#i draw naked people together because personally I believe it's a strong form of trust

[justvea18]

Showing vulnerability

[goodneighborxfallout]

Reaction: Having sex with the companions

Cait

At first, Cait would be an absolute animal in bed. No shame, no holding back, just raw, animalistic sex, and the more worn out you were after the deed, the more satisfied she was. Almost like she had something to prove. And she realized quite soon that that was indeed the case. Not that you had put expectations on her, but she had a reputation and though she trusted you enough to be open to you and even let you help with her drug problem, there were times when she - subconsciously - would slip back into her old defense mechanisms. Depending on how close you two were the first time you had sex, it might take quite some time or not at all for Cait to open up to you about all of this and tell you that she’d be down to take things slower if you want to do that. Wanting to make her feel loved, you of course take her up on that offer and the first time you two took things slow in bed was for the both of you probably the best sex you ever had. Though she wouldn’t likely want to admit that, and keep these moments of slow love making for special occasions. 

Curie

Curie would be pretty much down for anything as her curiosity almost always got the best of her. That same curiosity would make things awkward sometimes though as she’d ask very non sexy questions during the deed or explain the more biological processes that went on in your bodies while you were just trying to make her feel good… Overall, sex with Curie would include a lot of experimenting and getting to know each other’s bodies from head to toe.

Danse

Danse would be quite new to the concept. Him being a man of protocol, not personal relationships, made the whole thing quite nervewrecking for him. But soon he would lose himself in how good it felt, how good you felt. He’d love to be close to you, holding you or burying his face in your neck, but always making sure to be gentle with you throughout the whole experience. If the events of blind betrayal had already taken place, it would take Danse a lot longer to get to this stage. No matter how much you reassured him that you loved him no matter what, there’d always be this little voice in the back of his head reminding him that you deserved so much better than someone… something like him. He wouldn’t say no to you if you wanted sex, in fact he’s probably do everything you wanted him to, because being as flawed as he was, the least he could do was obey your every wish and command. Sex would revolve completely around you, with Danse almost forgetting to enjoy himself whilst busy making you feel good. If your relationship kept going strong however and you kept reassuring him of how much you loved him he would eventually try to push his insecurity and doubt away and Danse would start behaving like I described in the beginning of this reaction.

Deacon

Deacon isn’t the kind of guy to mindlessly have sex with people ever since Barbara died. The few times he had were always mere days before a facial reconstruction surgery, so he’d never have to actually “face” the people he’d share a bed with. So it can be safe to assume that if you’ve reached the point in your relationship where Deacon is willing to have sex with you, he already trusts you 100%. Deacon will be rather careful the first few times you two have sex. He’d want to make you feel good, as it had been a while since he has cared about the pleasure of the person he shared a bed with, never mind his own pleasure. So the first few times would be all about you. Only after you’d both discover each other’s turn ons, kinks and/or sensitive spots would Deacon try some light teasing. If you’d react positively to it, the teasing would get worse over time, until eventually pushing your boundaries would become almost routine during sex. He didn’t mind you doing the same to him, though if he could choose, he’d definitely prefer to be in control. 

Hancock

With Hancock it’s neither trust nor experience that’s the problem. He has enough experience to last him a lifetime (or two), and if you say you love him, he wholeheartedly believes you. What was holding him back however was his low self esteem. Sure you said you loved him, but you’d never seen him naked before. Did you know what a ghoul’s body looked like? Probably not and whatever you were imagining, it probably wouldn’t be nearly as pretty. He’d ask you a few times whether you were 100% sure you wanted this and if you insisted that you were, he’d end up fulfilling your wish. If he noticed that you weren’t grossed out by his body he’d become more confident and sex would become a much more frequent occurrence. Hancock would be open for trying literally anything you wanted, but he’d never push his own kinks onto you (sure he’d talk dirty to you and tease you occasionally, but he would never ask if he can blindfold or tie you up for example, though he’d never refuse it if you suggested it). 

MacCready

Sex with MacCready would be unpredictable. He’s open to trying a lot of things, he has no preferable position or location, and on top of that, he’s still really young so his need for sex would pop up in the most random of situations. If you’d have a particularly weird or uncommon kink, he’d might take some convincing before he’d be down to try it, and most of the time he’d take most pleasure just doing things vanilla. 

Nick

Doesn’t take you seriously at all. He thinks you’re either joking or completely out of your mind the first few times you tell him you’re down to have sex with him. He doesn’t think your humor is great, but he’ll just brush off whatever you said without going in on that. It’ll go so far that you actually get upset with him about his dismissive demeanor that you just straight up ask him: “What is so wrong with me that you don’t want to have sex with me?” This is the moment Nick actually realizes that you’ve been serious all along and he wouldn’t believe what he just heard you say. “Wait a minute, do you honestly think you’re the problem? Have you seen me? All this skin and metal is just going to make this unpleasant for you.” You’d remind him that if you’d have a problem with any of that you would have never gotten together with him in the first place and for the first time in a quite a long time, Nick felt incredibly stupid for not figuring that out himself. Though still not convinced that you’d actually enjoy it, the sex would be slow and careful and it wouldn’t happen all that often. 

Piper

Piper is not one for one night stands and random flings. If you two were to have sex, you’d already be in a relationship. That’s really the only requirement for her. Once you two are together and she trusts you, the sex could be as slow and soft or wild and crazy as you’d both see fit. She’d be down for it. Weird kinks? “Um, okay, hadn’t seen that one coming, Blue, but hey don’t knock it before you try it I guess.” New position? “Let’s hope I’m flexible enough for this…”. Different location? Okay, here she might draw the line. Public sex would really depend on the location, the more risk of getting caught the less likely Piper would give the ok sign. After all, sex was still a private thing and she didn’t want anyone walking in on you two. 

Preston

Sex with Preston would be pretty vanilla. This boy isn’t into anything weird or extreme, and not much into dom/sub play either. Things would rarely get wild inside the bedroom as he’d see sex more of an act of showing how much he loves and cares for you. (Sorry this one bad, I really don’t like Preston rip.)

X6-88

The concept of relationships is foreign to him and before you openly ask him to have sex with you, he’d never even thought about it. He’d say yes very casually, because he doesn’t understand that sex for couples can be a very special moment. Even if you tell him that it is something couples do when they love each other, he wouldn’t put much mind to it. You love him, he loves you, great, let’s have sex then. Though he’d definitely understand way better why people like having sex so much after actually doing it, he might never grasp the emotional bond that can form when two people who love each other have sex. 

Bonus! Maxson

As elder, Maxson is used to showing dominance, ordering people around and demanding respect. At first, he’d take these things with him into the bedroom, because sex puts you in an vulnerable position and he was not vulnerable. No matter how much he trusted you, there was this irrational little voice in the back of his head that stopped him from letting down his walls. At least, that was what he was like at first. It would take him some time, maybe even a very long time, maybe it would actually take so long that you’d have to be the one suggesting it instead, but he’d finally be down to trying to take things slow. Keep in mind, this would only happen if he trusts you 100% and knows for certain that you haven’t breathed a word to anyone about how Maxson is in your relationship. He’d end up enjoying taking things slow a lot, but one night really changed everything. This one night was the one when you decided to take control. It was the first time in a very long time that Maxson let someone else do the work, where he could just lie back and enjoy being submissive, and enjoy it he did. But boy had you done something now. Maxson would always come to you after having a particularly stressful day and let you take control, to the point where him being dominant in bed would almost be a rare treat.

Oh boy why did I choose to start off with this? Haha

Also I only added Maxson because almost every blog sees him as a dom and I’m just not sure if I agree. But apart from this reaction, he’ll only be included if someone specifically asks for it.

[the-slasher-files]

My Verisons - Slashers pt 1

INCLUDES JASON

Just my opinion. Everyone interprets them differently but this is how I see the slashers. Some of this is based specifically on a certain movie in a series or could be just inspiration I’ve gotten from other writers. If you read my writing this will probably make sense of them, just seeing things from my perspective. This includes if they can talk, appearance, how you met, how/why you are together, nature/character, dead or alive or both, etc. Also please let me know if you feel the same or have different opinions! I am always curious about how others see them! 

JASON VOORHEES

appearance:

I adore the look of Jason from part 7 and Manhattan with classic elements. The size and shape perfect from those movies. However, to me, Jason would wear worn out jeans and some sort of button up with a utility belt of some kind, closer resembling the outfit from part 6. He always wears his work or hiking boots. Also probably always wears his gloves while outside

To me, Jason is more alive than dead, but just with the regeneration powers. He has very heavy scarring on half of his face that goes down his neck and side. Some wounds you don't think will ever heal still remain. On his back he is scarred by god knows what could be from defending the camp, or from the decomposition process. It looked like he had been attacked by a bear. Some wounds exposing the muscle and some you could see bone. 

His skin is a greyish colour but you can still tell there is some kind of blood flow because of his ability to get hard, plus I feel sometimes he might blush

His dick is a big one to put it frank lol. like 8 inches and thick. He doesn't have any hair down there or really anywhere.

his nature/character:

I honestly believe if you manage to get on his good side, he is such a sweet person. No matter what baggage you come with he will never judge because he was bullied and tormented. 

I feel he might have some form of mental illness because of his past and loneliness from not having anyone around. (separation anxiety, abonnement issues, maybe some depression in the winter)  

Once he has his person, he will never let go and the thought of losing you is literally crippling. It is his worst fear, so he does everything in his power to make you safe and stay with him.

He will listen to absolutely everything and try to understand everything from your perspective, except when it comes to your safety that is his number one priority even if it makes you upset.  

He is a very hard worker 

Extremely respectful of his person, whether it’s of their space or stuff, it doesn’t matter

A very gentle giant with you. I would use the expression “he would never hurt a fly” but we all know that is not the truth

I feel he might have a creative side to him, maybe it’s writing since he can’t express himself fully, maybe he can really draw, maybe it’s woodworking, I could even see him playing an acoustic guitar that he had stolen. He is completely self-taught

He is extremely curious about everything except other humans or the city

He also thinks Humans are a waste, all they do is destroy, fuck and hurt one another. Not to mention what they do to his woods

Big animal lover. I feel like he might have taken a dog once from the campers he murdered.

I think he is pretty sensitive to noise. Hates loud music or loud trucks, even if you have the tv a little loud he finds it distracting and disorienting

Extreme temper, as we know. If he ever gets mad at you he will likely walk it off, but sometimes if you push him enough dom Jason comes out. Fucking you against the wall with the machete at your neck, but after he would feel terrible. 

This leads into the next topic but he is 100% the strong, silent type - They're silent not because they have nothing to say, but because they don't have to fill up the air with words. They don't need to be looked at to dominate. They already dominate, just by looking at themselves, but they're serene about it. 

Can he talk?  

For some reason, I have always thought that maybe he could talk, but only short small words extremely few and far between. I don’t really think he can express himself fully even if he wanted to. He wouldn’t raise his voice above a low talk. If you were in danger he would never call your name or yell.

He might whisper “I love you” or give you small pet names but he would use them sparingly  

How you guys met/how you were caught:

So I have had this idea for a while, and I think it would make sense, but you have to be a brave person to be with him. So my idea is that your family owned a cabin on Crystal Lake but in the 80s when the killings began your family would never go back until you inherited it. The cabin sat for a long time, unused, rotting away. 

You drove up there to look at it, and you took it upon yourself to pretty much redo the whole thing and fix up the woodland that surrounded it. As you did this it was early spring into summer. You knew you were being watched and followed. However, you were never scared of this presence, it was almost like a protective energy. You almost welcomed it. Sometimes you could see him just watching and observing, sometimes you tried to follow him. 

Having had the cabin being abandoned it was pretty secluded and overgrown but, there were other cabins across the lake. Yours was the closest to the camp, it was still about 5 miles, but you could hear the screams in the night from teens at the camp. Being a very resourceful person you had set your own security traps and tripwires. You had even put up trail cams where you saw him walking so you could match up the times to murders. Sure enough, It was defiantly him. The killer. The murderer of Camp Crystal Lake. Why were you never afraid of him? Why had you never felt in danger in his presence? 

One day you were so tired from doing repairs, you drifted asleep while watching the clouds pass by. When you woke up he was standing there above you with his head tilted, almost making sure you were ok. Your eyes hit his and he stumbled backwards, he caught one of your tripwires. It landed him on his ass for the first time in years, caught off guard and not knowing what to do next. 

You two just stared at each other. “Hey, it’s ok. I know who you are,” You spoke to him. He had almost forgotten what soft voices sounded like. All he heard were the screams of his victims. “Jason? You are him” He was shocked. Stunned. “It’s ok” You explained seeing his confusion. 

Long before you moved out here you knew about him, heard the stories, read the news articles, spoke to the people of the small surrounding community. “Jason” you spoke again to him, not breaking eye contact. He didn’t know if he should run or just kill you to stop the conflicting feelings. The name you spoke he had not heard in years. It brought back a lot of odd feelings, pain, enjoyment, memories. 

As he sat there, you were not going to pry at him. You stood up from the ground dusting yourself off, looking away for a minute before placing your eyes to where he should have been but, he was gone. 

For months after that he would stare at you from the bushes, just observing. Sometimes he would stand close enough to touch you, but he didn’t. You never wanted to push him, so you just talk to him from the distance even if he never said a word back. It took a full year before he allowed you to touch him. Almost like a stray beaten dog, time, trust, and space were all needed, and maybe some encouragement by making your naked body visible to him through the windows.   

[inkedsoldier]

AMOR VINCIT OMNIA - Chapter Five

A/N: Here it is – chapter five of the AMOR VINCIT OMNIA series! Do you still have some tissues within reach? Let’s continue where we ended in chapter four. I hope you enjoy & please let me know what you think about the series so far! Thanks for all the support!

Y/N = Your name.

Y/F/N = Your first name.

Y/L/N = Your last name.

 Characters: Sam Drake, Nathan Drake, Y/N.

Warnings: angst, and a tiny bit of a naked Sam.

 Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.

Masterlist

Chapter Five

Scar Tissue

 Finally, the day he so long waited for is here; the person he loved, his soulmate, was only a few steps away. Fifteen years he had to wait to wrap his arms around you and kiss those soft lips again. He was as nervous as ever to approach you. When Sam is just inches away you stand up and gaze at him, soaking in the warmth of his eyes. This is what you dreamt of, just the two of you, finally together again. After a moment you raise your hand to his face and let the tears fall. Before you can draw in the air you need you melt down into his form. You feel his strong physique and the heart that beats within. Sam’s hands fold around your body, drawing you in closer. He can feel your body shake, crying for the missed time you will never get back. He cups your face and wipes the tears away with his calloused thumbs, before he leaves a soft kiss on your lips. You want to speak, but the words don’t want to leave your mouth. With each touch more tears roll down and Sam makes the decision to kiss you again, to make your whole world fall away. It was slow and gentle, comforting in ways that words would never be. “Don’t go�� not again,” you manage to say with a croaked voice. Sam’s mouth turns into a soft smile and nods once before folding you in his arms again and you lay your head on his chest.

 The sun rose, filling the sky with shades of orange and pink, when you make your way back to Nate. The first thing you do when you arrive back in the office is give Nate a comforting hug. You still don’t know what to say as you roll your chair towards his desk, but there was a lot to talk about. “I must say, you two are unbelievable,” Sam chuckled when he sat down in the chair opposite of Nathan’s. “My little brother here told me you had stumbled upon multiple archaeological gold mines… and somehow every time managed to walk away… with nothing.” You smile and Nate answers, “Yeah, well, it’s the story of my life, I guess. But you know, I managed to grab a few trinkets here and there. Paid of the car, the house, engagement ring… Engagement ring. I’m married. I can’t believe - Elena, from the stories… that’s my wife. You got to come meet her. Tonight, dinner. At my place. Y/N already promised Lena to come; I can tell her all about you. Shit, we need to tell her all about you.” Sam uncomfortably stands up, “Nathan… I’m in a lot of trouble here.” You are confused by his reply, “What? What are you talking about? What kind of trouble?” Sam clearly didn’t know how to start; you could see it on his face. “Does the name Hector Alcazar ring a bell with you?” “Yes, he is the drug lord. The butcher of Panama, right?” you respond. “Mm-hmm. It’s a funny story, but um… for the last year he was my cell mate. So, this is how I got out of prison…”

 You couldn’t believe your ears. Memories of the first time you went looking for Avery’s treasure spooked through your head when Sam spoke about the deal he had made with Alcazar. Avery’s treasure in exchange for his life. “This is bad,” Nate mutters. “No, we just pick up the trail where we left off and…” Sam started. “Wait, trail? Sam, there is no trail. After Rafe, Y/N and I escaped Panama, Rafe took his parents’ fortune and bought up all the land around the cathedral of Saint Dismas. We combed that place for weeks. Avery’s treasure is not there,” Nate told him. “Not that that’s stopped Rafe. Moron’s been digging for years. Still hasn’t turned up squat,” you spoke just hard enough for the brothers to hear. “Not really surprised,” Sam said. “What does that mean?” Nate answered. “Well I just, you know, happened to do a little digging of my own… And uh… Bet you Rafe doesn’t have this. It’s really amazing what you can find on the internet these days.” Sam shows you and Nate a picture of the Saint Dismas cross. “It’s just the Saint Dismas cross,” Nate spoke with a confused look. “Oh, is it? Because the one we found was broken. And hollow. Remember?” Sam smirked. “Holy crap, it’s still intact. Avery made more than one cross.” Nate replied while looking at the picture again. “So, whatever’s missing from the one in Panama…” Sam said. “…is probably still inside this one,” you finished. “Well, all right. Where is it?” Nate asked. “Oh, this exquisite piece is going up for auction in three days at the Rossi Estate.”

 The idea that you had to start looking for the treasure again made you anxious. It took everything from you fifteen years ago; Sam, and your unborn child. The possibility that the clue was probably hidden in a second cross made it a bit easier to swallow. Nate was trying to come up with another idea to save Sam’s life, but there was not enough time left to look for a way out of this mess; the only way to get this cross in your hands was by stealing it during the black market auction at the Rossi Estate. You had to get back into the game as a thief. There was nobody else to trust with this kind of matter. Nate decided to go back home to tell Elena that you were going away for a little while to work on the Malaysia job, and to pack the equipment he needed; the younger Drake had to make his wife believe that you both took on the job after all. You also had to pack your bags for the job and the days of travel ahead. You left your motorcycle at the office so Nate could drive you and Sam to your place; Nate couldn’t just show up with a brother he never mentioned. Going home with Sam was strange. Never in a million years would you have thought this could ever happen. Of course, there were times that you and Nate still believed that there was a possibility that he was still alive, but while looking for him every question came back with a negative answer. Everything confirmed that Sam was dead.

 Walking to the front porch you hold the key in the palm of your hand. Followed by Sam you think of all the things you want to say to him. Before you unlock the door, you turn around to meet his hazel eyes, “I waited for you to jump off that cliff and come home to me.” His head whipped up at the sound of your voice, “Y/N, I… I don’t know what to say.” Getting inside, you shut the door behind you with a soft click. “Why didn’t you try to reach out to us? You could’ve sent a letter, or something,” you say as you walk into the kitchen area. “I tried. I asked a guard who did some favours for me to mail a letter – to Nate’s P.O. box, but the warden saw it and he busted me up pretty bad. I never saw the guard again.” “I’m so sorry,” you respond visibly shocked. “How did you survive this mess? Nate saw you get shot and…” Sam pulls up his shirt and shows the scars on his stomach, “Yes, he did. Right… there… The doctors – doctors – they patched me up, and they tossed me right back into the cell.” You stepped closer and gently brushed over the scars, feeling the scar tissue of the exit wounds with your fingers. Shaking your head, you pull Sam’s shirt down again. “I really need to start packing before Nate comes to pick us up,” you state as you kick off your leather boots. “If you want to, you can take a shower before we leave. I still got some of your old clothes upstairs.” Sam didn’t know how to respond to that. Why did you hold on to his clothes for so many years? “I know… it’s stupid. But they still smelled like you. I missed you, Sam. I really missed you. Eventually me and Nate stopped talking about you, because the hurt was too much.”

 It didn’t take you a long time to finish up packing - you always kept a bag prepared, just in case. The black backpack had seen better days. You took it with you on so many adventures; everything you needed safe inside. You also filled another bag with clothes, shoes and some other stuff you needed the next couple of days. Sam took your advice and went into the shower to freshen up before the hours of travel ahead of you. There were some essentials you needed from the bathroom, so you knocked softly on the door. “Do you mind if I come in really quick?” you asked. Yes, you had seen each other naked, but the whole situation made you rethink everything. “No, it’s okay,” Sam answered. He was still in the shower when you entered the steam filled room. Your lips parted as you inhaled deeply. The water sprayed softly on his hair, as the stream made its way down along his back and thighs. He obviously kept his physique while in prison. You snap out of your daze when you hear the doorbell ring. Rapidly you grab what you need and sprint downstairs to open the door.

“Hey, you ready?” Nate asked when you opened the door. “Almost. Sam’s in the shower, and I just finished packing my stuff. Did you get the plane tickets?” you replied with a small smile on your face. “Yeah, Sully got us three a plane ticket to Rome with a short layover in London. A rental car will be ready for us when we arrive,” he explained as he sat down on the couch. “Sully?” you said with a confused look. “I thought we could use all the help we can get, and he knows the people running the auction.” You hadn’t seen Victor Sullivan in a long time, but he was always there when you needed him. He patched you up when you got shot, or stabbed, and he loved Nate as a son. He is family. 

Tag list:@kiara-arts​ @wintermuteway​

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #245

“i fell asleep at the wheel again, crashed my car just to feel again.”

What is your favorite condiment to go with french fries? Ketchup. What do you have a habit of doing when engaging in a conversation with someone? Obsess over the appropriate amount of eye contact I make. What color is your mp3? Hot pink. Have you ever laid in a hammock? Yeup. Is there a song or lyrics currently super-glued in your head? "Popular Monster" by Falling In Reverse FUCK What can you go a day without doing? Uhhh a lot? I dunno... oh, drink water because I suck at that gah. I've gotten a lot better than I used to be tho. What can’t you go a day without doing? Touching some form of technology. Who do you spend most of your time with? Myself. Do you have a favorite classical composer? No. What type of quality is a must-have in a friend? Treat others with kindness. Are you any good at reading someone's body language? I definitely think so. What type of art would you hang up in your room? Lol I have some of my own... but let's say it was a clean slate again. I'd put some macabre/gothic art of some sort up, probably. Of COURSE with meerkats making an appearance. What fruit is too sweet to you? Hm, I'm blanking. What was the last contest you have ever won: Uhhhh... I think the giveaway of two Silent Hill: Revelation things? That was forever ago. What was the worst hair cut you have ever had in your entire life: Looking back, the haircut I had before this one (short on the left, faded into still rather long on the right) I don't really like anymore. Looks fine in some pictures, but not most. What was the worst thing you have ever worn in your life: Oh I don't know. Probably some dance costume. Do you like any sort of animes: Yeah, a handful. I'd honestly like to watch more. Have you ever used someone for your own benefits: I don't think so. What is the worst cartoon you have ever seen: Oh boy, idk. There's some dumb ones, a lot that I've only seen peeks of. Do you like to type or write more: TYPE. Writing physically can easily make my carpal tunnel act up. I hated having to hand-write a few essays last semester... I had to stop frequently to roll my wrists and cringe and stuff. What color would you have your skin if you could change it: I'd like pale skin like I have, but I wish it was more flawless/porcelain-ish. SOOOOOO pretty ahahhhhhhhhahhhhhh Do you usually cook your own meals, or does someone cook for you: I usually have to throw something together in the microwave because Mom's barely home, but when she is home, she cooks. If someone cooks for you, do you always thank them for it: YES. YES. NOT SAYING ANYTHING IS SO FUCKING DISRESPECTFUL. What do you do during the day: Almost without question, SOMEthing on technology/usually computer. As for what I do on technology, boy, a lot a lot. I don't even feel like listing it all. When you are online what do you normally find yourself doing: ... Oh, lmao. Uhhh binging YouTube, writing on or just checking up on KM, dA browsing/cleaning my drowning inbox, Facebook, "working" at the SH and SotC wikis, playing games, roaming Tumblr, check my emails, uhhhhhhh,,,, What is the most hated item you own: I wouldn't... keep it if I hated it? Uhhhh yeah, I honestly don't know. What is your favorite item you own out of all the items you have: My iPod, really. I have over 1k songs on this old-ass nano that I've had since middle school. I guess my laptop is kinda tied, but idk. Like, I don't love this laptop itself, just that it allows me to go online at a decent speed lmao. I guess they're my favorites in different ways. So, do you think that you will get where you want in life currently: Not stopping pushing for it 'til I get it. Why is that so. May I ask: I'm "too" determined. It's been a struggle getting to even where I am, but FUCK, I'm getting there. Do you like Halloween: I can't fwu if you don't. Has a teacher ever flirted with you? Not to my recollection. Is it okay for friends to kiss each other, as friends? Personally, I think a simple peck is fine IF that's your thing and it's mutually understood that it's platonic. Ex., I know greeting kisses are normal in some cultures, and I see no reason to shame it so long you're not like making out. Is it okay for girls to hit boys? Fuck no. Unless you're like fighting off an assailant/defending yourself, NO gender hits ANYONE. Do you know a lot of attractive boys personally? I've never thought about it? I'm not gonna dig through all the people I know rn... What happens if you realized you had a crush on somebody? More than anything, I'd be scared of being hurt again, particularly if it's a guy. So I definitely wouldn't make the first move. Do you think you are attractive? No. Which two of your friends would have the cutest baby together? I don't know. How do you feel about your naked body? DON'T COME AT ME WITH THIS QUESTION GO AWAY Have you ever been called obnoxious? No. At least, not to my memory. Do you wish you had a bigger family? No, but a more close-knit one. Which friend would you kiss full on the mouth, no questions asked? Sara. If somebody smacks your butt, you automatically say: I wouldn't say shit, I'd turn around and smack them across the face. How often does your family life conflict with your social life? Pretty much never. Have you ever been emotionally abused? No, thankfully. Do small children like you? They seem to, I guess. If karma is really true, should you be worried? Not very. What makeup do you wear on a daily basis? None. Do you have anything hidden in your room? Yeah, some saved money. What do you wish you were doing right now instead of this? It'd be great to talk to Sara. If you had a baby, would you want to have it at home or in a hospital? Oh I'm going to the fucking hospital for that epidural fren. If I even wanted kids. What was the last thing you ordered online? Uhhh good question. Have you ever had a bad experience with anti-depressants? If so, what? Well, actually the entire time I was ON anti-depressants. Because I'm bipolar, anti-depressants actually ramp up the aggression of bipolarity symptoms. How, I don't recall the science of, but I trust every word that comes out of my psychiatrist's mouth for many reasons. That definitely happened. One also made me gain weight, and the worst instance was in middle school when I was briefly on one that made me SO fucking hyper and happy in the morning but I crashed into an absolute bitchy monster by mid-afternoon. Now a combination of mood stabilizers helps both my bipolarity and depression immensely and are the main reason I'm alive. Are you allergic to any plants? I mean, I'm allergic to pollen. Are you an outdoors person? If the weather is cool, I love it. Does your past bother you? Some parts of it. Do you take risks or play it safe? I tend to play it safe. What forms of art do you like the best? This is an absolutely impossible question. "Art" has such an incredible range of forms, and I enjoy like... all. I guess the one thing I don't particularly care for is abstract art. What forms of art do you want to try? HYPERREALISM IN DRAWING. I REALLY wanna be able to draw/paint/whatever and make it look so true to life, BUT I'd like to add fantasy aspects to what I'm making (for example, my characters). I'd love to do portraits, too. This isn't really a "type" of art, but one thing I desperately want in art is to actually develop my own recognizable style that isn't just a wobbly attempt at realism with shitty proportions. What’s your favorite planet? Saturn's dope. Has a medication ever made you itch? No. What’s your favorite rainy day activity? Cuddle with snacks and like binge a good TV show/YT videos, etc. BUT considering I'm single I'ma just take a nap if I'm actually tired and you can hear the rain on the window. Do you put creamer in your tea? I wonder how many times I'll tell surveys I hate tea lmao by the end of my life lmao. What do you think are some good names for twins? I don't care enough to think about this. What are three things that fascinate you? Animal behavior (particularly social), the paranormal, and genetics. Would you say you live more in the past, present, or future? Present, I think. Have you ever been a victim of a crime? Not me personally, no, but my family. We had our basketball hoop stolen from our front yard and I was mega tilted yo. Does injustice make you angry? More like it infuriates me. Do you have the bad habit of procrastinating? Very badly. Are you afraid of running into a certain person in public? I both am and am not afraid of running into Jason. I have a very strong feeling I'd start having a PTSD episode (by that I mean hyperventilating, crying a bit, and shaking at the very least), but simultaneously I just want him to know I'm sorry. Do you have anyone you avoid? No. Do you have the same dreams now that you did as a kid? No. Who’s your crush? I don't really know if I have one right now. My old friend Ian and I started talking, and he's a fucking hilarious dude with similar ethics to mine with great compassion, but I still don't know him well enough to say I like-like him. I'm honestly just happy to have an irl friend again that actually talks to me regularly. Do you trust the government? I believe in WAY too many conspiracy theories to even try to convince anyone I trust the government lmao. Who do you want to meet in Heaven? I don't know exactly what sort of afterlife I believe in (it's not the traditional Heaven though), but I do believe that souls can reunite. The first thing I want to see again is Teddy. Does your school take sports too seriously? Considering we're well-respected in the sports field to the degree we draw in a huge number of foreign athletes, guess you could say yes lmao. Most of the people I even slightly know here came for sports. If there are bruises on your body, how did you get them? There aren’t. Would you ever go back in time to do something over again, but differently? Yes. Where did you kiss the last person you kissed? The airport. Have you thought about your wedding in detail? Not great detail, no. Do you think you could ever really kill someone? In self-defense, I know I could. Do you like Papa John’s pizza? I couldn't even guess the last time I had it. I don't remember. Do you attend school? Yeah. Do you call it a crush, or do you just say you like someone? The latter. Where were you when the ball dropped? In my bed asleep lmao. Where are your siblings? Probably all at work. Waffles, pancakes, or french toast? French toast. Do you ever judge people based on if they believe in God or not? Not really, but I WILL wonder to myself if you believe in some of the bullshit just about every religion has somewhere. Are you sometimes scared to express your opinions in fear of what others might think? YUP YUP YUP! Mainly irl tho. Have you ever painted your nails on only one hand, forgetting about the other one or getting side-tracked? No. Have you ever gone to one of those parties where everyone is falling around drunk everywhere? No. Been to one where everyone was high, though. Are you “the good guy”, or “the bad guy”, or somewhere in between? I'd hope the good guy. Do you ever erase the numbers off of surveys just because they annoy you? Ha ha yeah. Do you think you will have the same best friend a year from now? Yes. Do you have siblings over the age of twenty-one? Yes, all but one. What do you hear right now? "Another Life" by Motionless In White. Proud as fuck because this song was a MASSIVE PTSD trigger at first and even made me cry, but despite it still making me kinda uncomfortable, I can listen to and enjoy it now. If an ex said they hated you, what would you say? The only three people whose opinions would matter there would be Sara, Girt, and Jason. Sara and Jason would fucking break me, while I think Girt would of course make me cry, but I just. Wouldn't be surprised to lose another irl friend. I'd be so fucking hurt by any. OH YEAH, what would I say? I think Sara would have me speechless. I'd probably just choke out, "I don't blame you," to Jason. Girt, my first instinct pondering this was "are you serious?" because he's such a joker while my stomach dropped. What would you do if you found out your most recent ex was in a relationship? I'd be happy for her, but still feel kinda sad that it wasn't me. What do you think when someone kisses you on your forehead? If I like the person, I feel very comforted. It like... makes me feel small, safe, and permitted to just let my emotions loose, ex. be "allowed" to cry. What do you usually do right when you wake up? Check my phone to see the time. Truthfully, is there someone you used to date that you miss? I don't want to answer this. Do the math. Have you ever gotten burnt by a cigarette? No. Do you brush your teeth right away when you wake up? No. Have you ever made someone laugh when they were crying? Yeah. Would you date someone three years older than you? Yeah. Do you prefer to shower at night or in the morning? Actually as of recently, the morning. It's a nice way to start the day clean and energized. Could you handle living with the last person you texted? I'd love to live with her. Was the last book you read for fun, or was it for some type of assignment? It was assigned, but I loved it. Have you accomplished any goals you set for yourself this year so far? Not really? Well no, I think I'm being a less procrastinating student and also not fleeing so quickly from situations that invoke my anxiety. Are there still movie rental stores where you live or have they all gone out of business? SOBS Blockbuster come BACK we NEED u. What was the last thing to annoy you or make you upset? Eh, it was stupid and something that realistically isn't worth being annoyed by. I was SUPER bored and tired yesterday waiting for Mom to finish her field work while I waited in the library after classes, and I was so ready to go home, but she stayed longer than she thought she would. Do you think you would be a good match for your celebrity crush/es assuming you have one? Why? If you don’t have one, who was the last person you saw that you found attractive? Actually, not really. He's way too motivated and drawn to people who push forward and get shit done, and just in general at least from how I "know" him as a fan I could only realistically see us as friends. But a fangirl can dream ok just let me dream. When looking for something to watch on TV do you tend to pick shows you know you like, or try new shows that look interesting even though you’ve never heard of them before? I'll answer hypothetically if I watched TV: probably something I know I like. Might get adventurous every now and again and try something new, though, especially if it's on a channel I like. How old were you when you had your wisdom teeth removed? I haven't had to. I juuuuust slightly have enough room where I DID have them grow in. Where was the last job application you filled out sent to? Uhhh probably the deli, which I got and lasted for two hours my first work day lmao. Have you ever been fired from a job? No. What do people tell you your voice sounds like? I dunno, kinda deep for a girl and lacking an accent most of the time. What financial class are you? Lower. What poster is hanging closest to you? A huge Nightmare Before Christmas one. Are you more comfortable with men or women? Women. Would you go on a date with someone right now if they asked? Maybe if Ian did? Idk. It'd be a nice way to get to know more about each other, but I'd only agree to it after we talked a bit longer. Does your family keep tons of leftovers in the fridge? Not "a ton." Things we'll eat again though, yes. Favorite FRIENDS character? That is, if you like it. I haven't watched it. Are you thinking of getting another piercing? Where? Hell yes. Pretty sure next is collarbones if I could just lose a little bit more weight so they're more visible. Do you love when people remember little things about you? YES OMG!!!!!!!!!! Do you ‘bless’ strangers when they sneeze? Yes, I just think it's common good manner. Even though the reasoning behind it is whatever, it's a societal thing that I just go along with. How many phones have you gone through? Idk, not too many. Have you always lived in the house you currently reside in? No.

[my-one-love-is-music]

Is It Still a Bromance If You’ve Had Sex? Ch. 14

Note: I know it's been a while. Writing's been taking a while since I've been trying to find a new job. Haven't had much time outside of doing applications...But this is probably the second to last chapter of this one. I have a few more ideas of how I want to wrap everything up.

Also on AO3!

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Shiro grinned as he tugged Keith through the doorway to his bedroom and let the door slide shut behind them. He swiped his finger across the keypad without looking, locking them in and keeping anyone prone to interrupting them out.

Shiro backed Keith up against the door, hands a comforting weight on his hips as they stared into each other’s eyes. Keith searched his gaze, in awe at the sparkling joy housed within.

He couldn’t believe he was actually here. He still couldn’t believe the past several weeks were real and that he’d gotten to spend so much time with Shiro.

And now that he was looking back on all their interactions knowing that Shiro had feelings for him that were more than friendship or a kind of brotherly love…he was blown away with the possibilities it held. And that he could’ve been such an idiot as to not realize just what they held for each other.

Shiro’s hand came up between them and cupped his cheek, thumb stroking over the scar there.

He ducked his head and brought their lips together. Keith sighed, eyes sliding shut at the softness of Shiro’s lips. He’d already tasted them so many times, but this was different. He could give himself over to the kiss and put all of the meaning into it he’d been trying to hold back since that first night.

They kissed slowly, lazily. Keith’s hands came to wrap around Shiro’s shoulders and he tried relaxing against the door, but Shiro’s arms wrapped around his waist and kept their chests pressed together.

Warmth bloomed in Keith’s chest, nearly squeezing his heart with the wave of emotion it hit him with.

He slid his hands down over Shiro’s shoulders, mapping the planes of Shiro’s chest. He gripped the zipper of Shiro’s vest and pulled it down, the sound of it coming undone fading into the background.

He slid his hands up under the vest towards Shiro’s shoulders, nudging it from his form. Shiro pulled his arms from Keith’s waist and let him push the vest the rest of the way off. It landed in a small pile on the floor with a whisper of cloth.

Shiro tilted his head forward, forcing Keith’s head back. He groaned when Keith made a small noise in the back of his throat and swiped his tongue along Keith’s bottom lip.

Keith opened easily for him, letting his tongue slip inside as he took control of their kisses. The heat and warmth coming to life under Keith’s skin started to grow and kindle as the flames heated, the fire in his belly morphing into a blaze.

Shiro’s deft fingers found their way under the lapels of his jacket and pushed it off his shoulders. Keith shook it off quickly, making a grab for Shiro’s shoulders to keep them close.

Shiro shifted against him and it took Keith a moment to realize he was stepping out of his boots. Keith chuckled and pulled back, undoing the buckles on his own shoes as Shiro gave him a crooked grin.

Shiro got his boots and socks off faster and made a grab for him, nearly pulling him off balance as he wrestled with his last sock.

“Shiro,” Keith grumbled as he stumbled into his chest.

Shiro chuckled and didn’t relent, pressing a kiss behind his ear as he tossed his sock onto the pile they’d made.

Shiro wrapped his lips around another tender area below his hairline and sucked, making Keith shiver. The heat under his skin grew, spreading in a blanket of warmth that was undeniably pleasant.

Shiro’s lips moved farther south as he continued to place gentle kisses to the side of his neck. Keith tilted his head, giving him better access and Shiro gladly took the invitation, wrapping more firmly around him.

He bit down on his pulse point, drawing a sharp gasp that morphed into a moan from Keith’s lips. His pants tightened noticeably as he fought to keep his heartrate steady while Shiro made no move to detach himself from Keith’s neck.

“Do you have some kind of obsession with my neck?” Keith panted, pressing his lips together to swallow and try to clear his throat.

Shiro eased his teeth from the tender skin and placed a gentle kiss on top of the bite. There would no doubt be a harsh bruise there later and Keith almost shivered at the thought of running his fingers over such a visceral claim Shiro put on him of all people.

Shiro mumbled something into his neck and it took Keith a moment to realize he’d spoken through the haze clouding his brain.

“What?” he asked, eyebrows drawing down together.

Shiro sighed, grip tightening around him. “I said…I want everyone to know you’re taken. Even if they don’t know it’s by me, they know that no one else can put their hands on you.”

Keith bit his lip, something twisting in his chest. The warmth that had spread under his skin began to boil, setting him alight with need and a desire to prove to Shiro just how much he already belonged to him, body and soul.

“You know…” he mumbled, trying to find the courage to admit something so personal. But this was Shiro and he knew Shiro would never use the information against him. He knew more about him than most people, and hadn’t betrayed his trust yet. “One of the things I’ve always wanted was to be kept proudly by someone…”

Shiro’s nails dug into the soft fabric of his clothes, making Keith arch against him as he strained to feel more of that possessive nature slip through Shiro’s strong façade.

“If you’ll let me, I won’t ever let you go. No one else can have you, or touch you, or hold you like this. I’m the only one. I want to be the only one. You’re beautiful and amazing and deserve the universe Keith. I don’t care what anyone else says or tried to say so many years ago.”

Keith swallowed, blinking against the pressure that built behind his eyes. He glanced up at the ceiling, fighting the tears back. It wasn’t the time for his shortcomings to get in the way.

Keith forced a few inches of space between them. He grabbed the hem of his shirt and yanked it over his head, adding to the pile of clothes already on the floor.

Shiro closed the distance in the blink of an eye, hands running over every inch of Keith’s skin he could reach. Keith shivered as cold air chilled the warm trails and patterns his fingers left behind.

Shiro ducked his head, his lips meeting Keith’s warm skin. He pressed soft kisses down Keith’s chest, dragging blunt teeth across soft skin.

“God, Keith, you’re so beautiful,” Shiro muttered into his skin, hands running up and down his sides and sliding around his back. His fingers gripped his hips and lithe waist. “You’re gorgeous and muscular and so hot when you’re beating up people twice your size.”

Keith’s face flamed. “Shiro…” he started.

“No,” Shiro said, pressing a tender kiss to his stomach. He straightened, meeting Keith’s eyes with his ever-so-serious gaze. “Don’t try and tell me I’m wrong or it’s not true. You are beautiful, Keith. And I don’t care what anyone else tries to say. I’ve loved you long enough to know just how beautiful you are inside and out. So maybe it’s time you shut up and listen to me for once.”

Keith’s breath hitched at Shiro’s words. The protests were already fighting to get to the forefront of his tongue and spill over, but he kept them locked away. His chest tightened in the way it always did when it came to Shiro.

He grabbed the hem of Shiro’s shirt and tugged. “Off,” he said, voice gruff.

Shiro beamed, smile more brilliant than a supernova. He pulled his shirt over his head and Keith got to work on shucking his pants and underwear, not caring if he was naked before Shiro managed to get his belt undone.

Keith placed his hands over Shiro’s, quickly undoing the latch and pulling the metal from his waist with a soft swish of nylon against his pants. He dropped the belt to the floor, not caring it was loud in the silence between them.

Keith’s eyes roved over Shiro’s muscular form. Sadness tinged the edge of his emotions at once again seeing all of the scars that littered Shiro’s body and knowing the pain that came with getting them. But Shiro’s own words came back to him and he realized how deep his own feelings transcended his soul.

Shiro was beautiful. He was gorgeous. And there wasn’t anyone else in the universe who could begin to compare to him in Keith’s eyes.

“Keith?” Shiro asked, finding him staring at him.

Keith stepped forward, gently framing Shiro’s face between his palms. He gazed into his eyes, thumbs rubbing over his cheeks.

“You’re beautiful, Shiro,” he murmured with heavy conviction.

Shiro’s lips parted and Keith could see the denial forming just as it had for him.

Keith shook his head. “No, Shiro. I mean it. And it’s your turn to shut up and listen to me because I love you. And there’s no one else who’s ever going to compare to you in my eyes.”

Keith pushed up onto his toes and brought their lips together in a tender kiss. He tried to put all of his feelings into it, wanting Shiro to understand the extent of his emotions for him.

Shiro wrapped his arms tightly around Keith’s back and lifted him from the ground. Keith laughed into their kiss and wrapped his legs around Shiro’s waist, letting himself be carried over to the bed.

Shiro set him on the edge and kicked off his pants and boxers. He crawled onto the bed, leaning over Keith to give him another kiss. Shiro settled onto the bed, leaning against the wall. He pulled Keith towards him, nudging him into his lap.

Keith grinned, letting himself get handled as Shiro settled him across his thighs. He wrapped his arms around Shiro’s shoulders and pressed their chests together, humming when their cocks brushed together.

He shifted, wishing Shiro was already inside him. Shiro gave him another quick kiss and reached for his pillow. He pulled a little jar of oil out from underneath it and unscrewed the cap.

While Shiro covered his fingers in oil, Keith got to work kissing his neck, using his knowledge of the tender and sensitive areas of Shiro’s neck to draw sharp gasps or groans from Shiro’s lips. He was more than content with leaving his own trail of marks, showing everyone that Shiro belonged to someone and no other soul could put their hands on this beautiful man but him.

He arched at the first probe of Shiro’s finger. The oil was cool against his heated skin, but he was desperate to be worked open and fucked like their lives depended on it.

Keith sighed when Shiro’s finger breached the ring of muscle. Even though it had almost been a day since they last did anything together, his muscles were still fairly loose. He accepted Shiro’s finger easily, barely conscious of his movements as he rocked his hips backwards to force Shiro’s finger deeper.

He groaned when Shiro twisted his finger, pressing against his walls to stretch him farther. His chin fell to his chest, fingernails raking through Shiro’s undercut.

“Want you in me,” he muttered. “Want to have your cock filling me up again, Shiro.”

“Fuck, Keith,” Shiro said, voice dropping an octave. He buried his face in Keith’s neck as he pulled his finger out.

Keith frowned, eyebrows drawing together as he whined at the loss. He wasn’t left to wait long before Shiro slid two fingers back into him.

He arched with a gasp, hips canting backwards to grind into Shiro’s hand.

“More, please Shiro,” he begged, breath coming in pants. The tip of his cock brushed against Shiro’s chest and he shivered at the featherlight touch to the sensitive tip.

Shiro pulled his fingers almost all the way out before he thrust them back in. Keith grinned and bit his lip, clenching around Shiro’s fingers to feel them drag against the walls of muscle around his asshole.

Shiro groaned and buried his head in Keith’s neck, placing soft kisses on his heated skin. Keith tilted his head back, giving Shiro more access. He tried focusing on the ceiling over their heads, but got caught up in the glide of Shiro’s prosthetic over his waist.

Shiro pulled his fingers out to the tips and nudged a third finger in next to the other two. Keith relaxed under the touch, feeling any tension in his muscles leave his body as he was finally closer to being as full as he wanted to be. He was closer to the moment he’d get to sink down on Shiro’s cock.

“I love you,” Shiro murmured, thrusting his fingers all the way in.

Keith gasped and arched into the touch, his nails digging into Shiro’s shoulders. He felt a drop of precome slip free and slide down the side of his sensitive cock. He shifted, feeling Shiro’s fingers move inside him and press into his walls.

Shiro stiffened his fingers and thrust them again, easily finding his prostate.

“Fuck,” Keith breathed, raking his nails over Shiro’s shoulders. Shiro bit his neck in retaliation, sucking the tender spot before Keith could argue.

Keith gave the harsh bite no more than a passing notice as Shiro continued to press and rub against his prostrate, relentless in his intent. He could feel his thighs starting to tremble where he was straddling Shiro.

The warmth in his veins was a molten fire, eating him up from the inside.

Shiro wrapped his free arm around Keith’s back, holding him in place against his chest. He didn’t give Keith any leverage to move, sliding his fingers harshly into his ass and pressing his prostrate with what should’ve been shocking accuracy if they hadn’t done this so many times before.

Keith bit his lip, straining against Shiro’s hold as he fought to get some sort of release. He was on the verge of falling, each beat of his heart making his sensitive cock throb where it was trapped between them.

His breathing came faster and he practically clawed at Shiro, silently begging him to help send him over the edge.

Shiro didn’t let up, fingers pressing against his prostrate in a blinding rhythm of pleasure that Keith swore he was going to burst from. The tension in his stomach released and the heat in his veins turned to a comforting warmth that pulsed from his core.

He gasped, shuddering as Shiro worked him through his orgasm. He waited for the lethargy that came after an orgasm to settle over his muscles, but it didn’t come.

He shivered as Shiro pulled his fingers out and placed his hands on his hips.

“How are you feeling?” Shiro murmured, pressing kisses into his neck.

“Good,” he said, throat feeling a little dry. He shifted in Shiro’s grip, the minor relief from his orgasm disappearing as he realized how hard he still was.

“Can I fuck you now?” Shiro asked, fingers digging into his sides.

“God, yes,” Keith breathed, arching back into his touch.

Shiro squeezed his hip again and reached for the oil, slicking his fingers. He reached between them and stroked himself, letting out a shaky groan now that he was getting stimulation after so long.

Keith let Shiro guide him forward, biting his lip when the head of his dick pressed against his entrance.

Keith slowly sank down, sighing as took the length of Shiro’s cock inside him. His eyes slid shut in bliss when Shiro was fully seated inside him. His fingers flexed on Shiro’s shoulders, nails dragging along sensitive skin.

He lifted his hips, letting Shiro slide halfway out before he sank down again. Shiro languidly rolled his hips up to meet Keith, drawing a sharp gasp from his lip. He repeated the movement on the next thrust, meeting Keith in the middle each time he sank down.

Keith swallowed, ready to burst as his blood sang through his veins. He barely noticed his cock throb with every beat of his heart because of how good Shiro was making him feel and how full his heart was.

“You’re beautiful, Keith. God, everything about you is gorgeous. I’m the luckiest guy in the world to see you like this. I can’t believe it,” Shiro babbled, the words spilling from his tongue like he couldn’t get enough of singing Keith’s praises. “Fuck, I love you.”

Keith whimpered on Shiro’s next thrust, grinding his hips down to meet him. His chest tightened and he wanted to believe this was too good to be true. He wanted to believe he was trapped in some insane dream where he got exactly what he wanted or some group of aliens had attacked them and he was trapped in some pod being brainwashed by his deepest desires.

His doubts tried to creep back, telling him that he should push Shiro away before he got hurt. But something else was stronger than his doubts.

“I love you, too,” he groaned, voice sounding as wrecked and twisted up as he felt inside.

Shiro’s arms snaked around his waist and pressed their chests together. He buried his face in Keith’s neck, kissing the bite marks he’d already left.

Neither of them sped up their movements despite the tension and fire under their skin. They wanted to savor this and enjoy every moment they got to spend together. After all, even though they’d fucked so many times before, this is the first time they got to have it like this.

“Shiro…” Keith started, tightening around his cock.

“I know, baby. Go ahead and let go. I’ve got you. I’ll always have you.”

Keith bit his lip and whimpered as he came, cock pulsing between them and covering their chests in come. His muscles trembled with it. Shiro thrust a few more times, groaning as he fucked Keith’s tight ass, and finally spilled inside him. He squeezed Keith tighter, burying his face in his neck and riding out his release as Keith ran his fingers through his hair.

Once his trembling subsided and he started to relax, Keith coaxed Shiro out of his neck and brought their lips together in a slow kiss.

“I love you,” Shiro murmured a millimeter away from his lips.

“I know,” Keith said, laughing softly. “I love you, too.”

Shiro pressed his next ‘I love you’ against Keith’s lips and Keith knew he wouldn’t mind having those words painted across his body under Shiro’s lips and hands.

If you enjoy my work, please reblog or consider buying me a ko-fi!

[harlindroth]

1918 – 2018 Angèle Laval Paul Nougé ACKNOWLEDGEMENT OF ANGÈLE LAVAL (Lyrical impromptu for big daily) Tulle; transparent fabric, network of tight stitches, French town whose color and roundabouts I don’t know, but which tells me everything I need to know about it when I see that very slender, brown haired, musical and light young woman who made it the scene of her pathetic exploits. Angèle Laval was then about thirty-five years old. She would be fifty today. I want to believe that she is still alive. But what is she thinking about? What is she doing at this hour when I write about her? To what humble or magnificent object is her hand, her eyes, her heart fixing themselves at this moment? Which way, which path of light or of crime is tempting her steps at present? Or if she is sitting down with closed eyes, populating the night with memories and dreams. Will she give us a sign one day? I scarcely dare hope. She belongs to those who die with sealed lips, to those people without confessions... I have often regretted not having lived, around 1917, in closeness to Angèle Laval. Perhaps I would have had helped her with all my strength. Better than her mother probably, that mediocre accomplice who at best was fit for panic and who, in the end, threw herself in the blackest water at that spot from where one is certain not to come back again. Angèle, who obeyed motives that were incompatible with her mother's, could simulate suicide excellently; it was after all but a forethought episode in a game that she did not intend to give up. I would thus have helped her. Though less well than I might have pleased. Because the rage, the boundless hope or the harmed love that roused Angèle Laval would have left me behind on the way. (There comes a time, alas!, when one cannot fool oneself too grossly about oneself). At best it is up to me to recognize in myself certain features, certain glimpses, the tension and the movement that combined in the amazing silent preparation of events that she succeeded in bringing forth. I can see her exercising in a thousand ways the qualities of a soul that is passionately dedicated to a great design: calculating coldness, minutious patience and that skillful dissimulation without which nothing great is ever achieved. She tries never to lie to herself. I do not know whether Angèle Laval knew Emma Bovary (*). But I am certain that she could have only felt contempt for her indulgent weakness and her peculiar blindness. That petit bourgeois woman maddened regarding the possible – what mediocre shape she gave to her torment, what weak means, what poor adventure she invented; what perfection in the art of betraying all true grandeur in oneself. Angèle Laval would have refrained from following her. She refuses to counterfeit reality and herself in such a summary way. Possible, impossible; these have no essential contradictory meaning for her. She dreams of the miraculous unknown that surely will emerge some day following a favorable incantation. She accepts to act upon the world as it is given to her; she refrains from vaguely modifying its form according to a formless desire – she knows that she would then compromise the action that she is dreaming of exerting. It is necessary that her actions insert themselves into that reality made of shopkeepers, rentiers, functionaries, of young and old maids, of elementary and frightened excesses behind closed shutters, of mean appetites, obscure, peculiarly base and ardent prides and lusts. If that world were to flee from her, what would be left for her? Angèle Laval does not belong to those who relinquish. She wants to act upon the world, not upon the ghosts that she could all too easily substitute for it. Thus her first step is not to invent the universe, but rather, thanks to a precise inquiry, to evaluate its true weight and fruitful horror. ...The world as it is, admittedly, but what should we do with the world? A question that all those on whom one still may rely must ask themselves. Angèle Laval, who strives for sparkling rigor, does not let herself get caught in any vulgar trap. We do not see her bow before some priest and seek protection in eternal life. We do not see her seclude herself in ordinary excessiveness or love. She neglects confessions, anathemas and the poems she could have written. By far her glance exceeds ordinary designs. And thus she is capable of strange sacrifices. Angèle, who is totally dedicated to her essential distinction, withdraws here, devoting herself to mingling with what most strongly excites feelings of revolt around her. For she strengthens and multiplies the ties that burden her. Every day Angèle makes herself a little more imprisoned within her province. I can hear her take part in stupid and calumnious conversations. I can see her alone behind her thin curtain watching the street. There is, at the window, a “spy” that her eyes do not bother to question. Her greatest courage, for the time being, is not to turn her back on that equivocal thickness, not to shut her eyes, not to cover her ears – but rather to participate in it and to live with it. She is still safe. Her curiosity, the attention that she is paying to everything being said and done around her – who would not be able to give an explanation that is obvious to most women; who would guess her secret motives? She is left to gather the elements of her work of fire in peace. Angèle listens and watches interminably. She lets her own memory become populated by the very images and words she abhors. She knows how to remain silent when necessary, to commiserate, to be indignant, to invent opinions that the circumstances require. When she does not have the opportunity to see or hear, she can suppose, guess and verify through a marvellous organization of cunning and audacity. Her mental traps are multiplied and perfected. Suddenly the fruit of that discipline takes the colors of miracle. The heaviest walls acquire the transparency of glass; there are no secret acts in that diaphanous town of Tulle anymore. Angèle sees all thoughts creeping within all heads. Everything has changed within her too. The system of subtle deductions she had so far had made use of vanishes and lets only the agility of a naked mind subsist which moves through leaps thanks to sudden illuminations. Angèle is here, there, and everywhere, at every street corner in time for conspiracy or for crime, in every recess in time for love, for fornication and for betrayal – the entire town is penetrated by her presence, the town belongs to her at last. But what will she do with what she possesses and by what she is possessed? We know that she expects nothing from contemplation or ecstasy. Complacency is not her strong suit. She knows that there is nothing to be won through soliciting wonders. When their hour comes, they will be able to force it to roll transfigured in their stream. Angèle Laval expects the best of the fires that she feels inclined to set in a world that is the least prepared for explosions and flames. But those insipid faces, those lifeless looks, those gestures measured by dusty habits... Just as she refused any exemplary life, Angèle Laval refuses to proceed through suggestion, through intimidation. “Look at me, – see this, – that is, – take a better look, – that is; truly, that exists”. Prophecies do not keep her attention either, as that kind of abuse of trust seems to her not so much reprehensible as all too precarious. Angèle Laval sets her bewitched town on fire. Her procedures have the simplicity of a naked hand moving towards a highly visible point in the bright light. Of all the means that she has taken into consideration, she retains but one, the most vulgar, the simplest, the most suitable one for her purpose. Day and night she draws the large, obscure and fascinating characters that populate her anonymous letters. It is a plume of fire that strikes the town every morning. She invents a style that corresponds exactly to her aim, in all aspects an admirable style: Madam, Your brother's fiancée is a person of notorious misconduct. In October 1918 she did away with her newborn brat… and when necessary, with an unparalleled detachment, she can call herself a wench and a whore. We know the consequences of that enterprise which she untiringly developed for long months. Incidents full of humor take place such as the one with the scorned priest, tragicomedies carrying those very people in a peculiar movement whom one thought were forever accommodated in a stony torpor, and lastly, on a stormy night, Insanity and Death rising together at the two extremities of the town and starting to wave at each other. Slamming doors and capsized minds – that great mysterious storm passes which turns the world upside down however it pleases. ...At the height of the storm that she had released and which center she occupied, I do not know whether Angèle Laval did herself justice. “I gave them everything that could give their miserable life a chance”, she could have said. “I gave them hatred, fury, hopelessness and insanity, I spread those ferments among them which are more precious than happiness.” But it is too much to imagine such clear-sightedness; the mirror that would reflect our true face never answers our questioning look. We only know that Angèle became silent. We also know how her adversaries managed to fight her, those which our abominable world automatically raises against those who have sworn to subvert its corrupted features. Those first in line, as is almost always the case, we know, turn out to be the physicians armed with their dreadful and laughable court of justice-psychiatry. It is of course a matter of quickly demonstrating that Angèle Laval is subject to illness and insanity. How to succeed with that? From her life whose scope they devote themselves to concealing, they grasp and emphasize only those features which according to them constitute the surest guide to the cursed path that they have chosen. Love, inhibition, transfers – into what mediocre abominations have they not tried to drag Freud and a few others? The point of departure for Angèle Laval's subversive enterprise is of course an amorous vexation and a deficiency that these people reduce to their own sad measure. Angèle the typist was in love with Moury the office manager, who was in love with the typist Solange, who pokes fun at Angèle who swears to take revenge and who extends her vengeance to the universe... Moreover, Angèle had a developing case of tuberculosis and displayed the evident stigma of neurosis, and then during the ten hour long test that she had been subjected to during which she was forced to incessantly write while being watched for the moment she would betray herself and resume her writing of fire, Angèle Laval suffered a nervous breakdown... But Angèle remained silent. Contempt is a sure means of defense. Invincibly she kept silent. She would never have consented to give out her views on love, on life, on death, views that we have to regard as incommensurable when compared with the ones that imperatively one would want to force her to acknowledge – life, love, what she was ready to hand over to them at the price of her own ruin. Thus she let the physicians and the judges accomplish their gloomy business. One could think of subduing her only by substituting a vulgar, hideous image of hers that was capable of rousing all adversity in place of the dangerous, mysterious and fascinating one that she presented to the world. Thus one easily constructed a letter-writing maniac, a sporadically semiconscious sick person. If only she had incidentally married her functionary... Erotic substitution always looks right. The image of Angèle Laval nevertheless escapes the absurd sketch into which they tried to confine her. For a moment she allowed a great surge of anxiety and revolt to sweep over the whole of France. One probably recalls the succession of enterprises that resembled hers, of the cluster of scandals to which she is not unknown. So that it is right the judicial system was deplored for not having been able to purely and simply suppress the whole affair. It now seems that oblivion has settled over Angèle Laval. Oblivion and space were part of her calculation. Shadow envelopes her, a cold and pure shadow that delivers her from dubious contact with journalists, judges and the police. But for attentive minds, the night that she inhabits cannot conceal the exemplary lesson. And yet. At critical moments, who could not let oneself think that Angèle Laval failed, and that the madness, the suicides, the tears and the outbursts of laughter that whirled for a while over her town quickly abated and sadly expired at the feet of the miserable beings that they had agitated? What is there to answer? (Angèle Laval must have often thought of the reserves of the world...) Through this manner of revealing herself to us, she could not provide a more or less satisfactory explanation. But she was, in a common way, only a poor woman delivered to a crowd of enemies. Her misery is maybe the very one that any attempt which finds a point of support and its justification in strictly a personal will is doomed to fail. Would one imagine Angèle Laval participating in the activity of a revolutionary party at the hour of insurrection? That chance has been denied her. Thus one could not talk of victory or defeat with regards to her, but simply of existence. She exists. Her hand is raised sometimes and seems to indicate a point on the horizon or some road. This gesture is enough to reject the weak exercises of the petty litterateurs to the limit of the grotesque and the odious, who really believe themselves to have transgressed literature and to think that they are transforming the world through the innocent game of their mute syllables. (Summer 1928) (*) from the novel of Gustave Flaubert (transl. remark). The case of Angèle Laval, the author of anonymous letters sent to many most petty bourgeois people and officials in the French town of Tulle during a few years starting in 1917 provoked not only scandals and great commotion, including a suicide, but also a significant media craze (transl. note). (transl. Bruno Jacobs / Jason Abdelhadi. From projected anthology of writings by Paul Nougé in English)

[alittlepieceofmytiredmind]

voices and minds

I am losing my ability to write. I can’t think concisely, clearly, with any consistent direction. I’m losing myself. For someone who is surrounded by the greatest people I could ever ask for and need, I feel awfully lonely sometimes. I feel so alone in this world sometimes, and all I ever wanted was to be close to people. To feel closeness in its rawness and its simplicity. Regardless, enough of the self pity, If I survive, I’ll dive back in.

Came to see you, out of last resorts, out of fear, out of hope, out of proof of strength, out of the better thing to do, out of all I have ever known to do. Displayed myself in all my vulnerability, as I always do. I walk out of the train station, I’m holding my breath and then I’m suddenly in your arms again. I close my eyes and I wish the moment never ended. I’ve never felt so vulnerable and naked in front of anyone. I grip you tightly and look upwards, you look into my eyes, I hope you can feel me, feel my thoughts, feel my love. I always thought coming back to you was enough, all we needed, because it was all we knew, and it always worked. I told you I loved you, and I knew I did, and the the day brought me new hope, new beliefs, refreshed old feelings. Things felt right and so effortless. I made my choice a long time ago, and I still would make the same one that day. I thought it was the same for you too. That’s why I stopped everything to just be there. I don’t know, it always made the difference for me. I thought pushing everything aside and just being together was proof of us standing the test of time, bringing everything away, stripping it all bare, and leaving just simple chemistry- between two people, two humans, just enjoying each other as they are. I'm sorry for ever saying moments like these aren't real. I really am. 

There are so many things that the two of us do not understand; but I always thought that was what our future was- we have eternity to work it all out. I always thought regardless of differences, regardless of anything, that none of it really matters in the grand scheme of things. I’d still choose to be at your side. That’s always what I thought. I thought that’s what we were built on- two people that just want to be with each other, and that love was all we needed. I always describe our relationship to my friends as troubled but serious, and real. Troubled but hopeful, and permanent. Troubled but enough. 

I’m back home, I don’t hear anything of you. My mind begins to slip, and I begin to worry. I call with no response. I check your friends’ social media, with no luck. I have a small window facing directly across my bed, it started raining around 5am this morning. I suddenly receive a text which I can’t understand. He forgot about me. I try to be loving, I try to accept. I try to see why you did this. I feel like a child, I can’t even sit still and be mature. I re-read the message several times. My dry sleepless eyes begin to well up again. I feel so alone again.  I am feeling too much. Feeling too much to the extent that I cannot write, I cannot process, I cannot share. Anything I do write, I quickly erase away. I don’t feel like anything I write is valid anymore. I don’t feel like anyone listens. I don’t feel like people understand me. I feel contradicted and taken down before I even try and write how I feel. We were all born with voices and minds that we should all be proud of having and using. I just don’t want to have mine anymore. Using my voice has only led to judgement and distance. Using my voice has only led to people walking away. Using my voice has never done me any good. People can’t take me. People can’t accept the words I say. People can’t see past the words. People can’t understand. 

Instead, I can only stay silent, I keep my mouth shut. I can’t reply to the message. I turn my phone off. I can’t speak anymore. I stare at the window, watch the patterns form, watch the trees in my neighborhood sway around. I listen to the same songs over and over again. I do nothing but synchronize my eyes to the trees. My muscles are tense and I clench my fists. I no longer eat and I no longer sleep. My face slowly but surely becomes damp. I look away from the window and face the wall. I curl myself into a ball and close my eyes so tightly until it hurts. I force my hands around my body and claw around my body. I try and stop myself from inflicting anymore harm on myself. I try not to drink. I am ashamed, I am tired, I still have strength but I feel so defeated. I sit and wait, a feeling I’ll never become used to, because I got so used to you being around to help me through times like these. I try and numb my mind. I must be strong on my own now. He’s not here. My breathing becomes heavy, and I close my eyes and try and control my breath. This will happen several times, whilst I wait for a sign, I wait for something. I wait for you.

A lot of things hurt me, and I think I get carried away in the heat of my feelings. Sometimes I don’t see the way my reactions affect other people. Maybe my past experiences and the world I see today just makes me angry. I am a bitter person. I know I have a problem with being empathetic towards people, to draw compassion and patience out of a feeling of misunderstanding is something I find so testing. To know when to draw the line, and stop, is something I’m still learning to do. It’s not about being honest and straightforward, it’s about knowing the right times to say it, and I know I’ve never quite struck the correct balance of that. I try, and I know it means that I need people that can see beyond that, see into my nature, see that I never mean harm. I’m not asking for pity, I’m just trying to understand myself. I truly don’t see if I’m pushing someone away. I was raised around the concept that constant honesty maintains closeness and integrity. And apparently, that doesn’t seem to be true. People haven’t really stuck around to tell me that, so I don’t know how to help myself; they just go. It’s starting to feel repetitive these days. Things will be going so great with someone, leading to dropping my walls down, to be told the same thing over and over. People learn to resent me for my mind. My friends tell me I simply haven’t met someone who is strong enough, mature enough, compassionate enough. I tell Tom out of weakness what happened. He tells me to wait, be patient, be loving, see past what you feel. He tells me some people need space from my mind, from people like me, and I must accept that I am too intense for some. But why couldn’t he tell me that? How can people space themselves away from someone they love? How can people go out all night with someone else and not think of their other half?, I say to him. I say to him in such shame, in such self hatred, and embarrassment, for ever feeling in the first place. He tells me he doesn’t know. Maybe, but all I feel is so awfully lonely, and sad, because I believe in ideas, believe in concepts, believe in people, to be better, to be enough. What if what they say is true? Am I cursed to be indifferent to everyone else? To be alone by default? Surely not. Why can’t people accept my thoughts? Maybe I only know how to love in one way, and I can’t understand other methods of loving. Either way, it’s all I know how to do, and it’s suffocating me. I love you, always, as I’ve always said, but it’s not enough anymore, is it? At the end of the day. I feel like I’m losing you and all I can do is watch, just watch it happen, watch it crumble away right in front of me. And nothing I can say or do will make it go away. Using spare money my parents trusted me with, to come and see you on impulse, wasn’t enough. I question if you even wanted me there. The last thing you told me was to contact you if I ever felt lonely, or if I ever needed you. Within less than an hour, you had already forgotten about me for the rest of the night, whilst I sat on a lone train carriage, feeling vulnerable, with new hope, just giving all I had in me, for you. Tom tells me I must be understanding, that you are showing all the signs of just needing a break from me. He tells me some people need to be with their friends and do other things because they can’t handle me. Why must it be this way? When I’m away from you, all I can think about is you. I’m not myself. I always thought humans surround themselves with people they love when they’re in distress. And I’m not one of them. You’ve always gone to your friends. Why couldn’t he just tell me? And how did he just do it, like it meant nothing, like my physical presence all day could just be forgotten? He spoke of temper in the past, spoke of doing things to hurt others, to distance himself away from them, when they hurt him. I never thought that included hurt I never intended to do. I’d like to have thought he never saw me as a hurtful person. I’m far from that. I’m just sensitive. I keep quiet when he asks, because all I feel is like I’m a blunt knife, sawing away. It’s like all I say is hurtful, all I say is vindictive. It’s like he can’t feel my love anymore, or doesn’t want to anymore. I’m told it’s all my doings, and he doesn’t feel the same about me anymore. He tells me a lot of things, and expects me to accept them, I guess. 

I don’t know. Today was hard. I’ve barely spoken anything to anyone; no one asked. I feel like I’m disappearing.