#this is what happens when you let me draw

[revelboo]

after the holidays, my friend and I are going back downtown, buying a couple Blokees each, and having a lil get together where we assemble them

you did this. you made me go broke.

<3

But they’re just little guys 😆 18+ 🌶️

Gravity Pt 11

Optimus x Reader

• Rolling onto his side, he hooks an arm around you and pulls you back into him. Palm flattening against you, finding the beat of your heart as he relaxes again. At the back of his processor, there’s concern over what he’d done that he’s going to have to deal with. Worry about what the rest of the Autobots will think about this. About what he’s done with you. There’s no regret, but there’s going to be consequences. If nothing else, dealing with the fallout from the others figuring out this is a possibility. “Should have guessed you were a cuddler,” you say, voice sleepy. If you don’t want to be held, you keep it to yourself at least.

• Blissfully boneless, you idly play with the servos of the hand splayed possessively on you. “We should discuss what happened,” he says, that deep voice so serious. And he’s a worrier, too, apparently. Ready to ruin the afterglow by overthinking it. Wiggling your hips back against him where his big frame is curled around you, he makes a deep rumbling noise in response. Especially when you pull his hand down and urge him to cup you. Feel him vent raggedly against you to stir your hair as his servos get on board with your plan and stroke you.

• “What happened was amazing,” you say, voice husky as you hold his hand where you want it and move against him, undulating against his hand and his spike as it stirs. “Doesn’t need to be anything deeper than sex.” Knows you’re right, but those words still hurt. Clearly drawing a line that he desperately wants to cross. Warning him that you don’t want more from him. Just this. And he could play along, let you warm his berth and let it be as simple as that, but it’s not what he wants. Wants you to talk to him, open up and share with him. Wants to know your secrets and you. Wants so much more than just a warm, willing body under his.

• “It could be, though. More.” That deep voice rumbles through you as he spears a servo inside you, stroking deep. Hips moving against you, his spike rubbing against you to tease you both. “It could mean something.” And it’s sweet, the big guy a hopeless, but utterly unrealistic, romantic. Where does he really think this can go? White picket fences and kids? Even if he was human, you’d accepted a long time ago that those dreams aren’t meant for people like you. That they can only hurt you. So no. Your body he can have, your heart isn’t up for grabs.

• Gripping his wrist as he strokes you with a servo, you toss your head back against him. Can hear your breathing change, those soft little hitching moans. “I don’t need anything but this.” Those words cut him, all jagged edges biting into his spark. Denying him. Pressing his face against the back of your neck as you rock yourself against his servos, he lets that ache hollow him out. Because if this is all of you allowed him, he’ll take it even if it kills him. You don’t have to love him, don’t even have to care for him beyond your need to find pleasure in his arms. He’ll still hold you, try to coax you and maybe eventually it might be more. Has to believe that or he can’t stand it. To believe you might grow to care about him even if it’s not for a long time.

Previous

[sluttyminghao]

for end of the year ask game how about wonwoo + corrpution kink? if thats not something youre comfortable with writing then u can just throw this away but i truly havent been able to get this combination out of my head

you truly looked like an angel the moment he laid his eyes on you for the first time; hair flowing delicately, lips plump and juicy, and wearing the cutest white swimsuit. he knew it wouldn't be long before he had you in the palm of his hand.

he needed to corrupt that sweet, innocent soul of yours.

and it only took him a matter of weeks, introducing himself at a coffee shop you both happened to go to before work. he left his number on a piece of paper in the palm of your hand before turning and leaving, your heart racing.

you wait until after work to text him, and he simply replies with his address, a time, and "wear something white to match your angelic soul". you can already feel the red flags waving around in your mind but the urge to know more about this man outweighs the cons.

he lets you in immediately, and his gaze draws down your body hungrily as he takes in the white lacy dress you decided on. he pulls you in and starts making small talk with you, so you can learn a little about each other at least.

you're not sure when or how it happened, but wonwoo, as you knew now, was leaving hickeys on your neck and marking your skin beautifully, your panties growing damp. you weren't even quite sure what to do, which he seemed to recognize.

"oh, babygirl, i'm going to corrupt your innocent little mind until all you can think about is me." the grin on his face almost makes you moan, but you bite your lip to hold it back. within moments you're both bare, and he's drinking you in with his lust filled eyes.

with every thrust of his hips, you feel your sanity slipping away. he's filling you up so good that he's all you can think about, to the point where he actually makes you squirt. he chuckles as you hide your face in embarrassment, but it doesn't slow him down from fucking you any harder.

once he's made you both cum, he helps you to dress and sends you on your way with a wink and a slight tap on your ass. you hear him mumble something under his breath as you limp away, making you turn around.

"come back when you're ready for me to corrupt you again."

you immediately turn on your heel and re-enter his apartment, a devilish grin spreading on his features as he closes the door behind you and follows you to his bedroom.

[stump-not-found]

we're getting into the cover compositions that start falling apart ! i really adore stan and mabel being outside the frame, bringing in the purple from step V, and the green from step IV . playing with visuals is neat ! drawing those pictures was less neat !

this was the hardest chapter to wrte and sat unfinished for WEEKS . chapter seven wasn't even going to exist, but six got so long i had to split it up . it was wild . for a long time i had no idea what they were even gonna be doing on this planet . there used to be a, like, fortress they needed to break into ?

the family splitting up was always part of the plan, but originally it was because there was a large gate they needed to get through, and ford was gonna go alone until dipper volunteered to go with him . that was back when i was gonna try and have ford persuade dipper into being his apprentice, like he did in the show, because it was weird in the show too . but that sucked and slowed the whole pace down . i much prefer the rift getting escalated for emotional reasons .

was a challenge re enforcing a lot of fords abilities, along with introducing the journal, and trying to find a way to make it entertaining . i really love the response to ford, and one of my favorite things writing him is the way he describes things in the stupidest terms . like the shampoo & conditioner comment . the 30 second audio clips bit makes me think of those shitty cheap plastic toys you'd buy at claire's, where you get like, one minute of an nsync song . i think mabel would have loved those honestly

originally ford was also way more of a dick about mabel, specifically, but i realized i hate that a bit and really tried to punch up how sweet he is on the kids . i'm glad i did that, because i think its a lot stronger narratively that the dude has no ill thoughts towards the kids - dipper's attitude is just him listening, absorbing, and projecting in a way that helps him regain some control over his home situation

lots to say about the kids and their deal, though that could be its own separate thing . i'll just say it went under a lot of revisions, and had a lot of conversations about it . my goal was to have some pushback on the idea that mabel is this emotionally enlightened bastion of truth . god i have a lot i could rant on this point, but i really want to get across it's not a good thing when your 12 yr old niece tries to give you a therapy session . like . that's a bad thing, overall, to be quite honest .

dipper's whole thing is just aaaaaaaaaaaa it's hard to be trans in 2012 . well it's hard to be trans in general . dipper pines i love you i want you to know that you sweaty weirdo . you and your sister are gonna be just fine

it's fun that the kids become less of a background element once both adults in the room start to pay proper attention to them . as i write these chapters, i like to imagine that mabel and dipper are just having a regular ass gravity falls adventure, while the adults are having to walk down trauma lane lalalalal

oh fuck we also get the man in the hallway with his mystery pendant . did anyone see that guy the fuck was up with that . oh well i guess that's not important L O L

oh fuck this was also the professional working relationship chapter what the fuck ... i'm gonna be honest i laugh about that everytime .... the entire scene where bill starts counting his teeth almost got cut which would have been fucking stupid . yes i am referencing macdennis with them . yes ford does tell bill to smoke a cigarette to get rid of the toxins . that's how it SHOULD be . that's how a working relationship GOES

anyways ford and stanley's home life was fucked the fanfiction the movie . yay

bill is in everyone's hallway if you force the perspective enough:

favorite part:

“Dipper, there are… certain quirks of demon containment that are easier to let happen than argue about.” Ford says. Teeth counting is one of the top ones. Along with letting Bill clip his nails when they’ve grown out too long, or cut his hair when it gets too shaggy, or… actually, there’s a lot of things Bill will throw a fit about if Ford fights him over it. Though Ford supposes he has his own list as well, including forcing Bill to do regular blood checks, and have consistent meals with appropriate dietary restrictions. Dipper, clearly, doesn’t get it, and Ford acknowledges he is too young to understand a professional working relationship.

in case anyone was confused about there being anything romantic okay . please review the above paragraph it is VERY clear about the nature of their relationship, thank you

The family gets separated by some stupid metaphors, the kids have some normal and healthy conversations, and both Pines brothers handle the situation very, very well.

Everything's going just peachy, so long as you ignore all the problems.

[prodbymaui]

Eunoia. — 이민형

when it's all said and done, girl, I want you

PAIRING: mark lee x reader GENRE: unspoken feelings

WORD COUNT: 2.3k+ words

WARNINGS: finger fucking, pet names (baby, love), pool sex, exhibition kink, grinding

SYNOPSIS: it's late at night and you're yet to pull yourself out of the ocean that is your thoughts. Mark helps you out in a complexed but effective way that he knows. A/N: very self-indulgent, definitely not a scenario that came up to me in the middle of the night and stayed in my mind ever since. anyhows, enjoy reading!

The day nears the next cyle of the moon and sun, but you remain at the pool side— music resonating from your phone as you dip your feet in the pool, drinking the night away. 

You should’ve been worn out from all the fun that you had with your friends yet for some unknown reasons, sleep doesn’t come to you easily. In result, you opt grabbing one of the unfinished bottles of vodka for yourself.

The thoughts swimming in your head must’ve drowned you, considering that you didn’t hear one of the bedroom doors opening and the footsteps walking towards. It is only when someone sits next to you that you notices their presence.

Your gaze shifts from the stars to the man on your right— Mark. Your breath hitches for a moment. The messy hair and a plain white shirt paired with the dopey smile on his face is enough for you to fall in to another trance.

“What got you out here having fun all by yourself?” Mark tilts his head in question, to which you let out a soft laugh.

“Is drinking alone fun now?”

“I suppose.. ? It looks fun for me.”

Merely replying with a smile, silence engulfs the both of you. And as if on cue, your mind boggles you over trivial things once again, just like what it does since you were young.

Mark passes you a brief glance, then to the music playing on your phone.

Thoughts

Sometimes, I just can't control my thoughts

No medication's ever made them stop

All I think about is everything I'm not

Instead of everything I got

He sighs, biting his lips as he contemplates on what to do.

And it’s not Mark if he chooses the complexed but effective way.

The bubble of your thoughts pop when the water splashes at you suddenly. Surprised, you look over to Mark who’s swimming his way towards where you are seated. Just right before you, Mark comes up from the water, brushing his black undercut hair back.

His eyes meet yours. “Hi,”

“Hello,” You grin, sipping your vodka.

He walks a little bit more closer, enough for his chest to make contact with your knees. Mark smiles again, resting his hands on your knees.

“Hi,” He repeats softly.

You can’t help but chuckle. “Hello Mark,”

What is this man doing? The voices in your head asks.

“Come swim with me?”

You glance at the rippling water illuminated faintly by the moon, then back at him, standing waist-deep with a boyish grin that doesn’t quite match the hour. 

“Pass, I’m just waiting for sleep to take over my body. Besides,  you shouldn’t be swimming this late at night, Mark. You’ll catch a cold.”

Mark exhales dramatically, a mix of exasperation and amusement, before swishing the water toward you in a playful splash. It doesn’t reach, but the gesture draws a reluctant grin from you.

“Loosen up a little,” He says, his voice warm, almost teasing. “Who cares about catching a cold if it means having a bit of fun?”

You’re not quite sure how it happens. You remember saying no—firmly, even—but now the cool water laps at your legs, rising steadily until it reaches your waist. Mark’s hand is warm and steady in yours, his grip pulling you further into the pool, toward the deeper end.

“Mark,” you warn, your voice low, your fingers tightening instinctively around his. It’s not fear—nothing as dramatic as that. You can swim perfectly well, and the depth of the water doesn’t intimidate you. It’s just…this wasn’t supposed to be on your list for tonight.

He slows, catching the hesitation written across your face. Without a word, he stops walking, the two of you now floating in the very center of the pool. The stillness around you is palpable, broken only by the faint ripples you’ve created together.

Mark’s gaze softens as it finds yours, studying your expression carefully, reading the unspoken. Then, with a quiet assurance, he slides his arm around your waist, pulling you just a little closer.

“I’ve got you,” he says, the words low but firm, steadying you in a way that feels more solid than the water ever could.

You sigh, taking in the comfort of the moon and starts hovering above the both of you, and the comfort of Mark’s arm around you.

“What do you think Yeonjun and Wooyoung’s reaction will be if they see us like this?”

“The teasings, oh god,” The mere thought of the two troublemakers’ reactions is already enough to make Mark sigh in exasperation. 

He can practically hear their voices now—the teasing tone, the exaggerated laughter. They’ve been relentless lately, poking fun at the “odd vibe,” as they like to call it, between the two of you. Their wild imaginations have taken your every interaction and spun it into something far more dramatic, their assumptions as colorful as they are persistent.

You laugh at his response, sliding your arms to rest on his shoulders. “Why do you think they tease us so much?” Mark’s chuckle fades, leaving a quiet tension in its place. The water sways around you both, but all you can focus on is how his gaze has softened—more intent now, as if he’s waiting for something.

“They think there’s something between us,” he says, his voice dropping just enough to make the words feel weightier. His hands linger at your waist, his touch steady yet hesitant, like he’s holding back.

You swallow, your laugh from earlier now a distant echo. “And… do you think they’re right?” you ask, surprising yourself with the boldness in your voice.

Mark’s lips twitch, but it’s not quite a smile. “Sometimes,” he admits, barely above a murmur. “It’s hard not to when they keep planting the idea in my head.”

You feel a faint warmth rising in your cheeks, though you’re not sure if it’s from his words or the way his thumb grazes your side absentmindedly. “And what does that idea look like to you?”

The shift in his expression is subtle, but it’s enough to make your heart stutter. There’s something deeper in his eyes now, something that makes the air between you feel almost fragile.

“Do you want me to show you?” he asks quietly, his voice low and steady, but there’s an edge to it—a flicker of vulnerability he can’t quite hide.

The moment stretches, the world outside the pool fading to nothing. It’s just you, Mark, and the unspoken tension swirling between you, like the water lapping at your skin.

Whether it’s you or Mark who closes the distance first doesn’t matter. All that matters now is the way his lips meet yours—soft and deliberate, moving in a rhythm that feels as though it’s been waiting to happen. The kiss deepens naturally, a slow, intoxicating exchange that carries the urgency of something long denied.

Mark’s hand slides to the back of your head, his fingers threading gently through your hair as though anchoring you to the moment. His grip is firm but careful, a silent assurance that he won’t let go. When he feels you lean further into him, your movements mirroring his, something shifts.

With surprising ease, Mark’s other hand slips beneath your legs, lifting you as though you weigh nothing. Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, securing yourself against him. The movement presses your bodies closer, the water rippling around you in lazy waves.

You can feel his breath against your skin, warm and uneven, his lips trailing softly before returning to yours. The press of his body is undeniable, a tension simmering beneath the surface, but the way he holds you—steady, deliberate—grounds the moment in something more than just desire.

Mark pulls away, breathing heavily. “I know it’s late but tell me to stop. Tell me you don’t want any of this and I’ll pretend none of this happened tomorrow.”

Nonsense. You don’t even know what got him thinking like that when you’re already on cloud nine just by his kisses.

“Don’t stop,” You whisper against his ear before connecting your lips with his once again.

As your tongue fights and clashes with one another, you gasp at the feeling of Mark’s palm cupping your core. The water surrounds every part of your lower body but Mark could still feel the slimy texture of your juices on his skin.

His fingers slides along your labia, letting it explore and feel your warmth. The soothing movements of his pads strays away from your focus as Mark’s kisses travels down to your neck. Tracing your skin with his tongue, Mark licks a stripe straight to where your neck and collarbone meets. You gasp as he gives it a little kiss before sucking the skin, at the same time he enters a digit inside you.

“Mark..”

He shushes your noises yet his fingers serves absolutely nothing to help you do so. Not long after you’ve gotten used to his single digit, he enter another after another, curling them inside. Your head lols back, trapping your bottom lips between your lips.

Turning the both of you around, Mark carries your weight one arm while the other busies itself pumping inside you. In a few steps backwards, your back hits the wall of the pool causing Mark’s fingers to be buried deeper inside. Your hands fly to grab something as a leverage, eventually finding his flexing arms. The cold breeze brushing against your skin reminds you that you’re not in the privacy of your bedroom or any private space right now. And Mark uses it to his advantage, seemingly knowing well what you like despite this being the first time that he’s having a taste of you. “Haechan was awake when I left the boys’ room, you know?” he murmurs, his tone low and teasing as he tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear. His lips brush against your cheek in a series of soft, fleeting pecks, his warmth lingering with each one. “He was mumbling something about wanting a snack but being too lazy to actually get up. You know how crazy that man is about his snacks, babe.”

His voice drops to a playful whisper. “What if he decides to come out? Imagine him catching us like this—you trembling in my arms, eyes fluttering shut, your hips jerking against me like you’re trying so hard to keep quiet. One look at your hips, and he’d know exactly what’s happening, no questions asked.”

You curses at the thought of being caught. And Mark laughs. Because he knows damn well it’s not due to embarrassment nor fear. The clench of your walls on his fingers tells him so. “Wouldn’t you like that, babe? I think you would,” Curling his fingers upwards, your eyes rolls to the back of your head. “Look at you getting close at the thought of it. I wonder what’ll be his reaction.”

“Mark please,” You plead, not even knowing for what reason. “Please? I don’t know even know what you want, love.” It’s frustrating how the brutal pace of his thrusting fingers contrasts the soft and loving tone of his voice. It messes your head and inside both at the same time. “Please please, Mark—” Your eyes catches his sharp gaze in a hazy film, barely even able to open your lids to maintain eye contact. “Fuck– haah, I’m gonna come.” “Yeah?” Mark pulls you impossibly closer, grinding his prominent boner on any accessible part of you that he can reaches by merely moving his hips. “I’m gon– I wanna cum, I’m gonna cum. Shit, Mark please, baby,” You desperately cling on to him, meeting his fingers halfway as you try your best to fasten the pace despite the restrain from the water. Mark groans, silently wishing it is his cock you’re clenching around so tightly right now. How good it must feel to your warm walls massaging his length, tightening on him just right, milking him dry until he’s nothing left but an empty vessel of a man obsessed with you and your body. He presses your bodies to the wall as he grinds harder and faster, matching your pace. “Do it. Come for me,” He whispers your name in an encouraging manner. And you did just as he orders. Failing to keep your eyes open, your eyes shut close as your mouth forms a circular shape. The pleasure comes to you crashing down. Mark doesn’t know what kind of hold you have on him but he’s certain it is no way near surface level when he reaches his own climax just by watching you come undone in his arms. The look of you embracing the pleasure he offered is enough to send him off the edge. You nuzzle your face in the crook of his neck, your ragged breaths mingling with his as you try to steady yourself. The aftershocks still linger, leaving your body heavy and your mind hazy, but the comforting rise and fall of his chest anchors you. Both of you silently agree to stay like this for a moment, letting the sound of the pool water gently lapping around you fill the quiet. It feels like time has paused, a brief reprieve from everything outside this bubble of warmth.

But fate, as always, has other plans.

A slow, deliberate clap breaks the stillness, immediately snapping your attention toward its source. The sound is followed by a low whistle that cuts through the air like a taunt.

“Well, that was one hell of a show,” comes the familiar voice, dripping with mock amusement.

Your head snaps up, and there he is—Haechan, leaning casually against the doorframe of the boys’ room, arms crossed and that trademark cocky smirk plastered across his face. His expression, equal parts smug and entertained, makes your stomach drop.

[multi-fandom-imagine]

Under the mistletoe at a Daily Planet party for Clark Kent. No lois lane slander plz, I love her!

A/n: I could never 😩. She was my favorite back in the animated series and I love her in the comics. Fuck anyone that writes negative shit about her and just bashes her character.

If you want a different clark please let me know 🙏.

It was the annual Christmas party at the Daily Planet and once again Clark found himself in the corner of the room with his gaze fixated on you. Your laugh ringing in his ears for something that Lois had said.

Lois the ever observant one turned to find Clark's gaze on you a smirk forming on her lips. Jumping, Clark quickly turned away finding the drink he was holding much more interesting.

"So Smallville when you gonna take the plunge and finally ask out our favorite photographer?"

"Lois!" Clark quickly adjusted the glasses on his face, his cheeks flushed a deep red. "I don't know what you're talking about." He muttered.

Rolling her eyes, Lois placed on hand on her hip as she pursed her lips. "I'm not blind Kent! I'm pretty sure everyone can see your feelings for them in space..."

"I don-."

An exasperated sigh escaped as she stepped behind the man giving him a hard shove. "God it's like pushing a brick house." She muttered. "They are under a Mistletoe..now that's your excuse now go!"

"You're very pushy!"

"I call it being innovated! Now go!"

Stumbling forward, Clark took a few steps then narrowed his eyes spotting another work step towards you. Making a B-line to you, Clark slipped in between you and his co-workers name he happened to forget.

"H-hey."

Beaming, you gave Clark a bright smile as you tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear. "Hey Clark, you enjoying the party?"

"Y-ya I." Glancing up at the Mistletoe he then looked to you.

Lois's voice, her whisper somewhere in the office urging him to do something. "Kiss them." She hissed ignoring the looks she was getting.

Adjusting his tie, Clark cleared out his throat giving you a nervous grin. "So uh...I happened to notice we are standing under the Mistletoe and I...would you mind...I mean you don't have to but can I kiss you?"

Blinking, your gaze flicked up to the red and green plant that hung above you both. Gaze softening, you smiled then stood up standing on your toes as your breath fanned across his lips. "I'd like that Clark."

Returning your smile, Clark let his arm wrap around your hips drawing you in close. "Good." Bending down his lips grazed yours in a soft and gentle kiss.

Holding her head high, Lois crossed her arms over her chest. "I made that happen."

[lee-laurent]

Swept Under the Rug - Jack Hughes

Summary: Jack's never been known for his... stable relationships, but Luke's bsf might just change that. The issue: Luke would rather die than see her date his brother

content: angst, mentions of being unfaithful, fwb, fluff!, kissing, mentions of smut but no explicit smut

wc: 4.9k

notes: hey! this was the second-most requested from my list of upcoming fics! if somethings don't line up, i'm sorry! i didn't proofread it :/ enjoy!!

Elizabeth Winters, known to most as Liz but forever "Lizzy" to Luke Hughes, considered the Hughes house her second home. Over the years, she'd spent countless days sprawled on their basement couch, eating snacks with Luke while they watched the latest Leafs game on the TV or sharing inside jokes that made no sense to anyone but them.

Luke was her best friend in every way that mattered: loyal, protective, and so steadfastly in her corner that it felt like he was her own personal guard dog. It wasn't uncommon for him to roll his eyes at her latest "crush of the week" or grumble about some guy who'd wasted her time. "You need better taste in men, Lizzy," he'd say with all the authority of someone who acted like he had it figured out.

It was that protectiveness that made the summer before Luke's second NHL season both exciting and a little bittersweet. With the pressures of professional hockey looming large, she knew their carefree, everyday hangouts would start to dwindle. Luke insisted they wouldn't, but Liz had been around long enough to know how life could pull people apart.

Still, the Hughes house held its usual chaotic energy, and Liz felt like she was where she belonged. Quinn was more of a quiet presence when he was around, often keeping to himself. Jack, on the other hand, was a completely different story.

He was impossible to ignore. He carried himself with an effortless charm that seemed to draw people in like moths to a flame. Jack was cocky but not in an unkind way--he knew he was good at hockey, good-looking, and awfully good at making people laugh. His reputation with girls, however, left something to be desired. Liz had heard enough stories from Luke to know that Jack was what one might generously call "a player."

"Jack thinks commitment is a four-letter word," Luke had joked once, earning a laugh from Liz.

She'd always been skeptical of Jack's allure, even if she had to admit he had the kind of grin that could probably get him out of trouble nine times out of ten. For her, he was Luke's annoying older brother, nothing more. Sure, he had that floppy hair that made him look like a dork when he tucked it behind his ears, and yeah, his laugh was infectious, but Liz wasn't about to fall into that trap. She knew better.

It was one of those lazy afternoons in early July when Liz found herself once again in the Hughes' kitchen, rifling through the fridge for a drink.

"You know, you're here more than I am," Jack teased from his stool at the island.

Liz rolled her eyes, popping the cap off a bottle of water. "Maybe that's because you're always gallivanting with whatever Instagram model happens to be in town."

Jack smirked, his blue eyes glinting with amusement. "Gallivanting? Who even uses that word?"

"People who read books," Liz shot back, feeling a small surge of satisfaction at the way he laughed.

Their banter was easy, but it meant nothing. Jack flirted with everyone, from waitresses to Luke's friends' moms. That was just who he was.

"Lizzy!" Luke's voice echoed from the living room. "You're not letting Jack corrupt you, are you?"

Liz turned to see Luke walking in, hair damp from his shower and a scowl on his face aimed squarely at his brother.

"Corrupt me? Please," she said, grabbing her water bottle and heading toward her best friend. "Your brother doesn't stand a chance."

Jack's mock-offeneded "Hey!" followed her out of the kitchen, but she barely looked back.

The rest of the day passed the way it always did when she was with Luke, easily. Luke hogged the whole sofa, their laughter punctuated by the occasional chirp from Jack, who had perched himself on the armrest at some point.

Despite her insistence that she wasn't swayed by Jack's charm, Liz couldn't help but notice the way his presence seemed to fill the room. When he cracked a joke, everyone laughed. When he smiled, it was impossible not to look.

But that was just Jack. And she wasn't about to fall for it.

Right?

~~

Liz should've said no.

She should've declined when Jack offered to drive her home after another late night at the Hughes house. Luke had fallen asleep halfway through a Marvel movie marathon, his lanky frame sprawled across the couch while Liz had been left half-buried under a blanket. Jack, ever the night owl, had wandered in during the second movie, teasing her about her choice of snacks and stealing half her popcorn.

By the time the credits rolled, it was nearly midnight.

"I can call an Uber," Liz had said, brushing off the flutter in her heart when Jack offered to drive her.

"Or," Jack countered, "you could save twenty bucks and let me do the honours."

She hesitated, glancing at Luke, who was snoring lightly beside her. On paper, there was no good reason to refuse. Jack lived for late nights and seemed completely unbothered, even energized, by the idea of going out at this hour. It wasn't like he was some stranger--he was Luke's brother. She'd known him for years.

And yet.

"Fine," Liz relented, grabbing her bag.

The car ride started inncoently enough. Jack turned the music up, some mellow indie playlist filling the silence as the suburban streets blurred by. They talked about random things: the weirdest foods they'd ever tried, a debate about whether summer or winter was better, and the chaos of their childhoods.

Liz was laughing more than she should have, glancing over at Jack as he gestured animatedly about a prank he'd pulled on Quinn years ago.

But then... the conversation shifted.

"You don't really think I'm that bad, do you?" Jack asked suddenly, his once light tone now pointed.

Liz frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"You know," he said, flashing her a grin before looking back at the road. "The whole 'Jack's a player, avoid at all costs' thing. You and Lukey love giving me shit about it."

She shrugged, trying to play it cool. "I mean, you don't exactly have the best track record."

Jack laughed softly, shaking his head. "Fair enough. But you ever think there's more to me than that?"

She didn't know how to respond. Sure, Jack could be cocky and frustrating, but in moments like this--when it was just the two of them, the banter stripped away--he seemed... different.

"I guess I never really thought about it," Liz admitted, her voice quieter now.

"Maybe you should."

The air in the car shifted, subtle but undeniable. Liz felt her heartbeat pick up, her mind racing with questions she didn't dare voice.

They pulled into her driveway, the porch light casting a warm glow across the front of her house. Liz reached for the door handle, but Jack's voice stopped her.

"Wait."

She turned, finding him watching her with an intensity she'd never seen before.

"You're different, Liz. You know that?"

Liz blinked. "Different how?"

Jack leaned slight closer, his movements unhurried. "You're not like the other... Instagram model girls. You don't care about any of that bullshit they do. You're just... you."

It would've been easier to laugh off, to tease him for making her seem like a manic pixie dream girl. But something about the way he said it--he wasn't very good with words--made it impossible.

"Jack..." she started, but whatever she was about to say vanished the moment he leaned in.

The kiss was nothing like she expected, soft at first but quickly growing hungrier, fueled by weeks--months, years--of tension. Liz could hear her pulse in her ears, her hands gripping the fabric of his light hoodie.

It was wrong. She knew it was wrong. But it felt so, so good.

They broke apart, breathing heavily. Liz stared at him, the conflicting emotions a tornado in her head.

"What are we doing?" she whispered.

Jack smirked, though there was a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. "Living a little?"

Living a little. That was all this was to him.

"I can't," she shook her head. "Luke--he'd kill us both."

Jack sighed, leaning back in his seat. "Luke doesn't have to know everything you do, Liz."

Jack's world was one of easy charm and fewer consequences, but this wasn't just about him.

"I can't betray him like that," Liz said, her voice firmer now.

Jack tilited his head, studying her. "And what about you? What do you want, Liz?"

The question lingered, but remained unanswered as she hopped out of the car, whispering a quiet "thank you."

She barely slept that night. Her mind replaying their make out session--if you could call it that--over and over. The feeling of Jack's lips on hers, the look in his eyes.

She hated how much she wanted to kiss him again.

But the thought of Luke--the way he trusted her, the way he'd drop everything to be there for her--was a constant, gnawing idea in her mind.

Jack didn't seem like the kind of guy who thought too hard about the consequences of his actions. And she wasn't sure she could trust him to take this seriously, not when the stakes were so high.

~~

The next time she saw Jack, he acted like nothing had happened.

"Morning, Liz," he said breezily, winking at her as he grabbed a cup of coffee from the kitchen.

"M--Morning."

Luke walked in seconds later, completely oblivious to the undercurrent of tension between his brother and his best friend. "Lizzy, you ready for some one-on-one later? I've been working on my wrist shot, and I'm gonna fucking smoke you this time."

"Dream on," she shot back, thankful for the distraction.

But as the day went on, she couldn't shake the feeling of Jack's eyes on her, the ghost of his lips on hers still fresh in her mind.

She was in shit. Deep, deep shit.

~~

The kiss hadn't been intended to turn into anything more.

In the days that followed, she tried to convince herself it had been a fluke, a moment of weakness they could both pretend never happened. But Jack seemed to want to make that impossible.

It started small: a lingering loko when Luke wasn't paying attention, a teasing brush of his hand against hers as he walked by, or an offhand comment laced with double meaning that made her pulse quicken. Jack was the kind of person who thrived on the thrill of the chase, and Liz had unwittingly become his favourite game.

What terrified her most was how much she liked it.

It wasn't long before she found herself sneaking off with Jack during her visits to the Hughes house.

"Luke's in the basement," Jack whispered one evening, appearing from the doorway of the guest room when Liz had been scrolling through her phone.

"And?"

"And I'm here," Jack's grin was all confidence, but his eyes held something deeper--something that kept Liz from brushing him off.

"That's a bad idea," she said, even as she let him close the door behind him.

"Probably. But you're not telling me to leave."

He knew exactly how to read her.

Before she could come up with a retort, he crossed the room and kissed her. It was hungry, insistent, and impossible to resist. Liz melted into him, her hands tangling in his hair as he climbed on top of her on the bed.

"Jack," she mumbled against his lips, his hands resting on her exposed midriff. "This is insane." She was desperately trying to ignore the heat coursing through her veins.

"Maybe, but it doesn't feel wrong... does it?"

She just pulled him back down by the collar of his t-shirt, pressing their lips together, ignoring the chuckle he let out at her eagerness.

~~

The guilt came later, after she'd put her clothes back on and fixed her hair, trying to find Luke.

"Lizzy, you're distracted," Luke said, passing a ball to her.

"What? No, I'm not," she lied, stopping it before it rolled into the grass.

Luke squinted at her, resting his stick on his shoulders. "Is this about that guy you were talking to a couple weeks ago? What was his name? Kyle?"

"What? No. Kyle was--he's nothing."

"Good," he said firmly, firing a puck into the net. "You deserve better than guys like him."

She swallowed hard, ignoring that she had just had sex with a 'guy like him.'

"You're too sweet, Lu," she forced a smile.

"Someone has to be," he shot back. "Speaking of which, if a dumbass like him ever tries anything, you'll tell me, right? I'm not afraid to throw hands if I have to."

"Sure, Lukey. You'll be the first to know."

~~

It wasn't just the stolen kisses and heated moments.

One night, Liz found herself sitting with Jack on the porch swing, the cool summer breeze making her shiver slightly. She'd come outside to clear her head and Jack had followed.

"Penny for your thoughts?" he asked, handing her his sweatshirt off his back.

Liz pulled it over her head, the scent of his cologne wrapping around her. "Just... thinking about life, I guess."

"Deep stuff," he teased.

"D'you ever feel like you're living two lives?"

"What do you mean?"

"Like, I have this life with Luke and your family, where everything's normal and comfortable. But then there's... this." She gestured vaguely between them.

"I get it. It's like when I'm on the ice versus when I'm off. On the ice, everything makes sense. Off... not so much."

"I didn't think you overthought things."

Jack laughed softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "I don't show it, but yeah, I do sometimes."

Maybe there was more to Jack than the cocky, carefree persona he showed to the world.

"Thanks for the sweatshirt," she said, leaning a little closer to him.

Jack wrapped an arm around her, pulling her closer. "Anytime."

~~

Luke remained oblivious to what was happening right under his nose, though Liz could feel the pressure mounting.

During another movie night, Jack sat on the sofa a little too close to Liz, his knee brushing hers. She stiffened, eyes darting to Luke, who was preoccupied with a bag of chips.

Jack smirked, clearly enjoying how it made her squirm, and draped an arm across the back of the couch.

"Jack, stop being weird," Luke said without looking up.

Jack laughed, shifting slightly but leaving his arm where it was.

"Lizzy, you okay?" Luke asked.

"Yeah, fine. Why?" she turned to look at him.

"Just... acting differently."

"Differently?"

"I don't know," he frowned. "Distracted. Are you sure you're not seeing that Kyle guy?"

Jack's jaw ticked.

"No! Of course not. I already told you that."

"Good. He sucks."

Liz let out a shaky breath, missing the grimace on Jack's face.

As she prepared to leave that night, Jack caught her arm near the door.

"You need to stop doing that," she hissed, glancing around to make sure nobody was nearby.

"Doing what?"

"You know what. You're going to get us caught."

Jack leaned in, his voice dropping to a low whisper. "Maybe I like seeing you squirm."

Liz glared at him, but her bright red cheeks betrayed her.

"Relax," he said, brushing some hair behind her ear. "I've got it all under control."

Liz wasn't so sure.

~~

The thrill of meeting up in secret was intoxicating, but the constant risk of discovery weighed heavily on her. Every time she stepped into the Hughes hous, her favourite place, she felt like she was one wrong move away from a disaster.

Jack seemed unfazed. The secrecy only seemed to amuse him.

"Morning, Liz," he said one Saturday as she entered the house.

Luke looked up from his breakfast. "You're here early."

She shrugged, grabbing a mug from the cabinet. "You told me to come by, remember?"

He grunted in acknowledgment, but his eyes drifted to Jack who was barely concealing a smirk.

"What're you so fucking happy about?"

"Nothing," Jack said innocently, his smirk only widenening as he chugged his milk.

Liz quickly turned her back to both of them, focusing on making her coffee the way she liked.

~~

The first time they almost got caught, it was Jack's fault.

Liz had stayed late at the Hughes, watching a game with Luke and some of his old teammates. Jack had wandered in halfway through (as usual), throwing jabs at Luke and stealing Liz's food.

By the time the game ended, Luke and his friends had disappeared to FaceTime someone else, leaving Liz and Jack alone.

"You staying over?" he asked.

Liz gave him a pointed look. "No, I'm leaving soon. Luke's just upstairs."

He leaned in. "That's never stopped you before."

Her cheeks flushed, and she shoved him away. "You're impossible."

"And yet you still like me anyway."

Footsteps came down the stairs and Jack leaned back, his expression turning neutral with incredible speed.

"You're still here?" Luke asked Liz.

"Yeah, I, uh, I'm just leaving now," she said quickly, standing up.

Jack gave her a small wink as she left, and she had to fight the urge to glare at him.

~~

The second close call was even worse.

Jack: You coming over? Liz: I'm literally outside, dipshit. But Luke's gonna kill you if he finds out Jack: Lukey won't notice. We'll play some music ;)

She sent a quick, flustered reply before shoving her phone in her pocket and heading inside.

An hour later, she was sitting with Luke on the basement floor when he grabbed her buzzing phone and frowned.

"What's this?" he held up the screen.

Jack's name was at the top of the text thread, the messages not visible because the phone was still locked.

"Oh... you know Jack, always being a shit stirrer," she shrugged.

Luke's face screwed up, tossing the phone back on the couch. "Such a fucking weirdo."

"Yep," she giggled.

~~

"You two have been acting weird lately," Luke said.

"What're you talking about?"

"You and Jack," he frowned. "He's always teasing you, and you get all... jumpy. It's not like you."

Liz forced a laugh. "Jack teases everyone."

"Yeah, but it's different with you," he continued. "It's almost like--"

He stopped mid-sentence, shaking his head. "Never mind. I'm just being paranoid. Right?"

She nodded, quickly steering the conversation in a different direction.

And despite the mounting tension, Liz and Jack continued to grow closer in ways she hadn't expected.

One night, after another hasty hookup in his room, Liz lay beside him, her head resting on his chest.

"This is crazy," she said, tracing patterns on his skin.

"What? Sneaking around?"

"All of it," she propped herself up on her elbow. "This isn't just... casual for me. I don't know if I can like keep this up if we're not... serious?"

Jack reached up to brush away the hair sticking to her forehead. "Who says it's not serious?"

She searched his face for any sign that it was just a cruel joke. "I've never seen you do serious with anyone before... and I've known you for my entire life... practically."

Jack sighed, his hand settling on her bare waist. "Didn't want to. Until now."

The sincerity in his voice made her heart ache, but it didn't erase the fear.

"What about Luke?"

Jack's jaw tightened. "I'll deal with Luke when the time comes. Right now, I just want you."

But the shadow of Luke's inevitable reaction loomed over them, a reminder that their time was running out.

~~

It was late and the rest of the house was quiet. Liz had been curled up in Jack's room for hours, tangled in his sheets, the two of them caught in that dreamy post-sex haze.

"You should go," Jack murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple. "Luke's gonna freak if you're here when he wakes up."

She groaned softly, burying her face in his chest. "You've been saying that for the past hour."

Jack grinned. "I like having you here. Sue me."

Liz rolled her eyes, sitting up reluctantly. "You're gonna get me killed."

Jack leaned back, hands folded behind his head. "Worth it."

She shook her head, pulling on her hoodie and trying to ignore Jack's hungry gaze that followed her around the room.

Quietly, she opened the door and stepped into the dim hallway, closing it behind her as softly as she could. She had made it three steps when she froze, her heart plummeting to her feet.

Luke was standing at the other end of the hall, disbelief covering his face.

"Lizzy?"

"Luke, I--"

"What the hell are you doing?" His gaze flickered from her to Jack's closed door, realization dawning with horrifying clarity.

"Are you kidding me?" his voice rose, fists clenched at his sides. "Tell me this isn't what it looks like."

She opened her mouth, but no words came out.

Jack's door opened then, and Liz watched in horror as he stepped out, his expression calm.

"Luke," he started, but Luke cut him off, his face twisting in anger.

"Don't," Luke snapped. "Don't even try explaining your way out of this."

Liz had never seen Luke like this. In all their years of friendship, she'd never seen him so... angry.

"You," he pointed at Jack, his voice trembling. "You're supposed to be my brother. And you," he turned to Liz, his expression hurt, "you're my best friend. How could you?"

"Luke, it's not like that," she tried, her voice shaking. "It's not--"

"It's not what? A hookup?" he laughed bitterly, his eyes narrowing as he glared at Jack. "That's all it ever is with you, isn't it?"

Jack stepped forward. "It's not like that, Luke."

"Don't even try to defend yourself," Luke shot back. "You think I don't know you? You've spent your whole life treating girls like they're disposable. And now you're doing it to Lizzy?"

"She's not disposable."

Luke scoffed. "You expect me to believe that? You're just gonna toss her aside like everyone else when you get bored."

"That's not fair," Liz's voice trembled.

"Fair?" Luke looked to her, his eyes blazing. "Fair is me trusting you. Fair is you not sneaking around behind my back with him."

Liz flinched, tears stinging her eyes. "I didn't want to hurt you."

"Then you shouldn't have done it."

"I... I didn't plan for this to happen," her voice broke. "It just did, okay? And I didn't know how to tell you."

Luke shook his head, running his hands through his curls. "You should've told me the second it started. I could've handled that. But this?" He gestured between the two of them. "This is betrayal, Lizzy. From both of you."

"It's not what you think," she pleaded. "Jack isn't using me. He cares about me."

Luke barked a harsh laugh. "Oh, sure. Jack Hughes, the king of meaningless hookups, suddenly decides to care. Do you even hear yourself?"

"I care about her, Luke. A lot more than you think."

"Yeah? Then prove it. Because all I see is you doing what you always do--thinking about yourself."

Jack's jaw tightened, but he didn't respond.

Liz reached out, her hands trembling as she grabbed Luke's arm. "Luke, please. You're my best friend. I never wanted to hurt you."

Luke pulled away like she'd burned him with her touch. "You didn't just hurt me, Lizzy. You broke my trust."

She turned to Jack, silently pleading for him to say something that would fix this, but Jack looked just as lost as she felt.

Luke shook his head, backing away from both of them. "I need space. From both of you."

"Luke..." But he was already walking away, his footsteps heavy on the stairs.

Liz turned to Jack again, her tears spilling over. "What do we do now?"

"We give him time."

"What... what if he never forgives us?"

"He's your best friend, and he's my brother. He'll come around. Eventually."

Liz wasn't so sure.

~~

She spent the days following in a fog, her chest constantly tight with guilt. Luke hadn't spoken to her since the confrontation, her phone sitting silent, devoid of her normal texts from her best friend. The distance felt unbearable, a stark contrast to the years of effortless closeness they had shared.

Jack, while supportive, didn't press her. He gave her the space she wanted to process things, though he made it clear he wasn't going anywhere based off his brother's feelings.

"You know where to find me," he'd told her the last time they'd talked.

On the third day of her slump, she decided the silence had gone on long enough. She drove to the Hughes', her heartbeat matching her knocks on the door.

It was Ellen who answered, her smile faltering slightly when she saw Liz.

"Hi, sweetie," she stepped aside to let her in. "Luke's in the basement."

"Is he... okay?"

Ellen sighed. "He's upset, but he'll come around. Just give him time."

Liz nodded, breathing deeply as she made her way downstairs. Luke was on the couch, a hockey game playing on the TV. He glanced up when she walked in, his expression suddenly guarded.

"What do you want?" he asked, his voice flat.

Liz's throat tightened, but she forced herself to speak. "I want to fix this, Luke. I miss you. I miss us."

He looked away. "You should've thought about that before you started hooking up with Jack."

Her eyes stung. "It wasn't just a hookup. It's way more than that."

Luke scoffed. "That's what they all think with Jack. You're just another girl to me, Liz. You're better than that."

"No, I'm not," she said firmly. "You think you know Jack, but you don't see the side of him I do. He's not perfect, but he's trying. And he cares about me, Luke. This isn't just sex for him."

"It doesn't matter. You lied to me. You both did. How am I supposed to trust either of you after this?"

Liz tried... and failed to blink back tears. "I made a mistake by not telling you, Luke. But that doesn't mean I stopped caring about you. You're my best friend. You always will be. Please don't let my mistake ruin us."

For a long moment, he didn't respond. Then, with a heavy sigh, he turned off the TV and faced her.

"I need more time," he said quietly. "I can't forgive you that quickly, Lizzy. But I don't want to lose you either."

She nodded, her tears still falling. "Take the time you need, Lu."

~~

Later that evening, it was Jack's turn to face Luke's rage.

"You're really something, you know that?" Luke said, his arms crossed as he stood in the kitchen, glaring at his older brother.

"Look, I know I screwed up, okay? I should've told you the truth. But this thing with Liz--it's not a game, Luke. I care about her."

Luke's laugh was bitter. "Care about her? Since when do you care about anyone but yourself?"

"That's not fair," Jack snapped. "I've made mistakes in the past, yeah. But Liz isn't one of them."

"You don't get it, Jack! She's my best friend. She's like family to me. And you--you just take whatever you want without thinking about the consequences."

Jack stepped forward, his jaw tight. "You think this was easy for me? You think I didn't know how much it would hurt you if you found out? But I couldn't stop, Luke. I--"

"I love her," he finished.

"You love her?" Luke asked, an unreadable look on his face.

"Yeah... I do."

For a moment, Luke said nothing. Then he sighed, his shoulder slumping slightly.

"If you hurt her," he said lowly. "I'll never forgive you."

"I won't. I swear."

~~

"Luke and I talked," Jack said, letting Liz snuggle further into his side. "He's still pissed, but I think he's finally starting to come around."

Liz smiled faintly. "He said the same thing to me. I just hope he forgvies us someday."

"He will. I know Luke. You know Luke. He'll get there."

"Did you really mean it? What you told him?"

Jack frowned. "I... what did I tell him?"

Liz smirked. "Don't play dumb, pretty boy. About...lo--"

Realization dawned on his face, and he chuckled softly. "Yeah, I meant it. I love you, Liz."

Her breath hitched and he squeezed her hand. "I love you too!"

~~

It took a while, but eventually Liz and Luke were, well.... Liz and Luke again. They'd spend their free-time together just like they always had, making fun of horrible straight to Netflix movies and playing hockey in the driveway. They were best friends again, just as they were meant to be.

And slowly but surely, Luke came around to Jack and Liz being a couple. Jack had somehow proved his worth, whether it was through the way he supported Liz when she was down or how he already had every little detail about the girl memorized--her coffee order, her favourite book, what movies she watched when she was happy, sad, and the exact words she needed to hear when she was doubting herself.

It wasn't some grand gesture that that changed Luke's mind but a series of small everyday actions that proved Jack was serious. For the first time in his life, Jack wasn't just chasing a fleeting thrill or looking for a quick escape. He had found something real, someone he didn't just want--someone he was willing to fight for.

Luke still gave them grief from time to time, teasing Jack about being whipped or Liz about how much Jack was her regular type. But deep down, he was happy for them.

Because if there was one thing Luke cared about more than anything, it was that Liz was happy. And she was--truly, deeply, happier than he'd ever seen her.

And that was all that mattered.

[yassbishimvintage]

Have A Baby By Me

MDNI! You are in charge of ya own experience.

Warnings: Smutty smut. Breeding kink. Marriage?

A/N: As one of my good sis's has said to me breeding kink. But breeding kink on Aaron. I had to.

The sun broke in their bedroom. Cleo was still knocked out from their night. When she awoke he was nowhere to be found in the upstairs of their shared home. So she showered and got dressed. Something simple. Well simple enough for a woman who’s man kept her in skin tight dresses and Christian Louboutins. When she got down on their main floor she noticed his office door was open.

He has scripts strewn all over the place. She smiled at the look of him. Aaron looks up and smiles. “Good morning my love.” he says. Cleo smiles at the sound of his voice. The accent is thick. “Good morning.” Cleo responds. Cleo takes a seat in front of him. “We need to revisit the baby conversation.” she says softly to him.

“Love. We talked about this. I want the legacy.” he starts. “And I want your last name!” she fires back.

Cleo rose gracefully from her seat, the soft click of her Louboutins on the floor drawing Aaron’’s attention as she rounded the desk. Without a word, she placed her hands gently on his shoulders, her delicate fingers tracing slow, soothing circles against the fabric of his shirt.

Aaron leaned back slightly in his chair, tilting his head to look up at her, his expression one of both curiosity and admiration. “To what do I owe this pleasure?” he asked, his voice low and inviting.

Cleo bent down slightly, her lips brushing close to his ear as she whispered, “I want to be married to you before I bring a child into this world, Araron.” 

His smile widened, a deep chuckle escaping his lips. “We can make that happen Cleo. Anything you want I can do.” he said, his hands instinctively reaching up to rest on her hips.

“Good,” she murmured, leaning in to press a soft kiss against his temple. “Because I wasn’t planning on you resisting.”

Aaron turned his chair slightly to face her, his eyes locking onto hers. “You’re a dangerous distraction, Ms.Morgan,” he teased, his voice filled with warmth. “But I’m not complaining.”

Cleo tilted her head, her cloudy grey eyes shimmering with mischief. “I wouldn’t be doing my job as your wife if I didn’t keep you on your toes,” she replied, her hands moving down to straighten the collar of his shirt.

Araron tightened his grip on her waist, his expression softening. “And you do it so effortlessly,” he said, pulling her a little closer. “But you might have to take responsibility for all the work I’m not getting done right now.”

Cleo smiled, leaning down to plant a lingering kiss on his lips. “Consider it my way of reminding you who your real boss is,” she said with a wink.

Aaron laughed, shaking his head. “Point taken, love. Point taken.”

She sighs. “I hate this is being a strain. Since you haven’t touched me in a week.” she says pouting. 

Aaron’s eyebrows shot up, and a sly grin spread across his face as Cleo’s words hung in the air. He leaned back in his chair, his eyes narrowing playfully as he looked up at her.

“Oh?” he said, his voice low and full of intrigue. “Is that right?”

Cleo trailed her fingers along the edge of his jaw, her touch featherlight. “Mm-hmm,” she whispered, leaning closer until her lips were just barely brushing his ear. “I think it’s about time we fixed that, don’t you?”

Aaron let out a soft chuckle, his hands sliding up to rest on her hips. “You’re full of dangerous ideas today, Cleo,” he murmured, his voice thick with amusement and desire.

“Dangerous?” Cleo tilted her head, feigning innocence. “I’d call it overdue.”

Aaron stood, his imposing frame towering over her as he gently spun her around, pressing her back against his desk. “Overdue, huh?” he said, his tone challenging. His fingers traced the hem of her dress, his eyes never leaving hers. “You know what happens when you tease me like this, don’t you?”

Cleo smirked, unbothered by the shift in power. “I was hoping you’d show me, Mr. Pierre.”

His grin turned wicked as he leaned down, his lips grazing hers. “Lock the door, mi amor,” he whispered against her mouth.

Without breaking eye contact, Cleo reached behind him, her hand finding the lock on the door with practiced ease. The satisfying click was all the encouragement Aaron needed to keep the staff from wondering in. 

“You’ve been asking for this,” he said, his voice low and commanding, as his hands slid around her waist.

“And I’m not sorry,” she shot back, pulling him closer.

Whatever meetings were on Aarons schedule that day would have to wait.

Aaron’s hands moved with deliberate care as he lifted Cleo onto the polished surface of his desk. The cold wood met the warmth of her skin, and she gasped softly at the sensation.

He stepped between her knees, his hands spreading them slightly as he leaned forward, his lips grazing her jawline. “You’ve got no idea how hard it is to focus when you show up looking like this,” he murmured, his voice a low growl.

Cleo tilted her head back, her fingers tangling in the fabric of his tie, pulling him closer. “Oh, I know,” she teased, her smirk laced with mischief. “That’s why I came.”

Aaron chuckled, his hands sliding up her thighs, fingers tracing lazy circles. “You’re trouble, Mrs. Pierre,” he whispered against her skin. She heard it come off his lips so easily.

“And you love it,” she breathed, her nails lightly scraping down his shoulders.

His lips found hers, the kiss deep and possessive, filled with the unspoken tension they both carried. As the world outside his office faded away, Aaaron pulled back just enough to look into her eyes.

“This is going to be a long lunch break,” he said, his tone laced with promise.

Cleo grinned, her hands tugging him closer. “Then you better make it worth it, Mr. Pierre.”

With that, Aaron leaned down, reclaiming her lips as the scripts scattered across the desk became the least important thing in the room.

She moved her hands to unzip his pants. Cleo automatically could see the hard on that is being concealed by his briefs. Impatient, overcoming him he guided her hands to take them off. In typical fashion it springs out from the confinement. He pushes her dress up so that it's scrunched on her stomach. 

She whispers in his ear. “I’m ovulating.” That’s all he needed to hear. Two simple words. 

“Fuck!” he grumbles as he enters her. This time it felt different. Her hands secure on his shoulders. “Do  you trust me love?” he asks. His voice low and lust ridden. “Yes Daddy.” Cleo says ready for him to do something. 

He began to thrust. “A…..” her voice wobbly as soon as she felt him start to zone out. Each thrust became more intentional. When his pace started to really pick up “Aaron….” her words slurring as she felt her orgasm coming. “Just a little bit longer love.” his voice slurring. Her nails dug into his back. Not the first time and damn sure won’t be the last time. 

She felt her orgasm come crashing down hard. Aaron came soon after but he kept going. He has always been the type to cum and keeping fucking. Thank you to all those natural shit he takes. He rests his forehead against hers. “We better be expecting.” he says. “We better be married before the child gets her Mr. Pierre.” she quips back.

Cleo slid off the desk, her legs slightly wobbly as she straightened her skirt and smoothed her blouse. She glanced at the desk, quickly gathering the scattered papers and setting them back in a neat pile.

Aaron leaned against the desk, arms crossed, watching her with a satisfied smirk. “You’re going to be thinking about this all day,” he teased, his voice a low rumble.

Cleo shot him a look as she adjusted her hair in the reflection of his office window. “You mean you’re going to be thinking about it all day,” she countered, her lips curving into a smirk of her own.

He stepped behind her, his hands resting lightly on her hips as he whispered in her ear, “I already am.”

She let out a soft laugh, spinning to face him, her fingers straightening the knot of his tie. “You better focus on that meeting you’ve got in ten minutes,” she said, arching a brow.

Aaron chuckled, catching her wrist and pressing a lingering kiss to her palm. “Only if you promise to let me pick you up for dinner tonight.”

“Deal,” Cleo replied with a wink before slipping out of his office, her heels clicking confidently against the floor as she disappeared down the hall.

Aaron watched her leave, shaking his head with a grin. He returned to his chair, his thoughts still lingering on the fiery woman who had just walked out, and the lingering scent of her perfume in the air. Before she could fully get out of his office, he called after her.  “When did you stop wearing panties?” he asks with a smirk.

Cleo paused mid-step, turning back to face him with an amused smile playing on her lips. "Hmm," she mused, tapping her chin as if in deep thought. "Probably around the time I realized it drove you insane."

Aaron leaned back in his chair, his eyes narrowing slightly as his smirk grew wider. "Insane doesn't even begin to cover it," he said, his voice low and laced with hunger.

She stepped closer, resting her hands on the edge of his desk, leaning in just enough to meet his gaze. "Well," she teased, her tone light but suggestive, "if it's such a problem, I could start wearing them again."

His hand shot out, gently circling her wrist. "Don’t you dare," he growled, pulling her closer until she was perched on the edge of the desk once again.

Cleo laughed softly, brushing a hand over his chest. "I figured you'd say that," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, her eyes dancing with mischief.

He pulled her in for a quick kiss, his grip firm but tender. "You're impossible," he muttered against her lips.

"And yet, you love me," she quipped, pulling back just enough to shoot him a sly grin before turning on her heel and sauntering toward the door once more.

"More than you'll ever know," Aaron called after her, shaking his head with a mix of amusement and exasperation as he watched her leave. “And next time leave my favorite pair next time. The purple lace.” he says with a smirk.

Cleo stopped in her tracks, turning her head just enough to glance back at him, her eyebrow arched in playful curiosity. "The purple lace, huh?" she asked, her voice laced with amusement.

Aaron leaned back in his chair, folding his hands behind his head, the smirk on his face growing wider. "You know the ones," he said, his tone slow and deliberate, "the ones that barely leave anything to the imagination. My absolute favorite."

Cleo chuckled softly, stepping back toward him with measured grace, her heels clicking against the floor. She stopped just in front of him, leaning down slightly to meet his gaze. "Too bad I haven't worn those in a while," she teased, tilting her head.

"Shame," he replied, his dark eyes gleaming with mischief. "Guess I'll just have to buy you another set."

She laughed, brushing her fingers under his chin. "Maybe I’ll surprise you," she said, straightening up. "But you’ll have to wait and see."

He grabbed her hand before she could fully pull away, tugging her just close enough to whisper, "You know patience isn’t my strong suit, love."

Cleo smiled, shaking her head as she gently freed her hand. "Well, you'll just have to practice," she said, turning back toward the door with a deliberate sway in her hips.

Araron watched her leave, his smirk unwavering. "Purple lace," he muttered to himself, already plotting. "Noted."

When she got to her car, she was fearful for the night. She knows that they will have to talk about two things. Baby Pierre that probably just was conceived and marriage. 

Tags:

@nahimjustfeelingit-writes @avoidthings @nayaesworld @haechvn

@writingsbytee @violetmuses @grlsbstshot @ovohanna24 @skvrpion @megamindsecretlair @kimuzostar

[leonkennedybreedingkink]

BRING TO BOIL

coworker!leon x reader

tags: mention of child abuse (non-explicit), semi-nsfw. i be thinking about subleon ngl

Leon hasn’t heard a word of this meeting. Virus this, real life supervillain that, blah, blah, blah. Proper noun, adjective, verb—none of it means a damn thing when you’re standing across from him, looking vaguely irritated in your little black dress.

God, what were you doing? Were you in a club? Were you with friends? He hopes you were. What else is the purpose of a dress that could bring a man to his knees?

That’s Leon’s favorite place to be, on his knees in front of a beautiful woman. He doesn’t even have to be doing anything, either, he could be happy just having his head pet by said beautiful woman.

He snaps out of his thoughts when he notices he’d been staring at the freckle on your left tit for a bit too long, clearing his throat quietly and looking away. He looks back over when you shift a little, the sequins on your dress shimmering in the fluorescents.

When there’s a sufficient pause in the briefing, you raise your hand like you’re a schoolgirl again. “Excuse me?”

Leon wishes that hand of yours was on him, preferably on his back as you scratch him up.

“Is it necessary that I’m here? It’s my day off.” You continue, the hand holding your clipboard of the meeting minutes crossing your body to land on the opposite hip, then folding your arms.

You’re leveled with an unimpressed glance over Hunnigan’s glasses. “Yes.” She says shortly, continuing with the briefing.

Leon watches your jaw flex as you hold back some sort of snarky remark, visibly making an effort to calm yourself down despite the way you’re simmering with the way you measure your breaths in and out.

It’s easy for him to tell when you’re pissed off, you’re too expressive for your own good.

The meeting draws to a close and he flips over the notes to get the gist of it—exactly as he bet earlier—before handing his clipboard to Hunnigan’s assistant and letting you wave him and everyone else out before you, chalking it up to self-consciousness.

He’s less than a foot away from the door and into the hallway when you hurl your clipboard against the wall as hard as you can.

You throw the clipboard the way you throw a punch, shifting your weight in your hips and shoulders. “Fuck!” Papers flutter to the floor as he watches the board bounce off the wall and land with a quiet thud on the linoleum, pink plastic splintered in the middle.

You stand there in silence, chest heaving and fists balled up.

Leon turns around because he could never resist a woman who could kick his ass, chalk it up to mommy being a little heavy handed in her discipline. Well, that, and he’s never seen you so pissed off.

While he can read your face like a book, you also tend to swallow your pride and any emotion in favor of focusing on the mission. Eventually, you calm down, you’ve just gotta steam about it.

He leans against the wall, hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans. “‘S this about your day off being interrupted?”

Eyes up, Kennedy.

He watches you push a hand through your hair, hands shaking minutely with the adrenaline rush.

“Yeah.” And he can see you rearing up for a fight, as if he’s about to taunt you for being a very stupid little girl to be so upset about a day off being interrupted.

Leon holds his hands up, taking a step in. “I get it. This exact thing has happened to me more times than I can count.”

Somehow, this seems to placate you. He watches you clean up the papers, crouched down on the floor in your heels. When something’s too far out of reach, you kneel and reach out for them and he has to swallow.

“I feel like the maid.” You grumble, standing up and straightening the papers haphazardly before clipping them against the board again. “Can the world just not implode for one day?”

Leon snorts and you mistake it for him laughing at you, head snapping up and eyes narrowed.

“Hey, easy.” He speaks to you the way one does an angry tiger, taking a few more steps into the room to be by your side. Moth, meet flame. “I’m right there with you. Next time I go on vacation, I’m leaving my work phone here and not telling anyone.”

Your shoulders droop. “I should’ve done that.” You sulk, mouth twisting to the side.

“Yeah, well, now you know.” Leon muses, gently taking the abused clipboard from you and taking care not to look you in the tits instead of in the eye.

He sets a gentle hand on your shoulder, leading you out of the meeting room. “Maybe you should get changed.” He says carefully, his hand having migrated down to between your shoulder blades.

Then, an idea occurs to him, a small smile appearing on his face as he says casually, “Not that I’m not thankful for the view or anything, but—“

“Leon!” You swipe at his arm and he has to fight a lovesick giggle. Mission accomplished, your mind’s off your disrupted day off and he has your hands on him.

Leon has to stifle a piteous sigh when he sees you again, this time in a leather jacket and jeans. On one hand, he’s grateful you’re not torturing him anymore. On the other, he’s never gonna be able to get that view out of his head. On the other other hand, you walk around looking like that, no matter what you wear.

He’s between a rock and a hard place, except he’s the rock and the hard place.

The helicopter ride is always bumpy to wherever you’re dropped off. At least it’s somewhere in the Northern Hemisphere this time, Leon’s full from his previous, more exotic missions.

You fold your arms around yourself once you’re off the helicopter, looking around with a frown on your face.

Leon chuckles quietly, pushing a comm into his ear and threading it over the shell. When you have trouble, he reaches over and helps you pull it on. “You’re still mad about being called in on your day off?”

You grumble, holding your hair out of the way for him. “Wouldn’t you be?”

“Oh, of course.” He threads the cord around your ear, making sure it’s snug and coming to your side, keeping the wire pressed to your skin with his fingertips. “I think that once we have something to fight, you’ll quit brooding so much.”

“I don’t brood.” You huff, stuffing the comm thread down your shirt.

Leon looks away to preserve your dignity.

“That’s more you, in any case.”

Leon smiles, jamming his hands into his pockets. “That may be true.”

You sigh, pulling your hair up. Leon imagines tracing the slope of your neck with his nose, mouth watering at the thought. “Let’s go, I wanna be able to go home and brood in peace, sooner rather than later.”

“Yes, ma’am.” You’ll never know the kick he gets out of being able to say that to you.

Real-life supervillain and cronies gone, you can focus on information. He was right, you look a lot lighter when you’ve had the chance to beat the shit out of something and kill it dead. You walk with a little spring in your step, now, and he so dearly wants to sweep you into his arms.

He refrains, but watches you hunch over a table and break into the mainframe of this little facility for a moment. He needs to write a cease and desist for your jeans, God. While you do that, he scopes out the rest of it, his hand on the gun at his hip with a flashlight in the other hand.

Pause, glance, listen down one side, then the other. Too quiet, it shouldn’t be this quiet. If Raccoon City taught him anything, if something’s quiet, something’s wrong.

Pause, glance, listen down another side. Leon wanders down the hall slowly, senses primed for whatever jumps out at him.

He gets his wish, tackled from the front by some abomination of nature and hitting his head on the linoleum on the way down. When it spits stomach acid at him, he dodges with a sluggish grunt, trying to shake it off and get out from under it.

At least he isn’t being choked.

Still, Leon can’t grab his gun or knock the thing silly, he’s not even sure this thing has a brain he can concuss. It’s almost sad that this thing and him are about equal in strength, maybe he should hit the gym.

Leon’s saved when you put two holes in the thing’s head. Unfortunately, it looks up and bares its teeth at you, getting up from straddling him as some drool lands on his face.

You empty the chamber into it with fear rapidly appearing on your face. He knows that look, he’s felt it more than once. Leon spots the fire axe on the wall and gets to his feet, breaking the glass with the butt of his gun and yanking it out.

He cleaves the abomination in half, splattering him and you in blood. “Are you okay?” He huffs, hauling the axe out of its shoulder and tossing it aside with a metallic clatter.

You nod, wiping some of the blood off your face. He wonders if you can hear after using a gun without ear protection, but that’ll be catalogued later, when you’re both home.

Leon registers the burning on his face a moment later, wiping fervently at his skin and wiping it off on his jeans.

“I can’t believe this.” He mutters, not even bothering to worry about his shirt rapidly succumbing to the acidic blood. You glance down, eyes wandering to the spots of skin you can see. “You get called in on your day off and I almost die because this thing is acidic.”

“Was.” You mutter back, putting your empty gun in the holster. Good, you’re still in good spirits. “Maybe I should be asking if you are okay.”

“I’ll be fine.” He’s a little woozy from hitting his head, but he’s a big boy, he’ll live. He might not if you check him over, only thing you’d be missing is a sexy nurse outfit.

“Good.” You hold up a thumb drive. “I got what we needed.”

“Good.” Leon takes your hand and pulls you out of the facility—but he’s maybe not the best man for navigation right now. You swiftly change roles with him, leading the two of you out of the facility and to the rendezvous point.

When you’re finally back at HQ being checked over, he slides a page over to you, his number messily scrawled on it. “Next time you’re wearing a dress like that, call me.” He murmurs, eyes half-shut, “Almost brought me to my knees.”

Chalk it up to the concussion.

[tinkywinkyschauffeur2]

Ooh long post warning! There’ll be a TL;DR at the end but I feel in the mood to ramble.

There’s a neat little book called 101 Things I Learnt In Architecture School by Matthew Frederick that i fell in love with many years ago. I found it again recently and I was surprised at how many of the principles applied to writing and world building. There’s one part in particular called Being Process Oriented which I find myself coming back to whenever I feel hesitant to make any changes that will affect the canon and I find that it helps a lot.

(Below is a direct quote from the book. If it sounds like something anyone would be interested in there’s a copy on the internet archive, or you can support the author and buy the book too! :) )

Being Process Oriented

1. Seek to understand a problem before chasing after solutions

2. Don’t force fit a solution to an old problem onto a new problem

3. Remove yourself from prideful investment in your projects. Be slow to fall in love with your ideas

4. Make design investigations and decisions holistically (addressing several aspects of a design problem at once) rather than sequentially (finalising one aspect of a solution before investigating the next)

5. Make design choices conditionally - that is, with the awareness that they may or may not work out as you continue toward a final solution

6. Learn how to know when to change and when to stick to previous decisions

7. Accept as normal the anxiety that comes around not knowing what to do

8. Work fluidly between concept-scale and detail-scale to see how one informs the other

9. Always ask what if regardless of how satisfied you are with your solution

OC wise, these will apply mostly when you’re making deliberate choices in their story /major world building but 5 and 7 I find can apply pretty much all the time. 3 frustrates me but more often than not is true. However if something isn’t sitting right with your OC you’re more than welcome to change it. No one will change it if you don’t. You are ultimately the only one in the world who knows the complete extent of the lives that you hold in your head. Think of it like sculpting. Things will start out rough but eventually once you really know your OC I find that they tend to just tell you their story themselves, and all the fine details start slotting into place.

You are free to retcon as many things as you like. Things that I have retconned and then look back on are like artefacts of a person that I used to be that suited my artistic tastes at the time but I’ve since grown and they no longer fit. If you find yourself changing things it could be because it works better in the story or in the design, but also it could be that you’ve grown, and your understanding of character development has grown too.

Your OCs accompany you through this life, and naturally they’ll pick up some of the debris. Let it happen. Backspace and erase and wash away and crumple up as much as you need. Recycle the things you cut off and make the most beautiful sculpture of odds and ends. A scrapbook, a time capsule, of you and them.

TL;DR - Don’t be afraid to change things, because you’re the only one who can. Your OCs won’t draw or write themselves :)

I have a question for people with ocs cause I have this weird thing that’s blocking me from creating any art with mine, that if I don’t have their story finished then I’m afraid to draw anything related to the current story cause what if I change it? what if I change the characters designs again and then all the previous art is outdated? so the question is — does it bother you too or do you just go with the flow and draw them regardless? it might be a stupid thing really but it’s always in the back of my head when I think about my characters and universe that if it’s not finished then it’s not worth sharing with others

[ladykailitha]

The Caged Bird Still Sings Part 17

Sorry to leave you on that cliffhanger. If I hadn't screwed up you would have only had to wait a week instead of two. But tada! The mysterious [REDACTED] from WIP Wednesday.

Steve recovers from his no good horrible bad day with the help of those who love him.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16

~

Steve raised his head and peeked out of the covers. “Eddie? How are you here?”

Eddie was at his side in an instant. “Hey, sweetheart,” he murmured, stroking Steve’s hair. “The tour is over beautiful. It’s coming home day, did you forget?”

“Mr. Munson,” Bob said, moving away from the bed. “We were trying to get him up before you came back. But it was harder then we planned.”

“You did an admirable job,” Eddie assured him. He turned back to Steve. “Robin told me about what happened. I’m sorry, little Canary. I wish I could have protected you from that.”

Steve let out a little whimper.

“What’s your name?” he asked Rosa and when she supplied it, he said, “would you go a draw a bath for Steve? I don’t think he’s up for a shower.”

She hastened to do as he asked.

“Bob, go ring up the kitchen and have them prepare a light meal. Soup, salad, chicken that’s light on the sauce. Anything that wouldn’t hurt an already upset stomach.”

Bob nodded and moved over to the desk phone to do just that. Eddie carefully removed the blankets as they were sticking to Steve’s skin.

He picked him up and carried him to the bathroom where he stripped Steve of his underwear and socks and lowered him into the bath.

“You just stay there, and I’ll be right back to wash your hair, mmk?”

Steve nodded and dumped half the bottle of bubbles into the water causing Eddie to laugh.

Steve laid his head back on the rim of the bathtub with a sigh. He could feel the heat of the water seep into his bones and muscles as he relaxed for the first time since he was forcibly vacated from his job.

Eddie came back in a moment a later and knelt behind Steve’s head. He tipped Steve’s head forward as he poured water over his hair. Steve hissed as the warm water hit his head a shoulders.

“Is it too hot, sweetheart?” Eddie asked gently, stopping his pouring.

“No,” Steve assured him. “I just wasn’t expecting it. It felt good.”

He smiled and began pouring again, once Steve’s hair was completely wet, he added shampoo to his hands and scrubbed it through his hair. He rinsed out the shampoo and washed it again. He continued to do this until all the stickiness had been washed out of the hair. He grabbed the conditioner and ran it gently through Steve’s hair, massaging his scalp.

“You think you can scrub yourself while that sets, beautiful?” he asked, getting to his feet. “I need to go see about your dinner.”

Steve nodded and set to work doing just that. Eddie patted the edge of the tub and walked out, leaving him to finish cleaning himself off. The bubbles almost towered of the top of the water, making the work harder and more fun. He had built a tower of foam by the time the other man came back.

“Someone is having fun,” he huffed and Steve smiled for the first time in days. “Let’s get your hair rinsed and you toweled off. Your friends have gone for now, but they promised to be back after you eat.”

“Okay.”

Once his hair had been rinsed out, he got out of the tub and toweled off, slipping on the yellow frilly robe Eddie had got for him the day he met Robin. He buried his nose into the collar and breathed in the scent of lavender soap that Rosa always used when doing his laundry.

He walked out of the bathroom to find that his bedding had been replaced and the floors cleaned. The carpet was still damp in places where it had been scrubbed.

“Sorry about that,” he muttered going over to sit on the chair.

“It’s all right, little Canary,” Eddie said gently stroking his wet hair. “You shouldn’t have had to go through that. I’m sorry that you had to at all.”

They ate in silence and then Steve’s friends came back in and Eddie slipped out so that Steve could talk to them.

“He’s a good man,” Rosa said firmly. “But I thought he was, eh? Primo?”

Bob grimaced. “That was just something to help keep Steve safe. He’s more...” he waved his hand back in forth, “novio? Ish?”

Steve snorted.

He wasn’t sure there was a term in Spanish for what Eddie was to him. Hell he wasn’t even sure there was one in English. Or at least not a polite one, anyway.

“You let him take care of you,” Rosa huffed, “and I won’t get some many grey hairs, yes?”

Steve burst out laughing. “If you wanted more money to pay your hairdresser, Rosa, you should have asked. I would have been tipping bigger.”

She swatted at him with her towel, but they were both smiling at each other, so Steve considered it a win.

Once they were satisfied he was going to be fine, they left him alone. He let out a shuddering breath and let out all his emotions that he had bottled up since the incident at work. He let out another breath and then another. He was amazed at the end that he wasn’t a sobbing mess.

Steve got up and called Robin.

“Steve!” she admonished. “God, I was starting to get really worried about you. Are you okay? Do you need anything?”

“I’m fine,” he assured her. “I just needed some time to process what happened. It was so messed up. I mean Tommy and I were assholes in school, but we wouldn’t have pulled something like that. That’s insane!”

“Yeah,” Robin said slowly like the word was dragged out of her. “I was thinking about that too. Like, yeah there was some bullying, but the usual shoving people against lockers and giving them wedgies, but this? This feels malicious in a way I have no words for.”

“It feels like something my dad would do.”

That statement hung between them for a moment and Robin’s breath stuttered at the weight of it.

“Shit, Steve,” she whispered. “I–I just never realized how bad things were you with your parents. I guess I pushed how bad it must have been for you under a rug in my head because I didn’t want to face how badly you’ve been treated. I’m sorry.”

Steve let out a long suffering sigh. It had always been the point of contention among all the kids, most of the adults, and yes even Robin, that they just didn’t understand what Steve was going through.

“I’m not sure it’ll make you feel better,” she said softly, “but according to your little nuggets, Hopper downplayed the argument he had with Joyce.”

Steve blinked for a moment as he tried to remember her saying something about that. The way she had first said it made it sound like that they merely had had a conversation and Joyce had agreed to back off.

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” she hedged. “So Will said that they had a really bad fight. Hop was saying that if she hadn’t been such a hard ass on you about the job, you wouldn’t have gotten assaulted twice. Joyce complained, saying that he had just told her who was bankrolling your stay, this would have never happened.”

Steve closed his eyes and flopped on the bed. “Shit.”

“It gets worse,” she said dryly.

“How could it possibly be worse than that?” he asked, suddenly sitting up.

“Hop told her that she would have behaved badly if she knew who had rescued you,” Robin continued. “She didn’t like that. She said that she didn’t care who was taking care of you as long as she had a name.”

Dread pooled in Steve’s stomach and began to twist. “He told her, didn’t he?”

“Yeah,” she said softly, “and as predicted she flipped her shit. Hopper told her the ‘you waiting for Monty to get off work’ line so you could spend the night at his place. But know she thinks he’s your sugar daddy and blew up at Hop for thinking that was appropriate to have around Ellie.”

“She didn’t.”

“She did,” Robin said. “Hopper pointed out that not only had Eddie been on tour for three months he’d been taking care of you, but that marrying someone rich and letting them take care of you wasn’t the sin everyone made it out to be.”

Steve did a fist pump. “Score one for Hopper! That’s incredible.”

“Yeah,” she sighed wistfully. “And then he told her that he would trust you and Eddie before he trust you with anyone else in the whole god damned town!”

“Wait,” Steve said, suddenly frowning, “Will told you all this?”

“Ellie, too,” Robin said warily. “The whole thing was a shit show and right now Hop and Joyce aren’t talking.”

“Thanks for the heads up,” he muttered. “How are the rest of the kids taking it?”

“Like even Mike is on your side,” she huffed with a bitter laugh. “Which is really saying something. But I think the most surprising is that Jonathan is mad at her for the whole thing. Apparently he had been trying to warn her for awhile. He said he suspected it might be someone like Eddie who was helping you out. Which blew everyone else’s mind let me tell you.”

Steve chuckled, twirling the phone cord around his finger. “You’ve got to be careful, it’s always the silent types that surprise you.”

“Yeah, sure,” Robin scoffed. “But anyway, I’m glad you’re feeling better. You up for a BBF day?”

“Not to today,” Steve said with a sigh. “Maybe tomorrow, but I wanted to let you know that I was alive and that you didn’t have start planning a funeral or some shit.”

“Message received loud and clear,” she said cheerfully. “And thanks for the heads up. You have a nice pamper day and call me tomorrow, okay?”

“Roger that!” Steve said, a smile on his face. “Bye!” He hung up and flopped on the bed again. He stared up at the ceiling in awe. He never meant for Hopper and Joyce to blow up at each other like that. He just wanted her back off and now...

“I can hear you catastrophizing from here,” a warm voice said with a chuckle. “It’s not your fault with what happened between Hop and Joyce Byers. She shouldn’t have kept pushing like she did.”

Steve scrambled to wrap the robe around his waist as the belt had come loose during his talk with Robin, showing a lot more than was probably decent for company.

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly coming over to sit in the chair across from the sofa. “I forgot you were coming back in everything that was going on.”

“That’s okay, little Canary,” Eddie said with soft smile. “You needed the comfort of your friends and I’m happy you’re up and doing better. You’ve got color back in your cheeks. You were so pale when I came in.”

Steve blushed adding more color to his cheeks.

“I’ve got a room across the hall from you,” he murmured, “so if you need anything, just come on over. I’ll be in most of the time, but I would like to visit family a little while I’m in town.”

“Oh gosh!” Steve gushed. “Of course. I’m not your keeper, you can come and go how ever you like. I’ll just do what I always do.”

“Which is what exactly?” he asked with a dimpled grin. Steve wanted to bite them. “I’ve been out of touch for awhile.”

“This and that,” he said with a shrug. “I draw some, I go see movies, I’ve been trying all sorts of hobbies and things. My latest is learning how to skateboard. One of the kids I used to babysit is teaching me.”

“That explains all the purchases at the skate shop then,” he said with a wink. He patted the seat next to him. “Come sit by me. I think we have a lot to talk about.”

Steve chewed his lip for a moment and then nodded. He got up and slunk over to the sofa and sat down. He turned to face him and put his elbow on the back cushion, drawing his knee up under him.

“I’ve spoken to Hopper,” Eddie said, “and he agrees with me that you should remain here in this hotel room at least until the whole mall thing blows over. And by that I mean you’re free to go, but you’ll still be living at the hotel in this room, specifically.”

Steve let out a long shuddering breath. “That’s a relief honestly,” he said with sigh. “I like the people here. I feel safe here.”

“I’m glad,” Eddie said with a warm smile. “As for what happens in the future is going to be play by ear. The rest of the band in town visiting their families, too. In fact everyone but me got their own old rooms back.”

“Oops!” Steve said with a grimace. “No takesbackies!”

Eddie laughed, throwing back his head. “Never. I like how you decorated the place so I’m not going to force you to move.”

“Thanks for everything,” Steve murmured, bumping their shoulders together. “With the hotel room and the money and the car, my dad still hasn’t found out where I am. Which apparently is making family dinners very tense.”

“They think the bouncer...” Eddie said snapping his fingers, “what was his name?”

Steve smiled. “Monty.”

“Monty!” he crowed. “That’s it! So they think ole Monty has you stashed away somewhere?”

“Pretty much!”

“Well, I think once people start seeing me around town,” Eddie said seriously, “they might put two and two together. But as I said for the long term this is your home, until we can find you something safer.”

“Yeah,” Steve said, breathing a sigh of relief. “Can I tell people who my mysterious benefactor is now?”

Eddie laughed again. “Yeah, sure, little Canary you can tell whoever you want.”

~

Tag List: CLOSED

1- @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog @beelze-the-bubkiss @blondie1006

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @cryptid-system @maya-custodios-dionach

3- @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @irregular-child

4- @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1

5- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

6- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

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8- @scoops-aboy86 @kurofuckingshi16 @watermelonmite @eyehartart @dreamercec

9- @little-birch-boy @yearningagain @micheledawn1975 @sadisticaltarts @steddieislife

10- @fearieshadow @kultiras @thesecondfate @tartarusknight @genderless-spoon

[hiraizyo]

we can go another round, maybe to a new altitude.

synopsis — having megan a whimpering mess underneath you was a craving that couldn’t be satiated.

smut, overstimulation, crying, mature language, sub!megan, reader being cruel, dirty talk (if you squint), praising.

now playing: altitude, montell fish.

a/n: ehhh i don’t really write smut that much so i hope this’ll do, happy reading!

"fuck! please, please…”

megan’s voice quivered ever so slightly once your fingers curled inside her, eyes screwed shut. her bottom lip was caught between her teeth, biting down softly as she attempted to quieten her moans.

your hand was dipped between her legs, drawing circles around her bundle of nerves, teasing her entrance every now and then.

her body was flushed, hot and sweaty. there was heat radiating off her from the past few hours of sex, her number of orgasms by now lost in her head.

you chuckled darkly, "did we learn our lesson today, darling?"

"yes, yes…” she panted, nodding rapidly. her hand moved to grip your wrist, prompting you to move faster with whatever strength she had left.

your mouth watered at the sight of her, messy hair all around the pillow, her chest rising and falling rapidly. liquid was gushing out of her, your fingers enveloped by her velvety walls. it was almost enough to make you want to forgive her.

she knew better than to make you jealous, but megan was always pushing your buttons, loving the way you fucked her as retaliation.

“i wonder what your friends would think — you, on the verge of crying, begging me like the little slut you are."

she practically dripped at the filth in your words, squeezing around your fingers. megan could feel the knot in her stomach tightening, awaiting release, awaiting the pleasure that would soon wash over her body.

she was close, so close.

megan could feel it, and she knew you could too judging by the way your thumb rubbed over her clit. the circular motion caused her hips to stutter, breath caught in her throat. you gripped her hip with your other hand, holding her down.

her head falls back against the pillow, hips rolling, eyes fluttering shut. she was lost in the ecstasy.

“oh, god!”

the feeling was unlike any other when she finally had her release, the coil in her lower stomach letting loose as she came all over your hand. you helped ride out her high, slowing down your movements.

the ginger’s hand moved up to rest her palm on her forehead, her breathing was labored as she swallowed dryly.

“you’re being such a good girl for me, megs.” you told her, the praise making her feel even more lightheaded than she already was.

she sent a tired smile your way, looking up at you with flushed cheeks and a dazed look in her eyes. she watched her movements, seeing you lick your hand clean. then, she tried to move way once she saw you moving your head downwards.

“think you can give me another?”

megan shook her head violently, “t-too much!”

“aw, come on angel.” you took a long lick up her walls, megan moaning at the feeling. her hips rolled against your mouth. despite her mind going against your request, her body had a different reaction.

you kissed her inner thigh, then biting down softly on the flesh. “what happened to being my little plaything?”

megan tried to gather her thoughts, but her mind was clouded with the aftermath of her orgasm, still coming down.

“still am,” she whimpered, tingles going up her body when she felt your hand trace on her hips. “just need a moment.”

“ah uh, no can do.” the smirk on your lips sent a jolt straight to megan’s core, knowing what was coming next. “you will take it.”

the chinese girl barely had a chance to nod in response before she felt your lips on her, licking and sucking harshly. you tongue dipped into her hole, nose bumping against her clit. the sensation had her letting out a cry of pleasure.

as you continued your ministrations, megan knew you were going into overdrive. tears appeared at the bottom of her eyes, threatening to fall. her whimpers were like music to your ears, feeling pride swell in your chest at the fact that it was you having her act like this.

her legs were place placed over your shoulders, heels digging into your back. megan’s hand moved down to your head, tangling her fingers in your hair.

you moaned against her, the vibrations brining her closer to the edge of release. her cries were nothing but louder than ever, throat feeling raw from all the screaming she’d done.

her muscles began to tense up, and you knew that she was close to cumming again. megan’s whole body was shaking, the tears running down her cheeks at the pain and pleasure.

“i-i can’t… fuck, yn.” she whined, tugging on your hair. the overstimulation was getting to her, while you relished in having a taste of her.

it didn’t take long before megan’s orgasm hit her, taking control of her body and mind. her eyes screwed shut, she moaned loudly, gasping and letting out shuttered breaths. you lapped at the juices that leaked out of her, taking as much as you possibly could.

you placed a kiss to her clit making her shiver. slowly moving her legs carefully off your shoulder, you kissed up her body until you reached her lips. your hands were on either side of her, settling your body above hers.

the kiss was filled with passion, megan tasting herself on her lips while you tasted the salty tears. pulling away, you smiled down at her.

“you did so well, my love.”

tucking a few pieces of hair behind her ear, you looked in her eyes with such love that she couldn’t even believe how evil you were being to her a second ago. she hummed, peering up at hazily you, too fucked out to say anything back.

you kissed her nose, then her cheek, and all over her face until you reached jaw and neck. megan’s nails hand scratched the base of your neck where your baby hairs were, giggling at the tickling sensation of your kisses.

“come on, let’s get you cleaned up.” you told her, getting off the bed and gently lifting her up, carrying her into the bathroom where you’d draw her a bath.

lol whatever this is…

quick post while i take a break and think of other fun stuff to write, since i have a sophia imagine in mind <3 but i fear the megan obsession is getting to me

[ebongawk]

gimme kiss #41 😎

41. A kiss out of spite

"Chrissy will you–– Hey, man move it–– Will you please just talk to me? Chrissy! Babe, wait up!"

Chrissy was resolute in her marching through the party, red solo cup held above her head to avoid knocking into the swaying bodies. Avoiding the possibility of covering either herself or someone else in wet.

Though she'd swapped her vodka soda out for a water as soon as she saw Jason walk through the doors of the house party they were apparently both attending. She'd have to be sober if she wanted to remain resolute in this breakup.

Her defenses never failed to fall when she got tipsy, and she absolutely refused to take Jason back again. No way, no how, no sir. He was an asshole, and yeah, it had unfortunately taken her most of high school and half of college to realize it, but she couldn't exactly un-realize it now.

Of course, he would just happen to be at the one party she decided to attend this semester since the breakup. After vetting his calls for the past three months and being conveniently out of her apartment whenever he came around (she sent a silent thank you to Heather and Robin for playing up how busy she was as she hid in her bedroom while he was at the door), of course he was doing his absolute best to grab her attention here, of all places.

In public.

It would be mortifying if it wasn't so sad.

Dipping into the basement, Chrissy made her way through yet another throng of bodies before shoving herself into a small clearing. A deep inhale and an exasperated exhale ignited a chuckle from across the way, and Chrissy glanced up.

Oh.

What a pretty boy.

Blinking some of the haze out of her eyes, Chrissy watched the way he tilted his head to one side in curiosity as his eyes darted from her feet to her face. Then, making the trek again but far, far more slowly, Chrissy felt something heated curling dangerously in her stomach.

"All good, toots?" he asked, his voice just loud enough to carry over the din of noise. "Seems like you just ran a marathon. Not all that to find little ol' me, I assume?"

Those dark eyes were alight with some unnamed mischief Chrissy suddenly found herself desperate to identify. He was alone, sitting in the corner of the basement with a cigarette between his lips and a half-beaten lunchbox at his feet. Like some nefarious prince on a deserted island, there was a strange berth of space around him. People milling about but never daring to get too close.

But his question was like a welcoming hand stretching the distance. He'd lowered a moat over crocodile-infested waters and was waiting for her to cross.

She didn't hesitate his extension of refuge.

Plopping wearily down on the small stool he had cleared for her next to his armchair, Chrissy groaned as she rubbed her temples. Setting the red cup at her feet and taking yet another deep, slow breath.

"So, uh," the guy began, sitting forward until he could catch her eye before she let her head droop between her knees. "You come here often?"

Snorting, Chrissy rolled her eyes.

"What, dingy basements at parties?"

"Dingy basements in general." He sat back, crossing his arms over his chest and drawing Chrissy's attention to the stretch of his t-shirt beneath the leather jacket he wore. "Not to, y'know, toot my own horn, but they're kinda my domain, and I've never seen you around."

Once more looking her up and down and igniting that same detrimental heat in her gut, he winked at her. Chrissy almost swooned, cheeks growing warm under his obvious appreciation.

"I'd remember," he finished.

Clearing her throat, Chrissy crossed her legs and smoothed her skirt down.

"I'm not a frequent flyer, no," she admitted. "I don't often even come to these parties, to be honest, but––"

"Ah," the boy said, grinning. "Knew it. You looked like more of an upstairs gal. Never deigned these poor basement dwellers worthy of your presence."

That wasn't necessarily a lie, and Chrissy pursed her lips to quell her indignation. Basements had reputations at parties like this. It was where dark corners lit up with the haze of marijuana and various other substances.

"I don't hold myself to that high of a standard," she muttered instead, making the boy laugh.

"Well, color me lucky, I guess," he chuckled. "That your first foray into the dark might've put you in my path, I mean." Waggling his eyebrows, he let his gaze dip down, then back up. "Maybe having a pretty thing like you on my arm will drum up some business."

"Business?" Chrissy questioned just as her eyes, for the first time, glanced away from the boy and toward the stairs. Pulled by peripheral motion, Chrissy watched from her perch as a familiar head of blond hair came flouncing down each step. Half-hidden by the crowd, he hadn't yet seen her, but she had the vantage point to see him searching for her.

"Oh, nuggets," Chrissy whispered, glancing frantically around for a better hiding spot before Jason found her. The boy at her side seemed to clock her sudden spike of anxiety, his eyes following hers to the new arrival and narrowing.

"Hey, princess, you alright?" he asked, leaning toward her. "You, uh, need me to, y'know, take care of anything?"

His insinuation went entirely over her head as the panic set in, but a different idea somehow managed to infiltrate the static mess of her thoughts.

"Would you kiss me?" she asked, her voice pitched with desperation. The guy's eyes widened impossibly, drawing attention to the thick, unfair ring of eyelashes that framed them. Eyes darting toward Jason, who was facing the other direction, then back again, Chrissy punctuated her question with a little, "Please?"

"Fuck," the boy muttered, ashing his mostly-ignored cigarette in a nearby tray and tangling his fingers in her hair. "Yeah, uh, yeah, sure, whatever the lady doth request."

He tried to pull her in, but the distance between his chair and her stool was too great. Chrissy scrabbled to her knees, hitching a leg over the arm of the chair and half-landing on his lap. The boy chuckled, the sound mingling with Chrissy's giggle as he rested his free hand on her waist and drew her in properly.

"This alright?" he asked, his lips centimeters from hers. Making her heart drum violently in her chest. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw the exact moment Jason noticed her, picking his way through the room with demands that people move out of his way.

"This is perfect," she responded, letting her eyes linger just long enough to grab Jason's attention before she was turning back and closing the gap between her lips and the boy's.

And she forgot, all at once, that she was trying to get back at her ex-boyfriend.

He was a flavor she was unaccustomed to, but suddenly craved. Cigarette, yeah, but it was more than that. It was a deep earthiness melded with something minty, like he'd been chewing gum, maybe. Chrissy moaned, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and pulling herself closer. Sliding from her awkward perch on the arm of the chair and completely into his lap, Chrissy lost herself entirely in his kiss.

He felt so incredibly solid. The hand in her hair pulsed slightly, fingertips gently scrubbing against her scalp with every breathy sound she made. His other hand on her waist squeezed slightly, his palm warm and pleasant on the slight amount of skin she had showing between her top and her skirt. His thighs were sturdy beneath hers, muscle hidden beneath all that black denim.

Someone said her name, she was pretty sure. Yelled it, actually, making the boy growl as he pulled away from her dazed, bee-stung lips.

"Hey, man, fuck off," the boy demanded. "I'm trying to have some quality time with my girl."

Without the hush of the boy's kiss calming her mind, she could hear Jason behind her positively seething.

"Your girl?" he asked, his voice pitched with anger. "She's my girl, dick!"

Still, he dared not intervene. The guilt of his own actions outweighing his apparent claim over their dead relationship. Trying to resuscitate one half of a heart that had happily flatlined months ago.

Looking at her, then over her shoulder with a little smirk, the boy shrugged. Every gesture he made was so incredibly close, and Chrissy cataloged them all in her mind. Filing them away for later dissection.

"Really doesn't seem to be the case, my guy. Why don't you run along home to your little jock itch teammates and try to circle jerk the infection away, huh?"

Jason said something else, but Chrissy didn't hear it. Because the boy was pulling her back in, the heavy rings on his fingers tangling in her hair as he angled her head in just the right way to slip his tongue past her teeth. Chrissy moaned, her body going fully molten in his hands as he drew her in and drank her down, sip by sip by sip.

Far, far too soon, he was gently easing himself from her embrace again. Eyes on her for a long moment before darting away ever so briefly to scan the room.

"Pretty sure he's gone," the boy murmured, his lips nearly close enough that she could feel every syllable. Or maybe it was just the vibration of him, the way he'd somehow, miraculously, already tuned her boy to feel it. "Christ, toots. That fucker an ex of yours, I'm assuming?"

"Unfortunately," she sighed, forcing her fingers to untangle where they'd come to rest on the nape of his neck and slide down his chest. She gently smoothed out the lapels of his jacket. "For, like, months now, but he doesn't seem to take the hint."

"Oh, I think the hint was definitely taken this time, sweetness," the boy smiled, his thumb tucking beneath her chin for a brief moment. "And if not, I mean. I'm always open for a round two, y'know?"

"Yeah?" she asked. "You gonna be in every dingy basement of the party I happen to attend every four-to-six months?"

"Maybe," he shrugged, his eyes glinting with that same unnamed mischief. "Wouldn't be out of the realm of possibility. These assholes are paying for my college education, after all."

"And if, um," she began, her hands curling around his shoulders. "If I said I wanted round two... despite an audience." Dropping her head, Chrissy looked at him from under her lashes. Attempting to appear as coquettish as possible. "Or, maybe, regardless of an audience?"

The curl of his grin was echoed in her stomach, her insides twisting and morphing until they were the exact same shape as his teeth.

He was going to eat her alive, and the only thing she'd be able to say at the end was thank you.

"Yeah?" he asked. "You, uh, thinking now, or you thinking four-to-six months from now?"

"We can start with now," she shrugged, "and see where we're at in four-to-six months."

The boy threw his head back, letting out a long, loud cackle that had Chrissy clinging to him through her own laughter.

"Eddie, by the way," he said, sticking his hand in the scant space between their torsos. Sporting a wide, feral grin that made Chrissy forget all about her discomfort of the night.

Curling her fingers around his, Chrissy shook his hand.

"Chrissy," she introduced herself.

"Chrissy," he repeated, and she was fascinated by the way his tongue curled around her name. The way his lips parted on the second syllable, accentuating the second 's' in a way no one ever had. "Gorgeous."

"I bet you say that to all the girls that fall into your lap and beg you to kiss them to chase away their exes."

"Only the especially gorgeous ones," he shot back easily. "Hey, uh, not to be, like, too forward, but can I kiss you again?"

Her smile tasted sweet on her own lips. She wondered if Eddie would say it tasted the same.

"Not too forward," she soothed. "You can, um. You can kiss me anytime you want, Eddie."

"Shit, baby, don't threaten me with a good time."

kiss roulette!

[higuchisora]

I usually stay out of shipping discourse (and also fandoms big enough to draw in that discourse) but this needs to be said, I think especially because they're a WLW relationship. A lot of people seem to have blinders on when it comes to Sapphic relationships (when they pay attention to them at all), as if "anything goes" because they're both women.

Like, NO, just because Caitlyn's a feminine-presenting (lesbian) woman does not, in fact, mean she can't exhibit toxic behavior towards her partner, but for some reason if she's with a "tough butch" (aka as some people like to read it, "Male Lite"), all of a sudden physical violence against your partner is A-Okay! And even if it's not? Well, it's clearly the POINT that it's toxic! There's no possible way the writers just fumbled the writing! They were clearly trying to portray a toxic relationship, which is why it happens out of nowhere and no one acknowledges it or shows to any measurable degree the affects of such a toxic relationship on the people involved!

Like even toxic ships MEANT to be toxic show at least 1 person lowkey going off the deep end about it. Pardon me, but isn't the point of toxic ships the TOXICITY of it? To lean into the suffering, or the pain, or the mental/physical/emotional anguish it puts someone in, but also how they just can't let go? How they might not even WANT to let go? Or even how they don't realize, perhaps until it's too late, that there's no escape? Slowly being drawn into the trap?

Have I simply been enjoying my toxic ships incorrectly, or???? Like are intentionally toxic ships not supposed to be written with, you know, intention? Because me, personally, I can tell the difference between a toxic ship and a ship written toxically, and I prefer the former. Because usually, it's actually written well, LOL. It's the difference between Hannibal and a One Direction Wattpad fic.

Caitvi went from a budding decent ship to... banging in a prison cell set to (what was supposed to be) romantic music as Vi "realizes what she wants"??? ("what she wants" being... servicing the classist woman who beat and left her? Pop off I guess.) Like if Caitlyn's supposed to be a master manipulator or something, she really hasn't had to put in that much effort, honestly.

My hottest Arcane take is that a lot of caitvi antis come across as complete wimps whose only exposure to lesbian couples are kids cartoons and vanilla yuri manga. Like I’m fairly certain half an episode of Killing Eve would instantly make these people pass out if caitvi of all ships is their limit for fucked up relationship dynamics. Please I am begging you watch/read more lesbian media made for adults, there’s an entire world out there that you’re missing.

[randomgirl005]

The Secret History

Hi! I'm currently halfway through the book, and I thought I would share some reflections I've had about what I've read so far.

I find it absolutely fascinating how the story draws you in, and you unconsciously start resenting Bunny. You feel like he’s making everyone’s life impossible and that he’s half-crazy. But honestly, it’s wild because, at the end of the day, they’re all a bunch of unhinged people who’ve murdered someone—they’re literally killers! And the problem isn’t Bunny—it’s Richard, who just keeps living his life alongside them as if nothing happened, sharing his day-to-day with them without it affecting him at all. And, of course, the book is narrated by his future self, which is what gives you this initial perspective. Insanity how it all is written.

Bunny is the kind of person you could easily dislike in any other context because of his personality, his stupid jokes, and his overall vibe. But in this situation, you hate him because he’s losing it over the fact that his so-called "friends" (who end up killing him) are actual murderers.

I mean, they make him out to be this awful person, when the ones taking people's lives (just because they’re high out of their minds) are the others. And Richard narrates it all while siding with the murderers!?!? Like, the real problem is Richard. He’s the one who's messed up (honestly, it could be me).

So, here’s my reflection halfway through the book: if someone you care about, someone who’s part of your life, practically part of your daily routine, commits a murder or some other serious crime—would you be able to carry on normally with that person? Yes, they’ve committed a crime, but they’re still the same person you laugh with, talk to, and hang out with. It hasn’t directly affected your relationship or your life (beyond knowing and covering for it). So what do you do in that situation? Do you lose it like Bunny, or do you just go with the flow like Richard?

I mean, they’ve directly told you about it. You haven’t seen proof, nothing suspicious has happened, there’s been no change in their attitude, and it hasn’t altered your environment or the way you relate to them. Would the relationship stay the same? Would you really notice the difference? Or would it just remain as casual as someone telling you they bought a new car?!??

Obviously, the most logical thing would be to go to the police, but let’s ignore that part for now.

Let me know if you've got any other thoughts about it!

[goldenticketcharlie]

I’ve decided I am not going to hold back the way I do on the app medium. I am going to unleash myself here. Not holding back, giving zero fucks how I sound or how weird I am. Put it on me. Forgoing grammar, forgoing explanations.

I was made to be weird. I was made to be different, it is a part of me. I hope my people hear me.

This is for those who are awake, you will understand my words and know.

There is a calling happening, a reckoning, it has been happening for years, my mind is coming into its full strength, the words are making sense, the visions connecting and seeing clearly. Thank you God.

I am less than, I am not perfect, I have broken all the rules. I have gone sideways when I was supposed to go up or down. I tore thru the veil and hid. Heaven is here, and if you’re not careful you will miss it. Life is filled with Easter eggs, go and find them, and when you do, you’ve found your path, you have become the Easter egg to someone else. Find your god, do not harm yourself or another, this is not god. Find all the best parts of your religion, God is there.

I have called upon the auras and they have been let out into the world, your prayers will work, at least the ones that to do not hurt another, they work faster than you ever thought possible, miracles will unfold before your eyes. Listen and do not harm. Call for protection, imagine what it looks like, how beautiful it is. Imagine your beauty, imagine, the smell of your hair, the color of your eyes, the ways your ears look. Details matter. Let your imagination run wild, draw, create and show another.

Once you have awakened, keep playing the charade, you are now the main character on stage of your life. Keep pretending, keep leaving Easter eggs for someone else to find. Protect your children at all costs. There is intense evil here, players of the game as well. Design your children’s armor, call it into being. Let them create, let them have fun. Protecting them at all costs.

I will leave you with 3 simple instructions at the end of the day.

1. Clean up.

2. Put them to bed.

3. Go outside.

Godspeed my friend, I will write when inspiration strikes.

[faegoddessog]

Affirmations

Warnings: Explicitly Mature Content, 18+, angsty boy, microdosing, sex as therapy, Gentle Dom/subby boy, cunnilingus, felatio, untrotected PiV, (protect yourself out there loves!) established relationship.

Summary: You know all too well the erratic nature of his ego. How he has to hold the soft fragile parts of himself with the equal but opposite hardened bits. Both contribute to his being an incredible actor, but sometimes he just can't balance it all anymore. When it all comes crashing down, you are there. This time, though, you are ready with something a little different.

A/N: So after he finished his recent filming, I remembered how he's talked before about how it can feel like loss for him and triggers abandonment issues sometimes. Then this fic came barreling out. I mean, it's ONE way to get your affirmations in... rewrite that menal script... 😈😉

Here is my Masterlist of smut if you've not seen it before.

Let me know if you'd like to be added to/removed from this list and notified when I post my dirty little stories.

Always tag me: @purejasmine, @slowsweetlove, @richardslady121, @austinbutlerslovers, @tadpoleteef, @allittakesisoneflight

"I've been tagged by you before Lumiere!": @thisworldisntrealhoney,  @1nho,  @megangovier, @briaandthephantoms, @andro-inherdreamworld @callumsgirl @blombardo  @fefeisastar @hacunamy @nestito702 @denised916 @jayydep @r0m4nitcl0v3r @heyidc03, @secondchild-2, @flander42 @natural-born-rebel-spirit @lecosymood @kathrynzaragoza @bsunshinexo @jayydep @ifyouloveweedletsgosmoke

“Hey sugar,” you said as he walked in the door. He was earlier than you  had expected. You stand to meet him, knowing he's gonna need a hug at the very least. His face is crumbling mask. “Are you ok? I know how hard a film wrapping is for you.” 

His shoulders slump slightly, grateful to not have to put on a brave face anymore. 

“Yeah, I guess,” he rubs the back of his neck, “I just…I don’t want to let go. It’s just bittersweet.” 

You know he’s talking about his character as much as the fleeting community inherent to filming. You’ve been watching him dig deep for the past few months. You gave him space to do so and had been supporting him in countless little ways. But you too, have been preparing for this day. 

“Well I'm here for you, for whatever you need, even if you just want to sit quietly," you offer.  You know that sometimes he just needs another person near, someone to anchor him a little. Other times, well, he needs more.

He nods to the floor, then looks up with unshed tears in his eyes. He pulls you in for a hug, burying his face in your shoulder. 

“I need a cuddle or something,” he sniffs. 

“Cry if you need to, I love you no matter what,” a gentle reminder. You gather him in and pull the both of you down on the couch.

All his defenses are swept away in those few words, in the simple act of love. He breaks down, sobbing into your shoulder as he begins to process the full weight of his stress, physical exhaustion and the emotional toll of the past few months.

You stroke his back in circles, whispering words and sounds of encouragement. You are fully present with him as he just lets it out. You are only a little surprised it happened so fast. Normally he needs a while to get to this point. Either it's really bad, or he's actually beginning to count on you. 

He sniffs, trying to compose himself, “I don’t know what I’d do without you. You are so patient and gentle with my messy emotions.” 

“Did you take your microdose today?” you ask, knowing the mushrooms help him deal with his depression. 

“Shit, no… not for like a week,” his eyes widen, “no wonder i feel like this,  fuck I’m an idiot!” 

“No you are not,” you say firmly, ” go take them now and I’ll draw you a bath."  He can be so hard on himself. 

“Can it be a bath for us?” his eyebrows raise in query.

“Of course,” you smile. Water is your element, and you love being in it with him. 

He comes into the bathroom a few minutes later, a spoon of dried, crushed ‘shrooms covered in honey in his mouth. It doesn’t take much to keep him balanced, just a sub perceptive a few tenths of a gram. But it helps best when he takes it regularly. 

You are standing in the oversized tub in the soft candlelight. The room smells of relaxing essential oils like lavender, chamomile and ylang ylang. 

His heart swells in appreciation and love for you. 

“Wow,” he stops in the doorway, “you look like the birth of Venus, only more gorgeous.” 

He places the spoon on the counter absentmindedly. 

You smile, blushing. You always feel just a bit self conscious when compliments flow so freely from his angelic face. He is the definition of stunning. Not that it really mattered to you anymore what he looked like. His true beauty is in the way he treated people, treated you, his presence, his unwavering gaze, his genuine interest in people. It all made him even more stunning on the inside. If only he'd treat himself the same way.  This is when an idea strikes you. 

You sit and beckon with your arms. 

“Yes my Goddess,” his clothes puddle on the ground and in seconds he slips with a hiss into the hot water. 

You breathe deep as he leans back against you, hoping to trigger a sympathetic down-regulation in his own breathing.

You pour oil into your hands and begin to work on the knots in his neck and shoulders. You try to ponder your idea, but having him between your legs in any fashion, a casual leg tossed over yours on the couch,  his hand warming between your knees in the car, is so distracting. 

He melts at your touch, surrendering himself little by little. 

“MM that feels incredible,” he murmurs after a few minutes.

“YOU are incredible, hunny. I’m so proud of you,” you are trying not to sound like some mock matron but also you know that he needs those words of affirmation.

He shakes his head and huffs out a derisive laugh, “Praising me for just sitting here? Letting you take care of me?” 

“No, praising you because you are willing to be truly vulnerable with me, because you give so much to your craft, even though you know it can make you feel this way. Praising you because I love you exactly as you are and how you show up in the world.” 

His breath shakes and he wipes at an errant tear, “I don’t deserve you.” 

“Well that is bullshit,” you huff matter of fact, “of course you deserve me.”

“You make it sound so simple,” he manages a small watery smile, “like loving someone who is emotionally unavailable and broken isn’t a huge burden.” 

“Oh, I must respectfully disagree Sir,” you know this is part of his process and dig down for your patience, “you are quite emotionally available, more so than most. Heck you just sobbed in my arms! And we all feel messy and broken at times.” 

“That’s true,” he sighs. 

“Loving you is never a burden,” you assure him, “all I need is for you to be yourself. Plus, you take care of me too.”

“I don’t know about that,” he murmurs stubbornly. 

“Nonsense, you always go out of your way to make me smile when I’m having a hard day. You always make me feel important to you, even when you are deep into your work.”

“You ARE important to me,” he turns suddenly to face you in the tub. His eyes are serious, as though the mere thought of the implication is offensive. 

He pulls you onto his lap, water splashing. “You are my constant, knowing you are here…it... it...” 

He buries his head in your chest, arms wrapped around your torso, unable to finish his thought.   

“Can I ask you a question?” his voice is tentative, nearly a whisper against your skin.

“Always.” 

“Do you ever think that I’m too intense, too dramatic? Not like for work, but in real life?” 

Is this what’s been bothering him so much? You wonder. 

“No baby” your tone reassuring, ”I think you save that for the cameras.” 

“It’s just that sometimes,” he goes on, “ I worry that I’m too needy and sensitive. I don’t want you to get fed up with me, ok? You have to tell me if… if…. Cuz I’m not sure I could do this without you.”

He must have glimpsed some stupid thing online or overheard someone making a stupid comment. He was always listening around people. It’s one of the things that drew people to him, the way he listened. 

“I’m not, you’re definitely not,  and I’m not going anywhere,” you tilt his chin to look in your eyes, “you are allowed to ask for help when you need it and to accept it when offered. We were put on this planet together for a reason. None of us are supposed to do this alone.” 

He heaves a big sigh. After a few breaths, he looks up at you.

“Y’know, when you say things like that, I feel like I can conquer this feeling of not enough. Like maybe I’m not as weak or as broken as I tell myself I am sometimes.” 

“Baby, you are neither weak nor broken. You are human. If I could ask anything of you, it’d be that you are just as kind to yourself as you are to others."  

“Gods,” he pleads to the ceiling, “me too,  but it’s hard to break, hard to not believe it when it’s ME telling myself that I'm not good enough, too sensitive, too needy.” 

“Bah,” you guffaw, “fucking tapes babe, tapes in your head, words from someone else that wormed their way into you. Well I’m implanting new tapes.” You mimic pushing an old cassette into his forehead.  “These tapes that talk of your kindness, your empathy. Tapes that say how your sensitivity is your superpower and helps you to be the amazing actor that you are. Tapes that proclaim you are enough, just as you are.” You give him a knowing look as he blushes.  “You know it’s all true.” You move your legs and straddle his lap water sloshing over the side of the tub. “Do you know why I’m so willing to take care of you like this?” 

He shakes his head, heart racing from both your declarations and your intimate positioning in his lap.  

“Because I know that if I was having a hard day, you wouldn’t hesitate to do it for me. That’s partnership, that’s love.” 

You suspect that the neuroplasticity of the microdose may be starting to take effect. His eyes well up with tears again, this time with a smile.

“You know me so well.  Sometimes you are the only thing that makes sense,” he gathers you in his arms, “I love you, so much.” 

His pulling of your body rocks your hips into his, pushing the fact that he is indeed nestled between your thighs again to the forefront of your thoughts. 

“I love you too, so much,” you run your fingers through his hair, planting kisses on his neck. “I am the luckiest girl in the world.”

He shivers at your touch, at your kisses, his breath catching in his throat. 

“I’m sorry hunny, do you need me to stop? I don’t want to push you if you don’t want….” 

“No, please don’t stop,” he tightens his grip on your hips, pulling them deeper to him. “Your touch, it isn't just sexual, it’s comforting, it’s home. I love it so much. “

“Oh yeah,” your voice low and sultry, “how much.”

“Let’s uh…let’s get out of this tub,” he says all of a sudden. 

You reluctantly climb off him. As you both dry off, you wonder if he caught your offer. At the same time you don’t want to pressure him if he’s worn out.

He climbs into bed, pulls back the covers to his waist, and opens his arms, “Come here, I need to hold you.” Sometimes needs to be skin to skin like this without the sex. 

Seeing him naked in bed and not slipping those sheets down further, not mounting him like some kind of thoroughbred? It’s a hard pill to swallow right now. He’s been so focused on work and has hardly been home for more than just to sleep for a month. You found yourself missing the way his body feels on yours, in yours. It’s gonna be hard not to try and cajole him into sex, but this is what partners do for each other. 

You snuggle against him, trying to disregard the wetness making your inmost thighs slick. 

His arms wrap around you, fingertips trailing over your stomach.

“How much? How’s about I show you just how much,” his voice slides like butter, hot and silky over your ear, “Tell me, how wet are you?”  Apparently, he was picking up what you were putting down. His fingers splay out across your belly, holding you tight as he presses his suddenly hard cock against your backside. Who is tempting who now? 

The smile that tilts your lips is inevitable.

“You know I can’t help it, everything about you turns me on.” You try to sound apologetic, but just can’t. “It’s ok if you don’t want to do anything about it,” you try desperately to keep your voice nonchalant, convincing precisely no one. 

“Turn around,” his voice low with a hint of gravel.

You shrug in mock deference as you turn over in his arms ,  “I can just take care of it myself.”  You are fully aware of how much he likes to see you touch yourself and if that’s all you get out of this evening you are fine with that. But you might also be pushing very specific buttons to get him back between your thighs. 

His cock twitches and throbs against you. 

“As tempting as that is, maybe I want to be the one that makes you feel good,” his chest rumbles. 

A sly smile crosses my face. “I’m supposed to be making you feel good here.” You swing your leg up over him to settle on his upper belly. Your wetness smears in the hollow under his ribs. “I could just do it here, where you can see.” 

“You…. “ he breathes out. 

You reach down and tantalizingly pull your lips apart. A string of thick, wet juices stretch between them. 

“Oh god that is hot,” he says, eyes locked on your glistening flesh. “You know I can’t just… won’t be able to not…” 

“Poor baby boy, unable to finish…” your lips curl into a mock pout at the same time you reach back and wrap your hand around his swollen cock, “...his sentences.” 

“Oh I can,” he flexes his hips, pressing his cock into your fist. His tongue darts out to lick his beautiful lips. “Let me finish,” he whispers nearly to himself.

“Oh does Baby Boy need Ma’am’s little pussy in his mouth?” You toss out your gentle Dom/sub names to see if he's willing. You know that focusing on someone else can help stop his downward spiral.

“Y-yes, Ma’am, I do,”  he blushes deeply, biting his lip and dropping his eyes. Good lord he is so stunningly enticing when he submits like this.

“Would being my good boy make you feel better?” you want to be sure of his consent. 

He nods eagerly, and seriously. You see just how much he wants it, wants to be told what to do and just let his mind go with someone he trusts. 

You raise an eyebrow at him in mock warning. 

“Yes Ma’am,” he quickly says, “I’ll be a good boy.” 

“Just a good boy,” you nearly pout in mock disappointment. 

“Your good boy,” he can’t say fast enough, “I’m yours Ma’am.” 

“Mmm hmm that’s better. I’m going to sit on that gorgeous face now,” you move your body up, knees on either side of his head. 

“Can I push my tongue inside you? Taste you? Please?” his face is fully deep pink now, embarrassed at his boldness. 

“Of course, baby Boy, of course you can tongue fuck me,” you love how he tries not to be crass, but you practically insist on it. You lower yourself onto him slowly, his tongue out and reaching for your folds, flicking as it comes into contact with your wetness. It sinks in, searching for it’s slot.

“Yes, that’s it, tongue that sweet little hole for Ma’am,” you praise him soothingly. Now is not the time for forcing anything.  

He whimpers softly as you finger-comb his hair, the sensation on his sensitive scalp making him feel more submissive.  He burrows his face between your thighs and pushes inside you as far as he can, nose pressed up against the apex of your folds. 

“Good Boy,” you fist his hair and moan, you just barely keep your hips from pressing into his face. “Keep that up and you’ll earn a reward.” One hand reaches back and lightly brushes his hard shaft. 

His moan vibrates your pussy, notching you up just that much more.

“Do you know what others out there would give to ride this beautiful face? Or to suck this pretty cock? How many of them want you to be theirs?” You ask, voice still even and calm.

“No, and I don’t want to, Ma’am,” he mumbles against your wetness ,”I am yours, only yours.” 

His hands grip your cheeks, tilting your hips and  exposing more of you. He runs his tongue over your tight pucker and up over your labia, over and over in supplication.

“Oh fuck yes,” you moan, “ such a good boy, you’re gonna make Ma’am cum. Is that what you want?”

“Mm, hmmm,” he nods, refusing to use his tongue for anything other than pleasing you. His lips close in sucking kisses on your labia, 

One hand in his glorious hair, the other lightly grasping his cock. You give both a squeeze. 

The sensations make his whole body shake. He buries his face in your pussy, tongue thrusting inside.

You free his cock  and he whines and whimpers, humping his hips upward, desperate for attention. 

“Suck on that clit Baby Boy, you gotta make Ma’am cum if you want more.” 

With a desperate whine, he latches onto your clit. His hands grip your hips tightly as though nothing mattered more than worshiping your pussy. 

The sucking and flicking of his tongue sends waves of pleasure through you. His natural attention to detail and the ardor with which he does it, makes his pussy eating beyond heavenly. 

Within minutes you are shaking above him. His fingertips dig into the flesh of your hips, rocking you forcibly back and forth over his face. 

“So close baby,” your voice is little more than a panting whine. 

“Mmm hmmm” his hum vibrates against your abused bundle of nerves and you are gone. Spine jerking, hips grinding, toes curling. Your head is thrown back and your fingers press against his, trying to weave into his, trying anchor yourself somewhere. But his grip is tight to the round flesh of your cheeks.  He laps at you with long licks, prolonging, but not overstimulating. 

“Oh good boy, good fucking baby,” you moan as you look down at him. His eyes shine with eagerness, he loves when you praise him, loves being a good boy for you. 

You dismount the saddle of his messy face. His smile slides into need as your hand trails down his stomach, stopping a hairsbreadth from his quivering tip. 

“Oh darling boy, you more than earned your reward,” you plant the barest of kisses on his wet lips. “How do you want it, my hand or my mouth, sweetness?”

“Y-your mouth, Ma’am, please,” he stutters, little vertical lines of want forming between his eyebrows. 

“Tch, Baby Boy, you know how much I love your cock in my mouth,” you mockingly chide, one fingertip lightly petting his little weeping hole, “are you picking it to please me? Or do you actually want it?” 

“Yes, no, yes,” his head tries to agree with his words but ends up just drawing scribbles with his chin.

“Well, which is it?”

“Yes please, it’s what I want,” he breathes out.

“And you deserve what you want, don’t you Baby Boy.” 

He hesitates, mind balking at feeling worthy of what he wants. 

“Don’t you,” you insist, swiping this precum over his head with the pad of your thumb.

“Ok, yes, I deserve it,” he relents. 

“Mmmm, yes you do,” you move between his legs, “now reach back, grab the headboard with both hands and keep them there.” 

He immediately obeys, forearms popping in lines as he grips.  His legs spread wider, giving you room to do your work. He is so eager to have your mouth on him. 

His cock, leaking and hard, jumps and jerks in an attempt to get closer to your face.

“You’re gonna give me all your cum, right? Let Ma’am take care of you?” you ask just before your tongue reaches out to lap at his frenulum.

He trembles at your teasing lick, nodding frantically. 

“Y- y-yes Ma’am, I- I’ll give you everything,” his breath catches as you take his tip in your mouth, your tongue swirling. 

You slide up and down, covering him in your spit. Holding him upright with a light forefinger and thumb, you massage your soft palate with his tip. The deeper you take him, the lower his groans become.  His glutes flex and his balls tighten. 

You pull off to his whiny protest both in his voice and in the straining of his hips from the bed. 

“Who’s an amazing boy?” you ask, rubbing his tip over your lips like so much lipgloss. 

“Please Ma’am,” he whines. 

You give him the look, the one that says ‘answer the question asked’.

“I-I am, I’m amazing, I’ll be the best boy for you Ma’am, just please,” his need making a beggar out of him. 

“Yes you are,” you lower your mouth back down, engulfing him for two more minutes. The uninhibited sounds he makes are music to your ears; groans, huffs, deep shaky oh- hohs.

“And who is going to accept help when he needs it without feeling guilty?” you purr to him.

Your ears are met with a cacophony of his whimpering moans. 

“Me, I will, ask help, no guilt,” his words muddle together.

“Good boy,” you lightly rub up and down his shaft, “and who is deserving of my love?” 

“Me” his voice is strained with desire, “I deserve your love.” His hips buck into your hand.

“That’s right” you plunge his needy cock into your mouth and he’s back to sounds of pleasure. After five deep bobs of your head you come off with a pop. 

“Who’s sensitivity is his superpower?”

“Me, mine, my power” he is panting heavily now, body shuddering with unmet need. “Please Ma’am please let me cum.” 

You stop touching him all together. His arms are taut gripping the headboard as he stops from reaching down to jerk himself off. 

“Oh Baby Boy,” you softly rebuke, “I will, just keep doing as I say. Now tell me you love yourself and that you are worthy of love and recognition.” 

“I- l love myself,” his voice is laced equally with need, desperation and vulnerability, “I am worth loving” a tear escapes down his cheek. “I am worthy of recognition and appreciation.” 

He looks down at you, planted between his thighs.  His defenses are stipped away and there you are  forcing him to say things that he has never allowed himself the luxury of believing. 

“Now repeat it as I suck you off,” you lower your mouth to just out of reach, waiting for him to speak.

“I, oh fuck” he moans as you hover over him.  

“Let me hear you, or I’ll stop,” you warn.

“I love myself,” he begins, your warm mouth envelopes him, “Oh fuck yeah, I deserve love, your love. I’m worthy of being seen and appreciated. I’m enough.” 

Your hand pumps up and down under your mouth, strings of saliva drip onto his balls. 

“Oh fuck yes, I’m so fucking worthy,” his words like a floodgate as you work him. “I’m loved, I’m deserving, I’m your good boy, I deserve your love and my cumming, Oh god i’m so worthy and you love me just as I’m enough, I’m enough I’m so fucking enough. Oh god it’s so good. I love you, I love me, I’m gonna cum so fucking hard,” 

His hips buck up into your throat. A desperate guttural moan escapes his chest and he spills, thick and hot over your tongue.

You gulp and swallow every drop. 

“Keep it up,” you say, your double meaning all too clear as you straddle his hips and sink your dripping pussy over his throbbing cock. 

“Oh fuck,” his eyes roll back. 

You pull at his hand, pressing his thumb against your clit. 

“Say it,” you insist as you start to ride him. 

“I’m - I’m enough, I’m worthy” he chokes out each affirmation between gasps of over-stimmed pleasure. 

You grind into him, chasing your orgasm.

“I deserve you, your love ohgodohgodohgod I love you, to be fucked like this, pleasured like this, I am worthy, I  am loved, I am enough,”  his words are mantras, letting his stream of consciousness flow.

“Yes you fucking are,” you moan as you ride, “You glorious, magnificent man.” 

“I am worthy, I am loved, I am enough,” he says through gritted teeth. “Worthy, loved, enough, worthy, loved, enough. Oh god I’m gonna cum again.” 

Your movements become frantic as you force yourself into the abyss, dragging him with you.

Your hips tuck, your back rounds. His ass raises you, forcing himself deep inside. His words turn into a convulsing mishmash of hard G’s and open vowel sounds. The soundtrack to your own orgasm.  Your pussy floods with both your own release and  the cum his body is tensing to deliver. You lift and thrust and jerk in mind-wiping pleasure. His hands grip you, pleading for the stillness he can’t voice right now. 

Finally, you collapse, sweaty and spent, on top of his heaving chest.  His arms lock on to you as you both recover breath and sanity.

“Say,” he swallows, “say it again, please?”

You nuzzle his cheek with your own. “You are more than enough just as you are. You are an amazing human, Austin. Your sensitivity is your superpower. You are worthy of my love, of your own love. You deserve pleasure and joy.” You cup his face, staring into his ocean eyes. “I love you so much and nothing will ever change that.” 

His eyes well up with tears, emotion threatening to overwhelm him yet again. “I love you too. You are magic.”  He holds you close, the weight he walked in with happily lifted.