#and i think it defines less of me than i thought it did

[saturnisfallingdown]

a big part of the queer online kid to queer online young adult progression for me was losing all interest in labels. not in a distasteful way!! just. losing interest .....

[crushpunchh]

nothing serious just thoughts about a DR au that i got embarrassed about putting up here <3

[outeremissary]

Poll about creating characters for a game really has me thinking about my methods because while I don't usually situate a character in the world/create a full backstory beforehand I feel like I need such a strong sense of who a character is, how they behave, and at least the skeleton of why they behave like that that I usually get bored and feel like I'm playing some flat nothing when I don't have that. I guess that isn't the same as having a fully rigid concept, especially since I'm happy to change things radically in conversation with a game when it's going well, but it's still enough of a distinct Guy Who Already Exists In My Brain I couldn't call it a loose concept. And usually when things go well for my looser concept characters and I develop them during a playthrough I just hit a point partway through where it's like... cool! I have completed the concept for this character now, I can stop playing and relocate them to a Real Story. They almost never feel like they fit right until they're in something where they're starting from that state, haha. I'm like this with tabletop stuff as well. I'm not always the ten page backstory guy but if I'm not at least coming in with some needlessly complex portrait of personality the character is not going to stick for more than a oneshot. Just doesn't interest me to play! I don't feel like I'm seeing through their eyes yet. Can't get in the right zone mentally. I think that's what it's really about for me- a loose concept is rarely immersive, and without that immersion I just struggle to feel like the actions are coming from the character instead of me and come together into a cohesive story about the character (rather than one about me pushing buttons).

[ace-of-pussy]

good GOD I am so angry.

I, as my bio suggests, am a minor. I am also asexual. And feeling quite dysphoric about all the adults in my life telling me ‘I wouldn’t know until I’ve tried it.’ But that’s a different topic.

I needed a little boost for myself so I looked at the asexual tag here on tumblr, so I’d feel less alone.

There are always thirst traps and other things of that kind on any popular tag. But I saw so many, on the asexual tag, that I actually cried, ripping my skin off as I did so.

There will always be people that abuse the tag system, I know. Tagging your posts with trending tags to make them more likely to show up on people’s dashes is a corporate tactic. But to see so many of these ads, I can barely call them posts, on the asexual tag, made me physically ill.

Asexuality is often overlooked by not just cishets but the LGBTQ+ community so often. To see that a safe space for positivity for such a overlooked community was being vandalised for the sake of marketing makes me so angry and so upset for myself and all the other people who fit under the umbrella of asexuality or aromantic who just want to feel like they belong.

I’m a relatively new blog, but I know how tumblr works. I know how the world works. The way the world is run means that we are all victims, and I thought that maybe society, that damned, twisted thing, could let us have a little corner to protect ourselves.

All it does is hurt. it hurts, and it hurts, and it hurts. Companies aren’t going to get new customers by ripping apart supposed safe spaces, and young asexual kids like myself aren’t going to get any validation or even feeling of home from seeing thirst traps targeted toward our community.

our community that is SPECIFICALLY DEFINED BY FEELING DIFFERENT OR NO SEXUAL ATTRACTION TO WHAT IS DEEMED ‘NORMAL’.

it’s targeted. I can tell. And I am by no means an expert, but this tag abuse is hurting everyone. And no one is doing a thing about it.

please boost this. Reblog, like, whatever. This is damaging people far more than you think, and it needs to be resolved.

thanks for hearing me

[xxxdreamscapexxx]

Be mine

Alpha! Natasha Romanoff x Omega!FemReader

Word count: 5.1k

Summary: Natasha may have lost some hoodies, but she gained a mate and in her eyes, that's a trade she'd be willing to make any day. Based on the above prompt, but with some twists ;)

Warning: NSFW, 18+, A/B/O universe, mutual pining, lesbian? relationship, heavy petting (clothed sex), oral sex (R receiving), penetrative sex, a tiny bit of breeding kink, mating, claiming, knotting. You'll have to forgive me if this isn't your typical A/B/O fic, but I haven't read many of those and I don't know much about the universe itself, so this may not be super accurate, but I did my best. I hope you guys will enjoy it none the less.

As soon as she entered the room, you could smell her. It was always the way with Alphas, their strong, musky scent was unmistakable, but with hers came a sense of relief. Natasha made you feel safe, made you feel protected, without being overbearing. You could always feel when she was looking at you and you knew she kept track in her head. She knew if and when you ate, knew if you drank water, and when she didn’t deem it enough, she would silently bring you some. She never forced you to drink it, never even said a word, she would just leave it in front of you and walk away. She also knew damn well that you drank it. She also knew that sometimes you were stubborn, but most times you were just anxious and she stayed with you during long nights, watching a movie, knowing that her presence calmed you, and when you finally fell asleep, she carried you back to your room and put you in your bed, so you’d rest, the way you should. Yes, Nat was a kind and caring Alpha and the way her smell filled your nostrils made you drop your shoulders, before you greeted her. “Good morning, Nat.” You smiled, turning around, holding a plate with your breakfast, only to see the woman in nothing but sweatpants and a sports bra. Not even shoes! Her bare feet slapped on the floor as she stepped confidently into the room and you immediately looked away, feeling shy. “Morning.” She grumbled distractedly, her eyes scanning the room for something. “Do you want some breakfast?” You offered, still avoiding her gaze and the absolute mouth-watering sight that was her torso. God, you loved those strong arms, with their well-defined muscles. Not to mention those abs. You wanted to straddle her and rub your pussy over those gorgeous abs and when you’re done, you’d lick them clean! But you tried to push that thought away, not wanting to spend the rest of your day with wet panties and smelling of desperation. “No…” Natasha answered absent-mindedly, barely even looking at you, when her head suddenly snapped at you. “Hey, you haven’t seen any of my hoodies, have you?” She asked with a curious expression.

Ah, yes, her hoodies. You knew damn well where they were. And, truthfully, you intended to give them back. When you first took one or two, you meant to give them back to her. But then things got out of hand. You would usually go on missions with her, you worked well together, and an unclaimed Omega, who knew how to handle herself, not to mention, who could resist an Alpha’s influence, the way you did, was a very useful thing to a spy. But then they told you, that you needed to go on a mission with a new Alpha. The Scarlet Witch, or Wanda to you, now that you knew her a little better, was not yet experienced enough and having a seasoned, well trained and collected Omega with her certainly helped your mission greatly. But it made your anxiety sky-rocket. So just before your mission, you took one of Nat’s hoodies. She had left it on the couch in the common room and it smelled like her so much, that you didn’t even think twice. You packed it in a separate, sealed bag and took it with you, placing it on your pillow each night, thinking that you’ll wash it and give it back to her upon your return. But things didn’t exactly go that way. Apparently, your mission with Wanda went better than expected and you were asked to train more with the other Alphas, to go to more missions and each time you thought of having to leave the compound, your anxiety and distress would spike. And that’s how you found yourself with most, if not all of Natasha’s hoodies in your nest. You’d take a new one each time you had to leave for a mission, promising yourself to give them back and then you’d get so attached, that you just couldn’t. “Your hoodies?” Presently, you pretended not to know what she talked about. “No, I… I have no idea.” You lied shamelessly and you walked away, completely forgetting your own breakfast, which is why you were there in the first place. Natasha only shrugged, scratching the back of her neck as her eyes continued to search the room, even though she knew that her hoodies weren’t here. Now if only she could figure out what happened to them… During the next few days, you could see Natasha asking various people about her lost hoodies and her eyes scanning training rooms and lounge arias and your anxiety had reached a new level. It wasn’t just that you knew that she’ll eventually find out about what you did, or having to make a fool of yourself by explaining that you wanted her desperately… You also didn’t want to give them up. You felt so attached to them now. So as a means to placate the woman and maybe get her off your trail, you went ahead and bought her new ones.

It wasn’t hard to guess what she’d like, considering that you had so many of hers and you made your way back with a happy smile on your face. Yes, you were sure this would work. The stunned expression on Natasha’s face, when you handed her the shopping bag and explained the content, was absolutely priceless. You watched with joy as she rummaged through the bag and took them out one by one, inspecting them and smiling. “These are great! They’re better than my old ones! Thank you!” She exclaimed, giving you a brief hug, before she returned to her new hoodies. “You’re very welcome, Nat.” You smiled, before trying to walk away, only to be stopped in your tracks by Wanda. “Hey, Y/N, that was a very nice thing you did. Why don’t you sit down, detka, I’ll make you something to eat. I bet you skipped lunch, since you were out shopping.” The disapproving look Natasha gave the witch did not go unnoticed by the Sokovian, but she only smiled, making her way to the fridge and picking out products for a quick meal. She suspected that you liked the spy, and she had a feeling that the infamous Black Widow had similar feelings and she also suspected that neither of you had the courage to say so. Natasha was a strong Alpha, in the field, she was mesmerising to watch, but in her personal life, she never believed to be worthy of a good, little Omega to make her own. And you? God, you had it bad for her, but an Omega needed to be claimed, so of course, you wouldn’t say a thing. But Wanda had the perfect plan to nudge you both in the right direction. Let’s see how much can Natasha sit back and watch her favourite Omega being flirted with. “What do you say I make you some pasta, hm?” Wanda turned to you with a gentle smile. “With that special sauce you like so much?” She suggested. “You don’t have to do that, Wanda… I can…” You were about to say that you can make your own meal, but you were quickly interrupted. “But I want to, pretty girl. You’re always so nice and sweet and you take care of us so much. Let someone take care of you for a change.” She said with a grin, loving the way Natasha’s eyes narrowed. “Come, sit down and pick a nice movie for us to watch, while I make you something to eat.” She continued, practically guiding you to the couch and seating you, handing you the remote, so you’d pick a movie, while she cooked, all while Natasha glared.

She couldn’t explain why she felt so irritated, you weren’t hers. But you had went out shopping for her, you had bought hoodies for her, it was meant to be her that now complimented you and pampered you, not Wanda. It almost felt like the witch took her moment and it pissed her off. Grumbling, unable to watch this much longer, Natasha took the shopping bags with her, carefully unpacking everything and putting a few hoodies into the washing machine, so they’d be clean for tomorrow. She had already picked which one she’ll wear, appreciating a shorter, white hoodie with an image of a black spider above her left breast. It was gorgeous. You had wonderful taste in clothes. But with the memory of the nice gesture you made, she also remembered that you were currently spending your time with Wanda, the young Alpha complimenting you repeatedly and the image of that brought a fresh wave of irritation. It didn’t sit right with her, the way she flirted with you. So, with a brisk step, Natasha came back to the common room, only to find Wanda seated right next to you, her arm extended around your shoulders and pulling you close, while she was telling you how beautiful you looked. “I thought you guys were watching a movie.” Natasha snarled from the doorway, her hands balled into fists. “We will. We’re just waiting for the food to get ready.” Wanda informed with a sly smile, pulling you even closer to her, almost into her lap it seemed. “There’s plenty of room to talk on the couch.” Natasha pointed out, her eyes fixed on Wanda’s proximity and especially her arm around you. “I thought I’d get to know Y/N a little better. After all, she’ll be coming on another mission with me the day after tomorrow.” She announced, causing both you and Natasha to stare at her. You didn’t know anything about a new mission, especially so soon after your last one. “No one told me that.” You said, a little stunned. “They debriefed me this morning while you were out. Steve has all the files for you when you’re ready.” Wanda explained calmly. “It’s nothing special. Just 10 days in Brazil. We’ll be going after a cartel that recently seems to have gotten enhanced weapons and technology. Their leader is famous for having an eye for unclaimed Omegas. He’ll be arriving a few days earlier, so we’ll follow his movements and find out who the seller is.” “Sounds easy enough.” You nodded, trying not to show your distress.

You always got a little antsy when you had to flirt your way into an Alpha’s operation like that. They were suspicious, territorial and often vicious. Some killed Omegas, when they thought they were being spied on. Some did even worse things. You always feared what your fate would be, should your team fail you one day. Not that something like this had ever happened. Despite putting on a brave face, Wanda could sense the way you tensed up, the tightening of your muscles in her hold. You were scared, she could tell and a part of her felt terrible for bringing up so many unpleasant feelings. “Don’t worry, malush, I’ll protect you. I won’t let anything bad happen to you.” She assured, her words honest. “I know, Wanda, thank you.” You nodded, relaxing a little in her hold and allowing her gentle fingers to run through your hair. “You better make good on that promise, Maximoff.” Natasha growled from her spot, watching the scene unfold with mind clouded by a deep sense of irritation. She was jealous. Undeniably so and she couldn’t stand to see you being soothed by another. It was meant to be her, who protected you, made you feel safe, made you feel cherished and loved. You were meant to be hers. If only she had actually made a move. But how could she? Why would someone like you ever want her? With the bitter taste of regret still on her tongue, Natasha turned on her heals and left the room, not even letting Wanda respond to her words. She’ll give the younger Alpha a stern talk about you later… If she was going to stand by and watch someone else court you, she was going to make sure that they knew the consequences, should they ever hurt you or your feelings. Feeling angry, Natasha entered her room and fell on the bed with a thud. Her head turned to the shopping bag, still full of clothes that you had went out to get just for her and her heart warmed at the sight. She really should thank you. Getting up, she ran to the nearest store, buying a box of your favorite chocolates and a beautiful card, writing a few words of gratitude inside, before she returned to the compound.

Natasha looked at her hands for a moment, thinking if she should interrupt your movie with Wanda, but decided against it in the end, so she went to your room, deciding to just leave the small package for you to find. She didn’t think much of the action, having been in your room many times before, so she just walked right in. She loved being here, surrounded by you and she closed her eyes briefly, savouring it, but her steps faltered almost immediately, when her eyes opened and landed on your bed and the pile of her hoodies on it. She could smell your sweet scent in the room, all around her, but especially the bed and as she got closer, she could distinctly smell the way you’d practically rolled around in her things. She could barely sense her own scent on them now. Some of these she’d missed for months. “So that’s where they went.” She heard herself saying. As soon as the recognition came, so did something else. A question. Why had you taken them?  Why did you want her scent on you? Could you… No! That simply couldn’t be… You wouldn’t be in love with her? Perhaps you simply got attached? Omegas were such sensitive souls sometimes. And the two of you had spent so much time together. But deep down she knew she was just denying the obvious. Just like she was denying her own feelings. Unsure of what to do and how to approach such a subject, she stood frozen in place, her thoughts racing wildly. She was lost in her own world of worry and regret, desire and longing, that she didn’t even hear the approaching footsteps, until you were in the room, gasping at the sight of her. “Natasha!” You exclaimed, your eyes filling with fear and panic, as you realized she’d seen your stash of stolen hoodies. “I can explain!” You started to say, but were interrupted, when she dropped the box in her hands and closed the distance between you in a few short strides, capturing your face in her hands and making you face her. “Tell me it’s true.” She said, pleading, too impatient to even explain what she wanted to hear, her eyes soft and full of so much hope. “Please?” She almost whined. “It’s true.” You nodded, some of the initial shock dissipating. “It’s always been true. How can you not know that?” You smiled, looking up at her with hopeful eyes. That soft smile and that sparkle in your eyes as you looked at her was all the confirmation Natasha ever needed and she leaned down eagerly, claiming your lips in a gentle kiss, pouring all her passion and love into it, hoping that she could convey just how much she had been dreaming of this moment with you. God, your lips against her felt divine. She could hardly contain the throaty little growl that left her as she deepened the kiss, her arms wrapping around you in an almost possessive manner, while she pressed herself firmly against you, letting you feel the bulge in her pants, that only seemed to grow and harden the longer she touched you.

“I love you.” She whispered, lifting you off the ground and crashing your bodies against the nearest wall. It seemed to take her no effort at all to hold you up with one hand, the other cupping one of your breasts, while she pressed and rubbed her clothed sex against you. “Fuck, you feel so good!” She gasped, her hips slamming into yours, her bulge teasing your pussy and making you grow even wetter and more desperate for her. “So good, baby.” She whispered, detaching her lips from yours, so she could start trailing kisses down your neck. You shivered and trembled in her hold, back arching, so you could feel more of her. You wanted to rip the clothes from her body, feel her skin against yours, feel trapped underneath her as she pounded into you, the way you’d been dreaming of all this time. “Natasha!” You moaned her name and it drove her even more desperate with desire for you. She pulled on your shirt, hearing it rip and starting to fall apart, until she had your breasts in front of her face. Those delicious nipples were just begging to be sucked between her lips, she was sure of it, and she didn’t hesitate to do just that. “Natasha, baby!” You almost screamed this time, feeling the pressure in your stomach grow with every thrust of her hips. “Take me to bed, please!” You begged, nails digging into her shoulders as she bit your nipple. She used her tongue to soothe it and she stole one last quick peck from you, before she moved, carrying you just as effortlessly to the bed and dropping you on the big pile of her hoodies, her own body following right after and trapping you eagerly. “Don’t worry, baby, from now on, you’ll always have my scent on you.” She smirked, positioning herself between your spread legs and rutting against you with the same fervour as before. “Fuck, Natasha!” You let out a little whine. She was getting you so close. You could feel the pleasure rising, even through the layers and you were approaching an embarrassing orgasm much faster than you ever thought possible. “Fuck, baby, you gotta stop, you’re gonna make me…” You tried to warn, but she was having none of it. “Me too, Y/N. Come with me, baby.” She gasped, pulling you as close as she could, her body sweating from the heat and the intensity of the moment.

She couldn’t hold it back. Fuck, she didn’t want to. She just needed a release. She was going to claim you properly after this, give you the pleasure you deserve, but she needed this first. “Oh God!” You practically screamed, holding on to her for dear life, while her movements grew more erratic. She was practically humping you, but it felt so good that you didn’t even care. You just wanted her any way she would let you have her. “Fuck!” She grunted, a short and forceful thrust signalling the beginning of her climax, while she kissed you deeply and it was all you needed to fall off the edge right along with her. Your bodies trembled in unison and you held onto her as you whined, feeling the throbbing of your clit as you came. You felt the way her cock spasmed as well. It twitched in her pants as she released, a sigh of relief falling off her lips as she did. Eventually you both slumped against each-other, the pleasure and the intensity of the moment making you feel drunk and you weakly cuddled up to her, closing your eyes and inhaling her deeply. Natasha felt you fall asleep against her almost immediately and she didn’t have the heart to wake you. Instead, she waited for you to fully relax, before taking a quick shower, discarding her ruined boxers and putting on just her sweat pants and taking her previous spot next to you on the bed, loving the feeling of you in her arms. Her mind was plagued by doubt and insecurity and as she watched you sleep, she wanted to savour every second, too scared that you’ll wake up and realize that you’ve made a huge mistake, that she might have ruined her chance to stay in your life, now that she’d done this. Eventually, exhaustion took over her as well and she allowed herself this moment of bliss, hoping it will never end, only to be woken by soft breathy whines and little whimpers, combined with your sex rubbing itself on any part of her you could reach in the limited space of her hold. Your scent was impossible to ignore in this state and she could smell the beginnings of your heat and the desperate way your body tried to relieve some of the unbearable pressure it felt. You were still asleep, and so beautiful, features dominated by pleasure in your peaceful sleep and she admired your beauty for a long moment, before she decided to wake you. “Wake up, pretty girl.” Natasha whispered, stroking your cheek. “Open those eyes for me.” She encouraged, watching the way you scrunched up your nose, as if the mere thought was offensive. “If you’re gonna use me like that, you have to at least look at me.” She added after a moment.

You blinked your eyes open in confusion, your face brightened up by the sight of her still in your bed, before you realized what you were just doing, momentarily stiffening. You opened your mouth to say something, but you were immediately shushed by a finger on your lips. “Don’t you dare apologize.” Natasha smirked. “I just need to know if you still want this.” She told you, some of her insecurity showing. She knew you were vulnerable right now, the uncomfortable feeling of your heat only growing with each passing second. It would be so easy for her to take you right now. But she didn’t want it that way. She wanted you to be sure. “Natasha… I have loved you for so long, wanted you more than you can know, I’ve spent countless days thinking of you, countless heat cycles moaning your name and wishing you would make it better. Alpha… Please make it better this time?” You practically whined, eyes filling with unshed tears as you felt your insides churning with need. You were sure you would die if she didn’t fuck you right this second. Natasha didn’t say a word this time, pulling down your pants and panties in one smooth motion, gasping at the gorgeous pussy that presented itself to her hungry gaze. You were so wet already, your sweet smell filling her nostrils once more as she ran a finger through your wet folds. “Alpha, don’t tease!” You whined again, your hips canting up for her. “Don’t worry, baby. I’ll take care of you.” She said, taking no time in finding her place between your legs and dipping her tongue in your wetness. “So delicious, baby.” She moaned at your taste, immediately needing so much more of it. She took her time cleaning you up first, savouring your taste with every flick of her tongue, before she finally wrapped her lips around your clit, drawing slow circles over it and driving you crazy with the way she made you feel. She ate you like a woman starved, sometimes sucking on your sensitive clit with fervour and drawing deep moans of pleasure each time. She could hardly keep your hips in place, not that she cared much to try, loving the way you rode her face with clear abandon and she wasn’t surprised when you reached your climax with a strangled cry and a chant of her name. “Fuck, so good!” She murmured, after helping you ride out your orgasm. She was just about ready to start all over again, her own pleasure entirely forgotten, even if she was humping the mattress, but your hand in her hair stopped her. “Yes, that was good… But I need you inside me now, Alpha.” You pleaded, your legs spreading even wider for her. “Only your cock can make it better, please.” You practically begged and it triggered something in the older woman.

She pulled down her sweats in one swift motion, showing you her cock for the first time. God, she was big! You could see the veins that ran along her length and the precum that dripped from her tip. She was perfect. And the look in her eyes was ravenous, so she didn’t hesitate for a second, easily flipping you over and putting you on your hands and knees, letting you present yourself like a proper little Omega for her. She rubbed her length at your opening, getting her cock slick with your juices while you squirmed, but her teasing couldn’t last. She had dreamt of having you this way just as much as you had and she needed to finally claim you. Needed to finally be inside you. “Please.” You begged once more, your hips chasing her and the brief feeling of pleasure and relief that she provided every time she rubbed herself on you. “Like that, baby?” She asked, pushing herself against your opening, her tip sliding inside easily. God you were so warm, so wet, so tight around her and it took everything in her to keep her pace steady. She wanted you to feel good, wanted you to enjoy every second of being with her, she wanted to be so good that you’d never even dream of any other Alpha ever touching you. Not that she’d allow it. Now that she had you this way, she was realizing what she was missing all this time and she wasn’t going to ever let you go. “Just like that, Natasha, please!” You gasped, pushing yourself against her and taking the rest of her cock inside you, all at once. “Fuck!” She grunted, her cock spasming at the feeling of being fully buried inside you. “Is that what you want little Omega?” She asked, she teeth gritted. “You want me to ruin that pretty pussy?” “Yes! God, Alpha!” You screamed, her pace picking up quickly. You could feel your ass bouncing off of her with every thrust, her cock hitting deep inside you each time, her hands squeezing your hips in a grip so tight, you were sure she’s leaving imprints and it was heavenly. She was so good. Better than you ever imagined she would be.

“Come here!” She growled, burying her hands in your hair and pulling you up against her. She held you close, her nose buried in your neck and breathing you in deeply. “You wanna be my little Omega? Want me to claim you, baby girl? Make you mine for good?” She asks, biting your neck gently, just scratching your skin, right on that sensitive spot that drove you wild. “I’ll take good care of you baby. I’ll protect you and keep you safe, I’ll make you happy.” She promised, words soft. She could feel her knot forming at the base of her cock, her release approaching quickly and she barely held it back. You could hardly respond, all your thoughts fading into nothingness at the feeling of her cock deep inside you. You just knew she’s right where she belongs, right where you need her most and you never want it to end. “Feels so good! Yes! Want to be yours! I’ve always been yours.” You pant, soft whimpers cutting off your words, as you felt your orgasm approaching. “I’m so close, baby!” Natasha panted behind you. “You gonna come with me?” She asked softly, pulling your head further back by your hair, to make sure that your neck is fully exposed to her. “Yes, so close! Please! I want you to come inside me, please!” Watching you beg her like that was truly the last straw, and with a final, sharp thrust, Natasha felt her knot slip into place, triggering her orgasm. Endless spurts of white flooded your pussy as she felt the best orgasm of her life. This was the best moment she just knew it, her teeth sinking into your neck to mark you for good, while her legs shook and her cock throbbed inside you, making her see stars. Her knot slipping in triggered your orgasm as well and you cried out, a deep sense of satisfaction washing over you when you felt the spurts of her cum fill you up to the brim. Not even a drop slipped past her as she still rutted against you, prolonging both your pleasure. But it was her teeth sinking in that really had you experience extasy, a second orgasm crashing over you, right after the first and you milked her of everything she had as you felt yourself being claimed. When it was all over, Natasha laid you down gently and settled on top of you, your bodies still perfectly connected, chests heaving. As you turned a little, trying to look up, Natasha did her best to accommodate you and after look down at you, eyes hooded from lust, she silently turned her neck, silently offering it for you to leave your own mark on her and seal your connection for good. You licked at her neck a few times, feeling her shiver in anticipation and you sunk your teeth into her, just as she had done, hearing her soft whimpers of pleasure at the action and you tried to soothe the wound as best you could, offering her little licks and kisses that she happily accepted, even if each one made her cock throb once more. “I don’t want you going on any more missions.” She finally said, her voice thoughtful. “Especially if I can’t be there to keep you safe. You’re my mate. My love. I don’t want you in danger. I don’t want other Alphas looking at you, thinking they can have what’s mine. Don’t go tomorrow, love?” She confessed, almost pleading with you to understand. “I’ll talk to Steve.” You nodded, placing a small kiss on her lips. “And I’ll talk to Wanda.” Natasha grumbled, remembering the other Alpha and the way she had her hands around you. Her words made you laugh and the older woman looked down at you confused. “What? You think I didn’t see her hands around you, touching your hair, talking to you like that. She can’t have you!” Natasha insisted, more firmly now. “Oh, baby…” You smiled, shaking your head in disbelief. “You really don’t know?” “Know what?” She squinted down at you. “She never wanted me. I know for a fact she has her eyes on a certain robot… But I sure am grateful she gave you a push.” You laughed and this time Natasha laughed with you. “Good luck mating him.” She joked, finally relaxing, allowing her eyes to close in content. She finally had her mate. _____________________________________________________

Dear anon, on the 12th of June you sent me this request... I don't know if you still use Tumblr, I don't know if you still follow my blog, or read my fics, hell, I don't even know if you remember sending me this, it was so long ago... But should you ever see your request and read this fic, I hope you'll enjoy it!

[kaizokuou-ni-naru]

The "Luffy's fruit is a Zoan" reveal/retcon was extremely controversial when 1044 was first released; do you think Oda did a good job foreshadowing it?

yes!! it addresses a lot of idle questions i had about luffy's powers for quite some time (while also raising a ton more, of course, but that's the nature of one piece).

(all of my thoughts here and on gear 5 in general owe some credit to @grainjew, who has been my main discussion partner on this topic)

luffy's fruit has always been, from what we've seen, kind of weird for a paramecia? obviously since the categorization of 'paramecia' is sort of a grab bag and a lot less well-defined than logias or zoans, that's kind of a hard claim to make, but generally speaking, most of the paramecia users we see throughout the series do not have their powers always on. (the strongest counter-example i could think of to this trend is brook, and even that is one i think you can argue.) luffy's power is way more passive, in the sense that he doesn't have to activate it- it's just there, always. even seastone and seawater do not make luffy not rubber, they just sap his energy and stop him from stretching himself, as we see as early as arlong park.

that is weird! what we see of most other paramecias is that they have to use their powers intentionally, even when those powers do involve transforming their body in some way, like with mr. 1 or alvida. there's a whole plot in dressrosa about knocking a specific paramecia user unconscious so she'll lose her grip on her power and it'll disappear. luffy will stretch when he is asleep, when he is underwater, and without knowing he's doing it. he's always rubber.

so luffy is weird for a paramecia, though not completely unprecedented. his power has always seemed to me to be... almost logia adjacent, in the sense that he's made from a specific material and all his powers are based on being that material, but that doesn't quite track either. aside from the fact that the thing he's composed of is tangible and, again, he can't turn it off, he clearly has access to a greater level of complexity in his transformations than logias do (whose devil fruit powers seem to be basically a binary system).

which actually leads me to compare him to chopper, who is the zoan we know the best, and who, conveniently, also ate a version of the hito hito no mi.

i think the way luffy and chopper interact with their powers is actually very similar. much like luffy, chopper was fundamentally altered by his consumption of a devil fruit in a way he cannot return from. he can still look like a normal reindeer, but he can never actually be one, because the most important trait his devil fruit gave him was human sentience. and he would still have that if you put him in seastone, he just wouldn't be able to transform. similarly, luffy had his body fundamentally altered by his fruit in a manner he does not seem to be capable of even temporarily reversing. he can't make himself not rubber any more than chopper can return himself to being a normal reindeer.

like chopper, luffy's power progression has been based around finding new ways to transform his body and force it into new and more powerful forms. his gears are roughly comparable to chopper's points. that is zoan stuff! chopper is the main other person we see interact with his fruit in that specific way. so, yeah, i actually do think it does make sense for luffy's power to have actually always been a zoan. at the very least, it makes more sense than him being a paramecia, to me.

however, having said that, i also don't think it's as straightforward as luffy just being a zoan instead of a paramecia. we see that the awakening of his fruit definitely has both paramecia and zoan qualities, since he's transforming both himself and the environment around him, as well as other people. (the wiki puts this down to him being a mythical zoan but i just don't think that's true. kaidou is also a mythical zoan and he is completely baffled by what he's seeing.)

i made a bunch of jokes in discord about luffy being devil fruit nonbinary while i was reading this chapter- there's three genders and you have to pick one, and you can't just go switching it up, etc- and i do think that what luffy's fruit indicates is that the sorting system of devil fruits itself is imperfect. outliers do exist that don't fit cleanly between the lines- which we already knew! just look at katakuri.

[bigification]

Jealousy Jealousy

Strong, loyal, dedicated. All words used by the boss to describe me, and every word seemed like a knife in the back of my roommate. I can hear it in the way he talks to me, ever since I joined the military all he ever seems to be is jealous. I've always been stronger and more dedicated than him, he's smarter but that doesn't even matter that much.

The walk back to our room is awkward. It is completely silent and I can almost see the steam coming out of his ears. I wanted so badly to be friends with him, but he makes it impossible. I've always worked out and kept my body in good shape, and apparently that's unforgivable to him.

We get back to our room and he immediately goes rummaging through his stuff. I pace back and forth, debating whether I should talk to him. It's hard living with him and I just want things to be civil between us.

"Hey man, I wanted to ta-" I'm interrupted when he quickly swings around and jabs something into my stomach. I look down and see a needle sticking into the side of my stomach. I feel frozen with fear, I can't talk, almost as if there is something stuck in my throat. I let out a groan as he pushes the end of the needle, injecting a green liquid into my body.

"I'm tired of being in your shadow, let's see how long you'll last after this." He monologues like some cartoon villain. What does he even mean by that, was that some kind of poison? Is he killing me just because the boss likes me more.

I stumble back against the wall, I feel weak but it hurts less than I thought it would. Although my stomach feels like it's boiling.

Am I dreaming... It feels more like a nightmare. But it must be a nightmare. I see a lump form under my shirt, and it seems to grow every time I blink. It can't be real, but it feels so real. The lump grows until it looks like I have a little belly. Do I have a belly? It's growing faster and faster until my shirt becomes untucked. It finally stops after growing into a sizable beer belly, making it impossible for me to see my feet. Maybe he gave me drugs, maybe this is just a bad trip. But it feels so real.

It doesn't end with the beer belly. Next my pecs start to swell. Something I worked so hard on is gone in seconds. I see them soften into a pair of man tits, growing until they press against my shirt. I always swore I would never let myself go like my father did, but I guess that's a lie. At least it took him until his thirties to get fat, I can't even make it to my late twenties without pigging out.

I still have no idea what's happening to me. It's getting harder and harder to think. I was thinking about... Something about pigging out. It must be because I love pigging out, that's how I got this belly.

As I'm trying to think, my body continues to grow. I hear the button on my pants pop off and feel the pressure release. I think my ass is growing, not that I mind. I feel my body being pushed further and further away from the wall as fat spilled into my ass.

Why does my crotch feel so tight? I could have sworn it didn't feel this tight a moment ago. I don't really care anyway, I can't even remember why I should care.

My pants strain against the fat filling my legs, I think I can even hear some rips tearing through them. My arms follow suit, softening up my defined muscles and fattening up my hands. Better off that way if you ask me, fatter hands means better belly rubs, and I like belly rubs.

I feel an itchiness engulf my body as a thick pelt of hair covers my skin. My arms, my legs, my chest, and most importantly my belly become a forest of sweaty hair.

My body finally relaxed and I let out a loud burp. Oh... I'm so hungry. I rub my belly trying to get any relief. It's all I can think of. Wasn't I stressed about something? What would I have been stressed about, maybe I was just hungry.

"How ya feeling big guy?" My roommate asks me.

"I'm so hungry." I cry out.

"Aren't you supposed to be on a diet?" He teases me.

"Why the fuck would I be on a diet. This is the mark of a true man!" I say as I slap my gut.

"Well I'm sure this box of donuts won't hurt your fitness assessment next week, and they won't eat themselves." He pulls out a dozen donuts. It feels like I lose control of my body as I instinctively ravage the donuts.

I lean back after finishing off the last donut and let out a loud burp. God I'm stuffed, but I want so much more. I rub my belly, trying to process the snack I just had, so I can make room for more.

"There's plenty more where that came from, big guy."

Credits to bulkgainer92 for the video and for inspiring this story.

[justmeinadaze]

Secret Underneath Part 2 (Steddie X Plus Size You)

Warnings: Daddy Steddie (Businessman Steve/ Rockstar Eddie) & Plus Size Fem Sub Y/N, SMUT (just pure smut; me working on this may be why I'm so subby right now lol), light smacking, slight spit play( if you squint), spanking, LOTS of dirty talk.

SLIGHT ANGST, like very slight, mentions of insecurities when it comes to the reader and her now knowing who they are. Brief mentions of an ex (that I can use for angst fodder later because I'm me)

More than anything they are feeling each other out and setting up some boundaries.

Word Count: 4835

Part 1

“Y/N, honey, are you alright?”, your friend asks as she lightly touches your shoulder before becoming distracted herself. “Maggie! I swear to God you kids are going to get me to retire early.”

“Promise?”, one of the kids teases.

Blinking, you pull yourself back into the moment, remembering the anonymity everyone requested including you.

“Ok, guys, come on. I think we bothered the people up here enough. There’s a reason they make so much money and it’s because they don’t deal with kids like you.”, you joke as you usher them to follow the guide.

It takes all of your energy not to glance their way again but you can feel their eyes trail after you as you disappear with the class. 

After dropping off the kids on campus and making sure everyone gets home safe, you head back to your apartment. As soon as the door shuts you lean against the wood, sliding down to the floor as you cry. 

You enjoyed being with Mogul and Rockstar the other night but now you know who they were. Were they going to leave now that you did? They wanted their identities to be private but never said for how long. After what happened, you were willing to wait but now… now what happens?

You hadn’t even began to fully process that they were millionaire womanizer Steve Harrington and famous well known party bad boy rockstar Eddie Munson. Insecurities had already begun to seep into your brain and it killed you. 

Your phone vibrated causing you to roll your eyes and glance at the notification that danced across your screen. 

(5:15pm) Mogul/Rockstar has invited you for a video chat!

(5:16pm) CurvyBabyWAttitude declined your invitation for a video chat. 

(5:17pm) Accept the invitation.

(5:17pm) Please.

(5:18pm) Mogul/Rockstar has invited you for a video chat!

“Yes, Mr. Harrington and Mr. Munson, how can I help you?”, you answer in a short, annoyed tone. 

“You can let us see your face for starters. If I wanted to look at the wall I can turn around.”

“Of your penthouse I bet.”

“We’re still in my office. We wanted to reach out earlier but we thought you’d still be on your field trip or at the school.”

“We wanted to give you time to get home so we could talk properly. Are you crying? Why are you crying?”

“Are you fucking kidding me? Look, you don’t have to pander to me, ok? I know now this whole anonymity thing is ruined and you’d rather be with someone more suited to your lifestyle.”

“Define ‘our lifestyle’.”

“For you, Mr. Harrington, I imagine some blond girl with big tits who comes from money and can squeeze her itty-bitty body into the most expensive dress your money can buy. For bad boy Mr. Munson, I see you with more or less the same but she’s cool like Janis Joplin.”

“I do like Janis.”

“So…big tits, money, and blond. Is there a height requirement?”

Your hand covers your mouth as you breathily laugh at their joke.

“No, no height requirement but according to princess here there is a weight limit. I guess because rich men like us are super vain we only care about a woman’s appearance and not her personality.”

“Is that right, honey? Or is the curvy baby with attitude a bit self-conscious?”

“THIS is why we wanted anonymity. We aren’t what you read in the papers, sweetheart. I’d figure the other night would have gone in the category of proving that. If we only cared about what you claim we never would have come down to the hotel.”

After a long exhale, you tilt your phone to allow them to see your face. 

“I think you also forget, honey, we have seen you. Yeah, you were wearing that mask but we knew about your body, your hair, and your tits. We’ve had our hands on them, remember?”

“You just caught us off guard today because… now we regret making you wear that sleep mask thing. Your entire face is so fucking beautiful. I wonder if your real name is equally so.”

Leaning your head on your knees, you take in their demeanors on the other end of your screen. They did still seem to be in his office but they were both sitting on a couch within. Steve was still wearing his sleek suit and Eddie in a black shirt with jeans but their eyes were no longer reflecting surprise as they had earlier that day. Right now, they seemed to be displaying genuine concern. 

“My name is Y/N.”

Both men softly grinned making you do the same. 

“Beautiful… would, um, would you be willing to meet us in a couple of hours at that hotel? We’d like to talk to you some more. Maybe figure some things out when it comes to us three.”

“We’d invite you to our place but we feel like it might make you more comfortable for us to meet somewhere where there’s common ground…so speak.”

“You two live together?”

“Oh good. We can still keep some secrets!”, Eddie chuckles. “Yeah, no point for me to get my own place when I’m on tour a lot and Stevie here travels for work.”

“Ok.”, you nod as you rise to your feet. “I’ll, um, see you both in a couple of hours.”

##################

Nerves float through you belly as you stand outside the hotel door, exhaling as you prepare for what may be on the other side. To your surprise both men are already there, Steve pacing by the window as he scrolls through his phone while Eddie lays on his back on top of the bed. 

As soon as the door closes, they come to attention, pausing as their eyes rake over your body. When you were here last time you had thrown on clothes not caring how you were dressed after your ordeal and today you weren’t expecting to see your two admirers so you were in your jeans and school t-shirt with a messy bun and sneakers. 

This time you wanted to show off with your off-shoulder butterfly sleeve green blouse and black skirt that accentuated your curves. The black heels helped fuel any confidence you were lacking and your hair flowed down around you giving you that extra layer of armor as well as hiding that still prominent bruise you had lingering on your skin. 

“Jesus Christ.”, Eddie breathed before clearing his throat and glancing towards Steve. “You know, seeing her now, Harrington, she doesn’t hit that height requirement we talked about.”

His friend rolled his eyes as you giggled. 

“This is so surreal.”

“What is?”, Steve asked.

“I just…I just read about you the other day. About how you just made a big financial move that made you 400 million dollars. And you…I’ve been listening to your voice for so long. I have your songs on my phone.”

“Yeah? And is that bad?”

“Ah, no, Munson. It’s those insecurities again which by the way I find totally amusing for a girl filled with so much sass.”, the pretty boy grins. “If I may ask, what are the other Daddies like? Why aren’t you like this with them?”

You scoff as you saunter to a nearby chair, place your purse down, and sit crossing your legs. Both men try to control their eyes from scanning along your limbs but Steve in particular struggles to focus on your face as his gaze constantly shifts to your heels.

“A lot of men on there have no idea what they are doing and the men that I have met up with are either trust fund babies or CEOs. They aren’t famous or really worked hard for anything. Personally, I think that’s why they struggle being dominate. They don’t know how to fight or work hard. They barely even know what they want let alone how to take care of me.”

“Goddamn, sweetheart, you are sexy.”, Eddie sighs almost excitedly. “You have no reason to be insecure at all, Y/N. I mean we get it. Like I said, this is part of the reason we wanted the anonymity. We want you to like us for us not our names or status.”

“Is that what happened with your last Baby?”

They glance towards each other again before answering. 

“No.”

“No…”

“No.”, Steve says again with more conviction. “No, that’s not what happened.”

“That’s all I get?”

“You get what we give you.”

Your breathing stutters a bit at the metalhead’s words as your pussy clenches at his casual yet confident tone. 

“Y/N, honey, can you do me a favor and uncross your legs?”  You do as he asks going the extra mile of opening them so they have a good view at your silk black panties underneath. “You have no idea how bad I want to throw those gorgeous high heeled legs over my shoulders and just fucking devour your little pussy till your shaking.”

A small moan escapes your lips but when you try to rub your thighs together for relief Eddie tuts loudly across from you. 

“Ah ah, baby. Keep your legs open till we’re done talking and you!”, he chuckles as he gestures towards his friend. “Stay focused.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“When it comes to sex, princess, is there anything we should avoid? Any hard no’s or anything like that?”

“Nothing…too rough. I’m not into masochistic stuff like canes and flogs but you can hit me or spank me. You’ll probably be doing that a lot.”

“Oh, don’t worry, baby girl. We can handle the brat.”, Steve grins as he winks, taking off his suit jacket and tie, tossing them on the other chair beside him. 

“What about you two?”

That gives them pause before they smirk and the mogul continues rolling up his sleeves. 

“Would you believe you’re the first woman to ask us that?”, Eddie ask as he shakes his head. “No, pretty girl. As long as you’re vocal and tell us when or if you’re uncomfortable, we’re happy. That being said, do you have a safe word you prefer?”

“I’m alright with ‘red’, Daddy.”

Steve walks to your side and extends his hand out for you to take so he can guide you to the edge of the bed beside Eddie before descending to his knees. The long-haired boy brushes some of your hair back and his ringed fingers lightly trace your bruise.

“How does this feel? Still hurt?”

“Yes, sir, but not as much as before.”

“Fucking asshole putting his hands on our baby girl.”, he growled low as his lips kiss your skin. 

“That’s another thing, Y/N, because apparently we weren’t clear last time. You are ours. You belong to us and in turn we take care of you.”

“Are we still…still…keeping this a secret?”, you inquire trying to focus as Eddie’s kisses trailed to your neck while Steve’s mouth lingered on your thigh. 

“Is that alright? Till we get more comfortable with each other and the dynamic.”

“Y-Yes, Daddy. Please.”

“Please what, baby? What do you want?”, the rockstar breathes in your ear.

“I want Daddy to eat my pussy.”

You watch as Steve’s head disappears into your skirt making you groan when his nose presses against your panty covered core and you feel him inhale. 

“Fuck, she smells so fucking good.” His wide tongue flattens against the fabric and Eddie grins as your mouth falls open. “Jesus, Ed, and she tastes so sweet. Let’s get these off, honey.”

Nodding aggressively, you helped him pull down your panties and he tossed them towards his jacket. He licked a strip between your folds, wrapping his mouth around your clit, and repeating the process as his eyes watched your face. 

“Oh fuck, Daddy.”

Eddie’s hand cups your cheek as he brings your lips to his, open mouth kissing you as his own tongue caresses yours. Your body abruptly jostles as Steve bunches your skirt around your waist and throws your legs over his shoulders before pressing his face into your cunt as his tongue vigorously flicked your bundle of nerves.

Your fingers threaded through his hair as you fell back against the mattress and grinded your hips. His large palms glide up your stomach as the other man lifts off your shirt and throws it to the floor. You moan, gripping the mogul’s wrist as his digits pinch and roll your nipple between them. 

“Oh my God, yes, Daddy! I’m gonna cum!

Your orgasm crashes into you like a wave as Steve shakes his head from side to side helping you ride out your high. Refusing to slow down by any means, the man’s arms circle your hips, holding them down as he continues to run his tongue between you folds as he builds you back up. 

Feeling a warmth beside you, you shift your gaze to see a now naked Eddie on his knees stroking himself by your face.

“Do you want Daddy’s cock, pretty girl?” When you don’t respond, his palm lightly smacks your cheek, his eyes scanning yours for discomfort when they finally meet. “I asked you something.”

“M’sorry. Da-Daddy’s mouth feels sooooo good.”

“Maybe I should have him stop so you can pay attention.”

“NO! No, please. I’ll listen! I’ll listen. I’ll listen.” When he repeated his question, you nodded as your free hand started to reach for him. 

“No, baby. Just keep your hands on Steve. Fun fact, he kind of likes when you pull his hair while he’s making you feel good.”, Eddie grins as his palm pets your head. “Just keep your throat open for me, okay?”

“Okay, Daddy.”

A guttural moan left the rockstars lips when his cock slid through your parted ones. His girth overwhelmed you instantly but you loved the way he tasted as every vein dragged along your tongue. 

“Fuck, sweetheart. That’s it. God damn Steve, her mouth feels amazing.”

As the metalhead began subtly thrusting his hips, you did what he suggested, gripping the other man’s hair tightly in your fingers as you tried not to gag.

“Hey. Hey, hey, hey.”, Eddie panted as he pulled himself back and you collected some air. “It’s ok to gag and drool, baby. We don’t mind it messy, trust me, and the thought of this pretty face choking on my cock just…fuck. Oh, wait. You’re going to cum again aren’t you?”, he says in an almost mocking tone that has your pussy clenching. 

Almost abruptly, Steve climbs up your body and snake one of his hands behind your neck, lifting you just enough for your forehead to lean against his. Pushing his ring and middle finger into your core, the sound of your slick filled the room as he thrust them into you at a brutal pace. 

“Cum again, baby. Come on. Soak Daddy’s fingers.”, he chanted under his breath as one of your arms wrapped around his neck. “I gotchu, Y/N. Daddy’s right here. Cum, baby girl. Keep your eyes open and on me.”

You screamed as the coil snapped, panting as your hair was yanked back.

“Keep your eyes open, little girl!”

His large digits continue to pump into you, slowing their rhythm as you gradually come down from your high with both men murmuring praises as they hovered above you. 

Through heavy lidded eyes you see them smirk at each other as Eddie pats his shoulder as if to say thank you before he maneuvers around on the bed, flipping you onto your stomach, and pushing you up on all fours. 

Steve lays on his back and hastily adjusts you till your in-between his legs. With a hungry gaze, you watch as he unbuckles his belt and pushes down his pants just enough to free his cock, stroking it in front of you as you wait. 

“Go head, Y/N.”, Eddie permits making you smile as you tongue darts out to lick the precum off his tip. “Atta girl. Remember, it’s ok to be messy.”

“Just tap me twice if you need a minute, honey.”

“Ok, Daddy. Oh-Oh fuck.”

While you two were talking, the rockstar had placed himself behind you, collecting your arousal with his length before guiding himself into your entrance. You whimper at his size as your nails claw under Steve’s button up shirt down his abs. 

“Fuck me, baby. I know. I’m sorry. I’m trying—shit—I’m trying to go slow but your pussy is just pulling me in…squeezing Daddy so tight.”

The man underneath you bit his lip as your face scrunched in pleasure. 

“You’re so beautiful, Y/N. Such a good girl taking him so well.” Your hand wrapped around him as your mouth enveloped his cock, taking him as far down as you could. “Fuck, good-good girl.”

Once he was fully sheathed inside of you, Eddie waited, allowing you to get accustomed to him while you focused on his friend. Taking his recommendation, you lowered yourself as far down as you could, gagging around Steve’s massive size, and coming off him quickly leaving trail of spit that lingered on your chin. 

“There you go. God, Y/N, that felt amazing. Do you want Daddy to take control?”

“Please… I trust you.”

Almost too gently, he lifted your hair into a ponytail, caressing your lips with his thumb as they fell open while Eddie began thrusting into you. When his cock found its way into your mouth again, however, he was anything but.

His mushroom tip hit the back of your throat repeatedly as he guided your head lower and lower onto his lap.

“You’re doing so good, honey. Fuck! K-Keep your tongue flat. That’s it, baby. Just like that. Mmm get Daddy nice and wet. Yeah? Is Eddie fucking you nice and deep?”

Tears consistently fell at the euphoria you were feeling as Eddie’s cock hit all the right places inside of you and then some while Steve’s words and actions were making you clench the rockstar to an almost a painful degree. 

“Fuck, man!”, he blissfully shouted as he spanked your behind and slowed his pace as he watched his cock disappear inside you. “She fucking loves sucking your dick. Every time she gags, her cunt wraps tighter around me.”

The pretty boy grins as he pets your head and dries some of your tears. 

“You like sucking my cock, pretty girl?”

“Y-Yes, Daddy, I love it.

“Can Daddy fuck your tight your little throat till you both cum?”

“Yes, Daddy, please!”

Eddie stills long enough for his friend to rise to his knees and slide himself back into your mouth, matching his pace as they both thrust into you. Your orgasm takes you by surprise as you roughly tap on Steve’s body and he immediately pulls back as your upper body collapses on the mattress. The rockstar grunts as reaches over to grab your hair, bringing you flush against his chest as he chases his release. His arms circle around to your tummy and you place your own on top of his as he slams his seed inside of you. 

“Thank you.”, you whisper as you pant against his cheek and in response he tilts his head to kiss your lips. 

“Come here, baby girl.”, Steve coos, his head ticking to the side when you shake yours.

“I don’t want to ruin your suit, Daddy.”

Smiling softly, he takes you in his arms and you can’t help but inhale his scent as you nuzzle your face into his neck. After placing you on the pillows, he tugs his shirt over his head and removes the pants the rest of the way. 

“I don’t care about my clothes, honey. All that matters to me is that you’re comfortable and taken care of. Plus, it’s kind of sexy to me to have your gorgeous, naked, sweat covered body against my suit.”

Positioning himself between your legs, he brings one over his shoulder and lets out a long, pleasure filled sigh as he guides his cock into your somewhat overstimulated and dripping pussy. 

“God…fuck me.”

At this angle, it felt like he was splitting you in half but in the best possible way.

“Mmph, fuck, Daddy. You’re so big.”

“I know, Y/N. I know but you can take it. You’re doing so well already.” Steve’s lips kiss your ankle just below your high heel as he gradually began finding his rhythm. “Keep your eyes on me, baby.”

When you didn’t do what he told you to, you felt him lean over you as he pressed his palms into the mattress to steady himself. 

“Y/N, stop making us repeat ourselves. Now, open your eyes.”

“I-I’m sorry, Daddy. You feel—mmm—so good. I can’t—”

“Yes you can, little girl. Don’t let our kindness fool you. We can be mean when we need to be and have no problem punishing bad girls.”

Your eyes open to meet his dominate ones and just as Eddie had he scans your face for any signs of discomfort. When he found none, he rested his forehead on your own.

“This is the first time we’re really getting to see them.” Steve rolls his waist and you mewl as he roughly hits that sensitive spot inside you. “Right there? Ok, baby.”

His jaw goes slack as he pounds into you, slamming into you g-spot over and over again turning you into a moaning mess that drives him crazy. Pushing back on to his knees, you watch as a glob of spit falls from his mouth before he utilizes his thumb to rub it into your clit.

“FUCK! I’m gonna cum!”

The bed shakes underneath you as skin smacking skin loudly echoes through the room. The coil in your belly snaps for the final time that night and Steve’s lips crash to yours to capture every moan he can. After a few moments, his head dips to your side and his groans fill your ear as he empties himself inside you. 

You wince as the man tries to carefully pull out, murmuring apologies as he kisses your face. 

“Here, sweetheart, drink this.”, Eddie instructs in a gentle tone as he hands you a glass of water that you promptly chug back. “I’m going to go figure out how to turn the rocket ship they a call a tub into a bath so we can get you all clean.”

You giggle at his joke as Steve over exaggeratedly sighs as he presses his face into the pillow beside yours. 

“He’s just trying to impress you by seeming more ‘down to earth’. Our bathrooms at home are more or less the same.”

“I’m sure they are better than mine. It’s a 30 sq ft cube and I shower with the door open so I don’t feel like I’m actually IN the movie Cube.”

His eyes scan you over as you laugh at your circumstance.

“I hope this doesn’t come off as rude so if it is please tell me but…you don’t make enough with the website to get a better apartment?”

“I don’t think it’s rude. Um, no. I don’t deal with too many Daddies. I mean I deal with them but not enough to actually get anything going or keep them around long term. Either they can’t handle me or I can’t tolerate them.”

“Girl who knows what she wants?”

“Girl who’s been through enough and is tired of wasting her time.”

He nods as Eddie saunters back into the bedroom to tell you the bath is ready but as he casually comes around to pick you up, you stop him. 

“It’s ok. You don’t need to…”

As you start to climb out of bed, he places his palm on your chest and pushes you back down.

“I don’t need to what?”

“You don’t need to try and lift me.”

“Good to know.”, he responds sarcastically as he effortlessly lifts you in his arms. “Thankfully I don’t need to try. I already know what I can and can’t do.”

After removing your skirt and heels and placing you in the water, the metalhead climbs in behind you and begins cleaning your body as Steve, now donning boxers, places himself on the edge.

“Am I allowed to ask questions?”

“Of course, sweetheart, but we decide whether or not to answer.”

“I guess that’s fair.”

“Did you have a particular question in mind, honey or…?”

“Just some general things.”, you shrug. “Like I know you make a lot of money but I don’t actually understand what you do.”

“Um, the short answer would be I’m an investor, I guess. My father owned and ran an advertising firm that I took over. Then I utilized those funds to buy and resell properties. That business move you mentioned? I bought a building in Las Vegas and spruced it up. Since it was right on the strip it sold for a high dollar value.”

“Did that go right over your head?”, Eddie asked in jest.

“A bit.”, you smile shyly. 

“Those kids you brought…what do you teach that would bring them to my office?”

“Oh, that wasn’t my class. I was helping my friend with her field trip because another teacher called in sick. She teaches economics; I teach English.”

Both men make a subtle ah noise as they chuckle. 

“Almost all of students know you.”, you smile as you shift your focus to the rockstar. “They say you need to post more on social media.”

“Yeah, I have no idea how any of that works. I just post what they tell me and Gareth runs our band one. I’m an old man, sweetheart.”

“Oh my god. No, you aren’t.”, you laugh as you keen into his chest. 

You don’t see it but both men exchange another look before Eddie wraps his arms over your own and holds you tightly against him as he kisses your shoulder. 

“I’m, um, assuming that doesn’t bother you…that we are older?”

“Most sugar daddies are, honey.”

“That’s not what I asked.”, Steve scolds as he reaches out to lightly grip your chin.

“No, it doesn’t bother me.” Nodding at your answer, he releases you to take hold of your hand and help you to your feet to step onto the bathmat allowing the metalhead to do the same so he can dry you. “Do it bother you?”

“No, baby girl, it doesn’t.”

“Now if any younger guys are out here hitting on you—“ Eddie smiles when your loud belly laugh cuts him off. 

“Trust me, no one is hitting on me. I’m not saying that in like an insecure way. I’m just, usually my sarcasm gets in the way.”

After leading you back into the bedroom, you’re surprised when Steve grabs his shirt and puts it on you, falling to his knees as he closes the buttons.

“This material feels nice.” A sexy smirk paints his face as you watch his fingers move. “Smells like you.”

As soon as he completes his task, his face presses into your stomach as his hands tenderly trail up one of your legs. 

“I smell cigarettes to. Almost like my best friend insists on smoking around me.”

“Oh, sure, because you don’t smoke with me sometimes.”, Eddie teases as you both smile. “I like that you smell like us both though. Let’s people know you belong to someone already.”

Taking a hold of your bicep, he guides you under the covers and you immediately spoon your body into his as he circles his arm around you again.

“Should I…remove my profile from the site?”, you ask sleepily as Steve lays in front of you and brushes some of your hair away from your face.

“We would appreciate that. Tomorrow we can give you our number so we can talk directly on the phone and get some more information so we can send you money when you need it. I would also like to work on getting you a better place to stay. I don’t like you being in a small place where—”

“Steven.”, Eddie chuckles as he interrupts his friend. “Look at her.”

As his eyes glanced over you, he realized you had fallen asleep, your steady breathing and calm face making them swoon.

“Am I asking for too much? I hate the idea of her living somewhere she isn’t comfortable.”, the mogul inquires as he slides further under the covers and caresses your skin while the rockstar props up on his elbow. 

“She doesn’t seem like the kind of woman to do anything that would make her uncomfortable.”, he grins. “But no, I don’t think you’re going overboard.”

“You know how we are. That’s why women always took advantage of us.”

“That’s why we’re taking things a bit slower this time so we don’t have another incident like last time.”

Steve growled under his breath at the thought.

“I don’t think Y/N would be as vindictive as our ex was. Yeah she’s got a mouth but she seems up front and honest. I like that.”

“Me to.”

“I hope we aren’t wrong about this one, Ed.”

############

@aol19 @paradisepoisons @paleidiot @dashingdeb16

@lilaclazer @joannamuns9n @thwippyparker @emotionaldreamer

@aactuaaltraash

[bitchlessdino]

lee chan needs love too (m)

Pairing: fuckboy!chan x fem!reader

Genre: smut, humor

Word count: 9.3k

tags: pwithp, mention of high school, mention of alcohol, college au, virgin!chan, fuckboy!chan, frat boy!chan, lip piercing!chan, blonde!chan, yearning, car sex, unprotected sex, breasts play, oral (rec.), degradation, kinda exhibitionism, manhandling, possessive!chan, pet names

Summary: There was Lee Chan from High school and now Lee Chan from college. You insist they are not the same person. The only thing they have in common is they both got to fuck you.

author note: happy early bday to me hehe 🥳🥂🎉🎊🎂 this was entirely self indulgent and although i think i could've done better with the plot, i think it makes sense some what for what it is and regardless i hope you guys enjoy. at least the banner is very cute and look blonde chan even has a piercing.

Tag: @shiningstar-byulxx @misssugarlips @tommolex @hoeforhao @honglynights @homerunhansol @dkakapizzaboy @junhui-recs @svtup @buffhoshi @meowmeowminnie @caratochan @lovebot4han

The last time you saw Lee Chan was in the back of his used Camry at Boo Seungkwan’s graduation party. 

He blossomed the fuck out of nowhere into an unrecognizable gorgeous specimen of a man when you caught him fucking your roommate during the middle of finals season when you desperately need the peace and quiet to study. It was probably the dead of night—10 pm in your case—and the juice in your Bluetooth earbuds had just died. It was especially unfortunate since they were sound blocking you didn’t realize how badly you needed it with the fuckfest in the room across from you.

By the sound of it, Minnie was having a great time—which you usually aren’t mad about—but so was her friend, who you might add was obnoxiously loud (hot too, but that wasn't the point). You screamed at them from your desk, but you doubt they heard anything with the music on blast you’re assuming was to block out their noise. It was proven less than fruitful when you get no response in return. Finally, you forced yourself out of your room and began pounding hard against her door in desperate pleas. “I should be used to it by now, but please, please keep it down, even a smidge. I have a really important exam in the afternoon. And I can’t t—“

Before you can continue rambling, the door opens from the other side. You met the eyes of a bottle blonde, 5’8, taut and misted with sweat all over, adorned with a pretty piece of metal at his bottom lip. Oh no, he’s hot.

The man looked surprised at your appearance, despite the fact he was the one that turned the knob and swung it open. He stood there, looking more attractive than you anticipated, and just observed you in incomprehensible disbelief. “Well, shit.”

“Yeah. Look I get it, you guys have every right to…continue what you’re doing, all I ask is,” You squeeze your index and thumb to indicate something small, “take it down a notch, a little notch.”

He scoffed, looking amused. He crossed his arms and lean against the door frame, very fortunately wearing underwear (boner shapely and defined). And it only took a second for you to trace the outline of his gorgeously crafted body. As if he was made with marble, he looks as though one of the greats did him a solid by sculpting him one of the most beautiful bodies you’ve ever seen. You almost didn't realize you were ogling at it until he began to speak in his smooth tenor tone of voice. “Can't really take a notch down, but I can promise it’ll be quick.”

You didn’t like the suggestion in his tone nor the wink he displayed either.

“Come back to bed,” your roommate whined in the background. You shut your eyes in disdain, now in disbelief that you were negotiating with one of her hookups right now. “How quick?”

He grinned. “How do you feel about joining?”

“Not happening.”

“Then…” he pondered in thought, “give or take 10, 15 minutes.”

“How the hell is that quick? Don’t college guys cum for like 5 minutes?”

He chortled, and you caught that gleaming smile that likely coerced your roommate in the first place. “I’m a feminist. Ladies first.”

“I’m also a lady, so I say, make it quick…please and thank you.” You walked off with that and waited patiently for them to be done, only to realize it was going to take way longer for both of them to finish than it would be to charge your earbuds halfway, so you settled for the latter.

By the time he left, it was the morning after and you were honest to Minnie about ‘not liking this one,’ to which she laughed like it was the funniest thing you ever said.

Pieces really began to be put together one afternoon going through your old school yearbooks when you found them in the back of your closet. Minnie joined you in your period of nostalgia, wanting to see possible future hotties to cross reference to now. Then she sees him, points out the fact he was the one you confront around a week ago, and it all comes full circle. Your eyes shot back at the aged pages in pure shock, pulling it up to face to make sure you were seeing it clearly. “No way...”

“Oh my god,” she pulled it back from you, “Chan looks so cute here. I just wanna gobble him and put him in my pocket.”

He had his natural black hair, kind brown eyes, and—dawning on you on that very second—the smile that bares more joy than a kindergarten classroom. Back then, this kid didn’t have the blonde hair or piercings he had now. What he did look like was any other teenager that would listen to his parents and go to church. He was the model good boy. 

The model good boy whose virginity you took when you were 18 years old after a very public breakup with your ex at someone’s graduation party.

“What are you doing in my car?” Chan interrogated the second you let the door shut behind you.

You really had no plan then, all you knew was you wanted to evacuate the party immediately the moment things ended with Gyu. He had to be irrational and so utterly infuriating that you couldn’t stand to look at his face anymore. So, you just entered the nearest vehicle, forgetting the fact you never called an Uber or Lyft.

You weren’t ready to face the music yet, so a change of subject was in order. “What are you doing leaving early?”

“I asked you first.”

You crossed your arms obnoxiously, “And if I don’t want to answer?” In a second, you regret that, seeing the genuine concern on his face. You dropped your arms to the side. “I don’t wanna be around people right now.”

He gave you a sympathetic smile. “I’m people. Do I not count?”

“You’re a little too…perfectionist to be a regular person. Now, why are you leaving early?”

He simply shrugged. “Curfew.”

You rolled your eyes, lightly scoffing.“Of course, you have a curfew.”

You both sat in complete silence. You should’ve questioned why you were still in here, a car that didn’t belong to you with its owner, a magnet for college recommendation letters and scholarships rather than people with a potential romantic connection. But no, you just stayed there, wallowing in your internal conflicts of average day teenager, thinking about a tomorrow that you wouldn’t even remember two or three years from now.

“Wanna talk about it?” Chan initiated, breaking the silence.

You exaggerated a sigh like the theater kid you were, forearm to the forehead. “No.”

“Wanna hook up?”

You sat up from the seat to stare back at him stunned. It was a shock that such an idea would come out of his mouth even as a joke, yet temptation lingered in your body, making you clench your thighs as if you heard the lewdest thing to be said ever in history. Safe to say, it didn’t get much rile up a person on the rebound.

Before he could jump in and say the automated pathetic phrase, “Just kidding,” followed by an awkward chuckle, you’ve already thrown yourself against him from the passenger seat. You moved against him expertly as one in a high school long relationship could, tightening the crotch of his pants as he could think of anything but what he actually put in his commended college essay about his experience with—fuck what was it about?

He pulled himself away the moment he felt tongue, restraining himself to the car window for dear life. “W-what was that for?”

“You propositioned me first.” You smiled, breathless. You drew closer to him, trying to retrieve the distance–or lack thereof–you had with Chan seconds before where you could practically taste the innocence on his lips. “I want to go through with it.”

His eyes shot open like Wile E. Coyote. “W-what? Here?”

“Yes, here, Chan.”

“W-why?” he stuttered, which he did a lot of. Perhaps, he should look into that.

You mustered a sultry expression, narrowing your eyes at him which helps you notice his dilated eyes that quivered in both fear and arousal. “Because maybe all this time…I’ve wanted you. It’s always been you.”

“R-really?”

You let out a small laugh. “Well, no. But just tonight I can.”

“Does this have to do with why you left early?”

“Do you always talk this much before you fuck someone?”

“No—uh, I don’t know, I—“

You pulled back in realization. “Oh my god, you’re a virgin.”

“Shut up!” he said, typing to cover your mouth to prevent you from exposing him, which you successfully avoid.

“You had a girlfriend all throughout junior year!”

“No, I didn't. She was my secretary. I was the student body president.”

“But she kept giving you eyes.”

He squinted. “What eyes?”

“Nevermind. What matters is do you want to go through with this?”

“Having sex in my car?” He clarified, somehow doubtful.

“Yes, nerd.”

“Is the insulting really necessary?” He winced, you notice playfully.

“It’s my kink,” you dryly jestered.

You’re about to tackle him again when he pulled back one last time.“W-wait, what about condoms?”

“I’m clean,” you shrugged, “don't worry about it.”

“What about, you know?”

You scoffed. “Please, I've been taking birth control before you even started puberty. You can cum in me, Chan.”

His cheeks then turned a vibrant hue of scarlet, spreading from his cheeks to his ears. “I-in you?”

“Yes, Chan.” You climbed on top of him, straddling his lap, hand ruffling through his hair, which was quite soft despite the product. “You can cum all you want in me.” You kissed the top of his nose as your body brushed up against something big and firm. “And by the rock in your pants, you’re not against it.”

“There actually is a rock in my pants.” Chan struggled to get the geode gift given to him by his teacher at the diploma ceremony and he casually tossed it in the cupholder, chuckling nervously.

You fingered over this cheek, noticing the smooth, almost flawless skin adorned by a few moles, particularly one on the left side of his face beneath his eye was devastatingly cute, “Obviously, that’s not the rock I was talking about.”

You leaned into him, your cherry zero coke breath fanning his cheeks, and he can feel the curves of your body fit into his hollows. He stifles a breath before you kiss him again, your tongue brushing against his bottom to regain access. Naturally (as natural for Chan anyway), his hands came up your sides as he familiarized himself with your lips. You lightly moaned, digging your hips at him, before hearing a moan back that sent chills up your spine and pebbled your skin.

“Fuck, you’re so cute, Chan.”

“Y/n…” he whined unbelievably soft and malleable.

You threaded through his soft, dark hair, lightly down his scalp. 

You remember making out with him for a serial amount of time before he ‘accidentally’ (you’re still not sure to this day) lowered his seat position until he was nearly flat on his back. He uttered a soft apology before you were on him again. Clothes were tossed to the back seats and you see the bit of definition he developed from being co-captain on the dance team. You bathed in the heat of his skin as you unbuttoned his khakis, and revealed his untouched glory.

You reveled in being the first of the kind, somehow excited that you were the one to enjoy this side of Chan first, kissing him in unbridled, visceral lust. You lathered him in your wet, raw arousal, feeling the twitch of his cock against your slit as he’s groaning your name. You teased his voice, cooing praises at him for being so big and good for you until you let him take residence. 

You could feel him push through your walls, levying his sizing and stretching until your warmth. It does more than distract you, it satisfies you. You swear you hear a hiss of his voice, followed by, “fuck, that’s good,” before you bounce against his cock. You hope that the car can muffle noise because all you could repeat were your anguished moans and his name, the name that sounded like pure music to the young man’s ears.

You took his unoccupied hands, resting each on either breast while riding his firm, strong thighs. His jaw dropped. The sensation of your plush walls around his girth and the pillowy texture of your tits between his fingers made his hips buckle.

“That good?” You asked softly, to which he nodded. His eyes glaze over back at you, difficulty keeping them wide open and he finds the courage to twist your nipples between his fingers, your stomach churning whimpers escaping you the moment he does. “C-Chan…”

“Sorry, did that hurt?”

You shook your head, “No,” and folded into him, your chest immediately hitting his line of vision. “Touch me more…”

He does as you asked, staring back at you like a deer lost in wonder, and like that, everything after comes second nature. The warmth of his mouth takes over your naked breast, drawing circles against your textured skin with his tongue and he moves more freely against your body. It was fluid the way he moved like his virgin status was and is all it was, a status, not showcasing any of his skill. You fed off of him, his energy, his body, his want. He didn’t even know what he was doing. He was just a natural.

“C-can I fuck you?”

“Fuck me?”

His lips quivered, face flushed red and misted in sweat, “Yes, can I fuck you against the seats?”

You slowly nodded before readjusting in the seats. Chan, still inside you, found his natural pace, letting his cock hit you with enough power and depth that it made your legs freeze and bent in the air as a response, “Mmh, Chan…”

“Is that—ump—good?”

“Yes, but faster, don’t be scared to break me.”

He isn’t sure what you mean by that but he tries. His thrusts become his own, disciplined and sharp, enveloping himself in your fluttering walls that clench harder around him the faster he went. Your hands gripped his upper body, lips latching on his to dampen the sound of your voice. Your body pressed to the tautness of his, pushing him deeper inside and you felt it mere seconds away. An orgasm. An actual orgasm.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck me, Chan!” You were blistering the heat of your climax, you writhe underneath him and clutched against him by the back of your knees.

He’s eternally grateful because he was seconds away from cumming himself. He let your hips falter, coming down from the high before letting his hips take over. Drowning you in his grunts, he fucked you until he climaxed, his final thrusts painting your insides in ivory honey and making you feel whole. He panted against you, a tired smile on his face as he held his cum in you with mere his cock. Finally, he rests.

“Congratulations,” you said, laughing.

He scoffed lightly, “Thanks.”

It stayed like that for a few minutes, cock wet and warm in you, finding peace in the gentle chaos. He pushed himself from on top of you and looked down on your sweaty, exhausted form. His lips crashed against yours, and you sense his gratitude as he backed off. “Really. Thank you.”

You smiled lightheartedly, “Shut up and get me some wipes, please. I know you have them.”

He let out a little giggle before retrieving the assumed wipes from the glove compartment, helping you get clean. It wasn’t a thorough job but it did what it could. “Want me to take you home?”

“Might as well as payment,” you joked again, thinking it will get rid of this tension that still lingered. 

The ride went on in silence beside the radio’s pop music, consumed in your thoughts. It’s funny, you were used to being the type to always have to say something in any conversation, but with Chan right now, you had nothing, forcing the quiet until you arrived home. He parked his car, letting you know personally he arrived where the GPS said and you look off at one another, noting how his hair was still messy from an earlier event and you can’t help but fix it.

“Don’t want you caught,” You chuckled, moving your hands through until it was in proper Chan form. “There.”

“Hold on.”

His hand reached over your face. Thinking it was for another liplock, you stayed seated, prepared for the cushion of his lips as you pursed yours. Instead, he’s wiping away whatever it was from the corner of your lips, staring back at you with the sparkle in his eyes. “You got something there.”

“Um, Chan…I’m not wearing anything on my lips.”

“I-I knew that—,” You crushed your lips against him one last time, the salty-sweet taste of want from your tongue lingered on his, and you exit the car to never see him again. Or so you thought.

Was it the best sex you ever had up until now? No, definitely not. Was it good sex? Yes, way better than you anticipated. Then again you were comparing it to your ex, and at that point, anyone’s dick was the next coming of Jesus the more you think about it. 

“God, Chan grew up so hot,” Minnie gushed.

“I’ll say,” you agreed in reflex, “I mean, he sure looks different.”

“Different? They’re like two separate people,” She said, biting her lip, “Is it weird I wanna call him over again?”

“Yes.”

She rolled her eyes at your answer before flipping through the pages while you were still processing this information. You’ve had time to forget it happened and have had plenty of sex after then, but Chan will always be a little special. And you’d be lying if you weren’t the tiniest curious about how he turned out after all this time. It was hard to believe he's who he is now.

Since then and after some light stalking, you found out the college he attended was a neighboring one. He took part in a popular frat (gamma, omega, theta, whatever) that, surprise surprise, hosted some of the biggest parties that even students from your university attended. He just so happens to be one of the members actively posted on the site surrounded by hot people with his gorgeous blonde lip piercing ass. Goddamn, it.

Okay, that’s it. You can stop right there. No need to dig any deeper. Besides, he’s just some guy you hooked up with once (a great once for his first time), just once. That’s it. There’s no need for you to go all yourself like you used to do for your exes. This was just Lee Chan.

“Hi there, you’re Minnie’s roommate.” You found Lee Chan grinning back at you with a stack of fliers in his hands as you walked the neighboring streets that you conveniently heard he’d be around. Social media is a curse. “We have a charity event where all proceeds will be going to feed the starving homeless at a couple of shelters down in the area.”

You accepted the flier and tucked it under your pit as you crossed your arms in a questioning manner. “When were you going to let me know?”

“Ah,” his smile stretched wider as his hand slapped against the stack before clutching it to his chest, “took you long enough.”

“So what, you were just gonna wait until I realized it myself?”

“That was the idea, but I knew you were smart. You’d figure it out—charity event, we’ll keep you company,” he handed off the flyer to a pair of girls with an effortless wink before they’re scurrying off blushing a squealing.

“Isn’t this something the pledges do, what are you even doing out here?”

He stands beside you, a devious smile tattooed on his face, “I’m one of the people that manage social media. I pay attention to our activity feed and couldn’t help but see a like pop up and disappear in front of my very eyes.”

Your cheeks heat up, caught red-handed, “So you knew I’d be here and came out anyways.”

“Figured you wanted to talk,” he said, keeping his hands busy and eyes wide and charming.

“Why? Thinking about me?”

“You’re not someone that I could just stop thinking about, Y/n.”

Your name in his voice burned your ears, making you flick it away as if it were a bug. “Well, just came here because I remembered something I saw. That’s all. Go about your day.”

You’re about to storm off when he’s calling for you again and you shamelessly look back. His eyes turned up the way his smile does, sauntering over as he locked you in his trance. You were almost hypnotized by the sterling steel that looked so pullable you had to physically restrain yourself with pinches to your forearms. “You’re coming to the party.”

“Says who?”

He has this permanent playful expression, one that doesn’t recall down days or cram studying. He looked entirely carefree. So unlike the Chan from high school. “Says me. Plenty of booze, plenty of champagne, plenty of food, plenty of me to go around.” 

“What’s that?” 

“Kidding,” He laughed. “But don’t you think it’s rather serendipitous that we found each other again? After so many years?”

You squinted at him. “Yeah, sleeping with my roommate.”

“It’s like I somehow found my way back to you.”

“You have a hickey on your neck.”

His eyes shoot open, and a hand came over his neck, “Road bumps exist to get to our destination.”

“I lied, there was nothing there,” you said, not falling for his whimsy, ready to walk off again.

He chased after you, trying to lure you back with that smile he somehow found out you can get enough of. “Not fair, but fine. But don’t try to convince me you aren’t happy to see me. You wouldn’t be here otherwise.”

“I…I don’t know why I came here. I didn’t know what I was expecting.”

He gave you a befuddled look. “What do you mean? It’s me. Chan. I thought maybe you’d be at least a little excited to see me.”

The Lee Chan you knew was so different from now, blonder, spunkier, riskier for the faint of heart. Your fair trade of relationships was a healthy amount, enough to know what you wanted and somehow it all lead back to Chan three years ago. Like it meant something to be joined in something intimate with him. Your eighteen yourself would be laughing at you right now at the thought of you yearning for Lee Chan of all people. Not that anything was wrong with him, just that Chan was Chan and you were you. And now Chan is Chan and you were, well, same old you.

“You…I’m not used to this.”

His brows furrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

You could read the offense as soon as it arrived, immediately coming to defend yourself. “I was excited to see you.”

“Well, I’m here. What’s the problem?” If you knew any better, he looked hurt.

“You’re like a whole other person. I don’t know this Chan.”

“Then get to know me. No offense, but you barely even knew that Chan.”

“I—,” he wasn’t wrong. You hardly spoke as classmates. Hell, the sex was the longest conversation you’ve ever had. Before that was him asking for directions to where the auditorium was since it was a part of campus he never visited, but you weren’t ignorant to him. You always noticed Chan. Just never in that light until the last minute. Yet, you missed that Chan. Not like you had any right to. “I shouldn’t be here.”

“Why do you already think that lowly of me? You think we can’t be in the same town breathing the same air as each other?”

“Chan, of course not.”

“I get it. Stranger dangers and all that shit right? But we’re a little more than strangers, aren’t we?”

For some reason, you couldn’t answer and instead stared down at your feet. He let out a frustrated sigh, in disbelief the carefree person he knew several years ago was this same person in front of him. “Is there a problem you have with me?”

Because he looks like a fuckboy and you avoid fuckboys like the plague now. Remember?

“I don’t know,” you crossed your arms.

He took a step forward, taking the flier folded against your arm and smoothing out the wrinkles before he placed it in your hand. “Well, it’s just a party. So come. See me, ignore me, drink your heart out. Whatever, but come.”

He gave you one last bittersweet smile before deciding to walk off, following his frat brother who was already far ahead of him.

There was a tug of war between your mind and body, fighting the internal conflicts that make you hesitant to reconnect with Chan again. There’s no doubt a piece of you still hoped for the old Chan that lingered in your mind throughout all these years and the imminent lure of new Chan who was just the embodiment of every red flag you’ve ever seen in your past relationships.

Saying going to this party is a mistake would be an understatement.

“Oh my gosh, it looks so pretty here!”

You came arm in arm with Minnie, admiring the aesthetic light fixtures on the walls, while wearing the nicest garb you could conjure up from your closet. It was a navy blue dress in crushed velvet that hits you right at your ankles that could only be paired with a light pair of heels for the night to go on a little easier. You mused around at the decorations, impressed with the craftsmanship, surprised this was an event planned by college bros obsessed with Greek life. “It does look nice here.”

One block heel over the other, you were subconsciously scanning for a bright blonde head in sight. Instead, you were surrounded by several familiar faces of his members in suits and ties, remembering seeing them all over the Fraternity’s Instagram. They greeted you as hosts do and two of them took you and Minnie to unoccupied seats. The person that guided you to your seat, Seokmin, offered you a refreshment, while Soonyoung, Minnie’s guide, did the same for her. Once they had disappeared for a few minutes, Minnie could do nothing but gush over their looks.

“They’re so cute! Oh, do you think they’d wanna double date us?” Minnie asked with her eyes cheery and bright.

You looked back at the pamphlet and the itinerary, pointing at something peculiar. “Maybe, if we win the date auction with them.”

“Boo, I’m broke,” she pouted, “I’ll just have to charm myself the way I always do.”

You chuckled at her delight before the boys returned and chatted you up for the time being. You remained mostly cordial while Minnie brought in the charm she’s so famous for and amidst the jokes and lighthearted pandering, the awaited blonde is seen entering, greeting other guests that have made their arrival.

Your chest felt light, letting out a sigh of relief as though Lee Chan’s appearance made the event all the more tolerable, and maybe it had. However, it’s tightened as soon as you realize how incredibly his body fits the cream-colored suit, reminding you of white chocolate. Decadent and unique on your tongue, echos of his moans so familiar infiltrate the busiest part of your brain, blocking out background noises and images other than Lee Chan.

“All good, Y/n?” Seokmin so politely asked.

In a broken trance, you turned to them and nodded, seeing Minnie doubtful of your answer. You started getting from your chair, apologizing. “I’m fine. I think I saw my friend? You guys keep chatting. I’ll be back.”

You escorted yourself, smoothing the wrinkles of your dress before approaching him out of his view. He doesn’t suspect the anxious figure walking up to him, attention focused on other company while giving them that dazzling toothpaste smile on his face. As you tapped on his shoulder, he turned to you, melting into a soft, long gaze once he drank in your appearance. He politely excused himself from his previous company and offered you his elbow. Pleasantly surprised, you took it with stride, interlocking through, and quietly followed him somewhere a bit more private (as private as it can be in a semi-public event). “You look ravishing,” He whispered only loud enough for you to hear. 

“Thank you,” you mumbled flushed, arm wrapping tighter around him, “You look really put together like this.”

“‘Put together?’ Way to damper a guy’s confidence,” he laughed, feigning offense.

“You know exactly what I mean.”

“It’d be nice to hear it too.”

You exhaled, “You look really…handsome, Chan.”

A peaceful smile grazed his face. “Better. So, did you take a look at the itinerary?”

You nodded, twiddling your fingers before conjuring up the courage to ask, “Are you going to be in that auction?”

“Straight to it,” he chuckled melodiously, “What’s it to you?”

“Nothing like that, just curious.”

He shrugged. “Well, I will be one of the dates for the auction. Get your wallet ready.”

You lightly nudged him, chuckling, “You wish.”

“I do wish.” His lips neared your ear. “Maybe you winning is my end goal.”

Feeling the heat radiate off your cheeks, you shove him off of you away from innocent bystanders. “You’re so funny.”

“It’s my best asset,” he said, joining your arms back again. “Winner gets a weekend date of their choice with a budget of $75. Tempting, isn’t it?”

“You would be one to think so.”

“I’d make our date worthwhile.”

His dark temptation sent chills down your spine and you punched his arm, hard. “Stop it.”

“Stop what,” he teased, rubbing his likely bruised arm.

“Being this.”

He was quiet for a moment. “Why are you bothered by me? Be honest.”

You sighed, loosening the grip on his arm. “You were right and I don’t know you. I never really did. But that doesn’t mean I haven’t thought about you. It’s just strange to see someone I saw one way again after a few years and you’re completely different.”

“You don’t like the way I look?”

You shook your head. “No. In fact the opposite, I like it so because it reminds me of so many of the people I’ve been with, but I don’t want you to be any of them. I want you to be Chan.”

“I am Chan,” He said, taking you aside and holding your hand in his. “Just because I look a certain way doesn’t make me any less me. But I’m flattered you think so much about me.”

“What do you even get out of this?” You changed the subject. “Inviting me to places, talking sweet, and being nice to me.”

He shrugged his shoulders, an unsure smile on his face. “Okay, so maybe, I felt something when I saw you again.”

“Just like you felt something when you saw Minnie?” You snapped.

“...That’s not what this is,” he answered seriously.

“What is it then?”

He gave you a grim expression. “I’m not sure either.”

“Be honest, Chan. How often is it that you go on dates, or hook up with someone like you did with Minnie?”

“I don’t see how that’s relevant.”

“Because it is. How would I be any different than that? What makes me different from everyone else?”

“Because you’re not like anyone else.” He answered definitely.

Before you could ask him what he meant, Chan is pulled away by the other members of his frat to get him prepared for the auction coming up soon. He graced you with a bitter smile before disappearing behind doors where you’re forced to rejoin Minnie and the boys you left behind. They asked if you were alright, to which you less than sublimely answered, but they didn’t push it.

You tried being good company the rest of the night, making small jokes, greeting new people, and taking advantage of the catering that is surprisingly better than you expected. Yet, Chan was still running rampant in your mind. The auction was seconds away from starting and he would be there on that stage just like everyone else, devastatingly handsome and charming that you could melt in a puddle. You somehow come with several glasses of champagne that night to the point Minnie issued you an end to it by force-feeding you water to sober up. It doesn’t work that well.

The stage lights turned on and music loudly played in the background. A man in a suit different from the rest began introducing potential suitors available for auction, including the friendly members you’ve come to know this evening, who waved back at your table when they got on stage. It goes for a few hours so far and the Greek house has accumulated several thousands of dollars in funds. Meanwhile, your sobriety was gradually replenishing over time until the announcement of the next auction date would step on stage.

“Up next we have is Lee Chan, respected brother and life of the party!”

The blonde stepped on stage with fierce charisma, smiling and waving like it was his own red carpet, even striking a few poses for good measure. The emcee goes on about qualities you already knew and some you didn’t as the slideshow is off in the background like it was for all of the previous dates on stage. That’s when the show really began for you. Photographs of Chan playing basketball, obviously playing for team skins, as his hair bundled up in a sweaty, sexy mess. They were the kind of pictures people used for body fitness inspiration or just plain inspiration because what better motivation could one have other than the bare torso of Lee Chan. 

Cheers of encouragement cause a deep blush to appear on his gorgeous face, and you swear you saw him tug anxiously at his lip ring in the most delectable way. You stifled a breath, heart pitter-pattering like rain in a violent storm. “Holy—“

“Shit,” Minnie breathed out, “Go, Chan.”

You suddenly remembered who and where you were, wiping away your drool before it was visible.

“Let’s start out the bidding at $50.”

“$100!”

“$150!”

“$250!”

“Woah, woah, looks like we already got a couple of takers. Are we hearing a $255?”

The longer that went on the more severe the anxiety was bubbling up inside you. The numbers only got higher and higher, louder and louder, taunting your inhibitions. Before you knew it, you’re jumping up from your seat in a clearly unsober but confident state screaming, “One thousand dollars” from the top of your lungs. Chan looked in your direction, shocked, eyes wide as doe while his lips started parting in a small smile, a reasonable surprise considering the mixed signals you were giving.

You weren’t sure what you were doing since there was no way you had that kind of money, but you couldn’t stop yourself. The higher the bid, the higher the influence. You couldn’t deny it anymore. You were falling under a similar spell they were all under. You had to do everything you could to—

“Two thousand dollars.”

Your gaze swung in the voice's direction to a gorgeous girl standing a few feet from you, beaming with confidence. You slumped down in your shame while the emcee congratulated the highest bidder and shy Chan for reeling in the highest amount of money so far tonight. 

The hours after just drone on, just as much as champagne did and there you were pathetic and sad to have lost. Minnie doesn’t know how you keep finding refreshments for yourself, she blames the eyes candies willfully distracting her. “Okay, seriously stop. I will ban you from alcohol for life.” Minnie carried you off outside, hugging you to her as she went to listen to your unnecessary babble.

“He was mine…”

“I know, sweetie, but she was paying a month and a half’s rent. No way we could’ve paid for that.” Your whines muffled in her shoulder, mumbling something about “fuck the rich” before you started to cry. Even Minnie found it embarrassing.

“Want me to take over?”

Chan is the first person you laid your eyes on coming up from the surface of your drunk childish tantrum, making you wipe the tears away from your eyes in a hurry. “Uh, hi.”

“Hi,” he said lethally soft.

“Hi!” Smiling at you both before getting up from her seat. “Usually, I wouldn’t approve of letting my girl alone with a frat boy while intoxicated but I have her location on and I know where you live. So, take good care of her or I’ll kill you.”

He gave her a gregarious nod before waving. “Bye, Minnie.”

“Bye, Chan. No more drinks, Y/n.”

She left you to Chan, following after Soonyoung and Seokmin who were surprisingly waiting for her by the door. Good for her, you thought.

“That was stupid of you,” He said sitting next to you.

“Tell me about it.”

“Did you even have $1000?”

Pouting, you shook your head. “No, but I wanted to win.”

“You wanted to win me?” He said smiling.

“Yes, isn’t it that obvious?” Your head fell against his broad welcoming shoulder. You let out a long low breath at that, clutched the breast of your dress as you tried your damnedest to breathe. You were aware of your heart rate, pounding away at your chest like a drum. Your weight pushed against him but made no change to his posture. He was like a boulder that chipped away at your weakness and made you ache for his fullness no matter how much your head told you otherwise. “Why are you doing this to me?”

“Doing what?”

“Be…this. And make me crazy about you.”

His head turned down to see your face, warm brown eyes staring back into yours. “I could say the same about you. You have sex with me once years ago, give all the time in the world to recreate a feeling like it, just to chase me back when I think I’m finally forgetting about you? Diabolical of you.”

You thought you’ve heard it all before. Usually, sweet nothings go to one ear and out the other. Many of those sugar-coated words and phrases have blended into something homogenous, overplayed tactics that got you into loveless relationships fueled by sex and desire. Who knows if Chan is different, but the words he speaks, and the burning he gives you, you wanted every little bit of it. You grasped his lapel, pushing your face closer. “You thought about me?”

“That’s what I’ve been saying this entire t–”

Your patience soon wore thin. His lips tasted sweet like nectar, felt soft as pillows, warm as the summer. The heat of his skin was in stark contrast to the cool steel of his lip ring expectedly grazing your skin, churning whatever it was in your stomach. You attempted to gain leverage control, thirsting more, but you learned soon his muscles weren’t just for show. “You’re drunk, Y/n.”

“But you taste so good…”

He took a deep breath before sighing. “Let’s just get you someplace to rest up and I can take you home after.”

Chan made good on his promise. As your body was giving in to sleep, your knight in blonde carried you off on his back to the nearest place of rest, which ended up being his bedroom that he luckily didn’t have to share. He laid you sprawled out on his thinly veiled mattress, tucking you underneath his blanket until he couldn’t see any inch of skin except your head up, and he let your soft airy snores play out.

He made his shower quick to return to you, relieving himself of the heavy suit he’s been wearing all night. He gets back to his room and placed the suit in the bag back into his closet. You’re still sound asleep as soon as he’s back but now stir in your sleep, staring to thrash around even. That made him come to your side in a hurry, trying to calm you down. He puts his hands on your body through the covers, soothing you to the best of his ability. Unfortunately, that is what makes you start to gain consciousness, pushing yourself to sit up from the bed. “Where am I?” 

“You’re awake, shit, sorry.”

“Chan?” You blinked back at him with tired eyes, barely focusing through the small slits of your vision to make out the man tending to your drowsy state.

“Yeah, you were really out of it? I had to make sure you were okay.”

“Shirtless?”

Chan looked down at his body to realize what you meant. He only came to the bathroom with a single pair of sweatpants with him fully intending to just throw a shirt on the moment he got back to the room. Now he was deeply regretting the decision seeing how awake you are. Grim at the thought of you perceiving him as some typical perverted college guy, which he was if not a little more respectful than most. “Sorry. I’ll put something on.”

You tugged him back by his wrist, stopping him. “Don’t.”

“Don’t?” He repeated, heart starting to take race in his chest.

You shook your head definitely. “Don’t.”

“Why not?”

You shifted on the bed, realizing how you were still in your dress, subconsciously shrugging off the flimsy straps. Your hand traveled from his wrist and up his forearm. The hairs of his arms stood up at your touch and he sucked in shallow breaths as your hand smoothed over to the back of his neck effortlessly. Your finger threaded through his hair. There’s a look in your eyes, unlike the others you’ve shown so far since he’s reunited with you. They only come close with the gaze he say several years ago when you defiled his 18th birthday gift at a random peer’s graduation. “Lee Chan.”

He doesn’t want to fall for it, but damn it, did he want to be an idiot and just fall, fall hard. “You’re still drunk, maybe–”

“My Lee Chan…” God, did his heart throb.

“You’re definitely drunk.”

Your hand moved over to cup cheek, feeling how he instinctively nestled in your palm. His gaze softened back at you in this familiar way it did once back in the first time and both of you can’t help but call back to that night again. It’s like you’re right where you started, seconds away before melting into one another like hormonal teenagers.

“What are you doing to me now?” He asked so softly you almost didn't make it out.

If his body wasn’t already so goddamn enticing, it was the expression on his face. You could etch out the writhing on his face when you rode his body the first time, remembering how his strong thighs buckled at your touch, burning under the heat of your thighs. Your abdomen was physically contracting thinking about it.

“Kiss me, Chan.”

He doesn’t have the will to resist you any longer and he took the opportunity, crashing his lips into yours. You embraced his naked torso, clinging on to him and tugging against his piercing before pulling him towards you in bed with a thud. You didn’t know what true love felt like but it felt as half as good as Lee Chan, you’d risk your heart over and over again just to have it in your arms.

“Take it off for me,” you whispered once his hand landed on the zipper of your dress. The common plastic rubbed over your spine, and the sound of it traveling down pooled bountiful amounts of arousal in your core. You moaned against his lips helplessly, digging your nails through his scalp. 

His sweatpants did no good in hiding his aroused state as it poked back at your thigh coming out of the slit of your dress, groan at the pain you cause him but was pleased nonetheless. His hands come up your shoulder confidently, sliding down the rest of the material as it slid off the bed and hit the ground. Your knee came up behind him, pressing him down to reunite your curves and hollows as he moved to nip the skin at your clavicle, murmurs from lips occasionally leaving his lips.

“What was that?” you asked, already intoxicated in something other than alcohol for once tonight.

“I said, ‘I’ve been wanting to fuck you the moment I saw you again.’”

His voice exhibited a gravelly rasp, one you wouldn’t have expected knowing him, but fuck, if it didn’t make your pussy full-out throb. “Yeah,” you egged on, “You wanted to see if you still fit your cock in me?”

He gave out a low growl. “I forgot how annoying you were.”

“I guess not too annoying to fuck me full in the front seat of your Camry.”

“I miss that thing. Too many good memories.” His sigh fanned over the back of your neck before his lips sucked against the skin under your ear, causing you to crumble underneath him. “But it’s fine, I can make new memories. And I won’t be worried about breaking you this time.”

His hips dipped down in yours, teasing his bulge at your wet, clothed core before you’re thrusting back in whines. Your hand roamed through his blond locks, gripping like you were doing into your insanity, if only there were just as surprisingly healthy and strong. “Fuck me already. I want you to stuff me with your cock just like the last time.”

He shook his head, that smile of his filling your insides with need and desperation. “Thought I’d catch you up on a bit on how I’ve improved first.”

He trailed kisses down your body, hands caressing over your breast before your sides. You tremble as the pads of his fingers grazed the edges of your panties, pulling them down and off of your body leaving you nothing but nude. Your glistening arousal stared back at him like a limitless fountain of youth, inclination bubbling up inside of him. The back of his hand rubbed against the moisture of your folds, seeing you thoroughly coat him as he wrapped his lips against your thighs, moans ebbing from his lips and yours.

“Your pretty pussy is so wet for me. Just like I remember.” Your clit was squeezed between his fingers, swelling up so enticingly he just had to suck against it. You clenched your abdomen, calling out for him, “fucking hell,” and then his tongue was inside you as though it was digging for gold, “holy shit.”

The sounds he made were simply carnal, like he hadn’t been feeding for months and until now you could help but eat every second up as he devoured you entirely. Your toe curled, your breath stolen from, and your cunt flooded until you could overflow a dam. “I could eat your pussy all night, baby girl…if I knew you tasted this good…would’ve been the first thing I’d done to you.” His thumb presses on your clit, flicking it from side to side, and the stripes he ran up your slit become ravenous, monstrous, torturous.

“You’re gonna make me cum, please…”

“Already,” he teased, kissing your entrance, “I’ve barely started. Or are you saying because you’re such a slut for my cock?”

You winced as he pinched your clit, holding back tears. “No, no. I’m really about to—ah—cum…”

“Guess I should savor it when it arrives, shouldn't I?”

He ate you out until you’re practically screaming, the creak of the bed would be normally something that’d bother you, but his tongue is so tantalizing you don’t even notice. Meanwhile, his hands have taken over your breasts, squeezing them so possessively in each hand you feel like you’re truly his, and none otherwise.

“Such a pretty little mess…cum on my tongue, baby girl…I need you cumming in my mouth…” His pleas sounded dirty, desperate, devastating. Your whines cried out as you begged for more, pushing his face deeper into you, feeling the burn of your cheeks. “Shut…up—fuck!”

You involuntarily came in him as he wished. Painting the inside of his mouth with your milky climax, he laughed contently in your heat as he pulled away. Your cum stretched from your sopping pussy to his lips, forcing you to watch as he licked up the mess, starting with the collection from his cheeks. “Such a good slut for me,” he wiped the cum from the underside of his chin, putting his fingers between his mouth while groaning. “I needed this so bad with the week I’ve had.” 

He wounded himself tight around his digits, letting go with a ‘pop. “Especially with how confused and horny you make me…I’m gonna fuck your stupid cunt until you’re sure you want me just as much as I want you.”

He reached over his bedside to rip open a condom and rolled it on himself, giving you the glimpse you needed to be reminded of how big and delectable just Chan’s cock was. There he then held your legs until they folded against you, spreading you wide and perfect for him to fuck into. Plunging through your cum lubricated walls, he entered you with ease, the familiar sensation of your fluttering grip took him back to his youth. “Shit, that’s good.”

You suppress a moan, to which he scolded you by squeezing your cheeks, gripping your face harshly in his direction, and what he said next was enough to make you want to cum right there on the spot. “Don’t do that. I want you to be loud. I want everyone in this house to hear you while I fuck you senseless to the point you forget your name.”

Whoever dare says Lee Chan is a liar is the real liar because he knows how to keep a promise.

His body, heavy and strong, pressed you unto the mattress mercilessly, pounding out the cheap strings that were bound to break. Your screams of his name bounced off the thin walls, taking every stroke of his cock until you were mistaken for bloody murder. It wasn’t what you expected, and yet you couldn’t be happier to be wrong. Your head threw back at the claim of his hands on your hips, now pulling at you to manually use you for his bidding, only to bottom out in you repeatedly. “Fuck Chan…please…”

After having been told to let your vocal cords loose, you took it personally and screamed his name from the rooftops, which you might as well have done with how obnoxiously boisterous you were taking every gorgeous inch. 

“Good slut,” He flipped you on your stomach, only to rut into you deep. His hand caressed your back, “I’m a bit possessive if you can’t tell. Usually, I wouldn’t care if anyone heard, but with you, I can’t help but do care. I want everyone to know who it is you’re fucking. Who it is ruining you like this.”

“Shit, that’s so hot…” you whine, your ass cheeks burning in the rage of his hips.

“Say it for me then. Say how you like me inside you. Say how you like how I’m fucking you stupid.”

You choked on your words as he pushed in you without abandon, riling himself up at the anticipation of your words. “I love you inside me…I love how you fuck me so stupid, Chan…”

He pulled you up by your arm, his hands clenched your breasts, fondling them on his palms and pinching your pretty erect nipples as his sweaty, toned chest pressed against your back. “You listen to me so fucking well,” he landed a strike on your breast, causing you to moan in response, “I wish I could’ve been fucking you like this all the time. No one was ever like you.”

Your back arched into him, convulsing as you felt the stream of your climax rise up the surface again, controlling you much the way Chan did. As if Chan could read your mind, his lips pressed against your ear tenderly, fingers coming at your swollen clit to rub it pain-achingly perfect. “Do it, cum all over my cock, baby…I want–need you to cum so hard on my cock.”

Even when you cum another time, Chan’s stamina doesn’t cease and he’s asking for another. “Just one more” he pleaded. And he’s fucking you over and over again, until you’re in his lap, grinding on his hips with cock stuffed back inside you as his legs lifted up in repetitive thrusts to rearrange your insides. His tongue roamed in your mouth without abandon, lip ring still brushing against your kiss-swollen lips as he’s whimpering how good you clench around him or perfectly you whine for him in that mouthwatering infliction. “Your pussy’s so damn perfect. Shit, I’ll—fuck, oh god.”

Your pungent honey releases once more, while Chan, unfortunately, poured him into his into the rubber, having you silently mourn the waste. He clenched you against him, your twitch so tantalizing, he had to feel every spasm, kissing you sweetly until you were soothed into stability. He whispered praise of your beauty, your body, your efforts. Bad memories of others washed away with his presence, only allowing his acts of worshiping every inch of you.

“I’m happy I came tonight.”

Chan chuckled, thinking about the unintended innuendo, as he pressed your body nestled into his closer, “Me too. Next time we can do it again, maybe without the condom next time.”

“Not without testing I hope,” You said after hearing him giggle at the thought. Then his words are repeating in your head, ‘Next time.’ You weren’t about to make the same mistake you’re used to and because it was Chan, you were confident with him it’d be different. You held his fingers in yours, lacing them through before pressing them to your lips, “Next time as in the next time we fuck or the next time we’re together?”

He softly smiled. “Looks like someone has a crush.”

“Ugh, fuck you.”

You let go of his hands, initiating his boisterous laughter and euphoria-inducing smile as he spooned your bare backside. “Next time we’re together. After I take you on a proper date that is.”

“What about your auction date?”

He sighed, suddenly remembering that. “It’s unavoidable, unfortunately, but I’ll promise to come to see you right after and show you what things I rather do to you than anyone else.”

“That a promise?”

“Cross my heart, hope to die.”

You turned around to face him again and pressed your hands against his soft and supple cheeks, kissing his lips long and languidly. “You’re so cute.”

“Ugh,” he groaned, pulling you by the waist, “I thought the blonde and piercing would change that.”

“You’ll never not be cute. Everything cute about you I’ll l-adore.”

“You were going to say something else.”

“I wasn’t.” You denied.

“Oh my god,” he gripped tighter around, enough to almost suffocate you, “you love me.”

You flailed in his grip. “What the fuck?”

“Oh, you so love me,” He sang.

“Shut up, I don’t,” You rolled your eyes, “but I do end up loving someone, it wouldn’t be so bad if it was with you first.”

“Is that a promise to one day love me? To have and to hold?” He teases, secretly hopefully.

“Let’s say it’s wishful thinking. All Lee Chans in needs love too.”

“What does that mean?”

“Oh, someone will make sense of it.”

[decolonize-the-left]

(to preface this, i am white. figured i should make that known off the bat) i wanted to come bounce an idea off of you that i've been rolling around in my head for a bit. i have this pet theory that, for the population ill call here "white progressive queers who know very little about poc and racism", a large underpinning of this group's interaction with poc is a Fear of Fucking Up and more generally, moral purity thought. they (maybe even "we"- im still hopefully learning myself) get so paralyzed by this idea and line of thinking that goes something like this: "1) since i know nothing about poc & racism, then 2) clearly in discussions about these topics, i will fuck up and say something wrong or perhaps even Bigoted, which if i did 3) makes me an Irreparable Ontologically Evil Racist, hence 4) i should just be quiet and never ask questions/speak on these topics" which then results in said White Progressive Queer and those around them never learning. i wanted to know what you think abt this and tell me if im on the mark or not

also thank u for the work u do on this blog, ive found so many helpful resources through you

You're right. In my experience that's exactly how it is.

I want to add tho: yes they're uncomfortable that they might fuck up and be considered racists sure, but a huge part of that stems from the massive inability to place the discomfort where it belongs. Which is with their own guilt.

Instead they blame the conversations for making them uncomfortable.

And let's take some worthy notes here: this is not how white people feel all the time. Because white people are not uncomfortable making these fuck ups in front of other white people.

So it's not that the conversation is uncomfortable. They are made uncomfortable. And they are made uncomfortable because even when discussing anti-racism they step into the role of oppressor (the little fuck ups or accidentally bigoted comments) so naturally and God forbid other (not white) people can See how easy it is.

My advice for white people that are like this (that nobody asked for) is

Your fuckups do not define you but how you react to them does

Listen, respect, learn

That's it. That's the whole list. Say something bad? Apologize, but don't over-explain yourself. Ask how to fix it. Google how you fucked up so you understand why it wasn't okay. Google again to get idea of how your fuck up hurts people. Google some more to make sure you don't do it again. Go to some safe space and ask some clarifying questions. Listen, respect, learn.

Maybe the people you fucked up with don't forgive you and that's okay, they don't have to. But YOU won't ever make anyone feel bad or less than in the same way ever again and that's what matters.

Having one less person making racist comments matters even if it's a struggle for that person to get to that point.

I need y'all to understand that none of you are gonna just wake up being suddenly perfect anti-racist allies. And we will literally never ever have allies like that if y'all refuse to even sit with your own discomfort.

•°•°•

This weird morality issue white people have over looking racist is also just such a non-problem. Like if y'all want a PoC perspective: white people are already being racist ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯ ....we Already see y'all as racists. And also I'm gonna experience racism anyway so I'd rather it be because someone was just being ignorant on the path to anti-racism.

Y'all are so worried about how shit Looks that you can't be bothered how really things are? Like you're so afraid of looking racist you'd allow yourselves to continue being actually ignorant and casually racist. And to avoid what? Being uncomfortable for a minute? Being called-out? A mean comment?

We are trying to stop hate crimes and genocide. Like that's what we are dealing with okay. Accountability for your actions is an acquired taste but I think y'all can handle some discomfort considering.

[a-small-safe-place]

His Haven Pt. 2

Homelander x Psychiatrist!Reader

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

As the weeks passed, Homelander continued to integrate himself into your life, blurring the lines between patient and "friend." One evening, after a particularly intense session, Homelander broached the subject of spending more time together outside of the therapy room. "I was thinking," he began, his blue eyes searching yours, "maybe we could grab a bite sometime. You know, outside of this place." Your heart sank, torn between the genuine connection you felt with Homelander and the professional boundaries you knew you needed to maintain. With all your other patients, you had discussed boundaries, but not with the members of The Seven. The Deep, A-Train, and Queen Maeve viewed these sessions as a waste of time. Starlight and Black Noir had kept a very professional relationship. You weren't totally sure why Black Noir still came to the sessions since his sessions were spent in silence, usually with him drawing pictures of Buster Beaver and his little buddies. Starlight was the only one that used the sessions for what they were meant for.

You had not thought you needed to set boundaries with them, and that, since these were America's greatest heroes, the boundaries were obvious and unspoken. Oh, how that had bitten you in the ass now, having to turn down the offer. You let those boundaries slip by allowing Homelander to come to your house, but in that situation, there was not a lot you could do to stop him.

"I appreciate the offer, Homelander, but it's important to keep our relationship within the confines of our sessions," you replied carefully, trying to hide the conflict in your eyes, unaware that he could hear your heartbeat and smell your nervousness. Homelander's expression shifted from hopeful anticipation to a subtle disappointment that cut through you. "Right, professional boundaries," he said, a forced smile tugging at his lips. It is the kind of smile that does not reach his eyes. "I get it." You could not let his dangerous expression get to you.

The following sessions became strained. Homelander seemed distant, his usually confident demeanor replaced by an air of vulnerability and irritation. You should be thanking him that he is interested in you. He attended sessions less frequently, and when he did, the conversations were stilted. It was clear that your rejection had affected him more than either of you anticipated. Homelander was not willing to give up. You just needed a chance to come around.

One day, after a difficult session, Homelander lingered in your office. "Is there something you're not telling me?" he asked, his tone a mixture of frustration and hurt. Homelander knew you did not have a partner in your life. He had stopped by to do a thorough search of your home while you were out, and there was no evidence of you dating someone, not even the smell of a casual hookup still lingering on your skin. You sighed, maintaining the professionalism that defined your role. "It's not that I don't value our sessions, Homelander. But crossing the boundaries of a therapeutic relationship can be detrimental for both of us," you explained, your words hanging heavily in the air. "I want what's best for you, and sometimes that means maintaining a professional distance."

Homelander's jaw tensed, and he stood abruptly. "So, I'm just another patient to you, is that it?" His eyes bore into yours, searching for a hint of vulnerability that matched his own. "No, Homelander, you're not just another patient," you replied softly, your heart aching at the pain evident in his eyes. "But I have a responsibility to ensure that our interactions remain focused on your well-being." He stormed out of your office without another word, leaving you with a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach. Homelander is a dangerous and unpredictable man. The once-promising therapeutic alliance had crumbled, replaced by an unspoken tension that hung in the air during each subsequent session.

Days turned into weeks, and the divide between you and Homelander deepened. He attended sessions less frequently, and when he did, the conversations were strained and unproductive. Of course, for Homelander, he still had his time with you even if you were oblivious to it. Though, he would much rather be in your arms than jacking off on the building next to yours while you participated in a similar activity in the warmth of your bed. 

One evening, after a silent session, Homelander was particularly grumpy in this session. He had expressed that he had a bad day. Homelander lingered at the door. "You should be fucking thanking me,” He pauses. “I am giving you the opportunity of a lifetime, and you're fucking throwing it away. Do you know how many people would leave their whole families just for one glance from me?”

The weight of his words settled heavily on your shoulders as he walked away, leaving you alone in the empty office. It made you wonder how dangerous Homelander really was and how desperate he would become if you continued to deny him. The once-promising connection had fractured irreparably, and the professional boundaries you fought so hard to maintain had come at the cost of a genuine connection with Homelander.

The weeks passed with a lingering tension between you and Homelander. The once-promising therapeutic alliance had crumbled, leaving behind an unspoken rift that seemed insurmountable. Homelander attended sessions less frequently, and when he did, the conversations were strained, devoid of the genuine connection that had defined your earlier interactions. It became evident that your rejection had affected him more deeply than either of you anticipated. Homelander, usually the embodiment of confidence, now wore an air of vulnerability and loneliness that tugged at your conscience. The sessions were marked by long pauses, resentful glances, and a palpable discomfort that neither of you could ignore. You couldn't shake the feeling of regret that lingered each time you saw him. The haunting realization that you had sacrificed something meaningful for the sake of professional decorum weighed heavily on your conscience. Late one evening, a knock echoed through your home. Homelander stood at the doorway, his usual confidence replaced by a vulnerability that mirrored the man you had glimpsed in the early days of your sessions. "I need someone to talk to," he admitted, his voice a whisper.

[catboybiologist]

About to fall asleep ramble time, this has been kicking around in my brain for a bit and I need to get some form of this thought out

I was diagnosed with ADHD and gender dysphoria one day after the other back in August. Extremely stereotypically zillenial of me, I know. Handling both of these has dramatically improved my quality of life. yes yes insert discourse about how much you need to have dysphoria as a diagnosis, it's just a tool for the medical system that's ultimately meaningless, that's not what this is about.

There's one thing that was really, really weird about the experience of getting care for both of these.

Most treatment and public talk of transition and motivations to transition are about misery. How much despair your birth sex gives you and how gender affirming care is the only stopgap against suicide (oftentimes, used as a barrier to entry that it should only be given when it's at the suicidal point). How crushing dysphoria is.

In contrast, most of the public perception of ADHD is this cutesy, "omg look I'm so quirky" kind of thing. People talk of ADHD "superpowers" and how neat it is to have hyperfixations (I'm low key starting to dislike that word, even though it's an accurate description of many things- it's very overused).

My actual experience has been almost exactly the opposite.

I absolutely had gender dysphoria, and still do, and misery associated with being AMAB. But is that what defines my trans experience? No, and in fact, it feels like a more incidental blip in it. My trans experience has mostly been defined by joy, by feeling my mind and body slowly make me more and more content with my default existence day after day. And the exploration of it all! The social roles, the romantic dynamics, the friendship dynamics, even small aesthetics like clothes and makeup, and again, the body and mood changes. It's incredible and it brings me joy so much of the time. That, more than anything, has defined my trans experience.

In contrast.... ADHD has objectively made nearly every aspect of my life more miserable. Working with my therapist and my pysch, as well as feeling what it's like to be properly medicated, have shown me extremely well how much the constant feelings of misery I always seemed to have were caused by ADHD. ADHD means being unable to receive a baseline level of dopamine to function under normal circumstances, so your brain starts looking for any way it can get new sources. And wouldn't ya know it, novel stimuli are a perfect way to do that. Keep in mind that dopamine isn't just "the pleasure molecule" it's a neurotransmitter with a broad range of functions. If you don't have ADHD, or even if you do, I want you to think about how miserable of an existence that is. Your default state is depression and inability to do things. It has been for me for most of my life. Additionally, anxieties creep into your head and distract you far more easily. You're less functional. You can't do simple things most of the time. You're distracted and have anxiety spikes easily. Continuous tasks are hard. And day in, day out... You are miserable. Almost constantly.

Oh also, you're easily addicted to extreme novel stimuli. For me, it was self harm. And when that stopped working... Well, I was in a state of mostly background depression that was only punctuated by spikes of massive, overwhelming anxiety that my brain hooked itself on. At a certain point, I just wanted it to end, by any means necessary.

It's been almost ten years since that day, and at this point I can genuinely say that I'm glad I'm still here.

But it wasn't dysphoria that did that (it contributed a bit, but still wasn't the biggest factor). Or a depressive disorder. Or bipolar. Or whatever the big, more "scary" mental illnesses or neurodivergencies are. They tried to treat me for some of them, and it ended horribly. My symptoms fit mixed presentation ADHD perfectly, including my physiological response to stimulants. They don't fit anything else. I likely don't have any strong comorbidities, unless you count the symptom-level anxiety and depression. ADHD did all of that to me. The "cute and quirky" one.

By the time I got around to a diagnosis, my pysch was astounded that I made it as far as I did with symptoms as severe as mine. Tackling ADHD has removed so much misery from my life, it's indescribable. Adderall has been the only thing that has ever actually gotten rid of my constant anxiety.

It's not fucking cute. Keeping with this being the flip side to my dysphoria, I do try to keep it light most of the time, and I join in on all of the classic "whoopsie doopsie my ADHD" trains and jokes. You don't have to stop making those, hell, they're fun. There are cute and funny parts to having ADHD, and ways it's made my personality what it is. But don't forget that this is also something that makes people genuinely suffer well beyond the "oopsie I'm such a procrastinator!!!" Type thing.

Idk where this thought is going. It's just kind of an observation that's been kicking around in my head for a bit. So uh. Hope it at least generates discussion? Feel free to add your experiences if you think it'll help you. But fuck I need to sleep lol

[copperbadge]

Homework from the therapist this week was to research mindfulness and its impact on emotional regulation. I had pointed thoughts about how we culturally define "mindfulness" and I think she wanted me to deal with that rather than make her do it, which is fair. (I think there is one definition of Mindfulness that is, at root, "Whatever a person in authority over you thinks will make you need less attention" but I am a Notable Cynic.)

Anyway she sent me a site about DBT, which was fine but mostly useful for its citations. Still, it had questionnaires, and I would normally check in before doing that kind of reflective work but she did send me the website. So I took the "Interpersonal Emotional Regulation Questionnaire" which measures how much you depend on other people to regulate your emotions. It's pretty standard, you rate a statement 1-5 based on how little (1) or much (5) it is like you.

There's not a lot of literature about what the end score means, but most of the papers talk about how a certain score is pretty normal but the higher end of scoring indicates a person is likely relying too heavily on others to regulate their emotions for them.

Out of a hundred points, with the minimum possible being 25, I scored 29.

There's no real literature on what to do when you bomb a personality test in the opposite direction from most people*, but I guess I'm an outlier in a lot of ways. Although, being fair, this is one section of the questionnaire, and does ANYONE like it when someone does these things to them?

It helps me deal with my depressed mood when others point out that things aren’t as bad as they seem;

Having people remind me that others are worse off helps me when I’m upset;

When I am upset, others make me feel better by making me realize that things could be a lot worse;

When I am annoyed, others can soothe me by telling me not to worry;

Having people telling me not to worry can calm me down when I am anxious.

I know what I want when I'm miserable about nothing is to be reminded that I'm miserable about nothing and told I shouldn't be. I suppose that might be the point, like if someone saying that to you works for you then you might be letting someone else drive a little too often, but still.

* Yes, I know you can't bomb a personality test, I am being Le Humorous.

[mauesartetc]

A while back I got a comment that demonstrated a misconception as to what the character design process actually entails, and I thought it had real "teachable moment" potential. So let me make this perfectly clear:

Drawing a character is NOT the same as designing one.

Let's say I wanted to draw a guy. No backstory, no defined personality traits or preferences, no details about his current life, just doodling some random, generic guy who popped into my head.

That's just a drawing.

But what if I decided to flesh him out more? What if I wanted his appearance to reflect his lifestyle and inner life as well? Here's where the note-taking comes in.

And now for the visual research:

I thought the bodybuilding angle would provide a fun contrast with this guy's profession. The mental image of a huge, burly dude working on a clock or watch with tiny, precise movements just makes me smile. Perhaps I could give him small, nimble hands that would suit his line of work.

Now that I have a better idea of how Mikhail's face and body will look, it's time to establish a pose.

Of course, I never expected to employ all the personality traits I started out with inside this single pose; those were just a jumping-off point. No one drawing will ever be able to encapsulate every single facet of a character, unless they're extraordinarily flat and generic (see also: random guy I doodled at the start of this post). If I wanted to write a story with this guy, I'd have to figure out how all the traits play off each other and how they'd cause him to react to different situations. There would be a lot more note-taking and development involved, but for the sake of keeping this post (somewhat) brief, let's just focus on visuals for now.

On to color!

I decided to give Mikhail a carnation in his pocket (for its round shape), specifically a red one, which represents deep love and an aching heart. Thus, the flower needed to maintain its red color for the symbolism to come through.

For some reason I initially pictured this guy wearing a pink shirt (perhaps as an offshoot of the "romantic" angle), but I wanted to try some different colors inspired by the 70s catalog pages I found. I ended up really liking the contrast of the cool blue shirt with the warm red pants, and that option made it into my top three as a result. I lined them up next to each other to compare them, and in the end, blue won out over pink. I think it also reflects the "colder", more cerebral, less-emotional parts of his personality well (namely "systematic", "stern", and "callous"- one from each column!). Just goes to show that you shouldn't get too attached to your first draft, as better ideas are just around the corner.

I then lightened the blue of the shirt so it wouldn't compete so much with the rest of the outfit, and wouldn't be quite as loud and "in your face". Mikhail strikes me as a bit of an introvert, so the calmer, quieter blue is a better fit. I added a darker belt and watchband and de-saturated the flower just a bit to make the values feel more balanced, and I think we've got it!

Let's see the final result!

Y'all, I was not expecting this process to make me emotional, but there's something special about fully realizing a little guy you've spent hours working on. All of a sudden you look at him and go, "Oh my god, there he is. That's him." This man wasn't even a twinkle in my eye a couple weeks ago and now I'd protect him with my life.

And the thing is, the only reason I'm calling this design "done" for now is that I basically just brought it into existence to make a point. But if this dude were attached to a larger story, he'd be nowhere near finished. I'd have to make a ton more iterations and go a lot more in depth with my research than I did (especially with the Armenian cultural stuff). Overall, though, I hope this quick project properly highlighted the difference between a single drawing and a more fleshed-out character.

Later!

[crepesuzette2023]

Hi! Because someone just asked me, I'd love you hear your Top 5 favourite McLennon fics!

You made my day! Nothing could have made me happier than this ask.

I'm not going to evade your question. I will post my top-five, even though it hurts to choose. But you inspired me to finally write a longer (okay: very long) post about some (not nearly all!) of my favorites, which will be under the cut.

(Sorry for not knowing every writer's tumblr, by the way. Please feel free to let me know, so I can tag authors where appropriate. Thank you!)

My Top 5:

MIRACLE WORKER by @scurator. What can I say. Every time I need my heart broken and to feel an inkling of what grace truly means, I go to this masterpiece about Paul and Robert Fraser finding each other again at Cavendish in 1981.

COAST STARLIGHT by bookofapril is "Miracle Worker's" cosmic twin. The sun to its night. Paul and Robert Fraser on Fire Island in 1974. Nothing I can say will do it justice, so I won't try. This is the "other world" conjured in "Tug of War," so powerfully and joyfully imagined, it's real. (I'm always thinking of this story, but I did so extra hard when I came across a prompt recently: 'They aren't each other's first love, but they're each other's true love'.)

SAME AS IT EVER WAS by RedheadAmongWolves. My favorite Outsider's POV. An ageing newsstand owner from Liverpool remembers John and Paul as boys and young men. There's something magical about the relationship coming alive in these glimpses. A story filled with tenderness that reminds me to always look closely.

AN ORGASM OF SOUND by @pauls1967moustache. The insanity of John and Paul in 1967 got the tribute it deserves. I sleep easier since I read this story. It feels cosmically right that it exists.

PLANT A SEED by @eveepe. Paul in his slutty sailor outfit in Miami. He and John are into each other, and happy, and fuck slowly. Afterwards, Paul has an idea for a new song. That's it. Tender, glorious, hot perfection. Apply at least once a week for best results.

For more thoughts about some of my favorite stories, sorted into very much defined-ad-hoc categories, read under the cut.

Young Love:

I love the myth of their first meeting, and stories that speculate about the sexually loaded creative fireworks/gritty jealousies/tentative hand-holding/topping and tailing during the first years. Here are some faves:

Paul finds music, and John, and his life is changing. In STREETS OF OUR TOWN (@with-eyes-closed) you can taste the upheaval and promise of first love and growing up. Deeply sensual, even without on-page sex. The shaky, sweet, and all-consuming fire of John and Paul’s first kiss is immortalized in ALL I KNOW SINCE YESTERDAY (RedheadAmongWolves). In NON NOBIS SOLUM (@downtothe-lastdrop), art student John simply has to know how far grammar school boy Paul will go to please him. But Paul matches him play-by-play. In THE CAST IRON SHORE (@m1ssunderstanding) Paul earns extra money through music and sex. John finds out. They fall in love, and hide their mutual pining behind transactions—but in the end, they man up to pair up, and get their band back on track. (The first part is finished; I can’t wait for part 2.) John and Paul’s ’61 trip to Paris has been honored in fiction many times; WHEN YOU ARE YOUNG THEY ASSUME YOU KNOW NOTHING (@lilypadd23) is a slow-burning, blessedly long story that blossoms sweetly. DON’T THINK ABOUT IT is the concept by which Paul measures both his pining for John and their deeply satisfying (but surely not really queer?!) sex life. Perfectly realized Paul POV by @merseydreams. Finally: I NEED YOU DARLIN’ (verse) (by @beatlessideblog) would have fit many categories, but I put it here, because in the end, it’s about young John and Paul becoming friends, making music, having sex, and falling in love. No more, no less. Embedded in a late 50’s/early 60's Liverpool omegaverse in which there's a place for their bond. But, surprise (?!): It’s still complicated. I can’t overstate how charming and satisfying and funny and hot this work is.

Old John and Paul:

Is there anything as lovely as imagining John and Paul growing old together?

In HERE TODAY (@herspecialagent), John and Paul found happiness with each other in Scotland. On 8th December 1980, they invite friends for a party, and fight an inexplicable sense of doom. A reminder that our other lives can be closer than we think, and to keep our loved ones even closer.

GROW OLD WITH ME (@inherownwr1te): Old farmers and husbands John and Paul enjoy domestic bliss, deal with a broken arm, and make sweet love.

HAVING COFFEE (@feathersandblue): John Lennon and Paul McCartney, “one of the most iconic gay couples in history,” look back on their early love, the Beatles, and being outed in the 80’s, in this oh-so-glamourous, well-written 2020 portrait…

Magical re-tellings of J/P and/or the Beatles Story:

No matter where you come down on the blessed vs. cursed continuum—they were living through something magical.

In KISSING THE BLARNEY (@zilabee) the Beatles draw love and music from kissing Paul, and each other, until the stupid world interferes. But fear not, all ends well. How to tell the truth through whimsy: this story demonstrates it.

In WE ARE ALL TOGETHER (also by @zilabee), John and Paul switch bodies. It helps.

I WAS A YOUNGER MAN NOW (THEN) (POST HOC) BY @fingersfallingupwards: Paul is a time traveler and braids his life together with John’s, out of order, through the years. And yes, they do grow old together—but not without losing each other first. I’m in awe of this story.

A darker time-traveling story is A MATTER OF TIME (D12Fan), in which John and Paul love each other, over and over, and never manage to make it work—but Paul won’t give up.

FOR THOUGH THEY MAY BE PARTED (@downtothe-lastdrop): The misery of the 'Get Back' sessions and memory-stunting technology imported from “Severance” are not enough to kill off John and Paul’s attraction and longing for each other. Again, this is basically what happened, so.

John and Paul without the Beatles?

Yes, please! Sometimes, the best way to dissect and celebrate (and fix?) this mesmerizing and exasperating partnership is to lift it from its context and drop it elsewhere. Anything goes.

WHATEVER FATE DECREES by @dailyhowl: A gorgeous, finely spun, securely handled, self-contained vision of how John and Paul could have worked as artists in love, without a band to 'legitimize' and constrain their bond. I love this homage to their deep and complicated love that needed trust and breathing room.

1967 by @walkuntilthedaylight: What if John and Paul had gone to Spain together and not come back? This story not only explores their relationship layer by layer, it also dives into the the feelings of those who knew them 'before' and who now meet them again, as a couple. A fascinating alternate history. Not a fluffy one.

TOMORROW I'LL MISS YOU (@pauls1967moustache): Paul abandons John in Hamburg—or John stays behind without bothering to write, depending on who you ask. This "Before Sunset"—AU reunites them, years later. They ride a bus and write a song, and the love and tension are sweet and painful.

DOUBLE FANTASY (by @javelinbk): Modern AU in which John and Paul meet at John's flower shop and manage to ignore and creatively re-interpret their feelings for one another for a surprising amount of time, before fate has mercy. I love how their sweet, well-matched eccentricity makes the world a warmer place for both of them.

WE ARE STARDUST (Unchained_Daisychain): AU. John and Paul meet at Woodstock, fall hard and fast for each other, and have to decide what to do with it: Paul's life is back home in England...except...

Angst, darkness, and courage:

Pain, fear, grief, and other dark emotions are part of the real J/P story, so it makes sense to honor and harvest them in fiction. One of my favorite brands of McLennon angst is the one triggered by their feelings for each other, and the thing they become once they're together™. When they're scared of how much they need each other, and of what will happen next.

ONE AND ONE AND ONE IS THREE and MANAGING EXPECTATIONS (both by @pauls1967moustache), for instance. The first is a terrifying threesome with Yoko (at John's instigation, of course), in which trust is never rewarded and sex resolves nothing. The second is Paul wondering, in thoughts both messy and crystal clear, whether he exists independently of John. He turns to Brian for answers. They fuck. It feels like a human thing compared to what is going on in Paul's mind. Just astounding.

SUNDAY DRIVER (@boshemians) dives into the theme of Paul and John being afraid of themselves in the aftermath of Paul's accident (moped, sexual) with Tara Browne. This one, like "Managing Expectations," ends on a lovely grace note.

MACABRE (@dovetailjoints). Lennon and McCartney go too far.

OPEN HEART (@paisanas). Paul drinks John's blood. John lets him. But Paul starts to hate himself for how much he needs John, which John feels as rejection. I love how this story ends on Paul embracing his need. You can see the painful, bare bones of their malnourished love under the lush sensuality of the vampire sex. Raw and rich.

SILENCE (@ohjohnnysblog). Short and piercing. If there is someone you love—tell them. Don't wait.

THE LATE, GREAT JOHNNY ACE (@midchelle). Reeling with grief, Paul is recording an album in 1981. George and Ringo are there. John is not. But in the end—he is. And they touch. I've always admired Paul's resilience in the face of having to perform or "prove" his love of John in public, and this story showed me, without sugar-coating, where this resilience comes from.

Light, hope, and fixing things:

There is also much lightness and brightness in McLennon, because John and Paul were ridiculous, and horny, and weird. And also: they deserve a laugh. They deserve the fluffiest of happy endings. They deserve high-quality, life-affirming smut. They deserve silly, because silly is what they were. You know their names, look up their number.

1980. John is in BERMUDA (@scurator), Paul visits. Paul comes prepared, John just comes. Sometimes, it can be this simple. This story always leaves me in such a good mood. Paul is the (more) experienced one, and it...really works for me.

GOT TO GET DOWN (@eveepe): In praise of John's obsession with Paul's...precious. His small and perfect prick.

ADVENTURES IN TOTAL HONESTY (@merseydreams). Pithy and sexy, and, I quote from the tags: #Excessive Margarita Mixing.

ANINUT (@pauls1967moustache): The Beatles heal, together and separately, after Brian's death. Once more, I quote the writer: "The Beatles did not follow any of the Jewish mourning traditions, and frankly, they should have."

The unhinged weirdness of the Mad Day Out, with John and Paul escaping and Francie, Yoko and Mal not missing them...much, is rightfully celebrated in one of the insaner stories I read: JOHN, I'M ONLY DANCING (@skylikeaflame)

FAIR'S FAIR (@javelinbk): John and Paul are being silly during a press conference, resulting in acute arousal requiring John's skilled intervention. I love the unexpected care and tenderness in this one!

WHERE THE POETS WENT (RedheadAmongWolves): Tender and enchanted story in which Paul and John go to a bookstore, where they're not as famous as everywhere else. As delicate as the chiming doorbells and the pages murmuring around them.

TAKEN AWAY (@crumblingcookies) Extraterrestrial Intelligence intervenes to reunite John and Paul.

CAN I TAKE MY FRIEND TO BED? (manhattanvalleys). Paul fucks the band in sequence and gets off in the end, as is his due. This is a story like Prince's KISS. No filler, all effect.

THEY SAY IT'S YOUR BIRTHDAY (@ohjohnnysblog). Warm and nostalgic phone sex in the 70's.

KEEP THE LIGHT WE'RE GIVEN (@backbenttulips). Amidst the rise of Beatlemania, Paul and John expect their first child. This is Paul's 1962 diary.

More Outsider POV's:

STILL MATES (@pauls1967moustache): in 1968, Peter Asher takes the leap to act on his feelings for his sister's spiraling ex fiancé. This isn't about Paul as much as about Peter, and who he wants to be. Gutting character study. It made me love Peter.

ANOTHER GIRL (@boshemians): Astrid reunites with the Beatles during the making of AHDN and registers their words and deeds with the same stark objectivity as her camera. I love how she seeks the shelter of obscurity while they are being dragged into the limelight. But she sees them, wherever they are. J/P in this story feels incredibly real to me.

WHY BUY THE COW (RedheadAmongWolves). The milkman sees everything on his early morning rounds: the arrival of a nice new family, the McCartneys, the mother's illness, the sadness after her death...and the arrival of a new love in the older son's life. He shouldn't approve—should say something, in fact. But a small inner voice holds him back.

SLEEPLESS IN WALES (thinkpink20). Mike overhears Paul and John whisper in bed. He doesn't understand everything they say. I do. Adorable.

Not each other's first love, but each other's true love

THIS YEAR'S FOR ME AND YOU (@skylikeaflame): After a long life, after deep and loving partnerships with other people, John and Paul, encouraged by their grown-up children, finally meet their mutual love head on. A festive story about waiting the perfect amount of time.

THERE ARE ALWAYS FLOWERS (tarenas): The Beatles are in the past; John and Paul's love is in ashes. Paul, who is fragile and bereft, lives with George, who is content. The four ex-Beatles unite for the second wedding of Mike McCartney. At times, the aching grief in this story is almost unbearable. But the love between George and Paul is unusual and real. This is unfinished. I'll keep waiting for the final chapter.

Beyond J/P

WANT ME WHEN I'M NOT THERE (@backbenttulips): Linda catches Paul cheating on her with John. She divorces him. Finally: a story that puts her most likely reaction front and center, with no mercy for the messed-up geniuses.

In the Rebecca-AU LOVE LIKE GHOSTS (@backbenttulips), Yoko becomes Mrs. Lennon. Soon, she discovers that her husband is haunted by the ghost of his first love. It's pleasing how well this re-telling matches the events as they (alas) (almost) happened. The ending is chilling. Genuinely horrifying. I love seeing Yoko as the sensible one and as the focus of empathy.

THE BASS LESSON (@aquarianshift). Paul and Stu fool around without letting go of their mutual resentment for even a moment. And it works. "Let's never do this again." I don't think so.

TELL ME ALL MY LOVE'S IN VAIN (@midchelle). Forget about quote unquote platonically obsessed male rock stars: This about about Maureen and Patti through the years. The web weaving continues.

SPOTLIGHT ON JOHN AND STU (@dailyhowl) A love story in letters—too brief, like Stu's life, but sounding as if the writer transcribed their dictation. Some of the best descriptions of what it must have been like to play on stage with the Beatles during the mania are in NO I IN THREESOME (@with-eyes-closed). George finds himself in the beam of attention between John and Paul, and nearly loses his mind. But he's determined to stay and become part of them. Paul is daddy and "fucks like music" as seen through George's eyes. The whole story is vicious and hot and uncomfortable—until there's the love and quiet at the eye of the storm.

Not for the faint of heart! WHAT THE CIGGIE CARTON SAW (@waveofhand): Paul McCartney having his way with cigarettes.

This is getting out of hand...but I'll stop here. There are so many more stories I love. And I can think of many other categories that would deserve their own post.

So, who knows: To be continued?

[aziraphales-ineffable-bookshop]

Aziraphale's desperate need to always do good and be good. It just guts me every time.

He keeps trying to figure out what "good" really means and whether his actions fit that label. Our introduction to his character starts with him trying to figure out whether he did the right thing by giving away his sword and panicking when he considers the possibility that it wasn't. I just hope I did the right thing.

He can sometimes act "holier-than-thou" because that is what Heaven wants him to be like, and therefore he feels the need to be a "good" angel.

But it's interesting to see him discover what "good" can truly mean as he spends time around humanity, more specifically how good and bad are less strictly defined than he thought and the world exists in shades of grey instead. Maybe there is something to be said for shades of grey.

However, at the end of the day, I still think he tries not to be a good angel (someone who does everything Heaven tells him to), but a good being (someone who cares deeply for the people around him and wants to protect them, the way he has from the start).

And I need him to realise that he is good, not in the rule-abiding way he initially tried to be, but good as in someone who tries everyday to make the world a better place.

Conclusion: I love this character.