#I remember getting what was probably the worst news I could have gotten at the time and just thinking 'oh. I hate this“ and then continuing

[dullgecko]

i think with how much of a disaster riz is, he's pretty used to not looking well. it's normal for him and no big deal. so what if his hands are uncontrollably shaky and his eyebags are deeper than the grand canyon? nothin new.

but on the rare occasion when he's ESPECIALLY stressed and been neglecting himself even more than usual for a very long time, and he looks even worse, it really startles him when he starts to notice just how unwell he looks. he's so dissociated he can't recognize his own face in the mirror, like he's never seen that guy before even though he knows it's him. his colouration is so frighteningly off. looking down at his own arms he finds his veins so much more visible than usual. he looks so sick and weak, and that uncanny-valley-ish sense sets in, like looking at a corpse. it's jarring to see it on your own skin.

it scares him so fucking bad. he's terrified of his own body. he can't bear to look at himself but at the same time he can't look away. and he knows now he HAS to recover if only so he doesn't have to see himself like this anymore, and in an intense panic he scrambles to put himself to bed, but how's he supposed to fall asleep when he can't resist checking himself again and making the panic worse? he's just incapable of calming down like this.

this is the only time he will ever actually ASK fig to cast sleep on him.

Riz had been alone since the second day of their break, school pausing for a week as a large percentage of their students went to visit family over the holiday. This particular holiday only coming around every ten years or so since it was tracked on the elven calendar rather than the Solesian one.

Fabian had kidnapped Adaine and taken her to Falinel to stay with his grandfather and celebrate since she didn't have any family of her own while the rest of the party had their own plans. Gorgug had even gotten into the spirit of the thing and had decided to spend the week with his birth parents whereas Fig was spending the week rotating between her rapidly growing roster of moms and dads. Riz only had a vague idea of where Kristen was in all this mess but he remembered her mentioning some missionary work in Sylvaire so it was probably that since he hadn't heard from her all week.

As it was Riz didn't really have any family he could visit easily, or safely, on his own. The hike up to where his father's horde lived in the Mountains of Chaos was dangerous. He couldn't even get his mom to join him since she would be in Bastion City for the next two weeks working.

So, lonely and without anyone to stop him, Riz had thrown himself head first into some extra credit rogue-classwork assignments to distract himself but it had ended up being harder than he expected.

Riz was stuck, hand balling into a fist as he thumped it against the desk in front of himself a few times as if that would make his homework make any sense. He still had a week to complete it before handing it in but he had other things he needed to do as well and it was driving him to madness.

Adaine might have been able to help him with this puzzle but crystal reception in Falinel was spotty at best. He couldn't even ask his other friends for help since none of them took the rogue classes with him. Gorgug had taken a look at it on the first day off before he also left for his holiday when Riz was stumped and just shrugged his shoulders, and he doubted Kristen or Fig would do much better. The worst part was he usually found this kind of thing easy and now he felt like he'd forgotten how to do something that should come naturally, like breathing.

He leaned his chair back and balanced on the back two legs, glaring at the ceiling and contemplating calling Gorgug again but he didn't want to interupt his visit to his birth parents house over something as stupid as homework. His break in his thinking giving his stomach an oportunity to voice its opionion on him ignoring it for so long, grumbling loudly and announcing that Riz was hungry and probably had been for a while at this point. The goblin clicking his tongue in annoyance and grabbing his crystal to check the time and finding that it had been nearly fourteen hours since he sat down to start working on this portion of the overly complicated cypher.

He usually didn't get that bad when he was working at home but, for the first time in a while, he didnt have anyone interupting him. His mom was usually the one checking on him so no one had noticed his spiraling and forced him to do normal things like eat or drink water or sleep. Hell, he'd been in so deep on this assignment that he hadn't even had coffee since yesterday some time. At least he THOUGHT it was yesterday anyway, what was today... Tuesday? No, Thursday, it was just past midnight.

Riz let the chair thump back forwards before pushing out and away from the desk. The act of standing making him feel like he was out of sync with his on body, like someone had shifted it two inches to the left and forgot to move his soul at the same time. The sudden change in his position also making the headache that was previously just an ignorable throbing flare into a sharp stabbing behind his eyes and crushing pressure along the top of his head. The combination of the two heralding a migraine that had been lying in wait ready to strike.

He'd felt this awful before many many times and knew it usually meant he'd gone too long without eating or drinking anything so he resolved to do just that. The goblin kicking the balled up pages of notebook paper he'd thrown on the floor in frustration out of the way as he head out of his room to the kitchen.

His hand was almost touching the handle of the fridge door when Riz caught sight of his reflection in the glass of their microwave. The rogue freezing as a familiar feeling of wrongness washed over him before he backpedalleed away. The goblin dropping into a partial crouch and hissing, claws ready since he wasn't armed, as he faced down the creature reflected in the glass. His mirror image actually moved with him properly though, Riz slowly standing back up and creeping closer to get a better look.

His reflection looked wrong, though the microwave door wasnt the best mirror. The colours were all thrown out of wack and surely he didn't look that bad. His plans to get food and something to drink were quickly forgotten, the rogue heading for his bathroom to check in a properly reflective surface instead.

Riz flicked the light on in his bathroom, winceing at how bright it was as he stood on the stool so he could reach the mirror. Almost recoiling at the face that stared back at him and bringing a hand up to touch his own cheek. He barely recognised himself, the bags under his eyes darker than he'd ever seen them in stark contrast to how pale he looked. The thin sliver of what was usually white around his iris completely bloodshot and his eyes so sunken it made him look like a corpse.

He looked half dead, Riz turning on the tap and splashing some water on his face to see if that would help. It didn't. There was still a dead man staring back at him when he looked in the mirror again. Riz felt a shiver run down his spine the uncannyness of barely being able to recognise his own reflection, the goblin hopping off the stool and heading back to the kitchen to attempt to get some food and water into his stomach. He didn't really feel like having much now but he knew he should at least try, and perhaps a nap was necessary as well.

One reheated frozen lasagne, several glasses of water and a shower later Riz finally flopped onto his bed. The rogue dragging himself to lie with his back pressed against the wall as he pulled out his crystal. There was still nothing in the group chat so he flicked over to his friends fantasy-grams, Fig's the only one to have updated this week due to the poor reception the others had but it showed that she would be spending some time in hell with her dad.

Once he ran out of things to scroll through Riz turned off the screen. The device getting deposited under his pillow next to his arcubus as he rolled over and tried to get some sleep.

His insomnia tended to make sleeping hard at the best of times but tonight it looked like it was on its best game. His thoughts still racing at a mile a minute as he tried to calm down enough to sleep. He kept thinking about the stupid cypher, then about how his friends were doing and wondering if they were having fun. The last thought making his chest hurt as he curled up smaller and balled up his fists.

He wanted to talk to them and see how they were going so badly. Goblins by nature were not solitary creatures and it was fucking lonely being by himself, but they all had important stuff they were doing so he didn't want to intrude. They all had family or important work they were doing and he just had... homework. Homework that was confusing him so badly that he'd apparently gone four days without anything to eat and barely anything to drink.

Riz lay in the dark of his room for hours, eyes screwed shut as he desperately tried to sleep while the same thoughts rotated around in his brain too loud to ignore. The headache caused by how tired he was paradoxically making it even harder to sleep because he was in so much pain.

The sun was up by the time he gave up trying to sleep, the goblin dragging himself out of bed after lying there awake for nearly five hours. Riz trudging to the kitchen wearily, digging through drawers until he found an almost empty box of sleeping tablets, and shaking the last four out onto his palm. If sleep wasn't going to happen he was going to fucking force it even if tablets made him feel jetlagged afterwards. Unfortunatly, despite another couple hours cocooned under his sheets, all the tablets did was make him feel groggy rather than knock him out.

His hand brushed against his crystal when he rolled over for the thousandth time trying to get comfortable, the device vibrating when it detected the movement to inform him there were notifications he'd missed. Riz groaning and sitting up to flick on his phone and see what they were, smiling a little since Fig seemed to be blowing up the group chat with the photos she'd taken with Gortholax down in the bottomless pit now that she was back on the material plain.

He flicked his thumb across the screen to scroll through them all, pressing on one to leave a like before pausing as a thought occured to him. He needed sleep badly and nothing seemed to be helping but he knew something that would work, HAD worked, every single time so far.

He exited out of the group chat, scrolling through his contacts to bring up just Figs number and typing out a quick text. Hesitating for just a second over the send button before clicking it and flopping back onto the bed to wait for a response.

//Hey! If you're back in Elmville do you think you can come over for a bit? I need help with something.//

His tail flicked backwards and forwards over the edge of the bed as he waited fir a response, arm draped over his eyes as he tried to dull the ever-present migrain that had been his companion for the last day and a half. Riz only shifting his arm away to look at his crystal when he felt it vibrate with a new notification.

//Sure dude! I'll be there soon.//

He didn't move again until he heard Fig knocking at the front door, Riz hefting himself off his matress and heading over to let her in. The goblin knew he must look awful by her reaction, the bard hissing air through her teeth as he gave her a little wave of greeting and stepped out of the way so she could enter.

"What the fuck Riz. You look horrible." She put the coffee's she'd picked up on the way over down on the counter, rounding on the goblin as he locked the door behind her. "When was the last time you slept properly?" "Friday night." Riz winced at how croaky his voice sounded, the goblin clearing his throat and crossing his arms over his chest.

"You so did not sleep yesterday, you look like someone has punched you in the face... twice." She waved a hand at him, obviously trying to point out the bags under his eyes that he knew were there. "Whatever you need help with can wait you need a nap." "Not yesterday... last friday." he ducked his head, squeezing his upper arms until his claws dug into the skin and wrapping his tail around his ankle. "I tried, I can't sleep. I wanted you to help."

"Wait." Fig gave him a confused look, crouching to pick Riz up under the arms and sit him on the counter so they were close to eye-level with eachother. The archdevil holding him by the shoulders as she spoke to him. "You don't want help with some mystery or case or anything... you want me to help you sleep?"

"Yeah." he leaned his head to the side so it was resting against her hand, ears giving a little flick as he reached up to grab her wrists and hold them there. "Sleep spell. Please."

"Holy shit. You're actually asking me to sleep spell you?" She put a hand to his forehead, Riz leaning into it and purring at the contact as he shut his eyes. "You haven't got a fever or anything, are you sick or something? Where's your mom?"

"Bastion city. Working with a client until next week." Riz headbutt her palm since it was still pressed against his forehead, tail giving a little flick against the counter and swiping the empty sleeping pill bottle onto the floor by accident.

He didn't catch Figs glance towards the bottle and the wide-eyed look she gave it since his eyes were shut, but he felt her push some of her magic into him which helped releive his headache somewhat.

"Did she know you were having issues sleeping when she left?"

"She's been gone since Saturday, and I always have issues sleeping. It's not a new development I have insomnia." Riz snorted and gave her an amused look, though his expression was met by one of concern and he quickly let his smile drop. "I'm serious Fig. You've knocked me out for less, why is it a big deal this time if I'm actually asking for it."

"Because you're alone." She poked him in the forehead, stepping away and hopping on one foot as she undid each of her boots and kicked them off near the door.

"Whaaaat are you doing?"

"I'm not knocking you out and leaving you unsupervised, we'll both take a nap." She took off her coat too, tossing it onto the kitchen table before scooping Riz up into her arms. The goblin getting carried over to the couch where Fig flopped down on her back with Riz cuddled against her front.

He didn't resist the manhandling, simply trying to move so he was in a less awkward position. Fig had a pretty good grip on him though, the bard grinning and squeezing him hard in a hug until he gave up and accepted his fate. Face taking on a little more color as he blushed, but he did have to admit that lying against her chest was very comfortable.

"Can I at least skoot backwards a bit if you're not going to let me go? Using your stomach as a pillow has to be less awkward than lying on your boobs."

"Ugh I'm hurt, you don't mind lying against Fabians boobs."

Riz just hissed at her by way of answer, making Fig laugh before shuffling them both around so they were on their side instead. Riz huffing and moving so his back was pressed against her as she spooned him against her front. "Better?"

"Mmm."

"Good. I'll set a timer okay? I'll put you to sleep and will wake you up in eight hours." She gave his hair a fond ruffle, Riz relaxing somewhat as he watched her concentrating the spell in her fingers in front of his face. The goblin only distantly feeling himself go completely limp when she pressed her hand against his forehead and he finally fell asleep.

[kiwichaeng]

Can't fucking believe it's been an entire year of tarlos being married what the fuck

[shawnxstyles]

man-handled

DATE: DECEMBER 4, 2023

summary: you get a little caught up in your boyfriend’s muscly arms and can’t help but imagine what it would be like if he man-handled you.

request: i thought it was but i guess not??

words: 5.1k

warning: SMUT (f- receiving (multiple orgasms, oral, fingering, throat-fucking), m- receiving (oral), slight daddy/sir kink, degrading, name-calling, dirty talk), language, and probably the shittiest ending ever

note: i’m so tired y’all

mafia!tom x reader

–

You weren’t usually like this. You weren’t known for being so horny to the point where you can’t think straight. You were known to be quiet, shy, and even a little innocent. But sometimes Tom brought out the worst in you. But you learned to like that side of you. The secret, dark, and dirty side that only Tom could unveil from you. Watching you unfold and come undone–no pun intended–gave Tom a deep sense of growing pride.

Every day he made it more obvious that he was the only one and that there would never be anyone else for you.

What was causing you to act so strange was a new obsession for you. You had been with Tom intimately numerous times, but he never failed to pleasure you immensely. You two have explored each other’s bodies inside and out, yet your mind still found things to obsess over. Currently, it was his arms.

His arms.

They were usually covered with different brand-name suits, all varying from gray to black. The sleeves always wrapped around his biceps snuggly, hinting at only some of his bulkiness. Usually, the sight of him in his suits when he left for work had you thinking about how hot he looked overall. But as you watched him leave this morning, your eyes couldn’t stop fixating on the packed muscle you knew was hiding under the black suit’s sleeves.

You’re not sure, but you think this newest obsession started last night by complete accident. That accident being Tom’s overwhelming dominance and control when he was fucking you.

Although you were on the quieter and more innocent side, it amazed both Tom and you that you were secretly fucked in the head just like him. You hadn’t even known it until you stumbled upon Tom. Sometimes, you think that he molded you to indulge in his kinks and fantasies, but he’s never forced you to do anything. If anything, it’s always you shyly asking him to do something more when a dirty thought pops into your head. He always makes sure to degrade yet praise you in the most addicting and twisted way.

Last night, while you and Tom were simply watching a movie, things got heated (it was never just going to be a movie). Tom had gotten home early and just wanted to relax. But the makeout between you two got hotter and you both got needier. When you moved yourself to his lap, gently rocking into him, his strong hands forced you to stay still. You remembered the bruises present on his knuckles and wondered if they still hurt when he squeezed your hips. You whined into his mouth before he picked you up easily, throwing you over his shoulder as you squealed.

“Always so greedy.”

Tom has picked you up and threw you over his shoulder before. Maybe the other times he was gentler about it, afraid to hurt his little princess even if you were completely okay with it. But that night, he didn’t seem to give a fuck. He had a difficult day at work, the evidence clear on his wounded hands, so maybe he took some of that aggressive out on you. After he had brought you upstairs, you were extremely drenched as his bulky arms tossed you on the bed.

But after that, he apologized for being so rough. He explained how he had a tough day and he was sorry for taking it out on you. It resulted in long, sweet, loving sex that you adored all the time because you got to see the part of him that no one sees. Just like that secret part in you that only he sees. Except, you weren’t yearning for his softness after being man-handled. No, you were looking to be fucked. Hard. You wanted it rough, messy, degrading, and straight sinful. The nastiest scenes flooded your mind through the night, hoping that you could relive one of them with Tom. As he fucked slow into you last night, your eyes couldn’t remove themselves from his bulging arms holding himself over his head. You watched as the muscles would work and his veins would pop out when he did a push-up, and it had you clenching around him pathetically.

What were you going to tell him when he came home?

For the rest of the day, you wandered around the house needily. You cleaned, you read, you reorganized, but nothing distracted you enough from your fucked-up thoughts and the pulse between your legs. One part of you felt ashamed for hiding it from Tom, but the other half of you didn’t care. It felt like you had your own little secret that no one knew. But then again, you really wanted to tell him because you wanted to see the results. And feel them…

When it was late into the evening, seemingly later than when Tom usually returns, you sighed to yourself. You brought yourself to bed, too worn out from your own desires nagging you down all day. If only Tom didn’t have a rule about touching yourself while he was gone, you would have been able to handle your dirty situation all by yourself. But no, Tom had to be insanely controlling and sexy about everything, just making your situation even harder to deal with. Just as your bare feet slip into the comforter, you hear the hefty front door open. Your head shoots up, instantly on high alert of Tom’s arrival. Just when you thought your body was relaxing, the sound of his approaching footsteps seem to heighten your hormone levels, veering away from homeostasis once again.

Tom peeks his head through the ajar bedroom door, body hunching over the door handle. He doesn’t say a word until he realizes that you are in fact awake, opening the door wider. He skulks closer to you, his body bulky and stoic just how you remembered it being this morning when he left. His hands at his sides had those infamous cuts and bruises that you always wrapped with bandages. He never wanted you to, you demanded that you do. Your heart pounds as your tummy tickles, wishing he could read your mind and just handle you the way you want him to with those bruised knuckles.

“Missed you today, Princess,” his thick hand rose to caress the hair on your head. You feel yourself lean into his touch, yearning it always no matter how intense or soft. You always craved to just feel him.

“Missed you too, Daddy. So much,” your hand reaches up and encloses around his wrist, squeezing softly. His hand gently pulls away as he sits beside you on the bed, and you nearly whimper at the loss of contact.

“What d’you do today?” Tom asked simply and softly, genuinely curious about your day. But finally with him next to you, your mind has gotten all fuzzy, and you feel like you’ve forgotten every word you’ve known. Your eyes haven’t drifted away from his arm since he pulled away from you, mind encompasses in the way he moves.

“I cleaned. I reorganized the shelves in your office. Oh, and I read too…”

Tom tried to listen to your dull list of activities, but he couldn’t help but notice how distracted you seemed. Maybe you were tired from all the chore-like things you did. But your eyes weren’t blinking as they started at his chest, clearly hazy with something. Something familiar.

“Yeah? And what did you read?”

“Um… I don’t remember,” your head started to tilt to the side as you licked your lips, lost in whatever thought was clouding your mind currently. Tom’s mouth curved just the slightest bit up at the airheaded state of you, wondering if you could be anymore adorable. The fact that you didn’t remember what you read, knowing you love reading, is what stood out to Tom the most. Something was obviously off, Tom just couldn’t figure it out yet.

“How was work? Do you need me to patch you up?”

“Work was stressful. People don’t listen and then ask why m’so harsh. And idiots like to go behind m’back and take stuff from me,” Your eyes fall onto his wounded hands.

“S’not nice…”

“Not nice at all, huh?” Tom reaches up to caress your face ever-so gently, not wanting to touch you too much with his open cuts.

“Come on. Let me fix you up. Please?”

Now, how could Tom ever say no to you?

–

Sometimes, Tom could be stubborn. Like right now, where he refused to sit down while you tended to his wounds because he’s saying that it won’t take long enough to sit. You want to roll your eyes in annoyance, but you don’t want him to see your attitude and punish you later. Or maybe you do…

He had his suit jacket off now and just his crisp, white buttoned shirt rolled up to the elbows. The skin that was untouched was smooth under your delicate touch, but his scars and fresh cuts, which were most likely old ones reopened, were rugged. You dabbled light pressure as you wiped away dry blood with the wet cloth, not afraid of hurting him because he barely blinks when he punches someone. He surely wasn’t phased by his girl cleaning up his damages like a little puppy trying to lick themselves better. That’s exactly what your touch felt like—little puppy licks and gentle pawing.

And when you applied the cooling ointment, his pain was eased, but he doesn’t think it was from the cream. No, he is a firm believer that you are his medicine. Your words, your touch, your soul was healing. Although he was your opposite in every way and he hurt people for a living while you mended people’s aches with your mere presence, he could never hurt you. Never.

So, when you’re all finished wrapping his hands with that rough cloth that’s an excuse for a bandage (it was all he had stored), he’s shocked by your blunt statement. You were rarely blatant about anything, especially when it had to do with sexual situations.

“Why did you apologize to me last night?” You just threw your words at him, hoping he caught them. He didn’t know that when you were fixing him up you were ogling his arms like a child in a toy store during the Christmas season. His veins were green, constant exploitation of work causing them to pop out more. He looked delicious and it made you crave him more than ever. Even more with his ripped up hands. You wanted the roughness and pain and the power to be instilled on you. You wanted him to take his particularly hard day out on you. Tom blinked, silently leading you out of the bathroom and back into the bedroom. He tried to recall exactly when he apologized to you, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Clearly, work had gotten to his head too much.

“I don’t remember what you’re talkin’ ‘bout, darling,” Without a thought, he begins unbuttoning his shirt with his bandaged hands. He looked like something of a fancy man mixed with an underground boxer. Not the type of fancy that shows off his money, but the type that’s humble and real and works hard for what he wants. A man who made himself. And that’s exactly who Tom is; someone who built himself.

You swallowed, suddenly feeling like you’re under the spotlight. But you took a breath. “Last night, when we were having… sex… you apologized for being really rough.”

He flatly hums, indicating that you need to continue while he buttons his shirt. You could just faint from his sculpted, stony beauty that was hidden behind a few buttons and fabric. Unlike his knuckles, his skin was smooth and untouched besides his scattered tattoos. He had faint scars that you could barely see unless you were looking really hard (which in your case maybe you were). His build and figure used to intimidate you, but now, you’re just awed.

“Well… I kind of liked when you were rough…” Your words dragged out, especially as your head tilted down to face your lap in embarrassment. “You’ve never really been like that before and it caught me off guard, but in a really good way! I didn’t realize I wanted something like that until… yeah.” You weren’t embarrassed that you were attracted to your own boyfriend’s man-handling, but by the fact that you had to admit that to get what you wanted. Sometimes, you wish he could just read your mind, but life wasn’t a movie or a book, even if it felt like that from time to time with the life you live. Dating a mafia man was insane to visualize–those things only really happened in books. Or so you thought.

“You did?” You softly hummed, nodding your head. You could feel the heat radiating off of your cheeks, your heart thumping in your chest. You didn’t think Tom would reject you. That’s not why your heart was beating faster than its usual tempo. You were anticipated and your organ couldn’t help but be thrilled at what was to come. “You liked when I took my day out on you? Liked when I was a little mean?”

You crossed your ankles that had been hanging off the bed, biting your lip. You nodded, maybe a little too quickly, because you got slightly dizzy from the movement along with your amped hormones. You had that beat in your chest, but you also had that throbbing pulse in your lower body that has been aching since you watched him leave earlier that day. In the most Tom-way possible, he stalks over to you, torso bare while his trousers remain on. He’s slow and calculated, and it makes you even more anxious. When your eyes finally look up at him, he’s glaring down at you with blown-out pupils, a darkness swirling with the brown color of his irises.

He’s close to you now, inches away from touching you. But he doesn’t. You hear the clink of his belt loosening around his waist before it’s adoring his hand. His quick movements cause the leather to slap your bicep, making you gasp, but what he doesn’t do is apologize. You’re not sure if what he did was purposeful. Did he want to startle you and show you how rough he really could be? You never lingered too long on the idea of him using a belt on you, but if Tom was going to be man-handling you more often, then the thought would probably be more recurring. Tom shrugs off his pants as if they’re a bother, and by the large bulge outlined in his briefs, it seems as if they really are.

You hadn’t even realized you were licking your lips until Tom’s hand came up around your throat, thumb pulling it out. He tucks his thumb into your mouth, gripping it tightly.

“Drooling over m’cock and I’m not even fully undressed yet,” he removes his thumb before lightly tapping your cheek. “On your knees. Need to fill that filthy mouth.”

The devil on your shoulder wants to be a brat and not listen to him, but you’ve been craving this all day. If Tom knew what you wanted–which he did–his punishment to you would just be not giving it to you. And that’s not your ideal plan at the moment. So, you slide off the edge of the bed and onto the floor at his feet. The first thing he does is spread your thighs open with his ankle.

“You don’t get to squeeze y’pretty little thighs together while sucking me off. That’s rude, pet. Get as wet as you want, but if you close y’legs, you’re not comin’ tonight. Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” Your hands were waiting anxiously by your sides, clawing at the skin on your thighs. Your pussy was already clenching around its own wetness, unable to close due to his new limit.

“It talks,” his tone was sinister and demeaning. The kind that would make someone’s eyes twitch and hands fist in an argument out of irritation. But his works were fueling some type of sick need inside of you that needed to be sedated, and this seemed to be the only way to do it. And you didn’t mind it one bit. You fucking loved it. “Who knew such a slut would be so obedient?”

You knew better than to respond to that rhetorical question. Instead, you patiently wait for his smirk to rise in cocky pride before he finally slips off his briefs. Like every time you’ve seen his cock, it’s pretty. You didn’t know they were supposed to look so yummy and dream-like. He was smooth with inklings of hair scattered down at the base and his tip was a cute coral color that grew an angry red when he was hard. From the looks of it, he was pretty hard. His tip was leaking that delicious pre-cum you were dying to taste, even if you’ve had it thousands of times before. Having to sit and stare at his glory without touching was some type of punishment, you think.

His hand latches onto the base and the other grips the back of your head. He pushes you closer, tapping your cheek with his tip. You suck in a breath, readying to take him.

“You know what to do if it’s too much. And it will be.”

Tom shoves his cock into mouth once you’re open wide enough. He doesn’t wait for you to adjust to his size or explore his prick like he usually does. This time he’s quick and harsh like he’s trying to beat some type of record. But he’s still just as calculated as he always is, and you know he’s not just going to come fast because he can. Most men do that all the time when they want to get off briskly, but Tom wasn’t like that. He liked to take his time and appreciate the moment, edging you both just a little to make it a little fun. He always edged himself more though, forcing orgasms out of you before you would even touch him.

Your cunt pulsates around nothing, trying to grasp the pleasure he is holding from you. Hands clawing at his meaty thighs until your nails break the skin barrier. Moans attempt to escape your mouth, but are instantly shoved right back down your throat from his thick cock. Tom drills into you with no mercy, causing saliva to cascade down your chin in long strings. The muscles in your jaw ache from their open stance, begging for a break that you would never get. If it was too much you could easily tap his thigh a few times and it would all be over, but that’s exactly what you don’t want. You love that he came home after a stressful day and you could make him feel better. You didn’t want your limitations to restrict his maximum abilities when you secretly wanted more to begin with.

“Look at you letting me fuck this throat. This whiny, little throat and your filthy mouth. Always so fuckin’ needy for it,” his grip on your hair intensified, stilling your head from any movements you might subconsciously make. You’re not surprised when the tears finally start to leak from your eyes, rolling down your face in wavering streams rather than small rivulets. “I’m so big I made you a crybaby. That good, sweetheart?”

There were no words that were able to leave your stuffed mouth, only rumbles of moans that vibrated around his cock so dirtily that his head was falling back. Deep, guttural groans emitted from his rough throat, his movements never faulting. Even when you feel the tip of him twitching in the back of your mouth, he doesn't stop.

“Take it. I’m going to come and you’re going to take it. All you wanted was to be a storage for my cum, right?” Tom’s words were cruel and degrading, but they were the exact thing that got you off. Your stomach churned in lust, feeling a bit neglected, yet pleasured by him fucking your mouth.

He was going all out tonight and you didn’t want anything less. Tom didn’t even give you a warning about when he was coming, he just wanted you to take it. And who were you to defy him? When ropes of his much-needed release fired from his prick, you made sure to swallow every drop. He slowly removes himself from your mouth as your jaw aches immensely. Saliva and cum were lathered around your chin, coating your lips with the taste of him. Your hand lifts up to massage your jaw as you look up at the flames of lust in Tom’s eyes. You notice that there’s slight hesitation; he wants to default back into a caring lover rather than a dominant one. But even with the soreness in your jaw, you manage a smirk to let him know that you’re fine. You’re more than fine, and you’re more than ready to continue the rest of the night. You know that it will be your turn soon too at some point, right? That throat-fuck was torture for your sopping cunt. You’re mind-dizzyingly horny.

“What’s the matter? Your lip is all trembling and wet,” You didn’t even notice him stuff his prick back into his pants because you were so mesmerized by the taste left on your tongue and the ache in your jaw. He leans down, nearly level with you on the floor, but still hovering over your head. “Just like your pussy I bet, hm?”

Your entire body shivered from his words as if a frozen wind cascaded through the bedroom, but at the same time, your skin has never burned so fiery. His hands were quick to fit under your arms, lifting you up to your feet. When your thighs met again, they squeezed tightly to rid the incessant throbbing between them. You knew you were just soaking wet too–the kind that reached all the way to your bum once Tom laid you flat on your back. The kind that would drip onto the bed sheets if you were positioned on all fours with your rear up in the air. Tom loved to do every which way with you, but he was keen on watching your scrunched-up face relax once you came. The way your nose would wrinkle and eyebrows furrow, mouth just wide enough to slip a finger or two through. Which, of course, Tom would take advantage of. But right now, he wanted to taste you.

It had been such a long day, full of busyness and rage-work. He didn’t mind having to punch a face or two daily, especially when they wronged him significantly because then he got to do more than just a punch. The only part he hated was seeing your face in the aftermath. When he’d come home, he would see you all delighted to see him back and well, just for your expression to drop in concern at his wounds. Whether it was his hands (it was usually his hands), arms, chest, or even his face, you were relentless about fixing him up. Tom’s resistance was nothing to you, so eventually, he would just sigh and let you aid him. You had something of a magic touch because only you could make Tom feel better. Nothing like the doctors he had occasionally visited as a child or even his mother’s kisses. And now, his knuckles may be bruised and may be bandaged, but that would never stop him from taking care of his girl. Especially when his girl got all shy about wanting to be man-handled. He thought you were the most adorable thing really.

Usually, Tom would gently lay you back on the comforter and make sure you had a pillow underneath your head. This time, he didn’t even hesitate to throw your willing body like a ragdoll on the bed. The gasp you let out was practically a moan. His invasive, manly hands shredded your bottoms down your legs without a care in the world. You’ve never seen him so aggressive with you, but God, if it wasn’t exactly what you wanted. You had been craving this type of fucking, and now that you have it, well, you might just pass out from how good it’s all going to feel.

“This slutty little pussy,” he growls, thumb circling your throbbing clit. He can feel the way it swells underneath his rough touches, and he can hear the way your breath gets caught in your throat. You were always so delicate to him, like you would break if he held you too hard. But while you were soft, you were also strong, which is why Tom was able to treat you like this and you wouldn’t shatter like thin glass. “So weepy and wet. Who knew you were such a cock whore, hm? Or is it just for me?”

“You. Only you.”

Tom knew it was only for him. And of course, you knew it was only for him. No one has ever gotten you as wet as Tom has, and no one has pleasured you nearly as much. He strived to satisfy you until you begged him to stop, which no one had ever come close to doing. Every past partner you’ve been with always had to use lubricants because they couldn’t make you wet enough. You were always ashamed and embarrassed, but then you realized that’s how they should feel. Their performances are minuscule and rubbish; compared to Tom’s, they don’t stand a chance. But you didn’t bother with those past “lovers” anymore, because you had your one and only right in front of you. Or more like right in between your legs with his head on your thigh.

“Right. I’m feeling a bit hungry. You’ll let me eat, won’t you?” He widens your legs, forcing them to spread so you can’t suffocate him with your thighs. Lewd whines spill from your mouth as his breath hits your pussy, warm and close. “Oh, wait, I’m making the decisions.”

His lips lock onto your clit, sucking on the nub. You don’t conceal the moans that instantaneously begin to slip out of you like a mantra. He changes his rhythm, going firm and fast, and then slow and calculated. It was addicting, and it left you clawing at the bed sheets and curling your toes. His tongue swirls through your folds, collecting your juices and prodding inside of you.

No man has eaten you like Tom has. When they did it, they did it as if it was a chore. Tom does it as if it’s a reward.

He cherishes you, honors your body with his hands and mouth while also showing you who’s in control. It’s these things that make you utterly obsessed with him, thinking about him for twenty-four hours even when you see him at the start and end of every day. You were obsessed with the way his tongue was licking into you, desperate to consume every drop of your wetness until you were drained. His thumb returned to its home on your clit, pressing and holding as it throbbed beneath his finger. Your head spun as if you were drunk on a carousel, but it wasn’t nausea you were feeling. No, it was the ecstasy of pleasure building up inside of you as you approached your high.

“S-so close. Fuck—”

A slap to your inner thigh caused you to squeak into the heated air. Tom never cared when you cussed before, but the fact that he did now was another little turn-on that just got added to the list. Seriously, what was wrong with you?

His mouth popped off of you, thumb never letting up on your clit. He cleanly slides his middle finger through your slick folds, easily curling it inside of you. Even with his wounded and wrapped hands, his thrusts are flawless and perfectly paced. The sandy texture of the bandage occasionally itches your inner thigh, adding a delicious stimulation to your skin. As he pumps his digits inside of you, you are aware of the muscles in his arms flexing, which makes you clutch tightly around him.

“Oh, what’s got you so tight?” You groan at his words, not responding clearly. “Don’t be a brat.

“Your a-arms,” You can’t help but moan as he curls his fingers inside of you again.

“Yeah?” he hovers his body over you now, one arm supporting his bulky weight right beside your head. It was exactly like how you had remembered it and you didn’t even have to tell him. His bicep was next to your head, pulsing and working to keep him up right. You could feel and hear him grin and grunt every time you squeeze tightly around his fingers. “You’re the filthiest fuckin’ girl I’ve ever seen. The way you’re taking my fingers I just know you’re wishing it’s m’cock.”

Your skin was on fire. Your hair was a mess. Your head was going to evaporate into a cloud of lust. And your body was an oozing waterfall. That’s the only way to describe how you felt.

His transitions are natural and effortless as if he could do it with his eyes closed because he’s mapped your body out so well. But no matter how many times you’re with him, you’re still withering beneath him, shaking until your orgasm washes over you like a tsunami. He tilts his head, licking his lips before whispering in your ear deeply.

“Since you’ve been crying for it all day, come. Go ahead. Soak my fingers. Soak the fuckin’ sheets.”

You topple over your orgasm into a pool of pleasure, indeed soaking his hand and the sheets beneath you. As your body becomes hypersensitive, you wiggle away from his touch, only for him to hold you in place. He snatches your hips, stills them roughly with a press of his bandaged hands.

“I’m not done here, sweetheart. For this one, I want you to be as quiet as possible. Can you do that? Or are you inclined to let the neighborhood know who is making y’come this many times?”

Tom was incessant about making you come a magnitude of ways that night, all with specific rules. One with no touching, one with no moving, one with no moaning. It was a rollercoaster of crying and orgasms. To say you were exhausted was an understatement, but you’ve never felt more refreshed and satisfied.

You were so tired that when Tom left to begin your aftercare, you had passed out on the messy bed sheets.

—

i rushed the ending so much, but i felt bad that i’ve posted in so long and i’m just so busy that i never have time to write anymore

taglist:

@motheroffae @noa217 @nelly-belly97 @spidermanffh3000 @rugbeat3000 @mysticdaisy21 @emilyparkerholland @mrstealuregirl @bisexual-desi @sherlockstrangewolf @madsttx @graywrites20 @bradtomlovesya @princesspannnn @sageisswaggg @purplerose291 @girlbossnancy @lockwood-lover @theslayerofthevampires @breaxthing @eatshitanddiee @lnmp89 @crybabyddl @pretty-npeach @marine-mayday @aerangi @justanotherpasserby-blog @tinafuentes @moniffazictress11 @eywaheardyou @alwaysclassyeagle @raajali3

crossed out= not able to tag

[evansbby]

an update from me :)

hey everyone, i know i haven’t been very active on here lately. and the reason is because a lot of things in my life have changed. i’ve been debating even sharing this but i feel like i’m in a good enough position to be okay with sharing it.

so these past two years, i had been super active on here (late 2022- early 24) and that was because, well, I didn’t really have anything else. that’s because I had graduated in 2022 and then i just couldn’t find a job in my field. like so many other recent graduates, it was just so hard and tough and it really made me lose all faith in myself.

i found myself to be in the worst mental state i had ever been. I cut myself off from my friends, felt like a burden towards my family, was having meltdowns and panic attacks almost daily, even started eating unhealthily and was just overall in a very bad place.

HOWEVER, i always felt like I could come on tumblr and that’s why i was so active and writing all these stories because honestly, they were almost like a crutch to me. like the ONE thing i had to look forward to in life during those times was the feedback I’d get when i posted a fic, and honestly it’s what kept me going. like i swear to god, on some days this blog and community was the only thing that i had to look forward to and keep me going, and writing felt like such a huge escape.

because i felt so USELESS. like i was wasting my life and not making any money or being able to kickstart my career after uni, and that it would be like this forever, so when I was writing it actually felt like I was doing something with a purpose. honestly on some days I would literally wake up early and go sit in Starbucks all day just writing my fics like i was cosplaying working or something just so I’d have a purpose. (I don’t go to Starbucks anymore lol boycott)

anyways, i never shared this on tumblr these past few years bc you guys don’t understand what a failure i felt like. i would sometimes get asks on here asking what i did for a job and I’d feel so embarrassed of my current state of being unable to find a job when it felt like everyone else who had graduated with me had one and obtained one so easily. like i felt ASHAMED.

i remember once i got an ask asking what my job was and I just said “fashion marketing” bc that was one of the things i wanted to do and id done an internship in that field so i just put that but it was a LIE i was unemployed and the most depressed ive been in my whole life but I thought maybe i could manifest it.

ANYWAYS, and you’ve probably already guessed it, but the reason I’m not so active anymore is because I did eventually find a job. a really good one that I’m enjoying so much and I’m so happy at. Finally, I’m feeling like myself again, like I’m living that life in London as a twenty something that I’d see everyone on tiktok living!! Like I’m finally just having fun, going out with friends, being active, having money to spend on fun things etc.

and it feels so surreal and crazy because when i was depressed and jobless, it made me doubt myself so much. Like the constant rejections and failed interviews made me doubt myself and lowered my self esteem so much and I thought I’d NEVER achieve this life that i have now! And I don’t want to jinx it but I literally thank God every day for finally granting me this because I really feel like I would’ve gotten worse and worse and IDEK.

But back to the main point, and so because of my new job I just don’t have that much time for tumblr anymore. But this isn’t a goodbye post… not at all! I find that when I’m super busy in life is also when I get the most motivated to write! Like for example in summer 2022 I was on here so much and that was the summer I had the most fun, was the most busy. I think when I’m busy in life, I get motivated to write.

Which I believe is the case right now, because I’m SO motivated to complete all my stories, I keep thinking about them and writing them slowly, so please don’t think anything is abandoned! I just wanted to make this post to be more transparent about what’s been going on in my life and what had been going on these past two years. That maybe someone else going through something similar can see that eventually, everything does work out.

Anddd I don’t really know how to end this. I just want to say, yall don’t understand just how thankful I am for having this blog, this platform, to write my stories. For having you guys. Because who knows how much worse my mental state would’ve been these past two years when I didn’t have ANYTHING else going for me, if I hadn’t had this blog it would’ve been so much worse.

Thank you so much for believing in me and enjoying my stories and always always letting me know how much you enjoy them. And I’ll say the truth; I know everyone says that engagement on tumblr has been bad lately but I can say that bc of you guys I have literally never EVER had this issue. And that’s not me being big headed, that’s just the truth and it makes me so happy and grateful. Yall always came through for me and still do now! Every time I think my fic is going to flop, you guys come through for me. I appreciate it so much. You guys have no idea how much you helped me when I was at my lowest. And continue to.

Many thanks

Me 🩷🩷🫶🏼🫶🏼

[unclewaynemunson]

Eddie can hear from Steve's breathing that he's sleeping deeply and he's wondering how the hell he can possibly be asleep right now. His own mind is spinning and he kinda feels like he might throw up soon. Steve went to sleep with his back to Eddie and now Eddie can do nothing but stare at his silhouette in the dark.

He doesn't really understand what happened: they had this big fight and the word slipped out of his mouth before he even realized it did. The one word he had promised Steve to never say to him. And then Steve stormed out and Eddie just fucking stood there, unable to move and nauseous as hell, tears prickling behind his eyes. By the time his brain started working again and he realized he should probably go look for Steve, he could already have gone anywhere.

Half an agonizing hour later he returned; Eddie didn't give a shit about their stupid fight anymore and tried to apologize, but Steve... wouldn't let him. I know you didn't mean it like that, was all he said. It's okay, but I'm really exhausted, so let's go to bed first and talk about it in the morning.

The worst part is that he doesn't know what he should prepare himself for. Steve has never done anything like this before, but Eddie sure as hell recognizes the signs: waving him off, attempting to make him feel safe, so he'll let his guard down and then it'll all come crashing down on him. He can hear his mother's voice again, so clearly that she might as well be standing right at his bedside:

No, of course I'm not mad at you, Eddie. You couldn't help it, it's not your fault.

Have you already forgotten about what you've done, Eddie? Looks like I have to punish you after all.

The worst one had been after his dad got locked up, five whole years of jailtime ahead of him. He had never been behind bars for more than a couple months on end before. And Eddie had been with him when it happened. No, worse: he had run away.

You couldn't help it, Eddie, you were scared, and you couldn't have gotten him out of it anyway.

He had been grateful for his mom's understanding words, had finally lowered his guard when she even made him a hot cocoa before bed. It only took one restless night of sleep until he'd find out what she really thought about him: a coward, a sissy, someone who didn't know what loyalty was. Didn't he love his father? Would he like to see his own dad rot in jail? She was often cruel with her words, but the times she was cruel with her hands were a rarity.

Eddie had never viewed Steve as being anything like his mother, but with yesterday's events in his mind and Steve unreachable on the other side of the bed, he supposes it's more than justified. However shit will go down tomorrow morning, he will most certainly deserve it.

------

He must've somehow drifted off in the early hours before morning, because he wakes up to light pouring through the windows and - an empty space on Steve's side of the bed.

He quietly slips out from under the blankets and tiptoes to the door, but when he peers around the corner, he finds the living room empty. Upon further inspection, the kitchen and the bathroom both turn out to be abandoned as well. Steve's nowhere to be seen. A new wave of nausea washes over Eddie when he realizes that things must be even worse than he was expecting.

He remembers those times, too: the times when his mother would disappear, sometimes for a couple hours, sometimes for days on end. When he was little, he'd get hungry. As he grew older and learned to take care of himself, he'd only get scared. When she'd finally get back, she'd tell him that he shouldn't be so dramatic, that surely she'd told him where she was off to and for how long she'd be gone. Sometimes, she'd even tell him that no, she hadn't been away for three days, she had only gone to the store, what the hell was he talking about?

When the realization hits him that Steve might never come back - the same realization that used to cause the paralyzing fear whenever his mom disappeared - it becomes difficult to breathe. He staggers and stumbles into the bedroom, where he starts randomly pulling the doors of their closets and dresser drawers open in a desperate attempt to see if all of Steve's clothes are still there. His polos are hanging in a neat row in the closet, and his underwear dresser is filled just fine. His toothbrush is still in the bathroom, just like his shaving cream and his medication: that should be enough confirmation that at least he'll come back but maybe that's exactly what he wants Eddie to think and he can't breathe anymore and -

-------

A good night's sleep and a morning run are the perfect cure for just about everything, if you ask Steve. He comes home all sweaty and short of breath, but feeling better than he has in days. His head is clear and yesterday's fight suddenly seems almost insignificant. He opens the door, ready to make some coffee and finally properly talk with Eddie, who was still fast asleep when he left the house two hours ago.

But when he calls out a "Hi, babe!" the apartment stays eerily quiet. There's no trace of Eddie in the kitchen, nor in the living room, and Steve wonders if maybe he has gone out to get some snacks. He shrugs and walks into the bedroom to take off his sweaty sports clothes - and chuckles quietly to himself when he sees the mop of dark curls above the blanket.

'Eddie, it's almost noon, man,' he says while walking up to the bed. It's only then that he notices that all their drawers and closets are opened, as if Eddie had been frantically searching for something.

'Have you been sleepwalking again?'

He goes to sit down on the bed, right next to the lump of the blanket that is Eddie's sleeping body. When Eddie still doesn't move, Steve gently combs a hand over the curls and then pulls back the blanket.

'Hey there.'

He traces a thumb over Eddie's cheek, which finally causes him to jolt up. Steve immediately clocks that there's a look on his face that can only be described as concerning: something frantic and fearful is radiating from those big brown eyes he knows so well.

'You came back,' Eddie sighs out when he sees it's Steve who woke him.

Steve frowns. 'Of course I came back. Are you okay? Did you have a nightmare?'

'How long were you -'

There are tears in Eddie's eyes now, and he looks more scared than Steve has seen him look in years.

'Oh, baby, it's okay, I'm here,' he says, opening his arms to catch Eddie in an embrace. 'I was only gone on a run. Yesterday was pretty intense, remember? So I wanted to clear my head while you were sleeping in. I've only been away for two hours or so.'

Eddie slumps heavily against Steve's chest; his whole body is trembling like a leaf.

'What happened, baby?'

'What day is it?'

'Jesus, Eddie, you're scaring me. It's Saturday.'

Eddie lifts up his head; his cheeks are red and puffy and wet.

'Saturday?' Eddie repeats, voice sharp and frantic again. 'Is that true? Are you telling the truth?'

'Yes, what's going on, Eddie? Why would I - oh.' He doesn't need to finish that question to understand exactly what's happening, and he quietly curses himself for being so blind to it. 'Oh, fuck, Eddie, I didn't mean to - I'm so sorry.'

Not giving a shit about his sweaty sports clothes, he pushes Eddie a little bit to make space and crawls under the blanket beside him. He pulls him in his arms, cradling his head with his hand, and keeps repeating sweet-nothings like I'm here and I'm not going anywhere and I love you and I'm sorry for scaring you until Eddie has finally stopped trembling and his breathing is back to normal again.

'You're here,' Eddie finally says. His voice is creaky in a way that's breaking Steve's heart.

Steve leans forward to press a kiss against his temple.

'I'm here,' he repeats. 'And I promise you I would never do anything like the shit your mother used to pull, alright?'

'Watch out with that,' Eddie says. 'I also promised to never call you bullshit.'

Steve utters a sound that's somewhere between a sniff and a huff. 'Was that - a joke? Did you seriously just go from full breakdown to cracking jokes?'

Eddie hums something unintelligible and lets his eyes fall close while he nestles himself into a more comfortable position in Steve's arms.

'Why did you think I would ever do something like your mom?' Steve's question is almost a whisper.

Eddie sighs deeply. 'Because yesterday,' he says, burying his head against Steve's chest. 'It was too easy. You should've been mad, but you forgave me right away. And then you went to sleep with your back towards me and I - I had the whole night to spiral further about it. And then I woke up and you weren't there and - I dunno, my head was running wild, man.'

Too easy. That's exactly what it feels like, sometimes, with Eddie. To hear him say bullshit and know he doesn't do it to intentionally hurt him. To have a fight and know that they still love each other through it all. To come home in the apartment they share and have coffee together every day. It's too easy, too good to be true. Not something either of them ever thought they could have with someone. But they do. Even if they both take their damaged hearts with them. Even if they've both been raised on cruelty instead of love. Maybe it's not too easy after all; maybe they simply need to learn the difference between easy and too easy. Maybe easy is exactly what they deserve to share with each other.

Steve brushes some stray hairs out of Eddie's face. His cheeks are still swollen and his eyes are red. And it's never been easier to love him.

[itsabouttimex2]

A Brand New Journey:

Part Six

(Part One) (Part Two) (Part Three) (Part Four) (Part Five) (Part Six)

(Got requested to make a Shadowpeach bot, thought I’d drop it here. And speaking of bot requests, drop yours here!)

“C’mon, kiddo. It’s a simple question. I’m not gonna get mad, I promise.”

You take a moment to think. There’s… a lot to say, isn’t there? Having known the monkey for just over a year now, there’s not much of yourself that’s been unshared. How many times did you bare your heart to this man?

…and would one more really hurt?

Swallowing the last bit of a white chocolate and caramel mooncake, you set down the stained napkin it was held in and throw the pastry back with a sip of tea. Deep breaths, now.

You’ve been meaning to say it for a while now, anyways.

“…you’re the closest thing to a father I’ve ever had.”

You don’t think you’ve ever seen a man’s heart crack before.

But there’s an eventual moment there, after the initial jerk of his body, after the instinctive clench of his hand, after the flinch spurred by the mooncake’s insides spilling onto his lap… that Macaque softens.

“…I am?” Is the first question, and his voice is soft, feathery and wavering. This isn’t what he expected. This isn’t what he prepared for.

What you’ve said slides far past the realm of all his schemes and carefully curated words, all his fastidious planning.

How could he have expected this?

You were supposed to respect him! Fear him!

But what you feel for him is- is a word he hasn’t said for a very long time. It’s a word he hasn’t even thought of.

Hotter than hatred. Deeper than despair.

Love.

The word leaves his chest empty, his breath spent. God, it hurts.

When was the last time he was loved? When, without hesitation he was adored? When he was Wanted?

“…kid. C’mere.”

Macaque doesn’t wait for a response- he slings an arm around your shoulders and pulls you flush, the thrum of his heart speeding up at the closeness.

You’re one of the only good things he has. He’s lost or destroyed or driven away the rest, all that was or could have been. Macaque doesn’t like to think of his sins- it’s easier to play the victim card.

If he thinks of Sun Wukong as the bad guy, it’s easier to live with what he’s done. To live with manipulating and betraying and stealing and trying to kill. If he throws all the blame onto the Monkey King, then Macaque can pretend to be a good person.

Paint himself white. Paint Wukong black. Ignore the unevenly gray reality.

And he can live with hurting innocent people and destroying their homes and stealing their powers and trying to take their lives.

(But something deep down knows and burns with the knowledge that he’s more monster than man, that he lost all right to be loved with the worst of his unrepentant actions.)

(It aches a little more that uncaring and unregretted deception is what led you to him.)

(He doesn’t deserve you. He doesn’t deserve anyone. And he knows that it’s wrong to utilize shrouds and veils to keep you in the dark, that it’s wrong to manipulate you, that it’s wrong to groom you into being his shadowy successor, into inheriting his selfish hatred.)

(But when has a villain ever cared about being wrong?)

Macaque rather quickly shoves you away , jumping to his feet with a fanged and glittering grin.

“Stay here, kid. I’m gonna grab you something I’ve been putting together, okay?”

With a curt nod you settle into place, taking the opportunity to stretch and yawn. You had been getting tired, and take this opportunity to reach for the lotus paste mooncake you had been nibbling on- only to find it gone.

Funny. You don’t remember finishing it.

And… there’s a blanket around your shoulders. Did Macaque put it there? You certainly don’t remember something like that happening.

Maybe things had just gotten so cozy that you drifted off for a minute or two, and he had left to fetch you the black and purple quilt.

That was probably it, yeah.

You shrug the weighty comforter from your shoulders, hoping to shake the supposed sleep from your eyes. In hopes of waking up a little further, you stride to the potted plants that had become a fixture in Macaque’s house.

Beneath the brilliantly blooming tansies and dahlias, red roses have begun to sprout and bud, colorful petals peeking from underneath their green sheathes.

Stuffing in a few spikes of fertilizer, you sprinkle the soil with a light dousing of water.

The thing that breaks you from the quaint task is the telltale chime of your phone, an old song playing loudly. But it doesn’t play very long- it seems your calls don’t hold for very long anymore.

———————————————————————-

Rumble and Savage don’t know much about the world yet. There’s a lot to catch up on, in this new world of neon and metal.

Little glittering rectangles that beam light through black screens and send sound miles away in an instant.

“Phones,” Macaque had called them, dangling yours by the bejeweled strap. Both items had been a gift from Mei, a girl you were well on track to becoming friends with. “Hit this button if it starts making noise. I don’t want anything taking the kid’s attention away.”

Seeing no reason to argue with their creator, both had wholeheartedly agreed to keep vigil over your electric-filled “phone” and hit the de-activating lever when it sounded.

Like this moment right now.

Together, they scrabble to unlock the phone, clawed fingers moving just out of sync as the two simians work to punch in your passcode.

Once it’s open, Savage rips the phone from his younger brother’s hands, boosting himself into your bed to put some distance between him and his junior shadow.

As Rumble tries to climb the bed himself in opposition to his brother’s lashing tail, Savage takes note of a little red dot in the bottom right corner of your screen.

An incoming call. From MK.

The elder of the two goes still for a moment, then snaps his claw against the power button harshly enough to leave a scratch through the metal nub. Angered by the mere sight of an enemy’s name, Savage slings the phone down and snags his little brother by the hair, dragging him into the shadows as Rumble squeals and struggles.

———————————————————————-

Right when you go to figure out what happened with your phone in the guest room, Mavaque rounds the corner with a bundle of neatly folded cloth.

“Running off already?” The simian lightheartedly asks, using his tail to snag your wrist. He doesn’t hesitate to drag you closer, pushing the outfit into your arms.

“Go get changed,” is the command he gives, before you can start asking questions. “Bathroom is that way, remember? Hurry it up!”

A push to the north, and you’re stumbling into the tiled room before realizing what’s happening. It seems sometimes as though your hands move of their own will and volition when Macaque gives you a command.

The garb is easy to put on, a black and yellow ru. Though you fumble the sash, the bandana comes easily around your throat. Black boots with gold brim. Red pants.

You look like a little “Mini Macaque”, or a very seasoned cosplayer.

“C’mon, kid! Hurry it up and come here!”

You stumble from the bathroom and into the living room once more, unsteady with the new gear. Macaque snags you close again and rights the sash, then flops back down onto his cushion.

He never been this excited before.

Something’s up.

“I want to tell you a little tale- come and sit with me, kiddo.”

Macaque pats the cushion nearest to his own, looking almost soft again. He’s already got the blanket in his hands, ready to unfold and drape it around your shoulders.

[rockleeisbaeeee]

Tw: angst ig, could be worst. Srry if there’s spelling mistakes.

——

I remember that summer night, when he promised me he wouldn’t forget me, he’d always love me, he’d wait for me.

Lies.

We kept contact for a week. Then nothing, never heard from him again, until.

“Atsumu miya, rookie athlete is now part of the Black Jackals.”

It had been a year since I returned to Japan when I heard it, my career brought me back here, like I knew it would. Like an idiot I texted him for one last time, that I was back, no response, now I know why, he was too busy focused on new people to even remember my name.

——

All those empty words left me forever scarred.

When I was young I dreamed of my happily ever after, getting married to an amazing husband, having kids and growing old together. That dream shattered the moment I saw him with a new girl is his arms on the tv a week later, he denied the relationship rumors, yet the picture was enough to prove that something did happen, he was fooling around while I grieved my shattered dreams, dreams that he was a part of, dreams he promised would become true, he lied.

——

Every day was a monote nightmare, I see him everywhere, my hate for him grows.

My career was taking slow, but firm steps. I always dreamed of being a journalist. I had started within the sports field, thanks to him, since we were supposed to be together, now it’s too late to focus on another field, I enjoyed watching people play though, their passion always made me feel alive. That was what one of the things I liked about him. Now I avoid writing or watching volleyball at all cost. But I knew one day I would have to, that day has come.

“Y/n the boss asks for you,” one of your coworkers said quickly when passing your desk. You went to your boss’s office, having a bad feeling in your gut. You knocked the door and entered, “you called for me sir?” Your boss was looking through some papers looking a bit stressed, “oh yes, you see we’re quite busy and we have no reporters left, I recommended you to the directors and we decided to let you interview the black jackals before their next game,” you froze, you knew you’d have to eventually see him, but never this directly. He wasn’t asking you so there’s no way you could refuse, the opportunity was too good anyways, you’d have to face your fear and see him, it’s fine, you can act as if you don’t remember, even if that was impossible, you could pretend. “Thanks for the opportunity, I’ll do my best.” You said bowing, he dismissed you so you went back to your desk.

I have to face him, there’s no backing out. Would he remember me? Probably not since last time we talked was five years ago, it was a flimsy love you too text, what a bitch. So far he’s acted like I don’t exist, like everything didn’t exist, so I’ll have to do the same.

I’ve gotten some attention in the sports world for my great work, but I doubt he’s ever read it. But that’s fine, the least he knows about me the better.

——

Two weeks later

You woke up, did your routine and went to work.

“Today is the big day! Aren’t you excited??” Lia, your best friend said when approaching your desk, she didn’t know about the thing you had with atsumu, you didn’t want anyone to find out and pity you, “yeah, it’s a great opportunity,” you said with a forced smile, honestly you weren’t feeling good, you felt like you were gonna vomit, but that feeling didn’t let you eat so you probably weren’t going to, “well, I’ll let you prepare, good luck, I know you’ll do good!!” she left to go back to her desk, her positivity got to you, it can’t be that bad, you’re worrying too much, if you just pretend to not know him it’ll be fine, right?

——

You were know standing in front of the gym, the nerves were eating you alive, but there’s nothing you can do now. Breathe, it’ll be fine, he doesn’t remember you. You think to yourself, but oh how wrong you were.

——

I don’t have motivation for part 2 of my oikawa fic so I came up with this, it will become a short series (maybe 3 parts) if anyone wants to be tagged let me know in the comments. Sorry if this feels weird, I made y/n speak in first person when talking to herself, but in third when describing the environment, I hope it’s not confusing 😓

I promise I’ll finish part 2 of the oikawa fic this week and get started with the next part of this one 🙏

[yukidragon]

I'm a bit curious was it ever confirmed that Shaun and Ian interacted with one another or met before the eventual breakup between Ian and MC. If not what are some of your headcanons on this matter would they have gotten along at all?

Actually, yes, it has been confirmed that Shaun and Ian knew each other before Ian and MC broke up in this comic posted over on the official Sunny Day Jack twitter!

Credit as always to Sauce for their awesome artwork and for giving us this hilarious glimpse into college age Ian and Shaun. Consider supporting them and the rest of the SnaccPop Studios team by joining the patreon for even more lore tidbits I can't even mention publicly. Just remember, don't share anything privately posted!

While a lot of teaser/development art should be taken with a grain of salt, if it appears on one of the official pages, it's a pretty safe bet that it's canon to the timeline of the game.

So this comic, also drawn by the awesome Sauce, while hilarious, may or may not be canon.

I think it's a pretty safe bet to say that Ian did not pass Shaun's vibe check.

The first comic certainly makes it clear that Shaun didn't find Ian attractive considering the way he reacted. Maybe it's due to jealousy (I don't think Shaun wants to think about his crush having sex with someone else) or maybe it's because of Ian's bad taste in anime. Who can say?

Content Warnings: This post contains talk of cheating, jealousy, drinking in excess, (unintentional) self-harm, near death experience, SA, issues with sex, and toxic relationships.

I suspect that these two just didn't get along. Between Shaun suffering from jealousy due to his crush and the two of them having different tastes, they were probably only friendly to one another for MC's sake.

I would imagine that Shaun's opinion on Ian took an extreme nosedive when they found out Ian cheated on MC.

Man... can you imagine how much pain Shaun has been through? He had to watch his best friend/crush be happy with someone else... then get devastated by being cheated on. The worst part was if he had bad vibes from Ian from the start, but he ignored his gut feelings for MC's sake.

When it comes to my personal headcanons that I use for Sunshine in Hell... Shaun and Ian had friction since the first day Alice introduced the two of them.

It wasn't just Shaun being jealous of Ian either. Ian was jealous of Shaun too!

Ian has always suffered from a low sense of self-esteem. Shaun, by comparison, is much more well put together, more outgoing, and has this natural charisma that draws people to him. Shaun is just so likable that he gets a lot of attention and friends. For years, Ian was the exact opposite of that, which led to him being bullied and degraded often.

So one day Alice, his childhood friend and partner, is super excited to introduce Ian to her new friend. Shaun and Alice have a lot in common, and it was very visible in the early years of college when Alice was in the middle of her pastel goth phase. Shaun and Alice had a love for horror movies, cats, the goth aesthetic, and a whole bunch of other things. They clicked so quickly, and it scared Ian a little.

It didn't help that Alice had trouble making friends like Ian did. They had that in common, something that gave them a sort of understanding that no one else could intrude on. Now that they were in college they started making more friends, and that was a good thing, really! But Alice clicked with Shaun about as fast as she did with Ian.

In the 1st grade, one day Alice mustered up the courage to talk to Ian in order to cheer him up. After that they started talking every day and they were besties ever since. From there, they started dating. She's never really clicked with anyone else so fast like she did with Ian...

Until Shaun, that is.

Ian kept comparing himself to Shaun, unfavorably. He kept worrying about Alice falling for Shaun instead since, well, clearly Shaun had so much more than Ian had to offer. Why wouldn't she? What didn't help his insecurities was the fact that they had been a couple since high school, but they still hadn't had sex yet.

I integrated the comic into part of Alice and Ian's troubled sex life. The depicted instance was Ian's attempt at making things romantic so that they could finally go all the way.

It took them a while to start being sexually intimate due to their mutual lack of practical knowledge and Alice's SA trauma. She was very cuddly with Ian, not afraid to kiss him or go into a make out session, but she struggled to go further than that for a long time. It left Ian struggling with insecurities, fearing that he wasn't attractive to her despite her constantly reassuring him that wasn't the case.

Really, it was that insecurity and self-blame that pushed Alice to go further than she was ready for, to pretty painful results that she learned to just accept as part of the experience.

Alice is the type of person who can't be comfortable with people touching her unless she trusts them. However, when she gets close to someone, she can get pretty cuddly, even with her friends, giving them hugs often. So, for Ian, seeing his girlfriend get comfortable hugging another guy... someone he might have noticed looking at her a certain way...

Well, getting cockblocked on his rocky road to losing his virginity didn't help Ian see Shaun in a more favorable light.

Really, this was an incident that pushed Ian to be a bit more possessive of Alice. He was already struggling with the fact that his partner was sharing a dorm with someone else, but for Shaun to just casually walk into her bedroom like that without knocking? Ian certainly had permission to come in there without Alice knowing since he's her boyfriend, and he was planning to surprise her with a romantic evening, but how long had Shaun been just letting himself into her private space so casually?

Ian didn't believe that Alice was cheating on him, but what if Shaun decided to take advantage of her? What if this casual blurring of their living space led to feelings blooming?

What if Alice realized that Shaun was so much better than Ian in every way?

This led to Ian asking Alice to move into an apartment with him, even if it cost them money. He was able to feel more secure when they were living together, and he could be the one going into her bedroom at any hour of the day to be with her instead of someone else.

Shaun did try to befriend Ian, but it seemed like every time they hung out, something would rub him the wrong way. He did his best to be happy for Alice and Ian in their relationship, but it wasn't just Ian's shit taste in anime that struck Shaun as a red flag.

It didn't take Shaun long to notice a pattern in Ian and Alice's relationship. Ian would be down on himself, even cry and apologize for being inadequate, and Alice would reassure him. It seemed like every day, he saw this happen at least once. He tried reassuring Ian as well when he could, but after a while it gets tiring to try and lift someone up who keeps dragging himself down. Shaun would suggest Ian try therapy, and Ian would insist it wouldn't work, he was hopeless, and it wasn't worth wasting money on.

It was only when Alice showered Ian with love, and when their mutual friends bent backwards to cheer him up, that Ian would perk up again.

Shaun saw the red flags going up, how Ian was so needy for Alice and it was wearing on her. She went out of her way for Ian all the time, doing so much more because Ian "needed" her.

What made it worse was that Shaun saw how unbalanced their relationship was, how Alice gave Ian so much more than Ian gave back. Because Ian was so clingy, Alice had to often cancel meet ups with friends at the last minute, citing that he was having a bad day and needed her. Yet, on days when Alice was feeling like shit, she just kept powering through, pretending nothing was wrong. It took Shaun a lot of effort to pry her into leaning on him, and he'd even go out of his way to do stuff for her without her asking, like buying her lunch when she was so overworked she forgot to bring any.

Shaun worried for Alice because she was his friend, and she didn't deserve this sort of treatment. It was like she had become Ian's emotional crutch. Regardless of his attraction towards her, regardless if they could ever get together, he wanted her to be happy.

Shaun's opinion of Ian slowly deteriorated over time, but it turned into downright hate when Ian cheated on Alice, especially after she almost died because of it.

It was just a normal night when Shaun got a phone call from Ian. It was about Alice of course. It was the only reason Ian ever called Shaun - to check up on Alice. That night was different because Ian was in a panic. Alice wasn't picking up for him, which was unusual enough, but Ian was insistent that Shaun needed to check on her to make sure she was okay.

It was lucky that Shaun had the spare key to the apartment Alice and Ian shared. The sight of her lying unconscious in a pool of blood in the bathroom is a scar that'll forever be etched in his memory.

Shaun spent an entire night terrified, wondering what had happened. Did Alice try to kill herself? Why? She might have been missing Ian after he moved across the country, but she always reached out to Shaun and others when she wanted company. What happened that night? When he mentioned Alice's state to Ian, he just wailed that it was all his fault and Shaun couldn't reach Ian after that, as Ian was busy trying to book a flight back home to see her at the hospital.

Shaun had to be the one to call Alice's family too, but he had no answers to give them. The doctors would only let family or her legal partner see her for a while. It was only the next day that he learned that it was all because Ian had cheated on Alice, and she drank to dull the pain, only to hurt herself under the influence of alcohol poisoning.

Shaun could've kicked himself. He saw the problems in their relationship, but he didn't think it was his place to say anything. He worried his jealousy was coloring his perspective, seeing things too negatively. Now he wished he pushed harder like his gut told him, got Alice to see that the relationship was no good for her.

When Alice forgave Ian and tried to make it work, Shaun couldn't just sit back and let it happen.

So, yeah, Shaun's opinion of Ian in the present day is very negative. He views Ian as a toxic, manipulative, cheating scumbag who didn't deserve Alice. It was a relief when he managed to help Alice see that too so that she could finally end that toxic relationship. He was there for her so many nights when she cried over Ian and missed him. He saw the pain Ian put Alice through, and it just made his hatred of Ian grow.

Ian is grateful for Shaun being there to help Alice and even getting her to the hospital, but that doesn't get rid of his jealousy. Shaun and Alice are still talking even though she never picks up the phone for Ian anymore. He sees their exchanges online. They're still close. Shaun could one day sweep in and...

Ian can't let that happen. He can't let Shaun steal away the person who means so much to him. He can't let Alice just let him go like this. He just has to apologize to Alice, keep apologizing, and everything will be fine.

Sooooo... yeah, suffice to say, Ian and Shaun do not get along, and I doubt that they ever will... at least in my headcanons.

@channydraws @earthgirlaesthetic @sai-of-the-7-stars @cheriihoney @illary-kore @okamiliqueur @kurokrisps

[eyesofshinigami]

It Takes Time

Rating: G

CW: None

Tags: Established relationship, implied pre- S4 relationship, minor talk of injuries, tiny bit of angst, boys being soft

Prompt: For @shares-a-vest "Love is about healing each other's wounds"

WC: 1116

Written for @steddielovemonth Day 16

Even amongst the many horrible encounters with the Upside Down Steve has had, this last one was probably the worst. Steve had done everything he could to keep Eddie out of his mess, the one thing that he could never be honest with his boyfriend about, and yet Eddie had still gotten dragged in somehow.

And almost died for it.

Steve still can’t believe that it’s over. It’s finally over. Sure, his nightmares are even worse, having held the person he loved bleeding out in his arms, but they made it. They lived. They got Eddie to the hospital and after surgeries, a medical coma, and a laundry list of therapy appointments for both of them, they finally made it home. 

Home is now the little house on First Street. It’s not much to look at, but it’s theirs. 

Kind of like them, really.

Steve is the one that brings Eddie to the house once he’s released from the hospital. He told the kids that they could come by in a couple of days, after they’ve settled in and had a chance to collect themselves. Wayne had brought over a few things right before, and he told them he'd be back in a few days as well to check on them, just a phone call away if they needed him. It was enough to make Steve tear up.

“Come on, baby, we’re here,” he says, leaning over to kiss Eddie on the cheek. His boyfriend had fallen asleep on the drive over. Steve couldn’t blame him; he could feel tiredness settling into his own bones. He’s not 100% either, but Steve won’t be able to rest until he knows Eddie is comfortable, taken care of. 

Eddie stirs and blinks his eyes, smiling when he realizes where they are. “Home?” he asks. He hasn’t gotten to see it yet, but he’s heard Steve talk about it enough. At Steve’s nod, Eddie grabs his hand and holds it for a minute. “Ours. Fuck, I can’t believe it.”

Steve smiles back. “Yup. Let’s get inside. I can show you around after we take a shower and get settled, okay?” Eddie lets out a hum of agreement and opens the car door.

They make it inside, slowly and carefully, Eddie’s eyes wide as he takes it in. Wayne and the Hopper-Byers had pitched in to give them the bare bones to start with, like a couch and a table with chairs. The only thing Steve had been adamant about getting himself was the bed, a brand new queen that they could share. When Eddie sees it, he lets out a little choked noise. “We have a bed. Our bed. It’s ours.” 

“I made sure of it, baby.”

“Can we lay down together? I can’t wait to try it out.” Eddie reaches out and runs his hand along the comforter, a soft blue to go with the dark gray sheets Steve had picked out. “I know we’re not up for anything naughty, but… it would be good to lay down with you.”

Steve can’t help but kiss him. “After our shower. I have to change your bandages, too.”

Eddie squints at him. “And yours too.” Steve goes to protest, but Eddie shakes his head and crosses his arms. “Nope, you’re not getting out of it.” He wraps his arms around Steve and pulls him close, and Steve can’t help but notice how their scars mirror each other. “If you’re going to take care of me, I’m going to take care of you, okay? We’re in this together, isn’t that what you said?”

Steve nods. He remembers the way his heart jumped into his throat when Dustin and Max came scrambling into Family Video yelling about Eddie. He remembers how he wrapped Eddie up in his arms and kissed him softly, not caring who saw, after Eddie dropped the bottle when he realized that Steve had come for him. “We’re in this together, baby. I’ve got you,” he’d said.

“It is. You got me, Eds.”

Eddie smirks at him, giving him one more kiss before he pulls Steve into the ensuite. It’s pretty tiny, barely enough room for two nearly grown men, but they make it work. They strip down and climb into the shower. Normally, they would fool around a little bit, but they’re both so tired and worn down and still healing. There will be plenty of time for shower sex later, when they’re both not quite so broken and rundown. Instead, they take turns washing each other, careful of still healing wounds and old hurts alike. Steve handles Eddie like he’s made of glass, something precious he’s worried about breaking under his hands. In turn, Eddie takes his time and works the knots out of Steve’s back, days and weeks of worry built up in his muscles. 

It feels like the first time Steve has been able to breathe in years. 

Once they’ve dried off and both put on sweatpants, Steve pulls out the first aid kit that he’d bought right after he had started getting the house together. Eddie raises an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything, instead they both quietly get to work.

It shouldn’t feel like second nature, patching each other up. They take turns tending hurts and rubbing creams into healing wounds, bandaging each other up as they go. There’s something that’s macabre and intimate about it, Steve thinks. 

“I’m sorry.”

Eddie looks up from where he’s wrapping another bandage around Steve’s torso. “What for, sweetheart?”

His vision gets a little blurry, the wall of emotion hitting him. “That this happened to you. That you got hurt, that all of my…” the word bullshit clogs in his throat. “All of this made you hurt. You got hurt because of-”

“Don’t even, Steve. You didn’t do this to me.” Eddie cups Steve’s face so that Steve has to look at him, even with tears streaming down his face. “I just wish I could have helped you sooner, sweetheart. With Starcourt. With the junkyard. All those things you felt like you had to hide from me-”

“To protect you. To keep you safe.” Because you matter. Because I love you. Because you were the port in the storm of all these terrible things that kept happening to me. 

“And you did, even at the end when you dragged me into that hospital out of the jaws of death. Baby, I wouldn’t even be here without you. But I’m here. We’re here.” 

“We’re here,” Steve repeats, leaning close to press their foreheads together. 

Even scarred as they are, they will heal from this. It’ll take time, and hopefully it’s the end for real this time, but Steve’s not alone.

[its-all-papaya]

landoscar + 41? 🧡 maybe fake/pr-dating-turned-real-dating coded, so maybe even + 56? like, they realize the fake wasn't that fake anymore 🙈 (insert i am in love are you in love audio here)

they are both in love, anon.

(because i found it kind of impossible to explain without adding sooo much exposition... oscar is not a driver. he's just... a guy. that mclaren found. to date lando. suspend your disbelief, idk)

send me a ship and a number and i will write a kiss

41. to pretend (or is it?) | landoscar | 1.2k

Lando is in over his head. His aching, pounding, hurts-so-bad-it’s-making-him nauseous head. If he’d known one throw-away trip to the club in Miami was going to complicate his life so irreparably, he would have tucked his P1 trophy into bed next to him and gone straight to sleep like a good, boring boy. Instead, he’d gotten catastrophically fucked-up on any number of things he doesn’t remember and tossed himself dick-first into an entire publicity nightmare. That’s the worst part, probably: Lando doesn’t even remember. He remembers taking shots with Max and Danny and he remembers – barely – stumbling to the bathroom, and the next discernable point on that mental timeline comes at approximately 6:45 a.m., when he’d woken up to go vomit and found his lock screen so full of notifications that it’d made him forget to wonder where the man he’d gone to bed next to had pissed off to so early.

Since then, every minute of Lando’s life not spent in the car has felt full wall-to-wall with interviews, and meetings with crisis management, and saying “I’d prefer not to comment on that” so many times he hears it on repeat like an ear worm when he’s falling asleep at night. And also Oscar. There’s been a lot of Oscar.

He’s waiting in the lobby of McLaren’s hospitality when Lando arrives down from his driver’s room after qualifying in Brazil. Lando wonders how he got in, if their bosses have finally decided he’s trustworthy enough to walk around unchaperoned. It’s funny that he ever didn’t have a pass, actually; he is technically a McLaren employee. Probably. Lando thinks he gets paid. They’ve never talked about the specifics.

Either way, however he got there, Oscar is by himself in the lobby, leaned back in a chair, thumbing at his phone. He looks up when he senses Lando’s arrival, and Lando must look even more pathetic than he even thought, because Oscar’s face immediately goes soft with concern and he leaps up to take Lando’s bag off his hands.

“Hey, you alright?” he asks. He slides the backpack onto his own shoulders and then steadies a hand in the middle of Lando’s back, thumb tracing comforting little circles near his spine.

Lando could lie, but there’s not really any point to that, so he lets his face fold into the grimace it wants to be in and presses his thumb between his eyebrows.

“Head’s killing me,” he says. It comes out weak.

Oscar makes a sad little sound in sympathy, and the palm on Lando’s back shifts to his side so Oscar can tug him closer. Lando doesn’t have the energy to fight Oscar on these things at the best of times lately, so he’s definitely not going to when he’s exhausted and sick with the pain behind his eyes. Even though there’s really nobody around to see them.

“Let’s get you back to the hotel, then,” Oscar says, and Lando has never agreed to anything faster.

Oscar leads the way out of hospitality and through the paddock, fingers linked securely between Lando’s own. It’s baffling that he’s already been around this circus long enough to know the way without help. Nice, though, because Lando’s not really in a state to be of any.

They run into a few people along the way – fans or sponsors or employees. Lando doesn’t get the chance to tell which are which, because every time somebody new greets them, Oscar’s fingers tighten around his own and he talks the both of them cleverly out of the conversation before Lando can even consider what he would say if he was left to his own devices. It feels nearly impossible that less than six months ago, Oscar could barely say two words to Lando without being directly asked to.

“Oscar!” he hears as they’re nearing the exit, and they’re so close to relative quiet that Lando can’t help but groan about it. Oscar squeezes his hand again like an apology as he turns to address whoever it is.

"What’s up?” Oscar asks. When Lando lifts his eyes from the pavement, it’s Max stood before them. Both of his hands are hooked in the straps of his backpack and his chest is heaving just a little, like he’d jogged to catch them up.

“You’ll of course be at the race tomorrow?” Max asks. Lando’s not sure where this conversation is going, but he’s pretty sure it doesn’t have to happen right now. He hopes the look he’s giving Max is sufficiently irritated.

It must do the job, because Max’s eyes brighten and he says “Not pleased about that, Lando?”

Oscar’s hand goes from Lando’s palm to his back again, quick, and before Lando can open his mouth, Oscar’s saying, “He doesn’t feel good.”

“Ah,” Max says. Lando can’t figure out the look he’s being given.

“The race tomorrow?” Lando presses. If they’re going to chat about whatever it was right now, they could at least get to the point.

Max nods, shifting his gaze back to Oscar, “You are staying, yeah?”

“Yeah," Oscar says, "Why?”

It’s taking too long. Lando squeezes his eyes shut and presses his forehead against Oscar’s shoulder, hoping the counterpressure might do anything at all for the hot ache in his brain. Oscar’s hand goes immediately to the back of Lando’s neck, like it’s habit, and his thumb starts drawing firm lines down the muscle there, hairline to nape. It feels…really, really nice, actually.

“You’ll fly back with us after,” he can make out Max saying, “to Monaco. Lando and I and a few others.”

That doesn’t really make sense. Oscar’s been planning to go home for a bit over the mini break, Lando knows, they talked about it nearly right away when the agreement was drawn up. Far be it from him to argue that point, though, not when Oscar’s saying “Yeah, thanks, mate,” and his thumb’s still easing the pain in Lando’s skull. Lando would blame it on the headache, but it’s not like he’ll mind the extra time with Oscar, either. Which Max knows.

Lando cracks his eyes open and shifts enough to squint suspiciously at his friend, but Max is just grinning happily at the pair of them.

“Very good,” Max says. Sure.

“That’s all?” Oscar asks. His thumb finally stills. Lando does not whine about it, but it’s a close thing.

“Yes,” Max says, “you can take grumpy home now.”

Then, before Lando can decide whether that’s worth getting upset over, Oscar squeezes the back of his neck and nudges him up off his shoulder. His eyes are apologetic when Lando meets them, and he kisses Lando once on the forehead as he slides their palms back together.

It’s nice. Domestic. Very convincing, probably. Oscar’s gotten really good at his job.

“We’ll see you, mate,” Oscar says.

Max clasps Oscar’s hand for a second, then squeezes Lando’s shoulder on his way by.

When he's a few steps off, Oscar says, “Ready?” like Lando hasn’t been begging to go this whole time.

Lando says yes, please and he can tell it's a little whiny, because Oscar says "Hey, okay love, I'm sorry" and brushes a gentle kiss against his lips. Lando thinks Max is probably too far away to see it, but Oscar would know better.

It’s not until they’re finally settled into the back of the car, sides pressed together, that Lando remembers:

“Max knows about everything. You didn’t have to… he knows.”

Oscar’s gaze is soft and maybe a little sad, for some reason, but he smiles past it and combs his fingers through Lando’s hair until he settles.

“Yeah,” Oscar says as Lando’s head falls back against his shoulder, “He does.”

[harryforvogue]

a blurb where harry is a big schedule guy and yasmine is a big "it happens when it happens" girlie. they fight (sorta).

***

Harry and Yasmine have never lived with other people after moving out of their homes, and they alternated whose place they’d be staying at back in graduate school. It was always an unspoken rule that if Harry was at Yasmine’s house, she was the boss. And vice versa. 

But now that they're living together, how are they supposed to adjust and split responsibilities? More importantly, how the hell are they expected to create a rhythm?

Harry is a very structured person. Gets out of bed at a certain time, has lunch at a fixed time. Dinner as well. He considers himself a pretty laid back guy too. He’ll skip cooking some days to order takeout – or swap his laundry days with his bedsheet changing days just to switch things up. Yasmine calls him a relentless Aquarius. He's not supposed to be offended, right?

He’s always known that Yasmine is… less serious about all that. So, really, he always knew what he was getting himself into. Especially when it’s nearly 11 on a Sunday and Yasmine’s still buried in the sheets, gripping him tight to keep him from slipping out of bed despite his groaning about how he just wants to take a shower and eat something. (Probably the worst habit of Yasmine’s is skipping breakfast nearly every morning and that’s just not something he’s going to stand by.)

After graduation, Yasmine and Harry are employed at different universities, and the first few months are filled with settling into their new jobs. Their work hours are very similar, with the exception of Wednesdays where Harry has a later recitation class to teach. Regardless, Harry went into the new job with the mindset that he’d always get all his work done on time so that he and Yasmine could focus on figuring out the layout of their place still. Not to mention, Harry’s dedication to at least 2 dates a week (and going grocery shopping is NOT a date no matter how much Yasmine insists it is). 

He has a calendar in his office above his desk that tells him what days he needs to get his deadlines done so that he and Yasmine can have some time for themselves. He crosses out all the things he gets finished and circles the days he’s free.

Yasmine is the opposite. She always gets everything done, but it’s never as planned as Harry. She has the ability to sit down and bang everything out in one day … and also the ability to procrastinate until the night before.

It’s baffling to Harry. Harry’s routine is annoying to Yasmine. Really – where’s the fun in all that planning? And what if something suddenly comes up and there’s no wiggle room to fit in a doctor’s visit or something just because you’ve meticulously scheduled all your work to be back to back on weekdays.

This comes up one day when she’s working and he’s bringing her dinner to her study.

Harry pulls up a chair on the other side of her desk with his own plate. “Yasmine.”

“Mhmm.”

“If you’d gotten this done yesterday, we could have gone to the shop you wanted to visit.”

“We can go during the weekend. I can’t just align everything with your schedule to free up some time.”

Harry smiles, but it’s clearly tense. “We get home at the same time, Yas. If we can just finish all our stuff for the next day of class before, say, 5pm, we have the rest of the day to be together. Doesn’t that sound great?”

Yasmine glances up at him over her glasses. “I don’t want to do more work as soon as I get home though. I want to relax.”

From Harry’s face, she knows he’s thinking about the hour-long nap she took on their couch as soon as she came home. 

“Right, but. Now it’s almost 8 and we won’t make it to the store on time.”

“We’ve got weekends for that.”

His mouth twists into something that’s very much not a smile. “We’ve got other stuff to do over the weekend, remember? We agreed on two dates a week–”

“No. You decided that.” 

Harry stops. He tilts his head back to look at the ceiling in an attempt to calm himself down. When he looks back at her, he reaches across, shuts her laptop in a not-so-nice way and says, “What?”

Yasmine crosses her arms over her chest and leans back in her chair. “Well, you said the two dates thing. I think going to the shop counts as a date.”

“Going shopping isn’t a date. Having a romantic time out is a date.”

“Any time I get to spend with you is a date, Harry. It's about being with you, not where we go.”

“Have you maybe considered that I want to take you to restaurants and little getaways simply because I enjoy them too? That I like to see you have fun with me?”

Yasmine sighs and takes her glasses off. She rubs her eyes tiredly. “You clearly have a certain work ethic. And there’s nothing wrong with that, but I don’t. I get my work done when it gets done and I don’t want this structured, super formal scheduling of our time together. We live together, Harry. I see you all the time. Isn’t that enough?”

He doesn’t say anything for some time, but it’s clear he’s taken aback.

“It’s not enough,” he says, anger in his voice. “It’s not nearly enough. We’re dating, Yasmine. We’re not roommates.”

Yasmine blinks. “We technically are roommates.”

He runs a hand through his hair. Yasmine knows she's pushing him more than necessary. "Don't do that."

“All I’m saying is that I don’t want to schedule times with you. Won’t that be boring? Like, oh! It’s 6pm! Gotta go watch a movie with my boyfriend. It’s 7. Gotta have dinner. It’s 8, we should probably have sex before we get too tired. I’ve never had that type of schedule and I don’t want to.”

“It’s efficient.”

“I’m not having sex with you at 8pm every night just because it’s efficient. What -- are you going to break up that time too? 15 minutes for foreplay, 10 minutes for--"

He looks really mad now, his eyes alight. “That’s not what I mean! I’m saying that if we’re on the same wavelength – if we’re getting all our work done on time, then we can spend time together. That’s all! You're being way too difficult just for the sake of disagreeing with me.”

Yasmine frowns deeply. “Why don’t you adapt to my schedule then? I get all my work done too. I’ve got Saturday and Sunday’s open too – just like you.” From Harry’s expression, she exclaims, “See? It’s not about our time together. It’s about us sticking to your routine.”

Harry pinches the bridge of his nose. “We live together now. Don’t you think we should have some sort of rhythm? Be in sync?”

“That’s boring Harry!”

“It’s–”

“Don’t you dare say efficient!”

“It is!” Harry stands, putting distance between them. “This is ridiculous, Yasmine. And you have no right to say that I’m only making you adapt to my way of living.”

“Why can’t we live my way?”

“Because you don’t have a way! You get up and you just make things up! I can’t do that. I want to have breakfast together, lunch together and dinner together. I don’t want to be eating alone while you’re working just because you didn’t want to finish everything before 6. This past week alone, we’ve yet to do anything but ask about each other’s day because when I’m working, you're not, and when you’re working, I’m done with everything. You see the problem?”

Now, Yasmine can handle Harry when he gets like this. She’s put up with him before – and she’d be lying if she said she doesn’t see his point. He wants to spend time together as a couple. And he’s figured out a great way to clear up time for himself. Now he wants her to follow his regimen.

But the thing that makes Yasmine get angry is his volume. He’s got no right to yell at her.

And, okay. He’s not really yelling. He’s just annoyed and getting his point across loudly. But, it’s too late.

“Clearly we’re not going to do anything together tonight so why don’t you just let me finish my work and then we’ll talk about this later.”

Harry grabs his dinner and starts to leave her office. “No, we won’t be talking about this because by the time you’re done, I’m going to be asleep!”

“Well maybe don’t sleep so early?” she snaps back.

“Why should I change my schedule to match yours?”

“That’s exactly what I’m telling you!”

“You don’t have a schedule!” Harry says, visibly trying to keep his head from exploding. “You do things whenever you feel like doing them. So whenever you realize you’re more than a roommate to me, find me.”

He shuts the door behind him, leaving Yasmine alone in the room.

***

Harry can hold a grudge.

Yasmine, as fiery as she can get, has harsh anger hangovers. Once her anger at Harry is gone, she goes to find him. Sure enough, it’s late and Harry’s already in bed.

So she gets ready for bed too. And when she slides in, she waits for Harry to say something. He must still be angry because he doesn’t say a word. Doesn’t even turn to give her a kiss.

Yasmine sighs to herself. He’s the one who never likes to go to sleep angry, so she inches closer to him and rests her head on his shoulder. “Harry.”

No answer.

“Harry?”

Nothing.

He’s not wrong, but she’s not either. So she sits up and pokes his biceps hard to wake up just in case he’s already out. When he offers her nothing, she huffs and rolls her over him, looking at him sideways with half her body draped over his arm. 

“Hey.” She goes back to poking, this time on his face. “Hellooooooo.”

“What are you doing?” he grumbles, turning his face away. Yasmine finishes rolling over so she’s now on his side, looking up at him. She nearly tumbles off the side of the bed, but Harry’s quick arm on her waist prevents that.

"Yasmine," he hisses.

“Let’s talk about it.”

“I don’t want to. Go back to your side."

“Oh come on. No going to sleep angry, remember?”

“I’m not angry. I’m annoyed. We can definitely go to sleep annoyed. In fact, I can't think of anything else I'd rather be doing."

“Hmm, no we can’t.” She tangles her legs with his. “Harry. Look. I understand what you’re saying. But I’m not going to apologize. I don’t think we’re that type of couple that needs to do everything together.”

“Not what I was saying but thanks for showing me you were listening."

She rolls her eyes. “I get that you want to spend time together, but don’t you think blocking out certain hours of the day is kind of ridiculous? It's so military."

"Military?"

"You get what I mean."

“Yasmine, if you had a 9 to 5 job, what time would we have to be together?”

“That’s not fair considering we don’t have 9 to 5s.”

“Say we did.”

“We’d have time after 5 and weekends.”

“Wouldn’t that be a schedule?”

“Well I don’t imagine we’d do something every day. I love you, but I do need to be away from you sometimes.”

Harry’s jaw tenses. He closes his eyes again. “Goodnight.”

“Hey wait, I didn’t mean it like that!” Yasmine laughs, throwing her arms around his neck. “I only mean that we’d get sick of each other.”

“I’d never get sick of you.”

“You’re saying that now but if we’re attached at the hip, then I’m totally sure–”

Harry’s eyes open and he grabs Yasmine’s face, tugging her close. “Never,” he says, voice deathly quiet. “I’d never get sick of you.”

She stops laughing, eyes wide. Something flutters in her chest. And…elsewhere too.

"Fine," she says, all breathily. "It would be a schedule, but only because we'd have no other option. We have flexibility as professors. We have more time, but more work load we bring home. It's not the same thing."

The hand on her waist tightens and suddenly she’s beneath him, his entire body hovering over hers. He lets go of her face, but leans down to kiss her instead. She holds him tight, her fingers tangled in his long curls that keep falling into their faces and tickling them.

“Harry,” she murmurs against his mouth. “Why are you so worried about us spending time together, hm?”

“I haven’t had a single meal with you all week, and I just remembered that you spent Sunday catching up on work, which is unfair because I forced myself to finish all my work so that I could have time for you. I don’t want to be the only one doing that.”

Yasmine sighs. “Harry, I’m not working just to avoid you.”

“I know that. And I know that us living together is enough for you. That sleeping and waking besides me is good, but it's not nearly enough for me.” Then, quietly, “I’m being petty about how you get your work done. But Yasmine, I didn't ask you to move together with me just so I could see you every day. I want a life with you." He traces her cheek gently, kissing the corner of her mouth. “And you’re right – we don’t have a 9 to 5 but is it so wrong for wanting to cut out a part of my day just for us? No talking about work. Just you and me, with a lot of this, preferably.” He kisses her again.

She's getting all mushy inside again. “It’s not wrong,” she whispers. “It’s not.” She wraps her legs around him, making him lean all her wait onto him. He holds his out against the mattress to stop himself.

“Don’t wanna hurt you.”

“No. Lay on me."

Harry does so, just for a total of five seconds until she’s gasping for air. Satisfied, she rolls out from under him and lets him lay comfortably. She straddles him then, bracing her hands on his chest. “Okay, let’s come to an agreement.”

Harry runs his hands up and down her thighs. “Let’s.”

“How about this: no talk of work after 7.”

“6.”

“Done.”

“And I will try my best to finish all my work by then also, but in the event I cannot due to circumstances overlooked in your calendar, you have to leave me to finish up so that I can come back to you as quickly as possible.”

“Done. And on weekends, nobody works. Don't bring any of it home on Friday. Not even a mere word about it.”

“Unless absolutely necessary.”

He pins her with a stern look. “I’ll be the judge of those conditions.”

“Anything else, professor?” Yasmine grins knowingly down at him, drumming her fingers against his chest.

Harry pinches her side. “And I will be a little less annoying about the whole two date thing.”

“And I’m sorry that I’ve kind of neglected you all week.”

“Thank you.”

Yasmine blinks expectantly at him.

He says, “Oh, are you waiting for an apology from me?”

“That would be nice.”

“Is that right?” 

She feels a thrill rush up her spine. “I’d appreciate it.”

“Yeah? Would you, baby? Good to know.”

“Or you can make it up to me in a different way.”

He shrugs. “Sorry. It’s almost 10. I’m strictly a no-love-making-past-eight-pm kinda guy.”

Yasmine sighs. “What a shame. And to think I went through all this effort coming to bed without a bra or underwear on in hopes I’d get to–”

Harry sits up and wraps his arms around her, roughly pulling her down into bed. “C’mere.”

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

too fast

Summary: Sarah getting her first period, leaves Joel Miller standing confused in the women's hygiene aisle where you, his high school sweetheart, find him and offer your help.

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem. reader

Wordcount: 1.5k

Rating: G

Warmings: pre outbreak, talks about periods, little angst, some fluff

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It was moments like these that Joel Miller cursed being a male single parent. 

His little girl, who still sneaked into his bed at night when she had a nightmare, had gotten her period. Eleven year old girls shouldn’t have to deal with periods. 

She was very grown up about it.

Probably more than he was. 

He wasn’t ready for his little girl to grow up. He probably never would be. 

It was Saturday, they didn’t have any plans for the weekend so Sarah was outside reading a book with a mocktail (it was orange and lemon juice with a tiny paper umbrella in a cocktail glass) while he fixed the creaking front porch with his brother. 

Sarah had approached them outside, waiting for both of the Miller brothers to look up, Joel immediately frowning at the look on her face as she said. 

“Daddy can you buy me some pads? I think I just got my period.”

Even if he knew that this day would be coming in the near future, he wasn’t prepared, nor did he know how to react for a good ten seconds.

He was very happy that he had raised his girl to be open with him, making her feel safe enough to talk about anything. But in this moment he had been a little overwhelmed, thankful when his little brother stepped up and hugged Sarah, whispering some gentle words. 

Joel went through all stages of grief in the span of fifteen seconds before he brushed his dirty hands on his jeans and knelt down in front of his little girl who jumped into his arms as soon as he opened them. 

He could only imagine how scary it was to suddenly start bleeding. Joel was thankful that he had the talk with her the year before. Even if it seemed too early back then, it was his brother who had made him aware of how soon kids seemed to be growing up nowadays. 

Now he was in Target, in the middle of the female hygiene aisle, looking at tampons and pads and things he hadn’t dealt or heard about since Sarah’s mother left them ten years ago. 

Back then he knew what kind and size of Tampons he had to buy. But what do you buy for a little girl? 

Pads, she said. So he left the tampons behind and approached the very colourful packages of various sizes of pads. There were smiling women on some of the packages and he tried to think of a single woman who enjoyed having her period. 

Sarah’s mother had the worst of cramps and sometimes did not leave the bed. And she was craving vanilla pudding from that one brand he couldn’t remember the name of. 

He had one package in a size one for heavy flow days and another package of size two for regular. There were also super long pads that looked like they were only a step away from being a diaper. 

Truth to be told, he was a little overwhelmed and had no idea what he should buy when someone cleared their throat from his left side. He turned his head to find you looking at him. 

“Need any help there, Miller?”

You just wanted to grab a package of tampons on your way home. That, of course, turned into buying ice cream, some sushi and some sweets. You were already on your way to pay when you remembered why you had come here in the first place, rolling your eyes to yourself. Making your way to the women’s hygiene aisle you groaned internally, finding the brand you always bought not there, taking a couple minutes to decide to buy just the smaller size of the same brand and come back the next day.

You turned around to leave when you noticed Joel Miller staring at two packages of pads so intently like they were his taxes. He was so focused on them that he almost jumped when you asked if he needed any help, his eyes widening in surprise, before they softened.

You and Joel went to high school together. 

He was the captain of the football team and you were…. The typical nerd with your nose always stuck in a book. Sure, you had a crush on him, but you never thought he noticed you. You were proven wrong on prom night of all nights when he asked you to be his date. What could have started as a fairytale love story had a fast approaching end date, as you were leaving for college on the other side of the united states (with a full scholarship thanks to your superb grades) later that same summer and Joel was set to go to another college near his hometown, so he could keep working at his fathers contracting company. 

You had spent the whole summer together before you said goodbye. 

You moved away, studied, got the dream job you always wanted. You got married, had a baby girl who was now seven years old, got divorced and then moved back to your hometown earlier the year before. 

You hadn’t kept in contact with Joel, but you knew he did not finish college, got married and had a baby girl as well the year after you left. 

You had started running into each other when you moved back, before he invited you and your daughter over for a BBQ months ago. Now you were meeting at least once a month when you both found the time. 

He was looking at you, his eyebrows furrowed, his lips pursed. 

“Sarah got her period and I have no idea what to buy. Like… There are so many sizes and variants and materials. How in the hell do you know what size to buy?” 

A small smile sneaked to your face. 

“Honestly? By trying out. There’s no real instruction as to what kind of pad to use. There used to be a sample package but I haven’t seen those in forever.”

He sighed and shook his head. 

“As if women don’t have enough to deal with,” he grunted. 

“Hear, hear,” you chuckled. 

It was probably not appropriate to admire how his arms looked in the shirt he was wearing, but you did it anyway. Joel Miller had aged like fine wine, and the more time you spent with him, the more you felt like the sixteen year old all these years back who sneaked off in the middle of the night to make out with him.

“Do you think these would be right for Sarah?” he asked, holding the two packages up. 

You read over them, nodding thoughtfully. 

“I would take these and maybe some from size on in regular. She is pretty small, but better safe than sorry.”

You reached for the third package and he sighed. 

“I cannot believe she’s growing up so fast,” he whispered to himself. You carefully put your hand on his arm and he looked at you. 

“She’s still your little girl. And she will always be. You’re doing a great job with her.”

He gave you a small smile, before he sighed. 

“I should probably get her something else. Is it weird to get her a gift?” he asked. You shook your head. 

“I don’t think so. Maybe get her some candy. Or cook her favourite meal. That’s what I do,” you held your basket up. 

“Maybe I should invite you too if I end up cooking tonight,” he said and you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth. 

“Joel…”

“I mean if you want to. You could bring your girl and we could have a movie night….” he added. 

“She’s with her dad this weekend. And you should spend tonight with your daughter. It’s a big day for her,” you said. 

His face fell a little at your rejection. It wasn’t like you did not want to spend time with him, but it did not feel right like that.

“Yeah. Yeah I guess you’re right,” he mumbled. He pulled all three packages under his arm. 

“But if you want to ask me out to dinner some other time, I’m 100% sure I will say yes,” you smiled shyly. 

He tilted his head, a smile sneaking to his lips.

“That so?” he asked. 

You nodded. 

“Maybe even without our kids,” you hummed, taking a step closer. 

“I think we can arrange that,” he hummed back. 

A cart crashing into something behind you made you both jump before you laughed. 

“I should get back,” he said.

“Me too. The ice cream is already melting,” you joked.

“Change it out for a new one,” he winked. 

“So smart,” you shook your head with a smile. 

“I’ll call you,” he promised. 

“Okay,” you smiled before you slowly turned and walked away from him. 

[itsalmostavengers]

“I still hate you,” Tony mutters, voice shaky and entirely unconvinced while his hand expertly unbuckles the clasps of the uniform he designed so carefully, months and months and months ago.

“I know,” Steve responds gruffly. His beard scratches Tony’s jaw as those perfect teeth run down the thin skin of his neck, trace his jugular. His hands are rough iron clamps against each side of Tony’s beautifully tailored Versace two-piece. The fabric will be ruined beyond repair in less than ten minutes - Tony could bet his fortune on it.

They’ve played this stupid game before. Every time, Tony swears it’ll be the last.

Steve hitches him up onto the kitchen counter of the ridiculous New Jersey safehouse, and Tony goes willingly, yanking Steve into the open spread of his legs. This is the closest Steve’s gotten to New York since he first read those damned accords. The closest he can get to home is some 1965-styled kitchenette with pictures of old-timey adverts lining the walls and a microwave that’d probably irradiate you if you went near it.

It’s wrong- all of it. But there’s no changing it. Steve made his choice long ago, and Tony hates him for it. He should remember that. He should tell Steve that again.

“Fuck, God, Steve,” is what comes out instead, breathed against the other man’s mouth. Tony’s whole body is hot, taught, desperate, and he tugs the top half of Steve’s uniform off his torso. Steve spray painted over the colours- the whole thing is dark now, void of any trace of what it used to be. Tony hates that too.

“Tony,” Steve says, like there’s more to it- a name at the beginning of a sentence which never comes out. He clasps his teeth over Tony’s bottom lip, pushes his hands under Tony’s rapidly-wrinkling shirt and brushes his thumbs over each nipple, rubbing quick circles. The movement pulls another noise from Tony’s throat.

Fuck- the man knows him.

Steve steadies himself for a moment to catch his breath, nose brushing against Tony’s. Tony tries not to look into his eyes, whenever they do this. He’s never been good at seeing Steve’s soul - the one he never tries to hide, to mask. He’s not like Tony, you see. Everything he does, he does earnestly and from the heart.

The decision he made to leave with Bucky - to keep the culprit of Tony’s parents’ deaths a secret from him - they’d both come from that same heart. Hence, no eye contact. Tony has no desire to see how truly insignificant the space he takes up in Steve’s soul was.

Except now.

He does it without meaning to- just catching sight of those infuriating baby blues as he leans in for another messy kiss. Error number 1.

Error number 2 is not shutting his damn eyes and grabbing Steve’s dick like he normally does.

And error number 3 is the worst. Error number 3 is when he catches sight of Steve’s suddenly agonised expression, doesn’t ignore it, and instead asks “what?” Thus inviting conversation. They don’t come here for that. They come here to fuck eachother’s brains out for a night and then keep playing their cat-and-mouse chase across the globe as if anyone in a position of authority actually fucking believes it.

Steve goes perfectly still for a moment. Then he swallows. “This… this really makes you miserable, doesn’t it.”

He doesn’t frame it like a question.

Tony looks up at him, breathing hard. “Oh, I’m sorry I’m not looking ecstatic while getting groped by my ex boyfriend in a place that’s decked out like a prop house in a nuclear testing site. Would you prefer for me to giggle jovially while you fuck me amongst the dust and cobwebs?”

They’d used to have sex that was so full of love. This is how Tony always talks to Steve, now.

Steve shakes his head, a minute, grieving little thing. Tony feels the man’s breath skating across his face- feels the warmth of his bare chest, his shoulders, pressing against Tony.

“I thought…” he begins, then trails off for a moment as Tony skirts his hands down his chest, unlatches his belt. “I thought this made you happy. At least a little bit, even if you didn’t admit it. But it doesn’t. ”

Of course it doesn’t. But it’s all I have left of you.

“You think I’m coming here to find happiness? Jesus Steve. I’m coming here for tension relief,” Tony says, because he just can’t be truthful- he did his best when they were together, he really did, and it all failed anyway. Besides: Steve was never as truthful as Tony had always so fervently believed him to be either. “How about we both just stop talking and get down to that part.”

He gets his hands all the way to Steve’s boxers before Steve stops him- a gentle yet utterly unmoving grip. When Tony looks up at him again, Steve shakes his head. He’s grey in the face- if Tony didn’t know better now, he’d even say heartbroken.

“Tony, I…” Steve’s struggling for the words and he looks so beautiful, so so beautiful, just the same as the very first time Tony laid eyes on his photograph in the SHIELD folder he’d hacked his way into. “I didn’t realise you felt that way. Or maybe I did, but just didn’t want to acknowledge it because I was selfish.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“I can’t do this with you. To you.” Steve steps away jerkily, half his body lagging while the other half pulls, as if warring with his own system. His pale skin is patchy, covered in faint marks where Tony has grabbed him. “I thought we were both doing this for enjoyment, but you’re not, and so I can’t. It’s cruel.”

Tony realises what Steve is implying here. His heart - what’s left of the poor thing anyway - convulses in panic, and he stumbles off the counter. “I’m not a fucking dog,” he snaps, “I make my own choices.”

“You don’t even look at me,” Steve’s voice breaks then. “I wished more than anything that you’d look at me. But I just saw it, then, when you did.”

“Saw what?”

They’re facing off against one another now - it’s like they can’t stop themselves. They have to be on either side of the argument, they can never just agree, no matter how hard they both want to. Tony hates and hates and hates.

“Your eyes don’t lie to me, Tony.” Steve’s voice is soft, and he says it like that alone is enough. “Your mouth does. And you don’t want this.”

“See, do you see what you’re doing here, again?” Tony steps forward, smashes his finger against the place where the star used to sit proudly on Steve’s chest. “You’re making an executive decision about how I feel, as to what I need, when you don’t have that right. You don’t get to decide what’s best for me!”

“But you never do what’s best for you!” Steve’s hands flail helplessly. “You do what’s best for everyone else, or what you think you deserve, and you never think about how it’s going to hurt—“

“I DESERVED TO KNOW MY PARENTS WERE MURDERED, YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE!”

Tony was supposed to be making his way to an orgasm right about now - instead he suddenly feels so angry he can hardly breathe. Fucking typical. He just had to go and open his mouth, didn’t he?

He glares at the man who tore his heart out over a year ago. Steve looks back, his expression shattered. Tony feels angrier still when he realises that he’s never going to be able to see this person in front of him and not love him. He’s trying so hard, right now, and he can’t. Even after all this. He can’t find it in him.

“Just fuck me,” Tony says, and it comes out more exhausted than demanding.

Steve shakes his head. “I can’t.”

Right. Steve’s made up his mind about what’s best for tony. Again. Was it ever going to go any other way?

Sometimes, the tiredness goes so deep that Tony starts to feel it in his bones. His therapist says it’s psychosomatic- that bones don’t actually creak and groan like wooden doors in abandoned houses. Tony begs to differ.

“If we stop now, this is the last time you’ll ever see me,” he says, hoping, even now, that maybe something will change. That maybe for once, Steve will just put him first.

It’s a pipe dream. Tony comes to that realisation as soon as Steve shakes his head. Stupid.

“Maybe that’s for the best.” Steve’s voice is hoarse. Like each word is painful. Tony wishes that were true - in reality, he doesn’t doubt Steve is just wary of the fight his words will bring - the argument that’ll erupt out of Tony’s mouth in response.

But Tony’s done fighting. It’s a losing battle. Always has been.

He looks at Steve. Nods.

He walks out of the door without another word.

[muddyorbsblr]

summoned pt1

See my full list of works here!

Part of the 500 Follower Celebration Requested by: Anonymous

Summary: After what could probably be the worst birthday of your life, a mysterious shadowy figure appears in your bedroom while you were sleeping.

Pairing: Incubus!Loki x Reader

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings: language; A+ parenting that would impress Odin; inaccurate summoning rituals; Loki feeling you up in your sleep [let me know if I missed anything!]

Things to be aware of: Loki's a sex demon, not a god in this one

Worst. Birthday. Ever.

You walked through your apartment grumbling those exact words as you finally toed off your cinching pumps and padded your feet over to the kitchen counter, placing the little cupcake you'd gotten for yourself as a pitiful excuse of a 'celebration' for today. A joke, really, considering what a colossal shit show the day had turned out to be.

First the printer had jammed, keeping you waiting in queue for over three hours just to complete the solitary task that was in your workload for today that kept you from ending your day earlier and hopefully finding a way to actually celebrate despite your entire family being too busy to even call for a simple "Happy Birthday, Y/N" greeting over FaceTime. Something about them all going out to celebrate your sister getting cast as an understudy to a secondary character in her school play.

And then to add salt to the wound, not even HR could bother to have invited you to the free lunch they arranged for this month's celebrants. They told you that it must have slipped their minds when they were orienting you.

"It didn't even cross your minds to double check when your total number of celebrants for the year didn't match your total number of employees?" you asked them, trying to keep your composure because, after all, you still needed this job to pay your goddamn bills.

"Honestly, Miss Y/L/N, we just thought that the system glitched. It was just off by one. We didn't think anything of it."

A glitch. That was what you were to this company. Hell, to your family as well. Barely even a blip on the radar. Just something they remember actually existed when everything else managed to go wrong in their lives.

Now here you were, sitting in your little one bedroom apartment in New York, alone and lonely on your 29th birthday, wondering how you could have lived your life so invisibly that nobody even noticed you'd somehow slipped so far between the cracks that you were collecting dust in a corner of the room that nobody could see, let alone reach. How could you have gone your entire life and you didn't even have someone to call when you wanted company?

How could you have been so alone that nobody would even think of you if they wanted company?

You decided there was no harm in making a wish for yourself as you searched for a lighter for the tiny candle to cap off the dismal start to the final year of your 20s. You took out a piece of paper and scribbled your wish, tears prickling in the back of your eyes as you penned the words.

Someone that makes me feel less alone.

You lit up the candle and held the paper to the flame, a tear escaping your eye as you whispered the words, "This is all I want." You watched as the tiny sheet became engulfed in flames, disappearing into ash floating around the air so quickly that your fingers didn't even have enough time to feel the fire licking across your skin.

"Happy Birthday, Y/N," you sighed, blowing out the candle. "Another banner year," you whispered sarcastically into the dark silence.

You went about the rest of your night in the shroud of darkness, making the split second decision to change into a black silk negligee that you'd been reserving to wear for when you finally had someone to spend the night with rather than just spend a fleeting half hour with before you ended up leaving their apartment because you just couldn't feel a connection.

Perhaps the time had come to accept that you weren't meant to have that type of connection. With anyone.

With that depressing thought taking over, you laid down in bed and allowed sleep to take you, letting your thoughts drift into nothingness as you focused on the dark and the quiet that surrounded you. The same dark and quiet that always surrounded you.

What you heard next might as well have shot ice straight through your veins. "Well…hello. Aren't you a pretty thing."

It's just a nightmare, you told yourself. Just squint your eyes really hard and you'll wake up.

You tried to squeeze your eyes as hard as you could, but you could still feel that you weren't quite alone, the faint touch of a hand ghosting over your body on top of your comforter, the husked voice humming in a sound that vaguely resembled satisfaction. "How fortunate of me to have been called to such an exquisite creature." You stilled as you felt a warm breath by your cheek, followed by the feel of a tongue tracing along the shell of your ear. "We're going to have such fun together."

When you felt the hand slide under your comforter, warm fingertips beginning to trace along the column of your neck, was when you finally found it in you to move. Perhaps if you couldn't squint your way awake, then you'd just have to jolt your body into waking by any means necessary.

The only thing was…you were awake. And in the darkness you could see the silhouette of a man with long hair hovering over you. You let out a scream so loud you were sure the roving guard in your building was about to break down your door for fear that you were getting slaughtered in your bedroom.

The shrill sound was enough to have the figure seem visibly taken aback that it gave you just enough leeway to push him off of you and propel yourself out of bed. "You have ten seconds to tell me who you are before I…I…" You fumbled around in your bedside drawer, not once taking your eyes off of the intruder's distractingly sculpted silhouette, and grasped the letter opener you kept inside. "Before I slash at you with this. Ten!"

"I have no need to explain myself. You summoned me."

"Keep telling yourself that, buddy. Nine!"

"Do you truly not recall summoning me, you beguiling little creature?"

"Creature??" you shrilled. "Alright that's it, you just knocked five seconds out. Four!"

"Alright wait, wait! If you truly do not recall then perhaps we can discuss this? Preferably without meager weapons," he said, holding his hands up in a show of surrender. You proceeded to shout Three, making him let out a sibilant exhale. "If you won't listen to reason, then perhaps I must make you listen."

In the next moment, the figure disappeared, thin wisps of smoke being the only indicator that there was even anything that once occupied the space he stood in.

You started to let out another shrill scream into your now empty bedroom, only for the sound to die in a muffled squeak as the intruder re-materialized right beside you, clamping a large hand over your mouth…and nearly half your face.

"Shhh little mortal, please. I'm not here to harm you." You could feel yourself relaxing into his almost tender hold on you as he whispered the words into your ear, your reaction leaving you both shocked and appalled at yourself. "I swear, I am simply here because I was summoned. To perform a purpose. If what you say is true and you truly do not recall, then perhaps we could find out together why I've been brought here?"

Well shit, when he puts it that way, I must be a complete nimrod to keep screaming, huh? you hissed sarcastically at yourself. Considering that his hand was still covering your mouth, you simply nodded your response slowly, allowing him to take the letter opener from you with his free hand.

"If I release you, do you promise not to scream?" You let out a long exhale through your nose, slowly nodding your answer again, relief beginning to flood your system as he pulled his hand away from you and you began to walk to turn on the lights in your bedroom.

"Look I don't know who you are or what you are or what the fuck you're doing in my home, but I can promise you, on my life, I didn't summon you," you started, already emotionally exhausted from the disappointment of the day combined with this bizarre encounter from…wherever this intruder came from, with his tricks and smoke and mirrors. When you flipped the switch and your bedroom became awash with a warm white glow, you finally got a good look at your unexpected visitor.

But now I definitely wish I did, you thought to yourself. He was…for lack of a better, more fitting word, beautiful. A face that seemed as if it was sculpted and perfected by the greatest artists history had ever known, and that same scrupulous attention to detail had been given to the rest of him, too.

You never did understand back then what the women in your office meant when they described a man as someone that looked "built for sex". But now…looking at the man who stood mere feet away from you? Now you understood them perfectly.

"How about we start with why you believe I summoned you to begin with? And maybe names?" You struggled to maintain eye contact with him as he tilted his head at you, angling his body in a way that suggested he was about to approach you again. "I'm Y/N. And you are…?" You extended your hand to shake, a gesture that honestly seemed so ridiculous considering what had just happened moments ago, and where you two were.

"I am Loki. Of the Incubi," he replied, taking your hand in his. However, instead of shaking it like you'd expected, he raised it to his lips and pressed a kiss to your knuckles, the action taking you by surprise right alongside the information he'd just revealed to you with those few words.

"Incubi? Sex demons?" you huffed out incredulously as you began to break into a fit of laughter, pulling your hand away from him. "Now I'm definitely sure you got your wires crossed somewhere. See, Loki, there's no fucking way that I summoned a sex demon. We can start with…I don't even know how."

Your laughter faded into a little squeak as you felt his fingers lightly grasping your chin, tilting your head so that he could take a good look at you. You began to squirm under his gaze as the moments ticked by. "I believe you," he breathed out, the disappointment visible on his face. "A shame. How I would have enjoyed being pleasure-bound to one as breathtaking as you."

His words rung with such an unapologetic honesty that it had you fighting back the heat rising in your cheeks…and swirling in your lower stomach. The way he moved his hand to cup your jaw, his thumb stroking your bottom lip, only worsened your already building desire for the man. No, not a man…demon. As if reminding yourself that he wasn't what he seemed was going to quell that fire; if anything, it might even make it worse, especially considering what kind of demon you were dealing with.

"Perhaps you unknowingly summoned me, then," he murmured, his face hovering so close to yours that you could feel his warm breath on your lips as he spoke. "Was there anything that you did tonight that was out of your regular routine? Perhaps that could lead us to…well, where we are now."

You moved out of his hold with an audible sigh. "Alright…well, I came home from work. It was my birthday, so I made a wish on the candle of my cupcake." You started walking out to the living room/dining area of your  apartment, half-heartedly waving toward the space as if to say 'this is where that happened'.

"Quite curious…" he trailed off, walking to the kitchen counter and running two fingers across the surface, placing wholly inappropriate thoughts in your mind about what kind of devastation those sinfully, egregiously long digits could possibly wreak on your body. "And how did you make this…wish?"

You started walking around your living room, trying to retrace your steps since you came home from work earlier, up until you also reached the kitchen counter, trying not to focus too much on the feel of his hand now resting on your lower back, fingers loosely curved around your waist as if he was ready to pull you towards him at a moment's notice.

"I wrote it…on a piece of paper," you muttered, placing your hands on the countertop, willing your memory from a few short hours ago to return to you. "I said 'This is all I want', and then I burned it on the flame before I blew the candle out."

It barely registered to you that he'd moved so that he was standing directly behind you as you were recalling the events before you went to sleep, his hands now resting on either side of your waist, holding you loosely against him. "Hmm…there it is, then. Your wish that you set aflame, that is what summoned me." You fought against your instinctive urge to lean in to his touch and shudder at the way he was whispering in your ear, lips hovering so close that you could feel them ghosting over your skin as he spoke. "Tell me, darling, what did you wish for?"

A shuddering breath escaped you as you felt him move, tracing his nose down the column of your neck, ghosting his lips along the curve between your neck and shoulder, all the while whispering against your skin his soft-spoken command to tell you what you'd wished for that resulted in him being summoned to your home.

"I wished for someone that would make me feel less alone," you sighed your admission, your words barely audible as you fought against your urge to tear up again.

You felt Loki tense against you, maneuvering you so that you would turn and face him, a mix of confusion and concern rife on his devastatingly beautiful features. "I must admit, I'd never been summoned by a wish so…vestal." He reached up and proceeded to push locks of your hair away from your face, tucking the strands behind your ear. "Usually when I am summoned the wish is more…carnal in nature."

"Because sex demon…" you muttered, smirks tugging at the corners of your mouths.

"Indeed," he answered you, a low chuckle escaping him as he tucked his fingers under your chin, tilting your head to look up at him. "Your accidental summoning of me does not change the fact that I am now bound to you, darling mortal. I cannot leave you be until I've fulfilled your needs." A shiver ran through you at his words, worsening when he leaned down, hovering his face mere inches away from yours as his hand traveled down the length of your arm wrapping his fingers around your own hand. "Come with me then."

You chose not to move as he began to lead you through your apartment, standing still and causing him to look back at you when he was met with resistance at your joined hands. "Come with you where, exactly?"

"Back to your bedroom, of course."

"I thought I made it clear that--"

"We're not to go there so that I may bed you, darling," he cut you off with a knowing smirk. "Unless, of course, that would satisfy your needs. In which case I would be more than happy to oblige."

You felt your walls clenching around nothing at his suggestion, tempted beyond reason to take him up on his offer even though you knew that while there was no doubt that sex with someone literally made for it would be mind-blowing, the last thing you needed was another meaningless romp in bed. "Then why exactly are you bringing me back to my bedroom?"

"Your wish," he began, relaxing his hold on you and walking back to stand mere inches from you. "It was for companionship, was it not?" You nodded mutely, a squeak escaping you as you felt his hand at your side, his thumb gently stroking along your ribcage. "From what I've observed with your kind, to sleep alone when one yearns for companionship may be one of the most cripplingly lonely feelings you can experience. I was simply intending to hold you."

His words left you staring at him blankly, struggling to process his words. "Honestly I just thought you were gonna skulk around in the corner while I lived my life because that would be like zero effort for you, and it would still make me feel 'less alone'," you tried to joke, biting your tongue when you saw that he'd only responded by furrowing his brows at you.

"You are far too beautiful to be this guarded," he murmured, leaning closer to you that you could feel his warm breath at the bridge of your nose. "You deserve to have someone to hold you. You shouldn't have had to feel this lonely to begin with." He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. "I apologize. It seems that I was all that the fates could give you."

The gesture took you off guard, the tears that you'd been fighting back since you got home from work finally escaping your eyes and rolling down your cheeks. You wrapped your fingers around his hand, squeezing lightly in a silent gesture that you were letting him lead you back to your bedroom. You couldn't form the words anymore.

When he had you settled in your bed once again, only this time gently cradled in his arms, a large hand stroking up and down your back as he began to lull you to sleep. "Sleep, beautiful little mortal. You need not be alone any longer," he whispered before pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. "Not if I can help it."

"I really don't understand why you would be upset over this, Y/N. You should be thankful for the sentiment behind it, not the timing. What's important is that we remembered eventually, isn't it?"

You rolled your eyes at your mother's condescending tone over the phone. You'd spent the entire drive back to your apartment from work listening to her justify herself for at least remembering to greet you happy birthday.

Only thing was that it had been an entire six months later. And now she was trying to guilt you into warmly accepting her half-hearted greeting of 'oh I completely forgot, Happy Birthday, sweetie', as if it held any merit now. "Honestly Audrey, how can you even forget your own daughter's birthday for six months? I mean if I were in your shoes I'd remember the anniversary of the days that an entire baby threatened to rip my vagina in half."

"Language, young lady! And how dare you call me by my own name, I am your mother! And you know that we were caught up in celebrating your sister's accomplishment with her school play. Becoming an understudy is a big deal you know."

"I haven't been a young lady for ages, and you haven't been my mother for just as long," you snapped back at her. "And even she was able to text me six fucking months ago apologizing on your behalf and greeting me herself. And how the fuck should I know how big of a deal it is to become an understudy I was too busy becoming the lead when I was still going to school. Last I checked you weren't even in the audience when that happened."

"You really should stop this nasty habit of making everything about you, dear."

You let out a frustrated scream in the hall, the sound prompting your apartment door to open, the sight of Loki stepping out the door clad in his version of "casual clothing" calming you significantly. 'What's wrong?' he mouthed at you, nodding in clear understanding when your only response to him was 'Mother'.

"Do you even fucking hear yourself?? You call me with a half-assed apology for forgetting your daughter's birthday sixmonths ago, and you expect me to just accept it with open arms going 'Of course Mommy I'm so happy you remembered it's the thought that counts'? And now that I'm calling you out on your A+ parenting at least where Stella's concerned since you just love coddling her and celebrating everything with her down to her fucking participation certificates, you're gonna have the balls to tell me that I should stop making this about me??"

The feel of Loki's hands on your shoulders, thumbs resting snugly between your shoulder blades, pressing and rubbing soothing circles in an attempt to mediate your temper, had you taking a deep breath before you went on.

"Audrey I don't want to hear from you ever again. Facts are…you haven't checked in on me since before I moved out of the house. You've pretty much mailed me everything that I left behind there so that you could tear down the wall and give Stella a fucking princess suite, so there isn't even a single trace of me in any square inch of that place she can freely call home.

"You haven't been a mother to me since Stella was born, let alone a mom, so you know what? We might as well cut ties now before I start saying shit that's really gonna hurt your precious fragile ego. Goodbye. Don't ever contact me again. I'm blocking your number, and if you even dare fucking show up on my doorstep I'll call the fucking cops on you. Have the life you deserve."

You felt the phone get taken out of your hand before he turned you around to pull you into a warm embrace. "Are you alright?"

"That felt really fucking good," you mumbled into his chest, starting to let out a hearty laugh as you wrapped your arms around him to return the hug. You lifted your head to look up at him, a smile stretching across your face as your eyes met his. "Hi."

"Hello, precious girl." A small traitorous giggle escaped you as he pressed a kiss between your brows. "Welcome home."

Your heart was doing somersaults at his words, your mind struggling to process them as he easily lifted you off  your feet and walked you both into your apartment. Home. The word rolled so effortlessly off his tongue it placed the cruelest image in your head.

One where maybe Loki could stay in your life forever. One where maybe in the last six months of him providing you companionship, you weren't alone in your stupidity in falling in love with the sex demon.

That maybe said demon fell in love with you, too. And the blissful domestic atmosphere that surrounded you whenever you walked into your apartment wasn't just an illusion.

"I have a question," you spoke into the dark quiet of your bedroom when he held you that night, lulling you to sleep. You looked up from your head's position resting snugly on his shoulder, your breath audibly hitching as you saw how menacingly beautiful he looked when his features were illuminated by the moonlight and nothing else.

"Ask away, darling." You could feel your eyes growing heavy as he proceeded to stroke your hair, earning you a low chuckle from him.

"You don't sleep…"

"That is true, I don't."

"So what do you do while I'm asleep?" You brought out another chuckle from him as you fought back a yawn after asking your question.

"Count the hours until the sun rises and your infernal alarm begins to blare in our ears and pulls you out of your peaceful slumber. In those hours, I read something from your shelves occasionally. But mostly I would watch over you, wonder what it is you're dreaming about that brings out such raw reactions upon your face."

"Fuck you must be bored out your mind, I'm sorry," you murmured, feeling yourself sink deeper and deeper into sleep.

Your brows furrowed together at the feel of his  fingers lightly grasping your chin. "Look at me, Sweetheart." Your eyes met his through your heavy-lidded gaze, a lazy smile tugging at the sides of your mouth as you looked into his darkened gaze. "That couldn't be farther from the truth. You could never bore me."

A violent fluttering erupted in your stomach as he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours, a mix between a sigh and a satisfied hum escaping him as he kissed you.

"Never," he insisted before pressing one final kiss to your lips. "Now go to sleep, darling."

"Mmph…thank you, Loki."

"What ever for?"

"For making me feel less alone."

Those last words you uttered before sleep finally took you echoed in Loki's ears like ominous drums that signaled a death march. Each time the words came back, the sound would grow louder, beginning to thump against his chest as if his heart was rushing to give out.

He'd forgotten that it could even do that.

For so long it had taken on this slow, almost snaillike pace that he could have sworn it stopped beating eons ago. It was only that first night, as he held you in his arms, that he could begin to feel the echoes of a pulse once more.

Now those echoes were more than prominent, each thump inside of him signaling that now that you said those words, his time with you was about to come to a screeching halt.

He dreaded how it would  happen. Would he simply be summoned to another's bed, simply to resume the process of meaningless trysts with sleeping women that craved nothing more than to be fucked into a stupor that more often than not led to permanent and unfavorable side effects on their part?

Would he be called back to Lilith's domain? To face an admonishment for taking so long on this particular assignment when he could have ended your plight so much more quickly and efficiently?

Would he even be able to say goodbye to you? Could he even bear it to see the look on your face if he did?

"Take it back," he pleaded softly at your sleeping form, desperation lacing every word. "Please. I don't want to leave you, Y/N. Take it back." He held you tighter against him, pressing kiss after kiss to your skin as he kept on begging you take the words back. "I can't bear to leave you, sweet girl. I love you too much for that."

A/N: Okay so I took quite a few liberties with the request but I hope you like it, Anon! There's going to be a part 2 to this because I want to give them a happy (and smutty) ending.

'everything' taglist: @sailorholly @loopsisloops @unlucky-number-13 @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemiss @salempoe @vickie5446 @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @sarahscribbles @kats72 @kikster606 @evelyn-kingsley @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @peaches1958 @lovingchoices14 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th @lovelysizzlingbluebird @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @dangertoozmanykids101 @elizabethmidnight2017

Loki taglist: @calumance @severuslovebot @moonlightreader649 @i-stand-with-loki @nixymarvelkins @cheekyscamp @lokisgoodgirl @purplegrrl27 @thedistractedagglomeration

[adventuringblind]

Drive With You Forever

Chapter 7.2: Lando's First Time

Max Verstappen x Charles Leclerc x Lando Norris x Reader x Oscar Piastri

Chapter summary: Title feels explanatory enough

Warnings: talks of sex, Dom/Sub dynamics, no actual sex occurs, this is a crack fic, lots of communication, talks of kinks

Notes: the start of Lando and his chaos

Masterlist

When Lando woke up this morning, he didn't think that he'd be spending breakfeast talking with Max about Sex.

His cereal had gone soggy. The shock of it all making it difficult to eat.

The worst part was that this seemed so easy for him. Sure, he'd taught the female about most sexual things she knows now, and he'd been through this with Charles. But this was completely new to Lando, and he didn't like that it was so... casual.

"-Again, I know this is probably a lot and of you don't want to-."

"I want to." The words tumbled out of his mouth faster than he could think about them. He could actively feel the blush on his cheeks growing.

"Okay then." Max smiles. "Let me go grab something, and you should probably get new cereal."

Lando decided it would be better to just wait until after this talk.

~

Max came back into the room with a notebook, a green colored pen, and Charles. "I was going to give you orange, but it doesn't show up well enough for me to read."

"Is y/n still asleep?"

"No, she's eating and cuddling with the cats. These conversations tend to... not embarrass her, but it definitely puts her in a place I don't want her in."

The two join him on the couch. Lando just looks at them with pure confusion. Lost in what Max is attempting to tell him.

Thankfully, Charles explains. "She's a pleaser and is still learning how to set boundaries. She will say yes to everything even if she doesn't want to."

"Why on earth would she do that?" Lando grimaces at his words. That sounded meaner than he was intending. The older boys exchange a look, and Max shrugs his shoulders.

"Well mate, as you will come to find out, the overwhelming urge to be praised makes it difficult for her to say no." Charles finishes woth a wink.

Lando's mouth falls open in an 'O' shape. Suddenly, everything clicked.

They'd gotten themselves into a sexually charged situation. It could and, probably would, have gone further if Max hadn't stopped them.

He'd dragged Lando out and sat him down for a talk. It was at this point that Lando agreed to add his blood panel to their ever expanding collection of them. Lando also learned at this point that Max is in charge and he quite likes the Dutch telling him what to do.

He'd also had to trade places with Charles because the girl in the room where he'd been dragged from was crying. Charles didn't tell Lando why as he sat in what used to be Max's chair. Just that she was feeling insecure after watching Max pull Lando off of her.

He'd also taken the time to explain that he didn't do anything wrong. Max is just fiercely protective and knows she will push her limits.

Now he's sitting between Max in Charles with a green pen in hand, looking at a list.

The notebook was filled with different things regarding their sex life. Again, Lando could see his blood work had been added to the list at the front along with the other two.

"No blood work for her?"

"I'd be surprised if it came back normal. Also, I took her virginity, and Charles is the only other persona she's had besides that."

Lando wasn't shocked, but hearing it aloud was still a little surprising. "Did she like... do other things?"

"I'm promise I'm not lying when I tell you she'd never been touched there before. At least that she remembers."

It's Charles turn to look at Max with confusion. "What? She said she'd never touched, non?"

Max sighs with a heavy sadness. "Her dreams and how her body reacts... I think there may have been things that happened that she didn't remember or was unconscious for."

"She did say she was drugged and unconscious a lot." Charles considers.

Lando didn't know what to think. His brain couldn't function, and the older boys beside him were incredibly normal about this. He was beginning to feel the insecurity creep up his throat.

"That's a discussion for another time, though." Max smiles at Lando again and snage the journal back from him. "Don't laugh, but this is how we keep track of things." Max turned the page to a list of names with various information beneath. "Mind if I ask a few questions?"

"Uh- no. It's a little odd that you think I would say no now that we're already here."

"Fair." Max simply shrugs again. Lando is grateful Charles is here. He loves Max, but sometimes he explains things in a way that makes his brain do cartwheels. He's also grateful because Charles lets him play with his rings. "Remember, there is no judgment. We have to be honest to make this work."

"What if I say something weird?"

"I said my first experience with a guy was at a sex party. If you can top that, I'd be impressed." Charles chuckles a little. He thinks fondly of that memory now, but at the time, he'd been miserable.

"First question: dom or sub? Or neither."

Lando blinks at him. "Bottom?"

"Not what I asked."

Lando inhales through his teeth. "Sub." His eyes immediately find the floor. Not for long, though. Max grabs his chin and gently brings his gaze back to his.

"Need to see your eyes. You've got nothing to be ashamed of." The gentle voice Max uses throws his head into a tizzy.

"Again, Lan, if it makes you feel any better, I've been the dom in most my previous relationships, and then Max had me screaming daddy for the neighbors to hear."

"Don't be fooled, though. Charlie still knows how to take control when I let him." Max winks, and Landos feels as if he's gotten in the middle of something.

"Next question: have you used the stop light safe words?"

Lando just shakes his head. "Isn't that universal?"

"Yes, which makes it easy to use and remember."

"We have a list of hard pass kinks. I'll let you look at it, and you can add any to the list." Max flips the page again and hands the book to Lando. He reads through it and ponders for a moment. The things they have written are anything super harmful or just unsanitary. A few others scattered in between that have their own categories. He hands the book to Max when he feels satisfied.

"Great! Now the fun part." Max wiggles his eyebrows, and Charles wheezes because of how comical it looks.

"Mon amour, please- your going to scare him!"

"Rude. But anyway." Max flips again to the page they were on previously. "Okay, a couple of things to go over and some rules. Do you like being praised or degraded?"

"...Both." Lando tries to move back to looking at the floor, but Max catches him and tuts. He moves his gaze once again, and Lando is forced to look at the memorizing blue.

"Any positions you either don't like or haven't tried?"

For fucks sake. He sounds like such a slut right now. Is it bad that he likes this? "Pretty sure I've tried everything, but I'm always open to new things anyway." This time, he doesn't look away.

Charles leans back a little amused. Watching the two go back and forth in discussion. The obvious hard-on that Lando has dragging his attention away. The Brit can see him staring. He finds it somewhat like a compliment.

"Rules time."

"I struggle to remember, so please be patient."

"No worries, Lan. That's what the book is for." Now Max actually closes the book. All of Lando's information has been jot down. All of his kinks are now documented.

"So for Charles, he is a switch. But like... a dom leaning switch, if that makes sense." Lando shakes his head, and Max hums in approval. "Obviously, I'm in charge, and I like it that way." Max winks horribly at him, and Lando can't help but chuckle at his attempt to keep him comfortable. "She is a sub. She will slip into a subspace within five minutes of any sexual scenario. It's a given. That's why we have to be a little cautious."

Lando cocks his head to the side. His questioning eyes find the Monegasque again. "There are times her mind puts her there because she thinks we're upset with her, and it's how she can fix it even if she didn't do anything. If she's on her knees, it's usually a tell tale sign. Her father used to put her there when he wasn't happy with her. Basically, if she's on her knees, then don't go any further. It's not her consenting, it's her mind telling her she needs to fix things and we don't want to take advantage of that."

Lando's heart hurts at the statement. It's terrible that she ever had to do that. He nods in understanding and appreciation of charles' explanation.

"On that not also, because she can go crazy far into sub space, she can drop hard. One minute, we're starting aftercare, and the next, she can't fathom being in her own skin. Like she did something wrong or wasn't enough or going as far as to hate that she went there in the first place."

"Lan, please be honest. Do you get deep in the headspace and drop?" Charles' voice is so nice that he almost whimpers at it.

"Yes, but I also do other things." Max and Charles eye each other for a moment. It would make sense why, they just listed all his kinks. "I find it fun not to do as told and rile people up."

Max looks at him with something mischievous. "Oh, we're going to have so much fun."

Charles leans in to Lando. His breath hot on his ear. "I tried it once. Never again. This is the time I cried daddy for the entire building to hear."

Lando looks directly at Max. "I like a challenge."

Max is breathing heavier now. Lando is now joined in his predicament.

"I think we should give him something to help his little issue. Don't you think cher?" The hot breath and low voice of the Monegasque does nothing to help him.

~

Charles had been sitting on the bed with her. She was lost in the sound of his voice telling her everything about Lando. What he likes, what he doesn't, the important things.

She's already fading, and she knows it. It's not just because of the soothing voice of a certain Monegasque, but also because she can clearly hear Lando whimpering.

Charles runs his fingers along her body. "Are you feeling fuzzy already?" She nods and curls up into him. "We don't have to join. I can take care of you here if you think joining them will be too much."

She shakes her head no and quickly stands from the bed to emphasize her point.

They completely disregard the fact that she's in nothing but one of Max's oversized hoodies. It's all just going to come off again regardless, and she completely trusts Lando anyway.

The sight on the couch is nothing that she was expecting. Why does Max have Lando over his knee already?

"I brought someone to join." Charles strokes her cheek, and she leans into the soothing touch. Any touch right now feels like heaven in her eyes.

Max manhandles Lando off of him and into a kneeling position. This is also new. They never let her stay on her knees.

Max gets off the couch and pointedly looks at Lando. "Stay put."

Max caresses the other side of her face when he reaches her. "Things are going to be different again because Lando is here now. Do you understand?"

She'd already learned that when Charles came along. But he is similar to Max in a way. Lando is very new. "Yes."

"Yes who?"

"Yes, sir."

Her words make Max smile. But it goes away as soon as he turns around and sees Lando sitting on the floor instead of kneeling. "Technically speaking, I stayed put!"

She looks to Charles for some sort of explanation. "Lando likes to misbehave."

Misbehave? That's an option? She'd always done as told without questions. Though she'd gotten punished before. It's not in the sex part. It's with the life part.

Max had started it after her unhealthy habits started getting worse. It helped her to break them. Even if they cone through because she gets in her head, Max and Charles have been there to pull her back with their bedroom tactics. The way the two tag team is terrifying sometimes.

Charles guides her to the sofa and Max is quickly back to manhandling Lando. The Brit is smiling like an idiot and she thinks for a moment that this will be interesting to watch.

She leans into Charles as they sit down. “why does he like it? I thought that misbehaving is a bad thing?”

“To you, yes. You like it when we tell you you’re doing a good job.” Charles points to where Max is teasing Lando. The Brits body being pinned exactly where Max wants him. “He likes making people lose patience and then people calling him, uh, degrading things.”

“Like the words we use only in scenes?” Charles hums a confirmation. the vibration tickling her skin.

"I'm shocked we haven't corrupted you you yet chéri. You're still so parfaite, so innocent." His voice sends a shudder down her spine. His finger still brushing the spots along her body that make her mind spin.

Their moment is interrupted by Lando, again, being tossed onto the couch. Effectively startling the two out of their moment.

“Max, amour, must you throw him around?”

“Better work out then just lifting in my opinion.” Max shrugs and laughs.

Lando readjusts himself, throwing his legs over the other two. “I think this I gonna be fun.” He smirks.

~

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[cerberus-new-owner]

I've returned with yet another headcannon / rant thingy on the brothers / everyone buuuuuuuuut anyways

so we all know about the devilswitches and if i remember correctly the devildom equivelant (is that the right spelling??) of mario kart is devil kart or smth idrk what im on about rn lol buuuuuuuuuuut (and this has probably already been talked about before i just cant remember/ havent acctually gotten that far into the games) who would be the best at the game other than levi (in my opinion, sorry if this is a bit ooc)

so without further ado the list from best to worst out of the brothers in my opinion at the devildom equvalent of mario kart with explainations (theres a summarised version with the dateables at the end for those who dont wanna read my ramblings)

Levi - do i have to explain why

Belphegor - he and beel seem to be the ones who hang out with levi the most (other than mammon but he steals more than he plays) so i feel like with their own mini game nights beel and belphie would've picked up some form of skill when it came to the multiplayer games levi owns also i get weird speed demon vibes from belphie i know his sin is sloth and all but i feel like he'd be eerily good at racing games

Beel - pretty much the same as belphegor but he doesn't give me those kind of speed demon vibes like belphie does when it comes to video games and stuff he gives me more 'I'll play if you guys want to play' kinda vibes yet still manages to get a decent score everytime cause he would have picked up some form of skill from playng with

Satan - lets be honest he probably plays the game secretly when he doesn't have anything to read or do purely so he can be better than lucifer at family game nights whenever levi gets to chose the game, satan probably has a secret chart of the games his brothers tend to chose most offten and any new games that enter the house of lamentation mans is doing the most he can whilst still being secretive to master as many of the games in the hol aspossible just so he can hold it over luci's head the only games on his chart that he hasn't been able to master to a point where he can beat lucifer are the games lucifer choses on the gamenights

Lucifer - i dont know man i just feel like lucifer would be better than mams and asmo at the game

Mammon - he's literally just getting distracted by the coins on the track and blabbering on about the coin limit and how he can hold so much more grimm than that before attempting to prove himself by asking (begging) his brothers for grimm so he can prove his point if they decide to give in and hand him some grimm so he can prove his point he's dropping all of it trying to run way with the grimm in his arms before sheepishly returning with a singular coin in his hand picking up some of the grimm he dropped

Asmodeus - lets be so for real right now he probably refuses to play this game because he hates how focusing so much distracts him from time he could be spending pampering himself or making sure his nails are painted just the right shade or the fact that when most game nights are happening they start to eat into his precious beauty sleep (dont worry asmo i get you i should be sleeping rn) he probably only participetes in the games he knows he'll win in (aka the games he gets to chose) or the games where he can team up with someone and have them do most of the work (usually satan) if he's acctually plaing this game with everyone else he's acctually not he's going through every character and talking about their outfits before chosing who he dubs the cutest for that night and then making the cutest cart he can to suit the charcter until one of the other brothers gets bored and tells asmo he can sit out of the game and just watch

if i were to add the others the list would probably look something like this and i dont wanna write that much so i'll just summarise my reasons for everyone

levi - the reasons are obvious

belphegor - like i said speed demon vibes

barbatos - also gives off speed demon vibes

beel - some sort of stange skill gained

satan - wants to be better than luci

solomon - wants to get a pact with luci

lucifer - would just be better than asmo and mams

diavolo - he just wants to enjoy the game

luke - no particular reason other than it'd be funny to watch mammon lose to him

mammon - idiot

asmo - beauty sleep / pampering self / takes to long to decide

simeon - i love simeon but lets be honest he probably wouldn't even be able to use the controls

if anyone acctually read through all that thank you if you just skipped to the summarised part also thank you it makes my day to know someone at least looked at these (expecially this one it took me atleast an hour between me playing mario kart and me getting distracted) i may return with more ideas that may not be original but i've put my own spin on dont expect any big fics maybe a drabble or rant here and there but if i do decide to continnue posting obey me content it will most likely be dumb little headcannons like this or funny things i find in the games as i continue to play them through (for the third time in the past 2 years, barely made it past lesson 18 and then my laptop died so i had to restart) (

forgot to add this before posting buuuut) I hope everyone have a good night/day (evening, morning, breakfast lunch?? diner????)

racing to the masterlist