#i appreciate your post because like. yeah. and i agree with you.

[yuvany]

꒰ 🥊 ꒱ ENHYPEN IN THE RING

// ENHYPEN as boxers and you're their number one prize.

─── ( on point ) OT7 x female reader contains : fluff + violence mentioned + pet names + est relationship + cameras + boxing!au + non!idol enha + not proofread 887 wc

reblogs + feedback always appreciated !!

𝗟𝗘𝗘 𝗛𝗘𝗘𝗦𝗘𝗨𝗡𝗚

Being in the boxing ring felt natural to him, but to you, it just felt as if you were praying for Heeseung to be alright every time he fought someone bigger than him. You didn't worry too much as you knew how talented he was and how he managed to beat people who mocked him for him size. Seeing someone fall to the ground never felt this relieving. You rushed up and enveloped his face in between your palms as you pressed a kiss to his lips for his victory. "Worried? For me?" He asks when you both are on your way home. "Yeah, what if you got really hurt?" You said, fidgeting with your thumbs, avoiding his gaze. "I'll be alright, yeah? I wouldn't want to worry you." Heeseung takes your hand in his.

(rest of the memebers below the cut)

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗝𝗢𝗡𝗚𝗦𝗘𝗢𝗡𝗚

always worried what you thought of him doing this sport. He knew the dangers of this sport, and he knew that he could get injured really badly, but something always pushed him to continue. Maybe it was the adrenaline rush. During matches, he'd always contemplate if he should quit or not after seeing other boxers bleed from their noses while being knocked out. That anxiousness quickly disperse as he sees you in the crowd, jumping and cheering his name. He puts on a smile for you. Some time later, Jay asked, "what do you think of me doing boxing?" You take a moment to think before answering, "I'm really happy that you're doing something you like, and I'll always support you." You reassure with a kiss to his cheek.

𝗦𝗜𝗠 𝗝𝗔𝗘𝗬𝗨𝗡

He adores the comforting speeches you give him before each match. How they always manage to calm him down when his nerves were playing a trick on him. "baby, I'm nervous." Jake says, his hands clutching to your side, not wanting to part from your closeness while his coach is urging him to hurry up. "Why are you so stressed, Jakey? We both know how awsome you'll be. Just go and do what you love." You say, slowly walking towards the ring so that he can jump in. Jake sighs and hums at your words. "You'll be watching, right?" He asks, his puppy eyes gleaming under the bright stadium lights. "Of course." You say, patting his back before you shoo him inside.

𝙋𝘼𝙍𝙆 𝙎𝙐𝙉𝙂𝙃𝙊𝙊𝙉

Sunghoon loves showing you off to everyone just as much as you love cheering him on. Post-match, you'd be the first person he'd run over to as the cameras pan over to the couple. He doesn't care about what anyone says or sees, and instead he presses his lips to your face over and over again making sure that the camera and audience does not miss his love for you. Sunghoon is a firm believer that your love is worth more than any prize he'll ever win in his boxing career. After each match he'd win, the internet would be flooded by news making headlines of you and him, which always managed to put a smile on your face.

𝗞𝗜𝗠 𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗢𝗢

Sunoo didn't brag about his wins, even though he had a swelling ego, he was humble. Before each match, he'd wrap his arms around you, his head snuggled against your shoulder as you pat his back, urging him to let go and get ready for the fight, "Sunsun, it's time to go now." He doesn't let go and you just sigh. "Promise me that we'll go on a date later." He compromises, and you easily agree to it, because it's a date? While in the ring, you cheer the loudest, and he hears you since you're standing in the first row, but when the match is over and he is the clear winner, he doesn't hesitate to shoot you a quick wink.

𝗬𝗔𝗡𝗚 𝗝𝗨𝗡𝗚𝗪𝗢𝗡

You loved watching him combat his friends during practice, but when it was time for the competition, you were starting to feel a bit anxious - your heart beating like a drum against your chest. You whisper a soft "good luck," before he gives you a bright smile and climed into the fighting arena. You watched with dread filling you up, and all you cared for was his safety. Seeing him get hit, you jump out of your seat with your palms hovering over your agape mouth that opened due to shock. You try to reassure yourself that he'd be okay, and luckily he was. "You really gave me a scare!" You lightly hit his shoulder, and he just pulled you against his chest.

𝗡𝗜𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗠𝗨𝗥𝗔 𝗥𝗜𝗞𝗜

You honestly didn't worry too much about him when he fought. Riki is a strong person, both physically and mentally. While he speaks to his coach during break time, Riki wraps one arm around your shoulders lazily as he leans his body against yours. You can hear his short breaths due to exhaustion, but you don't pull away, even though he is sweating. With a nod, there is little time left to spend and he presses a kiss to your head before he rushes back inside. When he wins, he runs over to you with a bright smile as cameras are aimed at him. One interviewer shouts, "What do you think of the prize you're winning." "What do you mean? I've got her right here!" He shouts back as he motions to you.

TAGLIST : @dollyhoon @itjengirl @saeivra @orimuraa @pshwrldd

[velvetvexations]

Hi, I’m the anon who sent that ask about my girlfriend saying something to me about culturally appropriating transfems for wanting to wear a strap while receiving anal. I saw velvet nations response to that so I wanted to clear a few things up I guess. She took back what she said after I mentioned gay men and made a joke about forgetting that men exist which still kinda felt uncomfortable? Im not a trans man (I am transmasc +genderfluid) but that comment still made feel weird considering she kind of regards me as a man sometimes, and were poly and shes literally also dating a cis man lol.

This isnt the first time shes said something that felt kind of… “trf-y” i guess? I always am able to basically redirect her and educate her especially if shes being ignorant about other trans experiences but she is an ex-conservative white woman and… it sometimes shows. Its a work in progress and I have educated her about a lot of things throughout our relationship and I appreciate how willing she is to learn and grow but it definitely does hurt when she throws a curveball like that at me. This specific instance was about a gender affirming type of sex that *I wanted to have* so it was especially hurtful :/ and like I expressed in my original ask I was literally stunned into silence and could only stutter “but gay men..” so like. Def wouldve had a talk about it if it hadnt caught me so off guard while I was trying to prepare myself to have sex lol. That plus the fact that bottoming is especially vulnerable for me so when she said that it struck a very sensitive chord.

I appreciate that the comments were worried for me and I did want everyone to know that I usually dont let stuff like that slide and she does have a good heart but Im afraid she can be misguided sometimes… its one of the reasons I feel so stressed about the rise of anti trans masculinity in transfem circles because I swear I can tell that shit is rubbing off on my girlfriend(s) (im poly and i have two trans gfs and the other one posted a joke about “theyfabs” yesterday so like…. Yeah) I have seen both of my gfs come across some wild trf-y shit that was basically demonizing transmascs or making fun of theyfabs and Ive talked to both of them about it and they both agree that its kinda weird but both of them constantly drop bombs like that on me!! So i dont really know what to do besides keep talking to them about the shit that makes me uncomfortable and hoping for the best. Thank you velvet for letting me rant and thank you velvet nation for being concerned about me.

anon for realsies that is a seriously concerning pattern of behavior

I'm not gonna tell you who to love and you're the arbiter of if a relationship is in your view workable but that pattern is something that has to Stop for your sake

[krockat]

yeah. fuck. how many people are believing it's better not to vote at all, do you think?

and it's so strange to see how seemingly a common thing it is in America (I say that from my tumblr bubble, but so many Americans share that view here)?

i think it's way less common in sweden where I live, but i mean we are also a Hugely smaller country.

like the common culture here is to be like. when if all the parties suck (we have many more than two) it's like. find the least bad and do it. it's not any question about it in the end.

if you skip the election, it's such a embarrassing thing that you wouldn't want to admit it. You get really shamed for it here.

i am really worried about America. i hope y'all pull through and that there's not another drumpf presidency. scary times.

y'all deserve better. the world deserves better.

harris is shitty but less shitty. that's how it is unfortunately now that the overton window has shifted so much right and fascist.

and that, is so clearly in large part due to drumpf, and other countries right wing fascisting it too.

In my country, we have (partially) fascists (and fascist thumpers who acted like they didn't want to work together with them) heading our state. It is not just an American thing.

but America, being so visible on the world stage, is especially influencing other countries.

my countries parties on the right started talking more loud about minimizing abortion rights, minimizing Trans and gay rights, and wanting progress into a more racist police state after drumpfs elections and policies he and the Republicans put in.

Emboldening.

it does affect the whole world. we as a world affect eachother, but America through its violence and colonialization and imperialism has so much power - that it controls and affects a Lot.

Sweden politicians and media and even our people often say or parrot things like 'But we have No choice but to listen and follow America, cause if we get on the bad side of them - it would become chaos and war. Who will protect us against the Russians?'

And so we do atrocities in the name of that. The sweden government and many corporate interests here doesn't want this status quou to change either. they act like they do. total lip service.

Supporting Israel. Violence against protestors, especially brown and Arab protestors.

State media sending Hugely propagandic news favoring Israel, dehumanizing Palestinians, every day.

and it's Not time to give up. We, together, across the world - can and will change things.

One of those things we can change things through is Voting in all elections.

Drumpf and other actors want to limit your rights to vote, it's an important right we need to fight for.

I am so sorry it is the way it is in America - voter registration and how it works - and that it even exists - is so severely damaging.

Here in sweden, you're automatically eligible to vote as soon as you turn 18. No voter registration at all.

(although, i don't know how it works for immigrants or refugees. they are in many ways disenfranchised, esp refugees who are poc. That's another huge issue with Sweden.)

But yea. super Duper don't want drumpf to be anywhere near presidency nor political power either.

pull through americans. don't let your voter right pass you by, when you ou have it. don't let your grief and/or indifference make shit even more catastrophical.

Wow.

I super duper dont want Donald Trump to be in charge of the country again.

Super duper.

[origami-butterfly]

Ok but sometimes the most infuriating political stance a person can have is point blank refusing to discuss social issues with you when you bring it up because they "don't want to get political". Don't open the tags unless you want to read a rant

[mako-island-moon-pool]

Personally of the belief that live action fans who go onto animanga posts uninvited like 'I DESPERATELY NEED YOU TO KNOW THAT I THINK THE ART STYLE IS UGLY EVEN THO THIS OPINION IS IRRELEVANT TO THE POST' should be hit with a big rock. We already moved past this ten years ago, get with it or get lost. Swallow the hunger inside of you that demands everything be palatable to you. Maybe you could stand to be a little uncomfortable for a while

[dennisboobs]

this is genuinely... so funny to me. like the hilarity of copypasting rational tweets. i'm literally right. it's not even a funny copypasta because it's literally just. objectively correct. it's a criticism of twitter culture and that makes it funny to you because...... god forbid you actually have empathy for other people. caring is for losers if you're on twitter dot com, you have to be snarky and funny at all times.

[thedreadvampy]

I mean sure, I can understand this perspective, but I'm not sure whether most people feel less shaken to be thrust into conversations about "self-unaliving" than conversations about "suicide"

and I for one as a survivor would much rather unexpectedly encounter somebody talking about "rape" than somebody talking about how funny it is to have sex with somebody when they don't want to, a normal thing that doesn't need to be named because it's So Normal.

which is to say. this is a post about words. the words are not the distressing thing about the discussion. the distressing thing is the distressing thing about the discussion. sugarcoating, dodging or renaming the distressing thing doesn't make it less distressing but it DOES often make it harder to have a frank discussion about it or address it in serious terms.

[pinch of salt: solid probability from their blog that this person is a Literal 14 Year Old and the perspective from 30 and 14 are very different. I do stand by all the points I'm making but I think this conversation lands a lot different for people at different life stages - there is something to be said for the general issue that the internet has flattened social groups to the degree that I as a 30 year old can make a post to my audience of largely adult millennials that immediately enters the same conversational space as people half my age and still in school. that seems. ungreat. as the primary way we engage in conversation. but I don't have solutions to offer.]

you gotta be able to say "die"

you gotta be able to say "suicide"

you gotta be able to talk about "sex"

they're uncomfortable topics, YEAH for SURE

because LIFE is uncomfortable. Death and suicide and sex and pain are straight up going to happen. not having words for the way it discomforts you doesn't make it more comfortable, it just makes you less able to reach out about it.

even more vital, you gotta be able to say words like "rape", "abuse", "queer" or "racist". cause we fought fucking hard to name those experiences. to identify "rape" as distinct from "sex" and "racism" as distinct from "acceptable behaviour" and "queer" as distinct from "invert"

like the function of communication is not to minimise immediate discomfort. we gotta be able to talk about stuff that's hard or sucks or causes difficult conversations.

[txttletale]

Saw a tweet that said something around:

"cannot emphasize enough how horrid chatgpt is, y'all. it's depleting our global power & water supply, stopping us from thinking or writing critically, plagiarizing human artists. today's students are worried they won't have jobs because of AI tools. this isn't a world we deserve"

I've seen some of your AI posts and they seem nuanced, but how would you respond do this? Cause it seems fairly-on point and like the crux of most worries. Sorry if this is a troublesome ask, just trying to learn so any input would be appreciated.

i would simply respond that almost none of that is true.

'depleting the global power and water supply'

something i've seen making the roudns on tumblr is that chatgpt queries use 3 watt-hours per query. wow, that sounds like a lot, especially with all the articles emphasizing that this is ten times as much as google search. let's check some other very common power uses:

running a microwave for ten minutes is 133 watt-hours

gaming on your ps5 for an hour is 200 watt-hours

watching an hour of netflix is 800 watt-hours

and those are just domestic consumer electricty uses!

a single streetlight's typical operation 1.2 kilowatt-hours a day (or 1200 watt-hours)

a digital billboard being on for an hour is 4.7 kilowatt-hours (or 4700 watt-hours)

i think i've proved my point, so let's move on to the bigger picture: there are estimates that AI is going to cause datacenters to double or even triple in power consumption in the next year or two! damn that sounds scary. hey, how significant as a percentage of global power consumption are datecenters?

1-1.5%.

ah. well. nevertheless!

what about that water? yeah, datacenters use a lot of water for cooling. 1.7 billion gallons (microsoft's usage figure for 2021) is a lot of water! of course, when you look at those huge and scary numbers, there's some important context missing. it's not like that water is shipped to venus: some of it is evaporated and the rest is generally recycled in cooling towers. also, not all of the water used is potable--some datacenters cool themselves with filtered wastewater.

most importantly, this number is for all data centers. there's no good way to separate the 'AI' out for that, except to make educated guesses based on power consumption and percentage changes. that water figure isn't all attributable to AI, plenty of it is necessary to simply run regular web servers.

but sure, just taking that number in isolation, i think we can all broadly agree that it's bad that, for example, people are being asked to reduce their household water usage while google waltzes in and takes billions of gallons from those same public reservoirs.

but again, let's put this in perspective: in 2017, coca cola used 289 billion liters of water--that's 7 billion gallons! bayer (formerly monsanto) in 2018 used 124 million cubic meters--that's 32 billion gallons!

so, like. yeah, AI uses electricity, and water, to do a bunch of stuff that is basically silly and frivolous, and that is broadly speaking, as someone who likes living on a planet that is less than 30% on fire, bad. but if you look at the overall numbers involved it is a miniscule drop in the ocean! it is a functional irrelevance! it is not in any way 'depleting' anything!

'stopping us from thinking or writing critically'

this is the same old reactionary canard we hear over and over again in different forms. when was this mythic golden age when everyone was thinking and writing critically? surely we have all heard these same complaints about tiktok, about phones, about the internet itself? if we had been around a few hundred years earlier, we could have heard that "The free access which many young people have to romances, novels, and plays has poisoned the mind and corrupted the morals of many a promising youth."

it is a reactionary narrative of societal degeneration with no basis in anything. yes, it is very funny that laywers have lost the bar for trusting chatgpt to cite cases for them. but if you think that chatgpt somehow prevented them from thinking critically about its output, you're accusing the tail of wagging the dog.

nobody who says shit like "oh wow chatgpt can write every novel and movie now. yiou can just ask chatgpt to give you opinions and ideas and then use them its so great" was, like, sitting in the symposium debating the nature of the sublime before chatgpt released. there is no 'decay', there is no 'decline'. you should be suspicious of those narratives wherever you see them, especially if you are inclined to agree!

plagiarizing human artists

nah. i've been over this ad infinitum--nothing 'AI art' does could be considered plagiarism without a definition so preposterously expansive that it would curtail huge swathes of human creative expression.

AI art models do not contain or reproduce any images. the result of them being trained on images is a very very complex statistical model that contains a lot of large-scale statistical data about all those images put together (and no data about any of those individual images).

to draw a very tortured comparison, imagine you had a great idea for how to make the next Great American Painting. you loaded up a big file of every norman rockwell painting, and you made a gigantic excel spreadsheet. in this spreadsheet you noticed how regularly elements recurred: in each cell you would have something like "naturalistic lighting" or "sexually unawakened farmers" and the % of times it appears in his paintings. from this, you then drew links between these cells--what % of paintings containing sexually unawakened farmers also contained naturalistic lighting? what % also contained a white guy?

then, if you told someone else with moderately competent skill at painting to use your excel spreadsheet to generate a Great American Painting, you would likely end up with something that is recognizably similar to a Norman Rockwell painting: but any charge of 'plagiarism' would be absolutely fucking absurd!

this is a gross oversimplification, of course, but it is much closer to how AI art works than the 'collage machine' description most people who are all het up about plagiarism talk about--and if it were a collage machine, it would still not be plagiarising because collages aren't plagiarism.

(for a better and smarter explanation of the process from soneone who actually understands it check out this great twitter thread by @reachartwork)

today's students are worried they won't have jobs because of AI tools

i mean, this is true! AI tools are definitely going to destroy livelihoods. they will increase productivty for skilled writers and artists who learn to use them, which will immiserate those jobs--they will outright replace a lot of artists and writers for whom quality is not actually important to the work they do (this has already essentially happened to the SEO slop website industry and is in the process of happening to stock images).

jobs in, for example, product support are being cut for chatgpt. and that sucks for everyone involved. but this isn't some unique evil of chatgpt or machine learning, this is just the effect that technological innovation has on industries under capitalism!

there are plenty of innovations that wiped out other job sectors overnight. the camera was disastrous for portrait artists. the spinning jenny was famously disastrous for the hand-textile workers from which the luddites drew their ranks. retail work was hit hard by self-checkout machines. this is the shape of every single innovation that can increase productivity, as marx explains in wage labour and capital:

“The greater division of labour enables one labourer to accomplish the work of five, 10, or 20 labourers; it therefore increases competition among the labourers fivefold, tenfold, or twentyfold. The labourers compete not only by selling themselves one cheaper than the other, but also by one doing the work of five, 10, or 20; and they are forced to compete in this manner by the division of labour, which is introduced and steadily improved by capital. Furthermore, to the same degree in which the division of labour increases, is the labour simplified. The special skill of the labourer becomes worthless. He becomes transformed into a simple monotonous force of production, with neither physical nor mental elasticity. His work becomes accessible to all; therefore competitors press upon him from all sides. Moreover, it must be remembered that the more simple, the more easily learned the work is, so much the less is its cost to production, the expense of its acquisition, and so much the lower must the wages sink – for, like the price of any other commodity, they are determined by the cost of production. Therefore, in the same manner in which labour becomes more unsatisfactory, more repulsive, do competition increase and wages decrease”

this is the process by which every technological advancement is used to increase the domination of the owning class over the working class. not due to some inherent flaw or malice of the technology itself, but due to the material realtions of production.

so again the overarching point is that none of this is uniquely symptomatic of AI art or whatever ever most recent technological innovation. it is symptomatic of capitalism. we remember the luddites primarily for failing and not accomplishing anything of meaning.

if you think it's bad that this new technology is being used with no consideration for the planet, for social good, for the flourishing of human beings, then i agree with you! but then your problem shouldn't be with the technology--it should be with the economic system under which its use is controlled and dictated by the bourgeoisie.

[solardrop]

mean drunk.

aaron hotchner x fem!reader.

summary: after a bau night on the town your boyfriend tries to get you to admit to being mean when you drink. But he can't seem to keep his hands to himself either... (or hotch says you're a mean drunk and you say 'nuh uh") tags: smut NSFW 18+ alcohol use. dubious consent because both parties are drunk but 'consenting'. oral m/f receiving. unprotected p in v. spitting. literally like 2 seconds of anal. word count: ~2.6k a/n: be nice to me you aren't allowed to be mean this is my first time writing a fic since the finnick odair x oc fic i posted on ff.net when I was like 12 LMAO. first smut in general too so. yeah. all divider creds. to @cafekitsune

The two of you stumbled into the entryway of Hotch's bedroom with your faces all but glued together. Thick hands grasped at the small patch of skin revealed as your shirt rode up your back. 

You lean into his chest and grips a handful of your breast in his hand appreciatively before walking you backwards to the plush comfort of his bed. Suddenly, he pulls away from you completely and boyishly smiles down at you perched  on the edge of his bed.

His lips and neck are covered in a glittery brown sheen from your lip gloss. Black hair spiking in unnatural directions. The powder blue dress shirt he wore haphazardly wrinkled from your efforts to untuck the crisp fabric from his now tightening dress pant. You could eat him from the top down. But he was just standing there. Smiling at you instead of stripping. 

"Aaron, I swear if you dont fucking touch me I'll kill you-"

He giggles as he unbuttons his shirt, "Very mean drunk."

A successful case led the entire team to a night of drinks at O'Keefe's. Penelope was all but pouring shots down everyone's throats; she somehow even managed to get Hotch to down a few extra glasses of scotch than his typical. Unsurprisingly the result was everyone being absolutely sloshed. Everyone was giggly and free, playing stupid drinking games before the topic of 'drunk personalities' came to the table. 

JJ declared herself a sleepy drunk, while Derek, Garcia, and Emily all admitted to being more flirty. Spencer and David started going back and forth about the psychological implications of the human personality traits while intoxicated. So their categorization as chatty drunks went without saying. You were starting to agree with JJ on being sleepy when your annoying man decided to cut you off and say you were mean when drunk. 

Sure, liquid courage did loosen your tongue a bit. You were guilty of causing few hurt feelings after a night out. And maybe Aaron had to whisk you away from a few bar fights with people you couldn't take without your handgun. But you were not a mean drunk!

An uncharacteristic back and forth bounces between you for the remainder of the night. Only ceasing when he smashes his lips against yours in the taxi home. 

His calloused hands flip you around roughly. Propping your hips up towards his face. Your face heats as he presses his face into your wetness, inhaling deeply and moaning at the scent of you.

"So pretty.." He spreads your lips apart with his thumbs, the moisture there almost holding them together. 

Your head was spinning, now from more than just the alcohol. The position was just embarrassing. You were almost completely upside down and your back arched shamelessly. Hell, you couldn't even see Aaron's pretty face like this. His strong thighs and thickening length weren't bad to look at either but you wanted to see him. 

you crane your neck around to tell him as much when he closes his lips around your clit and sucks greedily. 

"Aar-" you gasp. 

You squirm in the grasp he has on your hips. He tightens his hands around you, preventing your from escape. the warmth of his lips travel up from your nub to lick a few long stripes against your slit. 

"Oh fuck off-" you start.

He was going to kill you like this. Your face and neck were too hot, your back was starting to ache. The alcohol and your arousal swirling your mind into a fog.  Hotch continues his attack on your sex. Sucking and licking with whatever intensity he pleased. His words slur together as he praises you. The sound so intelligible you're convinced that they're more for himself than you. 

When the warmth of his tongue prods at your entrance, you fall forward. The wiry hairs along his thigh press into your cheek as your face is squished there. The invasion has you moaning and wailing, bucking your hips closer to him now; begging for him to delve deeper. Your desperation must amuse him because you feel a short puff of air and the semblance of a smile against you. What an absolute drunken ass. 

With a renewed burst of energy, you lean over without warning and suck the head of his length into your mouth. The strong, salty flavor of him spreads along your tongue as you circle the muscle around his tip. 

"Fucking hell-" he rips his mouth from you and yelps out. 

He jerks at your stimulation. His hips thrust into your mouth reflexively, the erratic movement causing his shaft to slip deeper into your mouth. You allow it, pressing your face closer and closer to him until the coarse patch of curls above his length pressed against your chin. 

He's always been so thick. But being held like this, he felt even heavier and stiffer in your mouth. You hollow your cheeks to pull off of him almost completely, the remaining glitter on your lips streaking up his shaft, before quickly pressing yourself down to the hilt. His tip taps against the back of your throat, you welcome the intrusion and swallow around him. 

He stutters your name out, the syllables melting together as you bob your head along him. You giggle at his lack of articulation. The mean, pristine, crime-fighting machine Supervisory Special Agent Hotchner. Reduced to nothing but a gasping mess from a moment in your mouth and a few glasses of whiskey. A hum vibrates from your chest when you pull of to stroke him with a taunt. A string of saliva still connecting your lips to his swollen pink tip.

"See honey? if I was such a meanie drunk," a bead of precum weeps from his slip, you tongue darts out to collect it, "I would take such good care of you like this. Right?"

You slip back down to bask in your self-proclaimed victory. Savoring the heady taste of him before Aaron abruptly drives two thick fingers into you. 

Your eyes snap open and the sound that rips from your throat reverberates around the room, even muffled by the length of him. He picks up a rapid pace. The wet sounds of your pleasure winding you up even further than you thought possible. His girth slips with a pop. Moaninh against his calf as your body slides from its arched position to lay almost flat against his outstretched legs.

"Aar- '' you cry. "Aar this is so- Baby I- I don't think I can-"

You jump as he spits on your lips and grinds a thumb into your nub. As if you needed to be any slicker. The tight circles he makes are punishing. His saliva cooling against your folds doing little to waver the heat building between your legs. His fingers slam into you over and over, sometimes curling down and brushing that soft, sweet spot deep inside you. 

"Uh uh. The gorgeous girl I know can do anything," he presses an additional finger into you, "isn't that right?" 

You buck your hips back into him, the praise sending a shock to your core. You chance a glance over your shoulder at him, and you have to screw your eyes shut again and groan at the sight. The entire lower half of his face was covered in you. The bottom lip tucked between his lips shiny, red, and swollen. His eyes were low, hyperfocused on the movement of his hands between your legs.  Pale face still red from the night of festivities. He looked absolutely entranced. Completely pleased himself and they way he was wrecking you. 

"Aaron, Please just-" He wickedly pinches your clit between his thumb and forefinger and you squeal. 

"Hm? That attitude" he says as he pinches you again.

"Fuck-"

"See?" Another pinch. " I told you, you're a mean drunk," he does it again. 

Tears prickle in your eyes, sweat along your forehead clinging your curls to your warm skin. You thrash and cry as he continues his onslaught.  He was sitting beneath you, pushing and twisting and gripping your body in any way he wanted while you cried and you were the mean drunk?

You try to slip away from him, the pleasure too much, yet not enough to send you over the edge. But he slips his fingers out of you to grab you by the hips, spreading the globes of ass apart to spit on you again. 

Except this time the cold shock landed right on the pucker of your asshole. 

"Aaron!" you whimper

"If only my baby was nicer to me," he has the nerve to sigh wistfully, "I'm so damn hard, if she asked me politely I'd fuck her so good she'd lose it..." 

He rubbed his thumb over your hole, not pushing in, but applying enough pressure to have you keening in pleasure. 

He sighs again, completely ignoring your pants and cries. "But I think I can finish without touching just like this, hm? Maybe in 30? An hour?"

No. Nope. Absolutely not. 

If you had a lick of sense left in your brain right now you'd realize he was fucking with you. You'd recognize his words and the creeping smile on his face as the bullshit they were. But right now all your muddled mind was registering was the danger of being held shaking and pained for an hour without release. You would never finish like this, you couldn't. You needed to look into his eyes, feel his lips graze along your face as you came.  You wouldn't get that, not like this, you'd be stuck like this.

"Pleaseplease Aaron- Aar- fuck. Please I need you, Aar. Please-" 

He breathes out a laugh. Finally granting you mercy from his wicked hands. He grunts a little at the effort of pulling himself up around you, kissing your shoulder as his face finally nears yours. 

"I thought you'd never ask" he smiles, "Where do you want me gorgeous?"

You twist to move on your back, and Hotch shifts to allow you more space. You face him for the first time in a while, and your heat clenches almost automatically when his eyes meet yours. 

It was fucking sick how he had the nerve to call you gorgeous when he looked so positively delicious himself. His lids were still low and his cheeks were still tinged pink. But now you had a true view of the slick coating his mouth and chin. A crooked smile beamed off his face, smile lines deepening at the gesture. 

"Like this," You hold his face in your palms, pulling him down to peck on the lips quickly, "I want to see you, please."

"Anything you want, legs up for me." He playfully taps his hand on the side of your ass. Your legs shoot up quickly, and his eyes crinkle with laughter at your desperation when he props your knees on his shoulders. 

He presses his lips to yours again before shifting all his weight to one arm, the muscle there flexing while he reaches down to grip himself with his free hand.

He runs the tip of his length along your folds, every brush causing you to twitch with sensitivity. Special attention is given to your already swollen clit, nudging his hips forward to swipe against the delicate bundle of nerves.  He pulls away and slots his lips above yours to kiss you fully. 

You eagerly press yourself closer to him, deepening the kiss. His tongue presses into your mouth and you groan when the taste of your wetness mingles with the familiar bite of the dark liquor on his tongue. 

He notches himself at your entrance, massaging but still failing to push inside of you. A whine bubbled from the back of your throat. 

"Baby, I promise I'm already wet enou- Oh!" your murmuring is cut short by Aaron thrusting into you all at once. 

He doesn't even move before your wretched body betrays you. the abrupt force and fullness pushing a white-hot pleasure throughout your entire being. Your thighs beg to snap shut, but the spread of your knees on his shoulders denies them. Your walls lock around him in a vice, causing him to grunt above you. You're saying something, probably some warbled nonsense, but you can't even hear yourself above the heartbeat in your ears. 

Aaron presses his face into the crook of your neck as you come down from your high. Whispering your name and 'i love you', 'so beautiful's into your skin. 

The fluttering of your core begins to slow when he pulls almost completely out of you, only the head remaining within your warmth. He raises an eyebrow at you expectantly, when your breath catches.

"We're not done here are we? Best one of two?" He doesn't wait for an answer before pushing into you, this time much slower.

you mewl at the firm stretch of him. Your hands reach up to grip the back of his neck, pressing his forehead to your own. Your eyes bounce around his features, burning each one into every empty space in your mind like you could ever forget. The precious mole you loved to kiss on his cheek. The unruly hairs sticking up on his temples. His pretty jet-black lashes flutterinh as he struggles to keep his eyes open for you.

His pace intensifies as he gets closer to his own climax, ramming into you. Every push tickles your clit with the thatch of curls that crown his shaft. 

"Such a good girl for me," he tries to hold back a moan causing him to stutter, " Y-you have one more in you I know it." 

The rough sensation of his calloused hands running up your side makes you shiver. You feel it again as he continues to bully his way through your center, the intense warmth pooling in your toes before creeping upwards. You nod your head at him, begging him to keep going, go faster, fuck into you deeper, love you fully. He complies with every soft cry, kissing and biting at your jaw as he forces you over into your second orgasm. 

You were almost completely gone for this one. Screaming into Aaron's mouth as he continues to chase his own release using your body. Your body shakes and you grip his biceps until the crescent marks of your fingernails are guaranteed to become a permanent fixture on his body. 

The breathless whimpering in your ear is what helps slowly bring you back down from your own world. You could tell he was close, his eyes screwing shut and his hips bucking into you out of pace every few beats. Using the last of your strength you push your hips up to meet his thrusts, fucking him back. You press a kiss on his good ear. 

"You treat me so well Honey," you murmur, "Come for me, you're so, so good to me, let me have you"

You suck the lobe of his ear into your mouth and bite down. He punches into you with one final thrust before you feel him twitch, bursts of his warm release spurting deeply inside you. He gasps your name out like a prayer as he comes down. 

Normailly his hardness slipping out of you after a session would cause you to cringe, but right now you were so fucking tired you barely even took note of the sensation. Clearly he was just as out of it as he plopped unceremoniously next to you in silence instead of his normal bossy demands for you to get up and pee after he wore you out. Before you even realize it both of you are drifting off into the best sleep you've had in a while. 

This had to be the worst sleep Aaron's had in a while. His mouth was dry, his head pounding, and his skin felt parched and scratchy despite the sweat that slicked off him. Not to mention the very obvious lack of clothes he was sporting under his bed sheet. 

Before he could grab his phone to send Strauss a termination request form for Garcia (the one he kept saved in his files, yes for moments just like this) you burst into the bedroom and flip the bright lights on. He groans as the rays stab him in the back of the head. You giggle, his pain clearly amusing to you. You saunter over, place a glass of water on the nightstand and press a kiss to his beating forehead. 

"I was wrong, you aren't a mean drunk. You're just mean." he sighs.

You throw your head back in glee

"I'm fine with being the mean drunk," you shrug, "at least we know for sure you're the horny drunk."

[milliumizoomi]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐇𝐄...

☆彡SUMMARY.; Things I believe he would do in a relationship that you’d (us.. all of us..😭) would find attractive

☆彡FEATURED.; ARMANDO ARETAS x READER

☆彡TROPE.; Established Relationship

☆彡FORMAT.; HEADCANON

☆彡GENRE.; FLUFF + SUGGESTION + A TINY BIT OF ANGST

☆彡WARNINGS.; mature language, mature actions, a lil bit of Armando’s toxicity shining thru, brief mentions of choking (not in like he’s gonna kill u type of way😭) brief mentions of violence, a little bit of spoilers ahead.

☆彡NOTES.; heyyyy thank u guys SAURRRR much for the love on the last Armando work I posted, I’m glad so many of yall liked it and I will continue to post and write about him 🫶🏽. (And yeah I took that picture on the middle so be free to save.. cause whew lord..). I hope you guys enjoy this one😛💕.

REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED🫶🏽.

[IN PUBLIC]

✬ Armando would keep an eye on you, especially since he’s not a very trusting person to most

✬ He’s like very aware of the space you’re both in so he’d keep you at least within arms reach of him if it’s just a regular kind of day

✬ And he’d also do that thing where if he wants you to move, he’ll grab your waist and either shift you to where he wants you to do, or he’ll do that just to pass behind you

✬ And he a quiet person so instead of using many words, he just stares and expects you to know what he’s thinking

✬ If a situation arises where you’re doing something that he thinks you shouldn’t be doing, he’ll simply clear his throat and stare and he knows you should know what he’s thinking

✬ also this man has no filter whatsoever, so if you’re talking, it doesn’t even have to be to him, you could be taking to his dad or something and he’ll just blurt out some of the most insane stuff in either Spanish or English

✬ (like he did to that girl when he called her fine)

✬ like if you say “im so hot” on a day when it’s scorching outside he’d def say stuff like “I definitely agree” or some shit like that just to embarrass you

✬ He’d also stare at your lips while you’re talking to him, especially if you’re mad at him

✬ and openly stare at your body too

[ON CASES || MISSIONS]

✬ you don’t even have to be in a relationship for this one but just watching him fight

✬ Each movement of his is so effortless and he just looks good each and every time

✬ He’d also probably see you staring and raise an eyebrow at you and tell you to pay attention

✬ would tease you on missions definitely

✬ especially if it’s a mission together

✬ only a bit tho cause he’s very focused on missions

✬ makes you be his backpack on his motorcycle

✬ he’d adjust your hand to where he wants it when riding the motorcycle

✬ drives it with one hand and occasionally taps at your leg with the other

✬ and if he has time, he’ll teach you to fight like he does

[IN PRIVATE]

✬ in private he’s definitely an attitude fixer

✬ if you do something to piss him off he’ll probably just stop talking all together until you apologize

✬ when that happens tho he furrows and raises his eyebrows a lot while clenching his jaw as a way to not get too annoyed with you

✬ curses in Spanish a lottttt

✬ and when you’re being bratty or rude to him, he’ll literally grab you by the neck and bring you real close to his face then say in your ear “arregla tu actitud antes de que yo la arregle por ti..” (fix your attitude before i fix it for you..)

✬ ofc he’d do that in public too

✬ I feel like he’d be a bit clingy when alone because he doesn’t like pda, so he waits until it’s private and will literally grab all over you

✬ he cooks shirtless (idc it’s true and yes he can cook🤚🏽)

✬ has told you the most mundane every day things in the sexiest voice ever

✬whistles when you walk in a room

✬ and slaps your butt regularly (sue me ik he does🤚🏽)

✬if you’re sleeping in the same bed there’s only two places he’ll sleep, on your butt or on your stomach (no in between 🤷🏽‍♀️)

✬ uses that same condescending voice on you to tell you what to do, when you’re wrong, or to stop acting up

eugh I love him sm🥹

[starryjoy]

All right, let's talk about it with proof.

Recently the transandrophobia tag has gone more and more into being reactionary and believing that the enemy is indeed trans women.

I would appreciate for everyone to look at this and understand how absolutely not okay these things are.

How these things mirror the same exclusionary and separatist rethoric that created (trans) radical feminism in the first place.

No, not "all non-transmascs" hate transmascs. That's separationism. No, saying you love transfems as a little tag doesn't work if your post specifically picks exclusively trans women to say that we're causing every problem. No, calling trans women who are rude to you bitches or cunts or whatever other slur or insult will not make any situation better. No, telling trans women to shut up does in fact not mean you love them. And finally yes, goddamnit, we fucking need each other! Trans women need trans men and trans men need trans women and we all need nonbinary and intersex people and they all need us!!!

So yeah. I would like for everyone in the transandrophobia tag to be careful about we say and do and what voices we decide to reblog and boost. Because these behaviors? They are not okay.

And before anyone comes to tell me "I told you so", every single transmasc I've shown these things in isolations to has agreed that they were gross. Maybe some of these posts have been reblogged because the rest of the text had some insight that was actually important. But the fact still remains, this is not okay.

We need trans unity, now more than ever.

[thekeeperof-thefandoms]

My girlfriend requested this

Hazbin men trying the period simulator. Somewhat of a follow up to my period post so this is based on the reader having severe period pain due to PCOS/ENDO

Lucifer

The man is sweating before you even attach the simulator. He knows he fucked up. He only agreed to this because he loves you a lot.

He handles the first 3 levels ok. You tell him very few women experience that little pain and that usually 4-6 is the average.

Those levels make him tense. He's uncomfortable, but still pretty able to work and do normal things. 5 has him pausing to do deep breaths every now and then. (If this is the canon timeline where he birthed Charlie he compares it to bad kicks).

6-8 he's pretty much doubled over. If you tell him that's the level you experience, he will cry. Literally begs forgiveness since again, period and labor pain is technically his fault. He is so sorry. If he didn't have issues with his Dad before he does now because this is fucked up. God's fucked up for doing this.

He doesn't make it to 10, he's crying by level 9. This is labor levels of pain. He gets why all you do is sleep. Treats your period like a sacred ritual after that. Preps for weeks. He goes full Bible, sheltering you for the duration of it so you can have peace and quiet. Please never hook him up to this again.

If you wear it at anything from an 8-10 and tell him "It's close, but I've hurt worse" he's gonna sob and then try and fight his Old Man again. He'll settle for offering to have your bits removed for you.

Vox

Once again this man hates admitting he was wrong. And yeah he knows your periods are really bad, especially now he's witnessed it. But it's still a huge knowledge gap for him and he doesn’t really take the time to think about it.

He handles 1-5 well. He's mildly uncomfortable by 5, but thinks that if this is the average experience, then it's not such a big deal. Tell him the statistics on how many people with periods actually experience 6-8 because that's actually the majority, and he's just confused. How is the average pain level not the most common?

6-8 has him gritting his teeth and glitching, but he refuses to stop and keeps trying to work. Is starting to wonder how you went so long working with this level of pain without him noticing.

He makes it to 10, but by then, he's unable to move, clutching his abdomen and sparking and glitching. Tells you it feels like his entire insides are being squeezed. The fact that he can feel it in his groin. He's kind of afraid of period sex with you after that because of how much he felt it. And you said it's caused cramps from your ribs to your knees. He's like... genuinely scared of your period and pain tolerance.

He's going to snuggle the fuck out of you afterwards and apologize for not appreciating how much you still do for him when you're not feeling good. How he didn't see how hurt you were. He does a lot of research after that and not only does he spoil you by buying whatever you need for your periods and giving you time off, he looks into treatment options. Even if that means chopping the useless fucking things out. Sinners can't have kids anyway so who needs ovaries and a uterus?

He's more convinced you should just be rid of the damn things when you wear it and 8-10 is "Yeah, this is close, but it doesn't really cover how much of my body hurts".

Valentino

Is only doing this because he was dared to by Velvette. Or if this an au where he's trying to be a less toxic person. But really I think it's also to prove that you're all being dramatic. It's a perfectly normal body function and his employees are just trying to get out of work.

He gets all the way to 6 before he starts to realize he may have fucked up. Especially when it's explained that this is what most people experience.

By 10 he's gritting his teeth, chain smoking, clawing at things. He refuses to give in, but he can count on one hand the number of things in his entire life and death as a pimp and a whore that he's experienced that come close to this level of pain.

No one told him his dick was gonna hurt. Sitting hurts. Breathing hurts. He doesn't even try to eat. He won't ever admit to being wrong, but he does behave more leniently with his actors when they're on their periods.

If you put it on (and lets say he actually cares about you) and setting 8-10 is "Yeah, this an average day for my cramps. My bad days are like..5 or 6 levels worse" it's gonna rearrange his brain a little. He might be a little afraid of you and some of the other actors with periods because your pain tolerances are so high. It threatens his ability to control you and them. But on the other hand, that's kinda hot???

Alastor

Has never once doubted that people who experience periods undergo serious struggle and has nothing but respect for women (and trans people he just associates it with women more because of the time period and his mama) who work through it.

He is actually the one who heard about the simulator through Rosie and asks you to show him your experience. Just to better understand you. He knows you're the type to try and function through the pain (probably because society ingrained into you that your pain doesn't matter).

Initially, he wants to skip the lower levels and just have you set it to your pain level. You tell him that's a bad idea, and to be honest, you're not sure if this thing goes that high. He asks you to check and you set it to the highest setting and say, "It's pretty close. It's been worse, but this is a rough idea," he's a little frustrated but still tries it.

You agree to set it to 4 and tell him 4-6 is what most people report feeling. He acknowledges it, registers it as unpleasant, but otherwise is fully capable.

7-9 has his ears flat, his smile is more a snarl. This is uncomfortable. Not what he considers painful but certainly irritating. It makes sitting, stretching, and eating feel much more difficult.

10. There's static visble around him. His teeth grind. Actually painful. Not the worst pain he's experienced, but he hates it. He hates the way he feels it in his back and hips as he walks. He hates the way taking deep breaths (which for someone as dramatic as he is and with the transatlantic accent, breathing technique and posture is important) stings. He hates the way it causes his stomach to cramp and churn. He hates the ache in his thighs and groin that make sitting feel stiff and ackward. He can only picture how blood loss would make this worse. Tired, losing nutrients, the headaches, the increased moodiness. It's no wonder you sleep, so much, but he wonders how the Hell you sleep like this? He's snappy and short tempered because of the pain (and again he gets why you would be if you weren't sleeping so much).

How does this affect how he treats you?

Not much. He still expects you to know your body and your limits. He would never dare to presume otherwise. He still helps prepare whatever you need for your time of the month and still meal plans for you, though he perhaps finds ways to ensure you get all the iron and vitamins you need without cooking steak and other big, heavy meals, since he now understands how bad your stomach hurts.

The only really noticeable change is how much more protective of you he is. Your time of the month hits, and Alastor hates being more than a few moments from you. He growls, pins his ears, and his antlers grow when people get too close to you. He's more prone to letting you snuggle with him when you want, trying to comfort you.

Angel Dust

Another who volunteered. His girl besties insist he doesn't have to do this, he's got the pass. He still wants to do it though, for solidarity.

He also starts on 4 and handles it well. He handles all of the levels pretty well, even 10. By 7 it's obvious he's sore, maybe a bit more withdrawn, exhausted, trying not to move too much or eat too much. Just trying to find a comfortable way to exist. The sad problem is, Angel already has to do this after rough nights at Val's.

He's used to sitting being uncomfortable and aches in his groin and thighs, cramps in his stomach from muscles clenching constantly. 10 is the only level where he's visibly ill, hunched over, lower arms curled around his midsection protectively.

He and the girlies all curl up together and nap and chat and snack on easy to digest junk food and granola bars. He's the first one to say "I bet it's even worse for you gals, but I tried".

He gets it. He's one of the girls. Honestly, kind of becomes a favorite when the ladies have period problems. (If you're dating any of the others and Angel is openly your favorite after this it is gonna cause a lot of dramatic pouting, posturing, and tantrum throwing.)

Husk

I'm going full balls to the wall on Veteran Husk. This man has seen some shit and dealt with his fair share of pain. Like Angel he takes it the best, with very little outward reaction. He's used to stiffness and nausea. The pain in his crotch is a little off putting, but it could be worse.

He's more cautious how he moves, rests more, occasionally a cramp causes his ears to pin back or a small hiss. Overall he takes it like a champ.

Offers you endless amounts of supportive words for dealing with this as well as you do, for days on end. Also is deeply sorry you even have to put up with this shit. Offers all sorts of tips on how to do stretches that help with easing cramps and stiffness without pulling something. Tips of foods/protein drinks to keep on hand to make sure you're maximizing how much nutrition you get. Man's a whole ass survival guide.

He only offers advice if you ask, though. He's not mansplaining how to handle your own body. He genuinely wants to help you, and that's the best way he knows how.

When you're on your period and just want something soft and warm he doesn't even bitch about it, he just settles on top of you and purrs, offers a massage, maybe offers a sly grin and a "no man left behind" joke as he helps you through these dark times.

BONUS:

ADAM

Would only do this if you challenged him, he has to prove his masculinity. He is definitely nervous as fuck though because he's seen yours. You and Lute already forced him to sit through a whole PowerPoint on women's anatomy and shit. He remembers how shitty he was to Eve, even if hers were in comparison, not that bad, just scary and new.

You forcing him to learn about and acknowledge female health is making him scared of pussy. This isn't gonna help.

3 and 4 make him whiney. He's uncomfortable. His groin feels weird. This sucks. "WHAT DO YOU MEAN THIS ISN'T EVEN THE AVERAGE?!"

By 5-7 he's actually on his knees, curled over his stomach. He tells you getting stabbed hurt less. This is making him re-evaluate his entire view on women (again he knows about trans people, but because of personal history equates periods to women. Wouldn't hate if a trans person had a period, it would just take his brain a second to process). He whines that you and Lute shouldn't be more badass than him.

"I thought men were supposed to be tougher and stronger. This pain tolerance horseshit is a lie. You guys suck."

He insists on going to 10 because quitting is for losers. He may actually throw up at 10 though. Every time the stupid simulators sends out a pulse and his stomach clenches, he groans. He's in the featal position, there are tears. One hand clenches his stomach the other is cupped around his groin. He's apologizing so much and he doesn't even remember what he's apologizing for. At one point its just "I'm sorry...oh fuck this...sorry about...ugh just...just men?! I guess. Fucking shit ass. Men suck. Women are...fucking great. Aces. You do this shit every month? For like 5 days....what the fuck. What the fuck what the fuck."

You feel a little bad, but Lute is definitely filming this. Afterwards, he tells you you're a badass and any person shit talking people for bitching about period pain (Not that a lot of Winners do, but ya know, obviously they let some questionable people into Heaven if Adam and Lute got by) he's gonna beat the shit out of them. Like "Do you even fucking know, bitch? They're literally so much fucking better than you. Absolute queens. You try doing literally anything when it feels like your dick is falling off and your insides are trying to claw outside your body!"

[meelusinee]

WALKING IN A WINTER WONDERLAND 𖥔 M.R X READER

in which you spend christmas with mattheo and his friends (part two to lovesick!mattheo)

THIRD PART HERE - dancing in the rain ep

pairing: lovesick!mattheo riddle x reader tags: lovesick mattheo, fem reader, early christmas post i think? word count: 1.8k warnings: just fluff!

author's note: THIS IS PART TWO TO LOVESICK MATTHEO, if you want to read part one click here - now listen people, i know it’s not really christmas time BUT a lot of you guys really liked my first mattheo post, and i really really wanna write about him again. and what better way to be in love then cuddles at the fireplace??? therefore, the obvious solution is to have a christmas special!

WALKING IN A WINTER WONDERLAND | M.R X READER

It had been a long while since you and Mattheo had gotten together, a relationship full of notes and songs dedicated to you. You tried to keep everything you could in a small box, the widest smile on Mattheo’s face coming out when he saw the box for the first time.

Suffice to say that his appreciative kisses and cuddles kept you rather warm that night.

Over the course of your relationship, you had met Mattheo’s friends as well. It started indirectly, whenever they would barge into his dorm room and find you both cuddling. 

Theodore was the one you talked to the most. He was Mattheo’s best friend, and often teased him quite a bit about how much he loved you. Theo was the one who told you about the love letters that Mattheo made in the first place, which you shall forever be grateful for. 

Blaise and Draco were the friends that you often went to if you wanted to get on a cruise ship the next week, or whenever you wanted the best wine seller for a Slytherin party that weekend. And Enzo or Pansy were the friends you’d go to if you wanted all of that done illegally.

All in all, a rather good friend group.

Which led you to where you were going right now. A legal holiday adventure hosted by Draco at one of his vacation houses somewhere in the world. Mattheo and you decided to spend some time together driving to the place, which eventually led to Theo coming along. Theo invited Blaise to smoke with him. Blaise invited Draco to pay for road trip snacks. Draco invited Pansy because they were dating. And Pansy invited Enzo for reasons you still hadn’t been told yet.

That meant you had to take your family van.

You and Mattheo sat in the front, with Theo, Ezo  and Blaise in the middle. Pansy and Draco sat in the backseats, dining in on the couple time that you and Mattheo had been robbed of. Still, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Are we there yet?” Enzo whined, head leaning forward.

Maybe one change or two.

“No, we’re not.” Mattheo said, sighing softly as he continued driving forward. “I told you this five minutes ago.”

“Maybe the path changed within five minutes!” Enzo said to him. 

“Yeah, five minutes closer. Not an hour!” you said, chuckling softly as you squeezed Mattheo’s hand. 

“You two are mean.” Enzo pouted, turning to look at Blaise. “Right Blaise?”

“It’s deserved.” he said, flipping through the pages of his book. He recently got reading glasses that Draco and Enzo had teased him endlessly for. “Ow!”

“No kicking!” Pansy said, swatting Enzo’s head from the backseat.

“I say go full-in.” Theo said, which ensued an argument about the ethics of kicking someone whenever they don’t agree with your opinion. You and Mattheo turned to look at each other with soft sighs, similar to parents dealing with toddlers going to Disneyland.

“Can you all hush back there?” you said, the tiniest smirk present on your face as you started at Mattheo. “Your father is trying to drive, hey don’t hit me!”

“Hush.” he said, gently booping your nose.

“Are we there now?” Enzo asked as Mattheo pulled into the parking lot, gasping loudly at the sight of the cabin. “Woah.”

It was decorated to the most Christmas extent you could think of. Bushes covered in lights, icicle lights hanging from the roof, wreaths placed all over the place. There were bells on top of the mailbox that chimed when you passed by it, and a large and bright star at the tippy top of the roof. If you didn’t know where you were, you’d think you walked into a Christmas market hosted by Santa.

The seven of you walked out of the car, Draco walking through first as he inspected the house.

“My mother has a knack for Christmas,” he muttered, his feet making a rather large imprint in the snow. “I didn't think it was this big though.” 

“I bet the Christmas tree is so pretty.” Pansy squealed, running to the front door. “Open it!”

“Give me a moment, Pans!” he said, trying to figure out which key opened the front door from the ring his mother had given him. You and Mattheo stayed behind while the rest of them rushed forward, watching them rush inside once Draco got it open.

“It looks rather magical.” you whispered, giggling as a small snowflake fell on your nose.

“It really does.” Mattheo whispered softly, his eyes glued on you as he spoke. “The most magical thing I’ve ever seen.” 

“You’re so sappy.” you smiled.

Mattheo chuckled softly, his arms wrapping around you. There were two puffer jackets separating your skin from his, but you wouldn’t trade this moment for the world. “We should go on a walk.”

“We should!” you said, your boots making an indent on the snow as you both walked down the path. 

The path was even more magical than the house itself, you noticed, with Christmas trees lining the whole way down. It seemed that all of the trees within the field were swaddled in Christmas lights. Some were regular, some were colored, and others had ornaments or lights at the tip of them.

“This really is beautiful.” you whispered, gasping at the string lights and small candles that gently flew between the trees. How they didn’t get put out by the snow, you had no idea. “Wow.”

“You’re beautiful.” he whispered, chuckling softly as he kissed your forehead. “I haven’t been able to keep my eyes off you this whole time.” 

“Well, you better start.” you pouted, turning to him. “The trees are really pretty.”

Mattheo nodded, laughing as you grabbed his chin to direct him where to look. His eyes took in the snowed over area first, the lights on the trees after that. There was red, green, and blue lights bouncing together, along with the regularly colored lights that shined bright on the glittery ornaments.

“They are rather pretty, yes.” he whispered. “Though I feel like it’s quite a lot of color rather than just one.” 

“What really is Christmas if not to turn you blind with bright lights?” you asked, smiling as the both of you walked further down the path. 

“Okay everyone, gather around!” Mattheo said, a bass guitar in hand. The night was rising as the sun was setting, the firepit that Blaise and Enzo had made cracking through the burning wood.

“What are we doing?” Pansy asked, sitting down on one of the wooden logs. Mattheo sat down next to you as Draco sat down next to Pansy. Theo sat next to Mattheo purely to annoy him, while Blaise and Enzo sat on the other log.

“We’re going to sing the Jingle Bell Rock.” Mattheo said, setting the bass guitar on his knees as he began testing it. “Found this in the attic.”

“What on Earth are you doing in my attic?” Draco asked, a cup of wine in his hands.

“Hey, it was open!” Theo said, having assisted with the raid of the Christmas attic. “And we found a bunch of very interesting things.”

“Like what?” Enzo leaned forward with a smirk, before Blaise whacked him in the head. “Ow!”

“They’re just messing with Draco.” Blaise said. “There was only old cobwebs and his parents’ Hogwarts uniforms, nothing scandalous.”

“A shame though.” Theo muttered, lighting a joint before turning to Mattheo. “You gonna play?”

“Yup.” Mattheo said, his fingers running against the strings as he played the opening to the Jingle Bell Rock. 

You and Pansy giggled as the boys all joined together to sing the song, all completely out of tune. Pansy shared a glance with you as you both began to sing the back up vocals, all of you swaying in tune with the music. 

You went from the Jingle Bell Rock to Rockin Around the Christmas Tree. Mattheo and you sang Baby it’s Cold Outside while Theo and Enzo gagged, and Draco dramatically sang Frosty the Snowman with tears in his eyes. Enzo stood up dramatically, pausing the guitar as he began to sing a song about a grandma being run over by a reindeer.

“Okay, that’s enough weed for you,” Draco said, sitting Enzo back down. “We are not running grandmas over with reindeer.”

“Says you!” Theo cackled, crossing his legs. “I for one find the idea rather pleasant.” 

“Pleasant?” Pansy asked incredulously, shaking her head as she very quickly snatched Theo’s joint out of his hand. “That’s it, we’re cutting you off too.”

“My joint!” Theo yipped.

“Mattheo?” you called out, poking your head out of the door as you saw him sitting by the firepit.

“Yeah?” he asked, head lifting at the sound of your voice. You felt your face heating up at the smile that spread on his face, feeling it enough to heat you better than any fire could. “Hi there my love.”

“Everyone’s inside making hot chocolate before they go to bed.” you whispered, walking closer to him. Your hands found their way to the sides of his face, kissing the tip of his nose before you sat down next to him on the log. “Do you want some?”

“No, I’m good.” he whispered, kissing your forehead before wrapping his arm around you.

“You sure?” you whispered, wrapping both of your arms around his waist. “You feel rather cold out here. Your face is all red.”

“That’s because I’m staring at a really pretty girl.” he chuckled softly, kissing your lips ever so gently.

You giggled softly, placing your head on his shoulder as you looked up at him with the cutest expression he could ever think of. For him, you felt like epitome of Christmas. “I love you.”

“I love you more.” you said, nuzzling your nose against his playfully.

“No, I love you more.” he smiled softly at you.

“Not true.” you pouted, kissing his nose. “Because I love you so much more.”

“Oh yeah?” he asked, chuckling softly. “Well I wrote you songs. So obviously, I love you more.”

“Yeah, well I saved them!” you pouted.

“You did save them.” he reasoned, nodding his head as he looked at the firepit. He put on a serious expression, pretending to truly ponder whether you loved him more or he loved you more. “Still think I love you more though.”

“That’s not fair.” you grumbled, burying your face against the crook of his neck. “It’s cold.”

“Why don’t we go inside then?” he asked gently, his fingertips caressing your shoulder. “You didn’t come out with your jacket, you must be freezing.”

“I am.” you whispered, standing up as he did. “Hot chocolate?”

Mattheo chuckled softly at your insistence, kissing your forehead once more before putting out the fire. “Anything for you.”

AUTHOR'S NOTE

ITS HEREEEEE!!! i wanted to do a second part for mattheo and i thought that i might as well do christmas-themed since it's already blasting on the radio. i'm tryingggg to heal my christmas spirit that i have lost over the years, esp because i always thought it was just about that one mariah carey song since my sister would play it every. single. day. even during my birthday (i was born in june.)

BUT, as always, please like, comment, and reblog! it really helps out, and i really appreciate everyone who does! if you guys have any requests or something you can request in the ask box!

have a good day everyone!

[merlucide]

COUPLE COSTUMES W/ BLLK BOYS!

notes: ITS HALLOWEEN!! yippee!! Trying out a different style ig so??

characters: Shidou, Bachira, Isagi, Reo, Sendou, Rin, Aiku

warnings: fem!reader, can be read as Gn! Tho:) flirting in aiku’s! light cursing

SHIDOU RYUSEI 

angel + devil

Can’t go wrong with this classic! Ryusei is the one who suggested this costume, saying “Babe you’ve already got the horns sooo,” you smacked him for that. Though you did wear the devil costume while he went as the angel. Which it was a bit funny because it’s the total opposite of you two. You both ran around in the dark crowded streets, without a care in the world. Iconic, I fear.

BACHIRA MEGURU

Stitch + Angel (Lilo + Stitch)

Bachira has ALWAYS dressed up for Halloween, in fact, skipping out would be a crime! He loves animated movies and Lilo + Stitch was like a comfort movie to him. You both ordered the onsies a size to big so you guys would be drowning in it. You guys got a couple strange looks while out trick-or-treating by some younger kids. One kid told you guys “You’re too old for trick-or-treating!” To which your stubborn boyfriend’s response was “Nuh uh!”They were just jealous that your costumes were better 😘

ISAGI YOICHI

Bo Peep + Woody (Toy Story)

He wasn’t really planning on dressing up, maybe going as men in black but that’s as creative Yoichi gets. So you obviously decided the costumes, which had his mom fawn at how cute you both were (thanks Mrs Isagi!). You looked all darlin’ in your big hoop skirt and bonnet, and Yoichi in his cow print vest and signature cowboy hat. For pictures, he was stiff as a board—but we still love him!

MIKAGE REO

Victor + Emily (Corpse Bride)

Now Reo is 101% onboard for couple costumes. Are you kidding me?! It’s his DREAM.(ahem, following behind winning the World Cup and a few other things, but yk) And Reo, being the romantic that he is, adored the costume idea the second you suggested it! He stayed perfectly still while you applied some eyeliner and contoured his face, watching you with a soft blush. He is absolutely mesmerized at your costume, how you manage to pull of anything never fails to amaze him. Your friends and fans blew up social media with posts about how cute you looked, calling it “couple goals!”

SENDOU SHUTO

Wanda + Cosmo (Fairly OddParents)

Now, Sendou was against the idea, saying “…yeah that’s.. neat… but I’d look cooler as like a knight yk?”. To which you retorted with how it’s perfect for the two of you! So, a few fairly oddparents episodes later, and a bit of buttering him up, he agreed. And he ended up loving it! Feels a bit embarrassed about the fairy wings n all, but anything for his baby!

ITOSHI RIN

Robin + Starfire (DC titians)

The second you said “Couple Costume” Rin immediately shut you down. He loves you, really he does—just maybe not enough to torture himself in a cheesy Spirit Halloween costume. Oh… shit- well, maybe he does… He caved in but refused, REFUSED to wear the Teen Titans version, only the Nightwing one. He needs to look cool at least okay?? Thinks you look real pretty in your costume, maybe he’ll tell you, maybe he won’t. 🤭

OLIVER AIKU

Cat + Mouse

Yes it’s basic, but it’s cute, okay? Or it just works with the dynamic.. shh! The costume was his idea, if you couldn’t have figured it out. He had other ideas, that were, um, less appropriate. sir this is a Halloween party, not the strip club. He calls you his “little mouse” all night, along with plenty of lewd n’ crude, flirty remarks designed to get you flustered. But oh, how the tables turn when you make a bold, sneaky move to catch him off guard. Now you can smirk and say, “What? Cat got your tongue?”

FEEDBACK ALWAYS APPRECIATED!!

made October 31st 2024

[patricia-taxxon]

Sorry people are being hostile in the notes of your recent AI post! Your points are really interesting and I hadn't thought about it like that (referencing the "..."it's theft" isn't a good argument when much of the greatest art to ever be made is also largely theft" part)

I agree with what you're saying about theft/ creative use of someone else's stuff (or even un-creative use of someone else's stuff, looking at John Williams fully ripping off Holst in the imperial march)

But something about generative AI still rubs me the wrong way though (re: taking people's work), and your comparison has made me question more specifically what it is that I'm uncomfortable with. I think it's the lack of intentionality behind the theft? Coming at this as a composer, if someone stole like, a melody I wrote, I would be happy that they had thoughts & ideas about the thing I made & interested to see what they did with it. I think the thing about generative AI that I don't like (on a personal level) is the lack of intentionality, like, both not knowing if my work had been fed into the training data + if someone rips me off it wouldn't be a choice they made specifically, but just a thing that mysteriously happened.

Idk if I'm making much sense, I'm not really engaged with the online discourse about generative AI because (from the bits and pieces that I've seen) it's a lot of people getting really angry and shouting the same x5 things at each other, rather than like, a discussion.

Anyway sorry for rambling, I appreciate your perspective! hope you have a good day! ♪ヽ(´▽｀)/

Yeah, this is mostly where I'm at as well. Even purely secular people tend to invoke the concept of a "soul" when talking about "AI" art, and I'm pretty sure this is what they mean. Soul as in aggregate experience, perception, taste. People want copying in art to communicate something, they want to consider another human's notions of beauty and ugliness. That's why I describe it as modernist, it extricates taste. It copies accidentally with no bridge to the source, not even an implied one. I compare it to generative art a lot, but even that doesn't really reach the level of randomness and diversity of output as these image synthesis engines do. Morton Feldman's pieces still exist within the formal framework of orchestra, after all.

[mockerycrow]

UNDER THE SURFACE (Ghost x GN!Reader)

ghost masterlist — ghost icon by @yumethefrostypanda concept post here!

authors note; this is not my best work tbh, i wish i could improve it somehow, but i’m hoping you guys will like it anyway. Pretty sure this is my longest singular post, too! 4.7k words :-)

[WARNINGS: angst, spiraling thoughts, near panic attack, hurt/comfort, inaccurate medical stuff, vague descriptions of physical violence, very brief mention of possible self harm.]

YOU WERE USED to Simon being gone for long periods of time; you have been his roommate for two years now, nearly three. You know he’s military, it’s part of the reason why you were able to score being his roommate in the first place. At first, it was a very awkward arrangement. Simon himself wasn’t a very awkward person, no—he’s actually quite charismatic in his own way, a way that you could get along with. One of the reasons why the arrangement was strange at first was because you weren’t exactly able to get a one on one tour of the flat before agreeing, but you were a bit more trusting of this mysterious man because a mutual friend—Kate—sent you his contact information, considering you were looking for a new place to live since your lease was up.

Simon’s flat was void of any personality, really. Yes, you could tell by the way he organized everything that he had been in the military, probably for quite a while—but there weren’t any photos. No gaming systems; you discovered he did have a bookcase of quite a few books, but it was covered in a layer of dust. Despite this, when examining the books he owned, you could tell they were worn down—definitely loved. It made you smile a bit, seeing the different variety of books. A bit of personality, you think. Besides his room, it was like a completely furnished, no personality flat. You weren’t allowed in his room, not unless he gave you explicit permission, which you honored his boundaries. Simon was kind enough to offer you a space in his home—but you know he was quite weary of you, which was understandable. He helped you move in and you could tell he was watching you and your body language. Searching you for danger—but he slowly warmed up to you.

Another thing that you discovered that Simon was quite emotionally.. constipated. Over the first few months, you could tell he didn’t sleep as much as he probably should. He was always awake before you, and you would always find him in the kitchen, sipping on a hot cup of tea. After a few weeks of this routine—Simon rising much earlier than you, you figured maybe he couldn’t break the military’s strict routines.. Until one night you woke up from the sound of his heavy footsteps walking down the hall. You tensed in your bed and you sat up because Simon was silent as a ghost all the time. You didn’t even know if it was him at first, so in your half-asleep panicked state, you felt for your phone and you texted Simon’s contact, asking a messily texted “is that you walking around?” You blink your sleepiness away and wipe your eye as your phone vibrates with a “yeah. sorry.”

That was the first time you got some notion that Simon was thrown off guard from something, after another week of awakening from his noises, you began to realize that he was experiencing night terrors every couple of nights. His nightmares were never a thing you two discussed, exactly.. It was more of an unspoken rule to not talk about it. You would occasionally find yourself in the kitchen around the time you calculated when Simon would wake up—and you were right nearly every time—and you just.. coincidentally made him a cup of tea. To Simon’s pleasant surprise, you managed to get his tea right every single time. You’ve had your fair share of night terrors, so you knew how it could be sometimes. You wanted to do something nice for him, and he seemed flustered every time.

It took you a while to get used to him being gone for long periods of time. Simon appreciated that you never questioned too deeply into his career, even the times he would come home sporting a new injury, you were always willing to play doctor for him. Simon saw the concern in your eyes and sometimes he would share small stories of what happened, or maybe to get you to stop thinking about his injuries, a small story about his teammates. You slowly learned their names over the course of a year and a half, and you learned Simon’s rank as well. He is a lieutenant, and there’s a man called Captain Price, another man named Sergeant Kyle Garrick, and one more man named Sergeant John MacTavish, who Simon referred to as “Johnny” fondly.

It wasn’t common that Simon talked about work, which is the reason why it took about a year and a half to even get the information you did out of him. Over the time you’ve lived with him, you had decorated the flat to feel more comfortable and home-y. Simon only had a few requests, which you honored, and one of them was no pictures of him with his face showing. You shot him a curious and questioning look, but as always—you didn’t question him, and he was very thankful. You had gotten a few indoor plants as well that didn’t need much caring for and you wanted to liven up the place, y’know? You were okay with Simon not sharing much about his past or his work, because he was willing to listen to your little rambles about your interests and work. You were a bit hesitant, but Simon was very emotive and he never seemed annoyed or brushed you off.

Despite Simon’s reluctance to share anything of his own, he always heard you out if you needed to vent about something. He made sure you knew you could talk to him, even on days where you felt like you had no one to go to. You spent an entire night with him, just talking about anything and everything. It was the first real conversation you felt like you have had with anyone in such a long time. It was also the first night Simon really saw you. He watched as your eyebrows furrowed from uncomfortableness, the vulnerability being nearly too much to handle; something he could relate to on a personal level. So when you started showing these signs, he knew exactly when to change the subject. Simon quickly realized how to read you, and he somehow knew what you needed at different moments.

Simon flies into the airport late at night with a small duffel bag, tagged as a military bag. He sends you a quick “be home soon.” text. Simon doesn’t expect you to answer due to it being around 3 in the morning, and you indeed don’t answer him. He catches a taxi to your shared flat. Simon collects his things from the taxi before paying the driver and sending them off, and Simon lets out a slow breath as he takes in the achingly familiar sight of the place he lives in. He tugs the hood that remains sitting over his head closer to his face, which is covered by a black surgical mask. His hand tightens on the straps of the duffel bag before he approaches the flat building, taking out his keys as he approaches the elevator. Once Simon reaches the third floor, he wastes no time getting to the front door, and he isn’t sure why, but his heart is pounding inside of his chest.

Simon unlocks both the top lock and the doorknob to enter the flat—something he had taught you to do every single time. He pockets his keys as he enters and Simon pauses for a moment because he can’t put his finger on it, but something feels off the second he glanced inside. His eyes trail the living room which is clean, not one thing out of place. Simon takes a deep breath and he doesn’t brush off the weird feeling, because even when there’s no evidence something happened—he’s usually right. The blanket on the couch is perfectly folded and laid over the back cushions, the mini bookcase by the TV is dusted as always, your shoes.. Are not by the front door, but a different pair are..? These either are not your shoes, or they are new. You always warned Simon about bringing people over, and you definitely would’ve told him this time. The lamp is on in the living room, but it seems the lights are out everywhere else. Simon silently goes through his routine when he gets back late at night—taking his jacket off and hanging it up, he leaves his boots by the door, and he drops his keys into the dish.

Next step to his routine is to step into the kitchen and get a cup of actually good quality tea, unlike the shit the military provides him. He fills up the electric kettle and sets a timer on it, grabbing his favorite mug and the box of his favorite tea from the cabinets. Simon glances down the dark hall—he’s seeking for a sign of life from you because you’re usually getting up around this time to greet him. No matter what, you always seem to know when he returns—yet you aren’t leaving your room. There’s no light emitting from the hall nor underneath the doors, and fuck, it’s eating at him. Something is wrong—and what the fuck is it? Simon stands there for a moment, turning his head to watch the blue light blinking on the electric kettle. He watches it blink slowly as he tries to rack his brain for what could be wrong—maybe those shoes are someone else’s, but he could just have a stern conversation with you about it later. Maybe you came back from drinking with friends—no, if that was the case, he knows for a fact your belongings would be everywhere, maybe even a spilled glass of water in the kitchen. He’s had to clean that up a couple of times.

He raises his wrist and pulls up his sleeve a bit to look at his digital watch; it’s nearly 0400 now. Simon puts his hands on the counter, leaning his body weight against it. Did something happen at work, maybe that’s why it feels off? You’ve always had a commanding presence like he has, so maybe— “Fuck.” Simon hisses quietly, hooking a finger into the strap of his black face mask and he rips it off, tossing it without care onto the counter. He leans forward and checks the kettles timer for a second, and then he’s walking towards the hall. Simon passes by his room and he walks up to yours, and he tries to turn the doorknob to peak in to check on you, but—it’s locked? Simon lets out a harsh breath before trying the door again, and yeah, it’s locked. Simon swears under his breath and he knocks on the door, his stomach twisting and turning. Something is wrong, very very wrong, very fucking wrong—

You unlock the door and you open it just enough for you to peak out, and you use your phone flashlight to shine it in Simon’s face. He squints and puts his hand up, his voice rumbling in his chest. “Hey—you locked your door.” He points out quietly, and you’re just staring at him, your eyes wide and alert. Simon’s anxiety lessens, but your reaction doesn’t make it go away. “Y’alright?” Simon drawls out, his hand on the wood panel of the door. You let out a harsh breath and you let go of your phone, letting out a quiet, “Simon..” before you suddenly pull your door completely open, and you wrap your arms around his thick torso into a hug. Simon swears his heart jumps into his throat and then into his stomach, bouncing back into his chest because you hugged him. You two were never particularly touchy like that, maybe a fleeting touch here or two, usual drunken affection from you—but you barely ever hugged him like this, even when he returned from deployments. Your touch burns hot through his clothes, and he knows you wouldn’t touch him without asking, so when you do? He wraps an arm around you, his free arm resting on your shoulder. “Hey..” Simon breathes out, lost for words.

You don’t hold on long enough for the uncomfortable worry to creep up his spine just yet. You rip yourself away from him like he burned you, his hands falling to his sides. You offer a tight, weak smile—one that you could easily play off as a sign of fatigue. Simon’s breath stutters as he watches your hands linger near your chest in a subconscious defensive gesture, your fingers closing into a fist for a moment; as if you’re uncomfortable, almost overstimulated. Simon feels the way for the light switch and he flips it on, and your room looks normal—but you look.. off. You look a bit clammy, almost like you’re sick or bouncing off the walls with anxiety. His eyes flick to your fingers and the skin besides your thumbnail and your middle finger are picked to all hell, and you just.. don’t seem right. All of these.. signs, you’re showing are actually very subtle—he just notices everything about you. Simon knows what food you favor, what your favorite color is, what social situations what you tick, what makes you mad—he knows it all. “Three months went by slow,” You murmur, trying to start a conversation. Simon’s eyes narrow at you for a moment as he watches you back up to your bed; no, you don’t turn around, you back up. You don’t turn your back to Simon at all. Fuck. He watches you lift your mattress, causing him to lift an eyebrow. “They did,” Simon confirms. “What happened while I was gone?”

This wasn’t an unusual question for Simon to ask; but it had a completely different meaning to you this time. You feel your muscles tense as you grab something from under your mattress, and you put it back down. It glints from the overhead light in your bedroom—a.. pocket knife of some sort, a switchblade perhaps. Simon’s eyes narrow at how you pocket it oh so quickly into your pocket. “Nothing much,” You reply quickly, smoothing out your shirt. “Same old same old, work has been fine, uh..” You trail off for a moment, clearing your throat. “Look, let me take a shower—I’m sure you’re itching for something to eat, huh?” Simon watches you open your drawers and pick out some pants and a shirt. The knife comes to mind—why are you taking it with you? “I can make it myself.” Simon responds, his feet planted firmly where he had been standing the whole time. You shake your head and close the drawers once you collect your clothes.

“It’s tradition, Simon. I gotta.” You offer a stronger smile as you make your way towards the door, still avoiding showing your back towards him. Simon watches as you glance at your bedroom window before exiting your room, muttering a quiet “close the door when you leave”, which Simon obeys. He shuts the door with a click, and he watches you quickly scurry down the hall towards the bathroom. “Just let me shower first.” And with that, you step into the bathroom, close the door and you lock it before Simon can interject. He stands there for a moment, stunned. His chest tightens for a moment because you just felt so far away. You’ve created such unwanted distance—even as you’re not very touchy with him, you still bother him for every detail he’s willing to give up when he returns. You are constantly making jokes, inviting him into the kitchen when you’re about to make a welcome home meal—but this time? You were hiding in your room, locking your door, bringing a knife with you—in front of him. Did you think that could slip past him? Did something happen whilst he was gone, to cause you to bring it with you? Is it for self defense against something or someone?— Is it to use on yourself?

Simon feels his stomach turn at his thoughts. He shakes his head and sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. He walks past the bathroom, his footsteps stuttering for a moment in front of the door before he presses his lips into a thin line, returning to the kitchen to make himself some tea, the electric kettle had beeped long ago.

The next late morning, not much was different. Simon only slept a few hours, three or four—as per usual, he still woke up before you. He threw on a pair of sweatpants, and a black hoodie. He made his tea, made you a cup of what you prefer to drink in the morning, and he made a light breakfast for you both. Despite being in the military for a while and relying on cooks as well as MRE’s to get through his days, Simon is a decent cook. He made himself some sausage and fried eggs, and he made a plate or a bowl of what you prefer to eat in the morning. Simon sighs for a moment as he glances at the time—around 1100, and you still haven’t emerged from your room which is odd, especially now that Simon just came back home. He takes a moment to look at his food, and he decides then and there he will drag you out if he has to. Simon scoops up his plate as well as your food, and he heads down the hall towards your room. With his hands full, Simon balances for a second as he gently kicks the door as a way to knock, and then he stands on both of his feet again. “Oi, wake up!” Simon shouts, leaning close to the door to listen for your movement.

It takes a good minute and when Simon is about to knock again; he hears your doorknob unlock and you peak out the door, your eyes wide and alert again, although it’s obvious you had just woken up. You seem to relax when your tired mind’s gears turn and you realize it’s just Simon. You open your door wider and you rub your eye, and he spots the knife in your hand, partially obscured by the door. “Mm, sorry. I overslept.” You say, your voice heavy with sleep, vibrating in your chest. Simon makes a noncommittal noise before holding out your food, which you stare at for a moment you take it, your lips twitching into a weak smile. “Thanks, Simon.” He waits a few seconds, and you nearly shut your door on him.

Thanks, Simon. That’s all??

“Can I eat in your room wit’you?” Simon gruffs out, feeling sudden determination from this weird act you have going on. You blink for a moment and then you nod. “Just give me a sec.” You murmur. You shut the door in his face and he hears you shuffling about, moving something—sounds like your mattress. Are you putting your knife away??—and then you open your door, gesturing for Simon to walk into your room. Surely you don’t think you can hide this type of thing from him of all people, right? Why are you hiding it from him?

Simon enters your room, and you close the door behind him. You never used to do that—“What happened?” Simon stares at you for an answer, watching your face contort in a bit of confusion. You don’t say anything at first, and when you were about to open your mouth, Simon speaks. “I mean this in the nicest way possible—do ya take me f’a wanker?” Your jaw drops for a moment, your eyebrows furrowing. “What? No, of course not, Simon. Nothing happened, I’m not sure why—“

“Don’t,” Simon interrupts, putting his plate of food on your dresser. “Something has happened, and you’re lyin’ to me. You’re jumpy, you’re carryin’ a blood knife around, lovie—don’t think you can get that past me—and you won’t turn your back on me.” His lips press into a line as he watches your shoulder hunch up a bit, in an all too familiar defensive, tense position. The pit in Simon’s stomach begins to grow as you avert your eyes from, too. “You are barely talkin’ when you bloody damn near talk my ear off when I come home—you said, ‘Thanks, Simon.’ Not an over the top reaction about me doing something for th’both of’us, not a invite in, and last night—you’ve been locking your door.” You put your food down near yourself, and Simon catches the way your fingers are trembling. “I.. I’m allowed to lock my door, Simon. You don’t need to question me.” You say, attempting to hold a steady voice which barely works, your voice nearly cracking on the last word. Your heart is racing out of your chest and all you want to do is bolt at the door; which Simon catches on to. You watch him as he slowly begins to step in front of the door. “You tell me everything—even how your damn showers go. Why won’t you tell me this?” He demands, and his heart is pounding against his ribcage, too.

He watches your face contort into several different emotions and feelings; panic, sadness, anger, relief—the whole nine yards. Simon walks towards you when you begin to sob, and you sit down on your bed to avoid collapsing. His chest tightens as he murmurs name, wondering if he went too far. You reach your hands for him and not for one second does Simon hesitate this time. He wraps his arms around you, sitting right next to you on your mattress, your thighs touching together. He reaches up and rubs the nape of your neck as you openly sob and shutter into the crook of his neck and in his arms. His skin burns from your heat seeping into his clothes, a lively warmth that burns so hot but he welcomes so much more than he remembers that he used to. Your tears are hot, burning his skin with every drop that slides onto his neck, but he welcomes the sensation. “It’s alright, lovie. Let it out.” Simon murmurs, one of his arms tugging your body closer to his. He holds you in almost protective stance, like someone is threatening to drag you away from his grasp. You grab at the back of his hoodie, your chest beginning to heave. “Mm, no, c’mere; look at me, yeah?” Simon beckons you, his voice smooth and soft—which is extremely rare. Simon cups your cheek and lifts your head from where it rests in the crook of his neck, his hand instantly getting covered in the wetness of your tears that are streaming down your cheeks. You inhale sharply as you try to look at Simon, your eyes unfocused and you try so hard to focus on his pretty brown eyes, but you can’t seem to get ahold of yourself. You let out a panicked sob as your hand now tug on the front of his hoodie, and his voice is so far away, but his hand is molding to the curve of your jaw, like it belongs there.

You shut your eyes for a moment and you let Simon move you around as he wants, which he ends up guiding your head to his chest, and his grip loosens some so you don’t feel trapped. It takes you a moment to catch your breath, to catch your bearings; you can hear a faint ringing sound that you didn’t notice before, but you do note it’s slowly fading away, and in fades is Simon’s voice. He’s murmuring praises—and oh, he’s laying against the headboard of your bed frame now, with you laying on his chest. You feel yourself trembling against him, and embarrassment hits you hard. You’re tense—you don’t want to talk about any of it at all, but you know Simon. He will push you until you snap, even if it’s in your best interest to tell him. You reach up and play with a hoodie string of his, listening to his soft breathing. You hesitate for a moment before your lips part. “It was a week after you left.” Simon’s heart skips a beat, which you hear—you vaguely find it amusing, but he’s silent to allow you to continue. One of his hands is on your back, his thumb moving back and forth. “I..” You swallow spit so you don’t croak, as you’re convinced you might sound pathetic. As if Simon would ever think of you that way. “I was walking home from the pub, y’know, the one only just a few blocks away? It was late at night, I think the police said it was around 2 am. I stayed until closing, I was with some of my friends, uh..” You trail off for a moment, trying to recall everything that happened. Your hand pauses, and Simon senses your state. He begins to rub your back full on, murmuring, “It’s alright. Go on, then.”

You let out a shaky breath before continuing. “I was absolutely wasted, and there was this guy—grabbed me and I tried to get out of his hold, but he ended up fucking stabbing me. Robbed me of my shit.” Your voice cracks and the silence is deafening. Simon feels his heart drop into his stomach. You got stabbed? “Fuckin’ hell.. Why didn’t you call me? Or at least let me know?” Simon’s voice treats carefully, knowing that you’re still freaking out by the way you’re incredibly tense against him. “I know how important your focus is when you’re gone,” You respond, your voice staying quiet as well. You don’t look at Simon’s face because you know that you’ll break once again. You pick at the fabric of his hoodie, seeking comfort in his warmth, despite how you usually aren’t like this with him. “I didn’t want to take your focus because I know you, Simon. You would’ve backed out of whatever you were trying to do to come and help me.” Simon presses his lips into a thin line, staying quiet because you both know that you’re correct. Simon would drop everything to come home to you, to help you. “The guy nicked my lung, was in the hospital for a while.” Simon’s hand stutters for a moment, the smooth pattern of his palm rubbing your back being interrupted from shock. “Jesus—“ Simon hisses, and he can’t help but tug you closer. “You should’ve told me anyway, lovie.”

You sniffle and you rub your face into his hoodie, a muffled noncommittal noise coming from the back of your throat. He doesn’t say anything further, nor do you. Simon lays there with you on top of him, one of his hands caressing your back, the other wrapped around your body, sometimes coming up to rub the back of your neck. You don’t mention the way he doesn’t seem to tell you to move, and he doesn’t mention how touchy you’re being. Simon doesn’t want this moment to end—one where you’re vulnerable and trusting with him, one where you’re alive and well. He can’t help but wonder if he ever made you feel like you couldn’t tell him something? Simon feels simmering, muffled anger in his stomach because you didn’t want to interrupt his work for being stabbed, nicking a vital organ no less—he makes a mental note to sit you down and make you promise to call him if an issue or an injury like that ever arises again. He closes his eyes for a moment, trying to push away what would happen if you didn’t do that—if that guy were to come back to try to finish the job and Simon wasn’t here, would you call him? Would you pick up your phone and dial his number? Would you text him? What if you got hurt again—would you call him?—Or would the hospital? He always imagined you’d be getting the call of his death, and not the other way around. Simon swears under his breath for a moment and opens his eyes; he doesn’t want to think about that anymore. He wants to stay in this moment with you—both himself and you alive. He glances down, your tear stained cheeks slowly drying, your eyelids closed. His fingers slide from the nape of your neck to the side, and he presses his fingers against your pulse.

Being here with you—he wants you to trust him, too; like he trusts you. That’s all he wants.

tag: @zzzennin