#IT'S A SINGLE PATTERN LOOP AWAY FROM DONE

[monty-glasses-roxy]

Still haven't done a dive on creating the Plex/Plex animatronics' history, I got completely sidetracked by the fact my Storyteller colour theme bracelet is nearly done and I don't have a good button for it yet :(

[xjoonchildx]

kanalia | jhs x reader | final chapter: because i couldn't stay away

banner by the amazing @kth1 💕

⚜️summary: secrets and uncertainty plague a young queen in her arranged marriage to a kind but distant king. the farther she drifts from her husband, the closer she gets to one of his most trusted men.

⚜️pairing: queen!reader x royalguard!hoseok

⚜️rating: mature, 18+

⚜️genre: royal AU, historical AU, smut

⚜️warnings: infidelity (it’s complicated, y’all) mentions of pregnancy, fertility issues. OC struggles with depressive thoughts and episodes. smut warnings in effect.

⚜️word count: 10.2K

⚜️author's note: happy birthday month to my forever muse, jung hoseok. i hope that i did this poor, tortured version of you some justice. and yes, it did take me years to finish this story (😭) , but i did. thank you to every single who has ever taken an interest in this story and cared enough to stick with me through long delays and rough writing spells. once again, i have to shout out the OG @hobi-gif who lent her eyes to part of this story. i appreciate you all so much and if you enjoyed it, i would very much appreciate a reblog as well as your feedback.

thank you guys so, so much 💕

previous chapter masterlist

Love doesn't discriminate Between the sinners and the saints It takes and it takes and it takes And we keep loving anyway We laugh and we cry and we break And we make our mistakes And if there's a reason I'm by her side When so many have tried Then I'm willing to wait for it I'm willing to wait for it

– “Wait for It”

Hamilton, An American Musical 

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

One perfect loop is followed by another. And another. And another.

You need not look back and check your work, not anymore. Now you know simply by the pull of the thread that each stitch you place is snug and uniform. You sit in your chair by the fire and repeat the motion over and over again, staring unseeing into the pattern in your lap. 

“It’s a beautiful day, Your Grace.”

Hyeri’s voice taps at the edges of your consciousness, muffled as though she’s standing outside the chamber door instead of seated right beside you. You ignore it and push another loop through the fabric.

“Not a cloud in the sky,” she persists, gentle. “Perfect conditions for a walk, if you feel up to it. I could even accompany you, if you wish?”

There was a time, not long ago, when Hyeri’s prodding would have set your teeth on edge. But you do not have the energy to muster any such emotion. And so you give Hyeri the same answer you’d given her the day before. And the day before that one. The same hushed words, spoken in the same decisive tone.

“I’m content to stay in today, Hyeri. Thank you.”

“Very well, Your Grace.”

She drops the matter with a quiet sigh.

It’s unlike her. The Hyeri you know would fret and fuss for as long as it took for you to relent; until you had no choice but to quit your chamber simply to enjoy a moment’s peace. The Hyeri you know would be shooing you away from the fire, prattling on about how one errant thread could catch and send your entire dress up in flames. 

But the Hyeri seated beside you does none of those things.

So you sink deeper into the plush chair perched in front of the hearth and watch the flames dance. The embers at the base of the fire glow deep red, putting off a heat blistering enough to scorch your bare feet. 

But you cannot feel it. You cannot feel anything.

You’ve surrendered to the weariness now; let it consume you. Allowed it to fuse itself to the very marrow of your bones. For days you’ve done little beyond sleep and spend your few waking hours seated by the fire, needle in hand. 

Twice you’ve left your chamber and neither time by choice, but rather because the King had insisted on your presence at dinner. To what end you still cannot be sure seeing as you’d taken both meals in stilted, awkward silence. Apparently His Grace is far less bold without a bit of ale in him.

“The hunting party leaves in three days' time,” Hyeri says. “There’s been quite a fuss in the kitchens over it. They’re taking enough supplies to travel for months, by the looks of it.”

You make a non-committal sound under your breath. Hyeri forges on, undeterred.

“There will be a send-off in the courtyard, of course. Will you – “ she pauses to choose her words carefully. “ – Well, I assume that you’ll want to see the King off.”

You do not want to see the King off. Were it not for his pigheaded adamance that you keep up appearances for the sake of this sham marriage, you’d be content to never see him again. But you’ll not tell Hyeri that. Not when she’s made it clear where her loyalties lie and not when she still holds on to the delusion that one day you’ll decide to embrace your role as the placeholder by the King’s side.

So you say nothing at all. The fire pops as one of the logs crumbles in the hearth.

Hyeri clears her throat. “Your Grace, I only want what’s best for you. Surely you know that by now? And I don’t want people casting aspersions, which they most certainly will do if you’re not there to see the King off. The staff is already asking questions about why you’ve not been seen in days.”

“Has he asked for me?”

Hyeri blinks. “The King?”

“Yes, Hyeri,” you say slowly. “The King. Has His Grace requested my presence at this send-off ceremony?”

The color seems to drain from her soft face as she admits, “No, Your Grace. He hasn’t.”

“Then I see no point in worrying yourself over the matter.”

You return your attention to your needlework and place another yellow thread in the center of your Mugunghwa flower’s pistil. The flames crackle in perfect, undisturbed silence. 

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

“It’s cold out there today,” Hyeri says. “But if you bundle up tight, it’s quite pleasant in the sunshine.”

“Thank you, Hyeri,” you reply evenly. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

It’s a lie, and you both know it. You have no intention of leaving this chamber today and much to your relief, the King did not require your presence at his evening meal the night prior. Hyeri had ordered your dinner sent up and then proceeded to dine with you herself. An insidious voice inside your mind whispers she’s afraid to leave you alone.

You ignore it.

Instead you try to focus on your Mugunghwa flower. You study it, blinking until the riot of colors before you has clear, defined boundaries – fiery crimson at the center which slowly bleeds into a subdued pink which in turn dissipates into a milky white. You pull fresh white thread through your needle and set to work on the flower’s edges.

“Your needlework is much improved, Your Grace,” Hyeri notes. “You’ll be finished with that pattern by the end of the day, as I see it.”

You thumb over the fabric and consider her assessment. She’s right, you’ll be done with this pattern in a matter of hours. And the only thing that awaits on the other side is another pattern. And another. On and on and on. 

“Perhaps when you’re done, you’ll consider mending this for me,” Hyeri says, gesturing towards her lap. “My eyesight is not what it used to be. I’m terrified of ruining the old man’s beautiful design.”

You set your embroidery down and turn to look at Hyeri, gaze falling to the opulent plum fabric in her hands. Slowly, the details sharpen into focus. The rich velvet trim. The gold threads glinting back at you in the firelight. The room begins to tilt.

“A footman found it in the woods last night,” Hyeri explains, her cadence slow and deliberate. “By the stables.”

You are keenly aware of the way she watches you in the weighty seconds that follow, one gray eyebrow lifted as she awaits a response. You do your best to appear calm despite the panic clawing its way up your throat.

You’d lost that shawl in your mad dash back to the castle. You’d been tearing through the dark, paying little heed to the branches that tugged at your dress and occasionally scraped at your hands and face. One of them had caught the shawl, but you’d been so desperate to reach the refuge of your chamber that you’d hardly noticed when it was wrenched away. You’d had, after all, your humiliation to keep you warm.

And you’d earned it, hadn’t you? With your drunkenness. With your recklessness. You’d let every one of your baser emotions take control. You’d risked every advantage of your carefully curated life just to throw yourself like a wanton at the feet of one of your husband’s closest confidantes. Like a fool. 

When Lord Jung turned on his heels that night and abandoned you in the woods, he’d done far more than just rebuff your clumsy advances. 

He’d finished you. 

“Your Grace?” Hyeri’s curiosity is evident. “Are you alright?”

Hardly. Your mouth waters as your stomach threatens to cast up what little you’ve eaten today. One glimpse of that garment had been enough to bring a torrent of memories rushing back; vivid, awful memories that you’ve worked hard to banish to the deepest recesses of your mind. You grip the arm of your chair hard enough to make your knuckles go white. 

“Your Grace?”

You don’t answer until you’re sure that you won’t retch the very moment you open your mouth. Hyeri studies you in the interminable silence, lips parted in an expression of concern. Your tongue is thick when you finally collect yourself enough to speak.

“Please do thank the footman for me, Hyeri. And I think it best to leave the more intricate needlework to you.”

Hyeri stares as you reach for your needle and thread with trembling hands, but you don’t dare look her way. You try to place a loop at the edge of your flower but the Mugunghwa’s colors have gone blurry again and you’re forced to back the needle out and start over.

Perhaps there was a time when the Mugunghwa was as vivid as a rose. With petals of rich orange-red, opaque from pistil to tip. But perhaps it was asked to weather too many storms. Too many droughts. Too many winters. 

Perhaps the Mugunghwa looks the way it does today not because of how it was made, but rather what it’s had to endure. 

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

The first snow of the season arrives early.

You stand at your window and watch it fall, noting how quickly the fields turn from green to white. You press your fingertips to the windowpane and the cold seeps through it, chilling you instantly.

In the courtyard below, the horses are draped in heavy blankets. Stablehands scurry around them; dusting snow off their muzzles and checking their shoes. Footmen work in teams, sharing the weight of the heavy trunks they load on to waiting carts. 

“I’ll wear the blue walking dress today, Hyeri. The one with the white flowers on the bodice.”

“Your Grace?” Hyeri is on her feet at once to join you at the window. “You’ll see the king off, then?”

“I’ll need the matching cape too,” you direct, brushing her question aside as you watch the newly-packed trunks take on a layer of white snow. “If the conditions are as awful as they look.”

“Yes of course,” Hyeri breathes, hurriedly whirling about the chamber behind you as she gathers your things. In a matter of minutes she has you dressed and seated, fingers twisting your hair into a plait at the base of your neck. She loops the plait and pins it into an elegant bun, fingers smoothing the hairs into place before her hands come to rest on your shoulders. She squeezes them gently.

“I’ll not ask you why you’ve changed your mind, Your Grace,” she says softly. “But I’m so glad for it. It’s important that people see you. For them, of course, but for you most of all. And besides, you look so lovely.” 

You don’t feel lovely. In fact, you don’t feel anything at all. And if Hyeri had pressed you as to why you’ve changed your mind, she’d not be satisfied with your answer. You’ve changed your mind because you cannot bear to cause more conflict with the King. Because you have no desire to create a scandal that you’ll somehow have to fix. You’ve changed your mind because you have no fight in you left. This is the path of least resistance.

You rise from your seat and Hyeri’s hands fall away. She clutches them to her chest, rheumy eyes soft with sadness as she watches you take your place at the window once again. Outside the snow falls harder, and you watch the footmen leave deep divots in it with their boots.

“Tell me when it’s time,” you say quietly.

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

You can scarcely recognize anyone in the throng of well-wishers gathered outside the castle.

They’re all bundled tight in winter coats and pelts; some wear hats and scarves. The snow doesn’t help either, and from the moment you enter the courtyard you’re grateful for your cape. Not only for the warmth of its thick lining, but for its hood, too. It affords you a bit of privacy in this otherwise very public affair.

You weave your way through the crowd and do your best not to make eye contact with anyone. Surely Boram is among those gathered with sweet Yeona in tow, here to see Lord Min off on his adventure. But you cannot bring yourself to seek her out – not when she’s already called on you twice without so much as an explanation for your disappearance. At any rate, you don’t think you could bear to look at her right now. To see the worry and concern you know you’ll find written all over her face. 

So you keep your hood pulled tight and your eyes down as you set off in search of the King. And you have no trouble finding him despite your reticence to make your presence known. It’s not just that he stands a head taller than most. It’s in his stature, in his stance – in that self-assured air that seems to come naturally to those born with power. He catches sight of you as he’s speaking to a footman and pauses, gaze locking on yours.

Your legs feel heavy. Your boots sink into the snow as you approach, each step more tiring than the last. When you are finally standing before the King you bow, dipping your head as you peer at him from beneath your hood.

“Your Grace,” he murmurs, lips twitching into a cautious half-smile. “I wasn’t sure you’d come down to say goodbye.”

“And yet I have,” you respond evenly. A snowflake lands on one of his long eyelashes and you resist the urge to reach out and sweep it away. “So I do very much hope that you are pleased.”

“I am pleased.”

The King reaches for your gloved hand. He waits a heartbeat before bringing it to his mouth and pressing a kiss to your leather-clad fingers. Beneath your hood, your cheeks burn. You withdraw your hand quickly and let it fall to your side. 

“Well. Then. I wish you a comfortable journey,” you say. “As well as a safe return.”

The two of you stand there for an awkward moment, the King’s expression expectant as though he’s waiting for you to say more. But you have no more to say. The words you’ve already offered him will do. They’re as empty as the vows you’d exchanged little more than a year ago.

“We ought to head out, Your Grace. We’re losing precious daylight and this weather will slow us as it is.”

The voice comes from somewhere in your periphery, but you need not see the man to know exactly who it is. Suddenly each breath you draw is painful, the frigid air pricking your lungs like a thousand tiny needles. You will yourself not to turn towards it, not to react in any way. 

“You’re right.” The King acknowledges Lord Jung with a brusque nod. “Have the stablehands check over the horses one more time.”

You won’t look at him. You can’t look at him. Not when the sound of his voice reverberates through every wounded place inside of you. Not when you can close your eyes and still feel the hot trickle of embarrassment that slid down your spine that night in the woods. But then he leaves you with no other choice.

“Your Grace.” 

The low timbre of Lord Jung’s greeting makes the fine hairs at the nape of your neck stand on end. You turn to him, slowly, and his dark eyes briefly connect with yours before he bends into a shallow bow. Your knees nearly give way when you return the gesture, along with a subdued, “My Lord.”

What must this man think of you now? What has he told the King? The nausea you’ve managed to stave off for days returns at once. 

You startle when a gloved hand wraps around your forearm and the King beckons you to face him. You flick your eyes up to meet his and find that they – along with his countenance – have darkened. By now Lord Jung is yards away, tending to his horse as the hunting party readies to embark. Your lungs ache with each deep pull of cold air.

“Is something wrong?”

“No, no. Not at all,” you insist, contriving a weak laugh. “I’m not accustomed to this kind of cold, is all. I’ll need to go back inside to get warm.”

The King’s brows furrow as he studies you. But you maintain your mild expression until his face relaxes and the disquiet subsides. He leans in to place a chaste kiss to your cheek. 

“Hyeri assures me you’ll be well taken care of in my absence.”

You lift the corners of your mouth in a gesture that you hope will pass for a smile.

“Thank you, Your Grace. Be well.”

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

Hyeri does not protest when you ask to undress upon your return to the chamber. Nor does she fuss when you climb into bed with the morning sun still high in the sky. She simply presses a soft kiss to your hair, draws the curtains tight and leaves you with a whispered rest well. 

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

Your chamber is dark when you wake but for the soft glow of a fire. 

As you come to, so does an ache in your temples, a quiet thud that pulses in time with your heartbeat. Your muscles protest as you roll onto your side to find Hyeri seated at the hearth. 

She’s yet to realize that you’ve roused and so you lie there for a while, studying her. She has a strange, far-away look in her eyes as she stares into the flames, her grip tight on a book in her lap. After a few minutes she opens the book and begins to thumb through it and you watch, curious, as she pulls a worn piece of vellum from between its pages.

She unfolds the missive and reads over it, face crumpling as she fights back a sob.

“Hyeri?”

The older woman nearly jumps out of her skin when you call out to her.  She hastily folds the vellum and slips it back into her book, smoothing down her dress as she stands at attention. “Your Grace,” she says, voice huskier than usual, “I hadn’t realized you were awake.”

“It’s alright,” you say absently, voice rough with sleep. You steal a look at the book left lying in Hyeri’s chair as she hurries over to bring you some water. Her countenance is that of someone who’s been caught doing something they shouldn’t have. You stare at the glass she offers you, watching the water slosh back and forth. 

Is she trembling?

“You ought to eat something,” she admonishes gently, waving a hand towards the food waiting on the table nearby. “You slept through the evening meal. I had my mind made up to wake you if you’d gone much longer, but thankfully I didn’t have to. So come,” she beckons, “Eat something. It will do you some good.”

Your stomach twinges at the mention of food. It’s been in upheaval for days now, and as such it’s been far too long since you had a proper meal. But whatever awaits in the dishes nearby smells enticing enough, so you allow Hyeri to help you out of bed. Your muscles are stiff with disuse and you grimace as you make your way to the table. Your eagle-eyed handmaid takes note.

“A long, hot bath will do you some good, too,” Hyeri remarks as you spoon lukewarm bulgogi onto your plate. You eat slowly as she busies herself with lighting the torches and stripping the linens from your bed. “I’ll have the maids bring up the water after you’ve had a chance to eat.”

You’ve only managed a few bites of the bulgogi before there’s an army of maids filing into the chamber, flitting about the room like a swarm of bees. You watch the entire affair in a daze as the maids make quick work of the tasks set before them: tidying and sweeping the chamber, draping your bed in fresh linens, filling the tub with steaming hot water. And when all the commotion is finally done, Hyeri dismisses them with strict orders not to return unless they are sent for. 

You are grateful at once for the silence that immediately falls over the chamber. Even Hyeri leaves you for a while, disappearing into the antechamber to prepare your toilette. But when you glance over at her chair, Hyeri’s book is gone. Along with whatever was written on the vellum inside.

“Come now, Your Grace,” Hyeri says, at last. “I’m ready for you.” 

She leads you into the bathing chamber, where the air is humid and sweet. Then she helps you out of your rumpled nightgown and holds out her hand. You accept it, leaning into her as you step over the tub’s steep rim. Slowly you ease yourself down, sucking in a breath as the heat blazes a path up your feet to your legs and thighs. The water is hot almost to the point of pain but you withstand it, sinking until it laps at your shoulders.

“I used rose oil tonight,” Hyeri says, kneeling behind you and cupping your head in her hands. “I thought you could do with a bit of pampering.” 

The delicate fragrance envelopes you, carried on the curls of steam that rise just above the water. You breathe in the soft, floral scent and close your eyes; try to clear your mind. Hyeri presses her thumbs to your temples and starts making firm, soothing circles. 

“I remember the very first moment I saw you,” Hyeri muses softly. “I’d been so impressed by your poise.” Her hands move to the column of your neck and she kneads at the tight muscles there, pulling the tension from them with each pass. “You were little more than a girl then, but I could still see that you were lovely, inside and out.”

Were you? You’re not sure that you would even recognize the girl that stepped out of that carriage so long ago. You’d been so idealistic – so certain of the comfortable life that you would find here. Of the affluence and status and yes, perhaps, even love that you’d enjoy once you’d ascended to the throne. But that girl had been a nitwit. The woman you are now will never entertain such foolish notions again.

“I know that so much of this has not been easy for you,” Hyeri continues, setting to work on your shoulders. “I know that there have been days when you’ve struggled to put one foot in front of the other. But you have. And that means something.”

It does mean something. It means that your mother’s great work is finally complete. She’d spent her entire life molding you into the polished, empty creature you are today. If only she could see you now; see how biddable and pathetic you’ve become. It would fill her to overflowing with joy.

“Anyhow, when you’ve lived as long as I have you realize that nothing is forever,” Hyeri says thoughtfully. “Same as what you’re going through right now, Your Grace. It won’t be forever.”

Nonsense. Hyeri cannot change the King’s heart. She cannot save you from a lifetime of awkward exchanges and forced smiles simply because she believes things can change. And she cannot will a child into your womb simply by decreeing that it should be so. The swell of emotion that surges inside you is more powerful than anything you’ve felt in days. And it’s anger. 

“Hyeri, stop,” you order tersely. “No more.”

Her face falls at that, features going slack with dismay. But she heeds you, holding back whatever she’d meant to say next. Then she reaches for the soap and begins to wash your hair in silence. You chase the beads of oil that float along the surface of the water with a fingertip, cheeks hot with embarrassment. You hadn’t meant to be ugly to Hyeri. 

But then you’ve done many things of late that you hadn’t meant to.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur.

“It’s alright, Your Grace. I know you meant no harm by it.” Hyeri dries her hands off and then rises to her feet, looking down at you with a kindness you do not deserve. “I’ll leave you to soak for a bit. You can have a few minutes of peace before I return.”

You’ve been unfair to her, haven’t you? The realization cuts you deep as you watch her retreat from the antechamber. She’s served you in so many ways since your arrival here: as caretaker and as advisor and as confidante. And how have you thanked her? By being cold and distant. By unleashing all the frustration and resentment you feel towards the King on her. And what of the tears you’d seen her hold back while she’d been sitting by the fire? Have you been so mired in your own anguish that you’ve neglected to see hers? 

The water has begun to cool and your skin has begun to pebble by the time Hyeri returns.

“Forgive me, Your Grace,” she says upon her return, helping you out of the water. “The time got away from me. You must be freezing.”

“Only a little,” you lie, teeth chattering. Hyeri sets to drying you, throwing the damp linens on the floor to catch the rivulets of water that fall from your hair. Her dark eyes dart from your shoulders to your neck to your ears, but they do not meet yours. 

“Is something wrong, Hyeri?”

“No, no. Not at all,” she answers quickly, “Just a bit tired.” Her reassurance rings hollow because she keeps her eyes trained on the floor as she bends to reach for the rose oil. When she straightens, you catch her hand with yours, stilling her. 

“What were you reading tonight?”

Hyeri’s mouth opens in surprise and then quickly closes.

“I saw you sitting by the fire,” you admit. “You were reading something that looked to upset you.”

“And here I thought you were sleeping,” Hyeri grumbles, taking her hand back. She pours the oil into one palm and then warms it before pressing it to your neck, letting a long moment pass before she speaks. 

“It didn’t upset me,” she explains. “Not in a sad way. Those were happy tears, I suppose.” She pours oil into your hands and begins to gently massage it into your fingers. “It was a letter from my Sanghun, back when he’d been courting me so many years ago. You might find this hard to believe, but I wasn’t always the old woman you see now. I had more than my fair share of suitors.”

It’s not hard to believe. Time has been kind to Hyeri. Her features, though soft with age, are still striking. She must have been quite fetching as a young woman. 

“What made you choose Sanghun?” you ask.

“I don’t know that I had a choice in the matter at all,” she laughs as she helps you slip into a nightgown. “The moment I saw Sanghun, no other man existed for me. It was him or no one.” Her eyes go soft with a faraway look as she recounts the memory. “The other girls thought him too practical, too serious. But I saw a side of him that no one else saw. A part of him that was just for me.”

“You must miss him,” you say gently.

“Every day,” Hyeri admits. “Ten years he’s been gone and I think of him every day. Those letters remind me of what it’s like to be young and so in love that you’ll not see rhyme or reason. But –” she trails off and waves a hand as if fending off fresh tears. “Never mind that. Come sit.”

It’s unclear which of you she’s sparing from the memory. But as Hyeri begins working her comb through the lengths of your hair, you’re struck by how shortsighted you’ve been. There is suffering in never having the chance to love and be loved, certainly. But there is a different kind of suffering that comes with having that kind of love and then losing it. The thought humbles you.

Hyeri comes to stand behind you and begins working your wet hair into a loose plait.

“I’m sorry, Hyeri,” you say softly, gaze dropping to your hands. “I’m sorry that I haven’t thought to ask you about Sanghun. I haven’t been myself and I’ve just – “

Hyeri silences you with a soft hush. She secures your braid with a piece of linen and then drops to her knees to look her in the eye. “You have nothing to be sorry for,” she says softly, stroking a hand down the side of your face. “Nor do you owe anyone an explanation for feeling the things you feel.”

Her warmth thaws the frozen places inside you. It causes tears to spring to your eyes. And when she takes your hand in hers, you squeeze it gently — hoping that the gesture can convey the feelings you can’t put into words.

“Now put all of that behind you,” she says, smiling through her own unshed tears. “And come sit with me for a while.”

Hyeri leads the way into the chamber and you follow, only to stop short when the hearth comes into view.

When your gaze falls on the silhouetted figure near the fire, you nearly scream. You try to scream. But fear seizes your body, inch by inch – rooting your feet to the floor and closing around your throat like a shackle. You have no choice but stand there, staring in horrified silence as the figure begins to emerge from the shadows. In the span of one frantic heartbeat, the figure has a shape. In the next, it has a face. 

And in the next, it has a name.

“H-Hyeri?” you stammer, swaying on your feet as your legs threaten to give way. Your handmaid doesn’t answer and so you call out again, voice quivering. “Hyeri?”

You cannot take your eyes off the man standing before you. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t move, and so you stare as the firelight flickers over his stark, beautiful features. Shadows dance across his clenched jaw and knit brow. And his eyes – those dark eyes you know so well are fathomless, inscrutable – smoldering coal set in unblemished, unforgiving stone.

“Hyeri!“ you call out to her again, desperate – reluctantly tearing your gaze from the man to look for her. And when your eyes finally land on Hyeri, you find your handmaid standing near the chamber door, hands clasped together tightly. Streaks of color running up the thin skin of her neck and into her soft cheeks.

But she’s not surprised, is she? Not flummoxed in any way by finding Lord Jung lying in wait inside your private rooms. The realization comes over you slowly, wholly, until a strangle tingle runs from your scalp to the tips of your fingers. She’s arranged this, hasn’t she? 

“W-What is this?” The words leave you as more air than sound, but they ring out clear enough in the silence of your chamber. Lord Jung and Hyeri exchange a long look, but neither utters a sound.

“Someone speak!” you cry, wincing at the hysteria in your voice. 

Hyeri finally clears her throat, her face now fully aflame. “I believe the two of you – “ she pauses, swallowing hard. “Well, I believe the two of you have some things you need to discuss.”

Discuss? You and Lord Jung? Suddenly the panic you feel metastasizes, growing into something much darker. Has he come to admonish you, then? To punish you for your disloyalty? Has he come to lay bare every humiliating detail of that horrible night at the stables for Hyeri to hear? 

“No,” you whisper. You do your best to appear composed, despite the way your knees tremble. “I’m afraid you’re mistaken, Hyeri. I have nothing to discuss with Lord Jung.”

“Yes, you do.” The man in question speaks for the first time, his voice little more than a low rasp. “And we will.”

“No,” you repeat your refusal, shaking your head as though the movement will help sort your jumbled thoughts. “No. You have no right to turn up here and say what I will and will not do. And where did you come from? I saw you leave. I saw you mount your horse and ride off with – “

You stop yourself before you can finish the thought, flushing fiercely at the unspoken mention of the King. Your tedious, disinterested husband would be anything but if he had any inkling of this clandestine encounter.

“I was called back to the castle,” Lord Jung explains evenly. “A palace rider came bearing a missive bidding that I return at once to address an issue at the stables. I was but an hour’s ride away at the time.” Once again, he looks to Hyeri and they exchange another one of those maddening looks.

“But there was no issue at the stables,” you deduce quietly, the pieces falling into place, one by one. “Was there, Hyeri?” Your handmaid seems to shrink beneath the weight of the accusation in your eyes. 

“No, Your Grace,” she confesses weakly, “There was not.”

Oh, but your head is truly spinning now – each new revelation more disorienting than the last. How long have these two been conspiring together? What does Hyeri know about what’s transpired between you and Lord Jung? What does he know about the many private things you’ve shared with Hyeri? Both thoughts cause the bile in your stomach to rise.

“You can leave us now, Hyeri,” Lord Jung says. “Thank you.”  

Leave you? Has the man lost all good sense? You open your mouth to protest, but when met with the intensity in his glittering dark eyes, words fail you. You just stand there, mouth agape, rendered mute and immobile with shock. You look over at Hyeri, who has fixed her pleading eyes to your wide ones, her expression urging you to comply. And though you cannot make sense of a single thing that you’ve witnessed tonight, you do.

“Very well, My Lord,” she says quietly. “Rest well, Your Grace. The staff rouses at dawn.”

And with that Hyeri takes her leave, the chamber door closing behind her with a heavy thud that echoes the one in your chest.

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

Once you are alone with Lord Jung, you realize how truly vulnerable you are.

With little more than a thin nightgown to cover you, he can see far more of you than would ever be considered proper. All it would take was one shout from the man to bring the guards running, to compromise you both to the point of expulsion. Perhaps worse.

But the situation is far weightier than that. 

You’ve been vulnerable to this man from nearly the first moment you saw him. You’d been weak to his attention and charms. You’d allowed him to see you in ways that no one else has: not Chaehee, not Hyeri and certainly not the King. And the only time in your life that you’d thrown caution to the wind – and acted with abandon, not restraint – he’d mortified you. The memory of that night is a wound that’s just barely begun to heal, and now here Lord Jung stands, poised to pour salt on it. 

You’ll not allow him to devastate you again. 

“Go on then,” you say, lifting your chin and speaking with feigned bravado. “You’ve gone to great lengths to speak to me, so speak. I assume you’ll enlighten me as to which matter is so pressing that you felt the need to steal into my chamber and risk ruin for us both.”

“I know what I’m risking,” he growls. Then he stops to collect himself, exhaling deeply as he shoves a hand through his hair. “I know what we both stand to lose. But I could not come to you any other way.”

“Why have you come to me at all?” you demand. “You made your feelings quite clear the night of the festival, did you not?” You can no longer contain your bitterness and it drips from your every word. “You should go back to your sovereign, My Lord. Back to your King.”

Lord Jung looks stricken when you use his own words against him. There is a despair in his dark eyes that might have pained you once, but not now. Not anymore.

“You have every right to be angry with me, Your Grace,” he acknowledges. “And if you bid me to leave, then I will do so. But not without telling you the truth. You deserve to hear the truth.”

“Everything here is a lie. Perhaps you, most of all.”

He looks at you for a long moment before turning towards the hearth to gaze into the fire. Orange-red light illuminates his profile, sweeping across his smooth brow, over the elegant slope of his nose and down to his strong jaw. He is still the most beautiful – and most terrible man you’ve ever known.

“The King said he would give her up,” he says woodenly, staring into the flames. “When your marriage was announced, he swore it. And I believed him.”

Every muscle in your body pulls tight.

“I knew that he loved her. We all did. But he vowed that he would respect his father’s wishes and I’ve never known him to be a duplicitous man. I’ve never known him to say one thing and do another. And when I realized that he’d been deceiving you, deceiving us all, I – “ he stops and shakes his head at the memory. “ – I wasn’t thinking clearly. I confronted him at once and demanded that he explain himself.”

The argument in the courtyard. The memories come back to you in an instant. The way they’d both looked so irate, the way their voices would rise and then fall. Lord Jung turning his back on the King and stalking away into the dark. 

The tightness in your chest is unbearable now, viselike. 

“I was so damned angry,” he whispers, more to himself than to you. “Never once in my life have I imagined putting my hands on the King, but in that moment – I don’t know. I don’t know what I might have done had I not walked away. But I confronted him because I had to know why.”

He rips his gaze from the fire and turns to you, eyes flashing.

“And do you know what he told me? Do you know what he said when I asked him why he would insult you by keeping a lover? He told me that he couldn’t stay away. That he’d tried to do the honorable thing but he couldn’t stay away.”

“Why are you telling me this?” The tremor in your voice belies your pathetic attempt at composure. “If you mean to cause me pain, it’s too late. I’ve known about the King’s lover since the early days of this marriage, and I’ve accepted it. Just as I’ve accepted that I’ll never amount to more than a trinket he dusts off to show to his people.”

Lord Jung takes a step towards you, his beautiful face hard in the firelight. There’s a maelstrom behind his eyes, a polite violence that sets you to shiver.

“I’m telling you this because I need you to understand,” he says. “I want to hate him. I have tried to hate him. But I cannot. I have no position of honor to stand on. No rightful claim to virtue. I have no right to condemn the King for his sins when I have so many of my own to account for.”

“I – I don’t understand,” you say weakly.

“I have no right – “ his voice breaks, thick with emotion, “-- I have no right to denounce the King for coveting another woman.” He drags a hand down his face, distraught. “Not when I have spent every single day since you stepped out of that carriage coveting you.”

You stop breathing entirely.

“So no,” he continues, voice graveled. “I cannot bring myself to hate the King. And you were right to think me a liar. I’ve pretended that my nearness to you was benign, nothing more than an act of service. I’ve tried to make myself look honorable to you, when I have been anything but. I’ve been a liar since the moment I met you.”

You are trembling now, head to toe. Rendered speechless by Lord Jung’s confession. Slowly, the maelstrom in his eyes starts to recede. He looks as vulnerable now as you feel. 

“You deserved to know the truth,” he says quietly. “If from no one else, than from me.” 

There is a heavy silence in the seconds it takes you to find your voice.

“My Lord, I – “

“Don’t call me that,” he pleads. “Please. Not now. Not when I’ve come to you like this.”

“Very well, Hoseok. But you sent me away. In the woods that night, I’d asked you to – “ you stop, not wanting to say the words aloud. “What’s changed? Why are you telling me this now?”

“I have tried to leave you alone.” His voice is ragged now, anguished. “I thought if I could just put some distance between us – if I rose earlier and worked harder and retired later – that I could exhaust this need out of me. But I can’t.” Torment is etched into every line of his beautiful face. It makes you want to reach out and touch him but you resist, uncertainty keeping your hands pinned to your sides.

“I cannot war with myself any longer,” he says hoarsely. “I cannot continue to lie to you or myself. And if he is not willing to give you the things you desire, then I will.”

Heat rushes to your cheeks, your neck. It gathers in your belly, too.

“So if you’re asking me why now?” he says, taking another step towards you, closing what little distance remains. “It’s because I couldn’t stay away.”

He touches you then, takes your face into one warm hand and strokes his fingers down your temple, smooths the pad of his thumb over your lips. The featherlight touch raises goosebumps all over your skin. It’s more intimate than anything you’ve ever experienced with the King. 

“Do you still want me to kiss you?” he murmurs. 

“No,” you breathe. “I want so much more than that.”

He looks at you with such heat that the warmth in your belly goes molten. Then he presses his mouth to yours and slowly coaxes it open with gentle strokes of his tongue. He tastes of whiskey and smells of fine, heady soap and he does not relent until you are panting. Moisture gathers at the juncture of your thighs, beneath your thin nightgown.

But suddenly you are apprehensive. You’ve no idea how to kiss a man properly, much less satisfy him as a lover. And you’re not sure that you could ever live down the shame of disappointing him. When he finally pulls away to look down at you with heavy-lidded eyes, you have no choice but to confess.

“There’s something you should know, Hoseok,” you say, the sound of his given name still foreign in your mouth. “It’s just that – well, I am by no means a maiden but in some respects, I might as well be. I know almost nothing about how to please you.”

Anger flashes in his eyes, and for one terrifying moment you fear it’s for you.

“That is through no fault of your own,” he says darkly. “And if he’s been too much of a fool to see to your needs, then so be it.” He dips his head to press a kiss to your ear, then whispers, “Your pleasure will be mine and mine alone.”

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

Hoseok spends an inordinate amount of time tending to the fire. 

You sit on the edge of your bed and watch him, feverish with anticipation as he moves the weakest logs and adds fresh ones. Once he’s satisfied, once the chamber is glowing with fresh flames and warmth, he cleans his hands and comes to you.

Your heart rattles harder with each step he takes towards your bed. 

When he’s finally standing at the foot of your bed, he takes off his belt. And then reaches behind his head to pull his tunic away. The sight of his bare chest is enough to make your mouth go dry. His body is lithe and sleek and strong, his muscles rippling as he puts his hands down on either side of you and lowers his mouth to yours for a kiss.

“Tonight is about you, pretty bird,” he murmurs, trailing more kisses across your cheek, down your neck. “So I want you to tell me everything you want.”

“I want to see you.” The words leave you in a rush an account of the way his mouth moves from the juncture of your neck and to the hollow of your collarbone. “All of you.”

Hoseok wastes no time in straightening to his full height to remove his breeches, and then his smallclothes. And try as you might not to stare, it cannot be helped. You’ve never been able to study a man like this. Not even the King.

“Can I touch you?” 

“Please,” he groans.

And then you are cautiously reaching for him, wrapping a hand around the length of him, marveling at the way he pulses in your palm. You run your fingertips down the skin of his shaft, awestruck by how silky and warm he is. But when your fingers reach the blunt head of him, he flinches.

“I don’t – I’m sorry,” you say quickly. “Did I hurt you?

“No, no. You didn’t hurt me,” he assures you, his voice sounding a bit strangled. “I’m just sensitive there, is all.”

“Will you show me, then?” you ask, curiosity far stronger than any self-consciousness you might feel. “Show me how to touch you.”

“Of course.”

He sits down on the bed beside you, taking hold of your hand. And then you watch with a heady mix of confusion and excitement as he takes your fingers into his mouth one, by one. He finishes the unfamiliar preparation by licking a long stripe up the palm of your hand. The stroke of his tongue sends a bolt of desire racing through you.

“It’s easier like this,” he explains, guiding your hand back to his length. You take hold of him again and this time he wraps his hand around yours. He moves your hand for you, up and down the length of him, until you can feel him growing hotter and harder in your hand. You’re fascinated by it all – by how firmly he wants to be touched, by how labored his breathing becomes, by the way the muscle and sinew in his legs seem to twitch at your command.

He leans over to capture your mouth as he begins to buck into your hand in earnest. And after a while his own hand falls away, leaving you to take control of his pleasure. And what an intoxicating power he’s given you – taut muscles in his abdomen flexing with each of his strained breaths.

“That feels so good, pretty bird,” he groans, taking your bottom lip between his teeth. “Just right. Your hand feels so good around me like this.” 

The wetness you’d felt between your thighs when he’d kissed you the first time returns, and each sound of pleasure he rewards you with makes you wetter and warmer. He is rock hard in your hand now, the dusky head of his manhood shiny with moisture. You watch a bead of it appear at the tip and you slide your fingertips over it, transfixed by how smooth it feels. Beside you, Hoseok shudders.

“I think that’s enough for now,” he says, breathless. “I’ll be of no use to you if you keep that up for much longer.”

You have half a mind to protest, but then his hands are sliding over the thin material of your nightgown, cupping your breasts through the gauzy fabric. He takes one of your nipples between his fingers and teases it until it’s standing at attention. You sigh.

“Can I take this off?” he whispers, pulling at the nightgown. 

You hesitate. Not even the King has seen you nude. Not once has he ever asked you to remove your nightgown and so for a long time, that is what you’d assumed he preferred. That is, until you’d caught him in bed with his lover. 

“Look at me,” Hoseok says, sensing your anxiety. He tips your chin up until your gaze meets his own. “I’ll not ask you to do anything you’re uncomfortable with. But I would be lying if I said that I didn’t want to use my mouth and hands on you. On all of you.”

You inhale deeply, flustered by the way he speaks so plainly about his desires. But that’s what you want, isn’t it? What you’ve longed for all this time. And that’s what he’s promised you, isn’t it? Pleasure. Pleasure that will be his and his alone. 

You draw your nightgown up to your thighs and then raise up to pull it even higher. When you’ve finally discarded it, when there is nothing left between you and Hoseok you flush, looking away.

“You have nothing to hide,” he rasps. “You’re beautiful. Believe me, pretty bird – you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.”

Emboldened by the praise, you draw nearer to him and trace the outline of his heart-shaped mouth with one finger. And then it is your lips that find his; your tongue that moves past the seam of his lips and your teeth that find the shell of his ear. You thread your fingers in his hair, and he groans, gathering you close.

“You can’t imagine how many nights I’ve dreamed of you like this,” he says, gently laying you back on the bed. “You can’t imagine how many nights I’ve taken myself in hand to these fantasies.”

Oh, but you can imagine, can’t you? The few times you’d dared to try and seek your own pleasure, it had been him in your mind’s eye as your hand was between your legs. It had always been him. 

Hoseok’s mouth leaves yours and when it  finds the tip of one aching breast, you gasp.

“Do you like that?” he goads, laving your nipple with his tongue, taking it between his teeth. The pang of pleasure he incites in you is so sharp, you cry out. “Your body is so responsive,” he murmurs. “So damned responsive.”

There is only so much of that particular torture you can take, and so when his mouth finally leaves your breasts you exhale a sigh of relief. But then his mouth is on your sternum, and then your stomach, and then –

You freeze.

“I want to kiss you here,” Hoseok explains, cupping your mound with one large hand. “I promised you pleasure and this is the surest way to it. Will you let me?”

He looks up at you from the edge of the bed, his dark hair wild and his dark eyes glossy with desire, his mouth hovering over your most secret place. Your pulse skitters, heart pounding erratically at the thought of him kissing you there.

“Is it – is it proper?” you ask, chiding yourself at once for asking such a stupid question. Your face flames when Hoseok raises a brow. “I don’t know that I’ve ever thought to consider the … propriety of such an act,” he says slowly. “But I know that you’ll enjoy it if you allow me to show you. And if you don’t enjoy it, I’ll stop.”

In the seconds that follow, you think about the way he’d let you take him in hand. How he’d showed you how to bring him pleasure, without reserve. How powerful you’d felt when he’d been shuddering under your touch. He’d trusted you, hadn’t he? Just as you now must trust him.

“Alright,” you whisper, nodding your assent. “I trust you.”

He grins at you then, wickedly, before lowering his mouth to your mons. And then he is kissing you there, softly, each brush of his lips moving lower and lower still. Until you feel the heat of his breath at your entrance. You tense.

“Relax for me,” he instructs, licking a long, wet stripe up the length of you. The touch sends a frisson of sensation shooting through your limbs. “Close your eyes and try to think of nothing but this.”

And then he sets his tongue to the tiny pearl at your entrance. 

And at once, you see stars.

“H-Hoseok!” you gasp, your hips flying off the bed at the contact. The urge to snap your legs shut is almost as strong as the urge to push deeper into the pleasing press of his tongue. Almost.

But he pins your legs down with his arms and continues the onslaught, stroking and licking at you with his tongue, nipping at you with his teeth. You grab fistfulls of the duvet as though it might ground you somehow, keep you from bursting into flame.

And then he slides one long finger into you.

You are incoherent now, moaning and begging in broken sentences that do not make sense. But your body is responding in ways that your words cannot, hips moving in time with his mouth. Each pass of his tongue sends sharp spikes of pleasure to your core. You’d thought you’d known what this pleasure felt like, that perhaps you’d be able to reach it on your own someday, but never once had it been like this. 

And then you can feel it – the coil turning inside you, the desperate ascent to the one place you’ve never been able to reach. And it’s so close, so so close – the promise of whatever awaits on the other side strong enough to sate this nameless craving that you’ve felt for so long. It’s within your reach now, if only you can just hold on.

And then it stops.

He takes his mouth and tongue away and the pleasure vanishes. “Hoseok, no,” you cry, sapped of all energy, robbed once again of the relief you so desperately seek. “Please,” you beg weakly, “please.”

But he’s at your side now, the length of his body resting against yours, his manhood hard and hot against your leg. “Come now, pretty bird,” he soothes, “I didn’t bring you this high just to let you fall.”

He presses his lips to your ear at the same time he presses his fingers back to the aching bud between your thighs. “Go on then,” he whispers. “Fly.”

He brings every sensation he’d wrought from you rushing back with his fingers. His mouth hovers at your ear, whispering his encouragement until the coil inside you snaps. He must have known that you’d not be able to contain yourself when you came apart because he covers your mouth with his own, swallowing the sobs he wrenches from you, bringing you down slowly as you come apart.

And when you finally come to your senses again, when your breathing has evened and your heart has slowed and every part of you feels liquid and languid, he smiles.

“I couldn’t risk you waking the entire castle,” he explains apologetically, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Forgive me.”

“There’s nothing to forgive,” you shudder through your quiet laughter, aftershocks of sensation rippling through you. “Quite the opposite, in fact. I’ve never – never experienced anything like that.”

“That’s mine,” he murmurs, going up on one elbow. “Just as I told you it would be.”

Indeed. But what about his pleasure? The firm reminder of it remains pressed against you, the rigid length of it leaking onto your duvet. You reach for it and he draws a sharp breath through his clenched teeth.

“I want to feel you inside me,” you say softly, noting the way a muscle tics in his jaw. You wrap your hand around him and squeeze, astounded by how feverishly hot he feels. “Please.”

Hoseok nods, climbing over you and settling his hips between your thighs. He takes himself in hand and when you feel the blunt head of him at your entrance, you tense again. But he doesn’t enter you right away. Instead he looks down at you, his dark eyes brimming with emotion.

“Are you certain,” he breathes, his brow dotted with a fine sheen of sweat. “I need to hear you say it.”

You lift up to kiss him, pressing your lips to his. “Take me, Hoseok,” you whisper. “Now.”

And in one sure stroke, he’s buried to the hilt inside you. 

Bodies sealed, fates sealed.

The force of his entry steals the breath from your lungs. And though you’ve been breached before, it’s never felt like this. You’re still sensitive from the pleasure he’d given you only moments before and each of his thrusts only heightens the sensation. 

You cling to him as he rocks against you, closing your eyes to revel in the fullness. He buries his head in your neck and thrusts harder, the sound of his skin meeting yours just as gratifying as it is lurid. And when he reaches between you to press his fingers to your pearl once again, impossibly you feel fresh pleasure begin to bloom.

Broken phrases fall from his lips, a string of curses and blessings and everything in between. And his coarse language doesn’t scandalize you; in fact it only causes you to hurtle towards the peak faster. And then you’re flying again – flying apart, scattering into a million pieces. Crying into his mouth as your release explodes into color and tiny wisps of fire slowly drift back to the earth.

But you come back to yourself just as his rhythm has started to falter, just as the steady cant of his hips becomes so frenetic that you know his own release is near. You have only a moment to mourn the loss of his weight and his warmth before he’s on his knees before you.

You’ve never seen anything more erotic. Firelight flickers over him as he throws his head back, the cords in his neck clenching as he takes himself in hand. And then he is groaning, long and low, as his release spills on to the duvet.

Then he collapses onto you, wrapping you up in his arms, turning you both until he’s on his back and your head rests upon his chest. And then you both lie there for a while, skin to skin,  watching the flames cast shadows on the stone.

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

Neither one of you sleep, the threat of dawn too near to indulge in any such luxury. 

“What happens now, Hoseok?”

You ask the question after he’s made love to you a second time, both of you too exhausted to move. Hoseok inhales and exhales deeply. “I don’t know. I have no control over the world outside of that chamber door, pretty bird.”

You map the lines of his chest with one finger, thoughtful.

“You told me earlier that if the King would not give me the things I desire, you would. Did you mean that?”

“I did,” Hoseok says, pressing a kiss to your hair. “If it’s within my power, then I will. I will give you anything I can.”

“Thank you,” you whisper, closing your eyes and breathing deeply. “Thank you.”

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

You sit by the window and take in the afternoon sunlight, eyes drooping as you fight to stay awake.

You cannot ever remember being so tired. You sleep in fits and starts now, two or three hours at a time. And your body is too fatigued to talk up walking again, though the fresh air and exercise would do you some good. But you will walk again, soon. It won’t be long before you’re sitting with your birds and reading in the gentle Spring breeze.

Hyeri charges into the room like a bull, the tea tray in her hand clattering loudly. You narrow her eyes at her as she approaches and she fixes you with a sardonic look.“Oh, hush you,” she grumbles, setting the tray down on the table and walking over to you. “I wasn’t that loud.”

But her scowl falls away as her gaze locks on the baby at your breast, her muted eyes glowing with admiration. 

“That’s a fine Prince you have there, Your Grace,” she says softly. Then she looks up at you and her scowl returns. “Though at the rate you’re going, I’ll never get to hold him, will I? You’ve an entire staff to help you with him, and still you refuse. You’re going to make that boy rotten.”

You chuckle under your breath as you stroke your hand over the tuft of downy hair at your son’s crown. He blinks up at you with his huge dark eyes, and your heart is filled to overflowing with a love that you once you thought you’d never know. 

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

y,all i finished it! hahah okay so listen. if you'd like to talk to me, i'd love to hear from you. please consider reblogging and dropping me an ask 💕

[gripefroot]

Cross-eyed and Tongue-tied

Follow up to this piece. Or rather, a prequel.

“Aren’t you done yet?”

Only years of practice not being startled by Law’s habitual reappearances and disappearances keep you from jolting in surprise. That, and the sixth sense you’d learned, noting how the air changes right before he does his little tricks. 

Hunched over the pottery wheel that dominates your living space, you don’t flinch when he looms over to take a look at what you’re doing. The delicate work of slicing the tool through clay makes a pattern around the bowl sitting on the wheel, which took most of the afternoon. Only a few more minutes of decent sunlight remain, and they must be utilized. Your back hurts from strain, but that’s outweighed by satisfaction. Nearly done, but he can see that for himself. 

“I’m hungry,” Law adds, like that will finish your process faster. 

Teeth gnawing on your bottom lip, you don’t speed up at all. He knows how you work. His fussing is purely meant to set you on edge, you don’t doubt. 

“You can leave without me,” you offer. “I’ll catch up.” Only a few more times around the rim. With a deep breath you pull away, spinning the wheel to the next side of the pot. 

“Ha!” Law says. “If I leave without you, you’ll never come. You’ll probably find another pot to trim and get distracted making that.”

He has a point. The tool slices through the earthy-red clay, swirls for decoration that litter tiny shavings around the pot. Law leans closer, close enough for you to smell soap on his skin and hear his even breathing. He doesn’t put his hands on the wheel to brace himself, which is a mercy for both of you, because last time he’d done that, he’d been stabbed by the knife you’d been using and the platter had been sprayed with blood. 

“Looks good.” His voice is a rumble that sends awareness up your spine. 

“Thank you.” As far as you can go again. You turn the wheel. One more section and it’ll be done. Before you put the tool back against the rim, a sudden kiss on your cheek has you blinking, startled out of focus. “What was that for?” you ask, bemused. Glancing up for the first time to see Law grinning, his face barely inches away. 

“A bribe,” he says. 

“I’m almost done,” you tell him, crabbiness sharpening the words.

“And if we don’t leave soon, they’ll be sold out.” 

“You must think the market is a bustling metropolis.” Bending over for the final time, you sink the tool into the pattern to continue. No sign of a break shows in the clay. A smile grows on your face, pleased at the outcome. 

“Is it not?” Law asks. He still hovers. “My crew doubles the population.” 

“Your crew single-handedly provides enough economy to keep the town afloat.” 

Done. Setting down the tool, you slowly move the wheel around to admire the pattern in the bowl, snaking and criss-crossing through the red. 

“Pretty,” he says. 

“Complimenting won’t rush me,” you say. 

“But you like it.” 

“I love it.” With a laugh you stretch out your arms and back, the muscles protesting from overuse and tension. Law’s hands immediately go to your arms, rubbing in all the right places as a sigh and a moan fall from your lips. 

“I can sell your stuff if you like,” he says. 

“Huh?” The movement has made lights pop in your vision, shutting out your workspace as reality jerks you into the present. Work has a tendency to shut part of your brain off. “Sell it? Where?”

“Here and there.” 

Stiffly you rotate on your stool to stand, shaking out your arms and legs. Law doesn’t back up (he never does) but he does tilt his head to the side, regarding you up and down. Then he starts to untie the apron around your back, a feeble attempt to keep your clothes tidy every day. 

“Yeah?” you ask, amused by this offer. He loops the apron over your head to toss aside. “And let me guess. You’re going to upcharge for imports and make an astronomical amount of money, most of which will go into your pockets.” 

Law frowned, pushing the rim of his hat higher. “It’s not easy, trade,” he says. 

“It’s not easy being scammed by the man in my bed, either.” Most of the feeling has returned to your extremities. Enough that you tip forward on your toes to kiss that frown on his face, which eases into a crooked smile. 

“I’m not scamming you,” he insists. “I’ll take a small cut. Not even enough to compensate for the time and effort it’ll take, so I’ll be losing money.” 

“How very generous.” 

“It’s a perfect plan,” he says. “You can’t ask for a better negotiator than me.” “Here’s what I think would happen,” you say with a smile, reaching over to pick up the tray the newly-decorated bowl sits on to take to a drying shelf. A nudge into your rear from behind doesn’t break your concentration, lifting the tray and turning on your heel with a narrowed glare at Law, who shrugs like he’d done nothing wrong. “You’re going to upcharge the heck out of my wares and people will buy them because you’re scary and mean.”

“Maybe.” He follows you into the next room, lit by the sunset through the cloudy windows. The earthy scent is home, stacks of fired dishes and drying pots filling the space to the brim. With a heave you hoist the tray onto a shelf, brushing your hands after stepping away. 

“And then they’ll find out, eventually, that my products aren’t worth the price you charged.” Chin high, you regard Law across from you. Unrepentant, as always. He shrugs again, this time with a smile. “And who do you think they’ll take out their discontent on? You, scary and mean? Or the lady who made the subpar wares in the first place?”

Something flashed in his eyes. “They wouldn’t come after you.” 

“Prove it. My name is stamped on the bottom of every single item.” You wave your hand at the room. Labeling all the products with your name is more vanity than anything, as everyone on the island knows you and your name. How could they not? Every one of their tables bears your dishes. 

“Not your location,” Law says. 

“But my location isn’t a secret, either. Plenty of people from this island have moved away and would recognize my name in an instant. I’d expect an angry mob at my door within six months of you carting away crates to charge an arm and a leg for.”

He snorts. “I don’t need to charge for an arm and a leg.” 

“You know what I mean.” 

“They wouldn’t dare attack someone with ties to me.” He seems to believe it, too, because as he says it his shoulders straighten out, standing a little taller. Hot, but not entirely convincing. Law acts mean, but behind that brittle exterior, you know better. How no one else seems to notice the melty tenderness in his eyes is a mystery. It’s so obvious. To you. 

Then again, you wouldn’t want him as an enemy, either. He’s much better in bed. 

“This is silly,” you say. “Let’s go get dinner.” 

“I changed my mind.” 

“What!” 

A glint in his eyes betrays his desire. His intense desire. “Let’s go to bed early,” he says in a rough voice. A tingle has your toes curling, but you ignore it.  

“No.” Lips pursed, annoyance flickering but too tempered by fondness to go anywhere, you stomp past him. The house is getting dark, and you grab a coat by the front door. One arm in, then the other. 

“We can eat tomorrow.”

His voice in your ear makes you hiss, less equilibrated than you’d been while working. Why did he do this? Spring up on you without warning? He could walk like a normal person! 

“You’ll be miserable all night, whining about being hungry,” you tell him. 

“Promise I won’t.”

“I’ll be miserable all night, whining about being hungry.”

“No, you won’t. I’ll keep you too busy to be hungry.”

“How did we arrive here?” Halfway out the door, you turn with a laugh bubbling out. Law looked so miffed in the indigo night, hunched over and surly. “Does it turn you on when we bicker? Is disagreement foreplay to you?” 

“So what if it is?” He pulls the door shut behind him. At the water pump in the front yard, you draw water to rinse your hands. Without a brush and soap it’s a cheap job, but works. Once your skin gleams you shut off the water, shaking your hands to dry. Law takes the steps down the yard one by one, gaze on you the entire time. Hands in his pockets. No coat. 

“If it is,” you say, pulling the collar of your coat tighter against the chill in the air. Autumn’s claws dig into the island, especially at night. How he managed in a barely-buttoned black shirt, you don’t know. “Then I can be nastier.”

He stops where he is. 

“Cruel,” you enunciate, but you can’t help smiling. “Absolutely villainous.” “Nah,” Law says, and resumes his way down the steps until he stops at the level of the water pump where you wait. “I don’t think you have it in you. How about you continue to be you and I’ll keep my thoughts about your mouth to myself?” 

“No,” you say. Wait a minute, shifting your weight, and then prompt, “Did that turn you on?” 

“You’re ridiculous.” But he smiles, shadowed by his hat. “Let’s go.” 

You loop your arm through his, though he didn’t offer it. “What were you thinking about my mouth?” you ask softly, and his barked laugh echoes to the stars. 

“Telling you would definitely constitute foreplay,” he says cheerfully. “Let’s save it for the walk back.”

Stars twinkled as the sky darkened, the worn trail to town only navigable by sheer practice. You could walk the path by memory, eyes closed and hog-tied. Leaning your head against his shoulder, his low hum tickles your ears. 

“It’s almost winter again,” you muse, pointing at a constellation just visible on the horizon above the sea. One that only appeared during the cold months.

“Are you going to move to town again?” Law asks. 

The cottage on the bluff is gorgeous in the summer, but winter winds from the sea tend to wriggle their way through the ramshackle windows and sagging walls. Cold hands make clumsy pots. Winters, for you, look like renting a room above the bakery to paint and fire dishes all winter in one of the baker’s ovens in exchange for new mixing bowls and jars for leaven. 

Winter tastes like fresh, hot bread, and aching loneliness. 

“Will you visit me if I do?” you ask. He rarely visited in the winter.

He’s quiet for a moment. Then, “How thick are the walls of the bakery?” 

“Not thick enough,” you mutter.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.” 

“I don’t like the idea of the baker’s six children peeping in,” Law says. 

“The tailor says this winter will be mild, anyway,” you tell him. “I’ll chance it in my house.”

Ahead, the shining lights of the town appear between the slopes of the hills that, miles down, gives way to the sea. The track descends through dusty soil, scuffing into the air. The first houses of town are built in the hills, candlelight and firelight twinkling on either side as the path widens into a road and the noise of the market becomes audible. 

“We’re lucky to find seats,” you say to Law a few minutes later. Stools at the noodle maker’s are hard to come by, especially with visitors. But Law’s crew appears to be occupied elsewhere; some flirting with women across the street, some notably absent. 

“Are we?” he asks in a vague sort of voice. His tattooed fingers rub a pair of chopsticks together, as if seized by the sudden need to be busy. Barely visible beneath the rim of his hat, his eyes dart to his crewmates, narrow, and then drop to his hands. 

“It’s a nice night. Everyone seems to be out enjoying the weather.” After the long, hot summer days, people in the town emerged to have their fill of company. It’s the same in spring. Smiling, you tap your feet to the beat of a guitarist nearby playing a lively tune. “It makes me want to dance,” you say.

Law snorts. “Don’t say that to Sachi.” 

“Why, would he want to dance with me all night?” 

Any amusement Law may have felt disappears. “Yes,” he says in a stony voice. Lips twitching, you nudge him with your elbow. 

“Jealous?” 

“I don’t want to dance with Sachi,” Law deadpans.

“No, would you be jealous of him? If he and I danced all night?” 

“You aren’t going to dance all night with Sachi. You have a strict bedtime.”

“Since when!” 

“Since just this second.” Law’s further bickering was smothered in a polite smile as two bowls of steaming noodle soup were slid across the bar of the stall. Fragrant steam fills your nose, stomach rumbling in response. 

“Thank you, Saizu. It smells delicious.” 

The noodle maker beams ear to ear. You’d never once seen him frown. “Ingredients have been cheap lately,” he says, wiping his hands on his apron. With no other orders, he’s inclined to chat. Law is disinclined; he starts to eat. “Ships to and from have been making their routes without getting harassed lately.” 

The broth tastes even better than it smells. Saizu’s best batch yet: whatever ingredients he’s been getting must be made by the gods. It’s a few moments before you’re composed enough to ask, 

“Pirates?” 

“None that I’ve heard of,” Saizu says. 

“I suppose I haven’t, either,” you say. Swallowing a clump of noodles, you turn to Law. “You’re the only one here that ventures out on the sea. Are there fewer pirates this year than normal?”

He chokes on his own noodles, a few splashes of broth hitting your coat. “Ahem.” He clears his throat. “Must be.” 

Saizu nods wisely. “A few of my bowls have been dropped lately. Can I put in an order for a dozen more?”

“Of course,” you say. “Matching design or something new?”

“Whatever you’re inspired to do. I haven't seen anything you’ve made yet that I don’t like.” His smile never falters, never hesitates. “But I will say, the last batch you gave me is my favorite yet.”

Saizu has always been one of your best customers. And most generous with compliments: while you and Law eat, he picks up a bowl from a stack and holds it to the light, pointing out the colors and details he likes the best. The black accents, the flecks of minerals shimmering in the fired clay. 

“I don’t know where you get your ideas for these designs,” Saizu goes on, tracing the ribbons of black around the base of the bowl. “Then again, I have the artistic abilities of a monkey.”

“Funny you say that,” you tell him. “Because I have the cooking abilities of a monkey.”

Saizu bellows with laughter. Law even snorts his amusement, finally coming up for air as the food in his bowl dwindles. Out of the corner of your eye you see him do a double take at the bowl Saizu still holds up to one of the hanging lanterns above the stall. 

“That’s your bowl?” he blurts. “You made that?”

You meet Saizu’s eyes. “Are you asking me or Saizu?” you ask. “Because it’s his bowl. I made it. He makes what goes in it.” 

“Are they all like that?” Law grabs his bowl of broth and lifts it, eyes widening as he sees the similar design on his own. He sets it back down slowly, though his knuckles have gone white. 

“Don’t like it?” Saizu asks. Heat rushes to your face, aware of the reason behind Law’s reaction. It was no secret to you that Law is your muse. But you’ve never told him so. 

“It’s fine.” Law’s voice cracks on the word. “Just fine.” He doesn’t meet your gaze, though you’re looking straight at his face. Before you can prod him for more, or confess, or something, a body straddles the stool on Law’s other side. And yours. Caged in by white uniforms. 

“Hi, Penguin,” you say. “Sachi.” “Hiya,” Penguin says. “Captain.”

Law grunts. Not entirely pleased by the company. 

“Good to see you again,” Sachi says. He’s on your side, facing you on his stool with significant enthusiasm. “Did you know Captain won’t drink out of anything but your mug?” 

How many months Sachi has been holding onto that tidbit of information, you can’t begin to guess. But the speed at which he says it suggests many. Raising a brow, you ask, 

“Is that so?” 

“Sure as I’m sitting here.”

“Yeah,” Penguin chimes in from Law’s far side. He leans toward the bar to see you, half-concealed by Law’s slumped shoulders. “I’m surprised he doesn’t sleep with it.” 

“Sounds chilly,” you say. Then, to Law’s defense, you add, “I didn’t know ships were the standard for dishware choices. How many mugs do you have to choose from that consistently choosing mine is so remarkable?” 

“We have one set,” Law says. “And I have one cup, thank you.” His glare for Sachi zooms past your face. 

Despite knowing Law for so long, he’d never commissioned you for his ships’ set of dishware. Gnawing on your lip, you remember, “You stole that cup.” It had been before dawn, over a year earlier, when you’d stayed in bed to blearily watch him dress to join his crew on his ship. He’d stopped at the door, plucked a mug out of a crate ready to be taken to the market, and left with it. 

Penguin gasps. “Captain! You didn’t!” “Her prices are really reasonable,” Saizu chimes in. 

“It was a memento.” Law pushes his empty bowl towards Saizu, who takes it. 

“Of what!” you laugh. 

Silence. Sachi breaks first into cackles, then Penguin, and then Saizu, clutching his belly for a laugh that echoes across the street. 

“Of what?” you repeat, leaning closer to Law. His cheeks stain tomato-red, casting you a look. “No,” you say in a hushed voice. Laughter tries to bubble out of you, face burning, but you clap a hand over your mouth to keep from giggling. 

“I meant to pay you back,” Law mutters. 

“Wow!” Sachi grabs your hand from your mouth, splaying out your fingers like some sort of zoo creature. “Your fingernails are really long.” 

“Yes,” you say. “I have no better tools than my own hands.” 

“Ah,” Penguin gives a wise nod. “That explains it.”

“Definitely explains it,” Sachi agrees. “We’ll be sure to alert the crew that there was nothing to worry about.”

“Do you mind?” Law grits out between clenched teeth. “You’re not on shore leave to spend the entire time harassing me.”

“They’re harassing me,” you assure him. Then to his crewmates, “Explains what?” 

Law grabs his cup to down water, as if the action will hide his blush. It doesn’t. 

“Why Captain came back last time with his shoulders and back all torn up,” Penguin says. “I could’ve sworn he was attacked by a wild animal. Bepo said he lost a duel with a tree branch.” 

Water sprays across the bar. Law hacks and hacks, face turning even redder. Penguin thumps him on the back several times before Law pushes him away. 

“Oh,” you say. The prickling danger of Law lashing out is a cold tingle down your spine. As embarrassed as you wanted to be by this topic of discussion, the best course of action was clear: diffusement. “Are you sure that was me and not someone else?” you ask in a light voice. 

“No, ma’am,” Sachi says. “You’re the only one.” 

“What makes you so sure?”

Saizu wipes down the bar from Law’s spat water. To his credit, he doesn’t say anything about the conversation, or the mess it’s making. 

“He rolls his eyes if we tease him about women favoring him anywhere else,” Sachi says.

“We mention you and he swaps our ears,” Penguin adds. “Sachi’s look terrible on me. Even worse than they do on him!”

“Hey!”

“Hey, yourself!” 

“If you’re jealous that Law has something of mine and you don’t,” you interrupt. “I have a few dog bowls I can send along.”

Law’s cough turns into a choking laugh. To Saizu he says, “If I tell you these two hooligans are pirates, will you run them off for me?”

“Ha!” Saizu grins. “Your whole crew is so good-natured I wouldn’t believe it for a minute. Best merchants in the North Blue.” 

The rest of your broth has chilled with the dropping evening temperatures. But you down it, anyway, smacking your lips together as you drop your chopsticks in the bowl. “Thanks again, Saizu,” you tell him. “And sorry about the highly-inappropriate interruptions.” 

“It’s not every night I get a free show,” Saizu says, eyes twinkling. 

Law slams a handful of coins on the counter. “Keep the change.” Saizu chuckles, and sweeps them into his pocket. 

“I don’t think that pays her back for the cup, Captain,” Sachi says. 

“Go kiss a sea sponge,” Law retorts. Twisting on his stool, he hops down in your direction, fingers curling over your wrist. “Let’s go.” 

“Good night, Saizu!” you call, already dragged away from the warm lights. Law is mightily determined when he chooses to be. “Bye Penguin! Not with tongue, Sachi!” 

“You!” Law hisses when the noise of the market was fading behind you. 

“Me?” you ask indignantly. “You stole my cup! And you never paid for it!” “I thought you noticed!”

“I did!”

“Then why didn’t you tell me before?” 

Away from the main market thoroughfare, the night was dark, and darker between buildings and houses. Law stops in his tracks outside the baker’s, where only a faint light could be seen from upstairs where the family lived. You squint to see his face better, backlit by the market lights. 

“I forgot,” you admit. 

“You forgot,” he repeats. 

“Yes.” Another rush of heat rises from your neck to your face. “Call me crazy, Law, but when you’re around my mind is on other things than a missing cup!” 

His eyes close briefly. When they open again, they’re gleaming, fastened on your face. His intensity makes you squirm more than Sachi and Penguin’s teasing had. He’s standing near enough that your neck cranes upward. Shoving your hands in your pockets, you lift your chin to meet his eyes. 

“I’m glad you took it,” you say. “That way you won’t forget me.” 

“Forget you?” Law’s laugh is low and rough. After a pause he adds, “I’ll take the dog bowls. Add them to my tab.” 

“Oh, you have a tab now?” 

“Don’t I?” 

Mulishly you scuff your shoes in the dirt. Nose crinkled with unwillingness to relent. “I’ll require down payment,” you tell him. 

“Oh?” 

“It doesn’t have to be cash.” Gnawing on your lips, and glancing around to make sure no one was in earshot, you tack on, “Does getting your mouth and tongue all over that cup remind you of me?” 

“No,” Law says. “It doesn’t talk back.” 

“Look who’s talking.” 

“I don’t tongue it. That’s weird.” 

“Tongue me, then.” 

“Take off your pants and I will.”

“Oh, yeah? Here and now? Where a few dozen people will be walking by in the next fifteen minutes?” 

“I’ll do it,” Law says. A shiver goes up your spine. The rumble of his voice is difficult not to believe, the breadth of his chest only a whisper away. The corner of his mouth lifts in a smirk. Lower, now, he continues: “But you have to tell me why you’re putting my tattoo designs on soup bowls and selling them.” 

Ugh. You should’ve known that would come back to bite you. 

“Because I think about you when I’m making pottery,” you tell him. Any hint of shame, he’d sniff out. Any suggestion of insecurity, and he’d pounce. He tended to do that, skirting around conversations as if they were battlefields. You’d learned long ago that the appearance of surrender brought him closer. 

His brows raise, as if shifting through the meaning behind your confession. “Is that the only time?”

“No. I think about you a lot.” 

Most of the time. Almost always. Life didn’t often require your full attention: making pots and bowls and platters was as mindless as folding laundry. And your singing chases birds away. Filling your mind with memories of the past or hope for the future with him kept the hours of dragging on too long. 

“So.” Law’s fingers reach out to brush against yours, but he doesn’t take your hand. Not yet. A breeze tickles his shirt, fluttering the short sleeves and the hem. How hadn’t Saizu noticed the similarities between his precious soup bowls and the exposed swirls on Law’s chest? You could draw the patterns in your sleep. “About this down payment.” His half-smirk blooms into a grin. He must have liked what you’d said. 

Tipping forward on your toes, you smile up at him. “What do you have to offer, Trafalgar?” 

He shrugs. “My body, mostly.” “Best merchants in the North Blue,” you laugh. “Saizu thinks a lot of you. And here you are, offering sex for dishes.” 

“I know what you like,” Law says. His fingers press into the inside of your wrist before skating higher, slipping beneath the sleeve of your coat. “I have strong negotiation power.” 

“I know what makes you cross-eyed and tongue-tied,” you counter. “My negotiation power is just as strong.”  

He grips your arm, tugging you along as he walks backward into the darkened alley. His smile is briefly lit by the market lights before blackness swallows him up. A moment later, and you’re swallowed, too. 

Without warning you’re pushed against a stone wall, the gasp of surprise swallowed up by Law’s mouth covering yours with unerring accuracy. His hands are all over your front, his mouth devouring. And you yield: your fingers clutch around his neck, tickled by his hair escaping from his hat. 

“Mmm,” resonates from his chest. Your hands slide down, finding his hot skin every inch of the way. Beneath his collar, over his shoulders. The night isn’t so chilly with his body snug against yours and heat building between your legs like a furnace. 

A burst of laughter escalates from your middle to your throat and out of your mouth. Law gives a grunt of displeasures when he pulls away. “What’s that for?” he asks roughly. 

“I didn’t realize I scratched you up so bad,” you admit. “I’m sorry. Especially since your crew has been giving you a hard time.” 

“You’re giving me a hard time.” His lighting quip is punctuated by his hips angling into yours. Not willing to be drawn into a discussion of his crew, then. 

“Oh, my,” you coo, still on the verge of laughter. “That feels uncomfortable. Are you suffering?” 

“Immensely.” 

“And after one kiss?” 

“One - ” Law nearly croaks. “I’ve been fantasizing about this all day. Don’t you remember?” 

Vague memories from his interruption at your pottery wheel and verbal foreplay surface in your mind. Gripping onto his shoulders, but with the pads of your fingers instead of the nails, you hum, nodding. “You may have mentioned it,” you say. Pinned in place by his body, you tip forward to find his jaw with your lips. “Once.” A kiss. “Twice.” Another. “All-freaking-day.” Down to his throat, where you bite the flesh near his Adam’s apple. Law’s laugh vibrates through your mouth. 

“Your fingers are ice,” he says. He wraps his own, much warmer, much larger fingers around yours, pulling them gently away from his shoulders. 

“Don’t tell me you’re shy now,” you tell him. 

“I’m not. I want to go home where you can get warm enough not to make my balls shrivel up from these icicles.” Brows raised, he makes his point by rubbing your fingers together between his hands, warm blossoming like a summer sun-kiss. 

Home. Home. He thought of your house as home? 

Law stops rubbing your fingers. “What’s with the look?” 

No weakness. He’ll sniff it out. “Nothing,” you say. “It’s a long walk back, are you sure you’re up for ten minutes of chastity?” 

Amusement flicks his lips upward, then long-suffering stamps them back down. Mouth drawn in a line, Law drapes a long arm around your waist until your chests are pressed together like clay, ready to be pinched together to be sealed for eternity. A leap in your chest causes a gasp, his eyes sparkling like dark diamonds as he studies your face. 

“Hmm,” he says. 

His mouth descends on yours. And sometime during that kiss, the building behind you isn’t blocking the wind anymore; but a brisk, sea-breeze sizzles through your clothes to pop goosepimples up and down your skin. With a shriek you jump in Law’s embrace, cheeks stinging with cold. Above his head, the moon shines. No longer blocked out by the bluffs protecting the town, or the town itself; a harsh, pearly light. 

“I hate it when you do that,” you say, but it’s a half-hearted complaint. He’s warm and you’re not: you snuggle in closer to his chest, putting your cheek on the top of a black whorl immortalized in Saizu’s bowls. 

“I know.” Lips send more warmth from your scalp to your tippy-toes. “That’s why I do it.” 

“And that’s your romantic way of trying to earn a long, cozy night of lovemaking?” 

“I think I clinched that back in the alley,” Law says. “If not three years ago.” 

Little prick. You set your chin on his chest to glare up at him, but he only grins unrepentantly back. He’s right and he knows it. That’s what’s so insufferable. 

“Carry me inside and we’ll see,” you say by way of negotiation. 

His grin widens. “Actually,” he says. “I have a better idea.”

You catch on when his arm becomes a vise around your waist. “Law, no!” 

But it’s too late. The night sky spins in black and moonlight and starlight.

[booburry]

Double Trouble Dieter Bravo x F!Reader x Javi Gutierez One Shot

Cont. of Pivot

Summary: Dieter & Javier Gutierrez are working on an upcoming project together and, to help with their creative process, they are spending more time together. The first time you meet Javi, it started with an intimate dinner and ended with the three of you in bed.

Tags (I have probably missed some): No use of Y/N, Dieter & Reader established relationship, Sober Dieter, Dieter still being chaotic, Javi being soft and seduced, Reader being a switch, oral (male & female receive/give), two boys kissing and a little more, DPV, Threesome (duh), Possessive!Dom Dieter, Passionate!Praising Javi, Quickie, Tiny bit of Sub!Dieter, Dieter still being soft outside of sex, Dieter being Poly, Pet Names, Spanish Pet Names, Reader speaks Spanish (writer does not), one single and much needed use of 'Papi', Author is in no way capable of speaking Spanish, was literally told by her Spanish teacher to drop the class to better spend her time doing anything else, and used copious amounts of various google searches to try to ensure it's accuracy while providing absolutely zero guarantees...except for 'Papi'.

A/N: Real quick, I never meant for it to be this long but I don't apologize for it lol. I want to be bold and say you will all love it, while also being too nervous to see if you do...these men have obviously taken a hold of me. I have also become obsessed with the idea of these three becoming a throuple and I greatly intend on making this a 'Slice of Life of the Rich & Famous' series. 65/35 split of smut to plot lol. As always, feel free to let me know if you enjoyed it ♥♥♥

Word Count: 17.3k... Thank you @cafekitsune for the banners

“Dieter! Dieter!” Another reporter called him over as you both stepped away from finishing a different interview—how many you had done at this point? Countless, and quite honestly, you didn’t entirely care to keep track. The only thing your eyes, body and mind wished to keep track of was looking at Dieter in his purple velvet suit that swirled with a beautiful pattern of roses done in black velvet. His beard and mustache were the perfect mix of messy and neat, his untamed curls in full form on top of his head, and a bright white pocket square that had made you crazy when he placed it in there.

It was always the stupidest shit that turned you both on with the other—or maybe Dieter and you were just always horny and perpetually DTF for the other.

Oh, and of course the man went nowhere without his signature sunglasses. ‘You can never get rid of the sunglasses, Dieter!’ his agent had told him after the Documentary boomed, followed by all of the paparazzi photos of him in his housecoat and sunglasses. It was now part of his ‘brand’ and despite how much that concept sickened Dieter, he played along. He admitted he was able to stomach some aspects of what he frequently called the ‘circus shitshow’ of the biz.

Dee guided you towards the woman holding an E! News microphone, his free hand reaching up to cover yours that rested on his arm. You knew he couldn’t walk away from any interview request, bound by contract as his agent had become quite savvy with keeping little, to no, loop holes that let Dieter get out of press and promotion work.

But that also meant his contract usually held very broad terms her agrees to in regards to press and promotional tours and award shows if he isn’t nominated. Thankfully his agent wasn’t an absolute shithead and bent to Dieter’s will when he really didn’t want to do something. For everything you disliked about him, you could agree and confidently say that he cared about Dieter’s wellbeing…he just cared more about keeping him famous, in demand and constantly bank rolled.

It was the reason he flew out to LA next week to record some voiceover for Netflix on some documentary series. Dieter promised you, when he told you about taking this job, that he would make sure to do the closest to his bedroom voice as they would allow. That made you forgive you for leaving you alone for a few weeks while he took care of a stack of work his agent had set up for him while he was in the states.

You saw a lot of phone sex and video calls in your future. A thought that did not make dealing with the constant interviews any easier.

Sensing your tenseness, and always ensuring to be soft and gentle with you in these moment, Dieter gave your hand a small squeeze, bringing you out of your thoughts to look up at him and see him smile at the reporter but you knew, from that squeeze, it was for you.

He knew you hated the sudden spotlight on yourself, on your past life, and your growing relationship with Dieter that came with the release of the documentary. He knew that these events made you feel tense and nervous, and he knew the only reason you attended was because of how much he needed you to be there for him. He knew you put on a brave face, being ‘a model actor’ as he would tease you, and happily play the role of the loving and supportive partner who embraced the spotlight.

It was the ‘embracing’ part that was incredibly difficult and where you needed to act. Loving and supporting Dieter was easy to do because you do love Dieter, you do want to support him and you were so unbelievably happy for his resurgence of recognition for his work because of this documentary and from the world seeing his fall from grace and his climb back up.

The world had fallen in love with him; his chaotic, honest, unabashed, self. Just as you had.

But that also meant the world had come to know you, and although quite a lot of them supported you both, even reached out to you and thanked you personally for saving Dee or for inspiring them to get help, there were a loud few who hated you for it. For being with him, and nothing else. It was shallow and you paid it no mind, until you were on the red carpets and suddenly you were self-conscious about what will be said of you after this. How would you be picked apart this time?

You ran your thumb along the bottom of Dieter’s hand, desperate for his comfort and immediately, as he settled in front of the reporter, he wrapped his arm around you and held you close to him, sensing and knowing how desperately you needed him as your pillar right now.

For all of the complaining he did about attending these events, he always thrived once in the moment. You always teased him for it and he always insisted he only enjoyed them because you were there. Together, you both stood strong.

“Elle from E! News.” The woman greeted the both of you as you finally approached.

“Hello, Elle, from E! News.” Dieter greeted with a cheeky smile and you knew his eyes were raking over her entire body behind his sunglasses—the thought helped you smile for the camera.

“Hi.” She said with a short and unintended pause as you saw her cheeks darken past the shade of her blush, obviously sensing Dieter’s depraved thoughts. “Um, the public has become enamoured with your story, seeing the rawness of your state throughout the documentary, seeing you rise from it. How does it feel to have that recognition and support?”

Dieter’s free arm swung to his side as he lightly rocked back on his feet, preparing himself to give a slightly varied answer to the same question he had been receiving all night.

“Well, Elle from E! News, I must say that it feels great and that it’s immensely appreciated. It’s one of the...many,” Dieter stressed the word with a dramatic swing of his head to look at you, the sudden and unexpected attention making you drop your gaze and try to suppress a bashful smile, “many, things that keep me on track in my life of sobriety.” He concluded and you could see from the corner of your eyes he was still looking at you, his adorable half-smile on his delicious lips—the same lips that had been between your legs on the limo ride here.

Despite what you wished to do, you knew you had been looking down for too long for this interview, and needing to avoid ridicule you raised your gaze to meet his, only to see his mustache twitch at your brave efforts.

“Yes!” The reporter continued as you and Dieter watched each other with a deeply loving gaze. “The public have also become openly supportive of the two of you! Especially after seeing the beginning and how it blossomed throughout the documentary. That steamy photo of the two of you in the pool.” Thankfully you had heard this story and topic enough to no longer blush when speaking about it publicly. Privately it was often used as an aphrodisiac between you and Dieter, but unlike him, you were not an exhibitionist for the camera and general public.

When you first realized it was going to be included, it enraged you knowing that the fucking cameraman had filmed god knows how much of your time with Dieter in the pool, now locked behind unaired footage. Despite your annoyance of this, however, it was a fact that only excited the shit out of Dieter. Something you had proof of as he had, during the showing at the premier, brought your hand over to feel his hard cock pressed against his pants when that moment was on screen.

But, by that point in time, his enjoyment of others watching him or him watching you with others was a well known and explored thing between the two of you, so it was no surprise what he had you feel at that moment. Shit, the first time you two had sex he told you he wanted others to hear how well he made you feel, how good he fucked you. In truth, it had become something you had started to enjoy more than you ever expected.

But not here. Not in these situations.

But at the premiere? Shielded in the darkness of the theatre? Well…you made sure to give his cock a short, loving squeeze before reaching up to pinch his chin, the auditorium chuckling with many eyes turning to you both when the pool clips had ended.

That part of the documentary was followed by some interviews of a few cast and crew saying how they had heard it happening, heard you, and that they all ran out to take a peek for when round two had started.

Round two was you riding Dieter on one of the lounge chairs after you both had lazily floated around the pool, giggling, flirting, and getting closer. Until the flirting got more serious and you were kissing more than talking, your hands starting to travel and take. When you felt how hard he was for you, how much he craved you…you had to take it for yourself.

It was with round two that you realized that despite how ferocious and possessive Dieter was with you, privately, he also loved little more than to be under you, submissive to you…your good boy.

Thankfully there was no footage of that, but the testimonials were enough to solidify that moment as a main talking point for Dieter in these interviews—which you didn’t mind as long as you didn’t have to be present for them.

“Yes, the famous scene…” Dieter cut in with a smile, his free hand reaching up once more to cover yours, giving you a small and loving squeeze, while his arm around your back steadied you. “What people don’t always focus on when thinking of that night, and let’s be real Elle from E! News...we all know what everyone is thinking about when watching that scene! But that night was the moment it all changed for me, this beautiful, amazing...” Dieter lightly shook his head, his eyes bulging as he seemed strained in thought, “there are no words to describe what she means to me, what she has done for me.” He confessed, kissing your cheek, purposefully lingering long enough for his mustache to tickle your skin and leave you with a smile.

“You have said in many interviews that she is the reason you attended treatment, is that right?”

“Yes!” Dieter almost yelled into the microphone. “A million times yes! Not only that, she helped me finally accept that what I was doing was...because I wasn’t addressing the things I needed to. I was heading for rock bottom and she allowed me to pause for a moment and pivot out of that trajectory. You...” Dieter paused a moment and you could feel his hand on yours lightly shake, the muscles in his body tense, as you knew the dreadful thoughts that seeped into his mind at this moment. “You would have a completely different man standing in front of you now if it wasn’t for her.”

Dee did a good job at keeping his voice level, but his tone was unmistakably solemn. However you could hear the strain, the tremor, the fear that encased those words.

It was the future that plagued him, the one he had been running towards while surrounded himself in chaos, the one that terrifies him to admit he wanted or felt deserving of at one point…horrified at the idea of slipping back to it.

It was those thoughts that always kept him up at night, the ones that had him weeping in your arms when he got out of rehab, and still to this day will occasionally do. Dieter was not normally one to be soft, especially when you first were together. It would have been easier to pull a tooth from his body, to have him go a month without sex, than have him talk about what was truly bothering him. Rehab thankfully helped that, and slowly since then it was easier for him to be more vulnerable with you, and you cherished every fucking moment he was.

“Well, I can confidently say that the world is grateful that you both found each other on the set of that film! Not only for the great cinema but because you both continue to seem more in love as the days go on!” Elle said in a cheery voice but you could feel the ice behind her words, the envy that it was you and not her. You just smiled as best as you could. “Last thing, Dieter, if I can?” Elle eagerly interjected as you were preparing to walk away. Dieter just raised his eyebrows and rocked his head forward to her.

Elle took a deep breath as Dieter got flirtatiously close, all while still holding onto your hand.

“There is buzz going around that you will be working with Javier Gutierrez on his next project, is that correct?” Dieter perked up at the question and you couldn’t help but smile, both at Dieter’s eagerness to answer a question he hadn’t gotten yet today and because of your own eagerness for that project.

“Yes!” Dieter answered enthusiastically. “I am very excited to work with Javi, he is a great guy, easy to get along with and it’s going to be a good time.”

“Some people are saying that there are already Oscar talks in regards to this film. What are your thoughts on that?” Dieter waited for the mic to be in front of his face to give an exaggerated groan.

“It’s a crock of shit—movie isn’t even written yet, how the fuck are they to know if it will be any good?” Dieter bit at the question and you tried very hard to not smile. You knew many would take Dieter’s words for saying the project could be shit, but it was because of his deep distaste for the ‘theatrics’ of the acting world that he snapped and bit back. He hated critics, reviews and all of that ‘shit’ while equally hating how fundamental it was to the success of a film.

Unfortunately, for Elle, she was one of those people who didn’t know what to do with Dieter’s response.

“Thank you both for your time!” She concluded with a small and awkward nod of her head but Dieter just dipped his body to catch her gaze before giving a soft and reassuring smile, putting on his charm for the camera and the woman.

“And thank you for yours, Elle from E! News. See you around.” He added in a way where you knew he would be asking you to bring her home sometime during the after-party of that evening's event.

--x--

“Our deal still stands, yeah?” You asked loudly as you put your last earring in, fluffing out your hair and checking every angle of your face to make sure your makeup was properly applied; there was no room to not look your best for tonight’s dinner.

“You really want to fuck him, huh?” Dieter called out from the bedroom, his voice echoing in a way that told you he was lying on the bed and staring at the ceiling, patiently (for now) waiting for you to get ready. You smiled as you did your tenth look over, slightly shifting your red silk dress so that it hugged all of your curves properly while draping where it should. The moment you started to think about how you would fuck yourself for looking this good you knew you were ready.

Dieter whined your name from the other room, deprived of your attention for more than a minute. His little protest did tempt you to make him wait a bit longer but you couldn’t do the same to your dinner date.

“Look at how I am dressed and answer that question.” You ordered Dieter as you walked into the bedroom, the dress draping at your feet, a small amount of fabric pooling on the floor but you knew his eyes were on the prominent slit that exposed your entire leg and thigh. His eyes fell on you, his intent to be dramatic and childish evident in his actions before he took you in and immediately leapt off the bed to snatch you into his arms.

“The answer is if he doesn’t fuck you, I will.” Dieter growled as he pulled you towards him, one arm wrapped around your waist, his lips to your neck and his other hand gripping onto the flesh of your bare and exposed thigh. His actions pulled a faint, shaken, gasp.

“Dieter…” you whispered as you let your head roll back, his lips moving from your neck down to the pillowy tops of your breasts, calling to him, pressed and positioned to already be slightly spilling from the top, demanding his attention.

His sloppy and wet kisses twisted your stomach and his soft, deliberate bites had you groan in boiling desire, already excited in anticipation of what tonight could bring, what you could get if you flirted well enough, but it was always the way Dieter grabbed you that made your pussy pulse uncontrollably.

Quickly you reached down to swoop the fabric of your dress as far from your body as possible before hooking your exposed leg over his hip, pulling on his hair so that his face was just below yours.

“You going to be a greedy, dirty boy and fuck me first, hmn?” You asked and Dieter immediately let out a whimper, his hungry and demanding gaze shifting into a soft, eager and submissive one. You used your leg to pull his body closer to yours and you could feel your wet pussy rest against his already rock-hard bulge. Lightly you pulled his hair a bit more while equally pressing into his cock. “You want to fuck me, don’t you? Want to rip this pretty dress off of my body, fuck me like a whore on the floor or restrained against a wall?”

You waited for him to respond as you grinded against him, yet all Dieter could do was let out a soft, satisfied, sigh as he closed his eyes. It was fucking irresistible.

“Take your fucking pants off and fuck me. Now.” You demanded of Dieter and his eyes shot open, his hands quickly moving to undo his belt buckle as he watched you with a deadly serious expression that only cracked when he harshly shoved his cock into you.

Your body lurched forward at the motion, but you knew better to recover for it was easier for Dieter to fuck you like this if he could control where and how your body swayed.

Instead, your lips found his earlobe and gave it a light nibble, coaxing from Dee an immediate groan and increase to his pace. Your hands traced over his face and neck, always moving, trying to grasp onto his skin or hooking your fingers into his beard and hair as you moaned into his ear.

“Your cock feels so good, baby.” You cooed as you swirled a nail on his cheek in a way you knew drove him wild, immediately feeling the effects of your praise. “You fuck me so good. Such a good boy, Dee. Such a…Fu-uck,” you stuttered, your head momentarily falling to his shoulder as Dieter fucked you with unbelievable ferocity, bending his body so that he could press into that place that always left you unravelled around him.

Your praise having a very immediate and physical response from Dieter.

“We do have a dinner to get to.” He teased, and despite you knowing there was no way he was going to leave here without feeling you twitch around his cock, you did not want to take any chances.

“Dee,” you growled before his thrust forced a moan from your lips, “you better fuck me until you make me come on that—” your speech was cut off with another thrust against your sweet spot, your head rocking back once again, “fucking godly cock.” You finished your sentence, your voice low and strained as your head fell as far back as it could.

Dieter’s mouth was immediately upon your throat, sloppy open-mouthed kisses mixed with grunts as he continued to rabidly fuck you like a dog in heat. Your throat closed as he brought the pleasure stirring within you to a boil, small choking gasps were the only sounds that could be let out until your body allowed you to scream in release, Dieter doing the same.

You melted around him and against him, feeling his release fill you as he twitched against your walls.

“Don’t you get any on my dress.” You growled a warning into his ear, your arms wrapped around his head as you held onto him for support. Dieter just chuckled and you smiled—he knew he would be in for some unpleasurable pain if he damaged something so beautiful of yours without your permission. “You are such a good boy, baby.” You praised him with another kiss to his temple. “Let me get cleaned up and we can get going.”

-x-

The restaurant Dieter chose for you all to meet was gorgeous, small and intimate, with only twenty tables, at most, within the establishment. The moment you walked past the entrance your eyes fell to the table in the center of the room where Javi sat, alone. His gaze perked up at the sight of you and Dieter and he immediately stood up, raising his hand as high as he could into the air and waved at you both—as if you were at risk of not seeing him.

Dieter took your hand to steady you as you descended the short set of stairs into the dining area. He always took it and never offered, a fact that would have made you smile if you weren’t already from how Javi reacted to you both. Looking down at the stairs helped hide your expression from both men and allowed you enough time to compose yourself.

Javi was ready with your chair out, helping you get seated and giving you an enthusiastic, suave, nod of his head, his smile spreading to impossible widths as he watched you before turning his attention to Dieter.

“It is so lovely for you two to join me, thank you.” He reached out and clasped Dieter's hands within his, providing a short, firm, and affectionate shake of their hands before he released them and sat back in his chair. “I hope you do not mind, I took the liberty of ordering some tapas—I was looking at the menu and getting hungry.” He explained softly, a light and shy smile given as an apology.

“Didn’t mean to be late.” Dieter responded and an immediate sign of relief showed in Javi’s expression when he realized that there was no upset with his forward action—an action that was entirely tame, domestic, by your standards, not forward in the slightest.

Cute. You thought to yourself with a sweet smile.

“Javi, this is—” Dieter began to introduce you but Javi sprang from his seat to kneel next to you, grabbing your hand in such a flurry of actions you were truly startled—even Dieter was stunned into silence and you couldn’t truly recall the last time that ever happened without you being fully naked, exposed and in an extremely creative and demeaning position.

“Dieter told me so many things about you, shown me so many photos yet you are more beautiful in person.” He greeted you earnestly before planting a soft kiss on the back of your hand. “I have to say before dinner begins, otherwise it will eat me from the inside, that I have fallen in love with the art Dieter has shown me of yours.” His confession had you snap your head to Dieter, a look of hurt and concern mixed into your soft emotions from receiving Javi’s praises.

Dieter knew how sensitive you were about your art, about it being shared with others, your fear of any chance of it being exposed and left for ridicule from the world.

“Do not blame him, princesa, I took his phone and looked myself. He only told me after how you did not wish this to be shared, and so I needed to apologize to you for I did not mean to offend such a beauty as yourself, but you must know that you have a gift that must be shared.” He rambled through his confession, still on one knee before you, your hand delicately held in both of his while his head took a dramatic dip. “It has been too long since my eyes have rested on something that evoked such passion. I needed to meet you, and I apologize for the secrecy of that agenda. Forgive me.” He begged you at the end, but his words left you utterly speechless.

Not only had he seen your art, the art you most likely had painted in your home studio, the art you had created from some of the most vulnerable places as you had worked through your own issues while Dieter started his sobriety, but was Javi confessing to orchestrating this dinner so he could meet you?

You couldn’t believe it.

Thankfully the waiters with the small appetizers arrived at the table, interrupting your ability to reply—even though you were still lacking the words. Javi moved back to his seat but his worried eyes did not leave yours. You glanced towards Dieter, who was simply acting as an amused bystander to the whole ordeal.

“I am glad my work could evoke such devotion.” You managed to murmur, looking at the table and feeling uncharacteristically bashful, as if you had a thousand cameras pointed at you, hundreds of microphones shoved in front of your face, demanding to know everything you were feeling. No man’s attention had ever stirred you like this. Dieter has done, and does, many things to you even with a single glance, tortures you, makes you crave for a single lick of his affection, but it never like this yearning—this sudden desperation and loss over something you never knew you needed, had or ever lost.

The temperament settled for a bit after that, food distracting you as the men diverted into discussing their movie and what they wanted it to be about. Two lost brothers, separated by birth in a war-torn country, reconnected as older men to rediscover themselves and what they had lost.

It sounded like a lovely story, an emotional concept and most definitely something that would carry ‘Oscar Buzz’ if done correctly—which you had no doubt these two brilliant minds would accomplish.

They continued with that conversation until dinner arrived, and Javi, once again, glanced at you with his shy smile.

“My apologies, mi amor. We did not mean to exclude you.” He apologized and proceeded to patiently wait for your response.

“Quite alright, you had to hold up the facade of why this dinner was originally requested.” You teased him with a wink, his cheeks immediately going crimson. Quickly, he glanced down at his plate and pushed his vegetables around with his fork.

“Indeed, I would not wish for someone to get the wrong idea.” Javi agreed lightly before shoving the vegetables he played with into his mouth, nervously chewing. You followed him, cutting a piece of your steak, swooping it into your mashed potatoes before placing it in your mouth. Your gaze did not leave Javi’s, you wanted to see how his expression pinched and shifted as you wrapped your tongue around your food to bring it into your mouth, a small smirk present as you chewed.

It was your smirk that seemed to make Javi realize he had been staring and he brought his attention back to the plate in front of his face.

“What would be the wrong idea, Javi?” Dieter called out to the shy man, his forearms fully laid out on the table, fork and steak knife in hand as he watched Javi curiously.

Javi’s mouth opened and then closed. He looked at you quickly and then back to Dieter. It was evident he didn’t know what to do, didn’t want to say what he had already alluded to—that he was here for you.

That he wanted you.

“Did Dieter tell you I spent a year in Spain?” You asked Javi, gently providing him with an out from the topic he wanted to avoid, a topic you would circle back to later, but for now, you needed to relax the poor man.

“No, he didn’t!” He informed, immediately falling into the trap of your question, or simply forgetting his previous worries while getting lost in your gaze and presence. Either option made you happy. “Please, tell me of it.” He asked politely yet his eyes begged you to share with him.

“Dénia es donde pasé mi tiempo.” You softly responded, telling him of the place you lived while there. “It was a lovely city that gave me a lot of healing and peace.” You added the last part in English so that Dieter did not feel completely left out of the conversation however the way Javi’s soul seemed to leap towards you when you spoke his native language could have ended you.

“Your Spanish, cariño...” Javi whispered as he shifted his body to fully face you, a slight quiver to his wide, puppy dog, eyes. “You should never have to speak another way.” Javi paused, his mouth open, little twitches giving the impression he still had something else to say, which he eventually got out. “Háblame así te lo ruego.” He whispered his plea, his spoken beg, for you to speak to him in his native tongue.

No person, no matter how strong their will was, could resist such a sweet request from an even sweeter man.

Immediately you and Javi dove into a fast paced conversation, Spanish rolling off your tongue as if it was your native language, Javi’s eyes widening as he engaged with you.

Dieter immediately started drumming his fingers against the table with impatience. He managed to hold in his words a lot longer than you thought he would, given how quickly he becomes pouty when you flirt with other men.

“I don’t fuckin’ speak that,” Dieter interjected, Javi’s eyes immediately darting to look at him as he leaned back into his chair—you hadn’t noticed how close you both had leaned into each other. With a smirk, you gracefully turned to look at Dieter.

“I would think for a piece like this, you would learn his language.” You pouted to him playfully, but something in the base of your belly screamed at how you would love to hear that beautiful language come out of that man while he had you under him—all the degrading and dirty ways Dee would speak to you. Javi enthusiastically agreed with a solid and excited ‘Yes!’, regarding Dieter learning Spanish, but neither of you heard him.

You watched as Dieter initially rejected the idea almost immediately, knowing he would have to put a substantial amount of effort into something that was for a single role. It had been a part of his re-instated values for himself when returning to acting while ensuring his sobriety. He wasn’t going to deep dive into the method, and he wasn’t going to get lost in it…he needed to always want to be grounded within himself—or within you.

But as you just watched him, line after line of what you wanted to hear Dieter say passing from one ear to another, you felt your body fill with an insatiable lust for something you could not have but desperately wanted. It was the subconscious bite of your lower lip that made Dieter shift his expression, suddenly realizing that there was a reason to learn such a thing beyond a single role, even if he didn’t know exactly what it was.

“What do I get out of it?” He asked you, his words quick, voice low to match the darkening behind his gaze and the flare of his nostrils, a corner of his mouth twitching upwards. You smiled, feeling like you had managed to lure Dieter and catch him with your request, now you just had to reel him in.

Slowly you leaned forward, lifting your body from your seat so that the tips of your noses were almost touching. While Dieter was fully focused on you, the world around you two most definitely melding away in his mind, you were very mindful of Javi’s gaze on you both and you couldn’t help but wish to catch two fish with one net.

“You show me what you do with that mouth,” you whispered, your finger raising to run over Dieter’s cracked lips as your eyes followed, before snapping your gaze back to meet his, “and I promise to show you something new I can do with mine.” You saw the relaxation within Dieter’s gaze, a momentary release from the tension you knew was building within his body, satisfied with your terms.

You knew it drove him wild when you would act forwardly in any public setting, especially one as intimate as this, with little to allow you to hide. Dieter’s gaze held a promise he would later show you how satisfied your words left him feeling.

“Wow!” Javi exhaled the word like it was his last, exasperated, breath and it reminded you and Dieter to pay attention to the other member of this dinner party. You turned to apologize, wanting to be polite yet desperate to know if you had caught two fish with your little display, and as you saw Javi watch you with childish awe and excitement, you knew it had worked.

His eyes washed over your body as his eyebrows fell into rest as he continued to soak you up, a soft and shy smile twitching across his lips before he looked at Dieter.

“I now understand, my friend, what you meant when we first met.”

All Dieter did was provide a shrug full of self-satisfied pride as you rested back into your chair, brazenly crossing your legs in a way that let both men have a peek at what lay beneath your silken dress—nothing but your beautiful, delicious, soaked and well fucked, pussy.

They both could not help but look, Dieter naturally adding flares and dramatics to his motions, while Javi briefly unabashedly stared before locking eyes with you and giving a few soft, short, and shy nods before quickly casting his gaze to the ground.

It brought a satisfied and endearing smile to your lips as you reached out a hand to rest it on top of Javi’s, giving it a small squeeze of reassurance. It felt impossible how soft his sun-kissed skin was, how warm his hands felt under yours—it all matched his aura and demeanour.

Truly, the man was more enamouring than you could have ever imagined and you could tell the gesture was something he greatly appreciated and responded to based on how lost and lonely he looked when you withdrew your hand, turning your gaze back to Dieter who seemed to be watching the same thing.

“You saying sweet things about me, love?” You ask with a false sense of surprise, Dieter softly laughing before gesturing an open hand towards Javi.

“You wanna tell her what I said?” He asked, pitching his chin to his chest to be able to look at the man above his sunglasses. That posture alone always made your nostrils flare so you could breath deep enough to stop your heart and pussy from beating too fast.

But when you saw how you saw Javi squirmed at the question? Well, that made your thighs clench and pussy unequivocally quake.

His eyes darted to you as you leaned towards him, purposefully positioning yourself so your plump breasts were pushed up and within anyone’s vision if they were to look at your face. You watched as his throat slowly clenched as he strained to swallow, the tight shirt he wore giving away to the short and shallow breaths he was allowing himself as he gained the faintest red hue to his complexion. With a final, sharp, breath, he looked back at Dieter as if to clarify if he should.

Your eyes did not leave Javi, so you had no idea what Dieter did, but you assumed it was a gesture or mouthed words, for Javi hesitantly looked back at you while bearing a grave expression as if he was about to tell you one of your loved ones had passed away.

It swirled a storm in your stomach to see innocent Javi torture himself over whatever Dieter told him about you, which would have been nowhere near the worst and most degrading things he has said about you or to you. Yet you could see it tear your sweet Javi apart from the inside, afraid to hurt or offend you while what his vision soaked in evoked an opposite desire.

You slowly reached out and placed your hand on his.

“Whisper it to me in Spanish, Javi.” You softly asked of him, your gaze not leaving his while giving him your best ‘fuck me’ eyes. You could see it twist him on the inside before giving a few short, shallow, nods of his head.

“Now I really understand what you meant.” He spoke as if out of breath, his chest rising and falling as one would from running a marathon, yet he still did not repeat the things Dieter said.

“You still haven’t told me what sweet praises Dieter said about me…” You whispered this time as you dragged your index finger over his hand and up his arm, lightly pressing your pointed nail into his skin. Suddenly Javi grabbed your hands and cradled them within his, pulling you from how you had yourself positioned so that he could look at you directly with nothing but an earnest and soft expression of admiration.

“Encantadora...” He whispered to you, but you knew that wasn’t what Dieter had told him because, among the many things he called you that you loved to hear, he would have never described you as ‘enchanting’. “He said you are like a pheromone, irresistibly beautiful and bright, a star from the sky among the mortal man.” Javi continued to whisper to you words you knew definitely would not have come from Dieter’s lips, and the realization of that evaporated your bravado as you suddenly became soft and entranced under Javi’s gaze and praises.

Briefly, the sound of Dieter’s sarcastic, amused, sharp laugh pulled you from Javi, but he squeezed your hands while his face tracked yours as it moved, his eyes always pinned to yours, a soft smile on his delicious lips.

“I did not think a person like that could exist but I finally understand why he made such claims...” Javi admitted, raising a hand briefly to kindly and gratefully gesture towards Dieter before turning his attention back to you. “Look at you, hermosa, in all of your glory.” He whispered his praise as he continued to acknowledge you with unimaginable awe and disbelief.

The words and expressions were too much, causing you to widely smile and uncharacteristically pull your hand away to cover your face, overwhelmed and extremely bashful from all of his compliments. Silence lingered for a moment, Javi’s hands still gripping your single one, his thumbs delicately drawing circles over the back of it which only caused you to blush harder.

“No…shit!” Dieter exclaimed with a small slam of the table, quickly realising his antics and apologizing to the others around them. He leaned into the table, you barely seeing him as you continued to cover your face and look down, trying to search and sense what was going on in your body and mind. “This needs to fucking happen.” He demanded, stabbing his finger into the table with an intense amount of purpose. You felt Javi release your hand and sit back, worried he may have done something wrong while you felt your own sadness at the loss of his touch.

A quick glance at Javi told you he was confused by Dieter’s demands, but you knew what Dieter was referring to.

“I do not understand, Mr. Bravo, we already agreed to the movie?” Javi asked as his face pinched into an adorable expression of innocent confusion, acting as if he had completely forgotten where you and he had been just a moment ago, what sparks were erupting between you two, the carnal desires stoked from your locked eyes.

Dieter just grunted, evidently annoyed with the sweet man’s innocent mind.

“Can’t believe you guys are—Javi, she wants you to fuck her.” He bluntly stated and you watched as Javi’s eyes widened beyond their natural stretch at Dieter at his claim before looking toward you. “Love, Javi obviously wants to fuck you…who wouldn’t?” He added the question with a hand lovingly and hungrily running down your back. “And now, I need to fuckin’ see it happen. So…cheque? Cheque, please!”

Dieter looked around the room to see many eyes were now on the three of you after his loud proclamations on how Javi and you wanted to have sex and how Dieter greatly wanted to watch.

“Yeah, yeah.” He groaned while waving a dismissing hand towards a table of four seniors who looked at him with complete disgust. “We’re almost out of here, we just need our CHEQUE! PLEASE!” Dieter bellowed and you had to hide your grin, knowing his fury simply came from his pent-up sexual excitement and tension.

To see you openly flirt with another man, to see you position yourself for him, for that man to show interest in you…that was all a part of the normal fun and games. What seemed to have sent Dieter over the edge into this lustful rage was seeing how Javi’s words affected you in a way his never had.

Thankfully you knew it wasn’t jealousy that fueled his immediate requirement to depart, to see you fucked by his Spanish doppelganger, but was due to the thrill, the adrenaline, along with a growing, desperate, need to see it happen.

He was about to open his mouth to yell again when a waiter ran to his side with the bill. Dieter put his card down on the tray, immediately groaning when the waiter fumbled at the machine.

“Charge whatever, I don’t care. Comp everyone who I fucking offended, how’s that?” He stressed his last word as if taunting the four seniors, ensuring to look directly at the women who still regarded him with sheer horror while the men smiled and waved their thanks—much to their wives dismay. “Here’s my signature…” Dieter grabbed the pen from the waiter’s jacket as Javi got up to pull out your seat and gracefully help you up. “Charge whatever the fuck you want, tip generously, whatever, but don’t fuck me over.”

He glanced at the shaking waiter, who looked no more than twenty, over his sunglasses before squinting at his name tag.

“Kevin, is it?” He paused long enough for the kid to nod. “Don’t fuck me, Kevin!” Dieter stressed before walking away. “I’ll be back tomorrow for my card and receipt.”

And with that, the three of you left to return to the apartment you and Dieter shared. Despite the short walk it was, Dieter had a car called for you all, only so he could sit and watch as Javi couldn’t keep his hands and lips off of you, and Dieter couldn’t keep his hands off his hard and exposed cock.

--x--

Dieter opened the door for you and Javi, a man that you now only saw as the human embodiment of an excited puppy with a cat’s luck. On point, Javi burst past you as you entered, walking ahead of you to slowly twirl as he basked in the apparent glory and wonder of your home.

“It is a beautiful home you both have here.” He told you both earnestly, Dieter just shrugged as he locked the door and tossed his keys into the small glass bowl near the door. However you were not so aloof about the compliment, but perhaps that was due to Javi saying those words while looking at you as if he had suffered a lifetime of longing for this moment, for you.

Whatever peculiar charm this man held was potent, powerful, and had secured an iron grip on your being. For a brief moment, you felt fear run down your spine, chills cascading ripples of goosebumps over your exposed skin. Never had you been so enchanted, so held, except for Dieter…your sweet, lovely, Dee.

The thought had you glance to him, a hand immediately reached out and latching onto his arm as Javi’s back was turned to you, his body wandering to wherever his eyes took him. Dieter stopped what he was doing to look at you, and you could see his brows twist in concern to give away how his eyes watched you behind those sunglasses.

He opened his mouth to say something to you but Javi cut him off.

“I wish to ask you more about this, my friends, but may you direct me to your—”

“There is a bathroom that way, you’ll find the door.” Dieter pointed for Javi, who hurried off into that direction, the opening and closing of doors echoing to you and Dieter as he returned to look at you. “Tell me...” He asked of you softly, his hand molding to your jaw and cheek, his thumb softly rubbing your skin until your pinched expression softened and you eyes closed.

Soft were Dieter’s lips when they came to yours, a motion of support for you, and when he withdrew from you, he left a smile on your lips.

“Not going to even slip me tongue?” You asked him, feigning concern and placing the back of your hand to his forehead. Dieter just chuckled as he dropped his hand from your face to wrap around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

“You seemed upset.” He confessed with a small smile of his own. You hummed at him, playful yet feeling there was another reason he was being so sweet to you right now. Slowly you reached up and grabbed his sunglasses, enforcing your rule that within the walls of your home (balcony excluded) no sunglasses—there were also sex exclusions but those were given on a per-request basis.

“Being sweet on me, hmn?” You teased him, your lips parting as your smile grew until you gave a small, husky, chuckle of your own. Dieter scratched his beard while stretching and chewing his lower lip at your playfulness.

“Adorable.” He grumbled before untangling his fingers from his facial hair to hook behind your head, bringing you to him. This time his tongue did not ask for entry, did not coax, or negotiate, but demanded it. His hand continued to press you into him, his grip on your body tightening.

Dieter moaned into you as he became greedy with what he held, and it seemed that only when you both could no longer breathe did he release his lips from you. His firm and deliberate grip remained, allowing you to lay in his arms as you panted and gasped for breath.

“Scared you won’t be okay with just once with him, huh?” Dieter asked you, the breath you had managed to regain immediately snatched from your body.

He just smiled while slowly swiping his thumb over your lips as you continued to take short, shallow, panting breaths.

“I do not care if you have return visitors to our bed that are there for you, love. Just so long as you are okay with it.”  You smiled at his whispered words, joy soothing the chilled spots on your body, releasing you from that fear as you watched Dieter look at you with nothing but absolute love and devotion.

“‘Cause we know you are down for anything.” You slyly joked, trying to control the excitement of what was ahead of you, with Javi and Dieter, from returning to you like a burst dam.

“Right,” Dieter confirmed with a soft chuckle, giving you another soft kiss, this time ensuring to lick into your mouth once before pulling away, his mischievous smirk present as he watched you. “He’ll be good for you, don’t fight your feelings about it,” Dieter added as he glanced over to the sound of an opening door. “I know he isn’t me, I ain’t threatened. Besides, he’ll be able to give you, in there, what I don’t want to.” He whispered into your ear and you felt your eyes flutter closed at the heat of his breath, the press of his nose, the brush of his lips but the lick of his tongue as he pulled away was unfair, torterous, yet so on point for Dieter.

Your stomach clenched as that lick had your mind rush to thoughts of where else you wanted that tongue, easily imagining what that would feel like, but then quickly wondering what it would feel like to have Javi’s tongue on you. How would that feel? What would he do? Or enjoy doing?

The thought that hit you like a derailed train, however, was wondering how marvellous his cock would be, how it would feel in your hands, in your mouth, on your tongue, in your—

Javi walked around the corner, pulling you from your thoughts immediately as he was back in your sight. His eyes met yours and he gave you his soft smile. You never stood a chance, the gesture and gaze causing the excitement you had managed to hold at bay earlier burst within you with torrential force.

You needed this man now.

“The interior is all her.” Dieter spoke out loud, walking towards Javi having already changed into slippers and one of his many housecoats that lived and hung by the front door. He flashed an impish smile at you, causing yours to faltered for a moment.

Dieter also seemed to have a sense of how badly you wanted to fuck Javi, especially in this particular moment, and he was showing that he intended to toy with you.

“Don’t lie,” you corrected with a playful raise of your eyebrow, following Dieter and walking towards Javi, “you were very particular about our aesthetic and you vetoed anything you didn’t like.”

“Yeah, but you picked it all.” Dieter retorted, holding his arms up in surrender like there was no further discussion to be had and he was victorious.

“He does have a point, querida,” Javi informed you with a heavy amount of regret. He walked towards you to rub your arms sympathetically, wishing to soothe the wounds of you losing a point you never tried to win. However, you weren’t about to tell this man to not hold you so delicately.

Glancing at Dieter, you smirked, and immediately thought to take advantage of your position to ensure he couldn’t interfere with what you wanted.

You leaned yourself into Javi’s embrace, twisting so your chest was pressed against his, his hands which held you now resting in the small curve at the base of your back.

Your arms snaked around his body and you could hear his breath quicken at your movements—it was intoxicating.

“I have to admit, Javi,” you whispered into his ear, “I wish to go to a more private space.” You made sure to breathe slowly, to drag your lips against his skin before they puckered into a soft kiss. “¿Te unes a mí, Javi?” You felt your question cause him to shiver, his head slightly rolling away from where your lips had been before he stepped away from you.

“Yes!” He earnestly answered your question with wide eyes and his arms outstretched, confirming he would follow you where you wish to take him. But there was a hesitance behind his gaze that you saw, so you waited. “First I would…well, uh—it is a bit embarrassing.” Javi squirmed as he seemed to struggle to ask for what he wanted in this moment, what he wanted from you and Dieter, and it drew you in immediately.

Whatever made his man squirm at the thought of, you wished to give him. Truly, you wished to give every part of yourself to him.

Something that had previously only ever been given to Dieter.

“¿Qué pasa, Javi?” You whispered again as you reached out a hand to grasp onto his tightening arms that were pinched across his chest. “You can ask anything of us, we will not judge. Dee is down for most things.” You added with a smile, turning back to look at the man you so dearly love to see him equally smirk back at you.

“She doesn’t lie,” Dieter added, speaking directly to Javi. “About myself or that there is nothing you cannot ask in this place.” Javi gave a large nod, rocking his torso along with his head, as he appeared to be psyching himself up for what he was about to say.

You took the moment of his body returning from it’s physical nod to nestle your way into his arms again, your lips at the back of jaw, below his ear.

“I will give you every part of me, Papi.” You whispered your promise, laying yourself bare at Javi’s feet to feast on. To have, to take, to claim. The roar of Javi taking a steep inhale deafened you.

“Eres perfecto…” Javi whispered, his lips soft as they pressed against your neck. “Una diosa.” He hissed the praise, as if pained by your godly presence before he brought his face before yours, his eyes searching your features. “Can you please show me all of your art?” He rushed through the words as he darted between looking at you and Dieter.

You broke away from Javi in shock at his question before turning to look at Dieter. The two of you shared a look of confusion before you burst out in laughter.

Here you thought this man was about to ask you both to fulfill some depraved fantasy, yet, once again, you had underestimated how innocent and kind he was.

“Everything I have seen has been so beautiful and I just wanted to be able to look upon it—” he started to ramble nervously, but you just returned to his arms, lacing your fingers with his.

“Come.” You gently said as you pulled on his arm, walking through your living room.

Although you and Dieter lived in an apartment, it was really a penthouse. The entire top level, numerous rooms, too many bathrooms and space for a large studio space to share.

You pulled harder on Javi’s arm, dragging him forward so he would walk by your side. Seeing him stumble forward made you want to just push him up against the wall, but you were able to resist…almost. You placed your lips right next to his ear, his loose, light brown, curls resting against your face.

“Will you help me remove my dress before we enter?” You asked, lightly kissing his adorable earlobe, licking it into your mouth to briefly suckle and moan before removing yourself from him. Javi watched you, entranced and uncaring to anything else around him, freely allowing you to guide him through your home. “I can’t risk getting paint on it and Dee pulled the lace really tight so I can’t do it myself…” You pouted your practical facts and Javi’s pure, blissfully large smile spread across his lips.

“You are right! We cannot ruin something so beautiful.” He stressed as if he would start a war over the matter, his smile fully infecting you as you forced yourself to look away to try to remain composed and not melt into a giggling, blushing, puddle.

Slowly you stopped in front of the door, turning yourself so your back was to Javi. Gently you bunched and pulled your hair over one shoulder while peeking at him over the other. That delicious smile of his returned to his lips before he brought them to your exposed skin, lightly planting the softest, warmest, kisses along your back and shoulders while you felt his fingers slowly unlace your dress.

You looked over at Dieter, who rested against the closest wall, with the faintest smirk, his fingers attached to his mouth as he nervously bit with growing tension and excitement behind his gaze. Slowly you raised your hand to press your sleeve playfully and dramatically off your shoulder, giving him a small pout. Dieter chuckled with amusement and approval.

“Have I lost your attention, mi amor?” Javi whispered into your skin, his soft beard tickling you as you felt yourself blush and look away from Dieter, who only raised his eyebrows playfully at you as you did.

“I’m sorry.” You found yourself bashfully apologizing as your arms wrapped around your front, Javi pulling the lace through the last loop and letting it fall to the floor. Slowly you turned to look at Javi, your hands clinging to your chest and you felt yourself tremor under his soft and loving gaze.

Without missing a moment, Javi brought himself closer to you, his hands cradling your face, his thumbs barely present on your skin, but you felt the batting of his heavy breath against your lips.

“Just tell me how to keep it.” He whispered his plea before kissing you, a gentle moan escaping the tame man as his thumbs pressed against your cheeks.

You wanted Javi to know he had your attention, that it was his to have and command in this moment. Slowly you raised one arm and then another until you felt the weight of the fabric pull it to the floor. You snaked your arms through his, forcing his embrace to fall and wrap around your naked and exposed frame.

Heat coursed through your veins as you felt Javi grip at your flesh once he took hold of your body, ensuring that every part of him that could hold you, did. A desperate moan escaped you as you forced your kiss deeper, pulling his neck and head closer to you, grappling at his body.

With surprising strength, Javi tightened his grip around you, pinning you to him, so tightly it was even a bit hard to breathe—but it wasn’t something you minded. If anything, it aroused you more to see Javi act this way than if Dieter were you pin you like this. It was expected from him, but you have obviously driven Javi to this intensity?

God, take you now for you will never feel more powerful or closer to holy divinity, than how it felt to have two delicious men devoted to your pleasure, devoted to your well being, your happiness...while both capable of being switches.

As quickly as his intensity came, it left as you felt Javi immediately back away from his iron grip, his arms loosening, your lungs finally able to fully expand again. You you let your lips travel from his down to his chin and then neck. You could hear him panting, light small grunts accompanying each one.

It was a sound you were beginning to crave.

“You still wish to see the art, my sweet Javi?” You asked him as you nipped at his chin affectionately.

“I’d say he has a pretty fine piece right there.” Dieter finally spoke, breaking free from being the fly on the wall, to walk towards the door that led to the studio.

He made a deliberate and exaggerated point to step over the fabric pooled on the floor that was your dress. Dieter grabbed the handle and swung himself so his back was pressed to the door, dramatically looking to Javi.

“Know that we don’t share this space with anyone.” He advised Javi with an enticing seriousness before unlatching the door and allowing the weight of his body to swing himself and the door into the room. Javi, still holding you, kissed the spot where your jaw met your ear.

“Bella,” he whispered before releasing you from his hold to walk into the studio, yet he made sure one of his fingers remained hooked onto yours. You felt your whole body blush as you smiled and followed, your hand raising to cover your face as you passed Dieter.

“I love seeing you so bashful.” He commented with a smile. “Fuck,” he pronounced as he slapped your ass, “you’re so perfect.” He added in a sweet rumble as he followed you, his words only reminding you of when Javi told you the same thing in Spanish.

You wanted to look back to see Dee’s perverted smile but you remembered Javi’s whisper, his plea for your attention, so you pulled your hands together and laced your fingers with his.

Javi glanced back to look at where your bodies connected, his eyes naturally following your arm to the rest of your body before falling to your eyes. You watched as his smile grew as he took you in but it was the strongest when he locked with your eyes; it made you quiver.

For a moment they held you, suspended with anticipation, before he swung his body in a circle, once again, to look around at the numerous canvases that were hung on the walls, propped against furniture or still on their easel.

All mediums of paint were scattered around, some in organized areas while others would take you an hour or more to get the whole set that you bought them as. Numerous white tarps stretched the floor, splattered with a multitude of colours from years of use—from times before you and Dieter lived together.

“It is beautiful.” Javi gasped. “I am so honoured that you show me this.” He told you with his characteristic grave seriousness before he gave you a short and firm kiss. “And you, as well,” Javi said, walking towards Dieter with his arms stretched out. Dieter leaned in for a hug, expecting a warm embrace, so he was shocked when Javi gave Dieter the same, short and firm, kiss as he had given you.

But the one he gave Dieter lingered for a bit longer.

Long enough, at least, that you saw Dieter’s body relax at Javi’s touch and affection.

“You have very soft lips.” Javi complimented Dieter who just gave the man a perplexed look before quickly nodding, the lack of verbal reaction worrying Javi. “I apologize if I misunderstood—”

“No,” Dieter stopped him, putting up a hand, “definitely my thing I just…misunderstood you, is all,” Dieter said with a smirk before his eyes flicked to you to see you blushing as your two boys realized what they could have with each other.

Oh, the things I will watch them do. The thought caused waves to roll and twist your stomach with craving and desire, and you knew it showed by how Dieter’s expression shifted and how wide Javi’s eyes went in surprise.

Your eyes connected with Javi’s and immediately you slunk towards him.

“Tell me which one you like the most,” you asked of him as you moulded yourself to his side, “and if it’s mine, you get a prize.” Javi’s head jerked to look at you, his eyes dancing with excitement and anticipation, his lips twitching as if they had a thousand words they wished to speak in this single moment.

“What if it’s mine.” Dieter interrupted, both you and Javi glancing towards him. Your eyes remained on Dieter yet you saw Javi look back at you before his lips fell to your jaw.

“Yes, mi amor, what if it is Dieter’s work?” Javi whispered the question and you couldn’t help but moan and melt in his arms—fuck, he better pick yours.

“Then Dieter gives you a prize.” You said, knowing you needed to play along, play fair, now that Javi was also being shared. Dieter smiled with approval, and Javi kissed his into your skin before breaking from you to walk around the studio to look at the multitudes of work.

Dieter, not wishing to waste a moment, snaked his body around you, pinning your back to his chest as he hugged you from behind.

“I love you so much, baby,” Dieter whispered as one arm started to drift down your stomach. “I bet you’ve been thinking of what it’s going to be like to have Javi fuck you, haven’t you?” He asked the question but you knew better than to answer.

Dieter nipped his pleasure at your silence against your neck as his hand reached down to grip your thigh, your gaze following a gently wandering Javi who was oblivious to what was happening behind him.

“I’ll know you’ve been a dirty little girl if you’re wet for me, hmn?” Dieter whispered, his other hand slipping upwards to your collarbone as you felt two of his fingers plunge between your folds to swim in the undeniable evidence of your arousal that had stayed locked and hidden within.

Hearing the satisfied chuckle against your skin made you shake.

Little would make you happier than to have Dieter bend you over and stick his dick in you right now. The worst part about that craving was that even though he wasn’t going to do it, you knew Dee was thinking about it.

“Oh, baby, you are so good to me.” Dieter growled into your ear as you heard Javi softly speaking to himself, debating on which piece spoke to him more. “I’m gonna make sure your cunt gets so fucking stretched today. You want that, hmn?” He asked you, his hand rising from your collarbone to rest on your throat, the pressure immediately being applied.

This was when Dieter wanted you to speak—when it was hard to.

“Mhmn.” You tried to confirm but from the light chuckle and sweet kiss from Dieter, you knew it wasn’t enough.

“Use your words, my love.” He told you, his grip tightening.

“Both. I want both in me.” You strained to say, Dieter’s grip releasing and immediately replaced with a kiss and lick of his tongue, a sign you pleased him.

“I’ll give my baby what she wants,” he promised you as his drenched fingers parted from you and were raised to your face, “so long as she’s good.” He taunted, and you immediately knew what he wanted to you do.

What you needed to do to be good.

Opening your mouth wide, you stuck out your tongue as far as you could so that Dieter could place his cum covered fingers into your mouth, sliding them down your tongue until you felt them enter your throat.

“Good.” He whispered, a word you recognized as a command so you closed your mouth, your tongue swirling around and parting his fingers, ensuring to fully clean them. As Dieter removed his fingers from your lips, reaching down for another round, Javi came around a corner from a part of your studio you did not expect him to have wandered.

“I have decided.” He informed you both with a bright smile, his eyes taking in the position Dieter had you in with a ferocity washing over his expression. Your curiosity of what he would have done at that moment if Dieter didn’t immediately release you would plague you for a few days to come, you were sure, but it wasn’t the time to focus on such things.

You would suffer those delicious, depraved, thoughts later.

“Show us, love.” You told Javi, walking towards him and reaching out a hand for him to grab. Javi stepped forward so that he could connect with you sooner, hurriedly rushing you to the piece he had chosen as his favourite. The adorable nature in which he rushed took you from the pressing hope and need that the art he chose was yours and the dread of having to watch Dieter pleasure Javi instead of you—not because you didn’t want to see that, but only because you wanted to do it first.

You were never as good with sharing as Dieter was.

When Javi stopped in front of the art piece he had chosen, you looked up with mixed emotions. It was a painting that, although yours (yippee!), carried some of the heaviest emotions with it from any piece you had ever painted.

“This!” Javi said as his arms shot out in front of him, having let go of your hand to do so. You blinked, trying to compose yourself, to not get lost in the image and get pulled away from the moment. Looking at Javi helped.

“Mine.” You said with a smile before leaning against him. “Tell me what you love about it, Javi.” You whispered his name as you pressed your face against the side of his, one arm draped across his shoulders for support, while the other hastefully reached down to start undoing his belt. You needed to get lost in him before you got lost in the fears of your future or the daunting, suffocating, shadow of your past.

The very thing that piece depicted, the emotions trying to rip open the chasm deep within your soul as you glanced towards the wide, chaotic, strokes of black and blue oil paint against the bright background.

No. Not now, not right now. You willed yourself back to the moment, back to Javi, and ensuring to take extra measures so you couldn’t see anything about the piece.

“Well it, uh,” Javi began but quickly became distracted by what was happening below him, his eyes immediately falling to your hand. “I can help—” Javi offered as his hands reached for the belt, but you moved to bat it away, turning your back to the canvas and dropping to your knees as you pulled his belt from the last loop in his pants.

“I think I asked you a question.” You informed him as you gazed up at the beautiful and soft man. “Concentrate.” You sweetly teased him before you tore at his pants, harshly pulling the fabric over the button and pulling his zipper down with lightning speed. It was a surprise that with the strength and desperation that you pulled down his pants, his boxers did not come with.

“Well, it is emotional and vulnerable.” He said, looking at the art you had made shortly after your first time in rehab. It was of a small dark ghostly figure, childlike, with a large and bright shadow looming behind it. To you, it symbolized how your past self was terrifying to live up to, that when you fell so far it felt, and still does most of the time, that you would never rise to those heights again. Never regain that level of talent and confidence.

Part of you wished to listen to his praise, while the other part wanted to block it out, to not have such sweet and tender words associated with everything that wasn’t that. Thankfully you had something to distract yourself from it all, something that was begging you to let it free.

“It’s, uhm,” Javi became distracted again as you hooked your fingers into the waistband of his boxers and pulled them down, hungrily watching as his sizable, thick, cock sprung out and said ‘hello’ to you. Releasing the fabric in your hands, leaving the rest to gravity, you pressed your knees into the ground to twist your body and head so you could immediately take his soft, sweet, balls into your mouth.

With his hard, twitching, cock resting against your face, forcing one eye closed, you looked up at Javi, desperate to see how you were making him feel and immediately moaning at the sight. Slowly you dragged your tongue along the length of his cock until you suspended it with the tip of your tongue against his tip.

“Dios,” he groaned at your touch, “I have faced death, and lived, yet this makes me more nervous.” Javi choked on his words as you slipped your lips over the head of his cock, your eyes still locked to his as you moaned once more at seeing the small twitches in his expression, the slight sway to his stance. “Dieter,” he called out to the wallflower, his arm outreached, “I wish for you to join us.” He invited him and you couldn’t help but look to see what caused Dieter to hesitate.

Unlatching your lips from Javi you ensured to still have your tongue pressed against his cock, mouth open, before glancing to Dieter. You wanted him to see you in one of his favourite positions, but he wasn’t looking at you. His eyes were glued to Javi.

You had never seen Dieter pause before, or hesitate, even if he only anticipated watching for the evening.

Perhaps he too was feeling the same effect Javi had on you. The same thing you were feeling earlier when you both had entered the apartment.

“Dee, baby, come.” You beckoned to him, your sultry voice shifting to one full of love and comfort for your man, while a small part of you wanted to hold back until you were certain Dieter was okay with the situation. That caught his attention and he gave you the softest smile before walking towards you both, a short, emphasized wink, given your way.

He was okay, and the realization gave you a sense of relief and joy as you plunged yourself back onto Javi who lurched forward at your touch, his hand jerking to your head, almost gripping your hair, before it relaxed and softened.

You couldn’t help but smile and moan at the realization Javi truly had another side to him, a side other than sickly sweet devotion. Yet knowing that you could coax that out of him, and have continued to do so tonight, had your free hand drape down your body to reach between your spread legs.

You wished to look up but you lost yourself in the feeling of Javi’s cock in your mouth, the stretch it gave to your lips, the pressure on your teeth as you forced your way down onto him until you felt him in your throat, until you couldn’t move any further. Slowly, with great effort, you pressed your tongue against him, sliding it out of your mouth in an attempt to lick the balls you had held until you gagged. Immediately you released yourself from Javi, gleaming at the sweet moan that escaped him, cum and spit connecting you two long after your lips had left him.

You watched Javi, desperately wanting to see his approval, to hear his praise of how you made him feel, what thoughts you evoked from your actions, but your attention was pulled away as you felt Dieter’s dominating grip on your arm.

“That’s for us to do, kitten.” He told you, moving the hand that you were using to touch yourself away from your body. “I got something else for you to play with.” He continued, a light growl behind his words as you heard him unzip his pants.

You wasted no time releasing Dieter's cock from its cage, smiling and letting out a happy gasp as you looked up at the two men towering over you, hard cocks pearling with anticipation of your touch, of your lips and mouth to be around them.

Biting your lower lip and glancing between them, you gripped each cock in one hand and rubbed their tips together—both men immediately closing their eyes, each of them letting out a soft moan or acknowledgement of pleasure.

You brought your tongue to them, moving against both of them as you continued to press them against each other. A wet smacking sound mixed with muffled groans brought your attention back to looking above you, only for your eyes to feast on Javi and Dieter locked in a deep, messy, kiss, their hands frantically grabbing at the other’s body.

The imagery was more than you expected or could handle. Immediately you took Dieter into your mouth, seamlessly taking his length as your hand moved over Javi’s, purposefully twisting, squeezing, and coaxing in ways you knew would make him feel good.

Yet from the way Javi broke from Dieter’s lips to moan and gasp at your efforts let you know it felt more than just good.

Then you swapped, your lips and tongue soothing the skin you had twisted and tortured as you gently moved Javi’s hard cock in and out of your mouth, your hand sliding over Dieter’s. You knew to hold harder with his, to drag your nails along his skin, to pinch and twist his balls as you handled him.

“Fuck.” Dieter hissed as you watched his stomach clench, his eyes immediately looking down at you only to hiss again as he saw you watching him, your eyes wide and soft as he liked you to look when you had a cock in your mouth—his or someone else’s. There was a glint in his gaze, a hungry, dominating, command, that had you remove yourself from Javi and return to Dee; your eyes never leaving his, your gaze never shifting.

Even as his hand clasped to the back of your head and forced his cock as far down your throat as physically possible, holding it there. You could feel your eyes water as they stung, knowing Dieter wouldn’t want you to blink, that to be good your eyes had to remain open until he looked away.

You were seconds from breaking before Dieter gasped and released you, your head jerking backwards as you gasped for air and coughed as some of his cum entered your airway. Javi bent to you, cradling you in his arms as you recovered, a hand grazing over your hair as he whispered sweet nothings in your ear in Spanish, complimenting you for how well you handled them both, how he wished to reward you for all you endure with Dieter, to kiss those wounds better.

Javi whispered this, all while Dieter was muttering and hissing to himself as you knew he was fighting the urge to cum, to give himself the release his muscles and body were screaming for. His few, short, furious glances towards you only confirmed that.

With Javi’s last promise to kiss your wounds better, and once your breath had returned to normal, he brought his lips to yours, his tongue immediately entering you. To know he did not hesitate to kiss you this way, knowing he was tasting Dieter just as much as he was you, set a fire to your stomach and you lurched your body forward, pressing yourself to Javi with desperation.

You went to reach to grasp him again, but Javi softly stopped you, shushing you gently before giving you a light kiss.

“It is your turn,” Javi whispered against your lips before he kissed you again, his arms wrapping around your face to cradle you, once more, like you were a delicate flower.

“Indeed.” Dieter hastefully agreed and you felt your body grabbed and pulled until you were slung over Dieter’s shoulder. You knew where he was bringing you, and you also noticed that he purposefully carried you in a way that your eyes did not fall on ‘Javi’s Piece’, as you would come to call it.

Javi did not need instructions to know to follow you, and as you watched him excitedly, playfully, chase after you, it did not feel like it took long for you to get to your destination and be thrown onto the bed by Dieter.

Often Dieter had painted you on this bed, sometimes by yourself, sometimes innocently sleeping and the others with one…or more, individuals. Dieter always painting and sketching; never partaking.

Today would not one of those days.

You smiled as you watched Dieter, now fully naked, crawl onto the bed and then over you, sitting on your lower abdomen, his hard, throbbing cock resting against your soft skin before his large hands latched onto your breasts.

“God, I fucking love your tits.” Dieter mused and praised you, immediately taking your smile away with a firm pinch of your nipple, the pain causing your legs to rub together, your slick dripping onto the sheets as it was squeezed from between your legs.

“They are truly beautiful.” Javi agreed from the side of the bed, your gaze immediately falling to him, watching him stand by and slowly stroke his cock while he watched you and how your body twisted to show your arousal. His buttoned shirt was fully open, revealing his soft and fuzzy tummy that only invoked a desire to bite and lick it.

You felt yourself pout at how distant he was, naturally reaching out an arm, beckoning him as you felt Dieter start to lovingly massage your body, his lips nestling around the nipple he had pinched, his warm tongue and soft lips kissing and licking to soothe the tortured skin.

You were able to wrap a hand around Javi’s thigh, while Dieter sat back up, grabbing at your body with a newly vigoured roughness—you knew it taunted him when he didn’t have your attention, and you loved how he demanded it back. You looked up and watched Javi passionately stroke his cock while watching you softly, a sense of pride swelling in his chest as you gazed at him affectionately, Dieter’s twisted expression in your peripheral.

Your body jolted as you hissed at the unprompted sting when Dieter slapped your nipples harshly, your eyes darting to him, your eyebrows pinched from pain, your thighs clamping together and as you watched Dieter slowly smile with a dominating pleasure that you answered his demand for attention. You felt yourself soak the bedding beneath you. Sensing you shake under him, Dieter reached down to grip your chin, but Javi’s hands got in the way.

“Dieter, Dieter…you cannot treat such a gentle and precious woman in such ways.” Javi scolded him as he gently pushed Dieter off of you, the weight off of your stomach allowing you to finally take a full breath. “You must make love to her.” You felt Javi whisper into your ear as he crawled onto the bed, gently placing his knee in the crevasse between your thighs, asking for permission to enter. Slowly you spread your legs, feeling Javi’s skin slide along your soaked body, your gleaming arousal present for all to finally feel and see.

You felt Dieter, unable to help himself, reach down to grip your glazed thigh, deliberately dampening his fingers as you knew he would want to taste you. You wanted to look, to watch him place his fingers in his mouth, allowing you to imagine his masterful tongue swirling around them, wishing it was against your body instead, yet Javi cupped the side of your cheek to pull your gaze to him, his soft eyes dancing over your soft features.

You were instantly reminded of the moment before entering the studio when Javi wished for your attention and to keep it. You maneuvered your arm so that you could rest your hand against Javi’s cheek, your fingers lightly blocking Dieter’s frame from your peripheral and you smiled at Javi.

You were his to have, and you needed him to know that. Even if your eyes wandered.

“How is it that such a delicate and rare flower, such as yourself, can exist in this maddening world?” He whispered earnestly to you, begging for you to answer his question full of praise, before his lips found yours, his knee and thigh claiming the space between your legs, preventing anything else other than him from being against your wet, pulsing, heat.

Effortlessly his tongue slipped against yours as you felt his hand leave your cheek to caress the rest of your body. His earnest desire building for you only showed in the fierceness with which his lips moved against yours, the deliberate moans that seemed to be his effort to stop himself from taking more, his knee rocking up to press against your swollen clit, coaxing continuous soft moans and gasps from your lips.

“See…I think, she likes both.” You heard Dieter comment, his familiar grip returning to your nipple, twisting, and pinching as you clamped your thighs against Javi’s leg, shaking as you groaned in both pain and pleasure, craving for one of them to touch you, to stick anything into you, but you couldn’t beg…you were theirs to share; to have. “Don’t you, my love?” Dieter continued to ask and you knew you had to respond. “You love it when I’m rough? When Javi soothes that pain? You love it to have two men fucking you—don’t you?”

“Yes.” You told him as you watched Dieter crawl onto the bed, your head centred between his spread knees, his cock inches away from greeting your lips. Javi slowly moved towards the bottom of the bed, his hands and lips never leaving your skin.

“Yes, what?” Dieter stressed, his serious expression demanding your gaze as his thick fingers gently laced through your hair before jerking into a firm grip.

Your whole body tensed as you felt Javi’s tongue feel cool against your clit, the buildup and tension that had been growing since dinner, for days leading up to tonight, bursting within you. You needed it, all of it. You needed to be mindless, to feel nothing but to bask in a sea of the pleasures brought by their touch.

You raised your legs and wrapped them around Javi, your hand reaching down to lace into his soft, luscious, golden brown curls, your eyes never leaving Dieter.

“I love it when two people fuck me.” You groaned as Javi’s hand gripped onto your hips, pulling your body closer as his lips and teeth clamped and pressed against your body, purpose behind every stroke of his tongue. You whimpered as your chest shook, craving for one of them—both of them—to be inside of you. “I’ve been good.” You begged before you let out a small yelp that quickly transitioned to a deep groan as Javi moved a finger into you.

Your head went to rock back, but with Dieter not letting go of your hair, it only allowed your head to hang within his grip; a fact Dieter did not hesitate to take advantage of.

As you inhaled to recover from another pinched groan brought by Javi’s pleasurable and attentive efforts, Dieter pulled your face to him, using his free hand to guide his cock into your mouth before gripping your chin. He did not allow you any control over how you moved your head as he glided you along his cock as he pleased, you tried to prop yourself onto your side but with your legs twisted around Javi, it was not an easy maneuver.

Your eyes managed to strain towards Javi, to see him adorably peak up at you, his eyes dancing at what he saw before he slowly rocked and positioned himself so you could comfortably move onto your side, his lips and tongue not leaving you, and his fingers immediately re-entering you with reinforced numbers once you both settled.

Dieter, on the other hand, paid no attention or mind to any discomfort you may have felt as he continued to use you for his pleasure, which only made you happier. You kept watching Dieter until your eyes fluttered closed, your muscles rippling as you felt pressure rise where Javi held you. You wanted to moan, your body begged to be able to scream out the rupturing pleasures that were becoming untethered within you, but Dieter’s cock prevented and muffled those efforts.

Your grip on Javi released itself, your body losing the strength for it as your eyes rolled back in your head, Javi unrelenting in his growing earnestness to pleasure you, to lick your wounds, to erase the pain your body held. Something you thought possible if he never stopped.

A fourth finger entered you as Javi forced his face free from you, his nose, lips, and cheeks glinting with your cum, his skin red from where it was pressed against your body. He raised his face high enough so that you could look at him as Dieter now held your face in one place as he rocked his hips against you.

Javi’s expression was soft, his smile wide, as he lightly panted like a puppy to catch his breath.

Yet despite that softness, his fingers did not relent, and only moved within you with new vigour and force, rising until you could hear the sound of his knuckles slapping against your wet cunt and you bucked as another crash of pleasure errupted within you, desperate to escape from every pore on your body.

Dieter, knowing your signals well, pressed his body and cock into you, muffling your deep groan as you twitched around Javi’s fingers.

“I’m sorry, querida,” Javi whispered as he kissed your wet and sticky thigh, “that was unkind of me.” He told you as Dieter pulled himself off of you and Javi out of you.

All you could do was lay on the bed, panting to catch your breath as your brain tried to catch up to what was going on around you instead of focusing on how your pussy pulsed and how your blood rushed to all the wrong and unhelpful places within your body.

“You have been so good to us.” You heard Javi whisper but it was hard to tell how close he was, and you only assumed very as you felt arms that weren’t Dieter’s pull you so your back was against their chest; Javi’s chest. You rocked your head back, mostly because it was too heavy to hold at the moment, to gaze up to see the softest, sweetest, most caring eyes watching you.

It brought you a throaty, mindless, smile.

“Hola.” Javi lovingly greeted you and you closed your eyes, humming as your smile spread further at the sweet sound of his voice. “Let us give you what you wish, hmn?” He whispered again, and you felt your body moved once more, but this time with four hands.

Your mind finally came back to you as you realized Javi had positioned himself against the headboard of the bed, Dieter kneeled between his spread legs, and both men holding you high enough that the tip of Javi’s cock brushed the lips of your pussy.

“Relax, baby,” Dieter told you with a soft kiss on your lips. “We got you.” He confirmed and you slowly leaned back, Javi having positioned his chest to be able to greatly support the top of your back while leaving your lower suspended within their grip. Slowly you felt them lower you onto Javi’s cock.

You moaned as he entered you, his girth more than you had before—or so it felt at this moment. Your back arched as Dieter’s tongue was pressed against your clit before sliding lower to where Javi was slowly moving in and out of you.

“Javi.” You could only manage to whisper his name as you fully relaxed against his body, within his hold, his light chuckle brushing against your cheek feeling like the only thing you needed to live until his cock moved without you and instantly you were reminded of the finer things in life. You heard his labored breaths mixed with his soft grunts of pleasure and exhausted efforts as he moved within you, as Dee and him raised you up and lovingly lowered you onto him.

You could feel when Dieter’s tongue was on you, and you knew where it was when you couldn’t, if Javi’s increased panting didn’t give it away.

The lack of attention from Dieter didn’t upset you though, for it made Javi crave and take more of you, the movements of your body becoming harsher, less controlled, as Javi’s lips found you neck and shoulder, his teeth nipping at your flesh when you saw Dee’s head dip with purposeful force. A feral moan from Dieter was accompanied by a firm, powerful, pull on Javi’s body that shifted your bodies forward yet it caused you to fall backwards from the lack of support of the headboard. Your full weight rested on Javi and you heard him groan as you shifted, only to look down between his thighs to know why.

“Shit…” Javi moaned before his arms wrapped around your torso, one hand firmly grabbing a breast while the other trailed lower until it rested on your swollen bud. Slowly he moved his fingers, his stomach rolling under you as he rocked in and out, Dieter moaning as you knew his tongue and mouth were either wrapped around Javi’s balls or occupying the base of his cock.

For a few minutes you were all tied up like that, your sweaty, hot, bodies grinding against eachother, a chorus of moans, groans and gasps of pleasure and surprise as you all devoured and enjoyed eachother. You arm bent back so your fingers could lace, once again, into Javi’s curls, pulled and twisting them so his sweet, soft, lips were once again pressed upon your body.

You felt yourself melt into Javi, your body rolling along with his muscles and tension as he moved into you, leaving you feeling like you were wading in a sea of pleasure when Dieter���s tongue returned to you like a storm rolling in to disturb your peace.

He licked and pinched and bit you before he soothed the touch with soft kisses, relieving Javi’s fingers from their duty to replace them with his own before slowly bringing his body upwards while still kneeling between Javi.

Dieter watched you with a slightly detached gaze, like he was half here, half lost in his thoughts of what he wanted to do in this moment—most likely to both you and Javi.

Javi, on the other hand, being very present with your body, still slowly rolling into you, teasing you, slowly building up your tension for release. Dieter would have done this to torture you, yet Javi seemed to bask in the glory of the slow, tender, love making you two were engaged in. His free hand pressed against your stomach as his lips kissed the back of your ear before repeating the multitude of compliments and praises he had already given you.

Your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you let out a lowly moan seemed to bring Dieter back to the present, as his fingers gripped you with a new sense of life and purpose.

“You feel good, baby?” He asked with a tight jaw as you forced your eyes open, straining to focus on him as your body pulled you back into your prone and gasping position. You opened your mouth to respond, to confirm, but Dee just growled, pressing his fingers into where Javi also occupied. “Does that make my little slut happy?”

“Our.” Javi proudly corrected with a defined and firm thrust, both of you gasping in pleasure as you could feel Dieter twist in you, most definitely ensure to touch Javi as much as he was touching you. The thought was numbing to think about, to dream about, yet unbelievable to know you were living through it. It was too much.

No longer could you push yourself to take more of them. To withhold your arousal, to stop it from peaking and spilling over. You needed that release.

You needed what was promised.

From the opposite ear that Javi whispered to you came Dieter’s dark, dangerous and husky voice.

“You like that, don’t you?” His question and tone rhetorical. “Being our little whore, our toy to play with.”

His words had to moan in response, a moan that quickly turned into a yelp as Dieter’s body shook with how much force he moved his hand against your clit.

“Don’t stop.” You couldn’t help from speaking the request as your throat tightened, your mind burning white at the heat coursing through your body, desperate for more of them. “Make me come, please fucking make me come!” You begged until you were yelling, Dieter’s gaze intent on yours, darkening the more he saw you unravel.

“You think you deserve to?” He asked you slyly, his roughness immediately stopping, causing an immediate snarl from you.

“I’ve been good!” You argued, furious at how he drew light circles around you, at how Javi returned to his slow, steady, and passionate rhythm when you just wanted to be manhandled by the both of them—to be split in half if that’s what it took to give you the release you needed.

“Say it again, baby,” Dieter told you as his fingers began to, once again, move faster.

“I’ve been good.” You whispered as you felt Javi’s pace faintly quicken, the beginning and end of his thrusts being firmer, more pronounced, as Dieter harshly swiped against your clit, pinching you in a way he knew you loved. “I’ve been good.” You repeated as your eyes rolled into the back of your head, as you lost all strength and ability to hold yourself up.

“Don’t stop.” He continued to command you.

“I’ve been good.” You confirmed and begged with a breath, every word bringing you close to the desperate release you chased, every word encouraging the men to praise you for your efforts and endurance. “I’ve been so good.” You stressed as you stuttered an inhale, the heat rising in your belly. “I’ve been. So good. So. Fucking. G—" You let out a loud, long, deep, groan as your pleasure ruptured within you, Javi still keep his rhythmic pace, always pressing against your sweet spot, always accompanied with the even sweeter praise, as Dieter still relentlessly rubbed and tortured your clit as you came and the squirted as you finally orgasmed.

Dieter immediately placed the fingers that were against you between your parted, panting, lips as he watched you with a gleeful smile.

“You have been.” He told you seriously. “You think you’re ready for what I promised you?” He asked as he shifted himself closer to you and Javi. “You want both of us in you? Both of us fucking and stretching the shit out of that pretty pussy of yours?” He asked the redundant question yet waited for you to answer, but words were hard, so instead you closed your mouth around his fingers and gave him a look that told him it was offensive he would think you would wish otherwise.

He just smiled before his hand reached down between his legs and you felt him press his cock against you.

“Relax baby,” he told you yet you heard Javi also take a deep breath of anticipation, Dieter immediately losing his dominating composure to a look of endearment at you both, before the dark glint returned. “You don’t want me to be nice about it, do you?” He asked you, waiting for your response as you watched him, slowly shaking your head to say ‘no’. He smiled “That’s my girl.”

You gasped as you felt Dee press further into you, the pain of the stretch causing you to take quick and shallow breaths, until Javi’s calming hand swooped over your stomach as a reminder to relax, a reminder that he was there to soothe all pain that may come, that had been.

“You’re so beautiful, querida.” Javi whispered the praise into your ear as you watched Dieter’s expression pinch as you knew he was also feeling the effects of him stuffing a second cock into you—neither being considered small, or even average, by any means. “Look how well you’re taking us.” He continued his praise, a finger pressed against your cheek to turn your lips towards his.

Kissing Javi helped distract from the pressure between your legs, his mouth soaking up any groans or grunt from you as Dieter slowly began rocking in and out of you, always pressing slightly deeper with each thrust. It was only when you began to moan into Javi’s mouth, moan against his tongue, rested your open lips against his as you panted with mind numbing pleasure that shut down your motor functions, that you felt Javi move within you as well.

You immediately unravelled and lost yourself. There was not a moment your moans and faint curses did not fill the air around you three, not a moment that your voice didn’t overshadow any noise the two of them made in combination, nor a moment you felt like you could breathe, think or comprehend what was going on rather than the burning, pleasurable, sensation of the two men moving within you.

“I’m coming—” You announced like it was a surprise, like it was something that was a shock and needed to be stopped. Your eyes went wide, your mouth open and gasping as Javi and Dieter groaned at you tightening and shaking around them. “Dee—” you began to beg, not thinking you could take it anymore, worried that it was too much, yet he did not seem to share your same concern.

"Have we taken too much from you, hermosa?" Javi asked you, concerned, yet not stopping. You wanted to agree, to tell him yes, to ask them to stop, but words were too hard to conjure. It was too hard to think. Your eyes still closed, you felt Dieter grip your jaw, his mouth to your ear with a growl.

“She can fuckin’ take it, like the well-trained slut she is.” Dieter confirmed with a prominent thrust into you, praising you the way he knew how in these moments, encouraging you to continue to take their cocks, continue to allow them to stretch you, to further unravel at their touch and possession.

And you did take it.

You took many more pleasurable orgasms that they gifted you, took their seed as they both filled you with their climax, took whatever else they still wished to give you after that until they were satisfied and you were mentally in another galaxy.

Javi curled up to your naked, clammy, body only to nestle his head into the crook of your neck. He gave you soft, gentle kisses between his heavy, tired, breaths.

Dieter had gotten up to get you all refreshments and it was only upon his return that Javi broke the silence of your quiet panting.

“Let’s make a movie about this instead Dieter…about a beautiful flower bringing both a butterfly and a bee to its irresistible pollen.” He spoke loud enough for Dieter to hear, causing you to let out a soft, tired, moan as your face fell towards Javi, your eyes still closed. “You are worthy of a million love stories, hermosa.” He whispered into you, and if it weren't for the fact that you felt you could barely move, you would have climbed on top of that heavenly man right then.

Dieter just responded with a short, deep, and highly amused laugh.

“You wanna make a porno, Javi? I mean, I’m down…but I doubt it will carry the same ‘Oscar Buzz’.”

[feroluce]

Extremely in love with the idea of a time loop scenario for submas, because PLA made it just so PERFECT for them. ♡♡♡

I love thinking of it from Ingo's POV because that would be so confusing. Like he goes to bed with Emmet totally normal and fine one night, and the next morning, the change is just so. STARK.

Emmet looks exhausted, in a way that Ingo has no idea how to deal with, because it doesn't look as simple as Emmet not having slept well. He's tired in a way that sleep won't fix, he's listless, he's quiet, all of his energy and chipper attitude that Emmet usually displays even in the early hours of the morning has been completely sucked away and left him looking hollow and empty.

Emmet seems resigned to something, and Ingo has no idea what it is or what to do about it.

Ingo himself has had a strange anxiety lately, something he's left unspoken so as not to worry his darling brother, an odd ominous sensation that haunts him constantly, but all of it goes on the back burner immediately. It's probably nothing. It's certainly not his main concern anymore.

His day only gets weirder as it goes. Not only does Emmet evade Ingo's questions trying to figure out what's wrong with him, he also refuses to explain odd things that he shouldn't have or know. Ingo finds a pokeball that doesn't match any of their team, it's one he's never seen or even heard of before, gold on one side and silver on the other-

Emmet lays his hand over Ingo's, carefully takes the pokeball from him, quietly tells him not to worry about it. Everything will be ok. Emmet will explain everything, he promises. But later...ok?

Ingo doesn't push. Emmet goes back to cooking breakfast. He somehow manages to make exactly what Ingo's craving.

÷÷÷

When they get to Gear Station, Emmet asks to do the multi train instead of running their own separate lines, and Ingo is so distressed about Emmet's behavior so far that he doesn't have it in him to refuse. Ingo would do just about anything right then to see Emmet actually smile, not the crestfallen, stitched-on expression that's been fooling everyone else all day.

Emmet goes on to correctly predict every single pair of trainers they face that day, to the point that it becomes uncanny. He's always been an extremely able battler, Emmet has excellent intuition and he can quickly adapt to almost anything thrown his way. Ingo has always admired and been so, so proud of him.

But that's a little different from Emmet adjusting to a trainer's attack pattern before they even toss out their pokeball.

Over their lunchbreak, Emmet doesn't leave Ingo's side for even a moment, much as he's done for the entire day. They normally stick pretty close together, they prefer to function as a pair after all, but there's a strange desperation to it today. Emmet pulls out the lunches he'd made that morning; it's all of their favorites.

Ingo watches Emmet savor it like a last meal.

And then, that night, at the end of their shift, well after dark when the hour is closing in on midnight. Ingo gets a message that a bright light was seen down in one of the abandoned subway tunnels. Must be a flashlight; a trespasser, probably. Ingo turns to tell Emmet to go home without him; Ingo is the night owl between them and Emmet has had an off day. He deserves to go home and rest, Ingo will be home as soon as he's done with some more work.

Ingo has no more opened his mouth when he realizes Emmet already has all his things gathered and is taking his hand. "I'm going down with you."

Ingo hadn't told him about the message yet. He shouldn't have known.

÷÷÷

The whole way down the tunnels, Emmet has a vice grip on Ingo's hand, fingers laced tight together. He barely even seems to investigate, he just kind of walks with Ingo, pace slower than usual, always watching their steps.

Ingo sticks his head around a corner to check for intruders, and hears a quiet intake of breath behind him before the hand in his suddenly redoubles its grip.

Ingo turns around. Emmet is looking down. Ingo follows his gaze.

There is light. Bright, searing, white light, that is not Emmet's flashlight, not Ingo's flashlight, but is wrapped around Ingo himself, coming up from the bottoms of his shoes.

Ingo tries to jump back but finds that he can't move, he's rooted to the spot, there is light pouring out of him and flooding the ground, spreading outwards, lapping at Emmet's ankles who is suddenly right up against Ingo and holding onto him like he might disappear.

"I am sorry. Ingo, I am so, so sorry." Ingo pushes at Emmet's arms, but he won't budge, he won't get out of the way- "I tried. I really did!" the light wants Ingo, just him, he can feel it, Emmet needs to get away from him- "Many, maaaaany times!" he has no idea what he's talking about but he can't let Emmet be collateral, he can't, he can't, Ingo shoves at him again, harder, Emmet stubbornly clings on, Ingo's panic is rising like the tide, like bile in his throat, only growing more desperate in the face of Emmet's disarming calm, the light is obscuring everything, warping it, twisting it- "But I could not keep you here with me."

Everything, all of it, his entire world turns violently on its head, and when the light finally lets him go, Ingo sees bright blue sky all around him. Emmet looks up at him, the force of the shift having put them at arm's length, but unable to break their grip on each other. He can see the entire expanse of the landscape sprawled behind his brother, far far below. Pinpricks of tears bubble up from Emmet's eyes and spatter against Ingo's cheeks as they hurtle like a comet towards the ground.

"So let's Fall together."

[themadknightuniverse]

Cowboy lacho au - how they could meet

They see each other from afar in a saloon one night. There is a little fight happening late in the evening. Lalo is the one getting into a fight of course, he's always starting them, and he ends up with an injury, like often. Nothing much, a few bruises that will turn purple-blue in the morning, a cut on the cheekbone and another one on the bottom lip, a bit more important that one. And he likes to go for a walk after he fought, he likes the fresh night air, the music coming from the saloon muffled as he makes his way in the muddy street. But his head hurts a little this time, he's feeling a bit dizzy so he just goes to sit under one of the shop. Maybe the hits he got on the head were stronger than he thought. He didn't made it far from the saloon actually. And then there is this man he seen earlier inside, just walking out through the swinging doors, looking around and oh he's coming his way.

"Nice fight." he says as he stops before him "You could work on your guard tho. Your right side is too open." Lalo smiles. His lip stings on the right side of his mouth, blood runs along his chin, he still smiles. "Oh, really?" "Yeah." The man smirks, but then he's frowning "Oh wait, here" And suddenly he has a bandana in hand and he's pressing it on Lalo's lip "That cut's gonna live a scar. Looks deep. You should hit the doctor." And somehow Lalo finds himself stunned. People usually don't get so comfortable and chatty around him. His face is known all around the country. Nobody dares to approach a Salamanca. And yet, he's leaning so close, and god, he has stunning eyes, Lalo can tell even in the little light there is. Lalo takes the bandana from the man slowly, keep on pressing it on his lip. Then another voice raises, coming from the direction of the saloon. "Hey! Nacho! We got to go!" says a man already half running to a horse attached not far down the street. Three men are coming out of the saloon, looking angry. Nacho? But Lalo doesn't have the time to ask about his name, the man, Nacho, is already leaving, muttering under his breath "what have you done again, Mingo, I swear..." and he can't hear the last words because Nacho is already so far, and the angry men are shouting insults, going for their own horses. But they are so drunk they struggle to even get on their saddle. Lalo watches the duo go, galloping away into the night. He pulls the bandana away from his face to look at it. The few lights illuminating the street let him guess it's red, with a few black lines drawing shapes and patterns. His blood as darken a big spot on it. Maybe two weeks later, Lalo sees one of the little towns scattered around the desert lands in the distance. He's coming back south after a while spent in the more green areas, searching for good opportunities that ended up never showing up. Nothing interesting him enough. But there is a silhouette walking in the distance. And he spurs his horse, thinking he recognizes that hat from that single interesting night spent north. And sure enough when he slows his horse next to him, Nacho's eyes find his, then the red bandana tied to his belt loop. Lalo smiles at Nacho, the scar on his bottom lip stretching. "Need a ride?"

[kylieneko]

I made another thing

Mistakes were made, some of which were intentional, lessons were learned, and now I made another thing. Based on the Easy "Little Black" Tank Top pattern by Mama In A Stitch.

I had this craft kit I picked up when I originally set out to learn fibercraft stuff and . . . it's junk. I can tell it's junk, and I have no idea what I'm doing. The individual yarns were unlabeled, probably because that would have meant committing to a yarn weight. The moral of the story is just by a decent ball of yarn. It made sense in my head, but clearly I should have done more research as I would have been warned away.

Wanting to at least do something with this yarn, I picked this tank top pattern because it was very simple. The choice of colors was the least vibrant colors first earth tones for autumn, which is coming soon in the northern hemisphere.

So let's cover the intentional mistakes:

skeins were approximately 30 yards (but some of the others in the kit were far shorter)

to use up yarn, I joined yarn when I ran out, not when it would make a cleaner join with the changeover on the wrong side (though this worked out mostly that way on the front panel by sheer coincidence)

color coordination was done entirely whimsically

pattern called for size 12mm needles, but I only had up to 10mm and wasn't buying more at this time.

because this was a YOLO project, the top panel was knitted bottom up because why not.

This worked out well enough. It's acrylic, so it's like wearing a plastic bag, but it might actually work as a fall tank for around the house. When the temperatures drop. It's way too heavy as a summer top with this material.

The front panel came out better than the back one because by that point I actually started to find a rhythm and more consistent tension, but also I managed to rescue my dropped stitches instead of picking up the previous row loop and wondering where the gap came from.

The cast-off on the back panel was done way too tightly. I did better with the front panel's cast off but for any other garment with a proper neck-hole, I should probably learn the more stretchy castoffs when binding off at the top.

Things I would do differently next attempt:

Stretchy cast-off, especially anything done bottom-up

Cable cast-on?

Maybe another few rows? I like my tops just a bit longer.

Probably use a cotton blend

Probably use weight 3 DK yarn?

Probably get the larger needles

Do a single color, that's more my style. But still not black. Black is not a good summer color where I live.

[shivamengineeringworks]

Grips - Everything you need to know about grips

The rubber handles you grip on a bike are called grips. They are simple to swap out and slide over your handlebars. You can choose from a variety of coolers and softness levels. Choose your preferred color and pattern style, then try on as many grips as you can to find the ideal fit for you. Click here to shop all grips

Which bike grips—bike, bike, or BMX—fit my bike? All of these grips are compatible with bikes such as BMX, MTB, beach cruisers, fixed gear, and kids bikes. The majority of bikes (99%) have a 7/8" bar, which matches the size of every grip we provide. The grips are probably not going to fit if you need them for a 12" department store bike because they are 5/8" bar. These will not fit easily on a motorcycle, whether it is a two-stroke, four-stroke, three-wheeler or quad since they feature a throttle and a one-inch bar. Although you can stretch them out and put them on, using motorcycle grips is preferable.

Which kind of grips should you purchase?

Four different grip styles exist. Single or dual ply grips are rubber grips with one or two coolers that slide onto the handlebars. Rubber grips wrapped around a plastic tube with collars on either end to secure it to the handlebars are known as lock-on rubber grips. With or without lock-on collars, silicone grips are an air-infused grip that has a sponge-like feel to it. Sliding over the handlebars, the leather grips assist you hold while the rubber absorbs shocks.

What is the duration of these grips?

The life expectancy of each rider is different. On the other end of the scale, there are riders with acid grips and others with delicate hands. Choose a grip that fits well, isn't slippery, and comes in a colours you prefer, regardless of how quickly or slowly your grips wear out.

Which grips provide you with the best hold and traction?

Three rubber styles are made up of two rubber grip styles and an overlap. There's a ribbed design with lots of tiny rings to wick away perspiration and provide traction. A thinner solid rubber with tiny pyramids for traction is used in the opposite style. Both are combined in the third, and they can be done in different ways. Choose one from the various options; you'll get to try a lot of grips. Rubber that has been filled with air and formed into a solid tube shape is what silicone grips are made of. Your hands shape the grip to fit your hands, and a pre-formed style helps to reduce wear over time. These grips come in two kinds, and they feel more like thick foam than rubber.

Leather grips are available in two styles: one that is wrapped like a golf club and the other that is lock-on and involves stacking and sliding leather loops over a plastic tube. Holding tight feels quite comfortable with this approach.

For what duration should I invest in grips?

The overall length of the grip, measured in millimeter's, ranges from 130 to 180 mm. Any grip can be made shorter using scissors or a razor blade; 150mm is considered short. The ribbed grips on a multispeed bike are the easiest to cut down if you have shifters, which are what change the speeds. If you want a shorter grip that fits your bike, you can also cut off the flange, which is the huge cone-shaped part of the grip.

Are these grips compatible with my bike's colour?

Even amongst products that come from the same production batch, colour tints might be difficult to match precisely. Never forget that your monitor might not be calibrated to my screen or to the colour setting that was chosen at the time the picture was taken. Since they are the least expensive parts of your bike, we advise you to experiment with as many different colours and styles as you can. This is the only area of your bike that comes into contact with your skin; give it your best shot; your hands will thank you.

Which barends are included with my grips?

Grips are available in a wide variety of bar end shapes. The plastic, rubber, or metal cap that covers the end of your handlebar to prevent injuries or dirt infiltration is called a bar end. The Odyssey parend style, ODI rubber, and metal ones are the best. The ones made in the parend style are very lightweight and have a long lifespan. The ODI ones wear a little bit quicker and don't recover as quickly. The aluminium ones are significantly lighter yet still very sturdy. If you want them to last, get the metal or par end styles. Is it better to get grips with or without flanges?

The rubber ring at the end of the grip that prevents your hands from sliding inward on the handlebars is called a flange. Their purpose is to shield your thumbs from the brake pedal. Gripless grips are devoid of flangles. If I had to be completely honest with you. If you ride without a brake, you should use flangeless grips; if you ride with a brake, you should use flanged grips. Remember that this is bmx, so feel free to do as you please.

Must I get leather grips?

Leather grips are made with elegance and grace in mind. These are the styles you choose if you enjoy sports and want a bike with a traditional appearance and leather equipment. The base is made of rubber so it slides on like a regular grip, but it's stitched to offer you the best hold possible.

Which grip material is better: leather, foam, lock-on, or single ply?

Riders that prefer a slimmer grip should use the single ply grips. Lock-on grips offer the best slip resistance despite being significantly thicker. For cyclists who are having trouble finding a grip that can absorb perspiration while riding, foam grips are the ideal option. The most stylish machines and non-aggressive riding have leather grips. Must I get leather grips? Are certain grips more robust than others? The grips feel thicker or thinner depending on the style or pattern. The thinnest grips are often those with a knurled design, whereas the thickest grips are typically those with robber. We recommend a thinner, knurled grip if your hands are really small or if your hand size is less than 7. The ribbed hands will feel larger if you have larger hands. Contact Information: Call Now:- +91–93121–10211 Visit our Website:- www.shivamengineeringworks.com Address:- Said No. A-3, Ground Floor, DSIDC Complex Near Police Station, Sultanpuri, Delhi-110086

[ringleaderising]

@dissentersrising // I LIED HERE ARE QUESTIONS FAST

okay. first off: magic system! i am always curious about this. are you just using site canon entirely? have you changed the way magic works at all? if you have, in what way/how does it work now?

also! the wicked dig: what's their deal? what are they doing about what they accidentally unearthed/do they even know what they accidentally unearthed? hell, what is their plans about digging up something decidedly living? infamous as they are, too, is anyone else keeping tabs on this digsite in the first place given exactly who's mining it?

I'm gonna go ahead and note that this is gonna be a long as fuck post so I'm putting the Wicked Dig under a cut LMAO

Also if anybody reads this feel free to talk at me about it in tags/replies or whatever because this much writing feels like I missed something and will need to clarify @dissentersrising you made me do more writing than NaNoWriMo last year and that's cause for a gold star I think.

MAGIC IN THE GAPLANDS

While I borrow a good handful of the on-site lore for magic, specifically in the realm of magical attunement often being tied to birthright/location, the things that can be done with this magic, and alternate kinds of magic exist among the dragons that inhabit the Gaplands- especially The Host. Their abilities are often far more detrimental than simple elemental magic, The Puppeteer can imbue a sense of false-life into the dead and use the resulting entity to interact with the world without the requirement of finding her way through a gap. The Gambler can manipulate the probability of anything occurring, for better or worse, no matter how improbable, through a single roll of his dice. These more 'impressive' talents are present in each member of The Host, and are used to control or punish those who break their deals- or that they've simply taken a vested interest in- however I feel like some of these things could easily still be explained away with some form of elemental magic, which is why I think my largest deviation is definitely the Analog Virus/Technomancy/Temporal Manipulation- which is connected to Hope Adder Enterprises.

The Analog Virus is an infection spread via the INTRUDER and a newly surfaced disease in the wake of The Splintering. it has a number of symptoms, variant in most of the affected, but there's a handful of commonalities.

Mouths altered, be that made wider, too-full of teeth, splintering into multiple parts to operate more like mandibles/that thing Predator's mouth does.

Eyes sunken deeper in the sockets/vanishing completely, Irises developing a strange looping pattern or an odd glow- additional eyes in places they shouldn't be.

Body parts that don't make sense, or are enveloped in static/blurry/scan lines like an old tube TV experiencing difficulty getting a feed.

Garbled, reversed, or fuzzy speech, strange behavior out of the infected's norm typically ending in violence against family, friends, or other people simply trying to help.

Strange magical talents and attunement to technology, in the event that the infection doesn't simply kill those suffering from it outright.

Essentially a computer virus capable of infecting people, the Analog Virus has led to a number of dragons with magical attunement to attempt to heal or cope with their illness- and that's led to a new form of magic most similar to the idea of Technomancy. Not connected to the idea of electrical impulse through things and more tied to the presence of code, and technology on the whole, it's often misunderstood as an offshoot of Lightning magic, despite being something wholly different.

The most talented Technomancers at present, however, are AI themselves, or bonded to an AI, in some form, as is the case with MIND. Technically Bastian's assistive AI, (Contained within a Black Iron Creeper) MIND is a splintered portion of VAN- the AI responsible for The Splintering- and has the ability to 'infest' the bodies of robotic entities, augmented dragons, or really, anything with a chip, code, or metal embedded within- the body she inhabits outside of "Drone Mode" is the body of a deceased H.A.E. test subject killed in the initial accident, referred to as "The Hivemistress" in discussions about her deployments, She's only been required to use this body a small number of times, as her abilities are just as prevalent in the shell of the Creeper. Bast's infection has given the two of them something of a Pseudo-telepathy- allowing Bast to look through her eyes in cases of espionage.

And with the discovery of technomancy, and within the aftermath of the splintering, Avis Gyldwell discovered Temporal magic. Little's really known about it, beyond the fact that Only Bastian has permission to use the T.I.M.E. Device outside of Hope Adder grounds, and that it's lasting effects on those without the Analog Virus has been determined to be 'too high risk for any value to come from it'. The T.I.M.E. pieces- designed to appear like highly advanced pocket watches are capable of setting 3 points in time and space to 'reset' to- Alpha, Beta, and Gamma. "Loop Point Alpha" is permanent, a set point in time mere seconds after The Splintering occurred. Hope Adder Enterprises sits trapped inside this point in time, those inside well-aware of each loop they've jumped back on, and the time that's passed, suspended in place by VAN. Thirteen, and her 'sister' XIII are the attendants of this pocket- named for "The 13th Hour" not present on a 12-hour clock- a time that simply shouldn't exist.

And by god that's all I've got for the Magic System- which really is just The Host and Hope Adder breaking every known rule of the universe now that I write it down, so I will be putting the Wicked Dig under a cut because I am SORRY I talk so much.

THE DIAMOND AND THE DIG

To understand the Diamond Riot- the crew behind the Wicked Dig, it's best to start with Mal.

Mal is not the originator of The Diamond Riot- he was little more than a child, when his predecessor took him in, an orphan hustling on the streets of Lanternlea to try and make a living. Talented in manipulation even then, he was quickly made an asset to the crew, and when the time came that the rest of the crew grew too old-or met a deadly end- Mal took the role of leader- and recruited the members of the Diamond Riot that work with him presently. A group of rustlers, thieves and grave robbers too stubborn to die, it's their willingness to do anything for survival that keeps the plague ideals of Mal's mentor alive within them- And it's part of the glittering blue stones that made up Mother Misery's scar-battered frame that now replaces his front horn- picked from her body upon her death.

They are, at their core, adventurers, but in the way that Indiana Jones was only the hero of his story because the people around him were even more reprehensible, they're selfish, driven by their own gain, over a respect for the cultures and people they're stealing from- a behavior that has served them well with exception of injuries simply replaced and limped on from- at least until this excursion.

Hired by the mysterious Arizona, Mal and his crew- currently made up of the guardian couple that shares him as a charge, Shuck and Tearmarsh, and his own adoptive daughter Rezonant have found themselves in Dragonhome, operating largely in the pitch-darkness, to avoid any questions from locals- but those who recognize them- or have any particular issues with their presence are typically turned away from any sort of troublemaking for the crew by the threat of 'having something very very painful done to your body' by one of Mal's heavies- The threat of "Having a Stoneshatter Drill run through you" alone is scary enough- when it's made by a Guardian who could probably break you to pieces without the drill- most don't like the Diamond Riot- but still more are not brave or fool enough to interfere.

But their propensity for robbing graves and interference with the Dead for their belongings has, as mentioned- caught up with them, and it started with awakening Micte and Chel. A pair of Auraboa guardians of the thing that slumbered in the tombs they disturbed, the duo were initially assumed to be the only thing slumbering within, agitated by their awakening but doing little more than offering a hissed warning to delve no further into the dim, dusty halls of the tomb- A warning expressly ignored, as blinded by the glittering riches worn as adornments on the snake women, Mal insisted they push on.

That which slumbers below is an Imperial... Or several, perhaps. A massive, sprawling creature made of thousands- Colloquially known as The Child it was nothing but a rumor for centuries, causing quakes across Dragonhome and buried deep enough that it was assumed it would never be found again- an assumption foiled by the Diamond Riot.

The member of The Host who's eyes they've drawn is none other than Mithos- As The Calcite Nursery is his domain. And The Child his monstrous, fused progeny.

The Child is weak, exhausted, rotten from centuries beneath the earth, but their father is always listening, and The Heathen's blessing winds them in magic, gold, and flora- stirs the rot to life- They will protect their home against intruders, and as light seeps into their labyrinth from above- thousands of minds cry out for one thing: Escape.

So it is perhaps a good thing that another with no fear of the Diamond Riot was, in fact, keeping tabs on them. Daisy "The Daggerless" Bandy is something of a folk-hero around Earth Territory, a traveling explorer who's morals are a good bit less gray than the Riot's, Daggerless knows of The Child and it's resting place- and had for a time, ensured no one approached it. Foolishly, she trusted Mal long enough for a night of passion- and he stole away the artifact required to enter the depths of the Nursery. Blessed by Lacrymosa to never fall in battle, she has become something of an unwitting champion to what seems to be The Host's single benevolent goddess- And The Warmistress wants The Child slain.

Reluctantly, Daggerless will do as she's called to- even if it means saving Mal's two-timing ass in the process.

[joyfuljarra]

An Atlanta Latina-Owned Refillery Transforming Eco-Friendly Living

A dynamic and sustainable movement is emerging in the centre of Atlanta, driven by a tiny company owned by a Latina that is causing a stir in the neighbourhood. This creative endeavour is more than just a shop; it's a pledge to inclusive employment, environmental awareness, and a move in the direction of a cleaner future. This refillery, tucked away amid the busy streets of Atlanta, is revolutionising the way we think about home goods by providing a selection of refillable solutions that meet the varied requirements of the neighbourhood while still being environmentally responsible.

The Refillery Owned by Latinas:

An enthusiastic Latina-owned small business that is deeply committed to community development and environmental responsibility is at the head of this sustainable shop. Her goal is to create an environment where inclusion and sustainability coexist, not only sell items. The shop is an example of the good influence that small companies can have on society and the environment, demonstrating the potential of one person to make a difference.

Refillable Households Products:

Aesthetically pleasant containers brimming with necessary home items adorn the store's shelves. Bring your containers or buy reusable ones in-store, allowing customers to customise and sustainably enjoy their whole shopping experience. It's easy to follow: choose your product, fill your container, and help reduce single-use packaging. All together, those little actions have a big effect on the ecosystem.

Put simply, Sustainable Hair Care:

This eco-friendly haven's emphasis on sustainable hair care is one of its most notable features. Hair care products that are healthy for the environment as well as your hair. Conservative hair care products are usually packed in single-use a plastic bottle, which adds to the problem of plastic pollution, which is only becoming worse. But the refiller provides a substitute that ends this damaging loop.

In this store's setting, sustainable hair care entails offering refillable solutions for shampoo, conditioner, and other necessary hair care products. Customers may drastically minimise their plastic waste by using the refillery, which offers high-quality, eco-friendly hair care items in quantity. This little but significant adjustment fits in with the store's larger goal of encouraging sustainability in many facets of everyday living.

This Latina-owned refillery in Atlanta is a ray of hope for a more inclusive and sustainable future. The business is a living example of environmental stewardship and community empowerment, from its supply of refillable houehold products to its commitment to business with inclusive employment. When patrons enter, they find an abundance of environmentally friendly choices, but they also join a movement aimed at redefining our lifestyle and consumption patterns.

This eco-friendly shop is more than simply a commercial venture—it's evidence of the ability of one person's efforts to bring about good change. Through her efforts, the Latina businesswoman behind this project has created a venue that transcends retail and becomes a focus for sustainable living and a celebration of diversity. She has done this by effectively fusing environmental conscience with community participation. A green revolution is happening right in the middle of Atlanta, and it all begins with a simple refill.

[primcrdialchaos]

Haven't done a headcanon thing for a while and I've had a few ideas bouncing around in my head for a while, so.

On top of shapeshifting and reality bending abilities, Theo also has mind warping abilities insofar that he is able to control minds, be it wiping them, or rewriting them in the blink of an eye. Given his origins, it is in a way understandable that he would have the ability to do this. I am of course referring to the fact that the closest facsimile Theo has to parents are the pattern screamers.

In all intents and purposes, Theo shouldn't exist. Pattern screamers shouldn't be able to create anything. Pattern screamers are remnants of dead universes, so imagine you are watching an old TV, the sort of with the bunny ears and the static and none of the smart wall mounted shit you see nowadays. When you power it off, the screen goes black except for a small white dot in the middle that slowly fades away. In a way, a dying universe will do that when it dies, except you don't see the blip. It's not a visual thing to see, but it's a thing that other pattern screamers can sense. Millions of life forms in the one universe, millions of forms of life, some visible, some microscopic to humans, from the lowliest of bacteria to the largest of living creatures. Imagine all of that being snuffed out in a single instant, even if all living animals and humans were dead in that universe, there'd be all these microscopic forms of life that died in the blink of an eye. When that happens, when a universe dies, it makes a noise that you can't hear, but it's a deafening noise. It might not be straight away. That universe will persist in a state of unreality and unexistence. It will stare into the void, surrounded by nothing but silence. It won't be able to think, it won't be able to breathe, it won't be able to move, it won't be able to even see, it will just be forced to realise its non-existence, its meaninglessness, its finality. That it is dead and there is nothing it can do. Its very impact on reality as a whole has been extinguished. The universe will despair, and it will despair for an inconceivable amount of time. It might be a second, it might be a million years, but it will be forced to despair on its unexistence, the fact that it can't do anything. And it might take a long time, it might take no time at all. But it will start to protest, and ultimately it will start to scream. A silent scream.

Pattern screamers can exist anywhere, and we wouldn't even know it. But usually they exist in places that humans just have general 'bad feelings' about. Like dark alleyways, or cemeteries, delapidated buildings, some haunted houses, the bottom of the ocean, etc. But sometimes they're just there and we don't know it. When a dog barks at something in the corner of a room, or the bench in the park that nobody likes to sit at, or the swing set of your next door neighbour that always swings as if in a small breeze, even when there isn't a breeze at all.

Not only are pattern screamers inconceivable by humans, they're unable to even be sensed by higher beings like angels or demons or certain Gods either. The only beings that are able to sense pattern screamers are (to a muted extent) animals and certain eldritch beings that exist fluidly along reality and time to the point of existing outside of it. Even those beings don't always understand what they're experiencing. A pattern screamer doesn't look like anything, though occasionally it will shapeshift in order to further its agenda. A pattern screamer is not good or evil, it exists in a form of neutrality in that it doesn't adhere to rules, that is, rules of existence, rules of reality, rules of gravity, rules of sense, etc.

The term 'pattern' is a hint as to what it normally does when it does appear on Earth. If a person wanders into its path (for example deep in the woods at night), it will wipe that person's mind and send it on a loop. The person walks past the stump, steps on a twig, then it walks past the stump, steps on a twig, walks past the stump, steps on a twig, stump, twig, stump, twig, ad infinitum. The person has a degree of cognisance about this, after fifty loops it will realise something isn't right, then after five thousand, it will start to forget its name, then after ten thousand it will struggle to speak. Sometimes the pattern screamers will shift the pattern and let the person walk a little further, maybe make it look like the person walked onto a road and managed to wave by a passing vehicle. A kindly lady pulls over and the person tells them they got lost. The lady laughs and they chat as they drive to the nearby city. The lady shows the person a picture of their granddaughter, whose piano recital is this Sunday and her favourite song is Greensleeves. The person will smile and tell the lady that this is their place right up ahead. The person will walk into their home, hug their partner and child, and sit down to watch Jeopardy reruns. The person will then kiss their child good night after tucking them in, walk past the slightly askew picture frames hanging on the wall, then lie down next to their partner and close their eyes. The moment that person closes their eyes they will reopen them again and be back in the woods, stepping on the twig. After fifty more stump twig stump twig loops, they'll start to hear something in the distance, something they can't put their finger on. They'll keep maintaining the loop, and gradually the noise will grow louder, but still they can't put their finger on what it is. Confused and losing sense of themselves again, they'll notice their ears are starting to ring. They'll keep going through the loops, the ringing in their ears getting louder. And then they'll realise that it's not their ears that are ringing, it's the sound ringing around them, loud enough to make their head pound, yet the woods are still silent, except for when they break the twig, which starts to sound like a bone snapping. After a million more loops, they will start to scream, and even when they stop the screaming continues, deafening around them, making them fall to the ground and press their hands over their ears, curling in the fetal position. A jogger will jog past the woods, close enough to be able to hear them, but they hear nothing because the person exists in a form of unreality, unable to be perceived by anything except the patterns. Millions of loops past and the person keeps walking, fourteen footsteps, crack goes the twig, eight more footsteps, stump. Fourteen footsteps, crack goes the twig, eight more footsteps, stump. Again and again and again. Occasionally the pattern will shift, but the person will not notice. They are a fly caught in a spider's web, wriggling endlessly, and not even the death of the universe they are born into will save them. Given enough loops, they will eventually turn into a pattern screamer themselves.

So, given the fact that they can control minds, wipe minds, rewrite minds and the like, it's understandable that Theo would have this ability. It's unknown how exactly he was created. My personal theory is he was once a pattern screamer himself, but evolved into a primordial being that toyed with the universes and realities as they were first being formed after the big bang like a child would paint on the walls. After time he would curiously watch all these universes starting to grow life, then destroy them and start again. After an innumerable amount of time he stopped destroying the universes and started just watching them. After a while he grew curious enough to fashion a form for himself, sometimes bird, sometimes beast, sometimes human, never standing out and always blending in. He would just watch these different universes, interact with them here and there, always watching, learning, and adapting with them. He would appear in snatches of history here and there, sometimes he would be a strong component of history but not appear, sometimes he would just be a silent watcher, sometimes nudging history in certain ways but only scarcely outright interfering. Sometimes he would interfere more, just to watch the inevitability of universe dying in front of him. He would watch universes be born, then fizzle out. Some remained burning brighter than the sun, others would barely exist before they were gone again.

Theo's been in existence so long that even he can't say when exactly he first started. It's easiest to say he has existed in and out throughout all of time, space and reality, because that's really the way it is.

Much like pattern screamers, angels, Gods, demons and everything in between can't truly perceive what Theo is. Most Gods will see another God, as will angels and demons in some universes. The few amount of beings that could perceive some of what Theo is would be those that are a constant in reality, like Death. As with pattern screamers, certain other eldritch beings would also sense something 'else' with Theo but not be able to describe it, as is the same with some Gods (including the act God of Heaven) and also Satan at his most powerful.

Sometimes, though, Theo will let a little bit of himself out in order to show others that he's more than what he thinks. Doing this to a human might cause them to do a variety of the following: scream and claw their own eyes out, drop into a violent seizure and bite their tongue aspirating on their own blood, kill themselves as swiftly as possible, lapse into a permanent state of dissociation staring blankly and unmovingly into space (also called an absence seizure), etc. Higher beings such as angels and demons would find themselves unable to look at Theo for too long and also unable to find themselves able to violently react. Sometimes they would also find it difficult to remember what it was they were unable to look at, like trying to remember a dream you just had. Eldritch and higher Gods would be able to look at Theo but find the air around him a little fuzzy and ripply, feeling an odd sense of confusion, even for the omniscient. But at the same time there would be a subconscious understanding.

It's difficult to explain and I'm just basically dumping what's in my head lol. Sorry about the word vomit. If you read all this way, you're awesome.

[phelanspharmacy]

Forearm Crutches Etsy Ireland

Large waterproof storage bag with multi-use storage compartments. Features a large, zipped main storage compartment with a helpful, quick entry pouch on rear of bag with hook and loop fastener. When potential, adjustable crutches or walking sticks should be lowered to minimum peak for protected carriage. These folding height adjustable walking sticks have received a hard anodised therapy that forestalls damage to the engaging floor. The picket handle is shaped to fit comfortably in both hand.

When using only one stick it ought to be held within the reverse hand to the affected leg in order that a natural walking pattern and an upright posture may be maintained. The stick and the affected leg should be moved forwards collectively. If using multiple stick, professional advice must be searched crutch for guidance on probably the most suitable pattern of use. Both floor-to-handgrip peak and the distance between the cuff and the handgrip are adjustable on double adjustable elbow crutches. Single adjustable elbow crutches only allow floor to handgrip peak adjustment. Standard and anatomically-moulded handgrips are available.

The handgrips ought to be at the similar degree because the tip of your hips. If utilizing elbow crutches, the remaining should be slightly below the elbow with the handles at hip height. Remember that the crutches are wider than your normal walking pattern so give your self space. If leaving your own home, bring a small backpack or shoulder bag, as it's difficult to hold anything in your arms. Often sufferers wrap the handles with felt or cotton as it may be less abrasive on the skin. Ensure that no matter materials is used is applied securely.

The award successful iWALK is the best alternative to conventional crutches and knee scooters for all below-the-knee accidents. After they returned from their world journey, we caught up with Florent Carral and Sandra Baratte. While travelling, Sandra used Flexyfoot crutches to get around. The additional velcro strap reduces any swing of the stick or crutches when you're walking crutch in movement, maintaining them flush to the bag itself. You have left a lasting impression, seared into my psyche like no different nation before it. It simply so occurs though that it was through your genocidal insurance policies and never some awe-inspiring natural wonder.

An invoice clearly stating the VAT content material of the total amount paid must be included with the appliance. Contact Revenue’s Central Repayments Office to request Form VAT 61a (see Useful addresses), or you probably can apply online for a VAT refund utilizing eRepayments in Revenue’s myAccount service. In this text, Rachel Allen, chartered physiotherapist at Mid West Physiotherapy, answers the commonest questions we receive from our physiotherapy sufferers about hip replacement surgery. Hopefully these solutions will ease any considerations you might have and set you on the right path for restoration.

You may be eligible for home assist and there may be aids that can help you. You might wish to organize to have someone to help you for every week or so. A physiotherapist may educate you exercises to help strengthen the hip. They'll clarify what should and should not be done after the operation. They'll educate you how to bend and sit to keep away from damaging your new hip. Leg length is an important consider determining if the iWALK3.zero will match, however, since most people don’t know their leg length, we use height as a place to begin.

We additionally ask that you just full our questionnaire so our pharmacy group can check that this product is suitable so that you can buy. You'll need to be additional careful to avoid falls within the first few weeks after surgery as this could injury your hip. You might have discovered having intercourse tough earlier than the operation because of pain. You should be able to stop utilizing your crutches inside four to six weeks and feel back to normal after about three months. After this time you should be in a position to carry out all your regular activities.

This must be measured by standing upright in acceptable and supportive footwear. The underarm pad should fit under the armpit with two finger widths of space above to make sure no stress is utilized via the armpit when the crutches are getting used. The handgrip adjusts along the upright(s) of the crutches and ought to be set at a height stage walking crutches with the protruding bone along side the wrist. Others have telescopic legs in order that their peak may be extra finely adjusted utilizing spring loaded catches. Equipment for folks with disabilities, generally known as aids and appliances, is often provided free of cost to medical card holders.

IWALK3.0 is the arms free, pain free various to standard crutches and knee scooters. Think of all the stuff you can’t do when using typical crutches; preparing a meal, walking your dog, carrying a cup of espresso, pushing a buying cart. You now not have to have your life interrupted – the iWALK3.zero crutches sets you free to renew your day to day routine and luxuriate in ache free, functional mobility. This sturdy durable bag is right for any wheelchair and most scooters with or and not using a headrest. There are two side sleaves to put crutches or walking sticks.

[sophia-inrd602]

Week 1

Terminology and Concepts

Feedback Robert Fabricant + Cliff Huang (Source)

> What allows information to become action (Gregory Bateson) > In a man-made world, feedback has to be designed - what does an object do to say that it has done a task? (eg what does a toaster do to indicate that it has finished toasting 🍞) > Think about the feedbacks that didn’t exist before - broken feedback generates future feedbacks > Huang: “user friendliness is the fit between the objects around us and the way we behave - design doesn’t rely on artefacts but on patterns of behaviour.” > 2 Strategies i) Finding what causes pain then trying to eliminate it or ii) reinforcing what we already do with a new object that becomes so easy that it become second nature > Taking humans as they are and not what they should be > Effective feedback is when the consequences of an action is obvious > Design should be familiar to what users already know - what they’re expecting > Dopamine boost!

Second Order Cybernetics > Action the user involved in order for an ecosystem to take place > For example: Spotify suggestion of similar songs is not automatic - it uses machine learning and algorithm to learn its user. Without the user using Spotify, no feature will exist.

Decision Tree Source

> Guide for designers to decide when to break away from the style guide, when to change it, and when to change their designs to better align with the guide > Series of questions to make the best decision for the product and its consistency > Pushes designers to get creative with their use of the design system (surprising how creative people get when they need to adhere to constraints!!! 🤯)

Source > Retrace steps on the decision tree to help designers see which step lead them to a certain outcome> Can be overwhelming 😰- make decision tree simple > Need to be editable and shareable in order to evolve

User Friendly > “What is the least amount of work a user has to do to achieve their desired outcome?”> Focus on adding value and meaning to the product rather than frustration or trickery > Think of how the users will use the product as it evolves > Fit between the objects around us and the ways we behave > Relies on patterns of behaviour> Alows users to figure out what to do, then tell them what’s happening (feedback loops)> Present users with information (subtly) that allow them to make a decision - add value to the very start > Freedom of choice

Micro-Interactions (Source) > Small details to make the experience of the user more fun, easy, effective and human > Goal: simple,clever and subtle > Transforms the tedious into the mesmerising > According to Dan Saffer: Micro-interactions are “contained product moments that revolve around a single use case - they have one main task.” • Accomplishing a single task • Managing an ongoing task • Interacting with a single piece of data • Controlling an ongoing process • Adjusting settings • Creating or viewing a piece of content (eg 3D Touch • Turning features on/off 4 things that make a good micro-interaction 1) Triggers • what initiates the micro-interaction • eg. floating icon (encourages user to click, swipe, tap, pull or scroll) 2) Rules • engages the rules • needs to feel natural for a user 3) Feedback • lets the user know what is happening (eg loading animation, pop-up, colour fill an icon) 4) Loops and Modes • length of a micro-interaction • will the user need to repeat it or change it over time? > What is the purpose of the micro-interaction - message?

Content Choreography (Source)

> Trent Walton > Column drop: as layout changes across different devices (eg phone, tablet, laptop), the number of columns is usually reduced from 3-4 down to 1. This means that information that is highly visible with multiple columns is now dropped down below the page when column is reduced to 1 > Content choreography: greater control over the blocks inside containers so that designers are able to manipulate how it will look like when there is a column drop > Two problems:

Source order:

where blocks of content will display in the same order as they are located in the HTML structure

 the best source order for one display isn’t necessarily the best for

Intermixing content:

mixing blocks of content from different columns in a single-column layout instead of dropping entire columns of content below one another.

UX in Motion

> It’s not about UI Animation • motion ≠ UI animation • animation is all about tools while principles are the practical application of ideas that guide the usage of tools => providing high leverage opportunities for designers.

> Real time vs non-realtime interactions • state: fundamentally static (eg design comp) • act: temporal + motion based • realtime interaction/direct manipulation: user is directly interacting with the objects in the interface. • non-realtime interaction: object behaviour is post-interactive - occurs after a user action/transitional

> Motion supports usability in 4 ways

Expectation • falls into 2 areas: i) how users perceive what an object is and ii) how it behaves. • designers should minimise the gap between user expectation and what they experience

Continuity • user flow and ‘consistency ‘ of the UX • intra-continuity: continuity within a scene • inter-continuity: continuity within a series of scenes that make up the total UX

Narrative • linear progression of events -> temporal/spatial framework • discreet moments and narrative that connect together throughout the UX

Relationship • spatial, temporal and hierarchal representation between interface objects - guide users understanding and decision making

> Principles, techniques, properties and values • hirearchy: principles > techniques > properties > values • techniques: various + unlimited execution of principles/combination of principles • properties: specific object parameters animated to create technique (eg opacity, position, scale, rotation, anchor point, colour, stroke, shape, etc) • values: numeric property that vary overtime to create animation • (eg. obstruction principle (principle) > blurred glass effect (technique) > blur + opacity (properties) > 25px + 70% (values)

12 Principles of UX Motion

• creates naturalism and sense of continuity when objects behave as users expect them to • ’slow-in and slow-out’ • skeuomorphism

• pre-consciously sets the user up for success by ‘telling’ the user something about the nature of the objects in the interface • the narrative in the above preference is that the top 2 objects are united while the bottom object is seperate • even before the user registers what these objects are, the designer has already communicated through motion that the objects are somehow ’seperate’

• creates spatial and temporal hierarchy when interacting with multiple objects • linking object properties to other object - creates object relationships and hierarchies that support usability • functions best as a ‘realtime’ interaction • occurs in 3 forms: 

i) direct parenting 

ii) delayed parenting 

iii) inverse parenting

• creates a continuous state of narrative flow when object utility changes • seamlessly transitions the user through different UX states/series of events • results in better user awareness, retention and follow-through

• creates a dynamic and continuous narrative relationship when value subject changes • three opportunities: i) connects the user to the reality behind data ii) concept of agency and iii) dynamic nature of the values themselves • static objects: no value change (eg painted signs displaying a speed limit) • dynamic - reflecting something that is happening in reality • employing dynamic systems in the form of motion based values activates a ‘neurofeedback’ to the user, empowering them to become ‘agents’ - establishes connection and agency • can occur in realtime and non-realtime

• creates continuity in an interface object/object group when utility is determined by which part of the object/object group is revealed or concealed • relationship between the shape of the object and its utility • act NOT state • preserves narrative flow

• creates narrative and object spatial relationship in visual flatland when layered objects are location dependent • utilises flatland ordering properties to overcome lack of non-spatial hierarchies - supports usability • allows designers to use motion to communicate location dependent objects that exist behind or in front of others in non-3D space • promote spatial orientations

• creates continuity, relationship and narrative when new objects originate and depart

• allows users to spatially orient themselves in relationship objects/scenes not in the primary visual hierarchy • allows designers to compensate for a singe unified field of view/object view in UX • introduce time to give effect of act not state

• creates visual hierarchy in visual flatland when users scroll • different interface objects moving at different states • allows users to focus on primary actions and content while maintaining design integrity • background elements ‘recede’ • separates immediacy content from ambient/supportive content • clearly defines the various object relationships for the duration of the interaction - quicker foreground objects appear closer/ slower background objects appear further away

• provides a spatial narrative framework when new objects originate and depart • overcomes the flatland non-logic of UX by providing spatial origin and departure references to reinforce mental models  of where users are in the UX • great at introducing new elements without abruptness • overcomes layering paradox (objects lacking depth exist on the same plane but occurs ‘in front of’ or ‘behind’ other objects) • presents itself in 3 ways:

i) origami dimensionality • folding/hinged

i) floating dimensionality • gives objects a spatial origin and departure - making interaction models intuitive and highly narrative

iii) object dimensionality • objects with true depth and form • can be both realtime and non-realtime • users develop an awareness of object utility based on non-visible spatial locations

• preserves continuity and narrative when navigating • movement of objects relevant to camera • could refer to a change in user perspective • zoom: perspective and object does not move spatially but rather, the object is scaling

[steevesmith]

Discover How to Diagnose and Fix Performance Problems in PHP Applications

The PHP development team has been hard at work, releasing new features and improvements to the PHP language, the web server in which it runs, and the databases that it connects to each and every month. The result of this activity by the PHP development team means one thing: performance problems in PHP applications are becoming more and more common! But don’t panic! With this guide on how to diagnose and fix performance problems in PHP applications, you’ll have all of the information you need to tackle these issues head-on.

Understand what happens under the hood

Many performance problems can be diagnosed just by using a tool like Xdebug or Chrome's developer tools. With both of these, you'll be able to see what's happening under-the-hood without having to deploy your app first. 

You might not realize that it takes five queries on average to display a single piece of content on your page or that an AJAX call blocks all other page loading while it happens. 

Seeing how these things affect your code will give you insight into what kinds of changes will help make things better; you might even find that some problems aren't fixable right away. But at least now you'll know what's happening and where you need to improve things.

Check your code for common mistakes

Before you start optimizing your code, it’s important to make sure there aren’t mistakes already present. Make sure your code is: clear, easy-to-read, properly indented, uses short variable names (four characters or less), avoids magic numbers, avoids excessive logic (e.g., branching/looping), uses comments appropriately—especially when APIs are used—and is free of typos and obvious syntax errors. If you aren’t sure whether something is a mistake or not, don’t be afraid to use Google.

Poor security practices

As a web developer, it’s your job to ensure that data isn’t compromised. In particular, you need to make sure that sensitive information is encrypted before it reaches users, but also that stored user credentials (such as passwords) are stored safely. 

It’s not just about keeping things safe from hackers — you also have an obligation to protect your own systems from malicious users who might want to steal from or damage your application or company. 

We suggest always using salted password hashes (and two-factor authentication whenever possible). For more information on best practices for storing passwords securely with PHP, check out Anthony Ferrara's post on a similar topic.

 Making database queries twice

Many programmers struggle with performance optimization because they make redundant database queries. Sometimes it’s a matter of laziness, but other times it’s a matter of poor organizational skills. Either way, before you can speed up your application, you have to be able to diagnose where things are going wrong. 

This diagnostic involves adding some code that logs what queries are being executed (SELECT, UPDATE, INSERT) by your application when you log into it. 

You should then look at your log files for patterns that indicate unnecessarily repeated queries or an otherwise inefficient query pattern. Once you’ve done that: Keep all tables small: Large tables can really hurt an application's performance.

Misconfiguring the web server

Developers can use tools, such as Linux top or iftop, to find out how much memory an application uses. If a site has a heavy load, it is useful for developers to check how much of that load is caused by external requests. 

Developers can use iftop on Linux machines or Navicat/Kashoo on Windows servers (or whatever tool they normally use) to check how many resources are being used per hour. It's important for them to check what percentage of requests come from bots versus actual human users. In some cases, robots might be responsible for more than 90% of traffic.

Use a profiler

If you’re trying to figure out how well your application performs, there are a few tools that can help you out. If you’re using a hosted solution like Heroku or Amazon Web Services, your host will have many different options for analyzing application performance. 

If you’re running locally, there are lots of options available to aid your performance analysis: Linux has profile; Mac has Instruments; Windows has Visual Studio Profiler. 

Each tool gives you insight into which sections of code are taking up processing time—even if it means going down several levels deep into your web stack. From there, you can examine what needs improving and make sure those changes get made ASAP.

Determine the potential causes of bottlenecks

When it comes to performance issues, you can't assume that one thing is causing everything. If your site's running slowly, start by looking at both front-end and back-end performance; we'll get into those details a bit later on. 

Once you've pinpointed a potential bottleneck, ask yourself these questions: * Why could that particular process be causing slowdowns? * What can I do about it? * What do I know so far? * Where should I go next?

Follow the F.I.R.S.T (Files, Inodes, Resources, Sockets, Threads) rule

Performance issues can be caused by a huge number of things, which is why you need to know how to check for every possible cause. F.I.R.S.T stands for: Files, Inodes, Resources, Sockets, and Threads. 

Every time you experience a performance issue, run through these steps before you even start thinking about potential solutions. The order of each step is important – resolve any problems with file access before moving on to resources, then sockets, etc.

Benchmark it with XHProf

If you don’t have access to production data, performance profiling can be a real challenge. Luckily, if you’re running Apache, there’s a great open-source tool called XHProf that helps you collect performance data from your codebase. The process is relatively straightforward: create an xhprof.php file at your root directory (this will contain all of your profiling code), configure mod_xhprof for Apache, restart Apache and begin your profiling process by invoking php /path/to/your/root/.xhprof.php. Once configured correctly, XHProf should be able to capture diagnostic information at runtime and report back some performance statistics on functions in addition to function calls themselves.  Use Unix tools such as top, lsof, free, vmstat etc.

A lot of performance information is available on most operating systems. For example, Unix/Linux provides tools like free, vmstat, top (and others) which will tell you about CPU and memory usage. The top tool is especially useful for investigating a long-running process: just type 'top' and watch how it updates every few seconds with new details. Running 'ps aux sort -nrk 2 -g' will let you see what's happening on your system at any given time. I recommend learning these commands so that you can learn more about your system when something breaks!

Use in-built functions like memory get usage

Knowing exactly how much memory your application is using is critical for effective performance management. The easiest way to find out is by checking built-in functions like memory get usage. This function will give you a snapshot of how much memory your application has allocated at any given time, allowing you to get an overall picture of whether your app is over-allocating or under-allocating resources. 

If your app seems well within acceptable memory limits, look into adding caching layers, offloading jobs that don't need to be done synchronously (like updating records while users are on a different page), and checking server configuration settings that might be causing undesired effects.

 wrapping up

There are many different steps involved with finding, diagnosing, and fixing performance problems in your application. When you’re running into performance problems with one of your applications, be sure to walk through these steps carefully. As an added bonus, consider pairing up with a developer who has experience optimizing PHP apps - they can lend you an extra set of eyes that might catch something you’re missing. It also never hurts to make use of developer tools like New Relic that provide important insights that are hard to get by just looking at a terminal session or application log files. With a little work upfront, you can prevent even small performance issues from turning into big ones down the road.

[mctreeleth]

Here it is! The instructions to make a pieced and quilted plague doctor mask!

Just as a heads up, this pattern is not really recommended for beginners. There is not a whole lot of explanation of the basic techniques, and it requires a fair bit of precision, two types of fusible interfacing, and an assumption that you can keep a consistent seam allowance and do some hand sewing and know when to sew things right sides together and such.

I am not promising anything, different methods will yield different results, I have never made a pattern exactly as it was written and neither should you. If you want something the same as the next person, go to the shops.

Actually, nevermind, this is a quarantine craft, stay home.

There are two ways to do the piecing for this project. The first is a quilting technique called English Paper Piecing, there are plenty of tutorials online, but it is done by hand and I do not have the patience for it. Still, if you have the time but not the machinery, it is probably your best option for a very good finish. Cut the pattern net out of card, glue the bits onto your fabric, sew them up, pull them out and add interfacing after. I sewed three hexies together once and got bored and gave up.

The method I actually used involves my favourite cheat for sewing: you can use an inkjet printer to print on non-woven fusible interfacing! There are ridiculously overpriced pre-cut packs available, but also you can just cut up some midweight to the right size. I just have a boring old Epson printer, and I can get away with just putting some scotch tape along the edge that feeds in for a bit of stability. Alternatively, depending on the brand, you can “fuse” it onto some non-stick baking paper, cut it to size, and then peel it off without losing too much adhesive. (My pictures look a little different because my original A4 version fits on the page differently than the shared version)

Printing onto interfacing means I know my dimensions are perfect, and I have the markings on the pieces so I know what joins to what. If you only have a laser printer, or your inkjet hates you and wont let you print on interfacing, I still recommend using fusible interfacing for structure and precision piecing. You will just need to keep a lot better track of what is what, because the pieces are all slightly different and they only go together one way.

The actual “pattern” for this project is a geometric net. I highly recommend making one in paper or cardstock first, because we all have different sized heads.  As with most quilting projects, it will generally get to be a little bit smaller again once it is all sewn together, so keep that in mind.

This is a link to the PDF on Google Drive. It is a 4 page document, for printing on US letter size. There is enough space around the pieces that it can also print onto A4 paper: the one inch square should measure 2.5cm. Similarly, the extra space means it can be scaled up a bit before any gets cut off, if you have a particularly large face.

(Edited to add: if you were going to make this in a single fabric rather than pieced together patchwork pieces, I have uploaded a simplified version of the pattern, which has more curved seams which are easier to match. The technique is otherwise the same, but note that these patterns do not have seam allowances - you will need to add them when you cut your fabric so that the pieces match.)

The body of the mask is made up of two mirrored (four total) pieced together bits, plus some circles to go around the lenses. There are two mirrored top pieces, and two mirrored bottom pieces. The top pieces are numbered 1-14, and are split over two pages and need to be joined together. The bottom pieces are lettered A-H. On one side of the pattern the numbers and letters are circled, so you know which side you are working on. There are also small dashes in the corners of the pieces; single dashes connect to single dashes, double dashes connect to double dashes. At the parts that become the edges of the eye holes, there are little dots at the end of the dashes.

Even if you are printing onto interfacing, you will also need to do a paper printout, as it will be used later as a pattern to cut the batting and the lining. The paper printout can also be used to work out your fabric placement, if you are going for a certain look (again, this one was printed as an all in one A4 sheet, but it works the same).

Cutting the Patchworked Outer

If you have managed to print onto fusible interfacing, all you need to do is cut the pieces. Otherwise, do what you need to trace the pieces onto interfacing, making notes of where they go and which sides align to what.

Once you have your interfacing pieces cut and organized, fuse them to your fabrics with at least enough room between and around them for seam allowances on each side.

I use a 1cm seam allowance, but feel free to use a quarter or half inch if that is what you are used to.

Trim all the pieces to have a consistent seam allowance.

Lay the trimmed pieces out on the paper printouts. This will let you know if there are any pieces missing, or any parts where fabric duplicates might share a seam.

Piecing the Patchworked Outer

First, piece together the nets of the bottom pieces. Put a straight pin straight through at the corners of the interfacings of two neighboring pieces, so they are perfectly aligned. Then angle the pin on the right hand side so it comes back up along where the seam will go, and angle the one on the left so that it is going across.

Sew along the edge of the interfacing, aiming for just alongside of it, not on it.

Finger press the seams open, then repeat until all the pieces are together.

The technique for the top pieces is the same, but at any join which ends at an eyehole (marked on the pattern with a black dot on the ends of the dash), backstitch at the end of the interfacing, so that it won’t pull apart at the edge. The seam allowance at this part will be cut off, so it needs to be secured before that point to prevent it from pulling apart.

Batting and Quilting

Properly press all the pieces, with the seams open.

Using the paper pattern, cut out two mirrored top and bottom pieces from fusible batting.

Iron these onto the inside of the pieced parts, so that their edges line up with the interfacings. In my experience, the best way to iron on fusible batting is from the right side, so I pin them in place and flip them over, iron a little bit so they barely stick, pull out the pins, and fuse properly.

Do some quilting. I just went 5mm to the side of every seam, because the next lot of seams need to be topstitched in the same way, and I like the consistency.

Assembly of the Patchworked Outer

Join together the gap in the top pieces. The batting was aligned to the interfacing, so the technique is the same.

Press the seams apart and topstitch the seams to either side.

Trim off the excess seam allowance around the eye holes to the edge of the batting and interfacing. this was why we needed to backstitch earlier.

The next step joins the top and bottom pieces together. The bottom piece attaches to the more curved edge of the top piece - that last seam that was joined after adding the batting will meet these side seams, angled towards the tip of the beak. Sewing the sides is the trickiest bit to do on the machine, so, while I would normally say basting is for cowards, if you want the points to match perfectly, this is a time when pinning will not really cut it. I just hand sew through each point where the seams join, go back through a couple of threads over, and tie it off. 

Then I put pins through the longer seams.

When sewing it with the machine, try to keep the lines as straight as possible, making turns only at the seams where you put a basting stitch.

Once both sides are sewn, press the seams open and topstitch to either side.

Repeat this step for the top centre seam. You can just pin baste this one if you would rather, because the angles match, but it is literally right there in the middle where everyone can see it, so if you are not confident in matching points, baste it.

Press the seams open and topstitch.

The technique is the same for the bottom centre seam, but topstitching all the way to the tip of the beak is not possible, so you will have to do the last bit of top stitching by hand.

It doesn’t matter so much if it is a bit messy, because it is not in a place where it can really be seen, but spitting the seam will help it hold its shape more nicely.

That is the pretty outside bit done.

Making and Attaching the Lining

To make the lining, use the paper pattern to cut two mirrored pieces of the top and bottom pieces, with whatever seam allowance you prefer.

The gap on the top piece will have a maximum possible seam allowance of about a quarter inch, but this is enough for a secure internal seam. The eye holes do not need a seam allowance.

Sew together the gaps in the top pieces, then sew the top seam of the top pieces and the centre seam of the bottom pieces together.

Open up both pieces and sew the sides together. You should have a lining piece that is a floppy, boring version of the outside piece.

I have not included a step for how to make a strap, because everyone has their own preferred methods, and there are plenty of alternative options. If you don’t want to worry about making strapping you can use ribbon or elastic, or put a small loop there to thread something through afterwards. Whatever the choice, pin to the centre of the back edges of pattern pieces #10, facing towards the eye holes.

Put the lining piece, facing right side in, over the pieced outer and the strap pieces and pin around the edges, lining up the four seams of the lining with the seams on the outer.

Sew around the edge.

Turn the piece right side out through one of the lining’s eye holes. You just sort of pull the pieced outer (which is currently inside) back a bit, until the tip of the beak can come through an eye hole, and then try to pull it through as gently as possible so that the raw edge of the eye hole doesn’t get too stretched and frayed.

Then push the lining back into the pieced outer body of the mask.

Pin around the edge, so that the lining is all tucked neatly inside.

Top stitch over the edge.

Eye hole time!

Pin the outer and lining together in the eye holes, and top stitch about 4mm (1/6th of an inch) from the edges. Trim any fraying bits.

Hand stitch 1 inch wide bias binding to the inner edge of the eye hole, just over the top stitch.

Flip the bias binding through the eye hole to the outer, fold the raw edge of the bias binding under itself, and hand stitch it down to the outside. Repeat for the other eye.

This next step is the worst bit, and if you have another method, go for it. Theoretically you could use something thicker that wouldn’t fray, like a felt or leather, so that you didn’t have to worry about lining the eye holes, but it depends on the look you are going for.

Cut out four circles from fabric, two of the biggest size, two of the medium size. Draw the smallest size circle in the middle of the back of the medium sized circle, and stack it on top of the centre of the big one, right sides together. From the fusible batting, cut two donut shapes of the medium size with the smallest circle cut out of the centre.

Using very small stitches, sew around the small circle drawn on the medium sized circles. Fuse the donut of batting to the back of the large circle, with the inside of the donut matching the sewn line. Cut an even smaller hole out of the middle, so that the seam allowance that remains is a slightly smaller width than the batting. Clip this into at least 12 pieces.

Press the smaller circle towards the centre, so that it can be turned in though the hole. 

This will take a lot of careful ironing and pinning. Let it sit for a bit, so that it learns to be there.

Then unpin it, but hopefully the little clipped bits will stay there. Fold the bigger circle down over them – you will need a lot of little tiny pleats – making the outer edge as round as possible.

Then press that smaller circle back down over the pleats, so that it is level with the folded outer edge. If it sticks over in any places, trim it back, but only just.

Pin this donut shape over the eye piece. The inside edge of the donut should be level with the inside of the bias binding, the raw edge up against the outer fabric.

Hand sew around the outer edge of the donut to the pieced fabric. Make sure that the raw edge from the smaller circle is under the donut, but do not let it flip out through the middle. On the machine, top stitch about a quarter inch from the outer edge.

This should catch the raw edge inside, and leave a ridge between the outer eye donut and the bias bound eye hole. From the inside, it should be possible to pop in a round lens from a pair of sunglasses, or an improvised lens such as a circle of clear plastic cut from the lid of an old takeaway container, or some transparent holographic vinyl, such as this stuff on amazon. Repeat for the other eye hole.

Hooray! You are all done!

I am really not sure on the efficacy of this as an actual viable mask. On the one hand, there are a lot of seams through which germs could pass, but on the other hand, the fact that the lining is a bit loose and baggy inside the beak might cancel that out.

Depending on your materials, it should be machine washable, although it will almost certainly look a lot less crisp.

I had a lot of issues with my lenses fogging up after a couple of minutes of me wearing it, but who knows, maybe I am just a very wet breather.

I am not going to charge anything for this pattern, nor am I going to place restrictions on what you do with the items you make. I do not control your right to profit from your work. All art is derivative, and you making your own version transforms this pattern. Don’t let assertions of intellectual property rights be another way you are alienated from your labour. If you decide to sell your work, demand fair remuneration for your time and skills. Someone offering to pay for the materials is not enough. If you have decided to take an activity you love and turn it into work, make it worthwhile.

On the flip side, please don’t try to sell this bit of writing or the PDF of the pattern net or these photographs. They are free for you and for everyone else. Resist society’s message that you should try to profit from your every action, and especially resist the notion that true success is achieved by profiting from anyone else’s labour.

If you want to discuss this stuff further, I would love that! I am researching the commodification of creative knowledge for my PhD, focusing on quilt patterns and designs. Message me @mctreeleth on tumblr and instagram or @sarasewsstuff on twitter for my uni email.

Edit: I have added in a link to a simplified version if you are going to make this with a single fabric rather than patchwork piecing. 

[tommyspeakycap]

i almost do - ben chilwell

the first fic of my taylor swift red fits!! took me a few months, but finally here we go!

i bet you think i either moved on or hate you, ‘cause each time you reach out there’s no reply

red masterlist

The way your life had ended up was one of those things to you now. One of those things that you spend your late nights pondering, laying in bed staring up at the patterns of the ceiling that you've probably just made up in order to occupy your sleepless mind and you wonder; how on earth has it come to this. And often your mind strays, moving from considering the sheer irritation and sadness of your situation to ponder over who else is up awake at this hour wondering. Surely a lot, probably millions of people around the world awake at the very same time asking the exact same questions of themselves that you ask of yourself each and every night nowadays. In particular, however, you wonder is he is up and thinking the same way that you are.

Is he laying in his bed, hands folded behind his head with his ankles crossed over as he finds sleep hard to come by because of his anxious mind. It was a sight you'd seen so many times when he was daily part of your life - the one who you would fall asleep next to or do your worrying next to every night. You wonder if he lies awake thinking about you, thinking about the end of your relationship and wondering if there was anything else that could have been done differently or even at all that would have prevented things from ending the way that they did months ago.

You know what it's like to have exes, of course. Usually, you cut them off at the source and then you work on yourself and you'd work on moving on with your life. This time, it couldn't be so easy. You couldn't just cut off Ben Chilwell, even if that was something that you wanted to do.

He had been such a huge part of your life that trying to cut him away would be like losing a limb. It would be like trying to saw off your own foot or your very own left hand. The Chelsea brunette had become such an important figure in your life, such a consistent presence by your side that trying to detach from him felt like a part of you was literally being ripped away. To cut off he who was the love of your life is a feat you didn't think would be possible because whether you like it or not, a huge part of you will always belong to him. He will always hold the title of being that one for you, the one love you thought you would spend the rest of your life with. The one who you thought you one grow old with, enjoy your life with. The one who you thought was your one, and maybe he truly was.

You just weren't his.

To cut Ben off - to forget about how happy he made you, how loved he ensured that you felt for most of the time that you were together and to try to find some semblance of happiness after he had left you with a gaping hole that nothing seemed to be able to fill - would in some ways definitely been in your best interest. It might've helped you to heal, might've allowed you to get on with your life instead of being constantly stuck in the same limbo, the very same repetitive loops that continue every single day of your existence and worsen vehemently every other weekend.

And that is the other reason why you couldn't cut him off. While it may have been the best thing for you - maybe - you weren't the person who you held most important. You weren't the one that you were thinking about when making these decisions and neither was Ben. Neither of you were the important people in this situation.

Your child was.

He is only two. He doesn't understand what's going on or why now he only sees his daddy every other weekend and sometimes midweek when he can find the time when he used to be able to see him every evening. He doesn't understand why mummy and daddy don't live together anymore, nor why daddy is never in bed when he crawls in beside you in the middle of the night because he's sad or scared or needs comfort. But he also doesn't understand that he doesn't understand. At two years old, he doesn't know what he's feeling. When he's upset and throws a tantrum, he just knows he's upset and he doesn't know why. You can theorise it has something to do with the fact that everything is changing so much and so quickly for him at such a young age.

When he comes home from Ben's and gets clingy, not letting you go anywhere without him either following right behind you or attached to your hip, he doesn't even really know why it upsets him when his mummy is out of his sight, he just knows the he doesn't want to be away from you. It's you that knows he gets separation anxiety now because you are his main caregiver.

You know, however, that that is not Ben being a poor or lackadaisical parent. That is Ben trying to establish some form of routine for his boy when he knows that this is a healthier than what was happening before. The situation in your house wasn't good for a child to be in, nor was it good for either you or Ben to be at odds so often.

Sure, do you wish he had given a little more trying to keep your family together? Yes of course, but he felt like it needed to come to a close, and you weren't going to fight for something that he clearly felt was over. You wouldn't burn yourself out fighting for a man who no longer loves you when you have a child to raise and give your love to. Staying in a relationship because you have a child together never ends well, and staying with someone who doesn't love you will only ever end in even more hurt than just the crushing weight of knowing you weren't good enough for the one person who vowed to love you forever.

The ceiling isn't quite doing enough to distract your mind tonight. Partially, you think it could be because you know you're all alone in the house tonight. It's Ben's weekend and the little man went down to bed hours ago. They called you to say goodnight because he was missing his mama and you read him a story together through the phone. Ben looked as though he had wanted to say something, but you hurried off the phone as quickly as you could and your mind had been reeling ever since.

You missed reading stories to your son together like that, but in person. The two of you used to curl up in bed next to him and flick through the books, telling the stories and putting on all the different voices until he was fast asleep between the two of you and then you would admire his little features. He's a perfectly replica of what you and Ben's combined genes could create. He is everything beautiful about Ben and all the very best of you. He is truly, truly perfect. You used to spend those wee hours of the morning joking about having more, how Ben wanted to have a daughter and how you'd spend the rest of your lives together watching them grow up and showering them with love.

Storytime over FaceTime had left you reeling, trying to conjure up the idea that Ben might have felt the same way, or that he might still be up at this hour thinking about the very same things that you are thinking about right now.

Is he sitting out on the balcony attached to the bedroom on one of those cushioned chairs with the doors swung open and a heavy coat wrapped around him as the wind whips at the wisps of hair that fall over his forehead. Does he sit there awake like you had watched him and done with him so many nights in the past. Is he sitting there wondering what you're doing as he looks out at the lights of the city a little way out in the distance. Does he remember all of those nights in that city, dancing around in the street with cheap chips and cheese in a styrofoam box and a wooden fork in hand as you wait on a taxi to stumble drunk into to get home? Does he think about the day you told him you were pregnant, when he burst into tears of joy and spun you around the room? Does he think about the day he asked you to marry him or the day that you brought life into the world together?

Maybe most importantly, does he even think about you at all?

But if Ben asked for you back right now, could you truly ever accept? Even if he grovelled and begged, could you ever build up the same trust in him that you used to have?

The answer is probably not.

Ben couldn’t understand you; why you couldn’t look in his eyes, could barely bare to talk to him. He was meant to be you’re forever. He was meant to be the man who you were with for the rest of your life to raise kids with, fall asleep next to and wake up next to every morning and that had been crushed when Ben told you he needed time away. Ben was the one who broke it off, Ben was the one who said this needed to end. Ben was the one who left you.

It was all him.

How could you ever be expected to trust him again after that. You were living you life in terror that he would leave your son the way he left you, or just leave both of your lives altogether and that you’d never see him again. That would shatter your entire being. It would destroy you in the final ways that him leaving you had only just about been left stuck together with tape and glue.

When he does the pickup of your little boy, you’ll avoid his eyes and try to hide the fact that you’re hands are shaking so violently you can barely hold anything. Ben wonders where it all went wrong, wondering why you won’t reply to any of his messages that aren’t about his adored two year old son. Wondering why you never accept offers to spend days as a family. Ben regrets ever leaving, but by far his biggest regret is whatever he did - and he can’t think of what that could be - that meant you couldn’t even be friends. You can be civil, for that sake of your boy. But your heart has been far too broken to ever imagine opening it up again to anyone, especially Ben Chilwell.

and i bet it never ever occurred to you, that i can’t say hello to you, and risk another goodbye