#I'm not sure if he would be conscious but if he's not

[billthedrake]

LINEAGE (PART TWO)

It was weird being in my doctor's office. Even weirder sitting out in the waiting room while my son Braden was getting the news confirmed. I wondered if the other people there had any idea or could read how much I was hiding my anticipation and excitement. Trying not to get my hopes up TOO much.

Too late for that, though. A week before, Braden had peed on the pregnancy test. I wasn't a water sports guy, and Brade wasn't a water sports guy, but it became our regular weekly ritual. Stepping into the master bathroom and then Braden pulling out his dick to pee on that stick.

It took several months to conceive. It was disappointing, at first. But Braden was the optimistic one. "You got strong swimmers, Dad, I know it. Let's just enjoy the act of making our first kid together."

So we did. Each time we fucked - and that's all we did now and would do now until conception - it was with a purpose. We had the idea of pregnancy in our heads. And we spoke them out loud. We talked about baby names while I slow pumped my raw dad cock in and out of my hot Marine son. We talked about the changes Braden's body would undergo once he got knocked up.

But the thing that drove me wildest, that drove Braden wildest, was the incest. Once either of started talking about how my son was also going to be my grandson, or how I was gonna give Braden a baby brother, how I was gonna fuck his little brother into existence inside of Brade... well, both of us would cum explosively.

Maybe those extra hard cums did the trick. The pregnancy test got a plus sign. It was wild to watch my son's soft cock grow instantly hard at the news. I certainly boned up.

"Bill?" came the doctor's voice as he popped out into the lobby. "Wanna come back?"

Dr. Fiedler was my general practitioner, and had been ever since he took over the practice from his father. He was still young, mid-30s. I had felt self conscious coming to him, but Braden insisted that he felt more comfortable with Fiedler than with some new doctor.

I tried to read the man's expression as he led me back, but he had a poker face. Until we got closer to the door and I saw a smile form on his lips. Hell, yes.

Brade was shirtless on the examining table, sitting up for all of his hunky perfection to see. God, if Fiedler touched my son in any way... get a grip on yourself, Bill, I told myself.

Braden's smile calmed my weird jealous streak. He didn't have a poker face, just pure joy. Already he was putting his T shirt back on, which I kind of regretted. We'd definitely have to fuck when we got home.

Fiedler motioned for me to sit in a chair while he pulled up his rolling desk chair.

"Well, Bill, I've told Braden the news, but he's for sure going to be a father."

"Yeah?" I replied with a beaming smile that I couldn't suppress. "That's incredible... I mean." Catching myself, though not in time.

Fiedler laughed. "It's OK, guys... I think it's beautiful." He looked back and forth between me and Brade. "Why do you think my dad retired early?"

"Shit!" Braden exclaimed with a laugh. "For real?"

Fiedler nodded. Doc was a handsome, cute fucker, I'll give him that. And the fact he'd bred an incest baby was wild to think about. "They've made some real advancements in fertility pills," the doctor said. "I'm sure Braden here doesn't need them."

"It took us a while to conceive," I admitted. Maybe I was concerned and wanted to make sure everything would be OK.

The doctor gave a quick nod. "Yeah, it takes longer with men." He looked over at my son. "Braden's all Y chromosomes, so if the sperm that reaches it is also Y, it won't take."

"So it's going to a boy?" Braden asked excitedly. No one could accuse him of being a dumb jock, though he was committed to researching pregnancy in a way he never got into studying in school.

"It's a boy," Fiedler assured us.

The doctor spent the next fifteen minutes filling us in on the next stages and then pulled out a pad. "Here's an obstetrician I can recommend," he said, writing down a name. "Dad and I used him, so he's sympathetic."

I took the paper. "Um, if you don't mind me asking, Doctor, how many kids have you...."

"Three," Dr. Fiedler answered. "And we're working on number four now." Somehow, the guy could say it in a way that was endearing as it was lewd. He turned to Braden. "Fatherhood's the best, Braden... and nothing like the first time."

***

There were phases. The excitement period over the news. Braden and I fucked at least twice a day. Trying to relive that moment of conception. Getting deeper into our sex talk. Choosing that baby name. I never thought I'd be one of those ego-centric guys who'd name his kid a junior. But once Braden went on about he really wanted our kid to have my name, I got real into the fuck, real into making out Brade, and real into the idea. Our first son was going to be Bill, Jr.

Then came a two month stretch of morning sickness. With Braden, it wasn't just the morning. He had it rough. I felt bad. I did my best to look out for him, even with my long hours. I got into the rhythm of bringing work home or tackling some on the weekends. It wasn't ideal, but it meant I could step up and do some of the basic household stuff. I'd gotten used to Brade taking care of all that.

In a strange way, it was like I was 18 and doing my share to help Susan out as we raised Braden. I could envision doing this once Bill Jr. was born. It would be even better, since my son was conceived with purpose, with love. Conceived with Braden.

Around the time the baby bump started showing, Braden felt better. Then the pregnancy hormones started kicking in. My son could get moody... sullen, angry, manic... but damn did he get horny. I'd wake up to him sucking me. Or he'd pounce on me when I got home, pulling me by my tie back to the bedroom. It was like our fucking honeymoon.

It got better. Once Braden started swelling, I got even more turned on. I was caught off guard by how much that growing belly and that overall pregnancy thickness would turn me on. I learned not to go rough when having sex, but that was better, too. Just pumping into my hot son while I watched that big round swell where my soon-to-be-born son was. Seeing that pregnancy gut sway lightly but tightly on his midsection. Where our son was.

And Brade's taut muscular chest grew rounder as he body prepared to make milk to feed the newborn when he arrived.

Bill Jr. was a big baby. 9 and a half pounds. I was over the moon, but it was the smile on Braden's face that thrilled me the most.

"We did it, Dad," Brade said as he held our infant son in his arm. He was still in a hospital gown, and even so he looked hot. Braden could look hot in just about anything, I decided. "Bill, Jr."

I saw our son squirm. "He's a feisty one," I said.

Braden laughed. "Was I, Dad?"

I shook my head. "Nah, you were a docile infant. Even as a toddler you were quiet. I don't think we're going to be so lucky."

"Probably not." Braden's eyes were on our son, taking in the miracle of a new life he'd brought into being. He looked up at me, then. "He's gonna be like you, I know it."

"We'll see."

***

I was proud of Braden. Nothing is like parenthood to make you grow up fast, but it was wild to see him step into responsibility. I wasn't able to take paternity leave since to the outside world, I was just helping my single-parent son out. That was the only tough part of this, the fact that Brade and I had to hide our relationship and the fact we'd made a son together.

The first couple of months were amazing but also tough. No sleep, changing diapers, the feeling of always being on shift. And my son and I weren't having sex. Brade wasn't ready, and my own libido was taking a hit. I jerked off in the shower from time to time for a quick release, but that was it.

Until one day I came home to see Brade shirtless on the couch, breastfeeding Bill Jr. It was just, I don't know, angelic, beautiful. Brade in his prime of youthful masculinity and parenthood. Feeding our son.

But there was the physical sight of Braden's body, too. The pregnancy weight was mostly gone but not entirely, and the fullness gave his ex-Marine muscle a beefiness.

"Hey Dad," he said softly as he looked up from Jr to me. "How was work?"

I shrugged and sat down across from him. "Work's work," I replied without wanting to go into the stress of my day. Brade didn't need me to unload that on him. "Nice to come home to this."

Braden laughed. His voice was deep now, a man's grown voice, and sexy as hell. "To what?"

I leaned back. I was chubbing up in my trousers. It was inappropriate sure, but my son was so hot and the neglected sex drive was coming back with a vengeance. "You. Feeding Junior." I paused. "Is that wrong to say?"

Braden got what I was thinking. He shook his head. "I didn't know you were a milk guy."

"Never was," I said, thinking back to when Susan was breastfeeding. "It's you, Brade, the fact you give me this gift."

His voice got soft, emotional. "Let me put Junior in his crib, OK?"

I nodded.

I was in a weird mood when I went to the bedroom to get out of my suit. I felt like I'd sullied something good and perfect about parenthood. Maybe my son would be freaked out. I'd hung my suit up in the walk in closet and had removed my tie when Braden entered the bedroom, still shirtless.

"Junior left some for you, Dad," he said in a quiet tone that I knew was lust. "We doing this?"

I felt my dick rock hard in my briefs. Braden could probably see that beneath my shirt tails. "It's probably wrong, isn't it?" I said.

Braden stepped up. "Inside this house, inside these walls, it's not fucked up, Dad," he said. Throwing back the words I'd told him more than once. My heart beat double time and my breath stopped as he grabbed my hand and guided up to his bare pec. Brade had let his chest hair grow in and there was soft fur all around the swollen nipple.

"You get sore tits?" I asked as my fingers played with the fleshy nib.

He nodded. "Yeah, a good sore though. Means our son has a healthy appetite."

"Oh Brade," I hissed as I leaned in for a kiss.

When you're in an ongoing relationship, particularly with your own son, you can't really rank the sexual milestones, but this definitely ranked up there in hotness. Me and Brade connecting for the first time since the birth of our son. I plunged my tongue into his mouth and felt his flutter back against mine. I could tell he was horned up now, and as I felt up his full pecs, his own mitt reached down to grip my boner.

Braden was the one with willpower to pull back. I could see the erection in his loose shorts.

"I don't think I'm up for fucking yet, Dad, but why don't I lie back and let you nurse me?"

I nodded dumbly. Not bothering to take my dress shirt off, I watched Braden strip and get on the bed while peeled down my underwear to free my hardon. Already I was leaking, dripping clear sap steadily off the tip.

My son's dick was hard, rock hard as he lay back on the pillow, legs slightly spread and his hand cupping his milk-full chest muscle. "Sorry to make you wait for sex," he said.

"Buddy... you should never feel pressured," I said. "But I won't lie, I've missed this."

I crawled on the bed, on top of Braden. Part of me was sad I couldn't be inside him, but even the feel of his nakedness and warmth beneath me was incredible, particularly as our cocks touched.

We kissed, and I did my best to go soft and slow before pulling back.

"You sure it's OK if I have a taste?" I asked Brade.

He nodded, with a grin. "More than OK. The idea is hot to me, too, Dad."

"Fuck," I hissed. This was kinky as hell. But as I kissed along my son's neck and down that hard upper chest, I got crazy excited. My lips traveled along the softer, fleshier part of his pec, dusted in his hair, before I found that swollen nipple.

I licked and sucked at it. I could taste the sweetness there, but milk wasn't really flowing out. That was Ok, I guess. Junior had probably tapped that teat dry.

I felt Brade's hand on my head, massaging my hair. Then I heard his deep, masculine voice. "Kind of munch a little, Dad. Gently, then suck on it at the same time."

Fuck, my son was coaching me on how to nurse at his tit. It took a second, but I coordinated the actions and was rewarded with the flow of his milk.

I moaned excitedly as I tasted Brade's breastmilk, swirling it around my tongue, then swallowing as more came out. I learned to coax more out. It tasted different than what I expected but both rich and watery at the same time.

I was going wild, but it turns out Brade was, too. I could hear the urgent excitement in his voice. "Fuck, Dad, this is so hot! Do my other tit."

The right one was more swollen and raw-looking but Braden didn't seem to mind as I latched my mouth on it and suckled hungrily.

His left hand cradled my head while his right went down to stroke off. I wondered if I could get him to cum like this, but I realized I wanted more. It had been too long since we'd had sex.

Relinquishing his teat, I gave it one last soft kiss then scooted down to taste my son's prick. He was leaking like crazy - like father, like son - and when Braden realized what I was doing he let go other than to feed his dick to me.

It took five bobs and my son was spurting into my mouth and throat, hard. He'd been majorly backed up.

"Dad!" he gasped as he gave it up. "Oh shit!" The aftershocks were intense for him, so I finally pulled off, gently lapping the dribbles which kept coming.

He still had a horniness in his voice. "Want me to suck you?" he asked as I rose up to look him in the eye.

I shook my head. "Can I feel a little more, buddy?"

That made him laugh. "Leave some for Junior," he said but twisted to reach over for the lube in our nightstand.

I took the bottle and squirted some on my prick, kneeling up to show it off for my son. Brade always loved seeing my dad cock and I loved showing it to him. Maybe before long it could be inside him again.

But that would have to wait. I tossed the bottle aside and leaned down. I still couldn't believe the miracle of life and the way Braden's body was producing milk like this. I licked around his tit and then placed my mouth square over it.

This time I had the knack down. I suckled and felt and tasted the milk in my mouth. I didn't want to overdo it, so I just went fot it. Storking furiously as my son breastfed me.

I came hard. As I rode out my orgasm I finally pulled off, resting my face against his meaty chest.

"Love ya, buddy."

"Love ya, too, Dad. So much."

I scooted up and met him in a kiss. I'm sure he was tasting his own milk. Braden was still hard and I hadn't gone soft myself. Maybe we'd go for a round two but just then we just enjoyed the closeness and connection.

"Dad...?" Braden finally said.

"Yeah, Sport?" I said, massaging his Marine-buzzcut hair. We'd talked about what life was going to be like now that he'd served out his enlistment contract, but the stay at home dad thing was more and more appealing to him. And I was getting very into the idea of supporting Braden that way.

"You know I think you're an incredible father, right?"

I leaned up. "I guess I could see where this is going," I said with a wry sadness. I knew that while I'd done my best raising Braden, I hadn't always been the best dad.

He had a contrite look on his face. Maybe a little hurt that he had to be saying this. "I just want you there in Junior's life, maybe in a way you weren't in mine."

"Oh buddy..." I said, heavy in emotion.

He cocked a grin to defuse the heaviness. "Maybe you just knew the hard-to-get approach worked on me."

I laughed, which made Braden laugh.

"I'll do my best, son," I said more seriously. "I want us on the same page when it comes to parenting."

"We will be, Dad," my son said in earnestness. "I know I'm going to learn from you."

****

It was a month before I was fucking Braden again. It was even off to the races with the pregnancy talk during sex. But I didn't need to check up on my son's birth control pills to know he was taking them religiously. I could trust him totally. We'd talked about how we wanted another son, maybe two more, but we wanted a break and time to enjoy raising Junior.

And for all the ups and downs between me and my son as a couple, and yeah the occasional fights, I knew we were of one mind with what we wanted for our family.

[uhbasicallyjustmilex]

The tale of Alex Turner's girlfriend's jumper, Josh Homme, and the making of Humbug

(Extracts from Mojo Magazine, September 2009)

The jumper sealed the deal: the cable-knit jumper, belonging to his girlfriend. Alex Turner just happened upon it early one evening in the different late summer of 2008, as he waited for the telephone to ring. It wasn't so much the fact of it being a girl's jumper. He could get away with wearing a size skinny, after all. And besides, it would be dark at the gig he planned to go to later on. No, it was the cable-knit which gave him pause. Was he, Alex wondered, really a cable-knit guy?

His reverie was interrupted by the call he'd been expecting. Alex had spoken to Josh Homme before: the Queens Of The Stone Age leader declared himself a fan by marching into the Arctic Monkeys dressing room at a Belgian festival the previous year; later in 2007 the Monkeys supported the Queens in Houston. Compliments were exchanged, though Alex did wonder about the precise mutuality of this appreciation. Maybe 70-30? Obviously, the Monkeys were big fans of QOTSA: the Queens' sensual dirt-rock had been a key benchmark for their album Favourite Worst Nightmare. And Josh Homme? He had at least heard of Alex's band, and that was good enough. But now here he was, on the phone, accepting the invitation to produce the next Arctic Monkeys album. Alex deferred taking the conversation down to brass tracks. Airily, he mentioned his knitwear dilemma.

Homme was firm on the matter.

"Go for it, man."

But I'm not sure. I mean, it belongs to me girlfriend, and it fits, and it looks all right, but...

"Just throw caution to the wind," said Homme, as if issuing an imperial edit. "Let go of those inhibitions you've got there and just wear your cable-knit."

Sound, said Alex. So, about this record...?

"I listened to the demo," said Homme. "I heard 30 seconds of it and thought, You're coming to the desert." Then, to himself, he added with relish. "And little do you know what's about to happen..."

That evening, Alex Turner wore his girlfriend's cable-knit jumper. A month or so later, he and his three bandmates were picked up from a Los Angeles hotel by Josh Homme and driven out to the small Mojave Desert town of Joshua Tree, where they began recording the new Arctic Monkeys album. One phone abut cable-knitwear later, Arctic Monkeys were off to southern California for a hot date.

....

Presiding throughout this transformative process [of recording Humbug], during the warm autumn days or late into the chilly desert nights, would be Alex Turner's girlfriend's cable-knit jumper.

"Josh likes to speak in analogies, in terms of how things should sound," says the Arctic Monkeys' songwriter with a chuckle, as he reflects upon the six-month gestation of his band's new album. "Cable-knits got mentioned a lot during recording. He was like, if you can wear a cable-knit you can put a glockenspiel on a tune. It became a metaphor: you can wear a cable-knit and then sonically we can try something different. We went off on a little adventure. Because we were conscious that if this were really going to work, we would have to open up a little more than we have in the past. Joshua Tree really feels far away. You felt..." He frowns, reaching for the right word. "Unpoliced."

Which all rather begs the question: does that six and a half foot ginger hunk of abiding rockness Josh Homme wear cable-knitwear? A small smile plays around the corners of Alex Turner's mouth.

"He assured me he did."

....

The previous evening Alex finally spoke to Josh Homme for the first time since Humbug's completion. After expressing his delight with the end results of their combat crawl through the Mojave badlands, Homme enquired whether Turner was going out later. Alex informed that he was. "Cable-knits?" asked Homme. "Cable-knits," said Alex, the Arctic Monkey, comfortable in the embrace of the strange.

....

[organic-bloodbath]

Heyyy I was wondering if I could request a little smt smt from you

I’ve just found out that National Shower with a Friend Day is today (I think its an American idk) and I was wondering if we could pretend its an international day and write a story about Kang Dae-Ho discovering it and asking his friend (reader) to shower with him 👀👀👀

Friends to lovers vibes yk

No pressure if you dont want to do this lol

Shower confessions

Dae-ho x Reader

Summary: A moment in the shower together takes a turn in your friendship.

A/N: I'm European so i had never heard of that before lmao. But i had fun writing it and i hope you have fun reading it ♡

☆☆☆

You and Dae-ho had been friends for the past 5 years. You knew everything about him and he about you – he was your best friend in your entire life. You were closer to him than with any other friend of yours, some people already thought that the two of you were dating but your friendship had always been completely platonic. Dae-ho had never implied or made it seem that there was anything romantic going on between you – or maybe you were just totally oblivious.

At the moment, Dae-ho was hanging out at your apartment, like he did almost every day. You lived only across the street from each other, so it took only couple of minutes to walk to your place. Often he'd rather come visit you or you him instead of texting or talking on the phone when you could easily come inside.

For Dae-ho, your friendship had been just platonic as well, nothing romantic, even though you would hug a lot and cuddle during movies at home. He saw you as his best friend, though during your entire friendship, he hadn't been in a relationship with any other girl. Neither had you with any other guy.

For your other friends? Everyone knew that the two of you were just in denial of your real feelings towards each other.

You were in the kitchen, cutting cucumber into pieces on a chopping board for a salad you were preparing to eat with your lunch soon.

"Y/N?" Dae-ho said by the door, making you lay the knife down on the counter and turn around.

"Hm?"

Dae-ho was unsure if he should suggest it or not, not knowing what you would think about it. He knew you were really close, but where would you draw the line?

"You heard what day it is today?" Dae-ho asked.

"Um, Friday?"

"It's the Shower with a Friend Day," he informed you. "It's pretty self-explanatory."

"Oh, really? That's a thing?" You raised your eyebrows. "Huh, I wasn't aware of that."

"Any plans tonight?"

"Well, i did plan to have a movie marathon in the evening. Where you are more than welcome as well, obviously," you told him and then smirked, putting your hand on your hip. "What, you want to shower together?"

"Well, it is an official day for that," he shrugged, trying to act all nonchalant and like he didn't really care. He wanted to make it seem like it was your idea.

"Hmm," you hummed, amused. "Well, i'm going for a run so i do need to shower tonight," you thought outloud. "And you're joining the movie marathon with me, hm? It'd be upsetting to eat all the food alone."

☆☆☆

You and Dae-ho had seen each other without clothes before. Many times when you were wearing only your bra and underwear and once or twice without any piece of clothing. You weren't worried about Dae-ho seeing your body, you weren't self-conscious and he had already seen you, though it was a couple of years ago. It wasn't a big deal - right?

After your run, you stopped by a store before going back home. You had to buy more shampoo, you had squeezed the last bit of the previous bottle. While standing by the shelves full of different brands and scents of shampoo and conditioner, for a few seconds your mind somehow wandered to one question.

What scent would Dae-ho like?

You didn't know why the question popped in your mind. Surely he didn't care what kind of shampoo you used. Your shower wasn't very large, but two people were able to use it, though there wouldn't be much space left. He would be close enough to be able to smell your hair when you were washing it. You knew he disliked coconut, atleast, but so did you.

Ugh, he wouldn't care, so it was whatever. You still chose one you hadn't used before, just to try it out.

☆☆☆

When you stepped into the shower behind the plastic curtain, joining Dae-ho already standing there, Dae-ho's gaze wandered on your bare body, but he quickly looked away when you stood in front of him and looked towards him.

You were beautiful, all of you, there was no denying in that. Seeing you without clothes on did fluster him a little but this wasn't the first time. He could see the small tattoo of a frog on your left hip, which was covered by your jeans or sweater most of the time, unless you were wearing a crop top during summer.

You turned the water on, letting it hit your head and back, leaving Dae-ho almost dry.

"Oh, right. I suppose we'll have to take turns," he said, but you grabbed his elbow and pulled him closer to you so that you were both able to get wet.

"Nah, we'll both fit," you chuckled. There was only an inch between you, but Dae-ho soon moved a step away after a moment when he had become wet enough to start washing himself.

You turned the water off as you started putting the shampoo on your hair. It was the new one you had bought from the store.

He took a small step closer to you again and for a second you were confused why he was leaning towards you, but he only grabbed his bottle of shampoo behind you over your shoulder.

"Have you changed your shampoo?" Dae-ho asked when you had rubbed enough of it all around your hair, sniffing his nose above you.

"How did you know?" you asked, furrowing your eyebrows. You doubted he had put attention on your hair product collection.

"It smells different than usually," he stated.

"You've smelled my hair?"

"I mean, not on purpose obviously, that'd be weird. But i do smell it every time we hug," he explained. You were shorter than him, the top of your head reaching just below his nose.

"Oh, right," you chuckled.

"I like it though," he blurted out.

"Well, i'm glad you do," you smiled, not knowing what else to respond to that.

You washed your hair and were about to start adding the conditioner, taking the pink bottle in your hand.

But then, the bottle slipped off from your hand when you were trying to squeeze a little bit of the conditioner out. It landed on the tiles right by your feet. You both looked at it and knew that there was very little room to kneel down on the floor without hitting the other person.

You and Dae-ho's gazed met.

"So, i suppose i'll have to go down to get it," you mumbled.

"I guess," he said, his cheeks turning slightly pink. "I can get it too."

"No, i'll get it," you shook your head. "Um, could you turn around for a second?"

He did as told and you kneeled down to grab the bottle, then getting back up, allowing Dae-ho to turn around again. However, you hadn't realised that as the bottle fell on the floor, it had stayed open and a little of the conditioner was spilled on the floor, making the tiles slippery.

Accidentally, you stepped right on the exact spot and slipped backwards. Dae-ho managed to grab you before you'd either hit your head on the wall or fall completely on the floor on your butt.

His hand was around your waist, your back against his chest. Sure, you had hugged him countless of times, almost daily, but you had always had your clothes on. Sure, you had seen him naked before, but you had never touched his bare skin before, besides his arms.

You were frozen on your spot, as were Dae-ho as well. You were suddenly extremely aware of every inch of his skin, his hand resting right under your breasts.

"Um," you mumbled and stood back up again, Dae-ho helping you. "Thanks."

"No problem," he stuttered. As you looked at his face, his cheeks had turned burning red.

You continued rubbing conditioner into your hair in silence, until moved to grab the body gel.

"Yeah, sure," he said and took the bottle in his hands.

"Could you rub this on my back?" you suggested. "I can't really reach all of it with my hands. You know, having this little space left to really move my arms around now."

You turned your back towards him and moved your hair over your shoulder out of the way. Dae-ho laid his hand on your left shoulder, taking it slowly across your neck to your right shoulder. His movements were so slow his touch gave you goosebumps on every spot he touched, tingles radiating all around your back.

He slowly lowered his hand towards your lower back, making sure not to miss a single area. The lower his hands wandered, the faster your heart started to race. His left hand was on your hip, fingers touching the frog tattoo, when he had reached your lower back and then he pulled his right hand away. You felt disappointment rise in your chest, wanting to have him touch you again. His other hand still rested on your hip though.

"All done," he said quietly and feeling his hot breath against your shoulder made you more aware how close he really was to you at the moment.

You stretched your neck to look at him over your shoulder, not turning your body towards him. Both of you had frozen still on your own spots, your bodies automatically pulling each other closer like magnets.

Dae-ho's heart was beating so fast it was about to burst out of his chest. He was barely able to breathe and had to concentrate on his breathing more than usual to stay calm. Being this close to you, having no distance between your bodies anymore, was making him crazy - absolutely insane.

Dae-ho wanted to know what you were thinking. He also wondered what would happen when you'd step out of the shower. Right now you were in your own intimate world which felt like being separated from the reality. It was only a shower, but having you this close to him and having this feeling inside his chest and stomach made it feel much more than just a shower – it felt almost magical.

"Could you wash my back too?" he asked quietly, breaking the thick silence lingering between you.

Your eyes were locked with each other, neither of you saying a single word in a while, only drowning into each other's eyes.

"Yeah, of course."

He turned around like you had previously, and you were now facing his back, which was a lot larger than yours. You took his body wash and started rubbing it across his shoulders and back. When you first laid your hand on his shoulder, he flinched a little.

"All done," you whispered, your hand resting on his shoulder, unable to let go. It was like your hand was suddenly glued on his skin.

Dae-ho eventually turned around to face you again, but you still kept your hand on his shoulder.

Eventually you managed to get out of your trance and turned the water back on, letting it pour on your body.

"Come on," you said and motioned him to come closer. "Hop in."

He hesitated for a moment until came to stand under the water, having barely an inch between your chests again like in the beginning.  He was about to lift his hands to wash his hair, but you stopped him mid-way, putting your hand on his.

"May i?" you asked, lifting your hands to hover over both of his ears, trapping his head between your palms. He only gave you a small nod, giving you the permission to start brushing your fingers through his short hair, massaging his scalp as the water poured against his head.

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. You weren't sure if you had ever examined his face this closely, seeing all the smallest details clearly. You had always thought he was handsome, one of the most good-looking men you knew.

When you were finished, Dae-ho opened his eyes and looked into your eyes. Your hands had slowly fallen on his cheeks.

"Is it too weird to kiss you right now?" he asked softly, for a moment not realising he had actually said those words outloud.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and took a shaky breath in, until you gathered all your courage and pulled his face closer. You pressed your lips softly on his, the water still hitting your heads.

He kissed you back immediately, resting his hands on your lower back. As your kiss deepened, and his tongue found its way inside your mouth, you wrapped your arms around his neck.

"Oh, wow," you breathed out when the kiss ended and bit your lip.

"Yeah," was the only thing he managed to mumble.

"Why do i think we should have done that sooner?"

"Because we should have," Dae-ho chuckled. "Why don't we get your hair washed and we can continue that somewhere... dryer?"

You chuckled and nodded. "Good idea."

He started brushing his fingers through your hair, rubbing your scalp which made you feel so good. You looked into his eyes the entire time, loving to see him look so concentrated.

Dae-ho turned off the water, and both of you stepped out of the shower.

Eventually, you had to pull away to breathe.

When you had dryed yourselves and dressed up, before Dae-ho was able to say anything, you crashed your lips on his again. Your hair was dripping water on the floor, creating a small puddle by your feet, but at the moment you didn't care. Your hands explored each other's bodies, not able to get enough of the other.

"Could i, maybe, i don't know - take you on a date this weekend?" Dae-ho asked, still nervous even though you had kissed him twice already. "A real date. Not a platonic one, you know. More than just as friends."

A smile spread on your face. "I'd like that."

He smiled widely as well.

"I hope it's somewhere dry though this time," you suggested.

"So, you're not up to go swimming?" he asked jokingly, raising his eyebrows.

"Well, i'd go anywhere with you, but for our first date i'd like to dress up a little," you said. "You know, atleast put a shirt on."

"I'll plan something," he smiled.

☆☆☆

[sunnysmiles2]

Shinjiro looked on, still worried. Canceling things out made no sense. He'd never heard of that before. It was possible with some quirks. Just never heard of it with a quirk similar to his. He did notice his friend was in a much better mood. The smile on Fei's face almost seemed foreign. "Yes, passing out would be a big problem." He thought about teasing Fei for smiling, but didn't want to make him self-conscious. "I'm glad you're alright." Shinjiro said, relieved, but frowned at Fei's suggestion. "I'm not sure..." He said, nervous. Honestly, he hated his quirk. Everyone made fun of it. And it worked out okay this time but using it too much could cause people's muscles to cramp from laughing too hard too often. He learned that when he was younger. Shinjiro was about to continue answering, but Fei's sudden reprimand against him not smiling was a bit scary. "A crime?! I don't want to go to jail." He looked horrified. @toranoya

Fei blinked, momentarily caught off guard by Shinjiro’s sudden panic. Then, he let out a small chuckle, shaking his head as he waved a hand dismissively. “Shin, I’m fine,” he assured, standing up easily to prove his point. “Seriously, I just… I don’t know. I think I canceled it out somehow?” He glanced down at his hands, flexing them as if expecting to feel some kind of strain—but there was nothing.

He looked back at Shinjiro, his expression softening at the obvious concern in his friend’s eyes. “I promise, nothing’s hurting. No dizziness, no weird side effects… Just a little surprised, that’s all.” He tilted his head, thinking for a moment before flashing Shin a small, teasing smirk. “Besides, if I passed out every time you made me laugh, we’d have a much bigger problem.”

Fei grabbed his own bag before Shinjiro could rush to carry it for him, nudging his friend lightly with his elbow. “You really don’t have to worry so much,” he said, though there was gratitude in his voice. “But… maybe we should test this later. If I can really control my quirk that way, that’s huge, right?” His eyes sparkled with a mix of excitement and curiosity. “You’re kind of the perfect training partner for this.”

Then, after a brief pause, he grinned. “And don’t even think about trying to stop smiling forever. That’d be a crime.”

[bun-bun07]

thinking about Neils/Andrews reactions.

Neil's / Andrews sleeping problem compare-

I can't go a day without overthinking things in the all for the game series so here's another thing that I think about on a daily basis, within the extra content that Noah put out she states that neil wakes up a lot more violently than Andrew, which is highly interesting to me because maybe it's within intentions when they wake up.

——————————————————————————

Andrew-

Andrew's intentions are based on instinct, we all know Andrew doesn't care about what actually happens to him but he still goes back to instinct due to trauma when he was asleep due to his time with the Spears and unwanted intrusion in his bed in the middle of the night Andrew's instinct when he wakes up is to get the offending person away from him or to cause as much damage so that he would have time to get away.

Since it is said that he does this unconsciously and is it usually on accident when he hits. In his barely conscious state it is stated that he feels empathetic when he realizes that he accidentally hurts someone/his teammates.

[PTSD and unconscious survival instinct][intention to cause distance to stun to cause damage to give him enough time to react]

[unconscious fear driven?]]

——————————————————————————

Neil-

With his sleeping difficulty it isn't talked about enough and it is grazed over lightly by the audience most of the time, Neils reaction is based off of the time he spent on the run/his father and the PTSD he gained from it interstate is probably significantly worse after the time he's been at evermore.

Neil's first instinct when he wakes up is a bit more different than Andrews I think, Neil unconsciously reaches for a weapon to defend himself, Neil is unconsciously trying to kill you or cause lethal injury before you can hurt him so it's a good thing that he drop the gun and knife before he could actually cause damage to his teammates cuz I'm pretty sure Andrew/Renee/matt or even Nicky would have gotten shot or stabbed if Nail had had a weapon on him during that time.

[unconscious/conscious survival instinct and PTSD| intention to slow you down/case significant damage or kill you to get away/gane distance]

[Fear driven✓]

[backpackingspace]

Love that it's Canon that odysseus built secret passage ways into his house and then never fucking told anybody about them (except penelope of course)

[cerealbishh]

"You're pretty new at this whole relationship thing, huh?"

"... Yeah."

[saiyanmazen]

Considering that Vegeta is five years older than Goku, it stands to reason that there was, for a couple of years, a time where the Prince was taller than the low class clown.

It's too bad that they didn't meet during that time.

[ettawritesnstudies]

.

[bravevolunteer]

what if we kissed on the wiki page for disembowelment

[normalbrothers]

tommy's faith and trust in arthur's ability to take charge/take responsibility/be The Man is so astounding and bitter sweet, both in terms of how much the war broke arthur but also tommy's own sentimentality when it comes to him. and it's not a belief based on nothing at all either! it's knowledge and experience, and it's sort of the core problem when it comes to the frustration and resentment they feel towards each other; the constant back and forth and never seeing eye-to-eye despite craving that very thing and wanting something from the other that is impossible to give, because they are both so damaged in such irreparable ways

[mrdrhenwardhykle]

Unused concept sketch

*Insert 25 cents to continue spoilers*

Text: I'm so sorry, Cliff! I wish we knew earlier. It's no fun losing everything, but nobody should feel alone when that happens.

[duncanor]

Yeah, I think people sometimes misunderstand because Vash calls himself a pacifist but he's not an "anti-violence" kinda guy. He's anti-murder.

Violence is definitely on the table for him. That's why he's a gunman. He knows he needs to fight if he wants to survive as well as to protect people.

If he can avoid it, he will of course. But that choice isn't often his to make, is it.

daily reminder that, while trimax vash doesn't kill, he shoots and injures his enemies in places that hurt!! he shoots their knees. their wrists. he gouges monev's eye out. he is full of rage.

[pseudowho]

"Oh! Kento-- wait-- please please please--"

Kento turned back on the bustling Tokyo street, the night bullied away by neon signs, light pollution, and the pollution of the wayward drunken laughers. He only came on staff nights out, now, because you'd be there. He peered at you, tie-loose, hair-mussed and bleary, as you knelt in front of a Gacha machine. You rummaged in your purse for a coin.

Kento grunted, smirking, and reached into his clinking pocket, swaying back to you with liquor-rusted words.

"You're drunk. Here--"

"A-ha!" You birthed a 500 yen coin from your purse, triumphant, and Kento felt childishly disappointed that he couldn't pay for your inebriation treat for you. He watched you fumble the coin into the Gacha machine, and turn the wheel, crank, crank, cranking until there sounded a hollow tok, and a skrrr-skrrr-skrrr, tok.

The Gacha pod landed in the dispenser. You gasped, biting your lip in sweet anticipation, and looking up at Kento. He could barely contain himself from his own adoration, wanting nothing more than to reach down and grasp your plush cheeks and press his lips to yours and taste the drink off your tongue and--

"Kiss, Kento."

Kento frog-blinked, wondering if he'd spoken such impurities aloud, and opened his mouth to apologise. But he paused again, leaning down over you, knelt on the pavement, where you held the Gacha pod up to him, and repeated yourself, ditzy-drunk.

"Kiss it, Kento. For luck. For me."

Self-conscious, and grumbling in a way that only deepened your grin, Kento leaned down, pressing a chaste kiss to the Gacha pod as you laughed. He straightened up, looking up and down the street to see if anyone saw, his vision a few seconds slower than his mind, wading through whiskey.

Heat rose up Kento's neck, and he opened his mouth again to suggest something stupid like why don't you come back to mine for another drink and--

"Awww, damn! This one again!" Kento looked down at you, owlish and inquisitive. You held up a little keychain, with a disappointed half-smile on your lips. You grimaced up at him, shrugging.

"That was my last shot I think. This line discontinues next week. Never mind." You tapped the front of the Gacha machine, stroking the green image of the one you were after, wistful.

Kento pulled you to your feet, and you linked your arm through his, swaying down the street together. Kento swallowed hard, wishing you were on his back, but instead blurted out;

"I'm sorry my kiss wasn't lucky enough."

You sighed, pensive, swinging your keychain on one finger.

"I'm sure they're plenty lucky. Just, maybe not for me."

Kento barely registered your words, distracted and glancing back down the street at the flashing Gacha machine, growing ever more distant.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Between lessons a few days later, you crept into your office to dump essays on your desk, and snatch five minutes of peace. Settling your mug down, you saw the glimmer of brightly coloured plastic on the centre of your keyboard.

You blinked, curious, before a smile of realisation broke out across your face. A Gacha pod. You recalled, with your cheeks growing hot, how you had begged Kento for his lucky kiss, and how he hadn't corrected you when you told him that his lucky kisses would only be lucky for another girl. You felt a sting of humiliation...

...but, nobody else could have left this gift. Taking a deep breath, and pressing your lips to the pod (unknowingly stealing a kiss that had already been left there for you), you cracked it open-- and squealed with delight, ecstatic and fizzing with joy, to find your collection completed in the eleventh hour.

Later, at the first ring of the lunchtime bell, you knocked on the door to Kento's office. No answer. You knocked again, and gently opened the door, peering round and calling out.

"Kento...?"

Still, no answer. You crept in, closing the door behind you. His office was empty, his desk sparse and functional as always, not wanting to turn his desk into anything that would suggest he thought of work as home. The cupboard on his desk, was, however, straining at its latch, wonky at the closing seam from something stuffed inside.

Curious once more, you stroked the bursting seam of the cupboard, and undid the latch.

A veritable ball-pit burst forth over the office, with Gacha pods of yellow and red and orange and pink and blue and purple and black and white and--

--and every colour, except for green. Dozens and dozens of Gacha pods...except, for green. That one, you held in your purse. You swallowed hard, blinking back tears, and collected Gacha after Gacha, from beneath cupboards and radiators, rolled to all four corners of Kento's office.

Setting to work, you sat cross-legged on the floor, emptying the pods of their keychains one by one. Thousands and thousands of yen tallied before your eyes, and the plain, unassuming desk behind you said nothing of your coworker's secret obsession. And how he couldn't face you. And how you would never have known.

You sat in silence, with a lap full of empty Gacha pods, and listening to the birds singing songs of summer outside the window. You thought, and thought, and thought. You ripped pages from your notebook, tearing them to shreds, and set to work once more. By the time you were finished, the lunch bell rang again. You crammed the final Gacha back into the cupboard.

You could only wait, and hope.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

The warm summer rain started as evening began to roll in. You looked out of the Bistro window from your table for two, your belly twisted with nerves. Your green prize was clasped in your hand, a lucky charm; one earned with far more luck than a simple kiss could give.

You heard the jangling of a bell behind you. You dared not look up, instead just listening-- slow, familiar footsteps. The rattling clunk of a tote bag being placed before you, filled with Gacha pods. The rustle of a stack of carefully unfolded little notes, all with one word on; 'tomorrow'. 'Café'. 'You'. 'Me'. '8pm.'

"You broke into my cupboard."

You pursed the smile between your lips, your eyes closing with the silken chastisement, made without venom. Kento's cologne washed over you as he sat on the chair opposite, removing his glasses in a way that softened his face completely, looking at his lap with a smile. When he looked up at you, it was with a love so unapologetic that you could have cried.

You felt your nose stinging again, and set your green Gacha prize on the table between the two of you. Sheets of rain washed down the Bistro windows, and you cleared your throat, your voice cracking.

"This is quite the prize."

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

"Kento! I'm home!"

You dumped your shoes and bag at the door, padding into the living room on bare feet. Kento leaned away from the stove, twirling spaghetti, and offering you the smiles he offered nobody else. He anticipated you, as your mouth opened.

"--yes, I went to the Gachapon. They're on the sofa. Pre-kissed."

You gasped in delight, in the same way you had that night, and bounced onto the sofa, two Gacha leaping with you.

"Two?" You cried, to his shrug, "I only said one-- you can't keep funding my habit, Kento--"

"I'm sure one would have been fine. But, just in case."

You barely registered Kento stepping over to you in his apron, with two steaming bowls, so focused were you on cracking open your Gacha pods. Taking a deep breath, you undid the wrapper...and cheered, your arms flinging into the air.

"Your kisses really are lucky, Kento, gosh...well, one more, then, I--"

You had cracked open the final Gacha. A ring tumbled into your hand, and your brain short-circuited. You trembled, rolling it around in your palm. The two halves of the pod clattered to the floor, forgotten. Your vision swam, and you sniffled, and looked up.

Kento had dipped onto one knee before you, aproned and still, with two bowls of pasta In his hands. In the crucial moment, he seemed anxious. He cleared his throat, his voice thickening.

"I would...like to fund your habit for the rest of our lives. If you'll have me."

A laugh bubbled through your tears, and you wiped your cheeks, allowing Kento to slide the ring into place on your finger. You held his broad hand in serene silence, time standing still, before you spoke.

"...so this ring is just...just one in the collection, right? Wait-- no, Kento, COME BACK, PLEASE-- I'M JUST FUCKING WITH YOU--"

[bi-writes]

Could you do one of Simon forgetting to bring his lunch and so his wife brings it except she turns up in a cute sundress??

mail-order bride (18+)

"simon...simon riley?" you ask.

the officer raises a brow, looking down at your ID and then back at your face. he frowns a little, scratching the back of his neck.

"he's a lieutenant," you add, biting your lip. "uhm...and he works with...with john."

"john?"

you suck in a shaky breath, biting your lip nervously.

"captain john price?"

the officer just glares at you a little before picking up his radio.

"yes, ma'am. wait here."

he turns his back to you, walking a little ways away, and you hear him speak into the radio lowly.

"...got a civilian here asking for lieutenant riley..."

"...negative, sir..."

"...oh. affirmative, sir. right away."

the officer comes back, giving you your ID back. he looks sheepish now all of the sudden, and he smiles at you, which unnerves you almost.

"u-uh, so sorry ma'am. you can park near the main office, right that way," he points to a building far to the left, "i'll have someone come meet you there to take you inside. again, apologies...we're going to put you on a list, mrs. riley."

you frown a little, shrugging. you're not upset. it's a miltiary base, for christ's sake, and you've never been here; of course they would be apprehensive about letting you in. but the private looks terrified out of his mind, so you just smile a little and make your way towards the parking spot he pointed out.

when you get out of the car, you push the door closed with your hip, picking up the bag in the passenger seat. there's a woman standing by the door, smiling and waving at you. she looks very smart, in a nice pantsuit. you smooth your dress down, smiling back at her, and you swing your purse over your shoulder before making your way to her.

"hello, mrs. riley. the lieutenant's wife, i hear?" she asks. you nod and shake her hand.

"y-yes...he...he said he was just doing administrative stuff today, but he forgot some things so...i just wanted to do something nice--"

"right!" she nods her head towards the door. "i can escort you to his office. uhm...i believe he's debriefing with captain price this afternoon, but i'm sure he can make some time." she winks at you when she says that, and you bite back a shy smile.

she takes a seat at her desk, picking up the phone. she yaps for a few minutes, and you take a seat in an empty chair, smoothing your skirt out. your wearing one of simon's favorites, the cherry-printed mini dress he loves so much, but you realize maybe he might not be the only one. there's a myriad of privates and soldiers that walk past you, and you hear some whistles by some of the bolder ones. you suddenly feel very self conscious, tucking your legs underneath yourself. you're wearing white strapped wedges, your hair styled nicely with a bow to match the dress, but now you feel silly, stupid.

why would you go to a military base dressed like a fucking pin-up girl?

"wot are you doin' 'ere?" a rough voice demands.

mmm. that's why.

you look up from your chair, smiling wide when you see him. simon stands with his arms crossed over his tact vest, tilting his head to the side as he glares at you from under his skull mask. you've never seen him strapped before, though. he's got a gun tucked into his thigh holster.

"h-hi," you pick up the basket next to you, standing up, and when you come close, simon is rough, wrapping an arm around your waist and tugging you near him with a short growl.

"oi," he snaps, but you just flutter your lashes at his harsh voice, smiling bigger. "can't fuckin' come 'ere lookin' so pretty."

you giggle, and even though you're wearing heels, you still find yourself standing on your toes as you try to get close to him.

"you forgot what i packed for you, simon. how could you forget?" you pout a little. he sighs deeply, smoothing his gloved hand down your back before nodding his head.

"c'mon. can't 'ave ya out here. fuckin' muppets starin' at my wife."

he turns and immediately starts walking. he's entirely too fast, and you skip in your wedges practically to try and keep up with him. when he notices, he slows his pace, and you grip the basket better in your hand before reaching for his with the other.

your hands intertwine, and you look around as you walk, reading the plaques on the wall, the shiny medals, waving at johnny when you see him holding a bag of crisps upside over his open mouth.

when simon shuts the door behind you in a dark office, you set the basket down on the desk, pushing back the kitchen towel fabric.

"okay, so i brought those muffins you like from that little shop. they had blueberry this morning, oh my gosh, simon, they also started putting out these little scones that--oh!" you gasp as he grabs you from the fat of your hips, a big flat palm over the base of your spine as he pushes you flat onto your stomach onto the desk. "simon!"

simon sucks on his teeth as he flips up your skirt, letting out a low whistle as he palms your ass, spreading the fat of it so he peek at the seam of the white lace you're wearing. you lay your palms against the desk and whimper, not used to simon being so rough, so upfront, so bold.

"can't just come here all dressed up, baby," simon grunts, shaking his head. "and not expect me to take wot i need...been surrounded by nothing but wankers all fuckin' day..."

you relax a little, giggling.

"simon," you sigh, your eyes closing as you push your hips back into his hands. "i missed you so much..."

"tha' why y'came down 'ere, luvvie?" he asks, smirking under the mask. "ya missed me? missed y'r husband? what'd ya miss, baby? tell me."

you arch your back a little, bowing it, and you laugh when he gives your ass a firm grab before picking you up and spinning you around, caging you against the desk. you smile up at him, dazed, a little dizzy, and he winks at you, eye-black dark and deadly around those killer brown eyes. he's so big, so hot, and you're suddenly very aware of how big simon looks in all his gear.

"i don't know," you say softly. "it's so cold in bed at night..."

simon snorts, "tha' right? 's cold? the lil' shits don't keep ya warm?"

"our girls like to sleep on your pillow, i think they miss you, too."

"fuckin' lil' bastards," simon chuckles, and you sigh, sliding your hands up his vest and tugging him just a little closer. your spread your knees to let him between them, and he reaches down and grips your thighs, hiking them up around his hips as he sits you onto the edge of the desk. "fuck, you're so fucking pretty..."

you tilt your head back for him.

"i miss eating with you. it's so quiet when you're not around."

"mmm. i bet, luv."

"and i miss you when i'm alone," you whisper. "i miss you when it's just me..."

simon narrow his eyes, "tell me, swee'eart."

you reach up and wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him down towards you. you kiss him over the mask, tasting sand and ash, licking over his lips through the cotton. it's lewd, disgusting, but he groans under the fabric.

"when, simon? when?" you ask, and he hums lowly.

"when? 'ow about right now?"

"no way, you're so gross, simon," you giggle. "our first time is not going to be on a desk in some dingy office where you work--"

you seize when he cups you between the thighs, big gloved hand palming your cunt through your lace panties. you arch your back and gasp, gripping his biceps tight as you lean into his touch.

"don't need t'make it our first time," simon tilts his head to the side. "can still make it real fuckin' nice, baby."

"oh, now you wanna touch me?" you suck in a shaky breath. "just because some of your men wanna look up my skirt?"

"oh, for tha', i'll make ya scream my bloody name, for oll of them ta hear," he growls, and you smile wide up at him.

"guess they need to learn i'm a lieutenant's wife," you giggle, and simon whistles low, tugging your panties to the side, and you whimper when you he prods at your entrance with two big gloved fingers.

"ahhhh..." simon hisses. "ya like tha' title, tha' it, baby? yeah...yeah you like tha'..."

"i like it," you whine, and when he meets your watery eyes, he plunges those big fingers deep, thumbing at your clit. your mouth falls open, your nails digging into his sleeves, and you suddenly wish you had asked him to take you to get your nails done so you could really claw it. "i like it..."

"could make these boys lick the fuckin' ground ya walk on," he mutters, and you whine when a particular rough thrust of his hand squelches between your thighs. "they'd do anythin' to please me, baby...even johnny would chew your bloody food for ya if i asked him to--"

you reach down and grip his wrist, your thighs shaking as you jolt. it feels so good, your entire body is on fire. his fingers are petting a nice little spot inside of you, stroking it as he pumps his hand nice and steady inside of you. his thumb is working you in gooey circles, flicking at your clit and putting taut the little string in your lower belly. your whole brain feels like it's fizzling, your blood rushing, and you stick out your tongue, licking over his masked jaw as you start to feel like you're gonna pass out from the wet slick, slick, slick sounding from your wet cunt.

"simon--simon--" you pant, and he groans, nodding his head.

"so pretty, baby," simon breathes. "so fuckin' tight, gonna 'ave to work ya open before i give ya my cock, lovey..."

"it's so big," you mumble, and simon coos, nodding his head.

"i know, baby, i know, 's big, real big...but you can take it, remember?" he laughs. "you can take it woteva i give you..."

you nod.

"i can take it--i can take it--!"

your vision blurs. there's tears coming down your face, sweat lining your forehead, your back, but you can't wipe the giggly, lazy smile off your face. simon cups the back of your head with his free hand, sitting you up, and when he pulls his fingers out from between your legs, his gloves are stuck to his hand practically, completely soaked through.

"y'r so pretty when y'cum," he murmurs, and you stick out your tongue for him. he gets the message, shoving his mask up just enough, and he bends to kiss you warm and wet.

"well then," you meet his eyes, all languid, all relaxed, a devious little grin on your sweet face. "why don't you give me another then?"

simon grins, all teeth.

"woteva ya want."

[dreamstar-moonlight]

👆👆👆

The himbo, malewife, goofball -fication of percy jackson is such a crime by both the fans and riordan. It has made Mr not like percabeth as a couple because in all posts and in later books annabeth is such a girlboss, while Percy's dumb and can't fight his way out of a paperbag without her. All the posts are about how annabeth will be an architect and percy would love to be a trophy husband.

Even the humor in the books went from Percy's sharp wit and snark to 'my pancakes can't drown because I'm a son of poseidon.'

And now this recommendation letter bullshit.

Honestly now I'd wish percy just separated from annabeth (but they remain best friends.) He stays home with his family, becomes a camp counselor, helps young demigods, holds God's accountable and eventually becomes a social activist. (I also dislike him doing something marine biology related. It's clear he hates academics but he always wants to help people. Him helping demigods and mortals is such a wholesome profession for him.)

I fully agree with the first half of this, though I slightly disagree with part of the latter.

The later-series and fanon mischaracterization of Percy is at least a solid 50% ableism minimum, full stop. He's being warped into a very stereotyped ADHD character and the exact reason why he's being characterized as "dumb" is because of ableism. Percy is a very intelligent character! That's exactly why he's so in sync with Annabeth and they're such a strong duo! It's just generally Annabeth is more book/academically smart.

I disagree with where you say he hates academics - because that's one of the common misconceptions about his character. Percy doesn't hate learning or academic subjects! He's not even bad at them! We know explicitly that when he is in an accommodating environment he is interested in learning and gets significantly better grades! Percy only dislikes school because it is generally an environment that systematically he struggles with. It's literally just he has a learning disability (two, actually)! That's it! When his learning disability is accommodated for he does well! It's almost like that's what accommodations are all about! We know this from the first series! It's discussed pretty in-depth! Percy isn't a dumb character and he doesn't hate learning, he's just been let down by school systems so much that he's inherently distrustful of them. If they actually accommodate him though then he does just fine!

And that's exactly what CHB was all about and why New Rome University was supposed to be such a big thing for him! CHB is a learning environment geared for demigods. NRU is a demigod college. Both inherently imply an environment meant to cater to and accommodate students with ADHD and dyslexia! They are both systematically structured to be able to accommodate him! Heck, CHB and CJ even both address in the wider themes of the series a metaphor about how ADHD and dyslexia are commonly seen as childhood disabilities, and how it can be more difficult to find accommodations into adulthood because of that attitude but those disabilities don't just go away - that's why CHB is a summer camp but they talk about how demigods outside of CHB don't often fare well. The metaphor there is those who are not getting help or accommodations are struggling. Because that's how that works! This is a fully intentional metaphor from the first series! CHB is never framed as being perfect for demigods, because one of the entire central conflicts of the series is Percy and Luke going back and forth about this flawed system meant to help and support them but still letting people fall through the cracks. The "claim your kids by 13" thing is a metaphor about how acknowledging a child's disabilities (and possibly getting a diagnosis) earlier/as early as possible means they will have more time to learn and build up resources and support for themselves to be able to use later in life. One of CHB's major flaws is that it can accommodate demigods to a certain point, but it can only do so much before those demigods have to leave (the metaphor being accommodating school systems when those disabled students do not have any other forms of accommodations in their lives.)

And that's why Camp Jupiter was framed as being so revolutionary for Percy because it had an environment acknowledging that this is not just a childhood disability, adults with ADHD/dyslexia exist too and still need and deserve accommodations, AND is a place where those accommodations are available. That's why Camp Jupiter and NRU are treated as such special and important things to Percy, because it's essentially Percy being shown this type of thing can and does exist and it is available to him. It is an option he never thought was possible. Percy never thought he'd be able to go to college because he would not be able to go through school without accommodations, but NRU proves otherwise.

The part that's absolutely stupid is Rick then proceeded to retcon NRU so that apparently it's not a full college and Percy still has to take classes at normal mortal college which DEFEATS THE ENTIRE PURPOSE OF NRU EXISTING. Rick has fully retconned that demigods struggle past the ages of 16-18 when they're on their own (see above elaborated metaphors) and in doing so we have fully killed all symbolism in literally all of that. It's so stupid. And by having the plot of the CoTG trilogy entirely be that Percy is not actually allowed access to NRU in the first place because he is a son of Poseidon and has to do extra to even be accepted is stupid!

All that to say, I agree the marine biology feels like a huge cop-out and a disservice to his character by reducing him to just a son of Poseidon. The literal only reason why it's the default option people take for him is because oh, fish thing, fish guy. But I feel like everyone ignores the really obvious answer for what Percy would want to do which is - writing. Both his parents are writers/authors and he clearly admires that about them. Percy likes telling stories! He canonically is already a published author in-universe! That's what the books ARE in-universe! The first series fully exists in their universe and Percy is the author! This is explicit canonical information! Percy canonically has help physically writing it down (accommodations) but he is still the credited author! Percy is a writer! Already! Canonically! Why are we making him a marine biologist he already has a profession that ties into his character significantly more. Like you said, Percy likes helping people. That's what the books in-universe are supposed to be for! It's point blank at the beginning of the series! Book one! The thing everybody quotes all the time! The books exist because it is Percy trying to give advice to other demigods who don't know what's going on yet! It's Percy's writing down his experiences to help new demigods understand and contextualize their experiences so they can understand themselves better and figure out what's going on - WHICH IN ITSELF IS ALSO A METAPHOR ABOUT ADHD/DYSLEXIA! Because the core of the series has and always will be built around ADHD/dyslexia! Percy as a protagonist EXPLICITLY was created so that ADHD/dyslexic kids could see themselves as a hero!

Sorry that all was a very tangential rant but my point being: Absolutely. Percy in newer stuff in the franchise and in fanon is horrifically mischaracterized in ways that are functionally either fully ableist (shoutout TSATS for just outright claiming Percy is intentionally lazy and skips school out of disinterest, which is like the number one ableist attitude towards kids with learning disabilities) or a complete erasure of Percy's disabilities. Also I think he should be a writing major not a marine biologist.