#neither are accommodated both are treated awful

[proudfreakmetarusonikku]

do you know who the infighting between mentally and physically disabled communities hurts the most btw? mentally and physically disabled people. who have to deal with communities supposedly for accommodating them being inhospitable due to ableism against their other disabilities. you’re not hurting physically abled neurodiverse people or physically disabled neurotypical people they just fucking block your shit. you’re hurting people who are physically and mentally disabled who have to deal with either their mental issues being treated like something they can just get over and any talk about them at all ever is overshadowing physical disability or their physical disabilities being treated as freakish and making them lesser and getting talked over and ignored and seen as irrelevant due to their physical disabilities. like if we’re playing who’s hurt more- which I think is stupid any harm deserves to be treated sensitively and with respect- then you’re mostly hurting people that are fucked over both ways and need a community more than anyone else. 

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for using what my mother taught me against her and leaving dinner?? 🍲🍴

Okay so, this might be a bit long.

I (22X) have a strained relationship with my mother (49F). We were very close when I was growing up, and while she has always been harsh and strict, she's also very loving. The problems started when I came out as queer at 16. She's very christian, and was not happy at all. I knew she'd react that way, since both her and my father have been blatantly homophobic my whole life, but I thought with some time we'd be able to move past it. However, this hasn't really happened. While my father is more accepting, neither of them is really onboard, and my mother has taken to making passive-agressive comments and overall just being homophobic towards me. I've moved away for college and while we still talk semi-regularly, I haven't been home for some time now.

Now, here's where the story starts. I have a girlfriend (24F, let's call her Ashley) and we've been dating for the past 2 years, and my parents haven't met her or expressed any desire to meet her. Last week, however, I received a call from my father telling me my brother (19M) was bringing his gf (19F, she's awesome) for dinner so my parents could meet her and said he wanted me and Ashley to be there as well. I asked if my mother knew about it and he assured me she was onboard (I even talked to her and she said there was no problem), and after discussing it with Ashley, we decided to attend.

We drove 3 full hours on the day to make it to dinner. As soon as we arrived my mother introduced us to my brother's gf as roomates, which I corrected. I watched her make conversation with this girl, but whenever Ashley wanted to say something, she'd be interrupted or ignored. Both my brother and his gf noticed this and they tried to help out, but it was really annoying me. While I am used to this sort of behavior towards me, I couldn't stand watching my beautiful girlfriend be treated like that. Before dinner I asked Ashley what she wanted to do about it and she told me to just ignore my mother and have a nice time.

And then dinner started. Ashley is a vegetarian, and I told my mother multiple times to let me know if she could accommodate or if we should bring something for her. My mother insisted she'd have something for Ashley to eat, but when the time came, she just said she had forgotten. She also conveniently added little pieces of bacon to the salad. Ashley very graciously said there was no issue and started eating only some potatoes and rice. The night went on with my mother making increasingly evident snide comments and me getting increasingly angry about it. The final straw was when she made an extremely homophobic remark towards Ashley. All of the table went silent, with my brother and father immediately reproaching her, but I had enough, stood up from the table, thanked them for dinner and informed them we'd be leaving.

I was livid. I don't care about comments made towards me, I have thick skin, but messing with my gf crossed the line. As we're headed for the door my mom starts saying she's sorry, and that it was just a joke and to please come back and sit down. I simply looked at her and told her if there was one thing I ever admired her for is the way she stood up for my dad. It didn't matter if she was hating him or loving him, if anybody dared to disrespect him, she'd bite, and she was crazy if she thought I was going to stay seated when she had made the both of us feel unwelcome, and when she had so blatantly disrespected Ashley, who had been nothing but kind all evening. I told her unless she wanted to make things right with the both of us, I had no interest in talking to her ever again. She stood there dumbfounded and we took our leave.

I have been feeling awful. I know what she's like, but some part of me thought this was the beginning of us becoming close again, and I was very sad and disappointed about the disastrous evening. My father called me the day after and said that while he agrees my mother's comment was out of line, making a scene wasn't that necessary, and that because of what I said to her she has been crying nonstop. He said me using the way they raised me against her was out of pocket, and he thought we should both apologize to each other. I talked to my brother and he thinks she had it coming and says he's only sorry he didn't stand up and leave too.

I'm unsure what to do. While I do stand with the fact she had no right to treat Ashley the way she did, I also understand it isn't terribly easy for her to be accepting of me, and I wonder if maybe I was too harsh. She's still my mom, you know? I might not like her right now, but I do love her, and I wonder if I took it too far due to the heat of the moment.

So, AITA?

What are these acronyms?

[skyloftian-nutcase]

(@hermitdrabbles56) The evening was a comfortable one, neither too hot nor too cold. The porch at Lon Lon Ranch was almost large enough to accommodate everyone, which was good enough - Time, Four, Legend, Sky, and Warriors were all lounging in various rocking chairs listening to crickets and birdsong while Wild and Twilight fussed over the horses, Wind talked to the token pig they owned, and Hyrule watched lizards scurry about near the dark, moist parts of the porch.

It was a quiet evening, and Four appreciated that. No one had much to say, and no one demanded conversation. They all needed the silence to recover from their insane lives.

But something was nagging the ICU nurse, and he had to break the moment, just a hair. He spoke up quietly, commenting, “I had a patient last night who was absolutely miserable. Nauseous and felt awful. And I… didn’t feel bad? Like, it didn’t stress me out like I had to fix it in that instant. Is… is that a good thing?”

He needed to know. He’d barely been a nurse for a year, and he felt like his empathy was already slipping out of him, drained from constantly taking on people’s problems and pain for twelve hours at a time while juggling all the decision making involved in keeping them alive.

Warriors hummed thoughtfully from his rocking chair, staring out at the trees. “Eh.”

Four blinked. “Eh? That’s it?”

“Eh,” Legend agreed with a shrug.

Now they were just messing with him, weren’t they? “I’m serious, guys, this is bothering me.”

“We’re serious too,” Warriors said. “Empathy is important, but you can’t let your concern and empathy turn into anxiety or distraction. It hurts to see others miserable, but it can’t stop you when you have to get things done.”

“Not to mention it’s draining as hell,” Legend muttered.

Four sighed, pondering the matter. He glanced at the other two on the porch for input, but Sky was snoring and Time looked too pensive for words. The surgeon did glance at him a moment, though, and their eyes met.

Time sighed. “It’s a balancing act. But it is far easier to lose touch with the human side of healthcare than I care to admit.”

Their words reminded him of another observation he’d made since working on the ICU. “Everyone on my unit is in therapy. Is that a good sign or a bad sign?”

Warriors shifted in his seat. “I mean… I guess good? It means they’re getting help.”

“Tch. Please.” Legend immediately quipped. “Everyone treats therapy like it’s some miracle cure. Something wrong? Go get therapy. Whole freaking world needs therapy! Give me a break.”

Time glanced at the nurse, raising an eyebrow and saying sternly, “Therapy doesn’t magically fix things, it’s true. But it does mean you’re trying to fix things and it gives you the tools to work on it.”

“I wonder if I need therapy,” Four blurred out before he could stop himself.

Time smiled reassuringly when the ICU nurse blushed. “Malon says everyone in healthcare needs therapy.”

The porch grew silent, everyone suddenly pointedly ignoring each other before Legend finally looked at Wars and said, “So you in therapy, then?”

Warriors laughed a little waving his hands quickly as if swatting a big. “Heavens no, I don’t need that. There are people far worse off than me, and not enough therapists out there for everyone.”

“What about you, Legend?” Four asked.

Legend shrugged, face growing neutral as he watched the sun set. “Nah, I’m fine.”

Four frowned. “So everyone in the ICU is in therapy and no one in the ED is in therapy?”

“It’s the emergency department,” Legend said, as if that explained everything.

“They don’t do self care,” Time added helpfully.

Both emergency nurses took offense to that. “Hey!”

“It’s an emergency medicine thing,” Time continued in a voice one might hear in a nature documentary. “Watch. Hyrule, do you go to therapy?”

Hyrule’s smile from watching a blue lizard scurry away faded into bemusement as he glanced at the group. “Huh? Me? No, why would I?”

Four stared at the paramedic a moment, and then hesitantly directed his attention towards the horses. “…Twi?”

Twilight turned, his face open and light. “What’s up, Four?”

“Do you go to therapy?”

“Therapy? For what?”

Four turned to Sky next, and Warriors beat him to it. “We all know he doesn’t go to therapy.”

Four groaned, his face in his hands. “You guys are ridiculous.”

[atherix]

I have voted<3 would it be alright if I requested a hands of fate drabble?

It absolutely would be alright, beloved moot <3 Thank you for your vote <3

Takes place after the story bc I wanted to write them in love <3

--

“Scar! We should really take a break,” Mumbo said, stretching his arms above his head. The box in front of him was half empty now, various knickknacks scattered across the floor. Scar looked up from the box he was rooting through; a feather from one of various cat toys stuck in his hair and all three cats in the box batted at it with demanding mewls, and Mumbo couldn’t resist a laugh.

“Hm? Oh, but I’m almost done!” Scar insisted, tugging a part of the cat tree out past the cats themselves. They yowled in protest. “Got one more piece to get!”

Mumbo scooted over to Scar’s side, leaning forward to steal a kiss. It still sent a little jolt of joy through his system that he could, that Scar was his to love and kiss now. Scar blinked at him. “Come on, love, it’s lunch time. The cat tree can wait.”

Jellie mewled pitifully, as if challenging Mumbo’s words. Mumbo grabbed Scar’s arm and tugged lightly until he finally stood up, laughing at Mumbo’s insistence. “Alright, alright, lunch time,” he agreed, following Mumbo to the kitchen. The cats scrambled to follow, practically attaching themselves to their ankles. “Not for you three, now.”

“They’re used to you spoiling them,” Grian said as they entered the kitchen. He was chopping carrots. “Come over here and help me with this stew, yeah?”

Mumbo wrapped his arms around Grian’s waist and pressed a kiss to his face, earning a laugh and a fond eyeroll. “What if I just want to watch?” he asked, grinning.

“Then no potatoes for you,” Scar said, already picking up a knife to help dice vegetables. Grian stretched a wing out, brushing it against Scar’s own. Scar smiled brightly at him and Grian grinned.

“Oh that is just rude,” Mumbo huffed, letting go of Grian to grab said potatoes. “And here I thought you both loved me.”

“Aw, we do,” Scar said, leaning over and batting at Mumbo with his wing. Grian took advantage to grab Scar’s shoulder and pull him down into a surprise kiss. Scar let out a startled sound but easily leaned into him happily, wings fluttering behind him. 

“Couldn’t resist, sorry~” Grian trills as he pulls back, picking his knife up again to continue chopping.

Soon enough they had a delicious smelling vegetable stew and the cats were demanding treats, targeting Scar specifically as he was definitely the one most likely to crack. Mumbo managed to keep Scar’s focus off of the cats. He may have catapulted a carrot at Scar’s face when he started looking at the cats pitiably, but that was neither here nor there.

Dishes were done quickly and Scar started back towards the boxes, Mumbo half a step behind him, when Grian grabbed both of their shoulders.

“Nap time,” Grian said, forcibly turning them around and pushing them towards the bedroom.

“Grian, it’s two in the afternoon,” Mumbo pointed out, laughing. “We never nap at two.”

“Today’s been a busy day! So much to do, so much unpacking to do,” Grian tutted, wrapping his wings around them both. “I’m tired, and I know you both are too.”

Especially Scar, Mumbo couldn’t help but think, eyeing his lover. “Scaaaar, are you not telling me something?”

“What? No-”

“He’s aching in so many places,” Grian interrupted with a small huff. “He needs to lie down.”

“Scar, you should have told me,” Mumbo scolded gently. “I would have made you take a break hours ago!”

Scar shrugged with a sheepish smile. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine, let’s just rest for an hour before getting back to unpacking,” Mumbo said, flopping down on the bed. They had upgraded to a king to accommodate three people so there was plenty of space for Scar and Grian to drop down next to him, shifting around to get comfortable. 

Grian wrapped his wings around both of them and nuzzled his face against Mumbo’s shoulder, trilling softly and contentedly. Mumbo shared a look with Scar, a lazy, fond smile on the other’s face as he pressed closer to them. His own wing overlapped with Grian’s larger, more colorful wing, but Mumbo smiled at the gesture anyway.

It was like having the world’s softest, lightest and warmest blanket over him. He shifted around, careful not to jostle Grian, to lean against Scar’s shoulder. “Love you,” he whispered softly.

“Love you, too,” Scar whispered back.

“Less professions of love, more sleeping,” Grian said, and Scar and Mumbo broke into small giggles.

“We love you too, Gri,” Scar said.

“You better,” Grian said, feathers ruffling. “Love you both, too.”

[dilutedapplejuice]

Hmm. I’m having trouble explaining this coherently so I’m just making a list. Here’s why mainstream autism content on tiktok is waaaaaay skewed.

*disclaimer this is not an attack on anyone, just informational.

1) TikTok’s algorithm promotes and prioritizes the voices of hyperverbal, conventionally attractive American/British AFAB women and non-binary people with low-mid support needs. There is also just a lot more content from people like that (This excludes anyone who talks slowly or quietly or with a lisp or not at all or with an AAC, has a genetic disorder that affects how they look, can’t look at the camera, can’t organize their words in a way that pleases the algorithm, have camera anxiety, are BIPOC, are fat/plus-sized, etc etc etc.

2) The neurodiversity movement as a whole is just exclusionary. People use “neurodivergent” as a blanket term for people with LSN ADHD or autism (even though the word is meant for anyone who isn’t neurotypical, like people with personality disorders, anxiety, depression, schizospec conditions, brain trauma/injuries, etc).

3) Bad takes. From the videos I had seen, autistic people were accepting autism as a disability, but only in the social sense (aka if society accommodated better autism wouldn’t be a disability)-which is fine because for many low-mid support needs people that might be true. But it ignores autistic people who are disabled on an individual level, and not just because of how society treats them. They might need caretakers to do their daily tasks or any other number of supports. There IS a reason autism is ranked in order of support needs. It’s not just accommodations.

The same goes for autistic people who reject the “disordered” psychological model of autism (basically, psychology does diagnosis and treatment of autism based on how many “deficits” an autistic person has in social communication and restrictive/repetitive behaviors). Again, that’s fine if you don’t see any part of your autism as “deficient,” but it is not up to you to tell other autistic people that they don’t have any deficits. It’s up to the individual and saying psychology should get rid of it altogether is a harmful ideal which doesn’t take into account HSN autistic experiences or opinions.

Also, autistic people are allowed to identify with the labels of low- or high-functioning. Or Asperger’s. Again, that’s their decision. I didn’t see anyone mention that on tiktok. There was just a slight lack of nuance.

And… about ABA. It’s good that ABA is getting pushback because it is harmful to a lot of autistic people. It needs work. But the stances on tiktok about it are, again, un-nuanced. Most people talking about it don’t actually have any experience with it. No one ever mentioned that ABA actually has helped autistic people, and many autistic people who went through ABA have mixed feelings about it because it both helped and hurt them. There was no talking about alternatives to ABA or efforts to improve it. It was just about how awful the practice and its history is (which it can be a LOT of the time), and I suppose why it should be abolished?

^ And to make it crystal clear here, I am NOT defending ABA in any way, shape, or form. I don’t have the solution for it here. I’m just saying tiktok isn’t doing a good job of representing people’s arguments.

4) Lack of information on HSN people. Did you know that up to 30% of autistic people are also deaf/HOH? Me neither until today. There is almost no information on comorbidities with autism (other than ADHD/anxiety/depression and maybe EDS/POTS) on tiktok, even though people with autism are more likely to have another physical/psychological disability co-occurring.

So in conclusion, tiktok is a HUGE echo chamber for LSN autistic people and while it has some useful information about autism outside of the psychological view, there needs to be a lot more work for inclusivity, both by tiktok and the people making the videos there.

I think this list can probably be applied to other social media as well, but it’s just tiktok that I’m familiar since I used to browse autism tiktok obsessively bc of my special interest.

*also another note: I realize the algorithm was also responding to my own inputs: how much I watched certain people’s videos over others etc. It WAS my fault that I got so minimally diverse autism content, to an extent. But I know that many HSN non/semiverbal autistic people said that their content was never getting as much attention as LSN content in general and I wholeheartedly believe that. If you think your feed should be more diverse, it’s up to you to look for it because the social media platform is not going to do it for you. As a starting point look up “high support autism” or “level 2 autism” or “level 3 autism.”

I am completely open to talking about this, especially with level 2/3 autistic people. As a level 1 I want to listen to your opinions and respect them to the best of my ability.

Sorry this is so long and unorganized, I’m not sure how to make this more readable.

TLDR: Most videos on tiktok show LSN white autistic people and their content is mostly limited to takes about the late diagnosed LSN community, and doesn’t account for HSN autistic people and their families/caretakers.

[sylvain-writes]

To Have You Like This (Leonardo x Male!Reader)

Rated: E (Explicit) Male Reader, Top Reader, Mutant Reader (chameleon/humanoid), friends to lovers, resolving sexual tension, rimming, anal sex, affection After your mutation, you had struggled to come to terms with the chameleon-like changes to your body. Luckily, you made a friend in Leonardo. The blue-banded leader quickly became your best friend, helping you transition to life as a mutant amid the chaos of NYC. But the energy between you has been shifting. Tonight, the feelings you two have been pushing down are going to come to the surface. for anonymous

.

Leonardo has always treated you as an equal. You were a fighter before your mutation, so your time with him hasn’t been all about the fundamentals of attack and defense. Training with Leo is more learning the ins and outs of your new abilities, figuring out how to use them to your advantage. But tonight, standing on opposite ends of the dojo, weapons tossed aside, neither of you are thinking about running drills. 

Swordplay turned to grappling some time ago, and the tension that has been building between you for weeks has finally come to a head. Staring each other down, your chests heaving from exertion, both of you can feel the change in the air. 

You see him shift, adjusting his belt to accommodate the effect you have on him. With your heightened senses, you can smell his arousal mixing with your own.  

Your tongue flicks and slowly licks your lips, reminding him just how long and dextrous it’s become. Leonardo’s pupils dilate and he shudders at the sight. Giving a little smirk, you turn toward the tunnel for the showers with no doubt he’ll follow.

⁂

He meets you at the foot of his bed--your best friend and closest ally--but now you see each other in a new light. Everything is about to change. 

Half-dressed and still dripping from your showers, there's a hunger in the way you drink in the sight of one another. Not an ounce of tension has dissolved. If anything, anticipation has drummed up more desire.

Leo breathes your name and it's a foreign sound--tortured and wanton. His voice trips down your spine and sends sparks through your veins. The fearless leader sounds uncertain. Curious and hopeful and a little bit lost.

For as long as you've been friends, you've known that if anything were to happen between you it would be you who makes the first move. 

You take a step forward, and your hands find his chest. 

Much like your time together in the dojo, this moment in Leo’s bedroom feels like taking your new body for a test drive. You know the fundamentals of a kiss, of a fuck, but now that you’re no longer fully human it all feels new. With Leo, so many things do.

You feel his heartbeat quicken and his breathing cease. You’ve touched before--donning armor, tending to injury--but never like this. The broad expanse of his chiseled plastron is warm under your hands, still slick from his shower. Your throat is tight. Your lips are dry.

You stand a few inches taller than him. Being this close makes it obvious. So you gather the tails of his mask in your hands. You urge him up on his toes to meet your height. His focus is on your lips, just as yours is on his, until your faces are too close for your eyes to do anything but close.

Cool, firm lips slide against yours. And when Leo releases a shaky exhale, his breath tastes like bitter herbs and honey. His forehead presses into yours as his hands hold your waist, and you feel him sway just a bit as he stands.  You tip your head to bring your lips to his again.

He breaks the kiss, his voice trembling. “Please,” he says, and you pet his cheek, his neck. 

You nod your head against his where you’re still pressed close.  You’ve been friends long enough, grown close enough, to know Leonardo has never been intimate with anyone before. “Do you want to stop?” you ask, your voice dipping low. “Or do you want-”

“More,” he pleads in a rush, and he breathes against your lips as he takes it. His next kiss is urgent and wet. It’s desperate and perfect. His large hands sweep up your back and you love the strength of his thick fingers as they pull you chest to chest.

You cradle his chin and tilt his head to fit his lips better against yours. With your other hand, you caress his plastron--taking your time, feeling scars you hadn’t noticed before. Your heart twists as your fingertips find each divot and crack. You press another kiss to his lips before letting your mouth wander. 

Your kisses travel his neck, down his shoulder with quick nips and licks. You run your tongue along the hard edge of his plastron, worshipping his heroism and sacrifice without words. Your hands move down the sensitive skin of his sides as your mouth continues its reverent descent. At his center, your hands slide over his belt, hinting at what you want to give him and asking for permission.

He looks down on you. His breathing already ragged. A hand strokes your head before he's undoing his belt with haste. 

“We can stop,” you remind him, scratching designs down his thighs.

He huffs, his lashes fluttering as his eyes roll. He shakes his head and his shorts fall to the floor.

You shove him onto the mattress and smile knowing you've caught the ninja by surprise. Your hand drifts low on his abdomen, so low you can feel the impressive bulge under his plastron. You can guess how close he is to dropping down.

He pushes himself toward the headboard and reclines upon the pillows for you. He looks gorgeous like this. Laid out and desperate for your touch. 

Kneeling between his legs, you remove your shirt and slide the waistband of your sweatpants down your thighs. As you lie over him, Leo rocks on his shell. The press and friction of your bodies spikes your arousal and curls your toes.

You hitch his leg over your hip, dragging him impossibly closer. Needing him closer. You moan against his lips.

“More,” he begs, his voice rough. The headboard groans under his grip as he writhes. 

There’s no question in your mind, you’ll give him what he needs. You want him. All of him. It excites you to know he feels the same. Even quick as you are, he whines when you have to break contact to strip off the rest of your clothes. 

When there’s nothing between you but fevered skin, you lean forward again, covering him with your body. You pin him down by his wrists, your single-handed hold tight and firm. 

Leo looks up at you, his blue eyes stormy with passion and full of trust. He arches into your free hand as it explores his body. He feels alive in a way he hasn’t felt before. Under your gaze, your touch, he feels exposed and known and vulnerable in a way he’s never allowed himself to feel with anyone else.

Your hands come down to his sides, grab his shell by his hips, and you rut against him where he lies, so pliant, cooperative, and needy. He bucks his hips on a wrecked moan.

“Go ahead,” you say, one hand sneaking between you, stroking his belly. You palm the bulge under his plastron and he squirms. He whimpers. And you tease, "That's it." Massaging the rise of his abdomen, you command, “Let me see you.”

With a sigh that turns into a moan, he drops down. You look between you to take in the sight of him lined up beside your own dick. His length, his girth. He’s not so different from other men. Though yours are more similar now that you're reptilian as well. 

You caress him with even, curious strokes, marveling at the texture of his flesh. The heat of it. Precome gathers at his tip and leaks down his length. It mixes with yours and smoothes the rough glide.

“Don’t,” Leo says, and it sounds like he’s going to break.

Your hand stills as your eyes meet. 

“...'m close. Want to feel you.”

“I’m right here,” you assure him and bring your mouths together for a kiss that’s careful and slow.

Leo hums against your lips and it vibrates against your lips in a way that leaves you greedy for more. As a leader, Leo carries the weight of responsibility on his shoulders. But here, he lets go of all that, he melts.

“Fuck me,” he says and you think, for a moment, the world has stopped. 

You must take too long to respond because when the world starts up again, Leo is looking up at you, his mouth soft and open, and he’s asking again.

You kiss him hard this time and tell him, “I’ve got you,” as if the way you have him pinned isn’t enough. Because you mean it in every sense. “I’ll take care of you, baby.”

With a teasing drag of your body against his, you slide down and part his legs. You abandon his dick for now, much more interested in fulfilling your promise. Eager to get him ready to take you in. 

Leo's hand leaves the headboard to reach for yours. Your fingers link at his hip as your tongue laves at the most intimate part of him. Your tongue presses and Leo gasps. 

He's tight and hot, sucking you in so greedily you slow down to hear the agony of his desire. He grinds down on your face as you offer him one finger then more. Taking him apart like this, with your fingers and tongue, quickly becomes your new favorite thing. 

Bobbing just above you, his perfect cock throbs with anticipation and neglect. It’s dark, straining, dripping. You think it probably hurts to be that hard. Your own dick aches as it hangs between your thighs, well affected by Leo’s grunts and moans. 

When your tongue leaves his ass and he whimpers, you assure him with a voice that’s low and smooth, “I’m right here.” 

His gaze is open and sure as he nods. Then you align the head of your dick where he wants it and make it known you’re going to give him everything he needs.

You sink in slowly, a bit in awe that you get to have him like this. 

He moans through the slide until he's taken every inch. He shudders as your hips meet and pleasure coils at your core. A wrecked sound breaks from Leo's throat. A mewl. A purr. You wonder if he knows what he's doing to you. His body tenses while he's filled to the root and your thighs tremble, your hips stutter. You pull back and plunge in and grunt his name. 

He returns your call, panting and weak. Looks up at you, unguarded--cheeks flushed, eyes blown and glazed. To see him flawlessly laid out like this charges something possessive in you. You never knew you could want something, someone, so desperately until you had Leo writhing beneath you. 

Your skin flares blue and green, orange and red rippling up your spine, washing you in color. You bend down meeting Leo for a deep, burning kiss. And you take his dick in hand where it's creating a mess over his stomach.  

Your thrusts are short and deep. You work yourself up with quick fucks like it's a challenge. You work him over at a pace just as punishing, driving him toward orgasm and holding him at the edge.

Leo's head bangs against the headboard in time with your thrusts and a churr rolls through his chest. But the way he says your name, quiet and tender, has you coming undone.

You pull out to cover him in ropes of your sticky, hot spend. Your body shakes with each spurt and Leo greedily licks up a drop that's landed on his chin. It's the taste of you that does him in. 

He's been on edge so long the orgasm tears through him like a shock. He shivers and quakes as you lick him clean. When you kiss him, he tastes the mix of your come and his spent dick gives an involuntary twitch of interest. 

"More?" you ask with a quirk of your brow.

Leo gives you a lazy smile that's sated and happy as his limbs give a final shudder and fall limp. "Later?"

You can't remember a time you've seen him look so relaxed. "Sure." You stroke his chest and curl into his side. There's nowhere better to be. "Later, I can do." 

[jimlingss]

The Ultimate Drabble

➜ 1.8k || OT7 || Fluff

➜ When all the worlds collide together.

► This is an ambitious crossover of all the main male leads of my slice of life series. Albeit short, I hope you enjoy it nonetheless. Thank you for joining me for such a long journey. It took over four years, but I’m glad that I was able to complete it and that you, the reader, was along the wild ride with me.

Ringg Ringgg.

The elevator sings as he gets off the right floor. The doors part and he steps out, adjusting the sleeves of his fitted black suit that hug his broad shoulders one last time and brushing a strand of his sleek hair that’s parted to one side away from his forehead.

There’s already a bustle, music and conversations leaking out from the conference hall. 

But when Seokjin enters, he isn’t sure where to go.

People are already mingling, holding glasses of champagne, laughing and making small talk. No one greets him and he dawdles around for a second before he decides to approach the harpist playing at the side, right by the entrance.

“Excuse me, do you know who the event coordinator is?”

The long-legged boy lifts his head, fingers still plucking at his harp strings, but he exhibits utter confusion. His black rimmed and gawky glasses are sliding off his nose, coffee brown hair barely combed. But in his polite smile, dimples appear on each side of his cheek. “I actually don’t know, sorry. I’ve been trying to figure out who the event coordinator is too. I’m just a hired college student.”

“Oh. Well, that’s quite alright. Thank you.”

“No problem.” The boy continues plucking, playing a lovely piece to fill the background noise.

But Seokjin is back to square one.

Or at least for only a few minutes.

As soon as he arrives at the refreshments table, he catches someone’s eye and they beeline straight towards him. “Excuse me, are you Mr. Kim?”

Seokjin turns around and finds a smiling man with plump lips, rounded cheeks, and crinkled eyes. But despite the boyish exterior, Seokjin recognizes him from the shows he’s been to. He’s Tony award-winning Broadway actor, Park Jimin. 

It was admirable that someone like him, with fame and power, would selflessly host such a charity purely for the betterment of humanity. Everyone these days seems to have ulterior motives, but the man looks to be the exception.

“Yes, I am.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m Park Jimin.” The two men shake hands. “I couldn’t thank you enough for being one of the sponsors of our events.”

“It’s my pleasure. Valleyview Kim Hospital will always help support child welfare. If anything, I should be thanking you for reaching out to me. I wouldn’t want to miss out on such a great opportunity.”

The pair of them exchange a bit more conversation before Jimin is leading Seokjin to his designated table.

“This is Jung Hoseok,” Jimin introduces and Seokjin is taken aback.

The man is tall with dark hair, dressed in a fitted suit with his sun-kissed skin glowing. He has high cheekbones with a long nose, mere presence commanding attention. But when he glances up and stands, the natural furrow of his brows seems to soften intentionally like he’s still practicing how to not look intimidating.

“Nice to meet you. I’m a partner of Jung and Park, a divorce law firm here in downtown.”

“I’m Mr. Kim Seokjin, I’m the chief executive officer of Valleyview Kim Hospital.”

“Oh, I’ve been a few times.” The lawyer seems to ease and he smiles.

“Have you?”

“Yes. Fortunately, nothing bad happened but you have an amazing team of doctors on hand.”

“Thank you. I’m glad we were able to accommodate and treat you fairly.”

Jimin smiles and moves onto the next set of people that stood from their seats to greet Seokjin. There’s a plump man who has a wide smile and a younger boy next to him. The latter has eyes the colour of a deep chestnut shade, a softened yet strong gaze. His features are gentle, cheeks rounded, lashes long, hair that looks fluffy to the touch and naturally pouty lips.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you! I am Mr. Min, president of Brilliant Top School. One of the best secondary schools in the country, and this is my son, Min Yoongi. He is a high academic, actually, the Student Council President that runs the internal affairs in our institution—”

“Dad,” the high-schooler calls in a husky voice, eyes drooping as if he’s exhausted and doesn’t want to be here.

Seokjin can empathize with him. Social events aren’t exactly exciting half the time.

“It’s nice to meet you. I look forward to hearing more about your school soon.”

They all take their seats, getting comfortable and Jimin smiles. “Dinner will begin shortly. Feel free to mingle and order any drinks or refreshments. There’s also auctions in the lobby if you haven't already taken a look. Thank you again for coming.”

The charity fundraiser looks like it’s doing well for itself. There appears to be plenty of sponsors from all across the board, different people from all kinds of different industries. Seokjin’s glad that so many can come together for such a great cause.

“Do you know who the empty seats are for?” he asks when curiosity gets the better of him.

The lawyer looks up from his menu. “Apparently, it’ll be where the First Lady is sitting.”

“The First Lady?” His brows raise in surprise.

Hoseok nods. “She was the biggest sponsor of tonight’s event or so I’m told.”

And soon enough, much to the bafflement of Seokjin, the First Lady indeed emerges. There are pictures taken with the hired photographers, people that approach and introduce themselves, shaking her hand. Swarmed by the masses, it seems like she can’t even get to the table without being stopped every few seconds. But eventually she arrives and everyone stands in courtesy.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lady Kim.”

“Likewise.” She smiles and introduces the boy Jin didn’t notice was behind her. “This is my stepson, Taehyung.”

“Hi,” he grunts half-heartedly. His blonde hair is a mess, clothing rather baggy, and the scruff all over his chin never once gives hints that he’s the wealthy son of a world leader. He doesn’t have brand name clothing, a polished appearance, or luxurious watches to his name. But despite appearing rugged, he looks not that much older than a mere college student.

“Hello.” Hands are shaken, greetings exchanged, but Taehyung doesn’t look like he wants to be here. Both he and Yoongi, with no words said to one another, seem to telepathically exchange mutual respect in that way.

A smile finds itself on Seokjin’s lips — he can still remember when he was that young and unimpressed with the world.

“Thank you for your contribution to this country.” Mr. Min is shaking the First Lady’s hand excitedly. “The funding you have put into education has helped us run so many programs for our students, like our scholarship program. The previous administration was looking to cut education, and it was absolutely terrible! It’s nice to know that there’s someone sitting in office who genuinely cares about the well-being of our children and the future generation.”

The woman is laughing politely, and this time, the principal’s son looks like he has no plans on stopping his ramble and the president’s son doesn’t look like he particularly cares either.

The former grabs his non-alcoholic champagne and downs the whole flute.

Soon, the conversations slow down and the music becomes quieter. The lights dim, and a single spotlight is put on the podium in front of the room. Jimin enters the stage, tapping the microphone once and then he flashes a brilliant smile.

“Good evening, everyone and welcome to the Break the Silence charity fundraiser. Tonight is about helping children find their voices, supporting child welfare in broken homes, and promoting the education of children in need. So, thank you for coming here tonight and aiding this great cause. Without the support and sponsors of tonight, I would’ve never been able to host such an event.”

The Broadway actor continues with his speech, speaking about each of the sponsors for the non-profit fundraiser and the bidding that’s happening in the lobby, and where the proceeds will go. Afterwards, it dials down to a more casual discussion of when meals will be served and when the bidding results will be announced.

“Thank you everyone who came here today to support the cause.” There’s loud applause that erupts through the room and the actor smiles, walking off the stage.

The harp player in the corner continues playing and plucking away at his strings, and promptly enough, the meals are served. Seokjin finds easy conversation with Hoseok. It never goes anything beyond polite work talk but he’s rather easy to speak to and Jin muses that he’s quite professional.

The First Lady is swamped the entire night, so there’s little he can say to her. Her stepson, on the other hand, doesn’t seem like he wants to talk and neither does the highschooler who’s found often texting on his phone with a smile that sometimes sneaks on his lips. His father isn’t bothered enough to ask him who it is on the other side — he’s too preoccupied speaking about the scholarship student program at his institution to other people mingling around.

But eventually, dinner is finished and dessert is served. 

Though not before the chef comes out to personally introduce the dish.

“Good evening, I hope you enjoyed your dinner tonight.” The man who approaches has doe eyes and dark hair flopping to the side. His black dress shirt is tucked into his black trousers hugging his muscular frame. Apparently his name is Jeon Jungkook, a World Renowned Chocolatier, or at least what Jimin had commemorated at the beginning and what Mr. Min had whispered about prior to the dish being served. “This is a chocolate ball created by using Amedei Porcelana, a dark chocolate made by the Amedei chocolatier of Tuscany, Italy. The chocolate on the side that you pour onto the ball is a sweeter milk chocolate, and there’s crème brûlée ice-cream inside with truffle shavings.”

“Thank you.” The First Lady picks up her fork.

Mr. Min is in awe. “This is absolutely wonderful.”

And for the first time tonight, Yoongi and Taehyung look like they’re actually alive and not half dying.

“This looks delicious,” Seokjin affirms and Jungkook smiles. 

“Please, enjoy.” The man continues on his way, a waiter following behind him and rolling the silver cart to help distribute the desserts.

It’s odd. Seokjin feels a sense of familiarity with these people. And in spite of being surrounded by complete strangers, he enjoys his night wholeheartedly.

The event continues, food finished and the bidding results announced. After a little more mingling, people begin to bid their farewells and Seokjin parts away from Hoseok, shaking the man’s hand once more with a promise that if the lawyer ever needs something from the hospital, then he’s just one call away. It’s an acquaintance-relationship built on mutual respect.

“Thank you for coming, Mr. Kim.” 

“It was a pleasure.” Jin shakes Jimin’s hand one last time. “Feel free to contact me if you ever plan on organizing an event like this again. I would love to contribute to great causes.”

“I will.” They exchange smiles.

It’s a peculiar night, but not a bitter one. 

It’s sweet.

[pointnumbersixteen]

A Few Thoughts on the Ghosts’ Christmas Special

I’m going to start with the things I really liked, because that’s always best.

1) In the Bleak Midwinter. Beautiful. I’d love to have a Ghosts’ musical. I don’t care how much they’d have to stretch to pull it off. But since that’s unlikely, all of them singing a Christmas carol together was a nice gift to help sate that desire. Did I mentioned it was beautiful? Some of the cast can really sing... the rest of them can at least fit nicely into a chorus. And the way it fit into the episode, with the Ghosts satisfying Alison’s Christmas wish after she did her best to satisfy all of theirs, that was wonderful. All of my subsequent rewatches have been for that part. And ‘twist-it.’

2) I enjoyed the bits with Fanny and the Christmas tree. I don’t know why, but that was one of my favorite subplots. Maybe because I really love Christmas trees. And Fanny remained tolerable throughout, which is hard for Fanny.

3) I enjoyed Pat and Cap’s reaction to the handsome men comment, straightening their ties and looking proud of themselves. It was very adorable. And how Pat and Cap spent most of the episode together. 

4) Mary’s interactions with the baby were interesting and added something both to her character and to the world-building of the show (babies can sometimes see ghosts) which could pay off later in the show if Mike and Alison ever have a child or something like that. 

5) Julian’s daughter became a Green party MP. That’s perfect. 

And the things I didn’t like... (because, unpopular opinion, overall I was kind of disappointed with the episode?) These are largely subjective, but hey, most entertainment reactions are. 

1) Mike’s family was kind of awful. They didn’t treat him with any respect whatsoever. Particularly his sisters. Like, y’all are all in your late twenties/early thirties. He’s hosting y’all, trying to give you a really nice Christmas. And your reaction to this is to intentionally try to make him miserable and angry so he’ll have a meltdown on Christmas day that you can record and laugh at him about later? That’s not a fun sibling dynamic. That’s super immature and toxic and if my sister or I tried doing stuff like that to each other, we’d probably just stop speaking to each other. I certainly wouldn’t invite her over for Christmas.

2) I didn’t like how Kitty sided with Mike’s sisters, with the oh, yeah, Mike’s so stupid bits. I get how she’s lonely and bandwagons with whatever young women are in the house, and yeah, Mike isn’t the brightest bulb out there... but neither is Kitty, for that matter, so maybe show a little loyalty to the guy you live with and who does his best to accommodate you and your ghosty friends even though he can’t see y’all? 

3) Where is Alison’s family? It would have taken one line to establish that they are dead, estranged, vacationing in Bermuda, what have you. It’s not like they have to go into all of the details, if they want to make that a focus of a later episode... even if they want to leave it a mystery, they could have mentioned something like, ‘oh, I wish my family could have been here’ or ‘oh, I wish I had any sort of relationship at all with my family.’ Not mentioning it at all just left me with a giant question mark and seems needlessly coy. It’s not like they trimmed all the fat for run time, because they certainly didn’t, so ‘wasn’t relevant enough to make the cut’ can’t be the explanation. 

4) A lot of the characters’ subplots were EXACTLY what I would have predicted them to be. Thomas spending most of the episode pining for a kiss under the mistletoe from Alison? If I had to put money on a prediction beforehand, that would have been it. Robin ranting that Christmas is a crock? Same. Kitty following various people around the house like a puppy while tossing hints that her sister is horrible? Well, that’s basically what she does in most of the episodes. Pat’s Christmas recollections of the eighties being exactly what mine were in the nineties... the kids playing board games (later video games) while the adults drink until someone inevitably squabbles? Of course they were. And on the one hand, it speaks to consistent characterization... but on the other hand, doing the most predictable thing possible with half the characters is kind of... boring. Like, I’m sure they could have kept the characters in-character while coming up with something a bit more surprising for at least ONE of them. It would have been nice.

5) Once again, Humphrey is underutilized. I enjoy Humphrey as a character, so I find the episodes where Humphrey is just a prop to be a bit frustrating and his entire experience in this episode was being used as a baby mobile for a few seconds. 

6) And once again, we get no new information on the Captain. And after thirteen episodes, it’s becoming less mysterious and more frustrating. Half the fun of mysteries is being provided hints and tidbits to see if your guesses are going to pan out and so it’d be great if they could get on with that. I know they’ve said in interviews they want to set the tone before getting into some of the deeper stuff, but... the tone’s set, guys. You’ve had two full seasons. Get to it.  

7) I didn’t find making Julian’s plot the emotional payoff of the episode very satisfying. He spent his daughter’s entire life avoiding her at Christmas and listening to a baby cry for like 24 hours 30 years after he died suddenly made him rethink his life choices? It just didn’t feel very believable for him to have the Ebeneezer Scrooge Christmas change-of-heart just from that. That it made him curious about what happened to his daughter? Sure. That it suddenly enlightened him to the true meaning of Christmas? That seemed OOC to me. This is Mr. Balls-to-Animals we’re talking about.

8) If, alternatively, you see Mike’s conversation with his dad about how eventually he and his mom aren’t going to be able to do the things they do on Christmas as the emotional payoff, that works a bit better narratively, but I found it incredibly depressing to be reminded that eventually my parents are going to die in the Christmas episode of my emotional-comfort show, particularly since we all spent Christmas sick with covid (thankfully, after a few scary days, it looks like we’ll all probably recover, but still, that was not what I needed this year... and I know they wrote this episode before covid became a thing, but still, Boxing Day when my dad was trying to tell me how his blood sugar had shot above 300 but he couldn’t get a single full word out without coughing ranks as one of the scariest days of my life and trying to re-watch the Christmas special afterwards for comfort to be hit by the reminder that this could be our last Christmas together hurt. I know, again, that’s very specific to my situation, but there it is.). 

Anyway, I’ll probably add more stuff as I think about it more, but these are the things that stuck out to me after three watches. 

[baoshan-sanren]

A Series Of Unfortunate Events: Floor Mats are a Thing

a part of the Nielan Arranged Marriage AU that exists mainly because the bed-breaking anon did not actually get to see any beds being broken

also, because a little smut never hurt anyone (except for me because I’m terrible at writing it and yet I keep trying)

and also because @acutebird-fics made this art I have not stopped thinking about for a single moment in over a week

They do not break the wedding bed like that.

Even the insinuation is preposterous. Their wedding bed is obnoxiously large and extremely sturdy, and Lan XiChen cannot possibly imagine the type of intimate activity that would... result in such damage.

Except that this is mostly a lie, because he is capable of imagining a lot of things, and does so on daily basis.

MingJue, of course, is to blame for this. Lan XiChen distinctly remembers a time in his life when his head was free of inappropriate thoughts. When he could easily focus on a book without remembering MingJue’s fingers on his cheek. When he could move through his sword forms without the relentless burning in his thighs reminding him of their activities from the night before. When he could listen to MingJue speak in a crowded hall without imagining the man’s hot breath panting into his ear, words whispered into his hair, teeth sinking into his neck.

MingJue has no shame whatsoever. He has no reservations about vocalizing every inappropriate thought that crosses his mind. All of them are likely to make XiChen hard in moments; most of them make him want to die from mortification. His husband is a terrible, awful person. XiChen loves him so much that it physically hurts him. It is a constant source of pain in his chest, sweet and overwhelming.

But they did not break the wedding bed like that, and to be fair, although most incidents of such nature are MingJue’s fault, this one is solely on XiChen.

He had spent the day behind a desk, dealing with one tedious issue after another. Springtime is always a busy time, whether one is trying to run a Sect, or a small family farm. The previous year, XiChen had still been in the process of learning how to run the Unclean Realm, and A-Sang had readily taken on any burden that XiChen could not handle.

This spring, A-Sang is at Cloud Recesses, attempting to pass for the fourth time. XiChen may have spent months preparing A-Sang to achieve this goal, but he still very much regrets sending him away. Never more so than on days like these, when small insignificant matters pile up so high that he cannot see over his desk, and when every person in the Unclean Realm seems determined to seek him out.

Needless to say, by that evening, he is stiff, bad-humored, and restless. His mind is still preoccupied, and he cannot seem to settle down or relax. Afterwards, it will occur to him that their... intimate activities would have probably worked just as well to unwind him. Except that only a small part of him is interested in a physical activity; the greater part of him just wants to fight something until he is exhausted.

Despite the fact that sparring in the bedroom is MingJue’s idea, XiChen is the responsible adult in the room, and as such, should be the voice of reason. It is a nonsensical suggestion, and XiChen should firmly decline.

He does not.

BaXia versus the wedding bed score: 1 for BaXia, 0 for the wedding bed.

--

It takes two days for the new bed to be built. In the meantime, they discover that the bed in XiChen’s Cloud Recesses room is a torture device in disguise. XiChen would never disparage A-Sang’s abilities, and he knows that the bed had been chosen with utmost care. But it is a bed clearly built for one person. A person who sleeps on their back, with their arms crossed.  

The first night, they fall into it in a tangle of limbs, neither one considering the fact that this is not their large, abnormally sturdy wedding bed. By the time they realize that perhaps some adjustment and caution is necessary, two of the curtains have been torn down, and XiChen has bruised both his knees. But caution has not yet made an appearance in their lovemaking, MingJue is listing all the ways in which he intends to employ his tongue, and XiChen is absolutely devoid of any coherent thought process whatsoever.

In addition to all this, MingJue wears entirely too many layers. XiChen hates all of them. He is not alone in this, as MingJue is quite resentful of XiChen’s layers as well, and more than one silk robe has had to find its way back to the seamstress hall. The fact that MingJue can never wait for XiChen to be fully undressed, before his mouth has latched on to any exposed flesh, is entirely to blame for what occurs next. XiChen pulls on one end of his robe, MingJue tears at the other, both balancing precariously on the side of the bed, and the material decides that this is simply too much abuse to bear.

The robe rips, MingJue’s knee slides, and XiChen, feeling himself tilt forward, attempts to grab the wooden post. He misses spectacularly.

Three full days pass before MingJue can see out of his blackened left eye.

--

The next incident is in no way related to any bed, or any activity involving XiChen. He is utterly blameless. He is as innocent as a newborn lamb. Whatever issues MingJue seems to have with the seamstresses can in no way be blamed on XiChen, as he treats all twelve of these women with the proper amount of reverence and respect, and is adored by them in turn.

MingJue’s relationship with these same women is somewhat more... complicated. XiChen understands that there had been an event, prior to his arrival in the Unclean Realm, involving silver brocade and MeiLing. He does not know the details, but he does notice that MingJue always seems to dress himself with care, as if expecting his newly sown robes to attack him at any moment.

XiChen finds this overabundance of caution both endearing and silly. The seamstresses are lovely women, infinitely accommodating, patient, and good-natured. He cannot imagine them holding on to some small slight for over a year. They are servants, not assassins waiting to strike when MingJue finally drops his guard. XiChen spends some days convincing MingJue to give up this nonsensical fear of retribution, and is majorly successful, although he still catches MingJue eyeing his clothes with suspicion on more than once occasion.

By the time the spring robes arrive to replace the heavy winter clothes, MingJue has relaxed completely, and does not hesitate to shrug into a new, lightweight coat. When less than three hours later, he develops a rash on his neck that looks as if he had been mauled by a wild beast, XiChen is the only person shocked by this development.

--

The new bed looks as large and sturdy as the first. It is put in place midday, and XiChen does not spend the rest of the daylight hours thinking about the nightfall, his husband, the bed, or anything including all three of those things together. He retires for the night as soon as the sun is down because he is tired. Being a Sect Leader’s husband is exhausting work, and XiChen only wants to sleep in a bed where he does not have to worry about elbowing his husband in his sleep.

As it happens, MingJue also retires early, because he is tired as well.

To be clear, XiChen does intend to just sleep. He does not have any ulterior motive. Still, two hours later find him slick with sweat, thighs burning, toes curled into the the fresh sheets. By now, MingJue is bearing the brunt of his weight, fingers digging into XiChen’s hips, holding him in place at just the right angle, where XiChen can do nothing but whimper. It is a position he still cannot picture in the daylight hours without burning with shame. Sprawled across MingJue, his back pressed to the man’s chest, legs quivering on either side of him, every thrust excruciating, impossibly deep, hitting every pleasure point along his spine. One of his arms is wrapped around MingJue’s neck, fingers buried deep in his hair. Although he feels closer to him this way, he will often hide his face in the curve of MingJue’s neck when the sight of his own body, flushed with pleasure, is too much to bear.

MingJue is merciless like this. The sheer strength of him is astounding. He has held XiChen’s body in the same position for hours, the rhythm of his hips never faltering, never stuttering, each thrust precise and ruthless. XiChen never wants him to stop. XiChen thinks if he does not stop, the pleasure will surely kill him. He has been on the razor’s edge for hours, centuries, and the sounds leaving his mouth no longer resemble human speech in any way. MingJue is a terrible, cruel creature, determined to make him suffer. XiChen loves him. XiChen loves him so much.

There is a creak, a rumble, and the bed collapses.

--

MeiLing is silent for a long time, which is very much unlike her.

XiChen has been married to MingJue for over a year now, but MeiLing’s request that he meet her for tea had still caught him by surprise. He had been made aware, early on, that she does not bother with courtesy. She does not have pointless conversations, does not perform aimless visits, and is unlikely to give out compliments for a job well done. XiChen has not spoken more than ten words to the woman since his wedding day, and has always understood that her absence from the Unclean Realm is a sign of approval, rather than neglect.

As long as XiChen performs his duties well, MeiLing will find something more interesting to occupy her time.

The fact that she is here now, sitting across from him, fills him with anxiety. He had done something wrong, or he had failed to do something, but no matter how much he searches his memory, nothing stands out.

“There are rumors,” she says abruptly, and XiChen is taken off guard again.

Rumors? What rumors?

Immediately he thinks of A-Sang at Cloud Recesses, and his anxiety increases. Has he gotten himself in trouble somehow? Has he said something he should not have?

That seems very unlikely. A-Sang would be more apt to start an inappropriate rumor than be the focus of one. There is no gossip in the world so damaging that A-Sang cannot turn it to his advantage with very little effort. This cannot be about him.

MeiLing is watching him carefully, as if waiting for something, but XiChen cannot guess what that something could be.

“What rumors are these, nainai?” XiChen asks finally, no longer able to bear the silence.

“Two broken beds in less than a month.” 

XiChen feels his face heat, and fumbles the tea, nearly spilling the hot liquid on his freshly mended robe. 

“Ah,” he says, “This.”

She hums over her cup, still watching him, but he has suddenly found his own teacup extremely interesting, and intends to focus on nothing else for some time.

“There is also the black eye,” she goes on, “and something about a mauling.”

XiChen squeezes his eyes shut.

He would like to be back in Wen RuoHan’s torture cell now please. Or perhaps on the receiving end of Wen RuoHan’s whip. Anywhere else in the world, bearing any type of torture, would be a blessing in comparison.

“I am very pleased,” she says.

Lan XiChen would like to die now. He would very much like to-- what?

“I must admit, I was skeptical in the beginning. Do not take this the wrong way dear, but you do appear to be very delicate on some matters.”

Delicate. She-- what? What is happening?

“I am glad to see A-Jue has made a good match. Although perhaps, in the future, you may consider spreading some mats on the floor instead. Bedmakers can be notorious gossips.”

XiChen realizes that his mouth is open, and closes it. His face is burning. Even his eyes feel hot.

He should be saying something. Anything.

“Ah,” he says.

That clearly does not fall into the category of speech, and he tries again.

“Ah-- thank you. For this advice. I will-- keep it in mind.”

“Good,” she says, “I believe that was uncomfortable for both of us, so let us speak of something else. Tell me about A-Sang. How are his studies progressing?”

--

It takes him three days to even consider the idea without feeling embarrassed, and another three to have a number of mats delivered to their chamber without wanting to die from shame.

--

They are nowhere near where they started; somehow, MingJue has squirmed half-way across the bedroom floor, and now, he can go no further, cornered between the wall and the bed frame. XiChen has one of his thighs trapped firmly against his waist, rock hard and slippery with sweat, feeling each tremor of the muscle under his grip. XiChen’s other hand is occupied, three fingers buried deep in a slick, tight space, angled to hit the small bundle of nerves on every pass.

MingJue is beautiful like this. Although XiChen is not so bold to speak words of praise the same way MingJue often does, he hums his approval each time MingJue’s hips jerk off the mat in search of friction, his stomach muscles quivering from the effort. His eyes are glazed and unfocused, eyelashes heavy and damp, lips bruised from the earlier kisses. Most of the time, XiChen cannot stop him from voicing every thought that crosses his mind, but now, nothing that leaves MingJue’s mouth resembles words. For the first time, despite numerous ways they have made love, he feels vulnerable under XiChen’s touch, mindless with lust, trembling and fragile. He does not beg as XiChen would. Each time his fluttering eyelashes lift, his clouded gaze is on XiChen only, as if nothing else in the world matters.

XiChen had wanted to know how long it would take, for MingJue to come like this, with no other friction than the one his fingers provide. But now, a fierce protectiveness floods his throat, savage and hot, threatening to obliterate anything else. There is a small pool of slick already collected on MingJue’s stomach, and his flesh sears a path across XiChen’s lips, before he can capture the length in his mouth. To XiChen, he has always tasted like salt and steel, the savor of a battle won. This time, he scarcely has a chance to taste it before MingJue cries out, muscles contracting around XiChen’s fingers, flooding his mouth with release.

MeiLing was right.

The mats are a very good idea.

[theshinsun]

please I Am Begging You do that 20 questions for OT3s with AoKagaKuro

asdfgggdfhjkk ok here we go! prepare for Length...

Who sleeps in the middle?

Kuroko. he gets cold the easiest and likes to be smushed between his two giant bfs. he’s also often the peacekeeper stopping them from kicking each other and stealing the blankets. they both get their share of his ice cold toes and fingers that way, and he’s such a light sleeper that once they’re in that position neither of them can move for fear of waking him up, but none of them would have it any other way.

Who is the best cuddler?

Kagami. he’s like a giant snuggly teddy bear, gives the very best hugs and is always the big spoon no matter who he’s cuddling with. and he’s okay with that. in fact he loves it, whether he’s holding Kuroko or Aomine or both at once, he loves that he can just wrap around them like an octopus and make them feel safe and loved. 

Who gets hurt the most?

Kuroko. Kagami might be the biggest klutz of the three but he also doesn’t bruise easily. meanwhile if Kuroko so much as stubs his toe it turns purple and he’ll be limping for a few days. he’s also the one most likely to get in trouble and get scraped up on purpose, whether he’s skinning his knees trying some new technique he’s not prepared for, or picking a fight and getting decked by someone twice his size, he’s always sporting a new bruise or band-aid and getting chastised by his overprotective bfs who are honestly just as bad... just less likely to show it.

Who acts like the baby?

Aomine. obviously. this guy is an oversized toddler in big boy clothes. he’s always pestering for attention and whines and complains when he doesn’t get his way. he’s a picky eater and can throw actual tantrums if he’s annoyed enough -- and usually the root cause is him not getting enough sleep. he’s also treated like the baby of the family, with both Kagami and Kuroko feeding him and taking care of him, but honestly, neither of them mind it much. 

Who teases the others the most?

also Aomine. he’s especially prone to poking and picking at Kagami because he knows just what buttons to press and likes to get him riled up. he can’t seem to resist taunting and provoking him at any given opportunity, and he’s just as quick to tease Kuroko, when he can. the difference is rather than turning red and potentially starting a fight, Kuroko will just coolly sass him right back and move on with his day.

Who proposes?

I’m sorry but I can only see Aomine being the one to propose (or at the very least, being the first one). under the exterior, he’s a useless sappy romantic and would probably either insist on doing things proper, buying a pair of rings and getting down on one knee and all, OR randomly blurting it out during dinner with no planning or preparation or anything. either way, of course they both say yes. 

Who is the most protective?

Kuroko. looks are 100% deceiving here, he’s physically the smallest but mentally and emotionally, he’s the toughest of the three and he’ll go to the ends of the earth to defend the people he loves. he would absolutely put himself in danger to protect the others and worries about both of them a lot (sometimes needlessly, but there are times they do need it). Kagami and Aomine both put up a tough act, and follow Kuroko around like his personal bodyguards, but don’t be fooled, he’s the one you need to really watch out for.   

Who is the closest to the child? (Whether it be a fur baby, scale baby, or human child.)

either Aomine or Kuroko... probably both equally. they’re very emotionally-driven people who love animals of all shapes and sizes (Kagami would have some trouble if their fur baby happened to be a dog -- and considering Nigou that’s a very likely possibility). both of them would form a strong connection with any baby the group decided to have. that’s not to say Kagami wouldn’t also be close to a child or pet and love them, but he’s just a little bit more distant and guarded than the others and it would definitely take him some time.

Who gives the best advice?

Kuroko. he’s (usually) the only one with a brain cell to speak of, and has a lot of practical knowledge and common sense. he has difficulty separating his emotions from a situation to look at it objectively, so he can be a little biased with what he suggests, but it’s still good advice, just the same.

Who is like a therapist?

Kagami. unlike Kuroko, he doesn’t always know what to say or what to suggest, but he is a good listener, and easy to talk to, so he lets the others vent to him and work through their issues, and often finds himself on the receiving end of a long and cathartic story or rant from one or both of them. he’s also much better at looking at things objectively; nine times out of ten he’ll bluntly point something out that makes the others look at things from a new angle, because it’s so obvious to him as an outsider but they’re too wrapped up to see it.

Who sings B and C to sleep?

Kagami. I hc that he can sing in three different languages (English, Japanese and some Spanish), the others especially like when he sings in English, and he indulges them since he’s probably going to be up the latest anyway. sometimes Kuroko also tries his hand at a lullaby, but he doesn’t have the instant power to knock Aomine out that Kagami does. 

Is the relationship healthy?

I mean... is any relationship completely, 100% healthy? as relationships go, they have a very good balance between them and there’s a mutual, three-way respect that they all maintain with each other. they’ve got problems and character flaws, of course, they’re very different people and things aren’t always going to be perfect, but they love each other and are all willing to put in the work when it comes down to it.

Do A and B have a stronger bond with each other? Or do C and B or C and A have a stronger bond? Or are A, B, and C close together [equally]?

they’re all close with each other in different ways. not necessarily equally all around, just... their individual relationships within the greater whole have different strengths and shortcomings. It breaks down something like this:

Kagami and Kuroko are probably the most stable with each other. there’s trust and affection and good communication between them, and they’re on very equal footing. the trouble is, because they usually work together so well, they’re not very good at reconciling when they don’t, and things can build up between them that they don’t acknowledge until their whole balance crumbles. 

Aomine and Kagami are in tune with each other in a way that’s almost instinctive, they finish each other’s sentences and seem to always be on the same wavelength. they don’t require much from each other, and have a kind of simple ease in each other’s company, when they aren’t getting in each other’s faces. the downside is they aren’t very good at communicating, and tend to avoid difficult subjects and saying what they really mean.

Aomine and Kuroko have history, are probably the most sappy and romantic with each other, and share an almost indescribably intimate bond built up over years, but they’re also the most likely to argue (not just petty squabbling like Aomine and Kagami, or old-married-couple bickering like Kagami and Kuroko, but actually fight and hurt each other). they’re also terrible about enabling and egging each other on and probably get into the most ridiculous situations because they’re somehow the best and worst combination of personality traits at the same time.

Who can be trusted to be left home alone?

Kagami. he’s the only one. do not leave either of the others home alone they will burn the house down, either accidentally or as a result of getting bored and thinking “I wonder what happens if...” (famous last words).

Who cries the most?

Kuroko, by default. he cries about as much as any normal, healthy person would. Kagami doesn’t cry hardly ever, to the point that it’s a little concerning sometimes, and when he does it’s a Big Deal. Aomine cries every now and then, but doesn’t really feel comfortable doing it in front of other people so he’ll usually try to hide it or hold it in.

Who is the softest?

like... physically, or emotionally? you know what, Kagami for both. he’s a great big softy under the tough exterior, and even though he’s the most physically jacked, he’s got enough meat on his bones to have some nice give and be very comfy to lie on.

Who is the shortest?

Kuroko. ....we been knew.

Who is the tallest?

Aomine. again we been knew; he’ll hold that little 2cm sliver of height he’s got on Kagami over his head until the end of time.

Who likes cuddles the most?

Aomine. he will seek out cuddles every chance he gets, he flops down next to both of the others and nudges them like a cat, or just muscles his way into their space until they have to accommodate him or risk falling off the couch. 

Last of all, who sings terribly in the shower?

oh dear god. you know what, I think it’d be really funny if it was Kagami. it’s boggling because he can sing perfectly well, they all know it, but for some reason when he’s alone and using the body wash as a microphone he lets loose and goes completely off-key and it’s awful. the others love it though (even if they’re confused) because it sounds like he’s having fun, at least.

[demivampirew]

Don’t judge a book by its cover Chapter 6 (final chapter)

A Cap. Syverson story.

Triggers: Heartbreak ;use of curse words; crying; puking.

Synopsis: Rebeca is an Argentinian girl who a few months ago moved to the USA (Washington D.C) to study in university thanks to a scholarship that she was granted. She’s lonely. People don’t treat her well. Some could be understood but most of them just hate her for being a foreigner. She meets Syverson because he’s a man from the South and she has not had a good experience with people from there, but she may find out at the end that she shouldn’t judge a book by its cover.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Tag:  lunedelorient 

You’ll find a note at the end of the chapter, which is an explanation of what is being said when the * appears.

Things couldn't be better for Rebeca. She had been dating a wonderful man for the last three months and he treated her like a true queen. She passed all her exams with high grades and now was rightfully enjoying her spring break. Now she had time to hang out with her friend Danielle and even would have double dates with her and her girlfriend Phoebe. She couldn't be happier. One morning she woke up feeling like hell. She had to run to the bathroom to puke. At first, she thought that could have been something that she ate the day before that settled badly in her stomach, but after several days of waking up nauseous and feeling awful but then feeling better the rest of the day, she realized that something else was going on. She decided to take a pregnancy test - two actually, for more certainty- at both gave positive as a result. She was expecting a baby. They usually were careful when having sex, but there were two separate occasions in which they didn't use a condom. She was nervous. What would happen now? Could she lose her scholarship due to her pregnancy? What if they wanted to kick her out of the country and separate her from the child once he had him/her? Would Sy be happy with the news? Should she have the baby at all? The only answer she knew was the last one and it was yes; that baby would be her's and Sy's. She needed now to find out how he felt about it. As long as he was ok with the baby, she'd know that everything was going to be ok, because he always going to be there for her, to help her solved any troubling situation she might be in. After work, she went straight to Sy's house to share the news with him. She was quite nervous, but also excited. If he was happy with the news, then she would get the family she always dream of. She entered the house using the key he gave her and once inside the house she searched for her boyfriend. She found him sitting in the couch, crossing both on his arms in his chest, looking at the space in front of him, lost in his thoughts. Something bad had happened, she could feel it. She caught his attention and he looked at her in silence for a few moments. "Fuck" he cursed and she knew that whatever happened, it was really bad. He sighed and asked her to sit in the couch with him, that he needed to talk to her. - I got the call - he said with sadness. No further explanation was necessary, she knew exactly what that meant. - How long? - she questioned. - Maybe a year or more. They need me there, it has to be me. The locals already know me, I'm the only one who might bring some peace there. - he answered. - I knew I shouldn't have started a relationship. I knew that this day would come in eventually. I didn't want to hurt you, babe.- he apologized. - What are you saying? It's a year or maybe a bit more. I'll wait for you. - Beca assured him - Darling, I may never come back, that's how things go there. I tell you is a year and might end being more. Last time I was supposed to be only for a few months and ended up staying for three years. That's a lot of time. You're young, you cannot spend the rest of your days waiting for a man that might never come back. - he tried to reason with her. - You're breaking up with me then? - she asked with tears on her eyes. - I am, yes. This is best for you. - You promised me that you'll always be going to be there to protect me, but you were lying. You're going to leave me alone.- she recriminated him. - I'm really sorry, baby. It hurts my soul knowing that I'll have to leave you, but I have to go. I have to. I don't have another choice. - But you do. You could leave and found another job and never go back, but you want to. You want to be there because you want to save people, is in your nature. That's who you are. You want to help even if it costs you everything. - she replied, filled with sadness. She stood up a walk to the door with the intentions to leave. He followed her. - Beca, stop. It's late, don't go. It can be dangerous. - he pleaded her to stay the night. She wanted to act like a stubborn child and just leave, but she knew he was right. I was nighttime already and was dark outside. And she needed to think in the baby. "the baby" she thought, reminding herself that now she was going to be alone in this predicament. She was going to be a single mother. She accepted to stay, but she would sleep in the couch, he tried to persuade her to change places, so she would sleep in the bed and him on the couch, but he knew that'd be a waste of energy, she was too stubborn to listen. She spent at least two hours crying silently and thinking in all the mess she was caught on. She was going to have a child in a country that wasn't her own and probably wouldn't want her, an inmigrant with a study visa, to have an American kid. She would probably lose her visa and her job because there was no way she could study and work with a baby and also would not be able to afford childcare. There was only one solution she could find: she needed to go back to her country. There, her family would help her and she would be able to study in her former university and work while her parents looked after the baby. That was the only solution. Then she thought about Sy; the fact that she'd probably never see him again and how he could even die in the battlefield. She got up from the couch, went into the bedroom and saw that he was awake, probably thinking as much as she was. As soon as he saw her, he sat on the bed and stared at her. First, she looked mad at him, but then she started to cry and he extended both of his arms, waiting for her to accommodate herself in his chest so he could hug her. After a bit, she felt a little bit better. She looked into his eyes and kissed him. If that was the last time she would ever see him, she wanted to be a night that neither would forget. A proper goodbye. Neither of them spoke again, they let their bodies do the talking. He made love to her for the very last time, taking the sweet taste of her lips with him forever in his heart.                                           ----------------------------------------------------------- Two years later Syverson was back from the Middle East. He was promoted and now he would never have to come back there again. He was ready to settle down alive and normal life. He would help train new soldiers and would help the new captain there from America, giving orders of how to proceed, but he would never go back. The first thing that crossed into his mind, the main reason he fought to never go back, was to see Rebeca. She was on his mind constantly. There wasn't a single day he wouldn't think of her or dream with her. He planned to search for her, and if she hadn't moved on with her life, he would beg her to take him back. She was his everything. He went to her place and found a young man living there. The gentleman told him that he never meet the former tenant of that house and that he's been living there for over a year and a half. Syverson then looked for her in the grocery store, but she wasn't there either. Another girl was working there, who told him that the owners of the store were on vacations and that she never meet any former employee and that she had been working there for a few months. College was his last resource. He waited for her to get out of the building, but that never happened. After the place was almost empty, he lost his hope in seeing her. He was about to leave when he saw a familiar face leaving the place. - Danielle! - he called at the girl. She turned around and recognized him immediately. - Sy!- she greeted him, surprised to see him.- How are you? - I'm fine. How are you? - he asked politely - I'm great, thanks. - she replied- What are you doing here? - I'm looking for Beca. I've been searching for her everywhere but I haven't been able to find her. Her phone is not the same, she moved and she doesn't work in the grocery store anymore. - he explained confused.- Is there any chance you might now where is she? - I do, actually.- he admitted and took a pause before delivering the bad news- She went back to Argentina. - What? -he questioned, shooked by the news. It was like an ice-cold shower - What happened? Did she lose her scholarship? Did something do something to her? - he asked worriedly. - No, she's fine, don't worry. She went back shortly after you left - the young lady informed him- She said she missed her family a lot and didn't want to stay any longer in the country. She didn't lose her scholarship, she gave it up.- Sy was speechless. He has lost her forever. He couldn't accept that just like that. He needed to see her again, somehow. - Do you have a phone number by any chance? - he asked her - No, sorry.- she apologized. After a little pause, she continued - I have her address, though. She sends me an email with her address and I sent her mine so she could send me things she wanted me to try from her country and I'll send her things that only could find here.                                          -----------------------------------------------------------

He had learnt enough Spanish from two Latino soldiers on his squad to be able to handle short conversations. So, thankfully, it wasn't to difficult for Syverson to order a taxi at the Argentinian airport to go to Rebeca's house. He got out of the taxi and took a minute to see her house. It was quite beautiful, it had flowers in the front. There were bars in the front of the house, so he had to press the doorbell for someone to open the door for him. Moments later, a woman in her late forties or early fifties open the house door. - Hola, qué necesitabas? (Hello, what do you need?)* - asked the woman - Hola. ¿Está Rebeca? (Hello. Is Rebeca here?) - questioned Sy, struggling to hide the fact that he wasn't a Spanish speaker. - Decime tu nombre, así le aviso que la estás buscando (Tell me your name so I tell her you are looking for her) - Digale que Sy la busca, por favor. (Tell her Sy is looking for her, please) - he replied. The woman clearly heard about him, because she looked surprised at looked at him from head to toes, like inspected him. - Espera acá un minuto, ya vuelvo (I'll be back in a minute, wait here) - said the woman and entered the house, closing the door behind her. While waiting, he took a look around the place. Pedestrians were walking around, looking at him, just like some old ladies who were sitting in the porch of the house chatting. For a moment, he felt like a zoo animal. Around ten minutes later, the door opened again and Beca appeared, closing the door behind her and walking towards him. She opened the bars door and let him in. They looked at each other in silence for a moment and then hugged, like if neither of them could believe that was happening. After the hug, he pressed his head against her forehead and smile. He missed her so much. He looked at her and couldn't even believe it. She was way more beautiful than he remembered. - Why did you leave? - he asked her - It's a long story. -she replied. - I thought I lost you forever.- he replied, sighing in relief to know that he was finally with her again. - I ... Why are you here Sy? Why are you in Argentina? - I came to you. I want you to come back with me. - he begged her. - I can't. I lost my visa when I gave up my scholarship. - she explained - You can get it back or maybe a work visa - he suggested - It's not that easy, Sy. You know it. - I'm not giving up. I'm going to find a way to bring you back. Please, take me back. - I would, but I don't think I can get back there. Things are way more complicated than you think. - she paused and took a deep breath. Then, she looked into his eyes and asked him to follow her. They entered the house. Rebeca asked him to wait in the living room as she went into another room. While waiting, Syverson inspected the place. It was a homie. It wasn't different from his house or any other American house, but it felt different. The smell of homemade food being cooked; there was a certain cosiness and warmness that it was hard to explain. No wonder she wanted to go back there instead of staying in the coldness of the solitary house she used to live in Washington.  He heard a room door open and he settled his eyes in the direction in which Beca disappeared. He froze as he saw her enter the living room with a little girl on her arms. She had the same eyes and curly brown hair that Rebeca, but her face...her face looked like him. It was like looking at the pictures that his mother had of him as a little kid, but with long curly hair. Rebeca sat in a chair next to a table, while looked at the little girl, who was shyly hiding her face on her chest, grabbing some of her curls. Sy kneeled before them, without taking his eyes out of the little girl, speechless. He tried to stroke the girls' hair but she hid even more. Beca caressed her and told her that it was ok. - He's daddy. Do you remember daddy? I showed you pictures of him and talked to you about him? He's here. - she explained the little girl. - Does she speak English? - asked Sy, without even thinking. He still was in shock. - Yes. I decided to teach her both English and Spanish at the same time. She's still learning, but she understands when you speak to her in both languages.- she explained. - Hi, baby. I'm your daddy.- he replied, with tears in his eyes. He couldn't believe he had a daughter. - Why... -he began, looking at Beca. He didn't have to finish his question because she knew exactly what he was going to ask. - I was going to tell you that day, but then I couldn't. For lots of reasons. I think you might understand why I did it. - I do. - he agreed. She didn't need to explain anything. Whatever happened, happened. He knew that somehow Beca made the right call. It wouldn't have been the same those years if he would have known that she was alone taking care of his child, but he couldn't leave his squad alone either. He felt terrible for losing a year of his daughter's life; for not being there the day she was born, her firsts steps, her first word. Nonetheless, he would be for the rest of her important moments. And no matter how hard I'd be, he would find a way to take his woman and his daughter back with him.

                                         -----------------------------------------------------------

- Mommy, mommy, look what daddy bought me! - said Alma running into her mother's arms to show her the new toy she's got. It was a plastic gun. - See? Now I'm a warrior like daddy. - the little 5 years old girl told her mother while pretending to shoot with the gun. - Seriously, Syverson, a gun? - Rebeca reprimanded her husband for the toy he gave to their daughter. - Hey, she chose it herself, ok? - he defended himself, grabbing her wife by her hips and kissing her. - A kiss is not going to get you out of trouble, mister. Tell me, do you think a gun is an appropriate toy for a little girl? - Girls can be awesome soldiers too, ma'am. - he pointed out - I'm not saying that's not an appropriate toy because she's a girl, I'm saying that toy isn't appropriate for a child of any gender. - Apologies, my lady, you're right. But, you know her, she'll leave it on the floor and forget about it in two days, as she does with all of her toys. - he said grinning. - You're lucky you're right, sir, otherwise there was not going to be more kisses for you. - And that would be the end of me. - he finished the conversation, kissing her while he stroked her face.

The end.

Notes: *In Argentina, is a polite way to ask people you don't know who they are and why are they calling at the door.

[oldserah]

Ultimate Ship Meme

“Your All that's left, But I Cannot not Love thee”

Eden Genesis Rook ✂❤ Joseph Seed

[this is late/rushed as im still unpacking stuff into my uni accommodation]

Tagged by @clutch-wept​    [thank youuu]

Tagging: whomever wishes

General

Rate the Ship:

Awful | Ew | No pics pls | I’m not comfortable | Alright | I like it! | Got Pics? | Let’s do it! | Why is this not getting more attention?! | The OTP to rule all other OTPs

How long will they last?

Long time most likely even if they took breaks, they would be the couple that would stay together even if they hated each other 

How quickly did/will they fall in love?

It was slow and happened over time from back when they first met and Resparked when they met again and through out the game, its an underlying thing that they dont really admit to [?]

How was their first kiss?

It was Slow an unexpected, a kiss and walk away situation

Wedding

Note: In the Canon Fc5 Timeline they dont really get married, its just a spoken commitment to one another.

Who proposed?

Joseph did, Genesis had been married to many times that she started giving up on the idea of it and was settleing for realtionships she belived would inevitably end

Who is the best man/men?

Jacob, He’s the oldest brother

Who is the bride’s maid(s)?

Gen Most likely would of had her siblings / daughter be a brides maid with a friend or two like Kim. Joseph may of asked her to allow faith to be one aswell.

Who did the most planning?

Joseph primarily with Faith and her sister Joyce aiding him

Who stressed the most?

Genesis, she started to get cold feet as marriage just never worked for her and guilt as Joseph was her best friends husband before she died.

How fancy was the ceremony?

Back of a pickup truck | 2 | 3 | 4 | Normal Church Wedding | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Kate and William wish they were this big. 

[Joseph and Gen would of made it pretty but more simple, alas others thought a bit differently]

Who was specifically not invited to the wedding?

less of who wasnt invited and more of who may not of accepted, which would likley be members of the resistance [i havent thought about this sooooo i dunno]

 Sex

Who is on top?

Gen preffers to be on top more often than being on the bottom but they switch it up

Who is the one to instigate things?

they are both good at initiating, but Joseph sometimes more likely

How healthy is their sex life?

Barely touch themselves let alone each other | 2 | 3 | 4 | Once a couple weeks, nothing overboard | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | They are humping each other on the couch right now

How kinky are they?

Straight missionary with the lights off | 2 | 3 | 4 | Might try some butt stuff and toys | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Don’t go into the sex dungeon without a horse’s head [Joseph may be more Missionary than most, but Genesis sure isnt]

How long do they normally last?

Varies, short in quickies, but normally long sessions.

Do they make sure each person gets an equal amount of orgasms?

Joseph is a Pleaser so their less Equality 

How rough are they in bed?

Softer than a butterfly on the back of a bunny | 2 | 3 | 4 | The bed’s shaking and squeaking every time | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Their dirty talk is so vulgar it’d make Dwayne Johnson blush. Also, the wall’s so weak it could collapse the next time they do it. 

[they have their Rougher Moments and then the more Slower Romantic moments]

How much cuddling/snuggling do they do?

No touching after sex | 2 | 3 | 4 | A little spooning at night, or on the couch, but not in public | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | They snuggle and kiss more often than a teen couple on their fifth date to a pillow factory.

[Joseph can be touchy in public but Gen like minimal pda unless she starts it]

Children

How many children will they have naturally?

they have 7 in fcnd soo, 7

How many children will they adopt?

Dependant, Gen Technically Adopts Ethan [and its still being decided if all of the 7 are biological or adopted]

Who gets stuck with the most diapers?

Equal, Gen has always been more motherly as she basically took care of her siblings and she had kids young, but Joseph is touchy feely so he wants to equally take care of the kids, but if Gen knows about what he did to his kid she is Paranoid and hovers / doesnt allow him or anyone in the cult near or alone with the first kid.

Who is the stricter parent?

Both ish, situational

Who stops the kid(s) from doing dangerous stunts after school?

Gen as she’s typically taking care of the kids when Joseph is absent [unless shes working if shes still working]

Who remembers to pack the lunch(es)?

Joseph as he makes meals more

Who is the more loved parent?

Genesis Because she stayed/around [que fcnd abandoment issues]

Who is more likely to attend the PTA meetings?

They attempt to Attend together more than not, if not Joseph

Who cried the most at graduation?

The other Parents

Who is more likely to bail the child(ren) out of trouble with the law?

John

 Cooking

Who does the most cooking?

Joseph

Who is the most picky in their food choice?

Neither try to be picky, but they have their prefernces

Who does the grocery shopping?

The Cult loves to serve the Father, Gen will go get her own stuff when she has time

How often do they bake desserts?

Gen cannot bake to save her life, Joseph will when he has time to.

Are they more of a meat lover or a salad eater?

They eat both, but Gen is More a Meat Lover than Joseph

Who is more likely to surprise the other(s) with an anniversary dinner?

Joseph

Who is more likely to suggest going out?

Gen because its  a treat and while she can cook its not her fav thing to do.

Who is more likely to burn the house down accidentally while cooking?

Joseph if he gets Distracted by the Voice or something.

 Chores

Who cleans the room?

The House is Generally Clean to begin with, the cult may clean the rest of the house [which Gen hate] so she has a rule of noone is allowed in the personal spaces like bedroom. Normally its the last out of the room will clean it if its messy.

Who is really against chores?

Neither they like a clean house.

Who cleans up after the pets?

Gen more typically as she belives that if your gonna get a pet they you are responsible for clean up after it, that and she knows how to take care and handle a snake where as joseph really doesnt.

Who is more likely to sweep everything under the rug?

Neither

Who stresses the most when guests are coming over?

Both to a Degree, Gen is normally more lack about it but wants things to look clean but like its a home, Joseph has an image to maintane so he wants to to look good with Guest. Their Calm Stresser’s.

Who found a dollar between the couch cushions while cleaning?

A Lucky Cultist

 Misc.

Who takes the longer showers/baths?

Gen Takes Quick Showers, Joseph takes longer baths. 

Who takes the dog out for a walk?

Gen will, specially when shes going for a run.

How often do they decorate the room/house for the holidays?

Gen will Decorate if she has Family coming over or Kids, But Joseph wants to spend them with his family so he likes to gather them all to do it for memories, Gen tends to sit out during this.

What are their goals for the relationship?

Joseph wants to save Everyone and build a family, for him Gen is a Person who is lost but is a good mother from experience. He Belives he could save her despite all her wrongs.

Gen is just looking for an Equal who will accept her for all she is and for all her faults and failings. She’s not perfect and her past hasnt been the best, but deep down she wants a home for her where she feels safe.

Who is most likely to sleep till noon?

Joseph if hes been up all night writing or talking to the voice. Gen if shes been out all night, but they tend to be early risers.

Who plays the most pranks?

Neither

[lifeonashelf]

...INTERLUDE...

Come to Vegas! We can make out, gamble, and forget all our troubles.

This is quite possibly the greatest text message I have ever received. Four days later, I hit the road.

I have never driven to Las Vegas by myself. Once I complete the journey I can’t fathom why this is, because despite the extended sprawl of nothing between us, Vegas isn’t nearly as far away as I picture it in my mind. I arrive in 3 hours and 17 minutes (which, oddly, is the exact figure Google Maps gave me when I checked the route before leaving my apartment—this is even more astonishing when you factor in that Google not only calculated my precise rate of speed for the entire trek, but evidently also predicted that I would be pulling off the road for seven minutes to have a cigarette at a rest stop just outside Baker). On the way, I listen to two volumes of a 10-disc playlist I made a few months earlier. When I burn mix CDs for myself, they are ridiculously schizophrenic—crossing the state line, I hear Queen’s “Bohemian Rhapsody”, my favorite track by the death metal band Gorefest, and then “Cool For The Summer” by Demi Lovato in immediate succession, and I sing every word to each of them. Needless to say, it is an awesome drive.

Everything proceeds smoothly when I arrive. The Gold Coast has my lodgings ready for me two hours prior to the posted check-in time and they are able to accommodate my request for a smoking flat. I take my bag up to the 9th floor, set up my laptop at the table by the window, and then smoke a cigarette in my room just because I fucking can. I purposefully skipped dinner the night before so my stomach would be prepared to maximize the possibilities offered by the hotel’s Ports O’ Call Buffet. I tear that shit up, then head to the lounge to play a bit of video poker and get a cup of coffee—the machines at the bartop are not kind to me; that cup of coffee ends up costing me sixty dollars. Such is Vegas.

The day is uneventful, by Las Vegas standards. I drink more coffee, I gamble some more and win back my sixty bucks, I write a bit, I watch some basketball. But I am really just killing time. Because the passing hours are merely a preamble; the woman who sent me the text message which acted as the siren song for this trip is in the same town as me, and come “around 7ish” we will be in the same building.

She’s here on business. ___ is a reality television producer, and has been dispatched to Sin City to film the upcoming season of the show Hell’s Kitchen. I have not seen her in over two years, even though she only lives 30 miles from my apartment in real life and driving to Nevada is in fact way more effort than I would normally have to exert to visit her. But our real lives are rarely able to intersect. Besides, I love Las Vegas. And there’s something undeniably enchanting about the prospect of walking beside a beautiful girl amidst a panorama of brilliant dramatic neon and exotic stereoscopic night-sounds. Being in Vegas is like being in a movie, and the character you get to play has way more fun than you do when you’re not on-screen. Compared to my daily existence, and the daily existence of anyone who does not live here, the milieu of Vegas feels like an ethereal dream. That’s why it’s the perfect place to rendezvous with ___; being around her is so intoxicating that it feels much the same.

Our history spans nearly two decades. It is as complicated and messy and wonderful as any history I have ever shared with anyone. I cannot possibly recount all of it here, though I will tell you some. I lost a girlfriend when ___ and I became close because that girlfriend clearly identified that we were mutually attracted to each other. I would have never cheated, but my relationship imploded because I aggressively refuted her well-founded apprehensions and pretended like she was acting crazy for even insinuating I was drawn this person who I would 17 years later drive 230 miles to visit at the whim of a late night text. As a result I broke the heart of an incredible woman who deserved far better, and she broke mine by dumping me. Twenty-four hours subsequent, I was on a park bench making out with a girl who I swore up and down was merely a platonic acquaintance, and I was officially a liar.

I was 23 years old. I was also far more charming and attractive than I am now, and in the mindset to actively explore the positive corollaries which arose from that confluence. I spent a few years kissing a lot of girls because I was single and I was in my early twenties and it’s a good idea to kiss as many girls as you can when you’re single and in your early twenties because you won’t get to kiss too many more after that. Despite the sagacity I demonstrated by accurately predicting this, I was an unadulterated fucking idiot when it came to ___. I am horrified by my conduct throughout everything that ensued between us, and I will forever be haunted by the what-ifs brought about by the consequent brazen stupidity I exhibited.

From the moment we began groping each other at Cahuilla Park in Claremont, ___ became sort of a surrogate for the girlfriend I had sacrificed, a proxy upon whom I could bestow both the passion that had been extinguished and the anguish that had been stoked after the break-up. ___ did not kill my relationship, I killed it by being a callous asshole. But I think subconsciously I blamed her anyway (for having the audacity to enter my life and be the extraordinary girl she is, I suppose); that was far easier than owning up to the fact that I had acted like an irredeemable piece of shit toward the girl she supplanted. My pride and my heart were wounded and I couldn’t take it out on the person whose inescapable-in-hindsight decision had caused those injuries since she was no longer taking my calls. So I took it out on her replacement instead. And over the course of the several tumultuous months that followed, I proceeded to meticulously break the heart of another incredible woman who deserved far better.

I have never handled anyone as poorly as I handled ___. She was a dazzling and unequivocal gem, yet I treated her like she meant nothing to me at all. The mere thought of her being with anyone else drove me mad, yet instead of telling her this I told her time and time again that she could never have me all to herself and continued dating other people to underscore my assertion. More than once, I brought her to tears by stating in no uncertain terms that I never wanted to see her again, only to call her the very next night and ask her to come over as if that conversation never happened. I wasn’t simply emotionally abusive to ___, I was utterly fiendish to her. For every year of my life leading up to that one and every year since, I have been proud to conduct myself as a true gentleman, so I will never understand how I was even capable of hurting anyone as persistently and comprehensively as I hurt her. Rest assured, I didn’t understand it at the time, either. Nor did I understand why no matter how awful I was to her, she still saw the best in me and held out hope that I would come to my senses and acknowledge the singularly special thing that was standing right in front of me.

Unfortunately, I realized far too late that the reason ___ did so was because she was deeply in love with me. And I also realized far too late that I was deeply in love with her.

By then I had done about as much damage to her psyche as one person could do to another. Though she wouldn’t know it, my comeuppance was delivered by the next woman I entered into a failed relationship with, who put me through a lot of the same things I put ___ through and came up with several novel doozies of her own for good measure. ___ and I remained in sporadic telephone contact, though we rarely saw each other in person. Bizarrely, this had the upshot of emphasizing the indissoluble strength of our bond, since none of the interactions we had were stilted by our silence and distance—every time we came together, I felt as close to her as ever and she clearly felt the same.

Over the years, we’ve had numerous conversations about what happened between us. I wish to keep those private, but the essence of what has been expressed is that despite everything she considers me one of the people closest to her in the world. She also told me that “Perfect” by The Smashing Pumpkins is her song to me; I listen to it often, even though those beautiful and devastating lyrics always bring tears to my eyes.

Of course, along the way I finally did what she desperately wished I would have done 17 years ago. I came to my senses and acknowledged the singularly special thing that was once standing right in front of me. I made overtures to that effect on a couple of occasions when we once again found ourselves simultaneously single, but they were way overdue. She said she did still love me and always would, but the wall I forced her to build to shield herself from me had grown too tall and sturdy to tear down. A tacit understanding developed between us: we would be friends for the rest of our lives, but I had confused and harmed her enough for one lifetime and she was not willing to give me any chance to add to that abominable legacy. It’s a verdict I had no choice but to accept because it was a much better one than I deserved; she would have been undeniably justified in never wanting to speak to me again.

I know ___ has never wholly resolved the chaos of emotions I stirred within her, neither the amorous nor the angry. Some cuts are too deep to be sutured, and those tend to leave scars. Truthfully, I think she despises me as much as she adores me; she just adores me too much to let the other side win out most of the time. But this paradox is entirely fitting because our entire relationship is a paradox, a saga of two satellites which have shared each other’s orbit since they were launched and create a blinding explosion when they collide. Last night, she kissed me in the lobby of the Golden Nugget casino and we melted into each other just like we did that first time in Cahuilla Park, seventeen years erased by the touching of lips. When we came up for air, she wrapped her arms around me and buried her face against my chest and said, “god, I hate you,” with so much love in her voice that it made my stomach swim. It was the perfect thing for her to say in that moment, both because it is absolutely true and because it is the absolute opposite of the truth.

We had a delightful night on Fremont Street, both of us properly investigating that very cool region of the city for the first time. We had some drinks and we listened to some music and we played some poker and we held hands as we walked the promenade. For a few hours, we got to be the couple both of us wanted to be at one time or another, just never at the same time; we even fought like a couple for part of that span, since the resentment and pain she’s had to bury deep within herself to continue accepting me into her life despite my previous sins still gets triggered from time to time when we speak of the past. Regardless, I wouldn’t have changed a second of it. The night was absolutely magical, because ___ is absolutely magical.

But the spell of Las Vegas gets broken once you realize that nothing there is real. There’s an axiom people use to justify all manner of debauchery they engage in while visiting Sin City: “What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.”  Tonight ___ is out with a large group of people who esteem her, and I am alone in a smoky room sitting at my laptop, which is a lot closer to what our individual non-Las Vegas lives look like. This artificial vacation existence in which we were united as one happened in Vegas and will stay in Vegas, because it has to. Because, truthfully, the life she built for herself without me is much richer than the life I built for myself without her. Tomorrow morning I will get in my truck and exit this city of lights to travel back across a stretch of barren desert the length of two mix-CDs, and after I arrive home I will spend the next interminable number of days and nights sitting at my laptop in a room that is less smoky than this one but no less lonely. Meanwhile, tomorrow morning ___ will continue to work her fascinating job and then she will leave the country on some adventure, and no matter where she is and what she’s doing, she will be surrounded by people whose company is far more gratifying to her than mine ever could be.  

The hours we spent holding hands on Fremont Street were unreal. But they were also so real that I am still reeling from the aftershock of our latest satellite collision. Our relationship, both the real and the unreal, befits that manner of contradiction. I don’t think ___ and I are still in love with each other, but I do still love her in a way that I have never loved anyone else. I have committed unconditionally to other women in her absence and redistributed the connection we share into a more manageable framework, but whenever there is no one in my life I can’t help but recognize that there very well could be if I hadn’t once been a soulless beast to someone who was merely pleading for me to appreciate them the way they sincerely deserved to be appreciated. ___ is without a doubt one of the most phenomenal and inside-out beautiful human beings I have ever known and I cannot conceive of my life without her in it, yet I still to this day find it difficult to face her. Every moment I spend with ___ feels like a gift, but those moments also sting in equal measure, because she is a walking reminder of me at my absolute worst.

I don’t think she has ever truly forgiven me. I’m not sure she really ever could, or should. Nothing I do today can undo what I did yesterday. I know that no matter how exhilarating it feels to look into her gorgeous and soulful eyes after we kiss in a glittering alternate universe, there are times when she looks at me and only sees a man who likely hurt her worse than anyone else she has ever known. I know there is a part of her that will always love me, but I also know there’s a part of her that wishes she had never even met me.

While I can only suppose what the world might look like if I had treasured her instead of trashing her all those years ago, I am positive that it would look far better and brighter than it does now. I’m aware that even if I had done the right things then, it’s improbable we would still be together today. Very few relationships go that distance, and despite our exceptional chemistry, ___ and I are not effortlessly compatible. I wouldn’t change a single thing about her, but there are unchangeable things about me I know she could not abide and no one should have to. She detests smoking; I enjoy smoking more than I enjoy most other things. She dreams of spending her days traveling and exploring; I dream of sitting in my easy chair and watching blu-rays.

She thinks I was worth falling in love with; I think strongly otherwise.

I don’t specifically wish ___ and I were together now. Yet therein lies another paradox. Because I got a little glimpse of what that might look like last night on Fremont Street, and it looked amazing. But that wasn’t real, that was Las Vegas; what happens there stays there. It was a magnificent movie, but that’s not what our actual lives look like. We could make out, we could gamble, but we could never forget all our troubles—no matter how much she loved me then and loves me now, I will always be one of hers.

So maybe what I do wish is that I could really be the person she was holding hands with in that unreal fantasy, the person who kissed her with abandon in the lobby of the Golden Nugget, the person she gazed at with unbridled tenderness during that joyful interlude when both of us were able to shelve our past and exist solely and safely in our present. The person she hoped I would become before I shattered her hopes by becoming a monster. Regrettably, untethered from our mutual orbit, I grew to be someone else entirely, someone with numerous regrets he can never completely atone for, someone she will always measure with a watchful and skeptical eye to protect herself. Someone who can never be anyone else except who he is. And that person simply would not be capable of making ___ as happy as she deserves to be, because he already had his chance to do that and made her miserable instead.

Besides, he can barely make himself happy most of the time.

 ###

 The trip home is an inexorably depressing conclusion to every great vacation—you’re doing the exact same thing you did when you set off, except there isn’t anything to look forward to when you arrive. Fittingly, an unseasonable rain is coming down when I hit the 15 Freeway. The water-dappled windshield and the desolate unfolding highway ahead evoke another cinematic scene, perhaps a montage in which the central character takes a long drive to think heavy thoughts. At the risk of becoming a cliché, that is exactly what I do.

My mix-CDs play on, the music blurring past with the miles. I hear “Wonderwall” and I hear “Stairway to Heaven”, which are two songs that everyone should listen to extremely loudly on the open road at least once in their life. Seaweed… Tiamat… Purity Ring… My Chemical Romance… P!nk… The Dillinger Escape Plan... Fleetwood Mac… Each one of them imparts a decisively fantastic tune, but this time I’m not singing along. I am instead blinking away tears as it dawns on me exactly how much I am leaving behind in Las Vegas. Not the money I lost at the video poker machines, but the luminous girl I wagered at the age of 23 when I made a much more foolish gamble than I could have ever imagined and ended up losing the most precious thing I never had. The fortune that I lose over and over again every time ___ and I part from each other and return to the real world.

I discover that her hold on me, this cosmic magnetism we share, has not diminished with time. And I discover that the axiom is not absolute—not everything that happens in Vegas stays there; some things follow you all the way home.

That night on Fremont Street, she told me that she will never be completely over me. At least that makes us even in one respect.  

Though the imprint I left on her heart was shaped like a bruise, there will always be a piece of mine that is the precise shape and size of ___. That piece belongs to her, and though it is a woeful consolation prize, it is the only one I will ever have the opportunity to give her.

But it does come with a vow: forever and always, whenever and wherever we meet, in Las Vegas and in real life, I promise we’ll be perfect.

 May 9, 2019        

[writeyouin]

Connor X Reader - Do You Dream? Chapter 9

Chapter 9 – Different

A/N – Just a short chapter, my loves. Hope you all enjoy it.

Warnings – Mild NSFW.

Rating – T

You weren’t sure what to do. When you were the Flayer’s prisoner, you had never really believed that you were going to escape. Now that you were free, everything felt wrong, like you were part of a timeline that was never meant to be. You had continued living with Hank and Connor, though you had moved back to the sofa after the first week; Hank told you that it was your home as much as theirs now and that you could stay as long as you wanted. All the same, it didn’t feel like you belonged there anymore.

Hank, Connor, and the few people that had come to visit you were treating you as if you were made of glass and would break at any mention of the Flayer or even regular crime. Your conversation often revolved around ‘safe topics,’ such as the weather, holidays, the weather, family, and if all else failed, the weather.

It was a relief when Gavin started texting you; he wouldn’t visit anywhere Connor might be but he at least spent time messaging you. You smiled as the next text arrived.

‘(Y/N), It’s been a week already. When the fuck you gonna stop being a little bitch and come back to work? It’s too fucking dull without your hot ass to stare at.’

Although the text was somewhat derogatory in nature, it had the desired effect of making you smile; at least one person was treating you the same as always. You sent a reply back.

‘Shut up and do my paperwork like a good boy.’

‘Oh, so now I’m your errand boy?’

‘What you mean, now? You’ve always been my errand boy, bitch.’

‘Asshole.’

That was the end of the small text chain for now. Perfect timing, you thought as Connor came back from work. Ever since your rescue, he had requested to be put on half days. Captain Fowler wasn’t happy to lose his best detective but he tried to accommodate the request; the best he could do was offer two half days a week with three full days at work.

“Hey Con, good day at work?” You asked.

“It was fine,” Connor answered stoically.

“Yeah? What cases are you on?”

“Oh, nothing too big. You know, a few muggings at best. Things are quiet at the moment.”

You wilted somewhat at his reply. It was clearly a lie to protect you, but you didn’t question it. Anxious to fill the lull in the conversation, Connor spoke up again, “So, you feel like another movie today?”

“Actually, I was about to take Sumo out.”

“Really?” Connor asked concernedly. “Are you sure you’re ready for that?”

“Some fresh air will be good for me.”

“Then… Please may I join you?”

“Sure. C’mon, we can get Sumo good and muddy in the park. I want to push a few of Hank’s buttons today.”

With that, the two of you walked back outside with Sumo lumbering between you.

Unfortunately, Sumo did not come home muddy. In fact, he was as clean as a whistle since Detroit’s first frost had coated the park. You kept muttering about what a disappointment it was in the hopes that Connor might go back and forth with you in your old banter, but it was no use, he simply wasn’t going to bite. Instead he kept glancing around as if to make sure that nobody else was going to appear and kidnap you; you hadn’t seen him act this paranoid since before he deviated.

When the two of you got back to the house and let Sumo off his lead, you turned to Connor.

“Am I doing something wrong?”

Connor’s LED turned yellow indicating his shock and he reached up subconsciously to hide it, still trying to maintain the façade that everything was okay. “No, no of course not, what would give you that-”

“Everyone’s been treating me differently Connor and don’t try denying it. I know that I went through something horrible, and I know that I’m going to have to tell everyone what happened in the court case and that the Flayer might get off scot-free. I also know that the Captain wouldn’t waste your time on stupid cases like muggings. You don’t have to treat me like I’m going to break if I hear about a crime. We’re detectives, it’s a part of who we are. So please, at least let us go back to normal. I miss my best friend.”

Connor sighed, pacing the living room and dragging his hand down his face. His LED was swirling red now with only the occasional flicker of yellow breaking through. “I- I don’t know what to say to you anymore. I can’t- I can’t be your protector. I already failed as that. You suffered because of me.”

“I suffered because of the Kevin Jacob,” You said firmly.

“No. In the park I- You- It’s because- because-”

“Because what?”

“Because you don’t want me the way I want you!” Connor looked down to the floor, regretting the words as soon as they had left his mouth. He kept thinking back to the night at the park and how his mistake started the domino effect that drove you into the Flayer’s clutches; would you leave him again now that he had made the same mistake?

“You’re wrong,” You murmured.

Connor’s head snapped up. He didn’t believe his ears; surely you didn’t mean what he thought you meant.

“I- I had a lot of time to think when I was…” You took a deep breath, stuck in memories of the cold, dark and dank cellar which you had been imprisoned in. “When I was in that place. I just kept thinking about all those awful things I said to you because it wasn’t the right time and… I want,” You took a tentative step towards Connor who remained perfectly still, his artificial breath stuck in his throat. “I want-”

Although he knew it was risky, Connor couldn’t wait any longer. He closed the gap between the two of you, put both hands on either side of your face and kissed you, even more anxious than the first time he had done so. However, this time instead of pulling away, you wrapped your arms around his waist, drawing him closer.

Feeling a wetness against his lips, Connor pulled away. “You’re crying,” He remarked sadly.

“I never thought I’d get the chance to tell you.”

Connor wiped your tears away gently and kissed you again, hardly believing the turn of events that had led him there. He wanted this, he wanted you. As long as you wanted him then he would always be there to protect you; he would be your love, your equal, you puppet, and your slave, so long as it would make you happy.

From kissing, it seemed that neither you or Connor could stop. The pent-up feelings that had been brewing in the two of you had finally hit their climax. One minute, the two of you were just kissing, the next, your hands were in his hair and the two of you were stumbling over to the sofa.

Connor kneeled over you, the hand that wasn’t supporting him ran eagerly down your side causing you to shudder pleasantly. He seemed to sense whenever you needed a break to breath, but as soon as you had gotten single breaths of air his mouth was back on top of yours, hungry for more.

For once, Connor didn’t let himself overthink. Instead, he reached under your shirt, hoping to forget all of the bad moments in a few moments of pleasure.

Before he could go any further however, he felt your own hand pushing at his chest, lifting him off you.

“Wait,” You breathed.

Panicking mildly, Connor stood up, leaving you alone on the sofa.

“Shit was that- Did I- Are you okay?” He asked, unsure of whether you were regretting your decision to be with him or if he had been doing something wrong. He suddenly envied the androids that had been made for the Eden Club; if he had only researched properly before, maybe things would be okay now.  “I’m sorry (Y/N). If I hurt you, just tell me and-”

“No, it’s- It’s just weird doing this here. I mean… You don’t have a room and if Hank decides to pay one of his breaktime visits to check on me, I don’t want him to catch us…” You trailed off awkwardly, blushing at the thought.

“Oh,” Connor nodded, feeling awkward himself now that the rush of simulated adrenalin was wearing off.

“We can go back to my place… if you want to.”

Connor nodded unsurely, “Okay, yeah. Let’s go.”

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[phoneboxfairy]

Working Up a Sweat (The Gym Fic!) (smut alert)

Ao3 link - https://archiveofourown.org/works/22405093 (Includes all proper formatting/italics/etc)  Commission for @a-god-of-calamity :)   Magnolia, Fiore, a fair sized city boasting sixty thousand residents, and home to a few notable families. Perhaps the most notable is the Dragneel clan. Unlike other families the Dragneels are not old money. Rather, Igneel, the family patriarch often referred to as The Dragon King, earned their wealth and notability slowly but surely, starting with the purchase of a single hotel a few years before the birth of his son. By the time the son, Natsu, was in middle school that single hotel had transformed into an empire. A second hotel was dedicated in providing luxury accommodations for travelers who otherwise might not have been able to afford it. Eventually the empire grew to include include shelters for families in need and the Dragneel Fund, which provides support to those who need it. But even Igneel the Dragon King cannot live forever, so making sure his heir would be ready to take over became a priority starting right around the same time Natsu entered high school. He made sure the boy had extra lessons on proper business management as well as plenty of first hand experience helping in various positions within the organization. By the time Natsu was twenty five he knew that company like the back of his own hand.  Even the old man was frequently heard praising his son’s skills. But lately...lately it all seemed like it was a bit too much. As much as he loved his family and the company, he desperately sought some sort of an outlet. Natsu tried to work out at his private gym, knowing full well how working out can relieve so much pent-up stress. But his efforts here were fruitless. When he was at home he couldn’t help thinking about work, about the company that led to his family’s wealth. Good thing Magnolia has some pretty awesome gyms. The newest one in town was called Fairy Tail, and already had a reputation for its facilities, classes, and top-of-the-line equipment. One afternoon after a stressful meeting, Natsu made a detour from his usual path home, instead ending up in the gym. He paid for a membership and made his way to the locker room. That’s where he first saw her. Out of the corner of his eye he caught a glimpse of what he immediately described as a smoking hot blonde.  She’s curvy but clearly works out, he thought, judging by the way her sweatpants and tank top hugged her form. Her hair was tied up in a sloppy ponytail, and she had this fierce determined look on her face. What a babe. Wow. He shook his head to clear his mind, turned around… ...and walked right into a locked door. Thwack It didn’t go unnoticed. A few people snickered. But otherwise nobody really seemed to care about Natsu’s silly blunder. He dusted himself off then headed in the direction of the weight room...this time paying attention to where he was walking. As soon as he got to his destination he got right to work pumping iron. For a while that’s all he could think about. Then a voice caught his attention. "Are you alright?" "Hnh?" He looked up and saw her, the babe from earlier. Oh shit, better play it cool. "I...saw you run into that door. I would have stopped but I was running late for my class. I didn’t want my students to miss any yoga time." She was blushing. The rosy tint to her cheek made her look even prettier. "Ohh. That's nothin'. I'm fine. Thanks for asking!" He flashed a smile. Her blush deepened. "You're welcome." Pause. She bit her lip. "I'm Lucy, by the way. Lucy Heartfilia." "Nice to meet ya, Lucy." He recognized the name. She was the heir to the Heartfilia travel company, a group that sent quite a few customers to Dragneel hotels.  Rumor had it she had spent part of her inheritance buying a small bookshop and turning it into what locals referred to as paradise for bookworms. She was also every bit as beautiful as he had heard. "Likewise. You're Natsu Dragneel, right?" "Yeah, that's me. How'd you know?" "I saw your family crest on your hoodie. And I, um, recognized you from the paper." Those publicity pictures don't do him justice at ALL, she thought. To say nothing of how utterly hypnotic it was watching him do dumbbell curls. "Wow, you're beautiful and smart. I like that." “Thanks.” Her smile lit up her face. “So, what brings you to Fairy Tail? Don’t you have a private gym in your mansion?” “Yeah but sometimes you just need to get away, ya know? Escape from everyday life.” “I definitely get that. I should go, though. It’s been a long day and I’m supposed to meet my friends for dinner.” She handed him a folded up scrap of paper, blush setting her cheeks ablaze. “Call me if you want. Or, you know, if you have time.” “A cutie like you? I’ll make time.” A smile that exposed a fang and made Lucy’s heart flutter. “Al...alright! See you later, Natsu.” With that she left, leaving Natsu feeling pretty good about the whole situation. It wasn’t every day you had a meet cute with an absolute babe like Lucy, after all. With her on his mind, he couldn’t help smiling. That first night they shared a few texts. He wasn’t really surprised she didn’t talk much. After all, she did say she was meeting with friends. No way was he going to monopolize her free time like that. He also wasn’t surprised when they met up again a few days later after their respective workouts and immediately began flirting. Natsu was, however, quite surprised when Lucy asked him out. “Do you, um, want to go out sometime?” “Like a date?” Flustered nod. “Sounds good to me. I know! I can take you to dinner Saturday night.” Lucy paused and seemed to contemplate this for a minute. Then she smiled. “I like that idea. If you want I can show you around my bookstore first...” The light in her eyes suggested she wanted to, so why was she acting so shy about it? Well, Natsu wasn’t about to make a beautiful woman feel bad about something she was so clearly passionate about… “Sure!” Another one of his bright smiles. “Text me your address and let me know when you wanna meet up. Don’t keep me waitin’, alright?” Mock sternness. She saw right through his ruse, giggled,  melted his heart. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Mr. Dragneel.” Lucy leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. Natsu’s eyes widened. He sure as hell hadn’t expected that, not so soon anyway. “Is that a hint of things to come?” “Only if you’re good.” Her response left him speechless, eyes wide as he stared at her in admiration of her boldness. She treated him to another cheek kiss, giggled. “See you Saturday night.” With that the pair went their separate ways, both contemplating their upcoming date. Truth be told it was quite an exciting prospect. Neither one were exactly unlucky in love, but all previous relationships seemed to be lacking...something.  Natsu was fed up with women trying to hook up with him in an attempt to score some of the family fortune, and Lucy had had more than enough of men seeing her as nothing more than a smoking hot body and a prolific bank account. Their meeting had been quite fortuitous. Lucy didn’t care how wealthy Natsu was, as she had money of her own. And sure, Natsu thought Lucy was a total babe, but he was also quite enamored with her personality, her sense of humor, and the way her smile made her entire being light up. Sexual attraction was there, sure, but with it was also the possibility of something more, something sweet, something lasting… Natsu sure hoped so, anyway. With these thoughts in his mind, the heir to the Dragneel Fund spent his Saturday morning preparing for this date. Lucy spent hers minding her shop for a bit, although she did close early to make sure she was adequately dolled up for her suitor. “Adequately” was an understatement. She thought she looked beautiful, a perfect mix of relaxed and classy in a black uneven tank top, matching skirt, a white overshirt, cut out leggings, and black boots. Her long hair was tied into two side ponytails, and a light dusting of makeup accented her face. By the awe-struck smile on Natsu’s face when she opened the door, he was pretty impressed too. “Hey, Lucy! Looking good. I feel kinda underdressed.” A gesture at his black dress shirt and jeans. “Don’t feel that way. You look great, Natsu.” Cute blush, beautiful smile. “Come on in. I’ll show you around.” The Celestial Gate was a shop like none he had ever experienced. It had that old book smell that reminded him of his father’s study growing up. Lots of shelves were lined with an endless quantity of books. There was even a cozy little reading area with couches, beanbag chairs, and tables to set snacks on. Now, Natsu didn’t exactly visit a lot of bookstores, preferring to order any needed reading materials online, but somehow he found Lucy’s shop every bit as appealing as its owner.   “I have an idea.” “Hm?” Lucy would never admit it but she had been glancing at him, trying to figure out what he was thinking.“Why don’t we stay here? We can order something to eat and get to know each other.” That look on her face seemed to be a mix of surprise and relief. He suspected, given their similar backgrounds, that she too had had more than her fair share of glitzy, ritzy dates. Here’s the thing about glitzy, ritzy dates: You can’t properly get to know someone on them. Not really. “I’d love that.” “Awesome. Hungry for anything special?” “This is gonna sound weird but...pizza!” She giggled. Natsu grinned. He didn’t think that was weird at all. That’s how Natsu Dragneel and Lucy Heartfilia came to spend their first date sitting together in an oversized beanbag chair she called a fuf, eating pizza and talking about their life experiences. Once the food had been put away he laid back, stretching his arms behind his head. She quirked her head, bit her lip. “Can we cuddle? Is that okay?” “Duh. Go ahead.” A gesture and a smile beckoned her closer. She paused for a moment, smiled, then snuggled next to him. As if on instinct he curled his arms around her. Why not? It felt right to hold her close like this, although he couldn’t explain why. His fingers dared to stroke over the bare skin of her midriff. She didn’t object. In fact, she snuggled closer and let out a content sigh. “So warm...I like this...” “Me too.” He chuckled. He lifted his other hand to her cheek, let his thumb brush over her chin. She gazed up at him, eyes full of curiosity and wonder...with maybe a little anticipation thrown in. She nibbled her bottom lip. His heart melted. So cute, so absolutely beautiful. She looked like she needed a little tenderness, and honestly he was glad to give that to her. That decided, he leaned in, took her by surprise, kissed her. No resistance. That kiss was sweet...but entirely too fast. “Natsu?” “Yeah, Luce?”Luce...I like that... “Kiss me again?”“Alright...” Another softer chuckle. Another kiss, then another. She seemed to melt into his arms, and almost all her inhibitions floated away.Almost.As good as it felt to make out with her, to feel her body against his, Natsu couldn’t help noticing a little hesitation. And undeniable chemistry or not, he wasn’t the type to force someone into something they weren’t comfortable with yet. Especially not Lucy. So he pulled away from the kiss, rested his forehead on hers. Smiled.“That was nice...” “Yeah… we should do it again sometime.” “Definitely.” Here she kissed his cheek. “Thanks for an amazing first date.” “First, huh? That means there’ll be more, right?” “Duh.” She giggled. Natsu waited for Lucy to lock the shop up, then walked with her to her apartment door. They shared a tender kiss with a promise for more, and he watched to make sure she made it inside safely. Then he went home, unable to keep himself from smiling. Maybe an hour passed since Natsu had kissed Lucy goodnight and headed home. He had enough time to hop in the shower, change into comfy pajama pants, and flop on his bed and turn the TV on when his phone buzzed. A message...from Lucy? And a photo at that? It wasn’t exactly a surprise. After all, they had sent each other silly selfies before. So he opened the message, opened the photo file… ...and was treated to an absolutely stunning vision.  There was Lucy in a rather racy lingerie set. Black silk and lace. A pushup bra and a low-rise thong, accompanied by a cheeky message. “New set...you like?” Oh yeah, he liked, alright.He sent back a single word.“Wow.” She didn’t reply right away. That’s when he realized something was, well, amiss. His suspicion was confirmed when her response came through.“Oh my GOD wrong convo. I meant to send that to my bffs. Sorry sorry sorry!” She was mortified. Aw, poor girl... Natsu got an idea.“It’s fine. I like seeing that side of you. Let’s make it even, though.” “...you like it? And what do you mean, make it even?”He leaned back on his bed, grinned, snapped a pic, and sent it to her. “Fair’s fair ;)” At first he wondered if he scared her off, since she didn’t respond. When she did..she was clearly impressed. “Well...that explains why you always wear baggy pants ;)” One message made him blush. How could she be so adorable and sexy all at once? “Duh. ;) Just know you can always be yourself with me, sexy-as-hell selfies and all.” “Thanks, Natsu. I should go to sleep, tho. I can barely keep my eyes open. Talk tomorrow, k?”“Of course. Night, Luce. Sweet dreams.”A kiss emoji was her last message of the night. From that point on, things seemed to change between the two. To be clear it wasn’t a bad change. In fact, Natsu thought it was an improvement. Lucy was becoming more open and flirty with him, whether they were on a date, in the gym, or texting at the end of a long day. They had known each other for a little over a month, and had gotten into a routine. Chat and flirt at the gym on the days Lucy taught her class, go on dates every Saturday. Then Lucy caught Natsu by surprise by sending him spicy little snapshots every night accompanied by the same three word message: “Just for you… * kiss*”   The first night she was wearing an outfit that reminded him of a librarian...well, except for the way her top was unbuttoned to reveal a flash of black lace bra and the curve of her breasts. On another night she was laying down in a silky nightgown that accented her form perfectly.One night he was treated to the sight of his gorgeous girlfriend’s body barely wrapped in a towel, offering him a teasing glimpse of generous underboob and soft freshly washed skin, skin he wanted to kiss and touch more with each passing day. Late Thursday night, she surprised him yet again with a text. “Rough day?” “Yeah. Ugh. Board meetings suck.” “I feel that. Here. Maybe this’ll make you feel better...” Accompanied by a rather large download file. Curious, he clicked it...then realized it wasn’t one pic, but several. The folder was titled “Yoga Fun.” Yeah, he liked the sound of that. There was Lucy in a tight tank top and shorts that hugged that beautiful ass of hers, doing a variety of sexy yoga poses that succeeded in taking his breath away and sending blood straight to his cock. He couldn’t, wouldn’t stop looking at the utterly erotic vision before him. Then his phone buzzed again. “What do you think?” He responded with a pic of his own, showing one hand stroking over the growing bulge in his sweats. Buzz buzz. Another photo file showing her in the bath, her completely bare body covered in nothing but warm water and bubbles. “Mm, yummy. Now to enjoy a nice bath. More tomorrow...” Followed by a wink and a heart. That night Natsu gave in to temptation. He let his imagination wander as he flipped through Lucy’s photos, his fantasies focusing on what he would very much enjoy doing with the voluptuous blonde. At this point the sexual tension between the two was as thick as fog. They were clearly both head over heels for one another, both pretty damn sure they were going to hook up at some point… but the question was, when? The answer turned out to be sooner than either expected. The next night, after some pretty intense flirtation and a goodbye kiss that included him grabbing her sweet little ass in the middle of Fairy Tail’s evening rush, Natsu got a message. “Want to play with me tonight?” The accompanying image made his mouth water. She lay on her back in a rather skimpy ensemble consisting of a cupless bra and low-cut lacy panties. Her free hand, the one not holding the camera, stroked over her bare skin. Her hair was down, flowing freely around her, and there was a sinfully inviting look on her face. There was only one acceptable answer here. “YES.” “Good. What’cha wearing?” For once words failed him and he went for the direct approach, took a hopefully appealing selfie showing off chest and low-hanging sweatpants, and sent it to her. Her response sent his heart racing. “Yummy, but a bit overdressed, yes?” “If you say so...” He paused, flung his sweatpants off, took another pic. “Is that better, babe?” “Getting there. I’ll give you a special treat if you lose the boxers, Dragon Prince.” One single text sent his pulse racing. Was she serious?! Gods, he hoped so… He also didn’t want to keep Lucy waiting, not with such an intriguing promise hanging in the air. So off went the boxers. He grasped his cock and snapped another photo, hoping she would like what he had to offer. By the looks of it, she was quite impressed. “Dragon is right. I’d love to ride that...” Accompanied by a wink. He blushed. For several moments there was silence. Natsu wondered if Lucy had forgotten about this special treat… then his phone buzzed, indicating a received video file… That video file… holy shit, it was hotter than anything he had ever had the privilege of witnessing. Lucy was on her knees on her bed. Her legs were parted, and she ran her hands through her hair. The whole time she was flashing a sexy little smile at the camera. Her hands roamed. They cupped and squeezed her generous tits, and fingers brushed over perky, berry pink nipples. Holy shit she’s fucking perfect… He couldn’t, wouldn’t, take his eyes off of her, slowly pumping his cock as the video continued. Her hands wandered downward, stroking over her tummy and lower. She did a little shimmy dance as she hooked both thumbs into the waistband of those tiny panties, tugged down, exposing silky skin and a bare hint of blonde hair… “Natsu...” Her seductive whisper made his cock twitch. He grasped harder, eagerly anticipating what was next, wanting to see her most intimate regions… ...but the video stopped there. Knowing Lucy, this was deliberate. She did like teasing, after all. He sent her a video of his own, showing her exactly what he thought of her special treat. “More please?” “Of course…*kiss emoji* You know… I think of you when I touch myself…and I feel like playing tonight...” “Oh? I’d like to see that.” “You can if you want...vid chat, maybe?” “Yes please.” The text went through and perhaps a minute later Natsu’s laptop beeped. Incoming video request. He did a flying leap over to his computer desk, perched himself in the chair so he was comfortable and visible to the camera, and accepted the request. There was Lucy, beaming up at him in all her beautiful glory. He could see her a lot clearer now, thanks to the larger screen. Her skin looked so soft, supple, glistening with a fine mist of sweat. “Ready, Natsu?” “You bet,  Lucy. Let’s play.” His voice was dark and low, practically a growl. The sound gave her a sweet chill. Playing with him was going to be fun… “Alright...” Soft giggle. She bit her lip, gazing up at him with those big brown eyes as she tugged her panties off and let them fall to the ground. One hand shifted between her legs, parting her lips so he could see easier. “You like this, Natsu?” A purr as she traced fingers over her clit and those delicate pink folds. “I love it, Lucy...” Definitely a growl as he grasped and pumped. His breath caught in his throat as he watched her pull out a vibrator from under her pillow and gently trace it over her skin, taking the same path her fingers had taken moments before. “Shit...I wish that was me...” “And I wish you were...right... here...” She slipped the toy into her pussy, then let it buzz away as she fucked herself. Her voice got a little higher. She sounded a bit like a video girl when she moaned, except those girls had absolutely nothing on his goddess. “Babe, if I were there you wouldn’t have to play with that damn toy...” “Ohh...really… what, mnn, what would you do to me if you were here?” “Anything you wanted.” Fuck, the thought of really being with her was making his already impressive erection even bigger. “I think I’d lay you on that soft bed of yours, warm your entire body up with my mouth, then take my time pleasuring and fucking you until we were both completely satisfied.” “That sounds like heaven. Mnnn...” The toy was drenched, and he could see her horny juices leaking from her folds as she humped her hips, one hand pinching and tweaking her nipples. “Na...Natsu...” “Go on, Lucy-baby.” He caught a glimpse of her nodding in response. Then she moved the toy up to rub little circles against her clit...and immediately cried out. “Ohh….Natsuuuuuu!” Her entire body trembled in utter ecstasy, all for him. Natsu kept pumping, fueling his own passion with the thought of being buried deep inside her, imagining her milking his cock as she came… “Lu...Lucy….!!!” One last mighty pump brought forth a spattering mess of his seed. Given the circumstances, he couldn’t say he cared. It’d get cleaned up eventually. “That...that was fucking amazing...” “M-hm. It was...” Big happy sigh. “Hey Natsu?” “Yeah?” “I’m gonna hop in the shower. I’ll call you when I get out, alright?” “Alright. Take your time, baby.” A giggle as she blew a kiss, then the screen went blank. She did indeed take her time. He had time to get cleaned up and was loafing on his bed, this goofy happy smile on his face. He had also had time to send a message to the company’s merchandiser requesting that a Dragneel Fund hoodie be sent to a certain bookshop that next morning along with a large bouquet of flowers, which explained part of that goofy smile. Ring Ring They exchanged some sweet talk followed by the comfortable pause of two people very much in love. Then Lucy sighed. “What’s up? Everything’s good with us, right?”“Everything’s wonderful. I was just thinking, that’s all.” “Thinkin’?” “Yeah...” Was it his imagination or did her voice falter here? “I...I think I love you, Natsu. Isn’t that crazy? I mean, we haven’t exactly known each other very long...”“That’s not crazy, Lucy.” His voice was low, soft. He was imagining holding her close as they talked, maybe even running a hand through her hair. “You’re not the type of girl who’d be so open and sexy with someone unless you really cared for ‘em.” “...how do you get me so well?” “Because I love you, duh.” Too late to take the words back now, not like he wanted to. “It’s weird. This whole thing started out as a big physical attraction but the more we’re together, the more I’m around you, the more I realize it’s gotta be love.” Sniffle, sniffle.“Lucy? Are...you crying?” “Y..yeah, a little. Because I’m happy. You...you make me happy...” Siiiigh. Then,  “I... think I have an idea for our next date.” “Alright. What’s that?” “We could meet at your place and have some, um, private gym time. I could show you some yoga moves in person...” Yoga moves...the implication was clear with the tone of her voice. Oh, they were going to get flexible, all right. “I like the sound of that. Same time, right?” “Yeah.” Yawn. “Sorry. I’m about to fall asleep.” “It’s okay. I’ll see ya tomorrow. Sweet dreams, princess.” “Night, Natsu. Love ya.” Click.That was that. Both fell asleep easily, smiling even in slumber. In the blink of an eye it was Saturday afternoon. Natsu got an early start, heading down to his gym to make sure everything was in order an hour before Lucy was due. Then he started lifting weights, pumping iron until the doorbell rang. There she stood, smiling at him in a slightly oversized hoodie and those same shorts she had teased him with the other night. “Hey, beautiful.” “Hi.” Blush. “Where should I put my bag?” “Anywhere’s fine. I’ll get staff to take it up to my room.” “Okay.” She set the overnight bag down, then made a show of unzipping her hoodie. She peeled it off slowly, flashing him a saucy smile as she revealed a skimpy crop top that accented every curve.Damn…“So, ah, how do we start?”“Watch me and follow my lead.” A quick kiss that would have been chaste were it not for Lucy nibbling his lip. Watching her was no problem, not when the sight of her enthralled his senses. He wasn’t great at yoga, but she was more than willing to help. She brushed her hands against him, giving him subtle hints at how to correct his posture. Eventually she started showed him some more complex poses, more for the sake of showing off for him than anything else. Splits, bending over, even a rather suggestive headstand. Then she felt a warm hand stroke up her thigh. Siiiigh. “That feels good...” “Want some more?” “Yes please.” “Whatever you say. Keep posin’.” And pose she did. She did another headstand, starting with her legs straight up but moving into splits. His hands found her ass, squeezed, then adventurous fingers stroked over the front of her shorts. She blushed, exhaled, didn’t protest. She also didn’t tremble at all, no small feat when she was being intimately fondled. Damn him and his amazing hands. Slowly, carefully, she moved her legs straight upward. “Hold still.” “Okay.” Inhale, exhale. She didn’t have to wait long to find out what he was up to. His hands roamed again, this time tugging her shorts upwards and off her legs. “Oh...Naughty boy.” “Don’t pretend you don’t like it.” Dark chuckle, flash of fang. “I like it...and I think you’d like it if I got rid of some of these clothes.” “You know I would. Show me. Please.” “Anything you want, love.” In one smooth motion Lucy got back on her feet. Then she made a show of peeling her top and sports bra off...a show Natsu watched intently. She didn’t break eye contact, not even as her hands roamed and cupped her now bare breasts. He caught a glimpse of her tongue flicking over lips. Holy shit. “Now what?” “Don’t tell me you’re playing innocent, Natsu...” “No, no way.” Here he reached over, cupped her cheek, smiled at her. “I want you, but I want you to have a say in what we do tonight.” “Oh...okay. In that case...” Her eyes brightened and her smile turned mischievous. “Tie me up.” Not a question, none of her usual shyness. He nodded then wrapped some athletic tape around her wrists. Then he took a good long look at her. There she lay, naked except for those little panties. Those would come off soon enough. First he focused on her bare form, leaving kisses and love bites all over her body. He grabbed and kneaded her ass. She squirmed. Good sign. "Hold still.""Okay..." He tugged her panties off, baring the sweet pink treasure between her thighs.And what a treasure. He gazed at her in reverence. One hand stroked over her tiny tuft of soft blonde hair."Damn, Lucy. You're perfect.""Thanks. Don't be shy, though." Eyes heavy, voice low and sensual. He nodded then turned his full attention to lavishing pleasure on her. Fingers traced over her clit with feather soft touches while his other hand parted her lips oh so gently.She smells incredible... Growl. He leaned in and flicked his tongue against her delicate pink folds. She trembled, quietly begging for more."More" was exactly what he wanted to give her. His free hand stroked her thigh then squeezed her ass. Then he treated her to a spank. She moaned and arched her back. So he did it again, his hand leaving a red mark on her peach skin. Her scent changed, and she was definitely getting wetter. “The cute rich girl has a spanking kink, huh?""Mm-hm.""What if I spank you while I'm eating you? That sound good, Lucy?""Why don't you see for yourself?" She winked and giggled...but then his hand met her ass again and the giggle became a moan.He nibbled her clit. His fingers kept her lips parted as he moved again, letting his tongue trace over her slit. She was a hot, delicious mess: squirming, tits heaving, biting her lip as she begged for more. Another spank. She made an absolutely feral sound, which he took as encouragement to go on.Not that he needed encouragement...His tongue slid into her slick folds, lapping up her delicious wetness. He had wanted to taste her ever since they had played together on camera, and reality exceeded his expectations. She was a goddess, and her pussy tasted like heaven. He wanted nothing more than to savor her, to satisfy her over and over...He also wanted to carry her up to his bedroom, pin her down to his bed, and bury himself so deliciously deep inside her...Well, that would happen soon enough. She shifted, draping her long legs over his shoulders, spreading to give him better access. He slipped two fingers into her, fucking her with his hand as he licked and nibbled. He hit a certain spot. She shuddered.“Ahhhh!” Aha!He hit it again, rubbing what had to be her g-spot with increased pressure. "Holy shit Natsu just like that....mnnnnh...yes..." Another nibble, another thrust. Lucy didn’t just moan Natsu’s name. She screamed it as her body was rocked by a glorious orgasm complete with a spray of her juices. Never had he ever made a girl squirt before, but no other girl was quite like his Lucy… he smiled at the thought as he untied her, feeling her soft hands fluff through his hair as he licked her clean. “Thanks for the snack, babe.” “Mmm, and thank you for the orgasm. I’ve never cum so hard in my life, love.” It amazed him how she could go from delicious temptress to sweet girl next door so quickly, but he could honestly say he loved both sides of her. With that decided he pulled her into a kiss, one he hoped conveyed every bit of feeling he had for her, one she was happy to return. “Let’s go to bed.” The softest of whispers yet so sensual. He nodded, picked her up and carried her to his room. He lay her on his bed with another oh so tender kiss. In all his fantasies he had imagined playing as rough with her as possible, taking her with animalistic fervor. Now that she was in his bed...it didn’t seem right. His Lucy deserved to be pleasured, savored, worshiped. And Natsu was very keen on worshiping her. She helped him shuck his sweatpants off and he got right to work. He kissed and nibbled her body, caressed her soft skin, taking in every reaction. She had to be exhausted from their ordeals down in the gym, but you’d never know it. She writhed with each touch, moaning with each caress and kiss. He nibbled her collarbone while his hands explored her breasts. Soft, smooth, full. He squeezed and kneaded, all while suckling the tiny berry of her nipple. Every so often he switched, mostly to devote equal attention to both sides. Then she let out a sound kinda like a whimper. “Want it, baby?” “I...need it. Please, Natsu...” “Alright. Gimme your hand...” Nod. He clasped her hand and braced himself over her. She wrapped both legs around his waist, her way of encouraging him to make the next move. When he pushed his hard cock into her sweet, damp, depths, the euphoria both felt was audible in their moans and sighs. “Nnnnnh, feels so good, Natsu...” Words couldn’t describe the feeling of finally being one with her, of making love to this woman who meant so damn much to him… They moved together, each motion accented with kisses that raised in intensity as passion heightened. Her hands wandered. He wondered absently if there was a rhyme or reason, or if she just wanted to explore his skin with her fingers. Either way it felt incredible. She felt incredible. He paused mid-thrust, towering breathless over his goddess, gazing at her and seeing her gazing back at him, her eyes amber with love light. “Love ya, Lucy.” “And I love you. Now shh.” Delicate fingers traced over his mouth. Her hand slipped to his cheek and pulled him into a kiss. He got the hint right away and resumed pleasuring her.  So warm, so inviting. So perfect. Minutes...hours...how long did they spend together that night, entwined in passion? Neither cared about time. Being together was all that mattered. Once passion reached its peak and the waves of bliss subsided they lay together kissing and cuddling. They only paused, reluctantly, when Natsu got up claiming a need to pee...which ended up taking longer than Lucy expected. He came back, scooped her up and carried her to the bathroom, settling her into the warm waters of a bath. Then he got in with her and treated her to a kiss. Later on, dried off and cuddling in bed, Lucy grabbed her phone and took a selfie. Natsu quirked his head at her.“For memories.” “Ohh. We’ll have plenty of those.” He kissed her and she knew he meant it. This beautiful night was just the beginning... (Epilogue coming as soon as I can get it written :) )

[sweater-daddiesdumbdork]

Plum Memories

Summary: Fluff, all sweet. Bucky x Dot, a little bit of pre serum Steve x Melanie. 

Wordcount: 1K approx

Disclaimer: So this is my first piece like this, feedback is appreciated, especially any kind of tips. Thank you for reading. 

The stands selection showed many types of fruits not from that region, all a delectable choice for the senses. Bright yellow clusters of bananas, spiky pineapples with green waxy leaves sprouting from the top, fuzzy juicy peaches that put off there own summertime scent. But Bucky bypassed these choices, for he wanted the small dark purple plums at the end.

Picking up one of the ripe plums, Bucky wasn't in the street market anymore, in his minds eye he was back home, 1940s Brooklyn. The excitement of a fair putting a smile on his face, he had managed to find dates for both him and his best friend Steve. Although he knew Steve would scuff at the idea of going on a double date since he found himself to be lacking, Bucky still would insist.

"Buck, you just go. She's not going to want nothing to do with me"

"Come on, night out to Cooney Island!" it was impossible to hide the excitement in Buckys voice "and two pretty dames to sport on our arms." Buckys grin just grew a bit wider and Steve finally relented to his friend, knowing there would be no getting out of it. 

“Okay Buck.... who is she?”

Later that day as Bucky was heading to pick up there dates, he dug his hand into his pockets to pull out the few bills he owned and double counted it with a slick of his tongue to his thumb, and mentally chanting to himself one dollar, two dollar, three dollar, four dollars, five dollars.... and thirteen cents. Heck he had enough to get there tickets and play a few games. Perhaps he could surprise her with his skills knocking over those milk bottles. Then end the night going on the ferris wheel, and with his luck they would stop at the very top and steal himself a kiss off her pretty painted lips. Or on the cheek, Bucky would be thrilled with either one she wanted to share. 

Arriving to her house, he stuffed those bills back into his pants pockets and knocked on the door. Hearing giggling behind the door, Bucky was quickly greeted with two women, one his date Dot. Her red hair partially pulled back and styled so curls brush along her shoulder. Her green eyes warming to seeing Bucky shadowing her doorstep. Her companion, Steves date of the night, Melanie as well flashed a smile and glanced behind Bucky. 

“Wheres your friend? Steve isnt it?” 

Bucky flashed a sincere smile whilst responding to Melanies question. “Were gonna stop by his place on our way to the ferry. Its just a few blocks from here.” And as they all stepped out of the doorway, he offerend an arm to each of them and led the way, chatting amongst themselves. Does it get any better then this?

The evening became one they all appreciated. Steve, although shy still was warming up to Melanie, much to Buckys enjoyment, Dot hung onto his every word and promptly cheered whenever he was able to win at one of the various games. After one particular throw, she swung her arms around his waist and pecked her lips on his cheek. Causing a excited flutter in his chest, her gave her a light squeeze back. 

“Where did Steve and Melanie go to?” Questioning as he now noticed that neither were around, looking over his shoulder. The crowd had started to thin as the evening was wearing on, and small bits of lights were being turned on to accommodate. Dot jutted her chin over towards the ferris wheel, where Bucky could see Steve open one of the rides safety gates and insist Melanie climb aboard and following her on. Well damn go for it Steve! 

“I want to ride to James, come on!” Dot tugged on his arm, pulling him away from the booth, and curling up closer to his side. His arm swung over her shoulder and tucked her in closer while following the flow of people. There was no rush though, and they both peeked at displays in passing. They were passing a tented area when the sign above the entrance caught his attention, Wonders of the World. 

“Hold up, lets go inside” Bucky redirected them towards the entrance and ducked through the low hanging sign, Inside was booths lined up along each side, animals in cages pacing back and forth in some areas. It was noisy as strangers shoved unique items under there noses and tried to entice Bucky to treat his girl to something rare and unique, unheard of normally in New York, Together the two of them awed and admired these different wonders. And getting towards the end, the promise of now fresh night air, the last part they passed had various fruits on it. It all smelled sticky sweet as some of it was over ripe, begging to be consumed. 

Dot was about to turn out of the tent, when a deep graveled voice spoke out to cause them to pause “Something sweet to finish the night? Im sure I can pick out your favorite Miss” Dot arched her brows with curiosity and stepped back in closer. 

“Actually let him pick for me.” She smiled sweetly up at Bucky “Go ahead, what would you pick out for us?”

“Oh well.... lets see” Looking over the different choices, the selection was somewhat limited, he by passed things like apples, and considered oranges as they were fruit only here on occassion, the cherries looked tempting but the small purple globes caught his attention, and reaching down to pick on up, it was firm in his grip, just a bit of a give to let him know it was ripe. James remembered the sweetness of the plum on a hot summer day, the memory triggering his mouth to water. “I bet you will like this” he assured her as he dipped into his pocket to pull change, and handing it over.

Outside now, they stepped over towards the tent, out of the way of passerbys. Buckys wrist flicked the plum up into the air and when he caught it, he presented it to Dot. “I hope I made the right choice, my mom used to get me these once in a while, and they were my favorite.” 

Plucking it from his hand, she sniffed the fruit while still gazing up at him. “Confession, I also love them to.” And without another second, she wrapped her lips around it and bit down into the soft purple flesh. The juice swelled near the corner of her mouth and when she pulled it away, a pink tip of tongue darted out to catch it before it could escape. None of this escaped Buckys attention as his breath caught in his throat. 

No, there was still a bit there and his hand went to capture the sweetness that rolled down her chin. His thumb brushed along the curve before lightly grasping. No, they werent going to get that kiss atop the ferris wheel under the constellation of stars and above the bright festive lights. No, it was destined to be right here, in the shadow of a tent, out of the way. With a small plum falling from her hand to roll out of sight as his lips closed over hers and his arm swept around her hips to draw her in. Hands pressing against his chest and sliding up to circle around the back of his neck. And damn was that the sweetest kiss Bucky has ever had. 

Clearing of the throat stopped the two of them, and breaking apart quite suddenly, both Bucky and Dots cheeks were flushed at the moment, as well as being caught up in one another, Steve and Mel stood there. Mel with a look of incredulous surprise and Steve a bit more composed, his hands stuffing into his pockets.

“So we got to go, its the last ferry back. They just announced it.”

Dot gave an apologetic look to Bucky, and without saying anything went over to Melanie, who tugged her ahead. Of course they whispered back and forth for a moment as the men followed up behind. Steve glanced at his friend with a hint of humor in his voice.

“We thought we lost you and Dot, Buck”

“Yea, we got a bit sidetracked. Come on, lets get a hot dog for the ride back” The flush in his face now gone, and a wide happy as hell grin in its place. “Hey girls, let me treat you to dinner” 

Back to present day, Buckys memory flashed before one could blink, his metal arm hidden under neath the black gloves as he picked up the plum. All of it a life time ago.  In the seconds his flashback lasted, he had picked up a piece of fruit and squeezed it lightly, fresh and ripe, ready to eat. Selecting a few more, he handed them over, exchanging a few words. 

In the background, sirens blared and a prickle ran up Buckys spine as a bag of plums was handed back to him.