#as if i can even feel semi decent about putting that kind of shit in my portfolio because its just someone elses work with my name on it

[lycanthian]

theres something uniquely annoying about paying thousands of dollars to go to school and take classes to learn a valuable skillset that can help you in your desired field of work. and it feels like everything weve done so far is just copying other peoples work

[weebsinstash]

I was cleaning my room and I developed a hyper specific thirst for "your red string of fate soulmate uses The String to basically track you down and invite themselves into your apartment and start going through all your things"

I've just, been having my mind run amok with different ideas for Hazbin characters 💀 Vox wants to go through all your tech and your video games, Velvette and Valentino poke through your closet and your skincare, Alastor... he's just fucking judgy about almost everything lmao

They go to open a specific drawer without asking and you're all but BLOCKING THAT SHIT WITH YOUR BODY because Oh My God They Absolutelt Cannot Find Out That That's Your Sex Toy Drawer. And they find out anyways. Just. mortifying. That's too personal man I would die 💀 like I'm sorry can you imagine something just real uh large rolls out and like you've got VALENTINO just looming at you like "giiiiiiiiiiiiiirl---" cause like. Ok guess that solves the question of if you can fit him djggnjffkffjfjf

But it could also be cute! They see so many things around your room that they do enjoy!! Alastor sees that despite being modern, you listen to music that's from all genres including big bands and old jazz and, even your tastes in more modern music tend to be things similar from your childhood. Vox sees that you have like, figurines and anime merch and games he plays too! Velvette sees that you might dress in a way she considers uh ugly maybe just because you're broke as fuck and have been paying for all of your bills but maybe just maybe you like to draw and she can't help but notice the clothing in your drawings are nice and stylish. Valentino.... I dunno man he's kind of a jerk but I think he'd think it's cute when you get happy and excitedly show him things and maybe he even, idk,the yandereness turns him into a semi decent person and he's actually listening to everything you say even if he doesn't understand it because you're just so cute

Also regarding these guys going through your room I feel like it depends on what kind of story you're going for but if they're not being bullying and sadistic they're probably being nosey and infantilizing so like. You would think it would be horrible for Valentino to find your sex toys or lingerie right? Right! But he'll also notice a LACK of those things so there's no winning!!!! He'll tease you for keeping a vibrator wand in your bedside table and if he DOESNT find any fake dicks he'll tease you about being pent up and ask if "Daddy needs to take you to his favorite toy shop" or something 💀💀💀💀

I'm just saying like. Any which way, it's a scenario for a yandere to come into your life and react with either "oh cool, look how much we have in common! This is just further proof we belong together :)" OR "oh wow, you're not what I expected at all, but I love you so don't worry, I promise I'm not gonna abandon you and I'll just put in the work to change you until you better suit my own personal tastes but trust me you being a brat and resisting is also extremely adorable and I love that too :)"

[tacky-optic]

SINNERS, ALL OF 'EM

the seven deadly sins + the gang = way too much overthinking

Lupin's Gluttony The world's his for the talking, yet he can never be satisfied. That'd be a real bummer if he were anyone else, but that hunger for more challenges, more adventures, seems to only add more fuel to an already roaring fire. He's a Glutton for a lot of things: Punishment, mainly. But also attention and experiences. His curiosity is insatiable. The only issue with Lupin's Gluttony is that he isn't inherently wasteful, which is a pretty glaring caveat. In that case, the big question would be "does the damage he leave in his wake outweigh that which was stolen in the first place?"

Jigen's Sloth/Envy "Man, I'm too old for this shit" incarnate, with a little dash of "I'm still going to silently judge you from my dark little corner, though" on top. It isn't Sloth "I'm gonna take a decade to get to this" so much as it is "I'm gonna do what you want me to do so rapidly and effectively that you're gonna think twice about waking me up again after I get back to my nap." But he really doesn't do jack-all if it isn't Lupin-related. If it were just him all on his lonesome, he'd kind of just rot. He is indifferent to his effectiveness. Bored, even. His loyalty to Lupin is an inherent aversion of his responsibilities as an individual.

His Envy brings him to action. He's a man of a lot of subtle wants and no willpower to take them, but with the right motivator, he'll bring down armies. Fujiko is a pretty good spur-on, as well as anything that remotely puts Lupin in the line of inconvenience or danger. If it's for one of his very, very few friends, he'd go through hell and high water just to get them a decent sandwich or something. Just be thankful his Envy's benign instead of malicious...

Goemon's Pride Mr. "Once again, I have cut a worthless object". There's literally an entire movie about his ego getting so utterly shattered that he gets all cagey/stabby mode about it for the rest of the movie, on top of training so hard he rewrites his entire goddamn nervous system just so he can do said stabby better. It's fantastic. To dedicate oneself so fully to one skill, then to restrict it to your own judgement as to not tarnish it, feels like the antithesis of humility. Pride, in a biblical sense, is to sever oneself from God; to become so wholly individual and confident in said fact that you forsake conventional belief in favor of your own. So congrats on netting the literal Worst sin, Goemon, you've earned it. God ain't shit when you can cut through anything.

Fujiko's Greed Does... does this even need elaborating. She's a woman that knows exactly what she wants and exactly how to get it, plain and simple. Why settle for anything less than the best?

Zenigata's Wrath/Lust What a wombo-combo, damn. This guy's the definition of love/hate. He's a man simultaneously impassioned and overwhelmed by his emotions, yet they lend so heavily to his professional and personal effectiveness that without them, he wouldn't be him anymore. Wrath and Lust go hand in hand, in a roundabout sort of way. It's about loving something so much that you want to crush it. A brutal dimorphous expression of emotion. To long for something to intensely, so vehemently, that it guides every action, fuels every decision... Underneath it all, would it even be possible to know what you are if that drive is all that defines you? Could you even call that living? We're talking about a guy who unironically wears heart boxers and almost exclusively eats cup noodle, people. This symbolism's very disturbing...

That's A Wrap You can always argue other sins for each of the cast members, of course. Lust for Lupin, Wrath for Jigen, Envy for Zenigata-- whatever. At the end of the day, they're all objectively terrible people. It's semi-safe to say that outside of religious contexts, the seven deadly sins have grown subjective in common culture/media. So why not take liberties? I sure as hell did. It's a goddamn miracle these managed to turn out so succinct.

[boss-poss]

I've kinda gotten interested in the pokemon gun slavery game since I learned it was actually a base building survival type deal but $30 seems like a lot to pay to watch someone piss on an established franchise. I'd bite for 15, maybe even 20 for a completed game, but I just feel like I'm getting hustled for the current price. It's funny watching nintendo take knee to the balls after decades of stagnant slop but I won't be overcharged for event, sorry. It's a project made out of spite and designed to fire a few shots in the air to scare a company but it isn't really anything else. I think I'll just wait for like a year and catch it on a sale.

Otherwise I would like to see more contenders in the creature collection ring. I can't go back and play old pokemon games because the level of difficulty is nonexistent I've realized as time has gone on that the combat system is really fucking basic and broken. Give me an actual attempt at making an even semi-original competitor with a decently balanced combat system and some challenge and I'd happily throw money at it, full price even.

I've said for years that the hard part about standing against pokemon isn't about making something better than the original IP, it's about putting in a consistent level of effort and continuing to do so while trying to make a fun video game. Literally just do anything besides rushing out half-baked entries designed to siphon money from recognition and nostalgia. Literally any effort at all it seems.

Palworld, when viewed on it's own, looks like a modded unity game with someone's OCs added in and it still makes the official pokemon releases of the last 5 years look like absolute shit out of a butt. Scarlet and Violet in particular look like cheap copies in comparison and it really sells it to me that pokemon kind of needs to die. When the big name IP is so absolutely dunked on by an early access indie project it shows that the only real staying power it has is monopoly.

Pokemon exists as it does today only really because adults with money get addicted to nostalgia and Nintendo is an extremely litigious company. How many pokemon fan games have met their axe? How many developers have avoided even trying to make a similar game because featuring things even tangentially like a pokemon is just begging for a cease and desist from the hip? There should be multiple fan projects that consist of all regions and pokemon wrapped up together in one package but there aren't because the plumber's heel finds them every time. The greedy giant jealously guards his golden goose.

I don't think I'll even probably buy palworld, in fact I think no one will remember it this time next year, but we do need more games like it. Nintendo won't take this sitting down and if the developers can somehow avoid getting C&D'd into the dirt, I really hope that more people try to make the pokemon game they want, not just eat at the trough and be grateful for anything. If you want good and entertaining pocket monsters you need to say so by being the change you want to see in the world. Realize that collectible creatures aren't exclusive to pokemon and Nintendo's control of that genre only extends so far. They know this and that's why they act so aggressively to keep that the truth.

In fact, if I was a holder of the digimon (or the monster rancher) IP I'd be getting some talks going at least. Players are hungry on a lean diet and they've just gotten a taste of a thicker, more nutritious gruel. How quickly and happily they would run to people serving even cafeteria food? Bring something truly delicious and you could boot the king off his throne.

[myownlittlehell]

⋆｡˚☽🌌☽˚｡⋆ ℍ𝕚 my name is Chai! I made this blog because I wanted to make something online that represented me. Not just my art, but my interests, my spirituality, everything that's me. Because when I think about it, I don't really know myself too well. But with this, I hope things will change. You know the meme I am cringe but I am free, that's me, that's this blog! I feel like if there's a cringe bingo I could fill that bitch up. 𝕀 also just wanted a social media platform that didn't feel like I had to constantly shill for interactions. At this point, I'm going in with the mindset of, if someone sees it, neat, if not, also neat! ⋆｡˚☽🌌☽˚｡⋆

⋆｡˚☽☁️☽˚｡⋆ 𝕊ome things about me are: ⋆｡˚☽☁️☽˚｡⋆

⋆｡˚☽🌈☽˚｡⋆ 𝕀 make art (albeit very slowly) ⋆｡˚☽🌈☽˚｡⋆

⋆｡˚☽🌌☽˚｡⋆ 𝕀 love video games, mostly Nintendo ones (Pokemon and Mario especially) but I'm working on getting a gaming PC together so I can branch out. ⋆｡˚☽🌌☽˚｡⋆

⋆｡˚☽☁️☽˚｡⋆ 𝕀 was HEAVILY into Witchblr and whatnot back in the day, and still practice some spirit work and whatnot despite stepping away from the community. Mostly Pop Culture Paganism and PC spirit work in specific (Oh yeah I told you I'm gonna be cringe on main woah boy). Spiritual stuff really fascinates me, it always has. ⋆｡˚☽☁️☽˚｡⋆

⋆｡˚☽🌈☽˚｡⋆ 𝕀'𝕞 a stoner, mostly an edible user, but I truly believe that marijuana can be beneficial for certain people like it was for me. ⋆｡˚☽🌈☽˚｡⋆

⋆｡˚☽🌌☽˚｡⋆ 𝕀'𝕞 a kinnie, yup. ⋆｡˚☽🌌☽˚｡⋆

⋆｡˚☽☁️☽˚｡⋆ 𝕀'𝕞 in college as an art student, but because I'm unable to drive and a bit broke (disability payments go brrr) my associates is taking…a bit longer than I'd like. ⋆｡˚☽☁️☽˚｡⋆

⋆｡˚☽🌈☽˚｡⋆ 𝕀 know DNI's are kind of a meme, but beyond the obvious DNI criteria of being a semi-decent person on the internet, I do believe that others have a right to criticize what I post, it's a public blog on the internet after all. I truly believe that it is important to not shut out anyone with a different opinion, even if it's not put in the nicest way possible. ⋆｡˚☽🌈☽˚｡⋆

⋆｡˚☽🌌☽˚｡⋆ 𝕋𝕙𝕒𝕥 being said, depending on how I'm feeling I may not be willing to do a typical online debate or whatever. Basically what I'm trying to limit my sperg rambling to is that I'm open to criticism, but I may not always engage with it. I do believe that the meaning of harassment has been watered down a lot and I want to keep an open mind, honesty with one's self was the main reason I wanted to make this blog in the first place, so who am I to try and censor someone else right? Just keep it decent, that's all. ⋆｡˚☽🌌☽˚｡⋆

⋆｡˚☽☁️☽˚｡⋆ 𝕀 guess other things about me is that I'm a fucked up little dude. I've been diagnosed with a lot of shit and it does effect my day to day life. Things like, ASD, BPD, OCD, (a lot of D's) ADHD, Cerebral Palsy, and of course because it's Currrent Year, Depression and Anxiety (especially the social kind). ⋆｡˚☽☁️☽˚｡⋆

⋆｡˚☽🌈☽˚｡⋆ 𝕀𝕗 you made it through my ramblings…congrats! I'm genuinely grateful someone read this, hopefully I don't come off too wierd, but if so oh well, such as life. ⋆｡˚☽🌈☽˚｡⋆

⋆｡˚☽🌌☽˚｡⋆ 𝕎𝕖 live in Hell after all, why not be honest about it? ⋆｡˚☽🌌☽˚｡⋆

[docholligay]

Eurovision Rehearsals Quick Takes: Day Two

Everything I said in the first post also is true in the second, and once again, these are in running order!

Israel: I knew she was going to bring a whole-ass set, and I was not disappointed. The dancing looks insane. This is basically what I assumed would happen when she was announced.

Azerbaijan: I feel real bad for these kids, as I think there are years, and honestly, even in the other semi, where this might qualfiy, but it won’t here. It’s just these floppy haired Azerbaijani boys in their 70s costumes. This is closer to the kind of music I would like to hear show up more, so it extra bums me out.

Czechia: This sounded better than I expected! It might actually be fine! Depends on the night of course, but it sounds like they have backing vocalists. I do not particularly get the outfit choice, but they have what looks like some reasonably solid choreography.

The Netherlands: So, this actually does require a bunch of story. These two have been doing HORRIBLY. So badly that dutch tv has been making fun of them. So badly that we had an interview about it and Mia said she can “Sing it in the studio”. I think this song has been a top betrayal for me. So, they changed the song so these two can sing it. First of all: Let me skate a revolutionary idea called “Sending people who can sing the song.” Secondly, as @relevantbunny put it, “I can't say I'm pleased with the revamp version which basically takes all the things I liked about the song and throws them in a black hole.” Anyway, i hate the new version, the staging looks good and if it qualifies I am going to scream. They do not deserve it. I DEFENDED YOUR ASSES.

Finland: This is winning the semi. The staging is fucking exceptional, you can tell Finland sees they have a chance at a win and they are going to aim for it. Can he sing it? No, but that literally does not affect who will televote for this thing.

WE’RE NOW IN SEMI 2

Denmark: his vocals seem a little shaky, but my lord that’s a fun set. I hate this song, but it stands a decent chance of qualifying and the set is A game shit.

Armenia: Boy do I wish I liked her song better. I saw a version of her singing “Amar Pelos Dois” and it was gorgeous. Her voice is incredible. The staging for this does not really do anything for me, and it’s actually the first thing that’s made me think her placement in the semi might REALLY be a problem for her.

Romania: Theodor. Theodor please. He’s wearing a bright yellow short suit with pikachu socks, the staging is over the top in a very tacky and not even fun way, it all seems very confusing. He is actually EIGHTEEN, by the way, not twenty, so all of this is even slightly more tragic and he has the song with one of the biggest ranges, especially if you don’t count Norway’s stupid whistle note. If he had twink vibes and were more stereotypically attractive he’d be safe, but he’s not, so he needs to stop acting like such a dweebus and he will not. I really do hope he grows and comes back with a better song and package.

Belgium: This continues to be “Your gay dad reflects on the 90s” and I am not complaining. He has someone vogue on stage! This is cute and I feel like my mom will vote for him.

Cyprus: A couple rough transitions here in the notes, I don’t know whether or not I think he’ll get it together because I don’t have many live performances to go off of. He’s giving Poland 2022 with the effects, so I hope it comes off different the night off.

COME BACK TOMORROW FOR THE REST OF SEMI 2

[starlitink]

Live-"tweeting" my reaction to watching My Fair Lady (1964) for the first time

Jesus this girl goes into hysterics over EVERYTHING

Is that writing A) gibberish because it's just gibberish, B) a special coded language he made up, C) gibberish because it's supposed to be from Eliza's POV and she can't read or something, or D) just how linguists write? (I'm not a linguist so idk)

Look I don't blame her for thinking he's a cop and they have no right to judge her for that

My god I fucking hate Higgins

Sir don't flatter yourself with fancy words you are a linguist plain and simple

Look if a guy insulted me every two seconds and called me a pigeon I'd scream at him too

Sir you are the only one who cares about how this lady sounds "the idea of accents dictating class should be gone by now" sir you're the one judging her by her accent stfu stfu stfu

And even if it is an "antiquated notion" people will always have different accents and THAT'S OKAY THAT'S PART OF LIFE

Okay but Wouldn't It Be Loverly is actually a pretty good song (when put in comparison to the only other song I've seen so far which is Classism Based On Accents: The Song)

Okay Mr. Doolittle needs to shut up

Like sir your wife doesn't like you because you're a drunk bastard who shit talks her to your daughter and tries to waste said daughter's wages on booze not because you're "not a lawful husband"

Jesus do ALL the men in this movie suck????

Apparently yes

Is this going to be the entire plot of the movie? Just Eliza getting insulted and mistreated by men?

*checks Wikipedia* also apparently yes

Did- did he just call her BAGGAGE?

And THIS is my mom's favorite musical???? WHY????? THE MEN IN THIS ARE SHIT

MA'AM I THOUGHT YOU WERE A FEMINIST HOW ARE YOU ANY KIND OF OKAY WITH THIS KIND OF BEHAVIOR

(I'm aware it's a period piece and this is how men acted back then (and still act today) but that doesn't make it okay and I will continue to judge

Eliza has a point with the "I'm not paying you a ton of money to teach me how to speak my own damn language"

Oh thank god ONE somewhat semi-decent man (he's paying for the lessons (even if it's part of a wager)) (it's Pickering)

I absolutely hate everything about Higgins and I hope he dies in a car explosion with hammers /ref

Thank god at least Mrs. Pearce has common sense with the "what the hell is she supposed to do with her life during and after you fuck everything up for her"

Relatable - I also can be bribed with chocolate (although I don't blame her for thinking they might be drugged since as we've established Henry Higgins is absolute trash and I wouldn't put it past the fucker)

So this man is telling her to either do whatever he tells her or be physically abused and if she doesn't pass as a rich lady at Buckingham Palace she'll be THROWN IN JAIL

WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH HIM??????

THIS IS THE LOVE INTEREST??????

WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?????

THIS IS THE MOST MISOGYNISTIC ABUSIVE PIECE OF SHIT I'VE EVER MET IN MY LIFE

AND SOMEHOW SHE FALLS IN LOVE WITH HIM???????

I feel sorry for this poor girl

My mom got mad and turned it off because of the amount of times I said "Jesus Christ this man is a piece of garbage" (about several men)

Look if you don't want me to talk about how much the men suck and mistreat the main character DON'T SHOW ME A MOVIE THAT CONSISTS ENTIRELY OF THE MEN BEING SHIT TO THE MAIN CHARACTER AND EXPECT ME TO BE OKAY WITH IT

I already get enough of this shit at school and I don't want to have to see it at home too

Live-"tweeting" over

[littlesapphicraccoonguy]

Alright, so i just finished the movie and i definitely have some thoughts!

Spoilers below!!

Starting off with Ray, i was worried he would he a character i’d end up hating, but i actually kind of love him. He’s extremely pathetic, but he also was just not having a good time at all throughout the entire movie. His mom clearly cared about him but she tried to force feed him that steak, his stepdad kinda got him roped into the whole drug thing, Gavin manipulated him and coerced him into consuming the drugs which got him into big trouble, the officers and detectives kept assaulting him and belittling him…Poor guy, i’d bake him brownies. I respect how stubborn he was though, like a mule HAHAHAHAHAHA-

*gets pushed off a roof and fucking dies*

Speaking of getting pushed off of roofs and dying! Gavin, i love and hate him in a similar way that i love and hate Strahm. He’s got a stupid little haircut and a very strange but amazing sense of style in my opinion, he’s funny, and you can tell he did actually care about Ray, but he treated him so fucking badly and put his family in danger, i can’t forgive him for that(kinda like how i can’t forgive Strahm for being so cruel to my girl Jill) I was genuinely really upset when he died, even though i knew it would happen, i expected myself to hate him a lot more than i did though. He’s honestly transition goals, as are most of Leigh Whannells characters for me(just Leigh in general is transition goals) he gets a 7/10 for me, i would’ve given him a 6/10 but he gets an extra point for having man tiddies and whimpering in that one scene where he gets the shit kicked outta him 😊

I didnt care much for the other characters, sorry, but i liked Jasmine a lot, and it was upsetting to see her get sexually harassed so much(nobody deserves that) she was honestly such a girlboss and i think she handled conflicts decently well. But it kinda gave me the ick whenever it was revealed that she had sex or at least did semi sexual activities with Ray, it didnt ruin the whole movie for me, but can we just have a cool female character who doesn’t have to bang the main male character to be important?? I was disappointed but not surprised, whatever

Now for the plot as a whole, i liked it, nothing else i really feel like saying about it. I haven’t watched a movie like the Mule before and i can see myself watching it again, but it’s not something i can see as becoming like a main hyperfixation of mine, i will definitely draw Gavin though, that’s a promise

Overall 6.5/10 movie for me(i suck at writing movie reviews sorry) 👍

Okay FINE! Due to popular demand i GUESS I’ll watch The Mule 🙄🙄🙄

[naughtysalamander]

i have a bunch of world build-y ideas thrashing around in my head, utterly trashing the place and making baby ideas. honestly some of them are cool. i haven't done any creative writing in a long time - not that i was serious about it ever but i used to write very short stories just to crank out ideas and get them out of my head. not even journaling, just typing away at random shit not always paying attention to grammar or formatting. like this post. my therapist said i should maybe start doing that again so i'm like yeah ok i'll give it a go, i guess. long rant i only wrote out of frustration under the cut.

i'd like to put all the pieces together. not just writing a 900 word monologue from the perspective some barely invented, nameless character having a philosophical moment and forgetting about it immediately.

i have ideas that aren't able to be used on their own about science fiction kind of stuff. concepts, organizations, philosophical ideals aliens might have. alien lifestyles, interactions between species. how pregnancy and birth occur for this really weird alien species. popular drugs, common jobs. slang terms. the works. stuff that would fit only in a long, extended story with world building that is very much deliberate and well-thought out.

unfortunately though, for the life of me i cannot think of a semi-original overarching story/plot. i get an idea and i'm like "wait i'm ripping off of *insert science fiction tv show/movie/game/book*". i'm perpetually stuck in this cycle. i really like some of my concepts though. i don't want them to be wasted. its pissing me off. this is one reason (of the numerous) i stopped writing lil story riffs. i can't stay in a cohesive narrative long enough. i can come up with cool concepts independently but literally do not ask me to blend them together.

pretty much everything i have is for a science fiction story atm. i tried to write a convincing history of how humans got to space. just as a really basic foundation so i could understand their place in the galaxy and/or story. i wrote probably 5 iterations and i became disgusted with all of them. i wasn't able write the middle part between the first actions/events towards space vs being in space and decently established. and when i did manage it, it felt extremely stolen and barely changed enough to be considered "inspired by."

idk it all feels like a sign this isn't for me. i hate saying that though. i wanna just write for fun. why can't i?

[mercy-burning]

Pretty Please

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: Reader hears something surprising from her next door neighbor, and it throws her off. Category: Smut 18+ (masturbation, thigh riding, penetrative sex, oral sex-male and female receiving, semi-rough sex, dom!Spencer) Word Count: 6.9k Warnings: Nothing except the smut listed above and strong language. As always, if there’s anything I missed, let me know what I should include in the warnings! I want to be as mindful as I can about what I post. Thank you!

PART 2 / PART 3 / PART 4 / EPILOGUE

***

There's no way she heard that right.

In fact, she was pretty sure she'd made it up. She was tired, delirious, and she'd only imagined hearing what she heard.

Right?

Just to be sure, Y/N sat up in bed, put her ear against the wall just above the headboard, and listened, concentrating as hard as she could to confirm or deny.

And sure enough, the next thing she heard was, "Fuck, yes!"

It was muffled, definitely not as loud as it could have been, but if things continued the way she thought they would, it was going to get louder. Unless, of course, her neighbor was mindful, knowing that someone could probably hear what was going on. Though, for some reason Y/N doubted that.

Just to be extra sure what was happening, she stayed glued to the wall, listening carefully.

There was some muffled movement, but it could have been just about anything. Nonetheless, her heart was beating so fast, and it beat even faster when she heard what came next.

A loud female moan, unmistakable and utterly pornographic, made Y/N close her eyes immediately, her heart practically jumping out of her chest. Her first thought was Okay, he's watching porn. Everyone does that. Not without headphones, but it's completely normal and I should stop eavesdropping and go about my own life because this is an invasion of privacy.

Her second thought was ...Oh.

Because she was dead wrong.

The next thing that sounded through the walls was, "Yes, Spencer, just like that!"

Y/N's eyes shot open and she almost had a heart attack.

Her next thought was Good for him...

She and her neighbor hadn't really gotten to know each other that well. All she knew was that he had a job that kept him away from home quite a bit, either from travel or just late nights. He was shy and rarely talked to her when they met in the halls or in the parking garage, or even in the laundry room. Which is why it was so surprising to Y/N that he was having sex—and decent sex at that, from what she could hear—right next door.

Not that it would have been impossible for him to get it, of course. He was hot as hell, and it shouldn't have surprised Y/N as much as it did that she was hearing what she was hearing. It had just never happened before.

She was about to let it be, glad that her neighbor seemed to be having some fun, and it truly wasn't any of her business what he decided to do in his spare time. Though, the next thing she heard sent her into a tailspin.

"You like that, baby? You like when I hold you down and fuck you?"

Y/N almost hit her head against the wall. Instinctually her legs crossed, as if it would prevent her from being turned on. Which was stupid, considering every nerve in her body was on fire hearing those words come from Spencer Reid's mouth.

No fucking way, Y/N thought, slowly shifting her position on the bed.

It was a stupid idea. Probably one of the dumbest things she's ever done. But she closed her eyes, and as the woman's moans became louder through the walls, every slap of skin on skin getting louder with them, Y/N's right hand drifted under the waistband of her panties and got to work.

She couldn't help imagining what was going on. And it was rare that she could get off on just imagination alone, but this time she had the helpful addition of sound to aid her. Every time the woman moaned Spencer's name, she moved her fingers faster, alternating between rubbing her clit and completely fingering herself. And sometimes Y/N would make inevitable tiny whimpers of her own, careful not to give herself away.

She was almost to her climax when she heard it. The thing that pushed her over the edge.

"Fuck, you take it so well, pretty girl."

That one sentence, added to the impending orgasm Y/N was experiencing and the fact that she was picturing Spencer's face so clearly in her head, caused her to let out a loud moan and throw her head back against the wall with a loud thud.

So many feelings happened at once. Pain, because fuck, hitting her head on the wall without expecting it hurt like hell. Pleasure immediately after, because despite everything, her fingers stayed working, instinctively nursing herself through her orgasm. And finally embarrassment, because she definitely shouldn't have been eavesdropping on her neighbor's sexual encounters and she's positive they'd heard her intrusion.

All noises ceased for a total of two seconds before Y/N came down from her high and the sex next door resumed like nothing had happened.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck, no, Y/N thought as she scrambled out of bed and ran to the bathroom. Her head still hurt from hitting it against the wall, but that was the least of her concerns. More than anything she wanted to crawl in a hole and never return. And sure, maybe there was a small chance Spencer and his.. friend hadn't heard you, but it was practically impossible. There was no way they hadn't heard it.

Y/N peed and washed her hands, tapping her foot nervously against the cool tile the whole time. Eventually she calmed her breathing and decided that she'd just have to live with it. I mean, it's not like I'm friends with him anyway, she thought. I barely see him enough as it is, and I can ignore him like there's no tomorrow and nothing will change. Right?

And so she washed her face and got ready for bed, trying desperately not to think about how badly she'd embarrassed herself.

And then as she curled under the covers (with earbuds in just in case) she thought, Maybe I'll make him some muffins tomorrow and say I'm sorry.

The last thing she saw before she closed her eyes was Spencer's face.

***

"What's wrong? Can't take it?"

She practically burned with pleasure, every inch of her body overly sensitive and completely fucked out. But she'd let him have whatever he wanted.

She cried. She tried to tell him that yes, she could take it. But tears and strangled moans were all she could manage as he continued to fuck her into the mattress.

"You gonna cum?" He asked, like she could form words.

She cried out again in answer.

He leaned forward, wiping tears from her face, and whispered, "Go ahead, pretty girl."

That was the last thing Y/N heard before she woke up, eyes shooting open and hands clutching the sheets so tightly her fingers ached. She let them go and tried to wiggle them back to life, squeezing her eyes shut and taking a deep breath.

"Oh, dear Lord," she muttered, stretching out and realizing that the past 10 hours of her life were going to haunt her for a long time.

I'm gonna have to move, aren't I, she thought sarcastically, sitting up slowly and rubbing her eyes. Though, right now it sounded like a good idea.

Y/N gathered some clothes and went to the shower, refusing to think about last night or the dream she'd woken up from. Instead she lasered all her attention to thoroughly washing her hair, body, and face. By the time the water was running cold, she stepped out, dried off and got dressed, brushing her teeth and then leaving the bathroom to turn on the coffee pot.

Before she could, there was a knock on the door.

Oh no, was her first thought, because naturally the first thing you do at any minor event after severely embarrassing yourself is panic. What if that's him? He's going to get mad at me for eavesdropping. The first thing I'm going to do when I see him is blush and panic. Fuck.

Y/N thought about ignoring it for a second. For all Spencer knew, she could still be sleeping. She could have fled the country immediately after giving herself away. She could have died from a heart attack, literally embarrassing herself to death. She could ha—

Knock knock knock.

"Shit," Y/N muttered to herself, adjusting her freshly-washed hair and praying she looked okay. If it really was Spencer at her door, she wanted to at least look like she was moving on with her life and not thinking about last night every waking second.

She ran to the door, took a deep breath and opened it, sure enough revealing Spencer Reid in her doorway, wearing a kind smile and holding a small something in his hand.

"Oh... Spencer, hi," Y/N said, pretending to be happy. Not that she wasn't ever happy to see him, but today of all days was most definitely not a good time. She only prayed he wouldn't get mad at her for eavesdropping.

"Hi, Y/N. Sorry for being here so early, but I, uh... thought you might need this."

He handed her what was in his hand, and it rattled, confusing her. She took it and flipped it over in her hands, studying the bottle.

"Advil?"

"Yeah. Seems like you hit your head on the wall pretty hard last night, I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

Her stomach dropped. "No."

"No... You're not okay, or no, you don't need it?"

Heat rushed to Y/N's cheeks and all she could manage was another, "No."

She only sounded slightly terrified.

But before Spencer could say anything else, Y/N looked up at him and almost started to cry. "I'm so so so sorry, Spencer, I didn't mean to hear, it just happened, and I couldn't help it, and I tried to be quiet, I really did, but it just slipped, and I feel really bad, I'm so sorry, I—"

"Whoa, whoa, Y/N, slow down. It's okay, really," he laughed. "I'm not upset or anything, I just... Truthfully I feel kind of bad for not thinking of anyone hearing. I didn't realize the walls were so thin, and had I known I probably would have... Gone about things differently. I didn't mean to embarrass you."

Y/N's heart raced, but she was even more shocked by the fact that he was apologizing. "Spencer, don't be sorry. I embarrassed myself, really. I shouldn't have been listening anyway— what you do in your apartment isn't any of my business, and I messed up."

He smiled and shuffled on his feet, trying to avoid looking at you but failing. In the end he shrugged and leaned against the doorframe. "Well, in any case, I really do hope your head doesn't hurt too bad. That was a loud thump."

Y/N laughed nervously, turning the bottle over in her hands while looking at the floor. "It doesn't hurt anymore. Feels better now that I've slept it off... Thank you, though. I... I appreciate it."

"You're welcome."

She looked up at him and almost started crying again, still completely embarrassed over the whole ordeal. In an attempt to not cry, she cleared her throat. "Um, I was just going put on some coffee if you... wanted to come in? I can make some eggs or something too, if you're hungry. Y'know, to say I'm sorry?"

Spencer looked like he was about to tell her not to be sorry again, but she gave him a look that said don't you dare, and he settled on nodding instead. "Sure, I'd like that."

***

"Wow. These are great."

Y/N smiled, watching Spencer eat a bite of the eggs she'd made him. "Thank you. It's a family recipe. Nothing too special, but my mom always made them for my brother and I before our first day of school every year."

He smiled. "That's nice. Really, they're great. Thank you."

"Yeah, no problem... Look, again, I really am so—"

"Y/N, stop. It's okay, really. It... happens. You don't have to be sorry."

She nodded before taking a sip of her coffee. Spencer ate some more of his eggs and the two of them sat in silence for a few minutes, before it got completely unbearable.

She didn't want to keep bringing it up, but something forced the words out of her mouth. "So, your... guest... Is she your girlfriend?"

It took Spencer a minute to realize what she said, but eventually he cleared his throat, some color forming on his cheeks. "Oh, uh... no. No, I'm single. She and I had just met at a bar downtown. I don't usually do that. Go to bars, I mean. Though I suppose I don't really have one night stands all that often, either, but my co-workers and I were out last night after a... pretty rough day at work, and... before I left we met at the bar and it just kind of went on from there."

"Oh... Well, I... I'm sorry work was rough. Seems like you... handled it, though. Got over it... I mean, like, you knew how to take your mind off of it, or make it better or whatever."

Y/N froze after she said it. Immediately after, she shook her head. "God, I'm sorry. That was dumb. I shouldn't have said that."

"No, I get what you mean, it's okay, really," Spencer said quickly, seemingly amused. "It, uh... It really did help. You know, sex is a good stress reliever. The endorphins it releases puts you in a better mood and calms you down, and studies show that regular sexual activity can aid in decreasing high blood pressure during stressful situations."

"I... didn't know that. Sounds helpful. Especially with your job, I imagine."

He nodded, taking a sip of his coffee. "What about you? Is your job stressful?"

Y/N shrugged, kind of glad that the conversation moved away from sexual nature. Though, she supposed the reason it was there in the first place was kind of her fault. In any case, she told Spencer about her job. "It's not as stressful as other jobs can be, but I just got a promotion so all the responsibility is a little daunting, I guess."

"I'm sure you're fine," he complimented, setting his mug down. "Though... If you do ever find yourself beginning to buckle under the stress of your job, sex is a good way to keep your spirits up."

It was a joke. A reference to their conversation, the whole reason they were in this moment in the first place. So why did Y/N respond with, "What, is that your way of offering?"

I'm just full of stupid shit lately, aren't I, she thought, immediately hating herself for saying it. Things were going well, and Spencer didn't seem mad or annoyed after the whole incident, and now she was positive she'd made everything worse.

But nothing could have prepared her for what came out of his mouth next.

"Maybe it is."

She looked up at him and saw that he was completely serious. His eyes bore into her, staring her down like he was trying to compel her to say something, to do something, to put her under his spell. Y/N swallowed, trying to speak, but nothing would come out.

Oh, now you have nothing to say? Good going, Y/N...

Nevertheless, he waited. His eyes remained glued on her, tilting his head to the side and raising his eyebrows as if to ask her, well?

Eventually, she settled on, "You mean it?"

Spencer nodded slowly, staring at her with an intensity she hadn't experienced in forever. "Only if you want to."

Immediately Y/N thought back to last night. His nasty words replayed in her ears over and over again, repeating themselves like a mantra— You like that, baby? You like when I hold you down and fuck you?

And under his burning gaze, Y/N felt like she was on fire. Her lower stomach bubbled over with desire and she imagined him fucking her like he had in her dream.

It's almost like he knew what she was thinking about. Because right before she could tell him she wanted him, he laughed softly to himself. "What are you thinking about, Y/N?"

Her name on his lips sent shivers down her spine. "W... What?"

"Tell me. You're thinking about having sex with me right now, aren't you?"

She could barely breathe. But she managed to get out a strangled, "Yes."

Spencer smirked and stood up, walking around the table but never taking his eyes off Y/N. She swallowed and stood up too, meeting his eyes and tilting her head up to look at him— really look at him. His pupils were full-blown, his lips formed into an amused smile as he reached out to touch her face. She fluttered her eyes closed and leaned into his touch, a small sigh involuntarily escaping her lips.

"How long have you been thinking about me?" Spencer asked quietly, yet the tone in his voice rather demanded an answer more than asked for one.

Y/N opened her eyes to meet his, and almost crumbled under the weight of their intensity. "S-since last night."

He hummed in response, running his thumb over her chin and up to her lips, just barely touching them. "Have you ever thought about it before then?"

She couldn't lie to him. "A few times."

That got a full smile out of him, but it disappeared rather quickly as he stepped even closer and gripped the side of Y/N's face in his right hand, his fingers barely weaving through the hair behind her ear. She gasped and looked up at him, silently begging for him to kiss her. To push her onto the table, or choke her, or something.

"Tell me what you want," he demanded, keeping that even, soft tone. It sent another chill through Y/N's body.

She could hardly breathe. Could hardly form words.

Spencer slipped his hand behind her head and gripped the underside of her damp hair, tugging slightly as she whimpered. "What do you want?"

"I want you to fuck me," Y/N gasped out, completely and utterly entranced by his looming presence.

"Now?" he asked, his own way of really making sure she wanted to go through with this.

"Yes," she breathed. "Yes, please, fuck me. Please."

The look he gave her after she said it was purely dirty and unlike any thing she'd ever experienced. She decided then and there that if that was the reaction she'd get from him for begging, she would beg him for anything any time.

Not to mention, the way he kissed her was enough to make any man or woman fly into the sun. Both of his hands found themselves lost in her hair, pulling her head to his and practically massaging her scalp as he glided his lips across hers with a slow burning fever that made Y/N's body completely succumb to him. She melted into him, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him closer, reaching up to twist her fingers through the ends of his hair, admiring how soft and perfect it felt on her skin. Once Spencer's tongue swiped over her bottom lip and softly pushed into her mouth, it was well and truly over. Y/N was done for. He could do anything he wanted and she wouldn't turn him away.

He pulled away for a moment, taking her bottom lip between his teeth before moving back in and angling his head in the other direction, kissing her deeper and causing a groan to slip from her throat.

Y/N desperately clung to his neck, wishing he could do this to her forever, but then he took one of his hands away from her head and brought it to her lower back. He completely pulled her against him, one of his legs slipping between hers and putting the slightest bit of pressure to her crotch.

She whimpered, causing Spencer to push himself against her harder, the two of them completely attached. He brought his knee up just a little, and Y/N instinctively ground against it, desperately wanting to feel any type of friction she could manage. It warmed her whole body to the core, being completely embraced by him, and in a matter of seconds she was more desperate than she'd ever been.

She pulled her face away from his reluctantly, breathing heavily and still grinding against his leg. "Please," was all the could think to say.

"Such a needy little thing, aren't you?" Spencer whispered, peppering her neck with wet kisses as he brought his leg up higher, giving her more access. He leaned his butt against the table for support, until eventually he gave in and sat down on it, bringing her down to sit on his thigh.

Y/N hesitated, halting her movements for a second before he gripped her hips and moved them forward. "Go ahead, pretty girl. Ride my thigh."

She groaned at the nickname and obliged happily, grinding down and rocking her hips against him. He continued to kiss her neck, occasionally biting down and sucking at different spots, sure to leave marks.

He hadn't even really touched her yet, and Y/N was absolutely dizzy, high on kisses and his hands burning into her hips. She felt her stomach start to coil as an orgasm came to the surface, her legs clenching tighter around him.

"You close, baby?" Spencer muttered against her neck, right under her ear. He took her earlobe between his teeth for just a moment before rocking her hips faster, bringing his leg up just a bit higher to aid her. She shoved her head into his neck and cried out his name, somewhere between a whine and a moan.

Within a matter of seconds Y/N was shaking around him, panting his name over and over while he brought his leg just a tad higher, bringing her over the edge. Her mind raced, coming to terms with what just happened and what was about to happen, and it made her tremble again, sending one more shockwave through her lower body before her hips slowed to a stop.

Spencer slid his hands back up to her head, bringing her face to his once more and kissing her. As if she wasn't already so out of breath. But it didn't matter. She only cared about his mouth and the way it captured hers like it belonged there, like it knew she was his for the taking. And she really believed that was true.

Y/N still straddled his leg, but she wanted to give him the same release he'd given her, so she attempted to climb away and moved one of her hands down to his belt.

Spencer stopped her hand and pulled his face away from hers. For a moment she thought she'd done something wrong, and she was about to apologize, but he pulled her close and stroked her hair with his hand, tilting his head to meet her gaze. "Not yet, pretty girl. I want to taste you first."

And without another second passing by, he moved the hand that grabbed her wrist between them and snuck it into her shorts and panties. Y/N jumped a little, but only because it felt too good for her own good. Her eyes fluttered shut when his middle finger grazed her clit, but his other hand gripped her chin and forced her to look at him. "No. I want you to look at me, okay?"

She nodded, and then whimpered when he slipped a finger inside of her. She lifted herself up just a little so he had more access, and sure enough his finger slipped in and out with ease.

She wanted more, but he took his hand away, and the glimmer in his eye when she pouted, visibly frustrated, sent her into another small fit of tremors.

"So antsy, pretty girl," Spencer laughed, slightly amused. Y/N would have said something, but all words escaped her when he brought his fingers to his mouth. His tongue poked out to taste-test before he completely took them in, holding eye contact with her the whole time. As he sucked his fingers clean, Y/N felt herself growing desperate again, and she ground against his leg once more.

Spencer laughed and brought his fingers out of his mouth, resting them on her hips. "You're being awfully quiet, Y/N."

"I... I don't... Is that a bad thing?"

"Not necessarily. But you didn't have a problem being loud last night."

It brought color to her cheeks. Her first instinct was to apologize but she knew he'd chastise her for it, so she didn't. Rather, she embraced the opportunity and pulled herself closer to him. "Is that what you want, Spencer? You want me to be loud for you?" Her voice was soft, somewhat contradicting what she was saying, but she looked at him through her eyelashes, biting her lip as if asking for permission.

And now it seemed like it was his turn to groan, though it came out as more of a growl as he pushed her away from him, grabbing her arm and leading her through the apartment. All the rooms were built the same so he knew where to go. He didn't take the time to scan her room, though if he did it was fast. Y/N barely had any time to react before he pulled her to him again and kissed her roughly.

As his fingers weaved through her hair again, Y/N decided to take a chance, snaking her hands down to his belt. This time he didn't stop her, his lips opening and granting her access to his tongue as she unbuckled the belt. She unzipped his pants and pushed them down his hips, but they only got about an inch down before he pulled away from her completely, leaving her empty again.

She whined, and he smirked.

"What is it, Y/N?" he asked. "What do you want?" His tone was almost condescending, like he knew exactly what she wanted.

She didn't like being teased. "I just want you," she stated, whining a bit to prove her point.

He seemed to contemplate his words for a moment before he spoke. "And... you think I should just give you what you want? After I caught you eavesdropping on me last night?"

He was only saying it to see her flushed. To embarrass her and make her shy so he could make it better in the end. She knew that, knew better, and yet it still worked. "I'm sorry," she pleaded, getting down on her knees in front of him and looking up at him with just as much desperation as she could manage. "You know I feel really really bad about it, just please let me make it up to you. Please, Spencer."

When all he did was look down at her, amused and still, Y/N batted her eyelashes and grabbed the waistband of his pants and underwear. She waited to pull them down until he did or said something, but all he did was stare. She couldn't tell if he was making her wait or if he was waiting for her, and she was afraid of making the wrong decision. But, deciding that she'd been in enough trouble in the past 10 hours to last a lifetime, Y/N took a chance yet again and pulled Spencer's pants all the way down.

Still unsure of what would happen if she continued, Y/N scooted closer, but kept her eyes locked on his. She batted her eyelashes and ran her hands up his thighs, eventually wrapping around to his ass. She brought them up his lower back and around to feel his stomach before sliding down to the front of his hips. She stopped them there, gliding her thumbs over his skin in small circles as she pleaded once more for good measure.

"Pretty please."

Spencer gave in, bringing his hands to her hair and pulling her close. "It's all yours, baby."

The words sent heat straight to her lower half as she flicked her tongue out to taste the head of his cock. His eyes fluttered shut at the contact, and Y/N took that as her opening. She looked down and marveled at him as she took him completely in her mouth, slowly but surely, getting herself acquainted with his size.

Once she set a steady pace, she looked up at him and found that he was absolutely wonderstruck. His eyes practically sparkled as they fixed on her, his bottom lip tucked between his teeth in pure adoration and fascination. Y/N took this as encouragement, bobbing her head faster and slacking her jaw as she let him hit the back of her throat with each thrust forward. She gagged once and pulled herself off, bringing her hand up to jerk him for a few seconds before using her mouth again. This was a cycle that continued until tears were streaming down her cheeks and spit was leaking down her chin, and every time she looked up at him, Spencer would groan and tighten his grip in her hair.

Eventually he stopped her, pulling her off of him and panting. "Come here," he whispered, and Y/N got up off her knees, standing up and wiping some of the spit from her face. It didn't feel all that sexy as she was doing it, though the way he looked at her made her feel like she was the only thing in the entire world that could bring him joy.

He reached forward and wiped some of the tears from her cheek before kissing her, groaning into her mouth as he did so. His still hard cock pressed against her leg, and she groaned, too, before he pulled away.

That dark glimmer returned in his eye when he spoke. "Take your clothes off."

Y/N didn't have to be told twice. Immediately she threw her shirt off over her head and tossed it to the ground as Spencer stepped out of his pants. His eyes travelled down to her breasts and she noticed him swallow, his Adam's apple bobbing a few times before he looked back up at her face. Keeping eye contact and softly biting her lip, Y/N hooked her fingers around her shorts and underwear and slid them down her legs until they reached the other clothes on the floor. She kicked them to the side and tilted her head up.

She thought he might kiss her again, but instead he nodded his head towards her bed. "Lay down on your back."

As Y/N had learned pretty early on, she was quick and eager to obey, and so she did as she was told, laying down in the middle of the bed, her head resting on her pillows and the rest of her body laying flat, eagerly awaiting Spencer's next move.

She watched him as he took his shirt off, leaving him completely bare, and before she had time to admire him, he bent down and grabbed something from his pants.

A condom, Y/N realized as he made his way to her.

"You really came over with the intent to fuck me, didn't you?" she mused, unable to stop herself.

He laughed at her words, climbing over her and leaning down to press his lips to her neck in a soft kiss. "Wasn't it obvious?"

No, she thought to herself, but she didn't say anything. Though even if she wanted to, she couldn't have, because Spencer's mouth moved down her neck and to her chest. He licked a small circle over her right nipple before enclosing it entirely in his mouth, and Y/N arched her back off the bed, running her fingers through his hair.

He laughed again, taking her nipple in between his teeth before releasing it and saying, "I love how fucking responsive you are, pretty girl."

Everything about what he was saying and doing to her sent Y/N into a tailspin. Before she had time to respond, he moved his mouth to her other breast and got right to work, repeating the process.

One of his hands trailed down her body, just light enough to leave goosebumps it its wake, until it reached where she really wanted him. As if to prove his last statement, Y/N's hips bucked upwards to feel more of him, and Spencer laughed against her chest, removing his mouth from her and using both of his hands to steady her hips, pushing them into the mattress. "Can you be still for me? Use your words."

Y/N sighs and bites her lip before answering. "Yes. I can be still."

"Louder, Y/N. You promised you'd be loud for me, remember?"

If she wasn't wet before, she definitely was now. And she thought about just repeating her words louder, like she was expected to, but then something in that stupid part of her brain said to push her luck. And so she laughed back at him.

"No, I didn't."

Spencer seemed shocked. This was the first time she'd blatantly disagreed with something he said. "What?"

He seemed a little mad, but Y/N acted innocent. "Well, I asked you if you'd like me to be loud for you, and you just pulled me in here. You didn't answer me, and I didn't promise anything."

She was scared of what he would do or say, but that turned her on even more.

And without warning, Spencer jammed two of his fingers into her mouth, forcing it open and pressing them down on her tongue. "Well, sweetheart, this is me telling you. You're gonna scream my name until the whole city can hear how needy you are for me."

She almost choked on his fingers, but he took them out and slid them down her chin and neck, leaving her completely breathless. He waited a beat before laughing to himself. "Aw, see? Look what I do to you, pretty girl," he mused. "You're so submissive."

Y/N wanted to argue, but she wanted him more, so she whined and tried to move him closer, to which he laughed again and caressed her face. "That's what I thought. Now be a good girl and wait a second while I put this on, okay?"

For fear of disappointing him, Y/N replied with, "Okay," loud and clear.

He smirked, unwrapping the condom and starting to slide it over himself. "Fast learner."

And in an attempt to patch things over even more, she batted her eyes like she knew he liked, acting patient and innocent though she was pretty sure they both knew she was the exact opposite.

It paid off in the end though, because Spencer rewarded her with a sweet kiss as he ran the tip of his cock over her pussy, just barely entering. He teased her like that for about a minute before she started to get antsy, and yet he didn't let up. He raised an eyebrow at her, and catching on she reached up, grabbing the sides of his face and blinking once before talking. "Please, Spencer. Fuck me."

"Atta girl," he praised before moving forward and entering her. Immediately Y/N moaned, her mouth open and eyes just about rolling to the back of her head. Her hands slid up his face and through his hair, weaving her fingers through the soft waves as he set a steady pace, letting themselves get used to the feeling of being wrapped up in each other like this. For a moment it seemed like he forgot his promise to fuck her so hard the whole city would hear her screaming his name, but after a while, he apparently decided that she wasn't being loud enough.

"Come on, Y/N. You can do better than that."

She wanted more than anything to tell him that if he fucked her harder then maybe she would be louder, but infinitely realized that A) that was a surefire way to get chastised, and B) if she was louder, he would fuck her harder. He was going to make her work for it, and in the end she didn't mind that at all.

So she told the truth. "Fuck, Spencer, you feel so goo— ahh!"

Almost as soon as the words left her mouth, he quickly adjusted and fucked her faster, and aside from the overstimulation, it was starting to feel reminiscent of the dream she'd had last night. She wasn't crying but she felt like she could, every fiber of her being burning alive with pleasure. She felt her orgasm rising to the surface, but she didn't want this to end yet. Maybe if she was lucky Spencer would keep going after she'd finished, though at this point she was just happy to let him fuck her for any period of time.

That being said, he slowed his movements, making each stroke harder and more deliberate, and Y/N yelled out his name, hoping to get more.

"You close, pretty girl? Hmm? You wanna cum?"

The strain in his voice sent another wave of pleasure coursing through her body. He was close too, she just knew it.

"Yes," she breathed, before repeating it louder and louder. "Yes, yes, yes!"

She was just about to fall over the edge when Spencer laughed and pulled out of her, leaving her unsatisfied, empty, and confused.

"What?" she breathed, looking up at him.

He slid the condom off and tossed it aside before jerking himself off over her stomach. "Only good girls get to cum. You should have thought of that before you eavesdropped on me."

And then he came all over her stomach and chest. She would have been more angry, but the whole sight in front of her was hot as hell. Who was she to complain? She watched as his face scrunched up in pleasure, his mouth agape and eyes squeezed shut. His hair faintly stuck to his face, and his hips jerked into his hand until eventually he was spent.

Y/N whined at the sight, completely turned on feeling his warm cum coating her skin and also utterly frustrated for not getting off.

Spencer opened his eyes to look at her, and she thought in that moment it looked like he would burst into flames. As his gaze raked over her body, covered in his cum and so obviously desperate for release, he licked his lips and got down, spreading her legs wider and opening her up to him.

"Wha—"

Y/N didn't get to finish her thought, because Spencer was immediately eating her out like a man starved, running his tongue through her pussy, occasionally flicking it over her clit. As expected, the louder she got the more he gave her, and at one point he started fingering her at a relentless pace, curling his fingers up against her g-spot while circling her clit with his tongue.

He brought his head up and looked at her through his eyelashes as best as he could, barely catching a glimpse of her face, completely contorted in pleasure.

"You wanna cum, pretty girl?" he teased, slowing his fingers torturously.

She whined and then threw her head back, pleading. "Spencer, please!"

He only got a little faster and then gently flicked his tongue over her clit again, to which she yelped and fisted the sheets.

In turn he moved faster. And she got louder. Faster and louder, faster and louder, until finally he gave her what she wanted.

"That's it, pretty girl. Cum for me."

Right after he said it, Y/N arched her back off the bed and fisted the sheets even harder, actually screaming his name until it came out as incoherent sobs, eventually dwindling down to whimpering and panting as he aided her down from her high.

Spencer's movements slowed to a stop, pulling his fingers out of her and pressing one final kiss to her clit before removing himself from her completely and coming up to lay down beside her.

She stayed there on her back, arms clutched at her sides, breathing deep and eyes almost heavy like she was about to fall asleep. He brushed her hair away from her face and pressed a kiss to her lips. She could taste herself on him, and it excited her. When he pulled away, she turned her head to look at him and smiled.

"I'm definitely going to have to invade your privacy more often if this is what the end result is."

Spencer laughed, his hand brushing lightly through her hair. "So that was okay? I'm sorry if I was kind of mean, I—"

"I'm gonna stop you right there. If I was really truly mad about anything you did, I would have screamed at you, not for you. Trust me. You're just fine. That was... perfect."

"Good... And you know I was just teasing you about eavesdropping, right? I'm not actually upset about it."

"No, I know. I still feel kinda bad about it though."

"Well, you shouldn't. If anything... something good came out of it, right?"

Y/N laughed, scrunching her nose as he looked at her. "Right."

After a moment, Spencer sat up and looked down at her stomach, a smirk on his face. "I'm gonna go get you a washcloth."

"Good thinking. And while you're at it could you also grab the Advil?"

He was on his way out the bedroom door, slipping on his underwear before stopping in his tracks. "Oh no... I- I didn't hurt you did I?"

"Oh! No, you didn't. I just know that I'm going to be sore, and walking will most definitely be a problem. And I am not getting out of this bed for the rest of the day, so Advil will definitely help. Thank you for that, by the way."

Spencer laughed, leaving Y/N to admire him as he walked away.

[huntertherapyeras]

honest work

wrote a little sasha in wartwood fic! not sure what i'm going to do with it yet, but it was fun writing it! no warnings that i can think of, other than a canon-typical mention of like, bugs.

oh, and i'm considering making a tag list for more exposure, so let me know if you want me to tag you when i write amphibia stuff in the comments or tags or whatever <3

link to fic in ao3

Sasha sighs a low, deep sigh. Maybe it’s dramatic, but she doesn’t really give a shit. Running a farm is more work than anticipated. She’s used to training hard and pushing herself past her limits. But working under the blaring sun for hours on end is an unfamiliar animal. It’s the middle of spring, and the weeds are a little trigger happy. Even though Plantar house itself is pretty small, Hopadiah Plantar’s farm is much bigger than Sasha ever would have guessed.

Despite her constant bitching, though, Sasha finds that there is something meditative about focusing on the task of weeding. It has the potential of being therapeutic. And it would be, too, if Sasha had nicer things to think about. At the moment, though, letting her mind wander is dangerous. If she’s not thinking about how to best arm the villagers for an impending attack, her mind wanders to Anne. And if she thinks enough about Anne, she starts thinking about M–

Whatever. Sasha can’t change the past. All she can do, right now, is figure out a way to keep the Wartwoodians safe and find out whether Marcy is…whether she can be saved. That’s where the problem lies. There are too many things in her head, and most of them are too upsetting for her to think about without wanting to punch a wall. She needs to focus on the task at hand.

The midday sun beats down on her armored back, suffocatingly hot. She’s nearly done for the day– just a few more rows to go. Grime is in the house, most likely figuring out what to make for lunch. He isn’t the best cook, but his sandwiches are semi-decent if you don’t think about the type of protein being used. Sliced and cured beetle tastes a weird amount like ham.

Sasha grabs the water flask from her holster, taking a moment to savor the cool feeling of it going down her throat. It tastes a little swamp-y, a little bit like the lake water from camping trips with the Boonchuys, but it gets the job done.Just a few more rows to go, and then she can go inside for a bit to take a short rest.

Sasha lets her mind wander to battle strategy while she finishes her task. Ms. Sadie Croaker, despite being old and dealing with age related pains, can be surprisingly agile when she wants to be. Ivy Sundew is a little stealth master and has even managed to sneak up on Sasha a couple of times. The first time nearly ended with a dagger through Ivy’s belly (Sasha’s been a little keyed up lately and she’ll admit it). Felicia Sundew, Ivy’s mother, is well versed in natural remedies. Maddie knows a lot about Amphibian magic, and her father, being a baker, is strong and muscular from constantly lugging flour sacks around. One-eyed Wally has some fencing knowledge, which could easily translate to sword fighting

They all have their weaknesses, but it’s been surprising to see how competent a town full of country bumpkin frogs can be. And they’re all strangely kind and trusting, especially considering how badly Sasha fucked up their first encounter.

Sasha isn’t sure whether she feels grateful or guilty at this point. Maybe both? Yeah, probably both.

“Sasha,” Grime bellows from inside the house, “Food is ready!”

“Yeah, yeah, one second!” Sasha yells back. Just one more row to go. It takes about five minutes for her to finish up – Amphibian plants as a whole are notoriously stubborn. But when she’s finally finished, she feels a small sense of… pride? Accomplishment? Either way, it feels good. Sasha gathers up her gardening shears and takes off her thick gloves, shuddering at her sweaty hands. Gross.

After she puts Anne’s her supplies away, she heads into the house for lunch, closing the door behind her with a gentleness she didn’t know she had until now.

[glitchtricks94]

I'm not just disappointed, I'm a little pissed. I tell you shit from experience, hand you rational, safe pieces of information that is formattable for both irl and online interactions, and instead of stepping back with a rational mind, you screech that everyone in the server that love and care about you, that they are wrong, and that you don't deserve nice things. That is one of my number one pet peeves. It's not even just a pet peeve, it's something that genuinely pisses me off because to me, that's like offering you help out of the mud and instead of letting yourself get pulled out, you decide to fling the grime at everyone offering you help. You have known this person for seven years. I honestly don't think there's much chance for rejection there, and even if there is, your bond is strong enough to not drop you entirely. You have the ability to straight up ask what people this person is attracted to and be able to shrug it off as "I was just curious, I don't think I ever asked before." A sure fire excuse to smooth over a conversation. And yet you spit that "you're not enough" and "your feelings don't matter." Do you realize, that I've pressed myself through that very mindset, and nearly lost a very vital part of my heart because it caused me to devalue myself to where I joined a project and fell for a man that nearly ripped me to shreds? And that the very mindset you have is the kind of mindset that makes you hold yourself back on everything forever more. There no reward without risk. I've played these games, they aren't fun. I watched my crush, now best friend of 6 years, date other people and kept quiet. I pined for four years for them before finally getting an answer and some fucking relief from the heartache. And all because I started DROPPING HINTS. Something both Lara and I suggested and you outright refused to even CONSIDER. Do you realize how insulting that is? And how it sounds? I've dealt with the advice refusal bullshit already from someone I dropped ages ago. I haven't spoken to them in almost a year. I'm telling you to grow some balls, and instead you'd rather wallow in a puddle of your own tears, saying that your feelings don't matter. Grow a spine and say something, even if it's awkward for awhile, it's better than pining! I've seen that shit destroy people, I've seen it nearly destroy my own mother and best friend! You're tormenting yourself for no reason! You deserve nice things, you deserve to be happy, and at this moment, the only one holding you back is you! How can you expect anything to happen if you don't try to initiate something. I only ever connected with my boyfriend of two years because I saw him alone in a VC and decided to pop in and ask what he was doing all by himself. It initiated something, and got the ball rolling. Flirting subtly is simple, just be witty, make inside jokes, say a stupid pickup line! Just put effort in, shit just happens! If you click with someone it comes naturally and it sounds pretty natural here! Your crush remembering something small? Something meaningful to you yet seems meaningless in retrospect? That's something to look at and perhaps test. Do the same! It's the little things that can mean so much, that you miss the most, that have the biggest impact. You want them? Do something. Cuz if they're waiting for you, they might give up eventually. That happened to me, I got tired of longing for a guy and stepped back, looking at his actions and realizing that I couldn't keep longing for him, waiting for him to come to me. I made my own closure there. You have two semi-decent options here, both might hurt for awhile, but you'll be able to pick yourself back up, and one of them can go one of two ways. Option one: You can grow up and start communicating your feelings, and either get turned down and walk away with a hurt heart that can heal and keep your friend, or end up in a happy relationship.

Option two: You can step back and give yourself your own closure and understand that while a romantic relationship may not happen, it does not devalue you as a person, and you get to keep your friend. But do not play that fairytale bullshit trope of "as long as they're happy, I'm happy" because another brand of that "happy" can be abused by terrible people! You are worth more than that, damn it and I'm disappointed that you can't see your value there. I've had to perform ALL THREE outcomes in my life, and every one let me grow as a person. But all of them came from pining, which is painful and I hated it. Every minute. You can't live your life like that. "The man who's a dreamer and never takes leave Who thinks of a world that is just make believe Will never know passion, will never know pain Who sits by the window will one day see rain" -The Greatest Adventure, Maury Laws (The Hobbit 1977) You'll waste your life if you don't have some bravery. And I don't want you wasting your life. You shouldn't. Now tell me, after reading all of that, do you understand where I'm sitting on this matter?

be real, how disappointed are you

Are you sure you want that fucking opinion? From the person who literally played that waiting game? With their own best friend? And has managed to maintain a long distance relationship for 2 years? Do you REALLY want me to answer your question?

[squeezysreservoirofcookies]

to explain myself under the cut:

p3 would probably cook those horrid tiktok/generally bad (or socially unacceptable) recipes with the expectation that it'll be good. there's like a 50-50 chance the food'll be actually good or it'll be the worst thing your eyes and tastebuds have experienced

oh sir dude on the other hand would literally be like that trope of a child making a heinous concoction of a """meal""" for their parents as a well-meaning surprise. he'd straight up be like "honey i made dinner just for you 😍" and it's borderline poisonous semi-radioactive material schlop

p1 probably already has a decent amount of canned food/mres/frozen pre-prepared food at the ready, as i imagine having extreme paranoia would make you not wanna get take-out often. plus i imagine that while he could cook, he just chooses not to since it can be kinda draining sometimes (take it from me, someone who occassionally likes to cook every once in a while). that and actually intrusive thoughts could get concerning for him. On a good mental health day though, he'd be at 'can cook the basics' tier

i dont think nottem gives that much of a shit enough to put in any amount of effort to ever cook himself anything decent, let alone a basic dish. I feel like MAYBE the one time he would cook something is if uh idk he's on a date?????? but even then thats questionable dsfhhsddsfh

I know corkscrew isnt technically canon but THIS IS MY POST, I MAKE THE RULES HDSFHD but i feel like corkscrew would be too impatient to cook anything decent, or he's like drunk 80% of the time, which would make cooking a little risky. also i imagine him cooking would be like that one meme video of a lady going "now add 2oz of vodka" then proceeds to pour half the bottle in like its nothing dsfhds

P2 and P4 both would only cook those easy to make, simple recipes that dont require much ingredients or preparation but for entirely different reasons. P2 is mainly bc i can see him just being too exhaused and stressed after a day out in paradise, so why add more to that? thats even if hes hungry considering the fact he ate like all the towns pizza and donuts hsdfhdjs. with p4 on the other hand he's just enjoying the simple stress free life, so why be so snooty and pretentious, especially over something he'll inhale anyway?

Recidivist and Widowmaker, based on their loose descriptions, I feel probably wouldn't have much motivation or generally aren't very hoity toity. they just want to make their dinner and so be it if it's simple, life is already difficult to them as it is. heck theyd probably just order take out or some shit. post-nottem's rein of terror, they largely wouldn't really care about cooking anyway so bare minimum it is.

Movie Dude is literally the one postal dude regional varient that actually has some sembalance of his shit together, so i imagine that in an ideal situation, he could probably cook you up a nice homemade meal. it's not gonna be food network-type worthy, but man you WILL like it

Psychocop, esp. pre-nottem's supermassive scp k-class senario, probably seemed like the kind of guy that had his dookie together and enjoyed making himself a nice dinner anytime he could make something. post-nottem's 360 noscope against humanity attempt, i can definately see him making his comrades something thats actually fucking good bc he got tired of seeing them make shitty basic ass food by themselves that wont help them out in the long run during their own rein of terror

Redux would still have the same-ish issues that P1 has, but i feel like redux would try to improve himself and try to overcome them anyway since he just wants to live a happy life just like everyone else. because of that, i imagine he'd like take cooking almost very seriously, wanting to take time (if he can) to make himself a good ass meal as a form of self-care. it would be so much so that if he ever had to be ur roommate, you'll have the bestest fuckin homemade food in ur whole damn life when he does feel like cooking. like literally lifechanging in a way. obviously he wouldnt use stupid boujie ingredients or dumb shit like that but my god you will FEEL boujie just eating it. he'd obviously have his off-days where he'd get take-out or go for pre-made but homemade makes him feel a bit better

[ink-on-the-brink]

How do you feel about ns*w prompts?

If you want, how about how medic, sniper and engie are acting during sexy times ? Or foreplay if you prefer !

I've been kinda thinking about doing stuff like that for a while so I decided why not now? It's not gonna be my first time writing it but it is my first time posting this stuff so fair warning.

NO CHILDREN BEYOND THIS POINT I SWEAR TO GOD DON'T YOU DARE-

Medic

Okay so like, I don't know if it's just me but like I kinda see Medic as a bit ace? Like he doesn't usually think about that type of stuff and it's very rare that he feels this sort of pull, but he won't reject doing it if you want to either.

You'd need to be very blunt with the man. It's not that he's dumb, he just doesn't pick up well on social cues in the first place so he doesn't want to assume anything.

He's never one to initiate. Like ever. You want some? You best come get it.

Kinks? Literally whatever the fuck you're into. Man does not give a fuck. He'll indulge in the most insane shit if you're up for it. He had no line that can't be crossed. He loves experimenting. (I mean that's what he does 98% of the time anyway)

Mega switch. He can be the absolute whiniest sub and the most controlling dom. It's almost scary how good he is at both.

Foreplay can be common or not happen at all. Again it depends entirely on what his partner wants and if you want him to spend an hour just touching you then that's exactly what he'll do.

He holds no shame if caught. Everyone knows better than to say shit to the person that's literally in charge of their bodily functions. No one dares to say a word if they catch the two of you.

He will often slip into German in the heat of the moment so whatever he saids is completely lost on you. (He's honestly just saying random shit but you don't need to know that)

His favorite position is downward dog. Something about hearing your muffled moans just kinda does it for him.

For him, it's more of a casual thing. Like a 'sure, why not'.

Overall whoever he's with gets to decide what smexy time will be like.

Sniper

This man has one hell of a sex drive. It's honestly surprising he hasn't exploded from the number of times he's found himself in a situation where he just really needed that release but couldn't get it that moment.

One small comment, purposeful or not, has him wanting you. There have been more than a few times he's heard the wrong meaning in your words, flustering and really pushing him.

He doesn't initiate it so much as you can see that he really really needs it. He'll deny himself no matter how worked up he gets and it's up to you to shove some reality in his face and give him what he wants.

Man is a full dom when he's in the mood though. I'm talking you won't even know what's happening before he has you against a wall, whispering the dirtiest things you've ever heard in your ear. Which is frankly surprising since he was usually so easily flustered. It's almost shocking how quickly he changes from flustered mess to confident and absolutely fucking H O T.

He doesn't venture into the world of kinks much. He likes it rough and messy, not complicated. He'd rather be the one to hold you down than have some rope do it for him. That doesn't mean he won't try if you ask though.

He draws a hard line with extreme stuff. He will never harm you and would never like to be harmed by you.

If he trusts you enough, and you play your cards right, he can become a melted mess. Sometimes he just really likes to give up all control to you and honestly, it just makes him hotter.

He's definitely the type to use semi-demeaning words but not in a way to put you down. Something like 'you're such a good lil' slut for me'

Voyeurism is something he's turned on about but deathly afraid to do. He's had many a fantasy of fucking where he might get caught but actually getting caught would probably embarrass him to unimaginable lengths. So to indulge in these fantasies he'll do so when you both go camping. No one's around yet the thrill is still there.

He most often likes to fuck you into a wall of some kind. He likes how the position makes it a bit harder to look at anything but him. Your expressions are what he practically lives for.

Foreplay is rare. He's often too worked up to think about it. He mostly likes to get straight to the good part. So when he gives you the reins he can often be even more of a mess if you prefer soft touches and a slower session.

How casual it is depends on how long he's been with you. For the first year they tend to be more rare and often very intense sessions. Once he's more comfortable with you though it can become extremely common and more casual with those intense sessions sprinkled in now and then.

Overall he's a bit hard to predict. You'll start off thinking he's going to be a nervous mess under your fingers before he turns around and fucks you until you can't stand anymore. Then after a while you get to take control and do the same to him.

It's a win/win

Engie

A decent sex drive. Usually he's very good at controlling his urges and keeping them in check but when he wants it damn does he want it bad.

He's a man of words. Nothing, and I mean nothing will get him going faster than a suggestive comment. Keep talking and you'll have him hooked in moments.

Despite what one might think, Engie is a dom. Look, you listen to him when his voice gets deep and tell me he doesn't use that tone to turn on whoever he's with. Man's knows every way to turn someone on without even touching them.

Is most likely the one to initiate. He likes to start it off with a little bit of light touching so it's very often that he turns what was supposed to be a cuddle session or a short kiss into something a lot more.

HUGE praise kink. He's going to compliment each part of your body in the sexiest way he can. Stuff like 'ya sound beautiful when you're beggin sweetheart' and 'ain't you just the most perfect thing ah've ever seen'. He is going to make even the most stone-cold mercenary flush with how good he is at talking dirty.

Foreplay is this man's forte. He's good with his hands and his tongue and you can be damn sure he's using both to his advantage. Kisses all around your body, whispered words that send shocks through your skin, soft touches that send shivers down your spine, he's good at it all.

To him it has to be intimate. He's not one for casual. If he's going to do anything with you it's going to be slow and romatic. He doesn't like anything quick, it just doesn't do it for him. He wants to hold your body, to feel every bit of skin revealed to him.

He doesn't want anyone disturbing his moment with you and it will annoy him to no end if someone does. He'll quickly cover you before throwing whatever's closest to him at whoever disturbed the session. Despite this, he has a huge thing for spontaneous sessions rather than planned ones. This means that you two have done it more than a few times in his workshop. Luckily at this point everyone's learned to just not come in if the doors are closed, no matter how important it is. He's not going to talk or help anyone until he's finished.

He has a different set of nicknames that are saved especially for smexy time. These include 'cute lil' thing, sugar, angle' and a few others. Upon hearing any of those nicknames you'll know exactly what he's planning to do.

He likes it when you ride him. He very much enjoys the hold he has on your hips as you bounce on top of him, not to mention your face contorted in pleasure that he gets a front-row seat to.

Overall he's a man of foreplay and long passionate sessions.

[contemplativepancakes]

number one wiener eater

written for the @lambertbigbang, with art by the amazing @geralt-of-riviass here! Make sure to check it out :D (also a ginormous thanks to @hoomhum for betaing and helping me work out the extremely complicated logistics of bathroom stall sex). Read on ao3 here!

When Lambert loses the hot dog eating contest that he’s won for the past three years in a row, there’s nothing he would love more than to find who beat him and punch them in the face. Unfortunately, he was too busy throwing up to know who the winner was.

All he knows is that he’s kind of maybe in love with the guy who held his hair while he puked. (8k, explicit, lambden, cw: vomiting, semi public sex)

Lambert’s gonna puke. He keeps stuffing the buns in his mouth, but they’re like glue, and his jaw refuses to work. He swallows, but nothing goes down. He takes a desperate gulp of water and sputters on it. Jerking his head up to glance at the countdown clock, he silently curses as he sees he has seconds left. He shoves what he can into his already full mouth, raising his hands up as the judge shouts for them to stop.

He takes a second to glance down the long line of other competitive eaters, but a wave of nausea hits him, and he looks at the ground, determined on keeping everything down. He keeps chewing and working to swallow as the judge takes away the plate to weigh it. Another comes down the aisle casting a critical eye at their tables, making sure that not too much food went onto the ground or table instead of their mouths.

It’s blazing outside today, and sweat coats Lambert’s face. Acid burns up his throat, but he chokes it back. He’s not a lightweight.

Lambert’s won this contest the past three years in a row, and he’s pretty sure he has this one in the bag. It’s no Coney Island Hot Dog Eating Contest, and he’s no Joey Chestnut, but he’s at least good, and the prize money is decent enough. He’s had his eye on an inflatable jacuzzi—for the women, Geralt. And the men—and he’s excited to make his maybe ill-advised purchase.

He waits for them to announce the winner, bouncing his foot on the ground to give himself something to focus on besides the rising wave of whatever’s churning in his gut.

When the judges stand up on their small podium, a hush falls over the small crowd gathered. Lambert directs his attention to them, but a bright burst of nausea hits him and sends sweat dripping down his back, and he doesn’t manage to hear anything after that.

He pukes.

“Oh jeez, are you okay?” a voice comes from somewhere on his left.

“Fine,” Lambert grunts, wiping his mouth and grimacing at the burning taste left in his mouth. Definitely more pleasant as the hot dogs were going down than up.

“Are you sure? You seem shaky.”

“I’m fine,” Lambert grumbles, and finally looks up at the guy, who puts his hands up in surrender.

“Just checking.”

He starts to heave again, and he reaches for the pail thoughtfully provided for them by the contest sponsors.

“Yep, you sure seem fine!” the other man chirps.

Lambert retches one more time, and the man hands him a napkin. Lambert takes it suspiciously, wondering if this is a reporter or something. He’s not sure why someone would want to deal with this.

The man hands him a bottle of water next, and Lambert purses his lips as he twists the top off. He squints at him. “Who are you?” he finally asks.

“Oh, sorry. I’m Aiden.”

All that does is give Lambert a name, not answer his question, but he doesn’t comment further, just offers his own name in a grunt.

“Oh, I know who you are.”

“You a fan?”

“You could say that,” Aiden says with a grin, and Lambert rolls his eyes.

“They didn’t tell me competitive eating gets you groupies.”

Aiden gives him a full throated laugh at that, and Lambert curses himself when he catches himself thinking that it sounds kind of nice. Those are exactly the kind of thoughts he doesn’t want to be having. Especially not for some weirdo that stopped to what, hold his hair while he puked? Who does that? If he’s not careful, he’s going to end up in an ice bath one kidney short.

Lambert wipes his mouth with the back of his hand again, surreptitiously checking his breath. It’s not peaches and cream, that’s for sure.

Lambert sets the pail down and faces Aiden, trying to flat out dislike him at how white his teeth are, how perfectly coiffed his dark curly hair is even in this heat, but he fails as Aiden continues to be nothing but nice to him, making small talk as Lambert tries to pull himself together.

After Lambert’s fully sat up instead of half way hunched over, expecting another vomiting wave to hit him, Aiden straightens up, too. “Well, I guess I’ll be seeing you around, then, huh?”

Lambert’s confused for a second, because he’s never seen Aiden before, but he decides he’s going to take this as a good sign. Or maybe a bad sign for the fate of his kidneys, whatever the case may be.

“I would hope so,” Lambert settles on, deciding that sounds like a good mix of hopeful and not at all like he’s desperate for a little human contact.

Aiden gives him a little half wave that has no right to be as adorable as it is when a grown man does it, and Lambert frowns and tamps down the feelings rising in his gut. No, he’s not going to call them butterflies. He’s not a twelve year old; he doesn’t get crushes, and he certainly doesn’t get butterflies in his stomach.

Lambert eventually manages to get up and walks away from the contest, sadly bereft of the prize money. He missed the announcement of the winner while he was busy throwing up, but he caught the disappointed looks some of the spectators were casting him, so he knows it isn’t him. He doesn’t even want to know who it was. He’ll just dwell endlessly. His stomach is still roiling as he clambers into his car, but at this point, he’s not sure why.

It’s what he ate, he’s sure.

-

Lambert slams his kitchen cupboard door shut. “I don’t want to talk about it, Geralt,” he mutters.

Geralt always wants to hash every detail of his competitions, and while normally Lambert is happy to indulge him, he just doesn’t want to talk about this one, okay?

It has everything to do with him losing and absolutely nothing to do with Aiden. Nothing at all.

“Okay, fine,” Geralt says, raising his hands and backing up. “No need to get so grouchy about it.”

Lambert scowls. “I’m not grouchy.”

“Right. Prove it.”

“Fine.” Lambert crosses his arms.

Geralt grins. “Return my library book for me? It’s due today, and there’s no way I’m making it over to that side of town today, I’m slammed.”

“Yeah? You’re so slammed you had time to come here and harass me?”

Geralt reaches forward to ruffle Lambert’s hair, and Lambert knocks his hand away. “Not harassment. Just brotherly concern. Have you seen the wikipedia page for competitive eating? And you expect me not to worry?” Geralt scoffs.

Lambert rolls his eyes. “Stop being so over protective, mom.”

“Deal. If you return my book.”

Lambert rolls his eyes, but he takes the book. He looks down at the title, then back up at Geralt, raising his eyebrows. “Really? Twilight?”

“I didn’t even think you knew how to read, Lamb,” Geralt deflects.

Lambert huffs. “I don’t know if I want to embarrass myself by returning this, but whatever. If anyone asks, it’s my sister’s book. You owe me.”

“I’m pretty sure I’m the one in the lead on favors.”

“I doubt it.”

Lambert makes a show of taking the book between his pinched thumb and forefinger, Geralt rolling his eyes all the while. “I know, I know. You hear vampire, and you can’t help yourself,” Lambert says.

Geralt shrugs before clapping his hands on his thighs. “All right, I better get going. I have to pick Ciri up from school.”

“And you couldn’t have gone after to the library with her?”

“She has martial arts.”

Lambert sighs. He can help Geralt out this once, he supposes.

Geralt leaves and Lambert eyes the book setting on his coffee table. He guesses he might as well go now, and he can poke around and see if there’s anything that catches his eye. He hasn’t been to the library in nearly a year, but it might be a nice change of pace.

Lambert clambers to his feet, stopping to grab his wallet and keys before walking out to his car.

He hits every red light between his apartment and the library, and his good mood has nearly evaporated by the time he gets there. That changes when he walks in the door and sees who’s sitting at the front desk. “Aiden?” he doesn’t squeak.

Aiden looks up from where he’s typing furiously at a computer, and his face breaks out into a wide grin that makes Lambert’s stomach flip. “Lambert!”

Lambert looks down at the book he’s carrying and immediately hides it behind his back. Aiden quirks an eyebrow at him. “Got a return?”

“Yes, well, I mean, no—”

Aiden stretches out a hand, and Lambert resigns himself to his fate. He gives Aiden the book. Aiden barely glances at the cover, just gives Lambert a small smile and scans the barcode.

“I’m returning that for my brother,” Lambert can’t stop himself from saying.

Aiden glances back up at him. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Aiden nods once. “Likely story.”

Lambert splutters and then stops when he sees the shit eating grin Aiden’s giving him.

“Hey, all reading is good reading,” Aiden says. “I’m not going to rag on you.”

“It’s my brother’s,” Lambert mumbles again, but he shakes his head in defeat.

“Let me know if you need help finding anything.”

Lambert would normally rather die before asking for help, but he thinks it might be okay if it's Aiden he’s asking for it from. He wouldn’t have offered if he was busy or something, right?

The organ harvesting alarms start going off in Lambert’s brain again, but he dismisses them. Someone so nice surely isn’t going to cut anything out of him. And even if he does, Lambert would bet Aiden would give the good drugs, so he wouldn’t even feel it. He seems nice like that.

Yeah, that’d be okay.

Lambert moves farther into the library, going between the stacks where no one can see him. He’s not sure what books he should get to try and recover the remaining shreds of his dignity.

He whips out his phone and searches long classic books. He scrolls down the page a little frantically until he lands on War and Peace. He’s heard of that before. He’s pretty sure it’s a well regarded book. What if Aiden thinks he’s a pretentious dick? Okay, maybe he is, a little, but he doesn’t want to give him that impression right off the bat. Lambert’s already ruined his first, and second impression, he doesn’t want to mess up the third.

Lambert makes his way down the aisles, squinting as he looks for the Ts. He pulls out the book with a flourish after he finally finds it, weighing its impressive heft in his hand. He cracks it open and finds it to be suitably dense. He makes his way back up to the circulation desk, where Aiden’s scanning in returns from their self service slot.

Why didn’t Lambert just use that? He could slap himself. Well, he guesses he wouldn’t have seen Aiden if he did that, so at risk of sounding like a creepy stalker, he’s glad he came in.

Lambert thunks the book down on the counter. Aiden looks at it, then up to Lambert, a grin spreading across his face. “Just a bit of light reading for you then?”

Heat rises to Lambert’s cheeks, not sure if he’s being mocked or not. He shrugs. “It’s been on my list.”

Aiden holds a hand out, his eyebrows raised expectantly.

“Uh…”

“I need your library card,” Aiden says patiently.

“Right. Um, let’s see here.”

Lambert hasn’t been to the library since the last time he came with Ciri to pick out movies they were going to watch while she stayed with him, and he pulls out his wallet. He holds it open to thumb through it, wondering why the fuck he feels the need to carry so many gift cards around that he’s never going to use. Foil crinkles as he goes through everything, and he resolutely does not make eye contact with Aiden.

It’s no use, though. “You’re not supposed to carry those around in your wallet, you know,” he says conversationally. “Wears holes in them.”

There’s a quip on Lambert’s tongue about using them often enough that he doesn’t have to worry about that, but he bites it back. He’s not a creep who would say that at someone’s job.

After another painful ten seconds, Lambert gives up on finding the card. He thinks he remembers them giving him a miniature one for it, too, so he looks on his key chain instead, filled as it is with at least twenty different discount cards and various baubles Ciri’s made for him.

“I can tell you’re a fine connoisseur of our goods,” Aiden comments.

“Shut up,” Lambert grouses, finally finding the little card and setting the whole thing down for Aiden.

Aiden scans it, keys and cards jingling against each other, and frowns. “It’s expired,” he says apologetically.

Lambert wishes the floor would open up and swallow him whole, especially as Aiden fingers the rooster on it that Eskel gave him after he came out. He should get around to cleaning off his keyring.

“I guess I know you really were returning that book for your brother?” Aiden offers.

Despite himself, Lambert smiles. “I guess you do.” Lambert swallows. “So what do I have to do to renew it? I think I might have to start coming here more often.”

Aiden gives him a tiny grin, and they get the card renewed, then the book checked out. “I’ll be expecting a report on how it was when you return it,” Aiden says of War and Peace, tucking the receipt into the book.

Lambert’s not sure if he had been entirely convinced he was actually going to read it, but he finds himself saying, “You bet.”

Aiden flashes him a smile that Lambert would best describe as feral, and as he walks out to his car, Lambert wonders what exactly he’s gotten himself into.

-

Later that night finds Geralt back on Lambert’s couch. “I thought you were so busy,” Lambert complains.

“Well, Ciri’s at her martial arts class now and your apartment was close. What do you have to eat?”

Lambert rolls his eyes and resists the urge to shove Geralt’s feet off his coffee table. “Nothing for you.”

Geralt gets up to survey the refrigerator.

“If you put a finger on my burrito, I’ll end you,” Lambert threatens.

Lambert can practically hear Geralt rolling his eyes as he heaves a heavy sigh. “Do not drink out of the jug either.”

Geralt groans again. “Like you don’t?”

“Well, I’m the one who buys it. All you do is come over and eat my food like you don’t have any of your own.”

Geralt comes back to the couch after some muttering and putting something in the microwave. Lambert resists the urge to strangle him. When Geralt comes back, it’s with chinese takeout that’s been in the refrigerator for at least two weeks. Lambert doesn’t say anything.

He watches with a raised eyebrow as Geralt slurps down the noodles, mildly impressed at his stomach of steel. He’s always thought Geralt would be a good competitive eater.

When Geralt finally puts the chop sticks down and comes back up for air, he brightens and reaches into his pocket. “Here, I saved this for you.”

Geralt hands a folded up newspaper clipping to him, and Lambert scowls upon seeing the picture of the hot dog eating contest sign. He crumples it up and tosses it at Geralt’s head.

Geralt’s hand automatically comes up and bats it away, making it fall to the floor. “Jeez, I try to do one nice thing…”

“Don’t act like being nice was your motivation.”

Geralt gives him a cheshire cat grin. “You’re too easy to rile up, you know that?”

“Yeah, thanks a lot for that, shit lips. By the way, you’re welcome for taking back your book. I nearly got laughed out of the library.”

Geralt smirks at him. Fortunately for Geralt, there’s nothing for Lambert to throw at him again within arms reach.

“I see you even got a book. That’s some heavy reading,” Geralt says, a look of mock seriousness pasted on his face.

“Shut up.”

“That’d take you at least three years to read.”

“Shut up,” Lambert says again, putting his hands over his ears.

“Almost seems like you got that just to impress someone; I’ve never known you to have an interest in the classics before.”

Lambert looks at the book sitting on the coffee table and considers just braining Geralt with it. Surely a jury would be understanding that sometimes you just have to hit your stupid as fuck brother upside the head with a three pound book.

Not guilty, for sure.

Lambert snaps out of his daydream to look pointedly at the clock. “Exactly how long is Ciri’s class?”

Geralt checks his watch. “Shit, I gotta go.”

Lambert grouses as Geralt puts on his jacket and leaves his bowl on the table for Lambert. “I’m not a maid!” he shouts after Geralt’s retreating back.

Geralt flips him off and then blows him a kiss, leaving Lambert to wonder if he’s just broken a record for the world’s longest eye roll.

Lambert looks back to the book. He guesses he has nothing better to do…

-

Lambert makes it through the book much more quickly than he anticipated; once he gets past the dry as fuck language, it’s actually kind of interesting.

He’s excited but also dreading going back to the library. This time he should probably be better prepared when he goes in, so he doesn’t have to frantically flick through his phone hidden in the middle of the stacks trying to find something to check out that’s not going to make him look like an idiot.

He searches for something interesting sounding, but maybe something that’s not going to make Aiden laugh at him this time. Well, maybe he can make him laugh in a good way instead of making fun of him, Lambert muses as he scrolls through book titles.

And so, the next time when he goes to the library, he surprises a laugh out of Aiden when he slams A Treatise of Cocks and Hens onto the counter to check out.

“You into animal husbandry now?” Aiden snickers.

“I’ve been considering some laying hens,” Lambert says in mock seriousness. “Why, you got any advice?”

“Ah. Eggs, nature’s perfect food,” he says sagely. “I am sure that is the only reason why you’ve chosen this particular book.”

“Yep.”

Aiden grins. “Huh. Very interesting. Well, I’ll be expecting a report back. By the way, how was War and Peace?”

“Surprisingly not terrible.”

Aiden drums his fingers on the counter, scrutinizing him. “Huh.”

“What do you mean, ‘huh?’”

“A man can’t say ‘huh’ without being ruthlessly interrogated now? What is this country coming to?”

Lambert shakes his head at the dramatics and finally remembers to hand over his library card. Aiden scans it, then his book, a small smile still playing at the corner of his mouth. The receipt prints, and Lambert holds out his hand for it, but Aiden takes it and scribbles something down before tucking it in the book.

“Just...personalized service for our valued members,” he says with a wink.

“I’m not paying for anything; I don’t think you need to try that hard.”

“Are you complaining?”

Lambert shakes his head hastily. “Definitely not.”

Aiden slides the book across the counter to him. “Come back soon,” he says with a cheeky wave.

Lambert barely resists the urge to stick his tongue out at him, and where did that come from, but he manages to make it out of the library without making a total ass of himself. When he gets out to his car, he slides behind the wheel and takes the receipt out of the bag.

On it is a number, one Lambert hopes like fuck is Aiden’s and not just some cruel joke, and the words, Text me what you learned from this book. I want to learn all about it (;

Lambert traces his fingers over the word cock on the cover.

He can’t believe that actually worked.

-

When he tells Geralt the news, Geralt howls with laughter.

Predictably, Geralt is eating his food again, and is being absolutely no help in assisting Lambert with choosing the clothes he should wear on his date. He had somehow worked up the nerve to text Aiden, and after a week of sending waffling texts back and forth, they’re going to a bar together. Shit, Lambert hasn’t been on a date in forever.

“Calm down,” Geralt says around a mouthful of pasta from Lambert’s bed, watching his eyes dart back and forth around his closet. “Wear a button down,” he advises. “That’s respectable.”

“Not like I’m trying too hard?”

Geralt hums. “Maybe.”

Lambert scowls at him. “Why are you even here if you’re not going to help?”

Geralt points a fork to his bowl. “Dude, you made bolognese. Where else am I going to be?”

“Don’t you have a kid or something you need to watch?” Lambert asks, but it’s without heat.

“She’s with Yen tonight. I wanted a front row seat to this shit show, and they’re going to an opera or something. I don’t ask questions.”

“Wow, thank you for your enthusiastic support.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you care this much before,” Geralt observes.

“Yeah, well, he’s nice. I’ve never dated someone who’s nice before.”

“I can only hope he rubs off on you.”

Lambert nods. “We can only hope.”

Geralt throws a pillow at him. “Don’t be a pervert.”

“Hey! You’re the one who said it, not me.”

Geralt sets the bowl down, balancing precariously on Lambert’s bed and claps his hands over his ears. “I do not want to think about you doing any of that. You’re going to be 12 to me forever.”

“Geralt, you are six years older than me.”

“And?”

Lambert shakes his head as he pulls out a polo before discarding it.

Why the hell does he even have that? He wouldn’t be caught dead wearing a fucking polo.

In the end, Lambert settles on nothing too out of the norm from his typical style. He doesn’t want Aiden to get the wrong idea, and he’s sure Aiden won’t hesitate in making fun of him if he tries too hard. He wets his comb and runs it through his hair, but it’s really too short to stick up in odd angles, which is exactly the way he likes it.

He shoos Geralt out of his apartment as he leaves. “I can’t leave you unsupervised to poke through my things,” he says, and Geralt doesn’t even argue with him about it, which is highly concerning because that means it’s true.

Lambert’s heart is jackrabbiting against his chest as he walks out to his car. He gives Geralt a gruff goodbye before ducking into his car, plugging his phone into the radio and cranking the volume up. He tries to focus on the lyrics instead of the pounding in his chest that he can feel pulsating in his wrists. He scrolls through his songs until he finds something by Minor Threat so he can turn it up and drown out the rest of his thoughts.

He’s meeting Aiden at the bar, because Geralt told him it was weird to pick someone up on the first date, and that Aiden was an Independent Man, whatever that meant. He probably shouldn’t listen to Geralt.

He beats his fingers in rapid bursts on his steering wheel in time with the music until he gets there, and then he checks his phone to see it’s way too early to go in yet. God, he’s messing this up already. He scrolls through his social media feeds while he waits until his phone buzzes with an incoming picture. He clicks over to it, to see—himself, hunched over behind the steering wheel of his car. It’s taken through a window, and it’s sort of definitely mega creepy.

Aiden: you coming in, or do you just plan on sitting out there all night?

Lambert checks the time again and verifies that no, he’s still 20 minutes early. A small smile crawls across his face.

He gets out and walks into the bar, looking around. Aiden waves to him, and he’s sitting at a booth, not even at the bar.

“Wow. Classy.” Lambert comments as he slides in next to him.

Shit, should he have sat across from him? Aiden apparently doesn’t mind by the way he immediately presses against Lambert.

“Can’t believe I got you out of your academic setting,” Aiden smirks. “How goes the chicken husbandry?”

“I’m considering building a coop,” Lambert says on reflex.

“I can’t even tell if you’re joking.”

Lambert grins. “Only mostly. Don’t you think that would be cute, or whatever?”

“What, you in a frilly apron collecting eggs? Yeah, I could get behind that.”

Lambert’s face gets hot almost instantly. “That’s not what I meant.”

“I think it should be.” Aiden quirks an eyebrow at him in challenge, one which Lambert immediately cops out of.

“What do you want to drink?”

Lambert stands up with Aiden’s order and goes to the bar to get it, wondering what Geralt’s opinion on how the bill should be split is.

When he comes back, Aiden’s checking his phone, but he quickly sets it down when Lambert slips in beside him again.

“Just letting my friend know I’m not dead,” he says brightly. “I sent her the picture of you, and that’s already shady enough to be perfect for America’s Most Wanted, so I’d keep that in mind.”

Lambert snorts. “Noted,” he says, passing over the beer.

Aiden takes a gulp, and Lambert’s gaze doesn’t linger on how Aiden’s lips wrap around the bottle, not one bit.

Aiden sets the bottle down on the table with a clunk, liquid making its way dangerously close to the top, but none splashes out.

“So tell me about yourself, besides the fact that you eat too many hot dogs, read long books in the hopes of impressing librarians, and are blue printing a chicken coop.”

Lambert drums his fingers on the table and shrugs. “I’m not that interesting. And who said I was trying to impress you?”

Aiden shrugs and takes another drink of his beer, setting it back down and swiping a finger through the condensation. “Aren’t you?”

Lambert stands up abruptly. “Come on, pool table’s empty.”

“I think you’re going to have to show me how to handle my stick.”

Lambert groans and shoves at him. “That was so bad. That was terrible. I’m not rewarding you for that.”

Aiden grins at him, and they play pool, with Aiden exaggerating his cue handling the entire time. If Lambert has to watch him run his hands down its length one more time…

“What exactly are you angling for, here, hmm?” Lambert asks, sidling up next to him and nudging him out of the way so he can take aim for the cue ball.

Aiden shrugs. “Whatever you’re willing to give me.” He crosses his arms and leans back against the wall. “I’m easy.”

Lambert squeezes his eyes shut for a second at the mental image that provides before gulping. “I, uh, haven’t really been with anyone in a while. Might be a little rusty.”

Aiden crowds behind him and wraps his arms around Lambert’s waist. “Just like riding a bike,” he says into his ear.

Lambert leans down and hits the cue ball, knocking the black eight into the middle pocket. “Well, shit.” They both know he did it on purpose.

Aiden takes Lambert’s hand for a second, and Lambert has to make a conscious effort not to short circuit. “Meet me in the bathroom,” he murmurs before turning away, leaving Lambert to fidget uncomfortably. He knocks all the balls into the pockets and hangs up their cues, dithering a little to try not to make this too obvious. Jesus, he feels like he’s 22 again, only this time he’s doing it with someone he actually likes and not just to get a reaction out of his dad when he found out.

Lambert sets his hands on the pool table and takes a deep breath before heading to the bathroom. He walks in, noting that no, this isn’t a single stall, and anyone could walk on them. His heart beats a little faster.

Aiden’s at the sink washing his hands, and Lambert walks up behind him, mouthing at his neck and wrapping his arms around him.

“Took you long enough,” Aiden says, leaning back into him. “Come on.” Aiden tugs him into a stall and slides the lock shut behind them.

It’s a tight squeeze, two grown men in one tiny stall, and to be honest, it’s a little disgusting. Lambert leans past Aiden to close the toilet seat so he doesn’t have to look at the piss stains.

“Oh, I’m sorry, does that offend your delicate sensibilities?”

“A little bit, yeah.”

Aiden’s grin drops for a second. “You want to do this, right?”

Lambert tugs Aiden against him sharply and kisses him hard before pulling back. “Oh, yeah. Enthusiastically. Have you looked in a mirror lately?”

Lambert yanks Aiden’s shirt out of his pants, putting his hands on Aiden’s torso, enjoying the soft flesh and moving his way up until he can brush his thumb over Aiden’s nipple. Aiden leans back in to kiss him again, shoving his hands down Lambert’s pants where he’s growing steadily harder.

Aiden strokes him inside his underwear, and Lambert forgot how fucking good this feels. He still has one ear on the door, waiting for someone else to come inside the restroom. He’s not sure what they’re going to do if that happens, so he supposes he better move this along.

Lambert leans his head back against the stall door as Aiden jerks him to full hardness, their kiss turning into something uncoordinated and sloppy.

“Feel good?” Aiden murmurs.

“Fuck, yeah,” Lambert says, and his eyes get wide as Aiden drops to his knees.

Aiden pulls him out of his pants, finally unbuttoning them and relieving some of the pressure. Lambert winces as he looks down at the mystery stains on the floor, but Aiden’s unaffected. Lambert bites down on his lip as he looks down at Aiden, leaning forward to take him into his mouth.

“Wait,” he says, and his voice sounds far away. He fumbles for his wallet, thumbing through it to find the condom from the other day.

Aiden laughs and quirks an eyebrow at him.

“It’s a new one,” Lambert says defensively.

Aiden takes it from and tears it open, rolling it down Lambert’s length. “Good?” he asks, and Lambert eagerly nods.

Warm heat envelopes him, and he instinctively threads a hand through Aiden’s hair. Aiden seems to like that, and he starts doing something to the sensitive spot just under Lambert’s head that has him panting after a minute.

The door to the bathroom creaks open then, and Lambert tugs on Aiden’s hair urgently, but Aiden doesn’t let up, if anything, just increases whatever he’s doing down there until Lambert can barely see straight, let alone keep his noises to himself.

There’s the sound of someone unzipping themselves, and Lambert looks down at Aiden incredulously. Does this person really not notice them? Judging by the intensity of the stream they let out, Lambert’s guessing not.

Aiden brings his hand up to stroke the part of Lambert’s cock not in his mouth and keeps up the steady rhythm of his mouth. It feels incredible, tight wet heat around his cock, and Lambert’s concerned his lip is going to bleed if he keeps biting it this hard. A whine starts emanating from him as Aiden increases his speed.

The urinal finally flushes, and Aiden determinedly licks at the underside of Lambert’s cock, making him gasp. Lambert gives a little yank on his hair; he knows Aiden did that on purpose. Aiden looks up at him as innocently as he can with a mouth full of cock.

It’s obscene.

The person doesn’t even wash their hands before they leave, but Lambert can’t find it in him to bemoan their lack of hygiene, he’s just glad for some semblance of privacy again as he lets out a broken moan.

Aiden keeps it up, bobbing back and forth and twisting his hands around Lambert’s cock until he gasps, coming as his legs nearly give out from underneath him. “Fuck,” he says vehemently, panting as he tries to catch his beath. “Mild mannered librarian by day... But you’re sure something else at night, huh?” Lambert tugs a hand through Aiden’s coarse curls, delighting in the way they’re so pullable and soft.

Aiden hums and pulls off, Lambert’s eyes catching on the trail of saliva that follows Aiden’s lips, still connected to Lambert’s cock. “I don’t know about mild mannered.”

Aiden pulls off the condom and knots it, tucking it back into its original foil and putting it on top of the toilet paper dispenser before Lambert fists a hand in the collar of Aiden’s shirt and pulls him to his feet, kissing him messily and reveling in the taste of Aiden’s mouth. He reaches down between them, surprised to find Aiden still fully hard. He maneuvers Aiden around until his back is to the stall door instead of Lambert. Lambert squeezes him before getting to his knees himself, clumsy and unpracticed.

It’s been too long.

Lambert’s knees hit the hard floor, the cold tiles leaching warmth from his legs, even through his jeans. He finds himself not even caring about the ever present ammonia stench and the piss stains everywhere he looks. He unbuttons Aiden’s pants and unzips them, trying not to roll his eyes at the fact that he wore slacks to a bar. How difficult does he think Lambert is to impress, exactly, because Lambert would be the first to tell you it’s not that hard.

Speaking of things that are hard...Lambert jerks his fist along Aiden’s cock a few times, before pulling out another condom and putting it on him, moving forward to take the head into his mouth.

“Jesus, how many of those do you carry around?” Aiden asks, a little breathless.

Lambert pulls off for a moment. “I used to be a boy scout.”

“Liar,” Aiden hisses, but then his head is thudding back against the stall door as Lambert does a particularly clever twist of his fist. He keeps it moving along Aiden’s cock as he gets the head sloppy with spit, paying special attention to the sensitive spot on the underside.

Aiden twitches under his ministrations, and Lambert looks up at him, satisfied as he sees Aiden’s head is still leaned back against the stall door, his eyes squeezed shut.

Lambert hums as he takes more into his mouth, bobbing his head back and forth as he moves his hand farther back to play with Aiden’s balls. He rolls them gently in his hands, running his thumb over the soft skin.

When he looks back up at Aiden, he’s staring at Lambert with undisguised want and he’s visibly restraining himself from being louder. Lambert’s just glad that no one else has come into the bathroom. There’s no question about what’s happening here, not with the slick sounds they’re making.

Lambert starts to suck on Aiden’s cock, then, and a quiet swear comes out of Aiden and his hands fly down, scrambling for purchase in Lambert’s hair, but it’s too short for him to do anything but comb at it uselessly. He ends up with one of his hands on the back of Lambert’s head, just resting there, his fingertips coming down occasionally to brush at Lambert’s neck.

Part of Lambert rebels at the tenderness, but another part of him revels in it, and he keeps the steady motion up until Aiden’s hips are starting to jerk minutely.

Lambert presses a hand against him, holding his hips in place against the stall while he tongues the vein on the underside of Aiden’s cock. He comes after what seems like both a small eternity and no time at all, a moan punching out of him.

Aiden brushes his thumb over the corner of Lambert’s mouth and brings it back up to suck it into his own, Lambert tracking the movement with the corner of his eye. Lambert buttons up his pants and attempts to straighten his shirt, but it might be a lost cause with how many wrinkles are in it from how Aiden had rucked it up. Lambert pulls the condom off and wraps it in toilet paper, setting it on top of the one from earlier.

Lambert cracks the stall door open to throw the condoms into the trash, wincing when he misses.

“That was literally three feet away, dude.”

Lambert scowls at him as he gingerly picks it up and places it in the bin. “Don’t call me dude after I just sucked your cock.”

Lambert shuts the stall door again, waiting for Aiden to be a little bit more presentable.

Aiden tugs his shirt down and smoothes his hand over it, and Lambert tucks him back into his pants and buttons up his pants for him. “Thanks, babe,” he says with a shit eating grin.

Aiden pats Lambert’s hand fondly, and it gives Lambert a warm feeling even as he rolls his eyes. Lambert unlocks the door, and they stumble out together. Aiden leans against him, still very much in Lambert’s personal space and with his hair a mess. “So. You want to do this again sometime?”

All Lambert can do is nod.

-

“Sometime” happens quite frequently over the next several months. After...years of not being in a relationship, and certainly not having regular sex, Lambert’s not complaing.

He brings Aiden lunch at the library occasionally, since he has to work weekends, and Aiden ends up at Lambert’s cooking meals for him more than once in a while. Geralt appreciates the variety, at any rate.

When Geralt met Aiden for the first time, Geralt did a double take, and Lambert still doesn’t know what that’s about, and he doesn’t think he wants to know, either. If Geralt has ever slept with Aiden, he...doesn’t know what he’ll do. Scream, at the very least.

They’re at Aiden’s tonight, and Lambert’s digging through his refrigerator. “Why the fuck do you have all this lettuce? You’d think you were the professional eater,” he gripes as he shoves no less than six heads of the lettuce out of the way to get to the milk.

Aiden snorts behind him. “You’d think, huh?”

Lambert’s distracted from the discovery by Aiden’s arms wrapping around his waist. Lambert turns around in the hold to put his arms around Aiden’s neck and tug him even closer. Aiden grinds his hips against him, but Lambert pushes him back a little. “We haven’t even eaten supper yet,” he chides.

Aiden sighs, a long, put upon thing. “I’m going to die of blue balls.”

“I think you’ll be just fine.”

“What’s next? You say you have a headache?” Aiden puts a hand over his forehead dramatically.

“No, I’ll just tell you to fuck off if I’m not interested. Don’t worry.”

Aiden leans in to bite at Lambert’s ear lobe, and Lambert shoves his face away. “Fuck off.”

“Aw, Lamb,” Aiden wheedles.

“Food, then sex. God, you’re insatiable.”

“Thank you.” Aiden looks entirely too pleased with himself, and Lambert rolls his eyes.

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t, you love me,” Aiden says in a sing song voice.

Lambert groans, burying his face in his hands. “I never should have told you that.”

Aiden sobers for a moment. “I’m so glad you did. I love you, too.”

“Stop being such a sap and help me make supper.”

Aiden rolls his eyes. “Okay, okay, I get it; you’re allergic to feelings. I see how it is. You tell a man something once after the best blow job of your life and then just expect him to forget about it.”

“It was really nice,” Lambert admits.

“That would be because I am the number one wiener eater,” he says proudly.

Lambert shoves him. “Don’t be disgusting.”

Aiden just grins at him unabashedly, pulling the chef’s knife out of their drawer and brandishing it a little too familiarly for Lambert’s comfort. Lambert rolls his eyes. “Here, chop these for me.”

Aiden sets to work and within an hour, they have a comforting meal pulled together. Lambert portions the pasta out onto plates, and they make quick work of it, both of them having tiny portions. Lambert is mainly on semi solids and liquids in preparation for his next contest, and Aiden, he guesses, is being supportive. When they’re done, Aiden looks at his watch and stands up, yawning. “I’m going to have to take a rain check, if you’ll survive.”

Lambert rolls his eyes at him. “I think I’ll live. It was your idea, anyway.”

Aiden makes a face at him, but pulls him into a kiss anyway. “I have a few last minute prep things to do for tomorrow.”

“Like what? Do you need help?” Lambert asks, frowning, wondering if Aiden is making a celebratory cake for him, or something. That might be jumping the gun a bit.

“Hey, I can’t give away all of my secrets, can I?”

“I suppose not,” Lambert says, squinting at him.

“All right, well, I’ll see you then. We can ride together, okay?”

Lambert nods his assent as Aiden practically shoos him out the door. It’s still light outside, and this is possibly the first time he’s left Aiden’s apartment while the evening light has shined on him the whole time he’s known Aiden. He squints into the sun as he clambers into his car.

Well, whatever. He has stuff he should be doing, anyway. Eyes on the prize, he coaches himself as he pops in a few sticks of gum. He’s got this. He’s so, totally got this, and nothing is going to distract him from winning.

-

The next day finds Lambert frowning at his phone, as Aiden tells him something, speaking way too quickly. “Sorry, I know I said I would ride with you but Gunther is out sick and I’m going to have to work up until, like, the very last minute before the contest…”

“Well, you don’t have to come,” Lambert says, concerned that maybe expecting Aiden to attend is asking too much, especially when his work is short staffed.

Aiden just laughs. “I bet you’d just love that, huh?”

Lambert is a little puzzled on why Aiden would say that, and he’s trying to think of a reply when someone shouts something in the background of the call. “Hey, I have to go. Love you, bye!”

There’s the beep of a disconnected call, and Lambert brings the phone down from his ear to stare at it. That was… a little bizarre. Well, whatever. He can’t have anything distracting him now. There’s no way he’s going to lose two contests in a row, not after he had to wait months for the next one to come around.

Lambert drives to the contest, pointedly not noting how empty his passenger seat is without Aiden in it. He looks forward to spending time with him, so to have it cancelled always leaves him feeling melancholy.

He clenches his jaw and turns up the radio, his fingers tapping a frantic rhythm on the wheel.

By the time he arrives, anxiety is coiling in his gut and he’s already sweating. He sits in his car for a moment, blasting the air conditioning. If he loses again, is he officially a has been? He takes a deep breath as he gets out, walking up to the judges and turning in his paperwork.

He turns to look for Aiden in the crowd, but he doesn’t see him, so he must not be here yet. Lambert sighs as he searches the table lined with hot dogs for an empty seat, stopping when he sees—Aiden?

Lambert stares at Aiden with a slack jaw. “You’re—you—competing? What?”

“Lamb, what are you talking about? Are you okay? You don’t look so good.” Aiden pushes his chair back and hurries over to him, bringing a hand up to put on Lambert’s forehead, but Lambert swats him away.

“When did you sign up?” Lambert finally gets out.

Aiden squints. “Right after the last one? For real, are you alright?”

“The last one?” Lambert echoes.

“Yes. The last one. The one that I won?”

Lambert’s mouth flaps.

“That you won?” he practically screeches. He’s feeling a little dizzy.

“Did you get hit on the head?” Aiden asks, looking around nervously like he’s trying to find someone to ask for help. “Who do you think won that last contest, Lamb?”

Lambert sputters. “I don’t know; I was a little preoccupied!”

“Did you not look it up after? Oh my god, I thought you knew,” Aiden says in horror.

Lambert wants to cry, honestly. “It was you?”

“I felt bad when you were throwing up! You were puking and you didn’t even win! Sue me for being nice!”

Realization dawns on Lambert that this is why Geralt could barely contain his laughter after meeting Aiden. He did try to give him that newspaper clipping, after all. Surely it had a picture of the winner in it.

“Why did you think I was even there in the first place?” Aiden finally asks.

Lambert lets that settle over him for a moment. He still feels a little sick, but inexplicably he feels better, now that Aiden is in this with him. He pauses for a second of it. Now that he’s aware Aiden is in this with him. “Well, no one is allowed to beat me but you.”

“Deal. Hey, what did I tell you?”

Lambert groans. Aiden tells him lots of things, and his brain is not exactly cooperating with him at the moment. “I don’t know.”

Aiden nudges him with his elbow and gives him a meaningful raise of his eyebrow. “No, I think you do. Go on, don’t be afraid to admit it.”

What it must be pops into his head, and Lambert heaves a long suffering sigh, and he hopes it's one he’s going to be continuing to give for quite a while. “You’re the number one wiener eater.”

Aiden beams.

[goddessofroyalty]

I’m kind of tickled by the idea that the first time Silco ever really sees Jayce as a semi decent Alpha is when they’re at some kind of party and someone tries to make a really poor tasting joke about Viktor who isn’t there. Jayce without hesitation before Silco can do anything, rips the person a new one verbally and promises to do everything to ruin them. He gets them thrown out and manages to make sure everyone knows if they try anything similar he’ll make them pay. He’s smiling the entire time like a chimp doing a threat display with those sharp teeth. It’s the most Piltoven Silco’s ever seen him act and it almost impresses him. Silco of course ensures that the person is properly punished but it was nice to see Jayce didn’t just put on a show just to show off for Viktor.

Oh totally. 

Look Silco’s biggest fear when it comes to Viktor is that people will look down him, especially people in Piltover. And it’s probably part of the reason he tends to undersell Jayce’s role in the partnership in his head - because if they two are truly equal in talent than he assumes Jayce will be looking down on Viktor because of the everything else (including the accent that, in this verse, Silco trained himself out of). 

I feel like it happens early enough that Jayce and Viktor are still just work-partners (even if Silco is aware it is probably only a matter of time before they do become something more).So Jayce has even less reason to come to Viktor’s defence than he would after they end up in a relationship (because then there’s a level of he’s defending his own reputation as well). Also there’s a greater risk for Jayce as well - Hextech is still fledgling even if it has proven itself, Jayce isn’t the Golden Boy just yet (but probably nearly - he does have a lot more social power than he had pre-explosion but he’s not basically untouchable).

And he still immediately comes to Viktor’s defence and then throws every bit of power he has in the situation against the person that insulted Viktor. And while yes, he knows who Silco is in relation to Viktor he doesn’t seem to be that aware that Silco was also within earshot and it’s not like there’s anyone else at the party who would give a shit about Viktor enough to be impressed by him doing so (if anything it’ll be the opposite). And yet Jayce still does it without even hesitating.

And Silco, who very much puts strong value on protectiveness as a trait, can’t help but be a little impressed by it.