#it might take some time for me to... talk to others

[vatelixx]

The enormity of my desire (disgusts me),

Very very early seasons (1 — start of 2) Spencer Reid x afab!BAU!reader

SMUT!! (and fluff, some angst in relation to Spencer’s past because it can never be too happy, we’re not allowed nice things here). first times & explorations of intimacy.

──── autistic spencer (it’s a central theme to the plot), reader is actually morally good (for once).

Warnings: sub spencer (what did u even expect?), heavy corruption kink, first time for Spencer (all i do is sit around and think about how i’d like to devirgin that genius), HEAAVY praise kink, very very inexperienced Spencer, slight? oral fixation, they’re both just rlly down bad (i told u i would write something light, i delivered), Reader is whipped, Spencer is sooo much worse. Biblical references, Religious imagery, i think i talk about math equations???? And random metaphors/complexes.

w.c: 4k

a/n: i rlly wanted to explore aspects of spencer that criminal minds swept under the rug (cough cough his undiagnosed autism, cough cough his social exclusion, cough cough his crippling fear of forever being alone). Next upload will prob be heavy angst/no smut post-prison spencer (god help me please, i must be a masochist for the way i make myself suffer)

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There’s a lot Spencer hasn’t done.

He knows he’s behind, that he never quite caught up when it came to the taboo of sex and intimacy. Everything, everything, he’s ever had has been centred around exclusion, alienation, he feels like he’s lived on pause. Frozen, never advancing, stuck on ‘go’. Touch isn’t easy for him, interpersonal relationships are worse. He’s different, god he’s heard that his entire life. ‘You’re not weird, you’re just… different’, but maybe he is weird. Maybe his whole existence is just one big cosmic fuck you, because he’s missed out on so much, so much that he can’t understand, comprehend, act out against. Falling behind; this is the only area of life where he continuously comes up short, inexperienced, naive, he’s not used to being incompetent.

He’s never experienced want the way others do. He could never just hook up, fall into the body of another, expose them to the vulnerable elements of his stature. Open himself up to scrutiny. He might be a genius, he might be intellectually advanced, accepted into a multitude of ivy leagues before he was old enough to vote, but there’s drawbacks to his success. Social awkwardness, an inability to blend, mould, be one of the crowd. Sometimes he wishes he was average, something grey and mundane, so far reduced from the person he is now— it would all be plainly simple.

But he’s not, he’s not. So, this is the weight he has to bare for the brain he never asked for.

Pyrrhic victory, he’ll always be renowned for his intelligence. ‘You’re going to change the world kid,’ maybe, but simultaneously, he’ll never get to experience said world. There’s a chance he’ll always be on the outside, watching normal people gravitate towards each other. Live dreary lives of domesticated simplicity. Stacked bills, arguments over money and parenting techniques. Going to bed angry, only to turn around, mid-night, and resolve it, to not sleep on bad blood. To take them off the couch, to settle into predestined sides of the mattress.

There’s not enough possessions in the world he’d sacrifice just to experience love.

Hedgehog dilemma, the challenges of human intimacy. The hedgehogs want to move closer, to preserve heat during cold. But, they are forced, biologically cursed to remain apart, in order to prevent themselves from harming each other. Spencer doesn’t want to be hurt, to hurt, it’s a morbid byproduct of his upbringing; all he ever endured was mockery.

He thought he’d never get to experience the physical, carnal aspects of existence. And sure, he made peace with the notion, accepted the consequences of being born atypical. Learnt to live without.

But then, oh then there was you. Pretty, intellectual you who quite literally tipped his world on it’s axis. Upheaved the most stable of routines. New to the BAU, he wanted you to last. To stay around, endure the worst of the job. If only for his selfish benefit of orbiting in your presence.

He remembers how it all started: Detroit, another case, more budget cuts, forced proximity that sent you spiralling into a shared bed for the night.

“You’re my favourite person in the team.” you admitted, “And I know that’s dumb, because we’ve spoken the least, but… you’re just, so you. That’s a good thing by the way, a really really good thing.”

He couldn’t quite believe you were talking about him. Spencer, who spilt coffee, and slipped into ceaseless tangents about obscure information. Spencer, who walked into walls when you were around, stumbling over his sentences before deftly, very astutely, giving up, walking away mid-conversation. He wore sweater-vests and colourful mismatched socks, it’s not like he was going to be crowned ‘white boy of the month’.

“Not dumb.” Spencer had responded, shifting closer to tangle further into the warm mess of this accidental situation. “That’s good. I like being me.” he mumbled. “Sometimes…. sometimes it sucks. But that’s okay. I think it’s okay?”

He moved to press his face into the crook of your neck, but you were faster, gathering him by tousled hair, forcing him to look you in the eye.

Oh.

“Please. Please.” he whispered, breaking apart, fracturing, “Please like me. And more than in a weird, ‘just friends or coworkers’ way.”

You did. You do. He should’ve kissed you then, but maybe he was scared, maybe he couldn’t quite discern his feelings, separate the logic from the emotional. So he waited, waited, waited until now. Your third date, you take him to an exhibition within a science centre: replica models of the solar system, filling rooms up, papier-mâché sculptures illuminated by light.

Best date ever. You listen, even when he’s rambling about planets, when he’s pointing out that yes, Jupiter’s density is less than water. That, technically, it would float in a bathtub, if one was built to accommodate its size. You don’t care that he’s not exactly the staple-piece for conventionally attractive males. That he’s nerdish, and awkward, and so so inexperienced when it comes to this.

In his apartment, later, much later, he looks at you, looks at you like you’re the one who just solved the fucking Riemann hypothesis.

“What do you want the most? Like,… if you could ask for one thing.” you say, and god, Spencer loves when you pose these deep, hypothetical questions. When you make him think, because you, you are the biggest challenge to his intellect yet.

You. He wants to say. But he settles for ‘Being remembered,’ instead. He works to untangle layers of fabric, your scarf, your jacket, letting out an exasperated laugh when he meets your amused gaze. “Right now though? I think I’d settle for kissing you.”

You cup his jaw, tracing your fingers along the sharp curve, and god he has perfect anatomy. “Settle huh? You should be more appreciative.”

He leans forward to press a chaste kiss against your lips. Drawing away for a moment, just to return because he’s never had this before. Because for the first time in his life, he gets it. He gets physical attraction, even if it took time. He’s kissed, been kissed, yes. But he could count those moments on one hand, and if you asked how many he truly enjoyed, he’d be left with no fingers raised.

“Believe me, i’m very appreciative…”

This isn’t like before, what he felt in the past; he expected something monotone, flighty, a brief fleeting moment of satisfaction. Means to an end. No, it’s actually the best thing he’s ever experienced, and he’s going to become so insufferable after this, because he’s just found out he is very very into kissing.

Correction: he’s very into kissing you.

In the moment between parting, and touching again, he assumes you to be divinity personified. Spencer has never been religious, but something of this magnitude should be canonised. He wants to ask you. Ask you when you became this beautiful. When you became the person he needs to kiss a second time, kiss a third time, kiss until his lips go numb.

A shaky inhale, a pause. “I hope… I hope that it was okay - I mean, it was good for me. Really, really good. Um—“ to be honest, he’s just glad he didn’t say thankyou.

“Yeah, Spence. That was… wow.” you draw your bottom lip between teeth, press into tissued flesh. Jesus Christ. “Wanna try again?”

Yes yes yes yes. He looks at you, pupils blown obscenely out of proportion. Part of him wants to say, ‘why didn’t we do this sooner?’ But that’s not fair; he’s only ready now. Now that he feels, now that he might be a little in love with you.

“Please,” is his answer, and then he’s catching your face in the palms of his hand, tugging your lips back to his, because admittedly, they have ached in the long, extensive period you were apart (53 seconds).

This time it deepens and Spencer sees stars. It’s an astronomical phenomenon, something interstellar— and god, he’s relating kissing to space. They should just tape the word ‘virgin’ to his back and call it a day.

There’s soft little breathy sighs escaping his mouth now, bleeding into yours. And yeah, spontaneous combustion might be a real threat. Actually no, it would hardly be spontaneous; there’s a clear, clear cause, and it just so happens to be your ruinous lips.

This is an entirely new facet of the human experience. The kiss is electric; he’s always been partial toward physics, and right now his veins carry an alternating current.

You know, he could probably write a thesis based on this.

You both stumble back back back until he’s hitting a wall, and yes, thankyou. He’s making all sorts of sounds he can’t justify, and it’s a supernova, an infinite black pool of— oh, he thinks he might die, ascend, transcend, when you press your thumb against his chin, hold your lips at just a little slant from his. Force him to wait there.

“Please,” he’s never been above begging. A worthy sacrifice, one he’ll certainly repeat again because you return to the kiss, and the world around him dissolves.

You’ve got one hand tangled in his hair. Tousled auburn, fingers sinking into strands, pushing all the way down to the root. The other is still cupping his face, keeping him close, keeping him selfishly close actually.

“Spence,” you murmur. And yes. Yes. He likes that. The way his name sounds rolling off your tongue, like it was destined to be there. Like he was destined to be yours.

His world is ending. So is yours. Fuck it, he presses himself against your thigh, and ohmygodohmygod. He’s being loud, he’s actually being so criminally loud right now because apparently he’s the most whorish virgin to ever exist.

“I lied, I lied,” he admits between messy kisses, “When you asked what I wanted the most? It’s not to be remembered, well it is, its on the list. But—“ he groans, kisses you again because talking interrupts matters that are more important. Like your lips.

“I wanna cum.”

Eloquent.

Spencer Reid being dirty? Oh, it’s hot, it’s so hot to reduce someone to such an obscene state. To reduce him, the boyish fumbling nerd (who just so happens to be the most beautiful person in existence) to such a degrading mess.

Still, there’s shock. Not because he said it (you greatly appreciate the indecent things falling from those pretty lips right now), but because—

“You’ve never? Haven’t even experienced it once? By yourself?”

He should be embarrassed, but his lips are red, his eyes are glassy, and the bulge in his pants is straining to be touched. “Never,” he sighs shakilly. “Never, and i’m— i’m starting to understand why it’s so popular.”

He whimpers, pushes himself against your thigh, because the friction, yes. “Is that weird? Please don’t think i’m weird. Because I’m really, really weird. Just maybe… not in that way?”

It’s never been enough. His body sometimes feels numb to the touch, and yet still so very overstimulated. Like he manually blocks himself from feeling, already prepared for the flinch. How does he explain that life hasn’t been kind to him? That he hates his body because of what people made it out to be when he was a child. Stripping him naked, tying him to a goalpost, always the underdog. The one to be targeted, tormented.

“It’s actually kinda hot,” you interrupt his thoughts, and just because you’re evil, corrupt, the worst, you press your thigh harder against his clothed cock, palm covering his mouth when a plethora of whiny sounds escape his mouth.

It’s performative, really. Alone in his apartment, there’s no need for noise control. So when your thumb slips between parted, swollen lips, he knows to suck. The average human hand has between 10,000 and 10 million bacteria, and Spencer does not actually give a fuck anymore.

“To think that you’ve never even felt what it’s like. That you’re gonna feel it with me for the first time. I get to see that shit— god, you’re going to look so fucking pretty for me.”

You draw your thumb out of his mouth, and he has the audacity to whine.

He’s never wanted anything more in his entire life. It’s all tertiary now. Only this matters.

“Please don’t praise me—“ he protests, “I’ll probably finish in my pants.”

“Praise kink, noted.”

You laugh, and he can only groan, curse existence for being this cruel to his overworked, undervalued body. “Don’t— don’t laugh. You’re not supposed to laugh, that can heighten performance anxiety. Increase insecurity, and…” he sighs, “You do not care. Sadistic tendencies, noted.”

“Shut up. Wanna see you.” you say, and he’s just muttering breathless mhm’s, too delirious to function; his body is betraying the last iota of self-control like the little whore it apparently is.

His sweater comes off first, then his top. Discarded fabric, his raised arms when you mutter a candid ‘up’, giving way to exposed skin. In response? Your pupils dilate. Spencer knows because he’s analysing, profiling. If you hate him like this, he’s fairly certain he’ll drag himself into a self-dug early grave. He wishes he was being melodramatic. That your approval didn’t have such a substantial impact on his carefully-constructed ego. But, oh, it does. It does.

Thin, with a long, defined torso, he blushes, rose blemished skin, when your hands drag across his stomach. He’d love to say he reacts sanely, suavely. Urbane to your touch. But that would be a total, discreditable lie. Instead, his back arches, seeking contact, following the path of your fingertips with pitiful desperation. He feels malleable, willing to bend and contort, if only to feel more.

“How can you not think you’re pretty, Spence?” His pants are gone next, then his stained boxers, fabric borderline sheer now, soaked through with pre-cum.

Spencer feels betrayed. His body never responds, not to his own hands, not to his own thoughts. And yet, the moment you’re on him, he’s a live-wire. It’s sick, heinous, double-crossing. Maybe it’s purposeful, done just to spite him. Figures.

“Holy shit, look at you. Look at how perfect you are.” Spencer wants to object, because he distinctly told you not to praise him. However,.. right now, the lights are on but nobody is home. Brain-death, he’s certainly in a vegetative state.

“Ohmygodohmygod,” he whimpers, because no amount of knowledge about human anatomy and physiology could prepare him for how he feels under your touch. No amount of education in the psychology of relationships could inform him of how viscerally wrong the way you look at him feels.

Because it’s not wrong, not all. It’s the most right he’s ever felt, and he’ll tell you that if you’ll just keep it up.

The sounds he’s making are phonographic, lewd, you’ve given up on trying to stifle them now. Where have you been hiding? Your eyes fall, and he wants to blush away from the exhibiting gaze, but he’s just…. too far gone; the thought of your touch outweighs any previous reticence. Then, oh then, you drop to your knees, and shit. He expected your thigh, maybe your hand if he was lucky, not—

This. Your mouth, your tongue, your pretty lips; god, god, is this a sin? Because if it is, he’ll take it.

“Please,” he whines, and he can’t look anymore because the sight alone is going to send him over the edge. He’s gripping the wall, scrambling scrambling for purchase, because he’s trying not to grip you, but how exactly does he keep this respectful?

He’s pretty sure they’re past that, considering your mouth is currently wrapped around his cock, and he’s debauched.

You want this, you want him, he feels like he’s transcended humanity, like he’s become someone, anyone and anything, that deserves the way you’re taking him apart, piece by piece. In the aftermath, he hopes you don’t leave a single ounce of him intact.

“Wanna kiss you. Oh— oh oh,” he’s sobbing now, “Come back here. Miss your mouth— even if it’s,” he looks down and that’s a mistake. “Please.”

Of course it would be Spencer to disrupt the best (and admittedly only) head of his life because he needs you closer.

You oblige, raising from your knees, and Spencer thinks it might be sacrilegious. But then again, he feels religion in your touch so it can’t be too profane. Maybe? He’s not sure, he’s not sure and it doesn’t matter. Ethics and morality have long since disintegrated, sins are engrained into humankind. He almost wants to thank Eve for tearing into the apple, because it’s allowed this irreverence to occur.

Spencer blindly follows you through the apartment, stumbling and muttering until he can collapse against the bed. Baring his pretty neck as his head hits the bedframe. Tangled in sheets, draped over his lap, his deft fingers run across your waist, mapping out the structure of your frame. If only to remember, recite this act of blasphemy.

“Spence,” you whisper, and then his lips are crashing into yours, stealing breath, stealing sanity. He whimpers, murmurs a protest when you draw back, and you can only laugh. “Lets get you off, yeah? You wanna feel an orgasm, pretty boy?”

“Yes, yes please. That would uh— yes.” he’s not even sure how he’s conscious right now. His body, god his body, has endured more pleasure in the last hour than it has for the majority of his life. Your hands scathe, and Spencer is willing to indefinitely burn, if just to feel them one more time.

You only stop to take off your clothes, and surely there needs to be prep? To reaffirm, he knows anatomy, the correct procedure, how the transgression is supposed to occur. And yet, that’s from a clinical, objective mindset. Do this, do that, etc etc. Nothing works out like that in practice.

You’re so wet, panties stained through, he spares a moment to run his fingers across your thighs, hand slipping beneath fabric to graze your clit. The moan that follows has him distracted, thumb tracing circlets, over and over until you’re pulling back to return the balance. The balance, which admittedly is skewed, tipped scales, you’re on top. He falls to the weight of your influence.

And yeah, he’s more than fine with that. Jesus, you drag your panties down, down your thighs, your legs, then they’re reaching your ankles, pooling there for a moment before they’re being discarded, tossed somewhere on his floor — leaving behind a souvenir that yes, yes this happened.

“I can’t,” he says, burying his face into your shoulder when you take him. It’s slow, sinking onto his cock like every inch of warmth will destroy him. Maybe it will. Maybe he doesn’t care, because he deserves this. He deserves to feel after so much repression.

Or maybe, maybe he’s just become the biggest slut known to mankind. Likely.

Your body presses against his, and he thinks he’s going to disintegrate, because he feels so good. He understands now, he understands why people do this. Why it’s integral to the function of most. This is the best day of his life. This. Is. The. Best. Day. Of. His. Life.

There’s this noise, this pathetically loud whimper when you start to roll your hips— and oh your body is wet against him, and you’re so tight, and it’s perfect because he doesn’t have to do anything.

He can just sit here, look pretty, and cry.

He knows he’s a giver, that he’d bleed himself dry for you. It’s a curse, he supposes: so willing to bend backwards for the satisfaction of the people he trusts. But, this is foreign, and he wants to watch you, aimlessly stare, dumb and empty-headed as you wield his body like a weapon. Turn him into something perniciously yours.

Spencer has no reference for what an orgasm is supposed to feel like, and yeah, he’s really good at guessing in these type of situations. Because he’s rolling his thumb over your clit again, and he wants to draw it into his mouth, to see you laid out across bedsheets, writhing, unable to do anything but suffocate him with your thighs.

You clench around him, back arched, releasing a series of strained moans. With one hand tangled in his dishevelled hair, the other pressed against his chest, your face contorts, your body stiffens. There’s no way his incessant whimpering just got you off?

Okay. So you like him desperate. Point taken.

“Please— please, wanna cum. Wanna feel it so bad,” he’s slurring over his words, sentences punctured by devastating whimpers. And look at him, asking for permission, waiting even though his body has been teetering on the edge for so long now.

“Shh, shh..” you press your forehead against his, and he melts. Reoccurring theme. His hand grips your jaw, thumb pushed firmly against your chin, keeping you close. “You wanna cum for me, baby? Gonna give me your first?”

“Mhm— mhm…” is all he can say. When you pick up your pace, he has to burrow his face into the crook of your neck, whimpers messy and broken off, suppressed against your warm skin.

“Oh. Oh…” he repeats, again. Like there’s anything else he could utter, because this is earth-shattering.

It’s the sun, and all eight planets combined, and the universe collapsing in on itself, and he’s bucking, squirming, releasing into you, spilling deep.

He sobs. Breaks down. Because it’s so so good, and he can’t believe he ever deprived his body of this.

Neediest whore to ever exist, apparently.

It takes him a while to come back. Longer to regain motor function, to sink into present day. Life, and expectations, and everything, everything, your touch eradicated.

“Just… just stay like this?” he asks, collapsing against your body after he’s drawn out of you. There’s mess, evidence of your ministrations, but cleanliness seems futile when he’s blissed out, caught in a post-orgasmic haze that yes yes yes he needed so badly.

You card your hands through his hair, watch the way he stares up at you, large, widened eyes, chin resting against your chest. “Hi,” he mutters dumbly.

“Spence,” Spence, Spence, Spence. He could drown himself in that nickname.

“Yeah?” he breathes out.

“You we’re so good—“

He rolls away from you, finding a home for his face in the pillow. “Stop. Stop.” he groans, “Don’t do that. You’re going to destroy me. I’m not… equipped for this, for you. Someone should just sedate me, put me out of my misery, a coma sounds like—“

He tilts his head to the side, relinquishing, “Okay. Sorry. Meltdown over. Can we shower? Then maybe do this again? Which will make the shower inconsequential, I suppose. There’s a new documentary I want to watch, and oh, you still haven’t seen the third Star Wars—“

He’s happy, content, over the fucking moon, to be silenced with your lips. “Yeah,” he murmurs, hand interlocking with yours as you both fall back against the mattress, “Let’s do this again.”

[moonstruckme]

I don’t know if you currently accept requests but if you do could you write something with Spence where reader isn’t really a touchy kind of person and the team goes out for drinks, r gets drunk and is super touchy with Spencer and he is so flustered but secretly loves it?

If not don’t worry about it<3

Thank you for requesting angel <3

cw: alcohol

Spencer Reid x bau!reader ♡ 759 words

“Dave,” Prentiss says firmly, “I’ve got it.” 

“No, you got it last time.” Rossi’s trying to put his credit card down on the tab the waiter left, but Prentiss blocks him with a hand. “Let me take this one.” 

“I don’t care which of them gets it,” you say near Spencer’s ear. “Just glad it’s not me.” He laughs. 

Luckily, you’re not loud enough for anyone to hear but him. You’ve become surprisingly mumbly after a few drinks, imparting your observations and witticisms to Spencer alone, your cheek on his shoulder. Surprisingly tactile, too. 

“What are you doing?” he asks as you trace the creases spanning the insides of his fingers. He doesn’t think you’re doing anything really, drunk enough to be susceptible to whims and mindless fiddling, but Spencer likes to hear you talk. 

You make a muted humming sound. “Reading your finger lines.”

“You mean my palm lines?” 

“No, I mean your finger ones. I’m inventing a new science.” 

Spencer smiles. The tip of your nose is touching the knit of his cardigan, he wonders if it itches. You might not notice, though, with the way you��re so concentrated on his hand. Your lashes shadow your eyes like heavy clouds. 

“You know,” says Spencer, “there’s been some disagreement among biologists about palm lines. They’re called palmar flexion creases, and while it’s largely agreed upon that they form before birth to allow freedom of movement without stretching the skin on our hands, some also think that certain lines can indicate certain medical conditions.” 

“Huh.” You trace your finger down to his palm. “So, sort of like telling the future.” 

“Well, modern medical practitioners can usually identify those conditions early after birth anyway—but sure, if you want to think about it that way.” 

“That’s okay, I’m not that invested in palm line science anyway.” 

You say it placidly, even though you’re not moving away, like nothing is really all that important so long as you’re touching him. The dim, orange bulbs of the lamps in the bar cast shadows under your lashes and in the dip of your cupid’s bow.

Your finger keeps moving absently, past Spencer’s wrist until you’re nudging up his shirtsleeve. “You have really nice forearms,” you murmur. 

Spencer’s skin prickles with a blush. He takes your hand away in an effort to deter you, but you only go along with the deviation, linking your fingers through his. He glances at Garcia, relieved when she’s not looking. Just last week, she’d asked Spencer and Morgan if you secretly didn’t like her. 

I tried to give her a hug, she’d said, pouting confusedly, and she went as stiff as a board. It was the worst rejection I’ve had since high school.

Morgan had laughed. Not everyone is as warm and fuzzy as you are, babygirl. Don’t take it personal. She’s just not the touchy type.

You feel for Spencer’s other hand under the table, seeking to add it to your collection. He gives it over to avoid a fuss. 

On the other end of the table, Rossi seems to have successfully paid the bill. 

“Okay.” He gets up with a sigh, grabbing his coat. “I will see you kids tomorrow.” 

“Bright and early,” JJ agrees with joking weariness. 

As your team starts to get up, say goodbye, and (in Garcia’s case) hurriedly slurp up the remainders of their drinks, Spencer gives your fingers a tentative squeeze. 

“Time to go,” he tells you. 

You sigh heavily, warm breath permeating his cardigan. “Okay. I guess.” 

Spencer’s not entirely sure where your reluctance is coming from—if he were you, he’d be eager for his bed—but you stand without complaint, immediately looping your arm through Spencer’s and leaning comfortably against his side. 

Morgan raises his eyebrows. “Need some help there, pretty boy?” 

“That’s okay.” It’s out before Spencer can think it through, and heat comes to his face when Morgan’s lips lift with a knowing grin. 

Thankfully, Hotch spares him any elaboration. “I can take her home.” He’s watching you severely, the way a strict parent looks at their teenager before reluctantly getting them ibuprofen and a glass of water for the next morning. “She can’t drive.” 

“That’s okay,” Spencer says again. “I can drive her.” 

Hotch’s face is impassive, but Spencer can tell he’s not overly surprised. “Are you sure? I live closer than you do.” 

“I’m sure.” Again, his face heats at what he knows his answer is revealing. But Spencer looks down at you, contented and half asleep against his side, and it’s worth it. “I don’t mind.”

[cherrygirlfriend]

answer the call pairing: reader x bsf!rafe synopsis: rafe fucking his best friend while she's on the phone with her boyfriend warnings: smut, piv, unprotected sex, possessive rafe MDNI! - wc: 1k it's the fourth day of my birthday week celebration!!! god, i spent the entire day running around my apartment doing chores bc i refuse!!! to do chores on my actual birthday n now i'm so tired i might go right to sleep ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

rafe had you on all fours on your canopy bed, holding onto one of the posts for dear life as he pounded into you, the bed swaying every time he thrust his cock into you, one of his hands gripping onto your hair while the other rested on your ass, occasionally giving it a sharp smack, causing you to let out a noise that was between a gasp and a yelp.

"aww, look at you." rafe cooed mockingly with a tug at your hair, the blonde panting behind you "so fucking desperate for me to fuck you. bet your little loser boyfriend can't fuck you like you need to be fucked, hm?"

you hated the words that were leaving his lips, but you couldn't deny that he was right; your boyfriend definitely couldn't satisfy you the way rafe always seemed to be able to do, he couldn't hit that spongy spot that caused you to curl your toes, or rub your clit in the way that caused your back to arch off the bed. not like rafe did.

"say it," rafe commanded, "say that he can't-"

rafe let out an annoyed growl when he was interrupted by the sound of your phone ringing on the nightstand. his initial plan was to tell you to ignore it, but when he saw who it was, he got a whole new idea, a grin taking over your lips.

"answer it."

"w-what?" you looked back at rafe with furrowed brows, thinking that he must be joking, but as he continued to pound into you, there was no sign of hesitation on his face, only a wide, cruel grin.

you reached for your phone from the nightstand, rafe slowing his pace as you looked at the caller id with widened eyes, almost waiting for it to change into something else, but clear as day, there was your boyfriend's name, along with the contact photo you set for him, a picture of you two taken at a carnival.

"do it before i do it for you." rafe mumbled as he bent to press a small kiss to the back of your neck, grabbing your ass roughly. and hesitantly, you pressed the green button visible on the screen as rafe pulled out of you.

"h-hi, babe." you said, trying your best to steady your breathing as rafe teased your entrance with the tip of his cock, the hand that was in your hair just moments ago going down to rub your clit.

"hey, everything good?" the voice on the other line asked, and you had to hold back a moan by biting down on your lip as rafe's middle finger brought some of your arousal to your clit, starting to slowly rub the puffy bud.

"yeah, everything's good." you chuckled, "i was just working out."

when you said that, you felt rafe's tip slowly starting to enter you, stretching your walls as you tried not to let out any noise, your boyfriend going on a tirade about something that you honestly couldn't give two shits about at that moment.

rafe continued moving in and out of you, at first at a slow pace, slowly building it up; all the while your boyfriend was talking, and you occasionally let out noncommittal hums and 'mmhm's, but the harder rafe was fucking you, the harder it was to concentrate on anything other than him, and trying to keep quiet felt like rocket science at that point, and you were starting to taste blood in your mouth from how hard you were biting down on your lip.

"i-i gotta go." you said into the phone, nearly panting, "i'll see you later." you said, hanging up before he could even get a word in, feeling the band in your stomach getting closer and closer to snapping, letting out a moan you'd held in for too long the moment that you were off the call as rafe started pounding into you relentlessly.

"say it." rafe commanded behind you, your eyes squeezed shut, your mind hazy with pleasure, confused as to what he was talking about. "say that your boyfriend can't fuck you the way i fuck you."

you were a panting mess as he continued hitting the spot inside of you that only he seemed able to reach; a part of you didn't want to say it, didn't want to give him the satisfaction, but the moment the palm of his hand landed on your ass, you yelped, the pleasure almost overwhelming.

"h-he-"

"nuh-uh. your boyfriend."

you let out a small whine when he corrected you, trying to steady your erratic breathing as he continued thrusting in and out of you.

"m-my boyfriend... can't fuck me the way you do..."

"atta girl." rafe chuckled behind you, and the way his fingers continued circling your clit while he pounded into you from behind was getting almost overwhelming, and rafe could tell that you were getting closer by the way you were starting to clench around him, the blonde letting out a groan, "gonna come in this pretty pussy..." he mumbled, "she's practically begging me to... wants me to show her who she belongs to..."

a part of you wanted to protest, but you were so close that your mind was clouded by all the bliss he was making you feel, the world around you getting so hazy that you couldn't bring yourself to care as long as you got to come.

and as soon as you felt the band in your stomach snap, rafe's cock buried deep inside of you, he couldn't help the almost animalistic groan that left his lips, warm pumps of cum filling you up

[moonstruckme]

hi love I like all ur fics!!! Ur most recent emt Maurader made me realize tho we don't always get to see Sirius being vulnerable so what about a fic where may be he's having an off day? Or runs into a cousin and they completely ignore him and he tries to act like it doesn't bother him and just reader comforting him and giving him space

Thank you for requesting angel!

cw: allusion to past abuse, discussion of toxic workplace dynamics

Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 1.1k words

Sirius gets home from work early. You’re in the bedroom, stomach-down on the mattress with your book in front of you. You hear the front door open and come out to greet your boyfriend, but your smile falls when you see him. 

Sirius’ face is red. He doesn’t usually color when he’s upset, so you take it to mean something that he has now. He steps on the back of his shoe a couple of times before he manages to get it off, stomps on the back of the other even more harshly. You think he might be shaking. 

“Sirius?” 

He flinches. Turning around, his expression twinges with some mix of emotions at seeing you, too muddled to parse apart. He seals them all away quickly. 

You take a step towards him. “You okay?” 

“Yeah.” It comes out hoarse. Sirius clears his throat. “Yeah. Just a shit day at work.” 

“You’re home early,” you note. 

Sirius nods curtly. You think maybe that’s that, but his expression is conflicted. 

“Do you wanna sit down?” you ask gently, going to the couch and hoping he’ll follow. He does. It’s a challenge not to reach for his hand, to pull him closer or offer some kind touch, but the stiffness about Sirius’ frame hints that it may not be well received right now. 

When he’s still silent after a moment, you say, “We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. I could make tea and we could just relax.” 

Sirius shakes his head. “It’s okay,” he says, tersely, like he might be trying to convince himself more than you. “I think I’m probably going to be fired, though.” 

You feel your eyebrows go up. 

“I…you know how I got a new boss a few weeks ago?” 

You nod mutely. 

“Right, well, she’s got a temper. At least a couple times a week I’ll hear her shouting at someone in her office and she’s already managed to fire from almost every team.” Your dread mounts as Sirius goes on, speaking faster now that he’s on a roll. “She called me in after lunch. I fucked up something in a report—I hadn’t checked it and it had gotten sent out with the error—and she was pissed. She screamed at me—really screamed, stood up and got red in the face and all that—for probably ten minutes before she sent me back to my desk. And I just came home.” Sirius lets out a dry chuckle. “If she doesn’t fire me, I might quit.” 

“You should, baby.” Your voice pitches with dismay, hurt and outrage for him warring inside you. You take a chance and reach for his hand. Sirius fits his fingers between yours instinctively, something seeming to loosen in him at the touch. “I can’t believe she really shouted at you. No one deserves that, least of all for a silly error in a report. She should be fired for that.” 

Sirius gives you a little smile, but it dissolves at the edges, watery. A cavity opens in your chest as his eyes grow shiny. 

“Baby.” 

He shakes his head, jaw clenched. Blinking. “Sorry,” he says roughly. “I never used to do this.” You feel your face pinch with sympathy. He means cry, you know. Sirius as an adult is more emotional than he was as a child, but you still rarely see him cry. “She just—she sounded just like my mother.” 

Realization comes like a blow to your middle. “Oh, my love,” you say breathlessly, moving to put your arms around him. 

Sirius usually hugs with his whole being. He throws himself into it, with force and purpose and his own rough brand of caring. So you’re used to letting him take the lead, but now, when his arms come around you hesitantly, you’re the one who applies the pressure. And Sirius melts against you. 

You cup the back of his neck in one hand and squeeze between his shoulders with the other, imagining your love pouring out of you and into him through your palms. Sirius is quiet, but you feel a couple of hot tears transfer from his chin to your shirt. You worry he’s holding his breath. 

“Sirius.” You say his name with all the tenderness you can summon, afraid of him hearing echoes of his mother’s voice. “I’m so sorry, lovely. You never, ever deserve to be shouted at that way.” 

“Even if I told you I left your favorite mug at my office?” he jokes weakly. 

You let him go. There aren’t many tears to brush off his cheeks, and you make short work of them, soothing your thumbs over his face just for the sake of it. Surprisingly, his complexion is less agitated than it had been when he’d come in. He was holding it in, you realize. 

“Don’t ever let me speak to you like that,” you say.

Sirius’ expression sobers. “You wouldn’t. I know you wouldn’t.” 

“Really. Leave me if I talk to you like that, I’m serious.” 

“No, that’s me.” 

One side of your mouth tips up without your consent. “Bad joke.” 

Sirius mirrors you, grinning halfheartedly. “You think you’d have learned to evade it by now.” 

You gather that he wants things to be light now. That’s okay. You know Sirius has a difficult time with the truly heavy emotions—anger is an instinct for him, but tears and sorrow he’s never known what to do with. You’ll talk about it more over time, in bits and pieces where he’s comfortable. And just because you’re letting it go now doesn’t mean you’re done coddling him. 

You let your hands coast down from his face to either side of his neck, massaging gently the tension in his shoulders. “Did you really bring my favorite mug to work?” 

Sirius’ smile goes a tad sheepish. “Yes?” 

“Why would you do that?” 

“Because it makes me think of my most favorite sweetheart when I get coffee from the break room,” he says, smarmy. “Also, it was the first one I saw when I went to grab one from our cabinet.” 

You smile at him. Sirius pretends at facetiousness, but you know the first reason had been the genuine one. 

“What,” he asks, “you didn’t notice it was missing?” 

“No, I did. I only thought you’d broken it.” 

“And you weren’t going to say anything?” 

“What’d be the point?” 

A soft, intimate look comes over Sirius’ face. “I don’t deserve you,” he says, gray eyes raw and quiet, “do I?” 

You match his tone. “Of course you do, lovely. You deserve better than me, it’s just I’m what you’ve got.” 

“Mm, there’s another way you’re not allowed to speak.” He wraps his arms around you, pressing a heavy-fond kiss to your hairline. “I won’t have any of that talk.” 

“I’ll trade you that for the jokes about your name.” 

“No, I don’t think so. You’re going to have to work a little harder, doll, I’m not giving those up so easily.”

[salemlunaa]

TOUGH REMINDER: BEING A BABY WONT GET YOU ANYWHERE 💋🤷‍♀️

some of you need to stfu with this whining bullshit!!

There is a single fact that if you have not induced pure consciousness by now it is your fault. You can change that in seconds of course and no one is mad at you because at the end of the day it’s your life, but when push comes to shove its you who needs to put the work in (not when it comes to inducing the void because that is effortless, but in general when it comes to discipline and staying focused) it’s you who needs to lock in. It’s you who needs to identify the problems you’re having and deal with it, or you will get no where, no one is here to hold your hand.

You can keep crying at your big age like some innocent baby. “but it just doesn’t work for” “how dare you say people are lazy when it’s not our fault” “it’s not my fault i fall asleep” bla bla bla you might as well suck your thumb while your at it. And when it hits 2030 you can be in the community preaching that’s it’s “still not your fault”, go ahead!! Sure call me horrible for this but if you’re still here it’s your own fault, because when people come into my asks my dms my comments and tell me that my posts are too harsh and that it’s “not their fault”, I ask them “who’s is it then?” and crickets…

And if you’re sitting here bitter I want you to ask yourself, who’s fault it that you’re still here, who’s fault is it that you still fall asleep, and do you know what fine maybe you try so hard to stay awake but can’t, but let me ask you, who gets affected by that? who gets affected by the fact that you’ve wasted so many years here because you “fall asleep”, because it doesn’t affect me.. it’s you, it’s you who will never progress talking to the wall about how it still somehow isn’t your fault…

The way some of you will read my posts which are meant to be motivational, and helpful all the way through and still try and absolve yourself from the blame is so embarrassing, but it will be you who reaps the consequences of this attitude. My posts apply to EVERYONE, you are not a baby who is exempt from criticism and from tough love, you can continue to be hard headed and tell yourself it’s not your fault that your still here. Sure that will help you sleep at night but it won’t help you get your dream life.

From now on I will be deleting demotivating comments, my account is about helping others, not coddling some babies who can’t live with the fact that it is their job to get their dream life, if you want that look elsewhere, but I will not have yall get into people’s heads, there are people who are ready to accept the fact that they control their reality and there are people who are ready to lock in, i will not have yall ruin that. I will not accept comments dms and asks, trying to avoid blame.

Neville does say “do not blame, only resolve” but at what point does it become enough. Circumstances are hard and of all people i would know, but at what point do you start taking accountability knowing that your thoughts create your reality and knowing that if you locked in you would have everything already.

there is no such thing as “this doesn’t apply to everyone”, you aren’t exempt from the facts of the law, ever, and you can delude yourself into thinking so and i hope those thoughts keep you company within all the unsuccessful years to come

GET TF UP AND STOP WHINING, YOU CAN DO THIS!!

last time i checked, bitter and pressed aren’t apart of the ingredients for the manifestation recipe 💋

[tillinghastcorporatemedia]

A lot of this as true but as a cis guy who's been assumed to be queer since before i knew i was queer and has long hair, which normally wouldnt even be something i'd bring up, but this is something ive experienced due to being really short and having long hair but i wanna refer to number 3

3. That isn't just because we respect women so hard. We are in many cases talking about men who are also deeply queerphobic, heirarchical, violent and abusive to other men.

Idk if you've had to be around these fucks but let me tell you, men like this act like im not a man. every day i wear a mask i get called maam even when ive got a beard spilling out of the edges of my mask. (got called mamacita at a taco truck the other day while having to pick up a dashing order. thats new) But growing up, i was the punching bag. Didnt matter if i was agreeing with everything they said, did, or even hyped them up. I was the punching bag. Ive had my hair lit on fire while driving, beat up multiple times, bullied until i started fighting back. you could say it was just shitty high school guys but then we get into adulthood. When you become older but still dont even clear the national average men dont look at you the same. im still a target to these people just because of my look, and not even the hair. I got assaulted, by a straight man, while i was checking the oil in my car. My hair wasnt down, wasnt wearing feminine clothing, doing autowork checks. And guess what when i freaked out because some random guy came up behind me and started grabbing at my chest he backed up and then freaked out i was a guy and was threatening to beat me up because i was "tricking him" call me a coward i just ran off. You can call out your friends sure, and sometimes it might work in a social group setting. but i guarantee you youll just stop getting invited instead of behavior being corrected. this is said already but the men these men listen to arent gonna do this, and you might be able to change some minds with words. But as someone who pays attention to shit, words dont do shit. actions do though. if you wanna fix this problem its not gonna be the tiny little gay guy these men wanna beat the shit out of that they are gonna listen to.

at some point something else but words is gonna have to be done and as a man i wish i could figure something out but because of both my sexuality and my unchangeable features of my body im basically excluded by most any "masculine" guys.

I dont have an answer, i wish i did but i dont

But i will say its gonna take actions, not just words, for these sacks of patriarchal dung to take themselves to the trash can or clean themselves up.

If your vision for the deradicalization of right-wing men begins and ends with "other men telling them that that's gross and to stop it" then I'm sorry, you do not understand how masculinity works.

"Men who hold patriarchal status" and "men who are feminists" are two groups who overlap less than you want them to. I'm sorry. That's not solely because men are so happy with patriarchal status that they don't want to risk it by policing misogyny/queerphobia/racism, It's because being misogynistic, queerphobic, and racist, end expressing other forms of toxic masculinity(and often abusively so) are part of how people establish and maintain patriarchal status. The men who have the ability to stop this via nothing but peer pressure are the very people who are doing it. That's by design. And engaging in feminist intervention is, in and of itself, usually the abrupt end of that status and its associated power to persuade misogynistic men.

Like, I have worked in blue collar jobs as a notably queer person. It was pretty much a constant deluge of verbal abuse. In my experience, most blue collar work environments are exploitative, abusive, and bigoted, and very gleefully so. On the occasions I have spoken up about someone saying something that was super fucking out of line (asking me which of the girls walking by was hottest. We were installing a portable classroom at a middle school), believe it or not, they completely failed to be shamed! Because nobody else on the crew gave a fuck. *I* was the weird one. They ghosted me. A full blown company ghosted me. I suddenly didn't have a job anymore because they just straightforwardly stopped telling me where the next job site was.

Like, this doesn't mean that it's your job to do it, but this vision you have of these big groups of men where everyone is on the fence and there is precisely one shit stirrer who can be shut down by a brave feminist man who can single handedly set the example for all these other guys...you are high. You are describing an "everybody clapped" level absurd scenario. Most of these truly virulent misogynistic guys either have zero friends, because, you know, our society is atomized to fuck, or they are in a group where the feminist guy is actually the weirdo who can be shut down and ostracized much, much easier than the misogynists, because there is no such thing as a man misogynists respect who stands up for women.

You might be saying "well, we're talking about longstanding personal relationships, actually. Like, they need to have to want to spend time with you and then, as a side effect, you can mind control them out of being a threat to us."

Problem with that being:

1: Many feminist men also have no friends, see the atomized society above.

2: Feminist men already stopped hanging out with men who make rape jokes because why the fuck would we want to spend time with them.

3: That isn't just because we respect women so hard. We are in many cases talking about men who are also deeply queerphobic, heirarchical, violent and abusive to other men. What initially drew me to feminism and women was a lack of heirarchical squabbling and constant bullying, and the ability to be openly queer. A lot of men who came to feminism did so because they knew that the patriarchy was not a place they would find success or acceptance. These are not the men who are gonna be able to change right wing minds.

4. Men do not view themselves as a monolith. There is no universal brotherhood of men. The actual meaning of the term "Fragile masculinity" is that men are constantly expected to prove that they are deserving of the status of being a member of their own gender. There are large swathes of men--including most of the men who you'd look to as examples of good, feminist men who you want to undertake this project--who are considered failed men, sissies, f****ts, soyboys, ect. They are. Not. Going. To. Convince. These. Men. Of. Jack. Shit. Much less successfully *shame* them. Jesus.

I know all of this sucks. I know it would be cool to be able to just point at a group and have them be responsible for the work. But nah. It's gonna have to be a societal project, one that will probably outlast all of us. Sorry. The thing you want these men to do is, absolutely, the morally correct thing to do. But presuming that it would be effective is, and once again I am so sorry about this, just ignorance of how these social groups function.

[obxsummer]

snow angel // ghost of you

pairing: jj maybank x routledge!reader

summary: the zoning hearing was already in the kooks favor, but they make sure to really dig deep in the wound. jj's faced with the ugly realization that luke maybank will always be a piece of shit, and sarah's there to talk you off a ledge when john b can't.

warnings: oh no not the ultima!, crash out rage, reader pushes john b, cursing, shoupe..... being nice?

navigation -- series masterlist

ask me anything or support me via a ko-fi

--

City Hall was more packed than you had anticipated. Apparently John B’s plan had worked, which led to the group of you being surrounded by somewhat familiar faces in the small room. 

“I want to remind everyone to maintain civility and decorum throughout the rest of these proceedings,” The mayor reminded as the session resumed after a small break. You sat next to Sarah with JJ on your other side, the latter squeezing your hand in his. “We’re one island. Why don’t we all try to act like it? Any disruption will warrant expulsion and potential charges.”

You glanced at JJ, trying to communicate silently that he needed to take that seriously. You guys needed all the help you could get right now and if he acted out, it would be another nail in the coffin.

“Without further ado, we’ll start with our council members, beginning with Council Member Lawrence.”

“Thank you, Mr. Mayor. Agenda 8A, ordinance 31, zoning for the property located at the end of Roger’s Point Road. Uh, Mr. Mayor, we have a resolution from the town of Pelican expressing support for the rezoning of multi-use land on the east side of the island, including the aforementioned Roger’s Point Road property.”

Confused glances were shared amongst your group, realizing you might not even get a chance to defend your home. 

Pope leaned in, “Did he just say they already had a resolution?”

The question went unanswered as the council member continued, “The council is voting to recommend allocating the amount of $60,000 to begin to transition that said property…”

The sound faded from your ears as you stared ahead blankly. As much as you wished you could say you didn’t see this coming, the whole town was practically against you since day one. 

“....beginning with a representative from the occupants of the Roger’s Point property, which used to be the Maybank property.”

Your hand clamped on JJ’s flannel collar instantly, holding him down in his seat before he had a chance to go up there and rage on everyone. He tried to move out of your hold before your other hand moved down on his thigh to keep him in one spot. 

Looking past Sarah, you made eye contact with John B. “Go.”

Your brother pointed at himself in confusion, likely anxious to go speak before the rest of the group voiced their agreements. Cheering followed as John B stood up, making his way over you and JJ to walk up to the podium that was in the center of the room.

“Yeah, John B!”

“Alright! Let’s go!”

You let a rushed breath escape between your lips and loosened your grip on JJ’s hoodie but kept your hand on his thigh. He clapped loudly as your brother tapped on the microphone before the room quieted per the mayor’s request.

“Please state your name for the record.”

John B anxiously tapped his fingers against the wooden stand in front of him. “I am John Booker Routledge.”

More applause followed his statement before it was hushed again, the room open for your brother to speak.

“Look, I’m… I’m not a lawyer, by any standard… but honestly, this doesn’t make any sense. I mean, we bought the property at auction, and we have a fully functioning business and have had for some time. And-and now you have a motion for rezoning on our property? And if it passes, we lose our business. And we lose our home.”

“Because of some bullshit!” “The fix is in!”

“This isn’t fair!”

“They’ve got a right!”

You glanced around at the crowd who was starting to get to their feet in frustration. JJ grabbed your hand from his thigh and tightened his grip, the first sign his emotions were heating up. The mayor banged his gavel in attempts to calm the courtroom.

“Sit down, let him speak, and shut the hell up!” 

Once the room quieted down, the mayor motioned for John B to continue. “Mr. Routledge you can continue.”

John B looked down at the podium and you could see him taking calculated breaths to keep his nerves calm. Your brother was never the best at public speaking, but he’d been a leader his whole life, and you had full confidence in him to represent you in any instance.

“As most of you know, myself, my sister, and Sarah, we lost our fathers last year. All we are trying to do is rebuild a home. That’s it. Sir, with all due respect, we’re not looking for a handout. We just want to keep our home, alright?”

The rowdiness erupted as frustration seeped into John B’s words. It was obvious the Kooks were on the opposing side of the room with the way they were all glowering and sitting. One man got to his feet, asking to interrupt whatever John B was getting at. 

“Excuse me, excuse me. May I speak?” When the mayor gave his approval, the man continued, “There seems to be a misunderstanding. Okay? And I think I can clarify.”

JJ groaned loudly as Mr. Zeasy, the realtor who approved this whole shitshow, tried to walk up to the stand.

“Mr. Routledge, you have the floor. Are you willing to let Mr. Zeasy speak?”

Your brother leaned closer to the microphone, annoyance clear on his face. “If you can explain it a little better, Dale.” John B took a step back to let him move forward, giving him the opportunity. 

“So, what the, uh, current occupants of the land don’t seem to understand is that there is an injunction to invalidate the most recent sale.”

Your attention flipped to Pope immediately. “What does that mean? Invalidate it how?”

“There was a pre-existing promissory note from the original owner that was in the process of being finalized when the land auction took place.”

You whispered toward JJ as the crowd booed in response, “Your dad?”

“The bank wasn’t legally allowed to go to auction. We have a promissory note right here from the original owner, signed before the auction, and finalized by Judge Holden.”

“That’s impossible,” You continued to argue quietly. “Your dad was gone way before we got on that ship, there’s no way he signed it.”

“That means our sale was invalid,” Pope explained as he grabbed your elbow to get your attention. “They faked the date. How can they even do that?”

You shook your head, the lump in your throat growing with each second.

“Where is the original owner? And can he validate the authenticity of this document?”

Dale spoke up again. “Yes he can. He’s right here.”

The world spun beneath you as you turned around to see Luke Maybank stand from his spot in the back of the room. He still looked like the same piece of shit when you’d last looked at him

“What the hell?” You were on your feet instantly, glaring daggers at the man who’d taken so much from someone who you adored. “He���s a wanted criminal! He should be in jail!” Your arguement fell upon deaf ears as the crowd yelled equal protests. 

“Isn’t it obvious? He signs the promissory note, and in exchange he gets amnesty,” Pope huffed and fell back into the bench, his hands pulling at his hair. 

“Now, hang on. Unless I’m very mistaken, when this all shakes out, you nice young people will be compensated of course. And, and… hold on! The land will be a club for all!”

Your hands pressed against your ears tightly, hoping all the noise would fade away into nothing. This was so unfair, so fundamentally wrong of this town in so many ways. The Kooks would win, every time, because everything came down to politics and money. Everything.

“After they do it to us, they’re gonna do it to all of you!” Kiara shouted as she moved from her seat up to where John B was standing. “This is theft!”

You didn’t realize JJ was missing from next to you until Sarah was grabbing your elbow and pulling you back to reality. The crowd was becoming unruly and glass shattered somewhere in the room before you caught sight of JJ’s blond hair.

Your jaw dropped as he body slammed a police officer to the ground, a broken window close by telling you your boyfriend was crashing out harder than you anticipated. 

Shifting out of Sarah’s grip, you glared at Luke with a look that could kill and reached to grab JJ from the ground. “Hey, hey!” You grabbed his neck and leaned forward to kiss him quickly as people started shoving from behind. “Go! Be careful!”

A cop burst past you just as JJ took off, the two of them tumbling down the stairs of City Hall. More cop cars pulled into view with officers rushing from every angle. Sarah finally got her hold back on you to move out of the way. 

“What the fuck!” You screamed as they slammed JJ on the hood of the sheriff cruiser. You’d lost sight of Cleo and Pope, and there was no way in hell you were letting Sarah continue to get pushed around with her possible pregnancy. Grabbing her hand, you tugged her arm to get outside of the room and into the sunshine as people stormed around you. Other teens took the attacking the new police vehicles, someone jumping on the cruiser JJ had just been shoved in. 

“John B!” Your voice cracked with the force of your yell. Your brother was lost in the crowd, likely keeping hands off Kiara in the mass of people. 

“He’s over here!” Sarah pulled your hand to where you could see John B crowding the tail end of the car as Cleo kicked out the back windshield. You didn’t have time to be shocked and reached forward to grab the hood of JJ’s jacket while your friends helped pull him out of the glass covered surface. 

“Go!” Your brother shoved JJ’s chest and moved him away from you as Pope yelled to run. “Get out of here!”

You caught JJ’s gaze long enough to see how scared he was before he took off without another word. 

“Shit!” There wasn’t time to follow him before John B’s arms were wrapping around your waist and tugging you out of the way of an oncoming brawl. “Come on,” John B let go of you with one arm to grab Sarah’s hand. “Let’s go, let’s go!”

Pushing your brother’s arm off, you started running in the general direction that JJ had taken off, figuring he was heading into town since it would be empty from the crowd here. Your muscles burned as you continued to push yourself further. Your name echoed behind you as you gained a lead on your friends, your mind only set on finding your boyfriend and getting the hell out of here.

—

JJ was always an athletic person, but shit, he was running for sure. Your pace slowed eventually as you approached town, chest burning for a break. 

Turning the corner, you slowed at the sight of broken car windows, store doors shattered, and flames building from the electrical poles. You couldn’t see any sign of JJ, and the growing crowd wasn’t helping you narrow down where he could’ve been. Glancing around, you realized the power was out, and you prayed he at least managed to accomplish that first to take out any cameras nearby.

Shoupe was yelling into his walkie for all units, claiming the whole town would get looted any minute and he would need backup. 

A dirt bike nearly clipped you in the side before you realized you were in over your head and needed to move. You cursed under your breath, moving along with the crowd to blend in before you were ahead of them all. Without anyone to stop him, JJ wouldn’t hesitate to wipe the whole town out if he could. It was a perfect misplaced aggression, and the fact that other Pogues were joining in would only fuel him.

You tried to rack your brain for where he would go next: the house was off limits, it was too obvious. Kie’s dad wouldn’t hide him at the Wreck and there was no doubt anywhere on Figure Eight had cameras. 

“He went that way!” You turned at the sound of a voice, a girl you’d recognized from the bonfires pointing in the general direction of the rental estates down the street. You nodded, barely giving her a thank you before you were running again in hopes of catching up to JJ.

Evidently, he was making enough of a scene that the cop cars were rounding the corner and following your path to catch up to him. You ducked into the trees along the road, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible as you ran alongside them until you landed on the vacation real estate side of the island. 

All of the Kooks with vacation homes ran their offices on the same road, and you had a good feeling you knew which one JJ would be hidden in. Before you had a chance to get ahead of the situation though, a handful of cop cars had surrounded the office, effectively cutting off your opportunity to get to JJ first. 

You took a deep breath, praying he could level his head out enough to make the right decision and keep himself out of harm enough until you could get to him. You pulled your hood up on your head and started in the direction of the building. 

“Stop, stop!” John B knocked you off course a second later, his hand wrapping itself around your sleeve to yank you to a stop. You panicked, knowing your brother would do anything it took to keep you safe, including letting JJ run wild.

Heaving for air, you shoved him away a little harsher than you’d intended. “Get off of me! They’re going to kill him!”

“Hey!” John B stumbled back with the force of your action, eyes widening in surprise before he steadied himself. “You’ve gotta calm down.”

You shook your head, body practically bouncing with adrenaline and glanced at the series of lights behind you. “I need to talk to him, okay? You don’t understand, he’s gonna-”

“I know!” John B took the chance to reach forward and hold your shoulders. “We’re going to get him, but you cannot lose it on us. Not right now, okay?”

Your brother read your expression like a neon sign. You were terrified, and you were right behind JJ’s crashout if he didn’t reel you in this second. John B knew you and JJ felt everything so strongly, and it was getting even deeper when you were together. The two of you were weirdly connected, like a radiating ball of chaos, as John B would call it. Whatever JJ was feeling would seep into you instantly, so it was no surprised you were as out of it as the blond boy was when he took off.

“Hey,” Sarah’s voice was much softer than your brother’s as she moved in front of you to stand next to John B. “I need you to stay with me, yeah? You said you’d help me figure it out.”

You knew what she was trying to do. Trying to lock you in one spot to protect her the way she knew you would with the knowledge you had. Sirens echoed around and you glanced away to see flickers of red and blue lights, a sinking feeling taking over your stomach.

Sarah whispered your name, her hand gentle on your cheek as she pulled you back. Your heart was racing, and she could practically feel it under her touch. Her lips mouthed please, and it was enough to break your hesitation, forcing you to nod. She took your hand in hers and looked up at John B who was staring at the two of you with confusion.

“Let’s go,” Pope pulled you all out of your moment and you started moving again at a slower pace. 

The chaos from City Hall was starting to catch up again as your group jogged up to the office where Shoupe was climbing out of a cruiser. The front door was kicked in, but thankfully it seemed like JJ hadn’t done much damage compared to downtown. 

“If you’re not in uniform, stay back!” Shoupe called out as Pope walked up in attempt to talk to him before he was pushed back into line by another cop. “Aright, JJ. You’ve gone too far, and we’ve got a serious situation!”

The crack of a firework had you jumping in your spot, head tucking like it would stop anything from happening. Hands trembling, you reached in your pocket to grab your phone, praying by everything JJ had his on him.

go out the back, you typed quickly, please be safe. don’t do anything stupid.

The read receipt popped up a moment after and you let out a deep breath, knowing the message would be enough to get into his head and shift his mindset. 

Looking up, Shoupe was still trying to talk to you boyfriend, but you knew damn well he would be long gone by the time they put together the pieces. You shifted away from your friends, John B’s fingers just missing your shoulder as you walked forward.

“Shoupe!” You called out his name and raised your hands slightly to show that you meant no harm as deputies swarmed instantly to prevent any interruption. “Shoupe, please!”

There were a lot of things that were difficult in the law force after Peterkin had died. Trusting people? Shoupe had always struggled with that, especially when the price was right. But now? With you standing feet away from him and the knowledge that he had about your past, he hoped he could trust you. The least he could do is hear you out.

Shoupe stared at you for a moment before waving you in, both deputies standing aside to let you do so. “Can you talk to him?” He asked you, holding the megaphone to his side as you stopped next to him. Deep down he cared for JJ, even if it was hard love.

“He’s not here,” You answered honestly and crossed your arms over your chest to hold yourself. “I told him to go somewhere safe. He might’ve been here before, but he’s not here now.”

Shoupe watched you closely for any telltale sign that you were lying. “He destroyed the town, so he’s in a ton of trouble. I know you’re smart enough to know that, so in order to keep this short, do you know where he is?”

It was obvious he was trying to intimidate you, but he wouldn’t win. You shook your head. “No, and even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you. Shoupe, you know what his dad did to him. And you know it isn’t fair what they’re doing to us. The power’s out downtown, which means cameras are out, and you have no proof JJ did anything. I think you owe us a little wiggle room on this one. Please.”

The man hesitated. Last time you tried to interfere with an arrest, you ended up with a dislocated shoulder and he willinging took you back to an abusive household. Shoupe heard rumors, saw the bruises and injuries himself when John B was arrested that day. He should’ve never taken you back. Life had been cruel to you, and he didn’t want to keep that going.

“Get out of here,” He whispered, but the tone of his voice was understanding. “You kids need to lay low, do you hear me? Or I will be finding a reason to press charges.”

You nodded, trying not to look too excited at his reaction. “Thanks, Shoupe. Really.”

He nudged his head back toward your group. “Tell your boy he’s on thin ice, yeah?”

“Yeah,” You called over your shoulder as you made your way back to your friends. “I’ll ground him and everything.”

Shoupe started dismissing the scene behind you while the group stared at you with wide eyes.

“Do I even want to know what you did?” John B asked once you stopped in front of them. Sarah was smirking at you, knowing you likely sweet talked your way out of it. 

“Sold my soul,” You replied rhetorically before actually explaining, “What else would I do? I told him JJ isn’t here, because he isn’t.”

Pope tilted his head and waited for the elaboration. “But he is…?”

Your phone twisted between your fingertips as an answer. “Told him to run. Didn’t say where, just to stay safe.”

“He’ll be so safe,” Pope joked with a laugh as relief fell over the group. John B bent over and placed his hands on his knees with a huff, Kiara running her hands through her hair in disbelief. 

“Rude boy,” Cleo clicked her tongue and shook her head, “Always gotta cause trouble somewhere.”

A smile started to form on your face as lightning lit up the sky, a crack of thunder shaking your form just before rain started to pour down. 

John B watched you carefully, knowing you were coming down from your adrenaline rush and would crash any moment now. He turned toward Sarah, who had been looking at you too.  “You okay?” He asked quietly.

She nodded, breaking out of her daze to smile at him. “Yeah, just a long night. Wanna sleep.”

He nodded in understanding and pulled the girl closer under his arm. “Then let’s go home.”

--

The group scattered relatively quickly once you arrived back at Poguelandia. JJ had sent a rushed I love you text and the charter boat was gone, which meant he made it somewhere relatively safe for the night. Kie dismissed herself to shower, Pope and Cleo quietly shutting their door without much conversation. Sarah walked in, promising to make some sort of dinner, which left you on the porch swing with John B.

Your brother didn’t say a word but lifted his arm invitingly for you to snuggle into his side. JJ had sent a rushed I love you text and the charter boat was gone, which meant he made it somewhere relatively safe for the night. 

“Thanks for snapping me out of it,” You spoke quietly and tucked your feet up on the bench, pushing more of your weight against him. Rain pattered against the roof, lightning flashing across the sky every so often.

John B kissed your forehead wordlessly, his hand warm as it moved back and forth slowly against your arm. His mind was moving in so many directions. How was he supposed to take care of you and Sarah with no money and soon to be nowhere to go?

You flicked his forehead to bring him back to reality. “Earth to JB. Hello?”

“Sorry,” He mumbled, eyes blinking to refocus. “Just don’t know what we’re gonna do.”

You frowned and sat up, letting his arm fall back to his side. “John B, you don’t have to figure this out on your own. We’re going to do it together.”

“I know, I know. But we shouldn’t have to. We shouldn’t even have to deal with this.” He turned to face you. “Do you ever regret going after the gold?”

The question caught you off guard. Did you? 

“Do you realize the amount of things that would be different if we didn’t find that Scooter’s boat that day? You would’ve never dealt with Rafe. We would’ve never lost our home, and Dad would maybe still be alive. Pope would be in medical school by now, Kie probably running a turtle habitat rescue and living as an influencer or something. Shit, JJ and I would be pro-surfers and probably competing. Life would be so different.”

“Do you realize how different it would be too? You would’ve never been with Sarah, she would probably still be with Topper. Cleo wouldn’t be here. We have answers about Dad, now. We wouldn’t have had Poguelandia, I would’ve never gotten with JJ. Sarah wouldn’t be-” You clammed up quickly, teeth sinking into your lip at almost spilling the beans to John B.

“Sarah wouldn’t be what?” He repeated.

You shook your head. “Sarah wouldn’t be here, with you. You’d still be a lonely and miserable fuck who bothered the shit out of me.”

John B opened his mouth in feigned shock, which made you laugh loudly, the two of you falling into a fit of giggles.

“Seriously, though,” You continued once the two of you had stopped laughing. “In a way, I got you back, John B. The version of us that existed when Agatha hit is not the version of us here, today.”

He leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, hands twisting between each other as he listened to you. 

“I don’t realize it, because I don’t question what we’ve done,” You said softly and set your hand on his shoulder. “I don’t want to change any of it because I have you, and we have this family that we’ve never had before on this level. I wouldn’t trade any of them for the world. I wouldn’t trade you for the world, you know that?”

John B’s laugh was teary. “That’s the nicest shit you’ve ever said to me.”

A small smile form on your lips and you quickly brushed away tears of your own. “C’mon, Bird. I know I give you a really hard time. But you’re my favorite brother.”

“I’m your only brother.”

You shoved his shoulder with a smile before curling back into his side with his arm around you. John B leaned his head against yours as the two of you watched the water move slowly against the dock. Cicadas buzzed around and the rain continued to pour overhead. The sounds so familiar, so comforting you almost forgot how insane the night had been.

“I love you, you know?” You whispered, eyes growing heavy with the events of the day.

“Yeah. I know.”

--

a/n: SIBLING! BONDING!!!!! see no pope arrest, and jj technically didn't catch major charges (i have no sense of criminal history, just nod in agreement and move on)

listen to snow angel by renee rapp!!!!

navigation -- series masterlist

ask me anything or support me via a ko-fi

[summerofloaf]

Some points from someone with vaginismus:

- I LOVE my pelvic floor physical therapist. Basically, when I went to her, I just asked a million questions about my condition and also we talked about videogames. Find someone you vibe with!

- Your pelvic floor PT might eventually need to insert something into your vagina, but they should ALWAYS ask you first, and there could be a lot of time leading up to it where you'll both work on vulva pain (outside the vagina) before inserting anything.

- Healing may take more than just months. I know there are some people who have been going to my PT for years. It's different for everyone.

- This treatment can be pricy because a lot of insurances don't cover it, but some places have sliding scales, so do some research on physical therapists in your area.

- I will say, when I asked my gynecologist about vaginismus, she had no clue what I was talking about and denied that I had it despite prescribing me lidocaine, but be firm and get a second opinion if that happens! Other doctors have believed me, and they should believe you too!

- Topical solutions are a bit limited, but there are things like lidocaine gel (available over the counter OR by prescription) and even some THC oils you can use.

- You are not alone! I know multiple people with vaginismus, and all of us sought help. It can be so difficult, but you've got this. And if there isn't anyone in your area who offers physical therapy for this, you can always get a set of dilators and practice on your own until you can see a professional. 💛✨️

We all know what erectile dysfunction is but literally no one is ever taught what vaginismus is and it can cause people to feel extremely lost, broken, and cause people to take their own lives. Raise. Awareness.

[azaharinflames]

Well, hello my fellow and beloved BuckTommies. I come here with a new theory - not quite or what will happen, but on what did.

Let me put my tin hat firmly on my head for a second, alright? Because we have been talking about all kinds of possibilities, and have theorized about BTS, and even budget cuts, but.

We are all missing one thing.

What happened during the summer that has repercussions in the series right now? Or that will have in the immediate future, but we’re only seeing the start of...?

An ‘I Know What You Did Last Summer’ reboot was officially announced.

It is set to be filmed in Australia come the New Year. And JLH, famously having been in the first one, is going to Australia to film for this one as well. 

This means that, just like they did in Season 5, they will have to take JLH’s absence and other compromises into consideration. In Season 5 she was on maternity leave, this time around she has a movie to shoot. And it just hit me that it might be the reason why things got moved around, and why perhaps they did what they did with BuckTommy.

(Disclaimer: I am not putting this on JLH, and I don’t want anyone to do it either. If this is something that clashed with the initial plan, what the writers and Tim came up with it’s on them, never Jennifer)

We know Tim is not someone who writes his stuff in advance. He’s flying by the seat of his pants; he writes as he goes, and this is something he has said before. So now he has to write and plan in advance because Jennifer will be somewhat absent. The direct result of this is, in my opinion, Madney.

The storyline of them having a second child at home, having her go back to her family, having Jee notice her absence, and then starting to debate on whether to have a second kid… had the potential to be more than one episode. Or, at the very least, to end the episode with them deciding that, yeah, they want to try, they want to expand their family. Maddie’s mentality on PPD could’ve been an episode in itself (Lord knows we don’t get enough Maddie episodes, especially lately), instead of a throwaway line on how she doesn’t want PPD to define her. I do think it’s amazing she’s at that point in her life and on her journey, but I can’t help but think this could’ve also been a really nice episode arc to have. Chimney’s doubts were also gone pretty quickly, with not even needing to talk to anyone about it. All in all - the storyline felt rushed and a bit anticlimactic. And at this point, I can only imagine they will somehow try to create some drama surrounding the pregnancy in 808 (807 perhaps, but it feels like it’s busy enough) so that Jennifer’s absence is justified. We don’t know if, just like in Season 5, Kenny will also be absent (Chim going with Maddie wherever she goes, I don’t know). People weren’t happy with him having to be off the show in Season 5, so I hope he stays, but we don’t know just yet. 

A side result of this could’ve also been BuckTommy. If there is something I’ve gathered from Oliver and Lou’s interviews is that both were a bit surprised it happened this soon. Now, we don’t know if this means they were breaking up for good later on in the season, if this was supposed to be a longer arc, or if they knew there were talks of break-up-make-up, once they were more established. As it is, this happened now.

And in my mind there are two possible theories. Let me present first why I have them:

-They need some substantial drama to go on for 8b. Bathena went through it in S7 and now are rebuilding their life, so it would be a bit of an overkill to have them go through it in S8 as well. Eddie is going through his own stuff and is going on a journey of discovering and enjoying himself (that, personally, I hope deals with actually dealing with it and having deep conversations with Chris). Hen and Karen have just gone over the drama of the adoption and, to be honest, they need a breather. Give them SLs that don’t involve them somewhat losing their kids (be it adoption, or an accident). 

-So… that leaves Buck. Buck, whom we all joked was the only one doing fine in Season 7. Whom we all said was going to go through it in Season 8 to compensate for his happiness in 7. Well. The joke’s on us. He’s had such a drama-free period of his life (yes, affected by what was happening around him, but not directly involved in it) that I think we forgot they enjoy making him suffer. We barely saw a thing with Gerard, and nothing to last the whole season, so… now this. 

So. From this, I see two options:

-They always knew they wanted to have BT have issues, that they didn’t want them to be easy or smooth-sailing, because has a couple in this show been that? No, right? So why would they? So they wanted a break-up arc, potentially ending in making up. Perhaps things moved around a little bit, we don’t know. But maybe they want 8b to deal with Buck trying to see what Tommy meant, yet realizing he still wants Tommy, thus starting the make-up arc. Meaning, they decided to have BT bear the weight of the heavy drama of this second half. People are already invested, clearly, and with JLH gone for a bit, they need people interested in what will happen next.

-Sort of the same, but different results - they just want Buck dating around and having drama with that. Admittedly weaker than the other option, but it is one I don’t necessarily eliminate just yet. Mostly because I’ve learned to be skeptical of 911’s intentions. 

Previous to 806, I fully expected 8b to have more Buck/BT, Madney stories as A plot, as they haven’t had one in 8A. But now that I think about it all, I can’t help but wonder if those last minutes decisions were to accomodate what will happen, just like it happened in Season 5 (which, I will remind you, dealt with her absence by having a lot more of Taylor than we were expecting. Her appearances went down quite a bit once JLH and Kenny were back, and shortly after, she was gone).

Again, I am aware I might be delulu right now. But for the first time in days, something has fully made sense to me. In conclusion:

[shadowsviper]

Hello! Here to say hi! Your post appeared on my scroll and I noticed you have just one, so I figured you might be new around here! Welcome to Tumblr! I hope you find your crowd soon enough! 💖

In the meantime, do you mind telling me something about Jason Todd? I've never been too deep into DC, but I recognize his name. I'd love to hear your headcannons/thoughts about him! 💖

Hi! Thanks for welcoming me :) I've actually been lurking on tumblr for a while before I finally got the confidence to start writing.

Here's a short basic rundown of Jason: Jason Todd is the second person to take the mantle of Robin after Dick Grayson. Batman caught him stealing the wheels off the Batmobile in a dark alleyway one night and took him in. He was more rebellious and he didn't like Batman's moral code. Fans actually voted to kill him off in the series. Jason would be beaten by the Joker with a crowbar and left to die with his mother inside a warehouse with a time bomb. He would later be resurrected by Talia Al Ghul in the Lazarus Pit and took the mantle of Red Hood. He would use guns and violence when it came to crime fighting. When he found out that Batman didn't avenge him in any way, he felt betrayed and let his anger out on Gotham's criminals. He believed that they deserved a worse punishment.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Jason Todd Headcannons

He loves to bake, especially cookies. He'll bake other pastries every now and then, but his go to is cookies. It's something he'll never admit to his family, other than Alfred. He'll drop off some to his brothers sometimes with an insulting note; he would say they're poisoned just to mess with Tim

Whenever he has free time, he's in the library. Sometimes he'll be at the public library if he doesn't want to see his family. Other times he'll be in the Manor looking at whatever new books Alfred and Damian bought

It's actually canon that Jason likes to read books like Pride and Prejudice, and The Art of War, among many others

He loves to bother his brothers whenever he can

He loves to swing by GCPD when Dick is working just to mess with him. He might even go as far as faking an emergency just for the emergency to be him wanting to say a quick fuck you

Dick has banned him from coming within a 20-foot radius of GCPD. He also threatened to arrest him if he got close

It doesn't stop Jason. He has yet to be arrested because they technically can't arrest a dead man

He'll mess with Tim at any time. His things will slowly go missing; his mugs, coffee, important papers, you name it.

One time when Tim left his place unattended, Jason moved everything an inch to the left. It drove Tim crazy. More crazy than he already was considering he hadn't slept for the past two days. He'll get Jason back one day

What he does with Damian is a 50/50. Sometimes he'll spar with him for fun. Just a quick training exercise or he's actually trying to kill the demon spawn, who knows. Other times they're both reading silently in the corner of the library.

They won't talk about it after

Definitely broke into Wayne Enterprises way too many times

He had no reason to go in. He just wanted to bother Bruce or Tim. Or both

Definitely both

Has been escorted out multiple times with Bruce watching with his head in his hands

That man is stressed lmao

Definitely picks up Damian from school with white girl music blasting at full volume. The bass is cranked up to the point where you can feel it inside the school

Damian hates it so much because his classmates find Jason pretty cool and they keep trying to talk to him about Jason

Later banned from picking Damian up from school

[writerdownbookworder]

The princess smiled at him happily from across the battlefield as she rode away. 

Edmund smiled back and waved. The minute she was out of sight, his hand dropped and he ran it through his hair nervously as he returned to work, carting away the bodies of the enemy and friends alike. It was hard, emotional work, and thankfully, it took his mind off of the explanation he would have to give his family in a few short hours.

Finally, he was able to go home. As soon as Edmund walked in the door, he was bombarded with hugs from all six of his little siblings. They were all between the ages of 2 and 10, and the smaller ones tried climbing him like monkeys. Edmund laughed as he hugged them all, then his parents and grandparents who all lived with them in the four bedroom house. 

After Edmund finally got the little ones calmed down and regaled them with some of the tamer stories he had, he looked at his mother. 

Reading his mind, she started corralling the kids. “Come on, everyone,” she called. “Bedtime!” She ignored the groans and moans that came as she whisked them into their bedroom.

Edmund shifted awkwardly in his chair as he waited for her to come back. When she did, taking a seat beside his father, Edmund took a deep breath.

“I have some news to share,” he began. “I am…engaged.”

His grandmother hooted with joy. “Ha! Finally!”

“Really, Mabel,” Edmund’s mother said reproachfully. “Let the boy speak.”

His father turned to him. “Do we know the girl?”

Edmund wouldn’t meet any of their eyes as he mumbled, “Sort of.”

His grandfather crossed his arms. “It’s not that Katrina, is it? You do know she’s a bit strange. I don’t think you should marry her. Can you call it off?”

Edmund sighed and rubbed his forehead. “It’s not Katrina. And that’s not very nice, Grandfather.”

“Hmph!” his grandfather pouted. “Well, then, who is it?”

“Itstheoldestprincessprincessisolde!” Edmund said, all in a rush.

His grandmother put a hand to her ear. “Eh?”

Edmund took a deep breath. “It’s Princess Isolde.”

“What?!” came a shriek from behind them. Everyone whipped around, only to find seven-year-old Avalie peeking around the corner and eavesdropping. 

She started bouncing on her toes with excitement. “You’re gonna marry Princess Isolde?! She’s my favorite!”

Edmund’s mother put her hands on her hips. “Young lady, you are not supposed to be up. You weren’t supposed to hear that.”

Edmund sighed. “She might as well stay now.”

Avalie ran over and jumped on his lap. “You’re my favorite! How did it happen?!” she asked eagerly.

He couldn’t help grinning at her. “Well, last year, remember when I was gone for so long? I was one of her personal guards. A few days ago, we ended up near each other again, out on the battlefield. I thought…” he let his voice trail off, remembering he was talking to a seven year old. The adults in the room knew what he meant, so he continued his story. “I knew I loved her, and I was pretty sure she loved me too. We grew close last year. I asked her to marry me, and she said yes. And…here we are.”

“Are you gonna go live in the palace?!” Avalie shrieked, ignoring when five adults shushed her. “That’s so exciting!”

Edmund laughed. “Yes, I suppose it is. I believe she said she would send word in a few days. I’m…not too sure what to do next. We did just get out of a war.”

Avalie clutched him tightly. “Can I come with you?” 

He laughed again. “Fine by me! You’ll have to ask Isolde though.”

Avalie’s eyes went wide.

She, Avalie, was going to meet a princess! And not just any princess. Her very favorite one!

And Princess Isolde was going to marry her own brother!

That would make them sisters!!!

The rest of the adults were not as excited as Avalie, to say the least. The minute she was shooed off to bed for a second time, the questions resumed.

“How?”

“Why would you do such a thing?”

“What in the world possessed you?”

“Her?”

“She’s the heir to the throne! What does that make you?”

“Why would she even say yes?”

Edmund glared at his grandmother, who had asked that particular question. “Gee, thanks.”

She shrugged. “Don’t mention it.”

The soldier had proposed to the princess out of a mix of getting it out now and the belief he wouldn't make it. Now that the two are alive after the final battle, she intends to make good on what he promised and he's now wondering on how to explain it to his family.

[drdemonprince]

I remember a while back you did a fun ask game where people sent in kinks and you rated how good an investment they are and it keeps popping into my mind because of how chill you were about kinks that even kinky people tend to view really negatively in the sense of ethics. I was wondering if you had any advice on how to *feel* chill in terms of my own kink ethics. I intellectually believe that fantasies can’t be immoral and that kink with other adults is moral as long as there is consent (and appropriate risk awareness).

But I am still pretty triggered on the topic when it comes up. Eg, earlier a friend told me they are cutting someone they love off for being friends with someone who “sexualizes trauma”. And yeah, that is definitely where some of my darker kinks come from—though not all. They’re entitled to that opinion and action of course! But hearing all the things they said against this person triggered me, making me feel like I’m dangerous and that it is wrong of me to interact with them going forward even though this isn’t a topic I would discuss with them anyway. Until writing this I hadn’t even considered if they are still a person I *want* to interact with given this. Though I’m sort of unclear on whether it is actually wrong of me to interact with them still.

I am working with my therapist on this. And I know it will take some time to work through. I was just wondering if you had any words of wisdom on the topic.

My thoughts are that if I had a friend who cut people off for having problematic (or in this case, just like, unsettling?) kinks, I would not feel safe around that friend. It would seem to me that they were judgemental, moralizing, and had a completely different viewpoint on how the world operated than I did, and that sooner or later they would demonize me for things I thought, fantasized about, felt, and so on. I might have sympathy if the person was a trauma survivor early in their recovery, as it's quite common for people to think in very dogmatic, black-and-white ways about morality in order to protect themselves and to be highly reactive to perceived threat. But their feelings of safety are their own business to guard over, and mine are mine, and I just wouldn't be able to get along very intimately with someone like that. I'd have to give them a wide berth until they started to get over it, if they got over it.

Recently, a friend of mine was completely ostracized from their local queer community simply for writing a piece that touched on a taboo fantasy -- a taboo fantasy they had concocted as a way to cope with some really gnarly early childhood abuse. They lost performance gigs and friends, had hate campaigns erected against them, had mobs of people threatening all their remaining friends and colleages, all based on a rumor about a piece that they never even got to perform anywhere because someone had heard it was about a taboo subject and even the IDEA of what it might be made them uncomfortable, and so they assumed my friend was condoning abuse when they were literally just describing what had already happened to them and how they found healing from it. Shit like this sucks, and it comes down most heavily against queer people, especially trans femmes, and I've seen the fear mongering ruin enough lives that I try to steer really clear of it.

My life has been so blessed by inclusion of people with really intense, taboo, stigmatized kinks into my life. I was afraid to even breathe a word of my hypnosis fetish to anybody until I was in my late 20s, because I thought it was so freakish and evil. and now I routinely talk with people about really animalistic feral fantasies, harkness rule violating monsterfucking, rape play, necro fantasies, abdl, age regression, incest roleplaying, blood, eating bodily fluids, and everything else that freaks people out but harms no living being. Even when it's not my stuff, even when it's something I might personally find a little squicky to actually be in the room with, it makes me feel seen, safe, and free to express the depths within me. I think surrounding yourself with more people like that or just consuming their stories can help a lot. And trying to find some mental distance from the people who do fear monger and get triggered. They have their reasons for feeling as they do. But that doesn't mean we have to align with their values or actions.

[sasheemo]

C'è sempre una prima volta (there is a first time for everything)

Pairing: Melissa Schemmenti x Butch!Reader

Tags: One-Shot, Established Relationship, Strap-Ons (Rr), Frist Strap-On Experience (Rr), Smut with Fluff, Sexual Stereotypes, Mommy Kink and Praise Kink if you squint until your eyes hurt

Summary: You and Melissa have been together for almost a year and she wants to try something new in bed, you’re just taken aback by her request.

Word Count: 2.4k

Read on AO3

A/N: this was originally posted on 13.05.24 (AO3 only), but since I'm putting together a Masterlist, I decided to post it here too so that I could include it. This was the first fic (or anything really) I ever wrote , also english is not my native language so sorry for any mistakes you might encounter. I added some Italian here and there in the fic and you will find the translations in brackets.

You had just finished giving your beautiful girlfriend her second orgasm of the night when she looked at your straight in the eyes asking if this time she could use the strap on you. You were both lying on your bed and she was still panting and high from her orgasm, but she seemed pretty serious about her question. 

Noticing your surprised - and kinda worried - expression, Melissa asked you what was wrong.

“No no, nothing! Just to be clear, I’m not saying no … it’s just that nobody ever asked me something like that. I honestly never thought somebody would even want to have sex with me with a strap”

“Ma cosa stai dicendo?! (What are you even saying?!) Why would you think that?” 

“Well, I mean, usually butches are seen as tops and I guess in my case that is what was always expected from me in a relationship. When I say that nobody ever asked something like that to me I mean it. I always felt like it was implied that if someone was supposed to use the strap in bed…that would be me. And nobody actually ever behaved differently, proved it wrong or cared enough to talk about it I guess…” you replied plainly but with a hint of hurt in your voice

Melissa looked at you with an expression you couldn’t quite decipher. Was it anger? Was it disappointment? Was it sadness? “Hon, I never expected anything from you since the day we met. It’s not about other people’s expectations, what you think you owe them, it’s about what you want. As for me, I just want you. All of you without any stereotype, expectation or limitation. Fuck everyone else and their opinions!”. You look at her lovingly, knowing she is telling the truth as you never felt any kind of pressure from her, from day one you could always be your truest self with her. 

You prop your head forward looking for her lips, but you notice that she doesn’t move and lets you come to her. Once you’re an inch away you feel her sultry voice brushing your lips “Now, do you want me to fuck you senseless with that strap or not?”

You instantly switch your gaze from her mouth to her eyes just to find two piercing emerald pools looking straight into your soul. That look alone could have you coming in seconds. Every. Single. Time. 

“Yes please.” a whisper comes out of your mouth as you lower your gaze

“Good girl. Now, we are going to start slowly and if I hurt you, if you’re uncomfortable or if at any point you change your mind, just let me know, ok? Guardami (look at me) and tell me you understand.” 

You finally look back at her and your stomach just drops. There she is, fully naked lying next to you. This gorgeous, fierce, stern, dominating and yet so reassuring woman. “I do, I understand.”

On that note she gets up without saying a word, takes the strap that had been sitting next to you on the bed for the past minutes, and proceeds to put it on. Still lying in bed you look at her. You have to admit the sight was just mouth-watering. It wasn’t the strap, it was Melissa wearing it and knowing she was about to fuck your brains out with it.

Once she’s done she hops on the bed placing herself between your legs, before starting to caress your sides, chest and abdomen with her hands. You ease into her touch as you start to feel her nails scarping down your hips and upper thighs. You whimper as moans start escaping your lips.

“That’s it baby, rilassati (just relax) and let me make you feel good.” with that she pushes your legs a bit more apart, while tracing your inner thighs with her nails. 

You start to feel that familiar buildup in your lower abdomen and wetness pooling between your legs. 

“Mel, touch me please.” comes out of your lips almost as whisper

“I am touching you” her eyes snap up at you and a familiar electricity shots through your body when you recognize that look on your girlfriend’s face.

You’re enjoying this, but so is she. Probably even more than you right now. Teasing you and filling you up with anticipation. 

“Mmm, I-I need you inside of me Mel…”

“How badly?” She asks in the sultriest voice while her fingers run up your thighs and down your hips stopping before reaching where you need her the most. 

You cry out at her stopping and move your hips involuntarily. “So bad Mel, please, just ple-ahh!” Air gets sucked in your throat when you feel her fingers sliding through your folds. 

“I’m afraid we’ll have to change the sheets once I’m done with you. You’re dripping now e non ho nemmeno iniziato (and I barely even started).” 

You knew she was probably right but there was nothing you could do about it. She was just incredibly hot and you melted under her touch every single time. 

You didn’t even have time to form your thought about what she just said as you felt two fingers sliding into you.

“Oh my God Mel fuckkk” you screamed feeling how easily her fingers entered you. Melissa started moving them at an excruciatingly slow pace. As if you needed any time to adjust given how wet you were, she was just teasing. 

Seeing how desperate you were, starting to move your hips to get more friction, your girlfriend got the hint and picked up her pace. Wet sounds and moans filling the room as her pace fastened more and more. 

You were already getting close when you suddenly felt Melissa slipping her fingers out of you. Crying at the loss you shot her a pouty frustrated look, just to see her getting up on her knees and centering herself  between your legs.

You started to internally panic a little bit. You were aroused as fuck but this was still something new for you. As if reading your mind, your girlfriend looked at you. Her glance holding a warmth that would otherwise be out of character in a not so new situation. You gave her a silent nod and bit your bottom lip in anticipation, worry and arousal. 

Just a few seconds later you felt the tip of her cock sliding through your folds, stopping just above your clit. You moan, still biting your lip,  and your hips start moving again. 

She slides her cock up and down your pussy a few times to spread your wetness around and on her cock, before finally aligning herself to your entrance. You prop yourself up on your elbows just in time to see the tip disappear between your folds. 

“Am I hurting you baby?” Melissa checks in running her left hand across your thigh.

“No, please keep going Mel, I need more.” you cry out almost ashamed at your neediness. Melissa’s worried expression turning into a satisfied and mischievous one. 

In one swift motion she fills you up completely. You are surprised at how this is not hurting at all, you truly are that wet for her. Not that you doubted it. 

With her eyes fixated on yours, Melissa starts moving. Her hands are on your hips as she pulls out almost completely before sliding back in. She does that a few times before picking up her pace and setting a nice rythm, which is unfortunately not enough for you at the moment. 

“Fuck Mel, more! Fuck me harder baby please!” you cry out trying to reach for her thighs, your nails scraping the sheets. 

You whimper and moan at the sudden loss when a few seconds later you don’t feel her cock inside of you anymore. You look at her just in time to see drops of saliva dripping down her lips and feel them landing on your clit.

You feel every organ you have dropping, not just your stomach. “M-Melissa did you just-“

“Spit on your pretty cunt? Yes I did, why?”

“It-it’s just s-” that’s how little you manage to say between moans before she starts spreading it across your pussy with her cock. 

“It’s just so what baby?” She’s looking at you with a lustful grin and deep dark eyes. She bites her bottom lip waiting for your answer while she keeps sliding her cock over your wet pussy. 

“It’s just so hot.” you moan starting to move your hips again . “Please Mel, fuck me.” you’re basically crying out now and her eyes turn even darker. 

Without you even realizing, she suddenly slams her cock back into you, full lenght sliding in even more easily than before. She starts pounding you at a deliciously atrocious rythm. The sound of her hips colliding with your inner thighs fills the room and makes you both wetter. 

“You like feeling me deep inside you, filling you up? Mh?” her voice cuts through your bliss and you just close your eyes to try and not come on the spot. 

“Mmm fuck … fuck … yes! Yes I do, please don’t stop!” 

“I want you to look at me, open your eyes. Now.” The emphasis she puts on that last word made you quiver and you instantly opened your eyes. 

You couldn’t avoid looking down at where her cock was disappearing inside of you and coming out glistening, just to be slammed back in. Again and again. 

The rythm she was keeping, the sounds echoing through the room, her beautiful boobs bouncing at her every movement and her eyes never leaving yours. Everything was building up inside of you and you felt so close. 

Your moans and your breathing were frantic now. One hand gripping the sheets and the other gripping the strap’s leather belt across one of Melissa’s hips. 

She knew you were close as she bent forward to kiss you hard. It was a very sloppy kiss, tongues swirling in between moans and pantings. She placed her hands on both sides of your head with her perfectly sharp white nails gripping the sheets. You scratched down her back with both hands making her arch and hit a spot inside of you you didn’t even know existed. 

She was looking down at you, red curls falling all around you as you placed both your hands on her hips gripping the leather harness so tight “I-I think … I’m going to.. c-come” you cried out looking at her, pleading with your eyes.

Her hips were on autopilot, pounding into you with an animalistic rythm. “Ask nicely bimba (baby girl).” she whispered with a smirk plastered on her lips.

At this point you just couldn’t talk anymore. You felt so full and intoxicated by everything she was doing to you. You knew you couldn’t come without her permission though. So you took one last glance at her cock going in and out of you so quickly “Mel please PLEASE let come on you cock, please I can’t take it anymore!” was the pathetic cry that managed to escape your lips. 

She smiles down at you before swinging her hair to one side with a swift motion of her head, just a second before you feel her right arm slipping between your bodies. Her hand reaches  your clit while she starts thrusting into you even harder. You weren’t excepting that, you didn’t think for one split second her rythm could actually increase even more than it had. 

Her fingers start drawing fast circles on your clit and your legs start to shake. “Come for mama pretty girl.” with that permission you just moan loudly and let go. You see black and feel your pussy clenching around Melissa’s cock as one of the most powerful orgasms you ever experienced rushes through you. 

Yet she doesn’t stop. She gradually reduced her thrusting rythm to accompany you down your high. Not stopping even when you reopen your eyes, flustered and panting. Now going deadly slow, she starts feather kissing your face before connecting your lips in a long passionate kiss. Her movements now come to a stop but you both moan loudly into the kiss as her cock is still inside of you. 

“I’m going to pull out now, please relax for me baby, you did so good.” She says before giving you a kiss on the cheek, lifting herself up and pulling her cock out of you. She removes the harness and places everything at the end of the bed before coming to lie down next to you. 

She perks up on her left elbow and starts tracing figures on your abdomen with her right hand. Sharp nails causing you to have goosebumps all over. You turn to place your left hand behind her neck, pulling her into a loving kiss. You scarpe the back of her head, slightly pulling on messy red curls, while you kiss her passionately hoping all the love you feel for her will be felt through that kiss. 

She kisses you back with the same intensity, making you feel all the love in this world. You part after a while because you smiled into the kiss and Melissa is now looking at you with an amused and puzzled expression. So you also perk up on your elbow, to be directly in front of her and look her straight in the eyes. 

“I never thought I’d let anyone have me like that, let alone enjoy it as much as I did. Thank you for wanting to try this with me. You’re the only person I’ve ever trusted enough or wanted to try this with.” 

Taken aback by your words, her mouth hangs slightly open for a few seconds. Her eyes light up with tenderness and emotions most people wouldn’t imagine Melissa capable of showing. 

“Thank you for trusting me with this and for allowing me to see you like that. You’re incredibly beautiful amore mio (my love).” Melissa says before closing the few inches separating your mouths. And in that kiss you both feel how special your love is. 

You stay a bit like that, lying naked with your lips on her forehead and her face resting on your chest. Bodies intertwined as you slowly drift into sleep grateful for the amazing girlfriend life put on your path. 

[angellwingss]

Wasn’t going to go on a big rant but you know what since that other post is gaining traction yeah I think I will. So big long rant under the cut. Lolll

I feel like. A lot of people might tell me ‘it’s not that deep’ but to me it is that deep.

I don’t have a problem with JayVik or it’s shippers like. At all. I just think some of them are à really good demonstration of like. Every bad thing when it comes to fandom ever LMAO.

Once again I am (supposed to be) writing a whole big long essay about this already so I will try and keep this kind of short and sweet and it might be a bit lacking but wtvr.

I think a lot of JayVik fans tend to be white queer people. Someone left a tag on my OG post that said basically ‘my take is I’m a faggot and I don’t have to care about a character if I don’t want to’ and no hate to that person cuz you’re right, but this is exactly the kind of stuff that made me make that first post.

I feel like a lot of white queer people have an issue with seeing outside their own identity? If that makes sense? This is seen time and time again with the way some of them behave when big movements happen online, some have a tendency to centre themselves and whatnot so i think it’s kind of the same thing.

It makes total sense that a queer person would prefer queer ships and would prefer JayVik over MelJay, that is not a crime. But I do think part of that is because they can’t relate/identify with Mel or see themselves in her like they can with Jayce or Viktor.

I hate to also make it about feminism but i think a lot of you guys are super like. Male centred, like just in your attraction which once again, not the issue not a crime. But i think it’s also why CaitVi, which is a canon queer ship, although popular is still not quite as popular as JayVik despite being canon. Women fetishizing gay men in fandom is not something new, which I think might play a small part in it- I’ve seen a lot of people especially back in s1 infantilizing Viktor and acting like he had no agency or independence and that he NEEDS Jayce to take care of him (that’s another thing. Ableism(looks at you with my eyes)) and they also do the same thing with Jayce where they act like he had 0 agency with any decisions he makes and that he’s like a big dumb baby who doesn’t know anything politics. Hey, guys. That’s a grown man.

My main issue isn’t that people prefer JayVik over MelJay it’s just that some shippers demonize Mel to an insane degree, blame her for getting in the way of their ship (this is also happening right now with Maddie- there’s a leak going around saying that she gets with Caitlyn and people are so upset that this character is getting some INSANE hate and I feel like that’s the same thing going on.)

they blame her for ‘stealing’ Jayce etc etc like. Idk. You don’t have to ship MelJay but I wish more people would appreciate Mel just as a character- imo she is super interesting and has a great story but she’s only ever seen and ‘the other woman’. I’ve seen people say she isn’t like, well characterized and that her story entirely revolves around Jayce which. Yeah she’s definitely heavily involved with him in s1 but she’s clearly got a lot more going on than just that and you would know that if you GAF 🗣️🗣️

for just being. Who she is. I think Mel deserves more attention just in the fandom and it’s just frustrating. People making memes about Jayce going insane over Viktor leaving but like. Mel also just got fucking kidnapped guys. His lover has just vanished without a trace why is nobody also talking about that !!!! Why can’t he care about both these people at the same time !!!!!!!

Anyway I’m not nearly well equipped enough to talk more in-depth about like. Any of this but I do think the demonization of Mel and refusal to see her relationship with Jayce as it is can often times be boiled down to racism like straight up. And also things like the fetishization of gay men in fandom and just things like that are sometimes what can lead to female characters- even the well written ones to be shelved and pushed aside in favour of their male counterparts.

Obligatory ‘not all JayVik fans’ obviously a lot of you are awesome, shouldn’t have to say this. If I’m not aiming for you, you shouldn’t be getting shot.

[ramblings-of-a-chaotic-neutral]

Another thought on this, you know what would also be funny? If Arthur, Merlin, and the knights, while on a quest, came across a colony of trolls living in a cave.

Of course, they all prepare to be attacked by the angry trolls, but then one troll barks out in a gravelly voice, "Wait, isn't that human with the gold sword Grolda's stepson?"

The trolls pause and look at Arthur, and they start murmuring amongst themselves, while Arthur, Merlin, and the knights all glance at each other, very confused, but they begin to creep back towards the exit while the trolls are distracted by whatever they're talking about.

Before they can make it to the exit and escape though, the trolls turn back to them with grotesque smiles on their faces. Suddenly, one of the trolls started speaking to Arthur, who had to resist the urge to violently flinch backwards at the smell of its breath.

"Well, we had heard that that old wench had gone and disguised herself as some ugly princess to trick the king of Camelot into marrying her, but none of us thought she'd ever get away with it! It turns out you humans are a bit thicker in the head than you think! Never thought we'd be seeing you around these parts though!"

Arthur and Merlin both take sharp inhales at that, realizing now that these trolls must have known the one that pretended to be Catrina and infiltrated Camelot.

The group of trolls then starts to crowd around the group of humans, putting them on the defensive. The trolls push them back, further into the cave and towards a long slab of rock that looked like it was being used as a long feasting table, if the rotten fruit and meat piled up on it was any indication.

Arthur's anxiety increased with each step back he was forced to take. Were these trolls aiming to avenge their friend? Oh god, were the trolls looking to make a meal out of them?!

Arthur swung his sword at the troll in front of him with all his might, fueled by fear and desperation. He couldn't meet his end at the hands of these disgusting creatures!

To Arthur's horror though, the beast simply caught his arm in an inhumanly strong grip and laughed, his breath somehow smelling even worse than before.

"You've got some fight in ya! I'm sure you'll fit right in, but that still no way to greet family!"

Arthur lowered his arm, confusion somehow overpowering his fear. "Family?" His tone was filled with disgust, confusion, and sheer disbelief.

The troll grinned at him again, this time slinging a grimy arm over Arthur's shoulders.

"Of course! I should introduce myself. The name's Bronk, and I'm your step-uncle!"

(Merlin almost couldn't stop himself from laughing hysterically, but he managed to barely stifle his laughs.)

And that's how Arthur found himself, dumbfounded, sitting with Merlin and the knights at a feasting table filled with rotten food, listening to his new "extended family" introduce themselves and discuss all the best ways to introduce him to the troll lifestyle.

The trolls all tolerated the knights, but funnily enough, they seemed to be enjoying Merlin's company, laughing at the stories that the manservant was telling them. At Arthur's questioning look, Merlin shrugs and says "It's not that different from sitting with the knights during feasts. They have all the same manners anyways, and at least the trolls don't demand me to fetch them more mead."

And that's how Arthur got forcefully adopted by his troll stepfamily! :D

(also @sugar-coated-prat-dragon, since I promised you something fluffy! <3)

You know what's one thing I'm disappointed we never got in Merlin? After the troll episodes, the entire event was never brought up again!

I mean, I understand if the people of Camelot would rather forget about the whole thing, but Arthur had a troll for a stepmother for like a week and Merlin never teased him about it later on?!

I would really like to write a fic or au some day set in the Golden Age where it's discovered that dragonlords got their powers from being descended from ancient powerful dragons that shapeshifted in humans and had half-human children.

And Arthur's reaction is to turn to Merlin and go "So what you're telling me is that one of your ancestors was deranged enough to sleep with a dragon? That certainly confirms my theory that your insanity is passed down through your blood."

And of course Merlin immediately fires back, "And remind me Sire, which of our family trees includes a troll?"

Arthur sputters for a moment before shouting that that doesn't count, she enchanted his father and the whole thing was a trick, before Geoffrey pipes up and says, "Actually sire, as it was an official wedding, Queen Catrina the Troll was officially added to the Pendragon family tree. And as the marriage was never formally annulled before her death, she cannot be removed from the record."

Arthur's left horrified by this, while Merlin's laughing his ass off.

I just think a scene like that would be neat!

[jimmybutlrr]

Do You Even Care ?

This is Part 3 to I Love You But Do You Love Me? Part 2

Pairing: Aaron Pierre x Tall Thick Brown-Skinned Women

Warnings : 18+. Romance, Mature Content (Cursing and Smut), "drama", Sensitive Topic

Summary: When You Go Low, I Go Lower

A/N: This will be the final part, after This is Malcom X, then John Boyega

*Please let me know if you want to be tagged in future writings.

Divider from @@uzumaki-rebellion

“Babes, you can't squeeze your cat like that ok” Estella warns Trinity, her 4 year old. “But Mommy, he likes it”. Estella gives her daughter a hard stare. “What did I say?” Trinitys goes to her little couch that Amir got her for the law firm. “I still can’t believe you're a mother, it's just such a shock to see” Amri states watching Trinity play with her cat. “I know and I love it, I never thought I would be here right now”. Estella smiled to herself, happy at the life she has provided for herself. 

Hearing the door open, the receptionist looks up seeing people enter the law firm after hours. “Hi, umh, we are here for the meeting with the attorneys”  The recipenist smiles, she had been expecting them. “Yes, follow me”. She gets up, gesturing to the actors and the director to follow her. As they make it to the room, they hear talking and laughing, making the director smile knowing that the people in the room are trustable from meeting them in prior meetings. 

The receptionist opens the door causing the noise to settle down, “You guys have been expecting them” the recipenst says, gesturing to the people behind her  “Thank you stephanie” The receptionist smiles, excusing herself. “Mommy, who are they? Trinity said looking at the groups of actors “ They are here for a meeting ok, we are just going to be talking for a few minutes, then we will go home and eat some dinner” Trinity nods, walking closer  to her mom, who lifts her up and sits her on her lap. 

Aaron hears his wife's voice, causing him to stop his conversation and search for her. He sees his wife with a child, he notices that the child looks around 4-5 years old, meaning there is a large possibility that the child might be his. He gets angry thinking that she decided to keep his child from him, he takes a seat next to her and stares. The meeting starts and for half the meeting he stares at Estella and the child with a screwed up face, ignoring every word that comes out of the people's mouths around him. 

“Hi, I like your eyes, Mister,” Trinity said, looking up to the big man. Aaron looks at the child, a smile pulls on his face, “Thank you little lady, I like your eyes, they remind me of your mothers” Aaron says looking at Estella and then putting his eyes back on the small child. Throughout the meeting Aaron speaks to the child, whose name he learned is Trinity, Aaron feels delighted that he made a connection with the child “His Child”.

The meeting ends and Estella excuses herself and hands Trinity to Amir. Aaron having a “bone to pick with her” follows her, making his presence known as they get to the washroom. He grabs her forcing her to face him, Estella turns wondering who the hell is touching her, she sees Aaron with an expression she has never seen on him before.

Pure Anger. “What is wrong with you? To keep my child from me, is something I thought you would have never done. Fucking disgusting” he spews at her with other emotions but anger. “I know I cheated but that's not a reason to keep a child from their father”Aaron whispers in her face, practically spitting on her. “You know I would have dropped everything to parent this child and you keep her from me”. Aaron said disappointed that she would ever stoop this low to get back at him. 

Estella looks at him and laughs “I really don’t have time for this” ripping her arm out his hand, she quickly walks away back to the room, saying her farewells and rushing to the car with Amir behind her and not far behind them was Aaron. Amir sees Aaron “Why is he following you? Amir questions.

“He thinks Trinity is his, take her and get in the car before he blows up in front of her”. Amir understands the situation and takes Trinity, getting into the car to strap Trinity in her car seat from the inside. Estella turns around and jumps because Aaron was behind her breathing down her neck. “My child isn’t yours” He backs up looking confused “But how isn't she mine, isn’t she 4-5 years old” Aaron questions Estella.

“Yes, she's 4 years old and we broke up 6 years ago,” Estella said with a low tone. “So you're married again or what’s going on?” Aaron again questioned her  “Her father was lynched when he accidently entered a Sundown town” Estella said sadly because the man that she shared a child died, during her pregnancy and before he could experience his child's life. “I’m... .sorry that happened to him and you” 

Aaron balls up his lips, tears falling down his face as it hits him, that she moved on and he’ll never experience the big life stones with her, like having their first kid or ageing together. His heart starts thumping in his ears, every second that passes by the pain in his chest gets stronger. Estella stays quite wondering what the hell is wrong with this nigga. She looked around to see if anybody was seeing this. “Aaron why are you acting like this?” she said, staring at this buffoon. “I'll..never..have my first child with you, i'll have to experience big milestones by myself or with somebody else. It hurts” 

Estella lets out the loudest laugh, after hearing the bullshit that came out his mouth. “You're a bitch did you know that? You, cheated for half of our fucking relationship with Jayme, getting her pregant and then after she had an abortion.  be fucking for real. Talking about your first child when you would have already had your first with somebody not in your marriage, are you ok? Aaron looks dumbfounded about the fact that she knows that piece of information, he’s been purposely leaving out. 

“Listen, I just need you to sign the papers so that I can live my life away from you”. Estella say’s tiredly, tired of his shit. “Ok… .if you come to my hotel and bring the papers, I'll sign them.” Aaron said.  Estella reluctantly nodds, taking his hotel address and room number then walking around her car, to the  driver's side she gets in the car and drives off leaving Aaron alone. 

A few days later, Estella convinces Amir to babysit Trinity, so that she could go to Aarons hotel. Convincing him took a bit of time because he's worried Aaron would real her in, she reasures him, she's no dumbass. 

A few moments later, Estella is now in front of Aaron’s hotel, preparing herself for the nonsense that Aaron does every time she’s around him. She knocks on the door and as she does it flies open, coming face to face with Aarons bare chest, looking down she see he’s wearing baller shorts with no boxers underneath.

Picking up her head, they stare at each other, Estella notices that his ears and face is red, seeming like he’s been crying. Estella not giving 2 fucks, walks into the room with Aaron close behind her and settles her self on the small couch near the window. “Here's the papers, sign them please.” Estella said looking at the man she once loved. 

Aaron grabs the paper, and pen from her hand and places them on the bed, all while still staring at Estella. She rolls her eyes “Don't Start’ Estella said firmly, making sure to pull her dress down.  Aaron moves close and grabs her off of the sofa and kisses her thinking that this will be the last time he gets to do so.

Estella hesitantly kisses him back, opening her mouth, she welcomes his tongue in as he grabs her sides lifting her up. He slides his hands down and  grips her ass. They stay this way for a few minutes, eventually pulling away from each other breathlessly, Aaron wanting more starts kissing down her neck, placing her down on the bed, he pulls the straps down, kissing down her skin till he reaches her breast. 

He stops to take in the beauty of her brown plump brown titties, seeing some new sagging from having Trinity. Taking her nipple into his mouth, he swirls and nibbles on it causing Estella to moan out his name. While he sucks the left nipple instead of playing with her right, he slides his hand down her body to find her clit, pressing down and rubbing it. 

Detaching himself from her nipple, he licks it, kissing down her body and as he makes it to her C Section scar, he kisses it moving from the right to the left. He moves down, blowing on her clit making Estella whimper, picking up her head to look at him, she grabs his head, shoving it between her legs.

“YYEEESSS, ooohh, just like that” Estella moans, feeling Aaron suck the life out her clit, gasping as she feels Aaron push 2 fingers into her body, curling them, hitting her g-spot almost immediately. “Fuuucckk, i’m cummingggg” Estella moans, missing him handling her body like this. “Mmmmhmmm” Aaron said on her clit,

 “Let it out.. .come on, right in my mouth, mmhmhmm.”  Estella comes, screaming his name as she shuts her legs while squeezing her eyes shut. Aaron takes one long lick of her pussy, pulling away, making her feel relieved. With her eyes closed, she feels him slap his dick on her pussy, she opens her eyes and looks at the sight of his dick pushing into her. “Fuck” they moan in unison, he picks up her legs putting them beside her head then starts thrusting into her body, snapping his hips against her ass.

“Yesss, I missed this pussy so much” Aaron moans “ How much you miss it, can you show it to me, give it to me? Estella moans, Aaron starts digging her pussy out, reaches places, she missed getting touched. “I miss it with all my heart, everyday I wish I could wake up to both of you, everyday I wish I could dig you out and watch your legs shake at  my command”.

Aaron moans, putting her legs down and leans back on to the heels of his feet, so he could trust upwards. “Oh ffuuuckkk” Estella moans, Aaron moves both of his hands to different parts of her body, one  starts rubbing her clit and the other starts gripping and twisting her nipple, “I’m cumming again, ohhh. I'm coming, I'm ccooommiiing……. Shhhiiiitttt daddy, f-fuck” Estellas legs start shaking, Aaron keeps thrusting, close to reaching his nut but as it starts approaching, he grabs her body turning her around, pushing in her back to put an arch in it, he starts fucking her into the bed, pushing her face into the bare bedding.

 “Fffuuuuckkkk” they share a moan ending with Estella squirting out and Aaron pushing himself deep inside her nutting. “Daddy misses this pussy so much” He pulls her up, kissing her and shoving his tongue in her mouth. Estella pulls back, picking up her phone, she sees the time. “Oh shit, I have to go” pushing him off of her, she rushes to pick up her things and put on her clothes. Aaron smirks satisfied. “See you,” Aaron smirks smugly. Estella rolls her eyes rushing out of the hotel room and back to her car. 

Over the next months while the crew is filming, they meet up to fuck a few times a month. 

“Damn,” Aaron said, cuddling in Estella's back. Thinking about these past few months, Aaron makes a drastic decision, “Estella” Aaron said, making Estella turn to him. Staring into her beautiful bright blue eyes, he pushes out “I love You”, Estella coughs, caught off guard by his confession.  She sits up, still staring down at him, not being able to hold it in anymore, she laughs. “Be very serious, YOU CHEATED, for 1 year out of our 2 year marriage, going out nad fucking her then coming back home to me” Estella say’s feeling a little heartbroken with the memeory’s being brought back up. “I've been just using you for sex, but I guess that has to stop now”. Aaron heart drops “look when you go low, I go lower” Estella whispered in his ear, getting out of bed, she goes in her bag and grabs the divorce papers and a pen. “Here sign these” Estella puts them in bed in front of him, turns around, puts on her clothes and stands near the bed, waiting for him to sign. Aaron, feeling hurt, picks up the papers and signs them out of sadness and disbelief that she had been using him. “There, I signed them……... .Do you not love me anymore? Aaron said hopeful, she had at least some love for him. Feeling sorry for him. She walks back to the bed, grabbing the divorce papers, she sits on the bed, close to him. “I don’t Love unfaithful man” After saying that statement, Estella grabs her bag off the floor and leaves the room. 

Leaving her ex- husband, as he lays there regretting ever Being unfaithful to his One True Love. 

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