#good that I don't really care much about it

[whorelaud]

bsf!rafe slips it in during a gathering  warnings smut with slight plot, unprotected p in v, public sex, creampies, dirty talk, teasing, reader lowk ovulating 

The college reunion wasn't something you were fond of attending; hence, when Rafe offered to tag along, your fear and anxiety strived less evident on your expression. It’s something you’ve been avoiding, and while not showing up sounded great, you felt obligated to, as many of your classmates insisted on seeing you, having not done so since your graduation. 

It wasn’t a party, nor a typical hangout. Things deemed chaotic, but not crazy enough to cause discomfort. Drinks were everywhere, mostly to get rid of any unnecessary tension, however, Rafe chose to be far away from the booze aisle, as he needed to drive back. That didn't stop him from having fun, though. 

He took a corner on one of the armchairs, patting his lap as an invitation upon spotting you awkwardly shuffling around for a seat. Of course, you hesitated to acknowledge the gesture, eyeing him reluctantly before accepting. 

You weren't naive, you noticed the way his breath heaved every time you’d giggle while conversing, or shuffled around to fix your position. Rafe was tense for the entirety of the night, the bulge in his pants really not of much help, oblivious to the carefree act he was putting up. He was hard from you sitting in his lap, his own best friend, who he’s been dying to fuck and get a taste of, envious of every man who ever got close to touching you. 

The hardon in his pants had you wet to your core, brushing over your clothed cunt each time he’d press your hips down to adjust himself. It was on purpose, you knew Rafe, he was a sly bastard, cocky with everything he does. All the hookups he’d tell you about, and the endless one night stands that keep piling up. He was one experienced motherfucker, every girl in OuterBanks wanted a piece of him. 

Therefore, you were lucky to have him as your best friend, lucky enough for him to sneak his hand under your skirt, and work his fingers in gradual circles over your clit. You fought the moans bubbling in your throat, suppressing them as his digits slid down your folds, grunting when he pressed a finger to the thin material of your panties, immediately noticing the wet patch on it. 

No one noticed your flustered state, nor did you care if they did. Lust blurred your vision, mind going hazy as your hips stuttered down against Rafe’s crotch. It felt so fucking good, despite not having any alcohol in your system, you felt drunk off the sensation of his cock making fraction with your pussy. And Rafe? Yeah, he wasn't no saint either. 

Managing to free himself from his boxers was quite the struggle, though disregarded by others, as one of your friends continued on with the conversation you were having. He pushed your panties to the side, keeping them firm and in place as he lined his dick with your slick folds, wet with your arousal. 

A gasp threatens to leave your lips when he leisurely inserts his cock inside, tip coating with your juices. He used the hand around your waist to press you down, letting your pussy swallow almost all his length. Now, that was an easy task, but, next came the part where he had to move; create a fraction, which fell quite difficult surrounded by all these people. 

That didn't stop you, though, nor Rafe. You grinded down on his cock, plastering a tight-lipped smile for the girl speaking as you pretended to listen, well aware it entered one ear, then flew past the other. Rafe squeezed the skin around your waist, encouraging you to keep moving. His breath fanned over the exposed skin near your neck, lips mere inches away from your ear. You could stop and continue this somewhere else, but that means confronting Rafe, and interrupting whatever this was; which practically felt illegal to do. 

“Why don't you answer her?” Rafe whispered, lips ghosting over your ear. “C’mon baby, she’s asking you a question.” 

“I don't–” you almost yelp as he slams into you, “I don't work as of now, I’m searching– I’m searching for a job, though.” 

The girl nods with a smile, feigning ignorance to your fucked state. You were practically drooling over how Rafe’s throbbing cock thrusts inside you, sending you into a spiral as the tip continuously kissed your cervix. Your eyes forced shut for a moment, a ragged sigh exiting your lips, far too gone to process your surroundings. Fuck it, it’s not like you were going to see them after this anyway. 

“Fucking hell,” he hissed, reaching his climax with everytime he rolled his hips up. “Y’gonna let me fill your pathetic lil’ pussy up, hmm?” 

You hummed, mostly to him, containing the whines at the tip of your throat. Rafe’s strokes grew fast and sloppy, with your pussy now drenched in your arousal, welcoming every thrust he slammed inside you. Your hole is stuffed with his cock, clenching around him when your orgasm made its approach.  

Your vision went blank as you came undone, soon followed with a thrust from Rafe before he emptied his load inside your cunt, painting your walls white with his sperm. The warmness filling your hole made you relax in his arms, leisurely fluttering your eyes open, suddenly faced with the reality of your presence. 

Right, you were still encircled by people. Rafe slowly pulls out his cock, pussy lips dripping with his come, as it got buried deep inside you. His teeth graze the skin behind your ear, tone teasing as he mutters his next sentence. 

“Maybe I should come with often.” 

And if you spent the rest of the evening loaded with Rafe’s come, no one were to find out, nor acknowledge said fact. 

a/n prepare to be sick of me i love bsf!rafe

[mariasont]

Laced With Love - A.H

summary: while hotch is away on a case, you do nothing but shop, and when hotch insists you use his card who are you to disobey him? especially when what you buy benefits the both of you

masterlist

pairings: aaron hotchner x bimbo!assistant!reader

warnings: 18+ MDNI, reader spending hotch's money (it's giving sugar daddy af), so much teasing, fingering, oral fem receiving, hotch worshipping reader, some inappropriate comments made in front of morgan accidentally, they both just completely forget about dinner and don't mention so ya know my bad, dirty talk, soft dom hotchy poo

wc: 3.5k

You had a little problem.

It all started innocently enough: one coffee to-go, a quick window shop in your favorite boutique, and somehow that led to you walking out with a bag containing the most adorable pair of heels that you couldn't leave behind. Then it snowballed—another store, another bag. A perfume counter. A cute sweater that was on sale, and, well, that one really didn't count because it was practical. It was warm. Functional, even.

Okay maybe you had a big problem.

But it wasn't until your phone buzzed in your bag, pulling you out of a deep debate over whether you needed the floral dress you were holding, that you realized just how many bags were hanging off your arms.

Mr. Bossman flashed across the screen.

The name was completely ridiculous (and more than a little outdated now that he was your boyfriend), but it fit in a weird, nostalgic way. He'd been away on one of those long-distance cases, the kind where you weren't needed, and you'd been counting the days (and minutes) until he'd call. 

You grabbed your phone so fast you almost dropped the dress.

"Hi!" you answered, a little too quickly, your voice so giddy and sugar-sweet it could've given you a toothache. He always teased you for it, but right now you didn't care.

"Hi." His voice was warm, a little rough around the edges with exhaustion. "Just wanted to call and let you know I'll be home tonight."

Your heart practically leapt at his words. "Really? Finally! I thought I was going to shrivel up and die from boredom without you here. Okay, maybe not die, but like... what's the point of anything if you're not home to tell me I bought too many candles?"

"I'm not sure how you've lasted this long," he said. "Should I be worried about the state of the house? Or your bank account?"

"First of all, rude. Second of all, if you are so worried, maybe you shouldn't leave me alone for that long. Ever thought of that, Mr?"

His laugh came through the line, short and deep, and it hit you square in the chest. You closed your eyes, leaning into the sound like it could somehow bring him closer. You could see him so clearly--the way his face softened in a way that made him look ten years younger, the way his shoulders would drop, the way his eyes would crinkle. You missed him so much it hurt.

"Poor thing," he teased, still chuckling softly. "What's a girl to do when I'm not there entertain her? Besides spend my money, I mean."

"Don't worry, Aaron, your money is perfectly safe. My super respectable paycheck—you know, the one you sign—is covering me today."

"Hmm," he said, his voice still muffled. "Sounds like your boss is paying you too much."

"I don't know... I think you're getting a pretty good deal considering I keep you very taken care of. Would you like me to prove it later?"

"Hotch, tell me I did not just hear that."

You froze mid-breath, your hand flying to cover your mouth as a wave of heat rushed to your cheeks. That was Morgan’s voice. Morgan. You felt like a cartoon character with steam pouring out of your ears as your face burned red hot.

A nervous little squeak escaped you just as you heard Aaron fumbling with the phone, his voice clipped as he said something you couldn’t quite make out. There was a muffled shuffle, the sound of a door shutting, and finally, the blessed beep that meant he’d taken you off speaker.

"Christ, honey."

You peeked through your fingers, cheeks still burning as you tried to decide if you should laugh, cry, or maybe just dig yourself a hole and live there forever.

"So," you said, hesitating for a beat, "scale of one to ten, how dead am I? Should I preemptively file an HR complaint against myself, or just let Morgan handle my inevitable downfall?”

You heard him exhale sharply, the creak of a chair following as you pictured him leaning back with that half-smile he always gave when he was equal parts amused and exasperated.

“It’s fine. It’s a little embarrassing, sure. But nothing Morgan hasn’t done to himself ten times worse. He’ll give you a hard time for a day or so, Garcia will laugh, and then they’ll let it go.”

There was brief pause, and you could practically hear the smirk in his voice. “That being said, maybe think twice before making explicit promises while I’m at work, honey.”

You bit your lip, your gaze dropping to the shopping bag in your hand as you toyed with the strap absentmindedly.

"I mean, it's only fair I keep my promise now," you said softly, barely loud enough for him to hear. "It's the least I can do."

You heard a faint sound in the background—maybe him clearing his throat—before his voice dropped an octave. "You're already on thin ice today. Don’t make promises you can’t deliver on."

You let out a little huff, batting your lashes instinctively even though you knew he couldn’t see it.

"I don't know why you're doubting me, Mr. Hotchner. You should know I'm very serious about keeping my promises."

"You know, you're not making this easy on me, " Aaron muttered, his voice low and gruff. You could hear a faint groan, followed by what sounded like pacing on the other end. "Alright, I've really got to go now. Behave yourself. And how about you use my card for the rest of the shopping trip?"

"No, Aaron, I can't!" you said quickly, shaking your head as if he could see you. "You'd never trust me again with your card after the damage I'd do. Besides, you're already going to be shaking your head when you see what I got with my own money."

Aaron sighed, his voice going into that low, authoritative tone that always made your stomach flip.

"You will use the card." There was no room for argument in his words. "I want you to. End of discussion."

And just like that, the call ended with a click. You stared at the screen for a moment as if it might magically reopen the call so could argue your case one more time. But, of course, that didn't happen.

He’d told you to use his card—he demanded it, actually—but your fingers still hesitated, clutching the little piece of plastic like it was about to bite you.

You glanced at the white lace lingerie folded neatly on the counter, the delicate fabric practically winking at you. It wasn’t just pretty—it was the kind of perfect that made your heart flutter. Normally, you’d talk yourself out of something so indulgent, but this time? Well, Aaron had practically begged you to buy something… and you couldn’t think of a better way to treat both of you.

You only hesitated for the briefest moment before swiping his card, your heart doing a little flip as the cashier folded the lingerie into tissue paper with careful hands. It felt like a tiny secret between you and Aaron—a very fun secret.

By the time you got home, the sun had started to dip below the horizon, and you knew you had some time before Aaron made it back. He always gave you a pretty reliable ETA. It was the perks of dating someone so anal.

You lugged your shopping bags up to the bedroom, your arms aching a little, but in the best way possible. Once in the bedroom, you started unpacking everything like it was Christmas morning. Dresses went in the closet, shoes were lined up neatly, and you stashed the receipts in the nightstand just in case Aaron did ask how much damage you'd done.

Then you pulled out the piece—the one you'd bought with him in mind. The silk felt decadent under your fingertips, and the delicate lace was almost too beautiful to wear. Almost. It fit like a glove, hugging every inch of you like it had been tailored specifically for this moment. 

Feeling pleased with yourself, you made your way to the kitchen and slipped into your favorite frilly apron, tying the bow neatly at the back. Cooking wasn’t exactly your specialty, but you were determined to make this work. Pasta seemed foolproof enough (right?), and you threw together a salad and garlic bread for good measure. By some miracle, nothing caught on fire, and the kitchen actually smelled amazing.

You found yourself glancing at the clock every few minutes. When you finally heard the sound of a key turning in the lock, you glanced over your shoulder, heart skipping a beat.

"Hi honey!" you called sweetly, pretending as if standing in the kitchen wearing practically nothing was the most common thing in the world.

Aaron stepped inside, the door clicking behind him, but the second his eyes landed on you, he froze. His tie was loosened, his sleeves slightly wrinkled, and his hair looked like he’d run his fingers through it at least a dozen times today. But none of that mattered now—he stood there like he’d forgotten how to breathe, his dark eyes drinking you in.

You smiled at him, slow and innocent, brushing your hands lightly against the counter. "Dinner's almost ready."

"Sweetheart..." His voice was deeper than usual, strained and almost ragged, like he was trying to pull himself together and failing miserably.

"Yes?" you replied, acting as if you didn’t notice the way his eyes were glued to you while you turned off the burner and set the pan aside.

"What..." He swallowed hard, his throat bobbing as his gaze dragged down your body, lingering shamelessly on the curve of your ass. "What are you wearing?"

You turned to face him fully, the delicate lace tugging just slightly as you moved, drawing his eyes lower without him even realizing it.

"Oh this?" you said, gesturing vaguely to the piece. "It's just something I picked up today. You told me to use your card, so I thought I'd get something you'd like."

His jaw tightened, eyes scanning you slowly before lingering on the pink bows peeking out over the apron. "You used my card on this?"

"Mm-hmm," you hummed, your hands gliding down the soft lace as you took a step closer, looking up at him through your lashes. "I figured it was an investment. You know, for both of us."

Aaron groaned, low and frustrated, pinching the bridge of his nose for a brief second before letting his hand drop.

“Using my card for this…” His voice was rough as he closed the space between you in one long stride, his hands landing on your waist and pulling you flush against him. His lips curved into the faintest smirk as his voice dipped lower. “Was the one thing you’ve done right today. Now take this off—slowly, sweetheart—and let me see exactly what I bought.”

He pinched at the bow on your apron, his fingers tugging lightly, but you stepped back just enough to be out of his immediate reach.

“If you were that eager to see what I bought,” you teased, your fingertips grazing one of the straps of the apron, “maybe you shouldn’t have left me waiting so long.”

You slipped one strap off your shoulder, letting it fall halfway, then paused, tilting your head slightly as if daring him to come closer.

"Trying on pretty things, waiting for me to come home—must've been absolutely draining," Aaron shook his head slowly.

You pouted at him, pushing your bottom lip out just enough to make his eyes soften. He chuckled quietly, stepping closer until his hands braced the counter on either side of you, caging you in.

 "But you know what? I missed you too. And seeing you like this... makes being away feel like torture."

Your pout melted into a glowing smile as your hands found their way to his chest, your fingers brushing lightly over his shirt.

“You mean it? You really missed me?”

"Of course I did." His hands cupped your jaw gently, his thumbs brushing along your cheeks as if he couldn’t quite believe you were real. His other hand moved slowly to the bow at your waist, pulling the knot loose with an easy tug. "Now, angel, let me see what else I've been missing."

The apron slipped to the ground, forgotten, as Aaron’s eyes locked onto you. He blinked once, then twice, his expression unreadable except for the slight parting of his lips, like he’d been robbed of air.

His gaze traveled over you like a slow caress, taking in the way the lace hugged your curves, teasing him with everything it didn’t quite cover. His eyes lingered on your chest, where the sheer fabric exposed the peaks of your nipples, and you caught the subtle hitch in his breath as he swallowed hard, his jaw clenching slightly.

You tilted your head, letting your expression soften into something sweetly innocent as you leaned back against the counter. The lace shifted with the movement, exposing just enough to make his jaw tighten. Then, just for a second, you parted your legs, catching his sharp inhale as you gave him a soft, almost shy smile.

When he realized what wasn't under the lace, his eyes snapped back up to yours. Without a word, he dropped to his knees, hands sliding over your thighs until they rested just above your knees.

A soft gasp escaped your lips, heart skipping several beats as you stared down at him. You hadn't expected this. Not the way his knees hit the floor like it was second nature, not the way his palms spread wide against your skin, thumb brushing over the curve of your inner thighs as he looked up to you.

He must be exhausted, that was your only explanation. But then his hands pressed harder into your thighs, and the thought evaporated. His eyes weren't clouded with exhaustion—they were focused, like he was memorizing every inch of you. 

Your stomach twisted sharply, your legs suddenly feeling like they couldn’t hold you upright anymore. He was looking at you like you were the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. That singular thought settled in your chest, blooming like a flower, before curling low in your belly, leaving you breathless.

His lips grazed your thigh in the softest of touches, like he was savoring the moment. Slowly, he pressed another kiss, firmer this time, his fingers tightening around your thighs as his grip became more insistent. He kissed you again, higher and slower, his nose grazing your skin, breath fanning over you. A deep, contented hum rumbled from his chest.

"What have I done," he murmured, his voice rasping like the words have been pulled from his chest, "to deserve this? To deserve you?"

His eyes flickered up to meet yours. "Tell me, angel, because I'd do it a hundred times over if it meant to have you like this."

You wanted to tell him everything—the depth of your love, how he made you feel like the luckiest person alive—but the words lodged in your throat.

"Aaron... I... you're just..." you stammered, voice trembling as your fingers curled around the edge of the counter. 

Before you could gather your thoughts, he lifted one of your legs, hooking it over his shoulder, fingers digging into your skin. His lips brushed higher, dangerously close to your exposed cunt, and a soft, broken sound escaped you.

He hummed against your skin, the vibration shooting straight through you. 

"What's the matter, sweetheart?" His breath was hot against your thigh. "You always have so much to say. Don’t tell me you’re out of words already. I haven’t even started.”

"I was going to tell you how—oh, gosh, Aaron—"

Your words you had been trying to string together scattered completely, replaced by a shaky moan as his mouth pressed firmly against your clit. Your breathing stuttered, your chest rising and falling as waves of pleasure coursed through you, drowning out every thought but him.

His mouth was everywhere—warm, insistent, and impossibly skilled as his tongue traced over your clit with maddening precision. He worked like a man possessed, drawing sounds from you that you didn't even know you were capable of making. He was too good at this—too good at knowing exactly where and how to touch you, too good at making you fall apart with just his mouth.

Then he shifted, his hand gripping your other thigh as he lifted your second leg over his shoulder, leaving you completely at his mercy. The sound you made was somewhere between a gasp and a moan, your hands flying to his hair as your head tipped back.

Your back pressed against the edge of the counter awkwardly, a dull ache building in your lower spine, but it was nothing compared to the torrent of pleasure radiating through you. His tongue moved in devastating accuracy, his hands gripping your thighs like he was gluing you to himself. Your chest moved in shaky breaths, his name slipping from your lips in trembling cries that you couldn’t hold back.

"If I'd known this would be my reward," you gasped, tugging hard at his hair, your words faltering as your head tipped back. "I'd have emptied your whole wallet—oh, fuck—“

His lips closed firmly around your clit, pulling firmly in a way that destroyed your sentence completely. His hands tightened on your thighs, keeping you locked exactly where he wanted you.

"You must really mean it if you're cursing now." His tongue flicked over you again, making your back arch sharply. "Didn’t know you had that in you... let’s see what else I can get you to say, angel."

A warm flush spread up your neck and into your cheeks, heat rising faster than you could control. "I didn't mean to--"

You were cut off once again as his finger slid into your pussy. Any trace of embarrassment was gone, swept away by the overwhelming need pooling deep in your core, leaving nothing but raw desire in its place.

The pressure, coiling low in your stomach, was building so fast you could barely keep up with it. Every tell-tale sign was there—the trembling of your thighs, the way your chest shuddered in shallow breaths, and most incriminating of all, the words spilling from your lips before you could even think about them.

"I love you," you gasp, the desperation clear as ever. "I love you so much, I love you—Aaron, oh—"

He groaned against your clit, his tongue pressing hard as though your words were the fuel he needed to pull you apart completely. His finger curled again, hitting that spot that made you vision blur. His eyes flicked up, and you could tell he knew exactly what was happening. He always knew.

"I know, angel," he murmured, his voice muffled against your skin. "Now show me just how much."

Your orgasm hit you with staggering intensity, a wave of heat and pleasure crashing through you that left every inch of your body trembling. Your breath came in uneven, stuttering gasps as his name spilled from your lips, over and over, like a mantra you couldn’t stop repeating.

"That's my girl," Aaron murmured, his lips brushing against your sensitive skin as his finger worked you through the waves.

His lips pressed on last kiss to your thigh before he straightened, his hands immediately wrapping around your waist like he predicted you'd collapse without him. As soon as he lifted you, you clung to him like your life depended on it (and in that moment you were sure it did), your arms winding around his neck.

Everything felt distant, like you were floating somewhere above yourself. Your head rested limply on his shoulder, your lips brushing against the side of his neck. Your fingers curled weakly against the fabric of his shirt, and for a fleeting moment, you weren’t even sure your body had substance anymore—you felt soft, boneless, entirely his.

Aaron tapped the back of your thigh gently. "Come on, sweetheart, up."

You tried—really, you did—but your body wasn't cooperating. Your legs dangled uselessly, and you let out a soft, half-laugh, half-whisper. "Can't."

He huffed a quiet laugh. 

"Hopeless," he teased. He hoisted you up before you could process it, his shoulder pressing into your stomach as he flipped you over it. A surprised squeak escaped you, but his hand was already bracing your thigh as he started up the stairs. "I guess I'll just have to do all the work, as usual."

"You're so strong," you mumbled dreamily, your head lolling against his shoulder. "Like... disgustingly strong. It’s so hot."

Aaron laughed, his hand smacking your ass. "Keep talking like that, sweetheart and I'll start using you for my next workout routine. And I guarantee it'll be something you'll feel tomorrow."

"Mr. Hotchner!" you gasped, your voice half-indignant and half-giggling. "And you act like I’m the inappropriate one in this relationship!"

Aaron chuckled, shaking his head as he carried you into the bedroom. He lowered you down, tossing you onto the bed just hard enough to make you bounce lightly against the mattress. You let out a soft laugh, body sinking into the covers as you looked up at him. 

“The difference is, I have the good sense not to say things like that on speakerphone.”

You let out a small laugh, raising your eyebrows. “And you should have the good sense not to trust me on speakerphone. Really, Aaron, rookie move.”

He stood tall at the edge of the bed, his fingers slowly loosening the top button of his shirt as he tilted his head. "“That’s fine. We’ll call it even—after you make good on that promise."

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[ptergwen]

omg can you write a blurb where peter and the reader are in the stage of their relationship where they can't keep their hands of each other and keep leaving hickeys on each other and sexiling their roommates ? love your stuff <3

my place or yours?

ask box  |  taglist  |  blurb masterlist  |  main masterlist

w/c: 793

warnings: 18+!, smut (p in v), language

a/n: hehe one of my fave tropes, when everyone's fed up because they can't get enough of each other :D hope you enjoy! and friendly reminder to join my new taglist it's dead y'all lmao

you move your hips against peter's, rubbing yourself against the growing bulge in his sweatpants. you both make noises of content, lips and tongues intertwined. peter helps you take off your shirt and works on your bra next. you smile coyly from above him as his hands find your chest.

"when's harry gonna be back?"

peter's hands massage your breasts, eyes glazed over with lust.

"uh, i don't know... or care."

he leaves a trail of kisses going down between your breasts. you giggle and push his head back playfully.

"but what if he walks in again?"

"don't worry about it, i put a sock on the doorknob... just in case."

you ruffle peter's hair, dipping your head down so your faces are just inches apart.

"you're so extra, pete. you could've just texted him."

"i know, but i really wanted to piss him off this time."

"i feel kind of bad, though. we've been sexiling him a lot lately."

peter moves his hands down to your hips, guiding you forward so your clothed center presses against him. he gives you a cheeky smile.

"so next time we'll go to your dorm and sexile betty."

you scoff at peter and capture his lips in a kiss. he bucks his hips up, into you, needing you. you need him just as bad.

you can't seem to get enough of each other recently, so much so that you'll go at it anytime and anywhere. your friends aren't too happy about it. they either get kicked out of the room or banned from entering.

you and peter finish undressing each other, fast but somehow still not fast enough. in one swift motion peter flips you over and grabs your leg, lifting it up to his shoulder. his dark eyes lock with yours. you nod repeatedly, desperately. he pushes into you with ease, a moan instantly falling from his lips.

"fuck, baby."

you hum happily. peter keeps his hips still for a moment, lets himself fill you up and feel you wrapped around him. he takes the opportunity to connect your lips once again in a slow kiss. you smile into the kiss and curl your other leg around peter's waist, encouraging him to move. he pulls out of you just enough so he can thrust back in.

peter begins to find a rhythm as his cock thrusts into you again and again. he can tell it's one you like by the way you grab at his shoulders and let out soft moans. he holds your leg in place on his shoulder so he keeps hitting the right spot, at the right angle. you can feel yourself drip between your thighs from how bad you'd wanted him and how good he's fucking you.

"pete... feels so good, baby."

neither of you are making any effort to be quiet. peter presses his forehead to yours, hips moving at the same perfect pace. you take his face in either of your hands. you close your eyes and focus on the pleasure. peter brings a hand down to rub your clit, earning a gasp from you at the sudden intensified feeling. he chuckles at your reaction.

"you like that?"

"mm, you know i do."

"wanted to hear you say it anyway."

you groan at peter's cockiness, but god does it turn you on.

"of course you did."

peter continues stroking in and out of you as his middle and ring fingers circle your clit. you crane your neck so you can kiss across peter's jaw, his chin, then back to his lips, his tussled hair tickling your forehead. you give him a look, the look with the eyes that gets him every time.

"harder."

peter brings your other leg up to his shoulders, holding them both in place, starting to pound into you. he groans out a fuck. you arch your back and reach up, hands still cupping his cheeks. you're breathless and he's panting. you want more and more, as much of him as you can take, even more than that.

"oh my god, y/n. shit, baby."

"needed you so bad, pete."

"i’m all yours."

peter takes one of your hands and kisses your palm. you squeeze your intertwined hands, eyes fluttering closed in pure bliss.

the moment is interrupted when you two hear harry call from outside.

"again, parker? really?"

he bangs on the door for emphasis. peter stifles a laugh, continuing to thrust into you, making you have to stifle a moan.

"hey, man! respect the sock!"

"yeah. you're a real class act, you two."

you wait until harry leaves to join peter in a fit of giggles. you push some damp hair out of his face, scrunching up your nose.

"okay, yeah. my place next time."

tags (join my new taglist!)

@spidermans-gf @sacharinee @thollandsgirl2013 @pettypeety

[finelinevogue]

safe with me

summary - you say 'yes' to being intimate with azriel when you really mean ‘no', because your past relationship taught you that saying 'yes' is the only answer

word count - 1.2k

pairing - azriel x mate!reader

[ reference to past abusive relationship - read with care 🤎 ]

It was the dark of night.

Everyone was in bed except you and Azriel, because you'd both lost track of time staying up and talking about everything and nothing. It was a habit you were both readily guilty of. Neither of you cared, though, when your conversations only made the bond stronger.

Azriel held the bedroom door open for you as you walked through first.

"Do you have training in the morning?" You asked him, walking over to your side of the bed.

You picked up the small tin of body cream there, scooping some up so you could apply it to your hands. It smelt of roses and reminded you of the endless walks through the garden you'd had with Azriel over the years.

"I do, yes. Cassian wants to show the priestesses some new defence techniques. He asked me to help him demonstrate."

Azriel locked the bedroom door and rounded the opposite side of the bed to you - his side, you both now called it.

You watched intensely as he lifted his black shirt over his head.

His muscles stretched and rippled as his body moved. His arms lengthened and the veins popped as he lifted his hands above his head.

You swallowed your desire as you admired him.

Due to Azriel's slight compulsive tendencies, he couldn't just throw his shirt on the floor. Instead, he neatly folded it and placed it on the dressing table.

You don't know what was more attractive; Azriel stripping down or Azirel being neat and tidy.

"It's rude to stare, you know?" He teased you as he came back to bed, lifting the covers to slip underneath.

"I wasn't staring." You blushed.

"Tell that to your cheeks."

You smiled to yourself as you stood up to untuck the covers on your side of the bed, before slipping in beside your mate.

The moment you were laid down Azriel attacked you with a flurry of kisses - probably the sweetest type of attack you could endure.

His lips kissed your cheeks repeatedly, making you laugh out loud from the suddenness of it all. You tried to move away and turn a cheek, but he was too insistent on loving you to notice.

He did notice, however, when your laugh started to fade away as he continued to kiss from your cheek to your neck.

Your mind was spinning a million miles an hour, trying to figure out how you were feeling and if you wanted this innocent kissing to turn into something more intimate. The fact that you were hesitating was enough for you to mentally agree that you didn't want to do anything this evening, but conveying that to your mate was an entire different thing.

"Okay?" He asked, slowly kissing over the sweet spot on your neck that normally got you going.

Unfortunately your mind was being cruel.

Instead of being here and in the room with Az, you had been transported back to the same situation with an ex-male of yours. He had initiated an evening much like Azriel was doing, but he knew you weren't particularly feeling it. Instead of accepting your answer of 'no', he had convinced you that you were "just confused" and "this is something you actually want" and to "just say yes".

You hadn't wanted to say yes at all.

But your ex had been so good at manipulating you that he had eventually gotten what he wanted without making it seem non-consensual.

Azriel, being ever so perceptive, could tell you were caving in on yourself, as well as feeling your heartbeat quicken and his shadows picked up on your hesitance and nervous energy. All of it together sent Azriel major red alarms.

"Hey, sweetheart, hey?"

Azriel's face was hovering above yours now, nowhere near your neck but you hadn't even realised he had moved away.

"Are you okay?" He asked.

You looked in his eyes and saw their concern. You didn't want to worry him. This is something that Azriel wants and that should be enough, right?

"Mhm."

You couldn't convince yourself to say the word 'yes' out loud. You couldn't do that to yourself again.

Azriel's hand cupped your cheek so softly you thought you were made out of porcelain. He looked through you before he spoke - his shadows enclosing around you so that you could just focus on each other and nothing else.

"Sweetheart, you're allowed to say no. You know that."

You blinked a few times as if that would help register what he'd just said.

"But..." You stuttered, "But you want to."

Azriel furrowed his eyebrows and tried to keep himself calm. If it weren't for needing to reassure and comfort you right now, he would very quickly dress in his battle armour and take out every male who had ever wrongly taught you about consent.

How someone could let themselves not take care of you if you weren't feeling up to being intimate is beyond his comprension.

Azriel shook his head, gritting his teeth. "That's not how it works with me."

Your eyes started to water as they were opened to understanding what true consent feels like and should be. Azriel was doing the absolute bare minimum in this situation and yet it felt like the most monumental thing to have happened.

"It’s just... When I was with... him, it didn’t matter if I wanted to or not. What he wanted was all that mattered. And I-I guess I just learned to go along with it."

"Well that stops right now." Azriel said, "That's not how we're going to do things, okay? How you feel is more important to me than getting off. Mother above, how does someone even get off if the other person isn't feeling it? Sweetheart, if you’re not sure, then we stop. Always."

A little teardrop fell onto your cheek, but you couldn't help but smile with how loved and protected you felt right now.

You could tell that Azriel was absolutely heartbroken to hear about your past relationships, but he would be damned if he didn't change the wrongs of your thinking. Knowing that your comfort is his priority filled your heart with joy, because it meant that you were safe with him. Safe with your mate.

“I didn’t realise how scared I was to tell you no. I was so sure it would make you angry, or-or disappointed.”

Azriel shook his head again, “The only thing that would ever disappoint me is you thinking you have to hide how you feel. You’re safe with me. I promise."

You nodded in agreement because you did believe him.

You could feel his trust and his assuredness within the bond.

"Can we just cuddle?" You asked shyly.

"Of course we can." Azriel smiled, kissing your forehead for good measure. "Only after I kill your ex..."

You didn't think he was being serious until he started to get up off you and shuffle out of bed. Laughing, you tugged on his arm and because he wasn't expecting it he landed with an oomph on top of you.

"You'll do no such thing."

"We'll see about that." He scoffed, trying again.

"See about it in the morning?" You counter offered, knowing there was nothing you could do to stop him from defending your honour - overprotective mate.

"Fine." He flopped back down on the bed and made room for you to cosy in next to him.

His wings finally wrapped around you, ensuring your safety as the both of you drifted off to sleep, the weight of your confession making it easier to sleep at night. All the while, Azriel stayed up planning his vengeance.

[merrinla]

I was confused that after returning from prison of regrets, Rook was immediately dragged to a hub meeting. Turns out that after the prison, your love interest insisted that everyone leave Rook alone and send them to rest. And only then there was a meeting.

Rook: Solas? (?): We're not sure. Probably searching for some way to defeat Elgar'nan. (?): We don't know. Not really. We were so busy looking for you we… lost track. option: It's been two weeks. Rook: I was… what? Two weeks? option: A two-week long day. Rook: Apparently my hard day lasted two weeks. (?): Yes, you were gone two weeks. Which means you need rest, food, and water. (Emmrich?): Yes, my love. Which is why you shouldn't rush out just yet. (?): Enough of this. You need food and rest. We'll talk business later. (Taash?): Yeah. So you need rest. We can talk about the other crap later. Davrin: We'll talk about this later. You need some rest and Assan needs feeding. (?): Everyone please stop. Rook needs rest, and… food, probably… (?): Yeah. A lot happened. But it can wait. Until you've had some rest. (?): Yeah. There's a lot to catch up on. After you rest, anyway. Rook: Thanks, Bellara. Bellara: Of course. I'm here for you. Whenever you're ready. Rook: Lucanis… Lucanis: Go get some sleep before you collapse. If anybody knows how bad that is, it's me. Rook: Taash… Taash: You need rest. I'll make you tea. Do you want ginger or lavender? Rook: Emmrich, I can't… Emmrich: Please. For the sake of one who's missed your company. Rook: Rest? There's so much… (?): There always is. Don't worry. I won't start without you. Rook: I can't rest, there's too much— (?): Who knows you best? Rook: But there's so much to— (?): Please, Rook. For me. option: Then let's all take a break. Rook: Everything you've done, you all deserve a rest as much as I do. option: Not too long Rook: The gods can wait a little while longer. Rook: Not for too long. But fine, I'll go rest. And hey, it's nice of you to care. (?): You're quite welcome. (?): It's good to have you back. (?): I'm so glad we got you back. (?): It didn't feel right with you gone. (?): Rest well, Rook. Davrin: Assan will be happy to see you. (?): Yep. What they said. (?): I'll see you in a bit.

I wonder how the decision was made to remove this content. This is a scene where LI worries and cares about the player's character. No no no, let's cut it!

I mean, if it's in the localization file and translated into 11 languages, then it was most likely already voiced and implemented in the game.

[ms-demeanor]

Hey friend! So while I'm incredibly skeptical, I'm not strictly against alternative medicine, like you are. I saw you mention reiki, and thought you might geek out on this article like I did:

https://web.archive.org/web/20200308195914/https://www.theatlantic.com/magazine/archive/2020/04/reiki-cant-possibly-work-so-why-does-it/606808/

It's called "Reiki Can't Possibly Work. So Why Does It?" and I highly encourage reading the whole thing. It first of all thoroughly debunks a lot of the claims reiki practitioners make but it also details all of the studies that have proven its effectiveness and provides what I find a pretty compelling explanation: that much of modern western medicine is stressful and traumatizing. Of course laying in a quiet room with the lights dimmed while a kind person sits with you and wishes for you to be well is effective. It reduces stress and all of the negative biological processes it triggers, which promotes healing.

The article mentions that for years we didn't understand the mechanism by which acetaminophen worked - we just knew it did. I knew a man who was really into "chakra therapy" in the 90s where he had a set of colored sunglasses that, supposedly, would rebalance one's out-of-whack chakras through light therapy. He found that attending to his throat chakra, yellow, helped him sleep better. Years later, formal studies found that yellow lenses filter blue light and can help regulate circadian rhythms.

When I was really little, my uncle sold magnet therapy products (which claimed to promote circulation?? I think??). I had a huge meltdown at a family reunion and no one could get me to calm down. My uncle put a blanket full of magnets on top of me, and I immediately relaxed. Imagine my surprise hearing that story for the first time as an adult who now uses a weighted blanket for stress.

I agree that people need to be really careful about these practices, about getting scammed, and especially about herbal supplements that can have dangerous interactions. I also think there's an extent to which you can analyze the risks and benefits and say, "Okay, I have no idea why this works but it does and there's no major downsides."

Hey so I get a bit heated in this response but I want you to know that I approached this ask in good faith because I know you and I know that we have a lot of the same values and interests and this touched a nerve that was not at all your fault and once I get past the direct response to the article I think I come off a little less. Um. Like the aggression there is not directed at you, it's directed at the article and at one person mentioned in the article specifically who is part of why my reaction to the article is so not good. But I promise after the last bullet point I come off as less reactive, I think. (I'm also publishing this publicly because I think it may be helpful for people to see how CAM stuff often gets away with a veneer of skepticism-that-isn't-actually-skepticism - the article claims to be skeptical but then makes a ton of assumptions and cites some truly mind-bogglingly bad sources that a lot of people won't recognize as bad if they don't have a hair trigger trained by far too much time on the bad CAM parts of the internet).

I've actually read that article a few time times, and would like to do a quick rundown on why I find it unconvincing:

She doesn't cite any decent studies on reiki; one that she does cite is just a self-reported questionnaire response from 23 people in 2002.

While we don't know the exact mechanism of action for acetaminophen, we do know that it does work - it measurably reduces fever and in double blinded RCTs produces reproduceable results in reducing certain kinds of pain. The Science Based Medicine authors cited in the article who called for an end to studies on reiki did so both because there is no plausible mechanism of action for reiki (specifically as energy work, not as 'being in a room with a patient person who listens to you') and because there is no good evidence that it works. (And they wrote a follow-up to the Atlantic article; I like SBM but it's quite sneery, as are most of their write-ups of reiki). When Kisner asks "why should this be different?" when comparing reiki and acetaminophen, the answer is: because there is not only no plausible way that reiki *could* work, there is not any good evidence we have that it works better than placebo.

"Various non-Western practices have become popular complements to conventional medicine in the past few decades, chief among them yoga, meditation, and acupuncture, all of which have been the subject of rigorous scientific studies that have established and explained their effectiveness." This one sentence needs probably twenty or so links in response, suffice it to say that western medicine has emphatically not established and explained the effectiveness of AT LEAST acupuncture and the casually credulous way Kisner accepts that acupuncture is effective (effective FOR WHAT?) throws some serious doubt on her ability to assess these kinds of things.

The title of the article is "Reiki can't possibly work, so why does it?" and that's probably the Atlantic's fault more than Jordan Kisner's fault, but she doesn't ever demonstrate that it works. She says she got a buzzy feeling after her training, she says that patients at the VA were asking for reiki as treatment for pain and sleep disorders, she says that people remembered "healing touches" from parents and loved ones and that the same mechanism might be what makes reiki 'work.' She says that reiki "has been shown by various studies that pass evidentiary muster to help patients in a variety of ways when used as a complementary practice" and the two studies that she includes that weren't just a questionnaire were 1) a non-blinded study of heart rate variability post heart attack where the reiki arm involved continuous interaction with a trained nurse and the other two arms involved resting quietly or classical music (so relaxation as a result of additional focused attention by attentive medical professionals could account for this? Why was the control for this study not having a med student sit and hold the patient's hand?) and 2) a study of patients who sought out reiki who were surveyed after treatment and noted improvement on one of twenty mental or physical markers (this study is like, GOLD for an example of a bad study; no control, self-selected participants who believe in the efficacy of the intervention, exceptionally broad criteria for a positive result - I find it really really really challenging to grant any credence to someone who confidently cited this as an example of reiki "working")

Near the end of the article she says "At the same time, this recalled the most cutting-edge, Harvard-stamped science I’d read in my research: Ted Kaptchuk’s finding that the placebo effect is a real, measurable, biological healing response to “an act of caring.” - if she read any of Ted Kaptchuk's research she didn't link to it; what she did link to was a 2018 New York Times profile of him and Kathryn Hall, researchers at Harvard's Placebo Studies and the Therapeutic Encounter program. Being any flavor of journalist and citing Ted Kaptchuk as your source for cutting-edge, institutionally-backed science is disqualifying.

I now need to do some yelling about Ted Kaptchuk.

For clarity: I have as much medical training as Kathryn Hall and Ted Kaptchuk, which is to say: None.

Hall is a microbiologist with a PhD in Public Health, so she at least a background in science. Kaptchuk is an acupuncturist with a BA in East Asian studies and a doctorate in Chinese medicine - notably NOT a medical degree; he was forced to stop calling himself a doctor and had papers retracted after enough people questioned whether the school he claimed he attended even existed and the documents he presented to claim that he was an "OMD" were conclusively translated and did not have any indication that the granted a medical degree of any kind - Science Based Medicine was involved in investigating this because they've been comprehensively anti-quack forever and Ted Kaptchuk has been a quack forever (after recieving confirmation from the government of Macau that Kaptchuk's alma mater was not a medical degree granting institution SBM STILL gave him the benefit of the doubt and had people translate his documentation for final confirmation).

He is also an author on of one of my most beloathed ever studies, which showed that sham acupuncture, placebo, and albuterol all produced the same effect on patient-reported well-being, coming to the conclusion that patient reports can be unreliable and that "placebo effects can be clinically meaningful and can rival the effects of active medication in patients with asthma." That fucking line, that stupid goddamned line, gets cited in every piece of woo bullshit about how acupuncture or chiropractic or some scam-ass diet all work, I've run into this study while looking through at least twenty bibliographies and it is one of the biggest, reddest flags that whoever is writing the paper you're reading is full up on some bullshit. Because, see, the paper found that "placebo effects can be clinically meaningful and can rival the effects of active medication in patients with asthma" in terms of *patient-reported* markers, but the fucking study found that only albuterol produced an actual effect in lung function. Here's the sentence BEFORE the one that gets cited all the time: "Although albuterol, but not the two placebo interventions, improved FEV1 [forced expiratory volume in one second - the measure for lung function used in the study and used to diagnose asthma] in these patients with asthma, albuterol provided no incremental benefit with respect to the self-reported outcomes." It doesn't matter if the patient *feels* better if they can't actually breathe! It doesn't fucking matter - feeling better but still having poor breathing leaves you more vulnerable to dying of a fucking asthma attack! I hate this goddamned study so fucking much and it's used all the time to claim that placebo can be just as effective as medicine for making people FEEL better but, like, they're still sick even if they feel better! I HAVE HAD PEOPLE CITE THIS STUPID FUCKING STUDY TO ME AS EVIDENCE THAT I DON'T CARE ENOUGH ABOUT TREATING MY FUCKING ASTHMA BECAUSE I DON'T GET ACUPUNCTURE TO TREAT MY FUCKING ASTHMA. If sham acupuncture makes you feel better when you've got the flu but doesn't lower your fever or make you less contagious, you shouldn't act like you don't have a fever or aren't contagious this study makes me INSANE.

Okay done yelling.

I think this look at placebo in the midst of her article about reiki is really interesting because it's very common for CAM practitioners to claim that it's as effective as placebo - which just means that it's not effective. This is a great explanation from The Skeptic on why placebo isn't and can't be what Kaptchuk, Hall, and the like claim. It's also interesting to me that Kisner didn't choose to link to a 2011 New Yorker profile of Kaptchuk that is somewhat less rosy about his placebo studies and includes this absolutely crushing statement: "the placebo effect doesn’t appear to work with Alzheimer’s patients. Trivers suggests that this is because most people who have Alzheimer’s disease are unable to anticipate the future and are therefore unable to prepare for it."

But to the actual point of the ask: I honestly think it's fascinating how much CAM success probably rides on "well did you listen to the patient and pay attention to what was wrong with them and sympathize with them and help them lay out plan that made them feel like they had some agency in this exceptionally frustrating situation (chronic illness, newly diagnosed issue, totally undiagnosed issue) that they're dealing with?"

I know part of why people with chronic illnesses turn to CAM is because they're ignored and dismissed by allopathic practitioners who are largely looking for horses, not zebras - this is one of the reasons that I'm really big on reminding people that (at least in the US) DOs are fully licensed physicians who use a holistic and patient-centered approach so if you are someone with a chronic illness who has had trouble getting diagnosed or had trouble getting doctors to believe you, swapping your MD for a DO as a primary care physician might be really, really helpful to you.

But the flip side of that is that is that I worry deeply about the question of where harm starts; the example with your uncle is really great because you do have a solid instance of something working but for totally the wrong reason (pressure being the mechanism that actually helped, versus magnets being the reason given by the person who did the treatment). Some of this stuff has very little likelihood of causing direct harm, but has the distinct possibility of having indirect harms, which people in the anti-CAM space generally divide into two categories, treatment delay and unnecessary costs (opportunity costs, monetary costs, wasted effort, etc.)

I'm going to step outside of your specific example and look at magnet therapy generally, which really is a spectacular thing to focus on because it honestly doesn't have any direct harms; nobody is allergic to magnets, the kinds of magnets used aren't strong enough to interfere with medical devices, it's even safer than the whole "well herbalism is sometimes just a cup of tea" thing because there are "safe" teas that can do real harm to large populations! But simply being around magnets is not going to hurt anyone (unless they're swallowed; nobody swallow magnets please).

One of the things that I think goes under-discussed when talking about placebo and CAM is that the people trying the alternative solutions desperately WANT the alternative medicine to work (I suspect that this is why the self-selected study of reiki patients has such a significant finding). They are pulling for it; they may be looking at it as a last resort, or they may be hoping that it will work to avoid a treatment that is more frightening, expensive, or inaccessible. I think this actually contributes a lot to the delay of care that we see with CAM.

The absolute worst case harm I can imagine from magnetic therapy is delaying treatment. Let's suppose we've got a diabetic patient with gradually increasing peripheral neuropathy; they have reacted poorly to gabapentin in the past and are looking for something more natural, and they hear from their chiropractor that magnet therapy can be used to treat neuropathy. They buy some compression socks with "magnetic and earthing properties" and sleep in the socks. Whether through the compression controlling some edema or through the simple desire for the socks to work, they feel some relief from the nerve pain they were experiencing and decide that this is a success. The socks work! They continue wearing the socks with occasional pain, but less than before. However, because they are focused on the lack of pain, they don't notice that it's accompanied by increasing numbness. The numbness significantly increases their risk of injury to their feet, which significantly increases their risk of amputation.

It probably sounds like catastrophizing to say "using magnets could lead to amputation" but honestly I don't think it's that far out of the realm of possibility (every time I post on this topic I get flooded with the saddest stories in the world about people whose loved ones died because of delayed treatment for cancer or heart disease).

The second category of harm is cost, which is honestly pretty minimal with magnet therapy, as long as you aren't spending $1049 on a magnetic mat

or paying a chiropractor to give you magnetic treatments. For some other medically harmless treatments like reiki, cost is the thing that I worry about - while I was looking up information related to the article I found that people are charging anywhere from $60 to $225 a session, and selling multi-session packages for thousands of dollars - and if someone thinks that something works, even if it only works by being in a soothing space where someone cares about you - they'll pay for it.

I'm aware that all of this is also extra complicated because of the cost and lack of access to allopathic medicine - a chiropractor broke my spine because I could pay her $60 per appointment but I couldn't pay $125 to see an MD when I didn't have insurance. People who are sick are going to look for treatment; people who have been denied treatment or dismissed by doctors are going to look for alternative treatments.

But man, I really wish I'd spent that sixty bucks on half of a doctor's appointment because the chiropractor didn't know about the benign tumor that I had that weakened the structure of that particular bone when she did her adjustment; it also didn't make the pain go away, it made a different pain start and get worse because it turns out I was having debilitating muscle spasms that then had a bone injury added in on top.

(Chiropractic, for the record, goes with chelation therapy and many many many many cases of herbalism where it's NOT just cost or delay; people claim these treatments are harmless and they are not. They can do tremendous harm).

But yeah I'm not going to deny at all that all of this would be a hell of a lot better if people (especially marginalized people) didn't have to jump through hoops to prove to a doctor that something is wrong with them, and didn't have to do so in an appointment that attempts to cram whole person care down into fifteen minutes, and didn't have the possibility of bankrupting you. Interacting with allopathic medicine is a nightmare and I totally understand why people want to look outside of it for treatment.

I've just heard too many horror stories and seen too much predatory CAM to cut much of it any slack.

At the end of the SBM response to the Atlantic article, the author (I can't remember if it's Gorski or Novella) makes the point that reiki is a spiritual practice, and that we've known for a long time that spiritual practices can improve a person's well-being in a number of ways; they can reduce anxiety, they can provide community, they can give people a space to feel and express emotions that they certainly aren't going to be able to process in a doctor's office. Spiritual practices can be wonderful, and we know there are a lot of people who they can help. But they aren't medicine, and attempting to replace medicine with them (which I don't think that most reiki practitioners are trying to do, to be fair, but which Ted Kaptchuk DEFINITELY is in trying to 'harness the power of placebo') is a disservice to people who need an inhaler instead of acupuncture.

Also, and I know this was not your point but I have to bring it up because people ask about it whenever discussions of placebo come up:

The placebo effect is not treatment. The placebo effect, whether achieved through deception or when someone says loud and clear "this is a sugar pill" does not improve an illness, but it may improve how a patient *feels* about an illness. In some cases, this may as well be the same thing - if you're dealing with muscle pain because you're stressed and no matter what you do it doesn't go away because your shoulders are always up around your ears and you're grinding your teeth and you're sleeping poorly, then literally just talking to someone who is in an office and says "this is a sugar pill, go ahead and take it" may make your muscle pain feel better, but it isn't going to reduce your stress and it isn't going to last, and if your muscle pain is because you're feeling angina as a result of a partially blocked artery then it SURE AS FUCK is not going to make you better and may mask symptoms that were a warning sign of a much more serious problem. People who are sick deserve actual treatment, and placebo is not treatment, which is part of why Ted Kaptchuk makes me want to tear my hair out.

[yandere-wishes]

which batboy does mittens have a crush on?

₍^𖹭 𖹭^₎⟆ ₍^𖹭 𖹭^₎⟆ ₍^𖹭 𖹭^₎⟆ ₍^𖹭 𖹭^₎⟆ ₍^𖹭 𖹭^₎⟆

Oh, good question!! @fancyfeathers mentioned that Mittens should probably be the eldest of Selina's sidekicks. And is closest in age to Dick Grayson. Which opens up one of my fav tropes of "Childhood friends to lovers" (but make it yancore!!!)

He'd been so sweet once, little boy wonder swinging along the skyline. Pretty like a sunset, decked out in reds and yellows. You'd watch him from your perch atop the scrappers. Arms nervously ringing around a bagged-up bundle of jewels. Your mentor would scuff making comments about fruitless morals and pretty boys.

Kittens chase robins. It's the way the world goes around, just like how black cats chase bats.

You sneak behind him, punching on his back and rolling him around. Robin kicks your ribs out of instinct, aims for your stomach next with his knee. He only stops when his masked eyes meet yours, when he sees the sweet playful smile adorning your lips. This is a game...

It's always been a game.

At least to you...

You'd only learn, years later, that it had always been far too real to Dick.

Your siblings are better than you at the whole "cat burglar" thing. They creep through the shadows and glide through half-open windows. They steal rubies and diamonds and pearls. They leave little scratch marks and lipstick stains on the safes they rob. They spend the nights being chased by bats and birds. And then when the sun threatens to shine once more they steal kisses and love bites.

You'd always preferred the day. The monotone ease found only under the sun's gentle rays. You prefer to give instead of take, your youngest sister always said it was Nightwings fault for that. That the first robin had rubbed off too much on you.

You still keep an old photo of Dick in your apartment, a silly little photo of two kids, smiling with blood between their teeth and haphazard empty gums. Dick's nose is bleeding, you have a black eye.

You can't quite remember who took the photo.

Bruce or Selina.

It doesn't really matter.

Some things are far too deep-rooted. Crystallized in blood. You've long hung up your mask, and handed in your whip. You've renounced the ways of the cat, renounced the ways of a rogues. You spend your days inside a school, teaching the young of Gotham, watching how the trauma seeps in prematurely, coiling and embedding itself into the lady Gotham's children. Hurt them young so they learn to survive.

You feel so guilty...

It's hard to leave lineage rotting in its grave, hard to abandon and reject that which pumps through your veins. You still pick the locks, still, slip through shadows as if they were a second home, you're still more feline than human. More freak than normal.

Only this time you don't have your mentor or your sisters.

You don't have your claws or whip.

There's a security guard with a gun.

Pointed straight at you...

Dick Grayson, Robin, Nightwing. He'd been so sweet once. You're glad to see the saccharine hasn't washed off. The boy wonder stands in front of you, although you guess he isn't much of a boy anymore. His uniform is hard on your eyes, reality glitches, you see him dressed in his sunset colors. Reds and yellows, young and free. Dick offers you a sweet smile,

"Hey, it's been a while..."

"Yeah, it has."

Dick assures the security guard he'll handle you. Still, you don't miss the way his blue eyes burn holes into the other man's back. He opens the car door for you before getting behind the wheel. On the way, you try to reason with him. For old time's sake, you beg. "I really was just trying to get those kids some toys, but there's so many of them and the prices these days are-"

"I know," Dick says, his bright smile sends your heart a flutter. "It's alright, I'll take care of everything." You laugh leaning back, looking at his reflection through the mirror, that broken nose did end up healing nicely.

He doesn't take you to the station, instead he drives to his apartment. Deep down you knew he'd never hand you in, he couldn't, he'd spent his whole life watching that bat excuse the cat. He can't go against his training, he too can't abandon his heritage. He pulls you out of the car and into a tight embrace promising he'll keep you safe. And you hate how he feels all so utterly safe, how he smells like home and happiness. You hardly notice how hard he squeezes and how hungrily his lips hover above your pulse point.

Thus he spoke but you don't remember listening.

He spoke of finally having you again.

Of loving you again.

You only ever catch the odd word.

Utterly distracted by the delicate twinkle in his ocean eye.

It's hard to focus on the words when for the first time in a long long time you finally feel like your old self again.

High off nostalgia.

₍^𖹭 𖹭^₎⟆ ₍^𖹭 𖹭^₎⟆ ₍^𖹭 𖹭^₎⟆ ₍^𖹭 𖹭^₎⟆ ₍^𖹭 𖹭^₎⟆

Okay, so all this being said there is an alternative.

@darkpeppermint had another idea, since Mittens is so different from the rest of her family, then she may not even fall for a batboy at all and just marry a sweet golden retriever farm boy...

And yet, despite the sweet fairytale twist they tried to propose. My sick and twisted brain heard the words "golden" and "farm boy" and immediately thought of PROFESSOR CRANE...

Maybe poor little Mittens ends up getting manipulated by the charming professor, Crane. Maybe they meet one day when she's taking her class on a field trip to Gotham U and ends up bumping into Jonathan.

There's just something so familiar about him. So nostalgic, he reminds her of home, of her family, of her childhood friends...he almost feels safe.

Welp Fancy, it finally happened we've become co-parents again.

Our children's list is Kachina and Mittens so far 🤣🤣 Let's see who gets adopted next lol.

[gangstalkerbarbie]

I think this is easily explained: they surround themselves with other internet artists for support, and as a community artists on the internet idolise like, the furries among them, because the furries have money, a communitarian ethos and knowledge of what they like, and generally as artists themselves they tend to appeal the most to the furry hand of the market.

Also they're often disabled, they usually understand what that's like from a labour rights pov, and many of these furries who used to be starving subsistence artists go on to have remote tech jobs with which they can effectively afford to support their old communities and maintain artists like Renaissance nobility. So there's a kind of cross pollination between producers and consumers of art that isn't there on other art scenes, actually a quite considerate one - considerate, but artistically quite conservative. You can watch tastes change, but they change rather slowly.

I think this is what leads to this clean and pressed but sterile art style as a norm — people who buy art or who make the most frequently bought art have the luxury of telling everyone else how to do it, and when they get really good at it of course people want to know their secrets. And of course they want to help, they want other people to be good at the hobby they like (just as a self respecting patissier would never shit on someone else's cake, because holy fuck, two cakes).

But here we run into how again, "good" in art online has a tendency to mean "marketable to the furry autistic trans women with the money and desire to buy art", who themselves are often artists who moulded their style to be cool and marketable based on input from other artists who... and so on.

Also a good number of people are too shy to post their beginning art online in front of general audiences, but they will one way or another find themselves drawing furry porn to learn the fundamentals on the ground, for a few reasons but most importantly because furries will spam like anything (again, as an expression of that communitarian ethos - the most supportive people on my own artistic journey have been furries, I consider myself sort of furry lite, etc).

Furry porn as a genre doesn't so much care about fluidity of expression or joie de vivre as it cares about ... whatever the audience cares about. You know? Feet, ass and titties rendered in fantastic, crisp, comicbooklike, maybe not necessarily detailed but extremely readable glory. Shark penis. Snake penis. Tigertaur being milked with industrial machinery. Dragon in loving congress with automobile.

You can oftentimes tell, among people with this super cleanly rendered kind of marketable art style, who draws porn and what porn it is and who was just In These Circles at formative times. Bara artists sometimes draw muscles and proportions in a very exaggerated way in their personal art without necessarily wanting to, for example, because that's often still the only way they know how, and the only way they're confident with. Foot guys give their stacked fox girls very detailed paw pads but often haven't learned to do eyes more than passably. And so on, and so forth.

It doesn't have to be good or even artistically satisfying to the artist — if it's marketable even remotely, someone will pay a very reasonable amount of delicious, green, fungible lucre for it, which is great for people who don't want to starve, but can be a precarious place to begin to grow in a new direction from. Once you're "in", you have to have both the luxury and the bandwidth to actively try to change how you do things, and under these conditions new artists see a lot of people earning money for drawing a certain way.

This is also why the most painterly high fantasy type styles tend to belong either to people who went to school for art or to people who had, um, /other/ formative influences, like fantasy illustrators, their own hippie mothers, etcetera.

nothing sadder to me than when an online artist posts a side by side of the same picture from 5 years ago / redrawn this year, and the first one is fluid and energetic and full of character, and the second one is flat and static and clean to the point of sterility

[ayukas]

12:34AM

hi... it's, um, haechan. i, uh... i couldn't sleep. i've been trying, but it's like the second i close my eyes, everything comes back. i know you won't pick up, won't even listen to this, but i just need to get everything off my chest. to help me forget, you know?

your scent... it's still all over my apartment. my sheets, my couch... it's everywhere. even after i washed everything, fuck, even deep-cleaned my entire apartment, i can still smell it. smell you. like it's burned into the walls or something. i hate it, but... at the same time, i kinda don't want it to go away. after all, it's the only part of you i have left.

01:17AM

do you remember how you used to gently trace over my moles? leaving a kiss on each and every one of them? you'd say it was your way of showing me how you loved every part of me. that even the smallest parts of me mattered. you told me my moles were attractive. you told me i was attractive.

so how could you spit it in my face and tell me you didn't find me attractive anymore? was it true? or were you just... trying to hurt me? because it fucking worked. i can't stop thinking about it. the scowl on your face when you told me i wasn't good enough for you.

02:03AM

i... i know i shouldn't keep calling. you're probably asleep, since my number isn't blocked yet. i just can't stop thinking about you. about... about us. about all the nights you'd show up here after work, completely drained. you wouldn't say much, just lie next to me, and i'd hold you until you fell asleep.

i thought... i thought that was love. i thought we had something real. but maybe it wasn't. maybe you were just holding on because you needed someone, and i just happened to be there.

03:22AM

i miss you. so... so much. i miss the way you'd laugh at my dumb jokes or the way you'd pull me in for a hug, even when you were pissed off at me. i miss your warmth. i miss... the way you used to look at me, like i was everything to you.

but maybe that was just all in my head. because if you really felt that way, if you really cared, you wouldn't have left.

04:11AM

...hi. this is the last one, i promise. i can just imagine the disgust on your face when you check your phone in the morning. 'm sorry. i know you want me to just go away and forget everything. but i can't. i can't just forget you. i can't.

i loved you. god, i loved you so fucking much. i loved every part of you, even the parts that hurt me. and i tried so hard to be someone you could love back.

but i guess it wasn't enough. i wasn't enough.

i hope you'll be happy. i really do. i won't reach out anymore, so you don't have to worry about that. i just... i needed to let everything out.

thank you for everything, my love. maybe in another life, when we're not so broken, you'll still want me. maybe that version of me will be enough. i'll hold onto that thought... even if it's just in the scent of your cologne.

notes this was inspired by my one and only @ddolbyong !!!!!! i love u sooo so much, thank u 4 encouraging me to write this and letting me use ur works as inspo!!!!!! #mixu4ever (ᵒ̴̶̷᷄﹏ᵒ̴̶̷᷅) this was also of course, inspired by cologne by beabadoobee. MY GOATBADOOBEE!!!!!! any kind of interaction is greatly appreciated, thank u for reading! (..◜ᴗ◝..)

[lostinlovingrevery]

Logan and his... "Quirks"

Everyone is a lil weird. Logan is no exception

Some nsfw headcanons below the cut, it gets weird yall. some are tame. the rest are questionable. You're gonna ask me why i was thinking about it. you don't want to know

he CANNOT sit farthest away from the door. he has to be between the door and you. yknow in case of threats

feel like he would hate microwaves. idk why, i think he would extremely distrust the idea of food being heat up by radiation (Even if it wouldn't affect him?). he cooks everything by hand.

Don't let him catch you heating your food by microwave. He'll get pissy. then he'll make your food by scratch

uses phrases that were popular like 100+ years ago that no one knows. you've had to google some of them to figure out what the hell he was talking about

he taps his fingers alot. against a table, his leg, on you. it's an anxious thing

he doesn't laugh much but when he does it's loud, hes the epitomy of the word "guffaws" bc he's so loud. most of the time when you hear him "laugh" its a quiet chuckle. it's quite joyous to hear Logan across the mansion laughing

logan, as much as he acts like a wild man, is fairly neat. like, weirdly neat about his stuff. well- stuff he cares about. his jacket, his cigars, beer, maybe a few things you gave him. he doesn't need much.

this one isn't so weird, more cute- but he loves when you pet his head. only when it's just you two though

his nails grow faster than an avg person. He constantly has to clip them. BUT he does at least make sure to clean them up

i should add that logans is obv known for calling everyone bub, and gives nicknames to everyone

(he'll call you every petname in the book)

has to have his bed made in the mornings. he gets weirdly cranky if he or you don't make the bed and it's messy when going to bed that night (the man leaves his dirty laundry all over the room but doesn't like his bed not being made???)(nesting...)

hates the smell of incense (too strong) but he doesn't mind a few of the vanilla smelling candles. or the outdoorsy type ones

def will pick up new hobbies at random and then drop them (ahem i do that to)

doesn't finish his beer. he'll have a little left and go open a new one anyway

he acts like he's so gruff but he's actually like so polite about things when in someones house/the mansion. it takes you aback how nice he'll be. (x2 logan was just a bit stress don't worry about him raiding bobbys parents fridge)

ill add his fear of flying in here too

honestly he probably just doesn't like heights in general. he'll do it, go in tall buildings, planes, all of that (as well as we all seen) but don't catch him sightseeing out of the 70th floor of the skyscraper yall are in

he probably likes to wear all those layers because he doesnt let his hair grow out like he could. have you seen how much hair he can get? he keeps himself trimmed for you (if you want to call it that). the layers protects from the cold he gets from not being a hairy beast (let him be hairy)

oral fixation... i'll put this in nsfw

this isn't really weird...but he's able to sit in silence for a long time. just watching the view (you)

hes not an early bird. he'll get pissy if you are, because he wants you in bed with him. (people gotta work logan...)

leaves a clean plate of food. he doesnt like waste.

likes to grab you. hes gotta be holding onto you. even if he's single he's gotta be doing something (smoking, tapping his foot, leaning on someone), when he's with you though, you're his grounding.

NSFW

will drool during sex. he tries to control it. sometimes you feel too good though-

gets incredibly horny after missions. good luck.

also when after he goes into a burst of rage. good luck with that too

honestly he just has a high sex drive. he's a bit of a freak. it's not every time but rarely does he not get hard around you- at the scent of you

The moment you wake up in the morning, logan tells you "your period started" before you even have a chance to even fully wake up, only to realize that indeed you did start your period

he could smell it

dude is really intense about smelling

when it comes to you though he's REALLY intense about it. you know how dogs are when they smell you after you come home. logan is no different

can and WILL smell your armpits and feet if he gets the chance. it may gross you out but shits heavenly to him because thats where you smell the strongest. if you don't let him smell you he'll go for the laundry

your neck too

the man leaks so much pre-cum just at the thought of you. you'd think he came right there in his pants

does not care about you walking into him in the bathroom. he has no shame

honestly id think he'd like footjobs. not because he's got a feet thing- but like feet is where your strongest smells come from and if you...do that. his thang will smell like you

will eat you out and do you on your period btw. no shame

i don't think logan will say no to much in bed, except for the really disgusting ones, or the ones inviting other people in. he's not going to share you, or himself.

definitely has a thing about mounting you. he doesn't do it all the time but sometimes he'll lose himself and next thing you know is biting your neck and thrusting you doggy style, grunting and whining, and he won't stop till he's satisfied. the others have expressed worry over the deep teeth marks in your neck (Is he trying to maul you? - Scott)

doesn't like washing the bed sheets after you two do your thing. will complain but you have to bc you both are fairly active together in that department and you do not need your bedsheets become solid like rock. he just likes the scent :(

loves it when you lick his hands/knuckles

i think we all agree, the claws COME OUT when he cums. hes extremely careful about his hand placement bc of this.

back to oral fixation. if he doesn't have a cigar, toothpick, gum, his next best thing is you.

will SUCK on your skin. hard.

This is all i got for now, some probably really aren't a quirk but my brain was just typing what I could think of...might make more. Feel free to reblog and add your own!!

pain kink. a bad one. we all agreed on this i believe.

You know how animals have displays to attract mates? Logan is no different. When hes in the mood, hell puff himself out to you, do things he thinks youll like. I mean, i suppose avg males do this too but logan gets repetitive over it until you notice.

[arc-misadventures]

Jaune being his normal kind, helpful lovable self causes women like Illia, Terra, and others to fall for him

LAJA

Coco: And, welcome everyone to the first meeting of the, LAJA. Lesbians Against Jaune Arc. My name is, Coco Adel, club chairwoman, and founder.

Coco: Now, since this is out first meeting we will each introduce ourselves, and tell everyone why you decided to become a member of the, LAJA. I'll go first...

Coco: I am a loud, and proud lesbian, I saw some guys, and I thought they were attractive, from as aesthetic perspective not anything romantic, or sexual. But, one day, I was trying on an outfit with my BunBun...

Ilia: Hold up! Your 'BunBun?'

Coco: Oh yeah, that's a nickname for my teammate, Velvet. She's a rabbit faunas.

Ilia: Ohh!

Terra: I like that.

Coco: Velvet isn't that good at fashion, but Jaune was there, he saw my outfit, and said no. Gave me some other clothes, and told me top try it on... and son of a bitch that was the greatest outfit I've ever worn!

Coco: After that, the two of us would go out, and do some fashion shows with each other, and some other people who needed a new wardrobe. It is fun, really fun hanging out with him. So, one day when we're having fun this random woman came up, and ask if, Jaune was single. And, Jaune was single... but, I said he wasn't... that I was his girlfriend...

Coco: I'm a hardcore lesbian! I never thought of dating a guy in my entire life! But, to keep some random floozie from, Jaune I said I was his girlfriend... I don't want to lose my fashion friend, my best male friend. And, I'm sad that I'm not... And, I really... I really want to be his girlfriend... So... yeah...

Terra: You fell because of his fashion sense? Makes sense, Jaune has superb taste in woman's fashion.

Coco: He did, I was looking at a wedding dress one day, and who is at the alter, Jaune freaking Arc...

Yang: Oh you got it bad!

Coco: Okay... You're turn.

Ilia: Okay... Hello everyone, my name is Ilia Amitola, I am a chameleon faunas, I can changed the colour of my skin. So, I was a former member of the, White Fang, I was a lesbian since I was in the, White Fang, and I hated humans on top of that. Then this stupid blond human just shows up, he flashes me that pearly smile of his. And, my body just changed to pink!

Coco: Like it did just now?

Ilia: Yes?! I just looked at him, and I thought how much I wanted to sleep with this guy! A guy, a human guy at that! It's just a crush, there's nothing more about it! So, I decided to learn things about him, I'd learn that one thing to make him the worst person I could possibly imagine!

Ilia: And, what I learned is that he is one of the nicest, sweetest guys I've ever met! He doesn't hate the faunas! He supports the, White Fang! To a point! He doesn't like the more radical side...

Yang: No one does.

Ilia: But, all I learned how a sweet caring a person he is! Then I saw him watch over some faunas kid one day, and the next thing I know, I'm thinking about having kids with him! This it total bullshit!

Coco: She's still blushing.

Emerald: It is a nice shade of pink.

Terra: Well... speaking of babies... My name is, Terra Cotta Arc...

Coco: Arc? Are you related to, Jaune?

Terra: In a way, I am married to a woman called, Saphron Cotta Arc. She is, Jaune's older sister, making, Jaune my brother-in-law. And, for a while I thought I was asexual, I was never interested in anyone. But, then I met my wife, and well eventually I married her. And, I'm happily married! But, then I met, Jaune, and if I met him before I met my wife, we probably would be married with three kids by now. Right now we only have the one though.

Coco: T-The one...?

Terra: I wanted a kid, so I asked, Jaune to... donate so I could have one. And, this is my son, Adrian~!

Yang: Oh gods he is so adorable~!

Ilia: Noooo... Don't do this to me, I've been trying to get rid of the baby craze!

Terra: And, well... I want another... maybe two... N-Next...!

Yang: Okay... glad I'm not the only one... Ahem! Hi! My name is, Yang Xiao Long, and I'm not really a lesbian, I always thought I was more of a bisexual. I always thought, woman, and men were attractive. And, when I came here to, Beacon the lesbian drive kicked into overdrive! I mean come on! There are so many hot woman here!

Coco: It's a buffet here!

Yang: And, my teammate is, Blake Belladonna! How many people didn't get a aroused , and want to smash that phat ass!

Ilia: Preach sister!

Yang: But then, Jaune Arc came around, and started acting like a big brother figure to my little sister! He looked after her, he comforted her when she was sad, he made her cookies! That was my job! But, all of a sudden big bro came in and stole my job! And, that's were all hell let loose!

Yang: So, I confronted him one day to leave her alone, to stop being her 'big brother,' that it was my job to do those things, because I am her big sister. But, he told me not to worry, since I was her big sister, and i would always be her big sister. So, he told me not to worry 'little sister.' He calmed me, 'little sister' rubbed the top of my head, and left. And, I swear to gods... I came when he patted my head!

Coco: Seriously?!

Terra: I'd buy that.

Yang: I don't like people touching my hair, but he just patted once, and he sent me so over the edge that, that's what happened?! I want, no need him to do it again!

Yang: I want my big brother to hold me in his arms, to comfort me when I'm sad, to run his fingers through my hair to calm me. And, above all I want him to spank my ass as he calls me his bitch, while I scream big bro as he takes me from behind! I used to imagine doing that to, Blake, and her phat ass! Now, I want, Jaune to be doing that to me!

Coco: (Whistles~!) You got it bad girl.

Terra: Really bad... Now tell us how you want him to do this, I need to know.

Yang: You're turn, Emerald.

Emerald: Okay... My name is Emerald Sustari. I am a lesbian, least I was... honestly I think I'm not that much of a lesbian, I was interested in my team leader. Her name is, Cinder Fall. She took me in, when no one else would, so I kinda fell for her from an emotional stand point. But, Cinder never saw me from that angle... she's more focused on how she can use me for her own gains. This often made me cry, that she didn't care about me... Then one day, Jaune found me when I was crying, and we just started talking. He became a shoulder I could cry on, someone I could go to for support, or just someone I could be around when I needed something.

Emerald: Then... then his mother came by, and he introduced me to her... And, I understood why, Jaune was such a nice, and caring person. And, I asked, Jaune's mom. Juniper if she would adopt me, so I could finally have the mother figure I always wanted.

Yang: What did she say?

Emerald: She said no.

Terra: What?! But, Juniper is such a lovely woman, why did she say no?

Emerald: Because she knows how much I love, Jaune, and that if I married him she would still become my mom. So, I get the best of both worlds. A mom, and the man I love...

Terra: Oh...

Yang: Now that's a good deal right there...

Coco: Alright... now that everyone has been introduced, we shall now begin the first meeting with the, LAJA. Does anyone have an items they wish to bring to the table.

Ilia: Yeah, I have one... We're calling ourselves the, Lesbians Against, Jaune Arc. But, how are we against, Jaune? I mean... we all want to sleep with the guy... that doesn't sound so 'against' now does it?

Coco: Uhh... cause I thought everyone would be upset, Jaune turned us straight. So, we would be against him, because of that.

Ilia: That makes sense, but in reality... we want to fuck him...

Yang: Yeah, we all want to sleep with the guy to one degree, or the other.

Terra: So how are we against the guy?

Coco: It sounded nice...?

Emerald: I vote we rename ourselves to the, Lesbians Attracted to, Jaune Arc! Where are new mandate is to help each other sleep with, Jaune to some degree. All those in favour say aye.

Ilia: Aye!

Yang: Hell to the aye!

Terra: Aye~!

Coco: Aye!

Coco: Okay, in that case I welcome you to the first meeting of the, LAJA. Lesbians Attracted to, Jaune Arc. First order of business: Who gets to fuck, Jaune first.

Yang: I move, Terra goes last, she's already slept with him, and had his child.

Terra: What?!

Ilia: I agree.

Emerald: Agree.

Coco: The ayes have it; Terra only gets to sleep with, Jaune after the rest of us do.

Terra: ...

Terra: Okay, that's fair...

[bsturnzmtts]

Closer to you

From older bf! Matt x sweetheart! Reader

Continuation of Needy

Contains/warnings: making out, pet names, blow job, innocent reader, cum swallowing.

Matt had been gone for almost a week. He and his brothers were in Milan for the Prada fashion show, an incredible opportunity they couldn’t turn down. You were happy for him, but being apart from him was harder than you thought it would be. Every time he could, you’d FaceTime or exchange texts, but it wasn’t the same. You missed the way he’d make you laugh and the way his touch would make you feel.

As you sat in your room one evening, thinking about how much you missed him. The way he’d touch you so gently, never pushing you when you weren’t ready. How he respected your boundaries, showing nothing but patience, understanding, and care.

And now, as you think about the times he made you feel good, you realized something… you wanted to make him feel just as good. You wanted to return the favor.

But how?

Matt finally walks through the door after almost a week away. You rush to him, throwing your arms around his neck as he pulls you into a tight hug.

“I missed you so much,” you whisper, feeling his warmth flood through you.

“Missed you more,” Matt says, his voice muffled against your hair. He pulls back to look at you, his eyes filled with affection. “It was so weird being away from you.”

You smile, not sure how to explain the emptiness you felt without him. “It was the same for me.”

He cups your cheek gently, his thumb brushing over your skin. "I'm really glad to be back," he says, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your lips. “How was your week?”

“It was fine, I just missed you a lot.” You say as you both go to the couch.

Matt sits down on the couch, pulling you down next to him. He wraps an arm around your shoulders, holding you close. "I'm sorry it was so long. I promise to make it up to you." He gives you a small smile, his eyes scanning your face. “You know what I really missed?” He asks with a smirk.

“What?” You ask with a little chuckle.

“This.” Matt says before pressing a firm kiss to your lips. He pulls back after a few seconds, his eyes filled with desire. “I missed kissing you. I missed holding you. I missed everything about you.” He says honestly, his hand coming up to cup your cheek again.

You can’t help but smile and blush with his words. “Me too.” You look down, nervously twisting your fingers in your lap. “I’ve been thinking… about us.”

Matt's eyebrows furrow slightly as he notices your nervousness. He gently takes your hand, stilling the anxious twisting of your fingers. "What about us?" he asks softly, his eyes searching for yours. “Is everything okay? You can tell me anything, you know that."

You look down at your hands, your voice trembling slightly as you try to find the right words. “I… I just… I’ve been thinking about… what you’ve done for me,” you start, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. “And, um, I want to make you feel good too. But, I—I don’t know how to…” You trail off, feeling embarrassed by how hard it is to get the words out.

Matt squeezes your hand reassuringly, a gentle smile spreading across his face as he realizes what you're trying to say. "Hey, look at me," he says softly, waiting until your eyes meet his. "You don't need to do anything. I don’t want you to feel like you have to give me something in return, okay?"

You take a shaky breath, finally meeting his gaze. “I want to,” you say softly. “I want to make you feel good too. I just… don’t know how.” Your voice trembles, but the sincerity in your words is clear.

Matt swallows hard, touched by your honesty. He knows you're inexperienced, and your innocence is one of the things he finds most attractive. He cups your cheek again, his thumb brushing your jaw. “Are you sure sweetheart?”

You nod shyly.

A slow smile spreads across Matt's face, his eyes lighting up with warmth and affection. "Alright," he says softly, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to your lips. "Let's take this slow, okay? I'll guide you through it, step by step."

“Okay…” you say. Then he kisses you.

The kiss starts soft and tender, Matt taking his time to savor your lips. Gradually, it deepens into something more passionate, his fingers threading gently into your hair. The thought of you wanting to make him feel good went right to the bulge in his pants.

Your innocent kiss makes his body react. He pulls back slightly to see your face, your slightly swollen lips from his kiss, your cheeks flushed. He realizes that teaching you how to pleasure him might test his self-control. “You're killing me here," he whispers against your lips. "Such sweet innocence, and you want to do this..." His voice is a low rasp, showing how much you're affecting him.

You whimper slightly as the kiss deepens, unconsciously pressing your body closer to his.

Matt groans quietly, your body pressing against his making his jeans painfully tight. He hardens even more, realizing you have no idea what you're doing to him. He feels your innocent whimper vibrate against his chest, making his jeans suddenly too tight. "Damn," He takes your hand and puts it right on top of his boner. “Look at what you do to me sweetheart.”

Your eyes widen and you let out a small gasp. You look down at his pants and feel even more flustered.

"You feel what you're doing to me?" he asks in a husky whisper, “That's how hard you've made me." his hips subtly moving against your hand. "You're driving me crazy with those innocent kisses and those sweet whimpers..." He gently covers your hand with his, guiding it to apply slight pressure through his jeans.

You feel his dick twitch underneath the fabrics, and his hand guides you to palm him.

He lets out a shuddering breath as you palm his cock, feeling it twitch eagerly under your tentative touch. Matt's voice comes out strained, "Fuck, you're doing that so perfectly..." He watches your face intently. Your cheeks are bright red, eyes wide, small hand palming his length through his jeans. He swallows hard. Your innocence is turning him on like never before. “Unzip my pants.” He commands.

You get even more nervous. Your hands move to the zipper of his pants and slowly unzip them.

Matt inhales sharply as you hesitantly unzip his jeans, his cock straining uncomfortably against the fabric of his boxer briefs now that the barrier is lowered. "You're doing so well sweetheart, pull my pants down.”

You follow his command and pull down his pants, letting you see now more clearly his erection through his boxers.

Matt's eyes lock onto yours as you gaze at his erect cock through his boxers. He looks absolutely delicious, the bulge prominent and throbbing slightly. "Now, pull my boxers down too," he says, his voice thick with desire.

You do as he tells you. You pull his boxers down freeing his hard cock. You gasp as you see it.

His erection springs free, thick and long, the tip glistening with pre-cum. He's not small, not by any means, and he can see the shock in your wide eyes.

“Wh- what do I do now?” You ask nervously.

He wraps his fingers around your wrist, pulling your hand towards his erection, "Touch it," he instructs, his eyes darkening. "Wrap your small hand around it." He guides your hand to his thick length. “Stroke it.”

You hand moves slowly up and down stroking on his cock.

He hisses in pleasure watching your small hand move up and down his long length. "God yes," His hips buck slightly meeting your downward stroke. He watches your chest rise and fall quickly, your cheeks bright red. "Grip harder," He demands softly. Your small hand tightens around his shaft. He groans deeply, his head falling back as you grip him tighter, your small hand struggling to fit around his thick girth. "Fuck," He pants, "You're so innocent, yet you're touching me like this."

“Am I doing it okay?” You ask shyly.

He looks back at you, his eyes burning with desire. "You're doing amazing," He says, his voice husky. “But you want to know what you can do make me feel even better?”

“What?”

“Get on your knees for me.” Matt instructs, his voice low and gravelly.

You silently obey and you get on your knees in front of him.

He watches you get on your knees, his heart racing at the sight. "Good girl," He praises, his hand reaching out to cup your cheek. With his other hand, he guides his thick, leaking cock towards your small face. "Open your mouth." He commands, his voice thick with desire.

You open your mouth slightly as you look at him.

He slowly guides his thick, throbbing erection towards your small, parted lips. He can feel your warm breath on his sensitive tip. "Wrap your lips around it," He instructs softly, his hips shifting slightly to bring himself closer to your face.

You, unsure of what you’re doing, lick his tip and then wrap your lips around him.

A low groan escapes his lips as he feels your small mouth wrap around him. "Fuck yes," He hisses, his fingers threading through your hair. He starts to slowly thrust into your mouth, being mindful of your limited experience. "Suck," He instructs, his voice strained.

You start sucking his tip, you can feel the taste of his pre cum.

He groans loudly, his hips picking up pace as he thrusts deeper into your mouth. "Shit, your mouth feels so fucking good," He praises, his fingers tightening in your hair. He can feel your small tongue swirling around his tip as you suck, and it's driving him wild.

“Mmh hmhh” You can feel yourself gagging a bit as he pushes deeper.

He immediately pulls back, realizing he's gone too deep. "Easy, fuck," He pants, caressing your cheek gently as you catch your breath. "You're doing great. I got carried away. Let’s go slower, okay? Take what you can and the rest stroke it with your hand.”

You nod and go back to sucking his tip and going a bit further, but it’s not enough to take all of it so your hand goes to stroke what’s left.

He watches as you try to take more of him into your small mouth, his hips hitching up to meet your mouth. He can feel your tiny hand wrapping around the base of his thick length, stroking what your mouth can't reach. "Good girl,"

He can feel your tiny mouth working hard to take more of him, your small hand stroking the rest. He's getting closer to the edge, his hips bucking slightly to meet your mouth. "You can try to take a little more," He encourages, his fingers carding through your hair gently.

“Hmm mmhh”

He watches as you try again, taking another inch into your mouth. You hum softly, making his length throb. Your small hand continues to stroke the rest of his length tightly. He groans, "Baby, you're doing too good at this." He warns softly, his hips moving in small thrusts.

You moan around his length. You’re happy you can make him feel good.

"Fuck..." He hisses, his hand tightening in your hair. The vibration of your moan against his cock almost pushes him over the edge. "Sweetheart..." He warns again, voice shaking slightly. "I'm gonna... fuck… I’m gonna cum." He trails off, his muscles tensing.

With a loud groan, he comes undone. He spills his release into your small mouth, his hips jerking as he fills you with his hot, sticky cum. "Swallow it," He pants, his voice hoarse from pleasure.

You get confused when a thick liquid is released into your mouth, it tastes a bit salty. But you do as he says and you swallow it.

"God..." He breathes out roughly, still trembling from his orgasm. He carefully pulls back, his softening cock sliding out of your mouth. He gently wipes a small drop of cum from your lip with his thumb. "Look at you, being such a good girl..."

“D- did I do it well?” You ask nervously.

He chuckles softly, his eyes sparkling with satisfaction and affection. "You did amazingly well," He praises, stroking your cheek gently. "Who knew such a shy thing could give such incredible head?" He teases playfully, his voice warm.

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[imsofreakingtired]

After a brutal fight, you scream at Sevika, accusing her of caring more about Silco than she ever did about you, and she agrees and calls you a distraction.

when you leave she regrets it but she’s to late

my god i love that. thanks for the prompt!

the cut that always bleeds

content warning(s): wives fighting 😔

"i don't love you anymore, a pretty line that i adore five words that i've heard before 'cause you keep me on a rope and tied a noose around my throat you're gone, then back at my door"

~~~

It had finally happened.

You’re sure of it, and it makes you go cold all over.

Your head is heavy from lack of sleep, but you can’t even stand the thought of lying down. Your heart’s pounding something awful in your chest, as if you’re waiting for the knock that would come any second, bringing the brutal news that you had lost your wife for good.

Sevika had promised you there was no external business tonight. She had promised that she would come directly home after the Chem-baron assembly, she had given her solemn word.

So either she was really dead, or—

The door swings open, hard, so that a thin rain of plaster and dust showers onto the floor. You see Sevika’s tall figure in the doorway.

You stand up.

“Shit,” Sevika mutters. “You spooked me. Why aren’t you asleep?”

Your voice is dangerously low. “Where have you been?”

Sighing heavily, Sevika takes off her cloak and throws it carelessly over the chair. “Silco needed me to take care of some loons trying to steal supplies near the harbor.” Without meeting your eye, she goes to the icebox and takes out a bottle of beer. “Then there was a misunderstanding with some fool merchant about a shipment for Topside—”

“Do you have any idea how worried I’ve been?”

Sevika looks at you over the bottle. “What?”

“What,” you echo. “Very nice. What. Because you can run around all day, all night at Silco’s beck and call without a care in the world, and I can just sit here worrying myself sick, right?”

“Baby, don’t start. I’m not in the mood.”

“Don’t baby me.” You slam your fist against the table, causing the empty glasses to jump.

Sevika just looks at you. Her cool silence makes you angrier than any insult could have done.

“I must mean nothing to you, don’t I?” You yell. “Is it too much to fucking ask that you send a message in advance, telling me you’ll be late?”

Sevika tips the bottle back, draining the whole thing in one sip. Then she calmly set it down on the table.

“You think I like sitting up here alone until the fucking morning, not knowing whether you’re alive or dead? If I matter less to you than a fuckin’ object, what are you keeping me around for? You might as well save us both the trouble and stop off at Babette’s every night after work.”

“You’re right, maybe I should.”

A deathlike silence falls.

You stare at her, shaking slightly, as her words sink through the air between you like stones in deep water.

Sevika must have seen the way your face changed, the shock in your eyes, and she must have realized the weight of what she just said, because she tries to backtrack. But the damage is done.

“This isn’t a relationship,” you say quietly. “The relationship you’re in, the one you’re fucking devoted to, is with that man in the office above the Last Drop. Just say so.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Fuck you!” You scream.

Sevika stands quickly, her eyes stony with anger. “What did you expect, then?” she says harshly. “Tell me. What’d you expect—honeymooning around the riverside, flying off to Noxus, for Janna’s sake? We’re at the brink of war.”

“Is that what you think? What am I, your fucking toy bride?”

“You’re not a toy,” she snaps. “You’re a distraction.”

A moment passes before you repeat, “a distraction.”

She glares at you. “Silco was right,” she says. “This whole thing—you—it was all just holding me back.”

The slap rings through the empty room.

Sevika stands unmoving, like she’s carved from stone. You watch her, eyes burning, palm stinging, waiting for a reaction, waiting for her to hit you back, yell at you, curse you out—anything. Anything to show that she felt something.

But she doesn’t say a word.

You shake your head, slowly. “You’re a jackass.”

Still no answer.

You turn on your heel and storm into the bedroom you shared with Sevika. You rip your few spare pieces of clothing off the hooks on the walls and roll them violently into a bundle, then stride back into the front room and yank open the door. Sevika is still standing in the same place, staring at the floor as if holding a silent argument with the floorboards.

Before you leave, you turn and say, “Sevika.”

She looks at you.

“You’re the worst thing that ever happened to me.”

The door slams behind you.

~~~

Sevika listens to the dust settle. She stands in the dark room, feeling strange and vaguely angry. Suddenly she lets out a yell and grabs the empty beer bottle and hurls it against the wall. It shatters upon impact, the shards dancing across the floor.

Sevika stands, unsteady on her feet, swaying slightly. She grabs the back of a chair, ready to break it as well, then changes her mind and goes to take out another bottle of liquor.

Soon the world is comfortably fuzzy and nothing was ever real, your voice fades pleasantly into the back of her head like the thin buzz of electricity...

~~~

Sevika wakes up among glass shards and splintered wood. Her head throbs like it’s ready to split open. She sits up with a groan, blinking in the daylight seeping through the small window. What time was it? Why was she sleeping on the floor? Why hadn’t you woken her up?

There had been this strange, funny dream she had…this dream where you were real mad at her…she should tell you.

Then she sees the open door of the bedroom, and the empty bed beyond it. Then she remembers—the fight, your anger, the sharp sting of your hand against her cheek. “No,” she mumbles to herself. She gets to her feet clumsily, staggering. “No.”

Stupidly she goes into the bedroom, as if you might be hiding somewhere in the corner or beneath the bed. She sees the empty hooks on the wall. She walks back out and opens the front door, looking up and down the apartment hall. She calls out your name in a hoarse voice.

But you’re not there.

[viagracex]

could you do a George Clarke one shot where him and maxs sister are secretly hooking up? All good if not x (love your work btw)

Off Limits

george clarke x balegde!reader

summary: george is secretly hooking up with max's sister. what starts as no-strings-attached turns into something more

warnings: brief mentions of sexual content

note: if this feels a little rushed im sorry, i tried not to have to write it as two parts.

4.4k words

Masterlist

₊ ˚ ˚ ₊ ‧ 。☆ 。‧₊ ˚ ˚ ₊ ‧ 。☆ 。‧₊ ˚ ˚ ₊ ‧ 。☆ 。‧₊ ˚ ˚ ₊

You weren’t meant to be here.

The rational part of your brain knew that.

Yet, lying in George Clarkey’s bed, tucked under his sheets, skin still warm from his touch, you feel the weight of his arm draped over your waist. You know this is a disaster waiting to happen. But at this point, it’s almost tradition.

A night out turns into tipsy flirting. Flirting turns into one of you cracking first and texting where u at? And before you can talk yourself out of it, you’re tangled up in him, his hands gripping your waist, his mouth pressing hot, lazy kisses against your neck, and the world shrinking to just you and him. The way his mouth moved against your skin, the way his hands gripped your body—it always felt like an electric current between you.

This had been going on for months now—longer than you ever expected. What started as a drunken mistake had turned into a routine. Nights out ended with you texting him, or him texting you, or one of you finding an excuse to be at the same place at the same time, until you ended up here. Sweaty, satisfied, and entirely too comfortable in his bed.

It was just sex. Really good sex. That’s all.

But it couldn't be more complicated.

For one, George Clarkey was one of your brother's closest mates.

And Max had made it painfully clear that dating YouTubers was off the table.

"They’re all walking red flags, babe," Max had said once, waving his hands for emphasis. "All of them. You’d just become another London Content Creator’s Girlfriend, and I won’t be having that."

Not that you and George were dating.

You were just… shagging George Clarke in secret.

And maybe that was worse.

But that was the key difference—the thing that made this somewhat okay.

You weren’t a couple. You weren’t sneaking around because of some grand forbidden romance.

You were just fucking.

And it was casual.

Totally.

Absolutely.

…Okay, maybe there were some complications.

Like the fact that George could be an oblivious idiot at times and that you were slowly falling for him.

As you turn your head on the pillow, watching George lazily stretch in front of you, his hair a messy tangle on the pillows, you can't help but admire how good he looks even after just waking up. He catches you staring and a smirk tugs at his lips.

"You're thinking too much," he says in a rough, sleep-filled voice, and when you glance over again he’s watching you through lidded eyes, his dark hair sticking up in every direction.

You scoff, turning onto your side. “I’m thinking about how screwed we’ll be if Max ever finds out about this.”

George smirks, his grin only grows wider as he pulls you closer until you’re pressed against his chest, his warm skin against yours sending shivers down your spine. “Then we just don’t let him find out.”

You let out a resigned sigh. "Easy for you to say. You don't have to live with him."

George chuckles, pressing a lazy kiss to your shoulder, and fuck—that should not feel as nice as it does.

“Relax,” he murmurs against your skin. “We’re being careful.”

You want to believe him, but a nagging doubt persists. "Are we though? Being careful?"

George's fingers trace lazy patterns on your skin, sending shivers down your spine. "Course we are. Max hasn't got a clue, has he?"

You bite your lip, remembering all the close calls. The time Max almost walked in on you two in the kitchen. The suspicious glances when you laughed too hard at George's jokes. The way your cheeks flushed whenever he was mentioned.

"I don't know," you mumble. "Sometimes I think he suspects something."

George's hand stills on your waist. "You worried?"

You turn to face him, studying the lines of his face in the dim light. His blue eyes are soft, filled with concern. You hate how much you like looking at him.

"Maybe a little," you admit. "It's just... Max has always been so protective. And he's made it clear how he feels about his friends dating his sister."

George's lips quirk into a half-smile. "Good thing we're not dating then, eh?"

You roll your eyes, but can't help smiling back. "Right. Just fucking."

"Exactly," George says, pulling you closer. "Nothing to worry about."

But as he kisses you, slow and deep, you can't shake the feeling that this is far more complicated than either of you want to admit.

Weeks pass, and your "arrangement" with George continues. The sneaking around gets easier, the guilt less noticeable. At least, that’s what you tell yourself.

But then there are nights when you catch yourself staring at him too long. When your fingers linger in his hair, when you laugh too hard at his jokes, when his hands slip under your hoodie, and you realize—this doesn’t feel casual anymore.

You don’t just look forward to those stolen moments—you need them. You tell yourself it’s about the thrill, the secrecy, the rush of slipping out of Max’s flat unnoticed. But the truth is, you like waking up in his sheets. You like the way he pulls you back into bed, groaning that it’s too early. You like how he makes you tea in the morning, knowing exactly how you take it, without needing to ask.

And suddenly, the thought of this ending makes your stomach twist.

You should say something. You should ask him if he feels it too.

But you don’t.

Because once you say it out loud, you can’t brush it off anymore. 

If you admit it, you can’t take it back.

And you’re not sure if you’re ready for that.

One night, after a particularly wild party at some private club celebrating another one of the Sidemen’s achievements, you end up with a group of friends back at George‘s. The bass from the music downstairs thrums through the walls as George presses you against the door, his lips hot on your neck.

"We shouldn't," you gasp, even as your fingers tangle in his hair. "Someone could come up..."

George grins against your skin. "That's half the fun, innit?"

You're about to retort when the door handle rattles. Your heart leaps into your throat as you hear a familiar voice on the other side.

"George! You in there?"

It's Max.

You freeze, panic flooding your system. George's eyes widen, but he quickly springs into action. He shoves you towards his closet, motioning for you to hide. You slip inside just as George opens the door.

"Yeah, mate. What's up?" George's voice is impressively casual.

"Have you seen my sister? Can't find her anywhere."

You hold your breath, praying Max doesn't decide to search the room.

"Nah, sorry. Maybe she went home early."

There's a pause, and you can picture Max's suspicious frown. Your heart pounds as you listen to the conversation through the closet door. You can practically feel Max's suspicion radiating through the wood.

"Right," Max says slowly. "Well, if you do see her, tell her I'm looking for her."

"Course, mate," George replies smoothly. "I'll let her know if I spot her."

You hear the door close and let out a shaky breath. A moment later, the closet door opens and George's face appears, a mix of amusement and concern in his eyes.

"Coast is clear," he whispers, helping you out.

You stumble slightly, the adrenaline making you unsteady. George's hands catch your waist, steadying you. The touch sends a familiar spark through your body, but the fear of almost being caught overshadows it.

"That was too close," you mutter, running a hand through your hair.

George nods, his expression sobering. "Maybe we should call it a night. I'll sneak you out the back."

You agree, and with George's help, manage to slip out of the house unnoticed. As you make your way home, you can't shake the feeling that your luck is running out.

The next few weeks are tense. You find yourself jumping at every sound, convinced that Max is about to burst in and catch you in the act. George notices your unease and suggests taking a break, but the thought of not seeing him makes your chest ache in a way you're not ready to confront.

As autumn creeps in, painting London in shades of gold and crimson, you find yourself spending more time at George's flat. The cozy nights in, wrapped in blankets and each other's arms, start to feel dangerously domestic. You catch yourself imagining a future where you don't have to hide, where you can walk hand-in-hand with George down the street without fear of being spotted.

One chilly evening, as you're curled up on George's sofa watching a movie, the weight of the secret becomes too much.

"George," you say, your voice barely above a whisper. "I think we need to tell Max soon."

He turns to you, surprise etched on his features. "You sure? I thought we agreed to keep this under wraps."

You nod, twisting your fingers nervously. "I know, but... I'm tired of sneaking around. And honestly, I'm starting to think that this might be more than just casual."

George's expression softens, and he pulls you closer. "Yeah," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple. "I've been thinking the same thing."

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

It wasn’t meant to happen like this.

but apparently, George is an idiot.

The tension in the air was palpable as you walked into your shared flat to find Max holding George's hoodie like a piece of evidence at a crime scene. His eyes narrowed as he asked, "Why is this in our flat?" Your heart raced as you tried to play off the situation nonchalantly. "Maybe George left it here," you suggested with a shrug.

Max's gaze flicked between you and the hoodie. "In your room?"

Your throat tightened as you replied, "Maybe."

Max's mind worked like a detective on a true crime documentary at that moment, piecing together the puzzle before him. And then, his expression changed from confusion to horror, his jaw-dropping.

"You're shagging George," he exclaimed.

You winced and tried to downplay the situation. "Max—"

"YOU'RE SHAGGING GEORGE," he repeated, his voice growing louder.

Frustration and embarrassment washed over you as you dropped your head into your hands. "For fuck's sake, can you not say it like that?"

But Max was already caught up in the drama of it all, looking around wildly like he was in an episode of punked. "How long has this been going on? When did this start? Why am I just finding out now?!"

You shifted uncomfortably. "Uh...a while?"

"A while?!" Max's disbelief was evident.

"...A few months?" You offered weakly.

"MONTHS?!" Max couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"It's not a big deal!" you insisted.

"Not a big deal?! You’re shagging my mate!" Max's frustration reached its boiling point.

You flinched and pleaded with him to lower his voice, but he continued to express his disbelief that this was happening behind his back. In a desperate attempt to calm him down and protect your relationship with George, you blurted out, "It's nothing serious! We're just...having fun. Casual."

Max blinked in surprise. "Casual? With George?"

You nodded, trying to defend yourself. "Yes?"

"With George?"

"Yes, Max!" you exclaimed in frustration.

Max's expression shifted as he absorbed the information and then whipped out his phone.

"What are you doing?" you asked nervously.

"Texting George," he replied, his thumbs flying across the screen. "He has five seconds to explain himself before I track him down and make him piss himself."

Before you could stop him, George walked into the flat at that exact moment.

Perfect timing, you thought sarcastically.

George froze upon seeing the tension between you and Max. His eyes flicked from you to his hoodie in Max's hands, and it was clear he knew exactly what was going on, it doesn't take a genius to figure that out.

"...Shit," he muttered under his breath.

"So it's true!" Max shouted. "You absolute little—"

But before he could finish his sentence, George raised his hands like a hostage negotiator. "Alright, before you get mad—"

"I'M NOT MAD!" Max yelled, which only confirmed how mad he actually was. "I'M JUST CURIOUS AS TO WHY YOU THOUGHT THIS WAS A GOOD IDEA?"

Max paced back and forth, running his hands through his hair in frustration. "I can't believe this. My best mate and my sister. It's like a bloody soap opera!"

You and George exchanged nervous glances as Max continued his tirade.

"How long has this been actually going on? And don't lie to me!" Max demanded, his eyes narrowing as he looked between the two of you.

George cleared his throat. "About... six months?"

"Six months?!" Max's voice rose an octave. "You've been sneaking around behind my back for half a year?!"

You winced. "We didn't mean for it to go on this long. It just... happened."

Max let out a humorless laugh. "Oh, it just happened, did it? What, you tripped and fell onto his dick?"

"Max!" you exclaimed, scandalized.

George stepped forward, his hands raised placatingly. "Look, mate, I know this isn't ideal—"

"Ideal?!" Max interrupted. "This is the opposite of ideal! This is a bloody nightmare!"

He turned to you, his expression a mix of hurt and betrayal. "And you. I warned you about getting involved with YouTubers. I told you they were all walking red flags!"

You felt a surge of defiance. "George isn't like that. He's different."

Max scoffed. "That's what they all say. And then next thing you know, you're just left high and dry”

"It's not like that," George interjected, his voice firm. "This isn't just some fling."

Max's eyes widened as he looked between you and George. "What are you saying?"

You took a deep breath, reaching for George's hand. "We didn't mean for this to happen, Max. But... it's more than just casual now."

George squeezed your hand, a small smile on his face. "We care about each other. A lot."

Max stares at you both, jaw clenched so tight you think he might actually crack a tooth. His fingers twitch at his sides, like he’s debating whether to pace, punch something, or just scream into the void.

Finally, he exhales a sharp breath and rakes a hand through his hair, pacing a tight circle before stopping in front of George. His glare could burn a hole straight through him.

"You," he says, voice tight. "You, out of all people."

George swallows, standing his ground. "Look, mate—"

"Don’t 'mate' me," Max cuts him off, shaking his head. He lets out a humorless laugh, but there's no amusement in his eyes. "This is actually happening. You—" he jabs a finger at George's chest, then turns to you, scandalized. "And you?!"

You don’t answer. What could you possibly say? Sorry I broke your one rule? Sorry I fell into bed with your best mate and accidentally started catching feelings?

Max lets out another deep, exhausted sigh, dragging a hand down his face. "I can’t believe I’m saying this, but—" He levels George with a look so sharp it could cut glass. "You actually give a shit about her?"

George doesn't hesitate. "Of course I do."

Max narrows his eyes, searching George’s face like he’s waiting for him to blink, to crack, to say something stupid that will give him an excuse to deck him. But George holds his gaze, unwavering.

After a long beat, Max scoffs, shaking his head. "Fuck me."

He turns away, pacing again, muttering something under his breath. You barely catch the words "This is my villain origin story."

Finally, he stops, pinches the bridge of his nose, and points a finger directly at George.

For a long moment, silence filled the room. You could practically see the gears turning in Max's head as he processed this new information. Finally, he looked up at you both, his expression resigned.

"You're serious about this? Both of you?"

You and George nodded solemnly. "We are," you said softly.

Max sighed heavily, rubbing his temples. "I can't believe this is happening. My best mate and my little sister. It's like some bad rom-com."

He stood up suddenly, pointing an accusatory finger at George. "If this is just some game to you, Clarke, I swear to God—"

"It's not," George interrupted, his voice firm. "I care about her, Max. More than I've cared about anyone in a long time."

You felt your heart flutter at his words, a warmth spreading through your chest.

Max's gaze softened slightly as he looked between the two of you. He could see the genuine affection in your eyes, the way you unconsciously leaned towards each other.

"Fine," he said finally, his shoulders slumping in defeat. "I can see this isn't just some fling. But I swear, George, if you hurt her—"

"I won't," George assured him quickly.

Max continued as if George hadn’t spoken. "—I will end you, I will make your life a living hell. I will start beef with you publicly. I will make a YouTube exposé, I will get you cancelled on Twitter. I will make sure your brand deals drop like flies. I will be so fucking annoying that you will never know peace again."

George nodded solemnly, as if this was a completely resonable response  " Understood."

Max turned to you, his expression softening. "And you. You're sure about this? You know what you're getting into, dating a YouTuber?"

You smile softly at Max, touched by his concern despite his outburst. "I'm sure, Max. I know it won't be easy, but hes worth it."

Max groans dramatically, flopping back onto the sofa. "I can't believe this is my life now. My best mate and my sister. What's next, Mum dating KSI?"

You and George both choke back laughter at the mental image. The tension in the room eases slightly as Max's dramatics break through the awkwardness.

George chuckled nervously. "Does this mean we have your blessing?"

Max shot him a withering glare. "Blessing? Don't push it, mate. I'm still processing the fact that you've been sneaking around with my sister for months."

You winced. "We really are sorry about that, Max. We didn't mean for it to go on so long without telling you."

Max ran a hand through his hair, his expression a mix of frustration and resignation. "I just... I don't understand how this even happened. When did you two start... you know?"

You and George exchanged glances, silently debating how much to reveal. Finally, you took a deep breath and launched into the story.

"It started at Cal's birthday party," you began. "We were both a bit drunk, and one thing led to another..."

Max groaned. "Please spare me the details."

You rolled your eyes. "Nothing happened that night. But after that, we kept running into each other at events and parties. We'd flirt, maybe share a dance or two. It was harmless at first." As you speak, Max's expression cycles through disbelief, anger, and grudging amusement.

"...and then we just kept finding excuses to see each other," you finish lamely. "We didn't mean for it to become anything serious, but..."

"But it did," George adds softly, squeezing your hand.

Max groans, flopping back dramatically on the sofa. Muttering something about how this wasn’t how his day was supposed to go.

He sits up suddenly, pointing an accusing finger at George. "And you! What about all those girls you're always banging on about in your videos? That better all be a lie?"

George has the decency to look sheepish. "Ah, well... might've exaggerated a bit there, mate. For content, you know”

Max's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Exaggerated? Or flat-out lied?"

George shifted uncomfortably. "Well..."

You jumped in, trying to diffuse the tension. "Look, Max, the point is, George and I are together now. For real. No more sneaking around or lying."

Max sighed heavily, rubbing his eyes. "I still can't believe this.” He stood up suddenly, pacing the room. "And what about when this all goes public, eh? Have you two geniuses thought about that? The fans will go mental. You'll be harassed non-stop."

You and George exchanged glances. It was clear neither of you had given much thought to the public aspect of your relationship.

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," George said finally. "For now, we just want to focus on us. And making sure you're okay with this."

Max scoffed. "Okay with it? I'm far from okay with it. But..." he trailed off, looking between you and George. Despite his anger, he could see the genuine affection in your eyes, the way you instinctively leaned towards each other.

Then, after a beat—reluctantly, begrudgingly, like it physically pains him to say it— " I mean, I'd rather you weren't shagging one of my mates, but honestly?" He turned to George with a knowing look. "You could've picked worse. At least I know George. Even if he is an idiot sometimes."

George protested, but there was no real heat behind it. He knew Max was right - he could be an idiot sometimes. But when it came to you, he was determined to do better.

Relief washed over you as you threw your arms around your brother. "Thank you, Max. Really."

He hugged you back, then pulled away to point a finger at George. "And you. No funny business when I'm around, got it? I don't need to see my best mate snogging my sister."

George nodded solemnly, though you could see the mischief dancing in his eyes. "Wouldn't dream of it, mate."

Max gives him one last death glare before sighing dramatically and turning back to you. “I hate this. I hate it. I swear, if I ever walk in on anything, I'm moving out and never speaking to either of you again."

You laughed "Deal."

You and George share a glance, and suddenly, it doesn't feel as scary anymore. The weight that had been pressing on your chest for months lifts, replaced by a giddy lightness. You can't help the smile that spreads across your face, mirrored on George's.

As Max continues to grumble and mutter about the unfairness of it all, you and George gravitate towards each other. His arm slips around your waist, pulling you close, and you lean into him, reveling in the feeling of finally being able to do this openly.

The autumn sun streams through the window, casting a warm glow over the room. Outside, you can hear the bustle of London life - cars honking, people chattering, the distant rumble of the Tube. But in here, in this moment, the world has shrunk to just the three of you.

George's thumb traces lazy circles on your hip, sending shivers down your spine. You breathe in his familiar scent - a mix of cologne, laundry detergent, and something uniquely him. It's comforting, and grounding.

Max catches sight of you cuddling and makes exaggerated gagging noises. "Oh God, it's starting already. I'm going to need therapy after this."

You and George laugh, the sound mingling together in a way that makes your heart skip. You realize that this is the first time you've been able to laugh freely together in front of others, without worrying about giving yourselves away

As the days turn into weeks, you and George settle into a new rhythm. No more sneaking around, no more hushed whispers and furtive glances. Instead, there are lazy Sunday mornings spent tangled in his sheets, the London rain pattering against the windows. There are impromptu double dates with Max and Andrew, where you catch yourself marvelling at how natural it feels to be out in public with George, his hand intertwined with yours.

You find yourself falling deeper in love with George every day. It's in the little things - the way he makes your tea just right without asking, how he laughs at your terrible puns, it just makes your heart swell.

The YouTube world explodes when news of your relationship finally breaks. Your social media notifications blow up, a mix of excited fans, shocked friends, and the occasional hater. Your DMs are flooded with a mix of congratulations and jealous messages. You learn to ignore the hate comments and focus on the supportive messages from friends and fans.

Max, true to his word, makes a show of dramatically covering his eyes whenever you and George so much as hold hands in his presence. But you catch him smiling softly when he thinks you're not looking, and you know that deep down, he's happy for you.

As autumn fades into winter, you find yourself spending more and more time at George's flat. Your toothbrush migrates to his bathroom, your favourite mug finds a permanent home in his kitchen cupboard. One night, as you're curled up on his sofa watching old Sidemen videos (George insists it's "research"), he turns to you with a nervous smile.

"Move in with me," he says, his voice soft but sure.

Your heart skips a beat. "What?" you ask, barely above a whisper.

George takes your hand, his thumb tracing circles on your palm. "Move in with me," he repeats. "Half your stuff is here anyway. And I... I want to wake up next to you every morning."

You study his face, taking in the hopeful glint in his eyes, the slight flush on his cheeks.

Your heart swells with emotion as you look into George's eyes. The nervous hope there, the vulnerability – it's a side of him you've grown to cherish over these past months. You think about how far you've come from those first furtive encounters, sneaking around and convincing yourselves it was just casual fun.

"Yes," you whisper, a grin spreading across your face. "Yes, I'll move in with you."

George's face lights up, and he pulls you into a kiss that leaves you breathless. When you finally part, you're both laughing, giddy with the promise of this new chapter.

The next few weeks are a whirlwind of boxes, packing tape, and furniture rearrangement. Max helps you move, grumbling good-naturedly about being demoted to "pack mule" status. But you catch him giving George a stern talking-to when he thinks you're not listening, something about "taking care of my little sister, or else."

As you unpack your life into George's space – now your shared space – you're struck by how seamlessly your belongings fit together. Your books nestle comfortably next to his on the shelves. Your favourite blanket drapes over the back of the sofa, adding a pop of colour to the room. In the bedroom, your clothes hang side by side in the closet—proof that you’re done sneaking around, done pretending this is casual. Proof that this is real.

[vgtrackbracket]

Video Game Track Bracket Final Round

Still Alive from Portal

vs.

I WON'T LET YOU GO HOME from In Stars and Time

Propaganda under the cut. If you want your propaganda reblogged, please tag it as propaganda or otherwise indicate this!

Note: The propaganda contains spoilers for In Stars and Time.

Still Alive:

One of the best and most classic credits songs in all of gaming. A true masterpiece, that an incredible number of people can quote off the top of their head.

Still Alive having such good lyrics in addition to being a great piece with the music alone is what makes it take the top space for me!

I WON'T LET YOU GO HOME:

siffrin.

1. It ties in recurring melodies from all throughout the soundtrack 2. It perfectly sets the mood for the scene and feels climactic 3. I cannot explain how much this song emotionally impacts you if you've played the game 4. It's just such a good song 5. Siffrin

only song in the soundtrack with an all caps title. the intended emotion is gained from sobbing shouting that fucker out

has motifs from all over the game including the title theme AND game over theme

a little harder to convey the emotion without the context of the game but it still does good

'I WON'T LET YOU GO HOME' is for when Siffrin is on his last legs (both physically and mentally)- he doesn't want his (found) family to leave him behind. He doesn't want to be alone, especially when he doesn't have a place TO call home anymore. His home is (technically) gone, along with all of his memories of it. And he actually found a family (found family :D) with the group he joined to save the country. He doesn't want them to leave- he doesn't want them to forget him- and he doesn't want to forget THEM. So when Siffrin gets to his last loop in Act 5, hearing the Head Housemaiden remind him that Everyone Will Be Going Their Separate Ways Since The Country Is Saved Now, he snaps, and before the resulting 'fight' he thinks "I WON'T LET YOU GO HOME." The name of the song!!! During the fight 'I WON'T LET YOU GO HOME' plays in, there's actually an option for Siffrin to hurt himself instead of his friends/family, the '(Don't attack)' 'craft' with the description "Can't hurt them. Attack the only person left." and that really shows how much he cares about them, to have the option of hurting himself because he doesn't want to hurt the people he loves. (You can, in fact, attack them, but the option to Not attack them is very present and will progress the fight/story as well.) I would explain more but I don't want to explain any more than necessary. I don't want to explain EVERYTHING and spoil the whole game for people >w<

[pretend-i-don-t-exist]

sy trying to create a pidw au would be so funny

i feel like he'd actually commit to it to spite airplane. at first, it garnered attention bc it was from the peerless cucumber, notorious critic and biggest pidw hater, so ofc they're all curious how pidw would look like in his eyes. it was surprisingly (well not really, considering the tens of paragraphs peerless cucumber wrote during his rants, all of which have immaculate grammar and spelling— bc ofc he can't let anyone find something to nitpick on his review so they're forced to see the point!) well-written and definitely more plot-focused.

majority of the readers disappeared after the first few chapters, mainly because of the lack of smutty scenes, but those that do remain are very engaged. one of them is airplane's burner account, when he needs to separate himself from his airplane persona. he's really, really curious as to what his hater is doing to his work.

he... he actually likes it. it's not really the novel he envisioned when he was first working on pidw, nor does it contain all the elements of his original draft, but it was good. he likes it a lot better than what pidw turned out to be.

airplane spent so much time contemplating and considering before finally saying fuck it, and dms peerless cucumber to see if he can work as a co-author with him and they can rewrite pidw together. he even sends parts of the original draft (what was left of it, anyway) as incentive!

it takes a long week before even peerless cucumber replies, and by then he has written a novella detailing how much better the original draft was and him screaming very informally at why airplane had to cast it aside.

lol i need money bro im broke af and porn sells, airplane answers.

it takes another week before peerless cucumber finally answers. then live with me, his message reads. no rent. i'll pay for whatever food you want. and whatever bills you have. just write a good fucking novel, i swear to god.

airplane thinks it's a joke, until he receives the address. an actual penthouse. in the richest streets of guangzhou. there is also a request to meet up (seeing as they don't actually know each other, and sy's brothers are very intent on not getting him murdered in his sleep) and airplane, after much, much thinking, accepts.

airplane does not really know what to feel when he finally meets and talks to shen yuan— pampered third son of a very wealthy family, with two protective older brothers and an even more protective little sister— and sy is just. well. he's exactly airplane's type. the beautiful, ice prince who apparently has only shown this much emotion around airplane. sy's meimei had told him cheerfully and then threatened to gut him if he so much as steps a foot out of line. airplane is starting to feel like he's just met a mafia family.

shen yuan's family aside, airplane is actually living his best life. he no longer has to worry about money. he lives in a luxurious (gods he has never seen such a large bedroom before wtf) penthouse without needing to pay rent (!!!) and utilities (!!!) and even food (!!!). he can write as much as he wants. this must be what artists felt like when they're taken care of noble families in exchange for their art.

he does... well. he and peerless cucumber are friends now. they work on the rewrite together. airplane keeps finding out many things, like how shen yuan likes his tea with a lot of honey, dislikes milk chocolate, and prefers drawing over writing. he also runs hot during the night, when he sleeps.

how does airplane know that? well. bros gotta do what bros gotta do. it's a good thing they both like to cuddle.