#thinking that if he just does this for long enough they might give up

[gotta-winwin]

OT13 Reaction -- the aha moment

or...how they realize they're in love with you

seungcheol doesn't get that aha moment, falling in love isn't something that happens within seconds for him. it's like he's slowly drifting into love, not even realizing you've become the focal point of his entire existence. when it finally hits him, it's a quiet, simple moment. he's watching you make him breakfast in the morning, admiring you quietly from the kitchen counter. he zones out for a moment, blinking suddenly and realizing damn. that's my woman. and he knows he's ruined for life.

it's kind of silly, how jeonghan realizes he's in love with you. he's just returned home from a busy day at work, entering the house to find it empty. searching the place top to bottom, he's about to call you when - BOO - you jump out from one of the closets and scares the soul out of him. he's clutching his chest, watching as you collapse onto the ground in a fit of giggles. he can't help but laugh along, realizing through the chaos that he's found his soulmate, and he'd be damned not to admit he's in love with you.

joshua's a simple man by nature. he's easily happy in life, only needing his members, his job, his lifestyle, and of course, you. it doesn't take long into your relationship before he realizes he's in love, as the two of you take a stroll along the Han River after a long day. he's watching the setting sun reflect against your figure, taking his phone out to snap a few pictures. it's when he notices his camera roll is full of pictures of you does he think well, that's it. i'm in love.

upon meeting his family, jun notices how much work you've put into it. you're doing your best to speak his town's dialect, communicating with his parents in a language that made them most comfortable. his heart swells when he sees you amidst his childhood home, trading stories and eating with the people who raised him. it's when he notes that you look so perfect here that he realizes you just fit. he's in love.

as if everything else is with soonyoung, his aha moment is full of fireworks and pizzazz. having just finished the most record breaking performance of his life, he finds himself with one thought only: i want to go home. usually, it's because he's tired. but now, ever since you stumbled into his life, he finds himself wanting, needing, to go home so he can hold you and recite everything that happened today. he's practically thrumming with energy to rush home, and everyone around him sees what is so painfully obvious. he's so in love.

wonwoo's always credited himself to be a loner. not a lot of people can fit with his quiet personality, so when you offer the idea of "parallel play" he's a little confused. his heart warms when you explain that you don't mind doing separate things as long as you're in the same area, understanding that he needs more time to himself than others might. it's when you tell him you love him enough to compromise does he think im so in love with this girl right now.

woozi's used to writing songs dedicated to his fans and members. he sits down for another writing session, brainstorming ideas and the thought of you pops into his mind. he shrugs, thinking it might be nice to mix it up a bit, sitting down to write something about you. it's when he reads his own words back does he realize he's irrevocably screwed and so in love with you. thought about settling down, buying her a house and saying screw the music. yeah, he's in love.

having always been a realist, minghao doesn't necessary believe in true love, or love at first sight. he understands there's going to be someone out there for him, but he's skeptical that that someone is going to be perfect. all his beliefs go out the window the moment he sees you - it's like you're surrounded by a golden glow - and he realizes maybe love at first sight can be real.

seokmin loves and gives as easy as breathing. he's always been a generous guy, and it's when you sit him down and kindly remind him to leave some for himself does he stare at you and realize ok i've found the one. you've become that steadiness in his life that used to be just his members, and you love and give to him like it's as simple as breathing too.

having always been the resident cook, mingyu's eyeing your food creation like it's some kind of poison or drug. he had insisted you didn't need to cook for him, he's always been the cook and doesn't mind it, but you were stubborn and he relented. it's when the first bite blows him away does he realize he kinda misses having someone cook for him too. if you're this good at cooking i might just have to marry you, he says, ignoring how you blush, going back for another bite.

seungkwan's always been the entertainer. he doesn't mind it, he enjoys the fact it's his job to make everyone laugh. but when times get tough and he's in no mood to be the entertainer, you're right there to support him. it's when he gets home to you after a particularly rough day and you welcome him in with open arms, murmuring how he's done well and doesn't need to do more. it's when he realizes he can just be seungkwan - not seungkwan the entertainer, but just seungkwan - and he loves you for that.

vernon never really thought about finding the one. he always just assumed that they would find him. and that's exactly what happens, when you bump into each other at the movie theatre - both there alone just cause. it's when you're enthusiastically going band for band with vernon about movies that he's forced with the realization that shit. maybe i have found the one.

chan's always known he was in love with you. he doesn't like to admit it cause he thinks it makes him sound sappy, but he truly never questioned his love for you. it was a simple thing in his mind - this person makes me so fucking happy - i must be in love. and how could it not be simple for him? he's staring at you quipping about some joke to his friends and he's thinking i love you. he's watching you just wake up from a nap and he's thinking i love you. he sees a text from you on his phone mid-dance practice. i love you. he's always been in love with you because he loves everything to do with you.

[innerfare]

Apologizing To You 

Summary: How do they apologize to you? (Similar to Fighting and Making Up but oh well.)

Characters: Luffy, Zoro, Sanji, Ace, Sabo, Law, Kid

Genre: Fluff

CW: None // SFW

——— 

Luffy: 

You thought it would be more difficult to get Luffy to apologize considering he’s not above bickering and arguing and can be so freaking stubborn. But the thing is, Luffy’s emotional intelligence is through the roof and he always senses when you’re really hurting. That being said, he thinks it’s important for you to say so, so he won’t just do it. If you ask, though, he won’t hesitate. He might even grin and ask you why you took so long. 

Zoro: 

For the most part, he’s not one to apologize. He’s incredibly stubborn and doesn’t let those words leave his lips easily, to the point you’ve had several arguments that were far bigger than they should have been. He’s a stubborn bastard, and he’s very proud. He’s also opposed to giving gifts as an apology as he thinks that cheapens it. When he does feel the need to apologize, he’ll do so verbally and quite simply (and privately, for his pride); he would really never do anything to you that would require anything beyond that. 

Sanji: 

You need only ask. Sanji would do anything for you, even swallow his pride. In fact, he’s so quick to apologize, he sometimes tries to speed run the process and might even get his feelings a little hurt if he’s ready to apologize but you’re not ready to accept it yet, but he’s mature enough not to let that turn into another fight. He’s also one to show up outside your window with a bouquet of flowers or another gift to sweeten the deal. He’ll apologize even if you were in the wrong just to jumpstart the making up process. 

Ace: 

Arguing is tough for him, but so is apologizing- not necessarily because he’s too proud to admit when he’s wrong, but because he’s too scared. He fears admitting that he was wrong will cause you to leave him, and this insecurity can be difficult to navigate. He usually ends up shutting you out rather than rushing over to you to apologize, but once you do approach him, usually offering something to eat as a peace offering, he’ll quickly accept fault and apologize for anything and everything. 

Sabo: 

Such a sweetheart but also competitive. You’re the only one (except his brothers, maybe) who knows just how attentive and caring Sabo can be, a far cry from the reckless young man who never seems to listen to a word anyone says, and you’re most likely to experience it after a fight. The two of you have a chosen spot- a pink peach tree on Momoiro Island- and it’s usually Sabo who finds himself waiting there (let’s face it, he’s more likely to say something insensitive than you are). He usually apologizes with a sheepish grin and a peach he plucked from the tree. 

Law: 

Attempting to wring an apology out of him is no good. He has to do it in his own time, and he will, usually no more than two or three days. He prefers to do it under the cover of darkness, without any eyes watching or ears listening except yours, climbing into bed beside you and muttering an apology into your ear, pressing warm kisses into your hand until you melt and are receptive enough to forgive him. Also not opposed to writing an apology on a scrap of paper and slipping it into the book you’ve been reading because he communicates much better that way.

Kid: 

Really not one for heartfelt apologies. Also not one to notice he did something wrong. Eventually he’ll notice you’re upset, but only because you haven’t been sitting in his workshop as much, and kicked him when he rolled on top of you in his sleep. But he’s at a complete loss as to why and ends up snapping at you over it. When you tell him what’s wrong, he’ll grunt out an apology and probably propose you work out your frustration on him in a way that’s enjoyable for you both. 

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

[reidgenius]

Low Pain Tolerance | S.R. x Reader

image by reidgif <3

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader Word Count: 1.4k Category: angst, hurt/comfort? Warnings: commitment issues, wildly insecure!reader (it's really just me) A/N: I haven't written for Spencer before, so please excuse any OOC inaccuracies and be nice okay! I am a long-time lurker/admirer of the lovely @pathologicalreid and am writing this for her cutesy margovember event :) Song Inspo: Low Pain Tolerance by Abby Holliday

You never enjoyed running.

Still, that didn't stop you from doing it often. Whether it be on the job or in a relationship, you ran.

To catch a bad guy. To catch yourself before you fall. To stop something terrible before it happens... You ran.

In this instance, you found yourself running from Spencer Reid.

"Would you look at me? Please?" he pleaded.

You knew if you were to turn around that you'd see his glassy doe eyes and be drawn right back in. You knew your weaknesses, and he was certainly one of them. The biggest one. That's why you stayed put, staring at his bedroom wall.

"I can't, Spence." You meant to say it with finality, but it came out more as a whimper.

"You can't look at me, or you can't-"

"Neither. Both."

As the holidays approached, Spencer had mentioned the idea of the two of you making a trip out to Vegas. "Just for a day or two," he'd promised. Though there wasn't much he treasured about home, you knew that his mother was there, and that was more than reason enough.

This evening, he'd brought it up again after letting you avoid the topic for weeks.

"It's only a matter of time before you figure it out," you admit.

"Figure what out?"

"God, Spence, that I'm only bringing you down!" you nearly shouted, though you hadn't meant to. The anxiety took over. "I'm like... gahhh! I don't know how to do any of this, I-"

To your dismay, he let out a laugh as you finally turned to face him. A real, genuine laugh.

"Bringing me down?" He looked at you with an earnest amusement. "Honey, I don't think you realize what you-"

"I'm scared. Okay? Is that what you wanted me to admit? That I'm scared of meeting her?" A single tear gushed down your cheek.

His brows knit in concern as he quickly thought of ways to disprove the common fears surrounding schizophrenia and it's manifestations.

"Baby, schizophrenia doesn't ma-"

"Dammit Spencer, it's not about that! It's- I..."

You found yourself stumbling over your words.

"I don't care about her diagnoses!" you laughed. (Of course, you did care, but that wasn't what was scaring you.) "I'm scared of this!" you said, waving your hands between the two of you. "I don't want to rush it. I don't want to get her hopes up..."

You let your legs give way to sit on the floor against the wall, your head in your hands, mumbling to the cold hardwood.

"I don't want to get my hopes up."

There was it. That was the truth.

You weren't used to it. You weren't used to someone asking you how your day was and really caring. You weren't used to the notion that a man would want to wrap himself around you at night and keep you close. You'd never been one to draw much attention from men. Or women. Or anyone, really.

Naturally, you figured that there must be something deeply and inherently flawed in you. Something Spencer had yet to discover.

So, being with him was... terrifying. You were constantly waiting and wondering when he'd conclude that you weren't as pretty as he initially thought, or as witty, or as intelligent, or kind, or...

And it would only be cruel to drag Diana into this. To have her think that perhaps her son had found his person. To have her thinking that she might be meeting her future daughter-in-law. It felt cruel to yourself, in some twisted way, to pretend that this was all going to last.

Spencer was typically a fast thinker, but your admission had the cogs in his brain working overtime. You were afraid of him? Of your relationship?

He padded over to join you on the floor, keeping a little distance so as not to scare you.

"Get your hopes up? You don't-" he gulped, "I mean... you don't think we're gonna- that this is gonna work out?"

Still speaking to the floor, you sigh, "I don't know, Spence."

You were exhausted. Incessantly feeling like you're on the brink of being "found out" can do that to a person. It's not that Spencer hadn't done all the right things. No, he was the perfect partner. But therein lied the issue. He was perfect. And, in your opinion, you were far, far from it.

You took a deep breath through your tears.

"I don't think I can keep doing this."

Confusion. Utter shock. Things had been going so well with you the past 8 months. Spencer immediately began to wrack his brain combing through all the possible mistakes he could've made. Did he raise his voice with you? Had he forgotten some big milestone? Was he not giving you enough?

"Honey I-" he gathered himself, placing a hand on your thigh, "I'm so sorry. Can I ask... what makes you say all this?"

Though you were reluctant, you figured that now was as good a time as any.

"Spencer. I am not good for you! Good enough for you!" With each point, you illustrated by raising a finger, "I am impulsive and I complain and I get weird sometimes when you touch me and I can be a massive bitch and I never know how to-"

"Woah, woah, woah-" He snuck up closer to you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and placing his head atop yours, all while you kept rambling. "Why in the world do you say that? Not good enough for me? If anything it's me who isn't deserving of you..."

"No, you-"

He stopped you in your tracks just by saying your name in that beautiful way he does. Like its covered in honey and dripping with admiration.

"You are everything. You may think those things about yourself but I certainly don't." His thumb caressed your bare skin so carefully as he continued, speaking slowly so as to allow the words to really sink in. "You are the most generous person I've ever encountered. You care so deeply about people you love. You are courageous and willing to try all the weird foods I suggest even though you really don't want to." He smirked a bit at that one. "You have taken everything that life has thrown at you and navigated it with grace. You really are just... you're it. You're her. You're the girl - the woman - I've always hoped would come my way but never dreamed actually would. Honey, I've figured out everything I need to know when it comes to how I feel about you."

You sat there, warm under his embrace, pondering his words as he spoke. It's nothing he hasn't said before, granted, in much less grand and emotionally charged ways. But it was like you were really hearing it for the first time. You wanted so badly to believe him.

"I love you," he continued. "I love you so much that sometimes I am afraid of myself. Of what I'd do for you. You, god, you make me so much better."

"I love you, too. Too much," you squeaked out.

"No. Not too much." He leaned back to encourage you to look up at him. "You know I really mean all that right? Just the way you are. Quirks included?"

"I guess. And now I'm just self-conscious that I am so self-conscious..."

"You say that as if I'm not the exact same way!" he chuckles, trying to make light of what is clearly a shared wound. You'll deal with that later. Together, preferably. "Please, trust me. Do you trust me?"

And you did. You trusted Spencer with every cell in your body and hair on your head. There was nobody else you'd ever been so confident in. So, you nod against his chest as your tears begin to subside.

"Good. Now why don't we move this party up into the bed?"

"No offense, Spencer, but the last thing I want right now is to f-"

"No no no nooope! Not that, babe," he laughed. "Just wanna lay with you 'til this feeling passes. Is that okay?"

"Please."

And so, the rest of the evening consisted of cuddles under your massive comforter. Sweet admissions whispered in your ear. The tiniest kisses to your hairline and your shoulder and your nose and your wrists.

By the time you dozed into a worry-free slumber, you believed him a little more.

Perhaps you could let Spencer love you, forever.

[ir-abelas-vhenan]

Something Something Yeah It's Still Solavellan Hours (Mythal is kind of here, too)

I've seen a few very beautifully articulated posts talking about the conflicted responses players are finding themselves having in regards to the decision by writers* to have Solas' atonement route possible because of his conversation with one of the remaining fragments of Mythal.

(*honestly I hesitate to put the weight of bigger game events on their shoulders because of how much I know bigger players in the company were involved, so when you read 'writers' know I just mean whoever had final say on plot)

I love reading where people are at on this, and having now breathed, re-played the scene, cried, read some more theories, and then played the scene again enough times I think I'm now able to figure out where I'm at.

TLDR: in my humble opinion, the conversation Solas has with Mythal doesn't bring him any actual closure at all. It is only the version of the atonement ending that has Lavellan in which he is actually set upon a road to redemption.

This, like everything else where I lose my mind, will be long. I tried to restrain myself and here we are, unhinged as ever.

I was unhappy at first that Mythal's incredibly brief conversation with Solas where she releases him from her service seemed to be what finally allowed him to make a decision based on his wants and not hers. My concern stemmed mostly from the fact that a lot of us are trying to be active participants in a society that recognizes patterns of abuse and seeks to establish channels through which individuals can pursue healing without the approval, consent, or demise of their abuser.

But the more I look at the scene, the more I wonder what would have happened in a world where Veilguard got just a little more time in development. Could we have gotten a scene that more elegantly conveys the theme that we cannot heal every part of our loved ones, much as we might like to?

In an imperfect world it isn't always up to us how someone finds closure, which really sucks when you'd like to ensure a loved one finds it in a way that preserves their dignity and limits exposure to the individuals who have harmed them.

And while it could be left there, I'd like to actually push back on the idea that Mythal is in any way responsible for "healing" Solas in this moment.

I went on a different tirade a few days ago about how at the end of Inquisition, Mythal says words to Solas that on their surface seem well-intentioned or placating, but they actually just serve to further bind him in guilt and a position of servitude. In Veilguard's finale, she still does not take accountability for exactly how much of a role she played in the pain that Solas, a man others have revered and feared as a god, has gone through as he cowers, actually cowers before her.

Mythal's interaction with Solas conveys exactly two things to him as far as I am concerned (I'm going to botch these quotes but my laptop is dying so please accept some paraphrase as I rush to finish this before I go cry about this analysis to my uncaring dog):

"The terrible things we did, we did together." You are forever tied to me.

"I release you from my service." But what am I releasing you to?

Because up until Lavellan joins the fray here, all I take away from the physical and unwilling emotional cues Solas gives in this scene (he is a master in trickery, for goodness' sake, the thought of so many witnesses seeing him unable to hide behind a mask has to leave him feeling anguished on top of everything else) is that Mythal has once again reminded him of everything he did in her name and telling him that all that's left for him is to go back to the fade prison and, as he as always done, endure the crushing weight of his failures alone.

To me, in my interpretation, the Solas that hears this from Mythal with no Lavellan intervention may choose to willingly step down from his original plan (and yeah, that's gonna do some damage) but he is certainly not free of his past. He's going to be reminded of it every time he turns a corner and finds more blight to try and soothe, and even the moments that he rests will be filled with more manifestations of his regret. He says it himself: where he's going? It's terrible.

Enter Lavellan. Yeah, he couldn't bring himself to listen to her at her first plea (but like damn how many times are we going to have to watch her give a heartfelt speech only for him to be like 'something something beautiful elven rejection'). But I know that you know that our clever icon knows better than to take what Solas says at face value. She tells Rook plainly that he's absolute dogshit at lies of the heart, and she says it with her whole chest.

Lavellan sees the way his shoulders slump (in resignation yes, but you can't convince me there's not a little bit of relief there, too), she hears the agony in the "vhenan" that escapes his lips (which, don't even get me started on the fact that it's been like nine years and he has no hesitation at all calling her his heart, it just spills out of him). It is not the sound of a man delighting in the steps he's about to take. They're certainly not steps he does not dislike that lead to a destination he enjoys.

And then she watches Mythal (who I can't imagine she feels any sort of fondness or respect for) pull some weird nonsense on her love one final time, and she knows it's her moment to shine.

Mythal, I would argue, pushes Solas down one more time, shames him into seeking atonement, into once again being alone.

It is the romanced Lavellan that kneels so that he cannot fail to meet her eyes. It is she who invokes their connection, not to remind him of his failures but to reaffirm his greatest strength: their love and their love alone is inevitable. Not the consequences of his past, not the regret he thinks will consume him as he seeks to mend what has been broken. It has only ever been them.

"There is no fate but the love we share". We are forever tied together.

"There is no fate but the love we share." *I* am releasing you from everything else save for this love.

Put colloquially: get absolutely fucking wrecked, Mythal.

Body language comparison to chase up the dialogue one, anyone? The way Solas shrinks before Mythal as opposed to him walking off into the fade with Lavellan at his side and standing tall, and he does not flinch when she lifts a hand to his shoulder?

Ultimately, Mythal is a part of the atonement endings no matter what. But it is only Lavellan that refuses to let him walk alone. It is only Lavellan that guarantees that his dinan'shiral ends not in a prison of regret, but a place of promise.

Mythal bends Solas until he breaks one last time. Lavellan takes each piece, claims it as hers, and uses them to build the beginnings of a future.

[soleminisanction]

So a while back I ran the numbers to confirm a suspicion that fandom trends towards a trans Tim Drake, and there's a lot of bits and pieces around his canon material that I think contributes to that interest. But there's a particular, subtle one that's been poking at my mind a lot because I think it might actually be a pretty significant factor that nobody really notices:

His costumes.

The original Robin costume, the one Dick and Jason wore, is childish but exposing. It's innocent enough when they're being drawn as spunky children, but during the period when Dick's still wearing it into his late teens and early 20s, it's practically as revealing as a lot of the women's costumes (and, in retrospect, almost certainly laid some of the groundwork for him sometimes being sexualized by the art and writing the way female characters normally are -- George Pérez, at least, absolutely put him on display every bit as much as he did Starfire and Donna).

Damian's costumes, meanwhile, lean more into archaic/fantasy armor designs and are thus largely genderless outside some vague allusions to the codename's Robin Hood roots. And Steph's is, well, a minidress, and one designed to show off her figure, drawing explicit attention to her femininity.

But then you have Tim's most iconic costume, his original one, which is not only fully covering in a way the original look isn't, it also, by virtue of being designed in the 90s, sports a very specific feature: molded body armor shaped to look like pectoral and abdominal muscles. In other words -- an idealized male body.

Not every artist always included that detail, but it was an explicit part of the design that you don't see as much these days, at least not for teen heroes. Which means it's inadvertently the perfect costume for a trans masculine Boy Wonder. It's got built-in body shaping. The cape and tunic layers even help to make his shoulders look wider.

Tim's second costume, the OYL later suit, doesn't explicitly have this body shaping element, but some artists still hint at it in the same way that Dick's Nightwing suits do (ie, we assume they're not showing off their real muscles with skintight suits for safety reasons, but who knows). Plus it comes with the bonus gay longing of changing the colors to mourn the dead crush he's too deep in the closet to recognize.

And then you've got his modern Robin look which has the same kind of shaping going on in a sleaker, more subtle way, though it can vary from artist to artist how much the red part of his suit is drawn as a breast plate vs. a part of the bodysuit.

As a bonus, the design also has a tendency to make him look lean and lithe, in an interesting contrast to Damian who, despite being physically smaller than Tim, tends to have a presence that makes him come across as stockier and more solid, possibly because he's more heavily armored.

You even see this with some of Tim'snon-Robin looks. I've mentioned this elsewhere but, the original Red Robin look making him look older when the cowl was up honestly makes a lot of sense. That suit was originally designed for a Dick Grayson who was pushing 60 to conceal the extent of his age while still communicating his maturity and development. It makes sense that it'd work the other way, to make 17 year old Tim look like he's in his late 20s/early 30s.

It's tunic over a body suit design is also just aesthetically pleasing in terms of forming an elegant male body type, the same way a well-cut suit can be. Again, it does especially nice things for the shoulders, which is why I personally prefer it to the fully bodysuit redesign they give him in the latter part of the series. Although as we can see from the details in Marcus To's art, even that body suit has seams strategically placed to suggest muscles.

And then of course there's the 2016 Rebirth era Red Robin costume, which is just a more heavily-armored version of his classic Robin look that's trying really hard to make him look masculine and mature, which means... exaggerated muscles.

And the thing is, it's not that this doesn't happen with other characters' costumes. But for various reasons it specifically didn't happen with the other Robin costumes, like I described at the start.

Which is not something I think people consciously notice. But I do know that, when I was writing my transmasc Tim fanfic a few years before realizing that I myself was also transmasc, one of the images that solidified the story for me was how good it would've felt the first time a transmasc Tim put on his new Robin costume and saw the Boy Wonder looking back at him. And I remember specifically thinking about how nice the shaped armor would be for that sort of thing.

It's kinda funny how an obvious attempt to enforce gender norms wound up, for lack of a better term, backfiring, at least in my opinion. There's just something about exaggerating the masculinity of Robin, a role designed to contrast and foil the already exaggerated masculine ideal of Batman, that makes it feel like a performance.

[v6quewrlds]

❝ kiss me, m. mount. ❞  ‎ ‎ ┉  

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀summary: being friends with mason mount means being there with takeout and open ears after his breakups. with his latest locker room bet, he has a lot of time to think about why he's so bad at relationships. and the reason might be you.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀author's note: loved writing this, so so cute <3 day eleven of my no nut november series.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀warnings: smut, please do not interact with my work if you are under 18. language, friends to lovers.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀pairing: mason mount x reader.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀word count: 2.6k.

You sat cross-legged on Mason's couch. The room smelled faintly of your favorite takeout, a mix of jerk chicken and rice and peas that filled your stomachs and warmed the air. Despite the comfort of your shared laughter, you could feel the tension coiled in Mason's demeanor, the result of a tough match and an even tougher breakup.

“So, what happened?” you asked, your voice gentle and curious.

Mason sighed, running a hand through his buzzed hair. “It was like pulling teeth. She didn't get why I had to end it. Kept saying we could work through it.”

“But you've both been miserable for weeks,” you said, your eyebrows furrowing in concern. “I thought she'd be relieved.”

Mason's eyes darted around the room before landing on his phone. “I don't know, she just... didn't take it well.”

You leaned over and plucked the phone from his hand. “Come on, spill it. What did she say?”

Mason's cheeks flushed as he recounted the teary conversation. “She said I'd never find someone who loves me like she does. It was all a bit dramatic, really.”

You rolled your eyes. “Classic breakup line.”

Mason snorted, a half-hearted smile playing on his lips. “I know, right? But it still stings a bit 'cause I know I'm the problem, not her.”

You put down your takeout container, leaning closer to him. “Mase, what do you mean?”

Mason rubbed the back of his neck, looking sheepish. “I guess I'm not ready to be in a real relationship, you know? Just something I've gotta work on.”

You studied him, your brown eyes searching his. “You're not giving yourself enough credit. You're a catch, Mason. A bit of a knobhead at times,” she teased, “but you've got a heart of gold.”

Mason chuckled, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. “Cheers, love. Breakup came at a good time though, 'cause I've got this bet with the United lads.”

“Oh?” you raised an eyebrow. “What bet?”

Mason's grin grew shy. “No Nut November. You know, the challenge where you don't... you know.”

Your eyes narrowed in disbelief, then you burst into laughter. “You're actually doing that?”

Mason nodded, his cheeks darkening. “Yeah, for a bit of a laugh, you know? See how long we can last without... indulging.”

You couldn't help but smirk. “So, what, you're all just walking around like a bunch of pent-up teenagers?”

“Pretty much,” Mason admitted, his smile turning into a grimace. “It's a good thing, really. Keeps my head in the game.”

You nodded, your amusement clear. “And your hands out of your pants,” you quipped.

Mason playfully slapped your arm. “You're one to talk, Miss ‘I've been single since forever’.”

Zara laughed, shrugging. “At least I'm not making bets about it!”

Mason rolled his eyes. “By the end of the month, I'll be the most zen person you know,” he said, puffing his chest at the thought, a boyish grin pulling at his lips.

“Mm-hmm,” you said, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “And what do you get if you win this challenge?”

Mason shrugged. “Bragging rights, I guess. Works for me.”

The rest of November rolled by with you keeping a close eye on Mason's mood swings. His frustration grew palpable as the days ticked away, his jokes about the challenge turned from light-hearted to desperate. Every time you saw him, you made sure to ask about his progress, enjoying the way his face contorted in an attempt to hide his growing irritation.

“How's the zen life treating you?” you teased, your eyes gleaming with amusement.

Mason groaned dramatically. “Don't even start, Zee.”

You couldn't hold back your laughter. “Seriously, though, you've got to be close to breaking point by now?”

Mason's brown eyes narrowed playfully. “Why're you so eager to see me fail? You're supposed to be supportive.”

You leaned back, your hand on your chest. “Me? I'm just an innocent bystander, observing the madness that is No Nut November.”

Mason threw a pillow at you, which you deftly caught. “You're a sadist, you know that?”

“Just keeping it real, Mase,” you said, tossing the pillow back.

The last week of November was the hardest for Mason. You noticed he'd become quieter, his laughter less frequent. It was as if he was deep in thought whenever he was off the pitch. The banter between the two of you took on an edge of tension, his jokes a little less playful, his responses a little more curt. Worried, you sent a text to Declan, who had only told you that Mason had reached an “epiphany” during their most recent chat a few nights back.

On the final day of the month, you were at your flat, expecting a typical evening of binge-watching reality TV shows and scrolling through social media. But when your doorbell rang, you were surprised to find Mason standing there, a bouquet of flowers in hand.

“Mason?” you asked, taking in his slightly nervous expression.

He held out the flowers, a blush spreading across his cheeks. “I know it's random, but I had to tell you something, and I figured flowers might help ease the blow if you decide to laugh in my face.”

You took the bouquet, feeling the weight of the moment. You stepped aside, inviting him in with a tilt of your head. “Alright, come in, I guess. What's going on?”

Mason shuffled his feet, his gaze darting around the room before settling on you. “I had a chat with Declan and Lauren, about, you know, relationships and stuff. And they got me thinking about what I really want.”

Your heart skipped a beat, but you played it cool. “Oh?”

Mason nodded, his eyes searching yours. “Yeah, and I realized something. Every time I'm with someone, I can't help but picture you there instead. It's like you're this standard in my head, and no one ever measures up to what I think it would be like to be with you.”

You felt a warmth spread through your chest, your grip tightening on the flowers. You didn't know what to say, your mind racing with a mix of excitement and disbelief. Before you could respond, Mason took a step closer.

“I know it's weird,” he continued, his voice low and earnest. “And I know you probably think I'm out of my mind. But I can't stop thinking about it. I've never felt this way about anyone else, not even close.”

Your throat went dry as you stared at him, the words you wanted to hear for so long finally hanging in the air between you. You parted your lips to respond, but left unable to answer, you simply closed the gap and kissed him instead.

The kiss was gentle, a soft press of your lips that grew more urgent with every passing second. Mason's arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer as your hand found its way to the back of his neck. The flowers fell to the floor, forgotten in the heat of the moment.

Mason's breath was warm against your skin as you broke apart, his eyes searching yours for any sign of doubt or rejection. But all he saw was the same longing that mirrored his own.

“Was that okay?” he whispered, his voice ragged with emotion.

You nodded, your heart hammering in your chest. “More than okay.” You stepped closer to him, your eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “I don't think I realized how much I've been waiting for this either,” you admitted.

Mason's eyes widened, and then he was kissing you again, more urgently this time. You stumbled backward, your bodies colliding with the wall of your hallway, your hands exploring each other with a newfound hunger. The tension of the past few weeks dissolved into pure passion, the air between the two of you crackling with the electricity of a year's worth of unspoken desires.

You didn't speak as you made your way to the bedroom, your kisses speaking volumes. The room was dimly lit by the flickering of the TV, casting shadows across your faces as you shed your clothes. Mason paused, his eyes raking over your body, his gaze lingering on the curves he had only ever seen hidden beneath baggy sweatshirts and jeans, except for the occasional glimpse at the pool or beach.

You felt a shy warmth up your neck, but you held his gaze, your own desire matching his. You fell onto the bed, your kisses becoming more heated as your bodies entwined. Mason's touch was gentle, almost reverent, as he explored you with his hands, his thumbs brushing over your hips and ribs, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

Your breath hitched as Mason's lips found your neck, kissing a path down to your collarbone. His hands were firm but tender as he unclipped your bra, and you felt the coolness of the room against your bare skin. You reached out to trace the tattoos scattered along his arms and the one at the nape of his neck, the one you had been surprised he got in the first place. His muscles tensed under your touch, and he let out a soft groan.

Your kisses grew more urgent as you moved together on the bed, the mattress squeaking gently beneath you. You felt your heart racing, your body responding to every touch, every caress. Mason's fingers danced over your skin, igniting a fire you had long ago convinced yourself you didn't feel. But here it was, burning bright and uncontrollable.

“Sensitive?” you teased, the words spoken softly against Mason's mouth as your fingers traced the ink on his ribs.

Mason chuckled, his eyes never leaving yours. “Only for you, love.”

Your laughter melded into a passionate kiss as you rolled over, you now on top of him. You felt powerful and alive, every inch of your skin tingling with the anticipation of what was to come. Mason's hands slid up your back, his fingertips tracing the contours of your body as you moved against him.

You felt a sudden jolt of nerves. This was it, the moment you didn't know you longed for so much. You had always been the quiet, reserved one, content to watch from the sidelines. But here you were, the star of the show, your heart pounding like a drum in your chest.

Mason must have noticed, because he gently cupped your face with his hands, his thumbs stroking your cheeks. “We can stop if you want to. I just had to tell you how I feel.”

But you were beyond the point of no return. You leaned down, your eyes searching his, and whispered, “Don't you dare stop, Mason. I want this. More than you know.”

Mason's eyes lit up, the nervousness dissipating as he rolled you two over, taking control with a gentle force. His kisses grew more demanding, his hands more insistent, and you found yourself lost in the sensation. The months of friendship had built a bond between you, and now, as you finally gave in to your desires, it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

Your movements grew more frantic, your breaths mingling as you raced towards something you hadn't dared hope for. You could feel the tension in Mason's body, the same tension that had been building in him all month, and you reveled in the power you had over him.

As you reached your climax, it was as if a dam had broken, releasing a flood of emotions and years of unspoken feelings. The two of you clung to each other, your bodies slick with sweat, your hearts beating in sync.

Afterwards, you lay tangled in the mess of your passion, hands still roaming, hearts still racing. The silence was comfortable, filled with the quiet whispers of your breathing and the occasional giggle when a limb got tangled. You felt a warmth spread through you that was unlike anything you had ever felt before, a sense of belonging that you hadn't realized you had been missing. His chest, firm and warm, made a perfect pillow for your cheek, and you listened to the steady thump of his heart as it slowly returned to normal.

Mason finally broke the silence, his voice a low rumble that vibrated against your skin. “So, I guess I failed No Nut November, huh?”

You looked up at him, your eyes sparkling with warmth. “Epic fail, Mount. But totally worth it, if you ask me.”

Mason chuckled, his arms tightening around you. “I guess that's one way to look at it. I'm just relieved it's over, to be honest. Made my head all fuzzy sometimes.”

You traced your finger along the line of his jaw, feeling the neatly groomed hair against your fingertip. “Well, you've got thirty days of freedom coming your way. What are you going to do with it?”

Mason's smile was soft, his eyes still on yours. “I'm thinking of spending it with you, if that's alright?”

You giggled softly and nodded, your heart racing. “Yeah, I think I could manage that,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. “What was that chat with Declan and Lauren about, though?”

Mason leaned in, his breath tickling your ear. “Remember when I said I needed to sort myself out before I could be in a good relationship? They just pointed out the obvious. That there was something holding me back, something I hadn't faced. Like I was holding on to some... I don't know, hope maybe?”

You felt his words resonate deep within you. You had often wondered if Mason had felt the same way you did but had been too scared to admit it. You took a deep breath, your heart racing. “And what did you tell them?”

Mason's eyes searched yours, a hint of vulnerability in his gaze. “That I always hoped that I'd eventually end up with you. That every girl I've been with, it was like I was just filling the time until you and I were ready for more.”

Your breath hitched at his words, your heart swelling in your chest. You had felt the same way but had never had the courage to voice it. The two of you lay there, your hearts beating in time, basking in the reality of your confessions. Years' worth of tension had led you to this moment, a culmination of unspoken feelings and hidden glances.

“You know,” you began, your voice shaky as you suppressed a giggle, “I wondered if we'd ever just give up on dating and just be together. We've both been horrid partners.”

Mason chuckled, his eyes shimmering with affection. “Yeah, but I think we've found our match in each other. Besides, I've had enough drama for a lifetime with the other ones. You're the one who's always been there for me, no matter what.”

You leaned your head on his chest again, listening to the steady thump of his heart. “And I always will be,” you murmured.

Mason's hand found yours, lacing your fingers together. “My mum always said that when you know, you know. And I think I've known for a while now. I just didn't know how to tell you without messing up our friendship.”

You squeezed his hand. “I don't think much will change between us, honestly. We'll just be a bit more... affectionate in public, I guess?”

Mason nodded, his smile growing. “And I get to kiss you wherever I want,” he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, “whenever I want,” he kissed your nose, “without worrying if it's too soon or if it'll ruin the friendship.” His lips found yours again.

You sighed contentedly against his mouth. “You're a really good kisser, you know that?”

Mason grinned. “Years of practice.”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile betrayed your amusement. “Gross, you've been kissing a bunch of other girls to get good at kissing me?”

Mason's expression turned playfully offended. “Hey, I've been preparing for this moment my whole life. I promise it's all been worth it, though. You're officially the best kiss I've ever had.”

You giggled, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. “I'll take it I guess.”

[typicalopposite]

fuck it friday

Ok so technically it’s still Thursday but it’s like REALLLLY late Thursday! and @beanarie asked for 9-15 sentences of amnesia fic so to kill two birds with one stone I’m giving 15+ quite a bit more to make it a good little snippet 🫣 (also it’s a Thanksgiving scene sooo 🫶)

“Tommy!” Howie exclaims happily, leaving his arms open long enough it’s clear he’s waiting for a hug. With that big cheesy overly happy smile, who is Tommy to deny an old friend. He laughs as he leans down into Howie’s embrace, and tries to swallow the lump that feeling so welcomed back into their family causes. Maddie is already at Howie’s side ready for her turn and after she pulls him in he feels little arms wrap around his legs. Jee smiles up at him, and he— okay, he’s a little glad he came. 

Eddie and Chris get to him next and it’s the first time he’s seen Chris— that he remembers— since he left for Texas. The kid’s creeping up on being his height, it shouldn’t make him emotional; it does make him emotional. “Hey Tommy!” Chris says with a bright smile, and damn it’s good to see him genuinely happy again, Eddie too. More hugs ensue. This is… nice. He thinks he might even be able to drown out the inevitable awkwardness coming if he keeps riding this high. 

Bobby is out back deep frying the turkey and Athena catches Tommy when he’s dropping his measly pan of devil eggs and store bought rolls off in the kitchen. “You came!” she says with a shock smile. “Oh, I’m glad!” She opens her arms and then it’s more hugging— passing him off to Karen, and even Hen. That’s just about everyone, Tommy thinks… 

“Oh… Tommy!” 

God, he really hopes he is able to control his face. 

Dylan pulls the patio door shut behind him, and makes his way over to where Hen and Tommy are still lingering in the kitchen while she fills him in on everything recent with Denny and Mara. Try as he may, he can't stop the tension tightening every muscle in his body as the lone stranger (to him) approaches. “Uhm, hey…” he replies, trying to not sound hostile… wondering if he sounds hostile anyway. 

“You know,” Dylan says, a surprisingly genuine smile spreading across his face. “We have yet to be properly introduced.” He extends his hand— Tommy does a quick scan of it to make sure there’s no shock button— and he waits patiently for Tommy to make the next move. He swallows every ounce of pride, jealousy, and resentment and shakes the guy's hand. He is met with as firm a grasp as he gives and Dylan’s smile doesn’t falter when he says, “Better late than never thought, am I right? Come on, Buck is out back.” 

Tommy feels his brows pulling together, and Dylan nods towards the glass door where Evan is staring in at them. He quickly waves once he is caught, and Tommy really hopes he can control his face as he waves back, feeling the flood of butterflies he has no right to still get… especially not standing three feet from Evan’s boyfriend. Dylan puts a hand on his shoulder, nudging him in the direction of the door; he nudges him in the direction of Evan, and can’t help but feel a little weird being pushed towards his ex by his ex's new boyfriend. 

Bobby hugs him as soon as he steps outside, which is expected; Evan stalls for only a moment before hugging him as well, which was not. Tommy can’t help but try to sneak a peak of Dylan. He half expects him to speak up, or lash out… What right does Tommy have to hug Evan? He doesn’t seem bothered in the least. He lets Evan get his hug, then reclaims his spot at Evan’s side, and although there’s not much Tommy is feeling too particularly thankful for in this very stressful and confusing point in his life… he’s thankful Dylan doesn’t appear to be threatened by him in Evan’s life. 

The day passes far smoother than Tommy had anticipated, and the Dylan of it all is nowhere near the thorn in his side Tommy had thought he would be. In fact, Dylan is— fuck, he is great, actually. as much as it pains him to admit it, Dylan really seems good for Evan. He is charming, and funny. He gets along with everyone; he talks about Evan’s parents like they get along well, too. Tommy wants to find things to be jealous of, but he makes himself so likable it’s hard to justify not liking him. Most importantly he looks at Evan like he hung the moon, and can make Evan smile and blush the way Tommy used to be able to do... 

At least he calls him Buck. At least Tommy gets to keep Evan. He supposes he’s thankful for that, too.

and throwing in the tags for those who want to join in and those who are following the fics progress (let me know if you want to be added or removed!)

@30somethingautisticteacher @sunnywithachanceofbi @nine-one-wanton @herrmannhalsteadproduction @judymarch15

@onthewaytosomewhere @lavenderleahy @bangpop91 @hyperfocusthusly @weewookinard

@beanarie @leashybebes @somethingaboutfirefly @silversky9 @bucksxkinard

@sweaters-and-silly @quintessenceofdust88 @sierrarreads @saibowtie @kinardsevan

@unhingedangstaddict @portinastorm @ladyeyrewrites @rubydaiquiri

@mmso-notlikethat @a-mel0n @rdng1230 @fenrirscarsback

[m0rkl]

The People We Become || Reverse Portal AU || Stan Vs. The Multiverse

Back to talking about My Mans and this AU

Stan's Adventures Through The Multiverse

After tumbling through the exploding portal Stan ends up in this sort of between space, lost between dimensions where there are rifts steadily opening and closing around him. He has no idea really what they are or where they go, so he's lost and freaking out.

He's desperately calling out for Ford to come save him. For a while, he's determined to stay put in case the portal opens back up again, but his cynical side tells him Ford has already abandon him and he's stuck here forever. Stan fight back and forth with himself, both unwilling to believe that Ford would just let him stay here forever and uncertain that Ford doesn't think this is exactly what Stan deserves.

Bill senses the Dimension 46'\ Portal open and goes to the location only to find Stanley and no portal to be found. Seeing Stanley with the journal, Bill tries to manipulate Stan into giving him the journal, saying that he and Ford wrote it together long ago.

Bill says if Stan give him the journal, he'll send Stan home easy peasy. Of course, Stan knows a con when he sees one and tell him to go fuck himself. Bill is less than please, but keeps trying to manipulate Stan. It doesn't work.

Stan: You know, my brother might be the one with the brains, but I've got that other thing.

Bill: Oh? And what might that be?

Stan: PUNCHING!

[Stanley punches Bill in the eye and launches himself into a random rift.]

Luckily, Stan lands himself in a sort of interdimensional central hub where travelers can stop and rest for a time. Unluckily, this particular hub is dominated by a shitty totalitarian government and he gets stopped almost immediately by law enforcement. He doesn't have real ID on him, just one of his shitty fakes, which might have worked on random crappy traffic cops, but not dimension hopping violent super cops.

Stanley gets thrown in jail with some other petty criminals, which is truly his home element these days. He makes some quick friends and they break out, stealing some poor sap's a luxury ship mini cruiser along the way.

Now that he's made some criminal friends, he gets some totally absolutely completely legal ID and credentials and learns to pilot ships.

For a while, Stan travels around, taking sketchy jobs, running with various crime group and actually... having a somewhat good time? Turn out space crime is kind of more fun that normal crime, even if he feels like shit for doing some of it. It's just as dark and dangerous as the life he was living before.

Over the years he has a couple run ins with Bill and usually scrapes out of it more or less in one piece. None of it is pretty though. It is Bill, after all.

He runs with various crews, making money, losing money, racking up debt, going to prison, escaping prison, becoming a fugitive, becoming a hitman, a thief and all kinds of bad shit. But after twenty or so years, he gets tired of it.

He decides to settle on a quiet planet and lay low for a little bit with the small amount of money and connections he's made over the years. The planet he's on is like a small town. He's nervous around such 'normal' people, but does well with kids and ends up being the mysterious and gruff, but kind old man who feeds the kids who don't get enough to eat at home or don't have a safe place to stay. It's nice. But doesn't last very long.

He catches wind of a trans-dimensional locator that wouldn't necessarily get him home, but it would be a start. He'd have to find a way to hook it up to his Rift Hopper(the device he uses for dimensional travel) AND keep it untraceable to Bill. It won't be easy but it's closer to a way home than he's had since he got here.

He joins up with a rag-tag treasure hunting crew that might be a little morally gray, but they're better than a lot of the crime lords Stan has worked with. He travels with them for a while, being their main muscle and negotiator for jobs.

When there's trouble, he takes it upon himself to get them out of it and tends to be very self sacrificing. He is still Stanley Pines after all.

This crew LOVES their goofy violent self-loathing grandpa and are 100% on board with helping him find the translocator. Even if it means he'll leave them ):

But as Mabel and Dipper make progress on the portal back in their dimension, blips of Dimension 46'\ are sent into the multiverse. Which means Stanley can track a rift! ...But so can Bill.

Bill comes after Stan and his new crew, taking them hostage. Stan agrees to go with Bill if he lets the crew go. Bill tries to make a deal, but Stan tricks him, gives the crew the translocator and the crew narrowly escapes. Stan does not.

Bill holds Stan captive and tortures him, both to get the translocator and because he just fucking hates Stan after all this. Also, torture is FUN! (for Bill)

Stan can't escape and starts to think maybe this is just how he's going to spend the rest of eternity. He starts losing hope, thinking it's what he deserves for the life he's lead.

But then! His crew comes to the rescue! No way they were going to leave their weird violent human grandpa to Bill's wrath! They risk their lives to save Stan and escape Bill

... but bad news. The translocator device broke when they were making their initial escape. Stan is pretty okay with it, but then... the portal opens. It's definitely to his dimension, but it's locked onto his energy signal some how???

He's confused, because why would Stanford be looking for him after three decades of nothing? Could someone else be searching for him? What the hell is going on?

But the portal is right there and finally Stan gets to go home! But he knows Bill is still after him so he has to close this dumb reckless portal asap

....tbh now I just wanna write a bunch of shorts about Stanley's adventures through the multiverse

[tokiwarcube]

Tattoos

Just some headcanons on what the boys (+Charles!) think of tattoos -- yours, in particular!

Charles Foster Offdensen

One thing about Charles? He appreciates art. And your tattoos are art, in every sense of the word. If pressed, he’d talk about how it’s impressive that you’re willing to sit through the pain for something you find beautiful, and that he admires the uh, the dedication to taking care of it. What he doesn’t say is how he loves watching the images flex and bend to your movements, how the ink accentuates your natural features, how… attractive he really finds them.

He shows it in other ways, though. He’ll trace them with his eyes when you’re not looking… then with his thumbs when you’re lying together… then with his lips as he makes his way down your body.

He very much appreciates a good tattoo.

Nathan Explosion

Nathan goes nuts for lovers with tattoos. Any type, really — something about having the patience to be stabbed with little needles for a couple of hours and then having the willpower and diligence to take care of it afterwards is hot to him, but he also just likes the look of ink on skin. Although truth be told… he’s extremely partial to big black and white pieces.

You’ll often catch him with his hand on a favorite piece, whether it’s an appropriate time for it or not. The man likes ink, what can I say?

Honestly, he'd like to sit in with you someday if you ever end up getting more.

Pickles the Drummer

He’s got a million shitty little stick and pokes of his own, so he absolutely has an appreciation for tattoos! A good amount of them were from fun, drunk adventures with friends, and he looks upon a lot of them fondly because of it, regardless of quality. He does very, very much like yours, though. He has no clue how you’re so damn good with aftercare — Hell, that’s the main reason he hasn’t gotten anything big of his own.

Beware, he will try to sneak a sharpie doodle in somewhere while you’re sleeping someday. You have to accept that you’re gonna find a weed leaf somewhere while you’re showering, and he won’t tell you how long it’s been there for. But by his laughter… probably longer than you’d like to admit.

All that aside though, he finds your (real) tattoos very, very hot. And he’ll happily show his appreciation for them, should you be willing to flaunt them a little behind closed doors.

Skwisgaar Skwigelf

Skwisgaar is such a pansy when it comes to pain, although he’ll never admit it. It doesn’t matter how many times you tell him it really wasn’t that bad — he refuses to believe you. This is just one of many reasons as to why he, personally, will probably never get one himself. (Shame — he’d look fantastic with a bit of ink in his skin, but I digress.) But that’s not to say he doesn’t like them — quite the opposite, actually.

He loves the way they look on you. Art forever embedded in your skin — moving with you, adhering to the contours of your body… he finds them mesmerizing, and yes, hot. You’ll often catch him tracing the lines with his eyes when he thinks you’re not looking.

He might ask about the meanings of them every now and again, but he finds them just as gorgeous whether it’s got a beautiful tale, or if it was a cool flash piece you picked up along the way. Although don’t be fooled — 9 times out of 10, his questions are just a good in to show a little more intimate appreciation for the piece.

Toki Wartooth

He likes tattoos a lot! He thinks about getting some of his own all the time, but honestly, he gets stabbed with needles enough as is — sitting in one place for hours and getting stabbed the whole time? And having to take care of it for weeks after? He’s probably not getting anything done any time soon. But that just means he gets to pour all of that love into yours, right?

Call him cliche, but he loves to color in your tattoos. Honestly, you’re tempted to get more, just to give him more canvas space — it’s very soothing, feeling the cool ink swipe across your skin. He gets very into it too, it’s sweet. The media is forever confused on what color your tattoos actually are, and at this point, you’d hate to break the illusion.

William Murderface

If you think the “Pobody’s Nerfect” tattoo is his only one, you’d be dead wrong — he’s got a million of them littered around his body, basically wherever he can cram ‘em. He’s got a lot of $50 flashes — chosen moreso for the opportunity to get tattoo’d again as opposed to having something he actually likes, but that's not true for all of them! Like his big piece, there's a good handful that he really cherishes, even if they don't always see the light of day.

He’s got some ideas of things he really wants, he’s just had trouble actually rationalizing the cost. He’s weird with money like that. All that is to say though, he loves your tattoos, and that you guys share a love for them! He’d be more than happy to go get one done with you, too — it’d be a good excuse to finally get the ones he really wants, you know?

Although beyond all of this… your tattoos absolutely drive him up a wall beyond closed doors. He thinks they’re unbearably hot, especially the ones that flex and roll with the contours of your body a little more. Flaunt them a bit, and he’s putty in your hands.

[seastarblue]

“Portrait”

okay so we’re making a mini series let’s goooo this is part two to Training yippee ✨✌️

Felix made his way down the long hallway, one of many that made up the Azari Knightage’s headquarters. Portraits lined the walls, each of former First Justices.

‘Dame Deirdre, Ser Balliger, Dame Cassia, Sir Pollix…’ he read off the names of each Justice as he passed them by, not to commit their names to memory, but as a way to calm his nerves.

He hadn’t seen his partner-in-justice for a week, and as much as he hated to admit it, the stress was getting to him. He hadn’t known where she had been—or whether or not she was even alive—until a few minutes ago, when a squire came to him in the training yard with a message to make his way to the infirmary, where she was waiting.

He slowed down when he reached a specific portrait, pausing to get a better look at their face. This portrait was the simplest by far, just depicting someone sitting in a barely furnished room, hands in their lap. Their raven hair was down, the curls stopping at their chest and framing their face, contrasting with their light brown skin and pale blue eyes. They were somber, as all the others were, but there was something in their gaze—cold, calculating, and so familiar that it made Felix shiver.

“Ser Sierra… a fine figure, don’t you agree?”

Felix jumped as the voice sounded behind him. The half-fairy turned around to the same portrait staring right back at him—no, his hair wasn’t nearly as long as the painting’s subject. He also looked much older than them, grey hairs starting to form on his temples. Other than that, the resemblance was uncanny. The feeling from looking at the portrait returned, this time ten times worse, and it took everything Felix had to stay still.

“Sir,” he said, standing at attention and giving a salute to the current First Justice: Lloyd Santhuff.

“At ease, knight.”

Felix’s hand lowered and rested at his side, starting to tap the hilt of his wooden sai. ‘Wait a minute… oh shit.’

He’d forgotten to leave his training weapons before rushing over. ‘Way to go, BonaDea, he thinks you’ve lost it now. You’ll never train with them at this point.’ 

Felix didn’t know why he was so intent on going with his partner-in-justice on her excursions with Sir Santhuff. He’d tell himself it was simply worry for his friend, but deep down—though he’d never admit it— jealousy chewed away at him. Green eyed and ugly, it made his eyes burn and his head spin with self doubt: ‘What does she have that I don’t? Why is she so favored? Why isn’t that me?’

Felix snapped out of it as Sir Santhuff continued speaking. “Their skill was unmatched by anyone while they were in Justicehood. Whatever war they fought in, they won. Whatever foe they faced, they were victorious. I wonder if…” here he glanced at Felix, “I wonder if anyone here could come close to that level.”

The half-fairy stiffened. Could Sir Santhuff hear his thoughts…? It would explain the—no, that was silly. Either way, he was waiting on an answer.

Maybe, deep down, Felix thought he could have been one of—if not the—best. But it was silly to think that way, he had plenty of skill already. He didn’t need anything more. Power—or rather, too much of it—would destroy him and everyone around him, he knew. He’d read about the effects in history books, and experienced it firsthand. That didn’t stop him from dreaming, at least. Maybe he could be that good. With enough training, and time, he could.

“Perhaps someone might be,” he replied.

“Perhaps.” Santhuff echoed. He still kept his eyes on Felix.

The silence between them stretched for a few moments. Despite his greatest efforts, Felix felt his thoughts start to wander again. Sir Santhuff would never let him prove himself at this point, he realized dejectedly. He preferred his protégés to be sharp as a knife and deadlier still.

“Say, where were you headed, anyway?”

Felix started. He’d completely forgotten, engrossed in his own thoughts of self-loathing, that Kaiden had asked for him. Stuttering—he never stuttered, maybe he was coming down with something—he backed up a bit, eked out an apology to Sir Santhuff, and waited to be dismissed.

Sir Santhuff looked at him for a moment longer, his normally harsh face softening a bit. “What is on your mind, Felix? You seem troubled.”

Felix blanched. It was strange to hear his name coming from the First Justice’s mouth. He expected a scolding or a peeved dismissal, not sympathy. “It’s, um, it’s nothing, sir. I’m alright.” It took everything in him to keep his loose stance, hands clasped behind his back, but he fidgeted despite his best efforts.

“You are pale, is all.”

“Am I…? I mean—it really is nothing, sir.”

“Hm. Won’t you stand with me for a moment longer?”

Felix blinked. “S-sorry?” The stuttering again. Dammit, he should have kept moving in the first place. ‘Kaiden would have said that. She wouldn’t have messed up. She wouldn’t—‘ he stopped himself before he thought of something he’d regret. Envy wasn’t the answer, it never was. Harboring it would only make things worse. The knight took a steadying breath and refused. “I need to get to the infirmary, sir. Kaiden—”

“She can wait,” he said, face hardening again and voice tinged with annoyance. “Stand with me.” No longer a question. A command.

The knight followed it.

Sir Santhuff looked at the painting, his face unreadable. Felix noticed the little specks of gold in his eyes, betraying his stone cold expression. Felix tried to stay silent—Sir Santhuff could have looked almost mournful, and he didn’t want to ruin the moment or upset him further—but he couldn’t help but ask. “Did you… who was Ser Sierra to you? Sir.” he added quickly.

The First Justice was quiet for some time. Felix thought, with worry, that he had somehow offended Sir Santhuff by asking, but the older man simply sighed and looked at Felix with an almost sad smile. “That… is a very personal and complex question. I will tell you this: they were family.”

“Oh, yes… you look a lot like them, sir.”

“Or so I was told. Ah…” Sir Santhuff chuckled. “You’d think we were twins with how similar we were. But no. Sierra was four years my senior. The best of siblings I could have asked for.”

“Sibling…”

“Yes.” He turned to Felix. “You have two younger ones, no?”

“Uh… yes, sir. Twins.”

“Keep them close, don’t leave them behind.”

“…Yes, sir. I wasn’t planning on it.”

“Good man.”

The hall was silent, Felix just wanting to leave for the infirmary, and Sir Santhuff looking as wistful as Felix had ever seen him.

Suddenly, he said, “How would you like to join Kaiden and I next training session? I feel it may be best for you and her to work together, what with your being partners.”

Felix’s jaw dropped. It took him a few moments to answer, what with that strange feeling rearing itself again, but before he could Sir Santhuff held up a hand.

“Think on it. Really think. I do not want any doubts or concerns on this. Make sure you are with me one hundred percent. Understood?”

“Yes sir.” Felix fought to keep the excitement from his voice. Finally, he’d have a chance to prove himself!

“Dismissed.” Sir Santhuff turned back to the portrait, letting the knight go with a small wave.

Felix gave it one more look, the choice already made in his head. He and Kaiden were going to be as good as Ser Sierra, if not better. He’d make sure of it.

He continued his path to the infirmary, spirits higher than they’d ever been.

~~~

“I will make them perfect for you, Ser. I promise. I will not falter.”

With one last look to his dear departed sibling, Lloyd turned away and went back to his office.

———

very first drafty idk if I’ll rework it but!!! yay

General writing tag list (lemme know if you’d like on/off plz!):

@bunnymermaidwrites @abiteofhoney @aalinaaaaaa @vesanal @cepheusgalaxy

@fifis-corner @urnumber1star @thebookishkiwi @sunflowerrosy

@threedaysgross @mundanemoongirl @satohqbanana @bamber344 @imonthemoonitsmadeofcheese

@ash-thedrawer @cc-writes-stuff @anothersummerofsleep @sharkblizzardblogs

@verdant-mainframe @kittrrrr @ruvastuon

[gildedneon]

That Which I Cannot See

That Which I Cannot See - Part 2.5 - Gold Rush

Respectfully, you may not use my work, but you are welcome to share it. My work is only intended for those 18 and older as it contains explicit adult themes.

Summary: This is a little bonus scene that takes place after the Halloween masquerade from part 2. These all work as standalones.

Pairing: Vessel x Fem!Reader 

Tags: Mirror play, mask play, concealed identity, a marble counter that is magically comfortable to sit on, don't question it, magical paint that won't throw off your Ph.

Word Count: 1.3k

A/N: No edits. I wrote this in one shot. I aim to have the third and final part out in time for New Year's Eve.

Part 1 Part 2

Read on Ao3

The car ride back was pure torture. Despite somewhat behaving on our driver’s behalf, we did not take our hands or our gazes off each other. We were quite a sight in the lobby. Elaborate spooky costumes. Makeup shot to hell. He was dragging me into the bathroom the second I unlocked my hotel room door. 

“I have waited for this moment for a while.” His looming figure is a menace with that mask behind me in the large vanity mirror. 

“For what?” He places a few gentle kisses along my bare shoulder,as his hands come to the zipper of my dress. “Oh.”

“I suppose we haven’t actually seen each other without clothes yet. You didn’t have to wait this long.” I smirk.

“What was I supposed to do? Strip you bare in the middle of the garden? Where anyone might see?”

“You said no one would find us!”

“I did, didn't I?” He grins and unzips my dress, removing one shoulder at a time. Baring myself to him. Fully. Every little thing on full display under the glaring bathroom lights. As my gown falls to the floor, the mess of paint beneath my mask contrasts the expanse of my skin. His hands run along my body, pausing to grab my hips, sending shudders through me. He steps back. I watch his reflection stare down at me with that awful mask. He slowly removes his vest and then his shirt. Then just the button of his pants, the only garment remaining on his frame. 

What a pair we make. In our silly little masks, holding on to that last layer of vulnerability. 

I watch the reflection as he comes up behind me and his large hands roam my body. Teasing me until I am arching back against him. The image of us sends my blood racing. He tips me forward and I brace my arms on the counter. I feel him tease my entrance and before I can voice my impatience, he is filling me once more. My moans vibrate through the large bathroom. His hips still. 

“My dear, let’s not wake the neighbors.”

“Oh so now you want me to be quiet?” His chuckle rumbles through the space and through me.

“No but my desire for us to not be interrupted is greater.” I give a slight nod, accepting the challenge.

And what a challenge it is, because the second he thrusts into me, I have to fight to silence the gasp falling from my lips. Despite the pleasure washing through my body, I think I’m doing a pretty great job or turning my moans into quieter breathy sounds. But perhaps not as great as I thought as his hand is suddenly covering my mouth. The sight of us sends jolts of excitement straight to my core. Watching the way his body moves against mine, holding me in his grip. God, it has me clenching around him. Hitting spots deep inside me. The way he stops moving altogether, tells me I must have gotten carried away.

“Darling, that was not an invitation to be louder.” I whimper against his hand as he withdraws from me. He runs a hand up my chest, grasping my painted throat. 

“Does the sight of me having my way with you excite you that much?” I do my best to nod in his hold.

“Hmm… Well enough of that for now.” Turning me towards him, and away from the mirror, he backs me against the counter, lifting me onto it. I ache at the sight of him. His taught body contrasted against the black paint, low hanging pants, and that horrid mask. He leans over me and I fall back on my elbows, my upper back pressed against the mirror. The bite of the cold marble does nothing to quell the heat coursing through my veins. He is just staring down at me, not moving. I follow his gaze to the mess of black paint between my thighs. Heat rushes to my cheeks as I am transported back to the garden. I stare up at him, into the red void he is wearing.

“Your mask is still really fucking creepy you know” He leans into me, his arms caging me in.

“Oh I know” Vessel spits into his palm, coating himself before sliding back inside of me. One of his hands quickly finds my mouth to mask the whimpers spilling out of it. His pounding pace slows and his free hand begins to circle my clit. Testing different strokes and watching my body’s response. My toes curl as he finds his pattern. Bringing me to the edge of release in record time. I reach for him, clinging to his arms, the feel of his skin under mine is foreign but electric. My body goes taught as my release whips through me in stuttering waves. His mouth captures mine in a kiss, swallowing my sounds. Tears spring in my eyes in my fight to stay quiet. All of that effort goes out the window when he picks up his pace. My overstimulated body fighting to scramble away from the sensations while simultaneously wanting more. My nails bite into him, as I ride these near frantic waves of stimulation. With a groan he pulls out, spilling himself up my stomach. Painting my chest. I smirk in surprise as I feel a hot splash against the side of my mouth and cheek. Still twitching a bit from my own orgasm, I steady my breathing as I wait for him to speak. But he is just staring down at me, his chest heaving as he steadies his own breath. 

“Do you want to take a picture? It’ll last longer… I mean that genuinely.” I can’t see his eyes but I see the way the rest of his body lights up at my suggestion.

“I don’t have my phone with me.” He says in defeat.

“What a shame… good thing mine is on the floor in my dress.” Pushing away from the counter, he searches through the fabric, eventually freeing my phone. His hands seem to tremble a little as he goes to operate the camera. Is he nervous about this? I hold my hand out, he passes me the device and visibly relaxes. It takes me a second to find the best angles, but I snap a few photos capturing the evidence of our enjoyment this evening. Ves has tissues waiting for me as soon as I set down the phone. 

In the aftermath, a strange feeling creeps through me that we are standing mostly naked in a hotel bathroom, smeared with paint, and wearing masks. But an even stranger feeling takes its place at the thought of removing those masks. Right here. Right now… not yet.

Standing on my tip toes, I reach my arms around his neck. He pulls me into a deep kiss.

“Thank you for tonight.” I murmur against his lips. Knowing that he will understand, that for me, the night ends here. The way he wraps me in a tight hug confirms that knowing.

“It is I who should be thanking you. As always. Rest well.” For a moment, I lay my head against his chest and let myself be held in his arms. But the moment passes. Stepping away, I go to start the shower, before turning back to him.

“Sleep well Ves.” I smile at him. 

“I’m going to need it to think of our next adventure.” He says as he gathers his fallen clothing.

“Can’t wait. Maybe less running next time though.”

“Less running. I’ll make note of that.” A light laugh escapes me as he smirks from across the small space. And with one last exchange of ‘goodnights’ he turns and leaves. Whatever this is… it is getting dangerously close to something more than it was.

[mbg159]

I view Z-One as a fairly good antagonist who had the potential to be a much better antagonist. His main problem is that he has two very good concepts: the protagonist in the future, at his lowest, having abandoned everything he once was, and a guy futilely trying to emulate what he thinks of as the last symbol of hope. These are both good concepts. The problem is, the series uses one as a fakeout for the other, and in a way that ends up diminishing it.

Usually, when you want to have a fakeout, it's important for the thing you're faking out to be something the characters and the audience both think they know. That way, the fakeout can have some actual meaning, because the audience and the characters can learn about something at the same time. But that's not the case in the Z-One fakeout. Fans figured out "oh, he's probably Yusei from the future or something" from the moment he first appeared--but the characters didn't. They don't bring up the idea until the mask breaks. In fact, once Yusei does see what he looks like under the mask, he takes about half an episode before he dismisses the idea as something that could never happen, and Z-One basically goes "alright, fair cop, here's what really happened." After giving us a big emotional reveal, the series then nullifies it before we've really processed it, and the result just doesn't feel right.

I'm going to enter speculation mode here, but I'd be willing to bet money that when we first saw Z-One, the writers didn't actually know what his backstory was, and may have even gotten into conflicts about it. The series stays tight-lipped about him for a very long period, keeping his actions mysterious and leaving most of the clues of his identity as a future Yusei left to his visual design and the whole Shooting Star Dragon thing. That, to me, suggests that the writers were strongly considering the idea of him being Yusei, but didn't want to nail anything down in case they went back on it later.

Now, if they had decided from minute one that he was going to be a fake, then it would have made sense to have the characters think he was real (or at least strongly suspect it), well before the duel with him. That way, you can have Yusei struggle with the idea, have his friends distrust him a bit, and delve a bit into Yusei's attempts to reject that potential future--he might even question using Shooting Star. You could have the villains deliberately play into Yusei's doubts. You could have the angst and the character arc, but you don't have to tarnish Yusei. As it stands, the reveal doesn't actually mean much emotionally, because it's really only pulling the rug out from under the audience. To the characters, the twist was "hey, you know that guy from the future we don't know or have any connection with? Well, he's... still a guy from the future we don't know or have any connection with."

Basically, I'm not opposed to the Z-One twist in a vacuum, though I feel its actual execution leaves a lot to be desired (that flashback feels incredibly rushed, and in a bad way). But I feel that to make the twist work would require the rest of the arc to be written differently. With the arc as it was, I think it would have been better to just go for the full shock option and make him Yusei, letting the "holy SHIT" factor paper over the oddities.

The Supreme King arc of GX is a really good counterexample. As the arc stands, it was very clearly rushed and underplanned, the timeline is wonky, and believing that Judai would become that evil takes a lot of stretching of the imagination, but the strength of seeing this loveable dorky goofball have all that stripped away from him to become a cruel demon king with a heart of ice is enough to make you want to believe it. And it helps that, while it may not hold together logically, it does hold together emotionally, because it felt like it was informing what we knew about Judai. Judai was outwardly affable, but he'd always had an undercurrent of something worse--a moment here or there where he just comes off as kind of an asshole. Then, the third arc kicks into gear, and people start calling him out for it--and suddenly all his behavior earlier starts to get recontextualized, and it becomes clear that Judai was only ever a "hero" because being a hero came easily to him. He didn't really have a moral code or a selfless motivation, so when he does suffer great personal loss for the first time, and completely throws aside any veneer of morality, dragging down the dimensions in a cosmic-scale act of desperation to never be weak again... it feels like it's coming from somewhere.

In fact, the arc went so far as to have a twist on top of its twist, but from the complete opposite direction of the Z-One twist. Initially, it seems that the Supreme King might just be some kind of entity of darkness possessing Judai, some supernatural, external force. But later on, we discover that, no, that isn't true. The Supreme King was nothing more than Judai at his worst, tapping into the power of Darkness that was his birthright. The series refused to let him off the hook for his selfishness, and it makes the arc incredibly powerful when he ends it by doing the most selfless thing imaginable.

Now, I don't mean to say every character should get a villain arc. Judai and Yusei are very different characters: in fact, they're almost opposites in a lot of ways. Judai's arc is about maturity and learning to accept responsibility. His arc is meant to be a positive one, where he starts out as kind of a bad person and ends up as a better person. Yusei's arc, meanwhile, has more to do with guilt, with refusing to accept that you are a bad person even in the face of the whole world telling you that's the case. His arc is a neutral one, where he starts out as a good person and then refuses to stop being a good person even in the face of the world telling him to not be, with the occasional stumble along the way. Either Z-One option would have played well off that, whether it's thinking he could become a monster, or knowing he could become a monster--which would make it powerful when he then recants it, denying even the forces of apparent predestination to declare, no, he could never become Z-One. But, by hiding the idea for so long, and then disproving it immediately after it comes out, we kind of get neither. Yusei doesn't really get his morals tested: we do get the "no, I'll never become you", but it just feels like yet another affirmation of what we've already heard a thousand times at this point, which is that Yusei Is Really Cool, You Guys.

But, on the other hand, I suppose I can't complain very much. On presentation alone, Z-One is still handily the second-best Gallop-era final boss, even if that mostly just means he's a B- in a sea of C's and F's (and one A, by all accounts).

dunno if you've ever been asked, but what are your thoughts on z-one? He's one of my favorite final boss villains in YGO but I know (especially for a while) people didn't like him due to the fakeout of not being an evil Yusei.

Hey there! As a matter of fact, I have not been asked. I think Z-ONE's a fine antagonist, frankly. The setup to get to him takes a while, but the reveal when he finally shows up is pretty good where I'm concerned. (Of course, some things about him are plagued by the same plotholes as the entire WRGP—mostly, the scope of his "godlike" powers is very, very unclear. But since it adds a lot of pizzazz, I can usually overlook it.) Moreover, I think the initial reveal of his face—where it's unclear whether or not he's Yusei at first—is perfect, because it really throws you for a loop.

That said, I'm a bit in two minds about the identity thing. On one hand, I get why people wanted him to be Yusei, as in, the actual, real Yusei, who was simply pushed to his limits by a horrid, inescapable future. The sheer amount of angst would have been unparalleled. And it would have posed the very interesting question of just what it would take to push Yusei, our very own protagonist, that far. After all, he's the hero, he's the one preaching hope and friendship even when everyone else has given up on it already. Just the implications alone of a person like Yusei—Yusei—being pushed far enough to become the villain would have been downright cataclysmic. It would have sold the sheer hopelessness of the Meklord future like nothing else. So I get why people wanted it to be true, there's certainly potential there.

But at the same time... I'm not sure I can bring myself to see it. And a lot of that has to do with what canon presents us before the big reveal of Z-ONE's face already. First, there's the fact that it's Yusei. As I said, this is the guy who's all-in on loyalty, hope, and friendship even when nobody else is. It is arguably one of his, if not the defining trait he has. To topple that unwaveringness by implying even he could be pushed to give up on these things... I don't know if it might not have soured his character a bit in some people's eyes. Even if it might have been more realistic, even if it might have been human. Then, there's also the things we get about Z-ONE, as a character, before the reveal. And yes, I concede that's very little, but frankly? It's enough to make him feel like he absolutely couldn't be Yusei to me. Like yes, granted, the unavoidable future of despair™ would have probably changed his personality somewhat, but to that degree? Z-ONE acts nothing like Yusei to me. His tactics in manipulating Sherry, the way he speaks with Aporia during their duel, hell, the sodding Timelords he plays. I mean, sure, obviously they gave him a completely different deck so they could a.) sell more cards and so b.) the reveal could be delayed a little longer for more tension, but something about the idea that Yusei, had he actually been Z-ONE, would have completely abandoned his old deck, kept not even a single card, not even Stardust, or Speed Warrior, or Scrap-Iron Scarecrow, doesn't sit right with me. And that's obviously not touching on the timeline shenanigans that don't quite match up, because Z-ONE's ruined future is implied to be far away enough to exceed Yusei's own lifespan. (Now, if they had actually written Z-ONE to act more like Yusei, and to perhaps, damningly, have kept some of Yusei's cards, I might have been more on board with the idea.)

I don't know, I might be in the minority there, but I think Z-ONE was fine the way he was in canon. We got the shock moment of him possibly being Yusei without delving into either the emotional can of worms, nor the timeline nonsense can of worms that would have come with him actually being Yusei. Z-ONE is an excellent, end-of-show antagonist to me, with or without that extra angst. I don't usually like fakeouts that much, either, but this one, I'll happily tolerate. (Though I would argue the guy could have used just a smidgen more setup and would be even stronger if not for the nonsense worldbuilding of the Meklords. But everyone and their mother who knows my blog knows how I feel about the Meklords, worldbuilding-wise.)

[phagodyke]

demand avoidance is so stupid. what do you mean I'm not going to do the thing I wanted to anymore just bc someone else wants me to......

[maengekyou]

i know this is a naruto blog but i need the world to know how much i hate halsin (and gale)

[feelgoodinct]

nsfw, mdni.

simon becomes an absolute dog when he sees you in his shirt.

cw: possessive simon, sex on carpet (ouch), unprotected p in v, creampie, size kink (?).

simon is a good roommate. he’s organized, clean, pays rent on time, and minds his own space. the only thing is—roommate is hot. stupidly hot. you know he doesn’t have a girlfriend and he’s never once brought back a girl let alone mentioned one. you figured your little crush on him would pass like all the other (it does not). you start dropping hints that you find him attractive. like wearing your tightest tops, brushing your ass against him while reaching for a cup, even leaving one of your lacy thongs to mix in with his laundry. he never bites the bait. you start to think that maybe he just doesn’t find you attractive or even worse he finds you creepy. so you tuck your schoolgirl crush away into the cavity of your chest.

you close the washer with your hip, cradling your laundry basket back to your room. you hear the familiar turn of your front door lock letting you know simon is home from his morning gym session.

you pad into the living room to ask simon if he needed any clothes washed. simons back is turned from you when he begins to slip off his trainers, dropping his gym at the foot of the door.

“need any clothes washed? i’m starting a load up right now.” you ask eyeing the movement of back muscle underneath his compression shirt.

he finally turns to you and starts to respond “nah don’t think-“ before he snaps his mouth shut when he sees what you’re wearing. “that mine?” his voice gruff, it’s his army issued shirt that is long enough to cover your shorts. a deep green color that frays at the hem and has his last name in bold at the back of it. you notice he’s staring at the worn fabric waiting for an answer.

you look down, “oh yeah. sorry was doing laundry found this in hamper. my clothes are in the wash. hope that’s okay?” you sound apologetic like you just did something unforgivable. jesus christ what were you thinking wearing his shirt without asking. you shift trying to ease your embarrassment.

he’s on you in three short strides. making a noise between a growl and snarl. you don’t know how or when you both ended up on the living room floor. frankly, it’s the last thing on your fucking mind now that you’re on your knees cheek pressing into the shag carpet. you can feel the heat of his stare between your legs. you get a glimpse of your shorts and panties strewn across the floor leaving you in his shirt. you wait with bated breath for him to touch you. you wiggle your hips in a silent plead to get him to do something, anything…everything.

he gives the flesh of your ass a heavy smack that has you clenching around nothing. “be good now.” is all you hear before the sting leaves an angry red mark that you know is gonna leave you wincing for the next week. simon smooths a hand over the back of your (his) shirt making a noise in the back of his throat.

you hear shuffling behind you before you feel the head of him catch on to your opening making your mouth gape like a fish out of water. he groans at the contact, kneading the fat of your hips, before he presses in painfully slow with a hiss. you whimper into the carpet, fists balling, feeling hot all over. your cunt pulses trying to make room for him inside your womb.

“i know. i know, pretty girl. almost there.” simon bites back a hiss when you clench at his words. you think you might die like this. laid out on ugly apartment carpet trying to take simon’s cock. you could cry with relief when you feel simon’s balls meet your clit letting you know he’s all the way in. simon lets out a guttural sound bordering on animalistic at the sight of you speared open on his cock, last name across your back, absolutely crying for it.

he fists the bottom of the shirt to keep you still and eases his hips back just to sink back in slowly. the pressure in your navel hurts so good it’s starting to make you dizzy. simon sets a pace that has you trying to cant your hips back to meet his thrusts. he lays a heavy palm in the middle of your back, just under the boldened ‘RILEY’, keeping you pinned giving you no choice but to take what he gives you.

“prettiest fuckin girl i ever seen. gonna give this cunt the proper treatment she deserves, yeah?” he bends his left leg, somehow sliding in deeper. there’s no doubt that you can feel him in your lungs. “s’deep simon.” you slur, reaching a hand back to weakly press against his stomach. he chuckles at the act taking both wrists into one of his hands pressing them at the small of your back, forcing you into a deeper arch. you sob at the change in angle. your nipples being rubbed raw by the friction of his thrusts.

“needed this real bad, huh? don’t worry baby. i’ll make sure you don’t go without it again. wearing those tiny tops think i didn’t notice.” his voice rough and deep behind you. “uh huh.” you reply without a second thought, you don’t even care that you’ve been drooling into the carpet or that you’ve been caught. simon gives a deep chuckle at how pliant you’ve become just from some good dick.

he knows your close by the increasing volume of your sounds. he never lets up his pace determined to give you his all. “where?” he asks in a quick breathe. you take a few seconds to register his words. “huh?” you manage to squeak out. “where do you want me, pretty thing?” he says in an almost pained voice. the gears turn in your head before you speak up “inside. want it inside. m’clean. pill.” resorting to short clipped words. you beg, as if you have to, simon thinks.

your orgasm comes hard and fast leaving you sobbing out garbled version of please and simon. simon is not far behind burying himself as deep as your bodies will allow and comes inside with a pinched “oh fuck.” he pulls out with a pop and watches his spend leak down your slit leaving a small puddle on the floor that he knows he’ll have to scrub out later.

simon pats your backside affectionately. “don’t think we’ll be doing any laundry today” he says with a grin that makes you giggle. “yeah, don’t think so.”

[crystalmonk5579]

OUGH, OUR BBY ARVEN </3

mommy daddy issues