#I hope this doesn’t sound like fetishism or like anything

[cherrypuddinpie]

never understood the discourse around stretch marks… like how people think they are gross n stuff cus me personally I think they r so cute😭 I have a lot of them not because I’m as big as a fucking house or anything but im a chubbier girl who likes to eat what is so bad abt that💔

as someone who works as a content creator in fashion / live videos I will get lots of comments from (mainly) teen boys calling me fat or making fun of my stretch marks and honestly…idgaf? Like maybe if it a pretty girl made fun of me maybe I’d care a bit but men mean nothing in the slightest to me

I used to be super ashamed of them but only just now have I actually started to wear more cropped shirts / low rise things , at times I do still get embarrassed and having bad anxiety doesn’t help either but im trying yall 😔

A few weeks back my grandma gave me lotion for some of my scars and then whispered in my ear “it also helps with stretch marks” idgaf???? I like my stretch marks??? Sorry ur boring????

it also never fails to make me laugh when people are like “but… those are your warrior scars!!” Yeah my war with the fridge bitch the fuck….

[fallingfavourites]

the fisher king - cm fanfic

summary: Everyone on the team had gotten 2 weeks off. Elle and Derek decided to not waste a second of it and flew away to Jamaica. Hotchner went to spend time with his family. Gideon would most likely be birdwatching in his cabin if you had to guess, he doesn’t like sharing much about his personal life. Neither does Reid who is heading back home to Las Vegas. You stayed at home to relax. no one had expected the terrifying turn this vacation would take.

pairing: bau team x reader (platonic), hints/alludes at spencer reid x reader and elle greenaway x reader

cw/tw: typical cm violence, shooting, blood

word count: 8,568

a/n: basically just follows the fisher king episodes plot, english isn't my first language and im dyslexic so sorry in advance, tried to edit as best as i could! i hope this fic makes sense i dont even know anymore, enjoy!! feedback is always appreciated just dont be mean about it pls

main masterlist - cm masterlist

Everyone on the team had gotten 2 weeks off. Elle and Derek decided to not waste a second of it and flew away to Jamaica. Hotchner went to spend time with his family. Gideon would most likely be birdwatching in his cabin if you had to guess, he doesn’t like sharing much about his personal life. Neither does Reid who is heading back home to Las Vegas. You had just ended up on your couch with a cozy blanket and a movie you had been meaning to watch. A sudden loud ringing made you jump up. Rubbing your eyes so they can refocus.

You had fallen asleep. You would’ve laughed at yourself if it wasn’t for the constant loud ringing. Finally, finding your phone between the blanket you picked up without looking at the caller ID.  “Y/n? Y/n?” It took a second for you to register JJ’s voice as she repeated your name.

“Yeah, Yeah, I’m here is everything okay?” you asked, running a hand through your hair. “You need to get to the office. Now.” She sounded serious.

“What happened?” You asked as you vaguely heard someone talk to JJ. It kind of sounded like Gideon. If he came to the office, it must be serious.

“Tell me when I get there, I’m on my way.” You said, not even waiting for her to respond to your question and you hung up. A million thoughts race through your head as you put on a work-appropriate outfit. As soon as you were ready you got in your car and drove to the bau as quickly as you could.

When you arrive JJ immediately walks up to you and starts filling you in. Elle got arrested, Gideon received a head in the mail, Hotch had a strange phone call, and she had just gotten a framed butterfly. “So, someone is targeting the team?” Crossing your arms over your body. You’ve worked for the bau a few years now and have never experienced anything like this.

“You didn’t get anything?” JJ questioned. It was strange. “No, I haven’t.” You replied.

“Huh, that’s strange.” She said what you were just thinking. JJ frowned, clearly trying to think of a reason why you didn’t. “I’ll keep my eye out for anything strange.” You nodded as you told her.

After about 30 minutes of looking over all the evidence the team had gathered so far, Elle, Morgan, and Hotch stepped out of the elevator. JJ walked up to them, so you got up and made your way over.

“Virginia? You mean that son of a bitch is from here?” This is the first thing you hear Elle say as you open the glass doors. Talking about Frank Giles.

“I don’t know if he’s from here, but this is where he flew to. Arlington.” JJ started explaining as you stepped up next to her and Morgan. He gave you a nod as he acknowledged you.

“He’s got a long criminal record. Manslaughter, robbery, rape.” She continued as she read from the file.

“What about the victim?” You asked crossing your arms, “Marty Harris.” Derek filled in.

“Uh, he’s a two-time convicted fetish burglar, registered child sex offender…” JJ read from the other file. “And we have his head.” Gideon interrupted her. “CSU just positively identified the one delivered to my cabin.”

“Don’t waste time on the first victims. They were unrepentant, bad men. They only got what they deserved.” Hotch spoke up. “What is that?” Morgan asked him.

“I got a phone call last night before you called from Jamaica.” He said looking over at Derek.

“Any mention of a ‘her’?” Elle asks Hotch. “You must help him save her.”  he replies.

“Oh, so there’s a ‘him’ now, too?” Elle responds, clearly annoyed. Which is totally reasonable after getting arrested for murder and barely having any sleep.

“I think he means Reid.” You look over at Gideon. “Reid?” You and JJ both say at the same time. “We need to regroup.” Hotch says as last, and you all walk into the office.

You, JJ, Morgan, and Gideon are sitting at the round table. Hotch stood behind you and Elle stood near the tv screen. “So, clearly we have a psychopath intent on drawing us into his game.” Hotch said with his arms crossed. “Playing with us.” Gideon looked at his hands on the table. “Then let’s return the favor.” Elle says.

“He kept telling us repeatedly to save her. What ‘her’?” Derek questions.

“Items he’s sent must be some kind of clues.” You nod at what Gideon says. “Let’s get them up on the board.” Hotch nods towards the board as he says that.

“I got a Nellie Fox baseball card from 1963, and I got a head in a box.” Gideon starts as JJ gets up walking up to the board. “I got a rare butterfly in a shadow box.” She says as she starts writing it down on the whiteboard. “And repeated messages to ‘save her.’” Hotch adds.

“I got the decapitated body.” Elle says smiling sarcastically. “And a nice visit to the Jamaican Police Headquarters.”

Hotch looks over to you to say what you got. “I didn’t get anything.” You shrug.

“Not even a phone call?” He questions, raising an eyebrow. You shake your head. It looked as if Hotch was going to say something, but Gideon changed the subject. “Reid called from Nevada. He's on the way back here with a skeleton key and a note he got, too.”.

“And the guys who called me said, ‘the youngest holds the key’” Hotch adds on. “That’s Reid.” Elle says as she keeps pacing.

“Okay but wait a minute.” You look over at Derek. “Unsubs, they don’t contact us this way. I mean they might taunt us, dare us to catch them, but they don’t drag us into their fantasy.”

“Why not?” JJ asks Morgan when he finishes.

“Because their fantasies are sexual fantasies.” You answer before he can. “Right, taunting us is a show of power, but making us the object is…” He tries to search for the right words, “I don’t know what the hell that is.”

“There’s something else about the baseball card.” You look back to Gideon as he starts a new theory. “Nellie Fox was one of the stars of the 1959 White Sox. I went to almost every game with my father that year. Fox was my hero.” He says as he leans back in the chair. “So, is it a coincidence that he sends this to me, or does he know how I feel about him?” He questions looking over at Hotch. This makes JJ turn around.

“I collected butterflies when I was a little girl.” You all look over at her. “That’s how I knew what butterfly was in the box.”

“So, he knows us?” You question. “I got an anonymous message.” Hotch slightly shrugs. “I got a police raid.” Elle adds on. “But he knew exactly where we were.” Morgan says, supporting your theory. “Hotel in Jamaica Gideon at the cabin, Reid in Vegas, you at your home.” He lists off.

“He got that from the Bureau computers.” Penelope's voice makes you turn around in your chair; she looks nervous and has a file in her hand. “Your locations are always in there so they can find you if they need you. And I checked the log. The hacker was definitely in the personnel folders” She explains. Your brows furrow, how could this happen. “There were room numbers to the hotel in Jamaica, the address of Gideon’s cabin… There’s a lot of information in those databases.” She finished. Something about the way she’s talking is putting you off. There is something she isn’t telling you.

“Have you figured out how he was able to get into the Bureau’s computers?” Hotch asks her. She is silent. Just for a second. “I’m still working on that.” Lying to a room full of profilers probably isn’t the smartest thing to do. “Garcia, if you know something…” Hotch asks, clearly also picking up some things off.

“No, it’s, um…” Penelope's voice breaks slightly. “It’s just… I…” She’s clearly trying to find the right words, scared of upsetting the team. You give her a supportive smile. You’ve known her for years and know she would never do a bad thing on purpose. “I was playing a game yesterday.” She is silent for a second.

You look back to the team and catch JJ’s reaction. She clearly knows what Penelope is talking about. “An online game.” You look back over at the blonde with glasses. Tears shined in her eyes under the LED lights.

“A game?” Gideon asks. “Not on the Bureau computers, sir.” She quickly clarifies. “On my own personal laptop.”

“No, Garcia. No, no, no.” Derek says shaking his head. You close your eyes and lean your head on your hand. “I don’t understand.” Hotch looks for clarification.

“Wireless Internet.” You simply say. “By wirelessly hooking into the Net here to get online, the hacker could have gotten into my computer first, and… I have far less protection on my own laptop.” Penelope stoically explains it to him.

“And he could have gotten into the entire Bureau computer system this way?” You can’t see Hotch’s face as he says it but by the tone of his voice, you have some idea. “Yeah, it’s possible.” Penelope nods.

“Playing a game?” Gideon says as he gets up. “How could you be that stupid?” Seeing the look on Penelope's face, you have to resist the urge to defend her. Yes, she did do something stupid, but Gideon didn’t have to talk to her like that. “Information, files. You have a responsibility.”

“I know, sir. I’m so sorry.” Penelope replies to him. Gideon doesn’t reply. He just turns around. There is an awkward silence that hangs in the air. “But I found him.” Penelope eventually says. Almost full-on crying by now.

“You did?” You ask hopefully. “I know who he is, the hacker. His name is Giles. Frank Giles.” You all look at each other hearing this information. “He lives in Arlington, Virginia, four miles from here. I have his address” She continues as she hands the file she was holding to Hotch.

“Garcia, you said Giles?” Morgan asks her, wanting to confirm he heard it right. She nods quickly. “Let’s go.” Hotch only has to say those two words, and everyone is up and walking out of the office.

The team and you put on your bulletproof vests and got into the black SUVs. Sirens blared as you raced through the streets to get to Frank Giles as quickly as you could. The adrenaline is already pumping through your veins. Finally getting answers about why this is happening. You entered the building with the swat team. Derek kicked the door in, as usual. Everybody walks in with their guns raised. You hear some yell out that it’s clear. You, Derek, and Elle stand for a closed door.

“Frank Giles. FBI.” Derek yells out.

“Come out Giles.” Elle yells. They look at each other and both give a small nod. Then open the doors. As you enter you lower your gun immediately. You see Frank Giles’s lifeless body, only wearing underwear, laying on a dirty old mattress. A sword stuck in him.

“You got to be kidding me.” Elle’s the first one to speak.

“Hotch! Gideon! I think you’re gonna want to see this.” Derek calls out to them. You tear your eyes away from the gruesome scene to look at Elle. But she’s looking at the wall in front of you. So you look up to see ‘here thy quest doth truly begin’ written on the wall in blood.

All of you start taking in the crime scene. Vests already taken off. “He’s definitely playing with us.” Hotch speaks up. “His identification checks out.” Elle says handing his wallet to Hotch. “That’s Frank Giles.”

“There’s a big ol’bag of money sitting right here on the dresser.” Morgan says as he walks over to the bright blue bag. “So, Giles took Harris to Jamaica to kill him.”

“And then the unsub killed Giles.” You finished Hotch’s sentence.

“Yeah, but he paid him first.” Morgan says, confused about it.

“And left the cash?” Elle questions. “He must be well off.” You say, putting your hands on your hips.

“He said these were ‘unrepentant, bad men.’ Are we looking for some kind of vigilante?” Hotch asks, looking over at Gideon.

“No. The bodies are nothing but a way to get us interested. They’re game pieces. The killings are secondary.” Gideon explains nonchalantly.

“Well, this guy likes to write things in blood on the walls.” Elle says as she inspects the bloody walls.

Suddenly your phone starts ringing. All eyes are on you, but you look to Hotch. Silently asking for permission to step out for a bit. He gives you a nod and you step out to the hallway of the apartment building.

When you're alone you answer your phone.

“L/n.” You say but it stays silent on the other end. Pulling the phone away from your ear to check if you hadn’t accidentally declined the call. “Hello?” You ask as you put the phone back to your ear but it’s silent again.

About to hang up suddenly a voice comes through your phone.

“Agent Y/n L/n.” The voice sounds hoarse, you don’t recognize it. “Who is this?” You ask confused. Putting your right hand on your hip.

“It is your task to make sure they hear, and they listen.” The person ignores your question. You release this is the Unsub. “Do not let them stray.” He’s talking about the team.

He has to be. You’re about to respond as he hangs up.

“Damn it.” You let out a frustrated sigh. What could he have possibly meant by that? You keep staring at your phone.

“Hey,” a comforting voice takes you out of your thoughts, “You okay?” You look up to see Spencer walking up to you.

“What?” You look at him confused. Putting your phone back into your pocket. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m alright.” You smile, somewhat awkwardly.

Reid nods and sends a just as awkward smile back. It’s good to see him again. He looks around the empty hallway, hands in his pockets, hair slicked back behind his ears.

“Why are you out here?” He asks you.

“Oh, uh, no reason.” You shrug and let out a laugh. Why did you just lie to him? You honestly don’t know. It just slipped out. He also clearly doesn’t believe you, but before he can question you, you speak up.

“Let’s go, we can use you in there, genius.” You say as you nod towards the room the team is in. This time the smile you give each other isn’t awkward. They both are genuine smiles. Reid always gets a slight blush when someone calls him genius.

You never say it to embarrass him though. You say it full of affection. When you joined the bau, in your first case you got paired up with Spencer. He had been working at the bau for about a year. The two of you hit it off very well.

Walking back into the room you hear Hotch and Derek, “Midnight wouldn’t cast a shadow.” “‘Hour be none.’”

“3 P.M.,” Reid says as you walk in side by side. “Hey, guys. Garcia told me where to find you.” Hotch crouched near the body glances past Reid to look at you with a questioning gaze, silently asking about the phone call. You shake your head telling him it wasn’t important. And again, you don’t know why you are lying to your team about this. You tell yourself it’s because there are more important things right now and that phone call didn’t even make sense.

“3 P.M?” Gideon asks disrupting your thoughts.

“It’s medieval. The days used to be broken into hourly intervals, the canonical hours of the breviary.” Spencer begins to explain, “Prime, 6 A.M”., terce, 9 A.M., sext, 12 noon, none, 3 P.M., and vespers 6 P.M.”

Elle smiles at him fondly and points her finger at him, “Reid, do not ever go away again.” He smiles at her as Gideon starts talking. “Medieval. That’s why the language changed. ‘doth’”

“Everything this guy does is a clue.” Hotch says looking at the team.

 “Okay, but, guys, it’s 4:35. What do we do? Leave to the blade in till 3 P.M. tomorrow?” Derek asked.

“What if we block that window out?” You asked, pointing towards the window. Reid nodded at what you said and turned to one of the crime scene investigators. “Do you have any spotlights in your car?” He asked Gina.

“Sure.” She says as she's getting up, Elle thanks her.

When she came back with a flashlight she gave it to Reid. He crouched down next to where you were standing and pointed the light to the sword.

“See, this sun is right here at 5 P.M., Morgan, follow the shadow as I move the light higher.” Derek starts to move a small table out of the way to get closer to the wall. “Okay, and do what?” He asks when he’s finished.

“Tap.” Hotch instructs him. Derek starts tapping on the wall. He stops when he finds a hollow spot. “It’s hollow.” He says as he looks back at Hotch.

“Definitely an Indiana Jones movie.” Elle says looking over at you when you laugh at her joke.

“Feels like the wallpaper’s been replaced.” Morgan says to Hotch. “Tear it open.” He replies. Derek takes a knife out of his pocket and starts cutting open the wallpaper. Pulling back the wall.

“It’s a box.” He states looking back at the team. “Pull it out.” Hotch instructs him again. “Wait, are we sure that’s safe?” Spencer asks as he stands up. You look over at him. “You think it’s a bomb?” You ask him questionably.

“It isn’t. You think he’d be playing this game just to blow us up?” Hotch retorts. “He’d have already done that as long as we’ve been standing here.” Derek agrees with him and pulls out the box from the hole. He placed it on the table from earlier.

Hotch crouches next to Gideon to get a better look at it. You make your way over to see what it is, while Spencer doesn’t move. Morgan tries to open it, but it seems like it won’t budge.

“It’s locked.” He confirms, “You want me to break it?”

“No, we should process it first.” Hotch answers his question.

“The youngest holds the key.” Gideon suddenly speaks up. And you, Hotch, and Morgan all look at Reid. Spencer searches his pants pockets for the key. Only to realize he put it in the pocket of his button-up.

He does a little jog up to the box and goes to open it. Putting the key in and backing up slightly as he turns it. Music starts to come from the box.

It takes a second for you to recognize it. Turns out all those failed piano lessons are good for something. “Schubert.” Gideon says but before he can say which piece you beat him to it.

“The Trout Quintet.” He looks over at you confused, clearly, he didn’t expect you to know it. You just shrug in reply as you focus on the note that Spencer pulled out of the box. “Five people fishing.” Hotch says, giving context to the song.

“Never would it be night, but always clear day to any man’s sight.” Reid starts reading off the paper. “Well, that was worth it.” Elle says as she turns away.

“The lid.” Gideon points at the box, “Little tab right under the lock.” Morgan leans over Reid to open the lid.

As he opens it there’s a dvd in it, but also a blonde lock of hair tied with a pink bow.

“Jesus.” Slips out of you. “Oh, god.” Elle says at the same time.

Morgan pulls both out as Gideon lets out a tired sigh. Derek gives Elle the lock of hair. “Do you have that evidence bag?” She asks one of the CSI’s. “Here you go.” He replies as he holds out a bag for her to put the hair in.

“Thy quest.” Morgan says standing up and holding out the dvd so you all can see it. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Gideon putting his head in his hand. After everything is mostly wrapped up at the crime scene you all make your way back to the office.

Everyone is clearly tired and wants to catch this guy.

On the car ride back all you can think about is that phone call. It keeps repeating in your head. “Agent Y/n L/n.”  “Who is this?”  “It is your task to make sure they hear, and they listen. Do not let them stray.” You just can’t seem to make sense of it. What is it that you need to make sure they listen to? Maybe this dvd?

Without even releasing you’re back, sitting at the round table. The dvd is playing.

You see a barely lit office. A man stumbles into the frame and sits down at the chair, you can’t make out a face though.

“He moves funny.” Hotch noted. Derek looks back at Hotch to reply, “It’s like he’s injured or something.”

The man in the video starts talking. “I assure you, you will all understand in the end why it must be this way.” It’s the same voice of the man who called you at Frank Giles’s place. You shift in your seat as he continues. “You might even thank me.”

“Don’t hold your breath, scumbag.” You see Hotch glance over at Elle as she says this.

“You know now you’re on a quest. A young girl’s life depends on the successful completion of it.” The video shows a blonde girl being held captive. She’s throwing things at the camera and hitting the bars of the cage. “As you can see, she is quite beautiful and in distress.” The way he talks about her along with the footage makes your skin crawl.

“Now please listen closely for there is one rule and this rule must be followed.” You sit up straighter in your chair. The things he said on the phone call must be about this.

“The one rule is, only the members of your team may participate in the quest: Jason Gideon, Aaron Hotchner, Derek Morgan, Elle Greenaway, Y/n L/n, Spencer Reid, Jennifer Jareau, Penelope Garcia.” As he said, all your names and pictures of everyone on the team showed on the screen.

“A quest must be completed in the proper way, or it isn’t a quest, is it? That’s it. One rule. Simple. Now, you will be receiving an item soon that will hold the final clue you will need to finish the quest. You will find you will also need a book which has inspired many adventures like mine. Believe me, when I tell you I truly hope to see you all soon. It will mean a successful end to this adventure for all of us.” The video stopped playing. You look at everyone on the team.

“This guy’s got pictures of us?” Elle is the first one to speak up.

“What do we do now?” Reid asks Hotch.

“Well, the lock of hair’s being analyzed for DNA. There might be something on file.” He answers Reid.

“I’ll get Video to enhance the shots of the girl.” JJ says as she gets up to leave.

“Let's get the clues up on the board. Maybe we can make some sense of something.” Hotch instructs.

“Wait, we’re going to play this guy’s game?” Elle asks him, frustrated.

“Do we have a choice?” Spencer replies. But you’re not focusing on their conversation anymore, you’re focused on Gideon. You can’t figure out what he’s up to as he’s about to leave the room.

Everyone else turns around when they hear the click of the door opening.

“Be right back. You guys keep working.” Hotch says as he gets up to talk to Gideon. However, you don’t listen. The rest of the team looks at you as you follow him.

You’re following him out of the room for two reasons. Wanting to know what’s going on, everyone has always told you you’re too curious for your own good. And thinking now might be a good time to also mention to Hotch that you got a call from the Unsub.

“Jason?” Hotch calls out as he follows Gideon, “Jason!” He calls out again when the older man doesn’t stop. Gideon walks into his office and lets the door slam closed behind him. Before Hotch follows Gideon into his office, he gives you a disapproving look for following him. “We’ll talk about this later.” He says dismissively and walks into Gideon's office.

You let out a sigh. Why did you think this would work. You turn back around to have your walk of shame back to the rest of the group.

Morgan lets out a small laugh as he sees you walking back into the room. Reid gives you a questioning look, but you just shrug it off.

Not long after Hotch handed a paper over to Reid and said Haley received it. You, Morgan, Elle, and Reid had been staring at these numbers for a while now.

“My eyes are so heavy I can barely see it.” Elle says with a sigh.

“It has to be some kind of code, right?” You question, leaning against the table next to Reid. “The Unsub said we needed a book, didn’t he?” Reid brings up. You look over at him, curious about where he’s going with this.

“Yeah. ‘a book that inspired many an adventure.’” Morgan quotes from the video.

“It’s a book code. Each one of these sets of numbers represents a particular word.” Spencer explains and points at one of the codes on the paper, “For instance, page 118, line 30, word three. We need to figure out what the words are and fill in the blanks.”

“Right, but we don’t know what book.” You respond, another dead end.

“And the trouble is, it has to be the exact same edition of the exact same book that he used.” Reid adds on.

“Just got a DNA hit on the lock of hair.” JJ says as she walks into the room, “Rebecca Bryant.” She hands Elle a picture after showing it to you, “She’s been missing out of Boston for two years.”

You look over at her shocked, “Two years?” She nods as she looks at you.

“Guys, how are we supposed to figure out which book this code was copied out of?” Derek brings the conversation back after being handed the picture from Elle. “I have no idea.” Spencer replies. JJ walks up to the whiteboard and sticks the picture of Rebecca on it.

Reid was standing in front of the whiteboard, “He said we have everything needed to complete the quest.” he said as he turned around to look at you, Elle, and Derek. Derek was sitting on the chair backward, Elle practically laying in the leather chair, you were leaning against the table and JJ was sitting normally at the table looking over the evidence.

“The answer’s got to be up there somewhere.” Elle mumbles, very clearly tired.

“JJ, get some reporters here as soon as you can.” You quickly turn around as you hear Gideon say this. Alarm bells going off in your head.

Once again, the things the Unsub said on your phone call repeating themselves. It is your task to make sure they hear and they listen. Do not let them stray. Gideon’s not listening. “For what?” JJ asks him. “Just say we need help on a new case.” Is all he gives in response before he walks away.

You get up to follow him, again. You have to stop him from doing this. Gideon is always surprisingly fast for his age. You just barely catch up to him when he reaches Hotch again. “Sirs, you can’t do this.” You say, well it more sounds like you're begging.

Gideon and Hotch, both give you confused looks.

You take a deep breath. “He called me.” You say looking at them.

Their reactions are exactly what you expected. Gideon stays silent, he’s profiling you. “What? What do you mean he called you L/n?  When did this happen?” Hotch asks you with a stern look on his face as he crosses his arms. You feel ashamed. You should’ve told them. You know that. You just hoped you had figured out what he meant earlier so you could’ve given the team helpful evidence and not more questions. “Back at the apartment.” You say, placing your hands behind your back so they don’t notice how nervous you are.

Gideon just shakes his head and walks away. Obviously thinking he has better things to do than deal with you.

“Why didn’t you say something before?” Hotch asks you.

“I… I don’t know,” The unsatisfied look Hotch gives you makes rethink your answer, “I wanted to figure out what he meant.”

“So, you could show off?” Hotch fills it in for himself. You quickly shake your head. That’s not why you did it. “No, no I didn’t want to add more unanswered questions for the team.” It sounds stupid and you realize that.

Hotch sighs and rubs his forehead, “What did he say to you?”

“He told me to make sure they hear, and they listen and to not let them stray. I think he was talking about the video.” You reply to him, “I think the press conference is a mistake, Hotch.”

“Gideon knows what he’s doing L/n, I trust him. You should’ve told us sooner.” He says before walking away. You couldn’t shake the nervous feeling. You went to get some coffee. Not ready to face your team yet.

On your third cup, you see Hotch walking back into the office. The press conference is over, there’s nothing you can do about it now. You see Elle walking out with Hotch.

“Anderson, take Greenaway home.” He says, looking over at him. “Yes, sir.” Anderson immediately replies.

“No, I’m fine.” Elle protests. “I’ll have your car brought over later.” Hotch tells her. “Alright, come on, Anderson.”

Do not let them stray. It repeats in your head.

“Sir, is it okay if I go with them? I can come back whenever you need me.” You ask Hotch. He hesitates for a moment, thinking it over. Elle smiles over at you, she appreciates it.

“Alright but keep your phone on and close L/n.” Hotch tells you.

Elle was struggling to stay awake the whole drive back to her house. Anderson dropped you both off and went back to the office. Elle let you into the house. You’ve been here before, many times, you and her occasionally have a drink after a case when neither of you wants to be alone.

Elle tosses her keys on the coffee table and drops her bag next to the couch and flops down on it. You can’t help but let out a laugh. She doesn’t even have the energy to glare at you, shifting on the couch to get into a more comfortable position.

You put down your own bag next to hers and take off your gun and gun holster placing them next to her keys on the table. You walked into her kitchen, you hadn’t eaten yet and doubted she had.

Opening the fridge just to find it practically empty. There are some leftovers, but they don’t look edible anymore. You grab them to throw them away, the smell hits you and you pull a face.

“Gross.” You mutter under your breath and throw it in the trash can. “Hey, I'm going to get some food, you want any?” You ask her as you walk back into her living room.

She lets out a noise that’s something between a hum and a groan.

“Alright, I’ll take that as a yes.” You say with a smile on your face, “I’m taking your keys, I’ll be right back.” Reaching for her keys on the table.

She gives you a thumbs-up while trying to stifle a yawn.

So, you lock the door behind you as you leave for the small supermarket near her house. It’s about a 10 minute walk away.

You grab some iced coffees and some simple heat-up meals. You’re done in about 5 minutes, pay for everything and walk back. The plastic bag is heavier than you expected it to be, it leaves imprints on your fingers.

You reach Elle’s front door and reach for the keys in your jacket. You try to open the lock as quietly as you can, not wanting to wake her up.

As you open the door you freeze. The plastic bag somehow becomes ten times heavier, and it drops to the floor. The ice coffee starts to leak but it’s the least of your concern.

Elle is laying on the floor covered in her own blood.

“Oh my god…” You whisper. You rush forward to her somehow without falling over your own feet. You fall to your knees. Hands reach up to her face. She isn’t conscious. You give her a few taps on her cheek and her eyes flutter slightly.

“Shit, Elle. You gotta stay awake, okay?” You look around helplessly. Her phone is on the floor next to her. Did she call 911?  You place one hand on the wound to try and stop the bleeding, knowing it isn’t doing much as you feel the red hot liquid slip right past your fingers.

You reach over her to check her phone. Luckily you know her password.

You check her out going call and see 911. A sigh of relief escapes you.

Help is on the way. You just have to do everything you can to keep her alive until then.

Blood is staining your hands as you try to stop the bleeding. Her eyes closed.

“No, no, no, no, Elle, stay with me. Come on, you gotta keep your eyes open. Keep them open for me. Fuck. Elle. Come on. Please… I… I can’t lose you. Please.” A million things ran through your head. If you had been here, you could’ve stopped him.

If you hadn’t left, Elle would be okay. God, why did they have that press conference. Why hadn’t you been more demanding with Hotch that it was a bad idea.

Vague sirens interrupted your train of thought. Taking one hand to check Elle’s pulse. Time stopped. You couldn’t feel a heartbeat.

“Fuck.” Panicking. What would cpr do if she was bleeding out? Not like you had any other choice. You started compressions.

No thoughts run through your head anymore. Just pure focus on the task. Not even noticing the sirens getting louder and louder.

A paramedic pulls you away from Elle. Only now realizing they had arrived. Their mouths were moving but you couldn’t make out any of the words.

You stepped back. Letting them do their job.

Everything is hazy, you blink rapidly. Tears fall on your cheeks.

Have you been crying this whole time? You didn’t even realize it. They place Elle on a stretcher and make their way back to the ambulance. You follow them without saying a word. You don’t think about the fact that your phone is still in your bag.

Getting ready to step into the ambulance you noticed a car arriving. Anderson. He stumbled out of the SUV.

“L/n, what happened?” He tried not to show his fear but the tremble in his voice gave him away. “Call Hotch. Meet me at the hospital. I- I’ll explain there.” You spoke hurriedly while getting into the ambulance.

The paramedics are rushing the stretcher into the ER. You’re having a hard time keeping up with them. The doctors take Elle over.

“I’m sorry, we are taking her into surgery. You aren’t allowed any further.” One of the nurses is holding you back. You have no fight left in you, so you just nod and make your way to the waiting room.

Anderson is already there. His eyes are red. Had he been crying? He looked like a mess. You didn’t even want to think about what you looked like right now. The way Anderson’s eyes widened when he saw you back at the house told you enough. You definitely looked worse than him.

“I called Hotchner. Him and Agent Gideon are on their way now.” Wringing his hands as he spoke. He’s nervous. “Do you... um, do you know anything yet?” He barely could get the question out without tears threatening to spill.

“She’s in surgery.” Was all you could manage to get out as you spoke. Wanting to run your hand over your face but as you reached you noticed the deep maroon stains and how much it was shaking so you put your hand back down.

“If you want to, I can wait here, so you can get cleaned up.” He offered. You gave him a thankful but tired smile.

Making your way over to the bathroom. The door handle stuck to your hand slightly, leaving a slight red imprint on it.

You let out a heavy sigh, resting your head against the door as you closed it behind you. Walking up to the sink you didn’t dare to look into the mirror.

You turned on the faucet and put your shaky hands under the ice cold water. The water colored red instantly. You tried not to think about the fact it was Elle’s blood you were washing off.

Keeping your hands under the water until it turned clear again made them start to tingle from the freezing water. Turning the faucet off, you placed your hands on the sides of the sink. Not daring to look at your own reflection.

Involuntarily you let out a shaky breath. Trying to recollect yourself.

Hotch and Gideon would arrive any moment. They would have questions for you. Questions that would force you to think back to what happened not even an hour ago, while all you’ve been trying this whole time is to forget about it. You couldn’t bear to try and remember.

You dried your hands and walked out of the bathroom, scanning the waiting room for Anderson. He was talking to two men in suits. Two men you could recognize anywhere. How did they get here so soon? How long had you been in the bathroom? You looked at your wrist. The face of your watch is stained with blood. You quickly pulled the sleeve of your jacket back over it.

“It appears she dialed 911 herself before she passed out.” You hear Anderson say as you get closer to them. Hotch and Gideon turned around when they noticed Anderson's gaze shifting to you.

The pity and maybe even guilt that Anderson feels when he makes eye contact with you is clear on his face. Or maybe it’s clear to you since profiling is your job, but then how come you couldn’t prevent Elle from dying. No. She isn’t dead. Not anymore. The paramedics shocked her back to life. She’s alive. She’ll be okay. She has to be. You would never be able to live with yourself if she wouldn’t be. Hotch keeps his eyes on you for a minute while Gideon turns back around.

“Why weren’t we notified?” He asks Anderson.

“The offender apparently took her ID and gun. The uniform I talked to didn’t even know she was in the Bureau until I arrived on scene.” He replies to Gideon quickly.

“Get back over there.” Hotch says turning back to look at Anderson. “This is a federal crime scene. Nobody touches anything. We process it.” He instructs the younger agent. “Go.”

“Yes, sir.” Anderson replies as he leaves to go and do exactly what Hotch told him to.

The two agents turn back around to observe you. You are staring into space; your mind is clouded. Nothing feels clear anymore. Hotch and Gideon glance at each other. Both concerned with the state you’re in currently. Gideon takes out his phone and walks a few steps away, going to call the office.

“L/n? Hey L/n?” An authoritative, yet comforting voice made you reorientate. Hotch squinted his eyes and ever so slightly tilted his head. He was profiling you. And you would’ve noticed if you weren’t so tired.

“Sorry, what were you saying sir?” Crossing your arms over each other.

“You’re lucky you weren’t there as well.” He said touching your shoulder. But you didn’t feel lucky. All you felt was guilt, but you simply nodded. “Is there anything you remember?” He crosses his arms just like you did.

“I-” You choke on your words. You close your eyes and shake your head trying to get your thoughts in order. “I wasn’t even gone for 30 minutes. If I had just… If I hadn’t left, she would be okay.”

“If you had been there, he most likely would’ve shot you as well L/n.” Hotch tells you. Before you can say anything, else Gideon walks back over to the two of you.

“Trap and trace got nothing.” He says leaning against the wall and putting his phone away. “Unsub used a disposable cell.” You look confused at that. Hotch notices.

“The unsub, he called us. Taunting us about Elle.” He explains to you. You let out an exhausted sigh. It’s as if this case never ends.

“We got our best CSU team. If he left anything, a print, a hair, sweat, anything…” “They’ll find it.” Gideon cuts Hotch off. You look down at your hands, they are still shaking.

“I’m going to grab a coffee.” You mutter out and leave the two agents.

After grabbing your coffee, you go and sit in the waiting room. It is completely empty. Would you rather have it be busy? You’re not sure which would be worse. Because now you must sit here in this hurt. This constant tight feeling in your chest, as if you’re not getting enough air.

A few minutes later Gideon walks in. He nods at you as you look at him. He sits down a few chairs away from where you’re sitting, giving you some space. You sit in silence, it’s not uncomfortable but it also isn’t exactly comfortable. “Hotch is calling JJ and Morgan.” He says, explaining where the other agent is. You just nod, not having the energy to reply. You look down at the coffee in your hands, you haven’t taken a single sip. It’s pretty much cold now. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Gideon scrabbling things down on the magazines that lay down on the table. You don’t ask him about it.

After a while, Hotch walks in and you look up from your drink. He’s gotten rid of his suit jacket. “Any word?” He asks Gideon.

“Nope.” Gideon replies simply.

“I called JJ. I told her we’d call them if anything changed.” Hotch tells the two of you as he leans on the two chairs in front of him. Gideon and you simply nod at what he says.

“What’s all that?” Hotch asks as he notices the writing on the magazines.

“This unsub’s extremely organized.” Gideon explains instead of answering his question, “He sounded truly shocked that we didn’t follow the rules. He honestly believed we would simply listen to his directions.”

“He’s delusional. He thinks he’s a mythological king.” Hotch says, his eyebrows furrow slightly.

“But delusion and this level of organization are almost mutually exclusive.” Gideon corrects Hotch, “You don’t meticulously plan contacts in the real world if you’re suffering psychotic breaks from reality.” Before Hotch can reply to Anderson walks back in. “How is she?” he quietly asks. You stare back down at your coffee again.

“No word yet.” Hotch replies to him, “Is the scene processed?”

“They’re finished. We still have it locked up tight, though.” Anderson explains.

“They find anything?” Hotch asks, he sounds exhausted.

“CSU found a partial print.” You look up as Anderson says this. “The shooter wrote a message on the wall in blood and,” He did? How did you not notice that? Hotch and Gideon glance at you just for a second, probably thinking the same. “In one of the smudges, they found a whorl pattern.” Anderson hands over the file to Hotch. “They made a lift. They aren’t sure whether it’s enough to get a hit, but they are processing it now.” Anderson continues as Hotch hands the file over to Gideon. You get up from your seat, still holding your coffee, you walk closer to Gideon to look at the file.

He grabs the top picture of a bloody fingerprint to reveal what the unsub wrote on the wall. RULES. Dripping down the wall. You try to think back as hard as you can but don’t remember seeing it. You should’ve seen it. Gideon reads what’s on the picture and looks up at Hotch. He places the file back down on the table in front of him.

Hotch leaves to get coffee. Leaving you and Gideon alone again. You go to sit back down in the chair but stop.

You can’t help the words that slip out of your mouth. “You shouldn’t have done the press conference.” You turn around to face him. “I tried to warn you.”

Gideon doesn’t say anything. He just stares down at the file. You want to yell at him. Scream that it’s his fault. But you bite the inside of your cheek.

“I was just doing my job.” He says quietly, so quiet it’s barely a whisper. You can’t help but let out a scoff and stare at him. If looks could kill Gideon would be six feet under by now. You respect him, you truly do, but he made a bad call and can’t own up to it.

The reasonable part of your brain tells you, you are projecting your own feelings of guilt and anger on him, but you don’t have it in you to be reasonable right now. So, you storm out of the waiting room. You throw your coffee in a trash can as you walk past it. Hotchner passes by you with two coffees in his hand, he’s put his jacket back on, he raises an eyebrow when you don’t acknowledge him. He looks back at you but keeps walking back to the waiting room.

You let out a frustrated sigh. You notice one of Elle’s doctors and go to ask if they have any new information.

She just tells you the same thing, “No, I’m sorry.” And she walks away.

You just wish someone could tell you something, anything. You’re tired, exhausted, angry, sad, terrified, guilty. Your eyes start to sting as you try and hold back your tears. You look around and walk into the nearest bathroom.

When the door closes the damn breaks and tears fall down your face. A sob escapes you and you place your hand over your mouth. You try to focus on your breathing to try and calm down. It works a little bit.

You decide washing your face might help you get grounded again, so you walk over to the sink. Turning it on and putting your hands under the water. Somehow the water of this sink is even colder than the one from before. You cup your hands under it and splash the water on your face.

You reach to grab a towel to dry your hands and face but catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. You look even worse than you imagined. Your mascara is all over the place and so is your hair. There even is some dried blood on your face, you quickly scrub it off with a damp paper towel.

So many thoughts and feelings have been racing through your head over the past few hours, you can barely keep up with them. Did you overstep with Gideon just now? Possibly. You just couldn’t handle bearing all the guilt you were feeling anymore.

Before you leave you check yourself in the mirror again. You look… less chaotic to put it nicely. You smooth over your hair and clothes and walk out of the bathroom.

You start looking for Hotch and Gideon but only find the latter. He’s staring into space, the thing you’ve seen him do all day. You look around before approaching him, hoping to find Hotch instead.

“Hey…” You clear your throat as you stand next to the chair he’s sitting in. He takes a second to look up to his left and gives you a nod of acknowledgment. A certain awkwardness flows between you two. Neither saying a word.

His fingers are interlaced, resting on his lap. He’s trying to appear calm and collected, but his shaking knee is giving him away.

There’s a free chair next to him. You debate with yourself whether you should sit down or not. Gideon nods over to the chair as if he was reading your mind. “Just sit down, kid.”

A quick nod is all you give him in response as you go and sit down.

After sitting in this silence for a few minutes, you speak up. “She’s going to be okay right?” You rub your palms over your thighs, trying to shake the nervous feeling.

“Greenaway is strong, she’s a fighter.” He doesn’t know if she’ll be okay. He is probably as terrified as you are right now. Once again, you just nod. You wring your fingers. Letting out a sigh, you look over at Gideon.

“Sir, I’m sorry if I overstepped…” He looks over at you with a raised eyebrow, “Earlier, in the waiting room.” You remind him.

Gideon nods, he hadn’t expected you to bring it up again. He wasn’t mad at you; he was mad at himself. He should’ve listened. And he would regret the choice he made, along with all the other choices over his career. Gideon waved his hand at you, telling you that what happened didn’t matter.

You and Gideon sat in the hallway for another half hour before a doctor finally approached both of you. Hearing the news a sigh left you. Relief flooded your body.

Elle is okay. Elle is alive.

Gideon went to call the team as you followed the doctor. Elle was laying in the hospital bed. She looked peaceful. You can’t remember the last time you saw her this relaxed. You approach her bed and sit down in the chair next to it. All the memories of today wash over you again, the thought that you could’ve lost your friend. You wipe away a single tear that falls.  

Gideon walks up next to you after a few minutes. Laying his hand on your shoulder.

“They caught him, he’s dead.” You turn around to look at him, “They saved Rebecca.” You look back to Elle as you nod at what he says. Part of you wished you could’ve been there with the team. Gotten some justice for Elle. But you were where you needed to be. Right here. In the hospital, sitting next to Elle as she wakes up.

[0-therw-0-rldly]

I’ll preface this by saying I’m not really a shipper. I just enjoy canon couples on TV Series/films.

Terms I’d like B*ddies to remove from their vocabulary because they don’t know how to use them correctly:

Media literacy: For a group that uses this term a lot you sure do misinterpret everything in this show.

Queerbaiting: Going to expand on this one. A show that’s already been pre established for having queer characters simply cannot queerbait.

Ship baiting: While sometimes you can argue that they could be doing that, that’s only if you look at the show in a very biased manner. You might think this is the case but the general audience doesn’t think the way you do.

Ship war: This isn’t a one tree hill situation where there was Team Brooke Vs. Team Peyton where the middle guy (Lucas Scott) had canonically been with both women. This is people not understanding fanon vs. canon and not being able to just watch the show. It’s like playing quarterback on Madden and thinking you could be better than Patrick Mahomes.

Plot device: everything’s a plot device. Move tf on.

Predator: You sound like crazy MAGA supporters calling everything regarding the LGBTQIA+ community as predatory. Sit down.

Co-parenting: I know this is a big one and discourse was brought up during the hiatus. Oliver and Ryan have loosely mentioned this years ago but it was never to be taken this seriously. Do y’all even know what co-parenting is or are you that big of a donut? Buck is someone who loves his best friend deeply and by extension, his kid too. Him taking care of him frequently does not make him a co-parent. Maybe he is a parental or uncle figure, but he isn’t a co-parent. Also, I swear y’all need to learn how a will works. He is a GODPARENT, not a GUARDIAN. Stfu.

Hag: This especially applies to women, but to say that someone 25-30+ is a hag for still being in fandoms or enjoying tv shows/films is inherently misogynistic. Men are never held to this much criticism for enjoying fictional media, but women aren’t allowed to?

Queer Coding: people of the same sex “looking at each other”, hugging, or having intimate moments all together doesn’t make them queer coded. It could mean that they just love each other that deeply platonically. While representation is amazing and just because you interpret a character as queer coded (just like my ship baiting comment) doesn’t mean others interpret it that way as well. In addition, network TV has stipulations, and also actors are allowed to decline storylines. Ryan has mentioned his character is heterosexual an abundance of times which means (at least for now) that he isn’t willing to go for this storyline.

Dead naming: Y’all construing the fact that Buck wants people like coworkers and some of his former love interests, to saying Evan is his dead name is inherently transphobic because do you even understand what a dead name is? Evan Buckley is shown as being fine with being called Evan by both Tommy and his sister. I’m pretty sure some of his love interests have called him Evan as well.

Fetishizing: You guys saw two hot guys who “looked at each other” and for 6 seasons have wanted nothing but to see those two make out with each other. Those of us who enjoy Tevan saw Buck giddy at the thought of Tommy and have wanted domestic fluff for them since.

Anything to do with racism, homophobia, and misogyny: I’ve seen the way you guys have conveniently weaponized Henren and by extension Aisha/Tracie when you didn’t get the Ryan/Oliver interview, don’t try to act like you’re morally superior. Not to mention wanting a canonically gay man to die in a show and not even holding those who use your ship name to write CSA fics accountable because you’re petty and want to throw hissy fits. Anyone looking at your comments as an outsider would think you’re homophobes and yes queer people can be homophobic.

I do hope you can expand your vocabulary. 🤍

[1800titz]

FETISH | Spanko!Harry x Neighbor!Reader (5)

The one where you and Harry are neighbors in an apartment complex, he's got a bunny called Snuggles, he makes softcore porn spanking people (it's a REALLY LOUD HOBBY), and you have definitely called the police for a domestic disturbance next door continued

preview

You watch him, stood in his kitchen with one hand planted on the counter. The way his pink tongue slips out across his lips as he waits, and—

This man is bunnies. The offer lining the bands of his gaze like hope smelting into muskeg green. Untamed, playful charisma fused with quiet, unassuming kindness. 

And the paradox that makes you feverish like a sickness— this man, in another circumstance, demands control. 

That’s how you end up at the dinner table for two, with a slice of the pasta bake on the plate in front of you. It’s orange, and eccentric in the way nuanced white wouldn’t be, the way your dishes are, and it’s Harry. And you don’t really, actually know this man at all, but somehow it makes sense. 

It’s awkward, but it’s not him; his demure oozes something charismatic, unbeknownst. Saturated with ease enough in conversational small talk, and he makes enough eye contact to stifle the choppy motions of this slowdance. 

It’s awkward because you’re awkward. Blinking up at him from under the canopy of your lashes in increments under the jaundiced glow of the lamp. Inkpools mostly, perpetually anchored to your fork. 

It’s just—

You swallow. The food is good. You can’t complain— you get a free dinner (homecooked, as opposed to the canned soup you would have dug out of your pantry and stuffed into the yellow mouth of the microwave), and you get a pretty view of a looker, but. Maybe part of it is the sticky guilt webbing across your nonchalance. 

You’re not going to ask. You don’t plan to ask. You don’t really plan anything— always playing it by ear, always staggering over your own feet into impulse. 

But you’re a ticking time bomb. Sticking your hands under your legs to stop them from skirting through things that don’t belong to you for answers, legs crossed so it takes more steps to get up from the couch for the duration of the whole hour you spent house-sitting. 

But it comes out when your ankle bouncing under the table isn’t enough to quell the weight of your tongue anymore. 

“What’s the… appeal?”

You swallow. The sound of his fork clicking against the plate— metal on ceramic— is at least slightly louder than the way your heart thrums up into your throat.

“Appeal of what?”

You maybe can’t look at him. Not entirely, can’t meet his eye— such a weird question; stupid, stupid— so you just swallow again and contemplate nervously laughing to snub the mushrooming stretch of lull. Nevermind. Picking through the food doesn’t help and magically retract the inquiry. 

“What you do,” is what you finally settle on. 

Your gaze flickers up briefly, and you expect him to look a little bashful, a little uncomfortable, pink tingeing the crests of his cheekbones— the perfect out for that nervous laugh (sorry, I shouldn’t have asked)— but he’s just. Looking at you. Entirely un-rubescent, and maybe it’s the smear of the incandescent lighting, the ease of being submerged by his own belongings, that makes him look so casual (you: the opposite). Your throat feels dry. Parched. Entirely absolved of what’s been soaking on the back of your tongue now that you’ve let it spill, and the longer you sit still there, knowing he’s just looking at you—

You pick the glass of water in front of you up and take a drink.

“I don’t know,” he muses, gnawing into his lip, gaze pensive, “what is the appeal?”

It almost feels like an accusation. Some sort of inside joke that you’re not in on. Something bristles in your chest as you set the glass back into place, throat bobbing as you swallow down what you’ve siphoned in two, thick gulps. Your eyes flash. 

“I don’t know, that’s why I’m asking.”

The corners of his mouth tick as he picks through his food, gaze cast thoughtfully to the plate. But it’s easy— again. Sangfroid. Nearly amused.

“It’s different for different people.”

(At you. At the way you’re indisputably, almost squirming in your chair, and the fat, looming cloud of paranoia persuades you that he knows… something.)

“It’s like BDSM, right?” you tread carefully. Cautious-ish; that’s an overbearingly personal question— digging the prongs through a chunk of cheese: “Is that what it is, for you?”

You swallow again when he doesn’t immediately answer. Now, you think, he’s blushing. All roseate in the face, thrown off kilter by the way you dredge into otherwise unspoken intimacies, and you wouldn’t blame him— you’re toeing at the thought of apologizing, then, consider backtracking altogether—

“Are you asking how I like my sex?” 

Against all presuppositions, his grin is wolfish. This incipient crescent that smears wider and curls higher around the corners of his teeth, when you don’t immediately respond, making your heart thrum a little faster. 

Teasing. He’s teasing you.

“Uh—“

You blink. Your heart lurches further up into your throat. For a second, it feels like you’re suffocating on your own pulse. You’re not sure when the table flipped into a one-eighty from under you, but he kisses his teeth and sits back, so unco to the semi-timid mien you’ve become acquainted with.

“Nosy, nosy, nosy.”

And it’s then that you grasp it in its full borders— the shape of this thing you thought you knew— that of course, you’ve only been scraping at the surface. Of course, somehow, there’s tendrils tying in the empty space between the soft tissues of the Harry you know and the Harry online. A kind of middle ground where inkblots mounted in green don’t shy away under the thicket of his dark eyelashes. Not soaked in a coat of vulnerability— where he doesn’t stick his hands into his pockets at the word sex or the connotations of spanking. 

[scarybabe]

The Reina effect! (She won’t post this because she won’t post the truth lol.

Lie and say you are into freedoms, fatten up to attract a huge audience. Get outed multiple times for saying feedism is disgusting and that you only do it for money. Deny it and keep going. Eventually make enough money where you can quit, lose your weight and start a twitch channel hoping some views will transition into just twitch watchers and regular porn watchers.

It was never about the feedism community, it was never about other creators, it was never about body positivity. It was about your privilege and your POCKET.

hahaha sure Jan!

That’s why I married a feeder, gained weight a second time after losing it all when it was INFINITELY easier to stay thin (wanting to experience my kink with someone genuinely as into it as I am) and raised my goal weight twice despite actually making LESS money the closer I got to 300 (my income peaked at 230lbs) for the love of the process & to prove to myself that I was capable of achieving it. I didn’t have to do any of that. If I wasn’t into it, why would I keep making belly content when I really don’t need to? I honestly made plenty of money just doing vore and inflation content - I didn’t need to gain weight ever, period (but I wanted to)!

Is it really that unfathomable to you that I’m a human being with interests, dreams and goals outside of only making p*rn that are affected by my health, like having a family someday? That branching out into safe for work fields like twitch is almost necessary in a social media landscape that represses anything sexual?

I’m sorry you think all content creators are totally one dimensional human beings, and you think being nasty to me will guilt or manipulate me in some way to changing my body to align with your desires. That has NEVER worked on me 😂

If anything, gaining muscle and starting a twitch channel (btw my first 5 streams are all going to charity, I won’t see a penny of it) is the OPPOSITE of what my feedism fanbase wants, but it’s important for me to be true to myself and my dreams.

That doesn’t mean that my fetish is “fake” - plenty of people can experience and love things without signing their life away to them. I have nothing nasty to say in return because you sound extremely sad and maidenless, I implore you to make some friends and touch some grass - you’ll be a lot happier!

[chxrryhansen]

Might sound weird but i think Steve Rogers has a foot fetish

i literally saw this and i just had to start writing it straight away- it’s not weird at all baby! i totally agree🤭 i hope you don’t mind i wrote this as a headcanon instead of a prompt💗

sfw: this man would rather die than let you pay for your own nails, he pampers you, getting you a full spa day with a massage, sauna experience and your fingernails and toenails done.

complimenting you when you get home like

“god damn baby your skin feels so soft n’ smooth, smoother than a babies ass.” he giggles while rubbing up and down your arms and legs.

he loooooves when you get a nice french tip “and look at those pretty feet, sweetheart. fuck, i love every inch of you.” he murmurs as he massages your feet. even leaning down to give your toes a kiss after he finishes rubbing each one.

he adores making you feel good so giving you massages when you come home from a long days work is one of his favourite hobbies. even if you fall asleep on him, he continues to rub your sore feet while he watches tv.

nsfw: in my world steve doesn’t have a full blown foot fetish but it’s more so the fact he owns every part of you, including your feet. so he can do as he pleases with ‘his feet’.

including when he’s balls deep inside your pussy, you spread out beneath him while he pounds his hips into your cunt. he lifts one of your legs up on his shoulder, pushing your foot slightly forward so he can turn his head to the side, taking one of your toes in his mouth as he plows into you.

“fuckin’ love these pretty toes, god you’re so fuckin’ hot. my sweet slut.”

“you’d let me do anything to you, huh? even lettin’ me suck on these pretty feet with my fat dick in your cervix.” he growls, his pace quickening as he manoeuvres to lick the sides of your feet, moaning at the taste of your soft n’ sweet skin.

he has even gone as far as to ask you for a foot job, which of course you complied to. steve leans back against the headboard, his dick hitting his stomach as he takes it out of his pants, resting his head on his hands behind him.

“go ahead, pretty baby.”

and so you do, sitting with your legs spread wide, showing him the glisten of your cunt as you wrap your feet around his cock, moving them up and down. you can feel the veins of his swollen length as he moans out, finally finding relief as your toes wrap around his shaft.

“fuckkk. you treat me so damn good, my own personal whore, even givin’ me something as disgusting as a foot job. but you love it don’t you, baby? you love that daddy wants every fuckin’ inch of your gorgeous body on him. i’ve fucked every hole you’ve got n’ i’m asking for more? and you’re gonna’ give it to me just like that? damn fuckin’ right you are, you fuckin slut.” he groans as precum leaks out of his pink tip.

[yandere-paramour]

I think Atalanta made a terrible mistake trying to darling me. I hate being controlled (pairs well with a yandere fetish) and am very oppositional defiant disorder coded. If I discovered that I could not simply overpower her or kill her, I would go for the one thing she can’t really do much about: Her reputation.

I’d wait till she brought me to some big, highly publicized rich people party, preferably something being broadcast live (Doesn’t matter how long that takes, I’m very petty and very patient). I’d make sure that I am especially affectionate and clingy to her that night (in front of as many cameras as is possible). Then, at some critical moment of the party, I would climb up on a visible table (preferably the buffet table), pull down my pants/skirt and underwear, and begin pissing while loudly declaring I’m a prostitute Atalanta hired because she gets off on public humiliation. If I have time before security tackles me, I will also imply that Jamie had his way with me. It doesn’t matter that it isn’t true, what matters is that it is a scandal that will never, ever go away no matter what the Montclairs do. Given the Streisand effect, there efforts to bury it will probably make it more well known.

My logic is that Atalanta has three options after this. Kill me (I no longer have to live with her, I win). Free me and pay me to never talk to her or her family again (I win). Or fall for her yandere tendencies and desperately try to re-frame our relationship as secretly very deep and loving and try to rationalize away what just happened. Publicly, because she is presumably still trying to wife me. There is effectively no way to do this that doesn’t involve admitting that maybe you kinda kidnapped your future wife and this indecent was her being so traumatized and unhappy with that that she acted out. Given how much effort the Montclairs put into maintaining the image of benevolent, morally pure and good rulers who never do anything wrong, that would likely become an even more nightmarish scandal for them that would irreversibly damage their popularity (I win).

Exactly how much danger am I in once I implement this plan? Round to the nearest minute I have before a Montclair does something irreversible to my body. Keep in mind that i will not apologize and will phone in any public statements they try to make me give so that it sounds like they are paying me off.

I hope you know this ask haunted me all during finals. I've been ruminating on it for days. I made my real life friends look at it and try to help me but they too were horrified and confused.

I have no idea how to answer this, bro. This would RUIN Atalanta's life. Like, not even exaggerating, this would ruin the Montclair name for generations, especially in the age of the internet. Atalanta would be beyond angry with you, absolutely furious, furious enough to sob. Asteria would be enraged, Jamie would be scared and betrayed and probably angry too. There's not enough PR managers in the world to fix this and any public statement trying to fix it would be insincere at best. You have done something that is so damaging to the Montclair family that they might have to leave the country. You might actually end up dead and then they'd have to spin a story about decades of mental illness and Ata loving you regardless and make it seem a miracle you lasted this long.

It would take years of lying low and reframing the Montclair reputation but they might be able to do it. Atalanta would be forever changed from this betrayal though. This would ruin her.

Why would you do this to her? Why would you do this to me??

[sueske]

Hi <33 just reminding you and all other sns blokes that while your sasusaku & Sakura takes are correct, doesn’t mean you know anything about Hinata <33 like i get it, you self insert onto Sasuke because you find Naruto attractive, completely valid because he is a very attractive character! But you need to understand that neither are gay. Sasuke and Naruto see each other as brothers at most and likely just close friends in canon. Sasuke would be more likely to date Hinata than he would Naruto, cause I mean think about it. Whether or not you wanna admit it, Sasuke and Hinata have a lot in common when it comes to their trauma. Sasuke can relate to Hinata in a way he cannot with Naruto. Hinata is genuinely an amazing character and is known for being the best girl of anime for a reason <33 no other anime girl has ever risen to the standard hinata has set and neither has any of you, people who blindly hate her all because she gets in the way of your non existent fetish ship.

Naruto loves hinata. They have kids together. They’re currently together while being sealed away. No, Naruto wasn’t guilt tripped by anyone just because Sakura was being the insane freak she always was. Naruto isn’t emotionally intelligent and is honestly written to be somewhat like someone with autism because of his hard time understanding feelings. He did not ignore it her confession, he just didn’t understand it at the time. You wouldn’t know that because you’re chronically online and never had a real relationship.

Whether or not you respond to this means nothing to me. You just need to know that you aren’t intelligent enough to understand hinata!! Nor do you want to in all honesty. She’s canonically the prettiest, popular with guys and is just a likeable person. Something you can’t relate to.

Also Neji literally deserved his death lol. He was abusive. You can try and go “b-but he’s a slave!” Or whatever but it’s very clear hinata does not act as a slave owner. She recognized Neji as a brother and not her slave and he was ungrateful for that.

You guys sound like abusive people ngl hating on a anxious girl with cptsd like bruh. Are you okay? Mentally? Lol.

Anywayssss pretty people love Hinata !!! <3 if you don’t well… you get the point ;D

Have a nice day hope you leave your delusions soon!!!!!

🥴🥴🥴 girl get some help.

[bassettmemes]

YOU KNOW YOU LOVE ME. XOXO, GOSSIP GIRL. ↳ a collection of sentences from the Gossip Girl (2007) series.

"I'm not a stop along the way. I'm a destination."

“Three words. Eight letters. Say it and I’m yours.”

“If you’re going to be sad, you might as well be sad in Paris.”

“Once men have tasted caviar, it baffles me how they settle for catfish.”

“Whoever said money doesn’t buy happiness didn’t know where to shop.”

“We’re sisters. You’re my family. What is you is me. There’s nothing you could ever say that would make me let go.”

“You can’t make people love you, but you can make them fear you.”

“Haven’t you heard? I’m the crazy bitch around here.”

“Here’s my advice. Have a little faith, and if that doesn’t work, have a lot of mimosas.”

“Don’t go all Notebook on me. Not now. I need you.”

“I have an idea for you: quit. Your boss is a bitch. Let’s go to lunch.”

“Destiny is for losers. It’s just a stupid excuse to wait for things to happen instead of making them happen.”

“We’re not servants to our emotions. We can control them, suppress them, stomp them out like bugs.”

“You need to be cold to be a queen.”

“Don’t let people tell you who you are. You tell them.”

“I didn’t come back for you.”

“I’ll just stay home, eat lots of gelato, and write about how true love is nothing but a myth.”

“I’d ask you how you are, but I don’t really care.”

“You know my mom: If it’s not broke, break it.”

“There’s something vibrating in your pocket, and I really hope it’s your phone.”

“I hate that stupid headband.”

“I remember everything you’ve read to me. In case you haven’t noticed I don’t really let go of things so easily.”

“I like the way I feel when he looks at me. Like I wanna believe in myself.”

“Earn the spotlight on your own merits. You’ll feel better.”

“Even if it’s the biggest kamikaze disaster of my life, it’s my disaster.”

“You are no one until you’re talked about.”

“When Prince Charming found Cinderella’s slipper, they didn’t accuse him of having a foot fetish.”

“I don’t read Gossip Girl. That’s for chicks.”

“So, actually, I’ll be living out my nightmare. Trapped in the city with only you to talk to.”

“She doesn’t know me. Nobody knows me. It’s cool. It’s fine.”

“Yeah, well, your fashion emergency was solved so I figured my work was done.”

“You can’t fight against who you are.”

“You gonna strangle him with your scarf?”

“You don’t just give up because things are hard.”

“You know it’s love when you start talking like an assassin.”

“I just want to be the person you can bring anything to.”

“Affairs with married people, threesomes — it just so happens everyone’s problems are within my area of expertise.”

“I just don’t get it. I organized everything the way she likes it. I mean, I even made sure my bowtie matched her dress.”

“Listen, there’s nothing wrong with keeping your options open. I don’t think your parents are going to be mad at you for choosing your own path. Unless… they’re related to my parents.”

“Some might call this a fustercluck. But on the Upper East Side, we call it Sunday afternoon.”

“There’s a weak link in every chain, and it’s just a matter of time before this one snaps.”

“One thing about being on the top of the world? It gives you a long, long way to fall.”

“So we should just be anonymous losers who eat lunch alone and never get invited to parties?”

“Well, keep dreaming. Maybe one day she’ll actually know your name.”

“The sound of your own voice annoying you?”

“Even you should know that jealousy clashes with L.L. Bean pants!”

“I came to tell you in person. You win.”

“The only human contact that you don’t pay for is the people in this house.” 

“That’s not fair. Everyone’s topless on Valentino’s yacht.”

“You know you really put yourself on the radar tonight. Better not make that mistake again or you’ll pay for real.”

 “Don’t look now, but those are the JV mean girls.”

“He gave six girls from Nightingale gonorrhea of the throat last year.”

“I wouldn’t have had to do it if it weren’t for your smear campaign against me.”

“If we wanted to have sex, we’d just go to a hotel.”

“You’ve come to my rescue enough times, let me help you for once.”

“I don’t need a guy to make me feel fulfilled, especially when he’s unavailable.”

[pangtasias-atelier]

Hey there your back,can you write an modern au of Corrin being roommates with obese Keaton and obese Kaden. Corrin having to live with them results in him gaining weight on his hips and losing mobility in only a year?

I see Corrin request, I go feral ajnjabnsj. Also love seeing the two furrybait lmao. Kinda went crazy with like describing sized instead of much else but this got long lmao so I hope you enjoy it!

Warning: This is a fetish story!

Corrin has no time to grab anything from the fridge to make dinner. Not when his new roommates come up from behind him. 

“Why don’t we order out? My treat this time,” Kaden rubs up against Corrin, his massive hips that billow outward pressing into Corrin’s own lithe limbs.

“Yeah! And I’ll get the dessert,” Keaton on the other side of Corrin, he wedges him in between the two of them. His large sagging gut bulges out in front of him and to the sides.

Corrin’s face is a flushed red. In between the two massive men, he has no form of escape. “I… Well we’ve been eating out for the past week,” Corrin speaks up. Looking at himself, he stares at the small bubbling bundle of flab that is his belly, the bad habits of his new roommates already heavily affecting him despite only being a week in to living with them.

“And? Ordering out beats cooking,” Keaton belches, the meaty sounding burp sounding out for  several seconds from his light snack half an hour ago. Keaton pulls Corrin away, his large, flabby hand wrapped around the far thinner man’s wrist.

Kaden follows behind the two. His ass wobbles with each step he takes, the two ponderously sized thighs that have reportedly been the reason for a much wider door—a story that Corrin takes to heart with both Kaden and Keaton’s weight—struggle to make much movement, especially anything halfway passing for graceful or quick. “We’re still celebrating you moving in,” For all his weight, Kaden still manages to give Corrin one final push on to the couch. 

“I guess,” Corrin stays in his spot. His face still shows off the bright little streak of faint red on his cheeks despite his supposed complaining. Seated at the very center of the couch, the furniture still has ample enough room for several other occupants.

Most of the room quickly goes away from the 600 pound lardass of a wolfskin on Corrin’s right. “Ahh,” Keaton sighs. He rubs his gut, the pile of flab easily giving from the pressure of his thick, fattened fingers. 

It only takes a couple of minutes for dinner to arrive. Kaden already prepared, he grabs the multiple bags of food from the all too accustomed delivery man who doesn’t even bat an eye upon seeing the 600 pound kitsune that’s dressed only in shorts that hide none of his flabby rolls. “Hoshidan takeout. Just how you like it,” Kaden plops the several bags onto the low, wide table that’s right in front of the couch.

The other side of open space next to Corrin is taken up by another fattass. Kaden wastes no time in propping open a couple of boxes and digging in. His large breasts make a great table for his box, the two meaty tits larger than the container is. 

Corrin takes a moment longer than the other two men, but the passing moment is only brief before he too starts to eat at the feast in front of him. Being squeezed in between so much fat by two men alone still leaves Corrin surprised at the sensation. A nice sensation, he thinks. 

The three men tear through the bevvy of take out boxes in front of them as the tuned out sound of the television playing some sort of rerun for the countless time. The same is true for their daily routine, another day lazing about and eating on the couch happening for the eighth day in a row.

Despite having to deal with just over 1400 pounds of man fat, the couch does its very best to deal with the staggering weight without a single complaint. Kaden on the left side of the couch, the obese kitsune has an hourglass figure at his size, well as close as one can get with his still substantial gut from weighing slightly above 600 pounds back when Corrin had just moved in. His large thighs stretch out the thin strap of fabric for shorts. The taut fabric meant to be a deep, royal shade of blue is now a lighter shade with how taut it is. Especially with his ass that juts out behind him and stretches out the fabric, his ass also slipping out the waistband of them. His thighs are large enough to struggle with any chair meant for thin, regularly sized people. The two massive tree trunk sized thighs are pushed up against each other as much as they can be with all his own blubber in the way. His breasts larger than any women’s, Kaden’s large rack manages to sit on top of his large gut despite the size of his tits. They begin to creep over the edge of his gut and play slightly down the flabby hill of his stomach. Keaton on the right side of the couch, the also 600 pound, obese wolfskin sports most of his heft in his enormous gut that blankets his thighs and anything else that gets in its way. The large pile of lard has nothing in the way of clothes to obstruct it, not when keaton only wears a scantily tight pair of shorts that bulges from his fat pad. The upper rolld of lard that makes up his fat pad pushes past the waistband, sweaty rolls of lard making contact with the lower, hidden underside of his gut. Keaton’s stomach takes up the majority of his lap, all space needed to accommodate such a fine, hefty piece of meat. Keaton’s breasts also have a sizable amount of fat in them; his large chest has no definition to it anymore, the two tits splay down both sides of his gut to touch his large love handles when seated. His large, flabby arms practically use his breasts as a cushion with how much both body parts jut out in all directions. Keaton’s thighs and ass still struggle with his shorts despite his large top-heavy shape.

And Corrin, well Corrin is an absolute twig compared to the two of them. Even compared to just one of the obese, gluttonous pigs for me, Corrin is the model of healthy eating and fitness. And with him wedged in between the two men—an increasingly common occurrence—he is nothing more than the daintiest tree branch ready to snap off next to two full grown trees, even after his noticeable weight gain from just a week’s worth of living with them. Always the thinnest, most svelte man in any room from his lithe figure, Corrin still holds the title next to Kaden and Keaton even while sporting a small tummy from his constant binging from the two bad habits that he now lives with; a tummy that now presses against the tight, non stretch material of his shirt, the slightest hint of his creamy skin visible with a small bit of pudge that peeks out of his black tee. And his shorts also struggle against his extra weight. Corrin still wears his workout shorts, probably in some vain hope and thought that he’ll work off the extra bit of weight, despite having never done anything more than walking around the house before Kaden and Keaton cajole him into gorging with them. Corrin’s lower half already takes well to his extra girth. His two thighs that were already pretty notable from genes and some extra guidance with his workouts are now flabby; the two legs have a sizable amount of blubber encasing them. Though his shorts fit him fine for the most part, the only issue arriving when he puts them on or takes them off, getting them past his perky bubble butt that’s gotten flabbier and larger along with his legs. 

And despite his increased weight, or perhaps even because of it, Corrin still indulges with Kaden and Keaton. He tears into the food in front of him with gusto. He only thinks about the wonderful belly rubs and insistence on eating even more food he’ll get from the two far more obese men by the time the most likely tubs of ice cream for dessert finally arrive.

————————

“Bouurghp…” Corrin lets out a small burp. Reclining in his own personal chair now, Corrin pats and rubs his paunch as he digests his meal. Already well influenced by Kaden and Keaton, he no longer resembles his former self. Especially when he’s managed to put on more than 200 entire pounds of nothing but lard in just three months of living with the two men. 

The largest recipient of Corrin's gorging and feasting is his hips and ass. The two wide legs spread out on the armchair, the now 400 pound, wide Corrin taking up the entire expanse of the chair with his thighs pressed up against the armrests. Corrin's shorts are now replaced with a larger pair, multiple pairs purchased as he simply got fatter and fatter. His preference for fight fitting clothes continues to work in his favor, the shorts immensely tight with Corrin not having bought a new pair in some time. His shorts especially struggle with covering up his ass. The two bountiful curves that make up his large rump spill out his shorts, the flabby bits of his ass that is covered squished underneath the stretchy fabric. His stomach also having grown from his habits, the gut droops onto his lap, the lowermost layer of flab just barely creeping up onto his lap and sinking into the crevice of blubber where his two large thighs press up against each other. Especially with no shirt to keep his gut contained, Corrin adopting the same dress code as his roommates along with their eating habits. Corrin's moobs have little shape or definition to them anymore. The two flabby breasts relax right on his gut as he leans back. Corrin keeps his arms to the side after eating his meal. His biceps that are filled out with flab press up against his gut while they rest on the armrests.

"I hope you're ready for your after dessert snack," Kaden smiles from the comfort of the couch. The obese kitsune gropes himself after enjoying his usual dinner, the messy remnants of plates and boxes still littering the living room. 

The couch is half empty, the entire right half of the massive furniture barren with Keaton currently standing up. "You're going to eat everything I give you, you hear? Especially after you did it for Kaden yesterday. Not that I care," Keaton huffs. His tail still wags behind him despite the small frown on his face Keaton carries an entire gallon of gainer shake; his lips still are smattered with the remnants of his own smaller portion.

Unlike Corrin, the two men have gained only a small amount of weight, the extra dozen pounds rather negligible on the two lard asses. Corrin's weight staggering, and also enjoyable to see the twink absolutely blimp out, the two men have been focusing on fattening him up. And incredibly happy to see the results, Corrin fat enough now to no longer be able to sit on the couch with them from there no longer being enough room for all three of them.

"I- of course I will," Despite the usual flush of embarrassment on his face, Corrin tries to keep his calm. His nerves still get the best of him sometimes even if he is enjoying himself, the dragon still retaining some of his embarrassment even after becoming more confident with two great examples in front of him.

Keaton grins as he brings the overwhelmingly large volume of gainer shake to Corrin's mouth who all too eagerly chugs the forcefully tilted liquid with some muffled moans sounding out in between each heavy, viscous swallow, both Keaton and Kaden watching just as eagerly.

————————

Keaton at the diligent workers bustling in and out of the massive garage.

The extra room currently going through renovations, what had originally been touted and lauded as an amazing steal with the property that can fit three whole cars is now getting fitted with actual flooring and insulated so that the air conditioning can get taken care of soon with the encroaching deadline. 

The deadline being Corrin's weight, the dragon continuing to blimp out with even more lard as the weeks turn to months. 

Everyone in town used to Kaden and Keaton—two massive men who constantly ordered enormous quantities hard to ignore when every restaurant spoke of them—an additional lardass living with them seemed more like an inevitability than anything, though everyone had expected Keaton and Kaden to be the larger ones. But, everyone already prepared for it, the renovations are almost done after just over two weeks. And the extended time spent around Keaton and Kaden shows on the workers' figures, all of them sporting a small belly to a hefty paunch now. 

Keaton making sure that everything is as planned, Kaden is inside along with Corrin. The two in Corrin's room, the three fourths of a tonnage really cramps up the room. 

"Oh look at you! You're so hungry today," Kaden smirks down at Corrin. He does his best to straddle Corrin, lard smothering lard, while he feeds him. 

Corrin on his bed—the mattress all by itself with the frame removed long ago from the men's weights—he nods with half lidded eyes. "I want more," Corrin huffs after failing to nod properly with his tire for a neck. 

Underneath Kaden, Corrin's immense body is still apparent next to the now 700 pound kitsune. Corrin weighing one hundred pounds above Kaden, the dragon still manages to hold onto the last vestiges of mobility from his draconic strength. But even with his minimal capability for movement, occupying so much space and being filled out with so much lard still makes moving difficult. Especially with his enormous, tremendous thighs. The morbidly obese dragon carries so much of his weight in his thighs. The two thighs struggle with chairs, the fatass needing four chairs now to withstand his width. His broad thighs spread out on the bed, nearly taking up the entire width by his own enormity alone. His legs over encumbered with lard, his rolls of thigh fat already seep down over his knees, the bloated joints losing their definition. His calves are in the same situation, the bloated limbs like tires of flab that make up his legs and creep onto his ankles. He no longer wears shorts at all anymore, the time and effort to get a suitable pair far too much when he simply outgrows each and every article of clothing like nothing. Corrin's ass gives him extra height, the two enormous ass cheeks rising up despite being spread out and smothered underneath the rest of him. Corrin's ass no longer has the same shape to them, the sagging multiple handfuls of ass fat spreading out. His gut rests on his thighs with him lying down. Though the width of it can't compare to his massive thighs, the large gut still unable to cover it all. His bountiful breasts splay down both sides of his enormity.

Corrin opens his mouth expectantly and is rewarded with more snacks shoved into his mouth. 

"Unfortunately, that's all I have for you. You're going to have to wait a little while longer," With a final pat, Kaden climbs off of Corrin, having to slowly maneuver himself with two gelatinous men sloshing on top of each other.

The heavy footsteps mingled with just as heavy footsteps cue the two men to Keaton's return. Multiple bags in his arms, at least five in each, Keaton easily walks through the widened doorway to Corrin's room. "Food's here. And garage is all good to go for AC once that's taken care of. Your new room is almost ready fatass," Keaton smirks.

The room feels much more cramped with three men who weigh more than an entire ton combined. But none of them care with the presence of more food. 

No space for more furniture besides Corrin's bed—and the living room where they all spend the most time—the two 700 pound men rest on both sides of the bed. Bags littered around them, the sounds of crinkling plastic and containers popped open fill the room as they feed themselves and Corrin like clockwork.

————————

The house cleaner than it has been in quite some time, the entire kitchen is completely covered in sealed food, ready to be devoured. And yet, it's all only for three men.

"Do you think this is enough?" Kaden can't help but fret. Though such a special occasion does call for concern from most people, especially when both him and Keaton have planned it for over an entire month now. 

"It probably is, but I'm going to want more. And so are you," Keaton's arms are crossed as he inspects enough food to even make everyone who knows the three men stunned beyond belief, especially when more food is already ordered to be delivered later throughout the entire rest of the day

"Yup! Well, we might as well start with breakfast. Corrin should be waking up soon," 

The two heavy set men waddle their way to Corrin’s new room, the space formerly the garage. They leave all of the food that is meant to be their post breakfast dessert in the kitchen. They enter the room one by one, no doorway equipped to handle them walking side by side, or Corrin by himself for that matter.

Corrin rests on his back completely. The once twiggy dragon fully no longer resembles himself before moving in with Kaden and Keaton. He rests on a Nohrian-King sized bed. Two of them, actually. He has more than enough to grow with the two mattresses shoved together; which is something he desperately needs with how he voraciously devours everything that’s given to him and still able to complain and whine for more. The extra space on his makeshift bed also gives some room for his roommates to rest with him, more than enough room still available even with the three men on it together. 

Corrin still asleep, the immobile man loudly snores away. Resting on his back—moving Corrin only possible with the assistance from the system of levers and tarps from the ceiling—his entire engorged, bloated figure puffs into the air as he continues to dream away. The truck-sized dragon’s flab billows out in all directions, Corrin having a very distinct lack of shape besides round. Corrin weighs more than Kaden and Keaton combined now; the ridiculously fat man’s weight careening closer and closer to an entire ton of lard from his unrepentant, unabashed gluttony. His gut is far from the largest thing on him, but even that piece of meat weighs enough to nearly rival his roommates’ weight. The tank for a gut rests atop his expansive body like melted butter. His stomach is divided up into multiple sections from his weight, each bit of his sagging gut filled with rolls big enough that require more than a single person to properly hold and grab. Corrin’s breasts currency splay forward with him lying down on his expansive back that’s broad enough to be wider than he is tall at this point. His large chest is larger than anyone else's; the two large jugs resemble someone's gut from their sheer size now. Corrin’s multiple tiers that make up his tire like neck thankfully stop his breasts from resting on his face. Corrin’s enormous neck is made up of multiple rolls from his neck along with the several sagging chins he’s gained. Corrin’s face is absolutely cherubic now, the ovular shaped face bulging out from his porcine jowls that jiggle just as he breathes now. Even corrin’s shoulders are rounded out from his weight. The two doughy shoulders lack any shape to them just like his massive arms, the two limbs swollen and looking like a flabby stack of tires more than an actual limb. His biceps larger than a tree trunk now, the oozing fat bulges out to swallow his elbow and most of his forearm that does the same to his wrist and hands, the over swollen digits lacking any sort of flexibility now. Not that he needs it when he has two doting caretakers to feed and fatten him up. But the most staggering part of Corrin is his lower half. Each thigh rivals Keaton’s and Kaden’s own enormity, Corrin’s entire lower half larger than the two men standing together. His thighs are composed of a staggering amount of rolls, each bit of hefty lard sagging onto itself and its lower rolls. The entire length of Corrin’s legs are inundated with overlapping bits of lard. His ankles are overblown from all the lard; his feet sink into his cankles from his weight, Corrin unable to move them as well. Despite how far apart Corrin has his legs—the two table sized thighs sticking out from underneath his blanketing gut that can’t match the enormity of his lower half—the fat from his thighs still stick and touch each other all the way down to his feet. Corrin’s ass gives him a sizable amount of lift as it’s squished underneath him. The two mounds of ass fat are absolutely immense. The fat that makes up his rear gives him a couch sized ass that can be used as seating like the rest of his mattress sized body.

Corrin still snores away as Kaden and Keaton are a mess of huffs and wheezes, the two 700 pounders gaining some extra weight themselves. Walking back and forth into the garage to organize all the food—with the help of half a dozen delivery men who never once showed any sort of shock at their size or even Corrin’s—the two men need a well deserved rest. Waddling up to Corrin, both of them let themselves fall down onto the mattress. The cool air blowing in from the AC thankfully keeps them all a nice temperature, the chilling air able to help with so much fat heating up the space.

“Whaaht'sh hahhppened?” Corrin wheezes out as he wakes up. His speech is mumbled from all the fat on his cheeks. His eyes slowly flutter open, the near noon wakeup time early for him with how long he binges into the night. A banner taped to the ceiling, placed directly so he could read it, it takes his fuzzy brain a while to process the “happy 1 year’” text displayed. “Ha-hahppy ahnniveershaary…” Despite his tired state, Corrin is indeed grateful for the time spent with Kaden and Keaton. “Shooryy, I’m,” He groans. His stomach thankfully finishes the rest of his sentence for him, the mass of fat rumbling with hunger. 

“Nah, you just need to fill up that tank of yours first. Good thing we got just the thing for you,” Keaton also tired, he gropes Corrin’s fat as he rests against him like a pillow, a pillow that weighs more than twice his weight that is. 

“Yeah. Don’t worry about it! We got you a cake to celebrate you living with us for a year. We also got you a special present,” Kaden reaches underneath his right breast and pulls out a small remote. Only a few buttons on the remote, he presses the largest one.

The sound of whirring coming from behind him, Corrin is unable to shift his head around to look at it right away. He does get a small look at it as the machine comes to life and inserts a feeding tube into his mouth.

“We did get you a four tiered cake but we thought this would be easier,” Keaton gains back some energy upon hearing how Corrin guzzles down his cake, all of it going to him. As he reaches for containers of food to feed himself, he pulls out his own remote and presses the second largest button to speed up his feeding. Afterwards, he greedily digs into his own food.

“There’ll be much more after that. And we’ll make sure to hand feed you some of it too,” Kaden says as he tears into his own several plates of breakfast.

Corrin’s moans begin to sound out in between the churning mushed up cake the feeding tube pours down his throat. “Mhmmh…” Corrin doesn’t even bat an eye or struggle as he hears both Keaton and Kaden press a button, the speed picking up once again. His stomach only rumbles instead, as if daring them to feed him faster. Which they both do, the two pressing the button once more after they each finish their second plate.

“You’re gonna love today, fatass,” Keaton continues to grope Corrin’s fat as he shovels food into his mouth with his free hand. “We’ll make sure you’re too full to want anymore. Got it?” Keaton presses the button multiple times, cranking it up to maximum speed.

“We’ll take good care of you. I’m sure you’d like that too, huh?” Kaden lovingly pats whatever part of Corrin’s immense flab he can reach, all of Corrin impossible to grab with just one free hand. Kaden keeps the feeding tube at its maximum setting.

“Here’s to many more years,” Kaden and Keaton both cheer as they open up another box.

Corrin only moans deeper upon hearing the two obese men, unable to see them but more than able to hear and feel all their own weight pressing up against his titanic lard. He guzzles down his feeding tube faster, only thinking about wanting more food and to get fatter.

[writingsofwesteros]

https://www.tumblr.com/writingsofwesteros/716778673553965056/ship-meme-nsfw-edition?source=share

this seems fun!

for tarzan!harwin and princess

What was their first time like?

Favorite position to have sex?

Who usually cums first?

Do they have a dynamic (Dom/sub) or are they versatile?

How long can they go?

Any headcanons not touched on?

What would each member say their favorite thing about the other(s) is?

harwin and lady strong (any AU you feel like, perhaps between wolves and knights?)

Who usually initiates things?

How often do they have sex?

Who is more sensitive?

What’s foreplay often like?

Favorite place to have sex?

Who usually cums first?

Do they have sexual nicknames or titles?

Shared kinks/fetishes?

and for some lady love too - alicent with that sweet maid who tends to her in the bath

What was their first time like?

Who is louder/noisier?

Do they have sexual nicknames or titles?

Who’s more likely to be caught masturbating?

Who, if anyone, would they most likely bring in to join them?

AN: I loved this so much! I hope you liked it x

NSFW

Soft, loving and slow. The heat of the hot springs coming over them both as she looked down at him. Those locks of his falling down his back. She had to take control; Harwin was no use but his fat, throbbing cock took her to places she had never experienced before. His larger arms wrapped around her with ease as their bodies moved together.

Harwin did not last long; he was cumming inside her whilst grunting in her ear. So warm and wet she was for him. Still, it did not stop his thrusts. She sweetly moaned out with her head falling back whilst Harwin seemingly had never ending stamina. It was soon too much for the sweet Princess as she fell apart on top of him.

~

Missionary: They wrap themselves together; both of them taking turns being on top as they snuggle closer. Her soft, ample breasts pushed against his muscled chest as his hips began to move. Sweet hiccups of pleasure fell from the Princess’ lips. His fingers brushed through those locks of hers and kept her impossibly close.

Reverse Cowboy: Harwin grabs at her bouncing arse, palming her as she bouncing up and down his fat, throbbing cock. His free hand slowly moves into those bright locks of hers and tugs. A sharp gasp of pleasure escaped the Princess as the sound of their bodies slapping against each other echoed around the forest.

~

At the beginning; it was Harwin all day everyday. Poor thing couldn’t stop himself but he could continue. The sweet Princess was flooded with his cum as she shook on top. The Princess would tease him so sweetly until only days into their love-making; Harwin would flip them over. Her legs locked around his waist.

Now; it’s the Princess who is squirting around his fat cock with each thrust coming her way. His larger hands moved to her sweet, ample breasts to palm at. His dark chuckles echoed in her ear as she whimpered out his name again and again.  “So big..ah..” Her head fell back down as her stomach began to tighten.

~

At the beginning; I think Harwin was more sub for his Princess. She’s his Goddess and his eyes are all stary for her as he follows like a puppy. Even as she tries to cook; his larger hands are wrapped around her from behind and he rests his head on her shoulder. Her mouth watering scent washed over him with ease.

Now; they are very much versatile with Harwin’s possessive streak coming in whilst the Princess can always top him when she desires to. He is still so protective of her; he won’t ever let her go. 

~

ALL NIGHT! Harwin is a beast and even if the pretty Princess passes out; he is still going. It’s a problem, or is it? They could spend the whole evening in bed. Harwin doesn’t even lose anything even as he cums so easily for her at the beginning. His hot mouth engulfs her bouncing breasts with his tongue flicking her pretty, pebbled nipples.

The sun is rising over the mountains in the distance when she collapses onto the soaked sheets beneath her. Harwin settles on top of her; his fat cock still stuffed inside her whilst she flutters around him still. Harwin whispers sweet nothings whilst hotly mouthing at her neck; hos tongue licking up and down her sweet, soft skin. 

~

The Princess is the early riser; Harwin enjoys lying in like the lazy beast he is and it takes her longer than she would like to escape his hold. She is usually found by Harwin making food or nursing their child. The first few times he woke without her by his side; his heart dropped thinking she had deserted him. He knows his land is far too safe for anything else.

They love swimming under the moonlight. Both bare of any clothes as they stay impossibly close against each other. The Princess has never felt so free as she giggles out and all Harwin can do is watch her in adoration. They would soon share a passionate kiss; their tongues dancing as she locked her legs around him.

~

The Princess loves Harwin’s arms. They are so muscular and she feels so safe when they are wrapped around her. She adores how he can pick her up, especially when their attention turns towards the bedroom. As he sleeps behind her; she always moves his arm over her body and snuggles back into his chest.

Harwin adored her sweet, ample breasts. He loved to lie on them, palm them and place his hot mouth on them too. It’s why his favourite positions are always her facing him so he can burrow his head into them. He milks her when she’s with his child and his greediness only grows even more at the mere sight of them becoming bigger.

HARWIN x Lady Strong: IT COUPLE

Surprisingly, it’s Lady Strong; but who can blame her with a husband like that? It’s usually in the moonlight hours. Especially if Harwin has been busy that day and they’ve hardly seen each other; her intense need for him having only grown. It always takes him by surprise but Harwin loves every moment of it as he leans back.

His larger hands slowly brush down the sleeves of her dress before her soft, ample breasts were on display. He watched in amusement as his Lady wife moved her delicate hand into his breeches. It was not long before a soft gasp escaped him as her warm, small hand held his throbbing cock. His head was already leaking.

~

So much!! Harwin is the ultimate holder of the breeding kink, especially with such a succulent wife he now had. And his wife is no better. It’s hard to concentrate when he comes home after training; his armour off and ready to bathe. The Lady Strong is always willing to give him a helping hand especially when his grumpiness comes through.

“Shh, let me calm you.” She purred into his ear as her mouth moved down his bare chest. His larger hand slowly moved into her locks now as her tongue was soon moving up and down his throbbing cock. Gods, how had he become so lucky, he thought to himself. His hips began to buck as she slowly began to take more of him.

~

The Lady strong is so sensitive; he’s her first experience in such pleasure. It brings him joy and pride to be her only one. Those thicker fingers of his spread apart her soaked folds and only a moment of brushing over her clit had her body jolting. A dark chuckle escaped him as he watched the erotic display in front of him.

And once she was bred; those heavy, full of milk breasts only became more sensitive. Harwin took great pleasure and amusement playing with them. His hot mouth on her as he sucked and nibbled; marking her. She could cum around his fat cock just with his tongue circling her pebbled nipple. It had her blushing madly once it happened. 

~

They love kissing. They’ll be wrapped up in the sheets; their soft, bare bodies brushing against each other as they lose themselves. Their tongues dance as his larger hand moves into her mess of locks and brings her impossibly closer. His other hand moved up and down her back before settling on her arse, palming her. 

Her soft, ample breasts will soon be brushing against his chest as he slowly moves her on top of him. His hardening cock moving in between her thighs as she moans so prettily against his lips. Their eyes locked on for a moment. A soft, sweet blush came over her cheeks as they rested their heads onto each other whilst his larger arm wrapped around her.

~

Harwin enjoys pushing up against a wall; taking her completely there and then in between training sessions. Her skirts bunched at her waist as he pounds away; his fat, leaking cock only pushing deeper as she gasps out. His larger hand softly moved onto her mouth to muffle those sweet moans he adored so much.

The Lady Strong surprisingly enjoyed the moments they could have in the carriage as it moved down the bouncing, rocky paths. Harwin’s fat cock stuffed inside her creamy pussy. His pants only opened just enough as her dress covered his lap. A soft, sweet whine escaped her each time they bounced as his larger hand moved to palm at her breast.

~

The Lady Strong does; usually on his fat tongue as he fucks her with it. He spreads her soaked folds apart before harshly sucking on her clit. Harwin likes to pull an orgasm or two from her before he pushes his fat, throbbing cock inside her. She’s already halfway there to another release when he bottoms; her legs shaking. 

~

Breaking Headboards: The Lady Strong ladies in waiting always giggle as they gossip about such things. Then the sweet Lady is blushing when her husband comes into view. “Has he broken any more headboards lately?” Her friend whispered into her ear and she could only laugh out; this time it’s Harwin whose blushing.

~

Breeding, cockwarming and a little bit of public sex. The lady strong trusts him completely and the hint of danger at being caught has her orgasm reaching new heights. She is addicted to the feel of him cumming inside her; begging for it all the time as her eyes roll back. Harwin is gladly up for anything she desires; they are so compatible. 

Queen Alicent x Her Maid

So sweet and gentle. Alicent couldn’t believe what was happening as she stared wide eyed. The touches coming her way were so soft; nothing like she had experienced before. Neither was the pleasure beginning to move through her body as her maid’s soft, slender fingers slowly moved inside her. The water from the bath splashing around.

She leaned back and those thick locks of hers cascaded down. A sharp gasp escaped her when a soft, hot mouth engulfed her breasts and she arched into the touch. Her hand reached into her hair as soft whimpers began to echo around the room. A smirk tugged on the maid’s lips as she looked up at her Queen. 

~

Alicent for sure! She has never known pleasure like it and now she can’t stop herself. The sweet maid has to gag her either with her own hand or finding a gag or something else. Her body thrashes around like a woman possessed as she fucks herself on the maid’s pretty fingers. Alicent’s eyes roll back as she whimpers and moans against her hand.

The maid giggles prettily in her Queen’s ear before softly mouthing down her neck; her tongue moving over her soft skin as Alicent shivered. Goosebumps brushed over her soft skin as she arched from the bed. A sweet blush coming over her cheeks as her stomach began to tighten; her climax eagerly rushing to her.

~

Alicent has never enjoyed being called My Queen until her sweet maid joined her under the royal sheets. The sweet maid whispered into her ear before moving to kneel in front of her Queen. Her hot mouth was soon on Alicent’s sweet, soaked pussy as she moaned. Her fingers moved into the locks of her maid and began to rock. 

“Sweet girl.” Alicent whispered. That was all she had ever wanted in life; something sweet, she thought to herself before the pleasure began to take its toll. Her eyes rolled back as soft moans continued to fall from her lips some more. The soft licking against her sensitive clit pushed her over the edge as she began to squirt. 

~

The Queen herself. She can’t help it. Her delicate fingers moved under her dress as she gasped out. The door slowly opened as her heart raced in her head once more. A sweet, darling blush coming over her cheeks at the smirk coming over her maid’s face. “Oh, my Queen..could you not wait?” She began to purr out. 

Alicent could only shake her head, biting her bottom lip as she fought to keep her moans quiet. Her body arched as she still moved against her fingers pushing in and out of her. The sweet, wet squelching noises echoing so loudly now. The maid only gracefully stepped closer; her eyes never moving from the sight before her.

~

They would only trust Criston I believe; a darker part of me thought of Larys but I think the Queen’s sword shield comes in. He’s been guarding her door for many moons; jealousy tearing him apart at the sounds coming from the room. The Queen herself moves to the door; those thick locks of hers cascading freely down her back.

Her dress hardly covered her and those dark eyes of his move down her body; her sweet, ample breasts on show. “Do you like what you see?” The maid purrs, wrapping her arm around Alicent as she slowly pushes the material from the Queen. Both girls have a matching smirk as they step back - and Criston can only follow.

[deans-baby-momma]

Law & Love Chapter 6

THEN

If there is anything I’m sure of, it’s that Sheriff Beau Arlen will protect me and keep me safe. 

My hero doesn’t wear a cape; he wears Wranglers and a Stetson.

NOW

Beau jumps out of the truck; rushes around the front to my side, opening my door and helping me out.

"It's not much but 'mi casa es tu casa'." Beau never lets go of my hand as he shuts the truck door and leads me up the dirt pathway to the wooden deck set up in front of the metal Airstream. 

There are two Adirondack chairs to one side with a little metal table between them and an old dented green cooler situated behind it.

"I sometimes sit out here, listening to the sounds of nature and watching the stars twinkle when I've had a rough day," he tells me in a voice a little louder than a whisper.

"That's……nice," I look up at him with a smile. "Do you mind if we-" I trail off, motioning to the area and he nods.

"Sure. I know your nerves have to be frazzled."

I sit in the chair closest to us as he steps further and takes the other one. I close my eyes and just listen, hoping to relax and stop thinking about my stalker. 

The first thing I hear are the frog's chirping in the distance, telling me that there is probably a small pond or brook nearby. The next thing my ears pick up is the rustling of leaves high in the trees that surround us. Lastly, I can hear the low hum of an airplane somewhere overhead.

I lean back and rest my head on the back of the chair, my eyes still closed while I take it all in. Slowly, the rest of my body catches on and the tension begins to dissipate. After a few moments of just absorbing the utopian oasis, I open my eyes to find Beau watching me, studying me.

"What?" I ask, concerned.

"You're beautiful," he states matter-of-factly. 

"Thanks," I reply, feeling the heat of embarrassment warming my cheeks. "This place is Heaven on earth. How did you find it?"

"My buddy uses it as a hunting/fishing grounds. There's a lake about two miles that way-" he points to the left. "-trout, bass, catfish. But it's not the season for that, so he offered it while I fill in for Tubb." 

"Nice of your friend," I respond, closing my eyes again and leaning back to enjoy the peace and quiet.

I don't know how long we have sat here but when I open my eyes again, Beau has mimicked me and the sun is low in the western sky, pinks and oranges stretching out casting the last hints of daylight as it sinks rather rapidly now

I take the chance to study the dutiful sheriff in last dregs of sunlight  Sandy  brown hair that is a bit longer than I'm sure is protocol, lightly tanned freckled skin across his nose, and lips any woman would pay money to have.  His chin and jawline are proportional with strong, defined edges.  He is a fucking work of art!

I allow my eyes to glide over his body, from his broad chest and massive biceps that his shirt is straining to contain down across his stomach that is taut but plump. 

My eyes stop at the large belt buckle and I smile. What is it about cowboys and their buckle fetishes? The bigger the buckle, the more rugged? The more brawn?

As I consider those things my eyes naturally trail lower and land on the zipper area of his jeans. Even with the thick denim, there is no denying this God of a man is well-endowed and could ruin me for all others.

I'm not going to lie, I am totally down for that.

As my eyes travel further to his thick thighs, Beau startles me as he speaks, "Like what you see, darlin'?"  

My eyes cut up to his face to see his eyes half-open but the green of his irises shine through and there is a half smile/half smirk adorning his luscious lips. 

As we look at one another, his Adam's apple bobs as he swallows and I see a peek of pink when he pushes his tongue against the back of his teeth.

I have never been one to tell a fib, honesty is the best policy and all that jazz, so I look him directly in his eyes and resolutely respond with a "Why, yes I do."

My whole body shakes at the intensity of the orgasm bearing down on me. With one more powerful, deep thrust my body explodes. My limbs go numb, my head feels as if it's floating in proximity to my neck and my skin tingles.

"Ohhhhh, Beauuuuuuu!" I moan in exhilaration. I hear him groan and as soon as the sound hits the auditory cortex of my brain my eyes snap open. 

For a second, I'm disoriented and conflicted. That's not my ceiling and this soft as hell mattress I'm on is not my bed. And wasn't Sheriff Beau Arlen just fucking the hell out of me?

I hear a hitch of breath beside me and I turn to see Beau laying on his side, facing away from me. His arm is under the sheet but I can see the muscles constrict with his movements. Is he doing what I think he's doing?!

Suddenly, the movements stop and I see his whole body tense before a shiver sends the sheet further down his arm. I can now see clearly that his reach is going to his groin area. 

Fuck, that's hot! I hate to admit it but I'm saddened to have missed the show. 

After, what I can only assume is him leaning forward to grab something to clean up, Beau turns onto his back and freezes as he realizes I'm awake. 

"Uhhhh," he stutters. "How long have you been awake?"

"Well, I apparently missed the prolonged version  of the story but the ending looked pretty fulfilling," I say with a smile.

What surprises me is the tinge of pink that colors his cheeks and the tops of his ears.  Is he embarrassed?

"Sorry Y/N," he apologizes. "I'm really trying to be a gentleman here but I have a beautiful woman in my bed; who is moaning my name, and making such pretty sounds, I couldn't help myself."

The sentiment is endearing and charming and it warms my heart but the dull ache between my thighs controls everything, especially my mouth.

"You know, I've never been into gentle men," I put emphasis on the last two words, hoping he catches the double entendre.

Beau closes his eyes and groans. "Darlin', I promise we will get there but not before I take you on a proper date. And that can't happen while you have someone out there, hunting you like prey.”

"Believe me, I would love nothing better than to make love to you and claim you but……just not tonight, okay?"

The sincerity and honesty is not only his words but his eyes and that fills me with warmth and desire. 

@lostinaseaoffictionalbliss @spnbaby-67 @tftumblin @sea040561 @delightfullykrispypeach @larajadeschmidt13 @atc74 @vicariouslythruspn @squirrelnotsam  @sandlee44 @blacktithe7 @hoboal87 @mogaruke @deanwanddamons @supraveng @deandreamernp @akshi8278 @lyarr24 @kazsrm67 @chriszgirl92 @deanwithscissors @raisinggray @fanfic-n-tabulous @deans-spinster-witch @yvonneeeeeeee

[princelylove]

Good evening, Your Highness;

If it doesn’t bother you at all (feel free to delete this if it does), may I ask what prompted (motivated even) you to go by such a title? This is merely a curious and honest question rather than one of ill intent. Regardless if you answer or not, I hope your night or day is splendid.

- Sincerely, a curious passerby.

Well. It’s a bit of a long winded answer, since you’d have to take a little looksie into my psyche. 

I’ve always had a particular fascination with names, honorifics, titles, and things just in that category. I’ve also had a big interest in language in general, not just English’s little details, but many others. Many others. Why do I know so much language trivia? When I was a little girl, I’d spend my free time trying to teach myself other languages. Some stuck, some didn’t. That’s just life. And, I’m sure you know, but language has this funny little tool that’s referred to as proper nouns. 

Names have always been a little odd to me. My identity is chosen for me at birth and it makes a sound? What? When I make certain sounds, people will look at me and expect something? What a strange phenomenon, a sound is a piece of my identity and can make me happy or unhappy upon hearing it.

Identity is a very funny thing. Humans are meant to go through phases, of course, to live is to change and to change is to live, but I’ve always had a discomfort with mine. It wasn’t fair. Other girls my age had cute nicknames and wrote their name without hesitation, I just sort of sat there and tried to make it as pretty as I could. I’ve gone through many names before, and I’m still figuring out which one I will call my forever name, but why does Prince feel good? Not as a title, but as a name? Why can't I go by a title, as a name? Some people even take regular words as names, it's so adorable.

Well, of course, there’s the easy answer, which is simply that I have a fetish for being ‘above’ people. Why not go for “God” or “Goddess” instead, though? Well. That just isn’t a name to me, I can’t introduce myself as God without feeling a bit ridiculous. I see that ‘man’ on Sundays, I’m not going to sit in the pews directly in front of a jealous god with the same ‘name.’ Being called one is always fun, I do enjoy being called divine, but it just doesn’t feel like my name. 

The long answer is as follows. 

What is a birthright? If you were like me, you probably learned the word from being heavily obsessed with a certain tactical role-playing game series known as Fire Emblem in 2015. It didn’t really hit me at the time, when I see a word I don’t know, I normally would just pull out this thick dictionary I received when I was tiny. It’s probably outdated, but it told me the understanding I have of the word now: birthright is what an individual acquires through nothing else but being born. It can be a possession, a certain privilege, it can even be a right to citizenship in certain contexts. Why bring it up when I’m talking about names, though? 

My birthright is what sets a prince apart from her peons. Do the divine have such a concept? Not at all. Divinity has no possessions. I do, and I love them very dearly. Hi, possession reading this. 

I feel a lot of identity in being a prince, in having a natural place. I’m not claiming to have an actual birthright to anything, but it’s nice to think about something being mine simply because I came into life one day two decades ago. But why Prince, specifically? 

Well! It’s about feelings. Vibes. The emotion it inflicts. When I say Princess, what do you think of? A damsel in a tower? Someone who has the misfortune of being married off for political gain? Big, poofy dresses and talking to animals? 

I suppose I have mixed feelings about it. I don’t consider myself to be very masculine, but I’ve been told I act like it- subconscious associations with authority being masculine, perhaps. But I’ve never felt masculine, despite being told it over and over again. I don’t reject my masculinity, it’s just that… It doesn’t exactly feel like me. By that logic, Princess should be my name and I should’ve gone with that, but I didn’t. 

Did you know that in Arabic, ‘he’ is thought of as gender neutral? Most masculine English words are just gender neutral to me. They’re not truly masculine, they’re just a different role, a different position. Princesses don’t do the same thing Princes do, and that isn’t a gender association “women be pretty and men work” thing, that’s just a role thing. Both of those titles are merely jobs to me. Women can be kings and princes and men can be princesses and queens, because all four of those titles are jobs. 

What do you think of when you think of something as being “princely”? 

I tend to think of duty before anything else. Chivalry, politics, it’s all lesser than duty. You are meant to do simply one thing as a prince, and that is prepare to rule. It is just one thing, and to state the obvious, I love the idea. 

Why not “King” then? Well, I’m too young. My vessel is merely two decades old. It would be sad if I were king at such an age, if you’ll forgive my childish wording. Certainly not “Queen” for the same reason, with an added distaste for being called the word. 

I’ve always felt a bit of a pull towards princely things. Characters, roles, etc. I want to say I had this pivotal moment in my life where “Prince” just stuck to me, but it’s really just a pile of things over the course of my life. But there has been one quote that’s really been stuck in my head.

“This spoiled little prince loves to play around with (her) toys.” From Nintendogs. Yes, yes, I know. Of all things. It’s a personality type that pops up when looking at dogs you could possibly have. The words we use to describe things… sometimes we use words that are seemingly unrelated but when strung together, make perfect sense- because it’s just a feeling. As a writer, I’m meant to be able to work with such silly things. This spoiled prince loves his toys. What does that mean about a dog? What does that mean about a person?

To be entirely honest with you, I'm still a bit childish. I’m young, I have an excuse. This spoiled prince loves his toys- what does that even mean, as a person? I love toys? I love dolls, I love stuffed animals? I suppose I do, but it’s not what I think of. 

I am spoiled in the sense that I know no other way of life. I am a prince in the sense of how I act, how I look, how I think. I whine when I must brush my hair and I loathe doing my own nails, but I’m able to make big decisions quickly and efficiently. I will not bend when you push me, but I am not meant to hold a sword or do housework. I’m meant to be pampered, meant to be doted on, but I am not in need of anyone else to think for me. Such is the life of a spoiled prince that loves her toys, and merely wants to play as much as she can. 

I’ve always hated being forced to take up a certain role in relationships- I’m not protective, I’m not strong, I’m not the type of individual that will always hold the door for you. I may grab an extra glass for you, or give you a blanket, but I’m not the type of person who lives for someone else. I’m no knight, I am no squire. I am a spoiled, pampered prince, who is happiest with her toys and other playthings, sometimes called knights or lucky peons. You, as an anon, are my toy of the hour.

So why Prince, when princes are normally associated with such things? A “princely” woman is normally an attractive, masculine woman- think Haruka Tenou or Utena Tenjou. I’m nothing like them, yet I chose “Prince” over “Princess.” Why do I have identity in the word if the feeling simply isn’t there, why do I feel a pull towards "princely" things if I don't feel like I act like the traditional sense of the word?

“Prince” just doesn’t mean that to me. My duty isn’t to protect anyone, it isn’t to play lowly knight and serve. It isn’t in my nature to be chivalrous, I’m rather cold and uninviting- as charming as I find myself, I'm just not the type that pulls out chairs. You do that for me. I’m ambitious, I want what I want and it'll be mine one way or- no, the one way. I enjoy exploring different strategies and mind games- my curiosity kills me, I'll spend hour after hour figuring out what works and what doesn't. Why not become king one day, and fulfill my duty as prince, when I know I'll flourish in such a position? A position that demands my cutthroat nature, that begs for my calculations?

But I digress. I suppose I just like it, specifically. This spoiled, pampered prince just loves to play with her toys, and loves the indulgence from her peons.

[theemporium]

I’m so frustrated. And this has always felt like a safe place to rant so forgive me if I’m overstepping. There’s a blog that supports Lewis, but in a very icky way. They are a white individual that has been called out by black individuals for fetishizing him and other black males (supporting the leaking of their sex tape, treating them like they are nothing but meat). And their response was, pretty much glad you got that off your chest it seems like it bothers you. And continued on about their day posting content with the same gross undertones. I guess they either got backlash or got cold feet (this isn’t their 1st scandal; apparently they wished death on another driver. Again all in Lewis’s name). And I’m so frustrated as a black woman that we call out this mindset, and we’re gaslight into thinking that “we” are the problem. That we are too sensitive. As if micro aggression doesn’t exist. I’m so frustrated. It’s 2023, there is so much wrong in the world right now. And there are still people that don’t see that this is part of the problem. I’m so tired of fighting to change peoples minds. I’ve resorted to blocking, but how sad is that? That I’m no longer even willing to try to defend people that look like me. I feel like a failure.

oh babe, this is ALWAYS a safe place to rant and let it all out🫶🏽

let me start of by saying, you are not a failure. it’s people like you who are some of the most amazing and patient people in this world because you’re trying to change it, you’re trying to make the world a better place, you’re trying to let these people see what they are doing wrong and you’ve got a big enough heart to hope that they will change.

unfortunately, some people never will change and it’s disgusting. for the sake of your own mental health and sanity, I am glad you blocked them. they clearly aren’t worth the time nor the effort, and it’s a shame they will never see the fault in their ways, but it’s not worth it when there’s people out there who you can talk to and who will actually change their behaviour for the better. this person sounds disgusting and not worth wasting your time on!!!

I never can and never will understand the struggles black individuals face, whether it’s in this fandom or in life in general. but as a poc, I hope you know this blog is always a safe space! and please let me know if there’s anything I say that is harmful or incorrect or even just makes you uncomfortable—I hope you’d know it’s never from a malicious place, but I would love to be educated on the matter and change for the better! or even share ways in which we can help as allies and people who support the steps towards a changed world!🫶🏽

[ciaossu-imagines]

idk if you ever did this but hcs for hayato gokudera about him being intimate? Is he someone who goes really slow or who doenst havr issues with casual sex? Is he soneone for a lot of foreplay or one that likes to go in raw? Any kinks?

(sorry if those are too many questions. You said your askbox is empty so i thought i'd takr the chance)

I have done some kind of along the same lines but I’m always happy to do more headcanons, expound on things, add in some new takes I have on the character! Thank you so much for sending something in. I truly appreciate every ask I get and, honestly, this was definitely not too many questions! I hope you’ll enjoy the headcanons, lovebug!

Once Gokudera loses his virginity and does become comfortable with himself as a sexual being, I do think he falls into casual sex and finds himself more comfortable with that sort of thing emotionally and mentally. He has a really hard time letting people into his life and with his busy schedule with the family and the fact that his life comes with a lot of danger, he’s not going to be fully comfortable for a good long while with getting into a committed romantic relationship. One-night stands and purely sexual relationships fit better into his life for a bit and it means he never has to leave himself completely vulnerable to a lover, never has to worry about heartbreak or anything like that, while he’s still able to scratch the itch for sex he has.

That being said, he won’t give the same level of intimacy in those casual sexual relationships that he’ll provide once he does have sex in a committed relationship. He doesn’t like much kissing when a relationship is just casual sex since it’s a very intimate thing for him and when he does kiss those one-time lovers, it’s normally on bare areas of skin and not on their lips. And he likes to have sex and then leave; he won’t hang around for long afterward or cuddle or engage in much pillow talk.

In casual sexual relationships, there’s only enough foreplay for the both of them to be ready and to be able to get off. He’s going to try to get his lover off during foreplay, since it will often be easier to do than during penetrative sex, where he’s really just focused on making sure it’s good for them while ensuring that he gets that orgasm he’s after. In an actually committed sexual relationship though, it changes quite a bit. Foreplay becomes a bigger thing for Gokudera. It’s almost like he wants to prove to his partner that he’ll satisfy them more than anyone else they’ll have ever had and that they made the right choice in committing to him. He’ll be fully committed to learning everything about their body and what feels good to them, and he’ll want them to really explore his body too. A lot of body worship during foreplay on his partner’s end would be a huge turn-on for Gokudera in a committed relationship, and he’ll be in heaven whenever they give him long, drawn-out blowjobs just to make him feel good.

Gokudera doesn’t really know how to talk dirty, no matter how comfortable he gets with sex as a whole. He struggles with it a lot and he’s really self-conscious about the sounds he makes during sex as a whole. That being said, he gets really turned on by having his lovers talk dirty to him, especially when those lovers can make it sound effortless. It impresses him, for one, and it also just really affects him and he stops being able to think about much other than how hard his cock is all of a sudden and how much he wants to bend his partner over and fuck them.

Gokudera is never going to be a man of just one or two kinks. His kinks will evolve and change through his life and once he has gotten some sexual experience, he will gain a profound interest in learning more about sex and different kinks and fetishes and will want to explore a wide variety of them.

[havingsomemorejohnlarks]

❝  well,  honestly i’ve never really had sex before and was kinda hoping you would teach me.  ❞ and [SUGGESTIVE] sound like they would be interesting to pair together

[ SUGGESTIVE ]  our muses are hanging out and end up on the topic of turn ons,  kinks,  and what they’re attracted to.

❝  well,  honestly i’ve never really had sex before and was kinda hoping you would teach me.  ❞

well im writing a fic cos its the only thing i know how to do! :’)

(so like i may put it on ao3) 

tbh this idea doesn’t really line up with Rook’s personal history, but I’m willing to put that aside for the sake of the fic 😌

I’m sorry if this is not what you were expecting, let me know if you want anything different! I put the options in the name chooser and it came out with john x rook so I’m going to be doing a fic with

John Seed x Male Deputy OC (Rook Diamante)

Warning: Sexual Tension, mention of transphobia and fetishization, strong language, mention of/talking about kinks (specifically, power play, piss kink, choking, gun play, knife play, degradation)

“Just please tell me the people there are nice...”

The sound of his Mom’s worried voice came crackling down the phone, as Rook pressed it against his ear and shoulder, clumsily shifting a few pans around on the kitchen counter.

There was no escaping the anxiety of Rook’s family, especially as he moved so far away. There was no hiding it either, even though Lillian was trying to keep her usual calming tones in the statement. Her son wasn’t an idiot though. Of course she was worried.

“Yeah, I guess so, Mom. Some of them are a little...” He hesitated, trying to find the right word, knowing the one he was about to say wasn’t what he meant. “... odd?”

He tried to keep the mocking “And I’m not going into high school, I’ve just moved to a different state.” inside his head because he knew how unhelpful that would be. And how stupid. The second one sounded much worse. Maybe.

“Odd? In what way? What have they said to you?” A deeper voice joined the conversation, one filled with even more anxiety, not even bothering to hide it.

“No one’s said anything, Dad. I meant... they’re just new. I’ve met plenty of nice people! Like... there’s this cute couple who run this business. They invited me to a barbecue this weekend so...”

A sigh of relief could barely be heard on the other side of the call. Although Rook knew they’d be unsettled with him being so far away from New York, it was still weird to witness both his parents like this after they’ve tried to remain strong for him all his life.

Rook felt it was his duty as a son to try and soothe them. He searched for other people in his mind who he had found nice and intriguing and not a threat to his personal safety, someone his parents could like and approve of.

“I’ve got this co-worker... he’s like an asshole but a loveable one, you know? Respects me but also calls me a dumbass when I’m being one. He’s cool.” Rook couldn’t help the little grin on his face, as he remembered the night out that Staci Pratt had invited him to, which resulted in him getting so drunk that he had sustained physical injuries. It was such a stress-reliever to finally drink with someone after moving to some random place in Montana.

A chuckle from his Dad and Rook knew that he had relaxed a bit. Someone who was on his sons side. Someone good.

“Any other new friends? Maybe... someone hot?”

He heard his Mom yell at his Dad playfully, while Rook’s face started to burn up suspiciously quickly. He had been avoiding thinking about “someone hot” or, more specifically, the hot man that he had seen around at that place, Aubrey's Diner, that Staci so loves.

It was embarrassing really. It was embarrassing how quickly he had agreed to go to the same diner again when Staci has suggested it. It was embarrassing how he craned his neck just a little every time, hoping to see the attractive man in the stylish outfits that made his tummy do flips. It was certainly embarrassing how he would go home disappointed when those blue eyes did not look his way, leaving him wanting and dreaming of some touch.

Staci had teasingly offered his services, but he shut up when Rook had hit him round the head.

A few more mentions of different people who had been nice to him and his parents had been soothed, still sad that he was not with them but happy for him all the same. His Dad gives him the usual cautions about people with bad intentions, reminds him to have fun (he can almost hear Mom’s eyes rolling) and Rook hangs up, promising he’ll be careful and also have fun, which is definitely a tough line to walk, if Rook’s completely honest.

But he says it anyway.

After hanging up, a dragged out sigh was let out into the air.

Usually, Rook was happy to talk to his parents, but giving someone reassurance for so long a conversation can catch up to you, especially if you’ve just finished a shift at work and are trying to make dinner.

He looked down at the pans he had gotten out in an attempt to make food. He stared for a while.

An irritated sigh and some tapping on his phone and Staci was on the other line.

“Don’t feel like making dinner, you wanna eat out tonight?”

An amused, sleepy grumble. “A ‘hello’ would be cool.”

“Shut up, yes or no?”

Staci laughed. “And you say I’m the dickhead.”

Rook made a deliberate, irritated sound.

Another laugh. “Okay, okay.”

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

After taking an absolute age to actually roll out of his bed, Staci finally texted to declare that, this time, despite all the other times being lies, he was actually leaving the house to get to the diner.

Meanwhile, seated at a table with a glass of cheap alcohol, Rook was having a difficult time convincing himself and Staci that he had absolutely no prior knowledge of his friends bad time management. He definitely didn't come to the diner a little early just to see if he could position himself as devastatingly handsome and completely alone and, therefore, in need of some company.

No, no. Why would he do that? It wasn't like there was any particular reason to do that. Definitely no particular man either.

Rook was just hoping Staci would go easy on the teasing when he got here because he sure as Hell wasn't fooling anybody.

It was pointless to come early anyway - Rook only sat there staring at the door, eyes becoming glittered with hope when he saw it open.

Staci got there before the man in the expensive clothes could.

"You know, you're not subtle."

Rook knew he couldn't fake it, so he didn't even try. "I know. It's stupid."

Staci picked up on the hint of embarrassment and disappointment. "It's not. John Seed is pretty hot, classically handsome, I suppose.”

Rook’s head snapped up, eyes now staring at his friend. “What? You know him?”

Staci nodded, glancing over the menu, even though he knew exactly what he was getting.

Rook’s mouth was slightly open. “And you didn’t think to tell me that?!”

The other man couldn’t stop the grin creeping on him. “I figured you would ask, if you wanted to know who he was.”

Rook didn’t stop staring.

“Also, I don’t really know him, know him. I just know of him, like everyone else does. I think only a select few actually know him, you know, he’s that type.”

Rook’s stare turned into a curious peer. “What type?”

Staci breathed out through his nose, a touch uncomfortable. “Well... mysterious, I guess... suspicious.”

Rook waited for Staci to give his order to the waiter who had come round, trying to understand what his friend was getting at.

Staci saw the look on Rook’s face and sighed. “Look, I was gonna tell you eventually anyway but... might as well be now.”

The expression on his face turned serious and Rook found himself remembering his Dad’s cautions. It looked like Staci was having a tough time.

“He might be dangerous, ok? He belongs to that... group that we get calls about. You know, the culty one.”

Right. Rook had heard about this. Whitehorse, his new boss, had pulled him aside while Pratt and Hudson responded to a call, whispering to him about being safe and something about ‘having your back’.

He tried to push down the rising tide of disappointment. He swallowed. And found himself doing something he didn’t think he’d ever actually do.

“Do you think... I should leave it alone then?”

Staci pulled an over-exaggerated face. “Dude, do whatever you want. Just don’t join the creepy groupies his brother has.”

Rook didn’t know how to feel about that. He couldn’t lie and say he wasn’t still intrigued by this John guy. But he knew how much worth a good looking, mysterious man in nice clothes had.

None. At all. He knew that from experience.

“I might... just leave it.”

That was the best decision to be made. Something excitable in him died, while the disappointment settled in. But he knew if he started something with this guy, it would get worse.

Cut it off at the root as soon as possible.

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

Perhaps going to the diner the night before a shift was a bad decision because both Staci and Rook woke up on the latter mans living room floor with banging headaches.

Rook was the first to wake and stumble to the bathroom, extremely aware that he wanted to throw up but couldn’t. This went on for about twenty minutes before the bathroom was raided by Staci, who lovingly shoved his friend out of the way to actually throw up.

While his friend was busy vomiting violently into the toilet, Rook crawled out of the room and picked up his phone. Only a few minutes until they were due to clock in for work.

Groaning, he reluctantly dialled the Sherriff’s number.

“Hey, Sherriff. Would you be mad if me and Staci called in sick today?”

“You two get your asses up to this station right now or there’ll be hell to pay.”

How did he know?

“We... really shouldn’t be driving, Sir.”

“Then walk.”

Whitehorse hung up.

Shit, he’s pissed off.

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

It took so long for them to get out the door, let alone walk all the way to the police station. Staci didn’t even have his uniform, but he insisted that there would be a spare one at the station.

Rook had to stumble about getting ready, before getting the bright idea to shove some water and food in his bag, to cure their hangovers.

Never in his life had Rook shown up to work hungover. It seemed to be something of a pastime for Staci, however.

They arrived to their place of work in a cold sweat, panting and, in Staci’s case, with a little vomit round the mouth. He couldn’t keep it in for the whole walk.

Whitehorse was standing outside the door, looking like the prime example of an angry boss - arms crossed, brows furrowed and a hard stare.

Rook tried to straighten up a little more, trying to seem apologetic and professional, despite the obvious unprofessionalism here. Staci didn’t even bother, clinging on to his friend for dear life, not looking anywhere but the floor as he groaned.

They walked gradually up the steps, slowly past Whitehorse, who moved out the way, still glaring. Rook swallowed and rasped, “It won’t happen again, Sherriff.”

“Clean him up and get in my office in five minutes. Both of you.”

It didn’t take too long to guide Staci to the station’s bathroom to throw up again. Rook had to wipe his mouth and give him water.

“I’m not getting you changed, Pratt.”

Staci chuckled behind the roughness of his hangover.

“Feeling any better yet?”

Staci waved an arm at him, breathing heavily on the floor. “Much.”

Rook raised an eyebrow, not believing him even a little.

They got to the office in seven minutes, but Whitehorse didn’t give a shit by then. He sat in his chair, not saying a word, while the two young men stood on the other side of the desk. Rook shuffled awkwardly from one foot to the next, while Staci stood casually, weight leant on one foot, still looking ill.

“I just can’t believe you two.”

Silence filled the room around his words.

“How could you be so immature? You realise I could fire you, right? The only reason I refuse to is because we have so little staff, so much so that I told you to get your stupid faces down here even though I knew you would be useless today.”

“And also cos you love us, Sherriff.”

Rook kicked Staci so hard he almost fell over, and Whitehorse spun around in his chair, facing away from them, under the guise of being so disgusted by their behaviour, he had to look away.

In reality, he was trying to hide the smirk that tried to creep on his face.

“You do realise the Seeds are planning to come up here, yes?”

Both of them felt their hangovers cure in a split second. Or did they worsen?

“Wait, the culty ones?” Staci asked, as tactful as ever. Rook’s eyes widened to the size of small moons.

“Yes, the god-damn culty ones, Pratt! And you two boneheads decided to-”

He was cut off by the sound of a car pulling up to the station. The old man swiftly got up out of his seat and peered through the blinds, confirming his suspicions.

“Look. They’re here. I’ll punish your sorry asses later. Just get out there and stop looking like you drank the entire contents of the Spread Eagle.”

Staci had to pipe up again. “Actually, Sir, it was Aubrey's Dine-”

Whitehorse pushed them both towards the door, muttering something that sounded like “Get the fuck out, son.”

They hauled ass to their desks, flopping gratefully into their chairs, while Nancy shook her disapproving head at them the whole way.

As the door to the station opened, Rook chucked cold already-cooked hash brown leftovers over to Staci, who mouthed “Thank you!”, pretending to cry with relief.

Sure enough, John Seed walked through the door.

Rook’s head snapped down quickly, a burning sensation already coming up to his cheeks. He threw a bottle of water at his friend, aggressively, when he quietly wolf-whistled.

Rook hoped to Hell that John didn’t notice.

Unlucky for Rook. John always noticed as much as possible.

Before their eyes could meet, Whitehorse came out of his office, looking relaxed and composed. Rook had to give him credit - he could hardly tell he’d been seething literally just 30 seconds ago.

“Hey there, Mr. Seed.” Like the southern gentleman he was, he offered his hand, and John, being a master of politeness, took it immediately, a fake and gleaming smile already on his face.

“Hello there, Sherriff. I hope you weren’t waiting for me too long.”

“No, no, you’re just on time, Sir. Would you like to talk in my office?”

“I wish he was as polite as that a few minutes ago,” muttered Staci, around a mouthful of hash brown.

Rook tried not to giggle and focused on the pile of paperwork ready to be processed on his desk.

They didn’t come out of that office for a while, and the atmosphere turned from light and humorous to a little ominous. Rook glanced over to his friend, who looked surprisingly solemn, his light nature faded a little.

Rook would never admit that this scared him a little. Staci wasn’t fucking about when he said that the cult situation was serious, because he was clearly worried.

This new, worrying tension did not break after John finally stepped out of the office, a triumphant and slightly almost smug smile all over his face (Rook thought it looked vaguely vicious, and his attraction to this man somehow grew and withered at the same time), with Whitehorse following, a grim look of reluctant acceptance attached to him.

It was deathly silent as the three others in the room pretended to not be interested and got on with their work.

“May I use your bathroom before I go?” John enquired, ever-so-politely.

Rook was already giving Staci a death glare before he could even twist his head and see the suggestive smirk on his friends face.

Whitehorse threw him a tight smile. “Of course... Rookie, show him where it is, will ya?”

Staci didn’t even have the chance to do anything sexual with his face, because Rook had already stuffed another cold hash brown into his face, to stop anything unprofessional in the workplace.

He didn’t miss the quiet fake-moan around the god damn hash brown though, and he had to whack Staci round the head to shut him the hell up. John Seed witnessed this, much to the dismay of Rook.

Awkwardly, he led the handsome man away from the scene and the silence crept on them both - it made Rook a little embarrassed but John seemed just fine.

After a nervous gesture to the bathroom door, he stood there awkwardly, while John looked closely, head tilted slightly.

Rook stared down at the ground, not looking up until John realised he wasn’t going to make eye contact with him.

“I recognise you, don’t I?”

Rook slowly moved his eyes up, accidentally (or not?) letting them graze over John’s body as he finally met his eyes.

Man, those eyes. Those blue eyes.

Rook smiled an awkward smile, but felt a little fluttery feeling inside.

He recognises me. A thrill went through him.

“Well, I’ve seen you around Aubrey's Diner a few times... I didn’t realise you saw me.”

John flashed a smile - not a fake one, like before, but a genuine amusement at the cute little look on Rook’s face.

“Oh, I saw you, Mr...?”

“Rook. Rook Diamante.”

John tilted his head up slightly, a small smile playing upon his lips. “Hmm, Rook Diamante...” He said the words as if he were testing them out on his tongue, and finding he liked them.

Rook couldn’t help but grin a little at that sight. “And you’re John Seed, yeah?”

The older man nodded, watching Rook carefully.

Rook could guess what he was searching for.

And his mouth opened before he could stop himself.

“You’re apart of your brothers... group or something, right?”

John laughed. “Yes, I am apart of Eden’s Gate.”

Rook nodded, with a quiet “ahh”.

John couldn’t help the widening of his smile and the slow, long look that pulled down Rook’s body. John let his gaze linger on the curve of the other mans ass and thighs. An image of John touching these parts of him flashed through his mind and left his heart racing and skin flushing slightly.

Rook didn’t miss this. He felt a heat rise up in him and for a moment, Staci’s suggestive comments running through his mind, and, for a second, he felt the crazy urge to shove John into the bathroom stall and grind up on him.

John stepped a little closer, feeling the tension between them. “This may be a bit unprofessional but... would you like to go to Aubrey’s Diner together sometime?”

Rook thought he might take flight in excitement. It showed in his voice, as he flustered, in a breathy voice, “Y-yeah! That... I’d like that a lot, actually.”

John grinned at the cuteness. “Good. Here.” He produced a little card from his jacket pocket, which Rook took, curiously.

It had ‘John Seed’ printed on it, with a phone number.

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

“This was such a bad idea.”

“No, it isn’t, dumbass!” Staci rolled his eyes, rummaging through Rook’s old box of nail varnish. Rook had already taken out some black nail varnish out and painted a few hours ago.

Staci took out a dark, dark red colour and hummed in appreciation. As he started casually painting his perfect nails, Rook tried to get out of his third outfit choice of the night.

Staci frowned at him. “Why are you taking off the jeans? They show off your ass. Trust me, he’d like that.”

Rook growled and threw them across the room in frustration. He stood there in his dark red underwear, similar to the colour Staci was putting on his nails. “How the fuck do I know what he likes? I don’t even know him.”

Staci didn’t look up. “Isn’t that the point of tonight? Getting to know him or some shit?”

Rook groaned. “I don’t even fucking know! We didn’t clarify... maybe he...” Rook swallowed down disappointment. “... maybe he just wants to be friends.”

Staci did look up then. “Are you being serious? How much of a dumbass are you?!”

Rook put his hands on his hips, his eyebrows raised, bottom lip between his teeth.

“What are you looking at me like that for? Did you even see the look he gave you when he left the station? You don’t look at friends like that.”

Rook stopped the sass and starting biting his black nails. Staci rolled his eyes again and got up. He smacked Rook’s hands away from his mouth, and reviewed the outfits at hand.

There was silence for a moment as Staci worked his magic and worked out the outfit like it was a puzzle.

“Your favourite colour is red, right?”

Rook nodded.

“Hmm. Good. Dark red is your colour. Mix it with black. Put on them black jeans again. They’re your colour and they make you look hot.”

Rook did what was instructed, making no noise in argument. While he put them on, Staci ruffled through a few t-shirts and shirts in Rook’s drawer, making thinking noises.

He chose a few options. He held a dark blue t-shirt in one hand and a dark red shirt with buttons in the other. “This is the part where you have to choose.”

Rook pouted. “Why can’t I wear my slutty black and red one?”

Staci flicked his forehead. “BECAUSE.”

There wasn’t much more of an explanation than that.

When Rook had gotten the red shirt on him, they both argued about what piercings to put in. Eventually, they decided on plain rings up the side of his ear, but none on his ear lobe, as Staci declared it “too much”. The eyebrow bar was included, although Staci um-ed and ah-ed over this for a while.

By the time Staci had finished his work, Rook’s tummy felt the dormant notion of anxiety and butterflies. He took a deep breath in and tried to apply logic to the situation, just as his parents taught him.

This wasn’t going to kill him. The worst that could happen is John rejecting him.

He’s in a cult. He might try and indoctrinate you.

Rook was horrified by the stirring from below he felt at that thought.

Staci practically pushed him out of the building, squeezing out after him. “Don’t think so much, just go fuck him.”

Rook nodded.

“And tell me if he kills you.”

Rook whacked him.

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

John has the sense not to arrive in one of the white Eden’s Gate trucks, instead pulling up to Aubrey’s Diner in a sleek car that looked too fancy for the small county.

Rook raised an eyebrow, leaning casually against the wall of the building, feeling excited.

I’ve got a rich boy on my hands, he thought, amused.

John gracefully slipped out of the car and locked it with a simple press of his keys, not looking away from Rook.

John was captured by the way Rook appeared to be so casual but dressed like he cared. He let himself wonder what the other man might look like with those jeans and that red shirt off of him, a little smirk pleasantly displayed on his face, obviously intended for Rook to pick up on it.

Rook grinned, pushing himself off of the wall and stepping closer, letting himself take in the pretty man right in front of him.

Suits were so John’s look, Rook couldn’t even handle it.

The older man flashed a small smile, and Rook smiled back at him.

“Shall we go in, Mr. Diamante?” John asked, teasingly.

Rook laughed a little. “You can call me Rook, Mr. Seed.”

John chuckled and slipped a hand on to Rook’s arm, making him shiver. Rook was a confident enough guy but this man was absolutely oozing it - he wondered what it might be like to have John in the bedroom.

Chill out, he only put his hand on your arm.

They walked in, finding a seat easily. Rook looked at the drink menu and offered one to John.

He smiled, something a little off about it. “I’m afraid I don’t drink.”

Rook could sense a backstory but would never ask on the first date. Date?

“Oh, I see. Would you prefer me not to as well?”

John hesitated and it was all Rook needed to confirm it.

Before John could respond and explain that he didn’t want to be responsible for Rook if he got too drunk to walk or respond, the waiter came over, giving John Seed a dirty look.

The locals don’t like him.

“I’ll have a milkshake please,” Rook requested, with a smile.

The waiter gave him a look that said “Are you five?” but Rook didn’t give a shit. If he couldn’t drink, he’d focus on something else addictive. Sugar.

John looked pleasantly surprised and felt just as grateful. After he ordered a coke with ice, the waiter scribbling it down reluctantly, he turned to Rook.

“You didn’t have to-”

“No way,” he said, simply, “I could tell you would get uncomfortable. And you’re much more important than alcohol.”

John smirked at the implications and Rook’s eyes widened.

“I just mean-! I meant that you deserve respect more than some drink. I came to see you, not the drinks, after all...” Rook tried to fight off the blushing.

John chuckled. “It’s ok, Rook. Thank you, I appreciate your hospitality.”

Rook lets out a laugh through his nose and shakes his head. “It’s only basic respect, dude.”

John laughed. “That’s quite hard to come by nowadays.”

Rook scoffed. “Oh, trust me, I’m aware!”

The next hour was filled with discussion about the horrendous dates that they had both been on. Rook explained about the disrespect and fetishization for being Mexican and trans, which John took in his stride. John, in turn, described being body shamed and being pursued as a sugar daddy, which made Rook shake his head.

“So...” Rook started slightly hesitant, “You really don’t mind about the whole trans thing?”

It was so important to check.

John smiled gently and slid his hand over to Rook’s, placing it over his comfortingly. “I really don’t mind. If it’s ok for me to mention... I have been with transgender people before. I try to learn everything I’m supposed to, to make them comfortable, you understand?”

Rook grinned back. “Look’s like I picked the right guy to be attracted to then.”

John huffed out a laugh and leaned forward, teasingly. “You chose to be attracted to me, did you?”

Rook chuckled, a hint of seductiveness in his voice, despite the cheesiness of his next statement. “Oh, I’d say it was more like it chose me. You’re just something, you know?”

John had to fight the childish blush that came up to his cheeks. “Why, thank you, Rook Diamante.”

Rook shivered and felt something twist pleasantly in his lower belly.

“And I promise you, I’m not one of those people who actively seek transgender people... what are they called? I’m sure they had a name...”

“Chasers.” Rook supplied, drinking through his straw.

“Right.” John nodded. “I don’t understand that. You’re not a piece of meat, you’re a person. While you’re certainly...” he blushed, looking away from Rook’s smirk, ”attractive... you don’t deserve that kind of creepiness.”

Rook chuckled and nodded. “Agreed. I understand having some kind of fetish or kink, don’t get me wrong...” he flicked his eyes up at John, smirking slightly, “but if it’s something like that, it gets creepy as fuck.”

John laughed. “Of course. And... how much do you understand having some kind of fetish or kink...?” The question was part teasing, part hopeful, and Rook was ready to get into it.

“What an inappropriate question, Mr. Seed!” He took another slurp of milkshake. “I do understand having kinks, yeah. What about you?” 

He looked to John, curious to see what he says.

If he says he doesn’t have any, that man is a liar. Kink is written all over him.

John laughed, almost like he’d been caught out, with Rook giving him a “I know who you are” look.

“Yes, I have to say I do as well.”

Rook grinned and leaned forward. “Alright, man, pull out the list.”

John laughed hard, while Rook couldn’t help but giggle. His laughter was kind of contagious.

John stopped laughing and drank from his glass, still slightly chuckling around it. “Ok, I’ll indulge you. How about you suggest one and I’ll tell you which ones I... understand.”

Still grinning, Rook immediately pulled the first one he could think of. “Power play.”

“Yes.”

Rook called it. “Are you usually the submissive one or the dominant one?”

Gotta be a Dom right?

John smiled. “Well, I enjoy being either but... I gotta say, being a submissive is my preference.”

Wow, I was wrong. My fault for presuming, I guess.

John chuckled at the badly-hidden surprise on Rook’s face. “What about you, my handsome companion?”

Rook blushed and grinned. “Similar to you - I think I’d like being either, but...” He looked up right into John’s eyes. “I definitely would prefer being the Dominant one.”

John’s eyes flushed with something heated and his leg moved almost independently from him, to brush up firmly against Rook’s. Rook felt the urge to drag him into the bathroom again.

He liked that. Oh my God, he liked that.

John continued to rub his leg against Rook’s inner thigh, slightly but ever-so-noticeable. 

“Continue.” he whispered, gazing at Rook.

The younger man swallowed and tried to breathe naturally. “Ok. Choking?”

“Yes.”

Rook chuckled, breathlessly. “That was quick.”

An image of his hand around John’s throat popped into his head and his eyes flicked from his hand to John’s neck, trying to suss out whether or not it would be a perfect fit.

Only one way to find out...

Rook shook his head to snap out of it and tried to keep up the conversation. “Me too.”

John looked at him expectantly.

“Piss?” Rook blurted out, without thinking.

John couldn’t help but burst out laughing. “Sort of? I can be into the power part of it, but it’s only really something I do if the person I’m with is particularly hot and particularly into it. What about you, Rook?”

Rook shook his head. “I don’t think so. It’s not something I would like to try.”

John nodded, smiling slightly. He was sensing a pattern in Rook’s speech, the way in which he was referring to these interests of theirs.

“Ok, something extreme. Knife and gun play?”

John breathed in through his nose, leaning back to take in the question, but not taking his leg away from Rook’s. “Now that’s quite a prompt.”

Rook laughed and looked into his second milkshake - banana, this time, instead of strawberry. Chocolate was next. “I’m sorry if that was too much.”

John chuckled, slowly and seductively. “No, no, darling.” Rook felt that feeling in his belly again. “In fact, that is exactly my speed.”

Rook watched him. “So? You... understand it, right?”

John nodded. “Oh yes, I definitely understand it.”

“I think I’d like to try them. It kind of tracks that I would like it.” He laughed awkwardly.

John leaned in, ready to ask the question he wanted to. “You don’t have to answer but it might be important if you feel like...” He pushed his knee further up Rook’s thigh, “taking this a little further.”

Rook leaned in too, somehow not scared.

“Are you a virgin, Rook? Or have you simply not done anything kink related?”

Rook blushed very hard. He knew this would have to come up at some point, and he wasn’t embarrassed, not really. But he was still a touch nervous, even if he didn’t think John would mind.

“Well, honestly, I’ve never really had sex before and was kinda hoping you would teach me.” It was cheeky and playful but, underneath, Rook was hoping John would take it lightly.

John chuckled, and placed his hand on Rook’s thigh too. “Oh, you handsome man, I think I would adore teaching you.”

Rook flushed with something lustful. “My place or yours?”

John laughed, almost with shock. “You’re eager, aren’t you?”

The younger man leaned closer and placed his hand on John’s chin, tilting it up slightly. “Only for you, pretty boy.”

John felt that the heat had built up too much for him to not say the next words. “Are you ok with your place?”

“Yes.”

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

John drove them to Rook’s place, in warm silence that promised something hot as soon as they got inside somewhere with a bed or any other surface. Every so often, Rook would give directions and, every so often, John would turn to Rook quickly and give him a look that promised the best sex of his life.

When they pulled in to Rook’s place, there was a relaxed but hurried atmosphere. Rook wrapped an arm around John’s waist, and guided him to the door.

John grinned when Rook tried to open the door with his key, purposely placing himself behind him, pressed up against him, hands on Rook’s hips. The younger man looked back for a moment and glared playfully and John laughed.

“You’d better behave, pretty boy.”

John breathed in hard, taken aback but now a little hard at the idea of this man giving him a punishment for his bad behaviour. 

He leaned in to whisper in Rook's ear, breath tickling his skin. "You're very much mistaken if you think I'm the type to behave."

Rook whipped round very quickly, the door now open, and swiftly drew John's head close to his. As Rook bit the soft skin of John's earlobe, he heard John's breathing become more erratic.

"And you are severely mistaken if you think I'd let that slide."

And he pulled John inside.

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Ok so that was that!

If you want the actual sex scene, I might post it on my ao3 for ya to read. I'm going to post this one too.

I hope that was okay, if you feel something was done wrong, let me know! :)