#totally on brand for Sleeping Dogs

[demonvibez]

Morning Surprise

Characters: Demon Brothers x GN Reader

Word Count: 2.4k+

Rating: Mature

Tags: fluff, kissing, erections, fade-to-black, suggestive

A/N: My first request back! Thought I'd go with something fun. There's no explicit smut but it is quite suggestive. Hope y'all enjoy!

Summary: Your favorite Demon Brother wakes up with you in his arms - and morning wood between his legs. What will happen next? Well...

[link to original request]

Lucifer, ever the prideful demon, can't help the smile on his face when he wakes up and looks down, only to see you safely asleep in his arms.

Ah, yes. The two of you had spent your first night together - not doing anything scandalous, just peacefully sleeping together. Although, he also couldn't help the way that smile ceased when he noticed the situation happening between his legs. He didn't notice his morning wood at first, due to the fact that you had your leg slung over him in your slumber - you were the only thing he noticed. But now a small seed of insecurity has been implanted into the back of his mind. What would you think, waking up to such an intrusion? Surely, the Avatar of Pride should be able to maintain control of himself, even his autonomic bodily functions. He wants to be nothing short of perfect in your eyes, even if that means going to extreme lengths to control the impossible. He's practically ready to get out of bed and start working on a plan forward - that is until he looks down into those sweet eyes of yours, and realizes you're awake. His moment of insecurity is fleeting, deciding that the state he's in is natural, and nothing to be ashamed or afraid of. You are his lover, after all. He leans down to steal a kiss from your lips, that cheeky smirk on his face after he pulls away.

"Good morning, my love. It seems as though you've stirred something within me," he said, before he leaned back down to start lightly nipping at your neck. You won't be making it out of his bed anytime soon, that's for sure. Quite scanadalous, indeed.

The first morning the two of you spend together, Mammon wakes up with an adorably dopey smile on his face. He's so happy to be cuddled up with his human, all cozy and warm, that he doesn't even notice the situation in his sweatpants at first. As he regains his consciousness, the feeling between his legs connecting to his brain, his eyes widen and he throws the covers off as he jumps out of the bed. You're barely even rubbing your eyes, muttering out his name in a questioning tone, when you hear the sound of your bathroom door slamming. You're wide awake now - yet so is he. Asking him questions through the door is just met with his signature brand of denial as he shouts at you to "GET BACK TO BED, STUPID HUMAN!!" You roll your eyes and grumble, opting to just go back to sleep and figure it out later. Luckily for Mammon. He doesn't need you getting the wrong idea - he's the Great Mammon after all! And no, he totally doesn't have a huge crush on you. The last thing he needs is such an awkward situation with the human he isn't crushing on.

The next time it happens though, he doesn't have quite the same reaction. You two are much closer than you were the last time, and he'll be damned if he's gonna hop out of your bed early. You wake up and he immediately steals a kiss, a blush already on his cheeks - and it doesn't take you long to figure out why. Giggles escape your lips if you ask Mammon if that gift is meant for you, which turns into full on laughter as his blush deepens and he stammers out his denials. And then, he gives you this look - an innocent lil puppy dog eye'd look with those shining gold-and-blue orbs of his. Always greedy for you, he doesn't even have to say the words. You already know what he wants.

"Treasure, please," is all you'll get from him. Which is all you need to hear, anyways. This greedy demon is eager to take anything you can give him.

Why oh why can't he just melt into the floor? At that current moment, Leviathan felt cursed. He finally got to spend the night cuddling with his Player 2, and THIS is the state he wakes up in?! He feels like the grossest lowlife to ever walk the realm. If Father could just send some lightning straight down here and take him out, he'd be oh so grateful. Because how the hell is he possibly going to deal with this?! You were currently laying on top of him, snuggling with him in his bath-bed and tangled up in his tail. The level of gymnastics needed to escape from your hold and this room far surpasses an Olympic level feat. And when he looks down at his chest to see you looking back up at him, he swears his demonic heart actually stopped. The scream emitted from his room could be heard all the way from the Demon Lord's Castle, as well as the subsequent slamming of his door. You are just left laying alone in his room in bewilderment as your ears ring.

It takes quite a bit of time for Leviathan to get over this whole incident. It actually starts to bum you out how long he's kept himself locked away in his room this time, refusing to talk or even come down for meals. His Brothers thought it was funny at first, but now that they see you upset, they take it upon themselves to chat with him. It doesn't work at first, until Mammon kicks down his door himself. Then, one by one, they stop by to chat with little success. It isn't until Lucifer stops by for an earnest pep talk that the Avatar of Envy finally comes around.

When it finally comes time to hang out again, Levi opts to pretend the whole thing never happened. Unluckily for him, it happened again. He's ready to have another mental breakdown, but you're determined to prevent that - you love him, and it's really not a big deal. You were never mad, or creeped out, it just happens. As you cradle his blushing cheeks with your lil human hands, you whisper words of reassurance to your Lord of Shadow.

"I-I-I-Uhhhh-" is all he can stammer out in reply, until you shut him up with those soft lips of yours. He'll have to write you a message later - for now, you have him pushed back into his bath-bed, ready to take the lead and conquer him like an adventure quest.

Laying in his bed with you, surrounded by his books as you sleep in his arms, Satan lies awake with his emerald eyes staring at the ceiling. This wasn't the first time he was experiencing this issue. He had read plenty about it, to the point that he knows it's an autonomic function of his body. And yet, he can't help but to feel a bit ashamed of himself, as if he had any control of it at all - as if he were gentlemanly enough to be able to stop it from happening. He's better than this - a thought that sounds eerily like the words of someone he loathes, and now he's even more irritated with himself. Ugh, how could he have not seen this as a possible outcome?! While one of his arms is wrapped around you, the other lays by his side as he grips the bed-sheet so hard that his knuckles changes shades. He needs to come up with a plan to make a quiet escape so he can go calm down. He could probably slip out of bed fairly easily, the only problem being the mountains of books creating obstacles all around his room. He knows these book piles like the back of his own hand, and yet his anger clouds his mind. He highly doubts he'd be able to make a clean escape.

Before he can start to peel the sheets back, he feels you stirring from your sleep. You look up at him to see a bright blush on his cheeks, clearly avoiding eye contact with you. With a light giggle, you ask Satan whats wrong, and he begins to rapidly apologize while info-dumping everything he's read about the subject. About two-thirds of the way through his rambles, you simply cut him off with a kiss. When you pull away, you swear you see sparkles in those sage orbs of his. You break the kiss and start to pull at the drawstrings of his pajama pants, a tiny giggle escaping your lips. A light blush coats his cheeks, and all of the poetry previously ingrained into his brain has now fled from his memories.

"Amazing," was all he could whisper, and he is most definitely talking about you. He'll have to express his gratitude when he can regather his mind, but for now, he's happy to be locked in his room with you. This is one study session he plans to be absolutely rigorous about.

Already awake, yet pretending to still be asleep, Asmo is doing his best to keep a mischievous grin off of his pretty face. He was well aware of the situation happening between his legs, and he isn't fazed by it in the least. He's the Avatar of Lust, after all, and this is his arena! And he is perfectly comfortable pressing his morning arousal into the flesh of your thigh as he continues to pretend. Of course you begin to stir, slowly waking up and taking in your surroundings, immediately taking notice of Asmodeus. Your eyes scan his sleeping form, one of your hands gently rubbing his back as you feel him press himself into your leg once more. A small gasp escapes your lips, and before you know it, his gorgeous sunset eyes are staring up at you.

You greet each other with whispered greetings and soft kisses, Asmo nuzzling your neck as he waits for you to bring up his arousal. You're a bit used to this - it's Asmodeus, after all, so none of this is really surprising. What was surprising, however, was how coy he was acting with you when you finally breached the subject. "Who, meeee~?! ♡" in that signature sing-song voice of his, as you look at him with a deadpan expression. He busts out into a fit of giggles, showering you with little kisses, before his kiss transforms into something a bit more sensual. His lips on your neck, his hands trailing your curves. You know exactly where this is going, but it's one of the many things you love about your Asmo.

"Do I even have to ask, darling~? ♡" His lips softly trail as he slides down your body, and you mentally prepare for the marathon of euphoria your lover is about to experience with you - and how it may cause you to ruin yet another set of silk sheets. Just another day being in love with the Avatar of Lust!

Now, you were quite used to snuggling up with the giant demonic teddy bear that is Beelzebub. Ever since Lucifer tried to 'punish' you by making you live with Beel temporarily, the two of you enjoyed sharing a bed and cuddling up at night. It seemed to be an average evening - you had retired with Beel to his room after dinner, ready to cozy up and drift off in his arms as the two of you watch his favorite show, Barbeque Life. What wasn't average, however, was the way in which you were awakened the following morning. See, the funny thing about sharing a bed with Beel is that you no longer need to set your own alarm clock - the roar of his rumbling stomach is more than sufficient to wake both of you up in the morning. But this morning was different. This morning, something rather stiff poked into your side, jarring you awake from your dreams.

It takes you a moment to fully wake up and realize what was happening - that Beel's other hunger could possibly be making itself known on this early Devildom morning. Although it could be nothing, it doesn't take you too long to find out. Soon enough, Beel is waking up as well, and you can tell he's certainly in a mood. With rosy cheeks and bashful eyes, he's looking at you with that same sparkle he has at the buffet line. Whatever he must have been dreaming about - and it certainly wasn't cheeseburgers - has clearly made him ravenous with lust. Always a gentleman, he takes your hand and presses a kiss to your knuckles, before kindly asking if he may proceed. He's so adorable that you answer him with a kiss, throwing your arms around his neck before he pulls you closer.

"Y'u tas- sssoooo g'd," he mumbles between kisses, as if his mouth was full, "I luv y'u s' muhh."

Beel always loves having sweets for breakfast.

Oh, Belphegor. That bratty little sloth demon. He sure does have a way of getting exactly what he wants - something that no one in this household would deny. You were starting to think he had planned this entire situation. He can control dreams after all, so it wouldn't shock you if he was creating lust-filled dreams in order to cause this to happen on purpose. One snap of his fingers and he's in the middle of a sex scene - and you can only imagine who his partner was. All so he could wake up and pester you with those pouty purple eyes of his, while he presses his hardened member into your side.

At first he feigns innocence and ignorance, wanting you to be the one to use your words to point it out - he'd do anything to get you flustered. That is, until you call him out on it - that you're sure of what he was doing in his dreams. He pouts, he whines, he blames you completely for it all - for his dream, and for his arousal. You're not really gonna make him beg are you? He'll just pretend to go back to sleep. His pouty eyes turn serious, a glint of threat glimmering in his purple orbs, and you can't help but to let out a laugh and steal a kiss. You can feel the tenseness leave his body as he melts back into your arms, getting comfortable as he returns your kiss with passion. You can feel his fangs lightly nip your bottom lip as you pull away for air, the poutiness returning to his face as he looks at you incredulously.

"Well, you're gonna help me, right?!" Turns out there's more than one way for the Avatar of Sloth to keep you in bed all day.

· demonvibez ♡ 2025 · do not copy, repost or modify ·

· comments, reblogs and likes are deeply appreciated! ♡ ·

[sqgeism]

𐙚 𓏵𓏵𓏵 𐙚 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐭 𝐩𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐞 ❤︎ | mark grayson x gender neutral reader

love mail — romantic + super self indulgent hcs about mark :D if this does well, rex will get the same treatment)

mark grayson with the sweetest, most perfect s/o.. he's so incredibly down bad that even the team is embarrassed. you have the famous hero, invincible — a man posessing incredible powers and strength — weak in the knees. and you don't even know how tightly you have him wrapped around your finger.

"baaaby? i need your..—" without the chance to finish, he's already at your side in seconds and awaiting your request. it makes him all giddy when you call him pet names; baby, sweetheart, darling.. all of those things have his heart running laps, and he doesn't ever want it to stop. rex says he's making a fool of himself, mark argues by saying he's being a fool for you. making it perfectly fine to be one.

he LOOOVES, loves, loves kisses! he doesn't need it to be a make-out sesh, or if he's giving or receiving, it's just his favorite form of physical affection. if you're sleepy, he gives you a forehead kiss. if you're sad, kisses all over your pretty face. and his favorite is if you're happy, you have this tendancy to just kiss him over and over till mark's letting out smitten sighs of content. it's a bonus if you wear any type of lipstick/gloss, he wears your little marks like a PROUD boyfriend. period

mark grayson is a man who treats you like ROYALTY, carrying your bags, buying you all the pretty brands, and all he asks is to go on long, detailed rants about seance dog. he usually has to fight the urge to giggle and kick his feet cause you look at him like he's your boyfriend, and NOT a totally big nerd. which he is, who says you can't be both? infact, you're sure you love him for BEING a nerd. something about a big, tough hero.. liking a comic like seance dog. cute, sooo cute.

his favorite time of day is night time, when you're all sleepy and he pretends to be too, only to be wide awake and stifle his giggles at your sleepy clingyness. he loves the way you just.. stick to him, almost like glue. or GOD, when you run your hands through his hair — he's just got it sooo bad for you, a lovesick puppy at your side always. don't get mad at him when he shows you all the pictures he takes of you while you're sleeping, it just makes him wanna do it more, all to see that pretty look of frustration on your face.

and of course, with being a superhero, an older brother, AND a college student.. mark gets exhausted too, unimaginably so. and when he gets home, greeted by a homecooked meal, comfy clothes, his favorite movie and you, in the midst of washing the dirty dishes in his shirt — he forgets why he was in a sour mood to begin with. hell, he's got stars in his eyes as he excitedly asks you if you've prepared this all for him. dinner goes cold though, too busy pressing you up against the counter and showing you how grateful he is with his lips. ♡

totally the kind of guy to buy a polaroid camera just to collect pictures of you, and best believe he has MANY. in his wallet, in his phone, on his desk in his room.. and in fact, he had jokingly made you a shrine. realistically, it's just got all the gifts you've gotten him over the years.. but he loves it, his little corner of love, his love. his personal favorite picture is the first photobooth you two went to, he's got you carried bridal style and pressing his nose against you, causing you to have the sweetest burst of laughter — the moment perfectly captured in a single photo forever. he's sure that he'll use it to brag to every single person that he's taken, that you're his.

b4 you two were together, mark DEFINITELY tried on multiple ocassions to impress you. posted gym pictures on main (rex laughed at him for weeks), tried to dress 'cooler', and overall tried to become someone he honestly wasn't. to his surprise (and dismay), you noticed him at a cafe on a random weekend, wearing a shirt he didn't realize had a hole in the back, reading a seance dog comic. cue mark's embarrassed mumbling for excuses, before you kindly laughed off his flustered-ness, and offered to listen to him to talk about the comic he was reading.

you.

interested.

in his favorite comic.

it's like you've set off some sort of bomb, cause the boy you found interesting on campus just became ten times more attractive. again, just to highlight, a strong man with the kindest personality is just — it's immediately attractive. or it's the fact mark is just.. hot. he's undeniably a force to be reckoned with and you wanna ROCK his force deadass (sorry 🙁)

worked out in the end <3 now he deals with all your biting of his arms and fixation on messing up his hair. seriously, the whole messy hair thing can not be this serious to you...!

but it is. absolutely. put that hair gel down 💔

and for all the shit that mark's been put through, you've learned to understand him in a way he thought was impossible. for all the times he missed dates, that you slept alone in bed, when he'd disappear for months.. you always waited. patiently, lovingly, for the man you cherished so dearly.

so when he cries in your arms, murmuring how he wishes he could be a better man — you tell him there's no point. he is a better man, the best, in your words. and you wouldn't want anyone else.

[literaila]

gojo accidentally calling reader his girlfriend/wife in front of other people

(u don’t have to do this they r just infiltrating my mind rn)

accidentally is really a strong word, isn’t it?

satoru gojo doesn’t make “mistakes.” that one time he forgot to make lunch for both of the kids? well, that was a test of their survival skills. when he let a cursed spirit get away because he saw a new bakery down the street and had to try it? that was just for fun—he likes a little chase.

satoru doesn’t do things on accident, of course, because he lacks basically all faults—but he’s only human, okay?

there’s only so long one man can go sleeping next to the same person every night—suffocating said person with the entire weight of his body and being lulled to sleep by a strong heartbeat—before he accidentally gets a little bit confused.

and so, you’re standing in an aisle at a grocery store, staring at a collection of snacks and trying to discern what, exactly, tsumiki meant by “the blue sweet things.”

you’ve been there for about three minutes—satoru having gone to hide some impulse purchases, probably, or annoy a poor stock person—when a gentleman taps you on the shoulder.

you look lost, he says, but kindly—and oh, he’s got a name tag, the stores logo embedded on the front of his hat—how can he help?

so you reluctantly launch into a story about your nine-year-old daughter, and your daughter’s friend, who introduced her to some snack, which, apparently, until tsumiki can have again, she won’t be able to eat anything else.

she’s not being picky, you quote, just particular.

and it’s right when you’re laughing with this man, telling him about tsumiki’s puppy dog eyes and completely unhelpful descriptions, that satoru rounds the corner.

he’s already focused in on you, as always, so his eyes don’t have to do a lot of seeking. it takes one breath, a clarification of what he already knew, and he’s walking towards the both of you.

(though, having the strongest sorcerer of the modern age, blessed since birth, trained since a child, heading directly for you—target in mind—can’t really be classified as walking. running, maybe. teleporting ten meters in a matter of seconds. what bounds does satoru gojo know, after all?)

“there you are,” he says, in some sweet version of a strange man who’s been stalking you. which, honestly, he has. “i’ve been looking all over.”

satoru announces this basically into the back of your head, because he’s not even a step behind you.

he’s just appeared, suddenly, and you don’t even have the time to be shocked about it. no time to flinch, or tell him to stop scaring you like that.

and satoru has no regard for personal space, or respecting other people’s bubbles, but this is excessively close, even for him.

so immediately, you’re suspicious. but when aren’t you, around your curse of a co-parent?

“you ran away from me,” you say, trying to push him back with your elbow, giving him a side eye you hope he can feel.

“i get lost. who’s this?”

the man opens his mouth, already looking wildly uncomfortable. it is a bit bewildering to have a tall, strange blindfolded man stare at you like you’re a threat, you guess.

satoru really must be taking intimidation lessons from megumi.

you breathe out, nudging him again. “he was trying to help me find the treat tsumiki wanted.”

“oh, was he?” satoru says this completely pleasantly, but he’s not grinning. and, by this point, he’s made a wet spot on the back of your neck from breathing too hard.

he’s entirely too warm and far too strong to push away. honestly, satoru is a playbook for abusing one’s power.

at least you’re not completely, totally disgusted by him. at least.

you refrain from rolling your eyes. “yup. i think we narrowed it down to three or four options.”

the man smiles, taking a not-so-subtle step back. “there’s a popular brand that i—“

“i already know what tsumiki wants.”

you turn, irritation spiking. “what? no, you don’t, satoru, you already told—“

“thanks for trying to help my wife, though. we’ve got it.”

both of his hands come to rest on your shoulders, basically holding you to him while satoru probably places a hex on this poor man with his glare.

and you would laugh, honestly. you would cackle in satoru’s face and grab the attendant by the arm, leaving your fake husband—and his lies—behind without a second thought.

but you can’t. maybe you’ve lost your mind. maybe satoru’s just a little bit too close in this very moment—for thinking rational thoughts, at least.

“o-of course, have a…” the man begins to say, but he doesn’t even attempt to finish his sentence before he’s turning around, quickly exiting the isle before satoru can say anything else completely idiotic.

you shake his hands off, turning. “what are you doing?”

it’s like a switch has flipped because satoru immediately grins, looking as clueless and irritating as ever. “what? i’m just trying to shop.”

“you just scared that man off for no reason. and now i don’t even know which ones to get.”

“i’ll find them.”

“he could’ve found them if you weren’t glaring at him like an animal.”

satoru begins to trifle through the packages on the display, oh so oblivious. “we should just get one of each. tsumiki can share with her friends.”

“she doesn’t want all of them, satoru.”

“then i’ll eat the rest.”

“hey,” you say, pulling at his sleeve. “you called me your wife.”

satoru looks at you, tapping his chin. “oh, did i?”

“i told you to quit it with that.”

“oops,” he shrugs. “i must’ve gotten confused.”

“satoru.”

“what? sometimes my words get mixed up.”

“this is the sixth time this month.”

he sighs, tilting his head back in a display of agony. “working hard puts such a strain on my head.”

“you haven’t had work in a week.”

“a big strain. ginormous. lasts for years.”

“im serious,” you say, pulling at the hair sticking up from his blindfold. “i don’t want you to call me that.”

satoru’s mouth turns. “why not?”

“because it’s not true.”

he waves a hand, turning away once again. “a little white lie never hurt anyone.”

“i’ll hurt you if you keep doing that.”

“ooh,” he mock shivers. “that was scary. say it again.”

“satoru.”

“he was looking at you weird,” he relents, tapping on your head like you’re a small child he needs to console. satoru pouts, looking down at you. “and you had that little wrinkle on your face. i wanted to make sure he wasn’t bothering you.”

he says this so pathetically, faking a sort of sympathy he has obviously never felt. satoru then takes his thumb to smooth out the so-called wrinkle.

you slap his hand away. “you walked up from behind me,” you point out, incredulous, “and he wasn’t even looking at me. he was looking at the wall so he could help.”

satoru blinks at you. he whispers, very dryly, “you were laughing.”

“i was telling him what tsumiki said.”

“he was probably gathering information so he could follow you home. i saved you. you’re welcome.”

“are you kidding me?”

satoru grins. “don’t worry. i’d never let that happen.”

“he was like eighty years old. i don’t even think he could follow me out of this isle without needing to stop and catch his breath.”

“better safe than sorry,” he runs that very same thumb—the one you pushed away—down the side of your cheek. just to watch you shiver.

you take a breath in and will yourself not to react. “better go find someone to help us before i kick you.”

he just laughs. “okay, wifey. whatever you say.”

you scowl. “stop calling me that!”

“it was an accident,” satoru looks away, grinning. “jeez, i can’t even make one mistake with you.”

[rafesslxt]

𝐒𝐋𝐘𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐍 𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐒 | 𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐒𝐌𝐄𝐋𝐋

sfw headcanon | Enzo, Theodore, Mattheo, Draco

「 ✦ Headcanon about how their girlfriends would smell, what they would use + their reaction to it. ✦ 」

words: 1,2k

aesthetic: 🛁🧴🧖🏼‍♀️🧺🫧

Enzo:

coconut ☁️🥥🧴🌴🐚

haircare; coconut milk shampoo & conditioner by ogx

bodycare; coco cabana body wash and body cream by sol de janeiro

perfume/bodyspray; coco cabana body spray by sol de janeiro and coconut passion by Victorias Secret

It all began when you and the Slytherin Gang would chill in your common room late at night. Your sister had send you a package with some new products from the muggle world form a brand you really liked. You let yourself fall back into the couch where your boyfriend Enzo pulled you between his legs, so your back was against his chest. Not even a minute after he smelled your hair and his eyes widened as if he just pulled a line of coke he asked, "Baby, what is it that your hair smells so good?" He starts sniffing your hair like a dog and you giggle, your cheeks blushing. "My sister sent this to me the other day. A few products from the muggle world that I wanted to try. It's the brand I told you about a few days ago." He tried to listen to you but was totally consumed by the new smell. "Here, smell this." you grin and hold your arm in front of his nose. "What is– oh god damn.." The smell of coconut made it's way through his nose right to his brain. "It's a new body lotion and two body spray's I mixed so–" But before you could finish your sentence he pulled you with him up from the couch and pushed you towards his dorm. "Uhu you can tell me all about it once I'm ready with you."

Theodore:

pistachio & salted caramel 🍂🌞🍯🌰🧸

bodycare: body lotion and wash nr. 62 by sol de janeiro

lips: salted caramel lip balm by rhode skin

perfume/bodyspray: bodyspray nr. 62 by sol de janeiro or Casablanca Swiss Arabian perfume

His obsession with your smell started when you came back from your summer holiday's with your parents in the muggle world. You showed him what you brought back there, doing a little haul in front of him and your friends. They knew how much you loved to show the your new things every time you got back so they sat there and listened to your happy voice. "Oh and I almost forgot! I got these new things from a brand called 'sol de Janeiro' it's supposed to smell like pistachio and salted caramel. It's smells delicious really." You handed the items around and your friends smelled on the lotions and sprays. They all told you how good and yummy it smelled, smiling at the scent. When they finally passed it to your boyfriend, he took a smell and his eyes widened immediately. "Oh Mia cara this smells— oh dio aiutami." He pulled you closer to him and sprayed the bodyspray on your skin, waiting a few seconds before it dry's and he pulls your arm in front of his nose. "Oh principessa, this smells even more devine on your skin." "I'm glad you like it, Teddy." you smile at him and giggle. He puts more on you, on your bare legs, your arms, your chest and neck. "Baby we need to go." he suddenly urges and try's to pull you away from your friends who look knowingly at your boyfriend. He leans down to your ear and whispers into it, "It turns me on so fucking much sweetheart. And If you don't come with me right now I'm gonna take you over this couch."

Mattheo:

vanilla 🍦☁️🧁🧸🍨

bodycare: vanilla shea butter body wash and body lotion by dove

lips: laneige vanilla sleeping mask

perfume/bodyspray: Vanilla 28 perfume by kayali and Vanilla bodyspray by Victorias Secret

Mattheo really tried his best to be a good shopping partner but after the hundreth shop you walked through, he barely could comprehend anything you said. "Oh look a drugstore! I need a few new things. I wanna change my scent." His eyebrows shot up. "New scent? In like, new perfume?" You nodded your head and walked inside, your eyes already on a few products. "Yes and also my showering routine has to change so the smell matched the perfume." he looked at you in confusion. What do you mean your shower routine has to change? Just shower, right? "Hmm I'm thinking since it's getting a bit colder I'm gonna go for something less fruity." You browse through the shelves of the store until you find something to fill your basket. "And?" he asked lazily, looking at the new items. "Vanilla." you proudly smile at him, taking one of the bottles and opening the cap. "Here, smell it." You hold it in front of his nose and he takes a little sniff, his face soon changing into utterly confusion. "Wait–" he mumbles when you're about to pull the bottle away. He takes it out of your hand and smells it again, then the rest in your basket. "Oh baby, If you're gonna smell like this I'm eating you up as soon as you leave the shower." he smirks at you. You roll your eyes but can't help the giggle that leaves your mouth. "What are you doing?" you question your boyfriend when he starts walking through the store on his own. "Finding more of this vanilla stuff!"

Draco:

fruity 🍊🍋🌞✨🍹

haircare: mehr shampoo and conditioner by rituals

bodycare: mehr body scrub, shower foam and dry oil by rituals

perfume/bodyspray: body mist mehr by rituals or orange soleia by guerlain

Draco couldn't understand what got you so obsessed with muggle things until you showed him your newest treasure. "So you've been in this dirty muggle world to buy what? Showergel?"he mocks you a bit when he sees all of your new stuff spread around you on the bed. You roll your eyes at him and scoff. "Oh don't be so grumpy Dray, this smells really good. You'll love it." He sighs and sits down at the edge of your bed, his eyes scanning all of the products. "Looks pretty.." he admits in a quiet mumble but you still heard it. "I know! It's on the more luxury side and like a whole new brand! It's supposed to smell like orange and sandalwood." "Sandalwood? You wanna smell like a forest?" "Dracooo stop mocking me, please. Try it and tell me how you like it, seriously." You pull off the cap of your new bodyspray and spritz it on your wrist, holding it in front of his nose. You studied his face to see a reaction, but nothing. "Draco? Don't you like it? I chose something fruity because I know you li–" but before you could finish your sentence, you were pulled up from your bed. "Dray, what are you doing?" "We're gonna take a shower, right now." "Oh so you like the stuff from 'the dirty muggle world', huh?" Now you were the one who mocked him and made him roll his eyes but in his opinion it was worth it. "Yeah yeah, we'll see who's gonna laugh when I am ready with you, darling." And just like that your smile dropped to your panties.

sooo this is something different let me know If you liked it ☁️✨

also got inspired by a post from @ahqkas and how Theodore would love your vanilla scent. 🍦

+ i swear the rituals of mehr is SO freaking good! I worked at a rituals shop and it‘s so worth it 🍊

taglist: @justarandomcanadiantransdude @helendeath @thatonepansexual2000 @imabee-oralizard @supernaturaldawning @brodiedoesthings @yourenogoodforme @sofa-couch26 @little-miss-naill @kolsangel @itsarajr @mixvchelle @hisparentsgallerryy @littlemadamred @ummmmmmm-username @jeannie-beannie @belle-blue @sagetakami @simp-for-fantasy @i-like-pandas5 @your-local-simp26 @romantasyreader28 @whiteboylover222 @batsching @themissingweasley26 [if you wanna be added or removed to my taglist, click here]

xoxo sarah <3

[eunxhan]

Ꮺ Anon Requested ⨾ Polyamory/harem relationship with head over heels bottom subs,, one is a cute shy guy who loves m reader so fucking much he doesn't mind getting cucked and stuff as long as it pleases reader,,another one is a hot sexy model who's very proud of his body, always taking care of himself so you'll praise him when you fuck him, taking care of his hair well so you can easily pull them,,, kinky sub who's into wild plays, totally devoted to reader and would do literally anything like damn.. Another cold aloof kind of man,, people are intimidated by him and he's all strong and one man army stuff.. Yet when it comes to reader he's just a mess like damn,, all these pretty, smart, strong subbies also has reader's personal brand on his skin,,, they're so head over heels they do anything for reader's acknowledgement,,,

Ꮺ Eun Replies ⨾ Oh my, It is lovely to see my sweets still active. I have been thinking about this entry the moment I came back in this platform. How I've missed all of you.. I did wrote them separately but I decided to write and post another where they all meet in the future. But anyways, what should we name these three?

•◦✦────•◦ᘡᘞ •◦────✦◦•◦•

Ꮺ Disclaimer — NSFW.

Reader ⨾ MALE. YOU/YOUR.

Words used ⨾ 1578

Links ⨾ My Navigation

•◦✦────•◦ᘡᘞ •◦────✦◦•◦•

Let's say, you're an average guy with a typical 9 to 5 job. You couldn't care less about what anyone has to say or do to you, yet three men managed to catch your interest. One of them being Shy!sub. It's not like you guys have been together since childhood; you only met during middle school.

Shy!sub is incredibly shy and easily embarrassed. He tends to blush a lot, especially around you. Even the slightest touch or intimate gesture from you can make him flush red.

Shy!sub is used to your rantings while playing with him, and sometimes, you being a little shit happens to take your anger out on him during your calls. He never says or complains about it; he just listens or sometimes even apologizes to you.

Shy!sub enjoys playing video games with you, even if he's not very good at them and you call him out for jt. He just finds it relaxing and a great way to bond with you. He often cheers you on during your gaming sessions.

Not only does he enjoys gaming, Shy!sub has a secret love for romantic movies. He often watches them when you're not around, dreaming of the day you and him will have your own romantic story.

Shy!sub looks at you as if he's admiring a piece of art, even if you're just there yelling and getting mad about something ridiculous. You can tell that he wants something else. But if you call him out on something, Shy!sub hates confrontations and avoids them at all costs. He would rather keep the peace than engage in an argument, even if it means holding back his true feelings.

Shy!sub is the type of person who's too soft for people like you to handle. He does your chores because he knows you're exhausted from your job or school, and even cooks for you.

Shy!sub enjoys cooking for you, as he sees it as a way to show his love and care for you. He often tries out new recipes, hoping to impress you with his culinary skills. If you point something out or compliment his cooking, be ready to see him almost everyday in your kitchen.

He acts more like a boyfriend than a best friend. One call of his name, and he's dashing towards you like a loyal dog ready to do what you ask. With him basically living with you, Shy!sub can sleep easily. He is afraid of the dark and often sleeps with a nightlight on. He sometimes asks you to sleep with him when he's feeling particularly scared.

Shy!sub never admits this but he secretly loves it when you get angry, as it shows your passionate side. He often provokes you, hoping to see your fiery temper.

When both of you started to have some intimate moments, Shy!sub got even more embarrassed but he never stops trying to tease you with his every move. He basically lives with you now from how much time he spends with you. Everything escalated quickly when you got home and saw him wearing something he normally doesn't wear.

Shy!sub looks so damn adorable in his light bubblegum pink lingerie, but you decided to keep it in your pants and let him explain what he was doing. You could tell he was about to burst out crying when you walked in on him.

—

Shy!sub's eyes widened as he realized you had caught him in his new attire. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and his heart raced, fearing the worst. The lingerie, a gift from a secret admirer, was supposed to be a surprise for You. But now, with you standing in the doorway, the moment had been ruined.

You, on the other hand, couldn't help but admire the way the lingerie hugged Shy!sub's curves, accentuating his hourglass figure. The sight of Shy!sub in such a delicate and feminine ensemble stirred something deep within you—a desire he had never felt before. But he knew the time was not right to act on it.

"It's... it's for you," Shy!sub managed to stutter, his voice trembling. "I wanted to surprise you. I thought you'd like it."

"Wow, I've never thought I would see this coming from you. Someone who is known to be easily embarrassed over everything." You could see the vulnerability in Shy!sub's eyes as you reply to him. It was a rare sight, and it tugged at your heartstrings. You knew Shy!sub's affections ran deep, and you couldn't bear to see him so distressed. So, with a smile, you stepped forward and gently placed a hand on Shy!sub's cheek.

"You look amazing," You said, his voice soft and reassuring. "And I appreciate the thought. But remember, you don't need to do anything to impress me. I love you just the way you are."

Shy!sub let out a shaky breath, relief washing over him. He leaned into your touch, grateful for your understanding. The moment, though awkward, had brought them closer. From that day on, You began to see Shy!sub in a whole new light. Your words and gentle touch calmed Shy!sub's nerves. The tension in the room shifted, and a new energy filled the space. Shy!sub's heart fluttered as your hand lingered on his cheek, your thumb gently caressing Shy!sub's soft skin.

Emboldened by your acceptance, Shy!sub leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a feather-light kiss. It was a tentative move, a test to gauge your reaction. But you responded with a hunger that surprised them both. Your lips met in a passionate kiss, your tongues dancing and exploring each other's mouths. Shy!sub's hands roamed your body, feeling the contours of your muscles through your shirt. Your hands slid down Shy!sub's back, cupping his rear and pulling him closer.

The lingerie, once a source of embarrassment, now became a symbol of their growing desire. The soft fabric rubbed against your body, igniting a fire within you. Shy!sub could feel your arousal pressing against him, and it sent shivers down his spine. His mind were somewhere else as he softly groans in your ears, his mind tells him to beg you to do something more to him.

You both broke the kiss, panting and flushed. Your eyes were dark with desire, and Shy!sub's lips were swollen from your passionate embrace. The room was filled with a palpable tension, a promise of what was to come.

"Darling," Shy!sub whispered, his voice heavy with need. "I want you. I've always wanted you." he whined at the end. You didn't need to be told twice. You scooped Shy!sub into your arms and carried him to the bedroom, which made him more excited.

•◦✦────•◦ᘡᘞ •◦────✦◦•◦•

Confident!sub, a charming and flirtatious individual, utilizes his natural charisma and wit to captivate those around him. Easily drawing in his audience, he leaves them craving more of his company. His tactics to garner attention, however, are solely to attract the cameras. When it comes to you, his dearest, he's wholly devoted.

His sarcastic nature and high tolerance levels add an alluring challenge to his persona, making him even more magnetic. For you, though, his sarcasm serves as a playful means of aggravation.

Confident!sub is confident in his physicality, maintaining his desirable physique through rigorous workouts. Brands and designers clamor for him to be the face of their new products, well aware of his pickiness when it comes to endorsements.

In his pursuit of physical perfection, Confident!sub adheres to a strict regimen of body care. His routine, from head to toe, takes a full three hours, with shower time not even included. If you need the bathroom while he's in there, you'll have to resort to forceful measures.

During his photoshoots, Confident!sub teases you with his movements and poses. He'll gaze hungrily at you, performing his job with you as his little assistant, always present in the room. If you're absent, his temper flares. So, sad to say that you're always with him in and out.

A possessive streak emerges in Confident!sub when he spots you admiring other models. With him in the room, half-naked and expecting your adoration, he takes offense at your gaze wandering to less attractive individuals. If you curse at him for his tantrums, his anger intensifies, believing you should have been fixated on him.

Confident!sub is unfiltered in his communication, voicing his thoughts at any given moment. Be it day, night, place, or time, he'll share his uncensored musings. With a bored expression, he'll casually mention desires like you satisfying him behind a door post-shoot or gripping his hair. One time while you were having breakfast, he mumbled something about how he dreamed about you pounding him for a photoshoot.

Despite his outward confidence, Confident!sub harbors insecurities deep down. He worries that one day, his looks might fade, and he'll lose the adoration he currently enjoys. So with you having around him, he dares not to let you go. He hates it when you look at other models that he finds intimidating. Whenever you reassure him about his insecurities, expect not getting out of the bedroom for atleast two days.

Confident!sub hates being touched by strangers. He becomes uncomfortable and edgy when people he doesn't know try to touch him. He's only comfortable with you touching him. You should be lucky that someone like him allows you to touch him, his words not mine.

——

After a long and tiring photoshoot, Confident!sub was ready to unwind. With his manager having rented a hotel room for him, he of course invited you to join him, knowing full well what he had in mind. You, aware of Confident!sub's intentions, eagerly accepted the invitation.

In the privacy of the hotel room, Confident!sub wasted no time in expressing his desires. You pinned him against the wall, his hands roaming your body with a hunger that could not be satiated. With you, equally aroused, gripped Confident!sub's hair, pulling him in for a passionate kiss.

Confident!sub's hands slid down to your body, undoing your pants with a swift motion. He wasted no time in freeing his own arousal, rubbing it against yours before he could let you rub against his entrance. With a swift thrust, you entered him, filling him with your length.

The room was filled with the sounds of him screaming your name and the wet sounds. Confident!sub's moans echoed off the walls, a testament to his pleasure. You, gripping onto Confident!sub's hair, praised him for his skill and good looks, encouraging him to continue his plea.

Confident!sub, driven by your words, moving his hips at the same pace as you with a fervor that was almost animalistic. Your hands gripped on his hips, pulling him closer with each thrust. Him, lost in a sea of pleasure, could only hold on for dear life, his moans mingling in the air.

As you both reached your climax, Confident!sub's moans grew louder, your thrusts becoming more erratic. Him, gripping onto you tightly, felt his own release building. With a final thrust, you both reached, your bodies trembling with the force releasing.

•◦✦────•◦ᘡᘞ •◦────✦◦•◦•

Intimidating!sub, a formidable figure with a history in the military, bears scars on both his face and body. His imposing physique and commanding posture are enough to convey his cold and strict demeanor, deterring others from approaching him. Even children and pets are frightened by his aura.

Despite his chilling exterior, Intimidating!sub has a soft spot for his beloved. At the mere sound of his name, spoken by you, his defenses crumble. He prefers to reserve his genuine smiles for private moments, sharing them only with you.

In terms of protection, Intimidating!sub is unparalleled. His presence alone is enough to deter potential aggressors, as if he were a guard dog watching over you. His menacing appearance suggests he'd defend you with ferocity, ready to "bite" anyone who dares to bother you.

In private, Intimidating!sub reveals a sensitive side. He cries during movies or deep conversations, seeking your comfort. With his head resting on your chest, he finds solace as he weeps, trying to express his feelings or explain the emotions triggered by a film. He's known to shed tears privately if his actions upset a child or pet.

Intimidating!sub is an intellectual powerhouse, capable of answering nearly any query and solving complex mathematical problems in a matter of seconds. He's like a human calculator, with an uncanny ability to memorize information. This makes outings with him effortless, as you need not consult your phone for calculations or searches.

Eager for your affection, Intimidating!sub leans on your shoulder, a subtle request for attention. He demands your love, regardless of your current engagements. If he's bold enough, he'll wake you to share a tender gaze.

Embarrassed by his nocturnal desires, Intimidating!sub awakens from wet dreams, seeking solace in the bathroom. If he gathers the courage, he'll attempt to rouse you, his eyes pleading softly.

——

After Intimidating!sub woke you from your slumber, you noticed the flush on his face, a testament to his embarrassment. A soft whimper escaped his lips, "Please help me with this..." Your eyes followed his gaze downward, where you found his hardened length, throbbing and grinding against the material of his pants.

The sight was too enticing to ignore, and as he offered you a small, tender peck on the cheek, you decided to give in to his desires. You guided his hand to release his length from its prison, letting it spring free. The tip glistened with pre-cum, a clear indication of his arousal.

Intimidating!sub's eyes locked onto yours, pleading for your touch. You obliged, wrapping your hand around his shaft and beginning to stroke him gently. His breathing hitched, his face contorting in pleasure. You teased him, speeding up and slowing down your strokes, drawing out his pleasure.

As you continued, Intimidating!sub's body grew more tense, his hips bucking involuntarily. You could sense his impending release, and you leaned in, taking his length into your mouth. The sensation of your warm, wet mouth enveloping him sent him over the edge.

Intimidating!sub cried out your name, his body trembling as he came. You swallowed his release, showing no signs of discomfort. When you pulled away, he collapsed onto the bed, his body slick with sweat.

You climbed on top of him, straddling his hips, and lowered yourself onto his still-hard shaft. He gasped, his hands gripping your hips as you began to ride him. The intimacy of this moment, with the dominant figure now reduced to the bottom, was intoxicating.

•◦✦────•◦ᘡᘞ •◦────✦◦•◦•

@𝑬𝑼𝑵𝑿𝑯𝑨𝑵. Do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or adapt my work/theme without prior permission and/or confirmation.

[slushingkoala]

Rewritten

-series

𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔

The phone call read next here

You’re a pretty big deal for unemployed people. You’re a YouTuber everyone knows and loves. You’d done many collabs with people like Drew and Enya, Quenlin Blackwell. You had the perfect amount of niche fame.

However, there was somebody you’d never seen eye to eye with, Hamzah. Ever since early freak show you just had an off vibe about him, whilst you were doing one of your 5-hour live streams, someone asked you what you thought about Freakshow and everything that was happening on there. You said nothing but positive remarks about the other three, but when it came on for you to discuss Hamzah you simply said “I mean, sure, you can blow up if you’re hot and fake enough. Being funny and contributing doesn’t matter anymore I guess.”

This really struck a nerve for Hamzah, and as soon as he saw a clip of you saying that on his for you page, he was quick to start a stream of his own and go on to call you “boring and unoriginal”, going as far to say ‘you just feed off other peoples fame, and you never do anything yourself.’

From that point on you both hated each other, people thought you guys were just joking, and it was some sort of weird bit you both did, but you just truly hated him.

You tried to keep yourself as the bigger person, claiming Hamzah was just milking it for clout and needed to do something other than sit on his ass for 12 hours and stream.

Your fans and his would eat all of this up, always having things to upload about ‘shady’ tweets and how you guys would always find ways to make small yet hurtful digs at each other.

Hamzah would often do sneak disses such as saying you built an audience off yelling into a mic and being other peoples dog, desperate for their approval and attention.

It was now 2025, Hamzah had his successful YouTube channel Slushynoobz with his best friend Martin and you had found your fame doing YouTube, regularly collaborating with big names and finding joy in doing work with clothing brands whilst still doing your gaming videos for fun. Life was good.

Yes, you still see clips of Hamzah on your phone occasionally, but all you could do was scroll. You know he actually did this whole bit in a video where he used your name as the ‘enemy’ in one of the games him and Martin were playing. You just found it pathetic and kept moving forward.

It was a Wednesday morning, 11am and you’d just gotten out of bed and were sitting on your couch. Suddenly, your phone rang. It was your manger so, of course, you pick up.

“Hey, just got something super interesting. Major opportunity.”

Why was she being so vague? She’s usually way more laid back.

“Uh-huh. What’s the catch?”

“Okay, okay — so you know that internet culture docuseries that’s been floating around? They specifically requested you for it. You. Big star. Face of the whole thing.”

You narrow your eyes, I mean yeah, sure you were pretty big but you being the face of the thing? Really?

“Uh-huh. And?” You sound skeptical, sitting up and picking at your nails as you listen.

“And… they want you to co-star. You’ll be one of two main creators they follow across multiple episodes. Your story. Your rise. Super authentic, great exposure.” She was speaking superfast at this point, what’s her problem?

“Who’s the other creator?” You knew you had to ask, it all just sounded too good to be true.

Your manager does a long pause, sighing.

“Funny thing. Totally unexpected. But guess who else has had a pretty fun internet fame experience?”

You’re not stupid. You instantly know who she’s referring to.

“No.”

“Listen, listen. I know the history. But it’s perfect! The internet is obsessed with your feud. This’ll make you trend in your sleep.”

You grit your teeth, she can’t be serious.

“You’re telling me they want me to spend three months or some shit like that trapped with Hamzah?” Your voice raises as you say his name, the taste of it bitter on your tongue.

“You could completely reinvent your image. You guys could come together and everyone will wanna watch this show and watch all those little scenes of you guys getting along! Even people who don’t watch you guys anymore will probably stick it on for nostalgia or something. It’s a good idea come on y/n.”

“I would rather be hit by a bus.” You say simply. Why would you want to work with Hamzah? The arrogant, unfunny, self - obsessed weirdo.

Your manager was practically pleading at this point.

“Look, the brand deals lined up for this are insane. Travel budgets. Promo. You’ve been saying you want to do some fun and bigger projects? This is it. If you miss this you will 100% regret it.”

“I- listen, I’ll think about it, okay? Give me until Sunday and I’ll have your answer yeah?”

You run your fingers through your hair frustratingly, you know she’s right about how big of an opportunity this is. But it feels like you’re being exploited. Like your deep-rooted hatred for this man is going to end up being portrayed as this silly internet feud.

“I hope you make the smart choice here y/n. I’ll speak to you soon yeah?”

“Yeah.”

a/n: hey guys i’ve been gone for AGES (like 15 days) but im back and gonna try stay motivated to do this! Maybe it sucks but oh well here you go!

[dadsbongos]

plan A

I NEVER FUCKING POSTED THIS LMAO i was wondering why nobody reacted to it..... oops

2.2 k words / warnings - pregnancy, prenatal depression, you two shouldn't be together, kind of rushed it was a timed exercise to get back into writing

summary - you go to pick up your boyfriend grant curly from his recent expedition! and boy things have changed since he left.

On your right is a scratched Jeep Liberty; silver, with all the windows down, and dirt caked into the rims. A brown-haired woman with grey streaks woven into her loose bun rests against the hood, both arms are folded. She barely shivers, even in the 5AM fog, and squints ahead as the colorful mutt at her side prances impatiently around both her legs.

Leftward is a nice, smooth, cherry red Charger with both headlights still spotless. A California license plate and brand new tires with not a marr on the tracks. Two slim figures are packed into the front seats. Black hair trails around the woman with a fat rock on her married finger while her husband routinely checks his gold watch every other minute. Their faces are carved with care, brows furrowed in worry.

Stuck at the gate was an old black Honda. A mustachioed man with dark hair and darker eyebags was rifling through his leather wallet while rambling into his phone. Plaid pajamas still wrinkled with sleep. Older hands shook with exhaustion and exasperation as he fought for a chipped ID with his daughter’s name and face on it.

You’re ahead of the rest, parked just a skosh over the neon yellow caution line. In a navy blue SUV bought long before you moved to Cherry Lane with the soda-stained ceiling and dog-haired floor mats as evidence. The dog died just after you moved in, Grant doesn’t drink soda anymore, and you can’t shake off this car no matter how often you complain it’s unreasonable to own. On the brightside, perhaps finally rolling over will solve all those mundane problems plaguing your life.

Nobody waits for Jimmy. You assume you’ll be taking him A.) to his trailer or B.) to your guest room.

Tulpar has long since landed, now is the waiting game for proper shut-down procedure to avoid credit-docking for mishandling machinery. Erasing all evidence of slacking offedness and stir craziness and general messiness. She still hisses with life while the crew buzzes around, most probably crashing against the steel walls to hurry home.

At 5:46AM, Tulpar screeches oddly. Then she beeps in even measures as the boarding door unlocks and clanks open. A long ladder unravels from the way just as that black Honda squeals up behind your crowd.

By now that married couple has flung themselves out of their car, eagerly chirping to each other how they ‘can see him! right there! he’s almost home! i can see him!’ -- your suspicion of them being the new intern’s parents is confirmed instantly. Unsurprisingly, the newest member rushes down first and he clumsily hauls himself and his bags across the vacant lot to meet the two. Cheeks blistering from the cold but he pays it no mind in favor of excitedly relaying the trip.

Next down is nurse Anya. She humbly pauses at the landing and peers around the total of four cars before that gloomy face electrifies. Knuckles whitening around her bags before she bounds toward the black Honda. Cheerfully greeting ‘Papa!’ -also teasing that his pajamas mean he must’ve forgotten again.

Swansea grumbles down and his yippie Jaxson has to be restrained by Mrs. Hotard, which breaks both their stony expressions. She giggles and beckons him over before the dog breaks free. Swansea does speed up, goofy-looking with both arms taken with luggage and shiny new sneakers he doesn’t want to crease. He nods in your direction as he passes before being swept into his wife’s arms. She kisses him once on the cheek. He returns it. They then pour all affection into the squirrely dog at their feet.

Technically, next down should be Jimmy, but every year since making co-pilot he’s been forcing Grant down so he could be last. Which is -technically- a captain’s responsibility, but Grant cares about Jimmy’s feelings more than he fears a supervisor’s wrist-slap.

Not that you can have too much room to complain when it means Grant is just a little sooner to return home.

Even in the cloudy, sun-hiding morning his blonde waves glimmer and those cool blues soak you up before a single syllable pours out.

Affectionately, he murmurs, “You got big,” while curing both hands along the obnoxious bump your stomach has become, “Are they kicking yet?”

“It’s still shy,” you answer with a headshake, hands on your hips while biting back the bark that your back fucking hurts so bad you just want to sit down you already came out here to get him and now he wants to keep you out here in the fucking cold like some asshole.

Release comes in the form of Jimmy Zare, dead-eyed and not even waving before sneering, “Can you really drive like that?”

“Get in and I’ll prove it.”

“I’m not riding in a car with a pregnant bitch driving.”

“I’ll drive,” Grant curbs, gently holding you by the arm like an old lady and opening the door and closing it after you before rounding the front and sliding behind the steering wheel. He glances in the rear view mirror, “Jim’, home?”

Jimmy sighs through his nose in a way very much telling you he does not want to go ‘home’, but nods, “Home.”

Seven months has given Jimmy ample time to plan all the horrible jokes he wanted to make about your pregnancy, but if he spent any of that time wisely he doesn’t have any showmanship. That, or Grant’s reception to his first crack was not as lighthearted as all the other responses Jimmy receives. You can still hear it, the muttering over Grant’s shoulder that your baby will look more like the neighbor than Grant. And you could still see it when you blinked, the brief flash of irritation and bitten cheek before Grant said he loved you and hung up.

Jimmy slides out of Grant’s car without anything beside a shockingly pleasant goodbye.

“Finally us,” Grant sighs, the corners of his lips perky.

“Almost,” you snort and gesture to the tumor expanding your wardrobe lately.

“They’re part of us,” he insists, “Literally. Our DNA together,” he blinks, lashes fluttery, “Isn’t that weird? Our DNA together.”

Grant reaches out tentatively, as uncomfortable as he should be considering he’s been gone nigh a year, and places a hand on your bump. Smoothing his thumb over your swollen belly. He watches the road but all focus is on this mass of cells he can’t even see yet.

“Did you find out the gender?”

“No.”

“Ooh, a surprise?” he raises both brows, politely unquestioning of your coping with the pregnancy since -again- he’s been gone so long.

“Something like that,” every time you would mull over going, or receiving the news something more interesting would happen.

Your friend would quit her job and need soothing, your mother would want to visit, your bread was too toasted so the day was ruined, you slept in past noon so the day was ruined, you couldn’t find the right color shoes for that shirt and you didn’t want to look stupid, your coworker invited you for lunch, and the most common reason of all:

You didn’t really feel like going.

You hadn’t really felt like going to the doctor either.

You’re not totally sure the baby is still--

“Hungry?” Grant offers while pulling into your driveway, sliding a quick smile over, “I can make you something light. Or do you want to go back to bed?”

“Might as well eat.”

Grant leaves you to melt into the couch before wandering into the kitchen. A bottle of white wine sits in the middle of the counter, a couple of glasses clearly missing.

“Did Mom visit?” a stupid question, since he’s sure he already knows the answer.

“Uhhh,” you shrug even though he cannot see it, “A few days ago, probably.”

Grant nods and replaces the wine in the refrigerator, wondering when your mother got so careless with her bottles to leave them in the open. He mentally skips over the packages of salami and chorizo, already knowing better than to suggest cured meats.

“What’s the baby craving?” he asks when inspiration fails to strike.

Again, you shrug, “I want a sandwich. With eggs.”

“Won’t they make you sick?” he pokes around the corner with a pout scarred into his face.

“They don’t.”

“You sure?”

“Grant.”

“Sorry, sorry,” he recedes, both hands in the air like you’ve got a gun pointed at him.

“You’ve been gone the entire time, you know?” you try softening your voice at the very edge, hoping Grant takes the reminder as kindly as he possibly could, “I’ve been taking care of myself the whole time.”

“I know…” a pause fills the room- bulging awkwardly through the arched doorway between your kitchen and living room, “I’ll see what I can do about staying home with you.”

“Now?”

“You and the baby will need me around,” even through walls he sounds as compassionate as you’re certain he means to be, “Especially when you keep getting bigger. Who else will take you to the hospital when you go into labor?”

For a moment, all you can do is blink. Grant is right- who else would take you to the hospital when you go into labor? But…

“But what about after?”

A snicker echoes while eggs fry in an unseen pan, “Baby’s gonna be around for awhile, honey. I can’t retire now.”

Apparently, your dismal silence is too dismal because Grant comes around the corner and urges you up- waddling you into the kitchen with him. Wheeling a dining chair up beside himself and kissing the top of your head when you sit before returning to breakfast. He curses, noticing the soft whites have charred at the very edge and breaks two more into the pan while assuring,

“Those’ll be mine.”

“What about…” you don’t know why, but your eyes start stinging and you need to swallow this hard obtrusive lump in your throat before asking, “What about after it comes out?”

Grant’s brows furrow, contemplation visibly stressing his face while he pops bread into the toaster and melts cheese over your eggs. He gnaws his bottom lip and stares into the blistering pan,

“What do you mean, honey?”

Too selfish, too greedy, too terrible- you already know your question is unbecoming of a future parent. For once, you feel the need to shield the thing inside you and pray it cannot hear you,

“What about me? If you take leave now, won’t they want you back that much sooner? If you’re here now for the baby, I won’t have you after it’s born,” avoiding eye contact, you swallow that same lump and grunt in irritation as it fails to fade, “That’s when I’ll really need you.”

Pursing his lips, Grant ticks his head sideways and fails to find the politest way to say what you already knew he’d say, “Well, hone, someone has to make the money.”

“That’s not what I’m asking.”

“You’ll need me here- !”

“Forget it.”

“No, I want to talk about this. You need- !”

“You’re gonna burn the eggs, just forget it. Do whatever you want.”

“I want to be here.”

The nicest thing you could say is nothing, so you stay quiet.

Grant repeats himself as if that will change anything, “I want to be here.”

You fear he’ll break down at your knees if you remain stoic, so the least you could do is rub his back and murmur gentle ‘i know, i know, baby’s.

“I’m thinking of taking a desk job,” he confesses, “So I can be closer. I don’t want to be away all the time, the baby will resent me for it. That’s how I was with my dad. Never understood why he was gone, so I took it personal. That he didn’t want me.”

“It won’t even remember until it’s three. Maybe. You don’t have to put so much pressure on yourself.”

besides, i’m the one that doesn’t want it and i have to be here

Grant would not find that as funny or relatable as your childless friends, so you decide to save it for your journal later tonight. May as well fill all the pages you can before you’re up at all odd hours.

“I just want to be a good father.”

“You will be.” you’ll have to be.

“You’re so calm,” disbelieving, probably delirious, giggles escape him, “I wish I could be calm.”

“It’s hard not to be calm when I know I’m doing this with you,” is the nicest way to phrase it.

With Grant wanting to be a dad came the relief that you couldn’t possibly fuck this up beyond repair. Grant is good at almost anything he tries (including, apparently, turning dirty talk into a promise).

“You’ve always been there for me,” standing, you massage out the tense burdens in either shoulder, “Catching me when I fall, with you I can do anything. You’ll be great.”

Another thing Grant would not find funny, nor would your childless friends, pops into your mind. Something you aren’t going to scrawl in any journal unless you want to be on a watch:

besides, i’ve already tried to kill it

“As long as I have you, everything will be okay,” you repeat the only thing to bring you comfort during those hours of sickness and aches and regret.

“You’re everything,” Grant beams, holding your distended stomach and pecking your lips, “Thank you.”

Grant returns to cooking your breakfast after another, this time longer, kiss: “Fuck, burned it… these’ll be mine…” and tries for the third time to simply cook eggs.

He’s good at most things when he tries.

[justbelievinginmagic]

Hello Haley! Can you give us teaser for part 6 of Like a Waltz, or maybe where do you thing the story's heading, the vibes etc?

hi hi! honestly ive not worked on like a waltz in some time. ive been struggling to find the tone again (and i also really want to update ariadne's thread before updating like a waltz again!) but a lot of this chapter has moments i wrote like as soon as the ice of my teeth mv came out so i do have like 3k words written lol. i'll pull from that for this lil teaser! as for where the chapter is heading, the over-all goal for the next chapter is to introduce hongjoong and seonghwa FINALLY lol! i dont want to spoil too much but i can give you this moment between yunho and yn leading up to matz meeting...

1k words.

It wasn’t Wooyoung who showed up at her apartment’s door nor was it San. It was Yunho. Fine-wired spectacles glimmered in the early morning light; a heavied dark-green long coat was slung over his shoulder, and his hair was mussed to a perfect consistency so the fine strands fell over his brow. His eyes were dark as he looked this way and that way around her apartment complex as if analyzing it the same way he analyzed her the first dinner they shared.

“Yunho,” she exclaimed, after she had unlatched each lock to swing open her door with an audible jingle of the metal work.

His gaze, liquid honey in the sunlight, shifted from glancing around to her locks to then her. Cooly and smooth, like the finest of liquors. He took his time, in control. His lips curled in a smile at her.

“Darling,” he drawled out.

It was then she realized how tired he looked - darkness under his eyes as if he hadnt slept, the wrinkled nature of his white collared shirt, and the looseness of his black tie. It wasn’t the prim and polished Yunho she had remembered in every single one of their encounters. But then, she guessed she didn’t look exactly put together – a frilly old robe tied over her soft pajama dress. Her hair tied back but not at all styled to perfection. When Wooyoung said he’d visit, he never visited so early, more keen to sleeping in she’s realized than rushing out into the blossoming, still chilly winter.

“I wasn’t expecting you,” she admitted, bashfully.

“Wooyoungie gave me your address; he and San got caught up in work last night,” he said. “I am just a delivery boy.”

It was a soft jest as he moved his other arm that was not holding onto his coat and presented a sleek wrapped gift. A plush red silk satin bow kissed the dark-black box to perfection; there was a embossed brand she had seen once before on the side of the box. ‘FAITH’ written in a fancy script with angel wings and a spiderweb it seemed.

“Oh!” she gasped, not expecting such a display.

When Wooyoung had said not to fret about clothing, she hadn’t expected an whole ensemble to arrive – she had thought he’d simply help her style herself. He never once before was picky about how she looked – even when they went to the many outings and sports events. She didn’t expect a gift. Especially nothing so… shiny. Wrapped up and heavied by the way Yunho held it carefully. It gleamed of something brand new.

Yunho blinked at her, lips quirking faintly. “Yes?”

“I just—I didn’t expect a gift.” She admitted.

He leveled her with a serious look despite the smile growing on his face, making his face look dreadfully unserious and soft. A glowering glare paired with a smile seemed to suit Yunho.

“Has Wooyoung convinced you that we wouldn’t spoil you?” he asked, outstretching the gift once more.

“We?” she countered, taking the box and raising a curious brow.

We… She didn’t know there was a we with him included.

Yunho’s cheeks flushed a pretty pink, blinking and looking aside. Now, he looked totally soft. Like a guard dog with his owner, he reverted to a puppyish state. He licked his lips.

“Was it not obvious?” he asked quietly. “We – I find you – “ He struggled with his word, eyes dancing away.

How adorable and uncharacteristic for the man. She leaned forward on the doorstep.

“Cute, appealing, talented?” she teased.

“Precious.” he said simply, locking eyes with her. “And, all of the above - if it matters.”

She hugged the box to her chest, a wave of tropical cologne ballooning from it as she squeezed the box’s soft contents a bit too much. A sweet blush coated her cheeks as well. 

“Well, I think you are precious, too,” she said softly. “I’ve come to cherish you all.”

His ears were a cute shade of rosy red, surprising her with how much this man could blush. Cute. Clearing his throat, Yunho nodded, shifting his jacket in his arms. “Good,” he said, equally as soft.

“Would you like to stay for a cup of coffee?” she offered. “As thanks.”

If there was ever a look of despair and conflict, it painted itself on his face. When flustered, romantically, it seemed he became an open book. Sweet as jelly and soft as cotton candy rather than the brooding character she met that night in their mansion. Perhaps it was the lack of lackeys to impress.

“If I could I would, darling,” he said earnestly. “I have matters to attend to unfortunately.”

Her lips shifted into a pout, one that made Yunho want to eat his words. His heart panged at the sight and he swallowed, glancing back at his car. The engine was still on, rumbling in the cold morning air.

“I understand,” she said after a moment.

Tone shifted, he frowned, his brows furrowing behind his spectacles.

“I do mean it,” he insisted, hand going to her arm to rub soothingly. His long fingers made soft circles. His gaze was strong, like that night, magnetic to her. “I’m sorry, YN; next time, I’ll stay for a cup.”

She smiled softly, the thing growing more genuine as he stared at her with aching eyes as if rejecting her was as painful as a bullet.

“Just for a cup?” she teased softly.

“Anything you want,” he settled on, serious despite her jestign.

“Oh, a cookie, too,” she giggled before stepping back a smidge, his hand falling from her form.

“Anything,” he repeated.

He looked so different. She remembered Wooyoung described him – as all bark, no bite similar to Jongho. In this moment, she saw that. Not a business man or dangerous man… he looked reverent and kind and all things good.

“Thank you, Yunho,” she said.

“You’re welcome, darling. You’ll look stunning in it I’m sure,” he complimented before taking a step back, his smile sweet.

Then, in a swoop of his coat over his shoulders, his expression faded from soft and kind to something more hardened, strong and stony. The façade was back on.

“Have a good time tonight.”

[gabrielsbubblegumbitch]

got any silly voxval headcannons? (Maybe velvette too idk)

like for example who cooks out of the three of them

Of course you can <3 I'm a really angsty girlie so I don't know how silly they actually are but there you go:

None of them can cook, but that's not really a problem for Vox and Velvette. Vox could survive on plain bread and black coffee for eternity, while Velvette could eat only candies. Val, on the other hand, is the ultimate hedonist. He's all about the tasty, full-fat fast food or gourmet stuff, and he's always pushing for takeout. Come on, guys, we're fucking rich, let's order something. Sure, they could hire someone to cook for them, but Vox is too paranoid to let an outsider near their food. He's still on the hunt for a chef who can match Val's extravagant tastes and is willing to sign off soul. If they had to pick someone to cook, Vox would probably be the best bet since he's the only one who can actually follow a recipe.

Velvette is the smartest when it comes to managing finances. Vox technically doesn't like to waste money but he has a taste for luxurious stuff, he can't resist an expensive car, fucking show-off. Valentino basically burns money on every useless shit he likes, I bet those crystals he badazzled his gun with were real diamons.

Velvette helps Val maintain his fluff, and he styles her hair. It's a cute little trade-off they've got going on.

Valentino has a habit of breaking electronic devices and downloading malware. Vox hates him for it.

Vox can easily go 72h without sleep, fueled by coke and rage. Valentino occasionally drugs his coffee to put him down to sleep, because after 68th hour all electronics in the tower starts malfunctioning.

Val used to be a full-time performer, but now he's more like a RuPaul—lending his face to the brand and only occasionally gracing the stage. But every time he does perform, Vox makes sure to be there front and center.

Their schedules are very incompatible and they have to spend a lot of time managing their businesses but they have weekly appointments to do catch up and discuss strategy. Those are usually very unserious, they end up hitting the bong and playing Mario Cart.

There was this one time Vox tried hitting on Velvette because she's totally his type. It was awkward as hell, and they both agreed to never speak of it again. Valentino has no idea about it.

Valentino would really want to have a dog but Vox really likes dogs so he doesn't allow him to get one by imposing strict anti-pet policy in the tower.

Val knows all of Vox's and Velvette's kinks and sometimes produces custom porn for them as gifts.

As much as they love spending time together, Val and Velvette can't stand watching TV with Vox because he gets overly emotional and doesn't allow to skip commercials because he enjoys them

Vox occasionally invites Val to be a guest judge on reality shows, which always skyrockets ratings but sometimes ends nasty for the contestants.

Val's obsessed with textures, especially nice fabrics. Give him a nice fluffy blanket and he will shut up for 15 minutes fixated on touching it.

Vox, with his business and strategic management degree, sometimes tries to pitch these ideas to Velvette and Valentino, he's like Guys, have you considered using the BCG matrix? Ever heard of SWOT analysis? We should discuss KPIs. They mock him relentlessly for it.

Val once tried putting drag makeup on Vox's face, and let's just say the result was... less than glamorous.

During their honeymoon phase, Vox and Val fucked everywhere. At first, Velvette found it amusing, but eventually, she grew to hate it. She finally snapped when she found out they'd fucked on the dinner table and she set it on fire.

Val "secretly" ghostwrote some trashy smut novels (they are absolutely horrible, worst Wattpad shit you could dig out). Vox secretly bought and read every single one, finding plenty of references to himself along the way.

Vox loves it when Val wears stripper platforms, even though it makes their height difference even more ridiculous.

Valentino's wardrobe takes two entire rooms and still expands. Vox doesn't know how to stop it.

Vox owns a few lingerie sets, only because Val loses his fucking mind whenever he wears them. Velvette designed them herself and keeps photos of Vox wearing them as blackmail material, just in case.

[mrssimply]

Wip tag game

I was tagged by @bluelolblue, thank you dearest!

But it was VERY BOLD of you to assume I have wips. Yet your boldness was right, I do have a wip. Singular. One, as in the total number of my wips... is just one xD.

And let me tell you that with how my llife is going on at the moment, it's probably one of the SLOWEST writing process of my life. I'm tearing my hair out with this one, going as fast as a fat snail under the sun.

So, to save anyone from having to ask about it, here is a snippet below.

It's a Jayvik Starwars AU where Jayce is (vaguely) Anakin, Viktor is (vaguely) Obiwan, Mel is (very vaguely) Padme, and Heimerdinger is (vaguely) Yoda.

I'm like 60% confident it will see the light of day.

When, you ask?

[nervous laughter]

[Beware the exerpt it's kinda spicy]

“Tell me to stop,” he whispered.

Viktor swallowed, opened his mouth...Tilted his head back, bottom lip brushing Jayce’s mouth. The younger man groaned lowly, and kissed him. Jayce didn’t tease or experiment, he dove right in, tongue and teeth, sucking on Viktor’s bottom lip before coaxing him back into the kiss. At first, the Jedi knight stayed passive, as if not actively participating would make him less guilty, but when Jayce whimpered soundlessly, he crumbled. His hands moved from his padawan’s tunic to his nape, framing his jaw with his long fingered hands, and kissing him back with the same fervor.

Jayce’s chest rumbled in appreciation, and he made himself at home between Viktor’s legs, gently holding his bad one to support it while he grinded down.

Viktor arched, muscles rippling along his back in counterpoint to the rush of sensation running up from his cock. He sighed, eyes closing as his body melted under the unfamiliar touches. Jayce's mouth moved from his lips to the hollow of his throat, down to his sternum, opening his linen tunic as he went. Viktor distantly heard Blitz roll away to the corner of the room and beep himself into sleep mode. It made the knight’s cheeks burn with shame and he had half a mind to order the droid out, but Jayce’s mouth closed around a nipple, sucking and biting, just a tad too hard.

Jealous of Viktor’s distraction, calling him back to himself. Greedy, greedy, greedy.

Viktor spasmed, choked on a moan as his back became a rigid arc again. He looked down, met his apprentice’s accusing glare. The older man tensed, a prey under a predator’s mouth, as Jayce’s jaw opened to suck in Viktor’s pectoral, plush lips wrapping around the flesh and sucking until it marked.

While Viktor’s lungs stalled, Jayce did it again over his ribs, and on the other side, eyes alight with something insane. Viktor shivered. He’d always known it was here, inside of Jayce. That primal thing that the Order had tried to tamper, which had flared recently like a dog tired of doing tricks and lashing out. He’d always known and feared the consequences of stoking that fire. It burned. It seared him. A brand over his heart, blooming bruises over his skin.

Jayce’s fingers dug into Viktor's hips as he continued lower, mindful of his mentor's bad leg that he hooked over his shoulder.

Viktor’s stomach caved and trembled under Jayce’s lips. He should stop this. He should stop this. He should stop this.

Jayce whimpered like he’d heard the thought and was begging him not to. He pressed his forehead against the quivering flesh of his mentor, and panted wetly a few times. 

“I want you so much, I need you so bad. Please let me have you, just this once.” He raised his head just enough to look up at Viktor. “Give me this, and I promise I'll never ask again. I’ll be good, I'll do whatever you want. If you don't want to be my master anymore, I'll accept it. Just let me have you tonight.”

Just once.

The temptation was too great, and the justification so easy. Just once, and they would return to being proper Jedis. Just once, so they could get it out of their systems. Just once and it wouldn’t even have happened. 

Jayce was kissing around Viktor’s navel, interspersed with nips and bites that had the older Jedi shivering madly. He was oversensitive, due in part to the fact he’d so rarely been touched that way. He’d seldomly indulged, finding sex underwhelming, too messy, and complicated. But Jayce’s reverent touches were like a fever running in his blood, tearing his flesh open to the raw nerves. Each press of lips, each swipe of tongue, each brush of teeth was sending pure electricity across Viktor’s skin. 

It hurt.

“Yes,” he breathed, a permission and an encouragement. 

Jayce’s moan was muffled against the side of his throat, a shudder going through him. His hands, wide and overly warm, pressed on each side of Viktor’s waist, fingers slipping under the fabric of his linen pants.

And thus I return to my cave of torture. I regret being an author.

[veephoenix]

Series: Into the Abyss of Bad Habits | masterpost Pairing: Noah Sebastian x Reader x Oliver Sykes

Hearts Like Ours. Additional multipart. Chapter 2: The Angel of Death | Words: 8k Summary: The morning after her breakdown, Reader does not expect to get any better until a certain person unexpectedly appears at her front door.

Tags and trigger warnings: established polyamorous relationship, angst, hard truths, anxiety, mentions of parent's negligence, comfort/fluff, noah only appears on phone in this part but he's mentioned throughout the entirety of the chapter, soft!oli, mentions of blowjobs, sexual content (spit used as lubricant, p. in v., protected).

Author’s note: this is mostly self-indulgent so bear with me, i love softness 🥹 It's also another attempt at writing something short and ending up with 8k 🫠 Regarding tags, I'm trying something new and tagging everybody down below in the comment section, given that as of lately a few people have reached out to tell me they didn't get the notification and I've read somewhere that tags indeed are not working well. So let's see if this does the trick.

When she woke up the next morning, her neck and stomach ached, a remainder that she had skipped dinner the night before. Sitting up, the two shirts she had slept with clung to her and then fell to the floor, reminding her why she had chosen to sleep on the sofa instead of the bed. She was alone. Noah wouldn’t be home for another three days, and Oliver was lost somewhere in the southern United States.

            It was Saturday. How was she supposed to spend the entire day alone at home, with no work and no one around? She felt even more pathetic than she had the night before. What was happening to her? She hadn’t always been this dependent; she hadn’t always felt this miserable. 

            But then again, it wasn’t every day that your mother hurled insults at you and made you feel dirty in a way that was far from the real thing. 

            She ran her hands over her face. If only Luna were here... Given her age, Oliver had decided not to bring her to America, and now his father, Ian, was taking care of her. 

            Last year, they had talked about adopting a dog, mostly so she would have company when the boys were away, but with work and the idea of getting married, adoption had been pushed aside. Now she regretted not insisting more.

            Still holding the shirts, she went upstairs and made a quick trip to the bathroom, overwhelmed by another wave of misery as she caught sight of herself in the mirror—eyes swollen from yesterday’s crying and her face as pale as a ghost. The sight of Noah’s and Oliver’s toiletries—their toothbrushes, shaving cream, face wash from different brands, a facemask Oliver had recently got from Lush…—only deepened her sadness. 

            Her deep sigh echoed in the empty space. 

            She had to eat something and get out of the house, get some sun and fresh air. She’d told Jack she would visit Sylvie, but the truth was she didn’t feel like it. She was happy for them. She was going to be an aunt. But she was feeling so blue that, she knew if she met Sylvie, both would end up crying, for totally different reasons.  

            So, she opted to tidy up and spend the day cleaning. That’s one of the things Noah used to do whenever his mind was not in the right place. 

            Before breakfast, she checked her phone, tempted to message the boys and tell them she was going through hell, that she couldn’t silence the voices in her head —especially her mother’s— and that she needed them because she felt like she was sinking. She wanted to swim to the surface but felt like she had a rock tied to her ankle, and she would probably drag herself to the bottom before they came home. 

            She hated being aware of the self-destruction her own mind subjected her to and not being able to do anything to stop it. It was a battle against herself that she couldn’t win. A battle she had fought before, and although it seemed she had won many times, those demons always came back sooner or later. 

            In the end, she just let Noah and Oliver know she was awake and, to distract them, sent a couple of photos of her underwear abandoned on the floor when she changed into somehting more decent. She knew that spending the whole day in pajamas would only worsen her state. 

            In the kitchen, she made herself a cup of tea and something to eat. 

            After having lunch on the back porch and letting herself be caressed by the sun in one of the hammocks, she went back inside, ready to spend the next few hours watching a comforting movie on the couch. Or perhaps an angsty one, and cry a few more tears. What did it matter now?

            She remembered then she hadn’t picked up the mail for the past four or five days. A mix of excitemend and dread flooded her at the thought that maybe Oliver had sent a postcard from wherever he was, even if it was just from somewhere else in the country. He’d started doing that the previous year, and it was a sweet gesture that always warmed her heart. 

            Stepping outside, she found her neighbor Marina tending to her plants and flowers in the front yard, a lovely married woman in her forties with two children. They greeted each other, and Marina asked about the boys. She replied that there were still a few days left before they returned, and Marina, probably sensing her sadness, kindly suggested joining her at her house any afternoon for tea. It was a comforting gesture, though still far from the kind she truly wanted.

            With only a couple of letter in her hands and no postcard from Oliver, she made her way back to the front door, only taking a couple of steps before the sound of a car pulling into the driveway and stopping made her turn around. The sight of the black Range Rover made her heart flip and almost lose her balance.  

            Oliver stepped out of the car, closing the door behind him without taking his eyes off her. During the short walk toward her, his green gaze remained steady and unwavering. He wore casual jeans and a t-shirt, exuding calm determination. 

            Before she could even react, he was in front of her, gently holding her face in his hands, and then he kissed her. 

            Her hands instinctively moved to his chest, her right one still clutching the envelopes. However she could, her fingers gripped his black tee tightly, as if fearing he might disappear at any moment. 

            His mouth was warm, his kiss passionate and urgent. She was left nearly breathless. 

            When she finally lowered herself from standing on her tiptoes and opened her eyes, her heart was pounding wildly.

            “What are you doing here?” she managed to say, it being the only coherent thought she could muster. In truth, she didn’t care about the answer. It was enough that he was there in the flesh.

            Oliver let out a sardonic smile. “Hello to you too, love,” he said, poking her nose. “Where am I supposed to be when my girl needs me?” 

            His words stunned her for a few seconds as he took her hand and stroked the back of it with his thumb. 

            Of course, it had to be Jack who told him. 

            “But—What about the tour? How did you get here so fast?” She asked, still gripping his t-shirt with one hand. 

            “We’d better go inside,” he suggested, nodding towards the house next door where Marina was watching them absently as she trimmed the dried leaves from her plants. Oliver waved at her, asking how she was with the easy charm of a gentleman. 

            Marina would have chatted for quite a while, likely making mention of his girl’s mood and asking Oliver the very questions she wanted answers to. But Oliver, sensing this, skillfully dissuaded her in less than thirty seconds, practically dragging his girl inside the house. 

            Once inside, with the door closed behind them, she dropped the letters on a small table in the entryway and threw herself into his arms, bursting into tears on the spot. 

            Having Oliver there, being able to hold him, inhale his masculine scent mingled with his perfume, and feel the brush of his long hair against her cheeks, felt like a miracle.

            “Please, don’t go.”

            “Love, I just got here.”

            “I know, but I’m sure you’ll have to leave again in a couple of hours.”

            With a resigned sigh, Oliver took her hand and guided them both into the living room, settling onto the couch. 

            Oliver observed her silently for a moment, studying her face for signs of the previous day’s tears and the sleepless night. They were all there, all too evident. 

            He gently stroked her cheek, and she leaned into his touch, savoring the moment, the warmth of his skin against hers. 

            “I can stay until tomorrow night,” Oliver murmured softly. “As soon as Jack called me, I booked the first available flight out of Houston. We have two days off until the next show. I have to be in Kansas City the day after tomorrow. But please, don’t worry about that now. What the hell happened?” 

            She struggled before mustering the courage to tell him. 

            She began with a vague summary of the events, but Oliver insisted on the details, wanting to know every word her mother had spoken. 

            She watched as he clenched his jaw, holding back a torrent of curses. 

            As a few more tears traced down her cheeks, Oliver gently pulled her into his embrace and fetched a box of tissues from a nearby coffee table. 

            “Why didn’t you wait until Noah and I were back?” He questioned, watching her wipe her tears. “We said we’d tell her together, precisely to avoid this,” he said, not intending to scold her but clearly unsettled by her decision to face her mother alone. 

            “I know, but I couldn’t shake the thought, and I didn’t want her saying anything hurtful to you, so I thought I could handle it on my own,” she confessed, sniffling into the tissue then dropping it on the coffee table.

            “And did it do you any good?” Oliver asked, his tone soft, his gaze tender as he peered at her. 

            “No,” she replied, shaking her head, defeated. “It just made everything worse. I’ve spent the last twenty-four hours feeling miserable and missing you both terribly. Last night, I felt like I couldn’t breathe without you guys around. I just wanted to protect you…” she trailed off, her voice heavy. 

            “I know,” Oliver murmured, gently touching her face again. “But we protect each other, don’t we? We’re stronger together. If Noah and I feel low, we lean on you, and you make us feel better. That’s how it works. You have to let us do the same, doll. It’s taking you too long to get rid of this habit.” 

            She sighed, but she knew he was right. 

            “If you keep everything to yourself, then what’s the point of this? Of us? Of being in any relationship, for that matter?” Oliver continued, his eyes reflecting her own sadness. “We’re together because we love each other, and by love I mean that we’re by each other’s side under any circumstance. Loving us is not just you giving me and Noah blowjobs and letting us have our ways with you, baby. Loving us means you’ll let us know when you’re anxious, when you’re sad or angry. You’ll let us help you because we want and we love every part of you—the good, the bad, and everything in between. Wasn’t that clear?” 

            His words made her feel terrible, very aware of her mistakes, but she deserved it. If anything, to at least make her understand for once and for all that she had to lay her head on their shoulders whenever she needed, without a second of hesitation. 

            “I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s just hard… because loving also implies that you don’t want the other person to get hurt, and all I was doing was…” she trailed off. There was no point. Her voice turned into a whisper and then into desperation fading into nothing. 

            Oliver squeezed her hand and placed it on his thigh, speaking gently.

            “Listen, I know this is hard to accept, but you don’t owe anything to your mother,” he began. “Our parents made us, but we’re not meant for them. You’re meant for me and Noah. Everything else, everyone else, is just a bystander to your story. You can’t force them to be a part of your life if they don’t want to, darling. It sucks. It fucking sucks because sometimes you want people to be part of your life so bad… but they don’t want to be; they don’t want to share your happiness, they might not even understand it, and that’s okay.” When he saw her face, Oliver chuckled softly. “I’m not saying that the things your mom said were okay, but you get my point. You’re not meant to live your life by your mom’s wishes or follow in her footsteps. You don’t have to walk with her. You’re walking with Noah and me.”

            Seen that way, from that perspective, Oliver was undeniably right. 

            She had spent much of her life trying to please her mother, striving to be a perfect daughter even when she wasn’t consciously aware of it. Since formalizing her relationship with Noah and Oliver, she had come to realize how many decisions she had made in the past with her mother in mind rather than herself. And now, with her mother’s rejection of her relationship with the boys, all that weight came crashing down on her.  

            Her mother didn’t want her, didn’t want a daughter like her. But as a parent, there’s only so much control one can have. She wasn’t a child anymore, she was an adult, and she had done nothing wrong. She had simply fallen in love. Hard and twice.

            Loving wasn’t a crime, and as much as it pained her not to be able to share that happiness with her mother, as much as her mother couldn’t see how happy Oliver and Noah made her, she realized that her attempts to make her mother understand had to come to an end. After all, Oliver’s words spoke the truth: the most important people were the two of them, her fiancés.  

            Staring at the ring on her finger as realization dawned on her, she was filled with profound sadness. She had lost her father long ago, a man who had chosen to go his own way, unable to wait until his children were old enough to let them walk their own path and make their own decisions. And now, she felt she had lost her mother, too. 

            One parent had not waited to see her grow up; had not held her hand as she learned to walk the path of life. The other one was unwilling to see her walk hand in hand with two men. 

            Tears welled up in her eyes once more before she could stop them. She was a mess. 

            “I know it hurts,” Oliver’s voice soothed her, his hand running gently throught her hair, “but you gotta let it hurt until it doesn’t anymore. There are some things we cannot change, and this, I’m afraid, is one of them, baby.”

            Seeking solace, she moved to straddle him, unable to bear the distance anymore. She wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her head on his shoulder, tears streaming down her cheeks and staining Oliver’s tee’s fabric. She let him envelop her in his embrace, pressing herself against his body as he held her close. He placed a couple of tender kisses on her shoulder and neck, offering her the comfort she needed. 

            She remained in his arms for a while, relishing the warmth of his body, the soothing rhythm of his heartbeat against her own, and the security of being in his arms. His whispered words of comfort in her ear were like a balm to her troubled soul. 

            She could easily drift off to sleep there, cocooned in his arms , feeling grateful that Oliver had dropped everything just to come home and be with her. 

            “Did you tell Noah?” She whispered, her lips brushing against his neck as she resisted the urge to move even an inch away from him. 

            “Yes, of course I did,” he replied, his hand finding the hem of her shirt and sneaking in to rub her back. She was soft as silk and he would be lying if he said he hadn’t missed the feel of her skin under his hands every single day and night he spent away. “But I want you to call him and talk to him. He’s worried.”

            The sigh that escaped her this time was heavy. 

            “What?” Oliver said, teasing her. “Did you think that picture of your underwear on the bedroom floor was going to do the trick?” 

            She shrugged, not particularly caring. 

            “Come on,” he encouraged, pullling out his iPhone, resolute on not extending that dispiriting situation any second longer. “He might still be up.”

            Without a chance to compose herself or check her appearance in the mirror, Oliver was already Facetiming Noah. 

            As soon as Noah’s face appeared on the screen, looking all cozied up in a hoddie and sat on his hotel bed, he saw her curled up in Oliver’s lap, her head resting on his shoulder with her tear-stained face, and his expression fell. Noah clicked his tongue, his brown eyes filling with sadness.

            “Kitten..”

            She tried to hold back another wave of tears and sobs. She sniffled and attempted to smile. But as soon as she uttered “I miss you”, she had to take a moment to steady her breathing and control her sobbing. Oliver pressed a kiss to her forehead. 

            A few moments were filled only with her soft crying, then, with some self-control, in the quiet of the house, she began to talk to Noah, recounting every hurtful thing her mother had said.          Instead of feeling tortured by reliving those moments, she focused on the relief of sharing her pain with her boys, feeling lighter now that they knew. 

            Noah did his best to offer comfort from the other end of the line, though he knew it wasn’t a simple fix. He was just grateful that Oliver had rushed home to be with her, knowing that besides words of reassurance, she needed their physical presence.

            Just as much as she needed them, he needed her and Oliver.

            All those nights on the road, sleeping in bunk beds or alone in hotel rooms, had been manageable until he fell in love. Suddenly, sleeping alone felt like a punishment for every misstep in life. He understood her perfectly. And considering what her mother had said… Fuck. All he wanted was to be there for her, to hold her while Oliver comforted her, feeling complete with them by his side.

            It was late where he was, and she could tell from the exhaustion etched in his eyes. Her own state wasn’t helping him at all, so she mustered the strength to encourage him to end the call and get the rest he needed. He promised her he’d be home soon. Just a few more days. Nothing would keep him from coming back home to her. 

            After hanging up, Oliver tenderly touched her face, his thumb stroking the side of her jaw as she breathed against him. 

            “You look tired, too,” he remarked.

            “I didn’t sleep much last night,” she admitted. 

            “Want to take a nap? I could use one myself,” he suggested. 

            With a nod, she attempted to rise from his lap, but Oliver shook his head. He grabbed a folded blanket from the sectional and urged her to lay down as he nestled in beside her, letting her find a comfortable position with her head on his chest and her legs intertwined with his. 

            He enveloped her and covered them both with the blanket. He kissed her hair tenderly and she reciprocated by pressing a kiss to his clavicle. After exchanging whispered “I love yous”, she finally allowed herself to drift off to sleep, comforted by the presence of at least one of her boys being home. 

Despite his own exhaustion after an impromptu flight and the whirlwind of the past twenty-four hours, Oliver found it difficult to fall assleep. He waited until her soft breathing indicated she was in a deep slumber before carefully disentangling himself from her arms and legs.

            Ensuring she was covered with the blanket, he tiptoed to the kitchen, where he leaned with his forearms against the cool marble tiles of the island as he unlocked his phone and texted Noah. 

            Oliver: Still up?

            Noah: Yep. Can’t sleep.          

            Without a second thought, he dialed his number, making sure to keep his voice low as to avoid waking her up. By the time he had filled a glass with water, Noah’s voice was on his ear. 

            “What’s up? Is she feeling any better?” Noah asked.

            “She’s passed out on the sofa,” Oliver informed him after taking a sip. “But she looks tired, and sad,” he continued, glancing towards the open hallway door that lead to the living room, as if he could see her. He could picture her gloomy features from before she’d fallen asleep. “How about you coming back earlier? Could you make it?” He asked, aware of the significant distance separating them. Noah was in Europe, not just a few states away. “I know it’s a lot to ask, but if you could make it, give her a surprise, cheer her up… She doesn’t just need me. She needs both of us. And,” he made a pause before changing his tone, “you owe me a blowjob.”

            “I don’t owe you a blowjob,” Noah replied, his voice rising slightly. “You didn’t send those tacos, man.”

            “I’ll drive you to the damn restaurant.”

            “Needy, huh?”

            “Very. I want to see you before I hit the road again,” he admitted, then softened again. “She needs you here, Noah. Think you can make it earlier than scheduled?”

            “Yeah, yeah…” he trailed off, as if preoccupied with something else. Oliver heard the clicking of a keyboard, muffled in the background. “I was actually just checking flights…”

            “Oh, good.”

            “The first one is in three hours. I could catch that one and—”

            “In three hours?” Oliver exclaimed, furrowing his brow. “Dude, get some sleep first. I didn’t mean for you to—”

            “I can’t sleep knowing she’s upset because of what her mom said to her,” Noah retorted, setting his MacBook aside and getting up from the bed. “We have a couple of interviews scheduled for tomorrow, but I’ll ask Jolly and Folio to handle them. I’m nearly done with my packing, so I can head to the airport in less than twenty minutes. If I catch that flight, I can make it home tomorrow before evening.”

            “Fuck. Okay. That’s great. It’ll give us a few hours together.” 

            “Yeah, just come pick me up at the airport, all right?” he concluded. “Keep her distracted with something. Tell her you’re going to get a haircut.”

            “Dude, she’s going to be glued to me the whole time because I’m leaving tomorrow night. And a haircut? That would be the lamest excuse after I left my own tour to be home with her. You have the worst ideas,” he complained as he shook his head. “Can you not get an Uber?” 

            “Just come pick me up,” Noah said, resolute, “and you’ll get that damn blowjob.” 

An hour and a half later, her voice calling out for Oliver echoed through the walls of the house’s ground floor. 

            Oliver appeared at the threshold of the archway into the living room, holding a tray with pastries and two mugs of hot chocolate.

            She blinked a few times, rubbing her eyes with one hand still half-covered by the fluffy blanket. Oliver struggled to decide if she looked adorable or too tempting to resist making love to her right there on the sofa.  

            “Am I dreaming?” She mumbled, prompting Oliver to let out a chuckle. 

            “Nah,” he replied, walking towards her. “These croissants were frozen. I thought Noah got rid of them after his lecture on how unhealthy and useless it is to buy frozen food, but surprise: he didn’t. So now I get to treat you,” he finished, setting the tray next to her. The smell of freshly baked croissants and hot chocolate filled her senses, and for a moment, everything felt perfect. 

            She gave him a tiny smile. 

            “Just don’t tell him I baked them for us,” Oliver added, his tone hushed, as if Noah was there and could hear them. He had changed into more comfortable clothes and was now wearing a white t-shirt and dark grey sweatpants she had washed and ironed more than two weeks ago.

            “I will tell him,” she whispered, with a hint of mischief in her voice. Her sleepy face, however, made her look more adorable than mischievous.  

            Oliver rolled his eyes. “He’ll make me wear the maid costume and cook homemade sugar-free croissants for him as punishment.”

            “You look adorable in that, though,” she commented, grabbing one of the croissants and using her other hand to catch the crumbs.  

            “Do I, now?”

            She nodded, her mouth already stuffed with a big bite. Oliver smiled and touched the corner of her lower lip, wiping away a crumb with his thumb. 

            “Feeling any better?”

            Swallowing, she nodded. 

            “What do you feel like doing?” he asked, still concerned. He had dropped everything to be home with her, so he would only do as she pleased. “Movie and cuddles?” he guessed. “We can take it easy and spend the rest of the day snuggled in here. We don’t have to go anywhere. We’ll order takeout for dinner, then maybe a hot bath before bed.”

            She absorbed his words, blinking and chewing slowly.

            That sounded like… Heaven. 

            Instead of quickly agreeing to his appeal, which was irresistible, she asked, “What time do you have to be at the airport tomorrow?” There was a note of anguish in her voice because she dreaded the answer. She just wanted him to stay for a while longer, to extend that dreamlike weekend that was, in fact, her real life. 

            “Not ‘til late at night. We have the entire day together tomorrow, don’t worry,” he reassured her again, taking his mug of hot chocolate to his lips. She watched as the dark brown liquid touched his lips and how his own tongue licked them clean afterward. “Let’s choose a movie and get comfy, yeah?”

            The next fifteen minutes slipped away as they struggled to decide on a movie. By the time they settled on one neither had seen, the croissants were gone and Oliver had finished his chocolate. They cuddled through the entire film, occasionally shifting positions, playing with each other’s hair, and kissing. They made comments about the movie and chatted about he film and other trivial things. 

            By the time the sun began to set on the horizon, the house was enveloped in the serenity their nearly routine evening. She was in the living room, tidying up the small mess they had made, folding blankets, and arranging the cushions on the sofa. Meanwhile, Oliver busied himself in the kitchen, plating the takeaway food that had arrived just minutes before. 

            If Noah had been there, he would have been nearing his time out in the studio. Then he would’ve joined oliver in the kitchen to set the table. 

            That was a familiar routine, which happened at least once a week, usually on Fridays, marking the start of a long weekend where work was left behind and their time was fully devoted to each other. 

            Whenever the three of them were engrossed in individual tasks, especially in the afternoon or evening, the house exuded a peaceful ambiance. Sometimes, Noah would light incense and play relaxing background music as they went about their activities. If they crossed paths in the hallway or in any other room, Noah would grab her waist and pull her in for a kiss. If he encountered Oliver, she would hear a sweet exchange of words and laughs between them from the other room. 

            It was lovely, what they had built. A precious home and a beautiful family. 

             After filling their stomachs and clearing up the kitchen, Oliver urged her upstairs for a well-deserved hot bath, but she declined, stating that she prefered the shower. 

            As mesmerizing as the idea of a hot bath sounded, the reality was that, despite their efforts to get a larger-than-average tub for the master bedroom’s bathroom, Oliver was too tall to fit comfortably if she was also inside. What to say about Noah? He just outright hated bathtubs and found it a waste of space. It wasn’t that he couldn’t fit in with either of them; he simply couldn’t fit comfortably on his own.

            After some persuasion, she finally found herself naked under the hot shower, with Oliver’s bare body behind her, his hands massaging shampoo into her hair. The intimacy of the moment was heightened by the familiarity of the shampoo the three of them shared. 

            They took turns washing each other, making sure to apply a bit of pressure here and there to relieve sore muscles, especially Oliver’s, strained from days of performing on stage for over two hours and getting to bed late. The physical demands of his routine weren’t always ideal, but she appreciated how they had toned his body over the years, giving him strenght and stamina. She relished his manly physique, a mix of rough and soft areas that she found squishy. She just loved every part of him. 

            When he got down on one knee to soap up her thighs, she took the opportunity to wash his hair, enjoying the sweetness that spread through her veins and to her heart when he pressed a few kisses from her navel down to her lower belly. 

            After they were thoroughly washed, Oliver rinsed his hair under the water one last time, throwing his head back and closing his eyes, lips parted, neck exposed and muscles on display as he moved his hair back with both hands. 

            As attractive as the sight was —which, under other circumstances, would have just gotten her on her knees, and not exactly to wash his thighs—, the part of her that craved a deeper connection took control. She wanted a closeness that went beyond the physical act of giving each other pleasure. 

            She wrapped her arms around his torso and pressed her cheek to his chest, acutely aware of the ticking clock and the precious time slipping away from them.  

            Oliver didn’t say anything. He kept the water running and hugged her back, resting his chin atop her head. The mirror above the sink and the window overlooking the garden had fogged up, and the vapor was filling the room even though they had left the door open.

            Minutes passed, the water turning cold, droplets hitting the tiles, her breaths soft and steady, following the rhythm of Oliver’s heartbeat. When she lazily ran her fingers down his back and wandered down to one of his buttocks, she felt him shiver slightly, and her curse nearly disrupted their peace. 

            “You’re cold,” she pointed out, peering up at him. 

            “It’s okay, love.”

            But it wasn’t. Taking his hand, she turned off the water and pulled them out of the shower, handing Oliver his towel while she grabbed hers. 

            Oliver wasn’t done soothing her. He let her dry herself up and brush her hair. He left the bathroom for a couple of minutes to get some underwear, finding another one of Noah’s boxers in his drawer. Instead of pointing it out to her and reminding her that the boxers with the chibi drawings of Titan were Noah’s, he laughed and opted to keep them there. He would enjoy watching Noah huff and rummage through his own underwear looking for those specific boxers when he returned. 

            Returning to the bathroom only wearing black boxers, his wair still wet and dripping, he used the towel to dry it a bit before discarding it on the floor and refocusing his attention on his girl. She was occupied checking her eyebrows in the mirror, a habit he found amusing because he could never understand what she thought was wrong with them. Taking advantage of her distraction, he poured some hydrating lotion into his palm, rubbed his hands together, and kneeled to spread the cream on her thighs. 

            She let out a cry of surprise at the sudden cold sensation, but quickly adjusted to it and found herself enamored with the way he looked up at her as he massaged her body once more, tenderly applying lotion to her skin. The smell of lavender filled the room as he stood up to gently smooth it onto her shoulders, his hands moving in slow, soothing circles. She was truly getting spoiled as his touch traced the contours of her arms and back, each caress a silent promise of his love and devotion. She closed her eyes when she felt threathened by another wave of emotion and gratitude. She wouldn’t be hard on herself again and say that she didn’t deserve him, or Noah, but the truth was that they were too good to her, and her heart kept on swelling every time they shared a simple yet intimate moment as such.

            “You didn’t have to do that,” she said, her cheeks red—perhaps from shyness or perhaps because it was too hot in the bathroom.  

            “Shh. I love pampering you, and that’s why I’m here now. In two weeks I’ll be back to busy boyfri—fiancé, sorry, mode, with no time to shower with his loves because the artist’s life is a twenty-four hour job. So, rejoice,” he finished the sentence by touching her nose and leaving a stain of cream for her to spread.

            She muttered an “ouch” and glared at him, nearly pouting at the truth of his words. 

            While that had been an isolated scenario and the timing of both bands’ tours had coincided leaving her alone for quite a long period of time, she couldn’t really complain about her job or about her life in the big picture. She was as happy as any girl could be with two men loving her unconditionally day and night, which made her aware that if somedays they were not attentive as she wished, it wasn’t because they chose to be distant. It was their demanding jobs, so different from her mundane one. Their careers sometimes took a toll on them, but it was a sacrifice they made for something they loved, and she admired them for it. They were passionate and dedicated, as they were with her, too. She would never ask them to prioritize her over their bands because they themselves knew when to put a stop to it and get their feet back on solid ground. It was sometimes a difficult balance to navigate, but with each other’s help, they knew how to make it work without letting it consume them anymore. 

            Her eyes followed Oliver as he walked barefoot to the other side of the bedroom, heading towards the drawer where he would find his worn-out clothes for sleeping. She watched with a tender expression as a smile appeared on his face when he spotted how neatly his t-shirts and sweats were stored in the drawer. As mundane and tedious as the task of folding clothes may seem, it was something both of them enjoyed doing together every once in a while—seated on the carpeted floor, picking up each item from the laundry basket and adding it to one of the three piles next to them: Oliver’s, Noah’s, and hers. 

            Folding clothes was sort of a meditation, and given that she had spent the last weekends alone, one of them had been dedicated to reorganizing the cupboards and drawers, including refolding all those clothes that had been thrown to the back of the cupboard. 

            She could have stared at Oliver for hours, but the clock would still keep ticking. 

            Licking her lips and rubbed the heel of her left foot on her right calf, her expression fell a little as she called out to him. 

            “Yeah?” He asked. 

            “Make love to me?”

            Her voice came out as a whisper, a plea that he didn’t understand, for she didn’t have to ask for that. Ever. So he nearly laughed, but aware that maybe it wasn’t the best reaction, he dropped back into the drawer the clothes he had picked and walked to her, with determined strides, his green eyes focused on her as if nothing could make him look away.

            “Did you even consider I wouldn’t intend to?”

            Uncertainty clouded her eyes, but her hand released the corner of the towel she had secured atop her chest, letting the only fabric covering her body fall to the floor.

            Oliver’s gaze fell to her breasts, and then down below, as if he hadn’t seen that same beautiful body, those edges and curves, merely five minutes ago.

            She parted her lips to speak, to ask him to touch her, but Oliver was quicker. He picked her up in his arms, prompting her to wrap her legs around his waist. She stared down at him for a few seconds, struck by the light those green eyes contained, how much power to turn someone’s life into something beautiful with just one look. 

            Oliver carried her to bed. He laid her down on the mattress, her head propped up on the  numerous pillows that Noah, ever the minimalist, didn’t understand. In a matter of seconds, Oliver discarded his boxers and crawled up to cover her body with his. Holding his weight on hands and knees, he bent his head down and kissed her, her hand sneaking up to the back of his head and tangling in his curls, still damp from the shower and with the lingering scent of the shampoo.

            The kiss was hungry, desperate, wet. She kept pulling him down to her, as if she could do more than just kiss him; as if she could just drink him in, swallow him, keep him in her heart forever. 

            He already was. 

            His hand pushed at one of her knees, silently instructing her to open her legs for him. When she complied, he touched her folds, his fingers navigating her delights just for a couple of seconds before sinking two fingers inside of her, letting her wrap around his digits with welcoming warmth.

            Her hips arched towards him. 

            “What do you want, love? Tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you,” he murmured.

            “Just you,” she sighed, knowing that he would always keep his promises.

             Skipping foreplay, he removed his fingers from inside of her and sat back on his heels, asking her for a condom that she retrieved from one of the drawers on the other side of the bed. He put it on, then spat on his hand and covered her core with his saliva before leaning over her again, fusing his body with hers, one inch at a time. 

            He loved how her breath caught in her throat with every movement, every push in. Her eyes widened and her expression contorted into one of pleasure.

            When he was finally settled in to the hilt, he sought her hand and intertwined his fingers with hers before placing their hands above her head, on the pillows.

            He began to move. A delicate, sweet and hot cadence. 

            He understood that this time it was not just about pleasure; it was about the connection that having their bodies merged brought to each other. It was about finding peace and safety in the vulnerable state of offering yourself to the other, about the relief that it brought to her —and him— knowing they had found each other in this massive universe and that nothing else mattered at the time. 

            Just him, her, and the ghost of Noah, the lingering scent of him that still permeated his side of the bed, on the sheets that she had refused to change after they had left.

            They kissed. Oliver swallowed her moans, relished in the way her nails dug onto his back, the way her thighs pressed him to her, the way she breathed him in and held him, wordlessly telling him she would never let him go. 

            Making love like that focused on the fire of their sexual energy, their passion, and desire, and let those align with their hearts and souls with every thrust and every cry in response. It brought them balance and harmony. It was something beyond the drive and rush experienced any other time, yet someething they needed all the same. 

            That night, she needed that, the slow pace, the eye-contact, and he didn’t mind. How could he? He was benefiting from it all the same. 

            Ever since Noah introduced them to this slower, more mindful practice, Oliver’s connection with both of them had deepened, and it had brought him closer to them (if that was even possible).

            Lost in the passage of time, Oliver whimpered against her, his breaths ragged as he penetrated her over and over and as he looked down at her expression, her eyes closed because she was getting close, her mouth agape in pure bliss, little sweet and honeyed sounds coming out in waves, music to his ears. 

            A few thrusts grew harder and rougher unintentionally, and she moaned loudly, trying to supress a scream by biting onto his arms, right onto the inked angel of death that adorned his skin.  One of his hands cupped her breast, squeezing and rolling her nipple between two fingers, giving her just the touch she needed. His face was buried in the crook of her neck, but his voice reached her ears as he told her he was about to come and needed to feel her climaxing around him, too. 

            The seconds that followed were intense, but not very loud. He spasmed inside of her at the same time that she arched to him, their hips meeting. They rode each other’s orgasms, and the mattress welcomed the dead weight of their exhausted and sated bodies a while after. 

            The bliss that came after that moment gave way to a heavy, contented silence filled with the heady and comforting fragance of sex. 

            Oliver’s body pressed down on her, just a tad sweaty, but she found her sanctuary in his embrace, only imperfect due to the missing weight pressing on her from the other side.  

            “Thank you,” she whispered after she removed some hair from her face and brushed her lips against Oliver’s stubbled chin. Her thighs trembled a little after she let them fall on the mattress, on either side of Oliver’s legs.

            “Always,” he replied, tickling her cheek with his wild strands of hair and tracing a path of kisses down her jaw and neck until he could taste her nipple in his mouth. A moment later, he was back at her mouth, his large hand cupping her cheek, his words seeking reassurance of her well-being. 

            She sighed for what felt a long time. Her fingers, in the meantime, weaved into his damp hair, holding him close. The weight of his body on hers felt grounding, a reminder that he was there, real and solid. His presence and the feeling of him filler her, from the spot between her legs to her heart and soul, was a balm to her frayed nerves, soothing away the remnants of her ealier distress.

            But still. Something was missing. Someone.

            “I’m still upset,” she admitted after a breather from his kiss. She didn’t want to say it right after they made love, but she knew Oliver would understand. That’s what that entire day had been about: her understanding that he would listen, try to comprehend, and never ever diminish fer feelings and emotions. 

            “Why?” he asked. Their voices mere whispers in the night, in a room that also seemed to miss Noah’s presence. “Is it because I have to leave? Doll, Noah will be here in no time.”

            “I know… I’m so happy that you’re here, that you came for me…” Her eyes had wandered down, slightly conflicted at her complaint. “But I want you both,” she confessed, loking back up at him. It wasn’t much of a confession because he already knew that. That had actually been the truth that had got them three together in the first place, the confession to Noah that had urged him to find Oliver and propose to him to share the girl of their dreams in the middle of a tour in the UK. 

            “I miss him, too,” Oliver reminded her, palming her hair, his cock still inside of her. He wouldn’t leave the warmth of her body until she asked him to. Missing Noah was one of the things he hated the most in their relationship. Sometimes they spent months without seeing each other. Oliver would come home and Noah would have left the day before, keeping them on opposite schedules. That was why last year, Oliver had tried to get Bad Omens to play in the same summer festivals as Bring Me The Horizon, so that at least they could be together after their performances and while traveling from one country to another, sparing the enormous pain of coming back home to realize the other wasn’t there yet. 

            It felt relieveing to share that feeling with her. It felt like missing him together took some of the weight off their shoulders. They would lean on each other and wait until Noah was back. Luckily for her —and for him— Noah was now on a flight on his way home, and unbeknownst to her, she would have both his boys home tomorrow, all devoted and willing to kiss the same ground she walked on. 

            “You know what I miss the most about him, actually?” Oliver started to say, his tone a bit more earning and cheerful as he rested his body weight on his elbows and as his fingers moved to reach her ears and start to play with her earrings. 

            “What?”

            “That annoying habit of his of touching my legs with his bare feet under the blanket.”

            Her laugh filled his heart with such relief that he couldn’t even put it into words. He had felt so anguished when Jack called him the day before. All he could think about was how she must have been coping alone after meeting her mother to tell her about the wedding. As Jack spoke to him on the phone, Oliver recalled that night after Jack and Sylvie’s engagement party. Noah and he had tried to make love to her to keep her racing thoughts away from the disastrous first meeting with the woman who would be their mother-in-law, but she had been totally restrained by her anxiety and so upset that they hadn’t been able to calm her down for two days. 

            He didn’t want her to feel like that again, and he knew her state would be even worse now since they weren’t there with her. That’s when he grabbed his phone, wallet, and passport, and headed to the airport. 

             “You know he does that on purpose, right?” she told him, remembering all the times she had been pissed at their antics on either side of the bed. She often found herself squished between their two bodies as Oliver kicked Noah to keep his naked feet away from his calves and Noah pretended to be half asleep while trying to touch him again. In the meantime, she was getting knocked from both sides, suffering Oliver’s kicks and the brush of Noah’s cold feet against her own. “He loves it when you squirm under the sheets.”

            “Of course I know,” oliver admitted. “I’m going to make him pay for it one of these days.”

            “I’d love to see that.”

            Wriggling underneath him, Oliver understood she was getting uncomfortable. 

            He got up only to remove the condom and clean them up a bit, then tucked them both under the covers, letting her find her safety cocoon not on his chest or in the crook of his neck, but on his bicep, which she often mentioned could be used as a pillow. She found exceptional comfort in resting her head against the angel of death tattooed on his arm, his bicep big enough to offer the perfect-sized spot for her to drift into the realm of dreams. 

            The only thing missing was Noah’s arm around her stomach as she lay on her side, keeping her protected from all the evil in the world as he reached over to grab onto Oliver as well, his palm finding his place on Oliver’s hip. 

            They would keep their bodies connected and fall into a peaceful sleep, as if enchanted by a magic they couldn’t see but that was always there, always present in their love for each other.  

[themoonweaversden]

Messeges that were found so far: STAN / STANLEY PINES / STAN PINES / STANLEY (spoilers)

This is just to collect all the codes that you can type in in thisisnotawebsitedotcom.com and their effects only (please click images for better quality)

Masterpost with all messeges / codes

You have to keep spamming it to get all of these links

Eventually you'll get this:

Transcript:

"WHEEL! OF! SHAME!

STEP RIGHT UP! It's time to play my FAVORITE GAME!! BOOTLEG SIXER over HERE spent a LIFETIME trying to hide his humiliations, BUT I'VE BEEN INSIDE HIS MIND, so NOW they're ALL YOURS for the low price of BEING MY NEW PAL! IT'S SHOWTIME FOLKS, AND THE ONLY WAY TO LOSE IS TO BE NAMED STANLEY PINES! CLICK BELOW TO SEE WHAT THIS MOUTH BREATHING CARNIVAL BAKER HAS BEEN KEEPING TO THE VEST ALL THESE YEARS. BROUGHT TO YOU BY: SHAME!

"SHAME:™ IT'S THE ONE FRIEND WHO NEVER LEAVES!"

EX-WIVES!

FEARS

SECRET SHAMES

UNREPORTED CRIMES

FAILED PRODUCTS

LOWEST MOMENTS

DARKEST THOUGHT

HOW HE BEAT ME"

If you click EX-WIVES

Transcript:

"EX-WIVES

Old Goldie Vegas wedding to a cursed gold-toothed antique.

Marilyn Fakenamé Vegas wedding to a cursed gold-toothed antique.

Brenda Chuggins Shack attraction for having "World's Biggest Thumb." (Carny Tip: Never date your own freaks. She used that thumb to hitch-hike off with Johnny Snakes 3 days later)

Sandra Sweetmeadow A kind beautiful Amish girl eho made Stan choose between her and his "sinful gold chains." He chose the chains.

Someone named "Burline" Stan has no idea who she is, but he found her wedding ring in the Shack Lost & Found, put it on, and it got stuck forever. Physically binding. Might be legally binding!

His childhood poster of "Attack of the 50 Foot Woman" (8 year old Stanley drew a ring on the poster and made Sixer witness.)

Natalia Annika Ömanövv Totally un-suspicious turist from a country that no longer legally exists. She took Stanley's creedit card and social security number while he was sleeping and still "checks in on him" via hidden cameras. Ah, love!"

If you click FEARS

Transcript:

"FEARS

The IRS Finding Out

Soos being the one to find Stan dead and taxidermying his body. (Soos would consider this an honor)

The cops calling Stan's fingertips "unusually little."

Betting Dipper in a poker game (and losing.)

Word getting out about Stan's little fingertips, people discovering that they're littler than Ford's.

Stan being dubbed "Baby-Fingers Pines" by the media and having to look into black market finger enlarging."

If you click SECRET SHAMES

Transcript:

"SECRET SHAMES

The time Wendy beat Stan in arm wrestling. 3 times in a row. She never has to work overtime as long as she never tells a soul.

The fact that no one came to his fake funeral except his mom and an IRS agent who whispered to the coffin "this isn't over."

The quick cash Stan made in 1975 posing for a "Hunky Drifters Catalogue" that wasn't as tasteful and classy as the job listing made it sound.

Was the baby mascot for the "Fussy Boy" Brand diaper rash commercials. (Claims that was Ford.)

Writing His Duchess Approves erotic fan-novel: "The Duke's Temptations at Oglebottom Estate.""

If you click UNREPORTED CRIMES

Transcript:

"UNREPORTED CRIMES

The time Stan hit Toby Determined with his car and just... kept driving.

Illegally breeding wolves to create a "super wolf." You should hear this thing howl.

Pretending to be a veteran to get a discount on PEZ, then having to invent an entire fake war in a fake country to keep the ruse going. Stan still has a "Remember Operation Enduring Excuse" bumper sticker, and regularly updates the Wikipedia page for the "People's Grepublic of Grunklestan."

Shooting out the tires of the Mythbusters Van after they axposing him for "looking kinda doughy" on tape.

Selling his heart medication to Children claiming it was "metal-flavored candy!"

Accidentally inhaling too much taxidermy glue, black out, and waking up to discover that he had somehow managed to rob himself. Still tracking down the lost boot buried by his arch-rival "Glue Stan""

If you click FAILED PRODUCTS

Transcript:

"STAN'S FAILED PRODUCTS

The "Wishy Washy!" - A washing machine that somehow makes your clothes dirtier.

The "Counter Fit!" - A rubber band you attach to your kitchen counter to exercise while doing dished. INJURY TOLL: 27

"Welcome to Gravity Town!" - A cartoon show pitch which was unanimously rejected by every network for "blatant Illuminati references."

"Flavored Lottery Tickets!" - Turns out that the kind of people who think they can win the lottery are the kind of people who ignore "do not swallow" instructions. LAWSUIT TOLL: 48

"THE SAD SHACK" - A burlap bag to cover your head so no one can see you rendomly crying during the day. Cheaper than therapy!

A soda called the "Drippy Stanley!" INGREDIENTS: Pine Sol, wood glue, & expired sun tan lotion. Soos tested it and now he can't remember the year 2000."

If you click LOWEST MOMENTS

Transcript:

"LOWEST MOMENTS

That time he somehow got an F- on a history test, which teachers thought was mathematically impossible. Filbrick made him stand on the lawn for two days holding a sign that said "Estra Stan, 3 dollars or better offer."

When "1998's Best Tourist Traps in Oregon" listed the "Mystery Shack" as #99 below "The world's bigest fence" and "the dog that might be thinking human thoughts."

His birthday the year before he met Dipper & Mabel. No one came to "Mr Mystery's Mystery-Age Party & Used Wolf Pet Sale" He'd spent hours writing comedy roasts of employees who never came, burned off one of his eyebrows attempting to make a cake, and drank the night away skeet shooting Sixer's old Beethoven Records.

The day after he met the twins, he overheard them debating whether they should escape out the window and report him to the FBI. Mabel shook a Magic 8-Ball and tey stayed.

Stripping for edible flour in Tijuana Please don't make me elaborate."

If you click DARKEST THOUGHT

Transcript:

"DARKEST THOUGHT

Pin all my crimes on Soos"

If you click HOW HE BEAT ME (You have to keep spamming)

Transcript:

"HOW STAN BEAT ME He didn't! IM STILL HERE, SUCKER!"

Transcript:

"HOW STAN BEAT ME LOOK the gambler got a lucky break, alright? A lifelong LOSER was due for ONE freak royal flush! What does it mean? NOTHING! LESS THAN NOTHING! NOT WORTH EVEN THINKING ABOUT!"

Transcript:

"HOW STAN BEAT ME WHAT MORE DO YOU WANT ME TO SAY? That a guy who once tried to EAT THE DECORATIVE POTPURRI out of the bowl in the bank OUTSMARTED ME?! PLEASE! Goofus was just following Gallant's LEAD! It was SIXER'S PLAN, PTSD BARNUM is just a side character, a resume-inflating, cheap trick loving, past-denying overgrown child protected from failure only by a force field of DENIAL AND shamelessness! Sixer ate Stanley's potential in the womb, and the only thing interesting that ever happened to him started when I entered HIS head! END OF STORY! PERIOD. And I have NOTHING MORE TO SAY ABOUT IT!!!!"

Transcript:

"HOW STAN BEAT ME ..."

Transcript:

"HOW STAN BEAT ME AND ANOTHER THING! Ever since that pathetic excuse for a 5-sensed three Dimensional one lifespanned skin-puppet was barfed into the universe, he was nothing but a carbon copy of a better genetic duplicate, and he knew it! A trillion years from now when I've broken out of this place nd taken over, he'll be remembered as the special bump under the cement truck of my inevitable triumph asterisk next to an asterisk next to an asterisk next to an asterisk who would be a joke if he was capable of understanding comedy whehich he OBVIOUSLY isn't, I mean, have you heard the hacky matreials he does on his tours, I've been inside his dreams, he WORKSHOPS that material, he PAVES over it, and the best he can do are some puns that would make a third grader cringe and vaudeville that were hack before they were even invented! Its an insult that showed to wear a suit and tie, he should be in a BARREL with SUSPENDERS!

HACK JOKES. CODEPENDENT. SELF-PITYING STUPID "FULLY CLOTHED WOMEN" COULDNT WIN LOCAL ELECTION SMUG SAS-CROTCH TACKY UNWORTHY CLICHE DREAMS "SINGIN' SALMON" AND THAT'S THE FINAL WORD!"

Transcript for this image in specific taken from this Google doc

Transcript:

"HOW STAN BEAT ME OKAY I SEE WHAT’S HAPPENING HERE! You’re just like those those PREACHY INFANTILZING AUTOMOTONS AT THETHERAPRISM who are SO OBSESSED with getting me to TALK about my “FEELINGS”. YOU THINK YOU CAN GET A RISE OUT OF ME?! TRY! I DARE YOU! I DARE YOU!”

Transcript:

"HOW STAN BEAT ME KEEP CLICKING! SEE WHAT HAPPENS! I CAN OUT-LAST YOU PAL! DO YOU REALIZE WHO YOU’RE STEPPING TO HERE?! IM LITERALLY INSANE! TRY IT! KEEP TRYING IT! I’VE GOT FOREVER, LET’S GO! COME ON! GO! KEEP CLICKING! KEEP DOING IT!”

Transcript:

"HOW STAN BEAT ME KEEP DOING IT!"

Transcript:

"HOW STAN BEAT ME I LOVE IT!"

Transcript:

"HOW STAN BEAT ME IS THAT ALL YOU GOT?!

⚠︎ FLASH WARNING FOR THE FILES BELLOW ⚠︎

Transcript:

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO ME?!"

Transcript:

"DO Y Ou even fAThoM ho W muCH pAIN IM"

Transcript:

"sOMeTIMES when i CLOSE my eyE i caN"

Transcript:

"I cAN STiLL sEe (encoded in alchemic sipher, author's cipher, theraprism and color cipher (in that order))"

Decoded messege: "The eyes of everyone I've ever"

(last three images)

[the-angels-share]

In which Xiao gets the childhood he deserves. A Grandpa Zhongli and Xiao adventure.

Out of all the seasons, Xiao loves summer the best. Not only does he get to stay up an hour later than usual, he gets to do things he normally couldn’t the rest of the year. For example, during summer, Xiao gets to sleep in as late as 10 in morning. He can go to the beach and eat ice cream and build sandcastles without worrying about homework. He can watch TV and play outside for as long as he likes, as long as he gets inside the house by twilight. Most importantly, he gets to stay in Grandpa's house for a whole month.

Xiao's Grandpa is Zhongli. Zhongli is the Geo Archon. That means Xiao's Grandpa is the coolest, most awesome being to ever walk the planet. And Xiao gets to spend thirty (30) days with him. Just him and his Grandpa.

No one else in all of Liyue gets to experience that.

Xiao has spent a total of two days in his Grandpa’s house when he receives his first mission as a Guardian Yaksha.

The mission? Make a new friend. Location: The children’s park.

Xiao’s not gonna lie. He did not expect such a daunting task for his first ever mission. However, if there is one thing that Xiao has learned in his eight years of life, it’s that adepti assignments are to be accepted and seen to completion, whether they are given in Rex Lapis’ office or at the breakfast table over a plate of brown rice and grilled fish.

Which is how Xiao finds himself in the park two hours later, clutching his Grandpa’s slacks like his life depended on it.

Don’t misunderstand, though. Xiao is a brave boy. But sometimes, even brave boys get scared too. He’d much rather stay beside his Grandpa, where he can cling to his leg and be safe from the curious glances of the strange mortals in the sandbox.

“Don’t forget your weapon.”

Ah, yes, his weapon. Xiao wanted to bring one of his Grandpa’s many polearms, but Zhongli told him that the Primordial Jade Winged Spear is simply too long, too heavy, and too sharp for eight-year old boys to carry, even if they were adepti. So, he gave Xiao a jumbo bubble wand instead.

“Go on,” Zhongli tells him once Xiao finally let go of his leg. "Remember the plan."

Right, the plan. Xiao racks his brain for the battle strategy he made with Rex Lapis himself on their way here. Look for your target, wait for an opening, and when you’re ready, engage.

And so, Xiao does exactly that. Tightening his hold on the bubble wand, he takes a step forward and scans his surroundings. There, by the swings, stood two blonde kids around his age, blowing bubbles with their own soapy weapons. Target sighted.

Now for the rest of the plan.

Xiao turns to Zhongli. "Don't leave, okay?"

His Grandpa smiles and pats his head. "I'll be at the bench if you need me."

Xiao nods and walks ahead. Well, here goes nothing.

.

.

.

Ninety minutes later, Xiao goes home with two brand new friends, a play date plan for next week, and a gold coin for a job well done on his first ever mission as one of Liyue's Guardian Yaksha.

As Geo Archon and oldest of The Seven, it is only expected that Xiao’s Grandpa would keep a lot of treasures in his house. And, well, Xiao’s not claiming to be a treasure expert, but you know what they say.

Where there’s treasure, there’s a guardian.

That’s where Azhdy comes in.

Of all the odd things in the Geo Archon’s house, the most peculiar one is Zhongli’s pet, Azhdaha.

Xiao is not sure exactly what kind of animal Azhdaha is. His Grandpa says Azhdy is a dragon, but he looks more like a dog to Xiao. Either way, Xiao thinks Azhdy is the coolest, most awesome pet ever. (Even if his name is a little hard to spell).

Some people think Azhdy is scary, but really, he’s just a clumsy creature who’s a little too spiky and excitable. It’s true! Azhdy has funny eyes that look in opposite directions. He can’t see very well, and that’s why he always bumps into walls or people. But that’s okay, because it doesn't matter where Xiao is in the house—when Xiao says, "Azhdy, come here", the sound of heavy paws on hardwood floor will reverberate in the whole house, becoming louder and louder the closer he gets.

The sight of Azhdy running towards him never fails to make Xiao smile. Which is why he doesn’t understand why most people look just about ready to call the Millelith whenever Azhdy pounces on his little body to give him wet dog kisses.

There are days that hold a special place in Xiao's heart. For him, that day is Thursday. It's not because of any particular event or tradition. No, it's because Thursdays mean one thing: spending the most time with his super-duper amazing Grandpa.

For some reason, Thursdays seem to be the day when Zhongli spends the most time at home, away from his duties as the Geo Archon. And for Xiao, that means having his Grandpa all to himself for the day.

As the evening draws near on Thursdays, Xiao eagerly awaits the highlight of his day: bedtime. Not because it means the end of the day, but because it's the time when Zhongli sits by his bedside, tucking him in with gentle hands, a warm smile, and a pat on the head. Sometimes, Azhdy joins them too.

In those quiet moments, the world outside fades away, and it's just Xiao and Zhongli, and sometimes, Azhdy. While Zhongli spins tales of dragons, warriors, and dumplings, Xiao finds out very quickly that the crinkling of old book pages and Zhongli’s smooth baritone are much more effective sleep aides than the bedtime story itself.

Xiao never knows when he dozes off, if his Grandpa ever finishes his story before he starts dreaming. But every time, he wakes up with Zhongli and Azhdaha gone, replaced by the comforting scent of tea and breakfast in the air. It feels like a warm embrace, like he's loved and safe with Zhongli and Azhdy nearby.

Those Thursday nights (and Friday mornings) are the best.

The big building on Wangshu Street, Xiao learns, is called Wangshu Inn. Inn spelled with two (2) Ns. It means hotel, Grandpa Zhongli tells him one day.

Sometimes, when Xiao has been exceptionally good and Grandpa Zhongli feels particularly nice, they go to Wangshu Inn for a bowl of almond tofu. Xiao loves almond tofu, especially the almond tofu from Wangshu Inn.

How Xiao came to like the sweet treat is actually a funny story.

When Xiao was five, he got lost. It was Lantern Rite and he and his Grandpa were out and about on one of their holiday afternoon walks. Captivated by the vibrant sights and sounds around him, Xiao had wandered off and couldn't find his way back to where his Grandpa was.

Of course, being an adeptus, Xiao hadn't been scared. (He was terrified.) Like a brave and dependable Guardian Yaksha, he took it upon himself to look for the correct way home. (Xiao wandered aimlessly, tears welling up in his eyes.) And just as the day began to turn into night, a calming presence had enveloped him. It was Zhongli, his Grandpa!

He had found him amidst the crowd.

Xiao remembers his Grandpa picking him up from under his arms and rubbing his back to soothe him. Then, he brought them both to Wangshu Inn where they shared a bowl of almond tofu.

"You're okay now," his Grandpa had said. Xiao doesn't remember being not okay, so his Grandpa must have been talking to himself. He must've been super scared when he turned and found Xiao missing! He guesses even cool, strong, Geo Archons like his Grandpa get scared too sometimes. (So, maybe it's okay to say that he felt a little bit scared too when he couldn't see Zhongli anymore back in the harbour.)

Xiao doesn’t remember much of that day, but he does feel a surge of warmth and comfort with every spoonful of the soft sweet treat.

In the neighborhood where his Grandpa lives, there's a girl named Hu Tao. She's a bundle of energy, always running around with a mischievous twinkle in her eye. Hu Tao is Xiao's... not-friend friend, but whenever they meet, she's full of jokes and stories she's read from whatever book she was devouring that week.

She's smart, just like Grandpa Zhongli. She reads those big heavy books he sometimes sees his Grandpa read on quiet afternoons at the den. She says big, hard to say words, like quick sonic (quixotic) and disk consulate (disconsolate). Sometimes, she recites poems with rhymes and more words Xiao doesn't quite understand. It's okay, though, because when she does, she smiles, and when she smiles, Xiao smiles too.

Hu Tao has a pet bunny named Boo Tao. Boo Tao is a fluffy little creature, but too small to play with Azhdaha, so they settle for sitting together in the grass, sniffing flowers and watching the world go by.

Xiao thinks Hu Tao is pretty. He's not quite sure what "pretty" here means, but whenever she laughs, it feels like sunshine breaking through the clouds.

Sometimes, when the sky is gloomy, Grandpa Zhongli takes Xiao to the cemetery.

Xiao’s only seen pictures of Granny Guizhong but with all the stories that Grandpa has told Xiao about her, it’s as if he’s met her too.

He makes sure to water the Qinxin flowers Grandpa keeps on Granny's grave. He'll take care of the flowers so Granny does not get sad.

Next time, he'll add Glaze Lilies too.

Amidst the hustle and bustle, Xiao's hand finds Zhongli's, his small fingers entwining with his grandpa's sturdy grip. His Grandpa smiles down at him, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Shall we see what the harbor has in store for us today, Xiao?"

Xiao nods. He'd be a dummy to say no to Rex Lapis. With a gentle lift, his Grandpa scoops Xiao up into his arms, granting him a bird's-eye view of the lively street below. From this vantage point, Xiao marvels at the vibrant tapestry unfolding before him—the dancers twirling in graceful arcs, the acrobats defying gravity with breathtaking stunts, and the musicians serenading passersby with their melodious tunes.

He thinks he can see Hu Tao and the twins there too.

As the end of summer draws near, the yard of Grandpa's house becomes a haven for crystalflies. Amidst the delicate dance of these enchanted creatures, Xiao clings tightly to Zhongli, his small form nestled in the safety of his Grandpa's embrace.

With each passing moment, the inevitability of parting weighs heavy on Xiao's heart. As his parents arrive to take him home, Xiao buries his face in the crook of Zhongli’s neck, unwilling to let go of the warmth and comfort he finds there. The air is filled with the soft whispers of crystalflies bidding farewell to the departing summer, echoing the bittersweet emotions swirling within Xiao's heart.

Summer has passed, and before Xiao knows it, it's summer again. Out of all the seasons, Xiao loves summer the best. Not only does he get to stay up an hour later than usual, he gets to do things he normally couldn’t the rest of the year. For example, during summer, Xiao can go out on walks with Azhdy while the citizens of Liyue look on with amazement at his very big, very cute pet. He can sit by the park and see if a girl with long pigtails and pretty eyes happens to pass by. Most importantly, he gets to stay in Grandpa's house for a whole month.

Xiao's Grandpa is Zhongli. Zhongli is the Geo Archon. And Xiao's most favorite thing in the whole entire world is him.

[linesonscreens]

Let's Read Peanuts (You WILL believe an unremarkable white boy can become president) – August 1958

There are lots of great strips I just don't have room to comment on. I strongly encourage everybody to read the full month at the official GoComics page. Today's month starts HERE.

August 5, 1958

I feel like these "Snoopy dancing" strips lack much philosophical punch because they’re coming from the perspective of a bunch of middle class white kids with no real problems. It’s very easy to dance your way through the sorrows of the world if you’re never going to be on the receiving end of them.

August 8, 1958

I know what you’re thinking and no, it’s not ridiculous for him to get a haircut. Charlie Brown canonically has a full head of blonde hair and this has been confirmed by Schulz himself. You can even kind of see it on the back of his head in panel 2.

August 10, 1958

When you look at Charlie Brown’s face in panel 7 you realize that this wasn’t Schulz exaggerating the amount of sand for comedic effect. Pigpen just broke the laws of physics and it cost Charlie Brown like four sanity points.

August 14, 1958

In some cultures blue and green are the same color. Just saying.

August 15, 1958

I know that’s basically the same thing as most popular brands of jelly but still, ew.

August 23, 1958

I love Linus’s air-drawing shtick. In addition to wishing I had a mind capable of using the air as a sketchbook, I really like the idea that if you were to actually track his hand movements you’d uncover some absolutely jaw-dropping drawings. 

Anyway, do you think the rain washed away his air drawings? I say it did.

August 25, 1958

Another big first: Charlie Brown’s pencil-pal!

Man, the internet really took the magic out of talking to people in other countries, didn't it? You used to have to sign up for a whole-ass program to find out what other kids in Germany like to eat but now you do it just about every day without really even meaning to just by playing Marvel Rivals.

BTW, I'm still mad at you, Hasim! You totally wasted your Scarlet Witch ult and cost us the entire match!

August 29, 1958

Imagine getting this letter and then realizing that this kid knows your home address.

Thoughts:

“Dear pencil-pal,

I cut myself playing in the park today, but I felt nothing. It would seem that even the sight of my life essence leaving my body no longer stirs my passions. Am I broken? If so, is there any hope of fixing something so fundamentally wretched? I swear, It seems these days that the only thing that makes me feel alive is the fires I set in the abandoned buildings downtown. At least, I’m pretty sure they’re abandoned…

Also, my dog just started doing this thing where he sleeps with his head in his water dish and it’s HILARIOUS! I wish you could see it. Do you have dogs?

Your friend,

Charlie Brown”

P.S.: Sorry about the bloodstains on the letter. 

[runsintheblood]

Family Bingo 2024 Roundup

A great big thank you to all the authors, artists, and commenters that participated in our inaugural Family Bingo event! We're absolutely blown away by the joyous enthusiasm with which everyone has made this such a resounding success, and created so many phenomenal fanworks for the fam, which are recorded below for your perusal. Go devour them and shower em with comments and kudos (our commenter role award is available until Halloween if you catch em all!) cuz there's some thoroughly fangtastic pieces here. First, some stats:

We got a jaw-dropping total of 38 works submitted!

We had 8 players, and 6 of them won Bingo! Congratulations!!

No blackouts this time, but both @bigbad1880 and @reallyreal-madeingold went above and beyond with 6 and 7 fanworks respectively

Our first player to get Bingo! was @reallyreal-madeingold

The longest work submitted was For My Toy Love by @myboyknows (girlpire) at 15,206 words

Conversely, the shortest was Latreia by @somekindofadeviant at 100 words

@queennhalloweenn got the highest word count total at 30,316 words

And @mamabewear gave us the most Puppet-pires at 1 Puppet!Angel (multiple times!)

Kicking things off with our most popular card!

MamaBewear (Bingo!)

Tickle Me Angel (Angel/Spike, Square: Long Distance/Tickling) It turns out that Puppet Angel is very ticklish! Also, Spike discovers an embarrassing secret that Angel’s been hiding from everyone.

Sexyme Street (Angel/Spike, Square: Clumsy/Costumes) Spike discovers something unexpected about himself, and Puppet Angel has a wardrobe malfunction.

Spoons (Angel/Spike, Square: Dream/Size Kink) Angel’s a little tired of being stuck as a puppet, but Spike sees it as an opportunity!

Puppy Love (Angel/Spike, Square: Pets/Sex Pollen) Lorne is dog sitting for one of Gunn’s favorite actors, and also, there’s sex pollen in the air! So, it’s pretty much just like any other day at Wolfram and Hart for Spike and Puppet Angel.

Something's Cooking (Angel/Spike, Square: Cooking/Dirty Talk/Phone Sex) It’s getting hot in the kitchen, as Spike insists that Angel entertain him while he’s out on a surveillance mission.

Harlow (Bingo!)

Curses (Angel/Spike, Square: Tentacles/Non-Human Genitals) Spike gets cursed by a witch, and ends up with a brand new "package". Oops.

I Called Him Mine (Angel/Spike, Square: Exhibitionism/Public/Surprise) Spike gives Angel a blow job, but that's not the only surprise Angel is in for.

Melon (Angel/Spike, Square: Foodplay/Messy) Spike and Angel play with their food. And make a mess in the process.

Welcome to the Family (Angelus/Darla/Spike, Square: Watersports) Darla and Angelus welcome a newly sired William to the family. Properly.

I'm My Type (Angel/Angelus, Square: Sex Toys) Angelus figures out a way to split himself and Angel into separate bodies, and takes everything he wants from Angel.

Shattered (Darla/Spike, Square: Noncon) Spike, a spy, breaks into an enemy base to steal some intelligence. Unfortunately for him, he gets captured.

In The Dark (With You) (Angelus/Angel, Square: Blindfold) Part two of Angel and Angelus's horny selfcest adventures.

Liv

Proposals (Darla/Drusilla, Square: Free Space) Darla wants something new, and Drusilla is willing to make it happen.

Negotiating (Darla/Drusilla, Square: CNC) Drusilla and Darla discuss their game plan.

Yes Mistress (Darla/Drusilla, Square: Hypnotism) It's playtime.

Eve

Creature Comforts (Darla/Drusilla, Square: Knotting) Darla is in rut. Drusilla is there to help.

Tea With Milk In (Spike/Drusilla, Square: Somnophilia) Drusilla and a sleeping Spike.

Next up, Blue

QueennHalloweenn (Bingo!)

Divine Comedy in the Withering Heart (Angelus/Darla, Square: Rough Sex/Biting/Scratching/Teasing) Darla is dead… again. It's the only thing she's actually sure of.

Divine Comedy in the Land of Sodom (Angelus/Darla/Drusilla, Square: Humiliation/Degradation/Dacryphilia/Lessons) Darla continues to seek out memories of a life she's forgotten.

Divine Comedy in the Pool of Lethe (Angelus/Darla, Square: Accidental Stimulation/Stuck Sex/Play Fight) Darla needs to hold on to her memories-- losing them is the same as losing herself.

Divine Comedy in the Białowieża (Angelus/Darla/Drusilla/Spike, Square: Orgy/Double-Penetration/Elevator) Darla remembers the last time she had her family all together.

Divine Comedy in the House of Flies (Angel/Darla/Drusilla/Spike, Square: Glory Hole/Anonymous/Free Use/Allergy) Final of the Fang Four Family Bingo 2024! (or is it??? 🤔🤔)

Vampbrat (Bingo!)

Adult Material (Angel/Darla, Square: Porn-Watching) The most divorced vamps in California tentatively attempt to reestablish a connection.

Breathing Lessons (Angelus/Darla/Drusilla/Spike, Square: Free Space) Darla usually leaves disciplinary measures up to Angelus but occasionally feels she needs to step in. A little drowning can be a calming factor for even the most recalcitrant brats.

The Stranger At My Fireside (Drusilla/Spike, Square: Accidental Stimulation) There's nothing like a seance for a bit of a horny night out. Things get a bit more horny than Spike anticipated.

Pretty Like A Knife (Angel/Spike, Square: Praise Kink/Spoiling) Angel caresses and strokes Spike in the aftermath of a sparring session, lavishing him with praise.

Dressing Down (Angelus/Spike, Square: Ageplay) William the Bloody takes his forfeit for losing at cards: a new wardrobe, fit for his new role in his new family.

The Dead Won't Bother You (Drusilla/Spike, Square: Hybristophilia) Spike and Dru are on a cross country road trip. Some people drive to famous battle sites or for bridges or foliage. Dru is keen on serial killers.

SomeKindOfADeviant (Bingo!)

Swallowed Whole (Angelus/Spike, Square: Sensory Deprivation/Blindfold/Confused) A spot of fledgling tuition. This is a practical exam, of course, isn't it always?

Mouthfuls of Thaumaturgy (Drusilla/Spike, Square: Marking/Tattoos) The best ideas are always had when drinking sailors while your elders are away. Spike wants Drusilla to leave a mark on him and she's eager to oblige.

Fly Soup (Angel/Darla/Drusilla/Spike, Square: Temperature/Sensations) The family get into a little spot of bother.

Latreia (Drusilla/Spike, Square: Authority) Spike has his rituals.

Principled Approach (Angelus/Drusilla/Spike, Square: Humiliation/Lessons) Actions have consequences

And skipping Yellow, which had no takers - we have finally, Green

Girlpire (Bingo!)

For a Good Time (Angel/Spike, Square: Glory Hole/Smile) This is the dirtiest thing I've ever drawn. :D

Control (Angel/Darla, Square: Machines) I might have been wrong. THIS is the dirtiest thing I've ever drawn. :D

For My Toy Love (Angel/Drusilla/Spike, Square: Macro/Micro) Set during season five of AtS, Angel and Spike are in an established relationship with each other when Drusilla unexpectedly arrives on their doorstep in the pot of a mandarin tree. She is only six inches tall.

Party Favor (Angel/Spike, Square: Accidental Stimulation) Spike casts a sexy spell for solo purposes, but it doesn't go exactly as he planned. Relatedly, Angel finds something relaxing to do with his hands.

Quality Time (Angelus/Darla/Drusilla/Spike, Square: Inflation) A newly-turned Spike casts a sex hex for attention, and Angelus obliges.

We can't wait to see you all next year! Until then, join us at the Runs in the Blood Fanged Four Discord Server

[sigmasoyboy]

hi!! ive been in and out of this whole AU/ different series for a cool minute actually, as a black American i would love to hear more Lesley, im absolutely obsessed. also with Agon and Jasper!! my favorite three peeps honestly, if theres any more spare info or stories plz drop🙏🏾. (also i love the writing for Coeus's "bad sex experience" all in all your honestly my favorite person😭) MUCH LOVE STAY SAFE🩷🩷🩷🥰

hihi you are too cute, I can spare a few facts about these three just for you anon ( ⸝⸝ᵕᴗᵕ⸝⸝)

Lesley:

- while not an avid gamer per se, Lesley does play a few games, notably Daggerfall. Wallace ends up watching him play it when Elov is in the hospital; since it's honestly pretty much a novel you can play, he actually gets pretty invested in it, asking all sort of questions about the lore he didn't see. Lesley also enjoys having someone to watch him even if it's hard to tell from the outside.

- most of what he grows are regular vegetables (potatoes, kale, carrots, onions, turnips, brussell sprouts, rhubarb, mostly hardy crops that resist the Scottish weather) and fruits from the small orchard his grandparent planted (apples, pears and damsons), but tucked away in the garden shed he actually has a couple cannabis plants he grew after his grandparents died. It's mostly for himself, though he has smoked with victims in the past.

he sometimes goes foraging for berries or mushrrom when the season is there, taking the dog with him for an extra long walk. He used to do that with his grandparents.

- since he works nights at the fish processing plant he has a bit of an inverted sleep schedule, though he doesn't sleep for very long in total (usually around 4-5 hours with a few naps peppered throughout the day). He works from 10 pm to 5:30 am, goes home, walks the dog, feed the animals and has breakfast, tend to the garden until about 11 am where he'll take a nap until lunch time after walking the dog again, then his afternoon is a mix between chores, being on the computer and taking care of the animals. At around 4 pm he goes to sleep until 9 ish, where he'll eat and get ready for work. This routine is rarely disturbed.

- he often works week-ends and holidays since he doesn't really care/celebrate anymore.

- most of his kills are done during his days off so sometimes he gets to spend them with someone else, but usually he uses the extra time to play some games, forage, harvest crops or make preserves/chutney/pickles/etc…

Egon & Jasper:

- when they were sleeping in the streets, they would share a sleeping bag, which was great for extra warmth but a hassle before Egon's incontinence issues were resolved. This might be why they formed an habit of sleeping so close together.

- they kiss with a lot of tongue since Jasper has close to no sensations on his lips anymore. Egon enjoys the sloppy mess they create together.

- Egon calls Jasper ugly a lot, but there's always love in his mockery. He's not just an ugly guy, he's his ugly guy. In his words, they're freaks, but there's a sense of belonging with each other in the word.

- they lived in a few different communal squats in the past but community living isn't that compatible with Egon's difficult temper, so they found and claimed their own little abandoned place to call home. They even got a power generator in there so they have the luxury of electricity babyyy

- they share clothes, even though they have a few pieces they tend to gravitate towards more than the others. Jasper is not very fashion conscious as long as it doesn't draw too much attention to him, Egon has his own personal sense of style but he doesn't care about brands. Most of what they own come from either shoplifting or thrift shops.

- speaking of shoplifting, they do it less now (mostly Jasper, Egon is more prone to still doing it), but they still regularly dumpster dive behind supermarkets (which is illegal in Germany). That's how they do most of their groceries so they tend to eat a lot of different stuff since they can't shop around. When they get a pretty good haul, they often will share with the folks who still live in the streets. When he comes home late from his job Jasper will also ask around for unsold products at bakeries and such, which usually does net him something to bring home.

- they still use a cheap gym membership to get access to a shower, except now they will also use the equipment from time to time, which is a great way for Egon to spend his extra energy. At home, they collect rainwater to be able to flush the toilet and do basic things like wash their face, shave, and brush their teeth. All in all, they are managing pretty well.