#and all of them are old irrelevant fucks

[sirenium]

I try my damn near hardest to avoid shipcourse on this blog. However, I have so many qualms with the anti side of things that I need to say something.

If your first inclination after seeing someone explore fiction is to call them a pedophile (as an insult, no less!), abuse enabler, and/or urge your followers to mass report them, you are a problem. Maybe it's because I grew up during the golden days of fandoms, where ship and let ship was the norm and not whatever this shit is, but it's bizarre to see people get cancelled for being a proshipper. I just don't have it in me to care about what people do to that fictional child. It's none of my business.

I've noticed a trend from antis of anything: anti radqueers, antishippers, anti hazbin/helluva etc, and it is that their arguments are extremely self centered. 'It's romanticizing MY abuse/trauma/condition!' as if that stranger on the other side of the screen couldn't possibly have similar trauma etc and copes with it differently. "It triggers ME!" then don't actively seek out that material and get mad at the creator. It's a 'me! me! me!' mindset.

See, me personally? I don't care if someone makes and romanticizes a fic that capitalizes on my trauma. I don't care what reason they have, either; whether it's to cope with their own trauma or to simply have fun, I do not care. No amount of harassment from a bunch of teenagers can change the fact that I don't care, and the fact that there are others OLDER THAN ME, someone who will be 19 in July, who condone and enforce anti views is terrible.

Creative freedom shouldn't even be a debate or discourse situation. People need to grow the hell up and get over themselves.

[blitz0hno]

Me pondering: kids are capable of going through and understanding complex problems and their feelings should be taken seriously when it counts.

Me practically: who are all these annoying fucking kids in the milgram fandom and why are they posting the worst takes and most irrelevant bullshit I've ever seen ever???

I think these are valid to coexist.

[toytulini]

I think making sweeping generalizations of specific traits being considered "ugly" is not great the same way i think its rude and unnecessary to call others ugly, i also think its worthwhile to acknowledge that certain traits ARE considered "Ugly" due to societal beauty standards, that doesn't make them ACTUALLY ugly, bc beauty is subjective anyway, and can be found Anywhere, and even someone who seems to tick every single box of societal beauty Ideals will almost certainly have at least one trait or feature about their appearance that they are insecure about or feel is "ugly", bc even within the constraints of conventional attractiveness theres subjectivity

also this fish was so fucking Ugly and i adored it so much. i miss him.

he was also gorgeous.

[mercurialmalcontent]

Take this article with a whole shaker of salt, because one of the teachers Rose Horowitch interviewed says that this article very much misrepresents the things she told her: The Atlantic Did Me Dirty

Ppl on the other hellsite losing their minds over this in every imaginable direction lmao

[softwaluigi]

oh my fucking god I need squeaky cheese Right Now

[strangersteddierthings]

Good People

Part One🦇Part Two🦇Final Part

Wayne knows eavesdropping isn't the done thing. He's definitely old enough to know better, and he wasn't going to. He had a plan. He was going to walk directly into the living room, so they'd know he was awake, and after he'd fixed his cup of coffee, he'd plopped into his perfectly worn in recliner and subtly glare at the Harrington boy until he squirmed.

Mostly because it amused Wayne, but also just a little sliver of it was because he wanted the Harrington boy to know Wayne didn't think he was good enough for his boy. But only a little! Lord knows that Wayne couldn't do anything to make Eddie change his mind about Steve Harrington, short of Harrington proving Wayne right. Which he doesn't actually want because he doesn't want Eddie hurt.

He's just... He expects it to happen. That's what boys like Harrington do to boys like Eddie. He's seen it enough times to know that this song and dance leave no room for improvisation. Boys like Harrington play around, get their kicks with the devotion Eddie shows them, and then when they've had their fill, they leave.

Boys like Harrington will never be good enough for Eddie, but they always leave with Eddie feeling like he's not enough. Wayne hates it.

Anyway, his plan wasn't to eavesdrop. It's just that Harrington said his name and Wayne found himself standing still instead of continuing.

"Why doesn't Wayne like me?" Harrington asks.

"This again?" Eddie says dismissively, which has Wayne agreeing. His opinion shouldn't have bearing on their friendship.

A deep sigh from Harrington before, "I just. It's- he means so much to you. And, like, I- nevermind. It's stupid. I'm stupid."

"Hey," Eddie sounds a type of serious that Wayne rarely hears from him, "you're not stupid. And you gotta quit fucking saying that. You say it enough and you'll start to believe it and it's not true."

"Hard to quit feeling stupid when people dismiss my concerns like they are stupid," Harrington snaps back, bitchy as can be. The tone makes Wayne bristle on behalf of Eddie. His boy doesn't reply immediately, though. Doesn't bite back like Wayne's used to hearing. Huh. Maybe he's growing up, just a little.

"You're right, Steve," Eddie says when he finally speaks. "That was dismissive. I'm sorry. Explain it to me. Why does it matter to you whether Wayne likes you or not?"

"Well, because he's your family."

"Yeah," Eddie agrees, "he is. But that doesn't explain why it matters. I don't care if your parents like me or not."

"That's different!"

"How?" Eddie asks, soft but firm.

"Because their opinion doesn't matter. It's not- It's irrelevant. What they think."

"That makes no sense. Wayne's opinion matters because he's my family, but your parents' opinion doesn't even though they're your family?"

"Yes!"

"But why?" Eddie presses.

"Because they're bad people!" Steve bursts, not quite shouting but close. "Because when bad people don't think highly of you, it's not a fault in you. Their disproval is, like, a compliment. They don't like you because you're too different from them. And that's great! You shouldn't want their approval. It's different, because your uncle is a good person. And when a good person doesn't like you, it is your fault. It's something- it's..." Harrington loses steam here, voice dropping low and defeated, "there's something wrong with me. Something in me that- that he just knows. Senses about me or whatever. Something wrong or rotten or-"

"Steve! That's bullshit. Sure, Wayne's been standoffish, but he'll come around. You're not wrong, or rotten, or whatever else you think you are."

"How do you know that? I was an asshole most of life and what if that's just the real me? What if that's who I'll always be deep down. 'Cause I'm trying so damn hard, man. I'm giving it my all trying to be a better person and it's not enough! Everyone still talks about who I was in high school and even you-" Harrington snaps his mouth closed so hard that Wayne hears the clack of his teeth from his position in the hallway. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to- I'm sorry."

"Steve. This is about more than just my uncle's opinion of you, isn't it?"

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything."

"I want you, too. I want to know if I've ever done anything to make you feel like you aren't enough."

Wayne really shouldn't be listening. He should back down the hall and into his room. Give them time to talk.

"No, Eddie, you don't make me feel like- that's not what I meant. I just. I'm...."

"Hey, Stevie, you can tell me."

"I'm just so afraid that... That one day everyone will wake up and realize what Wayne already knows. That I'm not good enough for them. For you."

Oh. Wayne really shouldn't be listening.

"I'll admit that Wayne's opinion is important to me, for a lot of things. But not about you. What I feel about you, how I feel about you, isn't dictated by Wayne."

"Sure. I mean, I know that, like, logically or whatever. But it's. I can't convince my brain that you won't just. Hate me one day. And I- fuck, Eddie, I'm already halfway in love with you and-"

"You're in love with me?" Eddie interrupts, sounding awed, starstruck, and Wayne cannot be listening anymore. He backs down the hall silently and back into his room.

Steve Harrington seems to think that he's a good person, but he's not feeling like a good person at the moment.

He's got some thinking to do.

[starboundsingularities]

the jurist system seems really cool i hope they keep using it :-)

27 notes

🌈 lawsbian Follow

hey girl. am i a suspect. because you can "court" me any time

🧊 just--ice Follow

try.

��� lawsbian Follow

hey girl. am i a suspect. because you can "try" me any time

🌈 lawsbian Follow

hey girl. are you a lawyer. because you can "try" to "court" me any time

🌈 lawsbian Follow

hey girl. am i on trial.

🌈 lawsbian Follow

i'm determined to make this work btw

🌈 lawsbian Follow

hey girl. law

🔪 violencekilling Follow

hey girl. are you a murderer. because ow ough ouch agh stop stabbing me

732,390 notes

🌟 rockliker270 Follow

guys watch out hes gonna shelly de kill you

293,485 notes

🎀 copiicat Follow

they called me to the witness stand and the defense attorney just shouted "BOOOOOO WE HATE YOUR PUSSY"

43,618 notes

🧇 edible-evidence Follow

look if i was on trial and the guy prosecuting me started advertising his music i'd just plead guilty. avoid the embarrassment of getting put in prison by a guy who basically used the trial to say "this blew up btw here's my soundcloud"

97,384 notes

⚖️ courtofpublicopinions Follow

💞 lawveyourself Follow

didnt miles edgeworth defend someone in a case once

⛲ fountainoftruth Follow

do you know the difference between a prosecutor and a defense attorney

270,934 notes

💟 longingforyou Follow

being rivals isn't enough i need to kiss you

💟 longingforyou Follow

who the fuck is evil magistrate

💟 longingforyou Follow

STOP TAGGING THIS WITH LAWYERS?????

584,769 notes

🐈 nyattorney Follow

they hired a guy to stand in court and shout "GET A ROOM YOU TWO" whenever the lawyers start getting a little too homoerotic

976 notes

💥 courtroomchaos Follow

your honor i know all the evidence points to my client being guilty. but come on you have to admit he kinda ate right

💼 courtofwaw Follow

mia fey when they had phoenix wright on trial

20,475 notes

🔍 thuthseeker Follow

ok hot take but i feel like these lawyers should maybe not be allowed to drag literal children to court with them?? how many people have gotten genuinely actually fucking SHOT in court and they're just ok bringing fucking 8 year olds in?

12,475 notes

💼 courtofwaw Follow

happy almost christmas to all who celebrate

💫 dizzydreamers124 Follow

it's march

🎄 holidazed Follow

happy almost christmas :)

😈 knownjaywalker Follow

WHO is putting this on my dash

👁️ cymorgue Follow

STOP POSTING THIS. IT IS JUNE.

🐼 pandastar91 Follow

ITS ALMOST CHRISTMAS!!!!!!!

1,589,589 notes

💽 platinumcourtrecord Follow

evil gavinners be like. innocent hate. this is a nothing post

19,384 notes

🥚 eggvidenced Follow

STOP asking me about the dl-6 post idc idc look even phoenix wright forged evidence once shut up

📕 lexculpatory Follow

he didn't forge the evidence, though. it was kristoph gavin who ordered the forgery. this was covered in the trial of vera misham. if you're going to try to compare yourself to well known figures, you could at least check the veracity of your claims.

🥚 eggvidenced Follow

yeah well. he might have. on a different case or something.

73 notes

🃏 thecourtjester Follow

i tried to take the bar exam but they didnt let me because i wasnt cunty and traumatized enough

57,384 notes

😇 innosense Follow

683,876 notes

🦀 mad_libz_87 Follow

when will global studios realize that i do not WANT another shitty steel samurai spinoff i just want the original show back

7,094 notes

⚖️ courtofpublicopinions Follow

she present on my evidence til i reach a verdict

⚖️ courtofpublicopinions Follow

WRONG BLOLG. DON'T REBLOG THIS. DELETE POST DELETE POST DELETE POST I SWEAR WE'RE PROFESSIONALS HERE

17,283 notes

👑 courtroyals Follow

"we need more great prosecutors" you guys couldn't even handle manfred von karma

🧊 just--ice Follow

didn't he kill someone?

👑 courtroyals Follow

irrelevant. you guys couldn't handle him.

587 notes

📋 lawandwhoreder Follow

law: i'm so law

lawyer, who needs to one up everyone no matter what: i'm more law than you

🏛️ lawyest Follow

hi

📋 lawandwhoreder Follow

you've got to be fucking kidding me

183,834 notes

🧊 just--ice Follow

why is it always murders with lawblr. why don't we ever talk about divorce or something

[joseline-woodhouse]

Talk about ianthe being a villain, talk about ianthe being a fashionista, talk about ianthe being a pervert, talk about ianthe being toxic...

Can we talk about Ianthe being a fucking nerd?

As pointed out in the unwanted guest, she didn't become a lyctor by hating books and enjoying parties, that's her facade.

That girl has spent more cannon time in the canaan library than Harrowhark and Palamedes TOGETHER.

Ianthe looked at the lyctoral challenges and thought to herself "I could solve some of them, oooor... I could view them as math problems! That should be faster!"

Ianthe reads romcom novels almost like Palamedes does.

Harrowhark Nonagesimus called Ianthe's special interest boring. Harrowhark "my favourite things are tab water, bones, prayer and research" Nonagesimus of all people, says Ianthe does passionate research on a subject, that is too boring/irrelevant for her to get deep into.

Ianthe unironically said "this is the best night of my life" while getting drunk with a bunch of really old people.

[redflagshipwriter]

Fast Car Four (of four)

masterpost

Jason swallowed down hysterical laughter. “No, I don't.” 

Major understatement. Jason did not want Danny to talk to Batman. There were a couple reasons! 

Most crucial to his mission was that he was pretty sure Danny would make him seem a lot less dangerous and intimidating. He needed Batman to think the Red Hood was a coldly calculating threat, not a nice guy who tipped well. Danny was weirdly blithe about hanging out with a man who was over the national news for mass murder and taking over a drug market. Now that he was mostly over the shock of Danny’s attempt to throttle him for endangering his academic ambitions, he kind of desperately wanted Danny to like him. But again, that was not conducive to the impression he needed to make on Gotham..

But also, Jason wasn't made of stone. Danny was wrong about being in danger from Batman. Whatever he was, he clearly wasn't a criminal. He was some kind of persecuted minority. The highest Batman-related-risk he had was adoption.

‘Pretty goddamn terrible risk,’ Jason thought, remembering Dickie's screaming fights with Bruce and his own catastrophic blowout. 

Alright. How to make this work in the context of his plan? 

“Lemme think for a bit,” Jason said aloud, just so that Danny would steam less. “Obviously, he isn't going to forget about you. He knows your name, where you live, alla that. The best way to get him off your ass is to make you irrelevant as a lead.” 

Emotionally compromising him really wouldn't hurt, either. It was really goddamn hard to make Batman sloppy. But Jason knew how to press his buttons. He thought it over and wordlessly led Danny into the safehouse to offer him bottled water from the fridge. 

“He's not going to find you here, by the way,” Jason absently reassured. “Do you have to go to class today?” 

Danny grimaced. “I can miss a day.” He cracked open the water bottle. “One day.” 

Jason suppressed a cackle. He had one day to do something that got Danny off of Batman's sonar. He loved a generous king. “Thanks, honey,” he said. And then he flatlined. 

They looked at each other. 

Neither one of them spoke. The air was very tense with… something.

Jason looked back at his phone and pretended to be very busy. 

‘I wish I wasn't a dumbass,’ he mourned. Jason took a moment to be wistful for a better world. ‘Fuck. I need to solve this. How do I- would dramatically escalating my timeline work? If I skip all the chess moves and just confront Bruce…’

He cleared his throat. “What are, uh, your thoughts on using your powers to commit a major crime for me just once, so that I can get the Batman off your case?” 

Danny's lips thinned. “I'll hear you out.” 

Jason's mind raced. “So, uh, you stay here today, where he definitely can't see you. I have to go out for an errand or two, but you can just camp out here.” He frowned. “Actually, Batman won't go out in the day.” Bruce had work. “You can go to your classes. You probably should. School is important.”

“And Batman isn't going to like, track my car by traffic cameras and see that I came from here?” Danny raised an eyebrow.

‘He is going to do exactly that to see that you came here, and it’ll take him all day.’

He felt a vindictive spark of joy over how Bruce’s old man neck was going to hurt after hours spent squinting at his monitors. He’d used to microwave rice packs and hand them over periodically so the big dope didn’t wind up laid up in bed the next day.

‘Wonder if the new kid does that.’

Jason snorted and hopped up on the kitchen counter. “No, he's definitely going to do that. But it'll take him a while and I'll burn this location anyway…” He trailed off as an idea hit. “D’you know anything about cars?” 

It turned out that Danny knew enough. 

So Jason made them breakfast, sent Danny off to school, and then went out to intimidate the minions he'd had for literally one friggin day.

That turned out to be completely unnecessary. Apparently the Joker got the news channel in Arkham and he was pissy about someone making a major news story under his old alias. 

In another world, Jason would have flipped off the TV and hunkered down, let this chance pass him by because the stars were not aligned. But right here and now, there was a hot boy depending on him. So Jason was just going to make it work. 

Danny came back to the safehouse after classes. “Are you sure Batman is gonna come here?” Jason watched with eagle eyes as Danny absently picked at the pot roast he'd had going all day. Danny liked potatoes. Noted. 

“Yeah, for sure.” He cleared his throat. “And he’ll follow me if he hears word I’m out.”

“Leaving me to actually do this.” Danny looked kind of disgruntled about it.

Jason opened his mouth to point out that drawing Batman away on foot was a lot more demanding than what he wanted from Danny, but then he made eye contact and felt a chill up his spine. Danny’s stare looked positively dangerous. He was gripping his eating utensils with what was obviously way too much force and leaning ever so slightly towards Jason.

‘I think he’ll attack me with his spoon if I say that,’ Jason thought with admiration. ‘This man feels no fucking fear.’

“I’m sure that you can pull it off,” he said instead. “It won’t take too long with density shifting.”

Danny made a sound deep in the back of his throat that conveyed a deep and enduring skepticism. Jason took a big bite of his own food to move the interaction along. 

There was a huge sigh.

Some latent instinct cued Jason in that eye contact was required. He put down his food and focused on Danny. He conveyed his full attention as much as he possibly could while wearing a mask. He momentarily wondered if he should take it off but no, that was nuts. 

“Tell me that you’re sure this will work,” Danny said. He blinked at Jason, looking weary. “Personally, I think that this sounds like it will just piss him off beyond belief and it’ll point to me. I can see the benefit in sabotaging his transportation, don’t get me wrong, it’ll slow him down. But why this? Are you sure that I wouldn’t be better off just going to him and telling him I don’t really know you and I ran because I was afraid of him?”

Jason swallowed. “Danny.” He radiated his sincerity, willing Danny to feel it. “You don’t have to open up to him. Taking three tires off of his car is going to be psychological warfare because I did that to him when I was a kid. It’s going to make him think of me and put him way off balance. When I confront him, he will not be thinking about a gig driver.”

Danny nodded slowly through that bit of personal information. He licked his lips. Jason tried not to imagine that he was doing the licking.

He cleared his throat but his voice still came out hoarse. “I know you don’t know me very well.” Fuck it, it was clearly time for a big swing. Jason unpeeled the domino and did his level best not to let on that it hurt like a fucking BITCH to remove without using the right solution. 

It was the right move. Danny was riveted at the show of trust, gaze darting over his exposed features before blinking and settling into intense eye contact. “I have your back. Okay?” He pulled his hand under the table to hide that it was trembling. “If Batman doesn’t put me in jail tonight, I will do whatever it takes to keep you off the radar. Alright?”

There was a nonzero chance that he was going off to die. Jason fervently hoped that his shitty fucking father pulled through for once in his miserable life and shot the Joker in his evil head. If he tried to find some clever solution, Jason was going to have to kill the fucker himself and then try to avoid getting the shit beaten out of him by his dad.

He felt a moment of painful regret that he was doing this. But he had to. It was his whole reason for being. He had to give Bruce this one last chance to show that he cared Jason had suffered and died.

It was like Danny looked right into his soul. “Alright.” Danny nodded slowly and then his face underwent a whole transformation. He didn’t look like a tired college kid. He looked capable and determined. Jason felt his chest seize. “I believe you. And-” he hesitated before barrelling on. “If Batman tosses you in jail, I guess I’ll get you out. I owe you dinner.” He indicated the table.

Jason felt himself smile. “Yeah,” he echoed. “Yeah, dinner.” 

He probably should have wondered how Danny thought he’d pull that off. But in that moment, he had no doubt. They were going to go out, at least once, and see if they could be something.

He was going to come back and he was going to take Danny out to a real dinner. He felt it in his bones.

They finished eating in silence. Then Danny silently watched Jason get ready for war, putting on his armor and rechecking his equipment. At the door, Danny handed him his gloves. It felt like a benediction. It felt like he was sending Jason off to battle with his favor.

“Four hours,” Danny said. There was no arguing with him. He reached out and wrapped his cool hand around Jason’s wrist. Maybe he was feeling Jason’s pulse. “I’ll find you if you don’t come back.”

Jason reversed the grip. He brought Danny’s hand up slowly enough that there was plenty of time for him to pull away. Instead of a rejection, he saw Danny’s pupils dilate. He pressed a kiss to the back of Danny’s hand. “Four hours,” he agreed. Then he put on his helmet and went out to face the night.

[incidentallysunny]

Through The Skin

Real Uncle!Leon

Dead dove warning.

7k word count. Proof read lightly. Critique is welcomed and my skin is thick for it.

I'd like to appear in the tagz pls so here's a warning. My writing is not ever meant to be taken literally and is just for the sake of writing fxcked up content that I enjoy writing. If you do not wish to read this, please do not as my intentions are not to offend or make you intentionally uncomfortable but if you choose to read- don't be hateful. With that out of the way, extremely sensitive content and dead dove material ahead.

Specifically blood-related incest, smut, suicidal ideation, mentions of grotesque imagery, light mentions of gore in a hypothetical scenario, age-gap, overall just some disturbing topics.

As far as smut specifically: this includes talking of public sex, public female oral-recieving, Leon has dick piercings surprise, make and female oral, fingering, unprotected sex, cream-pie (wrap your willy irl pls) praise, dirty talk, spitting, any probably some other irrelevant shit I'm forgetting my bad.

PROCEED if you read the above, are okay with it, and are mentally unwell like I am. Happy reading, it's a long one.

To be quite frank, you didn’t give a shit about a single holiday party that your parents threw. Having to hug and touch on people you didn’t even know, putting on a fake smile and pretending as if you remembered them at all. Exhausting for a young woman to keep up this charade for so long. You’re sure your relatives noticed the dying spark in your eyes over time. Living Growing does that to a person. You spent all night fetching beers and other pre-packaged, alcoholic drinks- hoping he would show up every time you had to hand one out. Still one less face you’re can be enthralled to see.

You sat at the dining table, leaned onto an elbow with your face in your palm. Clearly a dejected and annoyed pose but everyone here was too cheery or already deep in the ‘special occasion’ wine bottle to even piece that together. Your other hand traced the ringed patterns in the wood surface, wondering how old it had been before it was chopped down ruthlessly by some hot guy with a chainsaw who was getting paid way too much to be fucking up nature left and right. All so that some college-aged girl could sit at the furniture it had been made into and sulk. God, an almost 40 year old tree. That’s pretty fucking old. You’re glad it lived a somewhat long life (in human years, not tree years.) ‘Cause some trees live a few hundred or even thousand years. So maybe it was taken too soon before it became the placeholder for your familial drunken talks. While you were distracted, annoyed, and pitying yourself, the table all erupted into ‘Hey, long time no see!’s , laughter, and other delightful sentiments that were jolly and deafening enough to make you jump. Loud noises weren’t your thing.

Before you could regain your composure and turn your torso in the hand-carved, deep-brown varnished chair- a hand graced the presence of your slumped shoulder.

“Hey, babydoll. Long time no see.” The voice greeted, husky and rough like a patch of concrete you’ve definitely scraped your knee on a time or two. Basically, it was familiar, which is what you’re getting at.

Uncle Leon.

You turned your full body now, swinging your legs to the side of the seat- a few laughs slopped from the table.

Everyone knew how much you loved and fawned over your Uncle- your dad rivaling how much you seemed to prefer his brother over him. Well duh, dad. It’s because he’s fun and you’re a hard-ass. And ugly to look at. Your poor, poor mom.

It had been years since you saw your uncle. Since you were freshly 18, to be exact. Your dad wasn’t too keen on having him around his barely-legal daughter- probably because he could practically smell it on you that you want your uncle to pop your cherry. You still remembered his few quirks, too. He was always sloppy yet casually drunk wherever he was, he hated fireworks (due to PTSD as your dad explained), and he had always been known to be grabby with people- probably because of the alcohol. He was a weird guy, but you loved him all the same. It broke the normalcy of your home and made things interesting to be around him. However- none of this was the focus. His stubble, dark-liquored bags under his eyes that almost resemble eyeliner, and dark-tinted hair were. And god, his chin. Could be a replacement for a Sybian, if you had one. All of that aside, he looks sexy. That’s so fucking weird to say about your dad’s brother, but calling it weird is also so outdated. Fucking your hot, middle-aged uncle is in; getting a boyfriend your age is out.

You stood up swiftly, hugging him tightly around the waist and almost toppling him. He chuckled, steadying himself with one arm around your back and the other on the table to catch himself. Once he felt he was steady enough, the other arm joined around you- the embrace squeezing you like a stress ball. You worried that your eyes might be a little more loose in your skull than before.

“Gotta be careful, kiddo. You’re gonna take down your uncle one of these days.” He teases, moving out of the hug and letting his hands explore their way down your back- resting on the small of it. Digits perched like a bird where your back starts to curve into your ass- not sweetly or gentle- but like one of those huge-taloned hawks that would rip your flesh off. You only say that because his hands are big and rough- and you’ve heard stories of what your uncle does for work (plus the alcohol is making him need to stabilize himself so he doesn’t crash you both into the nearby counter and cause any serious brain injury. At least then you could excuse the bubbling of strange feelings as TBI). Oh, and with how handsy he was known to be (Just ask your Aunt Claire on your mom’s side). But he had never been that way with you- not until now.

You see your dad eyeing him like the same kind of big-taloned hawk from across the table. They’re cut from the same feathers- except your dad must have been the one that never learned to fly. Pushed out of the nest by a sharp shove of a beak and bit every branch of the ugly tree on the way down. Cause he’s a lot weaker and uglier than your uncle. How he pulled your mom is a miracle and a mystery.

“Hey, uh. Honey. Come sit back down. No need in playing into your uncle’s fashionably late, drunken stupor.” He quips towards you while grilling Leon about being late, nursing his own drink with that ugly grin. You roll your eyes. Leon removes his hands from you- putting them up in defense of himself and leaving your back with an empty feeling.

“Hey, hey. Just hugging my beautiful niece.” He turned to address you again. “Been years since I’ve seen you, sweetheart. Look even better than your momma.” You feel a blush creep up at Leon’s words, but your dad clears his throat and your mom pays him no mind. Just an eye roll and sip of a wine cooler. To be honest, even she probably fucked your uncle. You couldn’t blame her if she did.

You huff and sit back down, crossing your arms. Your dad always had to ruin everything. If you fuck your uncle or kiss him or whatever and don’t like it, you can just go to therapy. Leon snickered behind you, patting your shoulder before leaning in next to your ear.

“Come join me out on the deck in a bit. I’m sure you’re tired of being smothered in here with the fun police.”

You feel muggy from his words. Like a Louisiana swamp type muggy. Is your hair sticking to you? Are there zika-virus bearing mosquitos pricking you or is that just undiagnosed anxiety?

You bounce your leg under the table while you hear the sliding door open and close in the distance. Minutes pass of you twiddling your thumbs- and you excuse yourself to sneak off- exiting out the same heavy sliding door that Leon used.

When you sealed it behind you- the smell of whiskey filled your nostrils- sizzling off any hairs that your nose so proudly grew for much needed germ-protection. A hand slapped itself gracelessly onto the glass above you in the dark, trapping you in place. Predictable uncle.

“Shit, sorry sweetheart. Lost my footing. Y’know how it is. I’m always taking spills here and there.” You felt giddy and blistered all over, speaking back to him.

“S’okay. Sorry about dad.” You excused, breathing in. Leon’s other hand patted you low on your hip as he chuckled into your ear- sending off more whiskey breath.

“It’s okay, sweet thing. Your dad can be that way. I’m not exactly safe to be around in his eyes. Besides, he’s just doing his job- looking out for his little girl.” He explains, not making any efforts to move. You predicted this- but it wasn’t unwelcome.

“Why’s that?” You dare to ask, sounding purposefully puzzled- but Leon knows better. And you know the answer.

“It’s ‘cause your Uncle likes ‘em young and pretty.” He mulls the information over you, the words sliding down you like a vibration that sets off a perfect sensation to your already throbbing clit. Because you’re always horny. The hand on your hip now kneads your ass under your skirt- somehow getting there without notice.

“O-oh.” You choke on the word like it’s quicksand in your throat- but only the quicksand is the prospect of having your uncle plow you until you develop early onset dementiaSo really, the quicksand isn’t bad in this instance. You jump into it face first for a good mouthful.

“Shouldn’t be wearing something so short when you know your dirty old uncle is coming over. Can’t keep my eyes where they’re supposed t’be.” He mutters low, leaning down to tickle the shell of your ear with his voice.

“Knew you were coming over. I wanted to look pretty for you.” Saying it makes your head spin, but like in the good way. The sound Leon makes is between a groan that says ‘good god, I’m going to bury my cock inside you right the fuck now’ and ‘I figured as much’. A simple cocktail of horniness and knowing.

“Mm, just want to kiss you everywhere, you know? Love it how sweet you are.” He murmurs into your scented hair, using the hand from the wall to push aside any strands that are in his way. He kisses the back of your neck and his breath scorches your skin. The affection is sloppy and leaves small bits of saliva behind, his barely-darting-out tongue making you ache even more.

“U-uncle.” You shuddered, a slight protest to your voice. Not ‘cause you don’t like it but because you’re worried someone will see. Or that you’ll never want off of his dick. He can be your personal IUD, all buried in your cervix.

Leon ignored the shared thought that someone could see because the way you referred to him made his dick jump in his jeans. Plus, the whole family knows he’s a sleeze. They’d see him balls deep in you and say ‘Ah, that’s Leon for you’ And look the other way until his next sexual prospect. One of the many reasons that Aunt Claire doesn't visit and Aunt Ada divorced his ass. Her loss. You’d happily share him if it were you. It’s only right to share a man that looks like a washed-up pornstar. His dick is great too. Not ‘cause you’re guessing- but because you saw it one time. Last time you saw him actually- the whole incident that left you wanting to see him again oh-so-badly. He had stumbled in the bathroom to piss- ignoring you at the sink. It’s whatever, he was totally wasted and probably didn’t see you. Nor did he probably see the fact you were gawking at his big dick. Or his nice ass, cause he had let his pants drop completely in his hazy state.

“Mm, what is it, babydoll? Hey- Think anyone’d notice if I fingered this sweet little pussy right now?” His voice cut through your memory and thick, long fingers teased the swell of your pussy lips through your underwear, making your hips contract with excitement. Your breath fans over the glass and smogs it.

“I don’t know- maybe.” You huff, trying to keep your composure. It sure is fucking hard when God’s gift to women is about to finger-fuck you at your parent’s house with 20 or so family members inside the property. You second guess yourself now. Maybe God's gift to women doesn’t go around playing with a pussy that belongs to their niece. Or maybe God was fed up with some girls missing out so he created sexually-attractive uncle’s to even any scores. You’ll be attending church this upcoming Sunday. Not because you’re going to follow through with blood-related fornication but because you want to thank the higher-ups properly for this fine piece of ass you’re about to receive from. Or maybe you shouldn’t step foot there, the whole ‘bursting into flames for egregious sinning’ type thing. Wait a minute- there’s literally daddy-daughter incest in the Book of Genesis, so you’ll happily sin away and tell god to fuck off while doing it. Okay maybe that’s a little uncalled for.

Leon tugged your panties to the side, breathing shakily.

“Fuck. I gotta see it, baby.” He mumbles, dropping to one knee with the other bent and still supporting the front of him. Underwear aside, he uses his hands to spread you out- taking in the sight of your damp folds. Damp is putting it lightly. His thumb collects some of your slick and he nearly cums right there.

“You save your first time for me?” He questions. In his mind, you’ve already had a dick or two. He can work with that. Those little guys your age don’t match up to him, but he’s blindsided when you whine about being a virgin, begging him to stick it in or something. Now, Leon’s not the greatest guy morally. At all. But if he’s going to pop your pussy like a soda cap for the first time, he’s going to do it in private cause he’s not stopping for anything. And privacy allows just that. Again- it’s not about it being special, just private. He’ll turn you out good and well.

“Sorry sweetheart. I wanna fuck this needy hole when it’s just us. Think you can wait?” He asks, before darting his tongue out to taste you and lapping up any of you that’s continuously dripping out from pent-up arousal. Your knees almost buckle and he puts his hands under the curve of your ass to hold you still. Your brain goes so mushy you almost forgot to respond.

“Y-yes, uncle Leon.” You whine like a pathetic puppy- begging for something that it didn’t need. But actually, you did need your uncle’s dick so badly. He laughs against your cunt, seemingly happy with that answer. Before you can properly nut like you want, you see your dad pass by in the distance of the sliding door. You tap the glass gently to alert Leon with a small series of clicks. He shoots his head up, yanking your panties back into place and using the sleeve of his leather jacket to wipe his mouth.

“Fuck- always such a blue-balling asshole for anyone, I swear. Sorry, pretty girl.” He smooths down your hair, making sure you look presentable. Well- besides your face that’s red enough to be used as a lit flare.

“Go inside. I’m sure he’s looking for you, babydoll.” He grabs you drunkenly by the upper arm, pulling you in to kiss you on the cheek.

“Come by mine sometime. I’ll be home, for once.” He mutters the last part, loosening his hold on you and starting down the steps of the deck.

“Okay. I’ll see you later, Uncle Leon.” You sound so disappointed and miserable. Pouty. Leon gets it.

“Later, babydoll.”

He heads down the path of the backyard and through the connecting gate that leads to the driveway, the sound of his motorcycle’s engine revving is the cue that he’s definitely headed off.

You let yourself back in, acting inconspicuous. But your dad is already waiting with crossed arms. Yuck.

“Did I not tell you several times about hanging around your uncle. He’s a weird guy. I don’t mind him coming over but, god.” He lays into you, mostly just insulting his brother. You roll your eyes as you normally do. You’ve never not had an attitude with your father. He was born to be shit on in your eyes- barely deserved your mom, as is. Besides, He had no backbone whatsoever.

“Just go upstairs.” He asked, cause he never told you to do anything. Just asked and hoped you’d listen. You were pleased enough to have gotten as much as your uncle tonguing your cunt, so you can comply a bit longer. You go upstairs to your room, shutting the door and lying down.

—

It’s a week later when you finally get to see your uncle. You managed to convince your dad to let you borrow his car, ‘cause you’re a broke college student and can’t afford that right now. Plus you’re spoiled but not enough for a car, apparently. Whoops. Probably because your dad knows as soon as he signs the papers, you’re going to drive to his brother’s house and impale yourself on his dick for life. He’d rather you go to college and get a train ran on you or something, at least.

You hoped you had remembered the right place at first, until Leon’s motorcycle was spotted in the lot. Good, he’s home. You still questioned your memory as you were walking up the flights of stairs in the apartment building, tugging down the back of your skirt when you felt it was airing out your ass too much (for any passerbys, not Leon). After reaching the 12th floor and navigating the scarily clean hallway (the few decorations in the area made it less horror-esque), you found the right (?) door. Your knock was soft because again, you weren’t entirely sure. Just going off of childhood memories.

After hearing a shuffle inside, it didn’t take long for it to swing open, Leon standing in the doorway shirtless with a pair of grey, thin sweatpants loose on his hipbones. His v-line was saying hello to you. Hello to you, too.

“Pretty girl! Hey! Thought you’d never come by. Sorry about the attire- been having a lazy day since I’m off work.” He moved aside for you to come in, the door shutting behind you when you accepted the unspoken invitation. His place was nice. A little cluttered with a half-packed suitcase; clothes messily thrown on top and some paperwork and a passport in a heap on the desk nearby, but still nice. Not to mention spacious. Thank god.

“It’s okay, really. You deserve some relaxation time, you know?” You try to be cool and collected- not getting to the main point of your visit. Even if you did have genuine interest in your uncle as a person.

“Isn’t that the truth? Want a drink?” He asked, already walking towards his kitchen. You don’t immediately reply because the sway of his ass is… something else, but you manage to snap yourself from the hypnotizing gaze of it. He’s got a whiskey glass and bottle already on the counter, waiting for a reply.

“Sure.” You tell him, knowing damn well you can’t handle your alcohol. You get all fucking lovey and touchy, and you’ve only drank like 3 times. And sure. You did come here to fuck him, but you were nervous. Okay, never mind. That gives a complete need for liquid courage.

He makes his way to the hallway- switching something on the AC control before sitting on the couch, adjacent from the chair you’re nestled in. You’re taking small sips of the whiskey, burning your throat, sinuses, and any nervousness down like a forest fire. Leon just sits, legs splayed apart like how men always sit. Except you can see his fat-ass dick print. God, kill me now. Or after I’ve sucked it, at least. You see, too, what looks like indents in the fabric- piercings maybe? Or the folds of the pants are sitting weird.

“Did you find the place okay?” He asks, coming off like he cares- which he does- but he’s mostly waiting to get you and himself sloppy for fucking so he’s just stalling now.

You nod, bottom lip tucked into your mouth- if you talk it’s going to be about his dick being huge or his dick being inside you. Leon allows you another deep sip, finishing off the liquid completely.

“I actually remembered how to get here just about perfectly.” You spoke, laughing a little. Yeah, you’d be gone completely in a few minutes. You already felt yourself slipping into a hazy, bubbly state. Leon could tell, too. Good for him. He loved when the girl was sloppier than the pussy attached to her.

“Smart girl. Always have been.” He took a long, heavy drink- finishing off his glass. You watched how his stomach twitched or moved even the slightest when he adjusted himself, the same with his arms. He was muscular yet lean- like he didn’t eat enough some days. Figures. Beauty isn’t easy and he looked good, and maybe that’s why he got plastered all the time so easily. No appetite=no tolerance. However, you were most certainly not afraid to look at the hard work. Even more so with alcohol brewing in your stomach acid and then liver.

Leon patted his leg, fingers drumming on the material of his sweatpants.

“Come sit. You can tell me more about it on your uncle’s lap.” Gross. Gross in the hot way. The gross-hot way you want him to fold and twist you like a pretzel. So no, you don’t abhor the idea of sitting in his lap.

You don’t even hesitate, standing and nearly falling over- realizing you forgot how wobbly your legs could get while inebriated. Leon reached forward to grab your hand and waist, letting you fall directly onto his lap, ass to crotch. Like a puzzle piece. An incestual puzzle piece- which ideally shouldn’t fit together but it just does.

You feel his cock twitch under you; he’s anticipated this, obviously. His hands slid up your thighs, and down again, then back up- like he’s appreciating them.

“Got the prettiest legs, baby. Want them on your uncle’s shoulders, don’t you?” He cooed, scooting you to the edge of his lap just enough to get his cock out of his bottoms. You turn to look behind you, twisting yourself a bit to get a look at it. Christ. One, he was big. The kind of dick that couldn’t stand ‘cause it was heavy and long. Two. It had a few piercings down the front of his shaft, gleaming in the light. So not only were you about to take your first dick, but a pierced one (like you had suspected). Okay…you didn’t remember seeing those the only other time you ever saw his dick by accident. New additions.

Leon stroked your hair with the hand that wasn’t holding his dick.

“Trust me, feels a lot better than it looks. I promise it doesn’t hurt. Even for virgins.” He adds, like he knows that for a fact. “Nothing you can’t handle for me.”

Okay, he’s right. You’d take his fist if it meant his approval, honestly. How bad could it be?

You move to spin yourself around on his lap, Leon’s amused at your eagerness. He holds his cock, spitting down onto it so he can stroke himself while he puts a hand onto your neck. You’re pulled by the hold into a slow, messy, spitty kiss. He’s definitely experienced, as you are not. His tongue makes its way against yours like he’s silently teaching you how to kiss him open mouthed. Not so hard, you think. He groans into your mouth as he handles himself, maneuvering his cock to brush against your underwear; prodding your clothed clit under your skirt.

You mewl against his lips which only spurs him to kiss you a little more rough now, assuming you’re ready for it. Which you definitely don’t mind. His hand squeezes the side of your neck affectionately, a thumb tracing the skin. You’re thankful you’re in his lap because your knees are weak and your head feels dizzy. It was an exchange of sighs and heavy breathing- no distance. Your hands tangled into his dark locks which is something that Leon loved; having his hair pulled (you could tell by his lusty growl and the shift of his hips). He truly was the epitome of a kinky, dirty old man. If pushing 40 was old. Well, to be fair, you did call the dead tree of a table at your parent’s house old, ‘cause it was 40.

He pulled off of you, your now un-joined mouths drippy with saliva.

“Get in between your Uncle’s legs. Wanna see that pretty mouth on this cock.” He urged, and you found yourself with your calves folded under you in between his parted thighs. He held his cock proudly, and to be honest, the piercings look daunting. How did you even expect yourself to suck on it like you’ve seen in porn? Maybe you should have spent more time watching guys with pierced dicks instead of the step category. You had a preference, clearly.

You snaked your hands up to him, holding his cock with a puzzled look clear on your face. Leon laughed, not like he was laughing at you but the way you laugh at someone when you think what they’re doing is cute.

“Don’t worry about them too much, gorgeous. Just do it how you think you would normally. But pay careful attention with your tongue. Won’t hurt me any, promise.” He reassures you thoroughly, chuckling through a sexually intense gaze. Okay, it seems…. easy enough. Didn’t know dirty old uncles could be so sweet about having their dick sucked.

You lean forward, Leon guiding the head to your mouth.

“Just go slow and focus on the tip. Don’t want my girl to be uncomfortable, now do I?” His girl? You liked the sound of that. Enjoyed it very much. You’d be his girl wherever and whenever. You took him past your lips- suckling on the tip softly and swirling your tongue around it.

“Just like that- fuck- you’re doing great, babydoll.”

The praise edged you on, and you managed enough confidence to glide your tongue down his shaft and over the piercings- flicking over them pornographically. You felt like it was just right. If fucking your uncle could be right in any way of the sense. Leon groaned and his head fell back onto the couch. A large hand found its way to your hair, holding it into a makeshift ponytail. You discovered that it wasn’t too daunting- it was possible to bob your head a little while keeping your tongue exploring the piercings in small swirls and flicks. Just makes your jaw a little tired faster. Besides, seems less scary than taking it inside you.

It’s an alternation of the previous movements and kitten licking up the front of him, and the adornments on his skin only seem to make everything feel much more stimulating. His breath deepens and he guides you now with your hair in hand- looking down at you through deep-brown bangs.

“Fuck- that’s it. Just look at you, dirty little niece I’ve got here, sucking her uncle’s cock like she was made for it. God- so damned pretty with your tongue on me.” His head falls back again for a moment, before he sits up- his labored panting evident.

“Christ. Okay- can’t take it anymore. C’mon, baby. Up.” He says, smacking your bottom when you stand in front of him. You’re feeling a bit ‘five seconds away from crashing into the coffee table and impaling yourself on the broken wood’ type of drunk now.

“Uncle Leon’s gonna pop that cherry, got it? Now sit down and let me lick that sweet pussy. Can still taste it after last time.” He’s speaking filthy things you should hear and run in the opposite direction from- but you don’t.

“My room. Remember where that is?” He mumbles, standing behind you now while he runs his hands down your sides- possessively grabbing at any fabric on you.

You shake your head no.

“Can’t remember. Need you to show me.” You whisper to him, putting your hands over his on your sides. He just muffles a laugh into the crook of your neck and shuffles you along in front of him, the two of you almost falling over multiple times on the way to his bedroom. You’re sure that something did get knocked off the wall at one point, but you literally do not care in any way.

Leon staggers you into the room and pushes you back onto the bed, shedding off his sweatpants. Naked, no boxers. Just full, thick cock and a trail of hair leading up to his belly-button that you haven’t let your eyes leave for however long you’ve been here. Oh, and muscled thighs. One of the greater parts of a man. His hands find their way to your thighs, tugging you to the edge of the bed before invading his thumbs into the waistband of your panties.

“Let’s get these off.” He grunts, pulling them down your legs and tossing them only for the undergarment to land in an unseen place. You go to tug off your skirt, until his hands pin yours to the bed.

“Want you to keep that on. Looks cute.” He says, retracting from you and sinking down at the edge of the bed. In no wasted time, his mouth is lazily lapping at your cunt- making your back bend in the reaction of immediate, overwhelming pleasure. You grabbed at the sheets until you remembered how his body responded when you pulled at his hair- so you found your hold there instead. Tugging his darkened strands with the pace he was eating you out at- stubble against your pussy and nose in your mound. His cheeks tickled your thighs, punching out a soft giggle and squirm from your body between the moaning. It makes him smile into you- reaching a hand up to knead your breast. Honestly, you hoped that the roof caved in right now and took you to your death because no moment would be better than this and that in itself made you suicidal.

You feel a finger slip past your hole, curling itself into that soft wall of fleshy, orgasmic sponge. The noise that left you was new, for sure and the muscle in his mouth jerked against your clit in tandem. It seemed Leon had the same deep feeling and worry you did about his dick even fitting, cause he added a second finger. Then tried to add a third but gave up because he actually wanted his dick to do that labor. He can be selfish, okay? It didn’t take long for you to cum either, duh. He was a skilled whore of a man and you’re a virgin. Or will be for only a few more minutes- probably less.

Your legs shake and tense, your heart thumps viciously, and your fingers threaten to tangle his hair into knots and make him start balding. Not happening no matter how hard you yank, though. His genes are too good for that. He was made for rough pulls to his mane. Made to take damage both mentally and physically. Made for splitting open cute, slutty nieces like you.

While you recovered, he licked his lips and fingers as clean as he could- missing the further parts of his stubbled cheeks. He stood up, hand on his lower back (‘cause duh, he’s old as dirt), and reached into the nightstand for a condom- which you gave him a look before he could open it. A look that told him ‘please, please, please don’t put it on! sure, fuck your blood-relative niece raw and possibly knock her up! Might not have to worry because you’re an alcoholic and your sperm quality is low, though.’ So fuck away.

He was a sucker for your big, glossy eyes and the slutty pout of your bottom lip. Not mentioning- he wouldn’t have worn a condom anyway. Would have just slipped it off before he stuck his dick in you. A virgin couldn’t tell the difference. What? You expected a man that fucks his own family to have morals for things lesser than that? No chance.

“Please, Uncle.” You begged softly, Leon knowing what you want without actually saying it. He’s great at reading people.

“Fucking hell. You’re something else. You want it that bad, huh?” He laughed, pleased by you beseeching him with so little words. You nodded, no objections about it. He tossed the unopened condom back in the drawer and shut it impatiently, making the lamp wobble.

“Changed my mind. Everything off. Gotta see that pretty set of tits.” The words were matter of fact and laced with a bit of erection-fueled urgency.

You reach your hands up to remove your shirt, then discard your bra and skirt. Left in the nude as naked as the day you were cut from your moms stomach. C-section baby and all that. Only this time there was no blood. Yet, anyways.

When you were stark naked, Leon pushed you firmly onto his bed again- folding you by the backs of your thighs, legs pressed to your chest and gifting your stomach with that cute roll thing it did. Leon liked that on a woman.

He grabbed his cock, positioning it against your slick that dribbled from your yet-to-be-abused hole. He was gonna change that. You could feel his one of the piercings resting against your skin down below- a tsunami of anxiety settling over your delicate village of a body.

“Might hurt a little, babydoll. Can’t promise I’m gonna be gentle with her.” He referred to your pussy, your hole fluttering when he talked. You gave a look of understanding and acknowledgement.

“God, want it so bad.” You whined under him, the position he had your legs in made you even crazier about having him in you, like, yesterday.

He didn’t savor the moment so that he could push into you, he just did it. The feeling of each piercing bumping your hole on the way in. It felt fucking good, but also his dick stretching you out was intense and stung like a papercut.

His hands held your thighs down into your stomach- giving you a novice contortionist experience, and you could see the veins in his forearm pop a little. Your mind raced with the following anxieties; ‘What if a piercing cuts my insides and I die from sepsis or something? What if a piercing ball comes off and is lost inside me forever? Maybe I should stretch more.’ The first two were irrational but maybe not so much so, or else you wouldn’t be thinking of them. You’re not the first woman to think any of it.

“Fuck- there we go. Shit. You feel incredible, baby.” He dropped the doll in favor of calling you baby this time, making you squeeze around him as he bottoms out, balls against your ass. Yep. A bruised cervix was in your future. Going to have to come up with an excuse for why you won’t be able to get out of bed for the next few days. You thought other girls were just exaggerating this whole time about feeling yourself be split open, what the hell was he trying to do? Dig out your uterus with his dick? Does he really have to be so deep? It’s, like, really hot and feels really fucking good, but also, slightly uncomfortable. Maybe it’s the position.

Either way, he’s feeding your ego.

You let your head relax onto the bed instead of continuing to hold it up, ‘cause doing that was much more painful.

“God.” You muttered, relieved to be full and get the virginity loss out of the way. You should be getting a cake and celebration for this, if it wasn’t your uncle. But still. Taking big, pierced dick deemed trophy worthy. Or maybe a plaque.

Leon gazed down at you through straight locks, shaking them out of his face a little. He pulled himself out, minus the tip, before pushing back in with a groan- his Adam’s Apple bobbing hypnotically. Your spine arched, lifting your back off the mattress and your hands dug into your own thighs, helping hold them in place.

“You like that, huh?” He asked, the difference between it being pure hormones and condescension was blurred. Could have been both. He doesn’t give that much of a timeframe to start dragging his cock in and out of you, slowly picking up speed and bottoming out each time- balls slapping against your bottom.

You babble nonsensically, the ribbed sensation of his piercings almost sending you into hysterics. Something about yes, yes. I love it. Need you to fuck me so hard that my dad disowns me because I’m wheelchair bound and he knows why.

“Feels good, baby. I know it. Bet it’s hitting places you didn’t even know you had.” If he wasn’t so fucking hot, you’d probably have the ick from how cocky he is. Or not, you’re fucked up.

He leaned forward over you more to tangle into your hair, guiding your head to more of an angle and exposing your neck. You were so overwhelmed from how hard and deep he’s fucking you, not to mention his dick feels like how you imagine a beginner level bad dragon dildo to feel. Or maybe a less monster-y version anyways. It just feels fucking good and that’s all you needed to care about. Soft, airy cries crawl their way from your throat and leave you between that and moaning. Uncle, please. Please, please, please, harder.

“Let it all out, that’s it. Uncle Leon’s gonna take good care of this pussy.”

You nod as much as you can with his hold on your hair, and he pants into your collarbone, sweaty and nasty on top of you. You feel like you’re almost being crushed under his weight but it’s only hotter, and gets even more when you feel his free hand slip between your damp bodies to thumb your aching and still-sensitive clit. You tighten around his cock in reaction- gasping.

“Take it, babydoll. Fuck. Show me how much you want your uncle to make you cum. Belong on my cock, you know it?”

Your brain is off somewhere in a hot air balloon, far from its preferred skull. Which is yours. He speaks in ways you didn’t imagine you’d ever get to be spoken to or even enjoy. But it’ll be the only thing that gets you off from now on, no doubt about it.

“Uh huh, belong on your dick forever. Never wanna take it out.” Yeah. You’re stupid for him.

“Fuck. That’s my girl. Keep talking like that and I’m not ever letting you go.”

You nod your head.

“Want that, want that so bad. ‘D let you fuck me whenever you want, uncle.”

His lips curl into a half-pressed grin before he’s panting again- a bead of sweat dripping onto him. You remember he did something with the AC. Yeah-to the heat in the apartment is frying you good and well. Guess he wanted the sex to be extra clammy and gross. You know, besides the incest.

“Christ. Fuck, yes.” He groans deep, throaty and carnal.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you. You’d be the prettiest little girlfriend. Sitting around waiting to get fucked all the time. I know how needy my baby is.” Christ. You’re going to the deepest abyss in hell. You’re sure whatever torment awaits is worth it though, so it’s not a big deal right now.

“Wanna be yours.” You choke, throat dry. Ah, you remember you’re intoxicated. That must be why you’re so loose at saying this stuff.

“Open up.” He huffs, almost face to face with you but still enough that his breath is hot on your features. You’re hasty to open your mouth like a whore, Leon dribbling his gathered spit down onto your tongue.

“Gotta keep you hydrated, baby. Can’t have that throat getting raw, can we?” You nod, there’s so many nasty things happening you can’t process it properly- unaware of everything as you cum a second time on his hand, squeezing his dick like a much softer and less dangerous guillotine.

His thrusts were a little more sloppy and erratic- alcohol fully set in for the both of you. Normally, he’d be able to hold off his orgasm a little longer- but combatting it wasn’t an option in this drunken state.

“Christ- so fucking pretty and tight when you cum on my dick. Gonna cum too, baby. Don’t think I can pull out right now.”

You shake your head no.

“Don’t pull out, please. Please uncle, ‘ll do whatever you want.”

He laughs brokenly, choked up from the moans that need to come out first.

“God, yes. Okay. Gonna fill this sweet pussy up, baby.”

He focuses a few more thrusts, hard enough to make it hurt a little and sloppy enough to still be just the right amount of perfect.

“Here it comes, baby. Need you to take i- shit.” He buried deep inside you as he came hard, rasped voice and all while he held his place firm. His hair is stuck to his face in some areas, his natural scent emanating off of the sweat droplets.

His dick spasms inside you, filling you with every bit of semen he’s got pent up in him. You could almost feel the way your cunt was full of his cum, having no room around his dick to go anywhere, really.

He relaxed a little, letting out a long, pleasurable groan. You yourself joined him in letting your body go limp as it could in this position. He grabbed your legs to straighten them out and let them wrap around his waist, making you realize they were folded too long and that they ache a bit.

He kissed your collarbone, picking up his head and kissing your cheek next.

“Mm. Did so great for me, babydoll. Not gonna be able to let you go now.” He teased, another peck to your mouth that you managed to reciprocate just in time.

“Then don’t.” You tell him, mumbling.

“I can manage that. Could easily be my girl. Would have to be our little secret, though.” He adds at the end, threading his fingers in your hair.

Yeah, you’re not turning down that offer.

[gay-dorito-dust]

‘Damian.’ You called over your shoulder, eyes firmly locked on the thing that currently held your undivided attention.

‘Yeah?’ You heard him call back from another room.

‘Why the fuck is there a cow in your kitchen?’ Damian’s brow was immediately raised upon hearing this. Cow? There’s no way Bat-Cow could’ve- Damian then closed his eyes and took a couple deep breaths before joining you in the kitchen, where he could clearly see that the white and brown Bovine cow was indeed in the kitchen, just like you had said.

Now the question of how the cow had gotten into the manor -undetected no less- was a mystery entirely because surly someone would’ve noticed a 610kg, white and brown cow mindlessly clopping down the corridor from rooms away. But none of that mattered anymore as it was irrelevant to the current situation you and Damian both found yourselves in.

‘This day was bound to happen sooner or later, y/n this is Bat-Cow, the family…well cow.’ Damian said as though it were nothing new but for you, everything was made even more confusing. ‘And why do you have a pet cow? is Wayne Enterprises expanding into the farming business is it?’ You asked and Damian felt a headache about to come on.

‘Tt. No, me and father saved Bat-Cow from going to a slaughterhouse and have kept them ever since.’ He explained as he then moved past you to gently pet the cow on the muzzle, smiling softly when Bat-Cow made a noise of content. ‘Besides, this is nothing in comparison to Goliath.’

You made a face at this. ‘I’m sorry but Goliath who?’ You asked and Damian only continued to amuse himself as he petted Bat-Cow. ‘Exactly.’ He couldn’t wait to see your reaction firsthand.

Bruce tends to overwork himself to death most of the time, much to yours and Alfred’s disappointment.

You understood why he does what he does but did he necessarily have to neglect his own health and well-being to do so?

Gotham was a piece of work that is always under continuous construction, never in the hopes of being made better, but instead to be pushed to the side and left to slowly corrode and rot. Gotham was an ever developing plot hole that was bound to become even more than an issue then first assumed.

Gotham wasn’t a place worth saving for it always found a way to relapse back into old harmful habits, much so to the point where it’s own civilians didn’t care whether the city would survive another day, with all the chaos and destruction that seemed to be happening on the daily.

In Gotham it was easy as piss for one to lose all sense of empathy, humility and humanity.

Expect for one man. Bruce Wayne aka Batman. A shining beacon of hope for the future of Gotham in your eyes, a person who looked at the piss, shit and grime that flooded the streets and thought; I could help make this a better place, not by much, but just enough so that the civilians could rest easy knowing they’re looked out for. No matter if I get beaten down again and again, I’ll always get back up because if I don’t, then who will if not me? And you loved him for that and loved even more when he first brought Dick home, followed shortly by Jason, Tim and Damian with the inclusions of Stephenie, Cassandra and Duke respectively.

So nowadays whenever you wanted Bruce to rest, you’d call upon the help of the kids -now grown ass adults with lives of their own- and Alfred to help you drag Bruce away from the screens of the bat-computer.

‘You could’ve just asked nicely.’ Bruce said as he walked with the likes of you, Tim, Dick, Jason and Barbra out of the bat cave after successfully getting Bruce to join you and the remainder of the family- whom were waiting for you all in the dinner room- for dinner that Alfred made.

‘We did, multiple times.’ Jason replied.

‘Well if you consider pulling back his chair from under him asking then yes, yes we did.’ Tim then said as Dick butted himself in the conversation. ‘I mean, it did work in our favour in getting the old man out of the bat cave.’ Murmurs of agreement followed as you leaned against Bruce, staring at your gaggle of kids with nostalgia, chuckling.

‘What’re you laughing to yourself about?’ Bruce asks and you shrug.

‘Nothing, it’s just nice to see that your soft spot for them hasn’t changed after all this time.’ You replied, holding onto his arm as he pressed a small kiss to your head and hums in agreement.

‘They happen to take after you, and you’re hard to say no to in any capacity.’ Bruce answers and you couldn’t help but squint your eyes at him. ‘Liar.’ You tell him with a grin. ‘You just don’t want to admit that I’m right.’

Bruce chuckles and kisses your cheek. ‘Okay, maybe you’re right about one thing.’ He concedes and allows you to drag him down the hallway, happy to be able to see his family all in one place.

Jason who might as well make his apartment a makeshift animal shelter because of how many strays he brings in from off of the street and dangerous living situations.

The pattern in this being that the strays he brings in were dogs that were heavily stereotyped as dangerous and aggressive, hurt, or missing a limb in some capacity. So there would be days where you’d come home to find Jason bathing an XL bully and a Pit bull, whom had some scarring left from when they were used as an illegal fighting dog, and you wouldn’t even bat an eye as you discarded your coat and went to help Jason in drying them off.

‘Where’d you find this one then Jason?’ You asked as you ran a hand through the Pit bulls short fur as it fell asleep on his lap while the XL bully fell asleep in yours.

‘In an alleyway where I was just about finishing up my patrol, tucked away in a darkened corner in a rotting cardboard box where I could heard them whimpering as clear as day.’ He responded. You could hear the anger in his voice towards the mistreatment of the poor dogs and reached over to hold his hand, stroking the back of it with your thumb.

‘You saved them Jason. You’ve given them much more than what their previous owner did tenfold.’ You reassured him, letting him know that the good he’s done will stick with the dogs for a long, long time. ‘Are you planning to give them to Damian to look after before finding them a good home?’ You then asked, having dawn to terms a long time ago that you nor Jason would have the time to properly take care of them yourselves, no matter how much you wanted to but you knew in this instance you couldn’t be selfish.

‘I would but Damian already has his hands full with the Doberman and Staffy we found last time,’ Jason sifted in his seat to look at you, ‘apparently Titus, Alfred and Ace have grown attached to them and refuse to the idea of them leaving. So Bruce is in the process of legally having the dogs be put under his care.’

You visibly perk up as you cuddled the XL bully to your chest. ‘Does that mean?’ Jason couldn’t help but laugh at your inherent cuteness as he pecked your lips. ‘Yes, we get to shelter them a little while longer chipmunk.’ He murmurs against your lips and you couldn’t help but steal a kiss from his lips out of happiness.

‘Have I told you how much I love you lately?’ You asked.

Jason hums. ‘You have but once more couldn’t hurt now would it?’ He teases.

Not even a week later and you and Jason decided to keep Riley the XL bully and Roy the Pit bull and you both love them dearly.

[solarmorrigan]

Bats, and What to Do With Them

For the @steddie-spooktober day 14 prompt: Bats Rated: T | Words: 756 | CW: None | Tags: established relationship, Steve Harrington has absent parents, at the very least, Steve Harrington deserves nice things, and Eddie will give them to him Divider credit: @saradika

The first time Steve holds a bat, he is four years old, and his dad has signed him up for tee ball.

To be perfectly honest, Steve isn’t entirely sure what’s going on. It’s bright, there are a lot of other kids milling around, everyone seems to be shouting about something, and Steve is apparently supposed to be doing something with the bat in his hands.

When he finally does figure it out—when he hits the ball and it actually goes somewhere—his dad whoops from his spot in the crowd, and Steve glows. His dad isn’t around much, doesn’t have much time to play with Steve, but he’s here now, and Steve wants to make him to stick around. He runs when they tell him, and hits the ball when he’s supposed to, and he does his best to make his dad proud.

Tee ball becomes Little League, becomes the Hawkins Middle School team, becomes junior varsity in high school, but by the time he’s sixteen, Steve has given up on baseball. His dad had stopped coming to his games a long time ago, and Steve’s realized it will take a lot more than hitting a ball to make his dad proud.

Still, the feel of a bat is familiar in his hands when he swipes it up off the floor of the Byers’ living room. The weight is a little different, a little off-kilter with all the nails hammered into it, but Steve can adapt. He’s hit smaller targets than the thing he’s aiming for, but it’s never mattered as much that he lands a swing as it does right now.

He doesn’t even have to think about it; muscle memory takes over as he winds up, aims for the flower-petal head full of teeth that’s about to kill his friends, and swings for the fucking fences.

Later, even though the bat had been Nancy’s, and it had been Jonathan who’d filled the thing with nails, it stays in Steve’s possession. They both think that it’s best in his hands, and Steve doesn’t disagree. It comes in handy, after all, less than a year later when Dustin comes barreling into his life, bringing demodogs in his wake.

And a couple of years after that, when Steve actually has a moment to consider it, he almost wants to laugh. He’d had a bat in his hands again, and he hadn’t even had to think; he’d simply gathered all his strength and swung.

The fact that the bat had been a monster, rather than of the baseball variety, had apparently been irrelevant. Steve is well-trained by now; he knows what to do with bats.

At least, he’d thought he did.

But now, there’s a bat sitting on his pillow, and he’s at a loss.

It’s purple and black and fuzzy and stuffed – a little plush toy. Steve picks it up carefully, looking it over, and it looks back through green plastic eyes, giving Steve a little fang-toothed smile.

“Hey, Steve, have you– oh, you found him,” Eddie says, walking into the bedroom breaking into a grin has he finds Steve standing by the bed, still staring down at the bat.

“Yeah.” Steve says, looking up at Eddie with furrowed brows. “What’s it doing on my pillow, though?”

“He’s for you. Obviously,” Eddie teases. “Saw him at the store and it made me think of you, so I brought him home.”

This is clearing absolutely nothing up for Steve. “Why would this make you think of me?”

“Well,” Eddie says slowly, coming up beside Steve to sling an arm around his waist and pull him close, “you’re the man who handles the bats, right? So: a bat. For you. I thought he was cute.”

It is cute. Steve likes it, but he feels like maybe he shouldn’t. He hasn’t had a stuffed animal since he was maybe six or seven, when his dad had said that he was too old for them.

“What am I supposed to do with it?” Steve asks, the toy still cupped carefully between his palms.

“Hold him. Cherish him. Raise him as your own,” Eddie says, holding an entirely straight face for about five seconds before he’s smiling again, teasing Steve. “It’s a plushie, Steve, you don’t have to do anything with it. Just… enjoy having it.”

“Oh,” Steve says.

It’s a bat. Just for him to have. Something soft and sweet with no expectations attached.

And Steve guesses he can learn something new, when it comes to dealing with bats.

[yutarot]

SHES THE MAN [l.hc smau]

23 - i guess we both had our secrets. wc: 1k

TBU campus — 11:07am

the past few weeks had gone slowly. it had taken you a while to get back into the routine of your old life, no esports, no ncu and no haechan.

just you, your friends and this horrible sinking feeling in your stomach.

you miss him more than you’ll ever admit to ten or yourself. but there is nothing you can do but watch, as days pass, in fear that you’ll forget all the memories you made with him. whether they were classed as real memories or not, you struggle to decipher, but considering the ache that you feel in remembering them, you decide that you can cherish them as if they were.

this morning was just another morning, leaving your dorm with ningning and making your way to classes. the campus always seemed so fresh, so new, and you hated the way that, with every corner you turn, you risk the chances of bumping into the one person you do not want to see.

eric sohn.

somehow, you’ve avoided him ever since ami revealed your secret. but you know that the moment you see him, he’s not going to let you go peacefully.

it had taken a while for people on campus to come to terms with what had happened. luckily, most people found it hilarious, patting you on the back when they saw you, congratulating you for doing what you wanted and nearly getting away with it.

you hang on to that ‘nearly’, clutching onto the possibility of what it might’ve been if you were never exposed.

your thoughts are interrupted.

“meet me back here at 1?” ningning asks, referring to you both having to split to go to seperate buildings at this point. you nod at her before making your way to the biology block.

if only you knew that you would never make it.

because, standing in your direct line of sight is not only the man you least want to see, but there he is, staring directly at you.

and he’s grinning.

you want to turn away, you really do, you’ve been dreading this interaction for weeks. but you keep walking forward until your face to face with him, your legs moving you out of curiosity and perhaps madness.

“hi yn.” he says. your glad he’s not got any of his friends with him, you couldn’t think of anything worse than having sunwoo laugh in your face.

“hi eric.”

“so, NCU huh?”

oh god.

“ye-“

“you know, i had my suspicions about you after seeing you help haechan out of that party, wasn’t very stranger-like of you.”

you stay silent. you know what question he’s going to ask next, and there’s nothing you can do to prepare yourself for the sting it’s going to hit you with.

“did he know you were lying directly to his face about who you were the entire fucking time?”

there it is.

you’re annoyed, “why do you care?” you say, but he only scoffs.

he’s smug, and you hate it. “all of that, for me? wow yn, you must have really hurt their feelings when you left. i’m curious, were you planning to tell them, ever? or were you just expecting to disappear out of nowhere? thinking no one would notice?”

there’s a sinister tone to his voice that confuses you. why is he asking so many irrelevant questions? why is he not asking you what happened?

but then, it hits you.

“you were behind it, all of it.”

his creeping smile answers your question before he can even open his mouth.

“hmmm and what do you mean by it?”

you hate how happy he is, you hate how much he’s smiling.

“you told ami that chenle had been away. you’d found out somehow, and you’d told her.”

he shrugged, “all it took was $20 in hyunjaes hand and he was happy to hack into chenles phone to send a text to ami. you should have known that younghoon was in the same basketball team as chenle, not my fault.”

“you’re sick.”

“i guess we both had our secrets.”

you’re appalled at how right he is, you had been stupid, you’d overlooked all the small details and you’d missed out on everything that was looking you directly in the face. eric beating up haechan unprovoked? him attacking haechan in the fortnite tournament? this entire time, he wasn’t trying to mess with haechan, he was trying to mess with you, and you just let it all happen because you turned a blind eye to the fact that he might have known. he had no reason for attacking chenle and the ncu team, unless he knew that it was never really chenle at all.

“you knew the whole time?”

he raises his eyebrows, smugness in his eyes that doesn’t cease to make you feel nauseous. “well, you helping haechan at the party was the main giveaway, why else do you think i started punching him in the first place?”

“you were trying to confirm it for yourself… to see if i would go over to help him…”

“oh you really are smart yn!”

you hate eric, in this moment and forever. he had planned this all perfectly from the beginning, disguising his hatred for you as hatred for haechan. and haechan didn’t deserve a single ounce of that hate.

you did.

you hate that it all could have worked out, you could have stayed in the team and you could have beat tbu. but it’s because of your own stupidity that you let eric find out everything.

and haechan. oh how you wish you could find him and apologise for everything, you wish you could go back to the very beginning, never get yangyangs twitter, never dm him and never accept that first game request from haechan.

this was all a horrible, horrible mistake.

and it’s all your fault.

so all you can do is walk away. that’s all you seem to ever do.

you walk, and you walk and you walk.

[m.list] [next]

TAGLIST - CLOSED - @lostinneocity @aek1ra @haechansleftshoulder @sunghoonsgfreal @cyjzzl @nanaxwi @neocrashed @candied-czennie @alethea-moon @vantxx95 @nerdsungie @morkiee @sthwaaberry @sunnystarred @p-d1ddy @starfilledgaze @markeroolee @polarisjisung @222brainrot @grassbutneo @minsugahh @daegalfangirl @injunnie-lemon @therealbobbyshloby @flwrs4marklee @chenlesfavorite @jirsungs @donghyucksslut @junviadinho @minkyuncutie @multifandomania @n0hyuck @yehet267 @nctrawberries @neogothyuckie @snoopyjimin @yewshi @theyluvfrankocean @nanamyh3art @i03jae @ckline35 @hyuoonp @galacticnct @haechology @lttlekomori @cutiebambi @tynlvr @sunflowerhae @joyzluvr @taeeflwrr

[aesterblaster]

Sleepin Demons

How Blue Lock characters wake up from nightmares/How you can comfort them [Gender neutral reader]

Tropes: Reverse Comfort, Fluff/Angst, Established Relationship, and general warnings for some gore and mentions of flashbacks along with implied sexual harassment

Characters: Almost All Of Them Lol

Songs: Insecure - Bren Joy // Coffee for Dinner - Orion Sun // Broken Clocks - SZA

The Silent Type + Actual Memories

It's the same one again. He's right back where he started. Unloved, unknown, left out of everything. The pangs of hunger run through him like a freight train as he desperately runs from room to room in his childhood home...But there's no nourishment. Someone calls his name but all he feels is fear at being recognized, he cowers as a figure rounds the corner and says his name again. "You think you could get away from me? Huh?" It could be anyone, a parent, someone he used to owe money to, an old abusive coach, all he knows is what comes next is going to hurt. "Are you fucking crying? You're so pathetic, soon everyone else will see that just like I always have!" The floor begins to sag and give way, everything creases in on itself. His brain feels like it's going to explode.

When he wakes up- his brain still feels as if it's too big for his skull, pushing against the edges like it's trying to find its way out. But he doesn't groan in pain, and he doesn't move. You're next to him after all, breathing softly. The moonlight grounds him, your hand against his side grounds him, he is safe now. The best thing you can do is stay asleep. He isn't ready to talk and admit that he's weak (or even worse...the fact that it is okay to be weak sometimes), not yet. For now he just snuggles against you and quietly brushes away any residual tears, thanking everything he believes in that he's here with you now.

Kaiser, Hiori, Naruhaya, Noa, Lorenzo

The Silent Type + More Abstract Fears

Slow. Everything was moving so fucking slow around him. His body was falling apart. Every sinew, every cell, every fucking atom of his being was breaking down and there was nothing he could do to stop it. Was this what he was truly destined for, dust to dust? Strangely enough, it didn't hurt, everything was calm. He was dying, so what? Every star burns out. And then, as sharp as a clap of thunder, the pain arrived. In his heart, not his body. Images of friends, family, trophies, all the things he hadn't done yet and you surged through his head. No, he couldn't die, not yet! He gripped his arm, but it was already turning to dust. Irrelevant and forgotten.

He's almost surprised when he wakes up, remembers that that would be impossible. Wants to scoff at himself for being afraid of something that could never happen. But the truth is, he is going to die someday, no matter how big of a star he is. He watches you twitch in your sleep, obviously disturbed by how he jerked awake, and curls his arms around you. He presses his face to the top of your head and breathes you in, silently begging you to drift back into a deeper sleep. He just needs to savor every moment with you and stop worrying, he tells himself.

Snuffy, Nagi, Ego, Aryu, Reo, Kuon, Chris, Jin

Wakes Up Screaming + Needs Reassurance

Why was this happening? You were in his arms, covered in blood, he was covered in blood; It was everywhere. The cheering from the fans turned into screaming, that's when he should've stopped and had the damn sense to look around. Instead, he kept running and dribbling down the field, confused why nobody was stopping him. He didn't see you falling from the stands until you were right in front of him. Your arm twisted first, then your neck, the rest of you followed. Why was this happening? "No, no, no, no...(Y/N). Get help! What the fuck are you all standing around for?!" He took off his jersey and tried to stop the bleeding but it wasn't enough, you were already going cold. He was powerless.

"I said get help-!!" he roared. "Oh..oh fuck." He suddenly wasn't holding your limp body anymore, he was in his- your room. The smell of blood disappeared. He glanced over and made eye contact with you. "Are you okay? You're shaking like a leaf!" "No..can you, can you just come here?" He crushes you in a bear hug as soon as you do. Even when he lets up, he opts to hold your hand instead. He makes you tell him about your day, because he got in late when you were already asleep. He tells you how much he loves you and recounts the day you two met just to stop his heart from bursting. "S-sorry I woke you up, I just- I needed that."

Ness, Niko, Aoshi, Sendo, Gagumaru, Igaguri, Kurona

Wakes Up Screaming + Needs Some Space

The first thing he notices is that he can't breathe. The second thing he notices is that he is in a hospital. "No, I don't think he will ever be able to speak or move again." a voice he doesn't recognize claims. Someone is choking him and he can't stop them. It's himself, rabid, foaming at the mouth. The doppelganger realizes he's been caught and tightens his grip. "That's right, that's what you fucking get for ignoring yourself. You don't even fucking eat enough and you want to be a star, huh? You keep betraying yourself." His neck is lifted from the cold pillow. "And betraying yourself!" It's slammed back down. He wants to tell him to stop, to say anything, but he can't.

He wakes up like he's been jolted back to life by electricity, doesn't even realize he's screaming. "Baby, baby you're okay! It's okay." He feels your hands around him and feels ashamed instead of relieved. What the fuck was that?! "Just go back to sleep, I'll be back." You open your mouth to argue but he shakes his head. "Please." This is nothing you can help him with, he needs to take care of himself and he knows it. Can't keep relying on others to pull him out. He takes a cold shower and comes back to bed hours later, slipping next to you. "I'm sorry I scared you." is all he says as his hands glide over your back. It's best if you just accept his apology, you'll never fully understand the war he's having with himself.

Chigiri, Kenyu, Kunigami, Kira, Sae, Barou

You Wake Him Up + It's Not Okay

Of course he knows this is a fucking dream, how could it not be? The overwhelming lights, the strange woman putting her hands on his chest. He knows exactly what this is about too. The paparazzi have gotten way too comfortable following both you and him around, they keep asking invasive questions and posting up outside of your house. The lack of privacy should be illegal. "You're famous now, you should like this you ungrateful piece of shit." a voice hisses in his ear as another pair of hands massages his shoulders. He tenses and struggles, but more hands appear, grabbing at his clothes. They tear pieces away from him with no remorse and something deep inside of him wishes it could end- Scratch that, every part of him wishes this would end, the violation, the rumors, the-

"Hey! Are you alright? I think..I think that you were having a nightmare." He gasps, so the feeling of hands on his chest were yours. Everything that was tensed relaxes, it was just you. That doesn't stop all his feelings from welling up along with tears. "Can you not touch me right now?" God, he wishes you wouldn't look at him like that. "Are you crying?" "No." He slips out of bed and checks the curtains, he can't shake the feeling of foreign hands on every part of him, not just his chest. Disgust curls and uncurls in his stomach. Why couldn't he just fight back on his own in his own damn head? "There's no one out there-" "How do you know!? Huh?" he demands, a whole lot louder than he meant to. "Fuck wait..I'm sorry. This week has just been a lot." You two end up having a long and needed talk that night.

Lavinho, Reo, Oliver, Rin, Raichi, Tabito

You Wake Him Up + It's Okay

He has been walking in circles for hours. Each loop, though, something changes. At first it was funny, (someone's head would balloon to an impossible size or a sign would read a curse word instead of an actual street name, for example) but now he was just tired. He couldn't sit down though or this burning pain would shoot through him...Just like in the real world, if he ever stopped shining, if he ever stopped moving forward, he'd get this feeling like he wasn't doing enough. Even on vacations there would be a gnawing sense that he was running from his rightful title. All he needed was the spotlight, even if it took so much fucking effort to get there. Practicing the same kicks over and over again, walking in circles, looking for what would excite him next-

"Please stop kicking me..." you groan and he wakes up instantly. Honestly, he didn't realize how terrifying his dream was until he's lucid. "Was I kicking you? Sorry... I just had the weirdest dream, it was like I kept walking in circles and I couldn't stop." "Maybe that's your brain telling you to take a break and stop treating my shin like a soccer ball." You two continue to make light of it and the more he talks about it with you, the more relaxed he gets. He's going to be just fine, especially with you by his side. "Mnh, good night." you finally whisper, cuddling up against him and tangling your leg with his in a final attempt to prevent any future attacks. "Good night." He watches you fall asleep with love in his eyes and wonders how a job obsessed weirdo like him managed to land someone as perfect as you.

Bachira, Loki, Isagi, Shidou, Nanase, Otoya, Zantetsu,

[ai-manre]

The way that characters keep accusing Jon of fucking someone just because he's kind and open-minded and wants to protect people...

Sam:

Jon drew his longsword. He dared defy Ser Alliser only to a point, and he feared he was well beyond it now.

Thorne smiled. "The Bastard wishes to defend his lady love, so we shall make an exercise of it. Rat, Pimple, help our Stone Head here." Rast and Albett moved to join Halder. "Three of you ought to be sufficient to make Lady Piggy squeal. All you need do is get past the Bastard." - Jon IV, AGOT

The plan was Chett's. He was the clever one; he'd been steward to old Maester Aemon for four good years before that bastard Jon Snow had done him out so his job could be handed to his fat pig of a friend. When he killed Sam Tarly tonight, he planned to whisper, "Give my love to Lord Snow," right in his ear before he sliced Ser Piggy's throat open to let the blood come bubbling out through all those layers of suet. - Prologue, ASOS

Melisandre:

Jon could feel her heat, even through his wool and boiled leather. The sight of them arm in arm was drawing curious looks. They will be whispering in the barracks tonight. - Jon I ADWD

Alys:

"A wildling. A filthy, murdering wildling." Cregan's hands closed into fists. The gloves that covered them were leather, lined with fur to match the cloak that hung matted and stiff from his broad shoulders. His black wool surcoat was emblazoned with the white sunburst of his house. "I see what you are, Snow. Half a wolf and half a wildling, baseborn get of a traitor and a whore. You would deliver a highborn maid to the bed of some stinking savage. Did you sample her yourself first?" - Jon X, ADWD

Satin:

Ser Malegorn stepped forward. "I will escort Her Grace to the feast. We shall not require your … steward." The way the man drew out the last word told Jon that he had been considering saying something else. Boy? Pet? Whore? - Jon X, ADWD

Val:

"Easily remedied." Florent's smile was so false that it looked painful. "Where is she, Lord Snow? Have you moved her to one of your other castles? Greyguard or the Shadow Tower? Whore's Burrow, with t'other wenches?" He leaned close. "Some say you have her tucked away for your own pleasure. It makes no matter to me, so long as she is not with child. I'll get my own sons on her. If you've broken her to saddle, well … we are both men of the world, are we not?" - Jon X, ADWD

The watch is constantly whispering and gossiping about his sexual deviant tastes because he's?? Nice and kind to people?? Irrelevant of who they are??

[rubberduckyrye]

Okay DRV3 Fans Let's Talk about Canon Ages.

Because I woke up and my brain connected the dots, and because some of you are fucking weird about High-school students. So let's clear the air here--and let's just say they're probably over 18 years old.

In my Gonta rant (which yes I'm linking here, go read it) I call him a young adult. Some people are under the impression (like that anon I got last night) that the V3 cast is canonly 16 or younger due to... whatever the fuck reason. But! I am here to argue a counter point--that the V3 Cast is actually much older and are more college age than young highschoolers.

First of all, let's remember the fact that in all DR games, the cast has gone to high school for some amount of years before their memories are wiped. V3 Also has this feature, and it is within the canon story that these kids remember attending HPA.

Now whether or not you believe this to be true is irrelevant right now because I need you to remember that the backstory for these characters was that they were being hunted down by the Ultimate Hunt, which means they were Ultimate Students at HPA first. Then they had their memories wiped to go into hiding. Yada yada.

The important part actually comes from Kirumi, however. Kirumi is the character that proves that the V3 cast is older than 18 years old.

Remember this tidbit--where Kirumi was the maid of the Prime Minister? Well, when do you think she became the maid for the Prime Minister, do you think?

I have an answer for you.

This is the dialogue from Kaito's "My Future" cutscene from DR:S. The "My Future" Cutscenes take place at the end of the run with the character chosen, and DR:S takes place right at the end of their 3rd year of attending HPA.

Kirumi doesn't specify who she will be working for, but considering that this person is such a big deal what she felt the need to consult Kaito about it, to help her sort out her feelings, I think we can all agree this is heavily referencing V3's plot where she is the Prime Minister's Maid.

This means that Kirumi only took the job as the Prime Minister's Maid at the very end of high school.

That means that by the time V3 runs around, she's well out of high school.

Now you can argue that V3 and DR:S aren't in the same canon--and you'd be right! I would never consider them to be canon to one another. However, this scene shows that in DRV3 and in DR:S, the intention for Kirumi to have been the Prime Minister's maid started at the very tail end of her time in high school. Same character, same backstory, different situation.

Meaning by that logic, Kirumi--as well as her other classmates--are over 18 years old in V3.

They are young adults.