they need to have mad sex

this is my happy place to avoid the witchhunt that is twitter | 19

[mendingbooks]

Psychologists HATE HIM!!!

end! he/it or anything else i'm not picky. 19. i was convinced to make this new account for the sake of my sanity and the need to brainrot everywhere.

other places you can find me!: ao3, ask for my maintwt & mainblog if mooties :3

askbox & dms are always open, be it for requests or just to chat. come on in, i don't bite!

minors & cc will be blocked, do not try and interact for the love of god

i really really and i mean really really really like mumscarian and any combination of these three stupids. may end up talking about them in a Normal Fangirl way of talking. also somewhat a joelgirl whatever his fans are called or something

not really a 100% nsfw space just a safe one for me. don't like don't read, ship and let ship :)

TAGS!! and cws i guess

9rambles - rambles and such!

9fry - fics & ficlets! be it here or on ao3 :3

9asks - asks! i answer most of them (i would hope)

9eyes - spicy stuff...

rpf - real people, cc not cubitos, married middle aged men.

bod - forcefem, bodymods, bodyhorror, ect

nc - noncon, dubcon, cnc, somno

yum - cannibalism, vore, and the likes

incest - what it says on the tin

honse - beastiality (this is just because i like horses)

*****will not tag anything that is acceptable to happen irl ; light gore ; distress/psychological harm ; intoxication ; physical harm

*****will not post mpreg & abo ; micro/macro ; feeding/feeder ; ed/eating disorders ; scat, farting, ect. . this is my own comfort and i personally don't want these on my blog :)). also wont answer any asks with these involved

with that, enjoy your stay in the wonderful land of tumblr user mendingbooks!

[beastliness]

hate it when the people who I love are suffering due to circumstances beyond my control 👎 there should be a sea monster that I can slay to fix the problem

[beastliness]

nobody ever gets locked in a tower or chained to a rock at sea anymore - it's always some shit like chronic illness or ptsd related depression

[plumknodel]

no more catboys. catmen . 28 yr old washed up depressed catman downing his 5th whiskey glass and his cat ears twitch depressedly

[lekosis]

And then he pushes the empty glass forlornly off the counter

[costello-xoxo]

KINKTOBER DAY 22: GUNPLAY

SHIP: Scar x Grian

ADDITIONAL TAGS: RPF, unsafe RACK practices, fear of death, piss, crying, no actual threat to life, like properly bare minimum aftercare

gun kink written by guy who has never even held a gun

---

It's been a long time since Scar felt this kind of power. Perhaps there had been some glimpses of it, in silly, roleplayed moments online. An artificial, pretend version of that feeling. But not in real life. In the flesh. Not since he was a teen.

Even before, he finds it hard to recall a moment quite like this one. So potently addictive, blood rushing electric with adrenaline, heart pumping hard and mind spinning and everything centring back to him. His actions. His power. His control.

But how did they get here?

They're in a hotel. A pretty shady one, actually, because Grian didn't want to get spotted. Fortunately that means their belongings weren't searched or questioned at all, but it also means they struggled up a single stair to get to the room labelled as 'accessible'.

Poor Grian had apologised profusely, but it doesn't matter at all. What matters is that they're alone. Just them. No one to interrupt.

It's a small room. Barely enough space to maneuver the wheelchair. Credit where credit's due, Grian moved the furniture around to make it easier. Still, it's not luxury.

They're next to the bed. Tucking into the narrow space between it and the wall. It's a sort of tight fit, with his chair, but the ratty, dimly-lit sheets make a good backdrop for what they're doing. Dusty air, stained curtains, and a very old coffee machine on a worn desk. Scar is certain Grian picked this place specifically to satisfy a few aesthetic needs of his own.

Namely, the fantasy of getting his brains blown out in a dingy old motel.

That's literal, by the way. When Grian first brought it up, he'd nervously shuffled on his feet and couldn't meet Scar's eyes. He'd thought it would scare him away.

As if anything could. As if Scar didn't feel his cock twitch in his pants when Grian explained his odd little kinks.

Yeah, he'd been concerned. Worried that his dear friend and- recently- partner wanted to die. That he actually wanted Scar to, well, kill him, for sex reasons. Which wouldn't be very good or sexy, if Scar says so himself.

But it's a fantasy. They both know it's just a fantasy. A play, designed specifically to get them both off.

Of course, this doesn't mean they can't get very, very deep into character.

So, Scar feels more powerful than he ever has before. He's a killer. He's a sadist. He's messed up in the head. He's taken this poor innocent civilian and forced him to his knees, forced him to unbuckle Scar's pants, forced him to...

We're getting to that bit, actually. Grian sits on his knees in front of Scar, trembling in anticipation or fear. Head bowed, unable to look his 'captor' in the eyes, completely deferent to Scar's will. Mousey hair glows gold under caramel light, thin-rimmed glasses barely hinting at an idea of expression. Shoulders move in jolting gasps.

His hands sit obediently, resting on Scar's thighs, feeling around the edges of his boxers in nervous twitches. Soft fingers grazing over sensitive skin.

Most importantly, the centre of the scene, Scar has a gun. It's a small thing. A little handgun with a simple trigger mechanism. The sort you see in movies. But it is real. It's metal and hard and could very well be loaded.

Grian thinks it is loaded. Because Scar told him it was. Loaded with the safety on, he said, betting on the fact that Grian wouldn't be able to check, nor would he really know what that means.

Modern handguns don't even have trigger safeties, for goodness' sake. It's adorable how little Grian really understands.

He has it pressed to Grian's forehead, tilted slightly to the left. Muzzle digging against his skin hard enough to make him wince. Scar's finger rests, calm, on the trigger, simply waiting there, teasing. Holding it casually, almost limply, like the threat means nothing at all.

Like the only inconvenience would be the cleaning fee.

Without words, Scar gives Grian new orders. He keeps the gun pressed against the man's temple, cool metal biting at him, constantly reminding him of the position he's in, and moves it with the ducking of Grian's head.

Warm and soft fingers wrap themselves around the waistband of Scar's boxers. He can't really lift his ass, especially with one arm occupied, so it's a little awkward when Grian has to pull them down. But he manages, and Scar doesn't break character like he did when Grian pulled down his trousers.

His cock springs free, already half-hard. Which is saying something, for him, notoriously needing a lot of prep to get blood flowing down there. It's just this image, he thinks. Something so cold and cruel about it, yet so hot. So beautiful.

Grian immediately knows what to do. He leans forward so fast Scar has to pull the gun away, before placing it back gently once he settles into place.

The second Grian's mouth gets on his cock, Scar is in heaven. He can't buck into Grian's throat, or force himself in, going solely at Grian's pace. But somehow, that makes him feel even more powerful. Like he's demanded Grian make this good for him, that he'll put no effort in at all, that Grian is here to serve him.

He makes sure Grian feels the gun against his head the whole time. Moves it back and forth as he takes more of Scar's cock into his mouth. So he always knows. Always stays aware.

Right there, the threat of bloody and violent death. Walking a line so thin it's impossible to tell what's safe or what's real. Teetering on the edge of something hideous, and leaning against it, accepting it, the killing thing gripped between shaking fingers and never quite falling apart.

Scar moans, warm, wet heat enveloping his hardening cock. Grian's tongue swipes around his head, licking at beads of pre there, then explores further down his shaft, taking him deep with practiced, steady motions.

With the gun pressed into his temple, he looks debauched. Whorish. Pitiful. Like fear isn't his only motivator. Like he needs this more than he needs air.

The bubbling sense of power in Scar's gut melds with the pleasure of Grian's mouth on him. His free hand grips the side of his chair.

He has to take a breath before he can speak, trying to fall back into 'character'. That terrible, awful person Grian needs him to be. Not Ryan nor Scar but someone else. To make it less real, or more real, or a bit of both.

"You look so pretty right now." He whispers it, doing his best to keep his voice steady, and he makes it sound like Grian's a thing to be looked at. To be taken. Like he's been stolen away by Scar, who now dictates his life.

Or death. Grian shivers, clearly enjoying himself too. There's a hint of genuine fear there, Scar thinks. Fear he wants to amplify.

But he's also getting sucked off, so it might have to wait. Scar tenses as Grian laps at his cock, tongue gliding across sensitive veins, swallowing down as much pre as he can. A few drops of saliva trail across Scar's balls, getting lost in his pubes.

Taking him deeper, Grian whines, sending vibrations all across Scar's cock. His stomach muscles twitch. "Ah, ah, s-such a good boy, such- so good."

The character kind of falls apart, too hooked on his pleasure to keep his voice steady. But the gun stays in position. The threat remains. And Grian looks so good under the barrel. So beautiful with a cock in his mouth, filling his body, stretching his lips.

He's not big. Slightly below average, actually, but Grian works him like he's a porn star. Takes him in the sphincter of his throat, not quite choking around him and pulling back before it can hurt. But he does it with the ease of someone well-practiced. Someone who's seen his way around every kind of cock.

Which does beg the question- when, and who? Those divorce papers were signed only a few months ago. Scar remembers that day vividly, so he knows exactly how long it has been.

But it's too late at night to wonder and speculate, and the warm, tight wetness around his cock feels too good to care.

It's so much. All of it together is perfect. Grian leans forward, taking his cock all the way to the base and licking along the underside. His throat spasms around the shaft, tensing and pulsing like it's trying to milk him dry.

Scar can't take any more. "Oh gosh, oh gosh, oOH!" His voice cracks when he cums, hips tingling like he wants to buck forward. But he can only rely on Grian's throat to do the work, squeezing his cock rhythmically as he shoots rope after rope into that warm, wet hole.

To his credit, Grian doesn't pull away to breathe. Doesn't even flinch, swallowing it all down like a man dying of thirst. Waves of rich pleasure run all through Scar's body, his climax washing over him.

He buries his hand in Grian's hair, pulling at the thin strands. Tugging hard enough to make Grian flinch.

Sighing, he unloads the last of his orgasm into Grian's throat. He pulls out, letting the man catch his breath as he stuffs himself back into his boxers. But Grian isn't one to just leave Scar struggling. Still panting, he helps Scar pull them back up with his trousers, though he leaves the buckle undone.

There's only one problem. Grian's still rock hard in his own jeans. He's kneeling, patiently, looking up at Scar with big hopeful eyes. Pressing his own forehead against the barrel of the gun.

Right. The gun. Well, it's not like Scar doesn't have a plan. He just momentarily forgot about it.

Grian looks so good on his knees. Scar tries not to get hard again as he moves the gun down. "Ugh. Gosh-" He presses it against Grian's lips. "Suck."

And Grian does. Taking the wide metal barrel into his mouth, he treats it like a cock. Closing his eyes, moaning as he works his way down the hard, cold weapon. Licking its 'tip', dipping his tongue into the muzzle, before slipping forward and swallowing it up to the trigger guard.

All the while, his hips grind down, finding hints of friction between his cock and his jeans. Trying to bring himself closer to climax, whining when he can't quite reach it.

He's losing himself. Sucking and bobbing his head and bucking his hips. Uncaring about the way his teeth clack painfully against the barrel, forgetting the danger behind it. Eyes half-closed and hazy, just how he looks when he's sucking cock, but clearly even more wrapped up in his own stupid little mind.

His own fantasies. Fantasies of being hurt. Snuffed out. Ruined. Everything he's told Scar in preparation for this scene. Scar can imagine all the sick, terrible things Grian must be thinking every time he deepthroats the gun. None of them are pretty.

It's time for Scar to enact his plan.

"Hey, G." Despite insisting Scar call him by his real name, Grian still looks up. Up at Scar's smirking face. At him flicking something- a random mechanism- on the side of the gun. Click. Like in the movies when they turn the 'safety' off, turning a hunk of metal into a deadly weapon.

The word is simple, easily slipping from his tongue. "Surprise."

Grian's eyes go wide as Scar pushes the gun further down his throat. Makes him choke on it. Cutting off his breath. And then, and then, the terror sets in.

If his mouth weren't stuffed with metal, Scar's sure Grian would be begging. Pleading for his life. Tears instantly spill, slipping down his face, over ruddy cheeks, leaving his horrified eyes beautifully bloodshot. He shakes his head as much as he can, muffled cries coming from deep in his chest.

None of it matters. Scar laughs, cold and cruel and sealing Grian's fate. The gun slips just a tad further into his throat. Scar's knuckles brush against Grian's lips.

A sob shudders through Grian. He squeezes his eyes shut. Blocking out the dingy, dusty hotel. Whimpering 'no's that no one will hear.

Scar pulls the trigger. Click-click-crrrick.

An awful, terrified flinch, full-bodied and palpable. Grian's trembles, shuddering back but unable to escape. For a second, he's entirely still. Frozen. Like he thinks he's already dead.

But he came. So hard it stains his jeans. Cock twitching and confusing pleasure dripping out onto the stained carpet.

It's a truly beautiful look on him. So scared, so vulnerable, so turned on. Cumming at the brink of death. Scar can only naturally wonder if he would've climaxed dead, too.

They can't test it, but Scar can dream. He can keep his horrible fantasies where he loaded the gun and really went through with it. Maybe he's a lot more into this whole thing than he thought. Maybe they'll have to try some other scenarios.

If Grian forgives him, of course, for the trick.

He's weeping. Scar pulls the gun back, a tiny bit, just to let Grian breathe. He's not sure Grian realises he is breathing, eyes still shut tight and chest heaving with sobs. Fingers scratching at the ground, white from the strain. Body rigid, limbs tensed.

Then there's a hissing sound. Damp and dull and wet. Scar looks down at the floor, and sees a dark stain growing between Grian's legs.

He's pissing himself. He's actually-

Scar can't help but laugh, a surprised thing. He dampens it with a cough, not wanting to make Grian feel too bad about his little accident. So scared he did a pee-pee in his pants. Awww.

It's also quite hot. He feels his cock give a little kick at the sight. If he had more energy, maybe he'd fuck Grian's mouth again. Take him while he's crying and delirious with fear.

Then again, that's probably not good practice. He's not meant to do that sort of thing without consent. Not that Grian consented to being tricked into thinking he was going to die. But that's just a bit of harmless fun, of course. Nothing serious. Obviously.

That's a complete lie and Scar should use his brain more than his dick. But he is not going to. Tormenting Grian is too fun.

Slipping the gun from Grian's mouth, watching the strands of drool break away and drop to the floor, Scar gives himself a pump of oxygen. Cool air slides down into his lungs, aiding his breathing as the exhaustion starts to take hold.

If he's exhausted, how must Grian feel? Ragged and undone and kneeling in a puddle of his own piss. Heart like scared prey, beating so fast he can't hear himself think. Body still unable to register that it is alive. That his brains haven't been splattered all over the off-white wall.

As the stream of piss comes to an end, Grian cracks open his eyes. Breathing loud and heavy, he chokes around another sob, limbs starting to shake.

He looks up at Scar. At the gun in his hand. Then slaps him on the shin.

Predictably, Scar doesn't really feel it. It's weak, and he doesn't use his shins anyway. But he gets the sentiment.

"Oh my god," Grian wheezes, "never do that again." He falls to the side, collapsing against the side of the bed with a deep sigh. The glare he gives Scar has absolutely no bite behind it.

Tears still run down his face. Overwhelmed or relieved or some mixture of the two. Body too weak to keep itself upright.

Placing the gun on his lap, Scar smirks. "Aw, but you looked like you were having fun." He casts his eyes down to Grian's crotch, a damp, dark mess still dripping piss and cum onto the carpet. It must be uncomfortable. Sticky.

It's starting to smell, too. Acrid and salty and stale. Is it bad that Scar kind of likes it? Maybe he just likes it because it's from Grian. Maybe he's that much of a weirdo.

Grian throws out his arm, but doesn't even come close to hitting Scar's knee. "I thought you were gonna shoot me!" His voice is high and whiney, still sort of wrecked from the cock and gun. Thankfully for Scar, he doesn't sound all that upset. Embarrassed, maybe.

What is there to be embarrassed about? Aside from everything. Scar beams at him, revelling in the feeling of being in control.

It's nice. He understands why people do this. Seeing Grian, so often stubborn and controlling and neurotic, reduced to a weepy, piss-stained mess who came the instant he thought his life would end, is very, very gratifying.

As if he doesn't understand Grian's protests, Scar hums questioningly. "You came, though." And Grian immediately jolts, as if burnt, frustration and shame clear on his face.

Which is sad. He shouldn't be ashamed. He should celebrate the fact that he and Scar have unlocked a new, exciting sex thing.

Flushing even more than before, Grian looks away. "Shut up." There's something deeper than just embarrassment in his eyes, then. Something insecure and sharp. Like he thinks Scar will look down on him for this, or thinks he's disgusting, or thinks he doesn't deserve Scar. Just like he looked when he told Scar about this kink in the first place.

"You're silly." Grian glares at him. He holds up his hands in mock surrender. "You were hot! Even the pee." Because it was. Scar didn't realise he could like something like that, with all his aversion to germs. It's so gross! And yet!

Then again, he didn't realise he was into any of this at all. The gun, the roleplay, the trickery. Sadly, he likely won't scare Grian like that again. Not in such a true, genuine sense.

He's sure he can get the man to piss himself more, though. That'll be fun to play with.

Grian stares at him, scanning his smiling face for any hint of a lie. When he comes up empty, his body finally fully relaxes, sinking against the side of the bed in utter defeat.

"And you shouldn't be allowed anywhere near a firearm, but here we are." He's not angry. Maybe Scar's going to get a lecture later, but in the moment, Grian is not angry.

Wheeling a little closer, Scar reaches his hand down. Touching it to Grian's face. Tilting his head up.

A total mess. Bloodshot eyes with red around them, tear-streaked skin, lip bitten and bleeding from the harsh metal, hair damp and sweaty. If Grian saw himself, now, he'd probably have a fit.

But it's the most perfect, wonderful thing Scar has ever seen. Maybe he's an awful person for this, but seeing his partner in such a destroyed, ruined state fills him with a well of emotion he can't even describe. Lust and love and awe and pity all scrambled into one.

He can't lean forward much, his wheelchair strap stopping him from falling, but he does what he can, fingers brushing against Grian's cheek.

"Love you," he says, soft and quiet and just for Grian. Grian who laughs wetly, leaning against Scar's palm, and brings his own up to cover it. Their hands pressing together, united as one.

"Yeah, yeah, love you too. Freak."

[invis-here]

"Just for good luck" and "One more for good luck"

I didn't see what G was doing from Gem's pov but I choose to believe he kissed Scar on the cheek.

[mendingbooks]

(gender)fuck or die

grian/scar explicit feminization + porn with feelings + genderbend 6.7k

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

[costello-xoxo]

KINKTOBER DAY 8: WEBCAM

SHIP: Grian x Scar x Gem

ADDITIONAL TAGS: RPF, mutual masturbation, erectile dysfunction, discussions of divorce, severe internalised ableism, feelings of inadequacy, Scar-typical self-deprecation

This one started horny then went off the rails. My RPF Scar thesis honestly.

---

"Streams are definitely off?" Grian asks through the clanks and thuds of him re-establishing his precarious camera setup. Grunts of effort only barely register over his mic, but it's enough of a sound to turn Scar's listening ears on.

Gem, already perfectly set up, tilts her camera down slightly. "I double and triple checked." She's an image of effortless beauty, really, wheeling her spinny chair back to reveal her lap.

It's an angle Scar can never quite get right. Even after so many post-stream 'chats', the height of his wheelchair and complicated camera setup clash enough to make it impossible to show his face and crotch at the same time. But no one ever says anything, so he supposes they don't mind.

"Thank goodness." Grian's camera flicks to life on the screen. "Oh, Scar, can we see your face today?" His forehead is damp with sweat, thin mousy hair sticking to flushed skin.

Scar thinks it's a good look, even if Grian is probably criticising himself every time he glances at the corner of his own screen. Then again, Scar thinks Grian always looks good.

Tilting his camera back up so most of his face is in the shot, Scar gives the others a little wave. If he maneuvers himself right, maybe he can show the tip of his cock, too. When he's hard, at least.

It's second nature to them all, now. Checking, double checking, triple checking their streams are off, waiting for Impulse and Skizz to leave- though they're likely somewhere else doing the exact same thing- and opening their private call. Beginning as a secret, whispered ritual between Grian and Scar, it slowly grew to include Gem, and ultimately became less secret- at least for Grian.

The zip of someone's jeans. Scar looks between the two on his screen, and sees Grian already fishing his half-hard cock out of his pants.

"Wow, someone's eager," Gem laughs, though her hand is down her pants too, the other unbuttoning her shirt.

Grian scrunches his nose at her. "Well, for some of us, it's past midnight." He pushes his pants and boxers down, giving his cock a few swift strokes before slowing, just holding it and waiting. A nice, long, curved shaft with pre beading at the head. Enough to make any man worth his salt drool at the sight.

The size alone never ceases to amaze Scar. Such a small guy, with such a... well, you get the picture. Makes him feel bad for elbowing the poor guy in the balls, really. If he'd known just how much the man was packing-

He's getting off track again. Despite having no way of knowing who Grian is looking at, Scar can somehow feel eyes on him, burning into his skin as he struggles with his pants.

"Gimme a second here..." he shakily deals with the button, but then comes the hard part. Usually he's feeling stronger than this, but his health hasn't exactly been great lately, and pushing himself up just enough to slip his pants down seems monumental.

He tries to lift his ass and tug down his pants at the same time. It doesn't exactly work, and he just inches backwards in his chair, wheelchair strap squishing his chest. His G-tube rubs against the inside of his shirt, tugging against his skin.

"Dang it." He mutters the words under his breath, but the others must pick up on it too.

"Oh, no, take your time, Scar." Grian's voice is calmer, softer, than usual. As it tends to be when Scar's disability gets him in trouble. He hates it. Hates the faux pity. Hates knowing that Grian just wants to get off, and he's slowing the whole situation down.

He pulls the pants down by an inch. It'll just have to be this way. "Ugh. stupid..." an incoherent grumble leaves him, though it's mostly for show. A way of telling the others that he knows how annoying this is.

They've already moved on, no longer paying him any mind. Gem lazily moves her hand under her pants, while Grian sighs and gives his cock a few more strokes.

"Hm. Grian?" Gem's voice is breathy, but not lost in pleasure. Scar can't figure out if they're actually waiting for him or not.

Has it always been so hot in his room?

Grian's hand rests on the inside of his thigh. "Yu-huh?" He powers through a yawn, and Scar pulls his pants down another inch. In his chest, his heart thunders along from the effort, leaving him lightheaded and dizzy. Sweat drips down his face, sticky and gross and making his skin crawl. Usually he'd wipe it away.

But it doesn't matter. He just needs to get his stupid trousers out from under his stupid ass.

"How's it all... going?" Gem asks, easily ignoring Scar's little gasps for breath. "With... ummm... everything?" Oh, she's asking about the divorce. Scar tunes it out, halfway, pushing the pants and his boxers out from under him.

Some startled groan. Grian's hand tenses against his leg. "Oh my goodness, I do not wanna talk about that right now. Fuck." Scar glances back up at the monitor, letting his trousers pool around his thighs.

"Woah, woah, woah, did I hear a- a- curse word from you, mister?" His voice wavers only a tad, partly from how fast his heart is going, and partly...

It's not nerves, exactly. More like, a hopeful anticipation. If he works his way back into the conversation, then he's involved again. He's worth their time.

A beat. Grian smirks far too mischievously at his camera. "Says the man who can't stop saying shit on stream."

Throwing his hands up, Scar stammers over a response. "W-well I'll have you know it's a dyslexia thing!" Total lie. He just forgets to turn his real self off, sometimes. Although the line between real self and internet persona seems to blur nowadays.

"Sure, buddy." Grian laughs. "Can we get off, now?"

Nodding so frantically it makes his ears ring, Scar takes hold of his soft cock. "Mhm- sorry, just got stuck." Next time, he'll wear sweatpants.

The first touches are gentle, hesitant, feeling out his sensitive spots and running up his length. Miniscule bites of pleasure trickle down, settling nicely in his stomach. It takes more coaxing, more foreplay, than the average person, to get his systems going. Blood pumping, and all.

Though each second he spends trying to get himself up, is one he's wasting, making them wait. He can't afford to take too long. Aware of the eyes on him, he strokes his hand up and down, somewhat awkward with the lack of lube. That would be a whole other step, and besides, his cock should start doing its thing soon enough.

Biting back pathetic grunts and moans, he closes his eyes. As much as he loves to see Grian's hard cock or Gem's frantic grinding, he needs to concentrate. Work on getting his heart-rate down.

It could probably go up, and that would be fine, but setting his life alert off is not what he needs right now. Actually, he should've taken it off. The risk is one he'd rather not take. And regardless, getting his blood to travel further downwards is his primary concern. Hard to make that happen when you're worried about your stupid, rabbit-pulse heart.

"Talk to me, Tay," Grian says. It shouldn't feel like a stab in the heart, but Scar can't help it. So rarely do they use each other's real names. Some sign of a closeness Scar isn't privy to. That he'll never have.

A whine builds at the back of his throat. Gem huffs. "So demand-y... hmm..." Scar squints open an eye, watching her mull over her options. "What if I came to the UK? What would we do?" She smirks, like she's sharing an inside joke. Another thing Scar doesn't understand.

"Oh, so much." Grian's hand speeds up. "Ah, hngh, sorry. Sorry- I'm kinda pent up, t-turns out." Pre slicks his hand, smoothing the glide as he jerks himself off. Scar feels a pang of unfounded jealousy at the image, still soft and dry, and knows deeply that he can't indulge in their fantasy.

He can't go to the UK. He can't sneak around on a mystery trip with them. He can't see the old houses and castles nestled in woodlands and mountains.

Even if he could make the trip, he'd have to bring a caregiver with him. His dad or someone. No special secret journey no one else knows about.

For the longest time, he's been hoping they feel the same way as he does. That they aren't Ryan and Taylor and Charles right now, but Scar, Gem, and Grian. They've been using those names, mostly. Because it makes it less real, doesn't it? Makes them not the kind of people who would jerk off with their friends.

He's still soft, and there's nothing he can do to help it. A cold, simmering dread makes itself known in the pit of Scar's stomach.

Under the cover of her trousers, the bulge of Gem's hand moves up and down without pause. "What about you, Scar? Got anything to share?" She gasps the words, lost in a world of her own pleasure. Neither have spared Scar so much as a glance.

"Uh... honestly, I'm having a little trouble, here," he finally admits, letting his hand fall from his cock. His heart is still racing, though it no longer thuds in his ears.

Pausing, Grian blinks at him through the screen. "Oh." He sounds disappointed. Reaching out, he angles his camera up, hiding his cock from view. The image wobbles unsteadily for a second.

Scar forces out a laugh, scratching the back of his neck. "Yeah, uh, sorry. Stupid thing doesn't wanna play." He ignores the burning water in his eyes. "Guess that's, um, uh... you two go on. Don't let me stop you." His chest heaves, and he pumps a short burst of oxygen through his cannula. The cool air flows down to his lungs, artificially filling them where he simply can't.

Maybe he's being unfair. The way he said it danced around the edges of manipulative. Of course he doesn't want them to masturbate together without him, he'll be thinking about it miserably for weeks, but what else is he meant to say? He's not just going to watch.

Gem's hand is out of her pants. "What? No, Scar, it's not the same without you." She pushes herself towards her desk, closer to the camera so he can see her face properly.

He doesn't want to see that pitying, sad expression.

"Haha, that's nice, but you don't have to lie. I know you two have more, um, of a thing, anyway." It was never just a game, for them. Not with each other. He knew he felt like a third wheel, but he'd hoped it was all in his head.

Grian shakes his head, like he doesn't understand. "Wait, Scar, no-" he cuts himself off, for a beat- "what d'you mean?" As if he doesn't already know. As if it isn't obvious what's so wrong with Scar.

He puts on a smile, but it's fragile at the edges. Already he feels it trembling. "You, um, you don't wanna be with a guy like me. Not really. You guys can do the... boyfriend-girlfriend thing. I'm here to, well, jerk off. If I can. Which I can't today, apparently! So I- I- I- oh, jeez..." a cough rattles through his weak chest, and he wheezes. "I'm gonna go." Suddenly, his heart is all he can hear, not too fast or panicky but still so, so loud. Accompanied by a long, drawn out ringing between his ears.

Fumbling with his mouse, he searches for the exit call button. He bites his tongue, throat dry and scratchy, and avoids looking at his friends' faces while roaming the screen. Where is it?

"Scar. Stop." Grian's voice is so stern, so level, it freezes Scar in his tracks. The dry heat of his bedroom beats down on him.

He dares to move his gaze down, meeting the two feeds on the screen. What he sees sends something like needles right through his chest. They're both just looking at him, their pleasure forgotten, wearing absolutely devastated expressions that make Scar feel like he's ruined just about everything with only a few words.

What did he do? It's not his fault his body doesn't work. Not his fault he couldn't get it up. What do they want? Magic? If they really want to keep going, he gave them the choice!

"Did we really make you feel left out?" Gem's voice is tiny, and it leaves Scar confused. Left out? No, that's not what he meant at all.

He can't pretend he doesn't care. But this is how it's always been, for him. He knows he can't have something more, so he's not angry about everything going on between Grian and Gem, even if the cruel pang of jealousy swirls like a sickness inside him when he sees it. There's nothing for him to feel left out over. Because it was never going to include him.

Before he can say anything, though, Grian speaks. "Talk to me, Scar. Did- when we- at the charity event, what did you think that meant for us?"

The charity event. Oh. Scar wishes he could say he forgot about it, but that would be a lie. Ever since it happened, it hasn't left his mind, filling the space in his head in every quiet moment. So he's had to keep his thoughts loud.

Their hands on him, finally, their touches so light and gentle. Lips meeting, but not his. Hands teasing his chest. Grasping his cock. Grian on his knees for him. Gem in his lap.

It had been his first and only exploration of sex with another person. Hadn't even lost his virginity, technically. Not in the 'taking it up the ass' sense. Grian hadn't wanted to hurt him.

His mouth is dry. More than usual. "I mean... you wanted a- a bit of... um, you're both bisexual. Wanted to try it with another... guy." The reasoning feels flimsy even as he says it, but he can't think of anything else.

"But- but not just any guy." Grian's words end with a laugh, but it's nervous. Fluttery. Like he's afraid.

Looking to Gem, he sees her roll her chair back and forth, fidgeting. "Yeah, Scar, we wanted it to be you. We- we like you." The way she says it holds something, but Scar doesn't know what it is. He looks down, at his lap, pants barely tugged past his thin hips, soft cock resting against his leg.

He grimaces. "Not like you like each other." Shaking his head, then, realising how it came across, he raises his hands. "I- I'm not trying to be rude. I'm not mad! I know I'm undesirable-"

"What!?" Both of them cut him off, so loud he cringes, Grian's mic peaking out. Scar startles, shoulders jumping up in surprise. He stutters, scrambling for words and failing, only a yelp leaving his throat.

Leaning forward, Grian exhales. He closes his eyes for a second, then opens them, staring right at his camera. "Scar. I- well, fuck, I didn't wanna say this right now, but- but I was- uh- we were hoping you'd wanna be our... our... guy."

"He means partner. Oh my gosh." Gem hides her face in her hands, despairingly.

Dread, piercing out as a fully formed thing from where it had been stagnantly brewing, is potent, rotting right through Scar's ribcage in an instant. His eyes go wide, and his hands grip the edge of his desk, fingertips turning white from the pressure.

"N-no, no, no, you don't get it. You don't see how much- how much of a dang pain it is to look after me. I wouldn't do that to you." No one deserves to deal with all his issues. The people in his life who do, only do it because he's their son, or patient, sometimes. And he's learnt to do plenty by himself, to save them the trouble.

Also to be independent. It's a lot, losing so much after years of normal life. He needs to do things by himself, sometimes, just to remind himself he can.

But a lot of the time, he needs someone there.

Being with someone, romantically, would trap them just like he's trapped his family. He knows it isn't his fault, he can't help it, he deserves accommodations, but that doesn't mean he needs to drag more people into his life. Force them to stay with him, be his caregiver, watch him potentially get worse and worse. More and more sick. And they would have to do so much, change so much, to keep him safe.

No parties without sickness tests for all attendees at least two weeks beforehand. No drinking when he's at home alone, in case he has an emergency. No staying over at a friend's house. No-

"Ryan." Grian isn't looking into the camera anymore. He's staring lower, at his screen. "Keeping you alive isn't a pain. Who told you that?"

What an odd question. Scar shrugs, the strap across his torso tugging his clothes. "Uh. No one?" Lie. Doctors, nurses, his brother- once, he said it was a joke. "But it- it really is. I'm not... getting better. And I can't even guarantee I can give you anything in return."

It hits him, only after all that, how Grian had called him 'Ryan'. Some strange, nauseating mixture of hope and horror pulses in his chest.

Gem clears her throat. "I'm confused. What would we want in return?" Her arms are folded across her desk, and she's also blinking at her monitor, as if trying to read Scar.

Now he knows they're being stupid. "Like... sex?" He's attractive, he's aware, that's why they think they want him. But, he gestures towards his still-uncovered, but out of view, crotch. "Obviously, I'm broken in more ways than one." It's a weird, uneven laugh that leaves his body, but it doesn't really belong to him.

A long, deliberate breath. Grian runs a hand through his hair, then clenches his fist around the light strands, tugging them tight. "You're not broken. What the fuck? No, seriously, what the fuck?"

Scar gives himself a pump of oxygen, because he can't find it in himself to breathe. "Don't think I've ever heard you swear so much, G." When did his voice become so quiet?

Slam! A cracking sound splits through his headphones. Scar startles, jolting in his seat.

Grian lifts his hand, shaking away the pain of its collision with his desk. "Because you're being stupid! Nevermind the fact that you're incredibly attractive, and have a great dick. Whatever! That means nothing! You're you. We love you, Scar! I don't care if you can never get it up again, for goodness' sake!"

All of those words brush right over Scar's brain, and he lands at the stupidest point. Something about never getting it up again? "Aw, that would be sad," he pouts.

Rolling his eyes, Grian can't hold back an incredibly fond smile, if only for a fleeting moment. "Okay, yes, it would be sad. But we would find a way around it or something. Because we- as I said- love you."

"Grian!" Gem's voice is shrill, sounding a little panicked.

"What?" Grian snaps. Then, he draws back. "Oh, shit, the plan." For some reason, the words are muffled, blurred by a strange ringing sound. This noise running through his ears. Maybe his headphones need replacing?

Cogs turn, but slowly. There's a good minute of static in Scar's brain as he tries to process what was just said. Did- that surely wasn't- hold on, had Grian just said they love him?

He blinks. His heart is beating too fast, maybe. "What plan?"

Guilt crosses Grian's expression. "Ah, right... Gem and I were gonna tell you next time we met in person. Um. Sorry. Got carried away." Frowning to himself, he avoids looking at his monitor. "Probably should've just told you, thinking in hindsight."

Shaking her head, Gem sighs. "It's fine. Scar?" She purposefully looks at the camera, now, making sure he feels it.

His mind swirls, confused and afraid and agonisingly hopeful. Some combination of things he shouldn't allow himself to feel. What if it's just an elaborate joke? What if they change their minds? Do they actually, really, love him?

"H-huh? Oh. Um..." Scar grasps at straws, trying to find something to say. Pathetically, but also predictably, he settles on the part of his mind that really hates him. "You actually mean it?"

Not even a second passes before Grian replies. "Yes." Like it's the simplest thing. "Of course." He goes uncharacteristically quiet, and Scar wonders just how long he's been wanting to say this.

Not that it really matters, because he's said it now. Scar could've waited a million years.

The squeak of Gem's wheelie chair. "You're amazing, Ryan." And it's the way she says it. The way her eyes shimmer under those fancy streamer lights. How her voice wavers just a tad, like she's holding back so much emotion even a drop more could cause a tsunami.

He actually believes her. For the first time in his life, Scar- no, Ryan- believes these two people thousands of miles away actually love him. He believes her, and it's real.

Burying his face in his hands, Grian groans. "It's so late... we- we will talk about this. Like, logistically. In the morning." Right. Right, because Grian's still finalising legal documents. Gem is still young and full of adventure. Everything's up in the air.

But for once it doesn't feel like everything's up in the air without him.

Gem's smile is beautiful. Relaxed and content. "Maybe our next trip can be to America, after all." She glances between her monitor and camera, and for a moment, Ryan is stunned by every detail of her he'd never noticed before. Every curly ring of fiery hair, the crease of her eyes when she smiles, fingers tapping the surface of her desk. How all of her looks so perfect in soft, simple light.

Anyway, it sounds like a nice idea. Seeing them- holding them- in person, again. Ryan nods. "Okay... yeah, okay. G-goodnight, then, um, guys." A second of hesitation. "I love you." He cringes as soon as he says it, but there's no taking it back now. Like he hadn't made it obvious enough how desperate he is for affection.

"Love you too," Grian mumbles, and then he's gone. Blanked out into nothing. Ryan's insides burn with bittersweet longing, not a new feeling, but the usual stab of pitiful jealousy doesn't rear its head.

Instead, there's warmth. Comforting. Reassuring. Similar to curling up in bed next to a sleepy, purring cat after a long hospital stay.

With a smile, Gem waves at him. "Love you." On autopilot, he waves back, and far too soon, she's gone too. Leaving him alone on their call, staring at his own tiny reflection in the corner of his screen, with his pants pulled under his ass.

Something wet falls down his face. He doesn't wipe it away.

He just sits there, soaking it all in. The fact that he might not actually be alone forever. Everything Gri- Charles said about looking after him and living with him. How they both said they love him. They actually-

Suddenly, exhaustion catches up to him. It's only the middle of the day. Though, he supposes, after streaming and all of that, he has every excuse to be tired.

These days, he's tired often. He supposes it's something he'll have to explain to them.

Wheeling himself away from his desk, he decides to start prepping his evening meds. After he pulls his pants up. Then he'll get a feed bag in his system, talk to his parents, maybe drop a hint or two about what just happened, and think about taking an early night. With all that waits for him in the morning, he should get some damn rest.

But it'll be different, this time. Everything's going to be different. Acceptance blooms between his ribs, easing the frantic beats of his trembling heart.

He loves them, and it's okay.

[mendingbooks]

i'm a little late with this since i've been down with a fever the last couple of weeks but i'm 19!!!

[target--practice]

I love my friends #myfriends

[manygoodtimes]

Third life but scar never got his top surgery ,

[fangs-4-fags]

MY DINAR 🔥 (blurry picture of a terrified man tied up laying on his side on a basement floor)

[mendingbooks]

[mendingbooks]

a little something i was thinking of earlier to cheer myself up... here to share with the world :D

[costello-xoxo]

As a disabled person I honestly believe the way Wizard (currently @wonderous-wizard ) writes and draws disability isn't as simple as purely fetishistic. His long post going over Scar's disabilities in an incredibly well researched manner was something that genuinely made me tear up, because I had never seen such a beautiful, delicate, thought out piece of research and information compiled in one place regarding Scar's disabilities. It made me realise, in fact, just how much the fandom disregards his disabilities - especially if they want to sexualise him.

To me, it shows a level of respect when you refuse to disregard someone's disabilities to make them more appealing to you in your own fantasies. And it's obviously kind of funny talking about respect in regards to Wizard's work, but in fairness he did try his absolute best to keep it away from where Scar could see it. And regardless, I'm talking about respect in terms of respecting the fact that Scar is disabled, and if you're going to make RPF works about him, it's much more disrespectful to ignore his disabilities.

Someone with disabilities can be sexy. Their disabilities can be sexy, without it being just a fetish thing. Wizard combines his kinks and interests, of course, but he doesn't - as some have claimed - specifically target Scar because his disabilities make him physically weaker. That's just a part of Scar that one can't ignore, which lends itself to types of RPF (emphasis on the F) which Wizard likes, that victimise him - though that isn't the only thing Wizard ever creates and Scar's disabilities are certainly not the only reason he creates noncon work.

It's also something Wizard has gone into detail about outside of noncon or medical fetish works. It's something he's drawn with love and care outside of pure smut. The little sparkles he draws in Scar's medical tubing is one of my favourite Wizard art features.

Besides this, I also do think it's okay (and good actually) to talk about different types of sex with a focus on disability. Pondering various sex positions that are accessible, how it might feel to play around with 'extra holes' (ports for feeding tubes, etc), what kinks like breathplay might look like for someone who struggles with breathing already... these aren't just ways to fetishise disabilities. They are ways of reclaiming disability as attractive, sexy, kinky, and unique. Too often disabled people are told they are undesirable - something Scar has echoed himself - and it has been a big part of some disabled people's journeys to take their sexualities back.

[Directed at a certain someone: The whole comment about 'oh, well, I'm disabled and I would be horrified to know someone was thinking about my disability sexually' is both a 'you' problem and also not an issue because you can't read people's minds. People might have those thoughts about you, but so long as no one actually does anything to you (because thoughts don't equal action) then you will never know and your life goes on unchanged.

Wizard has never even hinted at enacting any of the fantasies he has irl (that would look like, for example, posting about going to events Scar is going to be at and hinting at having plans). The only reason Scar knows about some of what Wiz had drawn is because of people like you who harassed his mods until they couldn't just ignore it anymore.

Wizard himself has always tried to keep his stuff to himself because he knows it is uncomfortable for a CC to find. Like all RPF and non RPF nsfw work. It's not somehow more horrifying because it's more realistic. CCs already know this stuff exists, it's just our job as nsfw creators to make sure they don't see it.]

And, well, as someone who actually knows Wizard, unlike the people who seem to think he's an evil mastermind, I know him to be kindhearted, caring, and supportive of myself and others - regardless of our disability status. Which is why it pisses me off so much to see him painted in such a disgusting light.

No, Wizard isn't ableist. You can be uncomfortable with how he depicts a real disabled man in his art, for sure. You can be uncomfortable with RPF noncon because it feels Too Real or too disrespectful or whatever. But to say all he's doing is fetishizing, and that the only reason he likes Scar is because it's easy to imagine him unable to fight back an assailant, is just a blatant lie. And a massive disservice to the work he's done to archive and spread information to other RPF creators and ordinary fans, about Scar's specific disabilities and how they work on a general and personal level.

Wizard has never only specifically talked about Scar, also. Yes that has been his focus in the past, but he's also drawn about and written about other creators. He's positioned Scar as both the one with power and the one without in different scenarios. What I'm saying is that these people make it sound like all his work is Scar getting nonconned because he's just soooo helpless... but that's not the case.

Yeah it's parasocial as fuck. But we all are. That's kind of how RPF works. I know for a fact Wizard would turn and run at the first sight of gtws in reality. Lol.

Anyway, TLDR; Wizard's works do focus on Scar as a disabled man (because he is one), and often combine this fact with his noncon and medical kinks. But those aren't the only things he focuses on, and his other work regarding Scar and disability are genuinely wonderful depictions of disability which prove he isn't just here to one-dimensionally fetishise it.

🙏 stay sexy everyone, bigger post coming soon(ish)

[sheep-shreep]

God, I want Grian to get knocked up by a horse SO BAD, Scar would be so sickeningly sweet about it and talk about valuable he is, such a good broodmare, some horse semen is worth thousands and Scar's gonna sell these foals cooking in Grian's too small body and buy him the best of the best, such a good boy.

Yesss....Grian getting pregnant from all the horses fucking him....hell yes. Helpless to do anything but watch the way his stomach expands from the foal inside him...But at least Scar is there! Rubbing hands over his belly, soothing him, and promising he's going to get only the absolute best for him. This is Grian's life now, nothing more than a broodmare. He'll learn to love it.

[mendingbooks]

sheepy did you know that horses have really strong stamina especially racehorses to keep up with their running and it translates to their sex stamina too?

and the fact that stallions can easily impregnate mares, some breeding horses/racehorses can go up to 50 children in a year and sometimes even more. for racehorses they usually start breeding the moment their race season ends.

so what im saying here is... yknow bdubs large collection of horses he keeps breeding to get the fastest one... that, and a very excited scar following a very confused and scared grian.

surely nothing could go wrong when scar picks out the fastest runners in his brothers stable, surely he doesnt have any ideas brewing in his head... right? grian hasnt ever expressed wanting horses but boy does he know whats in store for him.

[mendingbooks]

yeah. writing multiple fics in a row isnt for the weak i fear. kind of burnt out of mcyt for a bit and went to the horse game + a bit of funnybunny on the side... but im back!! have a cool idea for something upcoming (scarian again lol) but we see. still working on that huge project i was talking ab months ago (why is it at 40k words already) and i hope that gets finished before i start anything new but i cant. promise anything. maybe the horses will take over before then

[femrui]

EMERGENCY!!!

i'm currently struggling to pay hospital bills while juggling house bills + groceries, and i have So many more appointments coming up. i'm 19 with hEDs and fibromyaglia and im currently unable to work any part time jobs in my country because most are standing jobs that i am unable to do.

as of right now im about 5.7k in debt, and will probably be incuring more debt as i have to be in and out for hospital appointments very often. it would mean the world to me if i could get any help for this as my mother is a freelancer and already struggling to keep herself + my grandmother afloat

Help Will pay Medical Fees

hi! i’m will, a college student trying to keep things together the best i can. i come from a low-income family, and lately the weight of my