#mirror popee

[clownehonk]

them, again [but not quite]

[fran-oewm9]

Popee The Performer memes made by me (Part 1)

There are more but since there's a limit of images I will post them tomorrow (if I don't forget ‾⁠▿⁠‾;)

[ctheathy]

Yandere Eepop the Performer NSFW Headcanons

Eepop x Reader

Yandere+NSFW Headcanons

Short Concept

Author's note: I personally interpret Eepop as a male. But I am always willing to write for those who'd see her as a girl instead ;)) Just don't forget to mention which gender you'd think is more fitting if you wanna request for Eepop <3

Eepop/Reader [Romantic Tendencies]

[Gender-neutral Darling|Female Darling|Male Darling]

Potential ⚠️TWs⚠️ :

Both reader+character are of legal age or aged-up for obvious reasons in this post!

These are smut headcanons, read at own risk. dom!Reader+sub!Eepop • You're basically gonna step on him LOL • Masochism on top of some more masochism • Obsession • Another sadism streak Reader • Poor mental state • Punishment • Harassment • Sexual fantasies • Dirty talk • Onomadek's abuse mentioned • Degradation • Climax mentioned •

I believe it's quite easy to say that Eepop is a rather submissive and meek person to be around. Even as a yandere with his nasty mentality, he would still be obedient to what you tell him ... probably even more so. Cause unlike usually being fearful of being hurt, in this state Eepop relishes in his pain. Years upon years of Onomadek's physical abuse, torturous abilities on the mental state and hostile behaviour having affected Eepop greatly in the head. You could literally make him bow down with the snap of a finger and that's not even all of it. You could walk all over him and he would absolutely love being under your heel. You could treat him like a personal footstool and he would still ask for more. You'd definitely have Eepop as a masochist because he’ll be craving the idea of being physically dominated and hurt. If you were to step on a tiny insect next to him, it wouldn't take long for his body to react. Getting so shaky and aroused that he’d be seconds away from begging you to step on him too.

Oh, when this man proposes the idea, you should absolutely take your chance and do it too. I suggest you try remaining partly gentle about it though, as we're not necessarily here to cause any physical harm. But as long as you keep a high posture, basically threatening him with the sharp heel of your footgear, he’d be completely at your mercy in that situation. He would try to resist himself for a bit, try to ignore how turned on he is by you, try to ignore how much he wants you to continue. But eventually his breath would start becoming erratic, eyes half lid as he whimpers out your name while squirming.

But as soon as you brought the heels out he would probably be trembling all over, trying to plead with you to be gentler with him and not get his hopes up and then crush them. Like you would just constantly be walking around him, keeping him on edge by coming dangerously close to stepping on him but never actually doing it. And the sharp tip wouldn't even dig into him, but instead pinched in between his thighs as it's pressing his crotch. Which is treatment Eepop would go absolutely wild over. A person that can dominate him in every aspect but in such an oddly gentle way? A person that squeezes his crotch but doesn’t dig their heel into his flesh? Eepop's mind would be utterly filled with the most erotic and sweet thoughts about you. And the fact that you couldn't even bother to look at him would make it even worse. You would have the capability to absolutely stomp down on him, but you may also actively just choose not to.

There would definitely be better options instead, like teasingly dragging your footwear across his face, tracing his jawline before sliding them down his body. Squeezing his rump as you apply the pressure to his hips, looking down at him with such an unimpressed gaze. Dragging your foot down his side like it’s nothing, your heel poking his skin like pins in a balloon. You’d be able to hear a high-pitched yelp every time you moved it along his skin, his tail flinching and becoming stiff as it happens. And he would likely just freeze in place, not knowing what to do or knowing whether he could move or not, trying to act like it didn't sting a little bit.

I honestly cannot even imagine you putting your heel against his throat or near it and NOT having him be completely terrified and start frantically pleading with you like you hold his life in your hands. He would definitely be in shambles after a session like that, with the worst part being that he embarrassingly craves more of it. He would be pouring with desire, he would want nothing more than to please you. He would probably have to be force-fed water or he would dehydrate from how much he would be salivating. You would be able to do whatever you wanted with him like this and he would be a complete mess.

You should have absolutely zero shame with this boy. You could toy with his feelings and fantasies like a master, being the reason why his mind starts to fall apart like a house of cards. Holding even less respect for him if he were to fall onto his knees and moan for you to take advantage of his mind and body, at the verge of completely begging for you to do what you want with him and use him as a puppet. And I wouldn't even be surprised if you pushed him that far that he ends up releasing before the ordeal is even done, the white strings that squirt out of his body now ruining your footgear ...which would likely, understandably make you scoff in disgust. Your flirting turning more passive aggressive.

“You would've preferred to empty your load inside of me instead, didn't you..~?”

“You'd much rather prefer your meat to be buried deep within me and your sticky semen being shot and squirt into me like you were trying to overload me with your mark, wouldn't you?”

“I'm betting you would want to fill me up with your seed. ...Gross.”

A moment where you'd really just be playing along and feeding into those fantasies. Where in return his junk would keep twitching in excitement by just hearing it. Any sense of sanity draining from his face the longer you keep it up, as his tail begins to sway excitedly at this treatment. I can absolutely imagine his body having a similar reaction too, like his hips twitch up involuntarily, his breath shivers and quivers every time you even say something. His whole body spasming every now and again when you do this and you laugh and mock him for it. You'd be able to get him all kinds of riled up in the most suggestive ways possible. Just the mere thought of him hearing the things that you'd say to him and his body is just absolutely tingling with raw excitement and arousal.

Where in response you could be behaving so bipolar that you'd go from treating him like an angel and telling him “good boy” to looking down at his whimpering puppy-like face and calling him a filthy dog. But it's getting to a point where you're not even wrong for doing that, he is the filthiest boy of them all. He's so out of control that he deserves to be put down and punished. And this is when he'll start getting into the dirty names. I could easily imagine Eepop's body being sent into a state of pure primal hunger. You're playing with his fantasies and desires, teasing him with those sweet words and making his mouth water for more. I’d bet that at some point he’d be trying to keep his mouth closed to prevent any saliva from dribbling out and down his chin, but his breathing would become more and more shallow as you continued to tease him.

His poor, poor eyes would roll back so much that he would be able to see the inside of his skull. It would be so much for him to handle that he would immediately become completely overwhelmed, turning into this twitching, drooling mess of a boy that's desperate for you to keep giving anything to him. It would be the biggest test to his willpower ever and he wouldn’t survive it. He would simply give in and beg the entire time.

Where he'd honestly just have a whole mental breakdown at that point. He’d fall to his knees and plead with you with tears in his eyes. Eepop would be at a low point like he’s never been in his entire life, he would be the most submissive and pathetic person in existence and he would absolutely want you to have so much power over him. He’d be nothing but “give me more of yourself, I want you to own me. I want you to make me yours. please... please…” and doing anything in order to get it. He’s so weak and susceptible and you'd know exactly what you're doing to him. All your little comments and questions of degradation, the way you hold and present yourself, your voice, your body, your lips...

EVERYTHING is a form of control for him.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

[canisalbus]

Have you drawn Vittorio before? I'd like to see what he looks like pls.

Vittorio's design has given me more trouble than I expected, I'm still not sure if I'm happy with his looks. He's Machete's trusted personal secretary, a small and modest but resourceful and resilient man. I think he's somewhere in his mid 20's.

[jellosarts]

someone save this teen

[cinemaocd]

Girls don't want boys they want their favorite actors to dress up and pretend to be Cardinals...

[gwengoodrich]

I’m just imaging a situation post-Trespasser where my Warden Aeducan has really settled in to her new life as the Divine’s trophy wife, and one day, Leliana tells her “Don’t be mad, but I may have promised Inquisitor Lavellan that you’d have tea with her next month and give her some advice on navigating her post-world-saving life.” And of course she says yes, both because she loves her wife and she knows what happens to people who go against her wishes.

Unbeknownst to either of them, Varric learns about this and suggests to Hawke that she visit Lavellan the same day, to help lift her spirits, y’know? Merrill can come too and chat with Clan Lavellan’s Keeper.

Cut to Aeducan walking in on perennial fuckup Marian Hawke giving Lavellan some truly atrocious, if humorous, advice, and Hawke having to contend with the goddamn Hero of Ferelden strolling in to save the day once again.

And once the three of them get to talking, Aeducan has to be very careful, because she recognizes that it would be incredibly insensitive on multiple levels to other two women to say things along the lines of “Yeah, so my brother dying, me being forced out of the only home I’ve never known, then conscripted into a paramilitary organization that was completely foreign to my culture was honestly the best thing that ever happened to me. I got to save the world and receive near-universal fame for it, including being religiously venerated by my own people. Speaking of religion, my wife is considered something of a radical by her peers, but in spite of that, she was able to rise to a position of power, letting her push through reforms that include marrying me, cause she loves me so much that she’s not afraid to show me her ruthless side. Now we live in the lap of luxury together, being influential girlboss wives.”

In the end, they mostly engage in some good-natured shit-talking of their mutual friends and acquaintances. Before she leaves, however, Aeducan does encourage Lavellan to continue her painting and even offers to put in a good word with Leliana about commissioning some official Chantry murals from her about the history of the Inquisition.

[bornetoblood]

wait no wait no wait

I’ve always thought the real tragity to Laurence is that he worked so hard and hurt so many people for a goal he failed to reach- that it came to nothing.

But WE reach that goal. We use the product of all that grief to realise what it failed to do. What the fuck.

[sforzesco]

"when you marry off a son to the church, they're married to god's vicar on earth" lives rent free in my mind now, thank you very much! also, can't stop thinking of rodrigo borgia and giuliano della rovere as a bickering divorced couple, and it's too kinda your fault -_-

absolutely CACKLING at the idea of rodrigo and giuliano as a divorced couple because I've always envisioned them as two different types of monsters that despised each other and were intent on eating the other along with anyone else that got in their way, with giuliano coming out of that war winning. and it wasn't enough to get the throne (the papacy), he also kicked cesare to the curb after luring him back in. we love to see it! you can't buy that kind of hate off the shelves, you have to curate it and let it fester like an open wound! an absolute masterclass in driving in one final nail into the coffin of a family you despise. (there's a kind of dynastic rivalry subtext in regards to inheritance etc, between these two that makes them incompatible with the divorced framework to me. it's more of a eat or be eaten, destroy the pretender to the throne, etc etc in my mind)

ascanio sforza and giuliano della rovere on the other hand. they have an adjacent kind of divorced energy, to me. those two were rivals for so long (ascanio kneecapping della rovere by backing rodrigo in the papal elections, and it escalating from there), and only came together in the end (della rovere visiting ascanio every day on summer for conversation, hello??), and even then: that came with a hefty side of deeply unbalanced power dynamics of the julius caesar-clemency variety (fun fact! when giuliano della rovere became pope, he took on the name julius II in reference to julius caesar!)

wait--- you want to know who's literally divorced, though? ascanio and rodrigo. ascanio was one of the major players in setting up the lucrezia borgia-giovanni sforza marriage, and that annulment had implications, especially with how rodrigo kept trying to shut ascanio out of vatican politics. that didn't stop them from sharing the pastime of gambling together, though.

[ultrachoppedpenguinbouquet]

Jesuits, and the Pope

[stuniolvs]

s2!rafe x maybank!reader where she’s the little sister of jj & they end up fucking in a bathroom at a kook party. the pogues catch them & rafe is not even trying to denie it cause that was the best pussy he ever had🤭🎀

bathroom

rafe cameron

you and your brothers friends stumble into the kind of fancy party you know you don’t belong at. do you care? not even for a second.

everyone scatters in different directions, john b. looking way too sharp in a black suit, sarah looking nice as well locked into a heated argument with kelce, pope heading straight for the drinks, and your brother jj, with kiara heading for the beer pong table, ready to dominate.

youu on the other hand, pull down your black tight dress so your boobs softly spill out, revealing more cleavage. your head turns to the sound of toppers laugh. you see rafe, a smirk planted on his sexy face. he’s wearing an all black suit, he chuckles as he removes his suit jacket, placing it on the chair next to him. you’d be lying if if it didn’t make your panties wet.

“hey rafe,” you step in between him and topper. topper gets the message and steps away sending rafe a wink. “hey baby,” he murmurs placing his hands on your hips. “where’s your brother?” he asks pulling you in so you’re pressed against him. you glance up at him considering he’s towering over you. “playing beer pong.” you smirk knowing that the beer pong table is far from where you and rafe stand. he leans down softly connecting your lips. the kiss is needy and wet. your hand moves to behind his neck, tugging at his hair. he groans into your mouth muttering, “jump.” as his hands slide behind your thighs. you jump up, your legs wrapping around his waist. he removes his lips from yours as he quickly walks you two over to the bathroom.

once you reach your destination, race places you on the counter, flicking on the warm lights. you tug his tie aggressively reconnecting your lips. his lips are soft and warm, the kiss full of need, considering you two hadn’t had sex in weeks due to your brother being around. “fuck, missed you so much baby.” he groans against your lips. you whimper into his lips as you feel his hardness press against your core. “need you so bad rafey,” you cry out.

he traces his lips down your neck surely leaving marks. his lips then make there way to your cleavage. you squirm under his touch. rafe then moves to where you need him the most, his head moving slightly under your dress. you hear him suck in a breath as he makes eye contact with your core. “all for me?” he asks, pressing his thumb against the material of your drenched black thong. “yes rafe! please, i need you” he smirks placing a soft kiss over your panties, you whimper softly. his fingers hook around your underwear pulling them down. he stuffs them into his suit pocket. “such a pretty pussy,” he compliments making you moan, feeling your arousal cover your thighs.

rafe comes back up to your face placing a kiss on your lips. you smile leaning in to kiss hos neck. your hands trace down to undo his tie and shirt. your lips come back up to his lips, ghosting your hands over his bulge, he moans into your mouth. you then undo the button and zipper of his pants. he then lifts you up flipping you over so you can see the both of you in the mirror. he then pulls down his pants kicking them off his feet leaving him in only his boxers. he unzips the back of your dress and pulling it down leaving you in your matching black lace bra. rafe groans, quickly pulling down his calvin klein boxers, his hard length slapping against his stomach. “ready baby?” he smirks, gripping your hips tightly. you nod aggressively, he chuckles. he slides his cock in between your lips before pushing himself into you. “rafe!” you gasp. he then starts thrusting into you. his length is the perfect size, hitting the spot inside you perfectly with every thrust. he groans behind you “so tight baby, i missed this pussy so much” his grip on your hips growing even tighter being sure to leave a bruise tomorrow. you moan loudly looking at his face of pleasure in the mirror in front of you. he kisses the crown of your head thrusting faster into you,“cum rafe!” you warn, barely able to form a sentence. “me too sweetheart.” he groans. the knot in your stomach then snaps, covering rafes dick in your cum. you then feel him spill deep inside of you.

he pulls out of you softly flipping you over. “you okay baby?” he asks his, eyes full of concern. “never better,” you smile. he places a soft kiss on your lips, rafe smiles back at you, pulling up his boxers and pants. he then picks up your dress off the floor, helping you put it back on.

you both jump at the sound of pounding on the bathroom door as rafe zips your dress. “the fuck do you want,” rafe yells placing a kiss on your cheek. he swings open the door, still shirtless. “rafe cameron you bastard!” you hear the voice of your brother jj. “jayj! calm down.” you interfere. but jj doesn’t care he continues screaming. “baby go find kie, i’ll deal with him.” he offers you a smile. you give him an are you sure? look, he nods.

a punch is then thrown at rafe,

“worth it.”

thank you so much for reading!! leave more requests!!

[fran-oewm9]

Ugly Eepop sketch that I'm never gonna render (⁠´⁠ ⁠.⁠ ⁠.̫⁠ ⁠.⁠ ⁠`⁠)

[oncasette]

𝗕𝗟𝗔𝗠𝗘 𝗜𝗧 𝗢𝗡 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗥𝗔𝗜𝗡

jj maybank x fem!reader

summary: 1.1k

Your head is spinning. You must be dreaming. There’s no way you’re actually kissing your best friend right now, not quite sure if he’s still your best friend at that moment or not, but not caring enough to pull back and check.

or the one where jj spills his feelings for his best friend.

a/n: i haven't seen s4 and i don't know if i'm going to, but here's this jj fic since i was feeling up for it? question mark? it's all fluff.

masterlist

“Done in there?” JJ calls from where he’s no doubt spread out on your bed. You can’t help the small laugh that trickles out of you as you open the door, still facing the mirror as you finish up your skincare routine. In the corner of the mirror, you catch JJ’s reflection fiddling with a lighter.

“Don’t burn down my bedroom,” you say. He looks up at you, catching your gaze in the mirror. He flips the spark wheel. A small flame erupts, already being bullied down by the high setting on your ceiling fan. 

“What? Don’t trust me?” he smirks. 

“Not even a bit,” you chirp, setting all of your creams and oils back into your medicine cabinet. 

He sets the lighter down on your nightstand. 

“Comfy?” you giggle, watching as he snuggles down further under your plush duvet. You’re glad you made him change, not sure you’d ever get the dirt and sweat from his clothes out of your sheets. He nods, humming. You feel his eyes tracking your movements as you shut the bathroom light off and slide under the covers beside him. It’s almost instantaneous that JJ molds to your side, pushing up your arm in order to lay his head against your shoulder, nose in your neck. You do your best to ignore the way your stomach flutters a bit. 

JJ had always been touchy with you. You like to think that he does it with everyone, that that was just his nature. You’d seen him sling an arm around Pope at the Boneyard, tug Kiara into a hug, spin her around, even, kiss John B on the cheek in some of his more emphatic moments. But, you couldn’t ignore the way he was with you. The lingering touches, the snuggling, the sleepovers, the kisses against your temple. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d been out on the HMS without him putting his hat on you. It’s friendly enough for you to brush off, for the most part. For you to push it all down and justify his actions when the rest of the pogues prod you for information. 

It’s moments like this, though–alone, away from prying eyes–that you allow yourself to pretend. Just a little. 

You bring up a hand to his hair and run the tips of your nails across his scalp. He purrs, curling closer into you and you feel his eyelashes brush your skin as his eyes close. 

“‘S it raining?” he mumbles into you. His hand slides over your stomach as he reaches for the hand not currently in his hair. Slowly, nearly leaving goosebumps beneath his fingers, he intertwines his fingers with yours. There’s no way this is platonic. Right? Your brain screams at you. 

“What?” you hum, brushing your thumb over his knuckles. 

“Rain. From the sky. Outside.”

You look at the window.

“Yeah. Yeah, J, it’s raining.”

He smiles, kissing the skin already beneath his lips. That’s new.

“I like the rain,” he chirps, voice surprisingly drowsy for how energetic he’d been before you’d left for your shower. 

“Do you?”

He nods, humming. “Makes everything slow down a bit.”

“I didn’t think you liked slowing down,” you say, your fingers moving down from his hair to ghost over his back.

“I like slowing down when I’m with you,” he shrugs. You feel him shudder slightly when your nails gently scrape across his shoulder blades. “Plus, I look sexy when I’m all drenched like that.”

You snort and smack him on the shoulder.

“Ow! What was that for?” he scoffs, head snapping up to glare at you pitifully. 

“Smug bastard,” you laugh. He winks as his lips curl into a fittingly smug smirk.

“You love it,” he says. His hand squeezes yours, still held tight in his grasp. You don’t respond in words, instead opting to squeeze his hand back. You feel his heart rate jump against your ribs. His eyes flicker between yours. The smirk slowly drops into something a little less cocky. Something a little softer. Warmer. You watch his Adam's apple bob as he swallows. It’s only when his gaze moves down to your lips that your own breath stutters. That definitely can’t be platonic. 

He whispers your name so quietly you almost don’t hear it. You probably wouldn’t have if he hadn’t been so close. 

“I think I love you,” he says. What.

“I love you, too, J,” you say, pasting on your friendliest voice to try and ignore the way his breath is now fanning over your face. He smells like the gum he’d stolen from your car.

“No, I mean…” he clamps his eyes shut. “I do love you, like that, like a friend. Of course I do, you’re my best friend-”

“John B’s your best friend,” you cut him off, because there’s no way this is actually happening.

“Listen, just… I,” he drops his head against your sternum, frustration seeming to roll off of him in waves. 

“I’m sorry, I’m listening,” you say softly. 

“I don’t want to keep doing this,” he grunts.

“Doing what?”

“Pretending.”

Pretending.

“Pretending?” you ask, placing a hand on his cheek to pull his gaze back up to yours. You smile softly at the way he nuzzles into your palm. 

“You really don’t see it, do you?” he asks. His eyes are closed, his nose pressed against your thumb. “I thought I was being obvious.”

You need more than these clipped comments. Stupidly, something deeper in the back of your mind can’t settle for even the chance of you misconstruing this. Of being wrong.

“Obvious about what, J?”

“I already told you,” he whispers. He just barely kisses the pad of your thumb. 

“Tell me again,” you beg, holding your breath.

“I’m in love with you.”

“Good,” you hiccup.

“Good? That’s all you have to say? I’m pouring my heart out here, baby,” he huffs and your heart nearly stops altogether. A bewildered giggle slips out of you.

“That’s good because I… uh,” you swallow. “I love you, too.”

He doesn’t answer this time. He slides up the last couple of inches to press his lips against yours. His free hand comes up to cup your jaw, bringing your mouth even harder against his. His other hand squeezes yours for dear life. 

Your head is spinning. You must be dreaming. There’s no way you’re actually kissing your best friend right now, not quite sure if he’s still your best friend at that moment or not, but not caring enough to pull back and check. 

You’d kissed him before. On New Year’s Eve at the stroke of midnight. But, that had been a quick, chaste peck between friends and you’d been able to blame the fireworks behind your eyelids on the holiday, and this. This was different. Much, much different. There were sparks tingling down to the tips of your toes. You pull back when you can no longer justify ignoring your need for oxygen and nearly whine when JJ chases your lips. 

“I’m in love with you.” His voice is hoarse. 

“You said that,” you giggle, brain still a little hazy.

“Yeah, I don’t think you’re going to get me to stop saying it now,” he says. His body weight is almost fully pressed onto you as he ducks his head to place short kisses against your neck. Your fingers find his hair again, combing through the silky strands. You mentally thank him for stealing your shampoo. 

[cosmicmunsonwrites]

i care for you still

ex bf!jj maybank x fem!reader

cw — talks of a breakup, both cry, fluff, kissing, angst, implied sex

summary — after a few months, you finally decide to talk with jj one on one.

a/n — idk why jj just popped back up into my mind but i wrote this in like 20 minutes so excuse me if its garbage. please request though!!!

do not copy or post my work anywhere else.

it’d been months of tense hangouts with the pogues, months of jj moping around, and months of your friends begging you to just talk to him. you’d tried multiple times but he was stubborn. every conversation somehow ended with you two back to the same topic of your past relationship.

it wasn’t that you didn’t love jj anymore, you were sure part of you always would. he was your first boyfriend, first love, first kiss, first time, first everything. he’d always have part of your heart. he was the one who taught you real love.

but there was that saying that went “you can’t love someone else if you don’t love yourself,” which couldn’t be more true. you couldn’t pin why or when it started, but you slowly started to lose yourself. your mental health began slipping, you hated looking in the mirror, and you wanted to do nothing else but rot in bed.

in turn, you started pulling away from jj which only hurt him more than you knew. it broke your heart, and it broke even more to have to break up with him. but you couldn’t just string him along when you knew you weren’t in the right state to be in a relationship.

after you’d done it, the two of you took a break from the pogues in fear you’d have to see the other. in the early months, it felt like you’d never get over him and the thought of having to see him only made your heart ache more. thankfully, you still had sarah and kiara to keep you company while he had pope and john b.

after a while, you both began hanging with the group as a whole. it was always tense and awkward but you still tried to enjoy it and not make it weird for your friends. on the odd chance that you were alone with him, he’d always bring up your relationship and ask where it went wrong.

once he’d received no real answer the last ten times, he just stopped asking. he had realized maybe it was better that he didn’t know. he’d heard rumors of you messing with other guys and he wasn’t sure he could take it if he found out you were truly with someone else.

this all brought you here at the chateau with your friends. you all were sat on the porch, besides jj who was sat in the hammock with a can of beer in his hand. you were completely zoned out and definitely not listening to the argument between john b and kiara about micro plastics.

you sighed and took a sip out of your bottle of water before getting up to use the bathroom. “be right back,” you told the others as you stood and opened the front door to go inside. you toed past the small piles of clothes on the floor and picked up some empty cans on the way to throw out.

you headed into the bathroom and turned on the sink, pressing some cold water on your skin to cool off before washing your hands and looking at yourself in the mirror. you chewed your lip anxiously as you just stared.

you had to have been in there for a few minutes, maybe five if you had to guess. then there was a knock and the sound of kiaras voice. “we’re heading out to get some more beer. you want anything?” she asked, slightly muffled through the thick wood.

“no, i’m okay,” you replied quickly knowing you definitely didn’t need to be drinking heavily tonight. you heard her mumble a quick goodbye before her footsteps got louder and the sound of the front door echoed through the empty space. you dried your hands on the towel behind you then made your way back through the house.

you stepped outside onto the porch, freezing when you were met with jj. “thought you went with them,” he said awkwardly after clearing his throat. his body stiffened and his hands fidgeted with one another.

“uh, no,” you stammered just as awkwardly. “i was in the bathroom.” you didn’t even know why you said that. he didn’t need to know that and he probably didn’t care either.

he shook his empty can in his right hand. “we’re out of beer,” he explained almost as if he were letting you know why he was up on the porch in front of you. the last thing he needed you thinking was that he was some weird stalker.

you nodded. “i heard,” you said and stepped aside to allow him to walk past you and into the house. he quickly walked inside and to the fridge in search of something. “are you okay?” you blurted out as you followed him in even though you most likely knew the answer.

“fine. you?” he replied bluntly. he knew you weren’t stupid and he knew you were definitely onto him. he closed the fridge door and leaned against the kitchen counter to look at you.

you frowned slightly at his cold attitude. “i’m sorry, jj,” you said softly. “i’m sorry about the way i treated you.”

he bit the inside of his cheek and crossed his arms over his chest, looking off to the side for a second to gather his thoughts. “why’d you do it?”

you almost chose to play stupid for a second and ask what he meant but you’d had this conversation one too many times to not know what he meant. only this time, you intended to finish it. “i was scared,” you began timidly. “i wasn’t doing good and i was scared to hurt you.”

“but you did,” he replied just above a whisper. the air was thick with tension and the house was so quiet you could hear a pin drop and every floorboard creak.

you pursed your lips into a thin line and nodded sadly. “i know. i thought breaking up would make it easier instead of dragging you down with me,” you said with the same softness in your voice as his. “but it didn’t and i hurt you. and i’m sorry for that.”

his eyes bored into yours, his once energetic, bright blue eyes now a more dull, tired shade. “why couldn’t you just talk to me about it? i coulda helped you.”

you could hear the shake in his voice. the conversations never really went this far, usually stopping the moment they started because you just couldn’t handle it. and here you were, beginning to choke up. “because i didn’t wanna bother you,” you stated.

“it wouldn’t have bothered me, you know that,” he said, uncrossing his arms and instead placing them behind him on the counter. “i woulda wanted you to talk to me if somethin’ was up. i coulda been there to help you or at least support you.”

you bit your lip nervously and looked down at your hands, now beginning to pick at your cuticles. “its hard to talk about,” you muttered. “i jus’ didn’t feel good about myself and i couldn’t put that on you.”

he let out a shaky breath. “i woulda done anything for you,” he whispered. “i jus’ wanted to be there for you.”

you heard the soft sob that slipped past his lips. the two of you were reopening old, unhealed wounds now and the unshed tears that had been pushed down for months were beginning to finally surface. you finally looked back up to his face, him already looking at you with tears in his eyes. “do you want a hug?” you asked gently.

when he didn’t reply, you took cautious steps toward him to give him an opportunity to back out before wrapping your arms around his neck. you immediately felt his arms lock around your waist tight and him crane down to bury his face into the space between your shoulder and neck.

his body shook with sobs as he cried into your t-shirt. it only made your heart break more and in turn, you felt tears finally fall down your cheeks. “i’m really fucking sorry jj,” you mumbled through your wobbling voice.

“it’s okay,” he sobbed, squeezing you a little tighter against him. “i forgive you. i forgave you months ago.”

you frowned and closed your eyes, just savoring the moment between you two. it felt like the world went silent for a moment. like it was just you two again. you missed this feeling and by the way he was clinging onto you, you assumed he did too.

you two stayed like that for another minute before he finally began to pull away slowly, still keeping his hands firmly holding your hips. your arms stayed linked around his neck with how close the two of you remained. “gimme one more chance,” he mumbled, his intense gaze staring right into you.

you closed your eyes and sighed. “jj—“

he cut you off. “please, sweetheart. i don’t want you to be alone. whatever you need, ’m here. i jus’ wanna be here for you.”

“you can’t fix me,” you replied honestly. “this is something i need to do on my own.”

he thought for a moment before nodding. “thats okay. you can do it alone. i’ll jus’ be here to support you.”

you felt your bottom lip wobble and your eyes burn with tears. you’d never really had someone like jj who stuck with you through your stubbornness, someone who continued offering help even when you consistently denied and subconsciously began to self sabotage. “i don’t wanna dump all my problems on you.”

he wiped the drop of liquid that ran down your cheek with his thumb before taking both your hands in his own. “don’t worry about that. just worry about you, ok? i got the rest.”

you shook your head. “that’s not fair to you, jj.” you leaned your forehead against his chest to hide your face when you felt more thick tears fall silently.

he brought one hand up to cradle the back of your head while the other intertwined your fingers. “if it means you’ll feel better, then i don’t care. i just wanna help you. trust me, ‘m gonna be fine.”

you immediately began to melt when you felt his hand play with your hair softly. you couldn’t say no to him, you never could. this was the man you were completely and utterly in love with and even after putting him through so much, he was still this soft with you. how could you just move on?

pulling away from his chest, his hand moved from the back of your head to your cheek, cradling it in his large palm. his thumb lightly traced your cheekbone as he searched your eyes for any negative signs, anything to tell him what he was about to do was wrong.

when he found absolutely nothing, he surged forward and pressed him lips to yours. you sighed into the kiss, months of longing and passion poured into one simple movement. his other hand moved from yours to your hip inside, squeezing lightly at it and pulling you closer so your body was pressed to his.

“fuck, i missed you,” he mumbled against your lips before kissing you again, slipping his tongue inside and moving his hand that was once on your cheek to your neck to gently press at the sides. you felt a little lightheaded at the action in the best ways possible.

the kiss was slow and passionate, something you’d missed so desperately about being with jj. he didn’t often rush things like this. he preferred to take his time and make you feel all woozy and worked up.

you could feel him begin to get slightly antsy, unsure of what to do with his hands. you chose to grab the one on your hip and slide it down lower. he instinctively brought the other one down as well and cupped your ass before laughing against your lips when you whimpered.

once the two of your finally needed to catch your breath, panting and mingling your breaths, he smiled cheekily. “how ‘bout we make up for lost time?”

you couldn’t help but return the same smile. “i think i like that idea.”

he wasted no time in grabbing the back of your thighs and lifting you up, heading straight for the guest room he claimed as his own.

[borgialucrezia]

#I will always wonder why rodrigo didn't just tell cesare from the beginning he intended him to become both pope and king?? #or at least when he started begging him for command of the papal armies?? #(personally think cesare still would've seen juan as a threat just because their father showed juan more warmth) #but it may have prevented juan being murdered by cesare's hand at least #not that I think it would've quelled his hatred toward juan completely #too bad rodrigo didn't account for cesare's ambition outweighing his love of his brother #or he probably would've said something much sooner #it's kinda ironic he claims he sees so much of himself in cesare and yet.....he completely underestimated cesare's ambition ( via @rhaenyra-targaryenn )

“Cesare wanted his brother dead. He waited for the moment when he felt it was right. He knows that it will change him forever and it will never be the same. A part of him thought it was the right thing, and part of him did it out of jealousy and envy. Once he made up his mind, it was set. He didn’t want to talk anymore, because he knew Juan could change his mind. But I think there was something chemical in his hatred for his brother as well that's always been there.” — FRANÇOIS ARNAUD explains Cesare's dark turn. "The final confession is his one chance to unburden his soul and he’s nice. He forgives people. He says he’s been in pain all this time, he notices when everyone else is concerned about him and their own hurting and their own pain. It proves that he’s sort of self-aware and probably hasn’t had the best life, so it kind of makes it even worse that he gets killed." — DAVID OAKES on Juan's finale moments.

SPECIAL FEATURES || BEHIND THE BORGIAS: Juan's demise

[mcmansionhell]

pre-recession, post-taste

Hello, everyone. I hope this blog can bring some well-needed laughs in really trying times. That's why I've gone back into the archives of that precipitous year 2007, a year where the McMansion was sleepwalking into being a symbol of the financial calamity to follow. We return to the Chicago suburbs once more because they remain the highest concentration of houses in their original conditions. Thanks to our flipping predilection, these houses become rarer and rarer and I have to admit even I have developed a fondness for them as a result.

Our present house is ostensibly "French Provincial" in style, which is McMansion for "Chateaux designed by Carmela Soprano". It boasts 7 bedrooms, 8.5 bathrooms, and comes in at a completely reasonable 15,000 square feet. It can be yours for an equally reasonable $1.5 million.

Every 2007 McMansion needed two things: a plethora of sitting rooms and those dark wood floors. This house actually has around five or six sitting rooms (depending if you count the tiled sunroom) but for brevity's sake, I'll only provide two of them.

With regards to the second sitting room, I'm really not one to talk statuary here because beside me there is a bust of Dante where the sculptor made him look simultaneously sickly and lowkey hot.

Technically, if we are devising a dichotomy between sitting and not sitting (yes, I know about the song), the dining room also counts as a sitting room. The more chairs in your McMansion dining room, the more people allegedly like you enough to travel 2.5 hours in traffic to see you twice a year.

Here's the thing about nostalgia: the world as we knew it then is never coming back. In some ways this is sad (kitchens are entirely white now and marble countertops will look terrible in about 3 years) but in other ways this is very good (guys in manhattan have switched to private equity instead of betting the farm on credit default swaps made from junk mortgages proffered to America's most vulnerable and exploited populations.) Progress!

Okay I really don't understand the 50 bed pillows thing. Every night my parents tossed their gazillion decorative pillows on the floor just to put them back on the bed the next morning. Like, for WHAT? Who was going in there? The Pope?

Here's a fun one for your liminal spaces moodboards. (Speaking for myself.)

Yes, I know about skibidi toilet. And sticking out your gyatt for the rizzler. I wish I didn't. I wish I couldn't read. Literacy is like a mirror in which I only see the aging contours of my face.

When your kids move out every room becomes a guest room.

Anyway, let's see what the rear of this house has to offer.

The migratory birds will not forgive them for their crimes. But also seriously, not even a garden?

Anyway, that does it for this round of McMansion Hell. Happy Halloween!

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