#but i don’t know what else to write

[thotsofintrusion]

can we just,,, talk about cockwarming for a minute?

like,, not soft non-sexual cockwarming. nonononono i’m talking about fully sexual, fully torturous cockwarming, where he just won’t let you off his cock, but he won’t move either. personally, i see this best with beomjun, (separately but together is also an interesting thot) two men who take way too much pleasure in seeing you lose your mind on their cocks.

beomgyu, he loves watching you suffer and squirm and beg him to help you until there are tears in your eyes. so on nights where he games, oftentimes before he starts he’ll work you up a little. he’ll strip you bare in his lap and kiss you breathless. he’ll pull and suck on your cute little nipples until they’re hot and hard to the touch. he’ll pinch your clit and tease your entrance until you’re dripping and begging for more. and then he’ll finally sink you down on his cock and log on to his game. while he’s logging in and getting ready he’ll let you bounce on him, he’ll even let you cum if you can get yourself there. but right before the first round starts, he stops you. he holds you down on his lap and reminds you of the rules for the night: 1. you are not to grind bounce or move on his cock in any way, 2. you are not to make any sounds - if you need something you use a safe signal and 3. you don’t cum without his permission. this last rule is one that had to be established after your first couple sessions. we all know beomgyu likes to run his mouth, and that doesn’t change when you’re on his cock. the first couple of times he played this game with you, he ran his mouth so much and got you so worked up that you managed to make yourself cum just by clenching on his cock and listening to him degrade you. and while he thought it was absolutely amazing that he turns you on that much, it’s not exactly what he has in mind for these nights. no, on these nights beomgyu wants you crying and desperate and begging him to touch you even just a little. on these nights, gyu wants to watch you break down while he denies you any pleasure until he’s satisfied. and it’s going to take at least a few hours and denied orgasms to satisfy him.

with yeonjun, it happens after a round or two, on a night where he’s spent the day worked up and needs to let it out on you, but still wants a bit of a break during. it happens on nights where he’s not done with you yet, but he wants to let you catch your breath and come back up to the surface a bit so he can push you right back down. he always makes sure he has you in missionary for this, because he loves being able to just lay right down on you after he fills you up, so you can’t get away from him while you keep him warm. he cums deep inside you and just flops right down on top of you and tells you that you’re going to keep him and his cum warm until he’s ready to go again. you can feel that even though he softened up a little, jun is still very much hard inside of you, and this sends you reeling. you’ve already cum at least three times and his size, even partially soft, is enough to make you feel nice and full, and when you try to wiggle your hips to feel something other than him filling you up, yeonjun just smacks your thigh and tells you not to complain. he tells you to use your safe word if you don’t want this, but he knows you won’t. he knows you love when he keeps you at his mercy for as long as he sees fit. and he knows being impaled on his cock is one of your favorite pastimes. so he’s going to keep you there for as long as he wants.

[time-slink]

(my two interests flying around my skull and crashing into each other) wgere am i

[runraerun]

[mediumgayitalian]

“Did you wash your face?”

“Yes.”

“Brush your teeth?”

“Yes.”

“Brush your hair?”

“…Yes.”

As soon as he says it, he coughs. A freckled hand moves to itch at his throat, rub at slowly puffing eyes.

“You, William Andrew,” Lee says, grinning, “are a liar.”

Will scowls. “Am not!”

The effect of his glare is significantly undermined by the redness of his eyes and the cough that interrupts him mid-sentence. Shaking his head, Lee leans into his bunk and scoops his brother up, heading to the Big House. He slides his hand in tangled, curly hair as Will rests his head on his shoulder, still breathing heavily.

“I can feel the knots in your hair, doofus.”

Will curls up tighter in his hold, muffling another cough in his elbow. “Nuh-uh.” He sniffles. “Hey, Lee, am I dying?”

Lee snorts. “No, you’re not dying.” He ducks into the back entrance of the infirmary, flicking on the lights and setting Will on the counter of the nurse’s station.

Will’s brow furrows. “Then what?”

With his swollen tongue, it sounds more like ‘den wah’. Lee picks up the pace — he’s pretty sure, based on what he knows, that the reaction will go away on its own, but a little Benadryl can’t hurt.

“You’re having an allergic reaction.”

He finally finds the stash of Benadryl — who sorted the mortal meds cupboard by colour again — and grabs one of the little measuring cups. Will sees the medicine and immediately starts whining, trying to climb off the counter.

After a minute of wrangling, he manages to keep Will put with one leg over both of his, chin hooked around his shoulder to hinder any escape attempts so he can pour the medicine with both hands. (He pours one teaspoon, even though Will is eight and should be having two. He’s too small for two. It worries him, a little bit — but there is nothing in his vitals to indicate anything’s wrong, so he must just be a late bloomer. Or maybe he and Michael are just destined to remain under five feet for eternity.)

“I’m not drinking it I’m not drinking it I’m not drinking it ew ew ew ew ew —”

“Yes you are —”

“No! Gross! It’s disgusting!”

“You’ve never even had it before!”

Will looks at the tiny little cup like there are worms writhing in it. (He would probably be more willing to eat it if it was worms. Last summer he ate an ant before Lee could stop him. No one told him demigod life would involve wrangling dangerously impulsive children, and he would like a refund, please, thanks.) “I can tell.” He clamps his mouth shut, turning away. “I am not drinking it.”

“It will help you,” Lee says exasperatedly. Was he this difficult as a child? He needs to call his mother. “I can literally see you scratching your throat, you little snot.”

He shoves his hands under his thighs. “No.”

“…It’s bubblegum flavoured.”

Will turns slowly to look at him, evaluating the little cup with suspicion.

“Bubblegum?”

Lee shakes it enticingly. “Bubblegum.”

After a long, tense moment, Will nods once.

“Fine.” He accepts the little cup, bringing it up close to his face to inspect with one squinting eye. “But if it’s disgusting I’m spitting it out.”

He brings the little cup to his lips for the most delicate, most minuscule of sips, more of a dip of the tongue than anything. Lee rolls his eyes. A second later, a pleased look slots on his face, and he downs the rest of the medicine in one large gulp.

Immediately, some of the swelling reduces, and he stops breathing so laboriously.

“There you go,” Lee murmurs, smoothing back his hair. “That’s better, isn’t it?”

“No.”

“Gods, you’re stubborn.”

He’s smiling as he says it, leaning down to press a kiss to Will’s freckled forehead. He slumps into it, sighing, arms winding their way around Lee’s neck almost shyly. Understanding the gesture for the plea that it is, Lee scoops him up again, wincing as he elbows his ribs in an effort to get comfortable, and starts putting the medicine away one-handed (by alphabet, the correct way to sort.)

“You sleepy?” he asks softly, feeling Will grow heavier against him. He crosses his fingers — Apollo kids don’t often suffer side effects of medication, but he’s hoping the drowsiness’ll kick in. It’ll be nice if Will actually, like, sleeps through the night. For once.

“Mhm.”

Smiling wider, he flicks off the lights and steps out into the late evening. Cicada song swells in the mid-spring mugginess, owls hooting somewhere in the darkness. The curfew harpies’ chittering grows nearer and nearer. Lee waves to some of his friends as he sees them puttering outside their cabins, running through the last of their nightly routines, and finally ducks into Cabin Seven.

“He out?” Diana asks, hushed, setting aside her guitar to walk over.

Lee hums. “Almost. Had to give him some Benadryl, so he’s sleepy.” His smile turns sly. “He lied to me about brushing his hair and broke out in hives.”

“Of course he’s allergic.” She leans forward, shaking her head, and presses a gentle kiss to his temple. He doesn’t stir. “Goodnight, sweetpea.”

The rest of his siblings call out their own soft goodnights as Lee walks over to Will’s bunk, covered in stickers and bracketed by Michael and Leanna, and sets him on the mattress. It takes him several minutes to pry himself out of his grip.

“Love you,” he whispers. He brushes his knuckle across his cheek. “Night, kiddo.”

———

The next morning, Will sleeps in for hours. The rest of them rise as usual with the sun, but he’s snoring, drooling onto his Star Wars pillowcase. The cabin is filled with muffled snickers and snapping cameras.

“I am going to have so much ammo on him by the time he’s thirteen and embarrassed by everything,” Michael says gleefully. “So, so much ammo.”

Lee grins at him. “Make sure I get a copy.”

The walk to breakfast is almost strange — the twelve of them again, no baby brother. Melody, complaining about the Hermes girl who is not picking up on any of her hints, pauses mid-sentence to ask if she can swear. Cass laughs out loud and allows it. Quickly, breakfast becomes a competition of who can swear the most or the most colourfully, free now that there are no little ears (as if Michael hasn’t supplied Will with a vast vocabulary already).

By the time Will stumbles into the pavilion, rubbing sleepy eyes, breakfast is almost over.

“Well, hello, lazy bones,” Lee teases, getting up to grab him a plate. Will trails slightly behind him, fingers twisted in the hem of his shirt.

“‘M not lazy,” he grouches, accepting the heaping plate Lee hands to him, “you drugged me.”

They walk to the brazier near the Apollo table, taking in the sweet smell as Will scrapes off a hefty chunk of olive bread. Lee waits for him to close his eyes and finish mouthing a quick prayer before guiding him, still sleepy, to the bench.

“I didn’t drug you. You took the medicine yourself.”

“Um, no way! Unless a patient is educated about the risks, benefits, and alternatives about a treatment, they do not have informed consent.” He nods resolutely, evidently proud of himself for remembering the spiel. “Ergo, you drugged me.”

Lee has the sudden, overwhelming urge to burst into tears. Will is — he’s just so bright, and so little. Eight years old and chattering off about informed consent, intently watching Michael in the infirmary, taking notes in his little blue notebook and wrapping bandages on burns with his tongue poking out between lost teeth. When Lee was eight years old, he was chasing his friends around at recess, chattering to anyone who would listen about Pokémon.

He had felt it, when the glowing gold lyre appeared above Will’s head: this child will do great things. They’d all felt it. Cass had gone stiff, eyes flashing green and face creasing in horror, before remembering herself and the big blue eyes watching her, scared, and plastering a smile on her face. ‘Great things’ is never a good thing for a demigod to do. A demigod destined for great things is a demigod doomed.

With every straining molecule, he wants to turn to the heavens and scream, no! You will not have him! You will not use him! He is not yours to toy with, to use until you’re bored! I will not allow it! By my dying breath I will not allow it!

Instead, he swallows around the lump in his throat and says, “What kind of dork says the word ‘ergo’,” and laughs when Will sticks out his tongue. He reminds his baby brother to chew with his mouth closed and keep his elbows off the table, lest his mama kick his ass, and forces himself to focus on the way he leans into Lee’s side as he eats; to memorize the wideness of his unburdened smile.

———

“I’m allergic to lying?!”

“Seems like it,” Lee confirms, closing one eye to line up a shot. He breathes in, holds, then exhales, letting the arrow loose. It hits the bullseye, but not quite as centred as he’d like it to be. Shoot. He sets down his bow, and Will runs off, scooping up the volley and running back with them.

(Gods, Lee loves having a little brother.)

“That’s not a real allergy,” he huffs, placing an arrow in Lee’s waiting hand. “The ten most common allergy types are foods, animals, pollen, mold, dust mites, medications, latex, insect stings, cockroaches, and perfumes or household chemicals. Other allergens are rare but not impossible, but all are a result of physical stimuli. An allergy to a concept or person is a figure of speech.”

Lee squints at him. “Do you know what ‘stimuli’ means?”

“No.”

“It means a thing that evokes a specific reaction. Where’d you read that?”

“‘The Flu, The Plague, and the Common Cold — How We Are Shaped By Reacting’ by Phyllis Ledger.”

“Huh.”

He lines up another arrow — closer to the centre, this time. Good enough.

They don’t learn a lot about paediatric care at camp, or really anything outside of first aid and emergency services, but he’s pretty sure that normal eight-year-olds don’t read and memorize medical textbooks in their spare time. Is he supposed to nurture that? He has no idea how to nurture that.

It’s kinda funny, though. Cute.

“How can I be allergic to lying if that’s impossible?”

“Is sewing a severed arm back on a person using magical nectar and singing songs possible?”

Will pauses, considering. “Okay. I guess so.” He waits, letting Lee focus to make another shot. “I still think it’s stupid. Are you allergic to lying?”

“Nope.”

“Is Cass?”

“Negative.”

“Michael?”

Lee scoffs. “If Michael was allergic to lying, he would be dead.”

“Is anyone else allergic to lying?”

“Nope.” This time, the arrow lands in the dead centre — finally. “Just you, kiddo.”

He’s heard, of course, of children of Apollo afflicted with such an inconvenience before. Their dad is the god of truth, after all. It’s bound to happen.

Will frowns. “What are the parameters?”

Lee glances curiously at him. “What do you mean?”

“Well, what is lying? Am I allergic to lying, or not telling the truth? They’re different, you know.” He fidgets with the last arrow of the volley, picking at the tail. “Am I gonna get hives if I say something that’s not true, even if I think it’s true? What if I say something that’s a lie but everyone believes it’s true, like when people believed smoking was good for you?” He gasps, looking at Lee with wide, worried eyes. “Oh my gods, am I allowed to be sarcastic?”

Lee tries his very best to hold back his laughter. He is obviously unsuccessful, because Will scowls, shoving him as hard as he can and throwing off his last shot.

“It’s not funny!”

“It’s a little funny,” Lee snickers, jogging down the range to gather his arrows. He slides them into the quiver, tossing it and his bow onto the equipment deck. “You’re very adorable when you’re mad. You get all —” he pokes Will’s dimpled cheeks, grinning when it makes him smile — “pouty and red. Like Tinkerbell.”

“You’re mean. You’re a horrible mean big brother and I want Beckendorf to adopt me instead.”

“I’ll let him know,” Lee says drily. “C’mon, kid. There’re cabin inspections tonight; I know you got Lego everywhere. Time to clean up. I swear, if we get Castor again I’m gonna —”

“Oh, I didn’t see you guys! I hope I’m not interrupting your practice.”

Lee stumbles. “— lose it.” He trails off weakly “Hey, Carter.”

The son of Athena smiles widely, dark eyes twinkling. His front tooth is just slightly crooked, and Lee finds himself staring at it.

“Hi, Lee.”

Lee wonders, briefly, if he has suddenly developed tachycardia. It certainly feels like it. He remembers something Will had rattled off during lunch yesterday — hummingbirds don’t actually hum, they just beat their wings thousands of times per minute, often in sync with their heart. Lee feels a strange kinship with the little birds right about now.

Will clears his throat loudly.

Carter startles. “Oh! Oh, hi, Will, I’m sorry. Didn’t see you there.”

Will squints suspiciously. “Uh-huh.”

“I was just hoping to use the archery range, if you’re done with it.” He tucks a lock behind his ear. “Or, um. We can share, if you want.”

“Oh, no, that’s okay,” Lee rushes to assure, “I actually just finished, so I’m all — it! It’s all yours!” He clears his throat, sure his face is flaming. “Uh, take it away! Shoot straight!”

Mortified, he clamps his hands on Will’s shoulders and practically shoves him forward, rushing away as fast as is socially acceptable.

“Okay,” Carter calls out behind him, audibly confused. “See you around, Lee.”

Lee makes some sort of horrible, crackling chucking sound. “Right-o!”

Just bury him. Really.

“Smooth,” Will mutters, the second they’re out of earshot. Then he pauses, delighted. “Hey! I can still be sarcastic!”

Lee flicks him on the forehead, scowling. “Shut up.”

———

“— it just seems so vague, right? I mean, say I look at the sky and say, the sky is green. That’s obviously not true. But what if I think it’s true? Or what if I think blue is green, and green is blue? Am I being truthful? Is truth defined by my belief, or by whoever I’m speaking to? Or some arbitrary, so-called objective standard? And what if —”

“Will,” Lee begs, hands pressed to his rapidly-pulsating temples, “for the love of Zeus, please settle down.”

“I can’t,” he says dramatically. He gets another couple jumps on his (FRESHLY MADE) bed before Lee gets fed up an wallops him with a pillow, sending him tumbling with a shriek. “Child abuse! I’m telling Chiron!” He makes a pleased noise. “Hey, I can still exaggerate! I wonder if acting is considered lying —”

“I am going to lose my mind.”

“— and what about, like, withholding the truth? Like, for example, if you asked me, hey, Will, did I make a big embarrassing fool out of myself in front of Carter this morning, and I do not say yeah, totally, I was embarrassed for you —”

“That’s it.”

Lee pounces on him, murderous, digging his fingers into his brother’s sides as he shrieks with laughter, pinning down his arms so he can’t writhe away.

“Mercy! Mercy! I’m sorry, I’m —”

“You’re literally lying right now!” Lee says in disbelief. “I can see your eyes reddening!”

Luckily, the reaction isn’t so severe this time. Maybe it’s a smaller lie, leaning more into teasing than anything, or maybe even the universe can’t be so cruel when faced with Will’s giggles. Either way, Lee tickles him until he’s begging for mercy for real, gasping as he darts away.

“You’re such a brat,” Lee says fondly, catching his breath.

Will sticks out his tongue. “Nuh uh.”

“Get over here, doofus. It’s nine o’clock. You were supposed to be in bed a half-hour ago, I’ll tell you a story.”

Predictably, that gets him quiet, clambering over the mussed sheets and shoving himself into Lee’s side, leg sprawled over his knees and chin digging into his chest. Big blue eyes turn to him with attention, wider than the sea and skies, sparkling, clear with open trust. The lump surfaces in Lee’s throat again, and he brings his hands up to smooth down Will’s hair, distracting himself by untangling the many knots.

“One day,” he begins, voice a little wobbly, “there was a boy.”

“In a galaxy far far away?”

“No. Shut up.”

Will pouts. Lee kisses him on the forehead.

“There was a regular boy on regular Earth. And he was small and clumsy, because his brain was too big for his body and threw him off balance.”

“That’s called a Chiari malformation.”

“William Andrew.”

“Sorry.”

“Gods. Anyways. The boy.” He clears his throat. “The boy was the most curious boy to ever exist. He would observe things, with his big eyes, for hours, trying to figure out how everything in the whole world worked. He’d memorized how every creature in the pond worked together when he was four years old. By the time he was five he could speak frog, and dance with the fireflies.”

Will giggles. “A boy can’t speak frog, that’s ridiculous. Can the frog speak back?”

“Shhh. Listening ears. One day, when the boy was eight, he got very bored by his house, even with the pretty pond. The frogs were too busy to play with him and the fireflies had flown off to work, so he decided to go on an adventure.”

“A quest?”

“Yes, exactly. A quest for knowledge. He decided he would learn every piece of information possible so that one day he could bring it back to his village and share it with everybody. Do you know what happened?”

“What?”

“He was successful. He spent many years travelling and observing and running from monsters to get all the information he could. And when he came back to the village, the people saw that he was kind and intelligent but very naive, so they sucked out all the knowledge from his head to use for themselves and he died. The end.”

“What? No!” Will pushes himself upright, unfortunately putting his entire weight on Lee’s spleen, jaw dropped in outrage. “That’s a horrible story! You can’t end the story like that!”

“My story,” Lee wheezes. “I can end it however I want.”

“Tell it better!”

“Fine, fine. Get off my organs.”

When Will is settled again, curled in the crook of Lee’s arm and glaring at him suspiciously, Lee continues.

“The villagers didn’t kill the boy. You’re right. But they weren’t very careful with them, either. The boy wanted very much to help, so much that it was sometimes all he could think about. And the villagers didn’t mean to, but they treated the boy like he was a knowledge machine — taking and taking and taking, forgetting to give back, to check on him. One day, the boy was so drained of knowledge that he collapsed.”

“Of stress-induced exhaustion?” Will asks softly. His eyes, finally, have begun to droop.

Lee smiles. “Something like that.”

“Then what happened?”

“The villagers panicked, because the boy wasn’t awake to tell them how to fix him. They didn’t know what to do. Some of them, even, didn’t know why he collapsed at all, they thought he might be cursed and didn’t like him anymore.”

“But he wasn’t cursed, he was sick!”

“That’s right. He was sick, because he didn’t stop to take care of himself. He let people take too much without making sure he had enough to stay whole.”

For a long time, long enough that Lee thinks he’s asleep, Will doesn’t say anything. And then he says, in a very small voice, “Does the boy still die?”

“No,” Lee whispers, tightening his hold. “His big brother comes back from a long trip and heals him. And then he yells are the villagers for making him sick, and makes them promise to be more careful. The end. For real this time.”

“I like the second story better,” Will says. “It’s good that he had his big brother there.”

“Always.” Lee swallows, shifting once Will’s eyes flutter shut, sliding him under the covers. “Always, kiddo.”

[somerandomdudelmao]

@tapakah0

This little bunny means the world to me

[sionnaach]

“The universe is trying to fuck with me, and I refuse to engage!”

Woe, Russian Doll Solangelo au be upon ye ft near breaking point med student Will and nihilistic tattoo artist Nico

[myokk]

Her whole body was on fire.

Not the pleasant, tingling sort of fire that had been consuming her as she kissed Sebastian just moments before.

These were terrible, burning flames that made her nerves scream in agony as her body tried to purge itself of the curse. Once her coughing stopped she tried her hardest to straighten her spine and pretend that it wasn't what they both knew it was. But everything hurt so badly, and she knew she wasn't fooling Sebastian.

Eloise was terrified. She had seen how Anne's body had wasted away due to the curse, and Eloise wasn't hopeful she would survive. Even if Sebastian hadn't given up hope when his sister was cursed, he had already been researching relentlessly for a cure for over a year without any breakthroughs - and his research was in addition to Nurse Blainey and St. Mungo's fruitless attempts to heal her.

But...she could take a small measure of comfort from the fact that she had managed to save Anne.

Even if it was at the expense of her own well-being.

"What did you do?" Sebastian whispered, voice raspy, eyes wide and horrified as he looked at her.

Her eyes darted away from his accusing glare, down to the white sleeve that was now peppered with tiny spots of the blood she had just coughed up. They were slowly growing, the tiny spatters expanding and mingling with each other. "I..."

Throat constricting, tears welling up in her eyes, a sob that she was trying to swallow back down.

This wasn't supposed to happen.

Eloise shook her head helplessly. "I have no idea."

She wasn't lying. When she had run to help Anne in Feldcroft all those weeks ago, she had been acting on pure instinct. Just as she had when Leander had hit Sebastian with diffindo. It was the most natural thing in the world to dip into whatever ancient magic reserves she was privy to and just use them. Even if she didn't fully understand these instincts.

"What did you do?" Sebastian repeated, voice rising with every word. He started pacing in front of the fireplace, running an agitated hand through hair that Eloise had already messed up. "I...oh, god. This can't be happening again."

"I would do it again. I saved Anne." Eloise's voice sounded very small to her ears and she shrunk away at the expression on his face when he turned to look at her. It was incredulous and devastated and furious and she couldn't look at him any more. She turned her head to watch the flames. Out of the corner of her eye she could see his agitated, jerky movements.

"At the expense of your own health! Merlin, this is all my fault. I -"

Eloise couldn't hear whatever Sebastian was about to say as his words were lost to another fit of coughing. His anger slipped away and was immediately replaced with concern as he moved to stand in front of her, gently reaching out a hand to her shoulder.

She was lost to the pain and flames screaming - was she screaming? - their way up her throat, the hacking coughs so gratingly painful that it was all she could focus on.

"Fuck," she heard Sebastian say. "Wait..."

He put an arm around her waist and helped her move the short distance to the bed. As soon as he let go of his hold on her, she fell to her side. Her arms were useless at the moment, and the side of her face met the mattress as she fell without being able to catch herself. Tears were streaming down her face as she coughed and coughed and coughed and -

"Here. Please..." A reassuringly solid presence at her side, leaning her body against his chest, her head lying limply across his shoulder. A gentle hand grabbed her jaw and then forced a potion down her throat.

Eloise immediately started gagging and tried to wrest herself from his grasp. The potion was thick and viscous and tasted like mud, slowly sliding its way down her throat. If the curse had manifested itself in all-encompassing flames, this potion was its antidote in the form of shards of ice that burned in an entirely different way. Her ears were ringing and her head swam in pain as she whimpered.

But...

The coughing had stopped.

Her eyes slowly opened.

Sebastian's face swam in and out of her vision as she blinked away the tears. There was a sharp stab of pain through her head when she tried to focus her vision, so she just closed her eyes again and moved her face into the crook of his neck.

Her breath came out in ragged gasps, but at least she wasn't coughing anymore.

She felt his arms tighten around her, one of his hands starting to massage the base of her neck as he cradled her body to his. Sebastian was warm, reassuring, solid. That, she could focus on. Eloise breathed in deeply, and the faint smell of cinnamon mixed with what she was now recognizing as Sebastian filled her senses. She tried to move an arm so she could caress him the way he was, but her arms were numb and tingling and she was just so tired.

She felt herself drifting off to sleep in his arms, the overwhelming feeling of safety and comfort being her last fleeting thoughts before sleep overcame her.

the scene after their first kiss, that I drew a while ago😇😇😇

[ninyard]

hello I would like the kevallison smut ?? Please

The promised kevallison headcanons (aka how the two of them figure out what the other person is into + how they might go about doing it)

When they start hooking up it’s all pretty standard stuff. Allison gets him off after a game. Kevin eats her out if there’s ten minutes free in between classes and an empty dorm room. They’re a booty call before, during or after a night out, or a no-strings-attached way to get some frustration off their chest. Their friends-with-benefits situation is more often than not just a quick fuck when they’re bored. But it's kind of just… that? It's just fucking. It's a handful of different positions, in a handful of different places, but nothing more than fucking, finishing, and leaving. They don’t feel a need to bring it any further though, in some ways hesitant that the other will catch feelings if it gets too intimate. But from the get-go their agreement is clear - if either starts to get attached, or jealous, or even thinks that it might be worth pursuing, they stop. It doesn’t happen, of course, but in the beginning they really try to err on the side of caution until they know that for certain.

There’s one of two ways that their casual hook ups becomes more... interesting every now and again: one) accidentally. two) intentionally.

If it is accidental, I think they stumble upon the other’s kinks by the Grace of God. It's a quick fuck that turns into something more because one of them picks up on how the other's demeanor changes and they realise oh. oh. That did something for them. The moment when it happens is so intoxicating and sexually charged; So intense at the realisation of how turned on the other person is, that they’re just waiting for someone in the dorm room over, or outside the bathroom at a party, or in the almost-empty parking lot to ask did anyone hear Allison and Kevin fucking last night? For either of them, single and used to quick fucks with strangers that don't mean anything nor have the longevity for experimenting with, getting to dip into their fantasies is unparalleled pleasure.

If it’s accidental, it’s a pleasant surprise for them both, and Kevin and Allison have that in common - they are both incredibly, heavily turned on by their fuck-buddies feeling satisfied. It happens, where sometimes Kevin just wants to be blown without returning the gesture, or where Allison wants to come without having to put in the effort it takes to give back. More often than not, though, whether it be with each other or with other people, they're most satisfied when the other person is satisfied, too. So when the topic of kinks and turn ons is broached, or accidentally revealed, it doesn't matter that it's Kevin, or that it's Allison. When they've been fucking for long enough that they find themselves discovering these things, they're comfortable enough with each other to not feel embarrassed about what happens when they have sex. If it makes her wet, and it keeps him hard, then it doesn't matter. They don't talk about their sex lives outside of when or where it happens - a kink or two isn't going to change that.

For Kevin, sweet submissive baby boy who just lives to be praised - oh, when Allison finds out, it opens this door for changing their dynamics that she hadn't even realised existed. Kevin gets so turned on that he practically melts, and Allison eats it up like it's the hottest thing she's ever laid eyes on.

They've found themselves standing up against a wall in a bathroom at a party somewhere, too many suggestive looks across the room leading to a desperately desired handjob or two, and Kevin is fumbling with the buckle of his belt. He struggles with it for a second, before pulling the black leather out from it's square frame and Allison offhandedly says good job with a laugh as she trails kisses up his neck and her fingers down his stomach. She feels his reaction to her words before she notices how his eyes glaze over with the thoughts in his head; how he stills at her words, how he's yearning through his sigh when she follows with a knowing whisper of oh, you want me to tell you how good you're being?

Him in her hand, the long acrylic nails of her free hand dragging lines down his neck, Allison feels how needy he is and softly purrs in his ear to tell her how much he wants it. It's not lost on him how she plays with him like putty between her tender fingers, but still he looks into her eyes with his eyebrows knitted into each other, too close to argue; The please that escapes his lips trapped in between a gasp and a moan is rebutted with her sultry say it again. I want to hear that pretty voice beg. It takes the stalling of the rhythm in her working hand before he finds the ability to whimper out his desperate please, please, please. She's using her free hand to hold his face still, their eyes locked together, while he can barely keep himself in one piece. Her thumb is soft over his lips, brushing over little gasps and short breaths, holding him while she whispers a question and he falls apart in her hands.

If Kevin loves to be topped by strong women, Allison loves to hear a man moan. And she’s never heard him like this before, his lips drawn apart just inches from hers, one hand steadying himself against the wall and the other tugging and pawing at the skin of the small of her back. She doesn't let him look away as she guides him to climax with her soft words of gentle praise. How pretty he looks when he's trying his hardest to be quiet, how well he's doing at keeping himself composed.

Allsion doesn't care that she's accidentally unlocked this submissive side of Kevin; firstly, he's hot as hell when he's this desperate, and it's not as if she's going to be leaving that bathroom and calling him a good boy on the court, because that's not how this works. She's fucked him angry and she's fucked him needy - the passion of fulfilled fantasy only working on a different level to anything else.

(When he's caught his breath and started to clean himself up, she washes her hands and admires her work; his rosy cheeks burning up as she watches him in the mirror. She pushes herself up onto the vanity, and when he can finally bare to look at her again, she says I'm proud of you with a playful smile. Kevin covers his face to laugh in semi-embarrassment, his head shaking as he finds himself in between her legs. They don't talk about it too much before he returns the favour.)

Then there's, Allison, sweet Allison, who's interests work in harmony like a perfect composed song. We knows she loves to hear the men she sleeps with, but there's two things that really get her going that more often than not go hand in hand - rough sex, and loud sex. Living in dorms, it's hard to indulge, especially the second, but usually she'll just pull him close, with his lips to her ear or hers to his. Allison gets off on hearing the person she's fucking, and Kevin is not an exception to that.

They've somehow had a stroke of luck - an empty house in Columbia and some time to kill. Kevin is on the edge of the bed, and Allison is facing Kevin while sitting on his lap, her knees resting on either side of him, in a skirt that is already so short that it's barely even there. They're making out, and Kevin isn't really thinking, but he slaps her ass - something he'd done once or twice before, but never that hard, never that loud. Allison sits back, hands on his shoulders with her mouth open wide. She doesn't get the chance to finish her questioning what are you doing? Before his mischievous smile curls around, what, this? as he laughs and does it again. When she stands up off of him in a half-protest, shaking her finger at how close he was getting to really getting her going, he follows her up. He stands in front of her with feigned apologies for his boldness. She leans into his kiss, with arms wrapped tight around her waist, but instead of pouting his lips, he picks her up and throws her back onto the bed while she scream-laughs.

Body over body, on top of her then, a hand finds it's way in between strands of shiny blonde. A hand that she takes into hers, guiding his fist to grasp a handful of her hair. When he doesn't hold it hard enough she tugs it gently, keeping his fist closed with her hand around it. Looking down at her, he purses his lips with an oh that pauses his other hand while it pushes up her skirt to touch her over her panties. Reading him while waiting for the laugh that never comes is agonisingly long, as she braces herself for the mortifying conversation that he was not going to be entertaining it. Instead he waits for her hand to trail away before pulling her head, hard, back into the bed. And when she shuts her eyes and parts her lips in pleasure, he is quick to bring his hand up to her chin, tilting her head back. The two smallest of his fingers fingers tuck themselves neatly behind her ear, the other two tight between her jawline and her cheekbone. The ball of his thumb is resting on her chin. She doesn't stop him when his thumb trails down from her cupid's bow and into her mouth. She doesn't stop him when he takes it out hold it around her throat, either. Kevin is careful to scatter wet bruises down her chest where they won't be seen. When he's standing back to take off his pants and she’s lifting her top over her head, he asks, you want it hard? and she responds do you even fucking have to ask?

Her skirt is up over her hips and her thong down her thighs. He’s on his knees with her legs over his thighs, maybe he’s pinning her hands down above her head with one big hand over her little wrists. Headboard banging, unrestrained volume, handprints on ass cheeks and scratches across spines. Allison gets sex-drunk when he manhandles her. It’s sloppy, it’s messy, it’s loud, it’s so hot that it’s on fire. It’s eye-rolling, being in a daze afterwards type of fucking. It’s mascara running down cheeks, how the fuck am I supposed to look anyone in the eye after having that done to me type of fucking. It’s needing to have a shower immediately afterwards type of sweaty, messy fucking.

(It’s probably one of the only times they almost/kind of get caught. Not because of the noise, or the sex itself but because of the aftermath. Andrew and Neil clock INSTANTLY the missing and changed details when they regroup - how Kevin’s hair is freshly washed, how Allison has taken her heavy makeup off leaving only a fresh coat of mascara and some lipgloss remaining. How they can barely look at each other in case it reminds them of what has just happened. Their puffy lips, their general daze. Yeah, they fly a little too close to the sun that time - not enough time afterwards to recuperate from an absolutely dirty, filthy, fucking.)

If it's an intentional thing, a discussion about what they're into, and they know before getting into it/it's a conscious choice/it's intentional/some sort of discussion/WHATEVER? There's a few ways I could potentially see it possibly coming up.

A game of Never Have I Ever or some other drinking game with the group and the discussions of kinks come up; Kevin drinks when somebody mentions a praise kink, or being dominated. Allison drinks when somebody mentions liking it rough. Their looks to each other are quick but knowing, Kevin's raised eyebrows when Allison drinks to say she doesn't mind being degraded, the flick of her eyes when he drinks to say he doesn't mind begging for it.

They don't hang around after hooking up, usually. Clean up, get dressed, and leave. That's the routine. But they're talking afterwards for a little while, and the subject of fantasies comes up, and while shes fixing her makeup and tying up her hair she asks him what's the one thing he'd go crazy for. he considers it for a little bit but then gets embarrassed because it's a way harder thing to talk about when you're not actively turned on or drunk. They offer each other tiny pieces as they joke about it, starting tame before they eventually just say it out straight. (she calls him princess when she's leaving and he calls her a slut before she shuts the door.)

They ask each other outright. Kinda similar to accidentally figuring it out but they ask each other for it instead of the other person just doing something and stumbling upon it. Maybe Kevin asks her to tell him how good he feels and she asks why, are you into that? and they like. talk through it . Do you like it when I ask you this? Can I call you this? Do you like it when I tell you you're doing such a good job? Talking through sex can be so hot and even hearing the questions out loud sets the imagination off on a fucking marathon. Maybe Allison asks can you choke me? and he asks her how she likes it before agreeing. Do you like it when I hold you like this? Do you want me to spit in your mouth? Do you want to shut the fuck up and listen to what you do to me? It's a much more thorough discussion than them simply going oh, i think the other person has [blank] kink, so i'm just gonna go ahead and do that. It's a request, instead. Both of them knowing what they want and knowing how to ask for it? Yeaaaahhhh

[ovium-sheep]

Yeah 🤷‍♀️

[unordinary-diary]

Seraphina and Arlo: The Brainwashing of High Tiers

Exposition:

— Remi, Episode 50.

There is a heavy implication that Seraphina and Arlo were raised in much the same way. The pressure on Seraphina comes from her parents, so I’ll extrapolate that the same goes for Arlo. This raises the question: how do the authorities create such a strong societal pressure on such a small percentage of the population? Most high tiers will probably not know any other high tiers besides their parents. Take Wellston Private High School for example: it’s the most prestigious private school around, and canonically has the “highest concentration of high tiers in the region”. There are six high tiers in Wellston. Apply this to god tiers specifically, and there are only three. Not to mention that this current group of students is uniquely strong, even for Wellston. In Rei’s senior year, he was the strongest at 5.8 max.

So much of this brainwashing relies on the parents to do all of the work, and it only takes one or two people to break the cycle. So how are the authorities creating this immense pressure? One tactic could be by isolating high tiers. There is a very widespread concept that one shouldn’t associate with those outside their level range. A caste system like this that affects everyone is much easier to create and maintain than an expectation for a small group, and it also means that high tiers are only being influenced by those who are also high level. This creates an echo chamber. I’ve researched cults and how they brainwash victims, and the first step in the process is isolating them in exactly this way.

But, if there are so few high tiers, how the hell are they supposed be isolated from other groups? The answer is that high tiers are just isolated in general. Take a look at Arlo: his only friend is Remi, and even her, he keeps at an arm’s length. Arlo is only close with Remi in the first place because he was close with Rei, who, at the time of meeting Arlo, was presumably close in level with him. [EDIT: I forgot about Holden, which I think says a lot about his relevance. He is kept at more than an arm’s length and doesn’t seem to have any actual influence on Arlo, let alone a deep relationship. He is also not presented as an equal.] Take a look at Seraphina: before meeting John, she didn’t seem to have any friends other than possibly Arlo. Seraphina and Arlo pre-John seemed to have had more of a professional relationship, and while they were not close in level, Arlo did fit the bill of being a fellow god tier, and strong enough to also be brainwashed.

Now let’s look at Remi. In episode 60, Cecile says to Remi: “And yet here you are... Always hanging around those two monkeys, Blyke and Isen. Letting them treat you as an equal even though you’re in a completely different league.” This struck me as odd because, aside from Cecile herself, the Wellston students closest in level to Remi were Arlo, Blyke, and Isen. And who is she friends with? She actually was doing a pretty good job at following that social convention, unless Cecile wanted to be friends with Remi, which she clearly didn’t. But... her friends were still not close enough to her level. Was she supposed to just not have friends at all? The answer seems to be a resounding yes. Can you think of any genuine friends that Cecile has either?

Friendship simply isn’t considered a necessity for high tiers.

But... why is it that Arlo and Seraphina were brainwashed differently? Creating a societal norm for an isolated group of people is one thing, because those people’s mindsets feed into each other. Putting pressure on individual families to keep them in line, but doing it all in different ways? That would be near impossible. My theory is that Seraphina recieved the typical high tier brainwashing, and that Arlo was raised differently because he was being groomed to work for the authorities. Seraphina didn’t have a set career path planned out for her, but if she’s trying to be “perfect” by the standards of those controlling her, she’s bound to end up going in a direction that pleases them. Arlo on the other hand was specifically planned to become an authority figure. That’s why his brainwashing is so centered on leadership. Also, growing up with direct contact to the authorities makes it more possible for them to customize his brainwashing in this way.

But does all of this apply to high tiers in general, or is it specific to god tiers? Let’s take a look at the high tiers in Wellston. We have Seraphina, John, Arlo, Terrence, Remi, Cecile, and Blyke. John is a unique circumstance because he wasn’t raised by high tiers, so we’ll cross him off the list. Terrence was also unique, so we can cross him off as well. Remi was different from the norm as well. Why is that? Well, Remi actually wasn’t raised by high tiers either. Rei said on screen that both of his parents were elites. We can cross Remi off. Blyke doesn’t fit the bill either, but that’s easy to explain. He was an elite for a large part of the story, and he shot up rather quickly. We don’t know much of his family, but he probably wasn’t expected to be a high tier at all, and was raised as an elite. (All of this also serves to emphasize how much of this brainwashing comes from a person’s parents.) That leaves only Seraphina, Arlo, and Cecile to look at.

Cecile does seem to have high tier brainwashing, but it’s not nearly as intense as with Seraphina and Arlo. She doesn’t seem “obsessive”, and she wasn’t one of the examples Remi mentioned in chapter 50. It’s clear that high tiers are brainwashed in general, but god tiers are kept on a much shorter leash. This makes sense, obviously, because keeping a population in control like that is less necessary the lower the level. However, it’s also a chicken an egg situation: god tiers are both more important to keep in control, and also easier to keep in control. It’s important to note just how many exceptions we had to cross off. People like Remi and Blyke aren’t actually that unusual— a lower leveled high tier is much more likely to have non-high tier parents, or to have not always been a high tier themselves, or just in general, to have way more day-to-day interaction with non-high tiers. The brainwashing gets more and more diffused the lower down the ladder you go.

[sukunasbow]

touch starved.

pairings ; lorenzo berkshire x slytherin!reader.

synopsis ; your boyfriend is always super touchy and clingy, so one day you decide to ask him about it.

notes ; requested by a lovely anon, i have another request for them on the way, but here’s their ask link!

The Slytherin common room is silent, something that’s extremely rare. Typically, you and your friend group are laughing and playing stupid games, or at least throwing a huge party. This time, however, all your friends are at The Three Broomsticks, while you and your boyfriend are lying on the couch in the common room together. The fireplace offers some warmth and light in the otherwise dark atmosphere of the room.

Lorenzo is cuddled up next to you, despite the fact that you’re practically on the verge of falling off the small couch. His arms are wrapped around your waist and his head is nuzzled into the back of your neck. You can feel his chest rise and fall against your back with each breath. “Enzo.” You whisper, shifting your gaze so you’re staring at the crackling fire in front of you.

“Yes, baby?” You hear him mumble, obviously tired.

“Well..” You take a deep breath, pausing for a moment. This obviously catches his attention as he lifts his head away from your neck, shifting around in his spot and sitting up.

“Is something wrong?”

Sitting up so you’re beside him, he places a reassuring hand on your thigh. You turn your head to face him, a small smile on his face. “No, not really. I just..” He stops you mid sentence when he presses small kisses all over your face. “Wait!” You laugh, “Hold on!”

“Sorry, you’re just so pretty.” He pulls away again, waiting for you to continue.

“I just was wondering, like..” You sigh, “For Merlin’s sake, I don’t know why this is so hard to ask! I’ve just noticed you’ve been way more touchy and close than usual and I’m wondering if something’s up with you.” You blurt out, immediately regretting it when you see his expression turn slightly upset, his lips forming into a small frown instead of his usual grin.

He moves his hand off your thigh, “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize that it was a bother or anything.”

“Enzo.” He avoids your eye contact, simply nodding at the mention of his name.

“I didn’t mean to make you feel, I don’t know, suffocated by me? I’d never want to make you feel like that, I just love you and you’re my girlfriend, I thought I was just being affectionate. If you want to go to The Three Broomsticks with the rest of the guys, we can.” Lorenzo shakes his head, “I just figured we haven’t had much time to hangout alone and—” He keeps rambling, quickly being cut off by you.

“Lorenzo, listen!” You let out a small laugh, the brunette’s eyes widening slightly. “I love being with you and spending time with you! You are not suffocating me or anything bad, I like how much affection you give me, I was simply worried that you were feeling like I was being distant or something.” You smile.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t realize..” He gives you a lopsided grin, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck. Before he can open his mouth to continue, you jokingly roll your eyes and cup his face with your hands, pulling him in for a kiss.

[farfromstrange]

IWTV spoilers, but.

Daniel Malloy really said ‘fuck you, Armand’, exposed 70+ years of lies and ended their relationship. Wouldn’t surprise me if he tweeted #teamloustat before Armand turned him, either. Good for him honestly. Good for him.

(more rambling in the tags)

[puppyeared]

its so hard to watch time pass when things like careers and assignments exist. what do you mean im supposed to take that seriously

[sesamestreep]

“requiem for methuselah” crazy ass episode for many reasons. Kirk is being fully insane, like I don’t actually think, even controlling for how quickly and easily and readily he seems to fall in love with anybody at the slightest encouragement, that he’d go that bonkers for that android woman he just met while everyone on the ship was this close to dying, but that’s neither here nor there, because in the background you’ve got an equally but much more subtly insane episode for Spock, who extremely uncharacteristically admits to experiencing an emotion (or nearly experiencing, whatever) and that emotion is ENVY of all things. And then spends the rest of the episode warning Kirk away from this new love interest (something that doesn’t usually happen, even when Kirk has very inadvisable love interests) and is, in the end, the person who accurately identifies that Rayna’s competing love for Kirk and Flint is ultimately what overwhelms and destroys her with the most killer line in maybe history???

And then to wrap it up we get an equally uncharacteristic sort of denouement scene (TOS loooves to cut an episode off right after the actual climax, leaving little time for falling action or character reflection, or to stick a sitcom-y button on the end where the gang all smiles and laughs at their misadventures and everything resets to zero, which is not a criticism, it’s just the style of that era of tv, honestly) where Kirk is literally miserable over Rayna’s death (again, kind of unusual for a lot of his love interests, he tends to be able to move on pretty quickly) and Spock goes to see him and he falls asleep right in front of Spock (also odd) and then when Bones comes in to give the final word on Flint, Spock waves him off from waking the Captain (tender) and Bones gives him that awful speech about how it’s sadder that Spock can’t even imagine the love Kirk felt for this random android woman than it is that Kirk lost her in the first place (debatable but also rude) and how his great tragedy is that he can’t love at all like they can and how all he wishes is that Kirk could forget about all of this and move on. AND THEN, to have Bones leave and Spock go over to Kirk and very gently, tenderly, reluctantly touch him and put his hand to his forehead and tell him to forget and HAVE THAT BE THE END OF THE EPISODE??? What am I supposed to do with that??

[daffi-990]

Fuck it Friday

Tagged by @diazsdimples who posted a whole ass fic! Go and give it a read, it’s a fun one 😁

Have some more from when your heart releases, you won’t fall to pieces aka the Eddie breakdown fic. The writing beans aren’t beaning for this wip, even though I’d really like them to be. Still .. thought I’d share something I wrote for it a little ways back (this is just after the scene from canon where Eddie says he’s scared he’ll never feel normal again.)

“What if I can’t find normal again? What if this is my new normal, Buck?”

“I’ll still be here. I promised to have your back and I meant it. Nothing is going to scare me away from you.”

Away from loving you.

Eddie’s eyes widen slightly, his mouth going a bit slack as he stares at Buck in a way that looks an awful lot like awe. Buck’s starting to think maybe he said that last part out loud. It doesn’t matter though, because it’s true. Nothing he learns about Eddie will scare him away. Every bruised and scarred piece of Eddie that he’s ever been shown has been carefully gathered up and placed with the others, all held within the safety of Buck’s heart, their edges slotting in perfectly beside his own.

Buck clears his throat to break the moment, now is not the time for Buck to cut himself open and pour his love and devotion for Eddie out at his feet. Not when Eddie is so fragile and Buck has a girlfriend.

Girlfriend.

He has to keep reminding himself of that, which is probably not a good sign about the vitality of their relationship. But now is not the time to think about that either. Right now he needs to focus on Eddie and making sure he’s okay. Hopefully convince him to get some sleep, because he looks like shit. Buck thinks there may be bags under the bags under his eyes.

“Right. You’re going to shower and then you’re going to sleep. Everything else can wait until the morning, okay?”

“And you’ll be here? In the morning?” Eddie’s voice sounds so small. Buck’s heart cracks at the sound of it.

“I told you,” Buck reaches across the table and squeeze his hands, “m’not going anywhere.”

No pressure tagging: @steadfastsaturnsrings @hippolotamus @wildlife4life @nmcggg @puppyboybuckley @wikiangela @watchyourbuck @rainbow-nerdss @exhuastedpigeon @elvensorceress @eddiebabygirldiaz @evanbegins @spotsandsocks @thewolvesof1998 @theotherbuckley @try-set-me-on-fire @tizniz @rewritetheending @athenagranted @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @monsterrae1 @malewifediaz @spagheddiediaz @devirnis @disasterbuckdiaz @fiona-fififi @giddyupbuck @fortheloveofbuddie @hoodie-buck @homerforsure @honestlydarkprincess @jeeyuns @jesuisici33 @bekkachaos @lover-of-mine @loserdiaz @ladydorian05 @captain-hen and anyone else I may have missed or who wants to share something!

[hana-bobo-finch]

Shoutout to this draft I made a couple hours ago when I suddenly had an epiphany for how I could fix a part of my story and I was so excited that the only way I could express it is to write whatever this is but I couldn’t post it because I didn’t have internet

also it got marked as mature for some reason