you back was gone now, replaced by raw, undeniable need. You tugged at his shirt, pulling it over his head before he did the same to you, his hands roaming over your body with a possessiveness that left you wanting more.

The tension that had been simmering for years exploded into something hot and primal, your bodies moving together with a desperation that neither of you could control. The sheets twisted around you as you shifted, Jake’s weight pressing down on you as he kissed you harder, deeper, his hands exploring every inch of your skin.

It wasn’t soft or sweet—this was pure, unfiltered passion, all the emotions you’d buried over the years coming to the surface in a heated, almost angry release. You couldn’t get enough of him, couldn’t get close enough, your mind clouded by the intensity of the moment.

When he finally pushed into you, it was like the culmination of everything you’d both been holding back. You gasped, your fingers digging into his shoulders as he set a relentless pace, his lips finding yours again in a bruising kiss that left you breathless.

The room was filled with the sound of your heavy breathing, the slap of skin against skin, and the occasional growl of his name as you both lost yourselves in the moment. It was fast, rough, and full of the tension you’d both carried for so long. Every thrust, every kiss, felt like years of frustration finally being unleashed.

You didn’t know how long it lasted, but by the time you both collapsed onto the bed, spent and breathing heavily, the tension in the room had shifted. The anger and frustration were still there, but now they were tangled up in something else—something raw, unresolved, and far more complicated than you’d expected.

Jake lay beside you, his chest rising and falling as he caught his breath. You stared up at the ceiling, your mind racing, wondering what the hell you’d just done.

“Well,” Jake finally muttered, his voice rough and still a little breathless, “guess we got that out of our systems.”

[dawndelion-winery]

For Worse or For Better

Arranged Marriages

Ft. Diluc, Itto, Childe, Kaeya, Zhongli

Diluc:

Your parents were wonderfully close to Crepus, so you knew Diluc from young

He'd always been well-mannered and lovely

That much didn't change even after his trauma

It did hurt when he started shutting you out though

And yes, you did try to call off the engagement that had been set up before Crepus died because you felt he wanted to distance himself from you

You'd only kept it to honour the man's wishes and because Diluc seemed adamant about you

Like, he actually said he would not have anyone else

Not that he pressured you into it though

More of letting you know you didn't have to end it because he most definitely did want you

"Make no mistake, you will be the only person I recite my vows to at the altar. If you long for another, then so be it, but if you want me, then it shall be so."

Itto:

How did this happen?

No, like, fr, how??? Itto doesn't seem like the type to have any thoughts for social climbing and you...well what do you gain from marrying Itto?

Apparently your mother had heard Kujou Sara speak highly of Kuki Shinobu, and since Shinobu worked for Itto, surely he must be a man of even greater talent and character

Now you were having dinner with an extremely boisterous man who ate for three

By the shogun you hoped the bill wouldn't amount to too much

When he suggested a dine and dash? Boy, you were about to just walk right into a cell yourself

It was truly some grace of God that Shinobu came by with Sara and covered your tab (only for you, they made sure to tell Itto off for putting you in such a situation)

"Real sorry about that, honey," the oni said sheepishly. You wanted to hmgive him a piece of your mind, really, when you were certain you'd never hear the end of it at home of you'd gotten a criminal record, but when he slipped his hand in yours, a sheepish grin as he looked at you hopefully, as though pleasing for forgiveness, you found it rather difficult to stay mad.

Childe:

People would kill to be you

The dashing young harbinger?? Who's great with kids??? And very much a family man????

There was only one issue: he hadn't met you yet

His family had written to him about you, eagerly telling him how they were sure they'd found him the perfect match

And he wasn't about to shoot them down when they were so hopeful he'd finally have someone when he was travelling and doing the Fatui's dirty work all the time

So when they'd warmly welcomed you into their home for a simple dinner, you hadn't expected to walk in and see a feast prepared with an empty seat beside yours

You waited for a bit with everyone, wondering who the extra seat was for

And when Childe walked in with a sack full of gifts for all his family members, you sat there awkwardly

Was it an endearing sight? Definitely. But you felt out of place as he pulled out one item after another for everyone

You were certain you wouldn't receive anything, hence the surprise when he sat beside you and handed you a small box

"A little engagement gift for you," he winked. Your mouth hung open, thoughts racing through your mind full of things you wanted to say but weren't sure how - especially not in front of such a crowd, all of whom aww'ed at his gesture. It was after dinner when you'd gotten him alone in the kitchen washing the dishes that you addressed it.

"Engaged? We've only just met Tartaglia."

He tsked at you, playfully leaning in as though he was going to kiss your cheek. When you froze, he grinned by your ear.

"My whole family likes you well enough, and from everything they've told me, I like you well enough too. But if you insist, ice a week before I have to head off. I'm sure I could sweep you off your feet by then, unless you'd like to come with."

Kaeya:

Oh you thought you got lucky when your childhood betrothed grew up to be the charming cavalry captain

Until you realised that charm would never be extended to you because he was just a goofball with you

It was cute though, him picking flower petals with you to determine how your relationship will go

He had a habit of leaving the plucked flower and its final petal with the result on your pillow

(it was always "forever in love" because if it wasn't, he'd just pluck another flower)

You sighed with a laugh at the familiar sight of the plucked flower when you felt arms around your waist as Kaeya embraced you from behind.

You wondered bitterly if there was something wrong between the two of you; you never had that flutter of butterflies in your gut when he was around. Not once did he make your heart leap out of your chest, or cause your lungs to constrict in a way you were sure would suffocate you. Was it a mistake? Yet it didn't feel wrong. There was a frost to his touch that cooled you, calmed you, and almost (most ironically) warmed you.

Zhongli:

Under no circumstances would you ever meet someone who quite commanded the respect and attention of those around him like Rex Lapis did

So when the hooded figure stood before the citizens who so worshiped him, some overly devoted follower enthusiastically proposed a raffle to offer the god a spouse to serve and dote upon him on behalf of the nation

Before he'd even had the chance to decline the offer, the crowd erupted in cheers of agreement, and the flustered god was ushered into a seat as eligible spouses presented themselves before him

You truly had not anticipated the glint that flashed across his eyes as he ever so slightly raised his hood to make eye contact with you

It had been less than a second, and yet all too long as your lungs failed you, the startling amber glow leaving you winded

"I quite like you," he drawled in a low, rumbling hum as he rose from his seat. You looked around, ascertaining that no one else had seen his face, but he didn't seem to like that, as he tilted your chin to have you look at him. Once again, you were faced with the startling gleam of his eyes, so reptilian and sharp. You screwed your eyes shut as he leaned in, the sunlight reflected off his canines. His lips were warm, surprisingly, as they pressed against your forehead.

Taglist: @myluvkeiji @aqui-soba @favonius-captain @tiredsleep @raincxtter @gensimping-for-all @irethepotato @almond-adeptus @mx-kamisato @chaosinanutshell @heizours @haliyamori @callmemeelah @sadlonelybagel @plinkuro @thevictoriousmoon @mastering-procrastinating @cxlrose @astrequa @eowinthetraveler @ajaxstar @boundedbyfate @the-lost-anime-dad @moonbyunniee @greyrain23 @heavenlyfloof

[hopelessdazai]

Hiii! I love your writing, please ignore this if your requests are closed I’m on mobile and sometimes it’s weird with showing symbols and stuff TT could I request fem reader head-canons with dazai,Chuuya and atsushi, basically they haven’t seen eachother in a long time (mission or whatever) and they’re being intimate again but the boys are like way more sensitive since it’s been ages please. Sorry if this doesn’t make sense or some things are wrong English isn’t my first language.

of course anon! I'll do my best . this might be a big one !! I didn't write any scenario sections because the post was already so so long, maybe another day !!

"Missing you" nsfw headcanons

contents ; nsfw, dazai x reader, atsushi x reader, chuuya x reader, reader is fembodied, switch!reader, biting, crying from pleasure, needy needy boys, breeding kink if you squint, biting, oral ( both recieving )

Dazai Osamu -

god he is so touchy with you the exact second you're home. immediately his hands are on you and making you shudder the moment you're through the door. he was so patient waiting, he needs you now so so bad :((

he'd tried to pleasure himself while you were gone but it just didn't do the job like he would've hoped. it was so difficult without you and for sure everyone was hearing about it. (u can slap him it's okay)

he's praising you more then normal, before you went away he'd told himself that he'd do just fine without you but it's really made him realise how much he treasures and needs you. he just loves being close to you!!

you'll hear this multiple times on the list but god he's so loud. as soon as he's inside you he's making sounds you'd barely even heard from him before, whimpers and whines like an animal in heat.

there's definately multiple rounds. good luck trying to get back to work tomorrow, if you're 'lucky' enough he'll coax you into another one in the morning.

he misses so much about you :((. the sounds you make, the way your walls are so warm and inviting, your taste, how soft your skin is. everything like that!! he just loves you so much.

he probably won't be letting you go on another mission for a while. he couldn't handle all that time apart again!!

he cums pretty quickly the first round. he almost forgot how good you feel, so when he's bottomed out inside of you it's almost like reality sets back in.

tears up a little too. he's very very sensitive!! the time away from you was so stressful and having you so close again and like this is too much for him.

Chuuya Nakahara -

he doesn't wanna pressure you back into it and be begging as soon as you get back like dazai does. he gives you time to relax again and cooks dinner before anything. he wants it, so bad, but he's scared to overstep immediately.

he's so lovesick, as soon as you give him the allowance to his hands are on you and his fingers are in you. he wants you to feel good, and hopefully if you feel good enough, you won't leave him again!!

say goodbye to the usual loving pace, you feel so good around him that he can barely control himself. sure, it's passionate, but he's rougher with you then he normally is. he's pent up!!

switching positions so often, he wants to make up for the time lost. one moment you're sat over his face and the next you're face down ass up as he hits deep inside of you.

again as I said, he's louder then usual. he tears up a lot quicker then dazai does, because it just feels so so good to be back inside you again.

he holds you so tight, in this time his favourite sort of positions are generally ones where you can be as close to each other as possible. he for sure would love to half hug you while he fucks you.

your markings he left previous probably wore off in this time, so he's remaking you during the session. he doesn't want to let you free from the constant reminder you're his!!

he doesn't go as many rounds as he usually would, he orgasms a lot quicker due to the time away so he's just trying his best to pleasure you enough to then hold you all night long. fully satisfied and stuffed with his cum :)

so many kisses. be it sloppy or tender, throughout the entire act his lips are on yours. he misses the taste of your tongue, and eating you out can only go so far.

Atsushi Nakajima -

you thought the other boys were loud? rethink after you've heard atsushis volume. he's whining like a wet animal and you better just pray your neighbors aren't hearing it.

if you've ever wanted to peg him this is your chance. he's missed you so badly he'll literally let you do anything with any kink as long as you give him a night.

hes so loving with you !! if you ignore his nails digging into you as he clutches onto you for dear life, he's so soft and tender as he readjusts to the feeling of being in you again.

hes a biter. like very much. much like chuuya, the usual small markings he left are probably faded by now, but he's missed the taste of your skin so much that he can't sinking his teeth into you when near orgasm.

he doesn't cry like the others unless you peg him, and if you do so you'll barely even manage to get a sentence out of him. he is just so sensitive :((

he'll take you anywhere in this time. be it up against a wall, on the couch, over the kitchen countertop or in the usual side of the bed you always do. as long as its with you, he doesn't care !!

he wants to taste you again for sure. you'll have at least a couple rounds where he makes you cum on his tongue, he's so eager with it too.

it's all giving the day you're back. usually he's shyly asking for a blowjob at the end of it, but today it's all you!! ( no denying if you offer though. )

he didn't try to pleasure himself the entire time you were gone. poor baby, it never felt as good as you did, so he decided to keep himself until the day you returned.

I hope you enjoyed!! thank you for all the likes on previous posts. - zai

[ohbo-ohno]

Revisiting a distant memory but its ex lovers with Price. Maybe some yearning? And incorporating "for the old times sake"? Thanks and happy writing!

1k game here - no more please!

GOD this one is hard!! i lovelovelovelove second chance romances (it's my favorite romance trope lol) but i really have absolutely no idea if i'm any good at writing them :')

2k of price x reader ft. reader mourning her marriage at a friend's wedding and price trying to be a good future ex-ex-husband. (btw this is laswell's wedding so we're all pretending that she says "girlfriend" instead of "wife" in game to make this work) no smut!

It's difficult not to drown your glass of wine in one long swallow, the déjà vu an almost overwhelming feeling.

You know it's not fair to Kate, but God did she have to have her wedding in the same venue as yours? Everywhere you look you're reminded of the best day of your life, and the subsequent worst months.

You take a deep breath, and try to shove all thoughts of the past out of your head.

It isn't easy these days. Even though you were the one to ask for the divorce, you've never stopped loving - stopped wanting - John. You feel the loss of him everyday, just like you had the endless weeks and months he spent deployed.

It wasn't the time away that did you in - it was the secrecy of it all. You maintain that you could've made the relationship work had you at least known where he was, or even been afforded texting rights. But it's hard to pretend you're living a normal life when you haven't heard from your husband in six weeks and you have no idea whether he's even alive.

The day Kyle came to the door instead of John, you knew you couldn't stay married to him.

He was lucky - John had been injured and sent Kyle to bring you to the hospital since he was already back on base, but you'd seen the man and broken down into sobs before he'd even managed to get a word out. The poor soldier had tried his best to tell you that your husband was alive and would be fine, but you were inconsolable.

Once you'd realized what was going on you realized the truth of your situation. John's death would break you, and you'd never recover from it.

That moment where you'd thought he was gone... it was like a part of you had died, like grief had swallowed you whole and refused to let go.

You were scared when Gaz finally explained to you what was really going on. And all at once, all the pieces of your life started to click together.

When you served John with divorce papers you told him that you couldn't handle so much time apart anymore, that you wanted more stability in your life than he could give you. But the truth is you were scared, and a growing part of you thought that maybe if you distanced yourself before he got himself killed, the inevitable grief would be easier to swallow.

You think he saw through your bravado and straight to your fear. You've never known John Price to be anything but a fighter, but he hardly hesitated when you gave him the papers with shaking hands. He raised an eyebrow, said are you sure this what you want, love? and hugged you after he signed.

You'd cried more than he had, had sobbed into his chest and clung to him to hold you together. Looking back you're embarrassed of your reaction, but at the time it truly felt like you were cutting off half of your soul.

It still feels like that most days. Sometimes you lie awake at night, haunted by the idea that you've only caused yourself more grief, that you're going to feel hurt and terrible until something or someone kills John, and then you'll have to experience that grief you fear anyways.

But you've made your bed, and now you're laying in it, cold and lonely and missing your husband.

You take a deep breath and a small sip of your wine, try to center yourself. It's difficult not to dwell on your own mistakes - perceived or real - but you're determined not to cry at Kate's wedding. You are not going to be that divorced woman. You simply refuse.

Still, it's a close call. You close your eyes and drain the glass before your fingers stop shaking, and you hate that you've got nothing to do with your hands, nothing to distract yourself with. The deep breaths don't help, and the idea of getting a bit wine-drunk looks more and more appealing.

When you open your eyes again, John stands in front of you, holding a fresh glass out in offering.

He looks good, but you already knew that. It was difficult to look anywhere but him during the service, and he caught you enough times for it to become almost humiliating. You've been telling yourself all night that you could pass the flush in your cheeks off as the heat of an outdoor ceremony, but you know he noticed.

Still, he doesn't look smug about your obvious discomfort. Silver lingings, and all.

You take the offered glass after just a moment, deciding that it might be better to bite the bullet and invite John back into your space rather than keep trying to avoid him all night. It's not like your divorce is a secret - every person in this room saw you two attend countless events together, the tension between you two is probably painfully obvious.

John steps to your side as you take a small sip, heart skipping a beat at the taste of your favorite wine.

"Where did you get this?" It's not what they're serving, or you'd probably already be well on your way to wine drunk.

He smiles softly at you, dimples covered by his beard. "I can't give away all my tricks. Then what would you keep me around for?"

You laugh a little sadly at that, and his smile grows.

Honestly, you've missed John enough that you don't even really mind if he keeps your wine hostage for the rest of the night. You're willing to keep up the facade if he is.

You take another sip and stand a bit straighter, try to prepare yourself for another conversation with your ex-husband. None of them have been easy, but it gets less and less painful to see him every time. You know he goes out of his way to make this easier on you, never once showing any hint of animosity. Besides the lack of PDA, he's hardly changed his behavior from when you were actually married.

"Are you enjoying yourself?"

He shoots you a look, one that says he remembers exactly how much you always hated small talk, but he indulges you. "It's a beautiful ceremony."

"It is."

He cocks an eyebrow. "But...?"

You sigh, gesturing with your glass as the wine loosens your tongue just enough for you to be a little too honest with your ex-husband. "It's all a little too familiar, isn't it? I mean, I haven't been back here since our... well, you know."

He snorts. "Yes, I do remember our wedding day."

You flush, elbowing him playfully. "Don't tease."

His smile is familiar, everything you've missed from him, when he looks down at you. "Can't help it, love." He lifts a hand, one big palm cupping your cheek and running a thumb over the apple of it. "You're just too pretty when you blush."

You can't help but close your eyes, leaning into his rough palm a bit. God, you miss him so much. Having him here, feeling his touch, and knowing that you'll go home tonight to an empty bed...

It's almost too much. The tears come entirely against your will.

"Oh, sweetheart," he coos, other hand cupping your cheek and thumbing away your tears. You blink up at him, free hand wrapping loosely around his wrist.

His eyes bore deeply into yours, and you see everything you feel reflected there. The memories, the pain, the yearning, the love that just refuses to dissipate.

"John," you whisper, voice shaky.

His head dips forward just enough to rest your foreheads together, breaths mingling. Despite the music still playing and the sound of conversations all around you, you can't help but feel like the world begins and ends with the man in front of you.

That's always what John has been for you - everything. Even now, months after your separation, you haven't figured out how to live in a world that isn't defined by John Price. You're not sure you really want to.

"Oh, love," he sighs, grip just firm enough to make you feel held. "When are you coming home?"

You bite your lip to hold back a sob, face crumpling. John coos a little, pressing forward just enough to kiss the tip of your nose and using his thumb to coax your lip from between your teeth.

"It's alright," he soothes, rubbing soft circles into the indention your teeth left in your lipstick. "We don't have to talk about it now, alright? You can take all the time you need. I'm a patient man."

You nod a little, taking in another deep breath. His patience was always something you'd admired, considering your own patience is horribly short. You can't stand to wait, and despite the many times he'd try to help you see the beauty in delay (both in and out of the bedroom), you'd only become frustrated.

Like now. Here John stands, poised and put together and nowhere near tears, and you're the exact opposite. It would be embarrassing if it wasn't one of the main reasons you fell for him in the first place - he's always balanced you out where you need it most.

You take another gulp of your wine, the glass half gone already. John chuckles a little as he stands up, hands shifting to rest on your upper arms and giving you a comforting squeeze. "Might have to get you another glass sooner than I expected."

You consider him for a moment, thoughts slow but a bit erratic, and then drain the rest of the glass in one go.

His eyes widen a bit as you nearly slam the glass onto a table, looking up at him with determination.

"No more wine - for now - but how about a dance?"

You wouldn't be asking if you hadn't had three glasses of wine already. But you have, and you're just inebriated enough to say screw it. As long as you don't wake up next to John tomorrow, nothing you do at the reception can really hurt your progress in getting over him too much.

But God when he smiles at you like that, soft and loving and just sweet, you want to forget completely about the divorce and go back to the life you'd had.

Stress and fear and separation pains regardless, you want John Price with every bone in your body. But you can't help that your mind convinces you otherwise, whispers all the reasons being with him can only lead to pain.

He shakes you out of your musings by offering a hand, stepping away just enough to make you reach for him.

"For old time's sake?" He asks when you take his hand, letting him pull you onto the dance floor with the other couples happily dancing together.

You nearly giggle at the poor excuse, knowing you can both see right through it. Still, you agree with him.

"For old time's sake."

You both know it's a lie, know that there's something more to a slow dance at a wedding, but you're not ready to say it yet. For now you'll hide behind the mask of nostalgia for better days.

Someday you'll be able to move forward. But that's a mission for post-wedding you to figure out, a plan for future-you to construct. Wedding-you, almost-wine-drunk-you is more than happy to let your ex-husband tug you close and trail his hands almost inappropriately low on your waist.

You tell yourself that you can worry about John's words, about his tone and his touchiness, in the morning.

For now, you bask in the presence of the love of your life, and try not to think about how much it will hurt when you leave him all over again at the end of the night.

[yumiis]

sorry. gonna be self indulgent.

｡ﾟﾟ･｡･ﾟﾟ｡ ﾟ。 even when you hurt ; blake

　 ﾟ･｡･ﾟ

genre; hurt/comfort

type; imagine

a/n; please don't worry about me, i'm not doing too well, so i'm writing something to get my feelings out. i hope this can comfort some of you as well. tws, mentions of self harming (nothing happens), implied suicidal thoughts, bad mental state, crying, anxiety

read below

You'd been suffering in silence for too long. Way too long. Sure, you throw on a smile for everyone; act all happy go lucky for your friends, and even your boyfriend. Even Blake didn't know how bad you were feeling. How close you were to relapse. How close you were to never getting better.

Yes, you slept in the same bed with Blake. Yes, you cried in that same bed. No, he never noticed. Yes, you cry only when you know he's asleep. You'd never want to worry him or cause him any distress, he doesn't deserve that. He doesn't deserve a partner who's miserable all the time, who never wants to get out of bed or do anything fun.

It was four am. Blake was asleep. You headed for the bathroom, you knew he kept razors in here somewhere. We both know where this is going. You reached for the cabinet where he kept them, tearing the packaging and breaking the razor until you could get the blade.

Blake heard all the commotion. He stirred awake, quickly noticing the bathroom light was on. He shrugged it off as you just having woken up and needing the bathroom.

You stared at the razor in your shaky palm. Why were you doing this? Did you need to do this? You weren't thirteen anymore. You aren't in middle school. There have to be better outlets. You grabbed the razor, and softly pressed it against your skin. You didn't dare move it. You took a breath.

...

You started crying. Loudly, at that. Blake poked his head up, now alert from your sobbing. "Y/n? Baby?" He threw the blanket off of himself, sitting up off the bed and speed walking toward the bathroom. The sight he saw was something he didn't really want to see.

"Y/n?..." You jumped, nearly letting the blade cut into your skin, but luckily, Blake pulled your arm away in time. "What are you doing?!" He knew better than to yell at you, but at the moment, he didn't know what else to do. "I'm sorry," You spoke. Your voice was soft. You were defeated. Defeated, broken, shattered. You didn't know what else to do. This was your last choice.

"I'm so sorry," You continued, not knowing what else to say. "I don't.." Blake sat down next to you, the blade now long discarded of. "You don't need to talk." He spoke softer, but his voice was still a bit stern. He waited a minute or two, "Did you do anything?"

You shook your head in denial, because you didn't. You were too much of a scaredy cat to even commit to that. "No." He nodded. "Okay. I'm trusting you," He paused, wrapping his arm around your waist. "You know I love you, regardless of what you're going through." You shivered at his words.

"I'm so anxious.. All the time." You spoke, trying to get your words out past the frog in your throat. "I feel like giving up on life every day. It doesn't feel worth it." You stopped yourself there before you started crying again.

He pulled you tighter to his side, "You're so worth it. You're worth every minute; every single second you're breathing. If you stop breathing, then I'm not worth it." You shuttered, starting to cry again. "You're so worth it, Blake," He stopped you there. "Exactly, that's how I feel about you. You're so worth it, baby. Please don't think you're some piece of trash to just throw away."

[argisthebulwark]

You've walked through fire, let me tend your scars.

summary: Time passes and healing occurs but for some of us, trauma still sneaks up. Snippets about some of my favorite Skyrim men reacting to their significant other experiencing triggers due to an abusive prior relationship. gn reader, no pronouns or y/n used. featuring: Farkas, Brynjolf, Vilkas, Miraak, Erandur warnings: explicit depictions of triggers, PTSD, and direct allusions to past abuse. These are all based on my personal experiences as an abuse survivor, please do not read if you feel this could be triggering or upsetting to you in any way. original request from this ask!

Farkas was shocked by your reaction - you'd flinched. His hand froze in midair, laughter dying as he worked through the last few moments. He'd intended to pat you on the shoulder, a friendly gesture after you'd shared a laugh over his story. He noticed the way you curled away from him and refused to meet his gaze, the nervous flush in your cheeks. He'd never seen you have an issue being touched before - it was the gesture, he realized. You'd flinched from Farkas raising his hand. He retracted, stomach roiling at the thought. To see you cower away from him made Farkas sick with worry. He didn't say a word as he exited Jorrvaskr, relieved to feel you at his side. He stared up at the stars while you explained your past, each story confirming his worst fears. He fought down the reactive instinct to hunt down whoever had harmed you. He waited, allowing you to reach out for him before daring to touch you again. Farkas would quickly learn to maneuver around anything that triggered you without bringing it up. He would always remember how painful it was to discuss that first time, intending to never put you through such a conversation again. He wanted to be a beacon of love for you, the one you sought out for comfort. He'd go to the ends of the earth to ensure you never feared him. "I'll be more careful." He'd vow, forehead pressed to yours. "I will never make you feel like that again."

Brynjolf knew he got a bit rowdy after a few drinks but it was a night of revelry! You'd made it back alive and he never intended to lose you again. Ale flowed and platters of food disappeared as the group of thieves spent their evening in the Flagon laughing and swapping tales. When their glasses raised and shouted a cheers in your name he expected you to laugh or brush them off, your deadly silence was out of character. Your body was rigid, blood draining from your face. He felt you shrink away from him, eyes staring far off in the distance. You looked ready to disappear. Brynjolf leaned closer, all mirth gone at the unsettling expression on your face. "What's wrong, love?" He murmured, stunned by the unfocused look in your eye. "Nothin'." You lied to him, gulping. "Just, I cant - the noise -" Brynjolf's heart broke at the exhaustion in your tone, the sheer fear he heard. You'd shared bits and pieces of what your last relationship but noise was new, he'd never encountered this reaction before. Through the haze of drink he knew his only mission was to get you somewhere you felt safe. "We're headin' home for the night, lads. If I have another drink I'm liable to keel over." Brynjolf wrapped a protective arm over your shoulders, paying extra mind to his volume. "Enjoy the victory on our behalf." His words left no room for argument, offering a much needed escape. In the quiet of your home he waited, seated on the floor to give you space. Brynjolf allowed your shaky fingers to mindlessly braid his hair while your mind unwound, flipping through some ledger as he waited. Brynjolf would become vigilant, regular check-ins with you becoming part of his schedule. He considered himself lucky that thieves were a quiet bunch but would never fully let his guard down. He had an escape plan for every room you entered, excuses prepared in case you needed a quick out. "You're always safe with me, love. I'll make 'em all whisper if that's what you need."

Vilkas had never regretted anything more than that one moment. Your eyes pinned him in place, a hateful glare he'd never received before burning at his skin. "Don't fucking touch me." You snarled, wrenching your hand out of his. He couldn't believe how cold your fingers were. "My love -" That glare crumbled at his voice and he watched you dissolve, swallowing the terror that threatened to choke him. "I can't Vilkas. I - I, oh gods." You gasped, tears streaming down your flushed face. "I'm so sorry." "Don't apologize." He didn't move, watching you shrink away from him like a wounded animal. You mumbled apologies into the hands clasped to your face, watery eyes never straying from him. Vilkas wanted to reach out but knew better, hands wringing uselessly at his sides. "You have nothing to apologize for." He couldn't stand the sight of you so obviously in pain but remained still. Fear left his heart racing in his chest, terrified of hurting you again. He asked for no explanation, waiting patiently as he observed the ways you soothed yourself. It felt wrong to sit there but he knew what your reaction meant, the words you'd danced around saying for so long. Your jittery fingers were petting the wrist he'd grabbed as if trying to brush off the sensation of being touched. Vilkas forced himself to watch, to memorize every little reaction so he could help in the future. He would never make that mistake again. He would catalogue anything that hinted at your discomfort, threatening violence upon any that dared to put their hands on you. "I will tear them to shreds. With your permission, of course my Harbinger. Just say the word."

Miraak had never known a rage like the one that burned through him in that moment, white hot and suffocating. His fingers ghosted over the scars, sickened by the tension in your body. He knelt before you, each touch so tender when he cupped your face. The fear in your eyes only fueled his bloodlust, the all consuming need to hunt down whoever had inflicted such pain. "Who did this to you?" He murmured, each word carefully measured. Your eyes were already watering and he refused to add to that fear, thumbs tracing across your cheeks. "Miraak," you rolled your eyes at him, blinking back the threat of tears. He clenched his jaw against the vitriol threatening to spill from his tongue. All of his fury would be reserved, unleashed only on whoever had left such scars on his beloved. "Who hurt you?" Miraak wrapped you in his robes, gently wiping at your tears. He burned with a deep need for violence but restrained himself - your comfort came above all else. When you finally rested he held you in his arms, kissing the scars that broke his heart. Miraak would ruin whatever stood in his path to find who had harmed you. He would not rest until the world was cleansed of their presence, promising only happiness to the person he'd waited lifetimes for. "Their pain will be repaid tenfold, my beloved. They will not know another moment of peace."

Erandur always panicked when he felt you jolt upright in the middle of the night. With clammy skin and wild eyes you gasped for air, unconsciously creating distance from him. Guilt at his inability to act still nagged at Erandur but he'd learned the hard way to give you time. You clutched blankets to your chest and he paid close attention to the way your breathing slowed, growing less ragged with each minute that passed. He'd grown accustomed to your nightmares. Over time it became easier to discern how to help - when to offer a grounding touch and when you needed space. Placing one careful hand on your back he waited, opening himself without saying a word. When you collapsed into him Erandur's heart broke. It pained him to hear broken sobs as you curled into his chest, drawing loopy patterns in your sweaty skin. He wished to do more but this was your direct instruction, to simply be there for you. He knew how terrifying nightmares could be and offered himself for your comfort, whispering quiet prayers to Mara against your skin. "I would take them all for myself if I could, dearest. I am sorry I cannot take them from you."

[softquietsteadylove]

Hii, can i request a drunk confession au? pretty please 🩷🤍

Thena who doesn't really drink much, wants to change things a little and drink more at this party the eternals have to attend, but she can not hold her alcohol to save her live and get terribly drunk.

The woman can barely stand, is talking nonsense, can get hurt if unsupervised, it's a miracle she didn't pass out in a ditch yet, so it's Gilgamesh duty to get her to her room safely.

When they are near her room, Thena starts telling her new friend her secret, she is in love with Gil!! but he can't know, she thinks he is soo charming and nice and beautiful and he is really stong and soo attractive, but he can't know.

And Gil is there blusing, because the love of his live just confessed her love to him but he can't do anything about it because she is very very drunk, so he just says "Gil? Never heard of him but he sounds nice, you should talk to him"

"To Gilgamesh!"

Cups of mead were raised in the air to celebrate the victory of the Strongest Eternal. Truly, it was a celebration of all of them--one's success was everyone's. The Eternal himself was happy to brush it off with a modest smile and a charming blush.

Thena smiled, raising one in her own hand, although she never actually partook in drink. She wasn't one for it--didn't like the taste, had no stomach for it. Her blood was too fast in her system, at least that was what she thought. Warriors did not need revelry.

Gilgamesh happily accepted three mugs and gulped them each down. He was good with revelry, and lucky he seemed so made for mirth and celebration. The townspeople happily jostled him in good humour.

Thena tilted her head as Kingo made his way over. There were times when Kingo could feign annoyance or reluctance to partake in their celebrations at times, but he and Gil had much in common in their characters.

He gave Gil a solid pat on the back, of course waving his hand from having slapped the metallic back of his armour. Kingo gave her a genial smile. "Come on, T, I thought you'd be in a good mood."

"I am."

He rolled his eyes at her. "Y'know, not being in a bad mood doesn't make it a good one."

She offered no further comment, looking at Gil again. He was attempting to move away from being the centre of attention. He was made for good times, of course, but he had a shyness to him, too. He was slowly gravitating in their direction.

"Loosen up a little, T," Kingo advised her quietly, and at a distance she would strictly forbid for anyone but him and her sisters. "It'll make him happy if you relax some."

She bristled under her skin. He was right. And after the fight they'd had today, she wanted Gilgamesh to find some reprieve from the ravages of the Deviant world outside Babylon's walls. She smiled at him from afar, even taking a sip of mead (it tasted awful).

"Hey," Gil smiled at her as he finally reached her side, replacing Kingo as the latter went to bug their smallest sibling. "I thought you didn't like ferment?"

She did not. But she smiled at him, "surely it is beloved for a reason."

He shrugged, taking another sip of his own. "It can be nice after a tough day."

She felt as if every sip she swallowed could be felt like a hot rock, travelling down her throat and then dispersing through her veins. Not even their senses could communicate such things, but she certainly felt herself succumbing to the fever of it. "You should rest."

He looked around the room, people partaking in the party and high spirits. "They wanted to celebrate us. It's silly, but they all worked hard to make this stuff. Seems a waste if we don't stay for even a little of it."

Such a soft heart, her Gilgamesh had.

Thena tilted her head, letting her eyes travel over the form of her partner for every and all battles. They had worked as well together today as any other. She had been airborne when she had seen Gilgamesh deal the last, finishing blow. It was impressive, even for an Eternal.

He was quite good at grasping her waist to throw her up in the air.

"The people here are nice," he commented very simply, but very honestly. He raised his cup for another sip.

She found herself mirroring his actions, as if it were the same as matching his rhythm in a battle. It was becoming easier with each sip. "They are."

Sersi was having a wonderful time, dancing with the women. Ikaris was hovering awkwardly, unknowing of how to insert himself but always looming over their sister's back.

Druig and Makkari were both having fun taunting and riling the various tradesmen sitting around the edges of the room. Now, that was a pair made for mirth and merriment. Even more so than Kingo and Sprite, who were having a drinking contest, much to some horror in the eyes of those who did know that Sprite was the same as her siblings in every way that mattered.

Ajak was watching from above, a funny look on her face, before disappearing, probably to wherever Phastos was hiding.

"Y'know I asked Ajak," Gilgamesh began quietly, having followed her gaze up to their leader before her departure. "She said that there were a few injuries, but no one died."

That was good news, worthy of revelry. Some battles would always have casualties, but every day in which they managed to escape with minimal loss was deserving of celebration.

"Thanks to you," she volunteered rather eagerly. He took another sip, and so, as did she. "You killed that thing all but single-handedly."

"Ah," he made a sound to excuse her flattery, taking on a bashful grin again. It pushed up the apples of his cheeks to the corners of his eyes. The lines indicating his good mood were tempting to her fingers. "None of us fight single-handed. It's all of us, together."

"Hm," she agreed, to a point. Indeed, they all fought together out there, as a team. But she often was of the opinion that Gilgamesh carried more than his fair share of the work on his wide shoulders. Wide, strong shoulders. She tilted her head. "Ikaris could do more."

Gilgamesh immediately snorted some laughter but turned his head towards her. "Thena!--you can't say that about your brother."

She rolled her eyes, happily swaying her head to and fro. It felt loose on top of her neck. "It is precisely because he is my brother that I may say that."

He partner merely chuckled, hiding it in his cup. Was it not yet empty? Hers was. "Okay, fine, just don't let Ajak hear you saying that. She'll make you two go on a bonding walk again."

It had been less of a walk and more a watch duty during which they had been all but physically shackled together. They had done their duty, surveilled the area. Then, once again within sight of Babylon Temple, Thena had kicked him from behind and clear through the city walls.

She had been scolded by both Ajak and Phastos, but she had no regrets.

She sighed, examining the bottom of her clay cup with only a stray drop swirling around within. "I would rather walk with you."

Gilgamesh said nothing of the plain but oddly sentimental remark. He looked at her, catching the way she was examining her vessel. "You okay?"

"Hm," she said again, and Gilgamesh always understood her little noises. No one else would. She tossed the cup onto the nearest table. It did not fall, but she hadn't done so with particular care either.

"Hey." Gilgamesh reached for her hand. He wasn't reprimanding her, but it was more than just curiosity in his voice. He grasped the hand that had tossed her cup away like a pebble.

She watched his hand apprehend hers. It was gentle, and soft, just like everything he did with her. Gilgamesh was kind, of course, but it was not mere kindness when he held her hand like this. Like he had been doing ever since they touched down on the planet.

"Look at me," he whispered. The chatter of the room faded and she felt the warmth of his breath on her cheek as he drew her face closer to his. The warmth of his palms added to her feeling of basking in the sun, like a lizard on a hot rock.

She swayed in his grasp, no longer caring if her knees were up to the task of walking. Perhaps she was more fatigued from the fight than she had first anticipated. What funny thought; she laughed.

"Whoa, hey," Gilgamesh moved closer, catching her against him before she could lean too far off her feet. He held her carefully, even casting glances around them. "Thena, you don't seem good."

She felt good, though, borderline ecstatic. It felt wonderful to be leaning on him like this, and her head felt as if she were being carried, rocking back and forth with the breeze. She pulled her head up, taking in Gil's concerned look and deep brown eyes. "Do you always look like this?"

His face contorted. It was a handsome face. "We gotta find Ajak."

Thena pointed, although she frowned when Ajak was no longer looking over them from the mezzanine. "She's gone somewhere."

"Okay," her companion said gently. He moved her more within his grasp, although still encouraging her to try and use her feet. "Let's get you to bed, huh? That sound good?"

"Bed," she remarked. They each had their own rooms in the temple. She would rather just sleep on the Domo. But Ajak said it was better for them to integrate themselves...somewhere...or something.

"Bed," he repeated, guiding her quietly towards the edge of the room to the nearest corridor. "You can get some rest, Thena."

She blinked. Her vision felt bleary, her feet as if they weighed...too much. "You know me."

He chuckled next to her. Her palm could feel the rumble of his chest against the plate of armour. He had a big, strong chest. "Yeah, I do know you."

She blinked, finally in the corridor. At least there was more air. "Do you know everyone?"

"Well, not everyone," he continued to laugh, as if she were oh-so-very funny.

She sighed, tilting her head against his shoulder. It was comfortable, and it allowed her to peek at the moon on their way to wherever he was guiding her. "Do you know Gilgamesh?"

"Uh... "

The delay was too long. Anyone who didn't know Gilgamesh was living a life bereft of joy. Thena leaned heavier on her walking assistance. "Gilgamesh is...the very best on the planet. On this planet, or any!"

He swayed from her outburst, trying to hold her both carefully and delicately.

She looked at him again. Her hand even came up to touch his cheeks. She liked the hair around his lips. It drew attention to them. "He is the very best. Kind, sweet, very funny. And he's handsome."

Her companion turned a peculiar shade of red. "O-Oh?"

She nodded, distracted for a moment by her hair swaying into her view. "He's kind, and sweet, and he's funny."

"You did say that."

She pursed her lips. Did she? "And handsome. And strong--he's quite good at lifting me, throwing me."

"Throwing you?"

"When we're fighting together," she sighed again. It was a happy sigh, though. "Fighting is when I may touch him all I like."

Again, he turned a shade of red.

"Off the battlefield I must control myself," she lamented. Not that she was always desiring to touch him. Or perhaps she was, based on what she was saying. "But something about him is so magnetic. One wishes to be as close to him as possible."

"Is that so?"

She stared ahead. They were at her room. It was her bed in front of her. But she didn't like her bed. "Oh."

"Are you okay?"

She looked at her friend again. He was lowering her to sit on her bed. But she didn't like sleeping. It was hard work. And sometimes she would sleep in Gil's bed instead. She preferred Gil's bed. "I miss Gil."

Her companion lowered her arms gently, setting her hands on her lap. She liked his arms. They were thick, but also soft. "You, uh, you should tell him."

"Hm," she pursed her lips. She didn't want to, for whatever reason she could not recall at the moment. "I don't think I should."

He was lying her down on her side, pulling her linen blanket over her. "Why not?"

She tried to tilt her head at him but it was already on the pillow. She wished it was on Gil's chest. "I don't know how to tell him I love him, I think."

"Well," he chuckled again, before leaning in and pressing a kiss on her hair. "I bet he'll understand, no matter how you try to tell him."

That was true, Gilgamesh always understood her.

[stayarmytinyzenmoa-l]

bestie i love the way you write yangyang so pleaseeeeeeee him with number 21!

I seem to have quite the following on this page lmaoooo but yuh I gothcu anon

21. "Can you bail me out? Please?"

[Choose a drabble and send me someone to write it on]

~

Blankets, popcorn, candles, and your favorite TV show. Tonight was perfect. The curtains were drawn, your favorite scent filled your room, and you were cozied up and ready for your annual binge. Then, as soon as you'd pressed play, your phone blared, and you groaned. That could only be one person, the person brazen enough to put himself on emergency freaking bypass. You answered it.

"What, Yangyang?" Your good-for-nothing best friend, of course.

"Hey, (Y/N)! My best friend, my other half, and my one and only!" Yangyang's voice was almost too happy.

"I'm not picking you up, if you want McDonalds then get it yourself! I'm busy!"

"No you're not! I know your ass is in bed right now about to watch that show for the 50th time!"

"Okay, well there's no need to be an ass about it I love this show!"

"Okay, well, now you need to get off your ass because I need a favor!"

"Well, I'm definitely not going to help you now, you little shit!"

"Hey! How many times have I come to help you out?!"

"Never!"

"That's not true! I'm just late!"

"It's basically the same thing," you groaned. "What is it? What do you need help with at... eleven fucking p.m.?!"

"Well... uh... you have to promise not to be mad..." His voice is quiet.

"Sure, yeah, I promise, what's up?" A new tone of concern rose in your voice.

"So... I'm in prison."

"You're in what?!" You sat up so fast that your blanket dropped behind you and your popcorn toppled to the floor. "What do you mean you're in prison, Yangyang?!"

"Well, I guess I'm not in prison yet, I am at the police station though so it's basically the same thing."

"What the fuck did you do?!"

"Did you know you could break in and enter into your own car?!"

"Oh my god, only you could be in a situation like this," you put your phone on speaker and grabbed your pants from the floor, pulling it on as you heard Yangyang talking.

"Okay, well, you're not wrong, but like I need your help."

"Hold on, Yang, let me get this straight," you pulled a hoodie over your head, "you had a chance to phone anyone, and you chose me?! You were like 'can I phone a friend?' and the cops were like 'yeah sure!' and you called me?!"

"Of course, I called you, who else would I call?!" He shouts. "Look... can you bail me out? Please?" His voice had grown smaller, and you sighed.

"How much is it?" You asked, looking at your bank account.

"The officer says that you'll discuss it together when you get here."

"Yeah, yeah, I hope you know I only have like $21 to my name."

"More than enough... I think."

"You think?!"

"How would I know?! I've never been arrested before!"

"Fine! I'm on my way! Don't do anything that would extend your time, or whatever," you grumbled.

"Thank you, (Y/N), I owe you so much right now!"

"Yeah, yeah, you're so lucky I love you, Liu."

"Is that a yes to my date offer?"

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves now, I don't date convicts."

"I'm not even guilty!"

~

General Tag List: @stopeatread @bat-shark-repellant @raeincitizen @umbralhelwolf @yangsrose @kazooms @sadcoffeecritic 

NCT Tag List: @cherrylovr @minjiville

If you want to be added to either tag list or removed just send me a reply to this post, and ask, or a DM and I’ll add you as soon as possible!

[the-white-soul]

Flowey: If you're not dating nor are friends, you're acquaintances with a silent crush phase. Heehee, I know what you should say when someone asks what you are next time! You're blockheads.

That uh… that means you're not heartheads or smileyheads. *Flowey smiles innocently and snickers to himself as he tries to trick you into insulting yourselves.*

Anyway, got any root beer left for me?

(Kara) "Really? Blockhead."

(Dess) "What's so wrong about it? We're blockheads through and through. I'm sorry if you don't like the word for some weird reason."

(Kara) "*Slaps head* Should I tell her?"

(Dess) "Tell me what?"

(Kara) "I don't know. Hey, do you want to watch Peanuts?"

(Dess) "Sure. I don't know why you want me to watch it now."

*12 minutes into the story*

(Lucy) "Charlie you blockhead. This is what you call a tree?"

(Dess) "Oh! Flowey you trickster."

(Kara) "Oh also sure Flowey you can have it. *gives the rest to Flowey. After he finishes...*"

(Kara) "I appreciate the respectful gifts. You all are so much nicer than I thought you'd be. When I heard horror stories about you all I was scared. Granted not all of you are good. I mean my arm got cut off by someone that seems to be part of the wind. That's fun. I always wonder why me? People like you though show how not all Anons are bad. Hell besides that airspeaker, you're all fantastic. Now back to our original problem."

(Dess) "Now we need an actual title."

(Kara) "Perfect! Now that we've done something completely unimportant like naming ourselves we should probably go out and get to work."

(Dess) "On what?"

(Kara) "I didn't think that far ahead."

*John walks in looking like he hasn't seen the sun in 3 days*

(John) "Well that was difficult but I finally got Asgore's case. Does anyone want to talk with him again? I negotiated one more call."

(Dess) "I'll do it. *Grabs phone.* Hey Asgore how are you doing?"

(Asgore) "I want to say good but that'd be a lie. I've been burning from the heat and the work they make us do. These monster prisons are more brutal than I thought. Guards go up to you on occasion and beat you till you cry. It's a game they play and if you end up being last you get socked in the eye. If anyone tells anyone anything they get abused even further. It's scary and to say it's ignored would be too nice. They outright encourage it here. Anytime something goes wrong I get hit by their bats while everyone else laughs and throws whatever they want at me."

(Dess) "That sounds awful! Do you have any way to have them stop? Surely what they're doing is illegal."

(Asgore) "Those types of laws are barely enforced in normal prisons, let alone a species everyone hates."

(Kara) "Do you have air conditioning?"

*Dess and Asgore started laughing.*

(Asgore) "This is Britain! We're lucky to have air conditioning in our own homes. You really believe they care that much about monsters?"

(Dess) "Well, try to stay a low profile, okay?"

(Asgore) "Alright. *Hangs up.*"

*In the prison.*

Asgore walks back to his cell seeing the high amount of monsters entrapped. Some of them go into a room of complete white if they misbehave. Suddenly, while no one is watching Asgore, Chara burrows out of the ground.

(Chara) "So how do you feel? Don't worry you'll only get killed by the executioner, not me. I wonder if you'll ever crack?"

(Asgore) "Can you stop teasing me? You're the only reason I'm putting effort into stopping the death penalty."

(Chara) "You know it's funny. People think you are a great serious leader. The only smart ones are Papyrus and Alphys. They know who you are. I'm mostly here to make your situation worse and to observe what you do. I bet they give you food that tastes like poop."

(Asgore) "They gave us a bun for a meal. Two on special occasions. Help me please!"

(Chara) "WAH! Boo hoo. Oh, also one thing I want to do. *Slices his left thumb in half and watches it bleed.*"

(Asgore) "Why would you do that!!!"

(Chara) "So I can hurt you without killing you. Oh, people are coming. See you when you're fried!"

[lumpofwhump]

Bad Things Happen Bingo: Scalding

...AKA, more Lighthouse Whump

Whumpee abruptly jerked awake as his chair tilted under him, crashing backward onto the floor with enough force to make him bounce before his head hit the floor. Through his swimming vision, he saw Whumper standing over him, staring down with cold fury.

"I hope you enjoyed your rest," she spat. "Thanks to you, there's a shipwreck down on the rocks."

Whumpee's eyes went wide and his stomach dropped even further than it already had from the fall. "W-what? I'm… I'm sorry, I -"

Whumper bent down and yanked him up by his now long and unkempt hair, bringing him only inches from his face. "Do you think that matters to any of the people out there?"

He whimpered in pain and cringed before her fury. "No! I just - I couldn't help it! I, I can't…"

"Do you think I want to hear your excuses?" Whumper snapped, shaking him in her tight grasp by the head. This only added to his dizziness. "All you had to do is keep the light burning, and make sure the ships could see the rocks."

And clean, Whumpee thought resentfully. And mend your clothes. And fix anything that breaks. And…

"It really isn't much to ask for saving your life," Whumper continued, as if reading his thoughts. "And for not turning you over to Her Majesty's Navy." She let him fall to the floor again without warning, prompting a frantic yelp. "You wouldn't have stood a chance if you'd been transported."

He looked down, knowing she was right.

"It's already midday. Go boil the water for lunch, and then we'll talk about how to make sure this won't happen again." Whumper's tone suggested that this conversation would not end well for him. He swallowed, beginning to shake despite his best efforts, but nodded and backed away toward the stairs to go down to the kitchen. He didn't dare turn his back on her, not when she was in this kind of mood.

Waiting for the water to boil just gave him time to think about what this "discussion" might end with. If he was lucky, he'd just be locked in his tiny room without meals for a few days while Whumper carried out his duties, if only to prove how expendable he really was if hi proved to be too much trouble. If he was unlucky…

His had ran over a cluster of scars on his shoulder from when she'd slammed him into a window hard enough to crack the glass. His room had never been particularly warm, but since then it had been too drafty for him to get a good night's sleep.

His shoulders tensed as he heard footsteps coming down the spiral staircase, and only then did he realize that the water had already reached a rapid boil.

Whumper entered with a look of disgust, shaking her head.

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad this time, he tried to reassure himself. At least he hadn't burnt anything…

"Would you like soup or -" he started, but broke off as Whumper strode over and grasped him tightly by the arm and thrust his hand into the boiling water.

He had a long second before the pain hit to realize what had happened and dread how bad it was going to be. And then he started screaming.

He tried to wrench his hand out of the pot, but Whumper was stronger, holding his arm in place for one second, two seconds, three, four, five, as his skin started to blister grotesquely under the bubbles. Finally she let go, and he pulled his hand out, gasping as tears streamed down his face. He couldn't bear to make himself look at his hand, so instead his eyes involuntarily drifted over to Whumper. He whimpered at seeing that she was hardly less angry than she'd been a moment ago.

"The other one," she commanded, reaching out her own hand.

He shook his head with a sob and pulled away on quivering legs. "N-no, no please, Whumper, I can't. You know I need to… please…"

"What did I say about excuses?" she asked in a low, dangerous voice.

Still, Whumpee couldn't make himself move.

Whumper's eyes lit up in fury at his disobedience, and she grabbed for the pot, lifting it and preparing to throw its contents on Whumpee.

He cowered and scrambled away, but she continued toward him, backing him into a corner. He raised his trembling, as-yet-uninjured hand in self-defense and then surrender with a defeated whine. She gave him a stony glare and a long moment of anticipation before roughly dragging him and the pot both to the table and thrusting his hand into it as soon as she'd set it down.

This time there was no delay between the scalding and the screaming.

As soon as she let go of his arm, he pulled away sharply, so much so that he spilled the rest of the pot onto his legs. His sobs turned into still more shrieks of pain as the boiling water made contact with the ragged remains of his pants and shoes. His legs gave out under the shock of the pain, prompting yet another scream as his burns made contact with the floor.

Whumper watched him impassively, eventually shaking her head at this display. "Get up," she said contemptuously.

"B-but my hands…" he said weakly, only to be met with Whumper's narrowed eyes. He bit back another whimper as he put his burnt and bubbling hands to the floor up onto his blistered, reddened feet, stumbling forward and nearly collapsing.

"And get those off," she snapped, gesturing to his pants. "Because of your carelessness, they'll need to be replaced."

Whumpee sniffled and staggered off to his room to clumsily peel the pants off his scalded legs. For once,the cold wind blowing in through his broken window felt something like comfort.

That night, Whumpee pushed through the agony of every task, and for that matter every movement. Trimming the wicks. Keeping them lit. Cleaning the floors and windows till they were spotless on burning hands and knees. There were no ships to guide to safety that night, but Whumpee stayed awake all the same.

Next

--

Taglist (Let me know if you want on or off):

@whumpsday @whither-wander-whump @skinofafish @badthingshappenbingo

[stargazer-sims]

Journal Entry #51 (part two)

previously - Journal Entry #51 (part one)

Victor

The day after Yuri got out of the hospital, Auntie Keiko dropped Fox off at our house at seven in the morning. That left ample time for Mr. Okamoto to go home and get ready for his work day, but he didn't leave until he'd taken Fox aside for a little chat. I didn't know what my father-in-law might be saying to him, and I was worried that it might be an unnecessary lecture about Yuri's extraordinary needs and some thinly-veiled warning about doing a good job or else. Fox didn't need that on his first day. For his sake and ours, I wanted this arrangement to go well, not to get derailed before it even started.

The urge to spy on them was strong, but I resisted.

I tried to act casual when I heard the dining room door slide open. Fox was smiling when he and Mr. Okamoto exited the room, but I didn't want to read much into it. Some people smile to hide their true feelings, and I wasn't sure if that applied to Fox or not.

It was only after Mr. Okamoto left the house and Fox and I were in the kitchen making breakfast that I found out his smile had been genuine, and why.

Okay... let me back that up a bit. It was Fox who was making breakfast. I was only helping by explaining to him what types of foods Yuri can and can't eat. Fox definitely knows his way around a kitchen, in case you're interested. His mom's a Red Seal chef, and evidently he's picked up more than a thing or two from her.

Anyway, as he was preparing the fluffiest, most tasty-looking scrambled eggs I'd ever seen in my life for himself and me, he commented, "Your father-in-law is nice."

"Uh..." I stammered. "That's... not exactly a word people regularly use for Mr. Okamoto."

"Really?" Fox seemed surprised. "I think he's nice, and he seems like a great dad. I can tell he really loves Yuri, and you too."

It was my turn to say, "Really? I mean, I know he loves Yuri, but... not so sure about me."

"He made me promise to take good care of you," Fox said. "People don't say that about someone they don't love." He paused, as if he was debating with himself whether or not to go on, but eventually he continued. "My dad... he kinda abandoned me here. He didn't ask Auntie Keiko and Uncle Kin to promise to look after me. In fact, he was so rude to Auntie that I think she's convinced he doesn't love me all that much."

"That's..." I trailed off, at a loss as to how I should respond.

"Anyway," Fox went on, "I'm okay now. I've found my family."

"I'm glad," I said. "Uncle Kin and Auntie Keiko are good people. Everybody's auntie and uncle, I guess you could say. If you needed to find a family, they're the best ones you could've found."

"I know. I'm really lucky," he said. "And you and Yuri are lucky to have his dad. He said he'd do anything for you, and I believe him."

I was still trying to wrap my head around that revelation while Fox kept on talking. I hadn't pegged him as a particularly chatty person, but maybe he's only quiet in comparison to the people he's usually with. Like, Takahiro and his family aren't the sort of people you'd call shy and retiring. I've met Fox's friend Jin a couple times as well, and that guy... Let's just say his level of energy might even rival mine.

Anyway, somewhere in the midst of his cheerful monologue, Fox told me that Mr. Okamoto offered to pay him for helping us, and Fox said he'd accepted. He said he hoped I wasn't offended by that. I told him no. Far from being offended, I was pleased that Mr. Okamoto wanted to compensate him. We might not need his help for more than a few weeks, but despite it being a short period of time, it was still going to be a tough one. He deserved to get something besides gratitude in return for it.

"I would've done it for free, just so you know," he said.

"We appreciate that," I said, "But it's better this way, and I'm glad Mr. Okamoto offered. Yuri and I wanted to give you something too, but we weren't sure how to approach it. Like, we knew you'd do it for free, but we didn't want to take advantage of you. But, we also didn't know if you'd be offended if we—”

"Victor, don't worry. It’s totally fine.” He interrupted me in the politest way I’ve ever been interrupted. “I wouldn't have been offended. I appreciate it too, but I agree with you. I think it's better like this."

With that awkwardness out of the way, we sat down to the most delicious breakfast I've had in a long time, and pleasantly idled over less weighty subjects. I'm pretty sure Fox has more in common with Yuri than with me, but we were able to find some common ground. We both love food and enjoy being creative in the kitchen. He enjoys the outdoors like I do, and he likes camping, and he knows Granite Falls.

“Maybe we could take Taka and Yuri camping when we get home this summer,” he suggested.

I grinned. “Yuri’s been camping in Granite Falls. It was, um… an experience.”

“So, bad idea, then?”

“No, it’s a great idea. He liked it in the end, and now he knows what to expect. This time, we’ll tell him he’s the expert and he can teach Taka what he learned last time.”

“An experience,” Fox said. “I like it. Taka’s into having adventures, so if you think Yuri would be okay, the four of us should definitely go.”

“There’ll be plenty of time to plan it once you get home,” I said. “There’s lots we can do, actually. I’m excited about showing Yuri and Taka around.”

“Me too,” Fox said. “Imagine, we grew up in the same area at the same time, and never met until we came here. And if our partners weren’t already friends, we probably never would have met at all."

"I like how the world's full of strange coincidences like that," I said.

"So do I, although I do kind of wish we'd gone to the same school and known each other before."

"This was the right time," I said. "Things might've worked out for us in a whole other way if our lives had been different."

"You're probably right. In any case, I'm glad we know each other now, and it feels good to think that I’ll be going home this summer to friends who’ll be waiting for me.”

“We’ll be waiting for sure,” I said. “I think it’s gonna be great.”

We loitered over our empty plates until Fox looked at his phone and announced that it was nearly nine o’clock. Mutually concluding that we’d killed enough time at the breakfast table, Fox set to work tidying up the kitchen while I directed him where to put everything. Then, he went upstairs to check on Yuri.

On that first day, I followed him upstairs and basically became his anxious, annoying shadow because I was concerned about how Yuri might feel about being left entirely alone with him. Not that I don't trust Fox — I would never have allowed him anywhere near Yuri if I didn't trust him — but Yuri is sensitive and I wanted to make sure the two of them would get off to the best start possible.

I needn't have worried. Fox is the least intimidating person I've ever met, and he's a natural at caregiving. He had Yuri up, bathed and dressed without so much as a whisper of protest, and before I knew it, he was calmly feeding him a little bowl of soy yogurt and cut-up peaches as if it was the most ordinary and unremarkable occurrence in the world.

It hasn't been all smooth sailing since then, of course. Yuri is stubborn, as I'm sure you guys all know by now. He's also fond of getting his own way, and he has all kinds of tricks up his sleeve to make that happen, and — not gonna lie — even though I'm perfectly aware he's doing it, I give in to him a lot of the time anyway.

I figured Fox would be completely taken in, since he's such a kind soul and quite frankly gives the impression of being a pushover. But, what I hadn't known in advance was that Fox has the same superpower as Yuri; the one where he can bend people to his will so sweetly and gently that they don't even notice it. Except... two people trying the same tactic on each other do notice.

I probably don't need to tell you, this has led to a few very intense conflicts between the two of them. Quiet, civilized conflicts to be sure, but no less fierce than if they'd been shouting at each other.

Irresistible force, meet immovable object.

Not unpredictably, their biggest disagreements have been around meals. For the first few days Fox was here, he fed Yuri all his meals without questioning it, but around the fourth day, I guess he figured there was no need for that to continue to be part of his job description. Yuri pushed back, and eventually it fell to me to referee the dispute.

Yuri was furious when I sided with Fox.

I know what you're likely thinking, and yeah, I do feed Yuri when he's sick because it's easier on both of us if I do. I hate seeing him struggle to eat. That stresses me out just as much as the physical act of eating stresses him. But, I had to concede that Fox wasn't wrong when he said Yuri should be perfectly capable of feeding himself. Besides, Fox is already doing enough for us, and I didn't want to complicate his job.

Yuri made a huge scene, but I gotta say I was proud of Fox for handling the whole thing like a pro. He straight-up told Yuri that he was being ridiculous which, as you can imagine, didn't go over well. I left the room at that point 'cause I didn't want to get stuck in the middle of any further wrangling between them.

As I was crossing the hallway to my own bedroom, I overheard Fox say something unexpected. He asked Yuri if the reason why he didn't want to feed himself was because he was scared.

I already knew the answer, but I was shocked when Yuri actually admitted to Fox that's what it was.

Then, Fox did something else I hadn't seen coming. He started telling Yuri about his experience in the hospital back in the autumn, and how he'd been terrified to let anyone give him an injection.

That seemed odd to me, considering Fox is an insulin-dependent diabetic and gives himself two shots every single day, not to mention the number of times a day he pokes one of his fingers or his forearm to test his blood sugar. By that point, I'd watched him do insulin injections and blood glucose tests, and he'd barely batted an eyelash at sticking tiny, sharp objects into his skin, even with an audience of one curious wannabe nurse.

Intrigued by what he was now recounting to my husband, I temporarily deserted my plan to gather up my laundry, and lurked just out of sight of the doorway of Yuri's bedroom to eavesdrop instead.

"They're not really allowed to let you give yourself a needle, you know," Fox was saying. "But, I made a big fuss about it until they agreed to let me. I had to do it because it always hurt so much when other people gave me a shot."

Yuri sounded dubious. "That makes no sense."

"I know," Fox said. "That's the thing. I can see now that it was illogical, but at the time it seemed perfectly rational to me. Anyway, I met my friend Jin when I was in the hospital. He was my nurse, and he figured out that it was hurting because I expected it to. And you know what? It turns out he was right."

"Good for him," Yuri said.

"You know what he told me?"

"I couldn't possibly guess," Yuri replied, and his tone practically screamed, I couldn't care less.

Fox was clearly undeterred. He went on, "Jin said that I need to train myself not to expect the worst, because not everything that seems like it’ll be painful or scary turns out to be.”

"Yes, well... sometimes it does."

"That's exactly what I said," Fox told him. "And he agreed with me, but he also said that if I was too afraid to take any chances, then I might miss out on something good."

"I don't see what that has to do with me," Yuri said.

Fox may have missed it, but I didn't fail to catch the nuance in my husband's words. I knew it wasn't that he didn't understand, but more like he didn't want to admit how this could apply to him. It was his way of saying I get it, but I wish I didn't.

"I heard you like strawberries," Fox said. "And I already know you like rice, so I made you something special for breakfast. It's rice pudding, but with protein powder and pureed strawberries in it, and it's sweet like a dessert. And it's pink. See? Don't you want to know what it tastes like?"

"Not particularly."

"I double-checked with Victor. Everything in it is something you've had before. It's all safe for you to eat, if that's what's worrying you. Or is it something else?"

Yuri's answer was mumbled, and I didn't catch it, but I thought it sounded like. "It's too difficult."

"Yeah, doing stuff for yourself can be really hard," Fox said. "I totally get it."

'No, you don't."

"You might be surprised.”

“I doubt that.”

“There was a lot of stuff I couldn't do for myself before I met Jin, and Takahiro and his family,” Fox said. “I had to learn so much just to start being a normal independent person. At first, I was scared and stressed out and tired every day, but everything I've done so far has been worth it, even though it was difficult."

"It's different for me," Yuri said.

"Yeah, it is different for you," Fox acknowledged. "I've been learning to do things over the past little while that you've probably been doing independently for years. I'm not asking you to do something crazy like learning pretty much every adult life skill within a few months, like I did. All I'm asking you to do is try feeding yourself, because I know you can."

"Oh... fine, then. But, if I throw up, it's your fault."

To my astonishment, Fox laughed. It was the same kind of laugh I've heard from other adults when a child says something outrageous, and I'd say it was more an indication of indulgence than of amusement. "Yuri, you're not going to throw up."

"How would you know?"

"Just start with one small bite. If you can't do more than that, you can stop. it's okay. Here..."

I attempted to peek around the edge of the door as sneakily as I could. Fox had his back to me, and probably wouldn't have spotted me anyway, but I was trying to avoid Yuri knowing I was there.

I was just in time to see Fox turning the bowl of rice pudding around so the handle of the spoon that was sticking out of it was facing in Yuri's direction. Hesitantly, Yuri reached out and grasped the spoon as Fox held the bowl for him.

"You can do it," Fox encouraged. "One spoonful. If you can manage that and you decide you want more, I'll feed you the rest, but we're going to keep working on this at every meal from now on until you're doing it all by yourself."

Yuri's expression was an awful combination of fear and lingering irritation, but I was gratified to see him lift the spoon with some pink-tinted rice on it. And then he put it in his mouth, and for one dreadful moment I thought he really might get sick. Most of the colour drained from his face, and he stared at Fox, wide-eyed.

"Take the spoon out of your mouth, Yuri," Fox said gently, and when Yuri did as he asked, he followed up with, "Good. Now, you can swallow."

It was weird, observing that. I'd never heard anyone explain something as simple and instinctual as eating in step-by-step instructions before. Then again, perhaps Yuri had somehow unlearned that instinct and needed to be told what to do.

He's mentioned to me before that he often doesn't want to eat and only consumes food because he has to. He says he doesn’t like eating most foods, not necessarily because he dislikes the taste or texture of the food, but because he’s hyper-focused on every little detail involved in eating, and he gets overwhelmed. I guess it’s like, he could get so fixated on chewing that he’d forget to swallow, and then suddenly swallow in a panic, and then panic even more when he realizes he didn’t consciously decide whether he should swallow or not.

I don’t know, really. I’m certain Yuri could explain it better himself, but that’s basically how I understand it from what he described. And considering his history of anxiety as well as severe digestive system issues, maybe it shouldn't be too surprising.

As for Fox, I was impressed that not only was he able to break down the process for Yuri, but also that he'd recognized the need for it. It made me wonder if someone had needed to explain a basic skill to him in a similar way in the past.

"That was awesome. I knew you could do it," he said, once Yuri returned the spoon to the bowl. "How do you feel? Is your stomach okay?"

"It's fine," Yuri said. His tone was grudging, like he didn't want to admit that feeding himself one spoonful of strawberry-flavoured sweet rice wasn't actually going to be the death of him.

"Think you can do it again?" Fox inquired.

"If I have to."

"You don't have to, but I'd like you to."

Yuri sighed. "Very well."

Two spoonfuls later, I could see how much of a psychological and physical toll the effort had taken. To anyone unfamiliar with the situation it probably looks like he's playing up for attention whenever he wants someone to feed him, but I can tell you in all honesty, it's not like that. The strain that showed in all his body language was real. He gets that way when he's being fed by someone too, but not nearly as quickly and nowhere near as pronounced.

I could see his hand shaking as he gripped the spoon. He was visibly sweating, and his skin had that pale, washed-out appearance some people get when they're about to faint.

I was concerned enough that I almost stepped back into the room, but fortunately, Fox was perceptive enough to see what I saw and to understand what it meant. He said to Yuri, "Give me the spoon."

Yuri didn't so much hand it to him as push it in his general direction. Fox placed everything on the bedside table, and then helped Yuri settle back on his pillows.

"You did great," Fox told him. He brushed his hand over Yuri’s forehead. It looked like he was checking his temperature, but it was more likely that he was wiping some of the moisture off his face.

I was a little amazed that Yuri didn’t flinch away from Fox’s touch. He asked shakily, “Can… can I have some water, please?”

Fox handed his water bottle to him, and he took a couple of sips before passing it back.

“Done?” Fox inquired.

Yuri nodded. “Done.”

“Everything all right? Is your stomach still okay?"

"Yes, my stomach is all right for now, but I'm tired," Yuri said. "I need to sleep.”

"Understandable," Fox didn't point out that he'd only been awake for an hour or so. He simply acknowledged that Yuri knew best whether he needed more rest or not. "That was an amazing effort. I know it was a lot, but you did really good. I didn't even have to tell you to take that last spoonful."

"It’s good. The rice."

That admission was spoken so quietly that I almost didn't hear it.

"There's more of it left," Fox said. "Victor and I are going to have it for dessert with our lunch, but we'll save some for you. Would you like that?"

"Yes, please."

"You're going to feed yourself at least one spoonful at lunchtime, okay?" It sounded like a request, but I knew it wasn’t.

Yuri didn't reply, so I had no idea if he was agreeing with Fox's new rule, but he didn’t seem to be disagreeing either, which was good. I smiled. It may not have been a victory, exactly, but I felt safe in calling it a step in the right direction at least.

And now we're at the spot where I’m supposed to say some sort of happy ending thing, right? Like how I’m filled with hope or how Fox is a miracle worker or something?

Well, I am hopeful, but I’m not naïve. I don’t think Yuri had some great epiphany or whatever, or that Fox’s wisdom is going to fix everything. Yuri’s got a long way to go, and he’s not going to recover overnight, especially mentally. Disability Is tricky like that. Even when the body is relatively well, the mind can still be troubled. in fact, I’m convinced that the psychological impact of living with a disability can be even more disabling than the illness or disability itself.

What I can say is, I think it’s good for Yuri to have Fox here. It’s good for me as well, and not just for the obvious reasons. Fox doesn’t let Yuri get his way to avoid a confrontation with him, or to alleviate his own discomfort, like I do. As much as I don’t like admitting it, his approach yields better results than mine, even if it starts out a bit rough.

From watching Fox Interact with Yuri, I’ve learned there’s a difference between sympathy and empathy. I let Yuri get away with a lot because I feel bad for him and it’s painful for me to see him suffering, and I just want to make things better for both of us. But, I’m starting to realize that’s not doing either of us much good at the end of the day. He doesn’t need someone to take pity on him. He needs someone to respect how he feels and to try seeing things from his point of view while also showing him safe ways to move forward.

He needs someone to help him get perspective. That’s what my therapist would call it.

After this, I think I should be challenging him more. And I should be challenging myself more, to be firm with him when I need to be, and to recognize when it's okay to give in and when it's not. I need to challenge myself to remember that the easiest way isn't always the best way, and sometimes there has to be a little pain in order to make progress.

[alondradina]

Domaystic day 2: A stash of...

Fandom: Harry Potter

Pairing: Harry/Tom Riddle

Rating: T

https://archiveofourown.org/works/46893625/chapters/118179598#workskin

-

"So… It's been a couple weeks. How are things going with Tom?" Hermione casually inquired. Her video bounced erratically until she set her tablet down on the bedside table.

Ron laughed, voice staticky over the speaker. "Yeah, does he ever leave his room?"

"Of course he leaves his room," Hermione scolded. "I meet with him in the library once a week."

"I have calc two with him," Harry offered, pretending to misunderstand Ron's question, "so that's at least twice a week."

"I never see him," Ron grumbled.

"Aw! Is ickle Ronniekins sad?" One of the twins teased.

"You don't even know who we're talking about!"

"He sure is, Forge," the other twin answered, gleefully ignoring Ron.

Harry wished Ron's camera worked. It was always hilarious when the twins got hold of people's phones.

"But why, Gred?"

"Can you guys get the fuck out of my room?!"

"His room, he says," a twin chuckled.

The other joined in. "Pretty sure his name isn't on the lease."

"Guys-"

"Now, who is this mysterious dreamboat little Ronny is so despondent to have missed?"

"Fred! That's not-!"

"Pardon me, but that is, in fact, not Fred. I am Fred."

"I don't give a fuck-!"

One of the twins tsk'ed. "Such language!"

"A shame upon our house!"

"Mother would be appalled!"

There was a loud thunk as the phone presumably fell, and then a series of scuffling noises and yelling. Then silence.

Little Ronny poo is on mute until he learns to behave himself.

But please do tell us all about your friend.

Hermione sighed. "This wasn't really intended to be a public conversation, guys. The three of us are just trying to catch up after the first few weeks of classes."

Sounded rather like gossip to us.

Harry chuckled. "Maybe a little."

So dish.

"I have a roommate, Tom Riddle, and he-"

Oh!

We've heard about him!

"You have?" Hermione questioned, her image leaning closer to the tablet.

Who hasn't heard about the poor, exiled snakey?

"Snake?" Hermione's question came at the same time as Harry's, "Exiled?"

They wouldn't let him live in the Slytherin dorm.

Harry frowned. "Why?"

You'd have to ask him. They're a tight lipped bunch.

"Harry Potter?" A querulous voice called from his door.

Harry quickly set his phone down and jogged off with a quick, "Just a sec, guys!"

"Harry? What-?"

The rest of Hermione's question was cut off as he shut the door behind him. Turning around, he smiled at the shrunken old man nervously twitching around the kitchenette.

"Hey, Dobby."

"Hello, Harry!" The grin on his wrinkled face could have lit up the room, if he didn't have cheap, yellowed dentures.

Harry couldn't help but smile in return, though. "How's it going?"

"Where are the dishes? The trash?" Dobby questioned, waving his left hand around the dorm while keeping his right on his hip. "You boys are too helpful!"

"We were told-"

Dobby made a rude noise. "I will do the cleaning for you."

"And for me?" Tom drawled, quietly shutting his bedroom door before locking it. He turned to them and raised an eyebrow. "I wasn't aware that you had a personal housekeeper, Harry. Lucky us."

"He isn't-!"

"Tom Riddle, you do not need help. You are a very clean boy."

"Flatterer," Tom bowed mockingly and headed for the door. He stopped, the door open just a crack, to fix Harry with a flat look. "Leave my things alone."

Harry scoffed. "I wouldn't touch anything of yours."

Tom nodded after a moment, eyes still trained on Harry's, before slowly easing the door shut.

There was a moment of silence, before Harry scuffed a foot on the wooden floor and glanced down at Dobby. "Am I not a 'very clean' boy?"

"You are teasing me," the housekeeper grumbled. Padding over to the bathroom, he sighed. "Even the bathroom is clean. What will I clean now?"

"It's really alright," Harry soothed, following Dobby over and shutting the door. "I was raised to clean up after myself. I think Tom was as well."

Dobby's answer was an unamused 'hmph' as he wandered the apartment, presumably checking it for any errant messes.

A loud shriek of "HARRY!" reminded him that he'd left the video call going. Walking backwards to his room, Harry smiled at Dobby. "Gotta get back to my friends."

The old man immediately began following him. "Is your room clean?"

"I mean, it's clean enough-"

Dobby snorted and eased himself into the room before Harry could bring himself to object.

"Who the fuck is that?" Ron's voice called.

"Language, Ronald," Hermione reprimanded sweetly. "You wouldn't want the twins to hear now, would you?"

Ron grumbled something unflattering, and Hermione turned her nose up. It might have been more effective if he could see her, but he seemed to somehow know he was pushing his luck and quickly moved on.

"So what did you go off for?"

"Went to talk to Dobby."

"What's a Dobby?"

"Honestly, Ron! Do you pay any attention-"

"Not if I can help it."

"Are these your friends?"

"Hermione," Harry pointed at her image on his phone. She waved and Dobby waved back. "And then Ron's camera isn't working, so you can only hear him."

"It is nice to meet Harry's friends," Dobby proclaimed, grinning at a giggling Hermione before nudging Harry and staring between the unmade bed and the boy. "Harry Potter."

"No one comes in here, Dobby. It really doesn't matter."

Dobby 'hmph'ed and began making the bed. Once that was done, he started a circuit around the room to organize anything even slightly out of place.

Harry sighed and glanced at his phone. Hermione was smothering her giggles with her hands.

"What's going on?" Ron demanded. "I can't see what's happening, you know. What's so funny?"

"I'll just get out of your way," Harry mumbled, escaping the housekeeper's disapproval. He sighed again and began to flop on the couch, before changing his mind and springing back up. "You guys want to see something weird?"

"I won't see shit," Ron grumbled.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Then get your camera fixed, Ronald. Otherwise stop complaining."

"You don't know-"

"Here's one!" Harry called, gladly interrupting their bickering. He pulled one of the kitchen drawers out and pointed the phone into the cavity. "Can you see it, Hermione?"

"See what?!"

"It looks like… a bunch of junk?" Hermione answered hesitantly.

Harry placed his phone on the counter and jiggled the drawer back in place. "Yeah. Just some junk."

"And we care about that, why?"

"It's Tom's junk. He has little hidey holes of just random trash hidden all over the place. He caught me checking this place out the other day, and laughed at me."

Ron scoffed. "Trash? He's hiding trash?"

"It's not really hiding if he puts them in obvious places-"

"I would not have thought to pull drawers out searching for other people's belongings -" Hermione interjected with a frown.

"And if he knows that I know it's there," Harry continued, ruffling his hair. "So I just don't get it. Is it a practical joke or something?"

"Pretty fucking lame prank, if you ask me," Ron opined. "My brothers do way better."

"They do tricks for a living, Ronald. It's not the same."

"Whatever. Sounds like total BS to me. Just ignore it. Stop playing his fucked up game."

Harry shrugged before remembering that his friend couldn't see. "It's fine, Ron. I don't really care too much. It bothers Dobby more than me."

"What bothers Dobby?"

Harry smiled at the old man. "Tom's strange piles of junk."

"That does not bother me," he protested. "Now that I know Mr. Riddle has done it on purpose, and it is not garbage, I am happy to leave it be."

"Wait!" Hermione shouted, her image pushing close to the tablet in order to get a better look at the housekeeper. "Is that one of the hats I crocheted for you, Harry?"

"Uhh…"

Dobby leaned towards the phone and twirled in a little circle to show off his hat. It was a stretched out navy stocking cap with wide gaps between the amateur stitches. Maroon chain stitches were prominently displayed underneath the gaps in the top layer. "Harry gave me his hats! How kind he is!"

Hermione's lower lip stuck out in a subtle pout. "I made those for you, Harry."

"Does he want my hats, too, Harry?"

"Ronald-"

"How about a scarf? Or two?"

"Ronald Weasley!" Hermione shouted, slamming a hand down next to her tablet.

"What?!"

"I can't believe-"

"Well," Harry tried to interject, knowing that neither of them were paying any attention to him at this point, "I think we should probably call it a night-"

The door clicked open, and Tom entered the apartment. He frowned at the yelling coming from Harry's phone, and Harry ducked his head to hiss, "Good night, guys. Talk to you tomorrow."

"You didn't answer my question!" Hermione protested.

"Yeah!" Ron shouted. "Dobby didn't say whether he was going to take all this knitting-"

"Crotchet, Ron! It's-"

"-crotchet or whatever off my hands!"

"Good night!" Harry repeated, ending the call and quickly silencing his phone. It started vibrating immediately, and he shoved it into his pocket before looking for Tom and Dobby. The housekeeper was nowhere to be seen. Raising his eyebrows, Harry was about to start checking the other rooms when Tom stepped in his way.

"He left while your friends were arguing."

Harry rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. "Ah. Thanks."

Tom waved a hand dismissively and moved out of Harry's way.

Plopping on the sagging loveseat, Harry was startled to find that Tom had followed. "Uh, can I help you?"

"Did you find anything interesting?" Tom inquired, perching on the closest arm of the loveseat.

"What do you mean?" Harry scooted away to make room for the other boy, who shook his head when he noticed.

"You've been looking through my things."

"I have been accidentally finding piles of junk crammed into random nooks and crannies."

"How do you accidentally pull out an entire drawer and then look inside it?"

"I mean-"

Tom held a hand palm out to Harry, who cut himself off. "It's good to know that my roommate can't be trusted not to snoop-"

"Hey! That's-"

"-but at least you aren't a thief."

Harry frowned at him. "Was this a test?"

"It was certainly a test of my patience," Tom allowed, smirking when Harry snorted in response. "Now, in all seriousness, do your best to keep your curiosity to yourself. If it is not yours, then leave it alone."

Rolling his eyes, Harry found the remote and began channel surfing. "Yeah, whatever. Sounds good."

"Don't stay up too late," Tom warned. Harry glanced over, and he smiled blandly before sliding off the loveseat's arm and heading behind Harry. "We've got a test tomorrow, after all."

"Shit."

[poppy-metal]

hghghfhfhf patrick saying stuff like "you've got a hot fucking wife, donaldson." when you didn't expect the attention to be on you - you've just taken your panties off to touch yourself. patricks three knuckles deep in arts ass and they're both looking between your legs at your pussy with wanton expressions. art with the same amount of open desire he's had since the first time he saw your bare cunt - patrick like he just found something he wants to fucking eat.

"I know," art hiccups. cock twitching on his stomach, flushed and pink. "god, I know - fuck -"

patrick makes you fuck yourself at the same tempo he's fucking art with - both of them watching you, and when he pulls his fingers out and positions his cock at your husbands entrance, arts hand shoots across the comforter to wrap around your ankle - tugging. "c'mere, please." and you go to him because you can never deny him anything. letting him pull you on top of him. "you were too far away." he runs his hands down your sides and you feel your eyes sting a little - "need you close." its not like you were forcing yourself into this - it's just that you were prepared to put your own needs aside for a night to let art explore. but the fact that he doesn't even want to explore if it means you're out of reach? you love him so much.

and then you feel patricks hands, strong and rougher than arts, slide up your spine. press you down so your tits are pressed to your husbands chest - your bare cunt sliding against arts cock - "fuck I got lucky -" you hear patrick grunt from behind. "kiss your wife, art. wanna hear you moan into her mouth when I take this virgin ass."

art does just that - and you get the pleasure of feeling his gasp against your lips, his hands gripping your waist, fingers digging into your ass as patrick slides himself inside your husband. he kisses you sloppily and fervently. rocking his hips up into you, his cock sliding through the lips of your cunt. "oh god -" he moans and you whine against him. his desperation bleeding into you and making you drench his dick.

you rock back and forth against him for a time - before you feel patricks hands coming under you, and you gasp when you're yanked up, sitting up fully on arts lap. patricks chest coming to meet your back and you look down at art as he looks up at you with his eyes shining and pink lips parted. patricks hands come around to cup your tits and you can't help but moan - humping down against art - making his eyes flutter.

"such a good little wife." patrick tells you. "sitting pretty on her husbands dick while he gets fucked. you want it inside you, huh? there's not just one greedy hole here tonight - but two."

you whine. art whines too - he can feel how wet you are, sliding back and forth on his cock as he's fucked. every time patrick fucks into him his cock slides through your folds, bumps against your clit. it's the most overwhelming sensation.

"please." he begs. slides his hands up your trembling thighs to your waist. "please ride me, baby. I need to feel you -"

but you're still hesitant, even with patricks hot hands on your breasts and arts pleading eyes, you still want to be sure this is what he wants from this experience.

"you want me to? I can go back to - " you gasp when patrick pinches a nipple. "I can just watch." even though the throbbing in your cunt tells you you'd hate that right now. too fucking worked up now. you want to be apart of this more than you thought, you don't want to be sidelined. art is yours.

art shakes his head wildly - curls bouncing - "don't want you to watch." his eyes have that hazy quality to them, blown out and fucking hungry as he looks up at you. "I want you to sit on my fucking cock and bounce."

oh. well.

patrick moans behind you at the same time you gasp. art being vulgar is so fucking hot, you know.

"shit, you heard him, baby. up you go -" he helps you sit up more until you can reach down and guide arts cock to your sopping wet entrance. his hands go to your hips, over arts, as they both bring you down onto him - "there it is." patrick coos, as you sink onto your husbands thick cock. "oh, you take him so fucking well - that pussies his home, huh?"

you and art are both lost in it - arts head thrown back as your tight warm heat envelops him. you whimpering as you're stretched and filled like you love to be. but you nod anyway, to patricks question.

"fuuuuuck - look at you two." patrick sounds in awe. he works himself slowly in and out of arts hole, but he's holding you back against him. leans down to mouth at your neck - "made for eachother."

letting your bi!husband art donaldson fuck another man because you know hes never explored that part of his sexuality and you love him - not expecting to want to fuck patrick zweig yourself. it was supposed to be a one time thing, you were only supposed to watch, really - but it doesn't end that way. you somehow end up riding art while patrick fucks him, patricks chest hot and broad at your back, tossing your head back onto his shoulder as he kisses your neck. you wanted this to be about art - but your mistake was thinking you could ever be an outsider - and you're right where you're meant to be.