#it's mostly the fact that no one really gives a fuck about it beside me (unsatisfied)

[servuscallidus]

.

[juletheghoul]

Solus

a/n: I am genuinely obsessed with Marcus Acacius and the thought of him being a gladiator and wanting nothing but you? Imagine? Ughhhh I just want him so bad 😩, please feel free to send in thots, requests, even just musings about him 💕 not beta’d and barely proofread!

Warnings; 18+ no minors, vague but big-legal age gap, piv sex, dirty talk, special contraceptive tea, girlie and her bestie gossiping about Marcus and his skills, body / breast worship, Marcus and girlie are really fucking into one another, very possessive of one another in the best way (reader is a slave so there is a power imbalance but so is Marcus), gladiatorial violence, nothing graphic- let me know if I missed any!

Pairing: Marcus Acaciusx F!Reader

word count: 3.3k

reblogs are appreciated

Masterlist series masterlist

She is short with you when you greet her back in the main house. There is a look in her eye, a nervous flitting about your form and it falls into place when she beckons you closer; it is worry.

“Did he hurt you? Was he rough in his taking of you?” She gestures to one of the other girls that attended her, calling for something while looking over the parts of you not covered by fabric. 

“No Domina, he was very gentle, mostly.” Head bowed in deference, you turn and show her that you are in fact whole, albeit pleasantly sore.

“Gentle? Truly?” She frowns, shocked but shrugs it off, “that is good, I was worried his brutality would land upon you. Did he spill inside you? I have had the tea made to prevent any issue from your union.” 

Memories flash through your mind as a cup of the aforementioned tea is placed in your hands of all the different ways he had filled you. Heat blooms in your cheeks at the feel of it drying on your inner thighs.

“Yes Domina, many times.” 

“Drink, I imagine you must be exhausted.” She sighs, watching as you gulp down the bitter mixture. “Take a rest and come back to me once you have slept a while and cleansed yourself of his lust.”

“Yes Domina.” You bow again, and head for your chamber.

-

He felt invigorated, despite the fact that he had gotten barely any rest. Her arousal was still smeared all over his cock, all over his fingers and the thought of him carrying her with him into the ludus where he lived and trained kept the smile plastered on his face. 

The other men were already up and training, honing their skills in hopes of advancing. He took his time making his way to his own training, taking a moment to himself to think about all the things he’d done to her, all of the sighs and whimpers he’d gotten out of her, the sweet moans that had burned themselves into his ears. Let himself imagine for a moment, the next time he’d win and ask for her, what other delights he could bestow upon her. 

Most of his brothers ignored him when he finally went out to train, the ones closest to him gave him a nod and he nodded back. With sword in hand, and the sun on his back, he put the softness of her skin and her pink, honeyed tongue away and focused. 

-

Cassia, your closest friend found you in the kitchens after having rested. 

“You must tell me everything!” her nails dug into your arm, her excitement a visceral, violent thing and you laughed at the way her eyes were as big as an owls. 

“Everything? What is there to tell? He took my virtue.” You smile to yourself, filing the tray with things for your Domina to eat while Cassia shook with excitement beside you. 

“Oh, is that all? The fiercest Gladiator asked for you as his prize and this is the answer you give me? And I called you friend!” She pouts, indignant at your lack of candor. Your mouth betrays you and you smile before shaking your head. 

“Very well, I will give you all of the details you desire. Ask me, and I will share.” With your full tray in your hands, you gesture for her to follow you and she does with a mischievous grin on her face. 

“What was it like? Was it terribly painful?” She held onto your arm, careful not to jostle your tray. 

“It stung, burned a little at first, but only at first. He made it quite enjoyable so by the end of the night it felt wonderful.” You sighed, remembering his face as you rode him just how he liked. 

“Was it big? His cock?” She blushed prettily, her pale skin going pink as a flower. 

“Yes, it was big, thick as well. I confess I did not think it would fit.” You laughed, and she giggled, going even more red. “He surprised me, for as much as we thought him a brute, he was very soft, sweet and affectionate. I enjoyed my time with him very much and I hope…” She raises her eyebrows, shocked at what you might say. 

“I hope that he calls for me again.” You press forward, defiant, and honest. 

“You wanton thing!” She laughs, delighted. “I pray to the Gods that my virtue may be taken by one as worthy, and as skilled since you are already begging for a repeat performance.” She laughs and you bump her shoulder with hers playfully, balancing the tray as she separates from you. She casts a wink your way before returning to her duties, and letting you tend to the Domina. 

She says nothing when you bring her the tray, and you fall back into your usual rhythm of servitude easily. 

Weeks pass, and the training in the ludus below intensifies as another game is lined up by your Dominus. There’s a craving within you now though, a new one that follows you around no matter where you go. That ache that he had built up in that stiff bed below with his fingers and with his tongue resurfaced every so often with an intensity you couldn’t understand. 

Whenever you saw him below, whenever you caught his eye, visions of him above you, below you—inside you filled your mind like wine filling a cup. Heat flooded your body, arousal collected at the mouth of your cunt and it was hard to focus on anything beyond the ghost of his filling stretch.

-

When the games finally came, you found yourself paying much more attention to them than you ever had before. Silently cheering for him and praying to all of the Gods that he would come out victorious, while secretly praying that he’d ask for you once more. 

There was yet another feeling now however, as you watched him make quick work of his opponents. A fear that settled low in your belly, deep in your heart as he took a minor blow that he would fall, that you would have to stand there and serve your Domina while watching him die. A shiver ran down your spine to imagine it. 

“Victorious again!” Your Dominus laughed, collecting coin from those who had bet against Marcus. It angered you, that they would bet against him. There was a curious sense of ownership battling for dominance amongst all your newfound feelings. He felt yours, and you felt his. So strange, considering it has only been one night, and there was no guarantee he’d been speaking the truth.

You tried to put it out of your mind as you made your way back home, focused on the tasks at hand and suppressed the hope swelling within when the Dominus called him forth once more. He did not keep you in suspense, his eyes found yours instantly, staring with open desire and your Dominus was quick to catch on.

“Shall I send her down with you once more? Would you not care for another girl? One yet untouched?” The master of the house gestured to others that served alongside you, and you didn’t fail to note the gleam of hope in some of them, in Cassia.

“No Dominus. I desire only her.” He smiled, eyes focused on your form and his heat engulfed you. 

“Very well.” He gestured to you and you obeyed, marginally happier than the first time. 

There was no preamble this time, as soon as you crossed the threshold of that room he was on you. His mouth claiming yours hungrily, his hands landing heavy on your backside. You smiled into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer. He smelled of blood, sweat and victory. 

“Gods above, how I have ached for you my sweet.” His hands grabbed at you, pawing at every bit of you he could reach while he mouthed at your neck, building the fires of arousal within you.

“I must confess, I have ached for you as well.” He groaned, biting at your ear. You pushed him away for a moment, guiding him to the basin to wipe the gore away from his skin. 

“Tell me.” His eyes were frantic, roving over you as though you might disappear if he did not watch you while he made quick work of divesting himself of his soiled armour. With a shy smile, you wring the cloth and set to cleaning the grime from his beautiful face.

“I have ached for you to fill me once more, to take me and give me the same pleasure as you did the first time.” You watched your hands as you worked, blood pounding in your chest and in your cunt to confess your secret thoughts. His fingers pinched your chin softly, guiding your eyes to meet his.

“Did you touch yourself, thinking of my hands?” 

His gaze was so intense, filled with such fire that you could barely move, could barely breathe under the weight of it. Memories of your self exploration in the nights leading up to the games filled your mind. 

“Yes, so many times.” 

Silently he took the cloth from you, making quick work of cleansing himself before discarding it and now he looked so much like he did in the arena, stalking, hunting you down like prey but it did not scare you. If anything, it only inflamed your passion, made your cunt drool its arousal onto your inner thighs. 

“Do you know that you have not left my thoughts since that night? Since before that, I cannot think of anything else. Just your face, your body, your smile—“ he pressed close enough that you had to tilt your face up to keep his gaze, swallowing thickly at his open desire.

With his eyes holding you still, he removes your tunic and his. His manhood is just as thick, just as heavy and stiff for you. It smears his own pearly want against the goose flesh spreading across your belly.

“How do you want me?” Tentatively, you caress his ribs, sliding up to feel the firm golden skin of his chest. 

“I want you in every way there is to want a woman.” He cuts the whimper from your mouth off with a kiss, his words, his touch; it bolsters you and you guide him to sit at the edge of the bed.

“Then I shall ride you, just as you like.” There’s a pretty flush on his cheeks, spreading down his neck and despite your limited experience, you feel like nothing short of a goddess lining him up and sinking slowly onto his cock.

His unabashed moan of pleasure helps with the stretch of his manhood.

“It feels so much better this time.” Your voice sounds different, wanton, confident. It does feel better, the thick pillar of his sex stretching you enough to make you whimper into his mouth.

He groans from deep in his chest, a rumble that makes your body heat from the inside out. Ever since that night you’d been dreaming of this, of having him want you again, fill you again and it’s so much better than your late night fantasies. With trembling thighs you roll your hips, grinding yourself against him, holding onto his strong golden shoulders for purchase. 

His hands grab onto your hips, squeezing at the flesh and guiding your movements. His breath comes out in small pants and there’s so much about him to admire it’s difficult to settle on just one aspect. His strength is obvious. Muscles honed with sword and shield ripple and cord under your fingers. The long line of his neck begs for your lips, beckons you to taste the salt that collects there and you do, drawing a surprised yet filthy sound from him. It spurs you on, your tongue traveling up to his ear to bite at the lobe. 

“Your tight little cunt is going to milk me dry.” You cannot help but smile, a victory of your own shining brightly within at the knowledge of how much pleasure he gains from your body. 

“I am ready, fill me again, I want to feel it deep inside me.” Your lips press against his, your arms wrap tighter around his neck to press yourself closer as you ride him quicker. His arms wrap around your ribs, holding you just as tightly, your nipples hard as pebbles against his chest as he all but bounces you on his cock. 

Sweat beads at his hairline, the effort of using you to fuck himself evident in the gorgeous flush in his cheeks. Your tongue slides across the plump of his bottom lip and he almost growls before offering his own. It’s vulgar, the way your tongues meet without actually kissing, the wet sounds of your joining, it all adds to the heat blooming in your spine. The tingling in your breasts, in your core and when he spreads his legs a little wider something shifts and he’s deeper. You cry out, begging, babbling at him to keep going, just there, please and he obeys. 

The pleasure is a hot dagger through your being, making you seize and squeeze him all the tighter, it is the catalyst for his own release and the spurt of him only adds to your experience. 

You catch your breath, panting while your body feels like a raw nerve, pulsing, clenching, pounding in sync with with your heart. His lips press against your neck, from the sensitive spot just below your ear down to the curve of your shoulder. His calloused hands rub at your back while your muscles loosen. 

You pulled his face up to kiss him once more, enamoured with the taste of his tongue and felt him smile into it. 

He needs time to recover, and so you lay in the bed next to him. Both of you naked as the day you were born. Your fingers trace mindless shapes onto his chest while his hands travel from the slope of your shoulder, down to the swell of your ass. 

“Why did you choose me?” His head turns at your question. “From amongst all the slaves, all of the women who serve in this house… why me?”

“Why? Because I desire you.” He presses a kiss to your forehead, you frown.

“You desire me? That is all? Do you not desire any other?”

“No, I do not. I have been in this house for years and while my body desires this-“ he grabbed at your ass, “it is not something I indulge in very often. I have watched you grow from a girl into a woman and you have wormed your way into my brain. I do not know why, but I desire you above all others.” He pulls your face up, pressing a kiss to your mouth. 

“And then once you had me? What did you feel then?”

“I felt joy, that you are sweet as well as beautiful. I felt gratitude that you feel desire for me as well, that you make me laugh, that you feel so good here in my arms… shall I go on?” He grins at the way you cannot hide your happiness, that the shy smile grows on your lips as he confesses and when you nod he pushes you onto your back and slips to slot himself between your legs. 

“I feel confident that I please you, I feel pride when your cunt gets wet for me. I love that you are adventurous and brave and willing to try all of the filthy things I want to do to you.” Your fingers twirl the strands of his hair as he dips his head to lick at your nipples. 

“I feel possessive of you, to know that no one touches you like me, no one else gets to taste your breasts, no one else gets to fill you the way I do.” His cock glides through the combined mess of your joining.

You hum as he worships you, smiling and preening under his words.

“I confess, I enjoy it, being the object of your desire. I was scared you would pick someone else.” Your legs hitch high on his hips, wrapping around to press against his lower back.

“Hmmm, did you now? Did it make you jealous? the thought of me giving this—“ he knotches himself at your entrance, pushing inside with a slow thrust, “—to someone else?”

“Yes—especially with how excited the other girls were for you to choose. One of them asked me what it was like, what you were like.” It’s slow, decadent the way he fucks you. He presses deep enough to kiss your womb before pulling almost all the way out, then presses deeply again. He does not speed up, he does not vary the pressure. 

“And what did you tell her?” His arms bracket your skull, anchoring himself so he can keep up his stamina.

“I told her the truth, that you made it feel so good, that your cock is so big, so thick, that I hoped you called for me again.” You moan the words into his mouth, meeting his thrusts with your own slow roll. 

“Not too big for you, nothing you cannot handle hmm? Nothing this perfect cunt cannot handle, my cunt—“ his words affect even him, his hips speed up, a wet, vulgar sound with every plunge ringing through the room.

“Is it mine?” He asks with a grin but all you can do is focus on how good it feels, how he hits that sacred spot within with every press. 

“Answer me, whose cunt is this?” He slides one knee up for purchase pulling inhuman moans from you.

“Yours, it’s yours, Gods above, don’t stop—“ your hand slides down to glide your fingers against your achy clit, slipping down first to feel yourself spread wide around him. 

It only takes a few delicious swirls before you’re clenching around him, fluttering with your orgasm while his hips move faster, groaning around the tightness of your climax while he chases his own end.

“Going to fucking fill you to the brim, going to be leaking out of you for fucking days—“ he crashes into his own pleasure, barely getting his words out before grinding himself deep enough to hurt, moaning unabashedly, loudly enough that half the house must have heard him.

He collapses onto you, his face pressed into the damp crook of your neck—his sweat soaked skin slipping against yours while you both catch your breath. Your legs wrap tighter around him, holding him inside. The sunkissed, freckly skin of his shoulders is warm under the press of your lips. His voice in your ear is soothing, the low hum of appreciation for the affection you freely give him, something you’re sure he hasn’t received in years. 

It takes him a few minutes to move but you don’t mind. The weight of him is welcome, he isn’t the only one starved for touch and he gives it just as freely as you do. He does not let you separate from him. Even as he falls asleep, you are wrapped up in his embrace. 

You admire him as he rests. The dark fan of his lashes, the silver strands of his hair, so fine between your fingers, the almost boyish purse of his lips. He does not wake when you press your mouth to his, he only tightens his grip, pulls you closer to him. You smile despite the conflict within, you want him to rest. His efforts in the arena are no small thing and with the way the night has gone he must be exhausted. 

Another desire burns within you as well though; that he’ll wake because of you, that before morning comes you will be just as full and pleasantly sore as the first time.

-

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[jjkbambi]

the morning after luigi mangione x reader (18+)

summary!!! part two of is it new years yet because you do not get back together just cuz he has good dick OMG 🖕🖕🖕🖕😒 he also has a great personality and loves eating pussy

warnings: smut, kinda angsty, he’s manipulative but honestly he’s such a nice guy, you should really give him a second chance

^ not edited let’s alll just practice gratitude 🙏

seven days, thirteen hours, and nine minutes and thirty six seconds.

that’s how long it had been since luigi had seen you. not that he’d been counting, he was truly trying to be normal about the distance this time around.

he replays the morning after on a loop, searching for the slightest hint he’d done something wrong to no avail. as a matter of fact, your quiet body was beside him until deep into the afternoon, nothing but soft snores exchanged between the two of you. he wakes before you, kissing your forehead before taking his leave. his frat brothers whistle at him as he enters the wretchedly messy house, throwing him a water.

“happy new year, big guy,” one of them, hasan, greets. “did’ya spend your night thinking about new goals or scoring the same one?”

luigi rolls his eyes. “fuck off.”

another brother chimes in, bright-eyed. “when are we meeting her?”

“in your dreams.”

he had no intention of sharing you in any way; the thought of anyone else even looking at you irritated him. but starting the new year off by your side was far too great a fate to be stoic about. he grabs a plate of what’s left of their shitty communal breakfast (jar salsa from the night before, scrambled eggs, and two pieces of mostly burnt toast) and brings it into your room.

“y/n,” he calls out while entering. the door to the bathroom is now closed, and he sees your shadow shuffling around the room.

hesitant, the door creaks open. youre back in your black minidress, holding onto your heels. “hey, pretty.”

“hi,” you say tightly, the mistakes and soreness from the night before lingering in your mind. you’ve just wiped away the tears still streaked on your face, yet your ex-boyfriend hardly looks hungover.

“dressed up just for me?” he jokes, kissing your cheek. he offers you the plate of food but you shake your head.

“lacy’s waiting for me. i’ve got to go.”

“stay,” he says, his voice honey-sweet, like the boyfriend you knew months ago. it makes you feel sick, the familiarity of it all suffocating you. the room feels too small.

you push away from him. “i have to go.”

“baby,” he drops everything he’s holding to grab you again. “what’s wrong? is everything alright?”

he always blows your mind with his audacity. “no, everything’s not alright, luigi,” you spit back. “we shouldn’t have—none of that should’ve happened.”

“what do you mean?”

“luigi,” you sigh. “we’re over, alright? it’s done.”

“y/n—”

“i mean it,” you raise your voice so slightly, but still it breaks. “you cheated on me, then pulled all this shit, i can’t do it anymore.”

“you can’t do it anymore? are you serious?”

“yes!”

“you ignored me for weeks then showed up at my fucking party, dressed like that,” his voice was low, but angry. brows furrowed, he doesn’t lose his grip on you. it scares you. “you can’t tell me you weren’t bartering for my attention.”

“i wasn’t.”

his jaw sets. “then who’s?”

“oh my god. nobody’s!”

“don’t fucking lie to me—”

“lu, stop, seriously.” your voice trembles this time, and you both notice it. he drops your hand.

“i didnt mean to hurt you,” he says, soft at your upset. “i swear—i dont remember cheating on you. i’m not gonna mess up like that again, i promise.”

he leans in to kiss you, to seal the pledge with his gentle touch, but you pull back. “it doesn’t matter that you didn’t mean to hurt me—you did. you can’t just pretend it didn’t happen.“

his big brown eyes bear into yours and he swears, “i can make it up to you.”

“luigi,” you hadn’t even realized you’d been crying until he brings his hands up to wipe your tears away. “i just don’t think this is a good idea, i’m sorry.”

“come on,” he says, frowning. “i love you. only you.” his lean-in to kiss you is successful this time. the kiss feels much better—softer—than last night’s. he’s gentle with his desperation, intent on making you stay. “‘m sorry, okay?” he says between kisses. “let me make it better.”

“no, luigi, we shouldn’t—”

“you’ve got to hear me out, y/n,” he takes your lips again. his hot kisses move down your neck—and it all feels so different this time around. even the air in the room feels lighter. his voice is against your ear when he swears, “i’ll be good to you, sweetheart, i promise.”

saying no to him is near impossible—it’s why you shut yourself off of him for weeks, avoiding places he frequented, deactivating your social media, ignoring his constant stream of messages and calls. now, he has you, and within minutes, you’re pressed against the wall again.

“feels good?” he teases, grinding his hard-on into your core. you melt underneath him, you can’t help it, he’s so warm.

“lu,” you whimper. you’re still sensitive from how selfishly he took you the night before, you can’t help but react to his touch so quickly. it felt so raw.

“wait—” he never does. his hands are on your hips again, moving your body against his.

“just let me take care of you,” he says, trailing kisses down your neck again. this time, he was sure to leave marks.

he keeps the dress on this time. he places you back onto the bed, and as you gather the courage to take him in again, he moves beneath you.

“knew i recognized these,” his voice hot against the fabric of your panties.

you told yourself the lacy black panties were just meant to match the dress, but it all seemed so intentional—the party crash, the kitchen drive-by, the fact that you were wearing his valentines day gift. whether this was a manifestation of your greatest fear or desire, you couldn’t tell.

he kisses your thighs, then runs his tongue against your core through the fabric of your panties before ceremoniously ripping them off. he kisses and sucks at your wetness. you tremble at the suddenness of his movement. his big nose is so prominent in your pussy, you can’t help but grind yourself against his perfect face and whine as he drinks you in.

“you’re such a fucking mess,” luigi says, smiling into your warmth. his unshaven stubble tickles your sensitive cunt, sending a tremor through you. “so wet, i’ve barely even touched you.”

“i can’t help it,” you whimper.

he grabs your ass, pulling you closer to his relentless mouth. it’s ridiculous how good he feels. he’s completely shameless in his endeavor to ruin you.

“look at me,” luigi orders, so you do. you look down to see him, finding that he’s already gotten to touching himself. his hard length at the edge of the bed, furiously red, as he strokes himself. “i think about you everyday,” he admits in between licking at your core. “i missed how this pretty pussy tasted. i missed having you like this. holding you down so you can’t squirm away. missed hearing you beg.”

you’re almost there, fidgeting underneath his hands. “luigi, please. it’s too much.”

“you’ve taken worse,” he growls into you.

he feels like he’s on fire. one hand moves up and down along his cock fervently, while the other lends itself to fingering your frothing pussy. you mewl at the sudden entry, back arching.

“luigi,” you whine. “please.”

“i’m trying to do a nice thing for you, y/n,” he hums, “but you want me to be selfish, hm? want me to take you?”

“yes,” you say, breathless.

“fuckin’ slut,” he grumbles, pulling himself away from your wet cunt. he grabs your ankles and pulls you to the edge of the bed. “what d’you want from me, huh?”

“want you.”

“course you do,” luigi says, surprising you with hard slaps against your sensitive clit. you cry out at the sensation, the unfamiliar storm of bliss and torment, and he chuckles darkly. “you fuckin’ belong to me.”

he grabs your chin and forces you into another kiss, your wetness now staining you both. he lifts your leg up and slides himself back into your wet warmth. “you’re dripping,” he praises as he pounds into you. the exhilarating pain sets your senses alight, you grip onto him tighter without even realizing. “all for me, yeah?”

“all for you.” you nod. this is not how you expected this conversation to go. you writhe at how big he is, how hard.

“you can take it,” he grunts. he’s not fast, this time—his thrusts are agonizingly slow and tortuously deep—just as you think it’s all entirely too much, one hand grips your clothed tit, the other lifts to cradle your chin, forcing your lips to part open. he spits into your mouth. “swallow,” he orders.

you do.

“good girl,” he places sloppy, wet kisses along your jaw, your neck, then goes to bite at your tits. “so fuckin’ pretty.”

“i thought about you too,” you admit sheepishly, out of your mind. he looks up at you, raises his eyebrows, urging you to go on. “i missed you.”

to your surprise, he scoffs. “fuckin’ bitch.” he suddenly loses the interest in being gentle with you, returning to your body rough and angry. his fingers massage against your clit, unraveling you. “you’re just as crazy as i am, you know that? running around town like you don’t belong to me. like you don’t touch yourself late at night thinking about this cock. wishing those fingers were half as good as mine, huh? fuckin’ idiot.”

“luigi,” you cry out. was this him being nice?

“be a good girl f’me,” he grunts. he feels you pulse around his cock and drives into you with even more force. “cum all over me, baby. have my fuckin’ kids.”

“luigi,” you mewl again, desperate for release.

“come on, pretty, show me how good it feels.”

his lips return to yours, hot wet and desperate, as he cums inside of you. you’re a complete mess—squirming and whimpering as you unravel onto his cock, he catches your moans with kisses and leaves you shaking underneath him.

“good girl,” he hums, kissing your forehead.

for a fleeting moment, the two of you are perfect. everything feels just right. he slips into the spot beside you, the disarray of tangled sheets forgotten as he pulls you into his warmth. you sink into the nape of his neck, and though there are no more words spoken, the air is thick with an undeniable love, quiet but all encompassing.

but when he stirs awake, reaching for you, all that lingers is the soft, fading smell of your spring perfume.

MASTERLIST send requests ! <3

[ivysangel]

fratboy!dick being your first fuck, he brags about to his buddies about it and sends a photo of you asleep beside him sporting a shit-eating grin, captioning it "winning" only to drop you hours later for a new girl the morning after.

fratboy!jason is your first suck/bj in a restroom after he asks you out on a milkshake date. to spite dick, he sends an update to the groupchat with a pic from his pov where you're on your knees, busy and oblivious to the camera aimed at you, and captions it with "milkshake no.2 tastes real good"

i'm tweaking over the fact that i missed this because this is literally just too good. i've literally BEEN obsessed with virgin chasing fratboy!dick like if you looked through me and kazz's you would see many a convo about that topic.

he's literally so manipulative; he purposely befriends you just to get in your pants, feigns interest in your hobbies just to gain your trust so he can fuck you then dump you. and he preys on your naivety, knows that you're apprehensive about losing your virginity to a fratboy especially dick because he's got such a messy track record, so he makes sure to reassure you constantly, telling you that you're "different" and that he's "never felt this way before." and every time you second guess the motive behind his actions he does something to make you feel like you're the only girl in the world, stealing your heart until you finally give in and let him fuck you, stealing your virginity.

the worst part is how loving he is during the whole process. he goes so slow, asking how you're feeling with every stroke, wipes away any tears that might escape from your eyes while you're getting used to the feeling. he keeps up the charade that he's in love with you the entire time that he's inside of you, and then he just leaves and pretends that he never even knew you and the only proof that he did is the pic he took of you while you were sleeping and the $50 he venmo'd you for plan b the next morning.

nonnie, i think we're so on the same wavelength because i have BEEN obsessed with the concept of fratboy!jason being a bj lover for ages. like i even briefly mentioned it in my fratboy headcanons post, and what i put wasn't even my original idea. i was originally gonna say that he held the record for most blowjobs received in closets and bathrooms in the entire frat's history. but anyway, back to what you said.

"milkshake no.2 tastes real good" is some crazy work, and i'm actually kind of upset that i didn't come up with it but whatever. fratboy!dick and fratboy!jason hooking up with the same girl just to get back at each other despite neither of them actually having feelings for her is actually so disgustingly real. and a bitch is gonna keep coming back because the dick is great!!! fantastic!!! phenomenal even!!!

the thing with jason is that despite being in a frat, he refuses to publicly associate with them and therefore has half the school thinking he's some sexy loner with no friends when he is, in fact, a legacy pledge and incredibly well respected amongst the brothers. so he's posted up in the university library, chatting you the fuck up with his knowledgable takes and dry-ass humor. convincing you to go on a date with him isn't hard at all, and somehow, despite you being freshly devirginized with approximately one body, neither is getting you to suck his dick in the dingy bathroom of the diner he took you to.

you're on the floor, dirty, offputtingly sticky tile pressing into your knees while you suck him off, really putting your neck into it because he's hot and you want him to come back for a round two in the near (hell, even distant) future. he snaps a pic of mostly the top of your head, features barely identifiable to absolutely anybody but dick who A) either calls him immediately (jason declines) or B) blocks him because even though he didn't actually like you this still somehow breaks bro code (dick is weirdly possessive over his virgin conquests).

jason never tells dick that it was one of the worst blowjobs he's received in his life and that you used way too much teeth because the ego boost from pissing dick off is way too good.

[thyfleshc0nsumed]

how do you find public spaces to fuck (re:the rooftop + dyke)?

sincerely, horny lez

Good question, I will answer it in this response eventually, but first, you have to sit through me intellectually jerking myself off for a moment because I think it may provide some useful perspective.

Public sex has been part of my life for as long as I've been having physical sex at all. As an adolescent it was mostly out of necessity, but these days it's mostly out of convenience. The vast majority of the sex I've had in the last year or two has been public.

I think it's important to clarify that for me at least, public sex is not an act of exhibitionism. If there's any sort of philosophy behind it besides sheer utility, I'd say it's something like not allowing our society's mores and hangups around sex and privacy dictate the terms on how and where we (especially as gay people) engage with our sexuality.

I think there's this gut impulse many people have--including many gay people--around public sex, and I think it speaks to the reactionary view of human sexuality that is unfortunately the stock standard in these times. For many, the idea of people having sex in public gives them some sort of 'ick' that they can't seem to articulate.

Often discussions around public sex are framed like this: "if I walked in on people having sex, it would make me uncomfortable, I didn't consent to that, so people should not be having sex in public." It would be fairly reasonable to experience discomfort in this imagined scenario--in fact, I think most people probably would--and that discomfort isn't a problem. The problem is that the premise assumes a few crucial points, notably that 1. Walking in on public sex is a common occurrence and/or the desired outcome for those engaging in it 2. Discomfort is a form of harm 3. Exposure to (non-hegemonic) human sexuality is capable of causing some kind of nebulous psychic damage to the witness.

To the first point: in my decade or so of regular public sex, I can only think of one instance where I was actually walked in on. It was an alley off of a major road and probably only at around 1030p. I mention this because we absolutely would have chosen a different, more secluded location/time if we were doing anything other than fully clothed kink and maybe some kissing, because again, the goal for most is not exhibitionism; no one really wants to be walked in on, so we choose locations where it is less likely that we will be.

To the second point, I have little to say besides that it simply isn't. Discomfort is an everyday part of life and is something all people experience regularly without calls to stop every potential source of it. So what is it about this topic that makes people react this way?

This leads us to the third point: non-hegemonic modes of sexuality are treated as degenerative and caustic and therefore must be hidden (or eradicated) entirely from the public sphere. It is the classic double standard; think of things like the "Don't Say Gay" or "DADT" laws or more broadly the attempt to remove even the mention of the existence of gays from curriculum. Most of the people who fight for such measures likely don't take the same issue or action with a 48 foot billboard for the local strip club or with a heterosexual couple kissing on screen.

And while the spot that people place the line may differ greatly, this ire against public sex still draws from the same well of reaction against perceived degeneracy that the fascist draws from. If this is not self evidently a negative thing to you, I have little I can say to convince you.

Some may be thinking 'okay, even if it is not harmful or degenerate, why do public sex?' To me, it is just as strange that so many keep their sex lives confined to the home and I could posit the same question. Neither way of doing things is any more natural or unnatural than the other, one is just the societal default. If it would bring you joy, why not engage in public sex?

The world is large, and if you know where to look, there are countless spaces you can carve out and stake the pervert's claim to. Alleyways, parks, bathrooms, rooftops, and beaches are the first to come to mind for me. To answer your question directly, you find them by making them and taking them.

Time is a large factor here as well. A given spot in a park at 9p may not be suitable, but might be more so by 11p, and even more so by 1a. My experience is that the later it gets, more spots become viable with less heavy precautions.

Another factor is coverage. An open field is riskier than behind a tree. The middle of an alley is riskier than behind a dumpster. You want to limit the amount of vectors through which you could be exposing yourself. I value coverage from sight lines over seclusion.

Something else you want to think about is whether or not you are on private property. If you are, it's possible that there are security personnel sitting in a car somewhere nearby or a resident who notices you. At that point, the issue is not even the sex, it's the fact you're there at all.

Finally, you always have to be ready to dip. Be aware of your surroundings as best you can, listen for cars and people, don't get too caught up in the moment that you're blinded. You gotta be ready to pull your pants up and walk quickly away. I'd rather be safe than sorry. If something's not right, get outta there. If you can't, well, don't have your dick out at least.

Anyway, all that to say go out and have fun. Good luck and enjoy yourself. The world has room for you to fit yourself into.

[sunshineyuyu]

gravitational attraction (k. ys)

★ summary: you’re taking intro to physics late as an upperclassman, but thankfully there’s another student in the same predicament–kang yeosang. the two of you end up as lab partners, and as the semester goes on, you become friends and maybe something more. ★ pairing: yeosang x gn!reader ★ genre: college, fluff ★ word count: 3.4k ★ tags/warnings:  college soccer player!yeosang, no y/n, physics lab partners to lovers, intentionally lowercase, platonic (or is it?) bed sharing/cuddling, this is all fluff :3 ★ notes: i know yeosang is actually really smart he'd probably be helping ME with physics in reality ! as always, beta'd by @starhwas-bunny ♡ ★ masterlist | read on ao3

you meet him during your first physics lab.

you’re a junior sitting in a class of mostly freshmen, all buzzing with that excited hum of making it through their first syllabus week. while you click your pen aimlessly, you think about the several ways you could’ve avoided taking introductory physics this semester: you could’ve manned the fuck up and gotten it out of the way freshman year, but you’d been scared off after doing poorly in high school; you could’ve taken it sophomore year, but that you would’ve had to take physics and linear algebra in the same semester; you could’ve switched your major entirely!

but unfortunately, you’re not sitting in the quad with your friends, leisurely throwing a frisbee while nursing a cold beer. instead you’re sat at a lab station, waiting for the teaching assistant to give instructions, and cursing yourself for arbitrarily choosing 2:30-5:30 on fridays as your designated weekly lab time.

you glance around, noticing how the other lab stations are filled with at least 2 people already, most of them chatting quietly. it’s not that you mind working alone―in fact you usually prefer it―but you’re shit at physics and you’re hoping for a budding astrophysicist to choose you as their lab partner.

instead, right at the moment that the TA clears his throat to introduce himself, the door into the lab creaks open and a chocolate-haired boy steps inside, calmly but a little breathlessly. he pinpoints the only seat still available (the one next to yours) and makes his way over. he moves with a kind of shamelessness that tells you he’s definitely not a freshman.

he’s lowkey jacked, you notice as he sits down beside you. his shoulders are solid and prominent, and you can see his biceps flex as he grabs a pencil out of his backpack. his hair falls over his forehead and just barely into his eyes, but he runs a hand through it to sift it out of the way. he’s attractive, your brain supplies uselessly.

right next to physics in your mental shelf of things you’re bad at is talking to pretty boys.

and oh, he is very pretty.

over the next hour, you learn that although your lab partner is quite beautiful, he’s also quite dumb. as nervous as you’d been about physics lab, this first one is simple enough, and you end up having to coach the boy sitting next to you through basic kinematics.

“thanks,” he says, scratching the side of his neck with the back of his pen. “i missed a couple lectures.”

“it’s the first week,” you say. “you’re already skipping classes?”

“the season just started and my sleep schedule is still a little wack,” he winces. you don’t blame him though―lecture for this class is at 8 am.

“season?” you say.

“soccer,” he says.

“oh,” you say. “that’s why you’re so…” you break off before you accidentally tell him that he’s jacked to his face.

he just hums in response.

thankfully, the two of you manage to finish the lab in less than two hours, and you note with a decent amount of satisfaction that there’s at least five other groups still working. you scribble your name at the top of your lab report, before trading to fill in your name on his sheet.

you glance over at his name.

kang yeosang, it reads. his handwriting is neat and thin.

“uh, so see you next week?” he says, as you exit the classroom together.

“yeah,” you say.

⋆⋆⋆

it takes fifteen minutes for the two of you to find the study room, which cuts into the two hours you’d reserved the room for. you’ve worked up a sweat while frantically walking around the third floor of the library, from both embarrassment and the presence of yeosang, who hovers over your shoulder as you lead him on a wild goose chase. you finally unlock the room and walk inside, only to be met with a whiteboard covered in phallic drawings and a questionable stain on the chair you happen to choose.

while you wrinkle your nose at the stain and tug on the hem of your shorts so that you can avoid any direct skin contact with it, yeosang settles into his chair and begins taking out his laptop and notebook. 

“how many problems did you get done?” you ask, mirroring his actions with your own things.

“bold of you to assume i started,” he says without a note of shame. he lays out his notebook and pen and calculator and looks up at you expectantly.

“yeo-sang,” you say. “it’s due tomorrow!”

“tomorrow at 11:59 pm,” he says. “that means i have all of tonight and all of tomorrow.” he pauses while you finish pulling up the assignment on your browser. “and i have you to help me.” he smiles at you smugly.

“bold of you to assume i’ll help you,” you retort.

he pouts, which creates an interesting contrast against his strong, muscly college-athlete figure.

“at least try every problem before i give you the answer,” you mumble, because you could never refuse kang yeosang. you cross your arms across your chest, but yeosang is smiling again. “you know if you don’t actually do the homework you’re not going to do well on the exams.”

yeosang hums in response, and you sigh.

over the next half hour, you walk him through the first few problems that you’d managed to finish relatively easily. he honestly picks up material faster than you give him credit for, and he’s never shy to ask even the dumbest questions. as you draw out a free body diagram to explain a question on potential vs. kinetic energy, a shiver runs through your spine. while the blasting ac had been welcome at first, you’ve always been sensitive to the cold, and your body is starting to reject the cool breeze. you can feel goosebumps on your arms, and your legs shake slightly.

of course yeosang notices.

“are you cold?” he asks.

“it’s one of my things,” you say, teeth chattering and waving a hand to brush his concern away. “i’m always cold and i cry at everything.”

“i’ve never seen you cry,” he says.

“hmm,” you say. “i cried during the midterm.”

he narrows his eyes. “you got an 84.”

“i thought i failed!” you say. “anyway.” you turn back to the diagram, adding extra arrows and labels. “so do you see how the potential energy becomes―”

“here.” yeosang shoves something at you, navy blue and soft. you blink at it until he unfurls it for you. it’s a hoodie. an official university athletics branded hoodie. 

“i’m fine!” you say, and with the rush of heat in your face from kang yeosang offering you a jacket, you honestly don’t feel the chill anymore.

“it probably smells kinda bad but―here, take it. you’re shivering.” a light pink dusts his cheeks, and he avoids your gaze. to save him the embarrassment, you take the hoodie from him. you stare at it in your hands, before finally pulling it over your head.

it’s so soft and warm, and you almost immediately feel your body temperature evening out. 

“thanks,” you say softly, burrowing into the neck of the hoodie. it does smell a little interesting―cologne and aftershave trying their hardest to mask the smell of sweat. but you don’t mind, because it smells like yeosang.

“not a big deal,” he mutters.

the two of you keep working on the homework for the next hour, and you manage to finish 13 out of the 15 questions. the last two are the hardest and longest, and it’s already nearing the end of your reservation for the study room.

yeosang yawns and rubs the heel of his palm into his eye.

“i can ask ryujin for help,” you say, knowing that yeosang’s strict athlete’s schedule means he should already be in bed by now. “and we can work on the last two problems tomorrow?”

“sounds good,” yeosang says. “i’m so tired.”

you pack up in silence. the two of you manage to find the elevators without much hassle, and the ride is likewise quiet, punctuated by yeosang’s occasional yawns. you stare at your hazy reflections in the elevator doors, eyes running over how his hoodie sits on your figure. you hate how much you like it.

you return the key for the study room to the front desk, and you walk out of the library together.

“i’m heading this way,” you say, gesturing in the opposite direction of the parking lot. “gotta meet up with ryujin to get that help.”

“thanks, again,” yeosang says. “i owe you.”

“good night, yeosang,” you say.

“see you tomorrow!” he calls, yawning again and turning to trudge away to his car.

he doesn’t ask for the hoodie back, and you nestle into it even thought it’s warm outside.

later, while you brush your teeth, sleeplily getting ready for bed, you catch a glimpse of white text in the mirror and you contort yourself to read the back of the hoodie. in thick square text is his last name kang and his number 8. you flush, realizing that you’re not only wearing his hoodie, you’re wearing his name and number.

⋆⋆⋆

you brush pale green crumbs off of your practice exam, scowling at yeosang seated next to you, munching contently on a stick of matcha pocky.

“stop making such a mess!” you complain, sending your shoulder into his to give you some space while you read over the last free response question.

“i don’t get this at all,” he says, peering at the question too. “i’m totally gonna fail this midterm.” he groans and drapes himself over the back of his chair, letting his head hang back dramatically in despair.

“with that attitude, yeah,” you say. you rummage with the foil packet of pocky, finding it disappointingly empty. “did you seriously finish all of the pocky? that was my last bag!”

his head swings back up to give you a sheepish grin.

“you owe me,” you mutter, reaching over the desk to swipe his still unfinished bottle of calpico. he doesn’t fight you, but watches quietly as you unscrew the cap and take a deep drink of the thing.

“there,” you say. “we’re even. actually―” 

you tilt your head back and raise the calpico to your lips, draining the bottle.

“there,” you say, slamming the now empty bottle onto your notebook with a satisfying plastic crunch. “now we’re even.”

“you didn’t waterfall,” yeosang chooses to comment. you whip around to stare at him.

“so what? do you have cooties?”

he hums instead and tugs the practice exam out from under your hand.

“so you’re totally gonna have to walk me through this whole problem.”

the sun sets, and the natural light seeping in from your large windows fades from white to orange to red to nothing. in the thirty minutes since the room has plunged into semi-darkness, neither of you have gotten up to turn on your ceiling light. instead the two of you sit crouched over your desk, illuminated by your desk light and the rotating rainbow colors from the LED lights that wrap around your walls.

“i’m going to fall asleep,” yeosang finally announces, throwing down his pen and collapsing over the desk, eyes shutting and forehead thumping against the wood.

“we still have three practice problems!” you say, nudging at his shoulder. it’s surprisingly taut under your finger, and you flush thinking about the amount of muscle packed into his body.

“i’m too tired,” he whines, muffled.

you consider his statement.

“why don’t you take a power nap?” you suggest. “chaeyoung does it all the time. she takes, like, fifteen minute power naps and feels loads better and just keeps studying.”

yeosang perches his chin on the desktop, peering at you through half-lidded eyes.

“how does that even work?” he says. “i don’t think fifteen minutes is enough.”

you shrug.

“she sent me an article once.” you begin pushing him towards your bed. “i think there’s science behind it. just―nap. i’ll finish the problem we’re on and then we can switch for the next one.”

it’s a testament to his fatigue that you’re able to maneuver him out of his chair and onto the bed behind you. you think vaguely of a different context for you to be pushing him onto your bed, but you dismiss those thoughts quickly. your biggest concern right now is making it through this practice exam, especially when one of your friends had mentioned how much the professors like to reuse old exam questions. and you aren’t going to do it alone. after you’d helped yeosang through the last five homework assignements, he’d promised that he’d work through the practice exams with you, and you aren’t about to let him flake on you when it’s only 11:30 pm.

“fifteen minutes,” you say, setting the timer on your phone and showing it to him.

he’s already made himself at home on your bed, wrapping himself in your soft blanket and grabbing your favorite cat plush to sandwich between his arms.

“don’t squeeze her like that,” you complain.

“shhh,” he says. “don’t make me waste my fifteen minutes.”

you huff, but you drop it, heading back to your desk to decipher the question you’d left half-finished. 

five minutes later, yeosang’s soft snores are the soundtrack to your struggles through the next problem. you’re tempted to check the answer key, but after preaching to yeosang the consequences of just looking up answers without doing the work, you’re caught in your own high standards.

eventually, your phone chimes to indicate that fifteen minutes are up. you swivel around in your chair, intent on tormenting yeosang but you find him still sound asleep, snuggled deeper into your bed. he’s tucked your plushie under his chin, his grip looser around the stuffed animal’s round body. vaguely, you think you might be a little jealous of that inanimate object.

you’re so fucked, you think numbly, evaluating the situation.

you have a midterm in two days, and a slumbering hot athlete in your bed.

why on earth did you think convincing yeosang to take a nap in your bed would be a good idea?

you shut off the alarm when it becomes clear that nothing will rouse yeosang from his slumber. you figure he needs his sleep, and you’ll wake him up when you finish the practice exam.

an hour later, yeosang’s still sound asleep and at the rate your yawns keep increasing in frequency and length, you’re heading in the same direction.

you’ve managed to finish two out of the last three questions, but the final problem is so convoluted and scary that you betray your own principles to just copy off of the answer key. 

you clean up your desk and shut off the desk light, shuffling towards your bed. you poke and prod and whine at yeosang to wake him up.

“yeosang,” you say, focusing your attacks on his shoulders. it’s the one area of his body you allow yourself to touch. anywhere lower and you think that you’ll be picturing exactly what is beneath your hand, and anywhere near his face will make you want to kiss him stupid.

“yeosang. yeosang. yeosang,” you chant. “wake. up. stupid.”

he finally stirs, shifting onto his back and exposing a small circle of darkened fabric on the pillow case where his mouth had been seconds before.

“you drooled on my pillow!” you shriek.

“shhh,” he mumbles. “i’m sleeping.” his voice is deeper, shrouded in sleep, and oh, it sends a tingle down your spine.

“no!” you say. “you’re leaving. go home. i finished the practice exam so i’ll just go over it with you tomorrow. you owe me big time.”

“but it’s so comfy,” he says, his eyes still shut and voice still husky. “my bed isn’t this nice.”

“it’s memory foam,” you mutter.

“mmm,” he says, and then suddenly you feel a hand, a large and warm hand wrapping around your waist and tugging you down. you tumble onto yeosang, face positively on fire as your hands go out to catch yourself and oh―

your cheek is pressed up against his chest―his very firm chest―and your hands are grazing the sides of his equally firm abdomen.

“hm this is nice,” he says, the arm around your waist tightening. you feel his chin brush against the crown of your head. 

“go home, yeosang,” you say, but without any of the conviction you’d had before. you’re cuddled up against your insanely attractive crush, and even you understand the need to take advantage of situations handed to you on a platter.

“nah,” he says. “too tired to move.”

you laugh quietly into his body.

“at least let me get under the covers.”

⋆⋆⋆

he confesses under the illumination of the numerous string lights strung along the porch of your favorite burger joint. it’s a chilly december night, and yet you’d been craving a birthday cake milkshake, and like always, yeosang had obliged.

“you know i like you, right?” he says, licking at the bit of pink shake dripping over the edge of his cup.

you freeze, quite literally, since you have always been sensitive to the cold. the milkshake hits your head in a splitting brain freeze, just as a particularly strong breeze ruffles through your hair.

“huh?” you manage.

“i like you,” yeosang continues, casually. he’s taken off the plastic cover of his shake and he’s digging at the shake with a spoon. “i feel like i’ve been pretty obvious about it, but i figured it was about time i confess for real.” he takes a spoonful of his strawberry shake into his mouth, savors it and then swallows. “especially since you’re going home soon so i won’t be able to see you in person for, like, a month.”

he hums around another spoonful of milkshake, while you nearly drop yours in surprise. your mind moves in fast forward until suddenly it cuts to complete emptiness. you stare at yeosang, mouth agape and head absolutely empty, no thoughts.

“what?” you shriek.

this causes an actual reaction in him. he jumps a little and turns to you, eyes slightly wider and spoon hanging out of his mouth.

“you like me?” you say, voice shrill.

“yeah,” he says, a little incredulously. “i thought you knew?”

“i- you- you thought i knew?” you say.

“it was obvious?” yeosang says.

“how was it obvious?” you ask.

“i dunno,” he says. “like i gave you my hoodie. isn’t that a thing boyfriends do? and i tease you all the time? and i slept over. we cuddled.”

“that- it- it wasn’t- it was purely platonic!” you hiss, ripping off your thick scarf so the cold can combat the warmth spreading from your cheeks to your forehead.

“oh,” he says. “so does that mean you don’t like me back?” he peers at you, almost void of emotion, still sucking on that stupid spoon.

“what makes you think that?” you say, breathless now.

“you said the cuddling was platonic,” he says.

“that’s- that’s because i didn’t know how you felt,” you say.

“and now you do,” he says.

“and now i do,” you parrot.

“and?” he prods.

“and―” you gulp. “―and i like you, too.”

“hmm,” he hums. “good.” he’s smiling now, this stupid shit-eating grin that you’ve only ever seen a handful of times. yeosang’s not one for big expressions, but this―

this is how you know he’s not joking with you.

“good?” you repeat faintly.

“yeah,” he says, setting down his milkshake and spoon onto the table. “so, can i be your boyfriend?”

“boyfriend?” you say.

“i thought i was the dumb one in this relationship,” he says.

“relationship?”

“seriously?” he sighs. “alright, how about this.”

he surges forward then, hands cupping your jaw. his lips slot over yours and suddenly you’re kissing kang yeosang. closed mouth, but substantial, and oh his lips are so soft.

yeosang pulls back, but his hands stay on your face, thumbs rubbing circles into your cold and slightly numb cheeks.

“oh,” you say.

“yeah,” he laughs. “you get it now?”

“yeah,” you say. “yeah―you can be my boyfriend.”

[howi99]

A Knight second chance 8

Jaune: *trying to leave*

Glynda: And where do you think you are going, young man?

Jaune: *sigh* Professor Goodwitch, We are still technically the weekend and i highly doubt my co-dependency is enjoying... Whatever we are doing.

Penny: *Smiling* Oh do not mind me friend Jaune, i'm fine going wherever you want to go!

Glynda: *sigh* Jaune, this is very important if you want to stay in Beacon. We can't risk you having a panic attack, or something similar, in the middle of a mission.

Jaune: Glyn- *cough* I mean, professor Goodwitch, i understand the importance of mental stability, but meditation isn't something i can easily do when... Well... *Point at Penny* i need to concentrate on repairing her mind.

Glynda: ... Quite. *Sigh* You may go, but i want you in my office the second you are available.

Jaune: *Nod* Will do, ma'am.

___________________________________________

Penny: *walking in the streets of Vale with Jaune* Why did you lie to her? She could have helped us against Roman!

Jaune: *looking at a map* Your communications are out?

Penny: Since yesterday, yes-

Jaune: I already have a deal with Roman.

Penny: *frowning* You made a deal with him? Why?!

Jaune: *taking little alleys and backstreets* Well, who's better than him to give me information on Cinder? Not only that, but i also asked him to use his contacts to dig up dirt on Lionheart.

Penny: That's also something i don't really get, why aren't you telling Osc-, *shaking her head* i mean Ozpin, about everything?

Jaune: *sigh* You don't have all the information, Penny. You only got my memory of when you were there... Beside, you saw how competent he was with choosing his allies.

Penny: *computing* That's... Fair. But what about Glynda?

Jaune: *shaking his head* Too loyal... In fact- *pick up a rock on the ground* the only one i could trust- *turn around and aim for the suspicious looking Crow* Is a dusty old alcoholic! *Throw the stone directly at Qrow's bird form head, making him fall on the ground*

Qrow: *transforming back into his human form* Oof! *Looking up at the teen* Don't you know you shouldn't harass wild life?

Jaune: *smiling* Don't you know it's impolite to listen to private conversation?

___________________________________________

Qrow: *blinking* Wait... You come from the future?

Jaune: *shaking his head* I'm Jaune from the present. Or at least, the body is. My memories, on the other hand, are from the future*Think about his time in the ever after* ... mostly.

Qrow: ... *Goes to take a sip of alcohol*

Jaune: *frown* You should stop that, Summer would be pissed.

Qrow: *looking at Jaune* Now listen here punk, using my dead friend's name is not-

Jaune: She's alive.

Qrow: ... What?

Jaune: She's in hiding, since she got the summer maiden power and-

Qrow: *angry* WHAT!?

Jaune: *surprised by the reaction* Qrow, calm down! It's not as if she had a choice!

Qrow: DID OZPIN KNOW!?

Jaune: No! No, he doesn't. Heck, you should know since you've been searching for the Maidens a majority of your huntsman life.

Qrow: I... BUT... *Sigh* Fucking hell.

Jaune: *sweating* Your sister, on the other hand-

Qrow: That bitch!

___________________________________________

Ozpin: -and you are certain about this?

Qrow: *a glass of water in hand* About 97% sure. The kid isn't a spy from Salem.

Glynda: *still looking at the glass of water as if the world stopped spinning* ... Did... Did something else happen? Like a divine intervention or a miracle?

Qrow: *stifled a laugh* Nothing like that, i just thought i should cut back a bit. *Thinking back at the stone* My reflexes aren't as sharp as i thought.

[amesemii]

Anything she wants.

A/N: HEY YALLL this took a lil long an im sorrryyyy!!! i haven’t made my rules yet so just don’t act like idiots or ill block you💋💋 this was my first time writing in a while and im a little rusty😩 tryna keep up with yall and the new trends in writing tho!! feedback is always appreciated so please don’t ever hesitate❤️💋.

WK; 1.1k

summary: your father forces you last minute to attend a meeting with him to get you out of the house and you meet a certain someone who wants to give the spoiled girl a try.

tw; nothing really, he calls you mama, he lowk a simp, flaunts his money too😒, daddy’s girl, spoiled yn, just be aware ig

• —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • · • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • · • —– ٠ ✤ ٠

“Y/N please come down, it’s time to leave” your father yells up the stairs, and you rush to tie your heels up. Your father knew you took long to get ready so you don’t know why the hell he trying to rush you now when he only let you know of this event a few hours ago.

That was one of the things your father did that you didn’t like much and he was quick to apologize and get you a gift knowing you wanted to look your best in front of other people,he couldn’t tell his lovely daughter no. You were his pride and joy being the only girl out of 2 children. Your older brother long gone a few hours away with your lovely sister in law and your niece.(who you could argue is more spoiled than you)

So now you’re here in the blacked out car with your dad going to some random business party that you didn’t even wanna be at but at least you’ve got your card(your dads card) so you can sit and online shop while your father mingles with his partners.

You sit there scrolling on Amazon just adding things you think are cute to your cart, not even caring to look to into the details. Daddy will handle that, you think to yourself as you add a new vanity to the cart. You’re just scrolling through things when you hear someone mumbling in your ear

“You sure are a spoiled little girl aren’t you?” You look up startled to see a man that should be described as nothing BUT sexy. Tattoos adorning he lights lined body grillz and chains glistening short black hair and he was looking just SO good. But that was besides the point, why was he all up in ya phone?

“An you sure are nosey” you go back to scrolling on your phone now having had moved on to another store until you feel him sit next to you and you try to ignore him but you can feel his eyes grazing over your outfit, you’re about to speak up but he’s quick to interrupt.

“I’m Constance but you can call me Connie , and you are?” He’s not mumbling anymore and you’re pretty sure you hear a little accent but you’re not sure from what.

You look up at him from your phone and introduce yourself but that’s not enough for him, he wants to get to know you. You look pretty, smell good, and got an attitude. His favorite mix. You guys talk for a bit, mostly trying to get to know each other and flirting a bit till he asks a certain question.

“Let me take you out mama”

You actually let out a chuckle at that because there was no way In hell he wanted to fuck with you. You’re too expensive and hard to deal with, you know this for a fact because your brother makes sure to tell you every other day on the phone how you and his daughter make flies come out his wallet.

“You can’t handle me” you say smirking at him and his eyes darken and he’s quick to retort “I’m pretty sure I can handle a little girl like you.” And you scoff cause who tf he calling little?? Ain’t nun lil bout you. “Tuh show me then.” He hands you his phone and you put your number in but he looks confused and excite out and goes to show u other apps.

He goes from cash app, to a regular bank, to a bank you’ve never heard of and then still pulls a wad of cash out of his pocket. “I’m pretty sure I can handle you pretty.” And you can’t help but smile a little bit. “We’ll see Constance.” “I said you can call me connie”

“I know.” You chose to call him by his government because why not try to get under his skin? You look up to see your father coming towards you two and you sit up straight and smile “hey dad!” You start hoping and praying that he says it’s time to go home so you can plot.

“Hi baby girl, are you ready to go?” And you nod your head but go to introduce your father and Connie and they shake hands, you give Connie a side hug as you prepare to leave.

You and your father get to the car and you both slide into the back and he’s quick to start questioning you “so is he your boyfriend?” And you’re quick to say no. You only just met him an hour ago, he was NOT your boyfriend.

the rest of the ride was silent after your father basically played 21 questions. you just chill texting some of your friends and watching instagram reels til a text pops up on your phone.

you had to think for a second about that. did you want to lie and say you had plans or just tell him nothing? you take a second to decide and choose to tell the truth.

you just decide to leave him on read since your ride pulls up to your house. you and your father get out and he asks you what you want for dinner so he can order it and you tell him then quickly get upstairs.

you get to your room and open the door and are hit my a breeze. damn! you always leave that fan on to make sure you don’t get hit but it’s cold as a motherfucka in here.

you go to your closet and pick out some pijamas and go into your bathroom. you turn on the shower and wait for it to get hot and you step in.

you wash your body and just think. did you really wanna go on this date with connie? you know if you were to get hurt your father would handle the situation, so that wasn’t a worry.

you were worried about yourself, you didn’t want yourself to fall for him just cause he makes you feel nice and can give you butterflies. he could be just live everybody else.

but he might not be. it wouldn’t hurt to give him a chance and by now you already know what to look out for. so you turn off the shower and go out to your room.

you grab your shea butter and body oils, to lotion yourself and get dressed. as soon as you’re done, you decide to text connie back.

you can’t help but smirk to yourself in anticipation of what was to come tomorrow. you were gonna enjoy this

[bigification]

Spiked

Friday,

I feel strong, but these protein shakes haven't been helping my bulk as much as I want. I'm still too skinny. Maybe I should give them more time though, I've only been taking them for a couple weeks after all. I'll try bumping it up to two a day, and I'll eat more, that should help.

I pick up my phone as I leave the gym and stare at the Grindr app. Should I? Is it fair to Dean that I keep bringing back guys to our place. This would be the fourth time this week, I think I can hold off for his sake. Anyway, I put away my phone and head back to my apartment.

"How was the workout?" Dean asked when I got home. I'm shocked, he's never really been interested in my workouts before. We used to go together before we were roommates but now that we live together, the gym is a rare activity we do apart. Besides, he hasn't really been going that much recently.

"Oh, it was good... I'm just not bulking as much as I want to." I reply.

"That must be why you got those protein shakes, huh?"

Why is he taking so much notice of this stuff now? We can share the shakes if he really wants to, he might just be trying to motivate himself to get back in the gym. But he could just ask if that's what he wants. "Ya, I'm gonna try to drink more, maybe that'll help." I say as I go to the fridge and grab one.

"That's good." Dean says in a flat tone, he usually does this when he's lost interest in a conversation.

I get distracted from the conversation anyway as I drink the shake. Something seems different about it, it's got a bit of a bitter aftertaste now. I figure it's probably just me getting tired of the taste and shrug it off.

Saturday,

I wake up in a cold sweat. This was unusual given that I get up every day at this time to go to the gym. I look to the clock and it's... 10 o'clock. Holy shit, I slept in. I'm usually at the gym by 8. I calm down a bit when I remember it's Saturday, so I have nothing to do anyway.

I roll out of bed and hobble my way to the bathroom. My head is spinning and my stomach is growling, I felt hungover. I didn't drink last night did I? I don't really remember. However, all of that leaves my mind in an instant when I look in the mirror. I rub my eyes and look again. Where do I even begin. An itchy beard now covers my face, despite the fact that I shaved yesterday morning. My sweat glistened on my distended stomach, my six pack buried under a soft bloat. My pecs are swollen and slightly rounded.

What the fuck. My mind is trying to process what's happening, but it can't. I turn to the side and see the subtle S shape in my stomach and my ass. Was it the shake? It couldn't have been, it hasn't done shit for me in weeks and now it does this! You know what, this is fine. I pinch my stomach. It's mostly bloated, just a small layer of fat, nothing I can't work off in a couple weeks. If anything this will give me a head start on my bulk.

I throw on some of my loose gym clothes that do a decent job at hiding my physique, but I still look different. I grab my gym back and try to sneak out, I don't want Dean seeing me like this. I quickly try to rush out the door, but I stop dead in my tracks when I hear Dean.

"I didn't know you were still home, you usually leave before I get up." He says nonchalantly.

"Oh ya... I just decided to sleep in today." I pull my bag to cover my stomach.

"Okay, have fun at the gym. Nice beard by the way, when did you decide to grow it out."

"I've just been a bit lazy with shaving it, that's all." I'm sweating buckets.

"Well it looks good, you should keep it." He smiles at me.

I can feel myself blush, so I smile and get out as quickly as possible. I chug a protein shake on the way to the gym, noting that bitter aftertaste again. It's probably nothing, I have bigger issues to deal with.

Once I start my workout, I feel pretty self conscious about my body. I know no one else could know that something is off, but I still feel off. But as the workout goes on, I start feeling more and more comfortable. I start hitting more reps than I ever have before, though cardio is a bit of a slog. It doesn't matter, I feel surprisingly great. I finish off the workout great, and flex in the mirror for a bit of a confidence boost.

I drink another shake on the way home. As I get home, Dean seems to be waiting for me. He asks how my workout was again. He's acting so weird again. I decide to spend the rest of the day out, drinking the night away. I am bulking after all.

Sunday,

I wake up feeling like I got hit by a truck, with no memory of how much I drank last night. I've never felt like this after a night out though. The more I think about it, the more my mind points me to the shakes. They have to have something to do with this. I don't have time for this right now though, I have to get to the gym.

I brush my teeth and shave, I'm shocked at the beard I grew in just two days. I try throwing on some clothes, but I feel some resistance. My largest gym shirt no longer fits, there's always a sliver of skin showing and it goes past my belly button when I reach up. My shorts fit a bit better, but they hug my ass very tight. I think I'll have to buy some new clothes on the way home.

The workout goes similarly to yesterday. I start self conscious of the fact that my belly is showing and my shorts look like they're about to rip. But the worry escapes my mind when I destroy my routine. I feel so strong.

I feel great by the time my workout ends. I head to the locker room and take off my shirt. Yeesh, I have a full on beer belly now. This is no longer just a bloat, my stomach is covered in a thick layer of fat. I didn't even know you could gain this much fat in only a couple of days, and I'm not even eating that much. And what's with the beard, I shaved this morning and it's already coming back in. Although my arms are looking massive, I could even feel my sleeves stretch from my biceps when I was working out. I stare at my belly a bit as I think about what to do.

I throw on my shirt again and head out. I pull up to a clothing store and pick out a few loose gym clothes that should fit me if I bulk even more.

"Hi, where are the change rooms." I ask an employee.

"Oh.." he pauses for a moment, looking at my belly. I notice that my shirt is riding up more than it was this morning. I instinctively cover my exposed belly with my arms and shrivel up in embarrassment.

"Just over there sir." He awkwardly points to the back of the store.

I grab a few larger clothes on the way out and leave the store as fast as humanly possible. I instinctively down another shake on the way home. Dean didn't say anything to me when I got home, but he glanced at me and then looked away. He is acting so strange.

I woke up in the middle of the night, there was a rattling coming from the kitchen. I walk out to investigate and see Dean doing something with the protein shakes. Is he secretly drinking them at night? He could just ask and I would give some to him. But I see him pour something into the shake and then close it back up again before putting them back in the fridge. What the hell? I try to think of what he could be doing. He stashes something away in the bottom of the cupboard and starts walking back to his bedroom. I quickly hide in my room until I hear his door close, and then I go back to the kitchen to investigate. I look at the protein shakes in the fridge and notice their seals have been broken, I can't believe I never noticed that. I move over to the cupboard and find a small bag with white powder in it. It looks like coke, but why the fuck would Dean put coke in my shakes. And besides, I don't think fat, muscle, and hair growth are symptoms of coke. Maybe I'll give him a taste of his own medicine. I go back to the fridge and pull out the jug of orange juice that Dean drinks every morning. I have no idea how much he put in my shakes, so I just pour a bunch in. I kind of feel like a secret agent, sneaking in a mysterious powder into his drink. I would feel worse, but he already did this to me so I'm fine ignoring my morals this time.

I head to bed, lying awake in my bed for a while. Thinking about what I just did, thinking about the results. It's making it hard to fall asleep, but I eventually do.

Monday,

I wake up feeling better than I had the past few days. I go through my normal routine, throw on my gym clothes, and grab a bite to eat. When I open the fridge, i see the orange juice and protein shakes and I'm reminded of my situation. Every morning I get a few moments of blissful ignorance before it's ripped away. I think for a bit, then grab a couple shakes and put in my bag. I'm kinda liking this new me, the strong me, and the belly is definitely growing on me. I catch my reflection in the mirror as I head out, I'm really committing to this aren't I? I ask myself as I look at the bushy beard that has engulfed my face and the belly and moobs that are unmistakable under my shirt. I smile and then head to the gym.

Every day that I spend at the gym, I get less self conscious. I almost forget about the fact that my hairy gut I exposed to the world whenever I reach up. I only care about the fact that I have been increasing the weight on my workouts every day and it feels amazing.

I take a shower and get dressed for work... Oh shit. I never bought work clothes that fit me, I'm reminded when I try in vain to button up my dress shirt. I stop by the store again and grab a couple shirts and pairs of pants. The thought of the protein shake in my car makes me think of the future, so I buy a few clothes in larger sizes too.

I barely make it to work on time. The day went by fast, but all I could remember were the stares and the comments from coworkers. "You forget to shave this morning Santa?" "Might want to lay off the doughnuts in the break room buddy." "We're concerned about your health." "Did you forget to stop bulking?" That was all I heard today. It was embarrassing at first, but it soon turned to encouraging. Each sly comment just makes me want to grow more. It honestly makes me realize how much I'm enjoying growing, and makes me even more excited to see what happens to Dean. It was hard to keep my dick in my pants today, I think the only reason no one noticed was because they were too busy staring at my gut.

I make it back home after work and dress down to my underwear first thing. Damn I am getting hairy, I run my hands through the forest of hair that has grown all over my body. As I'm doing so, an amazing idea runs through my mind. I'm gonna surprise Dean. There's no way I can hide the changes in my body regardless of how baggy my clothes are, so I'm just gonna show it off. I lay down on the couch by the front door, still only in my underwear, and I wait for him to show up.

"I'm hom- Oh hey..." Dean stutters as he sees me.

"Hey bud, what's up." I say nonchalantly.

"Just tired from work, where are your clothes?"

"I had a crazy workout today, just figured I'd air out a bit. Ever since I started this bulk, things have really taken off for me at the gym." I say while I rub my gut. In trying my best to make him uncomfortable and it seems to be working.

"Okay, well if you need me I'll be in my room." He quickly scurries into his room.

I just chuckle to myself and continue rubbing my belly. I wonder if there's any leftovers in the fridge?

Tuesday,

Same old same old. Get out of bed, get dressed, shave, grab a shake and head to the gym.

I feel so imposing at the gym now. I think I've gotten taller, because I look down on almost every now. I have a beard and a deeper voice than I used to, and not to mention the big gut and strong biceps. I'm like the biggest guy here, and people treat me like it. Women and men stare, and people tend to let me use the machines I want. I also notice myself grunting when I work out, I wonder if the entire gym can hear it. Anyway, the point is I feel amazing. This is the first day I dropped cardio because who fucking needs it, I sure don't. Now I focus purely on mass gain. I'm tired of holding back and I don't care what other people think, I want more.

I arrived at work, rocking far more confidence than I did yesterday, and people noticed. I don't care if they stare or comment, and I don't care that my dress shirt is already too small for me. People even asked me how I gained as much muscle as it did that fast. I just tell them to eat a shit ton and drink protein shakes, but maybe once the jig is up with Dean I'll ask him how to get the powder. I certainly wouldn't mind seeing some of the men at work blow up like I did. This is not the time to think about it though, it's getting hard to hide my boner at work. The only thing hiding it when I sit down is my gut.

I get home and notice Dean is home too. He must have stayed home, I wonder if it's because of the powder. He won't seem to leave his room though, so I'll have to wait until tomorrow to see the results.

I just decide to change into some comfortable clothes and eat my heart out. Though I'm shocked at how small my once 'baggy' clothes are. They barely fit past my stomach, and they ride up past my belly button when I lift my arms.

Fuck I'm getting fat. There is nothing hotter to me right now than the thought of my body growing. I make my way to the kitchen and grab a few more shakes and start chugging, feeling my dick harden with each gulp. I feel like a fucking pig, what has come over me. The shake is dribbling down my beard and onto my shirt, but I can't stop. Once I've had enough protein shakes for a lifetime, I stumble to my room and promptly fall asleep.

Wednesday,

I wake up in a pool of sweat, similar to a couple days ago. My mouth tastes awful and my body feels heavy. I question what happened last night as I roll myself out of bed. I drag myself to the bathroom and freeze in shock at my image in the mirror. Holy shit. I pull up my shirt to see a massive ball belly, covered in a thick layer of hair. I pull my shirt up further and see a pair of soft man tits that now lay on my gut. Every part of my body looks swollen, my arms, my hands, even my face looks puffy.

I let out a loud burp that reeks of protein shake, and suddenly I remember last. I walk to the kitchen and see six empty protein shakes on the table. I chuckle in a surprisingly deep voice before opening the fridge and grabbing a shake. I down it before getting ready to head to the gym. I put on my largest gym shirt and it only reaches halfway around my gut, I try to put on my shorts but I can't get them to cover the top of my ass crack. That's alright, I don't particularly care if anyone sees, it's their fault for looking.

I spend the day at the gym enjoying all the attention from shocked gym goers. They watch in amazement or contempt as this fatass walks around like he owns the gym.

I go to work with a similar energy, though I do have a dress shirt that still barely fits me so at least I'm not half naked going to work. My clothes still leave little to my coworkers imaginations, as I confidently strut my fatass around the office.

I get home and stand in shock as I walk through the door. Is that Dean!? Across the living room stands a morbidly obese man wearing nothing but boots, a baseball cap, and a ripped towel around his waist.

"You did this to me!" The man yells in a gruff southern accent.

"Dean, is that you?" I respond.

"Yea, you dumbass! You gave me some of that powder didn't ya." He turns to face me and reveals the damage the powder did to his body.

"Hey you did it to me first! I was only returning the favour."

"I only put I bit into your shakes, how much did'ya give me!? Look what it's done to me!" He grabs a handful of the fat on his belly, and it jiggles like jello.

"Well I didn't know how much to give you."

"And you're only s'posed to take it when you're workin out, otherwise it only grows fat and not muscle. Beside, why d'ya keep drinking it after you knew?" He asks

"Because I like me this way, it just felt good to get revenge. Why did you even do it in the first place?" I ask in return.

"Because I thought if you got fat you'd stop hooking up with so many guys, and you'd notice me. It was only s'posed to be a bit, but then you started drinkin the shakes like crazy and now look at ya." He responds in a genuine voice. I don't know what to say, so I stand silent. He grabs his phone and approaches me. "This is what I looked like 2 days ago!" He shows me a picture of himself. "I was so happy that I could finally grow a beard. Little did I know why."

"This is what I looked like yesterday." He shows me another photo. "My hair was falling out and my hairline was receding. I woke up looking like I was pregnant, and my pants couldn't fit anymore."

"I was so scared that I ate some of that powder, but I didn't know what to do, so I stayed in my room all day and drank nothing but orange juice. Then I woke up this morning as a bald 350 pound man. That's when I knew you put that powder in my orange juice." He seems frantic.

I didn't know what to do, so I grabbed him and kissed him. "I never realized how hot your accent is until now." I say as I pull away from the kiss, he smiles in return. In the moment, another terribly amazing idea comes to my head. I grab the bag of powder he had left on the table and pour some of the powder into his mouth before snorting some myself. He looks at me in shock for a moment before swallowing it. I smile before dragging his fatass to my tiny king sized bed.

Then next Monday,

I just hit 300 today. I still go to the gym everyday, so that keeps my gut from growing out of control. Though I have had some interesting conversations with my family since. But the shocked faces of my family when they see me and their concerned comments if my weight gain only fuels the fire. Though my dad seems to be the only one who says he likes the new me, says I look manlier. It's funny coming from the next fattest man in the family, only behind me of course.

The scale stopped working on Dean after last Thursday, but he has to be pushing 500. I really gave him an insane dose of that powder, and the more fat he got the less capable he was to workout and thus reduce the fat gained. He just sits around and pigs out all day now, and I wouldn't want him any other way. I usually bring home a few meals from a couple fast food restaurants for his first dinner, and when I feel up to it, I'll add a little bit of powder to his meal.

I'm also enjoying work far more. I told all the men at my work about the powder, and within a few days I was seeing results. Some became as fat as Dean by the end of the week, clearly they neglected the part where it said to workout while consuming the powder. Some look like me, with big arms and an even bigger belly. And some have just become muscle beasts, almost like they spent hours a day at the gym. I also feel more imposing at work, people respect me more, even if half of them are bigger than me now. It even helped me get a raise, which funds all of the fast food trips for Dean and I. One day I hope to be the big boss with a silver bushy beard and hulking gut that spills out of my suit.

[thisfanisgonesorry]

groupie love — hobie brown

guitarists dont get as many groupies as you’d think they do. 😮 

tags: smut, vaginal sex, mirror sex, hairpulling, hookups go crazy, dom/sub, teasing/praise kink obv, creampie bc i forgot the condom at home, brief cockwarming. bro is a lovesick idiot fr. possessive as HELL. porn w feelings kinda? infatuation? idk theres feelings! im mentally ill! pussy so good that hes down bad! consent is sexy tho.. parasocial relationships arent

(but it’s so hard sometimes with the star when you have to share him with everybody; and i know what you’re thinking of, you want my groupie love)

🕸️

One thing led to another and he was leading me through the backstage entryway, his arm draped over my shoulder as he walked with a pep in his step, filled with adrenaline and trying to get it out of his system in ways that didn’t end in him pouncing on me. (Though admittedly, that’d be short lived.)

Backstage was mostly empty besides a few select crewmates who overall didn’t seem too phased by my presence. Hobie greeted them as he walked past, as if he knew each one personally. The rest of the band had seemingly dipped, and weren’t too worried about Hobie being missing from wherever they’d gone to hang out.

“Li’l lady wants to check out the green room.” He winked at one of the crew as he continued, dismissing them to give us space. The green room was nice but it wasn’t his destination in mind. He stood there for a minute, looking down at me briefly, before spinning dramatically and pushing his back against the dressing room door, sliding in and pressing me against the wall in a fairly smooth action.

“Don’t think anyone saw that?” I muttered out quickly, it was more of a question as I really didn’t see much from the spin itself, caught a little off guard by the sudden movement and unable to process much until I was pinned firmly against the wall. The dressing room was small, and he took advantage of the fact.

“M’hm, no.” He shook his head, leaning in slightly. “Nah, y’re all mine.” He continued.

His hands lingered on my waist, his fingertips reaching under the fabric and restraining himself as much as he could as he felt the soft skin underneath.

“You seem energised.” I laughed softly.

“I’m fine, jus’ got my blood pumping. Was a good show. Can I kiss you?” He spoke quickly to the point where if you weren’t paying attention, you would’ve missed it. There was a short moment of silence where the air hung heavy as he waited, oh, how he waited so very patiently.

“... Yeah.” I nodded.

His patience ran thin, and his lips harshly made contact with mine, almost pushing my head into the wall. What a way to get a concussion. He groaned into it for a moment, enjoying the taste and licking my bottom lip slightly. My hands loosely hung around his neck, 

“Bloody ‘ell...” He muttered, pulling away and going down my neck. His free hand reached to the door, locking it before anyone could walk in. He was kissing and licking my neck, letting small bitemarks dance across the skin.

He began tugging at the hem of my shirt anxiously, wanting to just strip me bare, bend me over, fuck my brains out, but all in due time.

“Doors soundproof.” He commented. “Let me—”

One arm was wrapped around his shoulders, grabbing a fistful of the leather jacket and tugging on it to beckon him forward as the other grabbed his hand, pushing it closer. In hindsight, it was kind of sweet how certain he was letting things be.

He quickly removed my shirt that had his own band’s logo on it, throwing it to the floor and fumbling on the bra, running his large palms over the fabric. I leaned forward to kiss him again and his hands dropped to my hips, hastily (and harshly) dragging me to the dressing table, pushing me up against it. 

Our lips were reconnected once again, though the kisses were messy. My arm was still around his neck, my other on his chest. His hands began to slightly shimmy down my shorts and he moaned into the kiss. “S’pretty, darlin’, so..” He mumbled breathlessly, pulling away enough to let me kick off the shorts (albeit, struggling to because of my boots) and for him to shrug off his jacket. Both articles disappeared somewhere into the room to be determined later.

My hands lingered to his hips, reaching up and feeling his toned abs from under his shirt. “Y’so hot, Hobie.” I moaned back, feeling the way his stomach tensed under my fingertips.

“What? like ‘m not meant t’be fit?” He tried to joke as he palmed my tits again. 

“Didn’t mean it like that.”

He only responded with a laugh, kissing my neck and collarbone as he removed the bra, thrown to the side and his hands explored downwards in an attempt to remove the last of clothing.

“This aint fair.” I breathed, seeing him still fully dressed.

“Yeh, I know.” He responded, taking his shirt off, another piece lost to the room.

He ended up turning the light off, so the only light in the room was the one radiating from the mirror itself. He looked good like this but I guess that was the point. His face was flushed, it would be hard to tell otherwise if it wasn’t for the heat that it was giving off, you could literally feel it from across the room; his eyes were hyper focused and his lips were swollen slightly.

He leaned forward to kiss me again. “Y’re so beautiful.” He groaned.

“I was about to say the same thing.”

I reached down boldly, my fingers twitching to unbutton his jeans, to pull the zip down, to—

“Y’re gonna hurt y’self.” He joked, swatting my shaking hands away. “Touch yourself f’me.” He asked softly, trying to speak clearly despite his otherwise dishevelled behaviour.

I slid my fingers between my legs, toying with him as he watched between kisses. 

“C’mon, darl’.” He purred sweetly. “Work y’self open f’me, please?”

He swallows the moans that leave my mouth as I push my fingers inside, weakly thrusting as he continues to kiss me, hovering over me as he palms his hardness through his jeans.

“Hobie, c’mon.” I groaned, getting impatient with him. All he wanted to do was toy and tease me; holding me closely as his eyes scanned my naked body like a piece of meat, kissing as much of the flesh as he could, longing for the taste and feel under his lips.

“Alr’, alr’.” He drawled finally.

He pulled away enough to create distance between us, we both stood in anticipation, catching our breath slightly as he unbuttoned his jeans and pulled the zip. The jeans themselves were grungy, and his dick freed itself from the tight confines as quickly as it could, shimmying the jeans down to his thighs.

“No underwear? Anarchist goes commando?” I asked breathlessly as I continued to work myself, yet finding humour in comparing him to a militia.

He sucked in a sharp breath. “Y/n. Don’t.” He warned.

“You go pantless just in case some pretty girl would fuck you tonight?”

I poked my tongue out between my teeth, biting down on it slightly, wanting nothing more than to be testing my luck with him. He grabbed my wrists, removing my hand from my insides and holding the sticky, shiny fingers up. It looked filthy in the bright light, he tutted slightly before licking the fingers clean, grinding his hard cock against the slick folds.

He held both my wrists in place, making it impossible for me to fight him with the movement of his hips, he was careful that he wouldn’t accidentally push himself into me, whether or not that accident was with his own free will or not. He was enjoying this, the torturous nature of it all. Yeah, definitely don’t talk back to him.

“Feels s’good like this.” He tried to speak clearly; “Could jus’ fuck you like this, yeah? Cum all over y’r cunt, don’t even go in?”

“I’m sorry.” I quickly spoke when I realised he could just stay like this.

“You’re sorry?”

“Please, Hobie, fuck me real good. I’m sorry, didn’t mean it.” I pleaded, though he could tell the words were only half hearted.

He tried to laugh but it got swallowed into a groan. He threw his head back and released my wrists. “Yeah, yeah. C’mon.” He spoke, finding amusement in it. He hissed slightly at the loss of contact as he turned me around to look in the mirror, bending me over the dressing table.

His breathing quickened as he admired the view of me bent over the table, elbows supporting my weight and my pretty eyes looking up at him through the mirror. He swallowed thickly, still grinding lazily against the wetness as he tried to shimmy his pants down further, they got about a little past his knees before getting snagged on his boots and he realised that it wouldn’t go much further than that.

“Ngh.. Fuck, y’so good.” He struggled out, a low moan erupting from his throat. “Gettin’ m’cock all nice ‘n’wet.”

“Hobie, I’m sorry.” I threw my head forward, not wanting to look at our reflections. “Fuck me, please, want you.”

“I know.” He groaned as he aligned himself. He gave a harsh tug on my hair, forcibly making me look in the mirror. “Look. Watch.” He panted.

He slid his thickness deep inside in one slow, stuttery motion. I watched carefully, my mouth fell open and my eyes threatened to close. His eyebrows knitted together and his mouth mimicked mine, falling agape.

“Oh my fucking god.” I moaned out, unable to hold my head up but quickly felt the tug on my hair as he held my limp neck in position.

He buried himself completely, “Look at how I’m stretchin’ you out, y/n, my darlin’.” He grinned lopsidedly.

He began thrusting slowly, watching the faces that I made, his eyebrows stayed knitted like he was focused on my expressions and nothing else.

“So good, Hobie.” I muttered, my head threatening to dip forward if it wasn’t for his grip on my hair. I tried to squirm away from him and his grip on my hip got tighter. “So big.”

“Yeah?” He spoke condescendingly, relishing at the way I felt around him. “Y’ve been dreamin’ about this, haven’t ya’?”

“Mhm, all the time.” I moaned quietly. “Fantasise about y’so bad.” 

“I bet’cha always wondered how good I’d feel buried deep in y’cunt.” He commented, picking up his pace as he felt the warmth swallow him perfectly; it wasn’t necessarily rough or fast, but the size of his cock as it nestled all the way in was almost too much. Almost. “The real things s’much better, ain’t it?”

“Ah! Yes!” I cried, reaching back to push at his hips.

“Takin’ me s’well, darlin’.” He groaned, not letting up. He wasn’t being relentless but the position and the harsh pound of his cock was all too much at once, I closed my eyes tight and he fought the urge to give another harsh tug on my hair.

“S’deep, Hobes, baby—” I groaned, though it was immediately followed by pathetic whines which completely diminished the point I was trying to make.

“Why y’pushin’ at me, sweet thing? What’s wrong?” He teased, knowing damn well that there wasn’t the faintest of an issue.

“So deep.. So big. Slow down.”

“What? Y’don’t think y’can take it?” He joked through slurred speech, giving a particularly harsh thrust.

“Mhm!” I jerked forward with a whine, then feeling the harsh tug on my hair as my body pulled away from his tight grip.

“I think y’can take it jus’ fine.” He continued teasing, still desperately nudging my insides. “M’pricks too big f’you, ain’t it, darlin’?”

I shook my head weakly, keeping my eyes glued on his face as he fucked me from behind. “No, mhm— I can take it.” I struggled out.

“Y’doin’ s’good.” He slurred with a groan.

The audible wet sounds began to fill the dressing room and I could do nothing but let out a pathetic whine as I could feel the sticky liquid make a mess on both our thighs. The slickness was making it easier for him to slide in and out, using it to his advantage to fuck into me even harder. It did nothing to ease the slight slapping sound, and if that door wasn’t soundproof like Hobie claimed, we were probably being louder than the show itself was.

I shook my head weakly, jerking forward at his movements and taking whatever he would give me. “So good. So deep. So big.” I rambled, the only words that my brain could come up with at the given moment.

“I want y’to watch, darlin. Look at y’r pretty face as I fuck you.” He spoke, knowing I wouldn’t be able to open my eyes in the slightest, coming across like nothing but a cock drunk groupie whore, though I guess, it wasn’t far off. “Y’re basically droolin’ for me.”

“Keep talkin’ to me like that, holy shit, make me cum.”

“Eyes up here. On me. Y’got it.” He praised, his harsh tugs became more gentle as he got more stern in keeping my eyes on the view. “Keep lookin’, c’mon, darlin’, look. Y’re s’beautiful. All f’me, look at ya. So fuckin’ gorgeous.”

His voice began to ramble, whines and groans leaving his throat at intervals. 

“I’m trying.” I mumbled out; “It’s hard.”

“Darl’, ‘m not gon’ keep tellin ya’ to keep y’head up.” He moaned, removing his hand from my hair and rubbing figure 8’s right where I needed it. “Yeah, y’re gonna take it.” He panted, leaning over my body to press kisses on my shoulder and neck. “Take it, darlin’, doin’ good. Doin’ so good.”

I leaned my head back on his shoulder, looking down through half-lidded eyes at the filthy view of him fucking me into his dressing table.

“See? You can handle watchin y’self gettin’ fucked like a good girl.”

“Hobie, ‘m gonna cum.” I moaned, struggling to watch myself but worried that if I stopped, he’d pull his hands away from me.

“Watch y’self, good girl.” He praised again.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“Fuck, can feel y’squeezin’ me.” He whined. “Cum for me, darlin’, s’pretty when y’clench this big cock, yeah? ‘M stretching it out, y’gonna be so perfect f’me.”

I took a bite out of my knuckle as I felt it hit, he slowed down slightly but kept the movements methodical besides the gradual slowing as he praised me throughout it.

“Hobie—” I cried out.

The way I clenched around him made him harshly hold onto my hip, the moans filled the room loudly as he fucked me through the wave. Small purrs of praise were audible but it was almost impossible to focus.

“You right?” He rasped out, slowing his movements to a halt. He would’ve cum right then and there if he didn’t have half the mind to prolong himself.

“Mhm.” I hummed, dazed and confused. “Keep goin’.” I acknowledged, wanting to make him feel good.

“Wish I could fuck a pretty thing like you after all m’shows.” He spoke sweetly in my ear, thrusting up again for his own orgasm, it started slow but he increased his pace when he began riling himself up with ideas. “Tease y’before so y’re all wet and ready when ‘m done.” He laughed softly. “Y’can help me warm up m’fingers for the guitar.”

He spoke softly and calmly as he could, feeling the wetness twitch around him from overstimulation. He kept this slow as he could, knowing that he didn’t want to end things just yet. His dazed eyes tried to memorise every detail he could; hooking up with a groupie meant the chance of never seeing them again, his movements on my clit picking up too; he was desperate to bring me pleasure, he needed this just as much as I did, which was saying a lot.

I weakly tried to keep my head up, watching his face attentively, he looked completely dishevelled with need; something about this was driving him crazy but all I could focus on was how good he felt.

He started kissing my neck again before deciding to ask a question he knew I probably wouldn’t answer otherwise. “Why ain’t you got’a boyfr’nd?” He grunted over my limp body, feeling himself hit the deepest parts and watching me react to it. My vision would go white and I’d jerk into the feeling.

“Don’t want one. Only want you.” I spoke matter-of-factly despite my dazed demeanour.

“Fuck, Y/n, Don’t say that.” He choked. “Wan’ keep you all f’myself.”

I groaned, pressing myself closer against his body. His arms wrapped around my torso, pulling me to stand upright and my arms reached around to touch him the best I could, though his hand stayed glued to the pussy that he’d grown infatuated with.

“Y’re gonna be thinkin’ about this for a long time, yeah?” He breathed. “Gonna think about m’cock fuckin’ into y’cunt?”

“Hobie—”

“I feel y’gettin’ close again. God, want y’so fuckin’ bad.”

His hand took a faster pace than what it previously was, rubbing hard and fast circles into my clit, wanting to feel me be undone on him when he cums.

“Better than I could’ve imagined.” I panted in admission.

“Y’re.. ‘M right there.” He moaned. “Y’so hot, makin’ me s’hard. Gonna make m’cum.”

There was nothing I could do to respond besides lewdly take what he was giving me, nodding weakly and trying to watch the view in front of me. He looked so beautifully debauched, and feeling his ragged breathing against my spine was something I didn’t know I needed to feel, something I unknowingly longed for.

“Mhm, y’can stay wit’ us.” He nodded, as if what he was rambling made any sense. “Bring you along, keep you f’shows. Darlin’, you’d be my perfect li’l groupie..”

His pussy-whipped drunk ramblings sounded like a love confession as he neared his release, knowing he didn’t want it to be over so soon but desperately wanting to feel the warm, tensing tightness around him as he filled me as much as he could.

“I want you, I want you.” I nodded back, too cock-drunk to care. 

“Cum f’me, y/n, cum with me, need— Oh fuckin’ shit.”

He groaned as he felt the clenching of my walls around his hard cock, desperately wanting to take him for all he’s got. Give it to me, give it to me, give it to me is the only phrase that repeated in my head as I felt the twitching and nearing signs.

“Give it to me, please, give it to me.” I pleaded through orgasm.

His body shook with want and he forced his eyes to stay open, needing to watch this unfold before him in a weak attempt to convince himself that it was real. Keenly watching the way my face contorted as I came on him, my eyes barely open enough to see the way his face mirrored mine. He let out small pants and whines, before his hips pushed deeply, his hips stuttering weakly as he filled me with his cum.

I felt the warm liquid between my legs, throwing my head back and sighing as I tried to relax from the high. Beautiful afterglow; beautiful boy. He collapsed forward slightly, holding me in place but using one arm to support us.

“It’s a really nice tour bus. Don’t even need y’own bed, just sleep in mine.” He continued in a whisper, pressing a soft kiss into the sticky flesh of my neck, nuzzling the hair away.

We stood for a moment before he pulled a chair from the side of the dressing table, slowly sitting us on it and keeping the position, his arms wrapped around me tightly like he never planned to let go.

I squirmed at the feeling. “Mhm.. Y’think?” I laughed softly; not taking him close to serious.

His eyes were heavy and he continued to look at us in the mirror, an unreadable expression as he buried his head behind my shoulder, his eyes barely poking above the flesh for him to admire the view. “I’m serious.” He mumbled awkwardly before going to a complete whisper. “Stay?”

[msbluebell]

How We Fall For People Like James Somerton

We're all joking, but this James Somerton thing has me really fucked up.

I wasn't a huge fan of James. I saw a few of his videos and liked them. In the ones I saw he was calm and explained things straightforwardly and even the one or two times he said things against white women...well, that's language I've been seeing on Tumblr since I joined back in my tweenage years. I thought it was just a dismissive joke pointing out a frank reality.

I didn't watch him too much. Just a few videos. I kept meaning to watch more, but I didn't because sometimes I wanted something easier. But I regarded him sell because of how informed he seemed.

And that's the thing, isn't it? He SEEMED informed. He spoke confidently and sometimes quoted queer sounding articles and I trusted him blindly. And why? Because he was giving me information that SEEMED well researched.

Illumanaughtii too. I WAS a consistent fan of hers before other youtubers came out. Because she presented information really well and I like hand drawn characters and because she read academic sounding quotes. I trusted her and her information was stollen. And I feel like a fool for ever having trusted her now, but at least her stollen facts were apparently accurate. Maybe.

James though, he straight up lied. Todd in the Shadows went through a lot of effort to expose those lies. He did so much research that I didn't bother to do. And he admitted he only did it because he happened to know people more informed than him that noticed the lies and went down a rabbit hole.

And maybe if I was more involved I would have noticed. But that's beside the point. what's getting me is I didn't bother to check myself, I just blindly trusted.

And the worst part is I can see why it happened.

I work.

I work, and then I get home, and when I get home I stress. I stress about work I have to do tomorrow, or classes, or finding a new job that actually pays a livable wage. And to escape that stress I go online to AO3, or tumblr, but especially Youtube.

Because I like youtube, I like to have noise in the background while I work. I like to listen to things while I read. And some of the time it's ASMR videos, or watching someone cook something. But mostly? It's history things or video essays.

And when I'm working, or reading, I'll hear a fact, and I'll look up, and I'll think "Huh, that's interesting to know, I didn't know that." And I won't think anything about it.

Because I'm busy, or I'm tired. I'm tired from work, and I don't want to do more work. Or sometimes it's mental health. This is my coping mechanism. I'm trying to learn things, do something to distract myself. I'm not looking to disprove things.

In other words I'm lazy. Or, if I'm being kind to myself, I'm tired.

Maybe if the topic was something I was an expert in I would have noticed. I'm a former ballerina, I'm a failed history major dropout. Maybe if he'd said something like "Holodomor never happened" or "Boudica is a Finnish folk hero" I'd have noticed. Maybe.

But he didn't, and I didn't notice. I assumed he did the work, and why?

Because surely a gay man wouldn't spend hours on youtube talking about Queer history if he wasn't passionate. Because he, a queer man, would surely know about queer history. Surely he wouldn't want to spread lies and hate. And he's quoting from books and articles so why wouldn't I trust him?

My trust was blind and unfounded.

And now I'm reeling from that. I'm reeling because I'm starting to feel like I can't trust a lot of people. How can I listen to any Youtuber casually now?

I can't, I never should have assumed I could.

Now every informative video feels like I need to do tens of hours of research just to be sure what I'm hearing is true. I feel like I can't trust anything unless I do.

James Somerton took my trust.

And it's not only that either. That's not what scares me the most. It's that there are THOUSANDS of people like me. Millions like me. Who are learning something from a video or a tweet or a tumblr post from someone they assume is an expert and are blindly trusting because they assume they can trust it. They don't intend to do their own research because they're tired, or don't know how. And that scars me. I was a history major, I studied tyrants and misinformation and the rise of propaganda, and I, with all my tools to notice, was still blind.

You cannot blindly trust a video, you cannot blindly trust a tweet, you especially cannot blindly trust a tumblr post.

YOU ARE NOT IMMUNE TO PROPOGANDA

[catcze]

Reblogs are greatly appreciated !!

「 ### : 」 Modern AU ish !! GN Reader gets drunk at the club !! But Navia and Clorinde stay with you through it tho, because they're your good friends !! This is literally just humor and reader not recognizing Wrio but gushing over your husband so so much !! Reader swears when drunk bc same lmao

Had a vision. No editing. Feast on this while I feast on my Nissin Bulalo cup noodles.

The moment Wriotheseley steps into the club, he immediately spots you. Even over the painful strobing lights, the sea of dancing bodies, he can single you out a mile away— regardless of the fact that you're slumped over the bar, drunk out of your mind.

"Navia, Clorinde," he greets with a wave, hurrying over. His voice has to be almost a yell to be heard over the loud music.

They sit on either barstool beside you, bracketing you between them. When he approaches, Clorinde hands him your phone, and he knows who he has to thank for the 'come pick your bae up' text. The moment he's close enough, he's already looking you over, making sure you're alright.

"Sweetheart," Wriothesley tries to rouse you, but you just mumble and splay out further on the bar. Your hand knocks into a mostly-emptied glass of what he can only assume was tonight's poison of choice.

"How many—"

"More than five," Navia tells him, grinning sheepishly, just as Clorinde says, "Nine."

Your husband shakes his head fondly, sighing, and turns back to you. "Sweetheart," he tries again, voice a bit louder. He places a heavy hand on your waist, coaxing you up. "Let's g—"

But at the touch, your eyes —still hazy and unfocused on account of the nine drinks you've had— shoot open, and you whirl on him in your seat. If not for the hold he still keeps on your hip, you may have just toppled over. There's a look of unbridled, drunken rage on your face, more comical than actually terrifying.

"Who the fuck do you think you are?" you hiss, slurring, as you wrench his hand off of you and fling it away with such contempt that he has to stifle a laugh. "Keep your hands off of the masterpieces, bucko."

Not even giving him a moment to breathe, you shove your left hand in his face, vehemently pointing at the ring that sits on your fourth finger. "I! Am! Married! If I tell my husband that you're out here getting handsy, he's gonna come and kick your ass sooo hard. He's gonna rock your shit, you trick ass bitch, if i don't do it myself!"

Wriothesley shouldn't find this funny— he shouldn't. But Navia and Clorinde and fighting smiles behind their palms themselves, and he can't help the grin that breaks across his face.

"Oh? Is your husband that strong?" He can't help but ask, and you scoff.

"Is he that strong— you wanna find out for yourself? Huh? Wriothesley could— could—" you hiccup, and he has to fight the urge to coo. "He could knock you out with just a flick of his fingers, you know!"

"And is your Wriothesley more handsome than me?"

You turn your nose up at him, scowling. Once, twice, you try to cross your arms in contempt as you drunkenly look him up and down.

"You're alright," you begrudge, "but my Wriothesley is the— the most handsomest man in the world! The fucking prettiest! No one holds a candle to my husband and his broad shoulders and his thick thighs and his... and his adorable smile."

Wriothesley has to bite his lip to control his grin. Navia is fighting for her life to stifle her giggles, and Clorinde hides her amused smile behind a cough.

It's like that loosened your tongue though, and you continue on, oblivious to the embarrassment you'd face the next morning.

"And he— he'll be very upset when he finds out that you're here, hitting on someone who is very happily married to one of the best men on this side of the fucking galaxy, so— so you can fuck off!"

He really, really tries his best to not laugh.

You huff, patting down your pockets and grumbling incoherently about your phone, not even questioning it when Wriothesley hands it back to you himself. It takes only a second of you furiously tapping your screen before his own phone buzzes in his pants.

[Sweetheart ♡]

babe pookie pick e ip plrase im drunk and i wanna go homd snd yhere's this assholr hitting o me love yoy [location attached]

As soon as the texts go out though, you yawn and the energy leaves you in one fell swoop. Wriothesley manages to catch you before you face plant back on the bar and break your nose, maneuvering you to lean into his chest. The fight escaping you, you nuzzle into his black button up, rubbing your face against him like a big cat.

"Mmm. I know that cologne." Blearily, you look up and make eye contact with those pretty, pretty blue eyes, and your face immediately lights up in the most delighted grin. "Wrio!" you gasp, arms coming to wrap around his waist and pull him towards you. You're still drunk, still pretty out of it, but it melts his heart how overjoyed you are to see him.

"Hi sweetheart," he says fondly, running a hand through your hair. Happily, you lean into his touch. "Have a fun time with Navia and Clorinde?"

"Mhm. Missed you though." Then, your eyes pop open and you sit up, looking around furiously as if you're looking for someone. When you don't find this person, you lean in to whisper conspiratorially in his ear— "There was this guy who tried to make the moves on me, you know! But I told him that I'm super duper married and with the bestest husband ever— if you wanna double team him, I'm sure the guy's around here somewhere."

But your husband just chuckles, pulling you back into his embrace. Smoothly, Wriothesley has you wrap your arms around his shoulders and your legs around his waist so he can easily pick you up and into his arms.

"You two need a ride home?" He asks the two, but they shake their heads.

"Appreciated, but we only split a drink between us," Clorinde says, already standing up alongside Navia. "We'll be fine."

"Get home safe, you two!" The blonde says, waving you off, and that's that.

Wriothesley easily maneuvers the two of you out of the club, you having already fallen asleep on his shoulder. He can hear your soft breaths in his ear and feel the way you cling to him even in your sleep. No doubt you'd have a raging hangover tomorrow, but that's okay— because you'll have him to take care of you, too.

Bonus!!

You wake up to hands down the worst fucking headache in your whole life. Your temple hurts so hard that you swear your head's gonna crack open like an egg. Groaning, you pull the covers over your head and roll over, blotting out the mid-day sunlight as best as you can.

There's a chuckle from the other side of the bed, then weight moving across the sheets— then your husband's face appears in front of you, under the blankets too.

"So, darling sweetheart of mine" he starts, voice soft as to not aggravate your headache, and you're grateful. "What were you saying about my broad shoulders and my thick thighs?"

You're suddenly not as grateful.

Promptly, you kick him out of your blanket cave, and he goes with a laugh. He leaves you grumbling on the bed, cursing out all the drinks you had last night and swearing to never ever ever drink again.

Wriothesley grins, shutting the curtains of your bedroom as he ambles out the door, dead set on getting you water, advil, and something to eat.

Maybe by the end of the day, you'd add 'endlessly doting' to the list.

[ #Taglist registration here !! ]

[hemonoir]

Tell me more about hotdog

hhHOh boy, okay, I'm just gonna start this off with a brief recap.

TL;DR: "Hotdog" Aka. Damara Lalonde, or "Mara" for short, is the adoptive daughter of Roxy Lalonde.

She is the same Damara raised by Doc Scratch who would later become The Handmaid, but was spared this fate when Roxy plucked her directly off the meteor using her void powers.

But I take it you're explicitly not here for a tldr so-

LONG AS FUCK EXPLANATION BELOW

Due to the bizarreness of her situation, a lot of the surviving cast post-game had some part in her upbringing. But most prominently were her mom's (Roxy and June), and Dirk, who served as an uncle of sorts. The latter being where she gets all the Stridisms in her design.

Personality wise: She's still extremely crude like Beforus Damara, but it's from a more direct ironic place meant to catch one off guard or to be absurdly overdramatic, rather than attempting to scare people away. A lot more snarky and confident, but not jaded or mean unless given reason to be.

Her interests include: Godzilla and similarly campy kaiju franchises. Practical effects in general, but mostly anything big dumb and explosive. Any Shonen slop Dirk showed her. Parkour and any reckless dangerous physical activity that would nearly give her friends a heart attack seeing her attempt. And starting sudden random indie projects in a medium she never returns to once she's finished.

Mara lives life fast and doesn't take time to dwell, especially as she's well aware of her own lifespan in comparison to her peers and her family. After highschool, she didn't want to bother with anything academic or to pursue some grand project to leave behind in her wake. Aside from flings, she doesn't really want to pursue a committed relationship either, as the last thing she wants is someone else fussing over her being careful, or bemoaning her short life in the last years she has of it.

It's her's, and her's alone. And she intends to live it to the fullest.

As for the concepts behind her character and creation-

In the shortest terms, Mara is a direct foil to the faults in Rose and Dave's upbringing. As well as an optimistic look to who Alpha Roxy and Dirk could have become despite who they were in the Beta Universe.

Both getting a chance to take supportive parental role's in Mara's life, Roxy more directly in being her mother, and Dirk more indirectly as someone Roxy could depend on to look out for her daughter, and who saw himself in another "out of place" kid.

Mara never had to wear the scarf of her dead mom, or mourn the fact they never truly got to know eachother due to her addiction. She had a loving mother who she knew for a fact supported her interests, and didn't keep things from her.

And instead of a shadowy violent figure that made her feel like she was never good enough, and without Cal's influence, she had someone to teach her to protect herself and who felt more like a trusted friend than another parent.

The parallels continue when brought back to her original upbringing under Scratch, a fate she narrowly avoided in this timeline due to Roxy pulling her off the meteor.

The idea for the whole AU actually initially came from the fact that Damara and Rose have a lot of direct parallels:

-Both use Needle-kind.

-While Rose would threaten suicide, Damara has a parental figure that actually would push her to suicide.

-John makes a comment about Rose seeming more "witch-like" in comparison to Jade, being a Seer and Witch respectively. However Damara actually is a Witch of Time when looking at her role in Beforus.

It makes it almost seem like Scratch will directly fit anyone he manipulates into a specific mold, but that's beside the point.

There are also parallels in Hal/AR being a piece that makes up Scratch/English, despite his initial role being one of sacrifice. But instead of knowing a sliver of Dirk that got ultimately corrupted and morphed into something cruel and unrecognizable, she got to know Dirk in full who never mutated into some kind of sick beast.

Lastly, though this is more of a side note:

Initially, I actually planned Mara to be raised by Scratch for a brief period, but taken before she could serve English. I.E. Instead of spawning green boxes, Roxy pulling a girl out of a green box.

I'm still mulling it over, but me and my wife most of the time lean towards her never having to suffer under Scratch bc Roxy with her stupid hotdog baby is nice fluff. But the narrative of a kid narrowly avoiding a grizzly fate and having severe repressed trauma she can't remember despite her currently good life, is a story element I still gravitate to as someone with DiD, who also headcanons Dirk as having DiD.

So it's sort of up in the air at times whether or not, Troll named Hotdog. Ever actually was. Hotdog shaped.

At least under Roxy's care.

[erzva]

⟡ sex with the batboys hc ⸜⸜ jason tim dick

Jason

bisexual switch

leans more towards women and bottoming/being submissive

no preference for subbing or domming when he’s with a man. he mostly likes when both of you can just switch and there’s no real power dynamic

PRAISE KINK. not only is he a fucking leo but he also has a lot of emotional issues and trauma that led to him developing a praise kink. pls just tell him he’s doing a good job and that you’re proud of him, it’s all he wants to hear

he doesn’t like being aggressive or violent and isn’t into anything degrading etc.

in fact, he hates men who are violent towards women during sex

no choking no slapping. he hates it. he finds it vulgar

hates blindfolds and being tied up due to trauma. and he won’t do it to you either

very ‘vanilla’ so just normal

just bc he’s vanilla doesn’t mean he can’t be rough and fast. he’ll fuck you good dw. or he himself wants to get fucked rough and fast.

if he’s with a woman you best believe her pleasure comes first.

definitely a service/pleasure dom when it’s a woman. but he also likes being submissive with women. body worship. just makes sure you’re taken care of and he loves doing it.

eating you out is relaxing to him. he loves having you ride his face or just being able to bury his face in your cunt after a long day and being surrounded by your smell

giving you head also makes him incredibly hard. he can’t help but pump his cock while you’re riding him and moaning into your pussy. or humping the mattress in the same rhythm his mouth is moving

he loves making out and foreplay such as making out and kissing your neck and ears. he loves how content and relaxed you look and sound and how desperate you get for more

he’s very vocal & loud. it’s all too chaotic in his head and his emotions for him to be reasonable. when he’s desperate he just starts blurting out anything that’s on his mind groaning and whining.

he loves it when you tug on his hair. it makes him roll his eyes and moan. there’s just something about it

besides his name and the usual pet names he likes getting called good boy and puppy. “such a good boy, you’re doing so well” “you’re such a good puppy for me, sweetie”

he likes rubbing himself on you. just bodies pressed against each other and desperately rutting his hips against your body. something about it is just very erotic to him. probably the desperation (a/n: i’m a firm believer in desperate!jason)

he either wants to really take his time and have gentle, passionate, sensual, erotic sex or- you or him domming the other with a lot of dirty talk and orgasms

Tim

also a bisexual switch but leaning more towards men and being a bottom

not into anything heavy or bdsm at all. very vanilla. surprisingly, he does really like food play though.. something about it is erotic to him and it’s fun

just covering some of your body parts in something delicious and licking it off

loves it when you ride him and he’s just able to relax and look at you

he is chronically tired bc of his lifestyle so he likes not having to do much during sex and prefers bottoming and normal positions

wants you to take care of him

really likes gentle touches during sex. he often takes one of your hands and puts it on his cheek for you to hold and caress him

loves it when you’re on top of him with your front pressed against his, your lips pressing light kisses against his ear and neck while he’s thrusting up inside you/you’re thrusting inside him

let’s out quiet desperate high pitched whines and moans and breaths

he wants to hug a lot during sex. just as much touch as possible

Dick

bisexual switch with a dom lean. likes women and men the same amount.

also a praise kink. mainly bc of trauma ofc but also bc he has a big ego

he would never deny praise. or physical touch. especially from his s/o

he‘s very mischievous and loves attention. so it didn’t surprise you when you got together with dick grayson and he started being handsy in public and in front of others. he didn’t care if ppl saw all the pda, in fact, he liked it. he likes showing you off to other ppl and he likes it when ppl see that you‘re his.

he can be really insecure so having other ppl see that you’re with him makes him feel good

loves giving you head in risky places ex: on rooftops while he’s out on patrol, in bedrooms at galas etc. not really public places but places where the chance of getting caught is high. it’s just really arousing and fun to him and again: having other ppl see that you’re with him makes him feel good abt himself

he loves it when you’re loud and he’ll do anything to draw a sound out of you

he’s very vocal and he’s cocky abt it

when he gets jealous or somebody flirts with you he kisses you with tongue in front of them for a few seconds. you will be having sex that night. and he’ll make you cum multiple times, starting with a handjob, then giving you head twice before the penetration starts

…

[auroreliis]

Platonic batfam (or romantic, if you prefer). With darling who's English language not native. And theynot take a words in English like Their native language, Not entirely. Would insisted Bruce what batkid (any age, sure) call he "father" but on the Their (Her/His) native language? If he will know what They don't make the meaning same, like for he and batboys (and girls)? I mean, I would easily call someone "father" or "brother" exactly in English even if I don't perceive them as such, because it's not father-Father for me. How about others? Maybe batfam take it as an opportunity for to get close to darling, to teach Them to better perceive English and them in this context. And also. What about darling who swears in his native language (switches to his native language when angry/annoyed). Conversely, They calls those They like with nice nicknames in his native language, for example, Alfred (the cat and the original), Duke, probably girls.

L🍑

Yes! Absolutely, they would take this chance to get closer to you!!!

Bruce is your dad, therefore you must refer to him as such. He really doesn’t care in which language, as he either speaks it or will speak it soon, so go right ahead and speak your native language.

While the Batfam speaks English fluently, they will not force you to learn it. In fact, they’d rather force themselves to learn YOUR language (…if they don’t speak it already, that is)

However, if he heard you admit that you only call him dad in English, because it feels less personal, he would be stumped. I mean, he can’t just force you to switch your language, what would that change? Though he would certainly find ways to ensure you truly think of him as your father, he just needs to figure out how…

Also, swearing is strictly forbiden according to Bruce and Dick. You’re their little angel, the light of their lives, so you will NOT be heard using such profanities, no matter which language you speak.

Jason doesn’t give enough fucks to snitch, but if you went overboard, he would tell you to watch it.

Tim is the biggest snitch ever. Do not break ANY rules in his proximity, you will regret it.

Damian, like Bruce and Dick, prefers it when you use polite and gentle language. You’re like a blossom, blooming in the sunlight, such disgusting and vile words should not be coming from you, so watch it.

Duke would kind of freeze if you swore around him. He, ever so loyal to Bruce, cannot let this fly, but…imagining the scolding you’d get makes him feel bad. Besides, you’d never forgive him if he snitched, right? Fine, he’ll endure it, despite how uncomfortable it makes him feel. The things we do for love, huh?

Stephanie is so cool, because she’s rebellious enough to not snitch on you, but also obedient enough to not get into trouble with Bruce (…at least not THAT often). Hence why she not only ignores your swearing, but also swears with you! Not in front of Bruce, though. He would scold you both.

Cassandra has it tough. She obviously doesn’t want to snitch on you or forbid you from speaking your mind, but sometimes, your words, or specifically your use of those words in her proximity, make her feel a bit disrespected. You shouldn’t use such words in the proximity of someone who is older than you, that’s what she was taught.

Barbara is a mix of Dick’s and Steph’s attitude. Most of the time, she doesn’t care, but if your words are directed at anyone from the family, she’s telling Bruce to reprimand you right away.

In short, be careful of what you do and who is nearby when you do it.

Oh and, you have a nickname for someone specific? You won’t hear the end of it (in a positive way…mostly). They won’t leave you alone, they won’t shup up and they won’t stop bragging about how they clearly must be the favourite because their nickname is the more affectionate one, or their nickname is used more often, etc.

Truly a delusional bunch.

[0ceanic-cosm0s]

To the Hellfire - chapter 0

[Josh Washington x F! Reader]

3.2k words

masterlist - zero - one

chapter wrote by @sharkology & @xghostcr0wx

⚠️CHAPTER WARNINGS⚠️

[self-harm mentions/references, in-patient setting, blood, mental health issues]

An in-patient facility was not the place you were expecting to spend your month, but it's not surprising considering your track record of mental health problems. Ever since you were young, you had a bad habit. Self harm. The feeling gave you a blissful relief, and seeing the red left you distracted from the outside world.

It was the easiest and best way for you to cope. Sure, the medications your parents got your doctor to prescribe you helped somewhat. But the anguish and depression that constantly consumed you didn't ease up much. And after a severe manic episode, your parents had enough and admitted you to the Ocean View mental hospital.

That's how you found yourself in a month stay. It was really bad at first. You were screaming, crying, begging not to be taken there. The whole intake session you were inconsolable, asking how long you had to stay there. When you first heard '30 days' come out of your assigned therapists mouth, you felt like fainting.

It wasn't all bad though, you met a guy around your age. His name was Josh. He'd just arrived there the day before you. Before meeting him, there was a whole process of frisking you by staff and making you strip to check for any previous wounds or sharp objects. They give you a fresh pair of the hospitals clothes to change into afterwards.

You say goodbye to your parents and hug them when you're done; they each kiss your cheeks with a tearful eyes and wave farewell. One of the staff leads you through hallways and into the 'day room' where all the other patients are put in during the day to have some freedom and relax.

Necks are broken and voices quiet to look at you when you enter, countless eyes boring into your soul. They were interested to see who else was damned here. Your anxiety starts to fill your nerves as you walk over to an empty table, avoiding all eye contact. You just wanted to be left alone to calm down.

The chatter starts up again, only now a few eyes were on you. A specific set in particular however, found you. Intriguing. The stranger strolls up to your table, not even asking if he could sit with you and takes the empty chair beside you, a lopsided smile adorning his lips as he speaks in a deep and somewhat slurred tone.

"Hey, nice to meet you. I'm Josh." He says as he extended a hand out to you.

He was a fairly built guy. Short, brown locks for hair and an interesting shade of green for eyes. His skin was a olive toned, brownish shade. He looked tired, and exhausted. Eyebags hung underneath his eyes, but who's wasn't in this place?

You stare at his hand for a second, contemplating if you really feel like making friends right now. But considering the fact that you'll be there a while, you decide on being friendly.

"Likewise, I'm [Y/n]." You return his handshake, finding it hard to keep eye contact. The only thing you could think about at the moment is how much you didn't want to be in the hospital to begin with.

"So, what's it like here?" You ask with curiosity. "Best to know what's in store for me, right?" You add on in a light joking tone, causing Josh to crack a smile.

"Yeah well it's no luxury hotel, I can tell you that much. I haven't been here long either, only since last night." He admits which makes you visibly deflate, the fear of the unknown starting to get to you.

Josh notices and tries to save the mood.

"Hey hey it's not all bad, on the weekends we get to play games and let loose." He says and is only left with silence. His eyes look around the room for a bit before speaking again.

"Yeah this place fucking sucks." He admits, earning a laugh from you and causing him to smile wide.

Thus, you began sprouting a friendship with Josh in the mental hospital. It mostly consisted of you guys hanging out in the day room, sitting next to each other, cracking jokes, and talking about life at home. That's when you found out why Josh was in-patient in the first place. The death of his two sisters, Hannah and Beth.

Josh was really good at hiding his mental problems, using jokes and dark humor to cope with his trauma. There was only one time where his facade slipped, and it wasn't even in front of you. It was during the middle of your stay. You could tell Josh was acting different that day too. He was a bit more quiet, talked lower, and zoned out a lot more than usual. When he was eventually called away by his therapist to have their daily session, you felt instant bordem sink in.

There wasn't much you could do on weekdays. A TV was mounted on the wall, but the movies you could watch were very limited. You zoned out, thinking about what events in your life led you here. That was until you heard an agonizing scream from outside of the day room, down the halls. A scream that you could only recognize as Josh's voice. A lot of the words he was saying were muffled and inaudible, but you could make out a few words like 'fault' and 'prank'.  You couldn't quite understand what was going on and you could tell he was distressed. An hour later, Josh was back from his therapy session and he walked out like nothing happened. You tried not to act awkward about it, but it was a weird moment. You brushed it off and didn't say anything related to it since you assumed he'd tell you if he was comfortable with it.

He never went into detail about what happened with his sisters. It was so vague, you had to piece together that they were dead in the first place. You never pressed him about it though. You knew it was a very sensitive subject, since it's the cause of him being here in the first place. On the other hand, you didn't mind opening up to him on why you were there.

You would show him your scars when no prying eyes were looking once you got comfortable enough with him to share. They were, gruesome. Is how he'd put it lightly. The first time he saw them he made a pretty clear surprised face you mistook for disgust, your insecurities flaring up a bit. But he quickly apologized and carefully caressed your shaking arm with a calming gentleness.

"I-I'm sorry, [Y/n], I just. I've seen some nasty stuff from the other patients but yours takes the cake." He tries to joke with a nervous laugh. It doesn't make you feel better though. He sighs, and retracts his hand while you two sat in silence for a few moments.

He speaks up hesitantly, trying to figure out how to lighten the mood when a thought comes to mind. "If it makes you feel better, even in the slightest. I think they're beautiful." Your eyebrows furrow in confusion. "What do you mean?" He sighs, lowering his eyes to the ground while rubbing the back of his neck trying to gather his thoughts.

"It's like. It just shows that no matter how much pain and suffering you've been in, you're still here. You're still living. You exist. Your scars show what you've had to endure and that you made it to another day." His capturing green eyes look up at your [e/c] ones, trying hard to convey the sincerety in his voice.

"I just find your strength admirable, ya know? I hope that makes sense.." He smiles anxiously, hoping to the Gods he didn't make himself look like a bigger idiot. He waits a few seconds for your response-when you finally manage a small smile at him.

"Yeah. It makes sense." You softly say, appreciating his words. His grin widened at your smiling face and you two continued chatting about whatever came to your minds the rest of the day.

Both of you became close, as close as a mental hospital would let you. If the staff found out you were sharing your last names with each other, you'd get in trouble. It was strongly discouraged because 'you're here for treatment, not to make friends.' That didn't deter you and Josh though. You ended up learning his last name, 'Washington', and he told you about how his dad is a popular movie director. You kinda had a hunch his family had a lot of money but you didn't expect them to be that rich. He explained how he owned a mountain as well as how him and his friend would go visit their lodge for a few days to a week in the summer and winter. The way he explained the getaway trips made it sound so fun, leaving you longing for an experience like that.

"That sounds amazing!" you'd exclaim everytime he talked about the lodge.

"Next time we go, I'll invite you. I promise." He'd always say, you both making a quiet promise with your pinky fingers. But you never knew how serious he was. You never kept your hopes up about seeing him after you got out, you knew it was a small chance since both your hometowns were hours away from each other.

That was until he slipped you his phone number on a tiny slip of paper. He gave you a playful wink, indicating that you know what to do with it when you get home. It was the last exchange you guys had before Josh was discharged, leaving you to stay there one more night. The last day without him was the hardest. It's like he brought life into the place. You were practically spending everyday with him for 29 days straight, and you got used to his playful presence. It would be a lie to say you didn't develop a small crush on him during your time together.

The second you were out of the hospital and made it home, you just wanted to run up into your room, lock it, and text Josh-clutching the small piece of paper with his number on it close to your chest; brimming with excitement. But alas, your parents wouldn't allow you a moment to be alone. They showered you in love and affection, presenting gifts to you left and right the second you guys stepped inside. You tucked away the paper with a sigh, reminding yourself you'd be able to talk to him soon enough.

After a few hours of hanging in the living room and talking about your stay at Ocean View (only barely mentioning Josh as you didn't want them to question you for another hour) you tell them that you're exhausted and that you wanted to sleep. They reluctantly agree after they insisted you sleep in the living room with them so they could keep an eye on you, which you shut down immediately and reassure that you'd be fine alone.

You hug them goodnight and lug up all the gifts into your room, swiftly locking the door and hurriedly pulling out the notepaper and your phone-punching in the digits a little too eagerly. You already craved his ridiculous jokes and teasing. Once you added his contact, your finger hesitates over the typing section. 'Would he respond?' 'Would he want to talk?' 'Did he actually care about you?' 'Was he pretending the whole time to be your friend just to hurt you in the end for his own entertainment?'

Countless worrying thoughts filled your mind, and your anxiety begins to build. You felt the urge to self-harm to help deal with the stress you felt, even if it was something so minor. It's just how your brain processed these things. But you manage to suppress it somewhat. You take deep breaths, using breathing exercises like your therapist suggested to do when you got like this. Once you calmed down, you began to shoot him a simple text:

You: "Hey Josh, it's [Y/n]. Sorry it took me a bit to text, my parents were talking to me for what felt like forever. How've you been?"

You contemplate if this was a good text; if it seemed too desperate or corny. But you close your eyes and hit send anyway. Conflicting thoughts ran through your brain if this was a good idea or not. You were told it was strictly forbidden to ever become friends with people in the mental hospital by the staff and your therapist because it might be dangerous for both parties. You didn't care during that time, thinking: 'It can't be that bad, right?' And now, you weren't too sure, your overthinking thoughts swirling around like a typhoon.

Until a few seconds later you heard a 'ping' come from your phone. You immediately open your eyes to see what it was; hoping for Josh. And your heart raced when he responded.

Josh: "Well if it isn't Ms. Marbles finally remembering about lil' old me. Took you long enough"

Marbles was a nickname Josh gifted to you so generously in the mental hospital in reference to you quite literally losing your marbles-the cause for you to get admitted. And ironically enough, you really enjoyed playing a marble game with him during game nights so it was a two in one combo.

You roll your eyes with a sigh, relieved that he texted back and also the faint annoyance at such a cringe nickname, but it still made you smile nonetheless.

You: "Marbles? Really? Couldn't keep that dumb name back in Ocean View?"

Josh on the other side of the screen was smiling wide, happy to finally talk to you again once more. He missed your company and voice dearly.

Josh: "You wound my ego, Marbles! I'll have you know I'm the greatest nickname giver in the whole world. So be honored that you were personally given one by me ;)"

You scoff at the text. He was always such a complex and interesting guy. But his shenanigans were amusing to you, so you often didn't mind them. You kinda got used to the name overtime anyways when he'd see you in the day room and call you over by it constantly. Even though you acted like you hated it, deep down, you felt special the moment he gave you a nickname.

For the next 9 months you and Josh continued to stay in contact. You would text, call, Skype, and even play games together like Minecraft from time to time. You got close to each other over the months you spent chatting. He even finally confided in you, albeit the tinest bit, about the death of his sisters.

And you were growing on Josh too. The one thing he'd look forward to everyday is a text from you. Even if he didn't tell you that, even if you didn't know, it still meant a lot to him. He cherished the time you spent together, it didn't matter it was through a screen.

Some time at the end of January he invited you to his 'Anual Blackwood Winter get Away'. You were honestly excited to see him again, and you couldn't wait to hang out with him without having staff breathing down your back 24/7.

So of course you said yes and accepted the invitation. You knew it wouldn't just be you and Josh, his friends would be there too. You also knew that his friends were the indirect cause of his sisters deaths. You honestly didn't know how he was still able to hang out with them in the first place, but he said they expressed terrible regret for their actions which is fair. Only 2 of his friends weren't in on it, which you guess is a comforting thought. It's not like you already hate his friends, you just thought the prank was in bad taste and resulted in a terrible tragedy that no one saw coming. You just felt bad for Josh the most, he's the one who had to face the repercussions of his friends actions; losing both his sisters. You could definitely see it still affected him. No matter how much he insisted he was over it, you could tell he was still grieving.

You were there for him as much as you could be, through a screen. It seemed like he had a friend, Sam, who has been helping support him through this tough time in his life. You're thankful for that.

The day arrived when you had to get ready to go to leave for the trip. You woke up extra early, making sure you had enough time to take a shower and go over everything you packed the previous night. You texted Josh after your shower, asking him about the details of transportation. He said you were supposed to take the same bus as Sam to the mountain, since she was one of his most closest friends, he wanted you two to potentially bond and already have a good connection. You were a little anxious to meet her, but he's told you a lot about her and she seemed to be a really cool person you'd get along with.

You start getting dressed, choosing a warm yet stylish outfit. You slip on black thermal leggings, white leg warmers and black snowboots, a blue and white pleated skirt with a matching blue sweater, a cute black leather jacket over, and white earmuffs. You put the earmuffs around your neck to stay until you reach the mountain.

After checking all your essentials and making sure you had everything, you place your duffle bag over your shoulder and grab your phone-putting in wired earbuds to listen to music while on your way to the bus station during the car ride. Your parents dropped you off, making sure you packed your meds and your charger. They hugged you tightly good bye and drove off. You sat on a bench and began scrolling through your phone as you felt a tap on your shoulder.

"Hey! [Y/n], right?" You look up and recognize the blonde haired girl as Sam, from pictures Josh would show you. You give her a polite smile and nod, taking out an earbud and offer a hand for her to shake.

"Yeah, that's me. Nice to meet you." Sam shook your hand, it was soft and warm.

"Likewise, I've heard lots of things about you from Josh. And I mean a lot. He really likes you, you're a good influence on him." Your heart skipped a beat at her words. You didn't think he'd talk about you that much to his friends. But it made you feel happy he thought of you like that.

You two sit and talk for a fat minute, until your bus arrived. Sam and you step aboard, taking a seat close to the back together and continue chatting, talking about each other while the bus drove off to start the journey to your destination.

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

[a/n] omg y'all chapter zero is done and chapter one is coming soon as hell so stay tuned!

-From

🦈 & 🦇