#i still even after sleeping can't articulate how fucking good this is like. the way traditions continue when the reason for them has left

[epicbuddieficrecs]

Weekly Recap | May 6th-12th 2024

Have a good week everyone!

If you know anyone who isn't tagged, please tag them in the comments!

Complete

you don't wanna know me now by spaceprincessem/ @spaceprincessem (Post-S7E7 | 1,3K | Teen): “Just one date,” Kim says casually, though she’s definitely picked up on whatever weird, uncomfortable tension has just entered the room with them, “this past Friday.” “Friday?” Buck repeats in an octave much higher than his normal one. Because Friday... Friday was when he watched Christopher while Eddie went out on date with — not Marisol, apparently.

taurus moon, libra rising by coldbam/ @coldbam (Established Buddie | 1,4K | General): “And I’m getting a lot of Virgo energy from Firefighter Diaz.” “Oh my God, he is a Virgo.” Buck excitedly smacks Eddie on the arm. “Do me next!” ~ Buck falls into astrology. Eddie is Eddie.

Mistakes by theotherlucifer/ @theotherbuckley (S7E7 Coda | 1,6K | Teen): Or Eddie Diaz makes bad decisions, but he can't help it, it's his wife.

Fluttering Wings of Freedom by Princessfbi/ @princessfbi (S7E5 Spec, Coming Out | 2K | General): Hen didn’t really know what she expected to find. Her mind had raced through a million different scenarios, catastrophizing the way only a paramedic could when faced with getting a phone call from her wife telling her to forget the groceries and hurry home. She’d expected broken glass or maybe blood and tears. What she didn’t expect was to find Karen sitting patiently in the arm chair with a cup of hot cocoa in her hands, a bottle of Jack on the coffee table, and Buck practically vibrating on her couch. 

wait for the feeling of you by coldbam/ @coldbam (PWP, Established Buddie | 2K | Explicit): “Fuck. Get up here. Let me take care of you.” Eddie feels Buck shake his head, still nuzzled against his thigh. He gives one last kiss to Eddie’s skin, then starts extracting himself from between Eddie’s legs, wiping his mouth along the way. “No, I’m good. We’re running late as it is.” And…that is reasonable and rational. They did get a bit carried away, and they are expected to make an appearance at Bobby’s for a barbeque. Except…

meditating on your lips by coldbam/ @coldbam (PWP | 3K | Explicit): Buck comes out, and Eddie has some interesting dreams.

blackout by rainbow_nerds/ @rainbow-nerdss (Getting Together | 3K | Explicit): Buck wakes up hungover on Eddie's couch, with no memory of the night before. Eddie's at just as much of a loss as he is, but their friends seem to know something they don't.

let it once be me (who do i have to speak to) by lenaboskow (Post-S7E4, Getting Together | 3K | Teen): “Why not me?” Eddie didn’t mean to say it. The question had been banging around in his head for the past week, but now it was out in the open, echoing off the walls of the loft for Buck to hear instead of safe in his mind. “Why– what do you mean?”

things you shouldn’t say to me by coldbam/ @coldbam (Getting Together, PWP | 4K | Mature): Eddie comes out, sleeps around, and Buck hears all about it.

little by little by MediaWhore/ @mediawhorefics (BuckTommy, Madney Wedding | 4K | General): Or Buck & Tommy, during and after the wedding.

he's never gonna love you like I want to by BekkaChaos/ @bekkachaos (S7, Demisexual Eddie | 5K | Teen): Eddie and Marisol talk about their relationship and the next step, and Eddie tries to articulate how he feels and why things aren't moving as fast as Marisol wants. A couple of days later Buck goes to Eddie's and they have a long talk about their feelings and their relationships, and probably let things go unsaid that aren't yet ready to come out.

Exhale by themandylion (Presumed Dead | 5K | Not Rated): Buck’s Jeep gets stolen, which is a pretty shitty way to start the day. The 118 answer a collision and find said Jeep on fire, a deceased driver inside, which is arguably an even worse way to start the day.

Give Us The Grown by fruitsdoesnotknow (Getting Together | 8K | Teen): Buck starts leaving notes for Eddie. Eddie writes notes for Buck right back. They were always going to end up writing their own love story.

the tiniest moves you make by allyasavedtheday/ @littlespoonevan (Maddie POV | 8K | Teen): Five times Buck talks to Maddie about Eddie intercut with five times Eddie talks to Maddie about Buck and one time they manage to figure it out on their own.

why do i always feel like i'm in the twilight zone by chromatophorica/ @chromatophorica (Supernatural AU | 6K | General): The 118 is a prolific, all supernatural station. They face the hardest of calls for this reason, but they're curious about what species Buck is from the start. When they find out, it's a complex navigation to keep him where he belongs.

drink up (you're wasted on me) by okanus (S7E6, Bachelor Party, Infidelity, PWP | 9K | Explicit): Or: Eddie and Buck hook up at the bachelor party. Difficulties ensue.

gone fishing by coldbam/ @coldbam (Accidental Catfishing, Getting Together | 9K | Mature): “Someone is catfishing as you.” His eyes are wide and his face is serious. Stressed. Eddie has no idea what he’s talking about. “What?” Buck slows down and carefully says each word. “Someone's using stolen photos of you on a dating app. Pretending to be you.” He looks miserable, like it pains him to deliver this news. Eddie’s face must still show confusion, because Buck lets out a frustrated huff and then shoves his phone right in front of his face. “Look.” And. Shit. Buck’s phone shines brightly in the evening light of the loft, and there, nearly blinding him, is his own Tinder profile.

🔥 It's a church of burnt romances (and I'm too far gone to pray) by justhockey (Coming Out, Post-S7E5 | 15K | Mature): Eddie looks back, sifting through the ashes of every relationship he’s ever had that has burned to the ground. And his hands shake, and his heart beats too fast, and it’s there, right on the tip of his tongue. It’s close enough that he could reach out and touch it if he were brave enough. The reason, that no matter how hard he tried - no matter how much he wanted to, or how often he literally prayed for it - his relationships with women have never worked out. And he knows. Knows that no amount of women, or trying, or praying will ever be able to change it. You can’t fix what isn’t broken, and Eddie isn’t broken. He isn’t. He’s just…well. He’s in love with Buck, isn’t he?

🔥 The Pain Will Leave You Once It's Done Teaching You by fruitsdoesnotknow (Canon Divergent, Daniel Lives-kinda | 40K | Mature): When Daniel Buckley lives a little longer, Evan Buckley dies a little more. And this is how Eddie Diaz saves him, a little later on.

🔥what if i can't have us by woodchoc_magnum/ @woodchoc-magnum (Post-S7E5, Getting Together, Sexuality Crisis | 47K Explicit): In which Eddie is dating Marisol; Buck's dating Tommy, and Eddie has feelings about that, which he simply does. not. understand.

WIP

🔥 Things We're All Too Young to Know by Daisies_and_Briar / @cal-daisies-and-briars (Canon S1-S6, S7 Spec | 127/? | 397K | Mature): This is a love story. Even if it doesn’t always look like it. Even if it doesn’t always feel like it. A look back on Eddie and Buck's lives up to now, and what led them to each other, interpreted from the current 9-1-1 canon.

🔥 change the prophecy by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Alternate Timeline, Curse/Magic | 9/11 | 22K | Mature): Buck has never felt secure in any of his relationships; he’s been searching for someone to see him the way he feels he’s meant to be seen, but after things start going downhill with Tommy, he thinks that person might just not exist. Eddie cannot figure out what’s wrong with him when it becomes clear things with Marisol aren’t going to work out. But what if they’re both forgetting something?

🔥 stuck now so long, we just got the start wrong by Daffi_990_ao3/ @daffi-990 (Canon Divergent, Different First Meeting | 4/10 | 31K | Not Rated): Probational Firefighters Evan “Buck” Buckley and Eddie Diaz meet on a call which ends with them at odds with each other. As the months roll by, they keep running into each other on the job, much to Eddie’s dismay and Buck’s delight. Can they put aside their first opinions and misunderstandings and allow the seeds of friendship, and possibly something more, to take root?

What’s Your Order? by JJK/ @trenchcoatsandtimetravel (Post-S7E5, BuckTommy | 4/6 | 10K | Teen): 5 Times Buck Guessed Tommy’s Coffee Order + 1 Time He Didn’t Have To

Held Up a Lightning Rod (Wonder Why I'm Struck) by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels/ @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (Not A Firefighter Eddie, Sugar Baby Buck | 1/? | 5K | Explicit): When Eddie Diaz stumbles his way into money, he finds himself one of the most eligible bachelors in Los Angeles - to his dismay. He needs a way to get people off his back without confessing his messy marital situation, and Shannon's still not answering his calls, so he caves to a friend's suggestion: hire someone to pretend to be his partner. Enter Evan "Buck" Buckley: sugar baby, fire fighter, and the man about to turn Eddie's world upside down.

Podfic

🔥 [Podfic] When the Lost are Found by MistMarauder/ @mistmarauder for ReformedTsundere/ @film-in-my-soul (Soulmates AU | 20-30 min | General): When everyone seems to have a better soulmate identifying system, Buck can't help but consider his own to be lackluster. How's he meant to find his soulmate with loose change and mismatched socks after all?

🔥 [podfic] Trade-In by All_I_Ask/ @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove for themandylion (Post-S4, Getting Together | 1-1.5h | Not Rated): It starts with Buck trading in his beloved Jeep. It ends with a confession, a kiss, and Buck trading in his apartment too. Or: If you didn't think Buck research binges wouldn't eventually take him to safety specs for his car, you don't know Buck.

🔥 [podfic] my heart’s over-pumping and your mouth is an ambulance by All_I_Ask/ @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove for fleetinghearts/ @shitouttabuck (Post-S6, Getting Together | 1-1.5h | Teen): or, a fever, a party, a late night tv show: three times eddie’s heart falls out his ass because buck keeps looking at him like that. he’s just got to find a way to tell him that doesn’t involve a convoluted cephalopod analogy about love

🔥 [Podfic] Tell Me About Despair by radpaisley // fic by @hattalove (Post-S4, Sexuality Crisis | 1/5 | 2-2.5h | Mature): eddie's not entirely sure he believes in getting help, at least not for himself. there's only so much healing to be had for a body torn apart by bullets, for a mind that's only half there, for a man who's been leaving pieces of himself behind all his life with nothing to take their place. except, as it turns out, falling apart happens in increments, and healing does, too: it happens when you gnaw a hole in your lip trying to keep quiet only to have the words escape; when you realize that the ghost you've been seeing out of the corner of your eye is yourself; when your best friend smiles, and you allow it to take your breath away. it happens through the smallest of things: bird feeders, and cacti, and pasta shapes. meanwhile, the world goes on.

[kithtaehyung]

3tan slice:

yoongi watching reader get ready 🍊

stopppp i love this :((( this is for the 3tan yoongi and irl yoongi missers (at least, one of the things i have planned<;333)

"How about this one?"

Oh, you're back already. Adjusting his arm, Yoongi lifts his head to check his phone screen, wondering if you're gonna pass up this next dress too despite him liking the hell out of it.

"Is that new?"

Your smile is truly one of his favorite things.

"Yeah! Got it when I went shopping with Yuri. Well. She made me get it."

When you pout, do you know how it affects him?

Yoongi just huffs through his nose, settling into the crook of his elbow and letting the warmth of afternoon coat his shoulder. Casting a quick look out his blinds, he wishes you were here instead, coming in and out of another closet that comes to mind.

"Is it bad? Damn."

"Huh?" Shit, he never answered out loud. "Nah, that's the one."

"Oh, okay. You didn't say anything."

Still his problem. A million thoughts, with nowhere to go. "Sorry, doll. Just thinking."

You're in the middle of undressing offscreen, which is yet another thing he finds incredibly endearing. He can only see one of your elbows peek into the frame as you question,

"Work again?"

"You," he corrects, full of sleepiness and void of hesitation.

"Oh."

Eyes fully shut, Yoongi doesn't lift them again until you fetch for another opinion. Which is longer than he expects because you go fully silent for a bit.

"Okay, how's this?"

His eyes flicker open seconds before his heart skips.

Fuck.

He hasn't felt his chest beat like that in a minute.

Are words coming out this time? Or is his tongue as uncooperative as his brain? Why can't he say the simplest shit when you're just standing in front of him? Fuck, he can't even articulate anything but he just knows you're fucking beautiful.

When the hell did you steal his voice, too?

"I'll let you sleep," you whisper, and he hates how down you sound because should never have a reason to feel that way. "Just text me when you can, yeah?"

If he can't say how he feels, Yoongi goes for the second option. And he's not letting that one fail. "Come over when you're done."

"Wait, what?"

He adjusts his head again, slanting a bit higher to admire everything about you. "After your dinner."

"You need to sleep..."

Why are you so considerate when it comes to him? What did he ever do to deserve anything you're willing to give? He's thought about these things so much that they take up most of his sleepless, tired nights. "You're gonna keep me up looking like that anyway."

"But.. what about.."

"I won't take long."

"You sure?"

"No."

God. Yoongi will never, ever get over the ways you try to hide that shyness. There's no way he can stop his grin, and when you make him swear it will be quick, he also can't stop himself from teasing yet again,

"Depends on how long you last."

"Alright, bye," you deadpan, giving him sweet rejection and hitting him where it hurts so good. But you smile once more, agreeing to come over but only for a tiny, tiny bit.

"That's all I need, doll."

"Prove it."

Oh.

He intends to.

Because you can make him speechless for now.

But when it comes to showing you how he feels?

There's no way you're shutting his ass up.

-

-

3tanslices: mini-scenarios!

series: three tangerines

[angelisgonnastartchangingurls]

julia on a thursday

julia and annie were not good at planning weddings. "we're two overeducated sluts and we don't know what we're doing," annie told the wedding planner.

the woman, andrea, patiently articulated the steps they needed to take, and what annie was traditionally expected to do as maid of honor. they made andrea print them out a list.

the plan was for a wedding early next summer, and before long they managed to book a venue and get save the dates made up. this seemed like enough, and so they went back to annie's apartment and drank champagne and did blow.

julia's lease was running out on her apartment, but rather than move in with jim, who had roommates, she was electing to move back in with her dad and stepmom. annie hated this idea. "jim should move into your place," she suggested.

"he can't break his lease until march," julia said. "it's fine, i am kind of looking forward to learning how to like, be a wife."

julia's father had remarried about 15 years ago -- julia had two stepbrothers, 16 and 17, who she only ever really saw at holidays. "i still think of them as toddlers i saw on weekends," she said.

a few days later, they were helping pack up julia's apartment, along with jim, julia's dad, and annie and robbie. annie was very stoned, and at one point reached into one of julia's bedroom boxes to pull out a dildo and lip sync with it for robbie's entertainment. julia's father saw her. annie turned red and put it back in the box. they all had pizza in julia's empty apartment after. annie sat on the floor, well aware that the teen boys and julia's father could see her white panties under her short skirt.

"when will you tie the knot, annie?" julia's dad asked.

"oh, who knows?" annie laughed. "i'm not in any serious relationships right now."

"that's ok," said julia's dad. "you'll get there someday."

"yeah," annie said, "i'm a catch."

"you are a catch you know," julia's dad told her later, when they were driving the uhaul together. julia and jim followed in a truck, and robbie drove the boys in annie's loaded up car. "great job, pretty face, great rack."

annie laughed. "thank you. i always say my tits are my best feature."

"do your patients stare at them a lot?"

"i tend to wear less-cleavage-y tops at work," she said. indicating her tank top.

"well, we appreciate the casualwear," he said.

"it makes it really easy to flash my friends' dads," annie said, pulling her tits out.

"good lord," he said. "even better than I thought." his cock pulsed in his jeans.

"can i suck you off while we drive?" she asked.

"yes please," he said.

annie took a few pictures with julia's dad's cock in her mouth to show julia later. he made a mess of her face when he came, and julia took off her panties and used them to clean her chin.

"does my daughter have a nice hairy pussy like you?" he asked when he saw it.

"no," annie said. "she has a landing strip like a real slut."

he laughed. "that's nice too."

annie opened her phone and found a picture of julia naked and showed it to him.

"oh wow," he said. "great tanlines."

"i know, i'm so jealous," annie laughed. "does your wife have a nice hairy pussy like me?" she was pulling her cummy panties back on.

"no, actually," he said. "shaved clean like a good suburban mom."

"not a city slicker slut like me?"

"yeah," he said.

"you gonna fuck her hard for me later?" she asked.

"of course," he said.

annie said hi to annie's stepmom in a way that she hoped didn't communicate "i used my panties to wipe your husband's cum off my chin." they moved some of julia's boxes into a spare bedroom and the rest in the garage. robbie and annie drove back into the city and then fucked in the kitchen. after, annie sent julia the pictures of herself sucking her dad's cock.

"oh holy shit," julia replied. "you are a monster."

"hot though right?"

"of course it's fucking hot," julia said. "how am i gonna look him in the eye over breakfast?"

"maybe with an open bathrobe," annie suggested.

"if jim wasn't sleeping next to me i'd jerk off," julia replied.

"go to the bathroom," she said.

20 minutes later, julia texted "LOL OMG"

"what?" annie asked.

"stepbro walked in on me rubbing my clit in the bathroom."

"yesss!" annie replied. "did you have panties on?"

"no!" julia said. "i was naked!"

"amazing," annie said, "he saw everything?"

"everything," julia said. "and i haven't shaved in like a week."

she sent a picture of herself nude in the bathroom, looking mortified. her pussy was pretty stubbly, but her tanlines were still amazing.

"they're lucky kids," annie said. "such a hot older sister. they are gonna jerk off about you so much."

"nooo!" julia said.

"LOL" annie replied.

[lollytea]

Does Philip still get kicked to death in the La La Land Machine AU?

Nah Philip doesn't get the punishment he should have in this AU. He definitely believes his life was ruined beyond repair but he actually got off so easy.

He did get fucking beaten to a bloody pulp by Eda after putting his hand on Luz's shoulder. Unfortunately he didn't die. But he's so whiny about it that you'd swear he did.

He considered Hunter disowning him to be a stab in the back that he never really recovered from.

He had a very fucked up relationship with Luz too. They were initially on friendly terms. She looked up to him while he saw a lot of Caleb in her. He actually intended to try to make her the next star in his brother's place if Hunter "didn't work out." So Luz also turning her back on him made him furious.

Rumors of Philip's crimes of child abuse began to circulate and there was definitely plenty of evidence to support it, which led to inevitable controversy and well deserved public admonishment.

However, because Philip was such an influential and inspiring figure, there was also a huge part of the public that chose to believe that he was being slandered.

What can even be said? A celebrity with a good publicist will never face punishment.

It's all a hate campaign devised to tarnish Philip Wittebane's good name! His brother would be rolling in his grave. Hunter Wittebane should be ashamed of himself for spreading these lies. After everything his Uncle has done for him. It's insulting how ungrateful he is.

During this time, Hunter is strongly advised to block all these comments out.

Philip Wittebane dies of heart complications 10 years after he lost custody of his nephew.

The news breaks late at night and Hunter can't put his phone down.

He doesn't really know how to feel.

But seeing his Uncle's name cropping up everywhere online, scrolling through comments about how the world lost a legend today, oh it has him seeing red.

He's well and truly spiraling.

That man should have died from Hunter's fingers squeezing his throat. Instead, he passed away peacefully in a world that blindly loved him.

It's nearly 3am and Willow rolls over in her sleep, arm instinctively reaching out for her boyfriend whose usually lightly snoring beside her.

She finds him in his office, scribbling away in his notebook, manic and agitated.

He's recalling dozens and dozens of stories and frantically jotting them down, all about the things that man put him through.

He doesn't know why he's doing this. To cope? To assure himself that these things truly happened? He just feels like he needs to articulate them for once just to emphasize how not okay this all was.

That's all it is at first. A way for Hunter to come to terms with Philip's death. But in time, it becomes so much more than that.

There was a lot of people that hurt him. And Hunter is telling the story of them all.

It's shaping up to be a legit autobiography.

And of course, if he's going to talk about his life as a teenage boy, he has to mention Willow. Falling in love with her changed everything, how could he not mention it?

But he'd have to provide some context as to how their relationship functioned. And it was impossible to do so without explaining a little more about how she was exploited too.

Hunter doesn't want to tell Willow's story for her. Even if he's still livid about it all these years later. But Willow shrugs and says "Tell my story, Mr Writer. I trust you to do it justice."

And then this project just gets bigger and bigger. And now, with their permission, the book includes the mistreatment of the likes of Gus, Amity etc.

Hunter does not hold back. There are names. There are details.

Two years later, after a lot of smug cryptic tweets from Willow, Hunter's book "The Golden Screen" is published.

By this point in time, people are a lot more willing to accept that famous people are garbage sometimes. Especially Philip Wittebane. Even though he had a controversy over a decade ago, peoples memories are very short when it comes to the moral alignment of celebrities. So yes, people are now conceding that it is very likely that Philip Wittebane was a vile depraved monster.

It's kinda bittersweet. He didn't face the consequences he should have while he was alive. But at least his legacy was burned to ashes.

[oniikabuto]

general hcs ☆ south park

-- sfw --

characters: the main 4

a/n: it's literally midnight. i need to be up at 5am tomorrow. i'm writing about south park on tumblr.

synopsis: just headcanons of sp kids! their little quirks and habits and stuff

oh also aged up

...

— ⛧ e. cartman

has all of the really good snacks in his pantry

had a phase where he really wanted to be a garbage truck driver as a kid

listens to ariana grande and lady gaga

sings his heart out in the shower

refuses to admit it if you ever overheard him

weirdly sharp canines it makes him look like an evil little rodent

allergic to picking up after himself. there's literally a trail of shoes all the way up to his bedroom

never takes stuff out of his pockets before his mom washes his clothes but then gets pissed when his earbuds and stuff go through the wash

smells like baby soap

bites his pencils and they look horrendous

one time kenny asked to borrow a pencil and he threw it back almost immediately after feeling the bumpy chewed-up wood

thinks that menstrual products shouldn't be free because "can't they just hold it in??"

kyle will fight him about it

loves chocolate milk to death

— ⛧ k. mccormick

gappy teeth

but it looks cute on him

likes cds even though he doesn't have a cd player

always packs his lunch in the morning and karen's

there's little holes on the insides of his pockets and he has a habit of sticking his fingers through them and wiggling them without realizing

which make the holes bigger

keeps a porn magazine in his school backpack and leafs through it on the bus or in the library as if he's casually reading the news

sex jokes just SLIP out. he doesn't even think before he makes a sex joke.

his backpack is a mess and he uses the little pockets to store trash and edible wrappers and crumbs

has a disposable somewhere that he hits in the middle of class

kyle gives him a disapproving look when he stumbles into class high as balls

street smart but doesn't know how to do long division

favorite food is chicken nuggets with ranch

loves ranch (i fucking love ranch fight me)

will let you paint his nails

probably listens to tiktok music like mitski and radiohead and shit

also the smiths

— ⛧ k. broflovski

4.0 gpa all the way until that one A- in pe. junior year that dropped it to a 3.9

cried about it and sulked for weeks

stan almost left him because he got so sick of it (rockin that 2.9)

"dude it's not that big of a deal"

"MY LIFE IS OVER STAN YOU DONT GET IT"

keeps really organized notes- not just for him, but for the sake of his friends who take shitty notes

he has freckles idc if they said he's a daywalker HE HAS FRECKLES.

has a 10-step hair care routine every night

spends longer in the bathroom doing his hair care thing than his mother

spends 30 minutes every day watching tv with ike no matter what

gets violently competetive over kahoot

listens to the cure and elliot smith

keeps a different notebook for each class

— ⛧ s. marsh

always has at least one earbud in

sometimes when there's a lot on his mind, he gets very easily distracted

will step in the shower with his socks still on by accident

has a little crush on kyle (sorry style brainrot....)

used to read a lot as a kid, not really much anymore

unconciously messes with little papers or napkins in his pcokets and tears them to bits

gets like no sleep ever because he can't ever get off his phone or whatever he's doing long enough to try and get some sleep

still gets nauseous whenever he's near someone he has a crush on

terrible at articulating himself through text

if you want to show him a video or post, you would have to show him irl because he won't see the tag.

smoked weed once and decided it was overrated, but will sometimes get high if kenny asks or something.

loves vanilla flavored things even though it's basic

constantly has random change and wads of cash in his backpack because he's too lazy to stuff his things back into his wallet

[cloudninetonine]

*hands you a mug of coffee, blinks at the wink and nudge and squints while downing my own mug* ... Well I now have One (1) Sleep Deprived Fear and way too many theories. Though I wouldn't want to bother you with them and sleep deprivation won't let me articulate them xD

On another note, hope you're doing good today. And on a scale of one to ten, how concernedly would Player react if I just, took one of my two guitars, and smashed it hard against both Chrono's and Paradox's heads and knees to vibe check them? Out of curiosity (I have a hot pink one as a gag gift and spare, may as well put it to good use), or a heated frying pan? Also an absolute mood on regards to Leon.S.Kennedy.

Something something, Craein and Player piece in the works (I feel bad for Wild's and Twilight's villain doubles, but at the same time not really, go get some fucking therapy before trying to get near the Guide you crazy hyenas doomed by the narrative, also Craein and Player literally just being the spiderman meme for a couple of seconds) along with the Lora two shot because I have no self control (confirming Oh Hellos and Celtic Woman songs will be used). Snippets incoming once I'm less sleep deprived.

Something something, Fairy Instinct moment for the boys can be when Player is wearing green because funnily enough it's actually a color the Fae are very protective off and they can get offended if people they don't approve of wear it, so Hyrule, his shadow and Time just gravitate towards Player even more than normal when they wear green because not only is it a color associated with the heroes but also with the Fae, and some cultures have the medieval custom of braiding flowers in the intended's hair during courtships or of placing flower crowns, so Player just nonchantly braiding flowers into a Link's hair while they frantically and internally PANIC because they can't tell if Player is saying they want something serious or not, honestly the one's most affected would likely be Hyrule and Wild due to the nature of their eras (Downfall and Post Calamity specially, y'all telling me rings wouldn't be rare/expensive make unless someone brought the materials beforehand? Specially promise rings and the sorts if you don't go to the right place? Actually maybe Twilight and Time too, I don't know why I can see that as an Ordonian or Kokiri custom, throw in Dawn on that ring too, Flora not so much because she literally missed years of culture evolution holding the calamity back, she probably still slips into pre Calamity customs), Add in the fact it's basically an unspoken promise and the boys just internally die. Also Player taking a cue from Princess Bride and just saying "As you wish." Whenever they chicken out of actually saying I love you to the Links or Zelda's and the sheer and utter bafflement or confusion, though I feel like some of them might be able to put two and two together.

Anyway, I'll be napping now, see y'all after TOTK probably.

-Just an Awkward and Tired Summertime Musician.

Sum, if Player saw you beat both Paradox and Chrono with your guitar they'd probably just join you via their boots and kick some teeth in- these men will experience no mercy with them IOUFDHFI

Leon Kennedy, once again, could tear my heart out and I would only ask he be gentle with it as it now belonged to him. (God I am so down bad for this man)

Also I'm excited for the fics! That your time tho (By now tho you've probably written a novel 💀💀💀 I'm sorry ya'll)

Also from your idea with the green comes another idea- (Not this isn't canon before anyone asks) Green being a very prestigious and expensive colour to wear due to it's association with the fae (and is often a gift from fairies to Hylians and is why most of the boys wear green) so when other fairies find out about the "Guide's return!" there's just baskets of bejeweled, blessed and such clothes left for Player all in the colour of green.

[miqojak]

23. What emotion is the hardest for your OC to process? How about express?

Edgy OC Asks

This has been tough because... so many emotions are hard for her to process and express. Spending your youth in a concentration camp doesn't really help you realize your social potential, or explore many complex emotions, now how to express them appropriately. She retreated into survival mode, and has greeted life with that sort of expression for as long as she's known: everyone is a threat, no one can be trusted, look out for yourself. There aren't a lot of emotions involved in that kind of lifestyle besides fear, hate, loneliness, and paranoia.

In more than one of her old writings, I know I've expressly had her talk about how hard of a time she's having with... just caring about other people again - how to do it (without hurting them in the process). She's been in this hermit shell, still operating from a place of fear and paranoia and hate, and that does not a good partner or friend make. She was a shit girlfriend to a few people, though it really did help make in-roads to helping her understand what's an appropriate response... and what very much isn't (though that's not to say she won't still burn your whole wardrobe, if you're her partner, and you dress like a homeless clown >_>). She also got severely hurt, herself, in learning what it's like to be close to people as an adult - and although she was expecting it all along, it just sort of made it hurt that much more. How could she have let someone hurt her? Every emotion around that abusive relationship confused her, frankly. She doesn't understand affection - she feels it, most assuredly. But she was trying to be 'normal' for someone, despite always saying she never wanted to compromise who she is for anyone else. Then he hurt her. Why would she compromise who she is? Why didn't she hurt him back? Why did she care about people at all, after learning what it's like to lose literally everyone she'd ever known?

Why can she go about her life thinking of people as lesser than her, as mere 'sheep' - and then the instant she sees someone in a situation like she came from (living on the streets/being a refugee/immigrant/etc)... she gives too many fucks. She sees herself, there, and no one to help her. She sees her family, her people, her nation hungry and in rags - and she can't help but want to help.

She's made a lot of progress! But I don't know, to be honest, how far that progress extends. It's a bit like contemplating how you'd explain the concept of love to your pet cat, or how you might have it respond with its perceptions of as much - it knows it wants to be around you, and mark things you touch! It wants to sleep on you, and hear your heartbeat. It craves the touch of your hand, the gentle scritch in its favorite place; it's excited when you come in the room, and sad when you're gone from it - but what is 'love'? Could it truly articulate a concept that even varies from person to person? Does it matter that it can't - do you love it any less because it can't understand the concept of love the way you do, and express it the same way you do?

One of the hardest things she's ever done was recently, really - in trusting Ketsuchi enough to openly discuss what scares her, and why. To talk about fear is to give it form - to acknowledge that you can be afraid of something, and give that power to another (though he had long known about her issue with Garleans). She spoke about, really, not knowing if what she was doing was... okay to do? And it's scary for her to admit she doesn't have all the answers, but even scarier to admit out loud that she doesn't understand or process emotions like everyone else, and knows that what she's thinking of doing is probably something she should get input on because of how hard it is for her to appropriately process things. And having someone else turn the situation around and frame it differently helped! (To some degree.) So... she knows she's got lots of issues with processing her emotions, and she's working on it where she can... and where she wants to - the concept of love was one she was happy to continue not believing in, but she's begun to ask herself what 'love' really is, in the last couple years, and if she might in fact have already fallen prey to it.

[blackbirds28]

May 29

That was such a rough day, but would you be surprised if I told you we've had worse nights?

Something had been feeling extra 'off' since the day before. I tried to keep myself busy at home but found myself feeling really lonely and sad. It was confusing to understand my sudden stream of tears, and I grew concerned over how much I've grown to depend on you for company and affection.

That's how I ended up at your place that night, and I wish we could have had one last good night before we parted ways. Eventually the night soured, pretty much right after you lost your bets and your weed pen. You told me to help myself to the shrimp, and excused yourself for the night. I would have checked on you, but I knew you well enough than to invade your space and your bed. I settled on the couch and secretly hoped you would come out to check on me.

You didn't, and walked right past me to use the bathroom. I had to ask you for a blanket, and silently cried myself to sleep because once more, we lost a good night to ourselves due to stupid numbers on a screen. And it wasn't even my fault, yet I still felt like I wasn't enough to cheer you up.

It was a gloomy morning too, and I brought that visible energy to work. I slapped on a smile and went about my busy day, and wrote what would become my breakup letter to you in my downtime. I asked to meet with you because I decided this was something I needed to read to you. I prepared myself for the worst, and finally admitted to myself that the relationship needed to end.

But you couldn't even let me start the second paragraph, and that really hurt. I've done nothing but listen to you this entire relationship, let you interrupt me several times, and you couldn't even do me this last favor in your final seconds of being my boyfriend? You found it unnecessary to read what I had poured my heart into throughout the day, and the thought of leaving without being able to offer my reflection on the relationship burned a hole into my heart.

Of course I lost it. Of course I screamed. Once more, you made me feel like my voice didn't matter, despite the many times you've told me it did. I had enough of all the mixed messages and blew up on you. I congratulated you on your freedom, which you articulated to me that you missed, and told you now you could fuck anybody you want anywhere you want because there's nobody back home to feel guilty about.

I hate to think that you felt trapped in the relationship, like you were forced to commit to me despite the several times I asked you if you truly loved me and wanted to be with me. But maybe you didn't have it in you to be straightforward and hoped I would initiate the breakup for us. I don't blame you. I wish I had, and much sooner.

You said so many hurtful things that day, I'm surprised I got home safely. Those last texts we exchanged I had typed while I sped on the fast lane of the 280, screaming and sobbing over how little you seemed to have cared about losing me. I really did want to die, I hate living in pain and feel like I've done it enough. I knew what was to come from this heartbreak, and I had been pushing back the confrontation for as long as I could.

And in the process, I made a complete fool out of myself. Everything I never wanted to show a man, desperation, dependence, devotion, I expressed to you in the matter of minutes before you decided you had enough. Looking back, that was pretty fucking stupid of me. Where the fuck did my self-respect go all these months ago?

However, I can't apologize for the way I felt. It's the first time I experience an actual breakup, and one that didn't go the way I had planned. Be grateful I didn't kill myself, be grateful I didn't beg to stay. I still think you should have let me read the letter, and I will die on that hill.

[problematicgardener]

Can I be so for real. I don't know what the fuck I'm doing. With my whole being I desire something different, anything different, and I know I have the power to change things. I've dealt with death, trauma, bad family, depression, suicidal thoughts, and I've come out on top of everything. But now, with nothing standing in my way, I'm at the bottom. If you had asked 17 year old me what I'd be doing at 21, he'd say I'd be dead. If you asked 19 year old me, he'd say something great or amazing. If you ask me now, I have no clue. I'm stuck in a fucking tar pit of my own creation right now, and I yearn to crawl out, but my body will not move. I'm a walking contradiction. Highly skilled in many fields, but doing nothing with them. Filled with emotion, but not able to express it. By human standards, I have a luxurious life with no struggles to eat, drink, or anything. But somehow the mind still creates them.

I'm tired. I wish that my mind would let itself rest. All I hear every day is more and more about things I "should be doing." But it's scary man. I've never held a job more than six months because they've been overstimulating, the people have been bad, any number of special reasons that the man behind my eyes doesn't like. I always say to myself that the next thing will be better. After I do this, I can take a break to focus on helping myself. After I finish this course, I can get a good paying job that won't make me want to pull my skin off. I look to the future because if I stay in the present, I'd be sucked into despair. I can't let myself do that. I have one good thing about me and it's my resilience and I cannot let myself lose it. It's all I have now.

I really seem fine to others. I have this persona that I put on when I'm with even my most trusted of friends. I know intuitively that I can talk to them candidly and openly, but I just can't. And now I'm wondering if I stop myself for their sake or for mine. Because when I'm forced to sit down and articulate my thoughts, it opens up sides of me that I'm honestly fearful of. I've done more introspection than everyone around me, and I'm still fucking scared. Are you kidding? This was supposed to get fucking easier. How in the hell is it getting harder.

I dont know if I should go to bed right now or not. I usually have a rule where if something bothers me, I fuck off and sleep or eat or do something else for a while, and if it still bothers me after, then it's an actual problem. But I'm not sure if this is something that can be slept off. I fear of what could snowball if I do just sleep it off.

It's difficult feeling so very strongly and not being able to express fucking any of it. And every positive emotions HAS to come with a negative one jammed in there. Like a diamond with one lace of uncrystallized carbon running through it. I can't feel joyous without the tinge of anxiety if my friends don't care as much as I do. I can't feel content without the guilt of needing to get something else done. I can't feel proud without fear of coming off as arrogant. I can't love without pulling back. What am I supposed to do.

I know that this makes me human, I know that I'm not above feeling these things. But does it really have to be all the time. When my mother asks how my date went, how could I have the heart to tell her that I hated it despite nothing going wrong. I share the good aspects, because that's what people need. People need to know of the abundant good in the world so that they don't end up like me. But I know of the abundant good, yet I'm still me.

I'm still me. What does that mean. Am I the man that got into one of the most prestigious schools in my field and decided to quit after a year? Am I the kid that told off and abandoned my only true supporter? Am I the kid that beat up someone just for hitting on my girlfriend? Am I the kid that spread a rumor about a girl doing sexual things? Or am I the kid that tried every day to delight his friends despite the shitshow that was storming just behind his eyes. Am I the kid that led his group into their version of greatness. Am I the kid that spent countless hours doing repetitive tasks so that his organization could run smoothly. Am I the man that helps people. I suppose I'm both. But I only share the good, because people only need to know the good that's in me. Or maybe I'm just afraid of what could happen if people knew what I've done.

I am okay. Or at least I will be. In this moment, I'm being thrown around by a self created storm, but I've done this before and come out standing, so I know I will be okay. I have to.

[utilitycaster]

Long ago, the four tribes of the Ashari lived in unity. Then, everything changed when the wizards were like ‘hey can we have this mountain”

[writtenfromhawkins]

hello! i don't know why but i am craving such a deep level of angst lol. can i ask for a plot w steve h. where him and the reader are in a very heated argument, both yelling. it's not very common for reader and steve to argue, they barely do and reader has never seen steve so mad nor heard him raising his voice like that. neither the reader or steve realize this - how bad this whole thing has got to the reader emotionally - until reader goes to get a glass of water for themselves in the kitchen and slowly their state starts getting to their attention, their hands shaking, breath getting heavier. they try to call out steve's name as they start getting more alarming symptoms as blurry vision and heart pain but their voice barely comes out before they pass out. steve hears the glass shatter noise and that's when he gets alarmed and goes check.

eader doesn't realize how bad this whole thing had got to them emotionally until they distance themselves from the argument to the kitchen to get a glass

hi, friend! i'm of the firm belief that some angst is good for the soul so i totally get it. i tweaked this a little—went with a panic attack versus a full-on fainting spell, just felt i could do it more justice this way—but i hope you still like it. if not, feel free to  send it again also, my apologies it took me so long to get to this. 

ship: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: after a close call in the upside down, steve doesn't know how to handle the thought of losing you and acts out.

word count: 1.6k

warnings: curse words, feelings of anxiety, panic attack, fighting, reader and steve both had shitty parents, some s4 spoilers i suppose (i kinda played around with things to make them fit, but there are some talks of vecna and demobats). if i forgot anything, please let me know and i'll update these warnings.

would it be enough if I could never give you peace?

With everyone safely dropped off at home—or, in Eddie's case, with a quiet, desolate place to sleep for the night—you think a warm shower and some cuddles, because God, could you use both, is in your future. But, instead, as soon as the front door shuts behind you, Steve is spinning around, pretty eyes clouded with anger as soon as they fall on you.

"What the fuck were you thinking?"

You freeze on the spot, mouth agape. Even if you had the slightest idea what he was talking about, you wouldn't have been able to articulate a response, completely taken aback by his tone.

His voice, usually smooth like honey, always filled with such affection for you, was almost unrecognizable. Hard, angry, loud—in six months of dating, he has never so much as raised his voice and you don't know how to handle it.

"Steve, I—"

"I told you to stay in the God damn boat and what do you do?"

"That's what you're mad about?" You can't help yourself, you scoff. Nothing about the situation then or now is humorous, but it is absurd.

"That's funny to you?" Steve bellows, the question is rhetorical, but you're going to answer it anyway.

"Of course not!" Thrown on the defensive, your shoulders stiffen, your brows furrow. You hate yourself for it, but you match his volume almost instantly. "But I don't know what you expected me to do."

"I expected you for once to just listen to me. That's it, just fucking listen."

He flings his arms out, an act of pure exasperation and you take a step back. Physically backing down, but certainly not verbally. Your boyfriend was in danger and you acted accordingly. Steve could throw as many temper tantrums as he wanted to but you did nothing wrong.

"I thought you were drowning and I was supposed to just sit there? Don't be stupid."

Stupid. A word Steve hated and was far too used to hearing. From his father, ex-girlfriends, and teachers. It followed him around like a shadow.

You weren't exactly calling him that but it didn't matter—treated like an imbecile, used to condescending answers and pitying looks, it set Steve further off anyway.

"Stupid?" He repeats it, tone venomous, spitting the word out through gritted teeth. "That's what this is about, isn't it? Your big buffoon of a boyfriend can't be taken seriously, huh?"

"You know that's not what I meant."

"No, I think it was," he disagrees, taking a step towards you. It's a subconscious movement, but one that sets you on alert.

Heart thumping wildly in your chest, body warm, pure adrenaline coursing through your veins, it's like you went back in time. In an instant, you went from a self-assured, confident young woman to the scared, lonely kid hiding in the stairwell, peeking from behind the door frame as your parents argued.

You didn't like that feeling then and you sure as hell don't like it now.

"You're dating the town idiot, right?" Steve continues. "Gotta make sure dummy doesn't get himself into trouble."

Deep down, Steve knows what he's doing and saying isn't okay. Nothing about this is constructive or helpful, but he can't stop himself.

Every time he closes his eyes, he sees it. He's in the Upside Down, the bats barreling down on him and, in that moment, convinced he's going to die, his mind is on you and only you. He can't think of anything more tragic than not being able to see you one last time.

But then, in an instant, you're there. Actually there, not just a figment of his imagination. When he's able to take that first deep breath, all he feels is relief. That feeling, though, once he remembers where he is—where you are—is replaced by anger.

By coming after him, you put yourself in danger and, with all the death-defying situations he had found himself in, that scared him more than anything.

Maybe if the two of you weren't screaming at each other you would have been able to read between the lines, to see what was really bothering him, but you were too far gone.

"You're not an idiot, I don't think that." You're desperate, hands shaking and mouth going dry, you want him to stop, to just drop it. "I just—I wanted to help."

"You don't get it, I didn't need your help."

Your gaze drops to his neck where an angry red ring mars the smooth, tan flesh. You jut your chin out, gesturing towards the wound. "Seems like you did need it, actually."

Instinctively, one hand goes up to cover the spot in question, hoping to conceal it. "We're not talking about me, we're talking about you and the stunt you pulled."

"Stunt? That was a stunt to you?" The trivializing of the situation, of just how much you cared and were willing to do for him, was the most insulting thing he'd said thus far. "Fine. My deepest apologies for saving your fucking life, then."

Okay, sure, it was a group effort ultimately. Had Robin, Nancy, and Eddie not also joined, you both would have been bat food, but you were the first to jump in after Steve and that should count for something.

"What, you want me to get on my hands and feet and thank you? I had it handled."

He most definitely didn't, but you didn't have it in you to argue. Not anymore. Between Vecna, the gate, and now this, you were drained.

You just didn't feel right. This awful feeling settled in the pit of your stomach, your chest felt tight and your cotton mouth only got worse.

"Whatever, I'm getting some water."

You brush past him as you head towards the kitchen. You have been inside the Harrington home more times than you could count so just grabbing a cup should have been an easy task. 

But your hands—why won’t they just stop moving?—made it damn near impossible.

“Shit, shit,” just above a whisper, you repeat the word like a mantra as if that would steady the appendage.

It worked too. Kind of, anyway. At least until it was time to head to the sink. Just a few steps away from your destination, the glass slips from your unsteady grasp, hitting the floor and shattering into tiny pieces.

“Oh god.”

If you were worried before, this new wave of panic kicks it up several notches. Steve was already so angry at you, that you didn’t want to even consider his reaction if he saw the mess you made.

So, when you hear him call your name from the other room, you drop to your knees, ready to clean it up. You just needed to buy yourself some time. 

You open your mouth but nothing comes out. The kitchen should have been silent but you could hear this awful noise. It’s labored, kind of wheezy and you wonder for a moment if there was something wrong with the fridge. It takes you a few seconds to realize it’s coming from you. 

You couldn’t breathe, not like normal. Your hand flies to your chest, the tightness  replaced with a stabbing pain, your heart still going a mile a minute, you hope even light pressure would relieve it enough to allow you to fill your lungs. It doesn’t happen.

You have your back pressed against the cabinet, hands dangerously close to the glass shards when Steve walks in. He heard something drop and your lack of response had him worried. He knew then and there something wasn’t right but that assumption still didn’t prepare him for the sight before.

“Baby?” Just like that, any petty frustrations fell to the wayside. All he felt was concern.

When he first saw you, he was worried Vecna had somehow cursed you, but when you looked up with wide, wild eyes he was relieved. Whatever was going on was more tangible, maybe he could actually help.

“What’s going on?” You don’t answer—you can’t—but he carries on, kicking glass out of the way so he can join you on the floor. “Look at me.” It feels impossible, a Herculean task, but you manage it somehow and when you do, he takes your hand. “Good, good. Let’s breathe, yeah?” He’s totally out of his depth, woefully unprepared, but he figures that can’t hurt.

Inhale, exhale.

Inhale, exhale.

You don’t know how long you’re sitting there with Steve just breathing but after a while, you start to feel better. The tension in your body eases, you feel almost calm, the color comes back to your cheeks. He notices it too.

“There’s my girl. What was that? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I guess I just got a little overwhelmed with everything going on. You know, the Upside Down, you being mad at me..” It’s a jab, yeah, but one you figured you earned the right to take.

“I wasn’t mad at you.” You quirk a brow and he sighs. “I really wasn’t. I was scared.”

It was hard for him to admit. He didn’t grow up talking about his feelings; that was not a lesson taught in the Harrington household, you pushed it down, ignoring it until you exploded. All he knew was passive aggression—thanks, mom—and full-on active aggression—thanks, dad—but healthy conversations were foreign to him.

But for you? He was willing to try.

“Why, though?”

“Because when you followed after me, you could have died. You shouldn’t be wrapped up in this stuff and it’s my fault that you are. You should be just a normal, ridiculously pretty girl in a lame small town totally unaware of this sci-fi shit. Going to college, dating a business major with a nice family.” And a real future.

“God, Steve, I gotta say... that all sounds really boring.” Neither of you are feeling particularly jovial but that still gets a smile out of him. You consider it a win. “I think it’s really sweet you want to protect me. But you gotta understand, I’m an adult. If I’m here, it’s because I wanna be.

“I love you, okay? And I want to be on whatever crazy ride you’re going on with you. You don’t have to like it, but when you have a problem, I need you to talk about it.”

How could he argue with that? “You’re right, totally right,” he agrees. “I love you too and I’m really sorry. I don’t—” I don’t want to be like my dad is what he wants to say, but instead he goes with, “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I know.” And you do. He may not be perfect, but you truly believed everything he did was with the best intentions.

“Good. Now, let’s get you upstairs. I think someone could use a shower.”

“Rude!” You try to sound offended but fail.

With no complaints, you allow Steve to gently pull you to your feet and lead you towards the stairs. You were exhausted, things were still weird and you had a teen-killing interdimensional monster to deal with but you were still somehow feeling optimistic.

—

[toutallyahoe]

I must admit that I also enjoy reading male reader and imagine myself as a man with a 20cm cock,¿you imagine it?

hit the abused meaty walls of the guard/soldier who kindly escorted you to the bathroom and immediately got on his knees to beg you to split him in 2 because he is so needy and he has been such a good boy,telling you his achievements of the day to receive a reward

oh let a player sneak into your bed looking for comfort to forget all the hell they are living, a drug to forget even his name,please let him drophis pants and choke on your dick until he cries,he needs to be distracted

¿What about a vip? He will easily hire your services so that you tie and spank him to your liking,just please,hang him harder until he barely breathes

Salesman gets very irritated when you beat him so many times in a row at his own game, but he can't feel that way when you take his body as payment

frontman enjoys cockwarming,feeling full and warm from your piece of meat while watching the players participate in the games is comforting for stress

Male!Reade/you enjoy overstimulating the brains of every horny little bastard until he's stupid and they can't articulate a word

"You look so cute~...but I don't like that you can still think"

oh, i do sometimes like to imagine in different gender identities, im genderfluid after all (im taking all the gender yall) but all these scenarios you wrote are so fucking good!

the guard just immediately dropping to his knees, telling you his accomplishment of the day so you would be proud and fuck him good? he had always been waiting for the time of the end of the games and lights out so you and him could rendezvous at the bathrooms and reward him of such a good boy he was

and aww, poor player. terrified for his life in the games and just want to find some sort of comfort, and you could provide that right? making sure to stuff him good as he desperately tries to keep his moans on a down low since everyone is sleeping. just let him forget about how fucked up his situation was for a moment please

god, a vip having to hire you to fuck him? he could easily ask anyone else since he does have power with his money, but he wants you to fuck as he watches the entertainment provided by the games. he cant even focus when you were filling him to the brink as he gasp and moans out for you to go harder

dont forget the salesman man (sung yoo), aw, baby got so cocky of always winning that he didnt expect to lose ddakji so many times in a row! he is frustrated and hated you for a bit until you fucked him to a wall because oh god, you were splitting him! making sure to remind him you were only fucking him as his payment since you could care less about the money

and when its front man, it will always leads to him cockwarming you. i love it. just him enjoying of you filling him with your cock as he watches and monitors the games. the soft sounds of a woman singing fly me to the moon in the background as the front man would sometimes move and push your cock deeper inside him, making him sigh in content

just, yes to all of this. fucking cute and dumb horny bastards. filling them up and making sure they know how much if a cockslut they are to you 😩😩😩

[everyhowlmarksthedead]

seeing someone else.

BISHOP LOSA. MAYANS MC ┃ USEFUL LINKS

❝ request by @encounterthepast: Hello lovely Aurora, can I request angst prompt number 7 with Bishop please, thank you, 💕

❝ prompt: “Don’t you dare to lie to me again”.

❝ request by @arveeee: Hello my dear, so I was thinking, and there is one sentence to that can't go out of my head. So it is: "let me in" with Bishop (I know I'm boring). Well I believe in you, I love you , and I love your writing. Say hello to Arya.

❝ request by anon: Hi, Aurora. I love your writing sm 🥺 I was wondering if I could request an imagine with my man Bishop? I was thinking of something like the reader and him being in kinda like a friends with benefits situation, but she decides to break it offf because she’s really upset. And maybe Bishop doesn’t understand so she eventually explains to him that she wants more out of their relationship and he reassures her they are more and they always have been? Maybe leads to like soft/romantic smut? Thanks so much!

❝ request by @meteora-fc: hello hello! so, that new trailer huh?😵 would absolutely love if you could write me something for a stressed out bishop with the prompts "Stop ignoring me, it’s driving me crazy!" and "Let me help you make it better." Thank you tons!!💖

❝ words: about 1.4k.

❝ a / n: as always, don’t forget to comment and reblog if you liked it!

Another tequila shot goes down your throat, ripping it off as you almost smash the small glass on the table. Tossing your head back as you rest your back against the sofa, sitting on the floor, you take a look around you. The gloomy has taken over your house as the night has fallen a couple of hours ago. It's the fourth night you are trying to forget about Bishop and whatever you two had. But you can't dismiss from your mind his caresses —his fingers drawing patterns on your back, his lips touring your neck with delicate kisses as if he was afraid of breaking your skin, his mustache tickling your inner thighs, his raspy voice articulating your name in moans. It's the fourth night miserably failing, remembering the last time you spent together, the way he was holding his back pretending he wasn't sad because you were leaving him.

“Obispo, it's over. Don't make a big deal. We're just friends who occasionally fucks”. You scoffed somewhat annoyed because of him and his interrogation, but how could you tell him you were falling in love with him?

“I ain't making any deal, (Y/N). I just want to know what made you change your mind and keep a wide berth”.

“I'm seeing someone else”.

"Don't you dare to lie to me”. He growled, taking a step closer towards you with the intention of stopping you from picking up and packing the less stuff you had in his house.

“Think what you want”. You replied, rolling your eyes.

The first tear flows in the left corner of your mouth not appreciably at first, but then, some more until finding yourself crying. You miss him so much. You miss watching him sleep peacefully in the small hours, drifting slightly when you caress his cheek using your fingertips. Flexing your knees to your chest, you wrap your arms around trying to contain the loud sobs, hiding your face between them. How have you been so stupid to fall for him like that? The two of you made it clear from the very first moment. Friends with benefits. But after a couple of weeks, you started to notice that he used to push away any other woman that it wasn't you, he didn't spend much time in the clubhouse preferring to do it in your house —cuddling, watching movies, playing poker; kissing every single inch of flesh covering your anatomy.

Reality hit you the moment he murmured something like you're a miracle, thinking you were calmly sleeping between his strong arms and your back stuck to his chest, no distance among your bodies. You knew it was a thing produced by the alcohol running through your veins and it wasn't fair for you to fantasize about the idea he was catching feelings for you. So you just ran away, like a coward.

Some clumsy knocks on the front door of your house bring you back to reality. At first, you try to ignore them. It's not like you're in the mood for visits, knowing that probably it's Leti at the other side of the place, worried because you haven't replied to her text all day. But she insists and insists. And you know how stubborn she can be sometimes. Serving yourself another shot and drinking it in just one gulp, because you're too sober to endure another of her Ted talks about positivism and what he has lost, you stand up on your bare feet. Everything around you spins dizzyingly for a second until you can react, feeling every knock like a hammer hitting your brain.

“I've heard you the fi—”.

Opening the door to receive her, your vocals get frozen as you face Bishop in a deplorable drunk state. Just like you are.

“Let me in”. He barks, not being able to look at your eyes, trying to pass you away to the inside, but you stop him.

“Go home, Obis—”.

“I'm home, shut the fuck up”. He frowns taking a sip from a bottle of whisky you haven't noticed till now. “You think you can kick my fuckin' ass outta your life by saying you're seeing someone else? You think I'm fuckin' stupid, queri— Were you crying…?”

From anger, his tone of voice falls to one lower and lower, as the concern and the worry cover his annoyance completely. Throwing away his drink to somewhere over the grass of your yard, he holds your face onto his palms. His touch causes you to tremble. His warm touch causes you to break into aching sobs, panting as you can't breathe properly. All this time you've been thinking you have missed him, but you didn't have a real idea of how it feels until his fingers have been laid on your wetted skin.

Bishop comes closer to you, touching the tip of your nose with his. You can smell the mixed scent of cigarettes and whisky emanating from his cracked lips, it doesn't bother you, tho. “Don't kiss me, please”.

Until this precise moment, he has loved your begs and pleads to his bones, but now he hates them more than anything he could ever hate in his life. It breaks his heart. He can't deal with your rejection one night more.

“Why…? Why can't I kiss you?” He asks desperately at the edge of his tears. “Please, stop ignoring me, it's driving me crazy. I can't even take care of my own shit without you by my side”.

Your knees feel weak at his words, still believing he only says that because you're just a good lover, the best in the sheets, as he told you once.

“I… I…” You babble nervously, trying to not place your hands on the laps of his leather kutte to finally push him into the needed kiss you've been craving for the last four days. “I love you”.

And why the confession doesn't take him by surprise? Why doesn't he look confused? Why does it seem like he already knew it? Bishop can't help but draw a fleeting grin across his face.

“Do you think I came here, falling into pieces, just because it feels like being in Heaven when I'm deep inside you?” He whispers, clicking his tongue slightly. “I didn't believe you when you told me you were seeing someone else. But the minimal thought I could have about it made me lose the less sanity I have”.

You blink stupefied at his own confession about his feelings. Your fingers tour his abdomen up in slow motion, starting to have some faith in his words.

“Mi amor…” Bishop mumbles in soft giggles shaking his head. “I adore you, mi amor. I don't want anything else than to share my life with you, and only with you”.

He doesn't wait for a signal from you to kiss your lips, he just takes what it's his. And you can't hold back a painful gasp, expelling in it all the sorrow you've been carrying for the last four days being separated from him. Your hands grip his shirt in two fists, pushing him as much closer as the two of you can be, about to melt in the same figure. All this time you have been trying to not love him, to forget him; and you were just delaying the inevitable. You are made for each other, that's a fact. Your lips fit to perfection —your bodies, your hearts.

“Tell me you love me”. You whimper against his mouth, causing him to smile because of your need of making it real by these simple three words.

“Love isn't enough to express what you make me feel”.

Bishop bends down without prior notice to wrap his huge hands on the back of your thighs, urging you to jump onto him and surround his waist with your legs. You haven't forgotten how good his warmth takes over you when he holds you like that, walking inside your house and kicking the door close. Guiding his steps across your place and its hallways, he reaches your dark dorm barely illuminated by a post light outdoors. He lies you down on your bed —a bed that has welcomed you for the last eight months in every kind of state. Drunk, tired, happy.

Now, you're a mix of them. Drunk in tequila, tired of crying, but happy for having him back for the rest of your life.

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[darkacademicfrom2021]

Headcanon/fic: "Tom with superpowers"

Reader x Tom Hiddleston/Loki

Gender neutral reader

Context: in the same world that happens the whole Avengers situation, Marvel releases the movies. You get a job as health assistant in the franchise, helping the injured actors while they train. There, you met Tom Hiddleston, and... maybe someone else too.

Loki won his reputation in Midgard the wrong way, since the whole New York incident. You knew him well as the selfish psychopath you thought he was.

But ever since you started working in Marvel, you got a bit into the story and past of him and understood his character better. You thought he was quite charming.

Actually, you thought Tom Hiddleston, his actor, was more than charming.

You met him on a rainy day. Your scrubs were soaking wet, since you've come to work by walking (a terrible idea) and the rain caught you in the middle.

Someone in the entrance told you to get something dry from the lost & found box, and so you did.

A nice and warm hoodie replaced the top of your scrubs and you started drying your hair with a towel as you walked on set.

"Excuse me", said a deep and harmonious voice, touching your shoulder. "I think that belongs to me".

You lifted your gaze at the stranger and as soon as you met his eyes, both were speechless.

Tom Hiddleston in person. God, the man was even more beautiful than through a screen. You smiled nervously as he smirked. He didn't take his eyes off you for a second.

"What?", you finally said.

"You have my hoodie".

"Oh, I'm... I'm really sorry. I was... anyways, I'm giving it back now" you tried to articulate, still choking on your words. He noticed you were nervous and didn't comment on it. What a gentleman, you thought.

"Give it back in dinner, would you?" he said suddenly, yet smoothly. You had to blink twice to realize what he just said. "Meet you at eight in the doorway? I'll take you somewhere nice and quiet".

Your mind was off for the rest of the day, until dinner came along. Your coworkers noticed your brain was somewhere else than in the present, but they didn't say anything; they kind of figured Tom would've asked you out. They saw how he smiled at you on set the whole day.

Dinner was perfect, and so were the other five, six, seven...

You started dating very frequently. Always kept it down, avoiding the press rumors, avoiding paparazzis, keeping private life... well, private.

If there was something you definetly loved about him, was his passion. He was passionate about everything he spoke about. And he was even more passionate about listening to you talking.

And when you spoke your mind off about how Loki was misunderstood, and such a good character, such an interesting person (well, God); he listened.

Sometimes you could catch a glimpse of him being still on character. He'd say or do something and you'd answer "your Loki is showing", and he'd get all nervous and blushed.

You always wondered why. It's normal for actors to slip away something of their characters sometimes. Why did he get so embarrassed about it?

It was even more in interviews. He'd hide pretty well those assets that you'd connect so much to Loki's personality, afraid he might not "look Tom enough".

Already years into the relationship, you have already made it public. You still worked for Marvel and spent a lot of time on set, and sometimes you walked in some interviews.

There was this specific interview where you walked accidentally in the room, and he greeted you, with the camera running, with the most Loki tone of voice possible.

"Hello, baby".

Tom never called you baby. Not even when you called him daddy. He'd call you darling, dear, beloved, my love, my sweet, sweetheart, lover... but baby? Never that.

As soon as he realized those foreign words slipping out of his tongue, his face straightened and went into what you'd call his 'dark mode', a very serious face he made when his inner Loki spilled out of his words.

The 'dark mode' only could be described as the face someone does when making a big, irreparable mistake. Like saying the words he should've never said.

And it only faded away when he realized you didn't notice it. Like he was hiding a big secret from you, and those words would give him away.

But they never did, and he always relaxed his face to see that you were unaware of what he was hiding.

"Baby..." you recalled that same night, wrapped around in the warmth of the blankets. "You went all Loki today. But I like it. It fits you so well".

He stared at you from the doorstep, holding a book he promised to read you before sleeping. He smiled slightly and turned that smirk into a sad look very quickly.

"What's wrong, honey?".

"Nothing, my love. I'm just tired from work, that's all".

"For playing the God of lies, you're a terrible liar" you mocked him. He sat by your side and caressed your cheek with the soft touch of his hand.

"You're the only one who's always been able to read right through my bullshit. That's one of the reasons I love you so much". He said quietly.

"I'd love to know what goes through your mind when the character slips through your words. You play him marvelously, you shouldn't be ashamed to have gotten used to some of his mannerisms", you told him while running your fingers through his hair.

"I'd say I have too many of them".

"Yeah", you chuckled "it's almost like Loki is playing you, instead of you playing Loki".

"Oh, darling. Only if you knew", he said with the deepest and sexiest voice he has ever spoken.

"What's that supposed to mean?" you whispered.

He laughed slightly, and cut the conversation off with a "nothing, I'm just messing with you".

But you knew he wasn't.

Something in his eyes... he couldn't lie to you any longer. Not with you allowing it.

"What is it? I really, really want to know".

You insisted and insisted. He rolled his eyes and said nothing all night.

Next morning he didn't awake by your side. You were waiting for him in the kitchen, with a fresh cup of tea and a teasing smile on your face.

"Good morning, love" he said, hands in your waist while kissing both of your cheeks. "What are you doing up so early?".

"I want to do something crazy".

"Oh no".

"Oh yes".

"What do you want to do?".

"Let's go to Asgard. Let's go to catch a glimpse of the cell Loki is supposedly locked up in. I know it sounds crazy, but I really think it would help you with the character building. You know, since you give such importance to the role and..."

But he didn't let you finish, and closed the conversation with a "no way. Absolutely not".

And there was nothing else to discuss.

"I'm going".

"He's a crazy murderer that wants to slave everybody. There is no way I'm letting you see him".

"I'm going you like it or not", you said, grabbing your keys and going towards the door.

He stood infront of you with the most serious look you've ever seen in his face. "You're not going".

"Just one reason, give me one".

"He's not in his cell, you wouldn't find him there".

"And how do you know that?".

His eyes, that once showed anger and concern, were now fearful and disappointed.

"I can't say".

"This has to do with your 'dark mode', doesn't it? What are you hiding from me, Thomas?".

He sighed. Hugged you tightly as if you were never holding him again after what you'd hear next.

He whispered in your ear "I'm sorry for lying. It's just what I do best".

Tom and the expressions that differentiated him from Loki got bathed in a golden light. His hair became long and dark, his facial hair disappeared, his eyebrows got fixed (exactly how they made his make up for the movies), and his midgardian shirt and trousers transformed into the leather and metal armor that represented Loki so well.

"Oh my FUCKING GOD" you yelled as you hold your body against the wall, trying not to fall. Your legs were shaking.

"Yes".

"YOU'RE--".

"The... fucking God".

"H-how??".

"Long story short, I needed to start over. And I'm a shapeshifter, it's not too hard for me to disguise".

You sat on a chair and he did the same. You looked at him up and down as you steadied yourself. Once you were already taking all the madness in, you were able to speak.

"So, you could've pretended to be ANY midgardian out here".

"I could've".

"And you chose to become an actor that would play you?".

He laughed, with the same laughter Tom had. He's the same man I fell in love with, after all, you thought.

He started saying that he understood if you felt unsafe and lied to with him. That if you wanted to end the relationship his soul would ache eternally, but he would let you go. That he did something unforgivable; he played with your trust.

You got up and cupped your hands around his neck, leaving a small kiss on his lips.

"Shut up".

"Beg you pardon?".

"I love you, I don't care about anything else. To me, now you're Tom with superpowers".

"That's the most stupid yet most lovable thing you've ever told me".

"I'm sure I said stupider things". And you glanced down. "I wonder how much of your God skills you were hiding all this time".

He smiled before lifting you in the air and taking you bride style to the bedroom.

"Oh, baby, you'll see".

[julilentille]

I don't feel like he hasn't 'come out'. I get the impression he sees coming out as an unneccessary concept and announcing a label as unnecessary. Not everyone feels like labels are unnecessary and that's fine. But interpreting it as him not coming out feels like its missing what he means. If i'm making any sense!

Under the cut because it's long

Ok I'm going to preface this by saying, I hesitated to respond because it's the kind of ask that need me to be articulate and precise which is difficult to me at the moment. I still have cognitive impairments due to my burn out and my brain to keyboard or mouth operating system is fucked and I still can't find certain words (without taking into account english is not my first language) which lead to shortcuts on my part and can lead to misunderstanding. If people want after this continue the discussion please be polite and considerate. Ask me to precise if needed etc. Keep in mind too that's it's only my opinions on it and that the queer community is not a monolith. Now that it's done... God it's going to be long I'm sorry.

What do you mean by saying he hasn't come out? Do you speak about medicine (or on a lesser level Boyfriends), of some things he said in interview like "don't knocked it until you tried it", or do you take his non response as a confirmation. For my part, except explicitly stated by the artist I do not consider songs as autobiographical. It's an art form not a journal. For some of his statements, an informed ally could say those. We are all inferring, with our personal feelings what we want him to hear and see.

Even if we consider that medicine is a statement of who Harry mess around with. A label is a personal choice. I can say to you I know straight men who mess around with others men (because they were not afraid of their sexuality) but still identify as straight and not in a no homo way just in a "I tried, it's not me" kind of way. Or even gay men who date, had enjoyable sex, loved women but still identify as gay. Your sexuality is not a choice, your label on another hand is. And I agree with Harry here, in an ideal world nobody should have to come out and label themselves because no one should care who you sleep or slept with. Boxes are restrictive knowing how sexuality is fluid.

Labels are for me inherently political too. Deciding not to have a label is also political because it's saying we shouldn't care. A sentiment I agree with wholeheartedly) I'm quoting Harry here:

"I've been really open with it with my friends, but that's my personal experience; it's mine," he said. "The whole point of where we should be heading, which is toward accepting everybody and being more open, is that it doesn't matter, and it's about not having to label everything, not having to clarify what boxes you're checking."

By saying « I don’t feel like he hasn't come out » you are going against what he is trying to say I think.

Another things I want to say a little bit out of the blue. For me Harry being a singer is his job. How would you feel if every coworker, every person you had a meeting was trying to guess what your sexuality, your label is, when you don't want to disclose. From personal experience, having coworkers trying to be sneaky to guess my sexuality, trying trick questions and being bad at it, or even assuming my sexuality, it's not a good feeling. And It's not because I'm ashamed or anything else. It's just because I don't want to discuss my sexuality with people I don't know. It's freaking personal ffs.

So here, there is a lot I didn't write but yeah I can't really concentrate anymore so that will be all folks.

Ps: I don't feel like I'm making my point tbh

Ps: I can discuss this by DMs too.

[xmxisxforxmaybe]

Showering at the other’s house + Wearing the other’s clothing + "You know I can't just be friends with you" for Josh Washington x male reader? Angst and smut where there's been sexual tension between them for a long time and it blows up in their face when Josh's car breaks down and reader picks him up and takes him to his place? Bottom reader, please?

To be on the safe side, I’m going to warn for a slight reference to drunk driving.

* * * * *

Glancing at the clock on your dash, you groaned thinking about how early you had to be up for work tomorrow—technically today.

 Fucking Josh Washington.

 Why you were still friends sometimes escaped you, but as soon as Josh slid into your passenger seat and the smell of his expensive cologne swallowed you in one breath, you remembered.

 Because you want so much more than that.

 “Fun party?” you asked, hitting the turn signal even though the road was deserted.

 “Look, man. I’m sorry about calling so late but I know your place is close.”

 “And now I have to take you all the way across town—”

 “Can’t I just crash with you? I mean—if it’s not a big deal.”

 Not a big—fucking fucker.

 Taking a deep breath, you whipped your car around and began heading back to your apartment.

 Josh leaned back in the seat and out of your peripheral, you could see his fingers twitching against his knee, banging out a rhythm only he could hear.

 “Are you drunk?” you asked, not really wanting to know the answer.

 “Nah,” Josh huffed, his eyes closed as his fingers continued to tap.

 Slamming on the brakes was the last thing Josh had expected you to do, and when he was jostled forward, he made a muffled noise as the seatbelt tightened against his chest.

 “What the fu—”

 “Get out.”

 Josh’s bloodshot eyes were blown wide and his mouth opened and shut as he stared at you, your own face twisted in anger as you looked back at him.

 “Get. Out.”

 “Please don’t do this now, Y/N.”

 Josh’s eyes begged for your forgiveness and you felt that deep-down itch of sympathy, like an almost healed mosquito bite that had just enough poison left to make you remember it was there.

 “Why the fuck are you always calling me to come bail you out? Is it because I’m stupid enough to keep fucking doing it?”

 “No,” Josh murmured, his eyes dropping to the center console.

 “Is it because—”

 “Can we please just talk about this at your place not in the middle of the fucking road in the middle of the fucking night?”

 Your eyes flicked to the rearview mirror and even though no one was coming, you gripped the wheel again and pressed your foot to the gas.

The rest of the short drive was silent, the tension blaring loud enough to drown out both of your thoughts.

 Exhausted, you tossed your keys on the counter and kicked off your shoes before slowly pulling your hoodie over your head and tossing it on the living room recliner.

 “You know where the couch is,” you stated tonelessly as you walked back the hall to your bedroom and shut the door.

 Discarding your t-shirt and your sweatpants, you crawled back into your abandoned bed and tried to go to sleep. Josh turned the shower on and you rolled over, trying not to imagine what he looked like, naked and wet as the bathroom grew foggier and foggier.

 He pissed you off like no one else.

 And he turned you on like no one else.

 But nothing had ever come of your shared looks, your inside jokes, or your casual, seemingly accidental touching. Instead, this sort of chasm settled between the two of you and you spent less and less time together. At first, you were sad. Then, you were pissed that someone who was supposed to be your friend, someone you had known for almost ever, was just willing to let the ugly void grow rather than talk about what was happening.

 And once Josh lost his sisters, the void became cavernous. He wouldn’t let anyone get close to him, not even you.

 Sighing, you punched your pillow and rolled onto your back to stare up at the ceiling. You supposed that was why you were still always there for him—the loss of Hannah and Beth, yes, but also because you wanted to get him to let you in. You wanted to be there for him—as a friend or as more.

 Either way, Josh needed someone. That much you were sure of.

 A soft knock on your door drew you out of your thoughts, and you mumbled, “It’s unlocked.”

 Josh peeked in, the light from the hallway framing his body and making him seem more shadow than man.

 “Can I borrow some sweats?”

 “Bottom drawer,” you motioned, rolling on to your side to avoid looking at him with only a towel wrapped around his waist.

 Which wasn’t wrapped around his waist for long because you heard it hit the floor. You squeezed your eyes shut tight and tried to ignore the rustling as Josh pulled on your clothes.

 After a few moments of silence, Josh cleared his throat and when you didn’t say anything, he shuffled closer to your bed.

 “You sleeping?”

 “For fuck’s sake, Josh. No.”

 “I really am sorry I woke you up—”

 “Are you really?” you spat, turning over and sitting up to face him, anger once again coursing through your body at his wretched apology.

 “Yeah. I am! I really appreciate that you came!” Josh yelled, his eyes smaller than usual as anger began to take hold of him, too.

 “You have a real funny way of showing appreciation.”

 “What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked, his bottom lip disappearing as he bit down on it.

 “It means that you don’t call me unless you need something stupid.”

 Josh shrugged, but before you could yell at him to get the fuck out, he said, “I know you’ll always pick up.”

“You can kiss this stand-in Uber driver the fuck good-bye because this was the last—"

 “I call you because I want to see you.”

 Josh’s words were coarse, spoken from deep inside of his chest as if he couldn’t believe he was actually letting them articulate.

 You stared at him in stunned silence, wondering if it was possible . . .

 “Josh,” you said softly.

 And as your mind worked to form a response, Josh interrupted, his voice cracking as he loudly said, "I can't just be friends with you anymore! I can’t just hang out like, like I’m not feeling . . . whatever the fuck this is.

 “And I know you feel it too.”  

 Your heart was in your ears, so even if you wanted to say something, you couldn’t.

 Hand slightly shaking, you pulled off the covers and swung your legs over the edge of the mattress. The feeling of your bare feet on your cold, wooden floor starkly contrasted the overheated feeling of your torso and face as you stood.

 Josh was frozen, his Adam’s apple working double-time as he looked anywhere but at you, clearly wishing he had kept his infamously big mouth shut.

 When you were finally inches from him, his eyes swung to meet yours and the intensity in them nearly took your breath away.

 Thinking back, you still have no idea who moved first, but in an instant, Josh’s mouth was on yours.

 His kiss was bruising, teeth before tongue, then teeth again as he claimed you.

 Your thoughts were an incoherent stream as Josh pushed you on to the bed and shoved his hand in your boxers, his own erection rubbing against your thigh as he began to jerk you off.

 Gasping, you broke the kiss and shut your eyes, unable to believe this was finally happening.

 “Do you feel this?” Josh hissed as his forehead is pressed against yours. “Do you feel how bad I want you—need you?”

 “I—”

 “Didn’t want to ruin our friendship?” Josh panted as he gave the head of your cock a little twist. “I’d say it’s pretty fucking ruined now.”

 You moaned and reached up to fist the headboard, your biceps flexing as you held onto the wooden slats, your hips pushing up into Josh’s hand.

 “Should I stop?”

 “Fuck—no! Don’t stop,” you begged and you could see the confident smirk on Josh’s lips.  

 “Come for me,” he demanded, his hand tightening around you, still moving at a quick, even pace.

 “God-fucking-damn-it Josh!” you cried out, eyes again shut tight as cum spilled over his hand and smeared on to your stomach.

 After milking you through your orgasm, Josh pressed his forehead to yours, tiny beads of your sweat mingling with his as your breath puffed across each other’s lips. It occurred to you that he definitely used your toothpaste and knowing Josh, probably your toothbrush.

 You reached up to grasp his face, your thumbs rubbing across his cheekbones as you asked, “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

 “Kinda better to just show you?”

You rolled your eyes.

 “Stop deflecting.”

 “Scared,” Josh mumbled, his mouth moving closer to yours.

 “Of what?” you asked into his parted lips.

 “Losing you.”

 “Never,” you answered and kissed him, your mouth begging to be dominated by his as you tentatively touched your tongue to his and Josh didn’t disappoint, controlling the kiss until he released your mouth with a gasp as you both fought for air.

 Pushing Josh onto his back, you straddled his thigh, your cum-coated belly completely forgotten as you pulled down the sweatpants he was wearing—your sweatpants—and you lowered your mouth to take in his impossibly hard cock.

 “Oh fuck,” Josh groaned.

 Teasing wasn’t on your mind as you sucked his dick, hollowing your cheeks and relishing in the taste of the precum that seeped from his head. You dragged your tongue through his slit and Josh made a noise that was somewhere between a whine and a groan.

 You sucked lightly on the head of his cock before swallowing him down, and when you grasped the base of him, Josh bucked up into your mouth, almost choking you, as he came—your name and a string of Sorry—so sorrys tumbling from his lips. You laughed a little as you swallowed his cum and used the back of your mouth to wipe what had escaped.

 Josh’s eyes were soft as they looked at you, one final apology issuing from his mouth.

 “It’s cool, Josh. I think we were both pretty enthusiastic.”

 “You have no idea—”

 “—how long you’ve—I’ve—wanted to do that?”

 Josh looked a little surprised, but then his face split into his trademark grin, his white teeth flashing in the dim lighting of your room.

 “Does this mean we’re more than friends?”

 “Is that what you want?” you asked, studying his face to make sure his happiness wasn’t a façade.

 “I think . . . I think it’s what I need.”

 You smiled, your eyes detecting only honestly and as much as it pained you to do it, you tore your eyes from his and looked at the clock.

 “Work. I’ve gotta—”

 “I’m filthy fucking rich. You don’t ever “have to” again.”

 “Of course I do,” you said with exasperation. “But maybe not . . . tomorrow.”

 Josh smiled and adjusted your pillow before holding his arms open so you could fall onto his chest.

 “Night, Y/N,” Josh mumbled sleepily into your hair.

 “Goodnight,” you answered, your lips holding their soft smile as you fell fast asleep.