#I feel so bad because Liam

[meadowsofmay]

lets out a long sigh man...

i will kill for orym.

[lesbiradshaw]

mason pointing out to liam that “there was a time where we all trusted theo. including you” vs. scott saying “i don’t trust him. do you?” to liam as they’re arguing about sending theo back vs. liam telling theo “we need to trust you” at the sheriff’s station while the riders are taking over vs. liam snapping “scott’s never gonna trust you!” right after theo follows him to the school to keep him from killing gabe vs. mason promising theo he’ll never forget how he hurt them because “a pack is about trust.”

imo all of that really shows the progression of liam and theo’s relationship throughout season 6, because it goes from mason talking about how they trusted theo as a group, to scott asking if liam is on the same page as him about not trusting him, and then it’s liam stating that he needs to trust theo— and theo pushing back because “trust is not important right now.” but that’s not true, because the next time trust is brought up surrounding theo, it’s liam claiming that scott won’t ever trust theo again. not that liam won’t ever trust him, because at that point, i think they both know that’s a lie too. theo has saved liam’s life multiple times and they’ve been working as a team even after the ghost riders left town. that takes trust. the only other person theo gets paired up with is mason, who is very, very clear about not forgiving him no matter who else does, which has the implication that someone else already has. mason is liam’s best friend. he knows him better than anyone and has seen him around theo. he’s talked to him about trusting theo, and has probably heard how theo’s been trying to protect him. liam is the only person that theo has really rekindled a relationship with since coming back, and mason— the closest person in the world to liam— can see that liam’s guard is being let down.

[pocketgalaxies]

marisha ray and liam o'brien truly will just sit there and roleplay and make me Think Things

[arolesbianism]

I've been thinking abt my critter dupes some more and it was all fun and games until I remembered that I made Mi-ma a beeta and hm. Whoops. Uh oh. (<- Considered the implications for more than 2 seconds)

[apherod]

Rereading The Darkest Minds series (as you do) and searching for related things when I finally realized why I thought Liam was 6’1” and Cole was 6’3”:

In one of the behind the scenes of the movie, Harris Dickinson, aka actor of Liam in the movie, mentioned that a prop yoga mat in the Betty van has to be specially made for him because he is 6’1”, and for some reason I brain farted and forgot that I got this info from the actor and just treat it as canon.

[nighttimepotato]

After watching episode 7 three times I have some thoughts.

But I did set a pretty simple rating system after episode 2.

As long as Shaw is around to be funny and doesn't die the episode is 10/10.

And we got there. Barely but we got there.

[lauriemarch]

and at the end of the day, people will still hate women.

because beyonce is a terrible songwriter who has a good body and nothing more and she's really nothing compared to olivia rodrigo, that stuck-up bitch who steals other people's music, but taylor swift is an old, bitter nothing who clearly hates other girls. and sabrina carpenter deserves to die because she followed her heart, not her brain, and that's exactly why zendaya will never be good enough for tom holland. don't forget about kylie jenner, who's stealing precious timothee's innocence away and dating her is like committing arthouse cinema suicide, or how we said the same thing about miley cyrus and her disgusting profanity, think of the children, poor liam hemsworth, trapped in a marriage with such a horrible woman. lana del rey was hot until she was big and she made trailerpark sexy until her ass got a little too fat. and ariana grande, talentless homewrecker, and selena gomez, jealous and unreasonable, and hailey bieber, even more boring than the blood drying on the knives you are so quick to pull. sophie turner is a bad mom and megan thee stallion deserved whatever was coming to her.

and amidst all of this, we still don't know these women. we cannot fathom the pain of having a public divorce, one where people choose sides and hurl insults at you until the battery on their phone dies. we don't watch them chase after sweet-cheeked children in tucked-away backyards or play board games with their best friends while their chests heave in laughter. we don't know their marriages and we don't know their solitudes. we don't watch them unravel themselves, time and time again, preparing for the battle that we have made of their lives. they can never make a mistake. they can never cry. they can never be who they believe themselves to be.

and we take all of this and we go to work, we ride the bus, we go grocery shopping, we walk in dappled sunlight, and we let ourselves shrivel. i compare myself to every body i see and i comfort in the fact that i can still encircle my wrists with my fingers. food turns to dust in my mouth when i think about the fact that taylor swift thinks she's fat and people still hate sabrina carpenter for sticking by joshua bassett's side when he almost died, for God's sake, and now the people on my twitter feed are saying GUTS is the worst album they've ever heard. i liked it, the tiny voice in my head cries out. she wrote songs that made me feel noticed. they're calling the song i relate to the most a total skip.

so i close the app. i try not to think about the endless profiles screaming about how much they hate a nineteen/thirty-two/thirty-eight/twenty-three/twenty-six/forty-two year old. i try not to think about how much they would hate me, if they knew anything at all.

[alas--pringles]

hm. someone screenshotted my tags and added them to the post. that’s a first. idk how i feel about that.

[disneyprincemuke]

who the hell is rocky? * fem!driver

who the hell does sebastian keep calling 'rocky'?

pairings: sebastian vettel x fem!driver, max verstappen x fem!driver, logan sargeant x fem!driver, oscar piastri x fem!driver

notes: here ok now she has a nICKNAME OK IT'S ROCKY IT'S ROCKY OK BECAUSE SHE LIKES ROCKY ROAD ICE CREAM NOW

(series masterlist)

she presses her lips together, turning the knob and peeking in. “seb,” she whispers into the room. “are you in here?”

sebastian raises an eyebrow, tilting his head. “yeah, why?”

“great, so i wouldn’t feel as bad sneaking in here.” she pushes the door open and quickly shuts the door behind her. she beams at him, shoving her hands into her jacket. “hi!”

he looks up at her, head still hung low from the papers he was looking at. “what do you want?”

“oh, we’re playing hide and seek with jack and laura,” she grins, walking over to the empty seat at the his table. she sits down and tucks her legs under her body. “and oscar, logan, mick… liam… i’m not in the mood to be found so soon.”

“so you’re hiding here? in my office?” sebastian raises an eyebrow, looking back down at his papers. “isn’t that cheating?”

“they didn’t specify where i couldn’t hide.” she puts her palms down against his table with a small grin. she extends her neck a little bit. “what are you doing?”

he flips the papers towards his body, shielding its contents away from her. “i’m looking at data. you’re not a cheater — go play hide and seek properly.”

she shrugs nonchalantly. “i’m the oldest child. of course, i bend the rules to make sure i win.”

“really? oscar and logan let you do that growing up while they were around?”

“no, they put a stop to that when i turned 14,” she presses her lips together and rolls her eyes, shaking her head. “but they can’t erase that trait when i spent my whole life polishing it.”

sebastian blinks. “seriously?”

“yeah,” she nods excitedly. “how do you think i got this scar above my brow?”

“from falling down.”

“no, ciara and i fought cause i changed the rules at the last second so that i’d win and then she attacked me.” she lets a moment pass when sebastian finally lifts his head to stare at her. “we were playing uno — it’s a very intense game.”

he furrows his eyebrows. “get out of my office, rocky!”

sebastian approaches the two hunched over in the corner. “have you guys seen rocky?”

logan lifts his head. “rocky? who the hell is that?”

“hey, what are you guys doing?” they turn around, seeing the younger driver with an ice cream pint in her hand with mick trailing behind her.

“i told you to stop eating ice cream, god damn it!” sebastian screams, hands darting forward to grab the pint from her.

“hey, it’s the lactose intolerant one!” she shrieks, running to hide behind mick. the pint pokes out of the side towards logan. “want some?”

logan nods, taking the pint from her. “yeah, sure.”

“wait,” oscar speaks up, waving his arms in the air. “seriously, who is rocky?”

“this dumb ass,” sebastian scoffs, gesturing at the girl now eating her ice cream again. “all she ever eats is rocky road! hence, rocky! breakfast is rocky road, lunch is rocky road—”

“dinner is rocky road,” she mocks, stabbing her spoon into her pint. “it’s okay that i’m eating this because mick got me the no milk version!”

“that doesn’t even make sense! chocolate has milk in it! so does ice cream! do you know what ice cream is made out of?”

mick sighs. “she wouldn’t stop bugging me for ice cream, okay?”

logan laughs, throwing his head back. he clasps his hands together, “tomorrow we’ll teach you how to say ‘no’ to rocky. it took us a long time to figure it out too.”

“really? that’s just what everyone is gonna call me now?” she tilts her head, shoving a spoonful of ice cream into her mouth. “we spend our whole lives without giving me a nickname and seb just comes along and calls me ‘rocky’ and everyone is just gonna ride along with that?”

“yeah, you can say that,” oscar nods with a smile. “it’s fitting, anyway. you would die for rocky road ice cream… right?”

“fair argument.”

“max,” oscar whispers. “have you seen rocky?”

max raises an eyebrow, pausing his conversation with charles. he tilts his head. “yeah, she’s in my garage.”

oscar throws his head back, blinking blankly at the older driver. “what would rocky be doing in your garage?”

“what do you mean? she’s part of my team,” max trails off in confusion, lips pursed in confusion. he glances at charles next to him, who simply shrugs and looks at oscar as well.

“no, she’s not. what business would she have being in your garage?” oscar raises an eyebrow. “unless you guys are scouting her for the future?”

“what? we’ve had rocky on the team for months.”

“she wouldn’t do that. she doesn’t like red bull.”

“red bull literally created her.”

“no they didn’t.”

charles furrows his eyebrows, looking between both of them. “see, i don’t think you guys are talking about the same thing.”

max points at oscar. “what are you talking about?”

“who are you talking about?”

“my race car? her name is rocky.”

oscar’s frustration slowly washes away as realisation dawns over him. he’d completely forgotten that max named his car. he laughs slightly. “right! sorry, mate. i was talking about (y/n),” he explains. “rocky.”

max raises an eyebrow. “who passed the bill to call her that?”

“seb.”

“oh, seb is good with nicknames!” charles beams, patting oscar’s shoulder. he presses his lips together. “why rocky though? that doesn’t really…”

“she eats a lot of rocky road ice cream,” oscar smiles. “therefore, the nickname.”

max frowns. “she’s got the same name as my car… that’s not… that will be confusing.”

taglist: @wcnorris @treehouse-mouse @laura-naruto-fan1998 @mindless-rock @leilanixx @ironmaiden1313 @angsthology @cherry-piee @christianpulisic10 @elliegrey2803 @cashtons-wife @sadg3 @a10vely-yutazen @mellowarcadefun @glitterf1 @megatrilss1885 @peqch-pie @gentlyweeps-world @woozarts @darleneslane @inejismywife @meadhbhcavanagh @2bormaybenot @love4lando

[upsidedownwithsteve]

[4.5K] Steve Harrington x fem!reader 18+

A/N: sorry, no advent blurb today as we’re v tired and v sick and writing doesn’t sound fun. but please have an old fic that was once on the masterlist

“This is a bad idea,” you whispered, shy, nervous, wanting to curl into yourself.

Steve stayed still behind you, your back to his chest, his legs bent and framing your own. His hand stroked over your knee, a safe distance, one that didn’t add too much pressure to the situation. The boy pressed a kiss to your cheek, nose nudging your temple. “We can stop, if you want.” His voice was quiet and filled with soft sincerity. “It’s okay.”

But you’d asked for this, face flushed, squirming on Steve’s bed sheets ‘cause how on earth did you go from watching Fast Times at Ridgemont High to talking about sex to telling your best friend you’d never had an orgasm?

“What?” He’d asked, face soft with shock. “What about those six months you dated that guy, whatshisface? Liam?”

“Lewis,” you’d corrected, fingers pulling uncomfortably at the blanket Steve kept at the end of his bed for you. “And no, he just couldn’t get me there, I guess. Maybe it was me. It’s gotta be me, I can’t even make it happen myself.”

Steve had paused at that, looking at you with parted lips and soft eyes ‘cause you looked so sad, so frustrated, defeat taking over from the embarrassment you’d felt in admitting such a thing.

“It’s not you,” he’d said, determined. “He should’ve taken his time with you or— or, found out what you liked.”

You huffed out a laugh at that, humourless and tired. You shrugged, hands falling into your lap. “How’s that fair when I don’t even know what I like myself?”

You don’t know what happened after that. Just that the movie was paused and the evening outside turned to night, Steve’s blue room turning navy in the shadows, the dull glow of his bedside lamp making your bare legs turn apricot and rosy in the light. His hand looked so big against your knee, like he could swallow you whole.

You asked him. Voice quiet, words making the boy’s cheeks turn pink. Asked him to help, to show you, to tell you what you were doing wrong which sounded so ridiculous, because Jesus Christ, it was your body, for fuck sake.

You sucked in a deep breath. “No, it’s fine. I’m just— being stupid. We can keep going.”

You felt Steve relax a little behind you, his body sinking into the pile of pillows at his headboard, your body falling into his in turn. His thumb drew circles on the side of your knee, a touch you’d felt before: during a horror movie in the dark of the cinema, in the front seat of his car when you cried about a boy who wasn’t him, when he’d argued with his dad and you piled yourself into his lap for comfort.

“Are you sure?” Steve whispered and his voice was right by your ear, lips almost touching the shell of it. It made you shiver, spine tingling. “And you’re not stupid. This, the way you feel. It’s not stupid, okay?”

You realised he was waiting for you to answer him, so you nodded, chest tight at his earnest words, always trying to make you feel better. He’d once told you when you were both only thirteen, that that was his job and he’d proven it true ever since.

“Yeah, m’sure.” You let your head rest against his, cheek to his chin, day old stubble rough against your skin. “Thanks, Steve.”

A silence swept over you both, not exactly uncomfortable but not an easy one either, not like it usually was. ‘Cause your skirt was hitched up high, the hem of it falling towards the tops of your thighs when you’d bent your knees and sat between Steve’s legs. He’d patted the space there and your body had burned, but you’d obeyed all the same. His thumb was still rubbing circles and your hands lay awkwardly in your lap until finally, finally, Steve took them in his own and placed them flat over your thighs, his bigger ones covering your fingers.

“So you’ve never, ever—?”

“No,” you whispered it back, like a dirty secret. Something to be ashamed about. “Can't even manage it myself… it’s— fuck, I don’t know.” You choked off your own words, heated embarrassment creeping up the back of your neck.

Steve squeezed your hands, gentle, soothing. “S’okay. Do you, uh, do you try? A lot?”

He sounded nervous too and suddenly you were thankful for this position, eyes hidden from each other, knowing his cheeks would be flushed, too pretty to look at. You sucked in a breath and nodded. “Sometimes, yeah. I guess. It’s just— I either get interrupted or it doesn’t feel right and then the times when it does, I just can’t… can’t. You know.”

“Finish?” Steve supplied helpfully.

You nodded again.

“Okay, uh, why don’t you— do you wanna, try? Show me?” You heard him swallow audibly, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat and you felt his jaw tense against your temple, where you were leaning against him.

You stiffened, and Steve felt that too, so he tangled his fingers between your own and used his thumb and yours to skim up and down your legs. You wondered if he noticed how warm you were, if he realised you were running so much hotter than before.

“It’s just me,” he whispered to you, head ducked tucked down so he words fell into the crook of your neck. He sounded so soft, familiar, like the sixteen year old who’d picked you up from your shitty first date and told you that the next boy that hurt you would have to deal with him. “Do you trust me?”

You licked your bottom lip, mouth dry but you made a noise of agreement. “Yeah, I trust you.” You felt his smile, felt the affection ripple through him and back into you, ‘cause you really, really did. More than anyone, you thought.

“We can stop whenever you want, alright?” Steve said and you bobbed your head, suddenly feeling clumsy, fingers too small between his own, legs splayed out like a broken down China doll. You dug your toes into the mattress and breathed out. “Show me.” Steve whispered again. “Show me what you do.”

It took a second, maybe five, for your heart to stop rattling against your chest, for your bones to stop vibrating. But you took one hand from Steve’s and pressed it between your thighs, hidden under your skirt. Your underwear was still very much on and you were unsure how to go about that, so you squeezed your eyes shut and tried to find your clit the best you could under the cotton, shifting your fingers over the fabric.

Then Steve tsked, a soft sound that didn’t come across as reprimanding as it should’ve, but between that and his hand catching yours again, you stopped, unsure.

“You normally just dive right in like that?” Steve murmured, rubbing his thumb over your knuckle. “Christ, you gotta be nicer to yourself, babe, you need to relax more.”

“I do?”

Steve laughed quietly, a huff of spearmint breath falling across your cheek and wasn’t unkind, it didn’t make you shrink like you thought it would’ve. “Well, yeah,” Steve answered. “You gotta warm yourself up, right? Get in the mood. Hasn’t anyone taken their time with you? Made you feel like, uh, like putty?”

“Putty?” Your lips kicked up at the corners, lashes fluttering as your eyes closed, happy to listen to Steve and the smile in his voice. He sounded shy, and it was lovely, it made you feel better, warmer, ready for what was happening.

“Yeah,” he huffed. “You know, all gooey n’shit. Nice. Relaxed.” Steve sucked in a breath and pressed your joined hands to your thigh, his so much wider and covering much more skin. “You’re real cute, babe, someone’s gotta treat you the same way.”

“No,” you shook your head, trying not to sound too sad about it, ‘cause Steve’s hand on your bare skin was starting to make you feel real nice, warm, just like he was describing. Except you were anything but relaxed, heartbeat a livewire racing through your bones, a new pulse thrumming, stomach jumping at each touch. “You think I’m cute?”

You weren’t sure why you asked that, but suddenly, you were desperate to know.

“You kiddin’?” Steve said and you could hear the smile there, the one you knew so well. He leaned in, chin hooked over your shoulder when he felt you settle back against him, body more lax than before. His lips brushed your cheek when he spoke. “You’re the cutest girl in town, d’you not know that?”

You squirmed, too pleased with his comment but embarrassed all the same. Steve always gave you too much attention but it was the way it had always been, a little flirting over the diner table, his hand on the small of your back when you walked through too big crowds, an offered cheek for you to kiss goodbye when he dropped you home after school.

“Shut up,” you whispered, voice thick and quiet and caught in your throat. You didn’t mean that. You didn’t want him to shut up at all. And Steve knew that.

“Now, if you’re the cutest thing in all of Hawkins,” he continued, emboldened by the way you tucked your head into the crook of his neck, letting your fingers go soft between his own. “Don’t you think you gotta be nice to yourself?”

Your breath stuttered and hitched in your chest and despite the nerves that still pinballed around in your stomach, your thighs dropped open a little, the hem of your skirt hitching higher still and Steve swallowed down a curse.

“I don’t think I know how.” It was embarrassing, admitting it, cheeks on fire, nose scrunched even though Steve couldn’t see.

His hands swept up your thighs, taking yours with them, stopping short of creeping under your skirt before retreating back down to your knees. “Like this,” the boy whispered. “See? Nice and sweet. Slow.”

You wanted to let your hands fall away, wanted to feel Steve’s rough fingertips and wide palms span over your skin but when you tried to pull away, Steve only tightened his grip. “Ah, ah, c’mon. You can’t learn if I do it for you.”

There was a whine stuck in your throat; a bratty, moody noise that you didn’t dare let out in fear of being teased by the boy for all of entirety but Steve seemed to sense your frustration anyway.

“C’mon, you got this.” Steve pressed a quick kiss to wherever he could reach, a warm smack of his lips against the skin under your ear, right by your jaw. “Relax, remember?”

So you did, letting out a small sigh before sinking back into him, legs widening and letting Steve drag your hands up and down your thighs, your skin erupting in goosebumps every time you felt a particularly rough graze of Steve’s short nails.

“What d’you think about?” He asked, voice hushed, almost hoarse. It sounded dirty, like a secret you weren’t supposed to tell anyone else about. “When you touch yourself? What d’you think about?”

You pressed your lips together and shrugged, a gasp wrenching out from you when Steve moved your hands inwards, to the softer dough of your thighs, creeping higher and higher until you felt the cotton and lace edge of your underwear against your fingertips.

“I dunno,” your voice didn’t sound like your own. “Someone else, I guess. Someone’s fingers, instead of my own. Being— being kissed and their, their mouth. Lips. Tongues.”

If Steve’s hips twitched up into your own, you were sure you’d imagined it. But he took a second before he answered, nodding so his nose pressed into your cheek, his hair fell over your own.

“S’good,” he agreed, praising you like any teacher would. “What about their mouth, huh? Where d’you want it?”

You squirmed, face on fire, teeth chewing something rotten at your poor bottom lip and when you didn’t answer, Steve took your hand and placed it over your cunt, the cotton there suddenly more damp than it was before. You wanted to throw yourself out the window. Or worse, at Steve.

“Here?” The boy suggested. He wasn’t really touching you, just his hand over your wrist and fingers, guiding, pressing slightly. “Has someone done that to you? Has someone put their mouth here?”

You shook your head, unable to stop the little whine that came out with it, disappointment colouring the sound. Steve tutted, cooing at you with sympathy and he let out a stuttered sigh when you took it upon yourself to press two fingers closer to your clit, seeking out some friction.

“That’s a real shame, you know that?” Steve’s hands left yours, only to grasp your waist and pull you back into him a little firmer and you’d be lying if you didn’t feel him, hard under his jeans, pressed into the bottom of your back.

It only made you press your fingers into yourself harder.

“It is?” You were breathless, each word a huff of air, face screwed up and eyes shut tight as you tried to work out where you wanted your fingers the most.

“Fuck, yeah it’s a shame, babe.” Steve whispered. “Told you, didn’t I? You’re the sweetest girl there is. And someone’s not tasted you? Not told how sweet you really are?” Steve blew out a breath, as if exasperated. “That’s just unfair.”

“Steve.” You weren't sure what you were whining your best friend's name for. For release? Permission? Guidance? All of the above, maybe.

But Steve seemed to know, ‘cause he nudged your hand closer to your cunt, coaxed you into running your fingers over your cotton covered folds. “Yeah?” He asked and his voice was hoarse, a little wrecked sounding. “Ready for more? Feelin’ good?”

You nodded, clumsy, breath coming out a little heavier than before.

Steve let one finger flirt with the edge of your underwear, along the lace trim where your cunt met your thigh and he snapped the elastic against you, feeling brave when you pressed back against him, like you couldn’t be close enough.

“Want these off?” You heard him swallow hard, sounding quieter than before. “Don’t have to, if you don’t want to. We can do whatever—”

You lifted your hips in answer, one hand holding onto Steve’s thigh for support as the other dragged down your underwear and your cheeks cringed with heat as you caught a glimpse of how wet the cotton was. You balled them into your fist, shoving them to the bottom of Steve’s bed and they lay there like a flashing neon sign, all lilac and buttercream coloured flowers, lacy and mortifying.

Your skirt still covered you, hiding a lot from Steve. But the boy could look over your shoulder and see the way your chest heaved, nipples pebbled underneath your T-shirt, the one you’d stolen from him freshman year and made into a crop top. You were all legs, soft thighs, socked feet digging into his duvet, skirt flirting dangerously with all that bare skin underneath. He tried not to rut up into you, but he knew you had to feel him by now, his hard cock pressed against your spine, twitching at every breathy noise you let out.

“What next?” You asked and you sounded desperate, more pent up than you’d ever felt before and you wondered if it was really because you were taking your time with it, if all these slow touches really worked. You wondered if it was Steve. “Should I just—?”

Your fingers dug into your thighs, sitting over your skin alone ‘cause Steve was gripping at his own knees, knuckles white on the denim. “Fuck,” his voice cracked. “Just, uh, do what feels good, yeah?”

You made a sound of protest, frustration spilling up and out of your throat because this is where it went wrong, fingers fumbling, unsure where to touch to be able to coax you over the edge.

“Hey, hey, s’alright,” Steve assured you, whispering again. “Give me your hand.”

You did, without hesitation, and together, with Steve’s fingers twisted between your own, he guided your touch underneath your skirt. You held your breath as you felt your own fingers - and the boy’s - slip between your folds, your legs parting automatically for him. You felt his breath hitch and fall over your cheek as you let out a tiny moan, urging him on, your fingers following his as he swept up and down your cunt, gathering up the slick there before pressing your middle finger to your clit.

“Yeah?” Steve asked and he sounded awed when you cried out, a soft grunt that made him see fucking God. “That good?”

You could barely speak. “Yeah,” you whispered on a breath, head lolling back to rest against his shoulder, giving Steve an unobstructed view down your front, to the way your hands could be seen between your thighs, skirt rucked up around them.

“Atta’ girl, keep doin’ that, okay?”

You did as you were told, adding your pointer finger to the mix, rubbing the two digits over your clit in soft circles, panting every time you felt Steve’s fingers slip between your own. Steve’s free hand was on your waist, a vice-like grip that you weren’t sure he was aware of, his palm on the strip of bare skin between your top and skirt. Every time you let out a shy noise, he squeezed, kneading at the dough there.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, jaw slack as he watched you work at yourself, never letting go of his hand and fuck, fuck, you were so wet, velvet heat under his touch.

“D’you use your fingers?” Steve asked you, lips against your cheek, both of you leaning into each other as if you were unable to help it. “Inside? Do you put your fingers inside yourself?”

Twenty minutes ago, you would’ve died if the boy had asked you such a thing, but now? Now? Now you whined at it, cunt clenching around nothing at the idea of it and you shook your head, temple rubbing against Steve’s cheek in a way that killed him with how fond it was.

“Not really,” you whispered to him, ‘cause even with his fingers slipping over your clit, you were still so shy. “Don’t feel big enough, never- shit - never full enough.”

Steve swore his eyes rolled back into his skull, ‘cause all he could see was white, a blank flash over his vision that felt white hot. He rubbed soothing at your waist, let his fingers span over the width of your side, blunt nails sliding over your ribs. “Poor girl,” he sympathised and he smiled when you whined as he pulled your fingers away. “Shh, gimme a minute, hey? Here, just, try this, huh?”

You didn’t get to ask what he was meaning before the fingers that had been rubbing over your slick skin were in his mouth, two digits pressed to his tongue and Steve sucked. He licked over the pads, most definitely tasting you and you felt his chest rumble with a groan he tried to keep in. And then, as quick as it happened, it was over.

Steve brought your spit slick fingers back between your thighs, nudging the tips of them against your entrance. You keened, hips arching off the bed a little until Steve soothed you back down against him, mouthing over your jaw and cheek in a touch that definitely couldn’t be misconstrued as a kiss.

You sighed as you slid them in, two fingers fucking into yourself as deep as you could manage, slipping in easily with how insanely turned on you were. You hooked them up, like all the articles in the magazines you hid from your parents told you to do, searching for that spot that would apparently make you see stars. But you fell short, fingers not long enough and your clit was aching with neglect.

“Steve,” you felt close to tears, the usual frustration bubbling at the surface of your chest, ready to pop and simmer over. You’d have normally given up by now. “Steve, s’not working.”

“Gotta be patient, babe,” Steve assured you, “gotta be nice to yourself, c’mon, don’t let your head take over.”

But Steve saw the tear that rolled down your cheek and he caught your chin, titling your face towards him as he frowned down at you. You looked wrecked, heartbroken and all pent up, lips red and slick from where you’d chewed at them, eyes all glassy.

He shouldn’t have asked. But he was already in too deep. What does it matter now, right?

Right?

“Want me to help?”

He waited, one second, two, three and then you nodded, relief and disbelief filling his chest all at once. He swallowed back a broken moan and tapped his thumb at your chin, just catching your pouting bottom lip. “You gotta tell me, please?”

“Please, Steve, please. I want you to touch me.”

He’d died. He was dead.

But then you were pulling at his wrist and guiding it back between your legs, your fingers slick from where they’d been inside of yourself and Steve wasn’t sure he was able to handle it. His middle finger nudged up against your entrance and Steve felt it flutter, his eyes closing as he took a deep breath and reminded himself that this was for you, not him.

He was rock fucking hard.

“Ready?” He asked in a last bid for confirmation. You were laying fully against him now, thighs pressed to his, skirt barely covering you and you nodded so furiously that Steve didn’t dare ask you to speak again. “Okay, I’ve got you, alright?”

His finger slid in so easily and you clenched around him, velvet heat that made his heart stutter and his cock kick up against your spine. You immediately felt the difference, the boy’s finger thicker and longer, already reaching parts of you that you’d never felt. You felt like you were going to burst.

“More?” Steve asked and his voice eas shot, eyes closing at the feel of you, your small hand wrapped around his wrist to ensure he wouldn’t stop and Steve wanted to tell you he’d never stop if you didn’t want him to, that he’d do this every fucking day if you’d let him. “Another?”

“Another,” you agreed and god, you weren’t holding back anymore, moans tumbling from your lips when Steve slid another finger in with his first, the feeling of your cunt tightening around him making you both cry out.

Your hips were shifting against him, listing yourself on and off of his fingers and he groaned, stuttered dirty, filthy words into your hair as he let you fuck yourself down onto his didgits. The friction was too much for him, his cock straining in the denim, weeping for release.

“Touch yourself, babe,” he managed to groan out, sighing at the sight of you doing what he told, hand flying to your thighs so you could rub messy, wet fingers over your clit. “That’s it, good girl. Jesus, are you close? I can feel you - fucking hell - I can feel you getting tighter.”

You mumbled something unintelligible, a sob ripping through your chest and Steve decided it wasn’t a good idea to ask, deciding that he needed to get you out of your own head so your body could take over.

“Do you like it when I talk to you?” He asked instead, a whisper against your ear, his breath warm on your neck, his fingers spanning upupup until they grazed the lace of your bra. You rutted against his hand harder, whining when he hit a deep spot inside of you, one that made your vision go blue-white. “You do, don’t you? My girl likes hearing dirty things, right? Like when I asked you if someone had went down on you? If you’d had someone’s tongue here?”

Steve slid his fingers in and out of you a little faster to get his point across, sweating when you moaned his name. His name. Your own fingers were moving with intent now; tight concise circles that were making your toes curl.

“Would you let me do that? Huh?” Steve dared to asked, grinning when you almost ripped the sleeve off his shirt as you grabbed at his arm, lips falling open in a long moan. “Shit, you look so damn pretty, you know that? I could do that for you though, if you wanted.” Steve’s eyes closed for just a second at the thought of it. “Could put my mouth on you, let you know if you’re really as sweet as you look—”

You seized up, body stiffening as you let out a noise Steve would never forget, a breathy moan of his name that he’d think about every time he fisted his own cock. He kept pumping his fingers into you, eyes wide as your own hand faltered and you shook, head slumping back against his shoulder as you decided to hold onto him instead, hands reaching back to grab at his shoulders, his neck, his hair.

Your pussy was a vice around his fingers, filthy, wet sounds filling his bedroom and he was pretty damn sure but he had to ask, he had to know—

“You comin’, babe? Yeah?” You nodded, frantic, eyes slammed shut and nose scrunched up all cute and Steve couldn’t help it, couldn’t stop it. “Fucking hell, oh shit, yeah, there you go, that’s it, that’s it, that’s it—”

He wasn’t even ashamed that he came in his jeans like a teenager, in fact, he was a little insane with it. White spots over his vision as his cock twitched and jumped, letting his hips grind against your ass as you whined, your cunt still fluttering around his fingers as he slowed down the way they pumped in and out of you. He heard you swear when he finally pulled them away, slick with your release, sliding them into his mouth as if hiding the evidence.

Your eyes finally met Steve’s when you turned and flopped onto the bed next to him, mattress shifting as you both panting, chests heaving. He turned to find you already staring, eyes wide and cheeks flushed the prettiest colour, almost matching his own.

“Holy fucking shit,” you managed on a gasp.

“Told you,” he managed to say, fighting to keep the smile of his lips.

“What?” You frowned at him, wondering what on earth he wanted to say to you after that. He still looked like your best friend, still sounded like him too. Maybe just a little more smug. “Told me what?”

Steve took the time to push his finger into his mouth once more, enjoying the way your face burned, lips falling open as you watched, unblinking. He let his tongue wrap around it, chasing what was left of your taste until he let it go with a dirty pop.

“Sweetest girl in this fucking town,” he said.

[lesbiradshaw]

the scene of liam collapsed onto the forest floor in front of scott sobbing about how he’s scared of what’s happening to him not because of the fangs or the claws but because he thinks his parents already view him as a monster breaks me a little inside every time.

[samcarter34]

Since people seem to once again be having trouble remembering the order of operations, let me just remind everyone:

The ability Laudna possesses to feed Delilah is Hunger of the Shadow. In the fight with Bor’dor, Laudna used that BEFORE Orym’s head nod. Bor’dor attacked them and her response was to do the thing she knew would give power to Delilah. Matt even makes the sound of Delilah’s heartbeat.

The spell she used after the head nod? Whither and Bloom. The same spell she later attacked Orym with, which isn’t even a warlock spell.

And speaking of the head nod, you want to know what’s it’s prefaced with? ‘Laudna you can do whatever you want.’ And Marisha responds by saying that Laudna is ‘barely present’ because she’s having ptsd flashbacks to all of the times something horrible happened to her and she couldn’t do anything about it. So she kills Bor’dor because it makes her feel in control of the situation.

And yeah, the 4SD where Liam says Orym thought Delilah might come back. Except y’all somehow took that and made it seem like he’s the one who shoved Laudna over the edge when what actually happened is that Laudna flung herself off it because betrayal is triggering to her.

And the sword. The sword which apparently wasn’t triggering enough that Imogen contemplating whether the Vanguard were good guys didn’t cause any reaction. Or for that matter, make her object to Ashton’s ‘this is permission statement.’ But she saw Orym wearing it, got uncomfortable and then all it took was one sentence from Delilah for her to decide to steal it. Delilah, who mutilated her, murdered her, has been possessing her for decades, and who basically held her soul hostage when BH wanted VM to resurrect Laudna. But what Delilah didn’t do? Tell Laudna to steal the sword.

I wasn’t around for campaign 1, but in campaign 2 I definitely noticed a trend that people who were all ‘I love women! Female characters rock!’ would, the second one of their alleged faves did something controversial (or just something they didn’t like) would find a way to shift the onus onto someone else so she could remain blameless. And that is definitely continuing this campaign, and if anything is getting worse (which, not to get into speculation, but I wonder if it’s because all of the female characters this go round are more traditionally feminine than last campaign.)

I think the reason Orym’s been getting raked across the coals so hard by certain parts of the fandom is actually because of this. Because Imogen’s repeatedly gone ‘what if the Vanguard have a point’ and Laudna agrees with everything she says, whereas Orym’s been pretty consistently ‘no, the murder cult that murdered my family are bad guys.’ And well, can’t go around admitting that our faves did something wrong.’

And so we have a situation where Laudna attacks Orym, but somehow that’s Orym’s fault because the possibility of Laudna doing something wrong ruins people’s lesbian cottegecore fantasy. But the thing is, that whole thing was all Laudna. She chose to listen to her first murderer when Delilah said ‘maybe it’s cursed’ and then she chose to blanket the room in magical darkness (sorcerer ability, not warlock) chose to cast an area of effect spell to destroy the thing Orym was using to sheath the sword (sorcerer spell, not warlock) and, upon hurting Orym, chose not to drop said darkness, which meant Orym couldn’t see who attacked him. And when she got caught, she tried to downplay what she did, tried to say that because she didn’t mean to hurt him it didn’t count, refused to apologize for actually hurting him, kept shifting her argument (and even low key got called out on it by Imogen when she asked Laudna why she’s want its power inside her if she thinks it’s so evil.)

There is an alternate universe where Laudna wakes Orym up and they have what probably would have been an intense discussion about the sword (and that might even have been what Marisha was aiming for before Delilah got involved) and THAT truly would have been the ‘both sides are equally right’ scenario, but that’s not what we got. And you can say Orym shouldn’t have taken the sword unilaterally (but somehow Laudna’s allowed to unilaterally steal and absorb it?) or that she’s being manipulated by Delilah, but the fact is that Laudna’s an adult and is responsible for her own decisions. Yes, Delilah is a powerful and malign presence that they all downplayed/ignored, but, to use Marisha’s addiction metaphor, making amends with those you’ve harmed is a part of recovery for a reason. Because ultimately, you are the one who did that. Yes, it does immensely suck for Laudna that she’s been handed the cards she has been, but it’s up to her to make the best play she can.

Wow this got long, but my overall point is that Laudna is a character with her own agency and makes her own decisions (well, Marisha makes them, but at this point y’all should know she’s not conflict averse and is willing to have her characters make controversial character choices). And really, take all that away, what’s left? How much onus can you take from a character before you might as well go look at a painting?

[littlekohai77]

Ikevil NSFW hcs

𝙸 𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖, 𝚜𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚋𝚊𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚗 𝚟𝚒𝚋𝚎𝚜. 𝙾𝚔𝚊𝚢? 𝚈𝚘𝚞'𝚟𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚍.

🅆🄰🅁🄽🄸🄽🄶: NSFW, minors dni or bald Jude is gonna come for you, villains, members of crown, what more do you need? Aren't they enough of a warning? Mention of pregnancy, bdsm, degradation, overstim, edging, dacryphilia.

*･ﾟﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　　✿✼:*ﾟ:.｡..｡.:*･ﾟﾟ･*

♡🆆🅸🅻🅻🅸🅰🅼 🆁🅴🆇:

Pussy pleaser spotted!!

Cares more about your pleasure than his own. Willing to blue ball himself at the drop of a hat to give your sweet cunny some well deserved attention.

Favorite position: probably something where he can see your face well. He wants to see how you react to him. Do you love it? Do you hate it? Are you conflicted? Do you feel guilty to be getting fucked instead of doing your job like the good little girl you are?

I think cow girl would be his favorite. Cause he gets to sit back and let you take the reigns. It helps show him more sides of you. Sides that he wants to explore and get to know more.

He's the type to never push you to give him oral. He won't have to say a word, you'll just feel the need to do it, you'll feel compelled to.

If he ever wants you to do anything, he'll just ask you to do so. He doesn't command it yet you always feel compelled to. It's just hard to say no to him and you don't really know why. Is it because you want to please him? Is it because you think you need to repay him?

The thing about him is, he never ever uses his powers on you in bed, doesn't matter if you beg him to, he just isn't.

He knows just how strong he is and he doesn't want to make a habit of controlling your actions. He fears that in some point in time, he might just feel very tempted and find controlling you more convenient than persuading you. Which would tarnish you freedom in the relationship and cause a major imbalance in power. He also doesn't want to break that trust that he worked so hard to build.

♥︎🅷🅰🆁🆁🅸🆂🅾🅽 🅶🆁🅰🆈:

Ahemhmhmhnshdbsxbdhdbd

Bro he fucks with my head so bad. Anyway,

His favorite position is probably spooning.

He likes the intimacy of the act.

Like you both just woke up and are lazing around in bed. And then you push your butt against his crotch a few too many times that he just loses it. 😩🙌

His face nestled in the crook of your neck, his breath brushing up against your nape as he slides his cold slender fingers under your nightgown and pinches you nipple while holding your legs apart with his own and thrusting his hips into yours.

Also also

He's the type to both enjoy giving oral and receiving. But the thing is, despite enjoying, he doesn't give it often. Why? Cause fuck you.

Nah I'm kidding.

He just tries to keep up his persona.

But there are times where you just look too delicious or are being too good of a girl that he gets so overwhelmed with love for you and just splits your thighs apart and slots himself in between.

This also happens when you're riding him, he just gets so overwhelmed by how good you're making him feel that he flips you over and starts pounding you into next week.

❥🅻🅸🅰🅼 🅴🆅🅰🅽🆂:

You're his mistress and his your little naughty kitty.

Definitely enjoys being rode to tears.

He's very experimental. Always ready to give everything a try. Will even do fletching.

You guys probably have a healthy balance of sweet-slow sex and rough sex.

He enjoys being choked. Like suffocatted. Every time he wants you to go harder. That's concerning ngl. 😰

He's not the most obedient. Very rebellious and always has a comeback ready.

But it's easy to shut him up. Just sit down on his face. Or edge him till he's crying.

(Sorry I'm not really good at writing subby characters and I can't really see Liam in a sexual way.)

☃︎❆🅴🅻🅱🅴🆁🆃 🅶🆁🅴🅴🆃🅸🅰:

🗣️ Pussy Pleaser spotted ‼️

But he's like that for selfish reasons.

He pleasures you to literal unconsciousness, not because he wants to make you feel good, no, he wants to see the beautiful expressions that you make when you're getting fucked, when you're thighs are shuddering from the pure intensity and a tear slips down your flushed cheeks, when you're about to fall apart.

His favorite position is probably missionary. He gets to see your face, he gets to control the pace. All perfect for him.

Much more of a giver when it comes to oral. But there's one condition, you must not look away. You look away and he stops. You deprive him of that sickeningly sweet expression of yours and he latches himself off of your little clit.

Another torturous thing he does is edge and overstim you. Because sometimes he gets a bit addicted to that face you make when you climax or are about to. So to see it again and again. He just keeps going and going. He knows from experience that not stopping would highten your sensitivity and make you cum faster. And that's exactly what he wants, for you to show him that utterly heavenly view again.

If you try to hide your face, he's gonna stop or holds your arms in his hands.

But that's not to say he doesn't enjoy romantic sex either. He enjoys it quite a lot. He loves the faces you make when he's thrusting into you slowly, peppering you in kisses and squeezing you gently. He loves that look of adoration in your eyes. That happiness, how content you are.

❍🅰🅻🅵🅾🅽🆂 🆂🆈🅻🆅🅰🆃🅸🅲🅰:

He's a womanizer. So that makes me feel like he's a Dom.

I think his go to position would be doggy. Just because of how easily accessible it is in Victorian era attire.

He seems like the most twisted and manipulative man there is.

So he probably does both degradation and praise. He needs the right thing to sway you in the right direction and there's no guarantee that everyone would be into degradation.

He's more into degradation. Because it's hard for him to give praise and make it feel genuine to himself. Because the simple knowledge of him knowing that he's faking it and forcing himself kind of ruins that allure.

But he pulls through any way. He's a great actor to be honest. Should consider becoming Liam's coworker.

He's probably into edging. Both himself and you. He enjoys the sweet sweet torture of losing his high again and again, and he also enjoys how your composure cracks and you beg him to make you cum.

He really loves being begged and having the position of power.

Even when taking the submissive role, he's still got the most control. Aka, he's a power bottom. He provokes you into getting what he wants and while you might think you're putting him in his place, this is actually exactly what he wanted and you fell right into his trap.

He prefers receiving than giving oral.

✾🅹🆄🅳🅴 🅹🅰🆉🆉🅰:

You better pray you're a masochist.

He's really rough. Shoves your head into the pillows and fucks you into the mattress.

He's into degradation. Calls you every dirty name in existence.

Slapping and spanking are definitely his go to. Doesn't spit on you though. It just doesn't sit right with him. And he finds the act disgusting.

He's one to give orders with rewards and if you can't follow through you face punishments.

☠︎︎🅴🅻🅻🅸🆂 🆃🆆🅸🅻🅸🅶🅷🆃:

Service Dom. I repeat, SERVICE DOM.

But he's scary. He's the type of service Dom that does what he wants. He's selfish like that. He does it because he wants to make you happy. So he asks what would make you happy, if it's good enough he'll do it, or he'll think of something better and do that.

Definitely more into giving head. Doesn't really enjoy receiving cause taking that large of a cock in your mouth seems uncomfortable for you.

Favorite position is probably you sitting on his face.

☣︎🆁🅾🅶🅴🆁 🅱🅰🆁🅴🅻:

Your tears are his lubricant.

Pussy Slapper™

Favorite position is probably doggy style. But he pulls on your hair, supports himself on one arm, his chest to your back, places his head besides yours and licks your tears off your red cheeks as if it's ambrosia. Btw he slapped you, that's why your cheeks are red.

He's into patient x doctor roleplays.

He's into degrading you, spanking and spitting on you.

One thing he doesn't do unless necessary is probably tie you up. Holding you down just makes him realize how much stronger he is than you and he gets pretty drunk on that power trip.

He's all about receiving when it comes to oral. He face fucks you. Literally grabs onto your hair and shoves your head up and down his cock.

Maybe does romantic sex once in a while as an apology for treating you so roughly and finally gives you head.

◡̈🆅🅸🅲🆃🅾🆁:

Definitely has a daddy kink.

Also a breeding kink. Wants to make you a mommy and have lots of kids. A whole entire army in fact.

Mating press galore.

Probably sucks on your boobs. Hopes that one day you'll get pregnant and it'll leak milk.

Literally fantasizing about naming his kids as he's thrusting into you.

He's also a service Dom. But he's a tease and will only go as far as you tell him to.

Like literally if you say 'touch me! ' he'll just graze his finger against your inner thigh, a spot a hair's breath away from your core.

*･ﾟﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　　✿✼:*ﾟ:.｡..｡.:*･ﾟﾟ･*

𝙸 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝙸 𝚐𝚘𝚝 𝚜𝚕𝚎𝚎𝚙𝚢 𝚝𝚘𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚎𝚗𝚍.

𝙰𝚕𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝... 𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞. :)

[dearhargrove]

Please pls pls write for Eddie Diaz🥺

Sleepover

Eddie Diaz x reader

summary You're on the way to pick up your son, Liam, but it's hard to get him to go home when he's begging to sleepover at his new friends house. Turns out you don't mind as much when you met said kid and his dad.

word count 995

tags fluff, reader simping over Eddie, kind of open ending

a/n I got this idea randomly so I hope you like this <3

part two

masterlist

“Liam!” You call out when you spot your eight year old son busy playing with another kid. Usually whenever he heard you he'd come running; with every year he turns older you expect his clinging to reduce but it never does. Not like you mind, he may be eight now but he's still your baby.

But today he just glances and waves before continuing to giggle and talk with his new friend.

You're surprised as he usually never stuck with one kid, most of the time he'd even stay by himself. It worried you, even when you figured he just preferred to be by himself and did it by choice and not because he was left out.

One of the teachers at the side shrugs with a smile after seeing Liam and his new friend.

You approach them and put a hand on Liams back before bending down and kissing the top of his head. “Hey, buddy. Did you make a new friend?”

He grins and nods eagerly, “Chris! We've been playing all day. He's my best friend!” You chuckle at the eager introduction and wave at Chris, who looked almost shy if not for the cute grin.

“Well in that case, it's nice to meet you, Chris.” He politely holds out his hand, “It's nice to meet you too, ma'am.” He says quietly and slowly. You melt on the spot and gently shake his hand.

Your son stands up quick enough to knock the top of his head into your chin, leaving you to grunt in pain as he excitedly bounces in his spot. “I have to sleepover at Chris' house!”

Your eyebrows raise as the two boys continue making plans about tonight. You don't want to be the killjoy but for one you had never met the other parents nor had they met you. Otherwise you would've easily agreed; you were just happy Liam had finally made a friend.

“Alright, boys, I'm afraid this won't work out… We don't even know if Chris parents are going to agree,” you say and pointedly look at your son who's about to pout (you couldn't resist him and you would not let him make you feel bad about making a reasonable decision).

“My dad will say yes. He always says yes.” Chris says seriously and pushes his glasses up with his index. You smile as both of them look at you with equally big, pleading eyes.

“I will say yes to what?”

You almost give yourself whiplash with how fast you turn around because whose voice is that sexy? You'd never heard anyone talking that attractive.

And surely when you look at him you basically faint. Brown hair that seemed to be a grown out buzz cut, brown eyes and white teeth with a grin that makes your heart actually stop for a second.

“Sleepover!” Liam yells and then turns shy when the man looks at him with a smile that should be illegal to look that good. “A sleepover? That sounds exciting.” He gets even more attractive in your eyes when he leans over and kisses Chris’ head in greeting. So he was great with kids too? Wow.

He then fixes his gaze on you and you do everything in your power not to fluster as he rakes his eyes over you and back up to look right into yours. “Hey, I'm Eddie. Chris is my son.” He extends his hand and you shake it before remembering to introduce yourself as well.

He smiles at you through it and if it wasn't for Liam gently clinging to your hand as he and Chris watch you and Eddie talk you'd have actually lost it.

“So these two want to have a sleepover?” The boys both yell in agreement and you laugh, shushing your son a bit. Eddie looks at you with a questioning look and you shrug your shoulders. He had something trustful about him and with the way he acted with both the kids he already checked a few boxes.

But still, this was your son and you wouldn't leave him overnight with - practically - a stranger.

“My dad is a firefighter, he will protect us.” Chris mentions and you look at Eddie in surprise. He chuckles a bit bashfully but nods, “I'm with the 118.” You hum in recognition, “I work at the dispatch center.” He looks surprised now and you chuckle as he comments, “That's a coincidence.”

After that conversation flows easy and after probably fifteen minutes is Liam who pulls your sleeve with an impatient pout. You coo and pick him up with ease, letting him wrap his arms around your neck as he sleepily rests against you.

“Chris is clingy too, I feel like I shouldn't be indulging him so much, but…” Eddie starts and you see him ruffling Chris’ hair with a fond look as the boy looks at his dad with pure adoration.

“It's hard to resist. Yeah, same here.” You hum and both of you laugh a bit.

The teacher takes note of both the kids being picked up and you start walking to the parking lot after getting the backpacks. Chris is on crutches you note and slow your steps for him to comfortably keep up.

“Sleepover?” Liam asks again after - you were quite sure - a nap. Eddie tilts his head and looks at you, giving you the chance to decide.

Wow. So far he's more than just a green flag.

“How about we do a few meet ups first?” You suggest and both boys groan but ultimately agree.

Eddie nods and after letting Chris into the car he turns back to you and holds out his phone with a small smile, “Just so we can, you know, organize their play dates.”

Your heart actually stops for a second before resuming twice as fast and you take his phone to put your contact in.

“I'll see you around.” You smile and wave, Eddie grinning too as he waves and gets in the car.

[henry-fox-biggest-stan]

It’s SO funny to me when I see movie fans writing alex as this daddy dom, himbo guy because Alex is so!!!

If you scream at him a little too loudly he’ll probably cry, just not in front of you. He falls in love really hard and deeply but it takes him so long to accept that he can also be loved hard and deeply! He has the highest grades ever 1) because he’s smart and 2) because he bases his self worth on making others proud, on being useful. He overworks himself, he runs to clear his head until his feet bleed, his coffee is bitter but so are his thoughts. He’s a softie, who writes his bf love letters and who probably giggles and kicks his feet while reading what henry writes back to him. He can absolutely destroy you in a debate, don’t even try to argue with him he’ll win each time. He talks a lot but he has never been listened to. His rivalry with Henry started with a bad meeting and also with constant comparison, because everyone compared them both, and it was just a constant reminder than Alex will never be enough. Henry was born on the spotlight, Alex wasn’t. Henry was white, Alex wasn’t. Henry had everyone’s support, Alex didn’t. *He is a jester and a devoted knight. He knows hundreds of fun facts and will tell you. He loves Texas despite the bad memories of his childhood and teen years it brings. He feels guilty for making his sister worry so much. He loves his mother despite everything, and she loves him too, but they have an unusual, almost unhealthy relationship. He needs to prove himself every minute of the day. He works as a distraction. He puts on a façade around everyone, golden boy, America’s heartthrob, no one sees his house key, his glasses, the hundreds of papers hidden under the windowsill, the pills stolen from Liam. Someone teach this man healthy coping mechanisms. He is a child of divorce, and this affects him more than he lets on. He is actually a huge nerd. He grew up poor. He was in denial about his sexuality for years. He definitely has abandonment issues. He might be impulsive sometimes (storming Kensington palace after being ghosted by Henry) but he usually thinks things through, and is very reasonable. He makes lists, tons of them. He has undiagnosed adhd and this has shaped him as a person in a way I can’t even describe. Before Henry, bea, and Pez, he didn’t have any friends aside from Nora and his sister. He grew up catholic. He is a romantic. And a dork. He is just as passionate about history as Henry is. But Nora makes friends, and Alex ends up with acquaintances who think they know him because they’ve read his profile in New York Magazine, and perfectly fine people with perfectly fine bodies who want to take him home from the bar. None of it is satisfying—it never has been, not really, but it never mattered as much as it does now that there’s the sharp counterpoint of Henry, who knows him. Henry who’s seen him in glasses and tolerates him at his most annoying and still kissed him like he wanted him, singularly, not the idea of him.

Always the talker, never the heard. Always good, never enough. Always ogled, never seen. Always the first son, never Alex.

[judesmoonbeauty]

Melted By Summer Lust - Jude Jazza 95k Bonus Story

Fan translation only. Not 100% accurate. Please expect grammatical errors. Cybird owns everything. Feel free to re-blog, but please do not post my translations elsewhere. What I obtain is what will be translated. MDNI. Thank you, for you support! ☾.

During the summer, all of Crown planned to go to a summer resort.

That’s what should’ve happened but……

The ship got severely damaged in a storm, so we each had to take a lifeboat.

In the end, Jude and I ended up on the same lifeboat which washed up on a small island……

Kate: Where is this……

Jude: Tch……can’t even see the formation o’ the island. For now, let’s secure a base ‘n food while it’s light out.

Kate: O-okay!

Afterward, Jude gave me several instructions and we split up to explore the island.

As I explore, there’s no time to feel down or lost —

I’m grateful to keep busy, otherwise I’d worry about the current situation.

Eventually, the sun set……We decided to take shelter from the elements in a cave.

Jude: These are edible fruits, so we can manage for a while.

Kate: That so……Well…….I’ll give you a massage.

Jude: Huh? Why ya bein’ weird all o’ sudden?

Kate: Jude, you’re the one who built the fire and created a water storage system for us, didn’t you.

Kate: I also, want to be of some help……

Jude: Well, I’ve got more physical strength ‘n knowledge than ya, so it’s only natural.

Kate: But……

Jude: If ya waste your energy ‘n pass out, I ain't takin' care of ya.

Kate: ……I got it.

It’s true, I can’t help if I can’t do anything and end up being troublesome.

I lay silently on the hard ground so as not to bother Jude.

(It’s not enough to ask Jude.)

(Starting tomorrow, I need to think of what I can do…...!)

The next day. After eating fruit for breakfast, I started to search for food.

(It’s hot……I feel dizzy…..)

(But, I can’t quit……)

I guess my judgement dulled because I was in such an extreme situation, and I didn't know if help would come.

(…..Huh?)

Suddenly, my vision became pitch black and I lost strength in my legs.

……How long has it been, since then?

Before I knew it, I was looking out at the ocean from the sandy beach, feeling the lukewarm sea breeze.

Jude: There ya are.

Jude sat down and nestled himself so closely to me that there was no gap between us, like a boyfriend would.

It was an odd sense of distance for Jude, but I didn’t think anything of it at the time.

Kate: Jude? Why are you here……

Kate: If I recall, you were looking for fruit today, weren’t you?

Jude: “Lookin’ for it?” Whaddya sayin’. I mapped out where the fruit grows after we washed up on the island.

Kate: Huh, when?

Jude: ‘Bout three years ago. ……Why’re ya bein’ stupid.

Jude: No way, don’t tell me ya forgot we became lovers?

(Jude and I’ve been stranded on this island for three years now, and we became lovers…..?)

(…..Yea. It might’ve been. It seems that way……..!)

Kate: I have forgotten. It’s such an important thing.

Three years ago, we washed upon this deserted island and started living here……

However, no matter how long we wait, there’s no one who will come to pick us up……

(A few years later — Jude and I became lovers.)

That’s not to say that……while helping each other on the deserted island, we became attracted the one another.

Since we were the only other people, we gradually settled on our current relationship.

— Looking back at the past three years, I looked out to the ocean.

Kate: Oh……!

Thinking I had seen a large shadow on the horizon where the sun was setting, I stood up without thinking.

Kate: Jude! Could it be……

Jude: ……It’s a whale. Ain’t a boat.

Kate: You’re right…..it’s not.

I could hear the disappointment in my own voice as I spoke.

(Even though it’s been three years, I still can’t let go to the hope that help might come.)

(I - I’m bad at giving up……)

Kate: ……I, wonder how everyone is doing.

Kate: …….I want to eat Victor’s scones. I want to hear William play the piano as well……

Kate: I still wanted to see Liam’s play, and I haven’t even returned the novel I borrowed from Harrison-

Jude: ……Haa. Thinkin’ ‘bout other men while next to me.

When I looked back at Jude who responded sarcastically, I could see loneliness set into his amethyst eyes.

(Now, I am all Jude has, and Jude is all I have.)

(We have no choice but to live together forever……Why did I bring up the others?)

(If I ask for things out of reach, I’ll just end up troubling Jude…….)

Kate: ……Jude.

Calling his name, I softly kiss his cheek.

As I repeatedly did this, as if to fill the hole in my heart, Jude pushed me down onto the sandy beach.

Kate: Hmm….

He kissed me with bites on my lips, leaving bite marks all over my body, including my neck and shoulders.

Deeper and deeper his teeth sank, like a wedge driving into me.

Kate: More……

Kate: Please, make it hurt more……..to the point that I forget everything else…..

Even after we returned to the cave that night, we didn’t leave each other’s side.

There’s no love between us.

…….But it’s only when we interact like this, am I able to forget my feelings of loneliness and sadness.

Kate: Hah…..nn……

Jude’s fingertips stir inside me and make a squelching sound.

Jude: Nn……

Kate: Ah, ahhh….!

My body trembles in pleasure as he spread me apart with his fingers while biting into my shoulder.

As if begging for more, my insides contract around Jude’s fingers.

Jude: Ha……You’re squeezin’ me like it’s delicious….lewd.

Jude inserted more fingers into me as he said this with a look of delight.

Kate: Oh, ohh…..! Jude, I’m already……

I cling tightly to Jude’s shoulder, and start moving my hips.

Jude: Your the only one havin’ fun. Don’t cum without permission.

Kate: Ahh…..

My eyes reluctantly follow his fingertips as they pulled out……however, the loneliness wasn’t felt for long.

Jude unfastened his belt, and my heart pounded with anticipation.

Jude: ……Kate.

More than the suffocating heat of summer……Jude’s voice calling me felt hotter.

(I want to be melted even more……by Jude’s heat…….)

Kate: Jude……

After I called in want, something hot applied to my entrance.

That’s when -

The scene suddenly changed.

Kate:….That?

When I woke up, I was sleeping in a cave.

As soon as I sat up, I felt a throbbing pain in my head and let out a small groan.

Jude: ….You’re awake.

Kate: Well….Why was I sleeping…..

Jude: ….How much d’ya remember?

Kate: Well, it’s been three years since we came to this island, you and I became lovers Jude, and last night -

Jude: Three Years? Lovers? Didja have a dream that made ya think that?

Kate: What……?

Jude: Day after we got to the deserted island, ya got weirdly worked up ‘n passed out under the sun.

Jude: Brought ya here to rest……looks like a mild case of heatstroke.

(The next day, that means the years I spent with Jude and our relationship, were all just a dream……)

Jude: Drink this now that you’re awake. It’s already been boiled.

Jude handed me a cup made from folded leaves.

Kate: Ah, delicious. Thank you…..

The water that flowed into my parched throat made me feel like I was coming back to life.

Kate: I’m sorry for causing trouble……..

Jude: Really. Drink this ‘n lie down.

Kate: Alright……

I obediently laid down, and Jude placed a wet cloth on my forehead.

(Where’d he get the cloth…..?)

Curious, I looked over and saw that a part of Jude’s shirt was torn.

(You took care of me and even tore your shirt…..)

Kate: Thank you, Jude……

After saying thanks, I passed out from exhaustion.**

I slowly woke up to crackling sounds.

Seems like after resting, I recovered enough that my throbbing headache is gone.

When I looked in the direction of the sound, I found Jude grilling fish over a fire.

Jude: …..Didja wake? Appetite?

Kate: There is…..

Jude took one of the fish he was grilling and handed it to me on a large leaf as a plate.

Jude: Time to eat. Since ya collapsed, you’d better get some nutrition.

Kate: Right……

Wrapping it in the leaf, I bit into the crispy skin of the freshly grilled fish.

Kate: Mm….! It’s salty, meaty and….. very delicious…..!

Kate: Where’d you get the fish?

Jude: Caught ‘em by hand when I swam into the shallows, ‘n the salt was taken from the seawater.

Saying it like it was nothing, Jude started to eat his portion of the fish.

(Jude’s so amazing…..I’ll try to catch something at the beach tomorrow too.)

I decided that I wanted to help but -

Jude: You’ll rest here tomorrow too.

When I was getting ready for bed after dinner, Jude told me that.

Kate: W-why? I’m fine now, so I’ll do something starting tomorrow!

Jude: Even if ya think you’ve recovered, once someone collapses it’ll happen again.

Jude: ……Wanna be a nuisance to me, then I won’t stop ya.

Kate: I understand…….I don’t want to be a nuisance…..

(But, I feel bad just resting in the cave.)

(I hope I can do something that won’t put a strain on my body…..)

Jude: ……In exchange, I’ve prepared a job for ya too.

Kate: Really?!

Jude: Ha……how much do ya want to work?

Kate: I wanted to help, but things had to be done for me…..It was so frustrating.

Kate: So, what do I need to do?

Jude: Story. Tell me one.

Kate: Story…..?

Jude: Don’t have a comfortable bed, ‘n I had trouble sleepin’ last night.

Jude: If I listen to your stupid stories, I think it’ll be borin’ ‘nough to sleep.

Kate: …..Got it. I’ll do my best to put you to sleep, Jude.

Maybe, Jude doesn’t need a bedtime story.

Perhaps he was giving me something that wasn’t burdensome, because I was feeling frustrated.

Kate: Now what kind of story do you want to hear tonight, got any requests?*** Wishes changed to requests.

Jude: If that’s the case, then….the dream ya had is good.

Kate: What.

Jude: Ya said somethin’ weird ‘bout me becomin’ your lover. I’m interested.

Kate: …..I, I understand. Please don’t get angry and just listen.

After we both laid down, I told him about my dream.

How after years of not being picked up, in order to fill the loneliness, Jude and I became lovers.

I was too embarrassed to talk about the affair…..so I only mentioned about being bitten.

Jude: Hmm, that was a complete nightmare to have.

Kate: Th-that’s right……It was dreadful not being picked up for three years.

Jude: That’s it?

Kate: What?

Jude: Ya said ya were bitten. If I became your lover, it’d be a nightmare for ya.

Kate: No, that’s not the nightmare. Rather…..

(Oh, I……what did I just say?)

Jude: ……Oi.

Jude’s deep voice sounds like it’s going to melt into the summer night.

He reached out and grabbed me by the arm, as if to say he wouldn’t let me go.

Jude: Why’ve ya been lookin’ at me strangely lately?

Kate: What…..

While I was at a loss for words, Jude looked at me and bit my wrist.

Kate: …..tss.

Jude:…..Looks like, you don’t care what I do to ya.

Jude: Let’s see how far I can tease ya 'n ya still enjoy it.

He grabbed my hand and pushed me to the ground.

With the strong scent of sandalwood, Jude drew closer and bit my shoulder.

Kate: Ah……

Jude: See, it’s become a kink. Ya like bein’ in pain.

Kate: T-that’s n-

Just as I was about to deny it, I heard a voice from far away.

Liam’s Voice: There are footprints and a cave here! Kate! Jude! You there?

Ellis’ Voice: ……Jude, you’re not dead are you?

Roger’s Voice: I heard their voices, so I guess their still alive.

Kate: I-It’s everyone’s voices……!

Jude: ……That was unexpectedly quick.

We both and stand up and head out of the cave towards the voices.

Along the way, I gently stroked the area where Jude had bitten me.

When I was bitten in real life, it felt sweeter and more painful than when I was bitten in the dream.

Jude’s profile, illuminated by the faint moonlight when he’d bitten me,

Everything was so vivid, including the scent of sandalwood I felt the moment I was bitten.

Reality left a more indelible mark on my heart, than a dream of delicious hands could.

(It’s…..not that pain has become a kink for me)

(Rather it’s for Jude himself, who inflicts the pain, that’s become the kink……)

(……Isn’t it just my imagination.)

Tag List: @theimaginativelyreticent @sapphire-323 @sh0jun @letter-from-afar

Dividers: @/natimiles [Master List]

**This line literally translates 'As soon as I said thanks, I fell asleep like mud.' Apparently, this is saying in Japan to indicate complete exhaustion. So, I changed it. ***This line literally translates to: ..."got any hopes/wishes." I changed this to 'requests' to localize it better.

Well, I hope you all enjoyed it! I did. NEED MORE.