#namely because not everyone coming in necessarily knows what they are yet

[halfbakedpolymath]

At the risk of hitting a hornets nest, here is my two cents about the whole who-can-use-crip-punk debate.

To the 'physical only' side: Yes, you are gatekeeping. The desire is understandable but it's really not a good idea. I can't put my finger on it right now but so much of the stuff I've seen from this side makes me feel very uncomfortable. The line between physical and mental disorders does not exist for starters. Someone who needs mild glasses is technically physically disabled but imo has waaaaay less right to the term than say, someone who is schizophrenic. I think splitting things up is unhelpful especially if you start policing, but if you're gonna go for divisions then you need to be more accurate and talk about mobility impaired or chronic illness or chronic pain. What about memory problems? Dexterity problems? Learning difficulties?

Also like, infighting harms us all? Even if you're right what are you gaining by this discussion?

To the 'ND can reclaim crip punk' side: You need to be respectful and you need to self police. The movement is not about you. You are welcome at the table! But depending on the discussion and depending on where you exist along the physical Vs mental spectrum (because it's not black and white) you need to take a back seat and decentre yourself. Realise that you're here in part as the target group and in part as a sibling invited to the table. You can and should listen to our perspectives! You can and should use that to inform your insights into your own disorders! You can and should feel welcome and safe! BUT. You should know your experiences aren't universal. You should know the discussion is centred on physical disability and that there are other spaces more focused on mental health, and you should act accordingly. You should not talk over the people who the space is for. You're an ally, a sibling, a partial member, and you need to use judgement and tact. As for reclaiming the word itself? Honestly just use your best judgement. Even I, a physically disabled person, only feel partial ownership over the term, because I'm not the type of physically disabled it would traditionally have been used for.

Imo your personal us of terms and how they relate to your person is individual. But you do have a responsibility to not derail the original purpose, not centre yourself, not change the meanings involved.

The movement is centred on physical disability. If you feel you belong here, you belong here. You (and others) don't need to know specifically if that's as a full or partial member, or as a sibling or ally. But you need to be aware that those distinctions are floating about and try to be respectful of them.

[enchantressiren]

❝𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡, 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐚𝐧𝐬, 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬. 𝐈’𝐦 𝐬𝐨 𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲.❞

What makes your future lover horny around you? (Detailed)

Masterlist.

Authors note,

Finding matching dividers and photos were a nightmare, unfortunately, but I also deeply missed my old theme.

Divider.

Pile 01. 

“You’re such a sweetheart, I wish I knew you before. I wish I waited for you instead of being in a relationship with her. I wished..” There are a lot of wishes from your future person and a lot of regrets from their past relationship. A lot of pain surrounds their heart, yet when it comes to you, their mind is crystal clear, and they know they are with the right person. You make them feel okay and safe and helped them understand their own emotions. A lot of healed energy and open-minded individuals here. I hear a lot of thanks from them; you also helped them realize their sexuality, yet you do not feel disgusted by them. A lot of them met close-minded individuals, and their minds have been accustomed to feeling ashamed and fearful about who they really are. You are their safe haven. 

Now, what makes your future spouse horny around you? A lot of things, they’re so romantically beautiful that my heart is fluttering for you. An immense feeling of serenity flows through me. 

The way you speak to them, you are always calm around them, and you speak/ooze elegance. Their hearts flutter, and this usually turns them on.

The way you command others to notice you, whether it is intentionally or not. You make others notice you so easily, which is also how you make your fp notice you or how your fp has noticed you. 

I see a scene where someone is wearing something that shines and makes others notice it. The outfit is your aesthetic; it doesn’t matter what it is. The vibe is this dark blue hue mixed with a saturated gray, but there is a spotlight on them. Everyone is watching their every move and cannot get enough of them. There are other socialites in this scene, yet everyone needs to notice this person. This is your energy, you steal others' spotlight, thus doing the same with your fp. Your dominant energy turns your fp on like a madman, and I can hear them masturbating while muttering your name.

Your word choices, your fp sees you full of richness. Your vocabulary is broad, and they think your intelligence is on another level. I see you saying filthy words to them during sex in a romanticized language, or your native language, and this is their killer. Their heart will beat like crazy, they will become sweaty and become aroused on the spot. Some will literally orgasm on the spot depending on their sex drive and yours (so this varies). 

This may seem normal to you, but to them this is.. Not sure how to explain it, but it is something else. Your healing nature is their turn on. So, as mentioned, their ex messed them up and there was a lot of toxic energy surrounding them with her (yes, regardless of their gender), but with you—it’s very healthy and romantic. For some reason (their words), it turns them on a lot. You could be setting up a boundary and explaining why, and their mind drifts to fucking you endlessly. Then they have to remind themselves to listen, and they will—every little word that comes from your mouth, the detail of where they are, every movement of yours, but ultimately go back to those thoughts. Again, this also comes back to your presence and how you make everyone drawn to you effortlessly. 

During sex, you tend to squirm around the person you make out with spontaneously, just something your body has been doing forever. For them, they find it adorable and cannot get enough of it. Some of you feel insecure about it, but you shouldn’t because it is one of their favorites. Now, it doesn’t necessarily turn them on, but it plays a part in your presence. Addictive is what pops into mind.

Seriously, your presence is incredible, so healing and nurturing and your presence itself is going to bring so many suitors into your life that you may feel overwhelmed. So make sure to tend to yourself and distance from energy vampires that will appear as your future lover; do not ignore your gut feeling or intuition around certain people despite how others speak kindly about them. Not everything meets the eye.

Your hardworking ability and determination are one of their turn ons. They have or will speak about this to their mother, hiding parts of their fantasy of you fucking them/pegging them endlessly while using a tie around their neck to control them but also choke them. A lot of rough fantasies, but aside from this. They adore how you work so hard to get what you want instead of projecting envious energy onto others and being bitter. Once again, this is normal for you, but for them and others around you, it is so refreshing. Also, they will peek around when you are working and admire your body and hope that you will not see them despite you knowing they are and accentuating your body for their eyes. 

Channeled song:

Climax - Djo 

✮ Masterlist.

Pile 02. 

With how you make them smile instantly. They have a rough and biker type of personality. Very heartwarming and soft with the right person yet so gruff. With you though, they are able to let loose, which makes it easier for them to show that they do become aroused by you. They have had instances where they could not or were not allowed by people they used to know. They have never been in a relationship, which has resulted in them being bitter, so do expect rough sex from time to time. I do find it ironic with how they have never had sex before, but you do teach them everything you know and they are able to adapt to the details and your body movement. 

You are an unbothered person and very laid back. They are someone who will overthink and let their insecurities interfere with their words, so sometimes they will try to assert their ‘dominance’ with you. The reality is: they want you to dominate them despite what they are actually saying. They have a lot of bratty energy, or scared bratty energy. Your unbothered personality turns them on and will make them realize they like being dominated, but it also pisses them off since they are used to others being intimidated by them and cowering away. 

They will become turned on by how you always wear something sexy or any type of accessory that is appealing to the male’s gaze, regardless of your and their gender. Something about them gets them going, and they will let you step on them, both metaphorically and physically. 

I see an image where someone is wearing red heels and clear stockings holding a baton as their lover's hands are tied with their used stocking after they came. And their lover is begging for them to touch them, but the person will not. The lover's main focus is their high heel as the image zooms onto it. Your fp main focus will be that sexy outfit or accessory whenever they can get their hands on you or if you are taking control. I feel a lot of vers energy despite you being prone to take the bottom role. I see them encouraging you and making you feel confident too.

This isn’t something that turns them on, but it is necessary for me to say. They love your legs. A lot of you feel insecure about it, and some of you feel shameful for not shaving your legs’ hair, but mind you, they will be worshiping your mind no matter what. If you were to insult them or your leg, expect them to drag you anywhere and kiss them so hard in an attempt to make a hickey but for it to fail miserably. 

Your tongue skills are to die for. The second you even mention oral to them, they will be aroused, and their heart will start to race like heartburn. Overwhelming sensations will drape around their body and make them into a mummy. This only comes down to when you do give them oral, as they will be your sucker. You could even bribe them or give a peace offering for oral and you will receive instant obliviousness or forgiveness. But they do know that it is their weakness, so they won’t be bothered or insulted by it. I see the both of you using this as a tease or a joke with others (when they become comfortable with the idea). 

I mentioned how they will worship you and have bratty energy, but I also feel toxic alpha energy. The meaning fits their personality when you meet and get to know one another but it is hidden perfectly. You will notice it and some of you will brush it off. They grew up in a toxic environment where toxic masculinity and misogynistic traits were normalized for them, and they believe it is their duty to do everything without getting help from anyone, hence the gruffness in their lovely personality. There are a lot of internalized misogynistic traits with them that they may project onto you, so when they do ask you out, make them wait for you for a few months or 1-2 years (depending on your gut feeling) and call them out for their behavior because it will be a toxic relationship if you do not. Calling them out makes them change for the better, so you can actually see the lovely personality I spoke of.

If you do make them wait, the relationship will blossom into something pretty.. Like a sakura tree. Their energy after they heal and are with you is so enchanting and soothing, it makes you desire to sit at a pond and read a book with one another while gazing at the clouds passing by. The breeze brushes on your skin, leaving a subtle chill, and their gaze from your body to your lips as you speak will send shivers both on your body. Their respectful movements with you will make you melt..

I could write a book on how beautiful the relationship will become, but that is for you to find out and for me to know. 

Channeled songs:

She calls me daddy - KiNG MALA

Sweet but psycho - Ava Max

✮ Masterlist.

Pile 03.

How many people do you have chasing after you? Your sex appeal is off the roof; I see so many people similar to a zombie horde chasing after you and begging you for your attention; the same goes for your fp. Some of you do manifestation techniques and affirm for sex appeal beauty, something about being sexy or being a queen/god, and an aura that draws people in and it’s working. This is how you will attract your fp. Some of you have met them and you know it’s them because you manifested them, and for those that haven't, they will come to you in April, May, June, or if you start to see things that have ‘’mars,’’ you are close. 

Now, what makes your fp horny around you?

They become aroused when you are boastful, cocky, and straight up arrogant. They remind me of a puppy, always following their owner, no matter what and always needing them. 

You have a seductive walk, you move and walk like a serpent. It’s silent, smooth, and confident, but you have this movement that draws its prey to you. I cannot explain the energy I am feeling, but I know that you know what I mean because you have been affirming it. 

You wear a lot of red and gold, red lipsticks, red eye shadow, gold suits, dark red suits, dresses that show a lot of skin, etc. You ooze the definition of sex appeal, and your fp sees it for themselves, and they desire for you to tie them up with red chains into your prey to devour. 

Is snakes your favorite or something you feel connected to? Your energy fits a snake in the best and worst ways. Meaning, you’re cunning as one but tantalizing as their eyes. You seriously pull people in, and I feel hypnotized as I do your reading. Your energy is secretive as a snake, but so open as the inside of their body when consuming their prey. You’re going to hypnotize them so well, and it happens accidentally. In that moment, you forget about your affirmations and techniques and meet them, even if you have met them (but you already knew that because it feels natural for you).

The way you move during sex. Your body movement is slow and smooth; your moves are sensual, as if you were a dancer for centuries. It reminds me of Egyptian belly dancers and their pharaoh would watch and enjoy. Your beauty and moves make them so horny that if you blew on their sensitive spot, they would instantly squirt.

You’re a secretive person, and you tell them small things about yourself, and they are itching for more. But the thing that turns them on is how you describe your past experiences, the words you use.. It is not meant to be suggestive, yet it is. 

Your tongue movement. You either lick your teeth sensually, flick your tongue, nibble or bite your lips, or do all of them and play with your hair in a subtle movement to make them notice you when they are busy with something. This catches their attention so fast and they will feel hot and bothered. 

Lap dances are your specialty, and if not now, in the future it will be because you wanted to tease them and be mischievous. Your lap dances compared to their last experiences always make them cum.. And it won’t even be 10 minutes in. And you will chuckle at them and play with their hair, and their cheeks will become so flushed they squirt.

There are so many things you will do that make your fp horny, but I have to stop it here because your energy is so strong that I felt like a sailor and you were the sirens singing to me and I was about to drown—I cannot write anymore (omg). Some of you have been manifesting for the ones I have written, and now that you have seen it, congratulations on your dedication and consistency for your desires. And to your fp, good luck to them because your energy—whew. 

Channeled song:

APT - ROSÉ and Bruno Mars

✮ Masterlist.

[yelsapo]

I honestly think this episode was meant to be confusing in a sort of Alice-in-Wonderland-ish way, where the loose ends won't/aren't meant to be tied up later. It's confusing and random, but that's the point.

Kate tells Ruby, "It's what we all do. We see something inexplicable and invent the rules to make it work."

And I think that might be exactly what Ruby does. Stick with me PLEASE

The premise of the episode opens with a superstition: a fairy circle. Something surrounded by stories and myths that don't necessarily make sense, and yet many people form their entire lifestyles around these belief systems because they explain the unexplainable for them.

The woman that follows Ruby appears to chase people away from her, or convince them to abandon her, which is clearly a common theme within Ruby as a character. She's afraid of being abandoned.

Typically breaking a superstition means that you're going to suffer some sort of misfortune as a result, right? If you were to break a superstition that you believed in (ie. ruining a fairy circle), what misfortune would you fear most happening to you? For Ruby, it probably centers around her fear of abandonment.

We know that Ruby is supernatural in some way. She's definitely not a typical human. She can make it snow on command? Who's to say that the "silly little explanations" that she makes up to make sense of her unknown don't ACTUALLY come to fruition. What if she has the power to do that?

So, let start from the beginning. Ruby and the Doctor break a fairy circle, an action which culturally means bad luck. In Ruby's mind, her worst luck would be to be abandoned by everyone, and to never find her birth mother in the end. And that's exactly what happens.

Roger Ap William is a name mentioned by the Doctor in the first couple of minutes of 73 yards. The only information that is given is that he was evil, welsh, and almost brought the world to nuclear destruction. That's all Ruby knows. Mad Jack appears at first to be some arbitrary name Ruby reads on a piece of paper, but is later revealed to literally be Roger Ap William? How coincidental is that? I don't think that Roger and Mad Jack are actually the same person. In fact, Mad Jack probably WAS just someone's dog. They were just two names that Ruby had recently heard, and then drew an imaginary line between. To further the point, Roger is SUCH a caricature. His only three personality traits are quite literally evil, welsh, and likes nukes, which is all the Ruby knew about him.

Throughout the episode Ruby finds herself in a situation that doesn't make sense, so she comes up with her own explanations to make them make sense. She invents her own rules and her own mission. She comes up with a string of tasks that aren't logical to us, but it's the explanation she has come up with given the information that she had. She's convinced herself that it makes sense. She starts to form her lifestyle around a belief system that she created because it explains the supernatural she is experiencing.

And because of whatever supernatural abilities surround her, she's actually making her percepetion of reality the REAL reality.

(Edit: Not to mention that superstitions have been a common theme this season (ie. 14 invoking that salt superstition in WBY kicked off this season's entire plot) AND WBY is the first case in which we see Susan Twist as well...

It all leads back to that moment.)

[cleo-fox]

Wildest Dreams

Summary: It's nearing ten o’clock at night and James Conrad is standing on your doorstep.

Pairing: James Conrad x Female Reader

Warnings: Smut, 18+, Minors DNI, dirty talk, praise kink, sex, vaginal fingering, oral sex (female receiving), friends to lovers, mutual pining.

Series: A Girl Back Home (no masterlist for this yet, but that's what I'm calling this series). Come Back, Be Here is the quasi-sequel to this.

A/N: Sometimes, you're having a conversation with @sarahscribbles and something she says triggers your latent James Conrad brainrot and words happen. Saz, this is dedicated to you. 😘 (Also, everyone go read her stuff).

It's nearing ten o’clock at night and James Conrad is standing on your doorstep.

You didn’t even think he was in the country—last you’d heard, he was somewhere in Vietnam. Not that he was exactly keeping you apprised of his movements. The nature of his work means that he turns up or calls unexpectedly and sends letters inconsistently. It’s something that you’ve grown used to over the years—you’ve had no other choice, really.

The question, though, of whether or not you’ll be waiting for him is not really a question so much as it is an inevitability. Of course you will. You always will. Like it or not, the man is your weakness, your Achilles heel, the crack in your armor.

Your hands shake as you fumble with the latch and chain and open the door.

There’s a moment where you catch his first, unguarded expression—a flicker of relief, so quick you might miss it if you didn’t know him as well as you do. It strikes you as odd—you’d expect him to be glad to see you, perhaps, but relieved? Not necessarily. Especially not after the last time you’d seen him—that disastrous Christmas two years ago when wine and seasonal sadness had prompted you to say more than you intended about your feelings for him.

He’d said you were better off as friends.

It still stings, even thinking of it now. You haven’t spoken of it since. He hadn’t been back since then, either—that in and of itself wasn’t necessarily unusual for him, but you couldn’t help but wonder if there was more to his absence this time around.

Before you can think about whether it’s a good idea, you’re stepping forward to embrace him. You always forget how tall he is, how he takes up space and towers over you, how that makes you feel small and safe. He still smells the same—Ivory soap with a hint of cloves and a little bit of musk—and your name still sounds too good in that deep purr of a baritone.

“It’s good to see you,” he says into your ear.

Is it just you or is he holding you awfully tight?

It’s probably just you. Isn’t that the sad theme of all of this? Just you with the feelings, just you with the broken heart. Just you, secretly pining for him since university and having it all come to nothing. Just you. Alone as always.

“You too,” you say, even though seeing him makes all the old bruises and scars on your heart ache with a renewed fervor. You release him and gesture to your door. “Come in.”

You notice a cut on his left cheek, a small, yellowing bruise blooming around the edges of it. It must be a few days old. He carries a duffle bag slung over his back—a huge, beat up leather thing he’s had since university. He sets it on the floor as you lock up behind him.

“What are you doing here?” spills out of your mouth before you can think about how it sounds, despite the fact that your eyes are drinking him in like he’s water in a desert. “I thought you were in Vietnam.”

“Pacific,” he says. There’s a slight shadow in his expression, like there’s something he doesn’t want to say. “Just got back this evening.”

“Do you want tea?” It’s the only thing you can think to do.

“Please,” he says.

You don’t need to ask him how he takes it because you know. English Breakfast, splash of cream, no sugar. You could make it in your sleep.

You busy yourself in the kitchen, fishing out a packet of shortbread biscuits from the back of your cupboard while the kettle boils. Out of habit, you take out the pair of chipped mugs you’ve had since university. You’d unintentionally taken one from the refectory during a particularly sleepless week in the middle of exams and been too embarrassed to return it. He’d teased you about it at first, but he had then stolen his own mug the following week in what he described as “solidarity with your crimes.” When you moved into your first apartment, he’d given you his as a housewarming gift.

“This could really hurt my career if they found out about it,” he’d said solemnly as his eyes danced with barely repressed laughter. “I thought it would be best to give it to you for safe keeping.”

You’d rolled your eyes and laughed at him then, but you always wrapped them extra carefully when you moved—as though by keeping those mugs whole, you could also keep Conrad safe.

The faint ghost of a smile that you catch when you bring the tea and biscuits out to the living room warms your heart and gives you a little spark of hope. Perhaps all isn’t lost. Maybe things can go back to the way they were before that disaster of a Christmas.

You set the mugs and shortbread down on the table and take your seat next to him on the couch.

Your tea is still too hot, but you pick it up anyway, just to give your hands something to do. Maybe the slight sting of the hot ceramic against your palms will help you keep you grounded.

“I presume you’re not telling me where in the Pacific for a reason,” you say.

He nods. “Correct.”

He looks tired, you think. There’s a tightness in his jaw that’s new, a distant look in his eyes that seems different than his usual brand of stoicism. You want to be annoyed by his lack of detail, but the weariness makes you pause.

“Are you all right?” you ask.

His laugh is short and humorless. “As I ever was.” 

You tilt your head. “That’s not really an answer.”

He exhales, running a hand through his hair. “It was a difficult job.” He pauses for a moment, his gaze sliding to the wall across the room, to a landscape painting you’d found at a thrift shop. “I didn't know if I’d make it back, to be quite honest.”

You’ve never seen him like this before and it’s somewhere beyond disorienting. Conrad is ruthlessly capable and appropriately confident; the idea of something being beyond his skill set is baffling as it is unsettling.

“I’m glad you did,” you say softly.

You expect him to give you a slight half smile, perhaps nudge his shoulder against yours. But instead, his gaze remains fixed on the middle distance, an odd, melancholy sort of cast to his blue eyes.

“You don’t really seem like you’re all right,” you say gently.

There at last is that little half smile that you were expecting. Somehow, it’s less comforting than you thought it would be.

“There’s a certain amount of clarity that you get from an experience like that,” he says evenly. “You're forced to confront a lot of things. Choices you’ve made. People you’ve hurt.”

You think he’s referring to what happened two years ago and you try not to flinch. He can’t know that you still think about that, that you’re still hurting. That you haven’t stopped loving him, even though you’ve pretended that you have.

He pauses for another moment, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. “In the moments when I thought I wasn’t coming back, the only thing I could think about was you.”

Air vanishes from your lungs. You’re afraid to even hope, as if even acknowledging the possibility would jinx it.

“What do you mean by that?” you ask, your voice barely louder than a whisper.

He finally looks at you and your heart creeps into your throat. “I was not entirely honest with you at Christmas.”

You realize that you’re holding your breath, but you can’t help it.

“I thought that by turning you away, I was keeping you safe,” he says. “I thought by hiding the truth, I was saving you from a lot of pain.”

Your heart is pounding. You lick your lips. If he means what you hope he means, you need to hear him say it—you can’t believe it otherwise. 

“And what is the truth, James?” Your voice wobbles just a little bit.

His gaze is locked on you, infinite as the stars. “The truth is that I’ve been in love with you for years,” he says softly. “And when I thought I wasn’t coming back, all I could think about was how much I regretted not telling you.”

In the moments leading up to this, it felt as though time was slowing. This is the moment, though, where everything stops. In this moment, it’s just the two of you—Conrad with those devastating blue eyes that peer right into your soul and you with your broken heart and wounded pride.

He wanted you all this time.

You raise a shaking hand to wipe away the tear that’s somehow escaped the corner of your eye.

All this time.

“You have every right to be angry with me.” His voice is low and soft, just for you to hear. “And I understand if you need time. But I came here tonight to tell you that if you still want me, I’m yours.”

You are feeling entirely too much. You want to kiss him. You want to scream at him. You want to hold him and never let go.

All this time.

“James, I—” Your voice catches in your throat and you take a deep breath, fighting back a sob that’s bubbling in your chest. You set your tea back down on the table. Your hands are shaking. 

“I—I don’t even know where to start. I—” Your voice catches again on that sob in your chest. You pause again to collect yourself. You open your mouth to speak and a strangled sort of laugh tumbles from your lips instead.

“God.” You wipe another stray tear from your cheek. “You’re such a fucking idiot. I mean, not just for making all those assumptions about what was best for me, but also just—” Your voice catches again and you pause. “I never stopped wanting you.”

The corner of his mouth twitches slightly and there’s a flicker of something like hope in his eyes. “Does that mean you’ve forgiven me?”

You take a shaky breath. “Yes and no.” You wipe your eyes with the back of your hand. “You should have asked me if safe was what I wanted, instead of just making that decision for me.”

He nods. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“Nothing is safe, James,” you continue. “It’s an illusion at best. You could live a perfectly dull life in the suburbs and be hit by a bus on your way to your perfectly dull job.” You pause, weighing the words that you want to say next. “I never wanted safe,” you say, your voice catching again in your throat. “I just wanted you.”

There’s a moment of quiet and Conrad looks well and truly chastened.

You take another deep breath and reach for his hand. The look that he gives you then—like he’s afraid to hope that youstill want him—is almost enough to make you abandon what you want to say next and kiss him on the spot. 

“I know what I want,” you say quietly. “I understand the risks. You don’t need to throw yourself on the sword to protect me and you certainly don’t need to make those decisions for me. I need you to understand that if this is going to work.”

He nods. “I do.”

“Okay.” You exhale. “Will you shut up and kiss me now?”

The look of relief on his face is like sunshine.

“Come here,” he says softly, pulling you into his lap, your legs framing his hips. He cups your face in his hands, looking at you like you’re something wonderful, like he can’t believe you’re his.

Then he takes a deep breath and finally closes the gap between you.

You’ve waited years for this kiss. From the early days of your friendship coalescing around late nights and stale coffee and jokes that are only funny at two o’clock in the morning to the agony of watching him leave for basic training and then Vietnam and god knows where else. This kiss was never guaranteed—and in part, that’s why it’s so good. It could have been taken from you by any number of dangers or even just Conrad’s own foolish need to protect you.

But you finally have it and it’s everything you had thought it would be.

His mouth is slow and soft against yours, his tongue moving in a gentle caress that makes you feel every year of waiting and yearning and hoping. You mourn the years lost, but you can’t help but savor how perfect it feels as a result. Your hands map the sharp lines of his jaw and cheekbones as your tongue traces the soft line of his lips. You want to remember every part of this moment—every part of him. 

It’s a few minutes later when you part, both of you slightly breathless. You rest your forehead against his.

“I shouldn’t have waited so long,” he says softly. His eyes are still shut.

You press your lips against his forehead. “Make it up to me, then.”

He slides a hand up to the back of your neck and pulls you back into another kiss.

You can feel the press of his growing erection against your thigh, but for now, it’s enough to just kiss him, to let your body melt against his and feel his hands in your hair, on your hips, framing your face. He makes a low, soft noise in the back of his throat when you nip at his lower lip, somewhere between a moan and a sigh and you think it might be the best sound you’ve ever heard.

But the longer you kiss him, the more you want, and it slowly begins to build a far more frantic need low in your hips. His hands become bolder, sliding along the curve of your waist and hips, stroking your thighs, squeezing your ass as he pulls you ever closer. You, in turn, press yourself more firmly against him, rolling your hips against his until he makes that low groaning sound that leaves you weak.

But it’s his hand wandering up to slip that first button on your blouse that makes you pull away from him, breathless.

“Bed?” You intend it as a question, but it sounds a little more like a plea.

His smile is devilish as he undoes the second button. “I thought you’d never ask.” His gaze slides back down to your open blouse and he quickly slips the third and fourth buttons.

“I thought we were going to bed,” you say with a smirk as the final two buttons come undone.

“We are,” he says as he pulls your blouse off your shoulders. You shiver under the weight of his gaze as he stares greedily at your breasts. 

“You seem a little distracted,” you say.

“Well, I can’t very well leave a job undone,” he says, trailing a finger along the scalloped edge of your bra. “It wouldn’t be proper.”

“Yes, you seem deeply concerned with propriety,” you say, shooting a pointed glance at his finger.

“Very much so,” he murmurs, his fingertips caressing the curve of your breast and then skimming behind your back to unhook the clasp in one single, swift motion.

The straps slip down off your shoulders and he tugs the garment away from you.

He lets out a low groan as he looks at you, which sends a bolt of slick desire straight to your cunt. His hands cup your breasts.

“Perfect,” he murmurs, rolling his thumbs against the sensitive skin of your nipples. You squirm slightly in his lap and he gets a devilish look in his eyes.

His mouth quickly replaces his right hand on your breast.

He’s too good with his mouth. That’s the first thought you have as his lips and tongue cover your breast. But then he catches your nipple between his teeth and gently teases and pulls at the sensitive skin until it puckers and hardens in the heat of his mouth. Your hands rake through his hair, curling into a fist when he finds a particularly good spot. You are arching into his touch, your hips rolling mindlessly against his. 

“James,” you gasp out. “Bed, please.”

He laughs quietly against your breast. You expect him to release you, but instead he moves his mouth to your right breast.

“Fuck,” you hiss as his tongue and teeth exert the same kind of blissful madness on your right breast while his hand kneads and teases the left.

You find yourself torn between begging him not to stop and begging him to take you to bed and you’re honestly not sure which one you want more. But a minute or so later, he releases you, lips curling into a smirk. 

“I think you enjoyed that impropriety,” he says, eyes sparkling with a combination of desire and laughter that leaves you dizzy. 

“You’re on thin ice, James Conrad,” you say, though you can’t hide your smile.

Desire overshadows the laughter in his expression, like the moon eclipsing the sun. “Let me take you to bed and earn my forgiveness, then,” he says.

You slide off his lap onto wobbly legs, but you don’t have to worry about it for very long because he immediately sweeps you into his arms and carries you down the hall to your bedroom.

In your room, he sets you down on your bed and divests you of your jeans with such speed and efficiency you find yourself wondering if it was part of his training.

You slide back on the unmade bed, looking up at him as he looms above you, handsome and a little dangerous in the moonlight that breaks through your curtains.

He allows himself a moment to just look at you, his gaze moving slowly up your body, drinking you in like he’ll never have enough.

Finally, he crawls onto the bed, his gaze intent and hungry, filled with purpose.

He stops at your hips, spreading your thighs wide, licking his lips as he looks you over before lowering himself to kiss the gusset of your underwear.

You can feel the hot rush of his breath against your cunt, the thin, damp fabric the only thing that separates you from the warmth of his mouth. He kisses the fabric again, his nose nudging against your clit.

“James,” you choke out.

This is all he needs tonight. His hands immediately go to your waistband and pull the fabric down and off your hips.

You both groan at the first brush of his mouth against your cunt, though the noise you make is admittedly much closer to a whimper. His tongue circles your clit slowly at first, teasing and tasting and testing until he finds the motion that makes you gasp his name.

You’d thought he was joking about earning your forgiveness, but the way he moves is as though he believes his absolution is truly on the line.

Or maybe he’s just really good at this, you think. It might not be that deep. You don’t need to overth—

Almost as though he can tell that too many of your brain cells are available for coherent thought, he slides one long index finger into you, curling and searching until he finds the spot that makes you gasp and dig your heels into the firm muscles of his back.

He’s building a warm, whirling tension in your hips, burning bright as a meteor about to strike. You grasp at the bed sheets as the rolling crescendo of sensation threatens to overwhelm you. 

His free hand snakes up to find yours clasped in the sheets. His fingers twine with yours.

Something about this little gesture of affection after all those years of wanting and hoping strikes at something deep within you. You’ve never loved anyone like you’ve loved him. You don’t know that you ever will love anyone like you love him.

And maybe it’s that thought, or maybe it’s just a coincidence, but this is the moment you come completely undone.

You cry out as your back arches, pleasure rushing through you. His grip on your hand feels like the only thing keeping you tethered to reality as your whole body succumbs to the feeling. He slows the pace of his tongue to match the rolling swells of the aftershocks as they roll through you.

“James.” It’s the first coherent word you say and he draws away from your cunt reluctantly, though not before placing a soft, lingering kiss against your clit.

Before you can make a joke about how he’s overdressed, he’s sitting up and peeling that ridiculously tight shirt over his head. Your lips part as you feast your eyes on that beautiful expanse of muscle, firm and perfectly sculpted—

—and painted with a massive bruise across his ribs, brilliant and purple as a sunset.

Your post-orgasmic stupor is momentarily forgotten as you roll to your knees, crawling over to him. “You’re hurt.”

He looks confused for a moment before following the path of your gaze. “Oh, that. It’s nothing. Looks a lot worse than it is.”

“The same way your broken finger was nothing?” you say, fingertips trailing to just beneath the edges of the bruise. The broken finger had happened in your last year of university during an unsanctioned game of rugby. He had insisted it was just sprained, even though it was nearly black in color. You knew better and had dragged him to the hospital, where he was informed that not only was his finger broken, but that it was so badly broken that he’d need surgery to set it. Over the years, it had evolved into your go-to example of why he needed to listen to you, the damning piece of evidence that proved he could be too stoic and hardheaded for his own good.

Privately, though, it was also your way of saying that you cared about him, that you worried that his high tolerance for pain and admittedly impressive abilities might lead to him not asking for help when he needed it.

He rolls his eyes, but his gaze is fond. “You’re never going to drop that, are you?”

“Never. You should know that by now.” You put your hands on his shoulders. Should you tell him what you feel? You hesitate for just a moment, but it’s enough for him to notice.

“What is it?” he asks.

You suck in a deep breath. “I want you to be okay with me caring about you.” Your voice is softer than you intend.

He frowns slightly and places his hands on your hips. “How do you mean?”

“Stuff like this,” you say, tracing the edge of the bruise. “I know you say it’s nothing but…” You swallow. “And maybe it is but…you’ve always acted a little like my caring about you—even as a friend—was this massive liability for me.” You place your hand over the bruise. “And it’s never felt that way to me at all.”

You can’t quite read his expression. “What does it feel like?” he asks.

You move your hand over his heart, feeling the steady, even beat under your fingers. “Like you’re someone that I love and I want you to be okay,” you say softly. “Is that really so horrible?”

He runs a thumb along your jaw, leaning his forehead against yours. “Not at all,” he says.

You pause for a moment, your hand on his heart. “I just—I don’t want safe, okay? Just you. Let’s start with that.”

“Okay.” His eyes trail down your face to your lips, but he waits for you to close the gap.

You do.

There’s a part of you that wonders if you said too much too soon, if you have instead succeeded in scaring him off, but he kisses you so deeply that it immediately mutes your anxiety, blunting the cacophony of your fears into a muffled background noise that’s easy to dismiss. When your hand starts to drift toward his belt buckle, he pulls away, the desire in his eyes setting your body aflame. “On your back, my lovely,” he says softly.

You lie back on the bed, staring greedily as he finishes undressing.

He cuts a striking figure, lit by the moonlight streaming in through the curtains. Even with that wicked bruise splashed across his ribs, he still looks like something divine and he’s staring at you like you’re equally remarkable. The thought makes you shiver.

The mattress dips as he crawls back onto the bed and positions himself over your body.

The tip of his cock nudges against your stomach. You reach between your bodies, wrapping your fingers around the hard length of him. He’s long and thick, big in a way that makes your toes curl in anticipation. A low, pleased groan rumbles in his chest.

He leans in to kiss you as you stroke him slowly, savoring every sound he makes, every sharp intake of breath. After a moment, he places his hand over yours, guiding your hand away. You angle your hips up toward him, wrapping one leg around his waist.

He presses the tip of his cock against your soaking cunt and you suck in a sharp breath. He looks at you and grins as he slowly drags his cock from your entrance to your clit and back, coating himself in your slickness.

“You’re a tease,” you say.

“Just making sure you’re ready for me,” he says, eyes glinting too much for that to be the whole truth.

“I can tell when you’re lying, you know.”

The tip of his cock slowly slips inside you and you gasp.

“Can you?” he says casually, like you’re just having a chat over drinks. He eases back out.

“What happened to the man who was going to earn his forgiveness?” you say.

He grins, pressing his cock back against your entrance. “Oh, I think you’re enjoying this.”

It’s a difficult assertion to deny, especially with the way he rocks into you slowly, each time going just a little deeper—but never quite deep enough—before drawing back. It’s not long before your hips are rocking with his, urging him deeper.

“More,” you breathe.

A smirk curls at his lips. “More?”

You don’t know that you have the words to describe the particular empty ache you feel, or the fact that you know it’s only going to be soothed by the steady, rocking thrust of his cock fully inside you. “Please,” you say instead. “Please.”

“I’ve waited too long not to savor you,” he says. He eases inside you another inch or so before pausing.

“James.” There’s desperation in your voice that you’ve never heard before, a slight whimper that makes you feel wild with need. “I need you.”

“You’ll have me, darling,” he says as he leans in to kiss you. He’s easing forward slowly, but this time, he keeps going until he’s buried to the hilt, hips flush against yours. You whimper, relishing the feeling of him inside you, close as you can be.

“Good girl,” he murmurs against your lips. “I knew you could take me.”

You can’t help the way your body reacts to his praise or the soft moan that falls from your lips.

He notices. Of course he does. You feel him smirk as he kisses you and he pulls back slightly to look at you. “Do you like hearing me call you my good girl?”

You nod, but you don’t need to—your cunt flutters around him, tensing.

“Oh, I can feel how much you like that.” He lowers his voice. “My lovely, good girl.”

He slowly rocks his hips once and your breath hitches.

“So very, very good,” he purrs. “You’re taking me so well, darling. And every time I call you my good girl, you feel even better.”

You shudder again as he settles into a devastatingly slow rhythm. Maybe it’s his size or maybe he just knows his angles, but he’s hitting every sensitive place inside you in just the right way and god, you never want him to stop.

“Do you want to be very good for me?” he says in that same low voice.

“Yes,” you breathe. It’s hard to describe how much you want to please him, how much you want him to say your name in that low, deep purr of a voice and tell you that you feel incredible, that you’re doing so well for him. You want to give yourself over to him, let him claim you as his.

“If you want to be very good for me,” he continues, “you’ll come on my cock.”

“Yes,” you say. “Please.”

“Let’s see what we can do about that.” He’s shifting his weight slightly, propping himself up on his left arm, bringing his right hand to your clit. His fingers slowly roll over the throbbing bundle of nerves and you moan.

“Oh, that feels good, doesn’t it?” he says. “I don’t think you’re going to last very long if I keep doing this.”

You whimper something that might have been words at one point, but disintegrated into an unintelligible mess of vowels and consonants somewhere between your brain and your mouth.

“In fact,” he says, his voice dropping impossibly low, “maybe you’re going to be a very, very good girl and come more than once on my cock.”

You whimper, your hips rolling with his. The combination of his fingers on your clit and his cock inside of you is driving you crazy, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

“Can you do that for me, sweetheart?” he rasps. “Can you be a good girl and come on my cock?”

You can feel your orgasm building, that coil in your hips winding tighter and tighter. You nod.

“Look at me and tell me what you want,” he says.

“I—yes.”

“Yes what?”

“I want to come.”

He shakes his head. “That’s not what I said.”

“I want to come on your cock.”

“Still not quite right.”

Something like a combination of a laugh and a whine falls from your lips. “James—”

“I want to hear you say it, love. All of it.”

“Fuck—” You can feel yourself inching closer to the edge. 

“Tell me.”

“I want—” You shudder against your impending release. “I want…I want to be a good girl—and come on your cock.”

“Good girl,” he purrs, increasing his pace ever so slightly. “Now come for me.”

You’re not sure if it’s the fact that he made you say it out loud or because he told you to come or if it’s just a very well timed coincidence. Either way, your back is suddenly arching and your cunt is clamping down hard on his cock as you careen into an orgasm that makes your whole body tremble.

But as good as it feels, you can’t help but be captivated by Conrad—the way he slows his pace, the sound he makes. You can tell he’s struggling to stay in control and the fact that a man noted for his cool head and ruthless calm is struggling to keep his composure because of how you are making him feel is somewhere beyond incredible.

He pauses for a moment, seemingly to collect himself. He looks at you as you tremble through the aftershocks, drinking you in like he can’t quite believe the wonder of what he’s seeing.

“You’re heavenly,” he says softly.

You reach for him and he leans down to kiss you, his hips still moving at that agonizingly slow pace.

“I think it’s your turn, though,” you murmur against his lips.

He draws back and that intense, hungry look is back. “My turn?” he says, raising an eyebrow. “Did you not tell me you were going to be a good girl for me?”

“I just came on your cock,” you say. “Wasn’t that the agreement?”

“I believe I said that if you were very good, you would come more than once.” He accompanies this with a sharp thrust of his hips as he lowers his lips to your ear. “And I know you want to be very good.”

Your breath is already hitching, your back arching as your legs lock around his waist. “Fuck.”

His voice has dropped again to that low growl. “Do you know how utterly incredible you feel when you come?”

His fingers are back at your clit and you whine.

“It took every ounce of my strength not to spill myself inside you the moment your sweet cunt started trembling around me.” His breath is hot on your ear and you can’t help the way that your muscles clench around him.

He groans low in your ear. “Fuck. Yes. Like that.”

His pace is still so slow and steady and that almost makes the buildup more unbearable. You don’t understand how you’re already so close, but you can feel the tide of your orgasm rising once again.

“Oh god,” you moan.

“I can feel how close you are,” he growls. “And I’m not going to be able to hold back.”

“Come for me,” you say, your voice rough with desperation.

“You first,” he says. “Then I’ll make you mine.”

“I’ve always been yours,” you choke out before your voice cuts off with a cry as your orgasm starts to crest. It’s just as intense as your last one—the edges of your vision go white and fuzzy and you let out a primal moan.

Conrad’s pace increases as he fucks you through it, his mouth open in a soundless gasp.

“James,” you whimper.

He lets out a low moan seconds before you feel the warmth of his release inside you.

He leans down to kiss you and it’s as though you’re both moving through molasses—every touch, every sound feels slow and sweet. He finally lets his head drop to your shoulder when his hips still. He exhales slowly, the heat of his breath warming your shoulder.

“We should have been doing this for years,” he says after a moment.

“I mean, there was a reason why I called you a fucking idiot earlier.”

He lifts his head to look at you and he’s failing to hide his smile. “I suppose that’s difficult to dispute.”

You press a kiss against his forehead. “You can keep earning my forgiveness. I certainly enjoyed this first attempt.”

“Mmm, I have several other ideas.” He kisses you softly and slowly before slowly pulling away. “But let’s get cleaned up.”

He makes you stay in bed while he fetches a wet washcloth from your bathroom and carefully cleans you up. It’s sweet and intimate in a way you don’t expect—no one’s ever done this for you before. 

He returns to bed and you curl up together, your cheek resting on his chest, his fingers tracing patterns on your shoulder.

You’re quiet for a bit, mulling the question that sits on the tip of your tongue like the sword of Damocles, ready to fall and smash your easy peace to bits.

“What is it?” asks Conrad before you can summon the courage.

“Hmm?” you say, though you’re pretty sure he’s going to see through your lie.

“You’ve got something on your mind.”

You pause, wetting your lips. “How long are you in town?”

His grip on you tightens, like he understands. “For now, as long as you want me to be.”

You lift your head to give him a skeptical look. He strokes your cheek.

“I’ll have another job eventually,” he says. “But not quite yet.”

“Okay,” you say.

He’s quiet for a moment. “This part of it…it’s not going to be easy.”

You hear the unspoken part of this—he’s giving you a chance to back out, to call this a one off, to keep yourself safe.

“Once again, I never said I wanted easy,” you say. “I just want you.”

He draws you closer, pressing a kiss to the top of you head. “You have me, my love,” he murmurs. “I’ve always been yours.”

--

But wait: There's more! If you enjoyed these idiots, please check out Come Back, Be Here, a quasi sequel to this.

[eurydicees]

i think iwaizumi is like. ok so he comes off as cool and athletic and smart and popular and, yk, to a degree, he totally is! he’s incredible at volleyball and he gets decent grades and he’s a good friend and overall well-liked by the general seijoh population.

ALSO at the same time he is like. the lamest popular guy in the world.

this is a title that oikawa has given him and the part that iwaizumi protests is not “lame” but “popular.” some points that oikawa makes, when talking to iwaizumi about how much of a normal average deeply Just A Guy iwaizumi is:

iwaizumi’s favorite activity is, first and foremost, volleyball; and second, it’s “spend time watching d-rated martial arts movies with my best friend.”

i appreciate it and love this, oikawa says, obviously, but you do have other things you can do with your time. do you know that. it doesn’t seem like you know that.

he’s popular, he has other friends, he could have his pick of girlfriends, and he chooses to instead monopolize oikawa’s time through varying methods of aggression and/or affection.

why do you not have a girlfriend yet, oikawa asks. i’m too busy keeping you in line, iwaizumi says. to which oikawa replies, you suck at being popular, iwa.

people think he’s cool because he likes the outdoors, likes going on hikes with his free time, excels at every athletic task, etc etc.

what they do not know is that he likes going on hikes to look at the changing leaves and his favorite way to interact with nature is like his fucking rock collection or some shit.

do they have names, oikawa asks, teasing. shut the fuck up, iwaizumi says. then, fucking obviously they have names.

he’s not scared of bugs, girls whisper when he passes in the hallways. he saved me from a spider one time, they say, and oikawa claims they swoon.

and like, oikawa HAS to laugh because this is the same boy who tried to keep a tank of beetles he collected from the park and cried hysterically both first when they all escaped, and second when his mother yelled at him for ten minutes about the five she found in the sugar jar. he was fourteen.

“he’s so smart,” someone says admiringly when iwaizumi helps them a bit with their class work. oikawa is rolling his damn eyes because iwaizumi is smart, sure, he’s doing fine in school, but he’s evidently not smart enough to calculate the risk/reward of a monetary bet on how many pork buns he can fit in his mouth. more than 8 gets him 1000 yen. less than 8 makes him lose 1500.

what the fuck was he thinking, oikawa is forced to ask, first when he nearly has to perform the heimlich maneuver and later when he buys iwaizumi a consolation bottle of water. what the fuck.

people think he’s mysterious and stoic and kind of darkly intriguing because he doesn’t necessarily laugh a lot while he’s in class and focused, and while he’s friendly with everyone, he still sticks pretty close to his little group.

oikawa cannot believe that anyone could ever think this because iwaizumi gets home after school and does not shut the fuck up. and he’s so easy to make laugh. and his every expression is so easy to read.

how could you possibly have anyone convinced that you are cool and mysterious, oikawa asks. how the fuck did you do that.

iwaizumi is forced to shrug. he doesn’t really have an answer. people just kind of make their own assumptions about him no matter what he does. doesn’t matter anyways. oikawa might be the only one who seems to truly get him, but he’s okay with that. if it had be one person, he’s glad it’s someone he loves.

and now what the fuck is oikawa supposed to do with that.

(push him down on the bed and kiss him, oikawa finds, seems to be the right answer.)

[ssahotchnerr]

Everyone on the team receives an anonymous hand made Valentine’s card, except for Hotch. He tries not to show his disappointment and quickly walks away into his office while the team try to guess who has made then. Later in the day, when the others have gone home, reader knocks at Hotch’s office door, saying something like that they wanted to give him his card personally because it’s even more special than the ones for the team. And it’s an invitation to dinner.

something good

happy valentine's day pt 2! 🥰 cw; a touch of angst, alcohol mention, fluff!!!!

aaron should've known.

he was viewed as the boss, and that was that. merely a position of authority; not necessarily a colleague, and not necessarily a friend.

and it's always been that way. groups quieted upon his approach, eye contact was scarce amidst conversations- as if meeting his gaze would give him reason to absolutely rip them to shreds. by now, enduring so for years, he'd gotten used to it. he had to. so why should he expect to be treated any differently?

however, he refused to lie to himself, he'd give himself that. he didn't try to fight the stinging sensation in his chest, which had been present all day. it hurt, hearing and seeing the team gushing over valentines that had been placed anonymously on their desks that morning. trying to use their profiling skills to determine who had done such; penelope nearly stirred up a frenzy, morgan's laugh had rang loudly through the bullpen, everyone had compared the kind messages left for them.

meanwhile, aaron's desk had been empty. and he simply observed the joyful scene from the safety of his office.

whoever was responsible- the thought would've been nice, at least.

valentine's day was just like any normal day, if it weren't for the cards strategically placed amongst the desks, aaron probably wouldn't have even recalled the holiday to begin with.

that, however, was the lie. he knew what day it was. february fourteenth had been special, years ago. but now, it instead brought an impending sense of dread, one that was impossible to ignore; the reminder of yet another day spent alone. his night, when he finally made it home, would more likely than not consist of a glass of whisky and maybe a few episodes of law and order before crashing.

"hotch? you have a second?"

your voice caused him to lift his head, pulling him from his sea of thoughts. "yes?"

"i- um. wanted to give you this."

aaron's eyes perked up instantly, and a touch of embarrassment quickly swept through him. he felt childish almost, at his eagerness; the want to be included.

"i'm sure you noticed, the valentines." with the pink slip in your hand, you used to to reference the bullpen. "penelope wasn't very subtle about it."

"i did." aaron commented, hoping the blush present in his cheeks wasn't too visible. one of his eyebrows quirked up in question. "and they were from you?"

you bit down on your bottom lip, but the action didn't quite stop your smile. "guilty."

"well, that was very thoughtful of you. it lifted everyone's spirits, that's for sure."

"yeah i thought... i don't know. every day we come in to heaps of files on our desk, and aren't exactly doing jumping jacks at the sight of them. so i thought it'd be nice to have something different, for once. something good."

aaron's lips almost pulled into a smile, recalling the earlier antics and his next inquiry caused your cheeks to flush. "and you sent yourself one?"

"hey, self love." you were quick to quip back, laughing softly but with a shake of your head. "i was trying to be discrete. if i were the only one to not receive a card, that'd be awfully suspicious and defeat the whole purpose, don't you think?"

'if i were the only one', aaron's chest warmed. you hadn't forgotten him, there had been one with his name on it all along.

"but..." you adjusted your weight from one foot to the other, suddenly exhibiting nervousness. aaron recognized your small movement, knowing it as one of your tells. that, and your habit of chewing the inside of your cheek. "yours, i wanted to hand deliver."

aaron couldn't hide the surprise in his voice. "you did?"

"it's special. like you." you rushed out in a breath, and if aaron's blush hadn't been present before- it definitely was now. you handed the valentine to him rather quickly, before you could chicken out. "and i wanted you to know it was from me."

silence fell over aaron, feeling absolutely touched. he didn't know what to say.

"happy valentine's day." you gave him another smile, still leaving him speechless, and heading out of his office.

before you had fully exited the room, aaron opened the valentine. his eyes skimmed over your loopy handwriting- and the feeling in his chest intensified. the contents included you thanking him, for looking out for you and the team as a whole. you had emphasized how safe he made you feel, and how you felt extremely lucky to have someone like him protecting you in midst of the horrors you saw daily. he gave you a comfort you never thought possible, and you couldn't picture receiving so from anyone else. the ending however, made his heart skip a beat.

and whenever you're free- dinner? you and me?

he's always been drawn to you, in more ways than another, but he had never acted upon them. he couldn't quite figure out how to approach you like that, and he regretted every chance he didn't take. but now, you've given him the perfect opportunity.

aaron, paperwork completely forgotten and disregarded, didn't hesitate to go after you. "wait!"

you met his gaze as he exited his office- you had just begun collecting your things to head home. everyone else had already gone.

"yes?" a smile tugged at your lips, heart fluttering.

"i'm free right now. if... you are?"

[azurbright]

So this is my Grumbo, creative writing assignment for my course. My teacher liked it, and I got many compliments from my peers. It's based on another Grumbo short story I made for this class. Generally, though, you should be able to gather what's going on.

I only had 200-300 words per entry, with a 5 entry maximum, so that's why they're so short. For everyone who said they wanted to see it.

@oso-bigback64 @raylaismad @not-a-boot @crispycheeto364 @a-sociopath-do-your-research @endaisgayandtrans @auseryoumayknow @ghost-er-toast-er

Blog entry number 1: Day one

Many months ago I began my search for the key to immortality. Although I have yet to find it, I am sure that I am going to get there soon. Nobody has done what I have been able to do, technological advances have not come as far as this yet. Today, a boy fell from the sky, he claims his name is Grian, he has yet to indulge me in where he has come from but I will inform once I become aware. As of now I have brought him back to my lab and we’ve begun testing. He doesn’t seem to feel any pain at all once so ever. He claims not to be immortal but something does seem off. Only time will tell. We got along easy, I don’t mind having the company around, he's a bit of a pessimist but I can make it work. Later today I plan on taking him out to town, he says he hasn’t had a meal in days which simply just can’t be good for him. Now, however, I am in my office whilst he naps on my couch, writing this entry here. The testing went well, his blood and hair samples are currently in the lab, I am awaiting results. What I do know now though is he seems to be sprouting these sort of purple feathers along his back. When I asked him about them he didn't know. Will do more research on those.

Blog entry number 2: Day fourteen

Today, I have a lot to say. I have made a technological breakthrough. The feathers were the answer, the stem of these feathers that come from him hold a sort of liquid, the chemical compound is something that I have never seen before. It's simply extraordinary. Grian has opened up to me more, he's talked about the sort of tortures the Watchers put him through. When I asked him what a Watchet was he also wasn’t quite sure. They claim to be gods, but he believes that they are something so much worse. I have tried to find books and papers about them but they seem to be mostly mythological creatures that random people have written about. Grian looked over the books with me but he doesn’t think most of the information is correct. I've claimed him as my patient, and I believe he has claimed me as a sort of patient as well. He refuses to sleep unless I do. I believe it's just the kindness he carries with him, he's less pessimistic than I had originally gathered but he had just fallen from the sky after being held captive for an unknown amount of time. All that being said, he continues to stay in the lab seeing as he doesnt have any family, or doesn’t remember. He doesn’t even necessarily think he's from this world. Which, opens up the idea of multiple dimensions, exciting stuff for a man like me really. Once again I will report back soon with more information.

Blog entry number 3: Day thirty

Something strange has started to happen, perhaps it's due to the stress but Grian seems to be strangely concerned about it. The fronts of my hair have begun to grey out, nothing too serious, I feel perfectly fine. It's probably because I’ve been working too hard. On another note, I think I’ve figured it out. Grians DNA from the feathers mixed with the chemical compounds of CH4 and CHN2OPS, must be injected through the skin directly into the vein. I believe it is possible I have found it. A test subject is all I really need, I’ve sent Grian out to find and catch rats to test on. He's found one, and it hasn’t died yet. Thinking about it now, I don’t know why I made immortal rats. Ignoring work, Grian and I have been getting closer, I think we must be connected somehow. For someone like me, a scientist that is, it is surprising for many to hear that I believe in a predetermined destiny, and that destiny has brought Grian to me for quite a few reasons I don’t think I’m ready to disclose yet. Not to him, or whoever is reading this blog here. Besides, I need to do more research and distractions aren’t necessary.

Blog entry number 4: Day sixty

I’m starting to fear that the greying isn’t normal. It has spread from the beginnings of my hair to the very roots and all over. I feel older somehow, my bones feel lighter? Grian says he does not truly believe I am okay and has begged me many times to stop my work. But how can I stop now? When I have already come this far? I know the immortality shot works and I can just give it to myself, the first human test subject. He says he's worried about me, about what will happen. He claims that the Watchers are punishing him, through me. Although, I’m not sure why they would do that because I haven’t even known him for long but maybe it ties back into the whole fate thing. I am a little bit worried about how this is all affecting Grian, especially because he hasn’t been talking much, I’m sure he's just feeling a bit under the weather. Right? Today though, I think something happened between us. I'm not an experienced person but there was a moment where everything felt okay, we were just sitting together, me on my stool, and him in his small chair in the corner. He's found a way underneath my skin. I’d be lying if I said I want him to leave. I have thoroughly enjoyed his company more than I’ve ever enjoyed someone else's company. I'd usually consider myself a loner but I don’t want to be alone again. I think he feels similarly, I think that's why he's so worried about the greying. I don’t know.

Blog entry number 5: Day eighty-seven

I was supposed to die today. I should’ve listened to him, I really should have. Science isn't meant to mess with the laws of nature. People die and I've passed my prime in a short time. As of a few minutes ago my body was roughly around the age of seventy-five or so. Grian is gone now, he traded his life for mine. I can’t even thank him. He came here just to bid me goodbye, and through the crack in the door I caught sight of the Watcher, it was beautiful in a sick kind of way. I'm young again, I’ll die one day but not now. For the rest of my life I’ll be mourning somebody who fell out of the sky, and anybody could hardly believe me. All I can keep thinking is about how I shouldn’t have done this, I was so insistent, and wrong, and right at the same time. I did figure it out but the cost was what mattered. I’m back to being alone, I caught a glimpse of my appearance in the mirror. My hair is back to dark, it doesn’t feel real. Even running my fingers through the thick hairs on my head. I’m stressed, I want to forget this all. Every last second.

[imsosleepyofyourbull]

I don’t necessarily believe in the traitor Ace theory, but I do think that Ace has… some suspicious character details that feel like they’re building up to something important. His name is the big one, because — by this point — everyone who follows Ace theories knows that Trappola is a game where the ace ranks the highest. But, it’s also in the fact that he and Riddle are the only ones who don’t follow the “number and card symbol” gimmick in the Heartslabyul names?

“Cater Diamond” is the four of diamonds.

“Trey Clover” is the three of clovers.

“Deuce Spade” is the two of spades.

“Riddle Rosehearts” and “Ace Trappola” still fit in the general theme of wonderland, but they sound more like they were designed to stand individually than sit with the other three.

Which is weird.

Riddle being a standalone character makes sense, given that he is the twisted version of the Queen of Hearts and therefore the most significant to the narrative of the game itself. On the other hand, Ace is (as far as we know) meant to be the ace of hearts card soldier, who isn’t any more relevant to the movie than the other three. It could be that the broken naming convention has something to do with Riddle needing the “heart” in his name and Ace serving as his foil (rebellious rule breaker who topples the Queen of Hearts’ kingdom by disrespecting her rules, the same way Trappola is an unconventional game where the ace is higher than any face card.) However, that excuse falls short when you consider that Ace is both not the only or most significant parallel to Riddle and that his Unique Magic is essentially being withheld from the player base.

If Ace was meant to have hyper significant ties to Riddle and Heartslabyul specificlaly, then surely his UM would’ve been revealed sometime before Book 7 or even Book 6. The need for a UM that contradicts or overwrites Riddle’s own magic is already filled by Trey’s “Doodle Suit,” but Ace is also the only member of the main cast who has yet to have his UM revealed in general. There’s no way that the writers just forgot about him, given how much the player base must be anticipating any details about rest of Book 7 and what will come after it. Ace has been with the player from the start, and it’d be a total waste to conclude his story halfheartedly. I genuinely believe that the TWST writers are too good to have overlooked the opportunity to tie Ace’s UM to Heartslabyul if his parallelism to Riddle’s character or attachment to Heartslabyul was really meant to be the most significant thing about him.

My personal opinion? I think his UM might have something to do with playing cards, or have the ability to send the player home.

[justmeinatree]

Let Passion Get Too Much

Summary : niall x louis x reader threesome. that’s all it is.

TW : smut, threesome, anal, double penetration

Word Count : 3.2k

the timing could not have been worse. and why the fuck do connecting doors to hotel rooms not come automatically locked ? neither niall or yourself ever even thought of checking. assuming, for obvious security purposes, that the door would absolutely be locked.

maybe it was the fact that you knew louis was staying on the other side, the fact that actual danger wasn’t present. 

but now, you wholeheartedly wished one of you had checked. because niall was laying on the bed, back sitting slightly up against the headboard, stark naked. and you were on your knees, next to him, hand rolling down niall’s rock hard length, spreading a bead of precum, also stark naked. 

with a bit of pressure on his cock, niall’s eyes closed, a breathy whine could be faintly heard from the back of his throat, making you literally dribble arousal onto the mattress beneath you. 

and that’s the moment louis comes waltzing in, “did i leave my smokes here ?” he asks, looking around the room, not having looked up at you yet.

both you and niall do nothing but stare at louis, frozen into position, your hand wrapped around the base of niall’s cock, one of niall’s hands gripped into your ass. 

but then louis looks up, takes in the scene in front of him, eyes wide, “fuckin hell, please dont cover up on my account,” he exclaims sarcastically.

“teach you to fuckin knock mate,” niall’s hand leaves your body, scrubbing over his face, groaning, “could you please hurry up. we’re kind of busy, yeah”

louis shakes his head, keeping his eyes down, looking around the seating area of the hotel room, where you’d all spent the evening passing joints around, and catching up.

“can’t fuckin find them,” louis mutters to himself, loud enough to make niall groan again, “c’mon louis.”

but you look over at niall, and christ, he knows that look all too well. you want something. something that surely isn’t going to necessarily be in his favour, judging by the size of puppy eyes you were flashing.

and then it dawns on him. a conversation you’d had a long time ago. about wanting to have a threesome. you wanted to try it, finally felt comfortable enough with a partner to know that you’d be totally safe. and with that in mind, other than niall, louis’ the next person in line, in terms of comfort.

“you can’t be fuckin serious,” niall blurts out, eyes locked on yours. “s’him you want ?”

because you’d never explicitly mentioned a name, just said that you’d know it when the time was right. and honestly, what could be more right time than this ?

“hey, you said you wouldn’t judge,” you pout at him, puppy eyes getting bigger, as you look down at him.

“christ, m’not judging, just- c’mon, it’s louis,” niall groans, scrubbing his face again. this was not how niall imagined his night going. he never imagined you’d pick louis of all people. although the more he thinks about it, the more it seems fairly comfortable for everyone. 

but louis’ ears perk up at the mention of his name, looking over again, keeping his eyes up by your faces now that he knows he has to. “sorry, sorry, fuck, they’re not here. i’ll leave, sorry again.”

“louis, wait,” niall calls out, making your eyes go wide, figuring this means that he’s agreed.

louis turns around, looking over at niall, “what is it ?”

niall takes a deep breath, looking over louis with a bit of a chuckle, “christ- “ he cuts himself off, looking at you again, “sure about this ?”

you quickly nod, looking over at louis, “join us ?” you ask lightly, as if it was the easiest thing in the world. because to you it was. by now, you’d become really close friends with louis. you were incredibly comfortable with him, there was no shame or awkward discomfort for you in this conversation.

“you- what ?” louis laughs, “are you serious ?”

“please, louis,” you look over at him, biting your lip, crawling off the bed, leaving niall to sit up straighter against the headboard, watching the interaction between you two.

louis’ eyes roam the expanse of your exposed self as you approach him, he was only human afterall, but your body is quickly shielded from his gaze, as you step right up to him, body pressed against his.

his eyes flick over to niall, as his hands instinctively went to your hips, checking in with him, only to find niall nodding back at him, giving him the okay, “s’her you should be checking with.”

as louis’ eyes land on yours again, he finds you smiling back at him, “s’okay to touch. i want you to. will you please join us ?” at the flash of hesitation in his eyes, you add softly, “no shame, louis. if you don’t want to, just say, we’ll never mention it again.”

you watch as his gaze flick between you and niall, two of his best mates, whom are dating and have been for quite some time. but he doesn’t want to say no. he’s curious. 

“what are the rules then ?” louis asks softly, smirking down at you, a wide smile taking over your features, as you make your way back to the bed, pulling him behind you.

you crawl back up onto the mattress, your hand colliding with louis’ chest as he attempts to follow you, his eyebrows furrowing. “gotta strip first,” you smile at him, wanting him naked.

louis chuckles, stripping his clothes off quickly, not wanting to think this through too much, going on feeling, joining you and niall on the bed, looking at you both expectantly, “anything i shouldn’t do then ?”

you look over at niall, having a silent conversation with your eyes, niall shaking his head, “for tonight, nothing’s off limits. we just go with the flow. if anything’s ever not feeling good, we speak up.”

at that, you nod, looking over at louis, who’s nodding as well, his fingertips gliding down your backbone, following the dip in your back, rounding out over your bum.

niall reaches for your hand, pulling you close again, to lock his lips with yours, his cock still incredibly hard.

you groan, getting momentarily lost in the kiss, swinging your leg over his, straddling his thighs, as your hands tangle into his hair.

louis comes up behind you, both hands gripping into the swell of your ass, spreading you apart, his hardening length gliding between your cheeks, biting his lip as he watches.

“think you’ll be able to take us both, love ?” louis asks, watching the head of his dick catch on your puckered hole. watching your body clench every single time.

you whimper against niall’s lips, pulling away momentarily to answer louis, “fuck yes, please. want you both. wanna be so full.”

“such a good girl hmm ?” louis murmurs, pulling his member away from you, in favour of watching his thumb roll around your hole, pressing gently, massaging your tight ring of muscles. “just want to please, dont you ?”

“she’s the fuckin best,” niall hums, biting on your lip, his fingertips tickling over your tummy on their way to grope your breasts, thumbing over your pert nipples. “can’t wait to show off what she can do.”

your hips roll down against niall’s cock, listening to them talk about you as if you weren’t right there, a glimmer of pride from your boyfriend, an intense turn on you seemingly didn’t even realize you had.

“getting a bit needy aren’t ya petal ?” niall groans, having been so hard for what feels like forever now. he watches you nod, your cunt dripping down onto niall’s length steadily, as he passes a bottle of lube over to louis. “she’s done this plenty. shouldn’t take too too much.”

you instantly feel the heat rising up your neck to your cheeks, embarrassment evident in your features now that louis knows you’ve enjoyed anal a bit more than you’ve ever cared to admit.

but niall knows you well, catching the look etched on your face, fingers darting out to smooth over your cheek, as you feel the dribble of cool lube leaving the bottle and hitting your hole.

you flinch slightly, feeling yourself clench, hiding your face in niall’s neck, feeling his hands run up and down your back in comfort, hearing him coo against your hair, “dont need to be embarrassed, pet.”

louis’ eyes flick up at the mention of embarrassment, just as the tip of his middle finger breaches your hole, a breathy moan now fogging up niall’s neck, “s’just me lovie,” louis hums, the tightness around his finger not going unnoticed. “fuckin love that you wanna take us both. love that you’re ready for it.”

louis works his way up to 3 fingers, twisting them around inside you, petting your inner walls, learning what it is that makes you moan loudest. so far, he’s absolutely obsessed with all your pretty sounds, loves that he’s the one able to elicit them from you too.

“think you’re ready, beautiful,” louis coos, his fingers slipping out of you, both hands now gripped into your bum again, watching the gape he’s created. “who’s going first ?”

“ni, please,” you whimper, blinking at niall, watching him nod, needing to feel some sort of relief, your cunt absolutely weeping for it.

“help me, petal,” niall hums, not having the best angle as you’re straddled onto him. without a second though, you reach down, sitting yourself onto his hard length, a loud relief filled moan echoing through the room, from both you and niall.

you work your hips over him a few times, head tipping back onto louis’ shoulder, biting your lip as you breathe in his musky scent. it was so different from niall, yet incredibly comforting as well.

louis’ face dips down to kiss along your shoulder and into your neck, leaving tentative licks as he does, getting a taste at your sweet self for the first time. he couldn’t deny ever having thoughts about you, he always thought you were gorgeous. but he’s met you as niall’s girlfriend, and learned to push the thoughts aside because of it.

but this moment, now that he’s gotten the okay, and he’s slowly pushing into you, his mind goes completely blank.

with your head still leaned on louis’ shoulder, your body starts lightly trembling, breathing getting shallow as you’ve never felt so incredibly full in your life, “fuck, fuck,” you whimper breathily, bottom lip quivering.

louis’ arms were wrapped around your body, holding you up against him, niall’s fingers digging into your hips, as louis’ cock slowly starts thrusting in and out of you, niall staying completely seethed inside you, feeling the drag and pull of his mate’s cock.

“christ, fuckin hell,” niall groans loudly, “can feel you. fuck, can feel you moving,” he whimpers, the overwhelming tightness of it all not only affecting you, but also both men. “gotta fuckin feel this, lou,” niall moans, hands darting out instinctively to grip into louis’ hips, stilling his movements inside you.

as niall starts to roll his hips, you moan louder, if at all possible, a shiver running through your entire body, the head of his cock grinding into your sweet spot deliciously hard, tucked into you with so much less space than usual. 

louis moans as well, one hand reaching out for niall’s arm, the glide of his friend’s cock adding to the intense pleasure, “christ mate, fuck. weren’t kidding eh ?” 

niall shakes his head, all three of you working through breathy pants, niall’s cock thrusting slowly, the overwhelming pressure, overwhelming sensitivity, overwhelming pleasure taking over all of your bodies.

it all starts to unravel for you when you feel louis’ hand gliding down your body, stilling over your stomach, and pressing down, making him feel the head of niall’s cock bumping into you with each thrust. “s’he filling you up good ? fuck, can you feel him in your tummy ? being so good for us, sweet girl. so fucking good.”

as he catches you nod, whining and biting your lip, your brain a little too lost to properly answer him, his hand keeps gliding down, fingertips flicking over your clit, you now really start to lose it. 

your head peels itself from louis’ shoulder, forehead resting on niall’s, your hands gripped tightly into his hair as some sort of anchor. your body starts steadily shaking, gasping for air, your body clenching with every passing flick of louis’ fingers on your sensitive button.

a loud guttural moan rips through you as your body seizes, intense pleasure coursing through your bloodstream, both louis and niall’s lengths pressed up deep inside you, feeling you clenched up tightly on them.

unable to hold himself back, with the tight vice grip you have on his cock, niall’s head drops to your chest, groaning, as he cums, spurts of hot white coating your inner walls, his grip tightened on louis’ hips.

“fuck, are you cumming too ?” louis groans breathily, peering over your shoulder to catch a glimpse of him.

“christ, how are you not ?” niall moans, another tremor wracking through his body, as your head falls back onto louis’ shoulder, panting for air, bottom lip trembling as silent tears falls from your eyes, wetting louis’ neck. “so fuckin tight, fuck, fuck,” niall adds, working to catch his breath.

he can hear louis chuckle, feel him slowly pull out and thrust back into you, niall whining loudly as he feels the drag against his overly sensitive prick, reaching back without thinking, fingernails dug into louis’ ass to keep him in place, “don’t you fucking dare.”

“sorry mate, sorry,” louis giggles, resting his head against yours, his hand gently petting your tummy, “feeling alright love ?” as you nod, taking a shuddering breath, making louis coo quietly, “s’a lot yeah ? feeling a bit overwhelmed ?”

“yeah,” you whisper, not trusting your voice entirely, as niall gains some composure, looking up at you, kissing the underside of your chin, “lemme pull out, petal.”

his hands glide from louis’ bum, back onto your hips, holding you steady as he pulls out of you, a large dribble of cum following suit.

you feel your body buckle, muscles going limp, louis being the only thing truly holding you up, as niall pecks a series of kisses over your chest.

“want me to pull out as well ?” you hear louis ask, immediately shaking your head, no. 

“want you to cum inside me too,” you murmur, no more embarrassment present, completely lax with the moment. 

“can i move then ?” he asks quietly, feeling you nod, as he hooks his finger under your chin, turning your face towards his, lips crashing onto yours in your first kiss, beginning to work his cock inside you again.

you whine, a bit sensitive, a quick shiver running down your spine, feeling niall drop down on the bed, shimmying himself further between your legs, his tongue taking a tentative lick at your folds, collecting some of his cum.

you moan louder against louis’ lips, one hand reaching down into niall’s hair on instinct, body relaxing further into louis’, your muscles rendered completely useless. 

louis’ eyes flick down, catching a glimpse at the dark brown tousle of hair between your legs, groaning, “you fuckin tasting yourself ?”

you can feel niall moan, nodding against you, the languid strokes of his tongue collecting each drip of his cum.

“always knew you were fuckin dirty,” louis chuckles breathily, feeling your body start to clamp down again, obviously overly sensitive. “s’ni making you feel good, love ?”

you nod, moaning out a series of yeses, your other hand, the one not in niall’s hair, reaching above you to bring louis’ face back up to yours, kissing him deeply, tongue quickly slipped into his mouth.

“s’louis making you feel good ?” niall asks, breath fanning over your abused cunt, his thumb coming up to swipe repeatedly from your entrance to your clit as he settles further, playfully taking one of louis’ balls in his mouth, pulling away with a pop.

“yes, yes, yes, fuck. everything’s so good,” you groan loudly, gasping for air, completely lost in the feeling of them.

louis groans louder as well, one hand leaving your body to grip into niall’s hair alongside yours, nails scratching at his scalp.

niall shudders, his cock starting to gain interest again, his hand working over himself as he licks his way back up to your clit. his other hand slides behind you, gripping into louis’ ass again, making his hips move faster, harder, working you up more.

“fuckin christ, so fuckin good,” louis groans, head tucked into your neck, arms wrapping around you tighter, thighs starting to shake.

as niall slips his tongue inside you, flicking it over your sensitive walls, louis shudders harder, teeth digging into the skin of your shoulder, whining loudly, “can feel your tongue. fuck, dont stop ni.”

so niall doesn’t stop, his tongue keeps flicking inside you, catching on the underside of louis’ cock through your walls. your body starts convulsing, louis sucking over the bite mark he’s left on you, thrusts growing more and more erratic, the more he feels. feels niall’s tongue. feels you squeezing down on him.

“gonna cum again pet ?” niall hums, mouth still pressed to your sopping cunt, his entire face stuffed against you, struggling to breathe, and not caring one bit, too caught up in the overwhelmingness of it all.

“mhmm, fuck,” you groan out loudly, another orgasm ripping through you, a string of curses coming from behind you, as louis finally lets go, filling you up to the brim.

as you start to come down, louis pulls out of you, niall giving your cunt one last kiss, shimmying his way out from under you, helping you lay down next to him, louis following suit.

“remind me to lose my smokes more often,” louis jokes, a breathy laugh escaping his lips, one hand up in his hair, working at regulating his breathing.

“only one thing left to do,” niall hums, leaning on his elbow to be propped up, looking over you at louis. “after all that, think i deserve a little smooch,” he smirks playfully.

“fuckin hell,” louis laughs, shaking his head, leaning up as well to press his lips to niall’s, both of them laughing through it all.

you hum, laying under them, smirking up at the scene before you, “definitely making a note to steal your smokes sometime.”

Part 2

……

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

[arcane-vagabond]

Hey, y’all. Not really sure how to start this, but here goes.

I started using Tumblr in the far off year of 2012, when I was 16. I started off in the Hunger Games fandom right as the movies were coming out, and I made so many amazing friends on here. I eventually moved on to different fandoms, namely SuperWhoLock (The combined fandom of Supernatural, Doctor Who, and Sherlock. If you know, you know). There were ups and downs, but fandom was a community I could rely on. Strangers on the internet were supportive of me, even if we weren't necessarily close, people made an avid effort to interact with each other and have conversations with people on here.

I took a break when I started college, trying to navigate my way through my newly aqcuired adult status, and Tumblr kind of fell by the wayside after a while. But, when I left there was still a thriving community in fandom with people interacting with each other, coming up with theories for things, coming up with theories and headcanons about beloved characters. Comments and reblogs were plentiful, and fanfic, fanart, etc. were a two sided conversation. You didn't even have to write fanfic or make fanart in order to get interactions.

I came back a couple of years ago, logging in here and there to lurk and read fanfic on my old blog. I discovered Top Gun: Maverick and felt compelled to write my very first fanfiction: Don't Hang'em Til Noon. I was so excited to share it because I saw that no one else had done a Wild West!AU, and I was excited to share my work and talk about it and the actual movie with people on here. I did find people who were as excited as I was, and that was great. But then I got one of my first anonymous messages.

"You really need to calm down."

Calm down? Why? I thought the whole point of fandom was that we were all excited about this one thing? I was so confused.

I kept writing, and the hate anons kept coming. I was accused of thinking I'm better than everyone on here (why, I still don't understand), I was accused of thinking I run the fandom (probably because I pointed very obvious things out), and more. I take it on the chin usually, but of course words still hurt. This was not what I remembered fandom being like, and I found that the longer I kept doing this, the more it started to feel like a chore versus something I genuinely enjoyed.

I get hundreds of votes in my polls for what to update or what to do next, but the notes and interactions are not reflecting this. I got more interactions as someone who didn't create fan works twelve years ago than I do as a content creator now. The attitude towards fandom has changed.

It's no longer a community, it's a popularity contest. People put down others to make themselves feel better, which was always a thing, but not it's more prevalent. It's become a numbers game, and it shouldn't be. People say that they're too afraid to comment or put themselves out there to talk to creators, but guess what? It's terrifying to put your work out there to be seen by so many people and to be judged. And it's discouraging to see the amount of people who like but won't leave a comment or reblog. Do you actually like it? How am I supposed to know?

Some of you are so jealous of others, that you've let it consume you. You attack me for my AUs, claiming that they're boring and uninteresting, and yet? There are some of you who've seen how invested some people have become with my stories and have tried to emulate them. You're not venturing into AU because you genuinely want to. You're doing it because you see that there's a market for it. You're the same people who mocked me for doing it in the first place.

There's a whole group on here that are so bitter and insecure about their own abilities, that they feel the need to put others down, and I'm not mad. If anything, I feel genuinely sorry for you.

There have always been problems with fandom, but not like this. I don't know if this is all specific to the TGM fandom, but y'all? I'm exhausted. I'm tired of putting so much of myself out there to only here crickets or demands for more. What happened to actual conversation? Waht happened to interacting for the sake of interacting?

I've made some genuinely amazing friends on here, and I talk to them pretty much every single day. However, I need a break from this website. I need to find my love for writing again, and I won't be able to do it on here while things continue to be the way they are. So, this is my long ass way of announcing that I'm officialy going on hiatus for a little while, at least the month. I will be focusing on writing We Abide as an original story the way it was originally intended to be. I will not be on during this time. I will not continue to pressure myself to update for you all when you give me next to nothing in return. And if this makes me the villain? Then so be it.

For those of you who've been a constant source of comfort, laughter, inspiration, etc.? I love you. From the bottom of my heart, I'm so grateful to all of you, and if at the end of my month away I decide to come back, I hope you'll still be here to read what I give.

Until next time.

-Liz

[gii-1]

Just saw that ur in need of requests and I’m more than happy to oblige!! Love ur work btw! I love the idea of Megumi with a popular n sweet gf/crush who’s super pretty <33 I love the idea how everyone is just so flabbergasted that our emo nonchalant boy ended up pulling smn so feminine and gorg - the opposite of him and also how someone so popular like her could fall for him <33 hcs on the dynamic and how the pining leading up to them getting together would be so amazing to see ~~

- megumi x popular! reader

notes: i don’t think I’ve ever written anything and posted about it until now, i think some other fanfic writer has the same name as me then 😭. you might of gotten me confused with someone else, but i don’t know who. but anyways, here you go !! i think there might be i few mistakes so apologies for that.

• when this guy first sees you, i feel like he just wouldn’t like you, because he just sees you as another “loud, full of themselves, popular girl” that he should avoid.

• you both shared a class together, sitting next to each other and interactions between the two of you were kept to a minimal.

• its not that he hates you, he just sees you as one of the many popular kids in his class that he finds annoying.

• but when you guys get paired for a project together his world gets flipped around.

• he starts noticing how kind, considerate, and selfless you are. like wow, how the hell did he not realise this before??

• he looks at you so differently now, not only are you pretty and popular you are, but you’re also considerate and extremely good-hearted?

• he’s never seen an individual like this before

• the least you could say is he’s surprised.

• he starts gaining more and more of a crush on you the more you guys sit and work together, before he even realises it, you guys talk and interact a lot more in class now.

• you start to find out more about him and notices the qualities he has, before that it wasn’t you didn’t necessarily like him, you just barely knew him and didn’t think much about him.

• but after you guys got paired that changed, you started to admire him for how he’s very logical and able to quickly think of ideas or come up with strategies, or the way he’s very intelligent and is a lot more mature then the boys you normally hang out with, being able to relate to him with that.

• the more this builds up, the more you start thinking about him.

• you ask him for his contacts, and at first he’s reluctant as he doesn’t give out that information, but he does it anyways.

• you decide to organise a hang out with him, just the two of you. this isn’t because you wanted to have a date, you wanted to be away from your popular group of friends, and you were open to hanging out with his friends instead but he didn’t really have any.

• he wasn’t used to this but still goes with it, new to the idea of going out with friends, well, you guys are friends now right? this is what normal friends do.

• and it surprisingly, also surprising him yet again, was very enjoyable to him.

• you both went out to the mall and just going around to random places, which normally he wouldn’t enjoy, but with you he did. he not only realised you wonderful personality and looks, but you were incredibly witty. no wonder you were so popular.

• after a few more hang outs you guys started to have lunch together, enjoying each-others company. he was different from the popular kids you usually hanged out with, which made you like him alot, and you were one of the first people that weren’t family he enjoyed being with. it was a win-win situation.

• when other people noticed this, especially your friends, they definitely teased you about it, but never ever went to him or even mentioned it around him, as people found him scary and didn’t dare to approach him.

• but the comments towards you were relentless, but you didn’t care as you knew it wouldn’t put a dent to your reputation as you are just too likeable, which you were very thankful for as that means your relationship with him wouldn’t be ruined because of this.

• when he finally noticed he had a crush on you, he had inner conflict with himself, he was smart enough to realise what emotions he had was love, but didn’t know what to do with it. he just wanted it to go away.

• you probably noticed a lot quicker that you definitely had a crush on him, you realising this decided to give him hints to see how oblivious he was, being a bit more touchy with him, but not being flirty, you knew it would just make him uncomfortable.

• once you found out he couldn’t catch on your crush, you just straight up told him.

• when you both arranged another hang out, you decided that you would go somewhere peaceful, like a secluded place of nature to confess to him, as you felt it would be the best.

• unfortunately for dear megumi, he had came unprepared.

• “its okay if you don’t like me back, we can still be friends. i would rather you just know my feelings.” the next few seconds would be disaster for him.

• he denied the fact he didn’t like back so fast, his voice betrayed him before he even realised it. isn’t that just great.

• he’s stuttering and repeating his words all over the place trying to keep his cool facade while your patiently listening to him. his inner conflict was really showing.

•but you guys were able to talk about it and sort it out as you are a very emotionally intelligent and thoughtful person.

• when you both start your relationship its extremely, and i mean extremely, awkward at first.

•he was confused on what to do to say the least, but you taught him how it worked and went slow building up the relationship.

• your couple dynamic isn’t very touchy like other couples. you’re willing to accept him for who he is and when it comes to your relationship with him, you think about what makes him uncomfortable and make sure you don’t do anything to make him feel uncomfortable.

• instead you show your love through acts of services or making gifts for him, putting a lot of thought behind it. he would also be similar in this sense.

• i feel like you both would make sure to keep the relationship a secret and you both do it really well, as he is very uncomfortable with pda and being public with this part of his life, people not knowing about his relationship just makes him safer.

• only people he allows or is comfortable with are allowed to know as he is not a very public person.

[haikyu-mp4]

The Club

word count; 968 – f!reader, part 2 of this

Saturday came, and Hinata stood outside the door to your apartment. It only took a couple of seconds after he knocked for you to open the door, sunshine meeting the stars. He looked over your outfit, moving his body in a small shake along with his words as you put in the last earring and pulled on a pair of clean sneakers. "Love the look! Are you excited?"

"I'm nervous," you admitted, but the smile stayed. After locking the door, your road took you to the club. You talked all the way there, stealing glances at each other along the way.

"Here we are." While Hinata had been there many times and felt energised by the bright sign out front, you could only wonder how you hadn't seen it before. Making your way inside after the guard checked your purse, loud music made you move your shoulders to the beat instinctively.

Hinata immediately grabbed your arm and pulled you onto the dance floor with a smile splitting his face and never ceasing. While all the neon lights made your brain spin, you only saw how Hinata was the brightest light of them all. Throwing away any worries, you danced with him for what felt like hours on end.

Finally, you took a break, sitting on the bar chairs and waving at the bartender. "Two, please," Hinata said, somehow still full of energy. You were laughing and smiling at each other, trying to catch your breaths, when a taller man walked over and clapped Hinata kindly on the shoulder.

"Hinata!"

"Yamaguchi!"

"And this must be y/n, nice to meet you! I'm Yamaguchi." You shook hands, the dancing duo sipping your drinks.

"Nice to meet you too." You didn’t mind how he already knew your name, but noticed that he looked at Hinata with a knowing look. You fell into conversation with Yamaguchi while Hinata was talking to someone else, but your arms were still stuck brushing against each other. Apparently, Hinata was talking to a Tsukishima.

You told Yamaguchi about how you and Hinata started talking, speaking passionately about your book deal with Haru. "So you're both in the library several days a week, talking a lot with the same woman, and yet never talked to each other before now?" Yamaguchi thought out loud, tilting his head. His observation made you copy his movement, looking at nothing in particular as you thought about it.

"You're right, that is weird." Your voice was low, lost in thought. Yamaguchi waved a hand in front of your face to bring you back.

"Hinata tends to bounce around everywhere in rooms full of people. Stopping for a proper conversation would probably be weird if he didn't already know you." Yamaguchi was excusing what he had said now, nervous about how much it made you think.

"Don't you love that about him, though? He's kind of mysterious in a unique way. Like, I'm always wondering what he'll do next because it's always something... delightful?" Yamaguchi chuckled to himself. Oh, she's that kind of lost in thought. Luckily, the music was loud, and you two stood close together, so Hinata was oblivious to your affectionate words.

"I do. He's nice to everyone, so even people who don't necessarily deserve it get a chance. They can choose to give something and get something back."

You finally focused properly on Yamaguchi again, appreciating how intelligent he was. His words hit you, being precisely what you wanted to say but couldn't find the words for.

Yamaguchi saw how your eyes kept straying to Hinata and Tsukishima, assuming the blonde one hadn’t caught your attention. "Go dance, tell him he looks good tonight," he suggested with a wink, knowing that Hinata spent a long time trying on outfits in front of his friends. You could only grin in return, nodding excitedly and turning to the man you came with. He does look outstanding tonight.

"Let's dance!" you yelled over the music, watching his face light up the way you had already come to adore. He let out a squeal of happiness and grabbed your arm again, jumping to the dance floor. An unstoppable pair, never taking your eyes off each other for more than a second and dancing the night away. Yamaguchi and Tsukishima watched from their seats, happy for their friend.

Unfortunately, the night had to end. You and Hinata hesitantly left the club while leaning on each other and giggling happily. You made your way back to your apartment, taking breaks to giggle every two hundred meters. Your smiles were so wide that your cheeks started to ache.

After getting into the apartment, you did your best to sober up and get Hinata a duvet and pillow so he could sleep comfortably on the couch. He followed you, the smile not leaving his face. Coming out of your room with what you got for him, you turned around and found your faces only centimetres apart. "Here's the duvet and pillow. I don't have a guest room, unfortunately-"

"The couch is fine, y/n." He nodded, glancing down at your lips. You looked up at him like he made you want to live forever if only he were there to keep you warm. You took in a puff of air and leaned up slightly, but Hinata lifted a hand to your shoulder, leaning in to kiss your forehead instead. "Sleep tight," he whispered and walked away, his husky voice ringing in your ear.

"Hinata?" He turned around tiredly, but still smiling. 

"Yes?"

"You look phenomenal tonight." He bit his lip to keep from going back and kissing you, answering before going to his makeshift bed.

"Thanks. You are very beautiful, y/n." And those words kept you awake the next hour until finally drifting into honey-sweet dreams.

The Schoolyear Series ║ masterlist

[darklinaforever]

My god. What did you smoke to think that was well written ?! At what fucking moment ?! And lol ! If people really think that this kiss will have an effect on the Daemyra couple, people are completly dreaming. That Rhaenyra will have a serious relationship with Mysaria ? Even less ! It is very likely that this stupid kiss will not even be discussed in the future. Also... at one point in the video, the girl tries to say in relation to those who would have reacted badly to the kiss : "But don't straight people also kiss when they are sad ?" THE FUCKING CONNECTION ?!

And the rest is WORST !

Except that fucking yes ! There could have been official sapphic content in HOTD without these shitty relationships that are Rhaenicent and Rhaesaria ! Why ?! BECAUSE THERE ARE CANONICAL LGBTQ+ COUPLES IN THE HISTORY OF DANCE ! INCLUDING SAPPHIC ! But obviously you're not complaining about the non-adaptation of canonical queer relationships which are therefore not doomed to go nowhere or break up like Rhaenicent and Rhaesaria ! Why are you happy with representation that won't go anywhere and the erasure of canonical queer relationships ?! Are you stupid or what ?!

And yes, Rhaenicent is what we call queerbaiting ! Pure and simple ! How can you even dare to say otherwise with such aplomb ?! The writers and actors are constantly contradicting each other about the Rhaenicent relationship ! Open your fucking eyes !

Pigeons, that's what everyone who supports these two shitty ships are ! And no, I'm not sorry to say it, and I will never sorry. Wake up people, damn it !

And you know what could have been good to confirm Rhaenyra's possible bisexuality, even if I don't think she's bi in the source material ? LAENA VELARYON ! HER FUCKING BEST FRIEND ! AND NOT WITH THE TWO WOMEN WHO RUINED THE BEGINNING (ALICENT / yes yes, in HOTD, Alicent is still Rhaenyra's abuser, because Daemon, outside of the OCC strangulation scene, never really abused her) AND THE END OF HER LIFE (MYSARIA) ! BUNCH OF IDIOTS !

Also, instead of fundamentally choosing to make Rhaenyra a bi person when she probably isn't in the book objectively speaking, well just adapt the true queer characters of the dance ? No ?

No one complains that the real queer characters and relationships aren't adapted ?

You prefer that we transform a potentially straight character into bi to make her be in relationships that will go nowhere because she will never leave her man ? Well you really are pitiful.

I'm so tired of the attempts to defend Rhaenicent and Rhaesaria, two shitty relationships that were poorly written in HOTD but when you take Fire and Blood become downright insulting.

Also, another thing I find ironic. The fact of always trying to say in defense of these two ships that we don't care about the source material that is Fire and Blood. Listen to me, you idiot, without Fire and Blood there is no HOTD. So you shut up about the neglect of the source material because you just come across as even more stupid than you probably are. But strangely, to talk about the so-called infidelities of Daemon, present precisely in Fire and Blood and not HOTD of these same fans, well there are people ! While these infidelities did not take place in HOTD and may never take place. And beyond that, at no time have these so-called infidelities been proven. At no time. And if you have a functioning brain in terms of reflection and analysis, it is necessarily probable that these infidelities of Daemon with Mysaria and Nettles are purely false. But of course, the fact is that most of these people are condemning Daemon for something he hasn't done yet and may never do, in the only material that matters to these people, namely HOTD. But strangely, Rhaenyra's infidelitie, no one cares about that. On the contrary, it's apparently great because it's sapphic "representation". Rhaesaria is representation ? An improvised scene that comes out of nowhere and has no impact on the storyline ? Let me laugh. And apparently, Rhaenyra would be justified, because Daemon strangled her at the end of season 1. You know, that other scene that came out of nowhere and made no sense. But obviously, critical thinking is dead in this type of person.

Put Fire and Blood aside if you want to justify these two shitty ships, but the reality is that they don't need Fire and Blood to be bad. They are simply poorly written in the context of HOTD alone.

These two ships make me so fucking sick.

[starkeyshirt]

Kitchen Calls

jj x john b

i wrote this quite while ago! it's not necessarily an age regression story, but i imagine jj as an age dreamer of sorts, so i figured it kind of fits. enjoy!

tw//: abuse, blood, injuries, crying.

<<•>>

    JJ's ribs stung with an undeniable pain; echoing through his body with every kick. Blood dripped from his lips and his vision blurred in and out.

  "Piece of shit!" Luke screamed at his son, kicking him in the ribs one last time before chucking the almost-empty bottle at his head. The glass shattered against JJ's skin, causing it to erupt in an unbelievable amount of pain. "You're the damn reason your momma left, you know it too! Should've killed you a long time ago, boy."

   JJ watched with bleary eyes as his father stomped off, slamming their crappy door against it's hinges. He could hear the stomping until his truck started, then, he was gone. JJ knew he wasn't in the clear; his father would return, and nobody wanted to be around when he came home. Coughing up more blood, the blond boy forced himself into a sitting position. His soft, golden mop fell over his eyes, mixing with sweat, blood, and tears on his face.

  JJ's ribs throbbed almost unbearably as he stood up, leaning against the counter for stability. He was damn sure his stomach was blotches of any color but the pale tan it should be. It always was when his dad was done with him.

  JJ has learned overtime what to simply expect from his dad, what to know was going to happen before it did. He knew what pain was coming when he showed up at home after weeks without money for his dad. He knew what names he would be called, and that he probably wouldn't even make it to his room to grab the belongings he came there for. JJ knew all these things, yet he still went back. He probably always would; until the day his father killed him.

  Somewhere in his slightly brainwashed methods of thinking, JJ completely believed everything his father told him was true; Ungrateful, stupid, useless, unlovable. They were all things his father called him the most, and in some ways, they did in fact apply to JJ.

  He convinced himself he was ungrateful. He still cried when his father gave him what he deserved, even when he did nothing to contribute to their poverty. He did nothing to help his dad; he didn't give him enough money, he pushed him to drink. He was ungrateful.

  JJ convinced himself he was stupid. He failed classes in school and barely tried, too preoccupied with himself to focus on class. He led his friends into dangerous situations with dangerous people, simply because he didn't use his head. He thought with the weed he smoked, and all that did was give him a false sense of confidence. He was stupid.

   He convinced himself he was useless; never really needed to anyone, just there. He mooched off of everyone and everything around him, barely contributing to his friends or his own father. He didn't do them any good, only weighing them down with his own mental and emotional baggage. JJ was useless.

  And most of all, JJ convinced himself he was unlovable. It's the perfect word to describe him, in his own mind. Unable to be loved by his own father, who despises him because of his mother. At one point in time he earned his mother's love, only for her to rip it all away when she left without a warning. Without a goodbye. Unlovable to everyone and anyone, because nobody could love somebody as messed up as JJ Maybank.

  "Fuck!" The blond screamed, fist colliding harshly with the cheaply stained wood creating his father's joke of a kitchen. Tears flowed heavily down his cheeks, an expression filled with none other than emotion on his face. Simple emotion, that's the only way he would put it.

  Cuts from the glass dropped coppery blood down his face, and his ribs pounded from their squished position against his knees. JJ's hands intertwined into his hair, pulling desperately against his blond locks in a weak attempt to stop the wave of emotions threatening to rip through his tear ducts. JJ kept a firm grip on his hair, attempting to stand himself upright to no avail; waves of pain ripped through his ribs, sending him to the ground with a yelp of pain.

  He weakly wiggled his phone from his pocket, punching in a number he had memorized by heart. JJ hated with everything he had to call for help, fully believing he didn't deserve it. But he was wasting time, and he really didn't want to be lying on the floor when his dad stormed in again, more drunk than he was before.

  "J? What's taking you so long, I thought you only went for clothes?" John B's warm, concerned voice broke through the ringing, filling JJ's heart with a love he felt he didn't deserve. Sobs ripped from the boy's mouth; violent, harsh cries filled to the brim with pain and suffering, immediately making John B fill with panic. After all the years he'd been friends with JJ, been with JJ, he'd never heard him cry like that.

"I can't take this anymore," JJ sobbed, hearing the faint start up of their van, the Twinkie, while John B left the chateau. "I'm so tired."

  "Hey, babe, you've gotta breathe. I'm coming to get you, just breathe. Remember what we talked about?" John B soothed, listening to JJ's breathing becoming increasingly uneven and rapid, the boy spiraling himself into an anxiety induced panic attack quickly.

  "Yeah." JJ replied faintly, bringing his left hand up to his face. He held his thumb merely a few centimeters away from his lips, blowing gently onto it. As a kid, JJ would suck his thumb to calm himself down. He stopped by the time he was nine, his father having broken his left thumb after he caught him with it between his lips. Men don't need comfort, was what he had said. From that time until just a few months ago, JJ was at a loss for a way to comfort himself, always spiraling into horrible panic attacks until he'd choke on his own tears and throw up or breathe too fast and pass out. He hated it. After multiple situations in which John B was left to slow his boyfriend's rapid breathing, he noticed how he always had his left hand near his face, fisted with only his thumb out. Anybody else might not have noticed it, but after multiple times, John B caught on. Together, they had done some testing and came up with another thing that helped JJ focus and calm himself, a coping mechanism without the trauma his father caused him so early in his life.

   John B smiled fondly as he sped down the street light roads, listening to JJ softly blowing against his thumb time after time again, his breathing obviously recovering in the slightest.

  "Good boy, J. You're doing so good." John B praised softly, pulling in outside JJ's broken home. He didn't hesitate to fly up the old steps and into the other boy's kitchen.

  The sight would've been deemed precious by John B if it we're for the circumstances. JJ was sat against the cupboards, his right arm tightly around his knees, holding them close to his chest. His thumb was still held against his lips, although his mouth was parted slightly. Instead of blowing on his finger he had settled for resting it in-between his lips, having grown tired of blowing air out of his lungs.

  "Hey, c'mon. Let's get home," John B offered, crouching down carefully next to his wounded boyfriend. JJ shuffled ever so slightly, just enough so John B could swoop one arm under his legs and his other supporting his back. A whine escaped his breath when his ribs were jostled, John shushing him. JJ stuck his face into the other's horrible, horrible brightly colored shirt, breathing in the scent he loved so much.

  John B hummed softly as he carried JJ to the car, hating how small and fragile the boy seemed in his arms. He was probably one of the only people to ever see this side of JJ; he was always cracking jokes and rambling off, making himself the loud, boisterous one of the group to cope. JJ was never sad, and it hurt to see him hurting. John B would never get used to it.

  "Hey, I'm gonna run in and grab your clothes and stuff, okay? I don't want you coming back here for a while," John B explained gently placing the blond down in the front seat. Not much more than a wince escaped his lover's lips, a small nod being given in response to the question. "I'll be right back."

  JJ's busted lip left an imprint of coppery blood on John B's lips when he gave him a small peck, only making the brunette feel guilty. Guilty, only that he couldn't protect his boy.

  John B gathered both things JJ needed and things he knew JJ would want, because those were two completely different things. Shirts, shorts, sunglasses, toothbrush (JB would never admit it out loud, but he truly didn't appreciate sharing his own toothbrush every single morning); all things JJ would need. Then, he tossed in extra hoodies and his blanket, grabbing his fluffy (and in JJ's words very manly) pillow and stuffing it under his arm. That's another thing he's learned about JJ over the years. Despite living in the Outer Banks, the blond boy always insisted on piling himself under as many soft things as he could find after something traumatic happens. It was always a few hours later, after things settled and his wounds or anything else were cared for, but it happened everytime without a doubt. The first few times John B had witnessed JJ do this, he quite frankly thought the boy was going to suffocate himself. Overtime, though, JJ even managed to get John B to join him under all the blankets and pillows, cuddling together as if they were in Antarctica and freezing to death. It was a comfort thing, he supposed.

  The sky was dark already, the day having passed quicker than either boy expected. JJ was slowly bouncing back to his usual self on the way back, still very much hurt and upset, but just a little tiny bit less miserable.

  "C'mon, Princess. It's time for the chateau nurse to take over your injuries," John B joked, playfully bowing down as he opened JJ's car door. He (carefully) scooped the boy into his arms, listening to the small, wet giggles escaping his boyfriend's throat. JJ sniffed repeatedly, having been too stubborn in the car to blow his nose. Sometimes, John B wondered how he ever started dating such an man-child, but he'd love him nonetheless.

  John B carried everything in with only one trip, JJ in his arms, the bag slung over his neck. JJ held onto his pillow. Everything got tossed beside the couch, JJ being set delicately on one of the cushions. John B turned towards the bathroom for their medical supplies. "Don't move."

  "It's not like I'm gonna limp to Figure 8," JJ replied sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

John B rolled his eyes as well. "Happy to see you're feeling better."

  John B returned within seconds, carrying an arm-load of bandages, antiseptic, cotton rounds, and a joint. He handed JJ the lit joint, placing it in-between the boy's lips directly. John B then bent down to lift JJ's shirt over his head, the smaller blond purposefully blowing the smoke from the joint into his face.

  John B sighed, glancing at the variously unnatural colors covering his boyfriend's midsection. JJ's ribs were swollen black and blue, bits of yellow mixed in with it. It hurt him everytime he had to see his love like that, beaten like a dog by the person supposed to love him most. John B knew JJ saw the look on his face, watching with soft eyes as the boy looked away guilty, looking much like a kicked puppy.

  "Hey, look at me," John B instructed, dragging his hand up to JJ's chin. He redirected his focus, turning his head until the boy was meeting his eyes. "None of this is your fault. You don't deserve to be treated this way, by anyone. You're perfect."

�� Instead of avoiding his gaze, blue orbs simply stared into brown ones, a sinful guilt trickling out of them. "I do deserve it, John B. I drove him to be like this."

  "You didn't drive anyone anywhere, JJ. He's not a real man, only an excuse for a coward who takes his own misfortunes out on his child," John be signed, dabbing a cotton rounds with alcohol, bringing it up to JJ's face. "This might sting, bud."

  The alcohol did in fact sting, strangled and suppressed whimpers escaping the blond's lips until John B was finished. "Sh, we're all done now."

  With his face now free of glass shards and blood, the only noticable injuries were the scrapes left and the puffiness of his busted lip. John B could see the tiredness in his boyfriend's eyes, releasing the boy from his couch captivity whilst he left to return the first aid supplies to their normal places.

   JJ was quick to hop back off the couch, scurrying around in a slightly handicapped manner; gathering all the blankets, pillows, and hoodies he could find. He made a small nest on the couch, draping a fuzzy blanket over his bare shoulders, wrapping it around himself before holding it tightly against his chest.

  Bundled up and content with the amount of soft items he found, JJ set off towards John B's bedroom to find the older boy. John B was stood by the bed, preparing to toss an old Heywards hoodie over his bare torso. JJ assumed that Pope left that hoodie at the chateau sometime a year or two ago, and it ended up being one of the 'community' hoodies. JJ was pretty sure everyone in their group had worn it at some point, even Kie.

  John B caught his boyfriend's eye quickly, stopping his movements when JJ shook his head firmly. "I can't wear a hoodie?"

  "Nope," JJ stated firmly, shuffling forward to grab the brunette's hand. He tugged him right to the couch, shoving them both into the small den of blankets formed. John B didn't even have time to protest before he was covered in soft material, not that he would anyway. JJ was quick to curl himself into John B's bare torso, feeling all the tension slip from his body at the contact. Skin-to-skin contact was another thing JJ loved, it calmed him effectively and quickly. John B knew this, giving he was one of the only people JJ would allow himself to be that close with. Kiara and John B, that was it. He didn't know why, but stemming from his home life, JJ assumed he saw them almost as parental figures - except he was dating John B. It may not make much sense, but a lot of things about JJ don't make sense.

  "Can we go surfing tomorrow?" JJ asked suddenly.

  John B laughed, lightheartedly, loving everything about the boy in his arms. Giving a quick kiss to JJ's head, he smiled fondly.

  "Of course we can go surfing tomorrow, sunshine."

[violetlichen]

dol surnames

I've spent the past two years since I first discovered DOL painstakingly considering the surnames of the love interests and Bailey. I'm finally satisfied with what I've come up with and wanted to share:

John Avery

Now this one is not a surname. Avery is always male in my game. In my (currently on indefinite hiatus) fic Immaculance I wanted Avery to seem very imposing by being referred to as a name that's not really his name, a la Mr. Big from Sex and the City, so I decided he commonly goes by his surname. John is basic enough, one syllable and chic yet traditionally masculine sounding. Sounds good paired with Avery, rolls off the tongue nicely.

Alex Greene

This one is a little on the nose. Alex lives on a farm surrounded by nature, nature = green. But I also like that it feels fresh. Whenever I romance Alex and start staying out at the farm it feels like a fresh start for my PC, like they're starting over together. I can picture their mailbox out by the road with The Greene's written on it... I might've also been inspired by the Greene family farm from the Walking Dead 👀 I headcanon that all the farm workers call Alex 'Greeney' as a cute nickname.

Thomas Bailey

Another character that I think goes by their surname. I haven't decided on a feminine name because Bailey is also always male when I play, but I feel like it would be a strong name that could shorten to something masculine, like Wilhelmina or Bernadette being shortened to Wil / Bernie. Something long that feels a little stuffy, that fem Bailey would hate being called. Not necessarily because it's too girly but because it's a mouthful and Bailey doesn't have time to say all that. For male, I like Thomas because it's classic and gives me Victorian era vibes and even though the game has a modern setting PC is still an orphan and I want to pretend it's the 1800s.

Eden O'Connor

Still kind of up in the air about Eden, but I've settled on this for now. I just like how it sounds.

Kylar Fritz

Kylar was the hardest one to come up with. I was really set on it starting with a funky letter like G or F, and not being super common. I wanted it to feel a little strange when you say it. They could easily be bullied with this name. Fritz rhymes with pits. And everyone thinks Kylar stinks, so there you go.

Robin Davies

I feel like Davies is a quintessential English surname? Don't come at me, I'm American. I don't really have much to say for this one other than it just sounds pretty to me. Very boy/girl next door.

Sydney Spiegelman

Really, really had my heart set on this for some reason. It came to me straight away. According to House of Names, it's derived from the German word "spiegel" which means mirror, and also the Yiddish word "shpigl" which means to look or to see. I thought this was really fitting for Sydney who seems to be a conduit for the Ivory Wraith.

Whitney Clarke

Came up with this for my fic. Again, I just like it. I've posted about this before but I headcanon that their parents names are Robert and Elizabeth, and that male Whitney's middle name is Robert, and that he hates it. Fem Whitney also really hates her middle name - whatever it is - and never tells anyone what it is.

Let me know what your thoughts are, or comment if you have any name ideas yourself!

[boynarcing]

too spacious when you’re lonely

leon s. kennedy x male!reader

word count. 5.3k

cws. incest, stepbrother leon, pee, reader w bad bladder issues lol, crude language, handjobs, humping, OOC leon (duh), boring mid sexual encounter cause it’s leon, crude language

note. this is my first fic including dark(?) content so it’s wonky and mid and the overall flow of it is boring but whatever I tried my best. It’s not necessarily dark it’s just weird and icky and me just rambling lol :3 also the pee part comes out of nowhere sorry LMAO like ur just flashed

Leon Kennedy has always been the type to lead girls on, whether it be for one thing or another, he just didn’t care. Everything was a one-time thing to him. That hook-up last week, that promise he made to a buddy, that girl he had accidentally gotten pregnant… it all went in one ear and out the other.

He was a massive asshole, that much was clear to anyone with basic comprehension levels. But no one gave a fuck, because as long as you’re hot enough you’re given a free pass to do whatever you want. He knew that he was hot, yeah, but that’s like, normal. He’s only ever been surrounded by hot people his entire life. Why would he want to willingly hang out with someone who isn’t? That’s weird. No hot person does that unless they want something from you. Or they feel bad, which is probably worse.

Leon doesn’t hang out with you at all. He’s your stepbrother, so one would think he’d at least spare you a glance or a nod, right? No, no, not at all. You’re a fleeting thought to him. An “oh yeah, I forgot” type of topic. And that’s fine. It’s not like you’re the most socially indulgent type of person in the world. You’re not anything interesting. That’s why you’re not worth bullying either. Not worth some abrupt pantsing or name-calling— whatever big brothers are supposed to do with their younger siblings. Nada.

That kind of irks you. Kind of. Leon goes out of his way to make anyone he hangs out with miserable by just being himself, yet he avoids you like the plague.

It’s not purposeful, ‘cause he couldn’t care less about you— and that’s what grinds your gears.

Your mom marries some random cop who just so happens to have a kid your age, and now what? Aren’t you supposed to be a part of some picture-perfect family now? Because that’s not what it feels like. It just feels odd. You have to go downstairs for breakfast and dinner now, have a movie night every Friday, and whatever other cheesy nonsense your mom deems necessary. Where was all of that before? It’s annoying to think about. You don’t want to get all buddy-buddy with people you don’t even know or could care less about.

They probably feel the same way about you, which, whatever. The feeling is mutual. There’s just something about Leon in particular that gets on your nerves the most.

It’s just everything about him. His stupid blue eyes, his stupid side-swept hair, and his especially stupid smile. You’d punch his nose back into place if you could. Everyone else adores him. They practically kiss his ass and pucker up their lips to give him a nice rimming. It’s disgusting.

It’s a no-brainer that you’re jealous. Yeah, and what of it? It’s not like you want people to start looking at you as if you shit gold or something, but would it kill someone to notice you every once in a while? What’s Leon got that you don’t? Who’s dick is he sucking to get this many people tailing after him like lost puppies? And where can you meet them? All this who, what, why questioning is starting to hurt your brain, that’s all you know.

It’s hot in your room, and the ceiling fan’s low speed only manages to thrust more warm air towards you. The useless thing never works the way it’s supposed to. Restless, you sit up in your bed, running a hand through your mussed-up hair with an anxious sigh.

The sound of lively chatting and dishes clattering downstairs makes your ears perk, straining to hear what is going on. Something, something about your mom leaving for work soon, something else about your stepdad needing to fix the A/C… you lose interest and stop listening, eyes darting over to the alarm clock beside your bed, messily decorated with stickers and other knick-knacks.

9:04 AM.

It’s a Wednesday, which means both of your parents will be busy. Normally, you’d enjoy a day to yourself, but not this one. Wednesdays, if you’re unlucky, Leon will stay home to invite his friends over, the cute ones that have no personality or self-respect. If you’re lucky, he’ll bring home the ditzy blonde girl and Spanish-speaking man. They’re cute.

Leon definitely fucks the blonde. You’ve seen her press her chest up against his arm and sputter out nonsense as an excuse to get close.

You can’t help but frown at the memory. She’s cute as fuck, and he just sits there like an idiot, nodding along to whatever she was saying, a distant look in his eyes as if he were thinking about something else. What else does he have to think about other than the tits being offered to him on a silver platter? Dick?

Your mom calls out your name, startling you out of your foul mood.

“Come have breakfast!” She says, sounding like she was in the middle of something else way more important than you. You’re grown, you don’t need the reminder— or the attention. Maybe.

You don’t bother changing into something else, simply swiping some invisible lint off of your shirt and pushing back some hair from your face before heading downstairs, the old wood creaking under your weight.

You take the last step down, and Instantly, you’re hit with the smell of bacon and pancakes. Your mouth waters, stomach rumbling. Glancing around, you see your mom walking out the front door, keys in hand. No stepdad, and no Leon either. Either he already ate or he’s still asleep, neither of which you can bother to care about right now. Taking your seat in your respective chair, you began to eat your fill.

A mix of pancakes, strawberries, and bacon are all shoveled into your mouth, fork occasionally scratching against the porcelain of your plate and making you wince. Your mom makes good food. It makes up for all the other stuff she lacks, at least. It’s not like she has to make something good to get you to eat though. Caught up in getting your belly full, you miss the familiar creaking of wood coming downstairs.

“It’s early in the morning and you’re already stuffing your face.”

You feel your heart lurch, the pancakes passing down your throat almost getting stuck. Coughing, you wipe at your mouth with the corner of your sleeve, glaring over at your stepbrother, who isn’t even looking at you. Leon was rummaging through the fridge, snaking his hand in between some condiments to grab a protein shake. The same one his dad takes.

Oh, so he’s talking to you now? Is what’s snarked out in your head, but anxiety makes you flounder, wondering if he was speaking to you or not. Awkwardly, you slow down your movements, fork stabbing into the pancakes you were eating, now soggy with syrup. Eyes dashing up to steal a glance, you almost die right then and there when you accidentally make eye contact, meekly pushing your plate away and standing up to leave.

“What? Don’t want to eat with me or something?” Leon’s sarcastic tone stops you in your tracks, the mere attention making your heart rabbit against your chest— and not in a good way. Shit, man. What do you even say in a situation like this? What do you say at all? It’s not a big deal to most, but it is to you. It’s not like Leon talks to you every day, after all.

You open your mouth to speak, lips dry and tongue heavy.

“I’m just kidding.” He mutters, arm flexing as he rapidly shakes his protein shake, uncapping the drink before taking a swing.

Your words die out immediately, left gaping like a fish out of water. Just kidding? So he didn’t want to talk to you at all? You don’t know if you’re relieved or miserable, but your chest hurts, as if the mere situation has taken years off your lifespan. Gasping quietly, you nod, bunching your sweaty hands up into fists, as if the action would ground you.

“O—oh..‘kay, yeah…” You lick your lips, eyes on the floor beneath your feet. “I mean, would you want me to…?” Trailing off, heat rises to your cheeks, a feeling of inadequacy making you tremble lightly. Oh my god, you’re pathetic. You’re not hurt exactly, but something about him being able to shrug you off so easily like that stings. It’s a bittersweet feeling, but in the worst possible way.

Leon turns his head a little to look at you, his eyebrows pinching. He looks… concerned? No, that’s pity, you think. He’s pitying you, probably thinking about how unfortunate it is that you’re his weird little brother with no friends and social ineptitude. He probably thinks that you want to hang out with him too. You’d rather die, but you felt bad. That’s the only reason you even spoke in the first place. Honest.

“I mean,” you repeat helplessly, feeling as though you were digging yourself into a deeper hole. But your mouth kept running, seemingly out of your control. “I j-just thought that—“

“Uh, yeah. I wouldn’t mind…?” Leon cuts you off, looking back at the food set out on the table, most of it gone now. The sentence sounded forced, like he felt like he had to say it. Not that he needed to. He doesn’t wait for you, sitting down on a chair and serving himself some of the remaining food, occasionally giving you looks. Ones you couldn’t pinpoint the emotion behind. That’s scary. This is scary.

“You… okay?” Leon asks reluctantly. He’d rather be focused on something else right now, like who texted what and whatever, but he has to play the big brother role, right? His attempt at expressing care is lackluster, but at least it’s something. He has to care, but it’s not necessarily a want. If you didn’t look like you were about to shit yourself right now, he’d probably be less attentive, but you’re stuck in place and trembling like a sickly dog, and he’s a little concerned. Just a little.

He doesn’t want to get blamed by your parents for something that happened to you, or anything else like that.

You don’t answer him, and he gets a little creeped out. You don’t blame him, considering how fucking weird you’re being. Anyone, anyone at all talks to you, and you freak out like a girl wearing white on her period. Stomach churning, adrenaline makes you feel like you’re falling, the blood draining from your skin making you look as sickly as you felt. Leon’s worried now, considering the odd look he gives you, any thought of food currently abandoned.

He’s looking at you as if you were covered in blood or something, like Carrie at prom. He raises his brows and his eyes widen, jerking back a little as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. What was he seeing? Are you really that freakish or something? What’s up with his face?

A sudden splatter of liquid against the wooden floors makes you look down, gasping at the sight you’re greeted with.

Pee.

You’re fucking pissing yourself.

Hands clutching at your crotch, you sputter, mortified and embarrassed, tears welling in your eyes. “O—oh! Oh my god, uhm, I- I didn’t mean to…” More liquid gushes. Your bladder has completely lost control of itself in response to your failure at trying to act like a proper human being. You wince at the loud sound, Leon doing the same. He just stares, and you just stare. You both stare at the growing puddle, at the mess, at your ruined pants— at you.

It’s all overwhelming, enough to make you burst into tears. Which you do. Fat, salty drops run down your cheeks, and you resort to the only thing you know how to do in a situation like this. Apologize like a fucking loser.

“I- I’m sorry, I- I didn’t mean… fuck..! Sorry, I’m sorry!”

Leon doesn’t know what to say, really. Does he laugh? Make a face? Offer to help?

He cringes instead, raising a hand to try and stop your babbling. “It’s okay, It’s okay…” He speaks quietly as if trying to console a frantic animal. “Just— just don’t move, you’re… ugh…” He hasn’t even gotten up from his seat yet, but he does now, slowly rising and forgetting about breakfast. That always seems to happen to him somehow.

“Are you done?…” He asks, unsure if he should approach or not, his body tense with confusion. “I mean, with-“

“Yes! Yes,” You sniffle, dreading your existence. You pray to anyone, anything, to just kill you right now. To strike you down. “I— I’m done… I think… don’t look please…”

“It’s all over the floor…” Leon mumbles. Way to point out the obvious. Yes, you know it’s all over on the floor. You know it’ll seep through if you don’t clean it soon. But that’s the last thing on your mind right now. Your stepbrother just watched you piss yourself out of pure gut-wrenching anxiety. How have you not killed yourself yet? Maybe it’s the nerves, the fear of someone else walking in on you in this compromising situation and making a mockery of it. You could see the social media posts now.

‘Some yellow-bellied boy pissed himself because he’s too afraid to make conversation with someone supposed to be a part of his family’.

“I-” You choke, the dryness of your throat making you swallow thickly. “Can you h-help me?” You manage to get out the words, swallowing again. A tear rolls down your cheek, leaving a hot trail of moisture on your already-heated flesh. God, please say yes. You don’t think you could take any more embarrassing exchanges today– much less a rejection. Leon’s eyes flicker from the puddle of urine to the streaks of it running down your pant legs and back, over and over. It’s the one time you wish he could look at your face instead.

“Leon,” You plead, wiping your tears away messily.

“Right, right,” Leon inhales deeply, exhaling slowly to get a grasp of the situation. “yeah.”

He coughs into the sleeve of his letterman, “Can you walk to the bathroom?”

You fluster, brows furrowing.

“Of course I can,” You frown, sniffling. He’s treating you as if you’re mentally challenged, annoyance starting to swell in your chest.

Leon raises a brow, a silent question in his expression. “So do it then?” it says.

After some brief hesitation, you turn and fumble towards the bathroom, grimacing at the uncomfortable feel of your wet pants, the fabric rubbing against your skin nastily and making you feel itchy. You can hear Leon opening and closing some doors behind you, likely peering into the cleaning closet in an attempt to find something to clean the mess you left behind with. Hopefully he doesn’t use bleach, that doesn’t smell well when mixed with pee.

With shaky fingers, you flip the light switch up, illuminating the room in an instant. It smells nice in here ‘cause mom keeps it clean, who uses all sorts of chemicals and powders strong enough to knock anyone out. A whiff of urine makes your face screw up almost immediately though.

With a grunt, you pull your pants down clumsily, the material sliding down your legs with a wet noise after some effort and landing on the floor with a heavy plap. Hopefully the pee washes out. Those were your favorite pants. You follow up by removing your undies, letting them fall carelessly onto the floor beside your pants. Now you’re naked from the waist down, skin prickling with goosebumps. You really need a shower, like, right now.

“Hey,” Leon’s voice comes from behind, startling you. “I finished cleaning the… pee…” He trails off, eyes on your bare ass. For a moment, he stares, eyes eventually rising to your face— only to come down to your ass again. And again, face then ass. Mostly ass.

“Dude!” Your voice wavers, embarrassed. You turn your body to hide, but end up giving him a full view of your front too. “Get out!”

Leon keeps his eyes on you, slowly shutting the door behind him and locking it with a soft click.

“I thought you wanted me to help you?” He says casually, his demeanor incomprehensible to you. He looks down at the discarded clothes on the floor, clicking his tongue and wrinkling his nose. “That’s… nasty.”

You stammer, words lost on you. Leon doesn’t wait for you to use your brain, moving forward, making you feel the need to step back.

“You know, most big brothers wouldn’t help their little brothers at all. Especially for situations like this.” He says quietly, eyes intently on your face now, making you squirm. Your hands clutch together at your front, feebly hiding your penis from view.

“S-so? What’s your point?” You glowered at him suspiciously, trembling with a mix of anxiety and confusion. You can’t help it. You’ve never gone this long talking to someone. It feels weird, but mostly dreadful. Stumbling over your words like a toddler is embarrassing, but they flow out faster than your thoughts can form.

Doesn’t help that your ass is bared too.

“My point is,” Leon rolled his eyes subtly, “you owe me.”

You squint your eyes. What?

“What? Owe you?”

“Owe me.” Leon confirmed with a nod.

Clearing your throat dryly, you lick your lips nervously.

“Okay,” Deep breaths, now, “owe you wh-what, exactly?”

Leon pauses, eyes glancing away for a moment before returning to yours.

“Dunno,” He shrugs. “That’s for me to worry about.”

Another pang of annoyance hits you, but this time it’s mixed with worry, making your chest tighten.

“Well then, are you going to help me or not?” You scowl. It’s unreasonably cold in the bathroom, the lack of warmth making you feel out of place. It feels like you’re talking to a stranger, and technically you are. Still, the only reason you can’t seem to figure anything out about Leon over a shallow level is because he’s annoyingly boring. Stupidly enigmatic; not in a cool way. Yeah, he’s popular in his little group of friends and what not, but that’s all he has going for him. He’s not interesting in the slightest.

Leon’s quiet for a moment, before vaguely gesturing to your top with a hand.

“Go on, get naked.”

“Excuse me?” You narrow your eyes.

“You know what I meant,” Leon counters, rolling his eyes openly now. “You act like I wanna gawk at you or something,” He scoffs, “what’s there to look at, huh?”

You feel heat rise to your cheeks, but you don’t give him the satisfaction of a response, simply grumbling under your breath, hands moving to take your top off.

You throw the shirt down onto the pile of dirty clothes bunched together on the floor, eyes briefly lingering on the graphic design plastered on the front of it. Naked now, you turn and fumble with the shower curtain, pulling it back.

Leon approaches as you step in, reaching for the soap inside the shower caddy.

“What are you doing?” You chew on your bottom lip, tired of asking questions but unable to help the gnawing anxiety strumming through your ribs.

“Helping.” Leon simply states, taking off his jacket and hanging it beside the fresh towels. His biceps flex with every movement he makes, the muscles in his arms well-sculpted. The sight makes you frown, but you have no one but yourself to blame for not having a good physique.

You don’t question further; you don’t want to. All of the previous adrenaline has washed down, leaving exhaustion in its wake. With a quiet hum, you turn on the water, wincing at the cold spray that hits you.

Cursing under your breath, you mess around with the handles until you have a decent temperature, sighing in relief. Despite the uncomfortableness of being thrust into all of this, Leon seems to be taking it well, and that concerns you. What if he’s plotting something? What if you’re put in a stockade tomorrow for people to throw tomatoes at and sodomize?

Well, whatever. He probably has his embarrassing reasons. Any consequences are a problem for future you.

Cold hands make contact with your back, making you squirm. Despite the roughness of his skin, Leon is surprisingly gentle with you, the rough material of a washing rag delicately rubbing against your shoulders making you shiver. The soap smells good, at least. Like pine and some other fresh scent you couldn’t depict. Maybe it’s Irish.

Many thoughts run through your mind, most of them nonsensical and humiliating. Here you are, awkwardly standing still like a loser while your stepbrother helps wash you as if you were a vegetable. The way he touches you is oddly intimate. His hands brush against sensitive spots every few minutes or so, making you shudder.

But it feels nice, you suppose.

It’s nice to feel clean and not be covered with piss.

You close your eyes, tense muscles starting to relax. Leon notices, his hands now lathering shampoo in your hair.

“…you’re a weird one, you know?” He mutters.

You only hum. Yeah, so? He’s weird too. He’s weird for actually helping you out and cleaning your piss puddle off of the floor. And for… whatever this is. It’s definitely not a normal stepbrother activity, that you know. It feels kind of dirty, but the contact feels nice. Nice enough to make you almost melt into the touch. He doesn’t have the right to call you weird, but neither do you.

A hand splays on your chest, lightly squeezing one of your pecs.

Jolting, your eyes snap open. Inching away from the touch, you frown.

“I’m not a girl, pervert.”

“Could have fooled me.” Leon snarked bluntly, squeezing once more. This time he did it apprehensively, as if unsure of what he was doing.

At least he has the decency to properly clean you, thorough in where he reaches. He passes the rag all over your body, down your chest and in between your legs.

A weird flutter settles in your chest, pooling down to your belly. It’s not a special one or anything, it just feels weird. Not bad, not good. Just different. Letting out a shuddered breath, you grumble.

“Just help me to my room already.”

And Leon does. He rinses the suds off of you and drains the water, halfheartedly wrapping a towel around your frame before assisting you out of the shower. He half leads half carries (but mostly carries) you to your room, his body flush against yours, occasionally bumping into you. Something hard pokes at your butt, and you know what it is, but you don’t say anything. Your increase in heart rate does though.

Leon makes you feel small, you figured. He’s not mean to you or demanding, but something about his attentive behavior makes you bashful. It unfortunately makes you want more. Maybe there’s something wrong with you. Maybe mom and dad didn’t love you like you wanted them to. Leon doesn’t either, but this is fine. Any attention is good attention, as long as you can handle it without pissing yourself.

You’re pathetic for that, you know. You’re no bark and no bite, the worst of both worlds.

A towel ruffles your hair, interrupting your thoughts. Face scrunching up, you huff, withstanding the process as best as you could.

“Cold?” Leon asks gruffly, wrapping the towel he was using on your hair around your shoulders, accompanying the other one. It’s wet, but it’s the thought that counts, right?

“Yeah,” You mumble, feeling shy. You’re trying your best to stay strong and confident, but the more the spotlight rests on you, the more vulnerable you feel.

Staring down at your lap, you fiddle with the towels surrounding you, trying not to pay attention to the weight of the spot beside you sagging, Leon’s body warm against your side. It’s odd, you think. His body is warm, but his hands are always cold.

He scoots closer, pausing for a moment when he’s flush against you, hesitating.

The tip of his nose presses against the top of your head, inhaling deeply. You shudder, but don’t move. Leon wraps his arms around your shoulders, pulling you both back into the bed.

“Smells nice,” He sighs, nosing the crook of your neck. The towels around you loosen their grasp, threatening to expose you completely. He doesn’t seem keen on releasing you any time soon, his movements slow but purposeful, curious. “Better than the pee smell.”

A soft noise escapes you, squirming slightly. “What’s up with you?…” You ask quietly, embarrassed. You know, yeah. He’s hard against your hip, pressing his crotch into you. Has he been hard the entire time? You wouldn’t know that, it’s not like you stare at his crotch 24/7. You know he’s hard right now, but you don’t know why.

“Dunno,” He says, holding you tightly against his chest, face pressing into your throat, “just like how you looked.”

You hum confusedly, an imploring look on your face.

“You know,” He groans, “the stupid look on your face. The one that looks like you got scared shitless. Like when you pissed yourself.”

That doesn’t make any sense, but okay. You don’t question his psyche.

You loll your head back, letting out a small breath. Like a fish on a hook, Leon’s reeled in immediately, his lips planting against the exposed flesh of your neck. He doesn’t kiss though, not yet. He rubs his face against you, like a cat claiming territory or a dog showing affection.

His hand finds your chest, squeezing just like he did at the shower. It makes you furrow your brows in displeasure, chewing on your bottom lip. “Don’t— that’s…” you grunt, “that’s for girls.”

“Feels like a girl’s tits to me,” Leon huffed snidely, ignoring your words and squeezing again. His fingers pinch your nipple lightly, toying with the bud.

His other hand snakes down your body, splaying out over your tummy. “Are all boys this soft?” He hums against your Adam's apple, finally using his lips to kiss at the spot. You mewl, slightly disoriented.

“No…” You close your eyes, “I don’t know… don’t you?”

“I’m not gay.”

You roll your eyes at that, pushing back against the mattress to get comfy.

“Me neither.”

The hand on your tummy trails down, fingers teasing your pubic region. You grunt, thighs spreading a little, a silent invitation. Your heart is pounding against your chest and your skin feels clammy, but this is the most attention you’ve had in days that isn’t coming from yourself.

Sighing heavily, you push your chest into the hand playing with it, feeling impatient.

“Leon…” You sigh again, agitation behind it.

Leon gives in, cupping your cock and balls in his free hand in one go, squeezing gently. He feels you up for a hot minute, grabbing you in his fist and starting to rub the length slowly.

You buck your hips slightly, moaning. The dual stimulation makes you feel all tingly, brain fuzzy with pleasant static. It’s nice enough to make you forget a thing or two, but Leon is being annoyingly slow. Not that you’d vocally complain.

He keeps his face buried in your neck, occasionally pecking at your skin or licking a sensitive spot. The heat of his breath against your already warm flesh makes you sweat. Uncomfortable, you tilt your head to the side.

Leon decides he can’t multitask, removing the hand on your chest to instead use it to tilt your head back to face him, his lips leaving your neck to kiss you on the corner of your mouth.

He pecks and kisses wantonly, but it’s nothing special. You move your mouth to his deliberately, pressing further for a deeper kiss. Leon’s a bit put off by the action, but he follows your lead, soon taking over by slotting his tongue into your mouth, slipping it through your parted lips.

Eyes drooping, you sigh into his mouth, suckling on the wet muscle lazily. Squeezing your thighs together subconsciously, you shudder at the amount of precum that has oozed from your tip to your balls, inner thighs sticky and wet. All this rubbing and squeezing is doing nothing for you, so you whine into Leon’s mouth.

He squeezes your dick in response, making you buck your hips again. But it’s not enough. Too little, too slow.

Panting, you pull back from the kiss, a string of saliva connecting your lips.

“Leon—“

His lips come crashing down into yours again, silencing you. Only making a soft noise of complaint, you go back to suckling on his tongue, pacified. Some part of you wonders if that’s how he jerks off his own cock. It would explain a lot, somehow.

Despite the slow pace, the squeezing and rubbing is a surprisingly nice change from the usual fast pumping you tend to do. It’s not much, but the more Leon does it, the more each squeeze is accompanied by a surge of pleasure, an exciting buzz settling in your tummy.

You start panting, whimpering softly now. Leon catches onto your oncoming orgasm pretty quickly, increasing the pressure in some of the contact while continuing to lick into your mouth all nastily. It’s sloppy and gross, the way you exchange saliva and spit with a man supposed to be your stepbrother. You couldn’t imagine anyone else doing this with you, though.

The lack of oxygen makes you dizzy, but that’s a nice addition to the flurry of sensations strumming through you right now. Moaning, you wrap your arms around Leon, clinging onto him tightly.

He bumps and grinds his cock against your hip, precum staining the front of his pants. He doesn’t seem to be in a rush to fuck you though, content with dry humping your leg like a sniveling chihuahua.

Another squeeze on your cock and the coil snaps without warning, leaving you gasping and moaning into Leon’s mouth while cum spurts out your slit in ropes, each one landing on your tummy.

Leon groans, his lips pressing against yours hard enough to bruise, his hips stuttering against your leg. He humps the last of his own orgasm into you, shuddering as cum seeps through his underwear and onto your skin, the fluid sticky and warm.

Parting from the kiss, you mewl, eyes glazed over with ecstasy and body trembling with delight. For once, the silence with another person is enjoyable, and you couldn’t care less about anything else that has happened today. At least, not at the moment.

You dread the moment you’ll have to talk about what you just did, but right now you’re content. Glancing over at Leon, you worry a little, hoping he didn’t just wanna pump one and dump you to the side. You expected it, but that didn’t particularly mean you wanted it to happen.

He turns his head to look at you, and you frown a little, anxious as to what the expression on his face could mean. He looks like he doesn’t like anything all the time, and it’s stressful.

The look in his eyes is complicated, but you don’t have time to contemplate it. He ducks his head and steals another kiss from you, nipping your bottom lip lightly. You could jump for joy.

“Remember,” He mumbles against your lips, “you still owe me.”

You blink. You would’ve thought that this was what Leon wanted to get from you, but maybe you were wrong. You don’t know if that’s a good thing or not.

“I thought this was?…” You ask confusedly, trailing off.

“Nah,” Leon hums. “this was…” he thinks for a moment, “a tester. Y’know, like tryouts.”

“For what?” You squint, licking your lips and tasting the slight metallic tang from the nip.

Leon shrugs. He’s unsure of what he really wants here— with you, that is. He doesn’t want to think about it, not when all he wants to do is rest in post-orgasmic haze.

“You don’t mind, do you?” He asks instead, eyes examining your face, trying to get a read of your expression.

You think for a moment, before mirroring his shrug.

“No, not really.”