#i wrote something? again? i guess

[slushfaerie]

you and art were invited to his grandma's friend's holiday party. you really don’t want to go.

art donaldson x introverted!fem reader (or fem reader that would just rather stay home and have her way with loverboy art and vice versa..bc like...) incredibly self-indulgent and hastily written. inspired by my desire to stay home and also my desire for art donaldson. nsfw elements! way steamier than what i've written before. happy holidays and/or happy wednesday <33

it was almost time to leave and you'd put off getting ready for as long as you possibly could.

art looks up from his spot lounging on the couch with bated breath as you emerge from the bathroom, steam billowing through your hotel room.

his mouth all but hangs open as he sees you, cheek resting against his hand as he takes you in, probably wrinkling his pressed collared shirt he’s chosen to wear, sleeves rolled up to his forearms.

there you stood like some sort of angel - wrapped in a silky white robe, still-damp locks of hair framing your face. he would stare at you forever if he could. 

art’s attuned to you as you let out a soft sigh, your gaze a million miles away. holiday gatherings - gatherings in general - weren’t your most favorite thing. but you’d at least have art to buoy you through the evening, trying to make you laugh with aptly timed snide comments whispered in your ear at the expense of other partygoers. he'd reach his hand beneath the dinner table, thumb caressing your thigh acting as a life preserver. anything for you. 

art was agreeable, malleable in social situations, but he could think of a thousand other places he’d rather be - almost all of them having to do with you wrapped around him in some way. 

as you reach for your moisturizer on the dresser, art’s hand covers yours before intertwining your fingers. you melt against him as he slots his body behind yours, kissing the sensitive spot behind your ear, leaving a trail of kisses down your neck. he has to hold back a moan as he inhales the scent of your shampoo, of you. 

art undoes the tie of your robe, peeling it off and putting you on display to him, only in your cute bra and panties. you watch as he grabs the tub of moisturizer himself and unscrews the lid with diligent fingers, warming some between his hands. 

the way art massages your shoulders, it's as if he hopes to melt away your nerves and tension, leaving kisses in their wake. he hums approvingly as he feels you exhale.

you turn around to face him, your robe a silky pool at your feet, a look of momentary bliss on your face from his ministrations. he turns his head to press a gentle kiss to your palm as you cup his cheek with your hand.

art lets out a gasp as you lace your fingers in his hair, pulling his lips to yours. he kisses you back in earnest, licking into your mouth as his warm hands wander down to palm your ass, massaging with as much devotion as he'd given the rest of you, pulling you against him. he'd drown in you if you'd let him.

art lays you down on the bed as he continues to massage the moisturizer into your arms, pressing kisses and giving attention to each hand, each individual finger. looking down to meet his gaze, you see his pupils dwarfing the depths of his blue eyes with that little kiss of brown.

you can't hold back your moans as art leaves lingering kisses on the tops of your breasts - he's all lips and tongue and gentle nips, teasing the hardening buds of your nipples through your bra, trailing his way down your stomach. 

art’s lashes flutter shut as he licks the sensitive skin around your navel, tracing teasing shapes with his tongue right above the cute little bow at the top of your panties. god, you tasted so sweet.

art gives you a crooked grin as you squirm, cheeks flushing, breath now coming out in sweet, shallow pants.

"y'know, you're making me wanna keep you here all to myself."

you mumble with weak protest something about being worried about being late, about making a good impression on his grandmother. art chuckles and rolls his eyes with resignation.

"okay, if you say so." he crawls up your body, giving your cheek a tender caress with his thumb as he leans in closer.

"just wait until i get you back here," the words of encouragement more for himself than you at this point as art pulls himself away and goes to retrieve his sweater from the hotel dresser.

a little motivation to get you both through the night never hurt anyone.

[arsenicflame]

It's a time-honoured tradition- every time Sam comes across Izzy (and Ed) in their travels, he asks Izzy to marry him. And every time, Izzy turns him down.

At this point, Sam is asking more for the sake of it than any belief Izzy will ever say yes, a remnant of childhood dedication touched with 30 years of heartbreak and regret- though even now, a small part of him still holds out hope. Sam's promises have only got more extravagant over the years, from a job as his first mate, to a captaincy, a fleet at his command, a whole fucking island if that's what Izzy wants- but he knows it isn't though, not really. If Izzy was ever going to agree to marry him, to leave his life and go with Sam, it wouldn't be for anything Sam could offer him. Izzy never did care for flashy shows of wealth, for a ship or to be captain. The only thing that ever mattered to him was loyalty given, and loyalty shown in return. 

It all comes to a head after Stede left and came back, after Izzy lost a toe, lost his leg. Sam hasn't seen him since before things with Ed started to really slide off the rails, before stress permanently set into the lines of Izzy’s face. So, when he sees a dishevelled man with a hoof for a leg in a no-name port, he doesn't even consider the idea that he might know him. It's only when he turns towards him, and Sam catches a glance at those oh too familiar tattoos, he realises this is Izzy, his Izzy, that stands before him.

Knowing Izzy's discomfort with pity, he doesn't treat him any differently than he would in years gone by, positioning himself in Izzy's line of sight before approaching and sweeping him up into a bone crushing hug. 

“Israel-goddamn-Hands!” he exclaims, as Izzy grumbles back a begrudging “Samuel-fucking-Bellamy”, a tradition almost as old as their friendship itself. Izzy might not hug him back, but he can’t keep the corner of his mouth from twitching, just for a second.

(If Sam holds Izzy a little tighter and a little longer than usual, well. That's his business)

By the time Sam lets go, most of the crew has appeared in the town square, drawn in by the commotion. They may have given Izzy his leg and welcomed him as one of them, but still there’s an underlying tension, with nobody quite ready to set aside everything that happened before the Kraken. Seeing him cosying up to an unknown man sets everyone on edge, unsure whether to come to their first mate’s aid, or to assume that they've been betrayed once again.

When Ed sees that the yelling was Sam, his hand goes tense where it's held in Stede's. He knows the routine, has seen it more times than he can count, but as he watches them part he realises that this is the first time in a long time he's unsure of what Izzy's response will be.

Knowing that something’s different, knowing that Izzy's feeling vulnerable already, Sam doesn't go for the same flashy proposal he’s been giving for years. He doesn't promise Izzy the world, he doesn't cause a scene (or, any more of a scene than he already has, anyway). He looks at the fractured man in front of him, takes his face in his hands, and says the exact same thing to him he said when they were little more than boys. “Israel, I have to ask you. I know what you'll say, but I have to try. Come with me. Marry me and sail away with me. I'll keep you safe”

And Izzy… hesitates. He glances over at Ed, at Stede, and says to Sam “...We’re staying in port for a week. Ask me again then”

That's the moment Sam knows there is something deeply, horribly, wrong. He's not just looking at an Izzy who got seriously injured in a fight and is struggling to cope, this is something so much bigger than that- and that Ed has something to do with it. Izzy wouldn't even be considering leaving if he didn't. Whether it was negligence or something more sinister, Sam doesn't yet know, but he intends to find out.

[misiahasahardname]

mephone4 is Not a good teacher

(for an object show highschool au i made up… probably not gonna post more about it lol)

BONUS: chocolate bar, an unfinished doodle with mephone and two, and something i drew after tpot13 released and forgot to post. i think

(yes two is a god. as are the other algebraliens (besides x). the lore i made up for the algebraliens in this au is so strange…)

[pizzainator]

I watched Jacks stream oh my gosh...

I thought I could handle a Dsmp stream in 2024 but nope. just- that felt SO much like just a stream that would happen in like 2021. the wandering around falling into random creeper holes, chat telling jack to get philza to help him, and to find michael, the mobs interrupting and how unplanned it all was. unscripted lore my beloved forever and ever.

the way that it's like in tommy and jacks conversation- they're talking about things in character that also relates to (presumably) their feelings in real life. just gosh...

when jack and tommy said their goodbyes and jack looked back at technos house to see the sun rising- like its so perfect in a way that the incidental roleplay always was. Like in the way I know I'm reading into it but it still works and it feels like real life when something happens and you find yourself in that moment and life looks almost like a movie- everything in it's proper place for the scene- but it's all just coincidence. the sun didn't rise because a writer wrote that it would. the sun just rises and falls and the conversation just happens to end at that exact moment.

idk just- I really felt it. It captured the feeling of peak dreamsmp that I've missed so much.

I don't even have a problem with nuke ending personally I think it's perfectly fine as an ending. How I've always seen it is: Everyones been hurt by everyone and violence begets violence so the great final act is nukes that will kill everyone that have all ready been launched so it can't be taken back. Then in the prison tommy sees the early parts of the server through Dreams pov and sees the good that was there at the start and how much that has been corrupted since and he wants that simplicity again (he and dream were even friends at one point) before everything went terrible for everyone. Dream turns his back on his plan that he's been building up to for so long cause what he really wants is the same thing as tommy. for things to be simple like at the start. but it's too late- its too far gone. the nukes have already been launched there's no going back. just the hope that maybe in another world things could've been different.

(also the added context of nuke ending being an elaborate character/relationship/map reset to setup a season 2 that never happened.)

So there's my nuke ending defense lol. I know it wasn't very popular with a vast amount of people and that's okay too.

I think ending something like dsmp was never gonna be easy or satisfy everybody, with how many individual povs there are and storylines. I always expected there to be things left unfinished. (unfinished symphony ;) Even if that's pretty unsatisfying for us viewers. (there's a particular stream I really wish had happened with foolish, dream, and eret)

idk there's a post I always remember when thinking about the ending that was like: "Maybe they couldn't write a happier ending at that time in their lives." (super paraphrasing) obviously talking about techno's passing. it's a bit assumptive but the CC's have talked publicly about how much that has affected them (of course it did). With something like that I imagine giving your minecraft server/roleplay character a happy ending is the last thing on your mind.

Todays stream felt like grief and nostalgia and complicated feelings for a time that has passed but still left it's marks on you:

“are you happier?” “I'm getting there”

like, that just says it all.

[becasbelt]

shit did i really only post 3 fics this year? my bad gang i'll try to write more next year i promise

[icewindandboringhorror]

Recent-ish things ~

[godofstupidsentences]

I would literally give everything to read Tradition Of Tragedy

[vaguely-concerned]

it really is hilarious how little objective quality has to do with how much I'll love an RPG. larian makes games that are objectively very good, but don't really resonate with me personally when I play them, for whatever reason. bioware makes games of wildly erratic levels of quality that cause my soul to vibrate at pitches heard only by dolphins and god.

[nathsolkyoako]

I read the shit I wrote yesterday and like. Dude this is Weird

[hecatesbroom]

I thought you might like the fic asks! :) questions 6, 16 and 19 for you!

Haha I absolutely do! Thanks for the questions! <3

6. the word that appears the most in your current draft

My current draft is actually not a fanfic, but an original project I started the other day! (For anyone who's curious: my most used word there is "envelope"). But for some fic drafts I'm most near to finishing: it's "little", "flowers", "just", and "all" (for 4 golden girls wips respectively).

16. favourite place to write

I'm not too picky with the place I write in, but I prefer writing anywhere at home! Admittedly I don't really go anywhere else at the moment lmao but it's a lot easier to focus on what I'm writing when I'm home!

At the moment I usually sit on the couch, but I like to switch things up by moving to a table or my desk from time to time. It's mostly the couch though, because I tend to be very tired & it feels less exhausting to sit there for some reason! (Plus, it's easier on my back :)

Added bonus about the couch is that my cats tend to opt to sit on my lap instead of my laptop when I'm writing like they do at the table, haha.

19. the most interesting topic you’ve researched for a fic

Oh dear -- I honestly don't know! Am I exposing myself too much here by saying I don't research much at all at the moment? I just wing it and usually hope for the best haha (so I mostly avoid writing about topics I'll have to research! I'm keeping a list of things to look into once I do have the time and brainpower again).

I think the one thing I looked up that hit hardest was the symbolism for ivy, for the appropriately titled Ivy. I'd written the whole thing before I figured: hey! maybe ivy works well as a symbol. And lo and behold: its meaning turned out to be even more heartbreaking than I'd hoped!

But mostly it's just a bit of fact checking :) or looking for appropriate songs, like the one for oh, my dear / our love is here to stay, for which I really wanted them to dance to a Sinatra song (because all girls mentioned they love him, so it only seemed appropriate)!

[castieldelamancha]

Dean looks down at his lap and notices the little mountain of paper pieces that he has created there, his hands nervously tearing up into small pieces the brochure the bubbly young girl that welcomed them at the door gave him when they got to the bar.

Castiel, who was apparently talking to Dean, he doesn't know what about, because he wasn't paying attention, follows his gaze down and, slowly, pries the last remnants of what is left of the bright yellow brochure from Dean's hands.

"Dean, is everything okay?" Dean nods giving Cas a smile that he hopes is convincing enough, and judging by the way Castiel stares at him it probably isn't.

Get a grip man, he tells himself, what are you, fifteen?

Nervous, he is nervous, because he thought this whole night out for Cas and Cas is important and he refuses to let this be anything but perfect. Like he can control every little thing, like he can't accept he actually can't do that.

He takes Cas out on dates now, because they are part of the human experience, because secretly he had always yearned for the chance to do normal things like that with someone he loved, even tough he never thought he could love so much, so fiercely, so openly as he loves his Cas. They spend so much time together nowadays and Dean loves it, but he felt every activity was too much Dean and not enough Castiel. Even if they enjoy similar things and Castiel doesn't seem to mind what they do that much, Dean put all his energy into finding something that they could share but that could mean something more for Cas.

He found this amateur poetry reading night, and he thought, why not? He convinced himself, and then his brain went and gave him a list of why not's while he drove them here.

"I just want this to be good, that's all, okay?" He finally confesses, because Cas is still staring, tone light, as if he wasn't that worried, not at all.

Castiel's eyes soften at that, he puts away the ruined brochure and reaches for one of Dean's hands, interlacing their fingers together, the movement almost causing the pieces of paper mountain to crumble down.

"If it isn't," he says, apparently reading Dean like the open book he is to him these days, "it won't be your fault, I will still appreciate your thoughtfulness, and I will still appreciate the time we spend together."

Dean doesn't even know what he was worrying about, this is Castiel, he reminds himself. He made his way throughout Hell just to get him, to help him, to protect him, to be by his side, over and over again. He can survive two hours of shitty poetry, if it's even shitty. Maybe Dean is judging these strangers too harshly. He squeezes Castiel's hands, unable to say anything since the lights are turning off and people are clapping around them for the first person taking the stage.

Half an hour later Dean decides it isn't boring, nor is it awful, his brain can suck it up. He hasn't let go of Castiel's hand yet, and it isn't in his plans to do so any time soon either.

Struck me like a bolt of lightning,

brought my heart back back to life

The man on stage reads out loud, and Dean, Dean simply turns to look at Cas, watching his focused profile,

the brightness of this light of yours,

fighting off the gloom of this shadow of mine.

Castiel turns to look at him then, mouthing an I love you at him that Dean leans in to whisper right back at him.

[seaofreverie]

I must say that lately I've been too addicted to animal crossing to really have time to do anything else but one good piece of news is that I finally made some real progress on my book documenting my experience of seeing TMBG show recap post because I finished describing the pre-show stuff and the first set yesterday so I might finish it this week. I hope. The only problem is that it's already 9 pages long so in a way I'm not joking about how I could turn this into a book instead. And it's not my fault that the stage banter was so good that I'm probably going to end up transcribing like half of it at least.

[oneroomjestershow]

Of all the OCs you've made, do you have a favorite?

aaa it's difficult bc my favs change from long periods of time. i have more than 100 gay imaginary people but from the ones im currently obsessed are Eli and another one i can't talk about here

Eli bc i can't get bored with them since they have a lot of forms and behaviors so its fun to think about all the possibilities, the other one bc she's my type;;; but if it wasn't her then it would be BB since he reminds me of her a lot

[theflyingfeeling]

hiiiiiiii I just wrote this little Olli/Allu thingie for fun, I hope you'll have fun reading it 💖 it's soft with a pinch of pining (please act surprised), and somewhat based on a couple of conversations that have been had here in the Olli/Allu Delulu Land, some of which in my/other people's asks, others in DMs 💕

~

Olli and Aleksi had touched each other in many ways before they first kissed each other. Perhaps that was exactly what messed with Olli's head the most.

They had hugged and wrapped their arms around the other's shoulder, like any good friends did. They had exchanged a massage or two in the tour bus or backstage, and each time had left Olli a little dry-mouthed somehow, to hear Aleksi's satisfied moans or to have Aleksi's fingers graze over his shoulder blades all too gently for it to be called a massage. It's nothing, Olli would say to himself in those moments. I've got this under control.

(Already then he had known it wasn't quite how things were.)

There had been the subtle touches of hands during signing sessions and the light nudges of feet under the table at band dinners that had lived inside Olli's head for days after. When either of them was tired enough, they'd lie their head on the other's shoulder or lap and have their hair played with, absentmindedly, at least in Olli's case, until he'd notice Aleksi was staring up at him with what Olli identified as curiosity or questioning, as if Olli would somehow be able to explain how or why his fingers found it so easy to twirl Aleksi's locks around them. It just happened, every heart-shattering time, and Olli had no means to do anything about it.

Amazingly, some of the touches they had shared had been far too intimate for just two guys who enjoyed each other's company but had never even kissed each other before, like that time a hotel room play-wrestle had turned into grinding against each other until they had messed their pants, or when they had been bored out of their minds on a day off and helped each other release some built-up steam under their duvet (they hadn't been bothered to notify the hotel reception for having given them only one). Yet another time they had schemed against Niko in a game of hotel room roulette and celebrated their victory by sucking each other's brains off the following night, just for the heck of it, because it was fun and they both felt like it (And Other Lies Olli Told Himself at Night When He Couldn't Sleep).

They hadn't talked about it afterwards, because why would they have? Hey mate, 'twas fun having you in my mouth last night, I hope that didn't awaken anything in you, haha, anyway, whatcha wanna have for lunch today? In Olli's defence, it hadn't awaken anything in him, per se; that had happened a long time ago already, by touches that had been far more innocent and far more devastating.

Still, ever since that night, Olli had been wondering what it might feel like to have Aleksi's tongue elsewhere on him. The thought alone sent shivers through his entire body.

"You're not getting sick again, are you?" Niko asked him, and it was then Olli realised he had got too lost in his thoughts once again. "Better not make a habit out of it, catching something whenever we're touring the States."

"Nah, it's just..." Olli lost his line of thought when his eyes met Aleksi's across the lounge. The flash of his sympathetic smile before he turned back to his phone was enough to empty Olli's mind again. "I'm not getting sick. No need to worry. It's just... chilly here."

Also, I was imagining our DJ's tongue on my shoulder bone, on my navel, on my own tongue, but let's not get into too much detail about that.

"It's 27 fucking degrees outside..." Niko mumbled, but left it at that. Olli almost felt like kissing the man on the mouth for deciding not to bother him about it further; Niko, if anyone, would've fished the truth out of him eventually.

Olli resumed his useless daydreams about Aleksi's tongue, his eyes locked on Aleksi's brown flannel jacket thrown on the lounge sofa instead of the man himself, in fear of being too obvious, or maybe in fear of Aleksi looking back at him, whichever would be the worst option. At the same time, he craved for Aleksi's attention and for his gaze on him as much as he ached for Aleksi's touch, even though the last one had taken place just moments ago when Aleksi had lightly braced his hand on Olli's knee when he had passed him on his way to the back of the bus, where Olli had been losing himself in a variety of imaginary scenarios involving himself, Aleksi, and their hands all over each other's bodies. Yes, just a small touch from him, and Olli had been going dizzy with the need for more.

Maybe he was getting sick after all.

Olli closed his eyes and tried to think of something else for change, but Aleksi's mere presence was like a siren's song that kept calling him, and helplessly he dived into another reverie that would take him back to the night they had tested out a bath bomb a fan had given to Aleksi and ended up exchanging footjobs in the hotel room bath, or that morning after they had all spent the night in some Central European train station because their flight had been cancelled, and Olli had been so tired he hadn't noticed a pickpocket taking his phone out of his hand, but he had sensed Aleksi's calm breathing against his neck as they had leaned against each other on the dirty station floor. The combination of his favourite Aleksi memories and the gentle sway of the moving tour bus was like a rocking cradle lulling Olli until his muscles relaxed and his head felt heavy.

He felt a sudden warmth next to him, but by then he was too far gone to see what it was, and instead laid his head on something soft and familiar. If falling asleep came easy to him, so did clearing his mind off anything except for Aleksi and his soft fingers caressing his cheek, which was the last thought he had before he fell asleep.

~

When he next opened his eyes, he realised why Aleksi's touches had felt so real in his dream.

"Hey," Aleksi whispered at him, his face hovering above Olli's. "Slept well?"

Olli had, though his eyelids still weighed a ton each. He wondered how long he had been sleeping; the dim-lit lounge offered no clues of the passage of time.

"The others went to bed already."

"Ah."

"How's your neck? I... tried to make you more comfortable."

"Oh."

Olli hated how his sleepy brain only provided him with single-syllable answers.

"Yeah. 'Cause... that one time you got a killer headache from sleeping on the sofa without a pillow, remember?"

"Mmmh." Olli did, but he had not expected Aleksi to keep books about his physical troubles. "I mean. Thanks."

He sat up, his neck feeling no more stiff than it already had been from hours of sitting in a moving vehicle.

"Feeling alright?"

Physically, Olli may have been, but Aleksi's shoulder was pressed against his and his nose inches away from Olli's face and his poor heart skipping beats left and right at the sight of Aleksi's eyes up so close all of a sudden, so his honest answer to the question would be a matter of perspective entirely.

"Yeah, I'm good."

As good as I possibly could, after having dreamt about the warmth of your skin under my fingertips and lips, only to wake up to find your fingertips on me instead and your mouth but a spur of the moment away from mine.

"Wanna keep me company a little while? I'm not tired at all yet."

There's no force in the world that could rip me from next to you right now.

"I know I should try at least, so I'd maybe be a little less jetlagged tomorrow, but..."

And deprive me of the chance to see you adorably sleepy again, resting your chin on my shoulder and pulling me to your bunk for an early afternoon nap? No chance in hell.

"Sure," he heard himself say anyway, because of course he would.

"It's good to be back in the States again, isn't it?"

"It is," Olli just nodded, letting Aleksi do most of the speaking.

"Lots of great memories, eh?"

Tons, actually, most of them somehow related to you.

"Uh-huh."

"I mean, sometimes it's rough, of course, but it's all worth it, in the end?"

"Wouldn't change a day," Olli said, although it was only half the truth; he'd never give up the thrill of playing at new locations to rooms full of people who were about to have experience the best show of their lives, but he could've lived without the sleepless nights he had spent thinking back to Aleksi's smile over his Mountain Dew or how he could swear Aleksi had stopped to stare at Olli's mouth a little too many times to not make Olli think.

(Thinking was the worst.)

"Yeah, me neither," Aleksi agreed. His eyes did it again: glancing at Olli's lips once, twice, perhaps a third time if Olli hadn't averted his own gaze.

The silence that then followed had Olli both hoping and fearing Aleksi would mercilessly cut their late-night talk short and suggest they go to bed after all, but he was soon to find out it was in vain.

"Except for maybe that day Porko pissed himself. The bus reeked for days afterwards, eugh."

It was a small miracle no one in the bunk section began to grunt in displeasure when Olli snorted loudly at Aleksi's anecdote that hit Olli like a lightning out of the blue West Coast sky and bended him over in giggles, bonking his head on Aleksi's shoulder where it rested as his shoulders shook and his chest vibrated with laughter. He felt Aleksi's hand on his back, just staying there for some unknown purpose, but Olli was too tired and too giggly to preoccupy himself with it.

Perhaps he should have, because when he lifted his head, there was no escape: Aleksi's hand was now in the back of his neck, and Olli's nose touching the side of Aleksi's. His lungs forgot how to breathe, because his brain was no longer giving orders to the rest of his body, except for his eyes that kept travelling between Aleksi's eyes and his red, parted lips.

Their lips touched, but it wasn't quite a kiss yet; however, it was enough for Olli to understand having Aleksi's lips wrapped around his erection once upon a wild night was merely a foretaste, an omen of something that would turn his entire world upside down, or at least that's what happened to all his internal organs when their mouths finally melted against each other and Olli melted in Aleksi's gentle embrace. Their first kiss was a tender one, shy even, so light that it was barely even there, and Olli kept holding his breath in fear of scaring it away if he did something has reckless as using the bodily functions that kept him alive. The next one was a little more experimental, a shade more daring, with Aleksi's bottom lip captured by Olli. That was when Olli noticed Aleksi was probably as frightened as he was, sucking in a trembling breath when Olli let go of him.

Olli brought his hand to the side of Aleksi's neck. He felt the man's pulse under his palm, pounding as vigorously as Olli's own.

"Aleksi..." he begun, without the faintest idea of what he even wanted to say. That seemed to be just enough, however, to make Aleksi sigh before pulling Olli back in, bringing their mouth against one another, tasting him, taking him.

Olli had had Aleksi touching him in almost every way he could imagine, but he had a feeling this one might just become his favourite.

[clovariia]

"someone new"

💝 wendy testaburger x kenny mccormick (kendy)

💝 1.4k words

💝 i wrote this fic and drew this art for my wonderful girlfriend @lesbuoyant's birthday! HAPPY BIRTHDAY, RHYME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 🥳🎂🎉

🔗 https://archiveofourown.org/works/51529138

[gxlden-angels]

Looking back, it's so funny that my family still sees my neurodivergence as more of a prayer issue than a neurological difference especially when I got very overwhelmed singing during praise and worship, but was still told to sing and dance so they definitely looked to their side and just saw this