#some of them make me really uncomfortable

[fishnapple]

People's first impression of you

This reading is about how people in general will perceive you at first impression. Which might not be true to how you really are. People's perception are easily skewed by their own biases and experiences, so take it with a grain of salt. You may use this to compare to your perception of yourself and see the similarities and differences so you might take action to align them better.

This is a general reading meant for multiple people. Take only what resonates and leave out the rest.

Your feedback is much appreciated. If you find the reading resonated with you, leave a comment, I’d love to know 🎐

About me | Masterpost

Book a reading with me - KO-FI (→ personal reading)

CUBE 1

• Your presence unsettles people on first sight. They don't usually see this kind of energy often. It's foreign and distant, out of reach. Even if you don't do or wear anything out of the ordinary, your energy is different from the people around you. Unsettling is because some people can feel uncomfortable with the unknown, they don't know how to act or react to the differences.

• Yet people can feel like you're someone they've already seen somewhere, especially in their childhood. You remind them of their distant memories, nostalgic, fuzzy, magical.

• Soft and kind looking, but not too easy to approach.

• Different people will form different impressions of you. Each person sees a different image of you. Some can be wildly different from each other.

• They may think you do something related to art, artistic, and creative.

• Good self-control, you seem to be the kind that doesn't get angry easily, and you keep your opinions for yourself. You don't seek to control other, the only one you control is yourself. But you know how to protect your beliefs and your values when challenged.

• Honest, pure intentions, don't like to meddle in other's business but will help with all you can if asked.

• Private, quite closed-off. You don't speak about yourself much or at least about matters that are personal. People find it hard to read your emotions and thoughts from the first meeting. They get a sense that to get close to you emotionally, to get you to trust them, to get a peek at your deeper affection, they have to try harder and be serious and patient.

• But you don't seem to have problems with being yourself in public. You can be witty, charming, a little detached. Having a few pleasant exchanges with you is easy, going deeper is not.

• Some people would want to form friendship with you immediately, wanting to get closer, to understand you better. This could make you uncomfortable sometimes, being the target of people's curiosity.

CUBE 2

• Mysterious and mysterious. People feel like you will take them away, into an unknown path full of twists and turns. What they see is not what they get. There's so much more hidden underneath that they want to uncover. Which may feel invasive at times.

• The impressions can be polar opposites. Love and hate, attraction and repulsion, safe and scary. But it's definitely not mild.

• Mysterious but still approachable enough, people will feel an urge to get closer.

• People think you are a spiritual person, someone who practices occult crafts, or at least interested in those fields. Someone who likes a good mystery, darker, taboo subjects.

• You seem to value different things. Your definition of what is valuable might not align with theirs.

• This may sound uncomfortable, but some people will wonder in their mind, quietly, about your sexual preferences. Are you a passive or an aggressive person? Are you passionate or cold?

• Beautiful hands and voice. Something about your voice seems different, a little odd, unique, memorable.

• You don't seem to have a good sense of money. Maybe you're forgetful or spend money on things that are considered unnecessary or odd by other people. People get the impression that you are flexible with money and generous. You don't mind spending on things and on people you love, you don't put too much weight on material possessions, things come and go, if you lose some, you will gain some. That's the impression that people have of you.

• You have a large well of knowledge at your expenses. You learn things quickly. In fact, learning seems to be an easy thing for you, something that you don't have to put too much effort into to get good results. Information flows smoothly, absorbed and moulded into unique perspectives.

• Some people can sense that you are hiding some difficulties, pains, or a hurtful past inside, but you're not ready to reveal them to anyone.

• People feel you're someone who has been well disciplined since childhood, which has made you behave in a very proper and restrained manner. Very strong boundaries. Some might think that your silent and mysterious manner is, in fact, just a cover for some social anxiety. That you're not ready to show yourself fully.

CUBE 3

• Nervous energy. You don't seem calm at first impression. You want to be constantly on the move, changing things.

• You might have an oblivious and detached look, the look of someone who is tired of the world around them, someone who is not too attached to anything.

• People might notice that you have a worried look on your face. Something is constantly bothering your mind and they don't know if they can have a place in there. And if they do, they don't know if they can stay for long. You seem like someone who's always ready to leave people and things behind in chasing a distant dream.

• Commitment is there, but not to them, but to something else. You might trigger abandonment issues in some people. Those who are more down to earth, who prize loyalty and groundness, might not feel at ease with you. Your energy is too fast for their comfort.

• This can also make people wonder what it will be like if they do get your attention and commitment. Because the idea of it is so elusive, it becomes even more desirable.

• People might question your age, you look young for your age.

• The way you communicate is fascinating but can be confusing. You might jump from topic to topic seamlessly, which can be quite hard to keep up with. Maybe you even purposefully (or just obliviously) left out some crucial details in your story that can give off a totally different impression. People might frequently ask you to clarify your words.

• You seem close to one of your parents, but at the same time, there's a desire to break away. To stand on your own.

• Some people can sense a desire for acknowledgement. You want people to see your talents and creativity just like how you see yourself. I think they do believe in you, they believe that you can achieve great things from the sheer intensity of your being. Some people are well-known for their contributions, their help given to other people, while you, people can sense that just by being yourself, people will gravitate towards you.

• You seem to be popular, someone who knows a lot of people and has a lot of acquaintances and friends.

CUBE 4

• Stern, intense. Someone who is in their power, their own authority. Someone who is so confident and so sure of themselves that other people's opinions can't sway them.

• They think that you know exactly where you want to go, what your life's trajectory is, and they can see that you're actively pursuing it. A clear vision and an active drive.

• People might assume you're in an authoritative position. They might even subconsciously feel an urge to submit, to give the power of decision to you. Because somehow they can feel that you're a trustworthy person. As someone who knows their life so well, you sure can lead other to their destination also. That's how people think.

• You seem wise, mature and generous, ready to help, to give guidance and advice. People can sense you've seen and experienced a lot of things in life but you still keep true to your Ideals. If you give someone advice or correct their behaviour, it's because you care and want them to be better. It comes from the desire for improvement.

• You don't talk much and seem to prefer listening. Taking in what the other person is talking about and thinking deeply about it. People might feel validated by this.

• But you can be defensive when your beliefs and values are challenged. There are certain topics that can make you talk passionately, which can be a surprise for people who don't know you well.

• A meticulous person who prefers things to be neat or in a specific order. Maybe your style and your surroundings seem really neat.

• Someone who knows how to appreciate small and mundane beauty in life.

• Some people might have heard about you before meeting you. And the stories seem kind of painful, serious, not sunshine and rainbow. So they could already develop some preconceived notions about you that are heavier than who you actually are.

[notsoverymerry]

Boyfriend (j.yh x reader)

<jeong yunho x fem!reader>

summary: You can't believe you're dating Yunho. Others can't either.

genre/warnings: smut, unprotected sex (please use protection!), fluff, use of pet-names a/n: let me know literally anything about this :) word count ~3.6k

You were dating Jeong Yunho; you really were. 

You went on dates, held hands, kissed, and said the cheesiest, most sweetest, tooth-rotting things to each other. All the time. And yet, none of the boys had caught up. By some mysterious miracle or rather an ominous curse, guys and the staff have considered you two to be just really good friends. You could've screamed love proclamations at each other from mountaintops, and nobody would take that seriously. His habit of calling you his little bro, or some variation of that, as a pet name did not help in the slightest.

At first, it was funny. Just at the beginning of your relationship, when you intended to keep your fondness away from prying eyes and wanted to enjoy exploring each other in this new, intimate side of things, having people consider you pals was great. You can recall Seonghwa making a few remarks about how cute you would look together, but it was dismissed rather quickly. The first time it happened, you totally saw Yunho's ears go red, him stammering out something about friendships and trust and members making you uncomfortable. 

At the end of your third date, you were sure you wanted this man next to you for life. He took you to the aquarium. It was a cliché, but it's something you have always dreamed of. You love animals, love to learn new things, and you think you love Jeong Yunho. He looked dashing in just a pair of blue jeans and a white sweater; your heart definitely skipped a beat when he smiled, hands reaching to greet you in a short embrace. It skipped a beat again when you heard him laugh lightly at some joke you made. And again, when his hand brushed against yours as you walked to your destination. Stepping into a room with tiny fish specimens showcased in various tanks, blue lights now illuminated his frame and those round sparkling eyes. Your heart doesn't seem to work correctly. 

Few hours went flying. You took pictures. Half of them when he wasn't paying attention. You told him he looks like the prettiest starfish they have and didn't miss his cheeks darkening with blush even in the dim lights. Not too long had passed before you started to point out funky ones to each other, exclaiming, 'You!' and laughing. After a particularly accurate comparison of you to a dwarf puffer ('Dwarf puffers are aggressive, sensitive, and active' the sign read), he reached and intertwined your fingers, not a single hint of trying to hurt you with that juxtaposition, his eyes full of adoration, a huge smile on his face. You could have just kissed him.

He insisted on ice cream later in the evening. You were just heading out the shop when you bumped into Mingi. Faces red but happy, Yunho's arm hugging you to his side, a small bag of sweet treats in his hand. It took a second for Song Mingi to take the sight in. And another second for him to smile and greet you, to ask how's it going and where you're going to go.

''Oh, my girlfriend and I are just going to relax somewhere in the park nearby.''

You couldn't help the giggle that escaped your lips. Girlfriend. You can definitely get used to being called his girlfriend. And then it happened. Cue Mingi's cluelessness, or the fact that he's just tired from their hectic schedules. 

''Man, it's great that you can be so close with each other and aren't afraid someone will mistake you for a couple. If you could act a bit better, maybe you'd even get a discount sometime!'' With that, he was gone. 

There was a little tradition your small company liked to keep. Board games. 

Every once in a while, when everyone wasn't busy, you'd spend an evening playing, talking, lightly drinking, and overall just relaxing. Adult life could take a really boring turn, the one that only had 'road work ahead, and so should you' sign. Bills, taxes, colleagues being stressed and mean, and yada-yada. Idol life was probably even worse. 

There was some catching up due, and this Saturday night seemed just the perfect opportunity. The lot of you chose a game, lo-fi music was put on for background, and the living room area was cleaned so up to ten people could comfortably sit in a circle. Drinks were cold and ready to be handed out. 

You took a seat in between your beloved Yuyu and Yeosang, a dear friend of yours who got you in the group. You'd expect him to know your heart of all people. Although when you told him about your new boyfriend, all he did was laugh and say that was a good one. 

Bewilderment washed over you in a tidal wave. It showed up on your face, swimming behind your eyes and overflowing in a strangled sound from your lips. And you, Yeosang? With your confused and hurt whimper, the topic was brought to everyone's attention. 

''Did you guys know y/n likes Yunho?'' Maybe it was the alcohol, but you heard more laughter. 

''Oh? But y/n likes all of us, don't you?''

''Well, yes, but—'' you were not going to finish that sentence. He heard what he wanted.

''See?'' Wooyoung looked so smug; if your brain wasn't so busy being confused, you'd be infuriated. Right now you looked like there was a loading circle turning in your head. Hopefully you won't bluescreen. 

''Are you guys pulling my leg?''

''Are you? Seriously, you and Yunho.'' There came a playful nudge to your side. 

You wanted to protest, to ask your boyfriend to back you up, but turning to him, you saw his eyes creased by a smile. He shook his head slightly, as if trying to say that it's fine and they will catch up to it eventually. He knew it was going to take them a while. And with his hand lightly caressing your back, your anger dissipated, replaced by a warm feeling inside your chest. Was it always so hot in here?

''Just relax, little pal. I got you.''

A while has passed before you decided to be openly affectionate, at least around those closest to you. 

It was a day off for the both of you. You planned on going out, but upon seeing your boyfriend's tired eyes, you opted to offer a quiet night in. Weather seemed to agree with that, given that it started raining against the broadcast's best predictions. 

You were met with Hongjoong, who opened the door and let you in. When you entered their living room, you saw Yunho, still in sweatpants and a big shirt, holding a steaming mug. 

''Hey.'' He said, ''Isn't it my favorite little dude!''

''Hello, honey.''

The warmth in your voices could melt the arctic icebergs. You took a few moments just to look at each other, gentle smiles tugging at the corners of your mouths. 

''Oh, hey, bro! I'm also in the room, where's my sweet greeting?''

It was San, a pout already present on his sleepy face. 

''You'd get it when you have a girlfriend.''

The day was spent in the comfort of their couch, with soft cushions and comforters draped around. None of you cared for the cancelled plans, not really, when all you ever wanted was to be in each other's presence. That was enough. Several movies were watched, hot tea keeping the cozy atmosphere company. You were cuddled with Yunho, feeling warm and giddy. That's when Seonghwa made another comment about how cute the two of you were. 

''But I don't want to make you uncomfortable, y/n. Don't take this close to heart. We know there's nothing romantic going on.''

It was as though they were doing it on purpose.

''It's okay, Seonghwa; we are together. Like, I love him and all that.''

Your voice was steady, your face was serious, and yet…

''Of course you are,'' San almost scoffed. ''But that behavior is exactly why you can't get a date these days. People see Yunho and don't dare approach you.''

A light chuckle could be heard from the room; Yunho also couldn't contain his. The more blunt you were at stating your relationship status, the more oblivious band members became. 

''Little broski is saying she doesn't need a date. She has me. Right, darling?''

Yunho was being honest. You nod at him, darting your eyes back at your friends in hopes of seeing the realization there. Yet, his playful tone and charming smile did nothing to convince the others. It's not like you've been actively trying to make them believe you were an item. Though now it seemed to irritate you a bit. Was it really that hard to imagine you and Jeong Yunho together? Were you not good enough in their eyes? Or was it his habit of calling you bro? You never knew. 

''Why is it so hard for you to believe we're dating, though?''

You voiced your thoughts, needing to know the answer now.

''Y/n, love… You'd date a reputable scam artist before Yunho; we know that much. You'd probably even date Hongjoong first if-''

''I can hear that!''

That was the captain's answer from the kitchen.

''A reputable scam artist?''

That was your confused reply. What does that even mean?

''And what is so wrong with dating me? I'm handsome, I'm charming, and so, so funny! A real treat. I could also be a scam artist if I really wanted to.''

A strangled sound tore from your chest.

''See? That's a laugh.''

There was another. He was not at all interested in proving them wrong.

You couldn't believe your luck when you showed up at the dorms a week later and no one was there. 

Yunho had called you, asking you to come in, some mischevous spark laced in his tone. It turns out, the boys had work, and those who didn't decided on spending the day outside. There was undoubtedly a need for shopping for essential items, as well as just a bit of fresh air and relaxation for those workaholics. Well deserved. Yunho needed it too. So when he asked if you could just cuddle him a bit and maybe cook something easy later, you couldn't find it in yourself to deny this request.

His bed? Soft. His body? Warm. Hands? Big and strong and held you against him perfectly. You were happy. You basked in the feeling of his chest pressed against your back, like puzzle pieces, you thought. You traced the veins on his arms, switching to play with his fingers from time to time. This feels nice. This feels so right. How could his members not see this? You were practically made for each other. You decided to bring it up.

''Why do you think our friends don't take us seriously?''

He let out an amused hum, his breath fanning over your neck. 

''I dunno. Maybe they all want you, just can't take the fact I already hogged you for myself.''

He hugged you tighter. In all honesty, that was distracting. How could you think about other guys, about anything else, really, when your big and strong boyfriend held you so tenderly against himself? The thought of him wanting you and caring for you as much as you did for him should melt your heart. Instead, with the way his fingers played with your shirt, caressing your skin where it had rode up, it sent hot waves someplace else. Were you cruel enough to ruin this perfect cuddle session with your dirty thoughts? 

''You're here, love?'' His hand went up to cradle your face. 

Turning to him, you couldn't avoid looking at his lips. So pink and soft. You know just how nice they feel against yours. Your eyes had darkened already, the feelings you had for this man had your head all dizzy. Without much thinking, you moved forward, connecting your lips in a sweet kiss. You felt his breath hitch. A tiny sound tried to escape his throat, but your mouth didn't let it. His hands moved to your waist again, holding you even closer.

You put your hands in his hair. You just couldn't resist massaging his scalp and tugging gently, soft locks slipping through your fingers. And god were you rewarded with another sound from him, right into your lips, chest reverberating against yours. He stopped kissing you; for a moment he just needed to look at your face. Rose hue on your cheeks and blown eyes — no doubt he looked the same. 

''I see,'' he chucled. Hands roaming your body, skimming your sides. ''You're so amazing. I can't get enough of you, my little bro.''

There it was again. The way he said it was ethereal. His voice so soft and perfectly low, his eyes dark and full of adoration. But it was the bro part that got your mind out of the gutter. Only for a moment, though.

''I want to make love to you so badly,'' you started. He sucked in a breath. His eyes fixated on your face, jumping over to your lips for a second. ''But please, stop with the bro thing. You can put that mouth to better use.''

''I'll be good,'' is his promise. 

With that, he leaned in to kiss you again. This time pressing into you harder, needier. You couldn't control yourself any longer, too. With a soft moan, he moved even closer, almost getting on top of you, his weight pressing you into the mattress. And it feels, oh, so good. You bite on his lower lip carefully, anything to hear his beautiful sounds again. You let him take the lead, tongue gliding over yours. He moans at the taste. 

Tongue keeps rooling over yours; he lets his hands slide under your shirt. He kneads your breasts, then moves his hands over to grab at your hips and thighs, and back under your shirt again. You feel on fire. You want him to touch you everywhere at once; you want to touch him even more. You're the first to give in, reaching to help him take his t-shirt off. 

He's gorgeous. Hair a bit messy, lips glossy and red from the kiss. He pants a little, and you reach to glide your hand over his abs and chest, circling over his nipple. You can hear a tiny pleased sound leaving him, but it's not enough. He reattaches himself to you right away, mouth finding your neck. He kisses, bites, and licks at your most sensitive spots. You take him back gladly, hugging him close and moving your hips to meet his. He seems eager to do the same, another perfect sound leaves his lips. It's a groan, and it's right into your ear, and it makes your head spin. 

''God, you feel amazing.'' He breathes out, and you can't take it anymore. You want him, you need him with you, on you, in you. Your clothes get swiftly discarded, that eagerness earning you a quiet snicker. You don't care; your brain is in a fog, Yunho is the only thing on your mind.

''Please, touch me.'' you ask, settled in his sheets and looking up in his eyes, dark pools filled with lust to the brim. 

He obliges, positioning himself at your side. ''How do you want it, baby?'' He asks, but his hands are already on you. He groups your breasts once more, bringing his mouth to suck at your neck, moving down until he can lick your nipple. He plays with you as he pleases, kneading your skin and ghosting over the area where you want him the most. ''Please,'' you whine. 

''What? Isn't it good when I touch you here? Or maybe here?''

He moves his hand to massage your thighs so close to your hot core, playing with your inner thighs, pinching slightly. You start to buck your hips involuntarily. Oh, but then he moves it over your belly to your nipples again. You tug at his hands and whine again. With more and more whimpering coming from you, he surrenders. 

Long fingers find your sticky folds to roll through them. The sound you let out makes his dick twitch in his underwear. When he finally pays attention to your clit, you feel exstatic. You look at him, at his concentrated face as he plays with you. You're lost in this feeling, lost in him. His fingers enter you suddenly, and you try to say something, but no real words come out. All you can think of is how good he feels inside of you. Your fingers can never do what his long ones can. They strech you a bit, just enough to feel this sweet pressure and leave you wanting more. Just enough to reach that gummy spot there that makes you see stars behind your eyelids. 

''You look so good like this, fuck.'' He praises. His voice brings you back to reality. ''So fucked out already, and I barely even done anything.'' 

You want to protest, to say that you are not fucked out yet, but the way your walls clench around his fingers is a dead giveaway. You are losing your mind a little. Can he really blame you, though, when he's the one pressing on that spot inside of you, so, so well. You can't really say anything, the only sounds escaping are your moans. Yunho thinks your voice sounds like honey, so sweet and thick with arousal. He bucks his hips against you, breathing deeply.

You reach for his cock, still trapped in his sweats and boxers. Suddenly, the fabric is just so frustrating. He lets out an airy laugh at your feeble attempt at touching him, taking his fingers out. You mewl at sudden loss pathetically. 

''What's wrong, love? Do you miss me already?''

He leaves your side not even for a minute, but it feels like forever. With a teasing grin, he discards the rest of his clothing and finally climbs back to bed, now on top of you. It's great. He's big and pinning you down and pressing to you just right. 

You want him inside, so you try to shift a little, make it more comfortable for him to finally fuck you, but he doesn't budge. The look you're giving his way is comical. You're flushed and needy, and there's that throbber almost visible on your forehead again. Your boyfriend doesn't give you time to ask, diving into another heated kiss with you. Your moan is bordering on a sob when he opts to fuck your mouth with his tongue instead of fucking you like you desperately need him to. 

When at last he's lining his cock up with your slit, you think you're actually going to cry. He's so hard and so big, the stretch feels euphoric. Pleasure overtakes and your eyes flutter shut as he slowly bottoms out. 

''Keep your eyes open. Look at me, baby.'' 

His words come out in a mix of a moan and a growl. You swear you could come just listening to him, hand-free and all that. You open your eyes, and the sight is breathtaking. He moves inside of you, your walls feel hot and tight and like the most expensive velvet. You can see all of that in his eyes. He feels so good, and you're the one making him hiss and groan in pleasure, his mouth forming the perfect O's and stuttering muddled praises. God, you love him.

You can't keep thinking about it for much longer. The pace he's set becomes a bit faster and sloppier, and he reaches his hand in between your bodies to put pressure on your clit. With it comes his strangled warning, '' 'm close, honey.'' And you can feel it, too. His dick hits that spot in you just right, and with your clit stimulated, the familiar feeling is building in your stomach faster and faster. ''Me too,'' your eyes close without you realizing it, and with a cry of his name, you come all over his cock. A string of curses follows, and you feel him twitch, hips stilling, and warm liquid fills you up. 

You take a minute to come down to earth again, and so does he. Leaving a chaste kiss on your cheek, he rolls over beside you, still panting a little. 

''Fuck. My baby, you did so well.'' 

You're not sure how it is possible to feel so giddy and syrupy after being so unbelievably horny just a second ago. Guess he has that effect on you.

''It was amazing, Yuyu. I love you, so much.''

''I love you too.''

He drapes his blanket over the both of you, snuggling closer, stroking your hair with your head on his chest. You want to say more cheesy things to him. Just as you open your mouth, though, there's a knock on the door, and Mingi's figure pops in, hand covering his eyes.

''Are you guys done? Please tell me you're decent; I do not want to see y/n's boobs or worse!'' 

You yelp, tugging the covers to your chin. Both Yunho and you decide to speak.

''We're decent.'' 

''When did you come back?!''

''Just in time to hear the closing credits.''

Mingi is now taking in the scene. Clothes scattered on the floor, Yunho's disheveled look, you trying to hide in the blanket. Lovely.

''I am traumatized, by the way.''

''What's that supposed to mean?''

''We brought beef, by the way. Wanna join us in the kitchen?''

You're lost. You don't know if you should feel embarrassed or offended. Mingi doesn't bat an eye at your barely covered form. At least that's what it feels like.

''Let us maybe get dressed first?'' Yunho chimes in, hugging you to him to try and cover himself a bit too. 

Mingi leaves, and you let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding. You start to shift a bit when the door gets burst open once again, followed by, ''Wait, so you are actually dating?!''

[steddieas-shegoes]

hidden lace

for @steddiesmuttyseptember prompts 'sneaking around' and 'lingerie'

rated e | 18+, minors dni or i will tell your mother | 2852 words | check ao3 for all tags

💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗

Steve is pissed at Eddie.

Like, genuinely pissed.

Not that cute, haha my boyfriend was being annoying but I love him, pissed.

The kind where if he saw him right now, he’d do something really stupid, like yell or break up with him.

And he knew he didn’t actually want to do that.

But see, Steve had been given incorrect information about what they would be doing tonight. He’d been told they’d be having dinner alone and then going to the quarry alone and probably going back to Steve’s house alone.

When they showed up at the diner to a table full of Eddie’s bandmates, Steve’s teeth gritted together to hold back saying something much more rude than he intended.

It was fine, though, because Steve did actually like hanging out with the guys despite their rough start. They were some of the few people who knew about Steve and Eddie’s relationship, so they didn’t feel like they had to hide anything.

Well, Steve did tonight.

He was wearing his usual clothes, of course, but underneath, he was wearing a lingerie set. Something Eddie had been begging him to wear for months now, something Steve had tried on at least 20 times before only to hurry out of them because it felt too good. He figured with how much they’d be alone tonight, he could get used to the feeling of the lace against his skin at dinner and then surprise Eddie with it when they got to the quarry.

It’s all he’s thought about since Eddie picked him up.

He’s certain it’s written all over his face throughout dinner. Gareth keeps shooting him these looks like he knows Steve’s hiding something, and Jeff has asked him if he’s okay at least three times since they sat down. Frankie doesn’t say anything, but he does hand Steve a joint when no one else is looking and tells him to relax a little.

If Steve was smart, he probably would have snuck a few hits from it before Eddie got in the van.

“That was fun,” Eddie said as Steve contemplated trying to run back inside to the bathroom so he could strip the lace off and shove it into his pockets.

“Uh huh.”

“Sorry I didn’t tell you they’d be joining us, sweetheart.”

Steve gives him a half-hearted smile. “That’s okay. Um, are we seeing anyone else tonight?”

“Oh! There’s a bunch of people hanging at the quarry. I think even Robin’s gonna be there.”

Steve nods a little too enthusiastically to be convincing. “Cool. Sounds good.”

Eddie’s eyes are on him, intense. “You don’t sound happy about it. Thought you’d be a little more excited about hanging with Robin. You just told me yesterday you haven’t gotten to spend time with her outside of work for weeks.”

“No, you’re right,” Steve sighs. “I just wasn’t expecting to be…social.”

“We planned a date?” Eddie sounds genuinely confused, as if he doesn’t know the difference between hanging out one on one and in groups.

“Yeah, I just.” Steve sighs again. “It’s fine. Let’s go hang out with people.”

Eddie looks like he wants to push and understand why Steve is suddenly so worried about being around people, but Steve leans in to kiss him quickly, just a soft peck on the lips. He smiles and Eddie smiles back.

Instant distraction.

Eddie has admitted before that Steve has a way of making him go completely dumb. Some would call it dick brain, but it’s not even that he gets hard about it. He just feels like all thoughts have left the building.

Like Elvis, man,, he’d said when Robin asked what his deal was after Steve had kissed him goodbye at work.

As Eddie drives them to the quarry, Steve shifts in his seat. He’s not uncomfortable, but he definitely worries that he will be when all eyes are on him. Maybe they won’t know that he’s nearly bursting out of blush pink panties and a matching bralette that rubs against his nipples in a way that feels like Eddie’s teeth when they’re teasing him. But maybe they will.

But are his nerves because he’s worried people will know?

He can feel his dick hardening against the damp lace.

No, he doesn’t think he’s all that worried about people seeing him in lingerie.

Eddie’s door slamming is the only thing that alerts him to their arrival. He blinks and opens his door so he can hop out, but he’s immediately frozen when he feels the head of his dick rubbing against his jeans.

So maybe next time he can buy a size up. Or find some made for men. Do they make them for men?

“Stevie?” Eddie’s voice is against his ear, sending chills down his spine as his hand ghosts between his shirt and waistband. “You sure you don’t wanna go home?”

“I’m sure,” Steve shivers.

“We won’t stay for long,” he promises.

Steve just nods.

He does what he’s supposed to at these things: makes smalltalk with people he doesn’t know that well, hangs around Eddie and Robin as much as possible, smiles and laughs when appropriate.

But his brain is gone.

Well, it’s there, but it’s made of lace and the sweat beading at his brow despite the fall chill.

He doesn’t know how long they’ve been here, but he thinks he’s gonna have to go soon.

Eddie’s fingers grasp his forearm.

“Steve.”

Steve looks at him.

Eddie knows.

His face is flush and his pupils are huge, looks like he would bite a bruise into Steve’s neck right now, in front of all these people.

“Van. Now.”

The van is surrounded by cars. Empty cars, but still cars that belong to people.

Steve should probably just explain what’s going on, and then maybe they could just go back to Steve’s house and never bring this up ever again.

But he doesn’t. He knows they’re about to fuck in Eddie’s van, and he knows everyone at this gathering is busy, and he thinks maybe this will be the night that someone finds out exactly what Steve and Eddie are to each other.

Eddie doesn’t let go of his arm as they walk, which puts them both at a strange angle. No one seems to notice, but Steve’s not sure he’d be aware of anyone looking their way at this point. His brain is fuzzy, and all he can think about is Eddie stripping him down to the lace barely covering him in the back of his van.

No one is near the cars when Eddie opens the backdoor of his van and gently nudges Steve inside. No one is there to see the way Eddie watches him fall face first on the blanket he keeps laid out, barely holding back a groan at the way Steve’s ass is up in the air, taunting him even while fully clothed. No one except Steve feels his heartbeat racing as Eddie closes the door and grips his calf.

“You’ve been on edge all night. I was starting to worry you were sick or I’d pissed you off, but it’s not either of those things, is it?” Eddie leans over Steve’s back, bracketing him in until he has no choice but to fall flat against the blanket. “You wanna be fucked.”

Steve whines.

“But why? You knew we’d go to your house later. You knew I’d take care of you. So why are you acting like this?” Eddie continues, breath hot against Steve’s neck.

His hand ghosts under Steve’s shirt, fingers trailing against his skin and leaving goosebumps along the way.

Steve’s breath catches when he feels Eddie’s touch pause against the line of lace across his back.

“Stevie. What’s this?” Eddie sounds much calmer than he probably is.

“It’s a…bra. It’s a bra.”

Eddie’s forehead falls to Steve’s shoulder blade, and he lets out a huff. It may be a laugh or it may be a sigh, or it may be anything else.

“I don’t know what the hell I did to deserve you, sweetheart.”

His lips are soft against Steve’s neck.

Steve melts further into the blanket, but can’t completely relax until Eddie’s seen– or felt– everything.

“Um, there’s more,” he says as he starts to turn over so he can face Eddie. “And it might be a little weird and it might not even look good anymore because I’ve been hard for most of the night, but-”

Eddie silences him with a kiss to his lips, the taste of the last cigarette he smoked still on his tongue.

He keeps kissing him, even when Steve moans and bucks his hips up, seeking friction that’s easily found. His hand traces the waistband of Steve’s jeans, a fingertip dipping just past the denim to find what Steve’s been hiding.

“Oh.”

Steve smiles nervously. He knows Eddie would never make him feel bad, even if he didn’t happen to like the lingerie, but he’s still nervous. He still wants Eddie to like it, to like the way he fills them out, to like him.

“Can I see?” Eddie asks, eyes wide with awe and cheeks blushing the same pink as Steve’s panties.

Steve nods because he doesn’t think he’ll sound confident if he says anything out loud.

Eddie slides his pants off quickly, but his hands are gentle, almost reverent in the way they glide across Steve’s thighs.

He doesn’t say anything, just gestures for Steve to sit up so he can pull off his shirt.

When Steve’s been stripped down to only pink lace, he’s warm and anxious.

Eddie’s eyes don’t know where to go, zipping from his nipples barely visible through the thick floral pattern covering them down to the see-through wetness of his cock leaking through the thin material. Steve waits for him to say something, can’t interrupt whatever thoughts he’s having right now.

“You look beautiful, Stevie.”

It settles something in him, some last nerves that he knew wouldn’t go away without Eddie’s confirmation that this wasn’t a waste of time or money.

“I do?”

Eddie’s palm cups his cock through the panties. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. When did you get these?”

Steve shrugs because he doesn’t really remember anymore, and even if he did, it’s not important. What matters is that Eddie fucks him while he wears them, and that he goes to buy more on his next trip into the city.

It’s softer than Steve expected.

Eddie’s taking it slow, touching him everywhere, letting his fingers trace the patterns of the lace and smiling when Steve shivers under his attention. He seems mesmerized and Steve feels adored, loved.

Usually, Steve prefers feeling Eddie’s skin against his, but the way his clothed cock brushes against the lace panties, and the way his chest rubs against the bra, it’s a constant reminder that Steve did this to feel nice and for Eddie to look at him.

“Fuck me,” Steve whispers against his lips when he feels his stomach tighten. “Please fuck me.”

“Here? You sure you don’t want me to just suck you off?”

Steve thinks about the people crowded near the coolers and picnic tables not too far away.

“Yeah, here. I need you.”

He knows Eddie can’t resist that.

Now, Eddie’s quick, but no less gentle, as he opens Steve up on his fingers. The lube he keeps in the van is finally getting some use.

Steve arches into it, sighing out the pleasure Eddie gives, keeping as quiet as possible in case someone decides to come back to their car before they finish.

He’s got panties pushed to the side, his precum dribbling onto his stomach, and Eddie’s raspy voice in his ear telling him everything he’s gonna do to him when they’re home. Steve can get off with just this, has gotten off to this before.

“You ready?” Eddie finally asks him, pulling his fingers out so he can wipe them off and get his own pants pulled down.

“Been ready. Could’ve fucked me ten minutes ago,” Steve replies with a smirk.

His head is fuzzy, but the knowledge that they could be caught keeps him present, keeps him aware of everything happening in a way he knows he wouldn’t be if they were in the privacy of his room.

“I don’t like your tone,” Eddie jokes as he lines himself up, pushing the lace further out of the way. “I don’t wanna hurt you. You’re too soft for that tonight.”

“Someone’s feeling sappy,” Steve gasps as Eddie enters him slowly. He lifts his head to watch as Eddie bottoms out, his cock rubbing against the side of the panties. “Fuck.”

“That’s what I’m trying to do.” Eddie groans. “You feel so good. You look so good. I wanna eat you out when we get home.”

Steve nods as his hands grip the blankets. “Yeah. I have a-” Steve whines as Eddie shifts slightly, changing the angle so he brushes against Steve’s prostate. “I have a plug.”

“How the hell did you sneak that in here?”

“Yesterday when you were in the shower,” Steve laughs breathlessly. “Fuck, Eds. So good.”

Eddie is focused now, on not coming or coming, Steve can’t be sure.

“God, you have to wear these all the time,” Eddie groans as his hand creeps up to his chest, thumb rubbing against one of Steve’s nipples. “I want you in every color. Wanna see you in red, and blue, and black, and fuckin’-- what other colors are there?”

Steve giggles. “Purple…yellow…fuck.”

Steve’s gonna come and Eddie’s gonna follow right behind him, he can tell. Eddie’s thrusts are erratic but accurate, always hitting the spot that makes black spots appear in the corner of Steve’s vision and his limbs tingle with warmth and sunshine.

“You’re so good to me, fuck, Stevie. I love you,” Eddie squeezes his thigh as he parts his legs further. “You’re mine.”

“Yours. Yours,” Steve’s head falls back as he shakes through one of the most intense orgasms he’s ever had. He can’t catch his breath, and he feels overstimulated within seconds. “Eddie, need you.”

Eddie always gives him what he needs.

They’re both coming down still when someone bangs on the back door of the van. Steve sits up so quickly, he almost breaks Eddie’s nose.

“Yeah!” Steve yells, pushing Eddie off of him, barely containing a whimper when his cock is no longer filling him.

“If you two wanna get dressed before people start heading to their cars, now would be a good time!” Robin whisper-yells against the door.

“Got it!” Steve yells back, already trying to slide his pants back on despite the mess on his stomach and dripping from his hole.

Eddie places his hands on Steve’s, making him pause for a moment.

“Did you do this for me or for you?” He asks, suddenly shy.

Steve couldn’t help feeling a little proud of the fact that he was maybe the only person Eddie Munson ever got shy around.

“I did it for both of us. And I promise I’ll do it again if you let me get dressed so we don’t get caught.”

Eddie beams at him, kisses his cheek, and starts to pull his own pants back up, wincing when his boxers cling to his sensitive and wet dick.

“We’ve gotta plan better for these things,” he complains.

“I planned just fine.”

“The plug!” Eddie’s eyes widen in panic. “Where is it?”

“We don’t have time,” Steve groans, but he looks over his shoulder at the bag he keeps behind the passenger seat. It’s mostly full of snacks and Tylenol, sometimes a change of clothes if he knows he’s staying with Eddie. Last night he managed to get a plug in there. “Okay! Okay, fine. Just, go start the car.”

Eddie claps his hands together excitedly and grins. “As you wish, my liege.”

Steve rolls his eyes fondly. He reaches down to ease the plug in, biting back a whimper at the soreness he feels. They weren’t even rough tonight, couldn’t be, yet Steve feels like they just went for three rounds.

“If it hurts, don’t do it, sweetheart,” Eddie says from the driver’s seat.

“No, it’s good. I’m good,” he says as he pulls his pants up and slips his shirt on.

Eddie glances over his shoulder and frowns.

“Why the face?” Steve asks.

“I can’t see the lace.”

“Eddie…”

“I know! But I’m speeding on the way home.”

Steve slides into the passenger seat and looks out the window to make sure no one is directly next to them. When he doesn’t see anyone except Robin walking back towards the party, he leans over to kiss Eddie’s cheek.

“Thank you for letting me try something new.”

Eddie blinks over at him. “Thank me? Thank you. Holy shit, Steve. You’ve never been hotter than you are right now.”

“Okay, okay. Drive us home so I can ride you.”

“Fuck. Okay.” Eddie puts both hands on the steering wheel. “Focus, Eddie.”

“You’re such a dork,” Steve laughs.

“I’m living my dream right now.”

Steve can’t agree more.

[shawtuzi]

this one’s for you anon <33

this is 18+ so mdni thank yew

“oh….wow….”

you were absolutely speechless at the sight between your legs—suguru holding satoru by the hairs at the nape of his neck in a heated….kiss???

you knew nothing good could come out of more than half a bottle of d’usse and two blunts, hence why the two of them were between your legs once again, taking turns obscenely slurping at your pussy—but something felt different this time.

the first time they ate you out, yes their tongues were in close proximity but they never exactly touched. this time around though, they had no problem tonguing at your clit at the same time, moaning in unison as they made out with your pussy and boarder line each other but not quite. until geto abruptly stopped and pulled gojo in for a bruising kiss.

“really? in front of her??” satoru giggled, laughing even harder when geto shoved him away, wiping your essence and the salvia from the kiss from his puffy lips. suguru kissed his teeth, “let’s not act like you weren’t trying to shove your tongue down my throat a minute ago,” he said referring to gojo purposely brushing his tongue against his while they were going down on you.

satoru’s eyes flicked over to you, a smirk tugging at his lips. “look at her,” he chuckled nodding his head towards you, “babies at a loss of words.”

“well i mean how could i not be i just saw you two kiss—with a lot of tongue mind you!” you knew the two boys were very close and had a knack of sharing their women but this was very unexpected, just how far did things go between them??

“him giving me head is as far as it’s ever gone,” suguru said, breaking you out of your thoughts. he continued, “when spend copious amounts of time with someone you begin to get curious about things…didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable if we did—”

“no no!” you squealed, shaking your head. you sat up to get a better look at them, “i’m not uncomfortable i just wasn’t expecting that is all,” you giggled, giving suguru’s arm a comforting squeeze. you leant over and grabbed a roach from the coffee table, now getting comfortable on the couch, confusing the two men kneeling before you.

you sparked the blunt, a mischievous glint swirling in your eyes. “did you like it?” you asked taking a hit of the blunt. geto’s cheeks immediately tinted pink, he cleared his throat before answering, “yeah it was pretty good.”

gojo scoffed, “‘pretty good’ yeah right. you were immobile by the time i was done with you.”

you couldn’t help the laugh that slipped past your lips—the image of suguru geto sprawled out, breathless, and unable to move because of some head from gojo had you a little tickled….and kinda turned on.

“y/n are you okay? your smile is kinda creeping me out,” geto’s words fell on deaf ears, your mind too preoccupied with the best fucking idea you’ve ever had. “i have an idea, a really good one—suguru take off your pants.”

“huh???”

“yesssss!”

“please be quiet satoru.”

and that my friends is how geto ended up swapping places with you, sweatpants around his ankles, eyes rolled into the back of his skull while you and gojo both slurped at the tip of his dick.

“do you like it sugu? you aren’t even looking at us,” you pouted, cupping his balls in your hand, giving them a semi-rough squeeze. suguru’s mouth dropped open, his chest now heaving up and down rapidly.

“i c-can’t look—fuck! i can’t or i’ll cum i can’t i can’t i can’t,” his voice was shaky with every word it was too cute. you’ve never seen him in such a state—it made you kinda jealous gojo got to see him like this whenever he pleased.

“open your eyes suguru c’monnn,” satoru snickered, squeezing suguru’s tip so perfectly it had his toes curling. geto’s eyes suddenly popped open when he felt sloppy kisses against his thick thighs, he gritted his teeth, grabbing gojo by his white locks.

“don’t. do. that.” suguru panted, the urge to cum becoming unbearable. gojo cocked his head to the side, he licked his lips, humming at the salty yet sweet taste that was suguru geto. “what? you don’t want y/n to know how sensitive your thighs are—hmph!” satoru was interrupted by geto shoving his dick in his mouth, a low rumble emitting from his chest.

“thas’ more like it….c’mere baby,” suguru patted the spot on the couch next to him, his other hand still holding gojo’s hair in a tight grip. you were quick to hop on the couch, immediately smashing your lips against geto’s. geto moaned into the kiss, his arm finding purchase around your waist to pull you closer.

you ran your hand down suguru’s chiseled chest, satisfied by the little whimper that slipped past his lips when you began to tweak at his nipples. his hips bucked up making satoru gag, but it was certainly nothing he couldn’t handle. geto’s hand snaked down to your soaked center, he wasted no time plunging two fingers inside, his thumb making quick work rubbing tight circles on your clit.

the three of you stayed like this for a while—suguru sloppily fingering your dripping cunt, meanwhile satoru deep throated sugu’s dick like his life depended on it. “i’m!—i’m cumming!” your pussy clenched around geto’s fingers like a vice, your body slumping against his.

geto still held you close, roughly pumping his fingers in and out in and out until your thighs were soaked and you were pushing him away with whatever strength you had left. gojo pulled off geto’s dick with a lewd pop! “mmm that was hot y/n,” he smiled up at you, running his big hand over your trembling thigh.

“think you can help me finish him off?”

you’ve never been knocked out of your post nut clarity so quick. you didn’t even bother responding, hopping off the couch and onto the floor once more between suguru’s thighs.

man did he look so good right now. his hair that was once in a bun was completely disheveled, strands of jet black hair out in every direction. his chest was covered in a thin sheen of sweat, along with his face that was also a couple shades redder than when you first started. his muscles were bulging out due to him having the couch cushions in a death grip. yeah he looked delicious.

“ah shit,” suguru hissed when felt two hot tongues begin to caress his weeping tip. you suddenly felt a heavy hand rest on your head, turning it ever so slightly to the side until you were practically locking lips with gojo, suguru’s twitching dick still in the middle. geto let out a low whistle, patting your head gently, “what a fucking sight—ah! this is mmm fuck.”

geto’s praise had you both preening, now making it your mission to make him cum. you swirled your tongue down sugu’s dick to his balls, sucking one into your mouth. you ran your hand over geto’s trembling thigh gently before digging your nails into the soft skin, you dragged your nails down, leaving red streaks trailing behind.

“f-fuck shit—okay m’cumming m’cummingggg,” suguru threw his head back, moaning so loudly and pathetically it had your thighs clenching with need once more. milky white spurts dribbled from his cock and you and satoru slurped up every bit, the feeling of both your tongues lapping at his tip nearly driving him into overstimulation.

gojo gripped you by your cheeks, pulling you in for a nasty kiss full of tongue and clashing teeth. “that was good yeah?” he smirked, wiping spit from your bottom lip. you nodded slowly, mind a daze from what had just happened. gojo chuckled giving you another kiss, which you happily returned.

“doesn’t the guy who just got his soul sucked out deserve a kiss too?”

you both turned your heads to look up a breathless suguru, his bottom lip poking out just the slightest. you climbed on the couch, satoru following suit before leaning in to give geto exactly what he asked for.

you’d never been in a three way kiss before but it was definitely something. the three of you took turns sloppily exchanging kisses, and you definitely didn’t miss the way suguru palmed at satoru’s erection, making him whimper into the kiss.

“need some help?” you asked, breaking away from the heated kiss. gojo being the shameless man he was nodded with a pathetic ‘pleaseeee’.

“what do you say sugu?” you purred, looking up at him with the best doe eyes you could give. suguru looked at the both of your before letting out a dramatic sigh, “i guess—”

“YES! REJOICE!!!” satoru jumped up, quickly removing his pants, freeing his aching dick from its confinements. he cackled at the look on suguru’s face,“don’t worry i’ll go easy on you sweetheart,” he giggled patting his cheek.

what on earth had geto gotten himself into???

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

When you point out how neurodiversity affects whole areas of the brain, not just what we see as the presentation symptoms, it seems so obvious. I've known that many neurodivergent conditions have high rate of co-morbidities, but haven't thought about what that would mean. I really liked your explanation of what else dyslexia affects, it made me recategorise some of my sister's mom behaviours. I see time blindness, some executive dysfunction, organisation difficulties and go, yup, I've got that too, it's normal, and forget that most people don't struggle with that (I've suspected I have undiagnosed ADHD for years, but never got checked for it, since I suggested it my dad freaked out, insisting there was nothing wrong with me. I really should though)

May I ask how your synaesthesia manifests for you? I'm always curious about how neurodiversity manifests in people and how it affects them, because there are so many minor and major things not talked about. I apologise if that question makes you uncomfortable, you don't have yo answer it.

Anyway, thank you for your explanation! It made a lot of things click all at once for me.

If you want lots of examples of how my synaesthesia works, I have a tag you could trawl here. But, I have a few different types; the common numbers-have-colours one, but I also get textures and sensations and feelings, and about... literally everything. Numbers, words, people's voices, names, personalities, the plots of media, images, everything.

Soooo, yeah. Sensory overload is the big impact; trial and error over the years has shown me it's primarily auditory, so if I can wear earplugs I can cope for longer in 'busy' environments. The other thing is that it really does a number on my mathematical ability, though, because, I shit you not, the colours get in the way. When I was a small child I was shown that 3 + 5 = 8, and my brain went "Yes, orange + pink = brown, got it" and ever since then if I see a 3 and a 5 together in a sum it DOES NOT MATTER what the operator is, I immediately assume the answer is 8. 3 plus 5? 8. 3 minus 5? Also 8. 3 times 5? Buddy you'll never guess. But it's 8.

It takes conscious effort not to do this T_T

The other thing is that I really, REALLY suffer from this thing where someone goes "Hey, we should watch Program X" but the problem is, you see, the problem is, I cannot stand the sensation I get from the name Program X, and therefore I will not watch it out of disgust that is totally unrelated to the actual show. This applies to all media, places, human beings, etc. (It is obviously a thing I have to be careful of when it's human beings.)

I think everything else I have is ADHD-related though, so that's probably everything I can put down to the synaesthesia.

[biting-miguel-ohara]

Heat - Logan Howlett x ftm!Reader x Wade Wilson

A/N: Made myself blush while writing this 🤭 It’s the second longest story I’ve posted on this blog and most of it’s just filth, so I hope you all enjoy. Please let me know if I missed a warning! I know it’s a big chunk of them, but there’s a lot in this fic!

As always, don’t read if the warnings make you uncomfortable!!!

Written for this request

CW: Reader is a dog mutant; explicit sexual content; smut; humping pillows; Reader is in heat; Reader has canine characteristics; mentions of biting; Reader’s arousal is referred to as slick; Reader’s parts are called dick and hole; fingering; desperation; grinding; cursing; more humping; Logan, Wade, and Reader are all dating each other; Reader is called handsome, baby, baby boy, slut, pup, puppy, mutt, dog, and honeybunches; degradation; mentions of breeding; Logan and Wade are referred to as Reader’s owners; mention of pre-established rules; oral sex (Reader receiving); overstimulation; Wade and Logan kiss; kissing; talk of blowjobs; crying; crying during sex; makeshift collar and leash; mild asphyxiation?; spanking; blowjobs; this position has a name, I just don’t know it; rough sex; mild throatfucking; PiV sex, I guess; dacryphilia?; Logan pushes his cum back inside Reader; cuddling; ‘I love you’s

2607 words

They’d left on a mission. They’d left you to go on a mission.

Well, really, you’d asked them to stay but refused to give a reason out of embarrassment, so they’d left. Promising they’d be back soon, but they’d still left.

And now here you were, rutting against Wade’s pillow like the damn dog you are.

It’s not really your fault. It’s part of your mutation. With your dog ears and tail and enhanced senses comes heats and possessiveness and biting.

Which is why you’re rutting against Wade’s pillow, as Logan’s has been turned into a pile of fabric scraps and stuffing. But it’s not really your fault. It just sorta… happened.

You growl softly and rub your aching parts harder against the pillow. It’s soaking wet, the fabric sticky with your slick. Burying Wade’s scent under yours.

Part of you likes the fact you’re marking his stuff with your scent. The other part of you just misses Wade and Logan.

The thought of your boyfriends has your dick pulsing with need. With a snarl you toss the pillow aside. It’s not enough. It’s never enough.

Getting off without them just isn’t satisfying anymore. Not when you know how Wade’s fingers feel stuffed inside you. Or how Logan’s dick feels when he’s bullying it ruthlessly into your hole.

You whine and pant, fingers snaking down to stuff themselves into your hole to relieve the aching need even just a little. It only makes it worse. You know it’s not them. Still, you fuck yourself with your hand, desperate for some relief.

You hear the front door open and you’re on your feet in an instant. You can hear Wade’s voice and you follow it like a beacon.

“Phew! It reeks of sex in here!” His mask is off. He turns around and spots you. “Hey, there, handsome—“

You pounce on him. Whining and whimpering as you rub your dick against his thigh. Hugging him tightly even as you hump his leg, tail wagging frantically behind you. Wade seems too stunned to comment for a moment.

There’s a low chuckle behind you. “Needy fucking thing. Bet he’s the reason our apartment stinks.”

You groan, hole clenching just from his voice. “Logan…!”

Wade finds his voice. “Goddamn, baby boy! Were you this needy the whole time?”

“Yes!” Your voice comes out as a whimper. “I needed you and you left!”

“Aww.” The two men coo in unison, Logan’s more mocking than Wade’s.

You bury your face against Wade’s shoulder and try your best to not tear up. Your dick is painfully achy, your hole clenching desperately around nothing. You need them so bad it makes your whole body hot.

“Please,” you whine. “Please, Wade! I need you so bad! Need your big fat cock stuffed in my hole.”

Wade groans and you can feel him thick and hard against your thigh. “Baby boy—“

Hands grip your waist, pulling you off and denying you the friction you crave. You sob at the loss.

“So needy,” Logan scoffs. “You’re like a damn pup in heat. Begging for our cocks like a slut.”

Slick gushes down your thighs. Drips onto the floor. You’re not even embarrassed about it anymore, so turned on you swear you could cum from Logan’s voice alone. You can feel your tail wagging so fast it hurts a bit.

Wade squeals with delight. “Look at him! I think he likes that!”

“Of course he does.” Logan holds you firmly against him, his hand trailing down to grip your wet thigh. “Dog’s practically begging us to breed him.”

The thought makes you moan, all breathy and desperate. You frantically wiggle and squirm, trying so hard to get his fingers just that little bit higher. You’re delirious for his touch, your whines and moans flowing freely.

“Please, please, please, please!” You beg, even as Logan slaps your thigh.

“Calm the fuck down, pup. I’m not fucking you here in the kitchen.”

You blindly turn for the bedroom. Wade laughs. “Come on, Wolvie. Look at the poor guy. He’s practically cock-dumb and we haven’t even done anything to him yet. Poor baby needs some love.”

Logan mutters something under his breath, but lets you go. You take one eager step, tail wagging, and almost topple over. Both men laugh, Wade catching you before you fall.

“Look at him,” Logan sneers. “Damn pup can’t even walk without his owners.”

Hands grip your hips again, keeping you up as he half-carries you to the bedroom.

He stops when he gets to the door. “What the hell?”

Wade pops up behind him. “Oooh, you’ve been a bad puppy, haven’t you?”

You moan again. You can’t help yourself. Not with Logan’s hands against your waist and his chest to your back. You shift to grind your ass against his front. His hold on you tightens instantly.

“On the bed,” he orders, shoving you forward. “Bad dogs don’t get rewards.”

You collapse on the bed, squirming and shifting until you’re comfortable. Then you roll onto your back and bring your knees to your chest. Exposing your dripping hole and throbbing dick to them.

Their reaction is immediate. Wade groans and Logan growls. They both move forward, gazes fixed hungrily on you.

“Look at you,” Wade coos mockingly. “I’ve never seen you this wet before.”

“… you really are in heat, aren’t you?” Logan grips your thigh, pressing your leg further into your chest to expose your hole even better. You whine and clench around nothing, the feeling almost painful at this point.

Both men groan.

Wade reaches out, as if to finally give you the love you need.

Your tail gives a few excited wags. “Please!”

He drags his fingers through your slick, teasing your hole and circling your dick. You sob at the feeling, bucking up frantically at the touch.

Logan growls and pins your hips down, forcing you to take what Wade gives you. “This ain’t a reward, handsome. You take what we give and you behave. You’ve already ruined our damn pillows. You don’t get to dictate how this goes.”

Tears leak from your eyes as you nod.

Wade chuckles softly. “So mean, Wolvie. You gonna be mean enough to let me fuck him today, or—“

“Fuck off,” Logan growls, pushing Wade’s head towards you. “Shut up and eat him out. You know the damn rules, idiot.”

Wade just laughs and kneels at the edge of the bed. He pulls you to him effortlessly, smearing more slick across the sheets. You’re positively drenched by the time his mouth meets your body.

He laps at your dick, swirling his tongue around it and sucking on it. Making you cry out and squirm against Logan’s hold on you. He’s still pinning you down, and it’s agony to not be able to chase your pleasure.

Wade grins against you, lowering his head a little to lap at your hole. Slurping up your slick like it’s his meal. Tonguing at your hole in a way that makes you sob.

You’re really crying now. Logan just smirks at you. “Look at you. Crying when you’re getting what you wanted. You’re a pathetic little slut.”

All that comes out of your mouth is a broken moan. Both men chuckle. Wade starts fucking your hole with his tongue, practically rubbing his nose against your dick. Your body arches with pleasure, your orgasm slamming into you out of nowhere.

Wade doesn’t let up, not until you’re pleading and sobbing and begging from the overstimulation. Then he finally pulls back, his face covered in your slick. Logan pulls him in for a kiss.

You pant for breath on the bed, dick aching with overstimulation. But you clench around nothing at the sight of your boyfriends kissing. You groan at the feeling of emptiness, whimpering softly.

They turn to you again. “Damn dog,” Logan mutters. “Can’t even let us have a kiss in peace.”

His hand moves to his belt and your tail thumps a few times on the bed. He smirks. “So eager. Bet you’d suck me right off if I asked.”

The thought has your mouth watering. Just the mental image of his thick cock thrusting in and out of your mouth has you moaning.

Wade grins. “Oh, he likes that idea.”

“You want that, mutt?” Logan starts to undo his belt, tugging it out from his belt loops. “Bet you’d slobber all over it. Make me cum down that hot throat of yours.”

You whine as your body again clenches around nothing. It hurts, the feeling of emptiness growing.

Logan gestures for you to sit up and you obey. You wipe the salty remnants of tears from your eyes, giving him a pathetic look.

Logan grins viciously and loops the belt around your neck. Sliding it through the buckle and notching it just the barest bit too tight around your throat. He gives it a tug, chuckling at the way you groan.

“Back on the bed,” he orders. “You’re gonna suck Wade off, nice and slow while I fuck your greedy little hole. Alright?”

You nod and he tugs harder on the makeshift leash. “Alright?”

“Yes!” It’s just a bit difficult to breathe, but you obey anyway. Scrambling to get on your hands and knees as Wade clambers onto the bed, stripped naked. You settle yourself between his legs, ass up in the air.

You barely have time to prepare yourself before Logan’s hand comes down on your ass. You yelp, tears springing to your eyes at the sting. Wade tilts your head up, one hand stroking his cock.

“You ready, baby boy?” He coos. Your eyes fixate on a bead of precum pooling at the tip of his cock.

You nod and Logan smacks your ass again. “Words, mutt. Or bark if you’re too dumb for that.”

The degradation makes you whine, heat creeping up your cheeks. You swallow past the saliva in your mouth. “Yes, sir.”

Wade smirks. “Good boy.”

He guides your head to his cock, letting you take the lead from there. You suckle the tip into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the head and tasting the precum. You can only lower your head so much; thanks to the makeshift collar and leash around your throat.

But you make due with what you can, arching your back as Logan runs his hands along your thighs.

“You’re a mess,” he says, letting his thumb brush against your hole. You clench automatically, a whine spilling out your throat. Wade groans at the feeling, thrusting up into your mouth.

You gag on his cock at the same time Logan slaps his cock against your hole. Nudging the tip against your dick. A moan is forced out of you, easing Wade’s cock further into your mouth.

“Fuck, baby boy,” Wade gasps. “Gonna make me blow too soon if you keep that up.”

You pull back, letting out a whine. Logan notches the tip of his dick against your hole, putting a little bit of pressure behind it. “Don’t you fucking stop, mutt.”

You take Wade’s dick back into your mouth, moaning around his thick length. He groans and thrusts into your mouth, right as Logan pushes his cock into your hole. Burying himself all the way in one go.

You choke, tears springing to your eyes at the sudden, delicious feeling of fullness. At the drag of Logan’s cock as he thrusts in and out of your hole. At the way his tip bruises against that one spot inside you.

“Fuck, your hole’s so tight,” he grunts. Gripping your hips to start up a bruising pace. You suck Wade’s cock as best you can, moaning and whining around it.

Wade moans with you, thrusting into your mouth and inching deeper and deeper until you’ve taken as much of him as your makeshift collar will allow you too.

It’s tight around your throat, Logan’s grip on the end of it unyielding. You arch your back a bit to get more leeway. The new angle makes you cry out, the vibrations of your throat sending Wade hurdling over the edge.

He cums down your throat, thick seed spilling on the back of your tongue. You swallow it all, tears streaming down your face. He pulls you off, leaning down for a kiss, only to lick the tears from your cheeks.

“Such a pretty boy,” he coos. “Such a pretty pup.”

You’d wag your tail, if the feeling of Logan thrusting hard into you didn’t suddenly make your toes curl and your back arch hard. You cry out, tension building hard in your body.

“I’m close, I’m close, I’m close!” You pant out, gripping Wade’s thighs for support. Logan only picks up the pace with a growl, muttering filthy things under his breath.

“Come on, you dumb mutt. Cum for your owners like a good boy.”

With a howl, you cum hard enough to see stars. Your ears ring and your head feels woozy. Warmth floods your lower body and you moan at the feeling.

It takes a moment for your hearing and vision to come back. Wade’s petting your head, fondling your soft ears. Logan’s still buried inside you, head pressed to your lower back.

You groan and shift a bit. Logan lifts his head. “You alright, pup?”

“Mhmm.” You’re a little too woozy to form words.

Wade unbuckles the belt around your throat and you gasp at the sudden full intake of air. You rest your head against his thigh, letting him rub his fingertips against the red marks on your throat.

Logan pulls out, making you whine from the sudden loss. He chuckles softly, scooping up the cum that spills out of you and stuffing it back into your hole. You squirm a bit, but don’t protest.

Wade pats the bed and Logan clambers on, making the mattress dip below his weight. You roll onto his chest, nuzzling your cheek against him. He pets your head, tracing a finger along your neck.

“It wasn’t too much, was it, pup?” He asks.

You shake your head. “It was perfect.”

Wade joins the cuddling, snuggling into Logan’s side. “You know, baby boy, you can always tell us when you’re in heat.” He kissed your cheek. “We love to help.”

Your face heats up and you hide against Logan’s chest. “Okay… Next time, I’ll tell you.”

“That’s a good boy.” Logan kisses the top of your head.

You preen at the praise, tail wagging behind you. For a few moments, the three of you just lie quietly.

Then Wade speaks up. “Guess we’re buying new pillows tomorrow.”

Your face warms with embarrassment. “Err… you might wanna wait for that.”

Both men look at you. “Why’s that?”

You scratch behind one of your ears. “I’m in heat. It’s not just a one day thing… At best, it’ll be all week long. And if you two have to go anywhere…”

Wade just stares at you. “All week long…” He sits up. “Baby boy, consider our schedule freed!”

You blink at him. “What?”

He grins at you. “A whole week of nothing but sex and cuddles? Honeybunches, I wouldn’t trade that opportunity for all the jobs in the world!”

Logan chuckles underneath you. “We’re prepared to help you out all you need, is what he means.”

You stare at them both, trying to fight back the slight prickle behind your eyes. “You guys… would do that for me?”

“Hell yes!”

“Damn right.”

You give each of them a long, firm kiss on the mouth. “I love you two.”

Logan grins up at you as Wade wraps his arms around you. “We love you too, pup.”

[tulliok]

we stopped watching around the later seasons and barely remember what happened in them so we're encouraging you to talk about what you dislike or want to criticize

Got asked, so here’s my abridged season 8-9 thoughts.

As someone who grew up watching the show from the beginning, I have a lot of gripes with how “friendship” is defined as a power-up or a material resource. However, it really wasn’t that big of a deal because I understand that MLP is a show targeted towards young girls that enjoy playing with toys, and the show was able to still portray realistic and educational lessons. 

The introduction of a friendship school in season 8 was a poor decision for so many reasons. Narratively, it locks our main characters into a single location, and we go from having a cast with unique occupations and storylines… to one where all six share the same responsibilities as an instructor and tackle the same lessons. Especially when some of them don’t seem like the type to enjoy teaching at all.

But the biggest issue I have is that the school validates the show’s idea that friendship is a unique resource that has to be taught, and that comes with a load of problematic implications. To get to the worst one right away, the school came packaged with a storyline about xenophobia and Equestria’s prejudice against their foreign neighbors. The coding of non-pony species in the show has always had weird racial implications (yaks and dragons being depicted as loud, unintelligent barbarians, the buffalo and Zecora representing members of real marginalized groups), but it is made even worse in this season by depicting them as people that are uneducated and need to be taught basic social skills and lessons in a foreign land. The Friendship School is literally a project designed by Twilight to spread Equestria’s idea of friendship to other countries! On top of that, they introduce what is essentially a conservative, white supremacist pony as a villain, and to beat him Twilight needs to prove that the exchange students are worthy of being taught. I really don’t think I need to explain why this is extremely weird and shouldn’t even be in the show in the first place.

I love the show because of episodes like Amending Fences, Leap of Faith, and No Second Prances—episodes that teach children that relationships aren’t big battles of morality and power but are complicated experiences that everyone has a unique response to. These experiences cannot be taught in a school with sewing lessons and apple picking and taking exams. They are also not unique to any particular community or race—that is a fact of life that most children should immediately understand. It’s extremely disheartening watching the show regress to the point where Rarity is telling a young girl that her cultural costume isn’t pretty enough and she’s dolling her up in wigs to cover her braids and giving her etiquette lessons to “fit right in." I don’t care that the moral was that she was wrong; what’s wrong is that the show even bothered making episodes like this at all. 

Season 9 concludes with a happy ending where all is well, but it isn't because the young child villain, the one character that needed friendship lessons and the grace to grow up, was turned into a garden accessory without a second thought. All while surrounded by the redeemed villains that the series arbitrarily decided were more worthy of our sympathy.

I don’t want to overwhelm anyone with my opinions and I want to be as fair as possible about what made me so uncomfortable with the show’s conclusion. I am a longtime fan, but I also care a lot about children’s media being responsible with their messaging, especially when they tackle subjects that require a great level of care, such as race and relationships. MLP (whether older fans like it or not) is ultimately a show about teaching children valuable social skills and providing moral lessons with every adventure.

I doubt this mixed messaging was intentional on the writer’s part. Rather, the last seasons were recklessly handled. To a viewer’s eyes, there isn’t a difference between these two.

[wings-of-fire-confessions]

Is it just me, or is the way WoF presents disability... actually not that bad? Don't get me wrong, it is FAR from perfect, and I would love to see better representation as the series continues! However, I'll make my case:

I think the thing people criticize the most is when Turtle mentions that he and Anemone were working on a spell to restore Starflight and Tamarin's sight. This is definitely alarming; it plays into the tired idea of disabled people needing to be "fixed." But I think people forget that Turtle and Anemone are two young children with a limited view on the world. Their mother is extremely judgemental and believes in genetic superiority 😭 They might not understand that there is nothing wrong with being disabled, and that you can happily live with a disability. We also don't know if Tamarin or Starflight even consented to the spell, so it may have never been realized anyways. I would like to see Tui properly address this in future books, though. (And if it wasn't clear, I'm not justifying Turtle and Anemone's actions; just saying that there's context here that most people don't consider).

I'm also aware that the series villainizes some of its disabled characters (Queen Scarlet, Chameleon, Queen Battlewinner, etc.) Disabled people have a long history of being villainized, so it is understandable to feel uncomfortable about this! But it's not like WoF lacks ANY positive representation. Tau, Clay, Tamarin, and Starflight are all characters who I think are really cool!! And I like Mayfly and Osprey too (even though they're minor characters). I think even Peril could count...? And a lot of her character arc is about learning to live with her firescales.

And yes, there's stuff like The Weirdling Tower... but that is EXPLICITLY treated as a bad and gross thing, so I don't get why some people use that as proof that Tui hates disabled people. Same goes for ableist characters like Burn and Scarlet (who are also EXPLICITLY presented as horrible and evil).

My biggest criticism for the way Tui writes disability is that most of her disabled characters that are considered positive representation don't play a huge role in the books. We have Starflight and Clay, but when they get their disabilities, the arc that focuses on them is close to over. It would be nice to see more disabled characters that are more involved in the story.

.

[meldingintheunderdark]

Because Halsin is a big manly man, I often see the same NSFW headcanons about him. Tbh the similar kind of masculinity and the gender roles permeating these headcanons/stories are disheartening. I completely understand we all have wildly different kinks and desires, however Halsin is so often reduced to his mouth, his hands and his dick. The rest of his body doesn’t exist. It’s so sad. He has a breeding kink, he likes oral and he gives good aftercare. Like I said: mouth, hands, dick. Aftercare isn't for him. Once again, to each their own. I get it. At the end of the day, we all enjoy Halsin differently and these headcanons aren't for me at all.

So, I'll share some of mine too!

NSFW under the cut, MDNI please.

Halsin is hairy. Back, ass, legs, arms, chest, he’s hairy everywhere. He loves to feel the fingers of his lover combing the coarse hair. He really likes when they pull gently on his wild pubes and his hairy inner thighs. Sensitive areas.

His partner grinding against one of his hairy limbs will arouse him so much. Thigh, knee, his ass or his back, he doesn’t care how odd the chosen area can be. Feeling their sex rubbing against his hairy body is always hot.

He loves to receive oral, but he melts if his partner takes care of his balls. Caressing, licking, swallowing. They’re too often ignored because, once again, hairy, but the man opens his legs in the blink of an eye the second his lover’s fingers/tongue are touching them.

Halsin has a prostate. He loves when the existence of his prostate is acknowledged. I personally headcanon that his past lovers were obsessed with his manly appearance and so rarely asked if he wanted to bottom, or even cared for his feelings because he was so big and strong. Having his prostate milked sensually makes him go bright red. It’s the care, the languid demeanor of his partner, the languorous and sultry atmosphere... If it’s combined with his breeding kink, like making him fill the bottom of a glass or commenting about the quantity and quality of his seed, he's blissed out. Yes, he’s an excellent breeder.

He blushes like a fair maiden if his lover wants to eat his ass but they never hear no.

An easy way to make him moan is to ask him to finger himself while his partner is watching. The intensity of their gaze is almost too much. He feels so desired.

A good stretch is wonderful. If his partner has a cock and likes topping, he will never make them feel like they aren’t enough. He loves their dick. A toy simply offers new opportunities to have fun and new sensations. If his partner pegs him, he’s eager to suck their fake dick too. He doesn’t care if it isn’t flesh. The eroticism is exhilarating.

If the goal is to make him stammer, his lover should ask him to sit on their face. He’s very worried. He’s also very eager.

His tits are sensitive. Pinched, bitten, caressed, covered with spit, Halsin himself is surprised by the intensity of the sensations.

Halsin doesn’t care if his lover can deep throat him. It isn’t pleasurable to make them uncomfortable. He prefers good anatomical knowledge. Halsin can come thanks to frenum stimulations only.

Halsin’s sense of smell is canonically superior. He has a big scent kink. He prefers his lover sweaty. He prefers to be sweaty. He loves to press his face against their groin and stay here. He loves to hear them inhaling his musk too.

He loves to be so aroused he feels like he’s in rut. If mushrooms can induce this altered state of mind, he’s definitely growing some. His bear side can also create this rut-like fever. Chasing his lover with his sense of smell only, remembering the scent of their skin, of their sex. Sometimes, he cannot control himself and the bear takes over. If his partner loves his wildshape too, he’s the happiest druid.

In game, biology doesn’t matter much. A character can switch between a cock and a vulva without consequences, therefore I hc the spell to change one’s genitals is very accessible. You have breasts and you want a dick for a day or the rest of your life? Here you go! End of the story. Halsin absolutely wants to have sex with a pussy at least once. He’s curious and open-minded, furthermore a clit seems like the powerhouse of pleasure. Of course he's eager to try. It’s a whole natural bush down here. If his lover is uncomfortable with a vulva/vagina, he will have his fun alone.

Halsin loves masturbation. Sometimes, he chooses to enjoy himself alone rather than with his partner. It’s healthy. Moreover, his fantasies also give him new ideas. He likes to tell them about his solo times though. He likes to hear about theirs too. Masturbating together, but not each other, is a lot of fun. He can also learn a lot about his partner’s preferences and vice versa.

Overstimulation makes him pray Silvanus. Going soft inside his lover while they’re still clenching around his spent cock is divine. If they manage to keep him inside their ass/mouth/vagina, he will likely get hard again.

He’s 350 years old. Erectile dysfunction can happen. If his partner is into his soft cock too, sex will be even better. Less pressure to perform.

Foreskin. He loves foreskin. On a clit, on a dick, he loves to watch it move back and forth, to taste it. He also loves when his partner toys with his. Sliding their tongue or their finger between his glans and his foreskin, suckling on it, pinching it... If his lover has a dick with an intact foreskin, docking is wonderful. He will still attempt to cover his partner’s clit with his foreskin though. Sex can be silly.

Halsin can totally submit. He loves it. In fact, curative BDSM can help him a lot to deal with his traumas. Master/Pet is his favorite setting.

After a scene, or just after sex, Halsin often feels very cold. The first time his lover leads aftercare, he's truly emotional. Dom/top deserve aftercare. Big, strong men deserve aftercare. He isn’t used to be pampered at all. He likes to eat honey.

[kingofthecotas]

visited sins

just after the emilia romagna press conference, pecco & marc | ~500 words

overt vs covert psychological warfare: a rosquez thesis

——

“Pecco!”

Pecco freezes, one foot in a snare, waits for Marc to catch up. He almost doesn’t want to turn around; he does.

Marc, arms folded, appraises him, face exactly as guarded as it had been in the press room. “Sorry.”

Which is absolutely fucking not what Pecco expected him to say.

“You should not be—you’re right, it’s nothing to do with you.” Marc shrugs. No expression. “Sorry.”

“Ah…” Pecco tries his best to gather himself. “It—it will keep happening, I think. They are just giving us some practice for next year.”

The granite cracks, just a little. “It’s our problem,” Marc says, plaintive. “Not yours.”

Pecco wonders if Marc hears the sound of his own voice when he says our, if he notices what it does, if it makes him want to bang his head against a wall. Maybe he rides through it. Maybe he doesn’t even realise.

That’s worse, somehow.

“It will be my problem. To them, anyway.”

“Not to me.”

“Well.” Christ. “Thank you.”

Marc nods, looks away as if he’s uncomfortable. “You really do not care?”

“I was not racing.” It’s true. True enough.

“You know what happened, though.” And that’s a challenge.

“I know what Valentino said happened.”

Conversations with Marc are always a tightrope-tread; he lets someone talk themselves into knots, nods along, lets them talk some more, and leaves knowing far more than they ever intended to let him see. He’s watching now, head tilted just the slightest amount, all sharp eyes and tight lips. He looks like he’s seeing something in Pecco that—maybe it’s the first time, maybe not, but he’s seeing it, cracking open his ribcage to stare. “So what do you think?”

It’s an easy trap, but a trap nonetheless. “I think that the truth is somewhere in the middle. Like with most things.”

“Mm.” A blink, and Pecco’s sidestepped the pitfall. “I really—I want to say thank you for the podium. I appreciate it.”

“It is not nice to hear, especially—” Pecco’s feet catch on something; the rope he’s about to hang himself with, maybe. “It was a good win. People should appreciate that.”

“I am used to it. Besides.” The word is rolled around his mouth before it’s released like a bullet. “You know why they do it.” A pause, just. “They do not like me.”

If someone found them like this—Enea, maybe, or Bez is in the next press conference—if someone would just appear and release Pecco from this death spiral he’s locked in—but that would be worse, if this was discovered. Whatever this is.

“I am me,” Marc says. “There is not a lot I can do about that.”

Fucking—Pecco doesn’t want to begin unpacking that.

“You’re not him,” Marc continues, voice soft. It’s a hammer blow. This is how he does it, how he gets back at Valentino: quietly, wide smiles, delicately uncaring words. Whispers in the ears of his disciples.

Pecco, caught in the snare, doesn’t say anything. Can’t—can’t say anything.

“But I think maybe—” and Marc looks him up and down, strips him bare, vivisects him right there in the corridor outside the press room. “You already know that, no?”

By the time Pecco has his breath back, by the time he’s gathered his insides up from their pile at his feet, Marc is gone.

[aniesvision]

𝑵𝒐𝒕 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒕𝒚𝒑𝒆 | 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝟐

𓅷𓃗 𝙽𝚒𝚌𝚔, 𝙼𝚊𝚝𝚝 𝚂𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚘𝚕𝚘 𝚡 𝙵! 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒕'𝒔 𝒑𝒐𝒗, 𝒔𝒖𝒈𝒈𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒗𝒆, 𝒌𝒊𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈

𝚊/𝚗: 𝒉𝒆𝒚𝒚 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆'𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒆𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒅 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒇𝒊𝒄, 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆'𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒈𝒐𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒐 𝒊 𝒉𝒐𝒑𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒆𝒏𝒋𝒐𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒐𝒏𝒆, 𝒆𝒏𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒉 𝒊𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒎𝒚 𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕 𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒖𝒂𝒈𝒆 ☕︎

𝚜𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒏𝒔 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝑴𝒂𝒕𝒕 𝒅𝒊𝒔𝒄𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒐𝒍𝒅 𝒕𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒕𝒔 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒉𝒊𝒎?

Matt's pov

I was scrolling through tiktok when I found that account. A few comments mentioned it, making me curious to check it out. They were so sure it was her old account, bringing up tweets about things she'd definitely say nowadays, stuff about me and my brothers when she was just a fan, it made me think of what she used to say.

I searched the name up and it popped out immediately, she didn't have a lot of followers but there were a lot of tweets. I started to read a few, not minding most of them since it was just random comments about her life or about our videos. I was about to leave the website when one of her tweets got my attention.

3rd person

Matt's eyes immediately widen at the words he is reading. He couldn't even believe his friend would say something like that about him, but the really surprising thing was that he liked it.

He continued reading some tweets, taking screenshots and finding it amusing to know how you really feel about him, or felt, he wasn't sure, those tweets were from months ago.

A few days passed and Matt still couldn't take your tweets out of his mind. He wanted to talk to you, but didn't know how he could confront you about it without it being weird or uncomfortable, so he decided to talk to Nick.

He asked Nick to ask you about that account, showing him screenshots with some of your tweets that weren't so explicit like the last one he saw, but that you still were talking about Matt. He wanted to know if things changed or not, but he wasn't sure how he'd react to any of the possible answers you could give.

And then, the next day, Nick was pissed at you, and Matt had an idea why, but he'd let his brother calm down before asking anything else.

Matt's mind was full of questions and assumptions. Your account was deleted and Matt noticed it, he went back to read more but now he couldn't. It made him even more sure Nick talked to you and he was so curious to know if Nick was pissed because you thought those things before, if it was because you still think like that, or something else entirely.

But the next day, you and Nick were fine again. He went to your apartment and left Matt wondering when he'd get any answers, his anxiety to know more was almost making him do something stupid like calling you. He didn't need to, though, Nick's text popped up at the same time Matt was about to take his desperate action.

Nick: She denied but I'm pretty sure she's still a matt girlie

Matt's pov

So what now? What the fuck do I do with this information? I'm not going to confront her about it, I shouldn't even bring this up. I shouldn't even be thinking about it. If she denied it, then maybe she doesn't feel like that anymore and Nick's just being insane, but for some strange reason I kind of want Nick to be right about it.

I put my phone down, deciding to play Fortnite and forget all about this stupid situation for a while.

3rd person

Meanwhile...

-Are you kidding me, Nick? Why would you say that? -You ask, trying to get his phone and delete the text he just sent to his brother.

-What? It's true. -He laughs, slapping your arms away.

-He's gonna think I'm into him. -You throw your arms up, rolling your eyes and making a beeline to sit next to him on the couch.

-Girl. -He tilts his head to the side, giving you a knowing look.

-I'm not into him, Nick. -You're quick to reply.

-Yeah, you're right, you're not into Matt. -Nick smiles, turning his attention back to his phone. -You're just in love with him. -He continues, laughing when you slap his arm.

-You're crazy. -You shake your head, noticing that trying to argue with him wasn't going to change anything.

You cross your arms, reach for the remote and press play on a random show to distract yourself. Gladly Nick didn't insist on the subject and changed completely the mood by showing you cute videos of babies interacting with animals and Matt was long forgotten.

Unfortunately time passes and Nick needs to go home, which means Matt is going to pick him up at your apartment. You try to ignore this fact, but Nick is way too immersed in making you confess that you like his brother. That's why he made up an excuse and asked Matt to come upstairs.

Nick locked himself in the bathroom, and just a few seconds later you heard knocks on your door. You open it just to find Matt waiting on the other side, your cheeks blushing already.

-Hey. -Matt says, giving you a small smile.

-Hi. Nick's in the bathroom. -You step aside to let him in, trying to sound as natural as possible.

Matt nods, taking a seat on your couch while you lock the door. Obviously Nick did it on purpose, he wasn't going to come out of the bathroom so soon. You sit next to Matt, cross-legged, reaching for the water bottle on the coffee table.

-So... -He starts, adjusting himself and clearing his throat. -The tweets...? -He goes straight to it, making you almost choke.

-Matt, I'm really sorry. -You set the water bottle down, turning your head to look at him, but he interrupts you.

-Do you still think like that or you're over me already? -He playfully asks, with a smirk that makes your heart beat faster.

-I'm... -You start, but you have no idea what to say. A sigh leaves your lips and he notices the turmoil in your eyes.

-I don't mind them, in fact, I kinda liked to know you liked me that much. -Matt turns his body to face you, resting his arm on top of the couch, just behind your head.

You decided to take that as a joke so as not to embarrass yourself too much. Letting go of a breathly laugh you roll your eyes, playfully pushing him.

-Shut up, I was a fan, alright? It's not the same now, I wouldn't say those things about my friends. -You furrow your eyebrows, trying to convince him.

-Are you sure? Because I think you still like me. -He raises one hand in defense, leaning slightly closer.

-I do like you, as my dearest friend. -You tilt your head to the side with a playful smile.

Although you were still nervous, it was good to know he wasn't mad at you, and the way you could talk about it so easily was a relief.

He chuckles at your response, getting even closer to you and you swore you saw his eyes flicking to your lips for a second.

-Friend, huh? -He asks, in a lower teasing voice. -That's funny, Nick told me you're into me.

Your eyes widen slightly, not expecting him to bring this up. The mask you built to hide your true feelings about this was fading away and just like that it was like he could see all your deepest secrets through your eyes.

-Nick has no clue what he's talking about. -You reply, watching nervously as he leans closer and closer to you.

-He's normally right about things, though. -Matt shrugs, tilting his head slightly like he was mocking you.

-Not this.

You two stare at each other for a second. It seemed like years were passing by, the time stopping just so you could look at him, his eyes so attentively searching for any hints of what you were thinking, his cheeks slightly pink and his lips curled up in a smirk that made him look like he knew exactly what to say, like he knew everything about you already.

-Well, that sucks, I was hoping you'd like me back.

His words echoed in your mind. Like him back? You wondered if he was still joking or if he meant it. He slowly starts to lean backward, making you even more confused.

-You like me? -You ask, confused, but sounding desperate to hear his response, to hear his assurance.

-I thought Nick told you that. -He chuckles, using his hand that was on top of the couch to brush a strand of your hair behind your ear.

-I thought he was lying. -You basically whisper, unsure of how things are going to be now.

Matt looks at you with a soft smile, caressing your cheek and pulling you so close that your noses are touching. Your breathing hitches and he notices it immediately, rubbing his thumb against your skin gently.

-He wasn't. -His voice is low but firm, wanting you to believe him.

A smile grows on your face, the situation making you giddy. It was so unreal, yet so right. He lifts your head slightly so you are looking into his eyes.

-Can I kiss you now? -He asks, and although he sounded calm, his eyes showed a certain kind of desperation.

When you nod, he quickly presses his lips against yours, cupping your cheeks as if you were going to disappear at any second. He was trying so hard to keep it slow and soft, but he waited a long time to do this. Before he even knew about the tweets, you passed through his mind a lot more than he wanted to, but knowing he had a chance he knew he had to take it.

His lips moved precisely and desperately against yours, one of his hands sliding slowly to your waist, squeezing it lightly and taking your small gasp as an opportunity to slide his tongue in and brush it against yours. It was so perfect and you two were so caught up in the kiss that neither of you heard the bathroom door open.

Matt was about to lay you down on the couch when he heard a scream. You and Matt quickly pull away from each other, turning your heads to the sound.

-I knew it! I knew it, I knew it, I knew it. -Nick yells in a singing voice.

You laugh timidly, your cheeks burning and turning extremely red, and you turn your head to the opposite side to hide it. In the meanwhile, Matt rolls his eyes, grabbing a cushion and throwing it harshly at his brother.

-Fucking idiot. -Matt sighs, annoyed, ignoring his brother's laugh and little dance.

𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒔 ✍︎

➪ @riowritesitall @mattsfavbigtitties @sturniolosarethebest @hyacinthst @flow3rsturns13 @sturncakez @watercolorskyy @delooshunalhoe @sarosfilms @blahbel668 @sturniyolo69 @sturniolosl0t @sturnsxbitvh @colbsposts00 @fallingforfalll2 @stvrnmc @starnoirr @katie-tibo @sturnioloblues @monroesturnns @mattnchrisworld @shaquilles-0atmeal @fratbrochrisgf @dayzeandhaze @sharkcat1928 @phimstarz @h3arts4harry @s1ut4chris @star-yawnznn @asherrisrandom @pip4444chris @jupiter1700

[candycandy00]

Finding Love in a Zombie Apocalypse - A JJK Interactive Romance Fanfic Round 2

Read the details about this event here!

During a zombie apocalypse, you meet a group of seven handsome men. Which one will you choose to be your survival/romantic partner?

Vote for the man you want to be eliminated! The man with the most votes will not be killed off in the story, but he will be removed from all future polls and his branching story will be closed off!

Reminder: Vote for the man you DO NOT want to survive with! You are voting someone OUT!

For the first two rounds, I’m not naming the men. You can probably figure out who is who, but that’s part of the fun! I’m doing it this way to encourage readers to vote based on the scenario rather than just automatically voting out their least fave character. Feel free to make guesses about who each man is!

In Round 1, Man #1, Choso, was eliminated!

Dividers by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more!

You’ve decided to stick with this group for the time being. They’re a nice mix of strong, smart, and caring. None of them come across as creepy or make you uncomfortable, which is saying a lot considering it’s a group made up entirely of men relatively close to your age. 

You spend the evening gathering what supplies you need into a duffel bag you found in the store’s rather scant sporting goods section. At night, one of them insisted you sleep in the stock room and keep the key until morning. He really was very considerate, and none of the others objected. 

The next day, someone makes coffee in the break room. You don’t know which one did it, but it’s the first cup you’ve had in over a week and tastes delicious. With foam cup in hand, you walk over to the front entrance to check the situation outside, only to find the man who called out to you yesterday keeping watch.

Man #1: Choso (Eliminated in Round 1)

He’s standing near the door, slightly to the side, still as a statue until you approach. 

“Want me to bring you some coffee?” you ask, taking a sip from your cup. 

He smiles at you. “Thanks, but I had some already.”

You gesture toward the entrance. “Anything new going on out there?”

“No, just a dozen or so zombies roaming around,” he replies. “They come close to the door sometimes, but with these tinted windows they can’t see much of what’s inside.”

You hadn’t realized they were tinted until he mentioned it, but you suppose that’s why everything looks so dreary outside. 

As you stare out the window, you notice something in the distance. You squint your eyes, trying to make out if it’s just another zombie or something else. As you watch, the figure picks up speed, breaking into a run. 

“Look! There’s someone out there!” you shout, pointing to the figure fleeing toward the store. 

The man beside you looks out through the glass door. “It’s definitely a living person!”

Behind the figure, a large group of zombies, perhaps the biggest group you’ve seen, is slowly giving chase. The figure stumbles, hits the ground, and you feel your heart race. You’ve witnessed zombie attacks before, but it’s always disturbing. And you can’t help thinking that this could easily have been you yesterday. 

You want to open the door and beckon the figure, but that’s not your call to make. You’re a guest with this group, and you don’t have the right to put their safety at risk. 

Thankfully, the kind hearted man beside you makes that choice. He flings the door open and calls out, “Hey! Run this way! To the grocery store!” 

The figure looks up, and from this distance they appear to be a young man. He scrambles to his feet and breaks into another run, a desperate dash for the store. 

You and the man both yell out to him, encouraging him to hurry and keep going. Just as he runs through the door, two zombies that must have been close to the entrance follow him in, shambling into the store.

Man #2:

Before anyone else can react, the large, imposing man who tore the zombies off you yesterday runs by you. With his bare hands he picks up the first zombie by the neck and literally throws it outside. Then he delivers a devastating punch to the second zombie’s head, knocking it clean off its shoulders. 

You yelp in surprise, having never seen someone kill a zombie in such a way before. Someone closes the door and locks it, but the herd of zombies definitely saw the young man run inside, because they’re heading straight for the store. 

Backing away from the door, you glance at the man who took care of the two zombies. “Do you think the glass will hold?”

He doesn’t seem the least bit scared. “Probably not against a horde like that.”

“What should we do?” you ask, trying not to sound panicked as the zombies close in. 

He grins. “You should run when they break in. I’ll tear the fuckers apart.”

Uncertain whether that statement is comforting or alarming, you turn to look at the newcomer. He’s a teenager, probably around sixteen, and he’s panting to catch his breath. 

You walk over to him. “Are you alright?”

He looks up at you, and his face is twisted in horror. “I’m so sorry!” he yells, tears in his eyes. “I shouldn’t have come in here!”

“It’s alright,” you tell him, reaching your hand out to pat his shoulder. “We’ll figure something out. We’ll-“

He swats your hand away. “Don’t! I… I’ve been…” his voice dies in his throat, and he pulls up the sleeve of his shirt, displaying a messy bite wound.

You inhale sharply, your heart sinking at the sight. He’s just a kid! “How long ago?” you ask. You’ve heard rumors that severing a limb with a bite will stop the spread of the virus, but it has to be done quickly. 

“Yesterday,” he answers. 

The man who fought the zombies steps up beside you. “Too long,” he says, his eyes narrowed as he looks at the wound. “We should probably throw him out. He’s no good to us.”

You look at him incredulously. “We can’t do that!”

Man #3:

The man you spoke to yesterday who seemed like a leader, who was clearly a planner, walks over. He looks at the boy, then at you. “We’ll need to discuss this,” he says. 

“Discuss what? What are the options here?” you ask him. “Let him stay or toss him out there to be eaten alive?!”

The man’s smooth expression doesn’t change. “Those aren’t the only options. We could tie him up, lock him in the break room, or even give him a quick and painless death.”

You feel your outrage subsiding. Those sound much more reasonable. You’re surprised he can think so rationally in this situation. “Okay. I’m sorry I snapped at you.”

He smiles that same charming, not-quite-genuine smile he gave you yesterday. “Don’t be. Tensions are running high, so it’s understandable. I’d worry more if you were the type to want to throw him out immediately.”

You sigh in relief, then turn toward the boy, who is still muttering apologies. “What would you like for us to do? Restrain you? Or… or make it so you don’t turn?”

The boy looks up at you. “I don’t want to turn! Please, don’t let me end up like them! I’d do it myself but I’m too scared!”

Hearing such a young man say that is heartbreaking. But you understand. If you ever get bitten, you hope someone will kill you before letting you become a zombie, doomed to roam the earth, rotting and attacking others. 

The man pulls a blade from a holster on his hip and approaches the boy. “Are you ready? Or do you need more time?”

The boy hesitates for a moment, then nods. “I’m ready. Please make it quick!”

The man pats him on the back affectionately. “You’re very brave. You can rest easy now. I’ll make sure you don’t suffer.”

The boy is staring at him, and seems comforted. “Thanks,” he says with teary eyes. 

You turn your head, unable to watch. You don’t hear a sound. No scream, not even a grunt. It really must have been painless. When you look back, the man is easing the boy’s body to the floor. He looks thoughtful, maybe a little sad. 

“I’m sorry you had to do that,” you say. 

He’s wiping his blade off on a handkerchief. “Someone has to make the tough decisions, and then carry them out.”

You start to ask why that had to be him, but you remain silent. You don’t like the way he seems to be taking all the darkness and sadness onto himself. But you have bigger things to worry about right now.

Man #4: 

The man you saw standing guard yesterday, who said he wanted to go back to the city, is staring out the windows of the store, watching the growing horde approach. He doesn’t seem scared, only annoyed, as if this is no more than a minor obstacle to his plans. 

“I’m gonna get out of here,” he says, loud enough for the others to hear. “I don’t have time to get held up.”

You look at him in shock. “You’re just going to leave the rest of us?”

He looks at you dispassionately. “A group will draw their attention a lot more than a single person. I’m not getting stuck with these guys.”

You look him up and down, at his sturdy physique. “But, we need you.”

“You ever stop to think that maybe someone else needs me?”

The question takes you aback. You have no answer for him. If he’s that desperate, if he’s willing to wade through countless zombies to get to the city, there must be someone very important to him there. 

“Can you at least wait a little while?” you ask him. “The zombies might give up and wander off if they can’t see us through the tinted windows.”

The man sighs. “Fine. I’ll see what happens.”

You look out at the horde. The first few zombies have reached the front of the store and are clawing at the windows and doors. You shudder as you watch them. You’ve never seen so many before, or so close up in a situation where you can actually get a good look at them. If one is close, you’re usually fleeing or trying to kill it. 

They’re all staring straight ahead, seemingly at nothing. Can they see their own reflections in the glass? Can they even perceive themselves? Seeing them just leaves you feeling empty and sad. 

“Do me a favor,” the man says. “If I ever get bitten, put a bullet in my fucking brain.”

You nod. “Same,” you say.

Man #5: 

The man who gave you the tip yesterday about using duck tape on your arms steps over to the windows to survey the situation. He already has his arms wrapped in a layer of the tape, over top of his sleeves. A few of the others notice, and begin wrapping their own limbs in tape or thick fabric, so you do the same. 

He steps closer to you and takes the roll of tape from your hand, then begins wrapping your forearm for you. 

“Thanks,” you tell him, hoping he can’t hear how nervous the growing horde outside is making you. 

He seems as calm as the more physically imposing men, despite having a more slender frame. “Our best option would be to bang on the glass and draw their attention to the front, then all of us slip out the back way,” he says. 

You glance toward the back of the store. “Should we check to see if they’ve circled around?”

He nods, and the two if you make your way back, through the storage area and to a large drop down gate. You assume trucks come in this way to unload merchandise. But it’s locked up tight and you can’t see anything on the other side. 

“There’s a window up there,” the man says, pointing. You have to use a step ladder to reach it, but you both climb up to look out. 

There aren’t nearly as many zombies roaming around behind the store, but there are definitely enough to be a problem. 

“I think we can make it through, but it’s going to be a challenge,” he tells you. 

You feel fear creeping up your spine. So far you’ve been able to evade most large groups of zombies, but with the store being surrounded, it’s looking like you’re going to have to wade into them. 

As the two of you return to the front, you feel your spirits sinking.

Man #6:

The man with the bright smile comes up beside you as you stare out hopelessly at the zombies gathered at the windows. 

“I’ve seen bigger hordes,” he says. 

You look up at him. “You have?”

He grins. “Sure. They’re not so bad when you realize how slow and uncoordinated they are.”

You appreciate his optimism. But you realize it’s more than that. His confidence rings true, and it makes you feel a little more hopeful. 

“So you think we can get out?” you ask. 

He nods, still smiling, then gestures to where a few of the men are standing in a small circle. “They’re planning our escape right now. We’ve got some real smart guys here, so don’t worry.”

You finally return his smile. “I hope you’re right.”

“Of course I am,” he replies. 

Just then you hear something, like tinkling glass. Both you and the man look around for the source of the noise. After a few minutes, you spot a tiny crack in the glass, right where over a dozen zombies are pressing against the windows. 

“They’re breaking the glass!” you cry, backing away. 

The man calls over to his friends, “Guys, put a rush on that brilliant plan!”

They look up and rush over to check the crack.

Man #7:

The man you met in the stock room yesterday is the first to crouch down and examine the crack in the glass. His brow is furrowed as he watches the zombies shove themselves against the window, then he turns to face the others. 

“Everyone, get whatever you need and be ready to go in ten minutes. We’ll take our chances going out the back.”

You already had your backpack ready, so you pull it onto your shoulders as the other men begin doing the same. You feel your heart racing as you prepare for the fight of your life. 

The man is securing his own pack with a strap around his waist and checking the heavy denim sleeves of the jacket he’s wearing. He seems uncomfortable in the fabric, as if it’s not something he’d normally wear, but protection is the most important thing right now. 

“What do you think our chances are?” you ask him. 

He looks around the room. “With this group? Pretty good. If we all stick to the plan,” he adds, glancing at a couple of guys in particular. Then he looks back at you. “Try to stay in the middle of us. We can protect you.”

“Thanks,” you tell him. “I guess I lucked out when I stumbled upon you guys.”

He gives you a warm smile. “I’m glad you feel that way.”

Just then, you hear glass breaking, another crack at first, and then a shattering that startles everyone in the store. Right beside you, the first zombie crashes inside, and the man grabs your arm, pulling you back behind him. 

As the zombie horde begins shambling into the store, the men around you take defensive positions and get ready to fight their way to the back.

Tag List:

@tadabzzzbee @babysoo-meu @atomicweaselpaperapricot

[yuuuhiii]

yandere themes, knife usage, mdni

a/n: I need to stop watching Dexter (*´ー｀*)

He loved you so so much. His beautiful bestfriend. You were to good for people, definitely to good for this world. In his eyes, no one was ever perfect for your time.

Nobody deserved it.

Not even him.

But he’d tell himself he was an exception since he was your bestfriend.

You were always nice and gentle to everyone that had the luck of talking to you.

But he hated.

Really hated.

When some morons could think they could have even a chance to be with you. Couldn’t they see that was his spot?

He adored the way you’d reject them, he’d like for you to be more mean but you could never do no wrong. And for the people that could ever mistreat you.

He dealt with them himself.

In the dark of the night, letting you know he’d go get you both snacks and you nodded, a kiss to his warming cheek. He feels the remnants of your lips still on his skin, even when he’s on his way to someone’s house.

It was a guy, someone who thought he could touch what was his. He stops at the end of the street, the guy walking into view.

He knows his routine, where he lives, his name and the best part, how to get in. So before the guy can even make it to his house. He’s settling in, the lights are off and a shot of adrenaline shoots through him when he hears the door unlock.

The guy walks in, unbeknownst of his presence on the couch until he turns the light on. He gasps loudly, almost tripping over his kitchen chair. He turns around from his place on the couch.

“Remember me?” He grins, standing up.

“W-What—Get the fuck out of my house!” The guy yells.

He snickers. “I asked if you remembered me.” He walks over to him. He towers over the guy, a psychotic glint in his eyes it has the guy gulping.

“N-No.” He pouts, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Let’s try to remember okay? You saw the most beautiful girl today? You had your hands all over her, making her uncomfortable right?”

The guy nods his head. “I-I didn’t know she had a boyfriend.” He laughs, squeezing the guys shoulder.

“It’s nothing like that. I’m just her bestfriend, I gotta protect her from guys like you.”

He forces the guy to sit down on his own chair. He walks over to the kitchen counter, grabbing a knife. The guy squeaks, shivering in his chair.

“She was really scared you know? It hurt me to see her like that. I never wanna see her scared. It also makes me upset because I feel like I’m not doing my job correctly. So that’s why I’m here. To finish it.” He pokes at the end of the knife.

“Y-You’re fucking crazy!”

The guy takes off in a sprint for the front door. Making your bestfriend sigh. He goes after him and the poor guy isn’t even able to open the door before he’s dragging him back from the collar of his shirt.

“Gosh you don’t have to make this hard you know.” He rubs at his forehead.

“I swear! I didn’t mean to make her uncomfortable! She’s just really pretty—” He nodded along as the guy rambled on, dragging the knife along the guys chest.

“I’ve heard this so many times. Why do you guys always try to justify your actions in the end.” He sucks at his teeth.

“You guys always end up the same either ways. Dead.”

The guys plea’s are white noise in his mind as he plunges the knife in him. It’s always in these moments he feels like something takes over and when he snaps out of it, the work is already done.

He spends some time cleaning up the body. His hands his clothes. Making it look like a murder scene. He curses at himself when he sees the missed calls from you. He dials your number and your pretty voice engulfs his ears.

“Hey, where’ve you been.” He could hear your pout across the line making him smile as he makes his way to his car.

“A lot of the convenience stores are closed so I had to go to one far from your house.” He lies through his teeth.

“Oh ok then.” You murmur and he smiles.

“I’ll be right there ok pretty?” You hum and he hangs up.

When he’s finally back with bags of snacks, you cheer.

“Finally! I missed you.” You say as you throw your arms around his neck. You go to kiss his cheek but spot something.

“Hey what is this?” You swipe your thumb over his cheek, it’s a red stain.

“Huh?” He peers down at your thumb and places the bags on the floor. He laughs and you glance at him confused.

“I might’ve had a little snack without you, it’s ketchup.” You whine and push at his chest but he picks you up, letting you squeal as he places you on your bed.

“It’s fine, I got you all your favorites ok.” He leans in, his breath fanning your lips. It makes you gasp and your eyes lid. He pecks the corner of your mouth, getting off of you and grabbing the bags.

You’re left there on your bed a flushing mess as he hums, sorting out the snacks. You chew at your lip and sit next to him.

“Hey I have a question.” He hums, still taking things out.

“H—How come you don’t kiss me?” He faces you but you’re messing with your hands.

“You’re always calling me names and treating me like your girlfriend. You even scare away guys when they come up to me. But we’re still best friends?” He hates how confused you look.

“C’mere.” He pats his lap and you move to straddle him.

“You want me to kiss you?” He tilts his head and you nod.

His lips are on yours and they’re wasting no time. They’re feverish around yours and if the tv wasn’t on you would’ve payed attention to how loud your guys lips smacked against each others. When he inserts his tongue into your mouth you let out a moan, tugging at his hair. He smiles and pulls away.

“You’ve been waiting for this huh?” You nod quickly.

“I was beginning to think you didn’t feel the same way.” You rest your face on his shoulder. He places kisses on your cheek and down to your neck.

“Oh baby, if only you knew how far I’d go for you.”

YUTA OKKOTSU, KAZUTORA HANEMIYA, HARUCHIYO SANZU, Armin Arlert, Vigilante Deku, Hirofumi Yoshida,

© yuuuhiii 24 : don’t plagiarize, translate, or post my work on other platforms

[acknowledge-reigns]

Soooo, now that all my wedding madness is over I'm catching up on everything and seeing a lot of weird ass energy towards black writers here (and Wattpad specifically was mentioned too). Honestly complaining that black women don't have much interest in reading about your yt OC is just classic entitlement. I personally do read fics written by any and all races of authors however but I do typically prefer to read about BLACK WOMEN. Why? Because I am a BLACK WOMAN. All that "he caressed her fair creamy skin" and "he ran his fingers through her hair" and "she blushed bright red" etc are NOT WRITTEN FOR US. As a writer, ALL OF MY ORIGINAL CHARACTERS ARE BLACK WOMEN AND WILL BE DESCRIBED AS SUCH!! Idgaf if that hurts your fragile little feelings, you can find your way to the block button, respectfully.

The POC that are not into your fics probably have a reason!! A lot of women in the IWC especially yt women are constantly practicing racial fetishization in regards to these specific men not to mention the other micro aggressions and stereotypes/inaccurate portrayals. "A POC didn't like my portrayal of POC character! Poor pitiful me." See how dumb that sounds? As a yt person writing about people of color it is your job and your responsibility to educate yourself before doing so and not to expect us to just grin and bare your stories that were written without a care in the world about us or the people you are writing about in mind. "It makes me insecure about writing them" Sorry to hear that. No one is saying you can't be white and write good fanfic about Roman, The Usos or any other POC. One of my closest mutuals on this app is white and writes Roman and does a really good job of being inclusive in her language and never making me feel uncomfortable in reading her work. Look inward, boo. It's a you problem, not an us problem.

And to my fellow black fic writers, drop a 🖤 in the comments or something please so I can show some love to you guys and together we might piss off an entitled bitch today 💖✌🏾

[simplygojo]

Moment on the Bench

Authors Note: This is the first bonus blurb of the The Devil He Made Me series!! This one is Gojo's POV of a scene from Chapter 6, the scene on the bench...IYKYK, lol. This can also be read on its own if, so pleaase enjoy!

Series Masterlist

Taglist: @mawhoreagaa; @peqch-pie; @blue-serendipity; @simplyyyuji; @starrnai; @sorcerersseestars; @n1vi; @angryglitterperfection ; @krak-jj; @coweringbear; @holylonelyponyeatingmacaroni; @0-m1; If you'd like to be added to the taglist, leave a comment to let me know :)

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x f!reader

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: light tensionnn

Gojo leaned back on the bench, the words that had just passed between you hanging in the cool evening air like a mist he couldn’t quite shake. His eyes, peaking over his sunglasses, were locked on yours as you sat beside him, close enough that your legs almost touched.

There was an odd tension between you, one he wasn’t used to. Usually, he could brush off anything with a joke, keep his distance emotionally, but tonight felt... different.

"Curses sense things in people," he had said, his voice softer than usual. "Sometimes for a reason, sometimes because they catch on to something we don’t even realize."

He felt a small shiver run down his spine as he heard you ask, your voice tinged with fear, "So what do you think it meant then…when it said it’s ‘almost time for me’?"

Gojo paused for a moment, staring at her. His gaze lingered longer than usual, which wasn’t like him.

The carefree glint in his eyes seemed to dull, replaced by something more intense, something he didn’t fully understand. You looked back at him, your own confusion and fear mirroring in your eyes, but Gojo couldn’t shake the strange pull he felt towards you. It was confusing.

The setting sun cast an orange glow over your face, and as he watched you, he couldn’t help but notice how vulnerable you looked—yet strong in a way he couldn’t explain. He felt something stir inside him, something unfamiliar. A feeling he couldn’t name—one he didn’t want to name.

He tilted his head toward the darkening sky, searching for words, or maybe a distraction from whatever this was. But it didn’t come. He just felt... lost.

"I wish I knew," he said after a pause, his voice quieter than usual, almost gentle. "But what I do know is that curses don’t just say things for no reason. Especially not special grades like that. Something’s up."

It bothered him—how he didn’t have all the answers, how he couldn’t brush this off with his usual cocky arrogance. It wasn’t just the curse’s cryptic message; it was the way you were looking at him, the way your fear seemed to seep into his own thoughts, twisting them, making him feel something he couldn’t quite define.

You sat beside him, and the small gap between you suddenly felt enormous, yet too close all at once. The warmth from you body made him hyperaware of your presence in a way that was both comforting and unsettling. Normally, he would’ve laughed it off, thrown in a flirty comment, but tonight…his mind was somewhere else.

“Whatever it saw in you,” he continued, trying to regain some control over the situation, “you really don’t need to worry about it—you shouldn’t worry about it at least.”

But even as he said it, Gojo could feel the weight of the words. He wanted to protect you. That’s what this was, right? Just his usual protective instinct? You was important—you had to be protected, that’s all this was. 

He told himself that over and over, but something in his chest twisted uncomfortably. It felt like a lie.

And then you snapped.

“You’re really telling me not to worry!?” Your voice was heated, frustration bubbling over. Gojo didn’t flinch, but inside, something tensed. You was right—he knew that. He’d felt it too, the way that curse had singled you out, the cryptic warning that had set his mind on edge. But more than that, he hated how hearing your voice laced with anger affected him.

He tried to respond—his mind was racing, searching for the right words, for the usual quick-witted retort he always relied on. It was his defense, his shield against anything too serious, too real. 

He was waiting for an opening, a chance to steer the conversation back to familiar ground, where he could mask everything with a smile, a tease, something lighthearted. 

But the moment you yelled his name, something inside him shifted.

It wasn’t just the sound of it, though that alone felt like a jolt straight to his core. No, it was the way you said it—so full of frustration, maybe even anger, but laced with something else he couldn’t quite place. The way you called out his name, not ‘Gojo’ like everyone else, but Satoru—it was personal. 

Intimate, in a way that startled him.

His breath caught in his throat, the sharpness of your voice slicing through his usual cool exterior. 

He’d been so used to brushing everything off, playing it safe behind that mask of nonchalance. 

But now, hearing his name like that, the walls he’d carefully built over the years felt weaker, as if you had just reached in and pulled at the strings that held them together.

“I don’t like it when you say it like that.” His voice was barely above a whisper, the sadness in his tone catching him off guard. What the hell was this? Why did it bother him so much that you said his name like that—so angry, so distant?

Your confusion mirrored his own, your frustration disappearing as you looked at him, stunned. 

“Satoru?” You said, your voice softer now, more like how you usually said it. And just hearing his name like that again sent a strange warmth through him, a feeling he didn’t know how to process.

“Yes, when you’ve said it before, you said it so nicely, so softly, it sounded so good hearing my name come from you.”

His own words surprised him, and for a moment, Gojo felt raw, exposed in a way he wasn’t used to. Vulnerability wasn’t something he dealt with. It wasn’t something he could deal with—at least, not well. He always had his humor, his arrogance, his strength to shield him. 

But now, in this moment, sitting here beside you, none of that seemed to work.

There was a long pause, the weight of his confession sinking into the silence between you. 

He felt your eyes on him, searching for something in him he wasn’t sure he could give. His pulse quickened, and Gojo, the invincible, the strongest sorcerer alive, suddenly felt small, unsure.

The space between you shrank, and though he hadn’t moved, it felt as if the air itself was pulling you closer together. He reached out before he even realized what he was doing, his hand gently resting above your knee. 

Your warmth seeped into his fingertips, grounding him in a way that felt both foreign and necessary. The moment his palm made contact, a surge of warmth radiated from your skin, grounding him in a way that felt both foreign and deeply necessary.

Your warmth wasn’t just physical—it seemed to seep into him, anchoring him in the present, something he wasn't used to.

“I’m telling you not to worry because I won’t let anything happen to you,” he said, his voice low and serious. The promise in his words felt heavier than he intended, more intimate. There was something unspoken there, something that went beyond duty or protection, but he couldn’t put a name to it. 

It scared him—how deep that feeling ran.

You looked at him, your breath catching as your eyes met again, and for a moment, it felt like the world around you disappeared, leaving just the two of you. Gojo’s heart raced, an unfamiliar sensation tightening in his chest. 

His gaze flickered down to your lips, slightly parted in an ‘o’ shape. He tried to hold your eyes—tried to keep the casual confidence intact—but his attention faltered for a split second, and his eyes dipped lower.

They lingered, just for a moment, on your lips. The briefest glance, yet it was enough to ignite something in him, a spark he hadn’t anticipated. His mind raced ahead, imagining what it would feel like to close the distance between you, to let this strange tension unfold into something real. The thought lingered longer than it should have, and his gaze snapped back up to meet yours.

But the damage was done. Now, that image was burned into his mind—what it might be like if he let himself give in, if he let the weight of this unspoken tension pull him forward. 

But then, as if sensing the line he desperately wanted to cross, you pulled away.

“Thanks for your help,” you said, your voice awkward, as if trying to erase the moment. You shifted, the connection between them breaking, as you yanked your legs away, and Gojo blinked, the intensity of the moment fading, leaving him feeling... empty.

He chuckled, his usual smirk returning to his face as he leaned back on the bench. "Right... You never have to worry when you’re around me. I’m the best the jujutsu world has to offer."

But even as the words left his mouth, they felt hollow.

But as you stood up in front of him, something about the way you looked down at him made his bravado falter just a bit. 

He didn't show it, of course—he never did. He just leaned back, his arms spread casually over the length of the bench, his gaze lazily following your movements. His eyes lingered on you—on the way the soft light from the nearby lamppost illuminated your figure, casting a gentle glow over your skin. 

You were standing so close, so pretty in front of him, and for a brief moment, he felt an odd flutter in his chest, like something shifting under the surface.

“Well, I’m gonna get going,” you said, and his gaze snapped back to your face. “Shoko says I should still be resting when I can.” 

You gestured toward the direction of the dorms, and Gojo just nodded, his usual smirk still in place. He watched you for a moment longer, letting his head tilt back slightly against the bench, trying to play it cool even as his heart felt strangely off-beat.

"Goodnight, Satoru," you said, and that’s when it hit him.

The way you said his name—soft, almost teasing, with a knowing smile—it made something in his chest go pang. It wasn’t loud, not something that would make his heart race in the usual way, but it was there. It was like a ripple spreading through calm water, disrupting the steady rhythm of his thoughts. His cocky grin faltered for the briefest moment, and he caught himself staring at you longer than he should have.

You turned, your gaze lingering on him for just a beat too long before you started walking back toward the school, and Gojo was left sitting there, arms draped casually over the bench but feeling anything but casual on the inside. 

His eyes followed you as you walked away, the echo of your voice still playing in his head.

Satoru. 

The way you said his name—it was different. There was something in it, something that tugged at him, made him want to get up and follow you. His heart, which had always felt invincible, seemed to stutter for just a moment, that odd tightness from earlier returning. 

It was subtle, but it was enough to make him wonder—enough to make him realize that you had the ability to make him feel something more than the cocky, all-powerful sorcerer he always was.

Gojo leaned back fully, forcing the grin to stay on his face as if nothing had changed. 

But as you disappeared from view, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something had changed. And for once, he wasn’t sure what to do about it.

[qveerthe0ry]

What Means to You, What Means to Me

Summary: Max Phillips changes everything. Written for @perotovar 's offering of Frith Word Count: 8,046 Pairing: Max Phillips Loki (The Trickster God of mischief and chaos) x afab! NB! Bisexual! Reader Rating: 18+ mdni Warnings: smut, talks about gender non-conformity, talks about gender dysphoria as it relates to sex, GENERAL GENDER FUCKERY Beta: My sweet angel @for-a-longlongtime of course A/N: Under the cut

Author's Note: First of all, I just want to thank Erin for putting together this writing challenge and sharing SO much about Norse Paganism. The effort you put into this, from the moodboards to educational resources is incredible. And the fact that you've shared something so close to you with all of us made this writing challenge feel like getting a warm hug <3

Second, see the author's note I wrote at the end (as to not spoil the story) if you want to know the ways Loki ingrained himself in this fic.

_

You’ve heard of this queer club before, but you’ve never been inside. You’d thought the descriptors were exaggerations, but you find out quickly that you were wrong. 

Security is tight at the door, and they ask you questions as they scan your ID that sound like small talk but are a bit more probing once you think about it. Your pockets are patted down and you walk through a metal detector before you even breach the front door. 

You’re wondering if it’s even worth all this. You’re by yourself, no one’s meeting you here, and you don’t plan on going home with anyone. 

Really, you’re just bored, in a fairly new city with no one familiar but your new co-workers to converse with; those are the last people you want to be around on a Friday night after a long work week. 

So you’re here. Are there a dozen other queer bars you could have gone to on this rainbow-lined street? Yes. But none of them really feel right. So you’re here, finally in clothes that you feel comfortable in, around people who aren’t going to make you feel uncomfortable in them. 

And its reputation precedes itself. 

Gaudy. Over-the-top. 

There’s three floors, the top two cut out to overlook the dance floor in the middle of the ground level. There’s chandeliers everywhere, far too ornate for a fucking nightclub. Candelabras litter every tabletop with flaming wax that you’re sure is a fire hazard in an establishment like this. There’s fuzzy, cozy-looking lounges and really hot people walking around serving complimentary waters on gold trays and maybe it was a mistake, coming here. 

But you’ve already been through the TSA of nightclubs, and so you might as well grab a drink while you’re here and make the uber ride home worth it. 

At least the drinks seem to be cheap. You take too long staring at the specialty cocktail names when a bartender asks how you’re doing, and end up ordering your favorite drink anyways. At least they seem nice, unlike some of the bars you’ve been to at the not-mandatory-but-suggestively-obligatory happy hours after work. 

You sit at the bar, a little intimidated by the fancy decor and skilled dancers that overwhelm the club. 

The music is unsuspecting, something soft and melodic that you only realize is live music when your eyes settle on her. 

Her fiery red hair cascades down her shoulders, igniting all the skin exposed by her backless dress. She’s sitting at the piano in the middle of the dancefloor, obscured by couples and others dancing around her. 

She’s everything. The most gorgeous woman you’ve ever laid your eyes on. Her nose is strong and her jawline juts and contrasts with those soft brown eyes. You’re yearning before you can even realize it, a kind of consumption that leaves you breathing heavier than normal as you sip your drink probably way too quickly. 

You focus on her long, nimble fingers, painted red at the nails and fluttering so skillfully over the ivory keys that it makes your cheeks feel hot. 

The ringing of the keys doesn't register over the thumping of your heart and the blood rushing in your ears, which feel like molten lava. Perhaps that’s why you don’t notice she’d finished her set until she’s a foot away from you, placing an order you’d only know if you were able to read lips.

Christ, her lips. Plump and painted in the same shade of red as her hair and nails, they purse as she sips from a champagne flute. She’s so dainty, and poised, everything you’ve never had the desire to be. 

And she’s staring right at you. 

“See something you like?” 

Your breath gets stuck in your lungs and your heart flutters in a medically dangerous way. 

“You’re incredible.”

The words roll off your tongue without any go-ahead from your brain. 

She laughs anyway, with her head thrown back, and the sight of her throat elongated makes your own go bone-dry. 

“If I had a nickel,” she jokes with a wink. 

Your half-melted brain scrabbles for something to say so you can be graced with her presence for even one more second. 

“How long have you been playing?” 

She quirks her perfectly shaped eyebrow at you, and she smirks, and something about the way she can see through you like cellophane turns you on and it makes you feel wicked. 

“You don’t really care, do you?” 

From your peripheral, you see her long, toned arm inching closer to yours on the bar. Her fingers touch yours, feather-light, and you shiver before you freeze in place. 

“I— No, I do.”

You can barely hear her low chuckle over the house music that’s started to play in her absence, but you do, and it sounds like heaven and hell all at once. 

Slowly, torturously, she leans closer to you, and her bubbly breath ghosts across your cheek, your jaw, and then gusts in your ear. 

“Don’t lie to me, handsome.” 

Her tone is teasing, sing-songy in a way that might be annoying if you weren’t so aroused. 

Your fingers clench around the glass you’re holding, and her own do the same over yours. 

“What do you want me to say?” 

You don’t know if you’re more scared, horny, or irritated. They’re all three tied for gold, at this point, with tipsy coming in second and way too warm bringing up the rear. 

And the pure audacity this woman has is impressive, as she places her lips so so lightly under your earlobe. You hope to god her lipstick stains. 

“Ask me if I wanna get out of here.”

Your lungs inflate too quickly, and your eyes close, and you lean into the touch of her lips. 

“Where would we go?” 

It’s a stupid question. Why in your right mind do you give a flying fuck? She could drag you to the DMV and you’d happily follow like a pup. 

She stands from the barstool, tall, taller than you realized, and the proximity puts her between your spread legs. 

Your thighs flex involuntarily, and your fingers twitch and ache to touch her. 

“I know a place. If you want?” 

Her eyebrow is quirked at you again as she leans back. You can’t find your words, so you stand in answer, and now you’re too close. Every delicious curve of her body is pressed against your front and you unhand your drink to dig your nails into the top of the bar. 

“Please.” 

Her grin is so mischievous that it startles you, those sharp canines on full display. You think about how they’ll feel against your skin as she nods her head and prompts you to follow her. 

You might as well be wearing a leash, the way you trail her so closely. You twist your fingers as the nerves start to pick back up, and all of a sudden you’re in front of some elevator doors with a very huge and intimidating bouncer guarding the buttons and staring you down. 

“Before we head up, just so you know, I’m working with a… different set of equipment than you might expect.”

You nearly ask her to repeat herself, a bit too overwhelmed with the eyes on you and the situation you’re about to get yourself into. But your brain plays a game of catch-up, and somehow this little fact makes you feel more comfortable. 

“That’s cool— me too. I mean, maybe? I don’t know what— uh, what you’d expect me to have, but… yeah.”

Your voice trails off as the big burly bouncer chuckles at you, and your face could probably melt off of your skull with how hot it feels, but then she grabs your hand and squeezes to tug you into the elevator with her. 

The club sounds are nearly all drowned out now, and you’re certain she can hear your heartbeat in the silence as she crowds you against the back wall. 

“My name’s Max,” she says, speaking all breathy and low against the skin of your neck. 

You shiver, barely eke out your own name as her body presses against yours. 

It’s heavenly, the way she feels against you, but the way she teases your earlobe between her dark cherry lips feels hellish. You still haven’t touched her, even though your hands are burning to feel the silk of her dress over her waist. You’re intimidated and horny and mentally working yourself up to do anything on your own without her giving you direct orders.

There’s a ding, and all momentum is lost when she turns away from you to enter the snow globe of a penthouse beyond the open elevator doors. You follow eagerly.

“This is your place?” 

Your voice is awe-filled as you look around. The walls are just windows, and the city lights and the last few minutes of sunset brighten all the dark wood and leather around you. 

“Yeah, so’s the club.”

Her tone is nonchalant, and you gape at her as she steps out of her strappy, expensive-looking high heels. Maybe you shouldn’t be so surprised. She has all the confidence of someone who owns the world, and her cockiness is reflected in the ostentatious nature of the club and her penthouse. 

But you’re still shocked. Maybe you’re shocked because she’s chosen you, out of every other patron, to come up here with her. 

“It’s nice— the club. And here, too.” 

She chuckles and shrugs but she thanks you as her bare feet bring her close to you once more. You feel your hackles raise as she approaches, along with your heart rate, but she walks right past you. 

“Follow me.”

As if you’d dream of doing anything else. 

Her bedroom is all windows, too. The bed is huge, much bigger than a normal king, and the space itself is fairly empty of any personal touches. It suits her mystique. You feel like you have a million unanswered questions, but none of them matter when she shoves you down onto the mattress and straddles your thighs. 

Your mouth drops open, but she steals the words from your breath when she grabs your hands and places them on her hips.

Finally. 

Fuck, she feels incredible under this silky dress as you squeeze her waist and arch your hips up into her. 

You tell her as much, and get another one of those cocky chuckles that goes straight to your center. 

“Do your worst, handsome.” 

And maybe you’ve never been the best at getting into someone’s bed, but you’re certain you’re the best once you’re between the sheets. 

It’s no exception, with her. You’re so eager to please. You worship every last inch of her body once it’s revealed to you. You take note of all the places you kiss and lick that make her breath hitch, you tease her until her cock weeps, and you take her so far down your throat that tears sting your eyes. 

Her nails dig into your scalp, and you feel like the cocky one when she begs you to pull off, when she tells you that you’ve damn near sucked her soul out through her dick. 

Your clit is throbbing and you’ve soaked through your underwear by the time she hastily pulls them off of you. She kisses you breathless and bites your lip with her sharp teeth as you roll the condom down her length. The way she whimpers when you finally straddle her sends you reeling. Your hand finds her tit, and your palm rolls against her taut nipple as you finally get her cock to slide through your slick folds. She arches into your touch and she begs and there’s no force powerful enough to keep you from giving in to her pleas.

Her face twists up so fucking beautifully as you impale yourself on her. Inch by inch, so slowly, teasing her like she’d teased you earlier in the night. You feel satisfied and hungry at the same time when you’re flush with her thighs. Her hips buck when you pinch her nipple, and she hits the perfect spot, and neither of you have any resolve leftover. 

It’s a give and take that lasts too long and is over far too quick. You ride her, and she thrusts up into you, back and forth until you both crumble at the same time, blinding and intense and loud. 

You might black out. 

One moment you’re stroking her skin with your fingertips and thanking her over and over, and the next you’re sitting up against her headboard with a glass of water in one hand and her fiery hair in the other. 

She’s sighing in your lap, nuzzling into the heat of your thighs with her aquiline nose. 

“You’re incredible,” you say for probably the millionth time that night. 

She chuckles again, just like she did when you first told her, but her pretty brown eyes shine when she looks up at you. 

“You’re not so bad yourself, handsome.”

Your face gets all hot again, and you feel shy, eyes darting around the room to focus on anything but the gorgeous woman resting on you. 

“Does it bother you when I call you that?” 

You huff. 

“Not at all.”

“Are you trans?” 

You huff again. 

“No. I— I don’t know. I’m just… me. In-between. I don’t really feel like I fit any one description.”

She hums and presses a kiss to your mound through your underwear.

“I understand.” 

“I’ve always been like this, you know? Before I knew what it was. I just didn’t feel comfortable in my own skin. Not in an insecure way. Just that it didn’t feel right.” 

“Do you want a dick?”

Her bluntness makes you laugh. 

“Sometimes I do.”

She nods, and the way her silky hair feels against your bare thighs makes you shiver. 

“It’s actually kind of awesome, I’m not gonna lie.”

She laughs with you. 

“Don’t rub it in.”

“I’ll rub it in if you give me another five minutes.”

She does.

You fall asleep in her arms, exhausted and sated and happy.

She’s gone in the morning. All the shades are drawn, those same hazardous candles from the club lighting the apartment dimly. Your clothes are dry cleaned and hanging in a bag you’re certain costs more than your entire outfit. There’s a note next to your half-empty glass of water on the nightstand.

See you around. 

Except you don’t. 

You wait eight whole days to go back to the club. You wear something nicer, go through the tight security, and saunter up to the bar with much more confidence than your first visit. You wait for her. You drink one too many and hope to find her walking around or playing the piano. 

A few people come up to you and ask you to dance, and you refuse each one with the bitter taste of irony on your tongue, and then you go home alone after last call with a headache and queasy stomach. 

Maybe she’s just out of town, you tell yourself. She owns an entire nightclub, she’s clearly a very important woman, probably quite busy, too. 

You go back the next weekend, and the next, and you don’t see her once. 

So after a month, you go again and this time you accept the offers to share a dance, grind against people with a weird confidence you know comes from the woman you hope to see tonight. You share meaningless kisses and buy a few people drinks but refuse an offer or two to ‘get out of here.’

You start to lose hope when the dim lights flicker brighter and last call is announced. But as you bid goodbyes to a group you were hanging with, that very large and scary bodyguard from the elevators is walking towards you, and this time his presence is more exciting and less intimidating. 

“Max would like you to come upstairs.”

And while it’s kind of annoying, and seems pretentious— why didn’t she come down here and tell you herself?— you follow. Eagerly. Once again. 

He lets you take the elevator up by yourself, and this time the anxiety is more anticipation than it is fear. 

Though, when the doors open, you’re face to face with a guy.

He’s got a familiar cocky smirk on his face, messy gelled hair, and he’s leaning up against a wall with his arms crossed. 

Panic, is what your body tells you to do, leave, run. But you’re frozen under his thick gaze. 

The elevator doors start to shut, and you take a step back when he moves to hold them open, but he chuckles. 

A cocky little chuckle. 

“Who are you?” 

“I’m Max.”

“No you’re not.”

“C’mon, handsome. It’s me.”

You shiver when he calls you that, but not in the same way you did when she said it. 

“Is this some kind of joke? Listen, she didn’t tell me she was exclusive with anyone—”

He cuts you off by saying your name in a pleading tone. 

“Come in, please, just give me a minute to prove it to you.”

Panic. Run. Leave.

You ignore every instinct to finally step out of the elevator. 

“You told me, last time, that sometimes you wished you had a dick. Right?”

You nod before you can think better of it. 

Who is this guy?

You’re no stranger to genderfluidity, the way a haircut or makeup or different clothes can drastically change someone’s look— but this isn’t that. This can’t be that. While they have similar features, her sharp noise was still softer, her eyes were less crinkled at the edges, her brow bone was much less prominent. If this is smoke and mirrors, she’s one hell of a magician. 

“Do you wish you had one right now?”

“I mean, yeah, I guess. Are you guys twins or something? What’s going on?” 

He chuckles again, and you have to say, it’s much less arousing coming from him than it was from your Max. He reaches out to touch your arm, and you want to shove him away, but you can’t.

Your body feels frozen, again, but not from fear. There’s a strange sensation that courses through you, some unexplainable energy that makes your bones feel like they’re vibrating, makes your blood feel thick and heavy in your veins. 

It scares you, but the newly soft look on this Max’s face is just comforting enough to keep you from a full-fledged panic attack. 

That, and the fact that it’s over just as quick as it started. Your body loosens back up as Max’s hand on your arm rubs reassuring circles. 

But then you feel weird. A strange turning low in your gut, kind of like arousal, but not quite. And your pants feel tighter, more constricting than they did earlier. 

You look down. 

There’s a bulge in your pants, like there would be if you were packing. But you’re not. You’re certain you made the decision to leave it at home when you left earlier in the night. 

You look back up at him. He’s smirking. 

“You can touch it.”

You do, despite your brain screaming how weird it would be to touch your crotch in front of a man you’ve never met before. 

You have a dick. 

You feel it now, and while the feeling of it in your hand isn’t foreign to you, the fact that it’s sensitive and fucking actually attached to your body is. 

You pull your hand away like it’s been scalded. 

“What the fuck?! How did you—“

You stare at him open-mouthed and terrified and maybe a little bit turned on.

“Does it matter? I gave you what you’ve always wanted.” 

He looks from your face to your… dick, and back again, smirking, admiring, like he’s just finished an art project.

“Will it… Will it go back?”

“Do you want it to?”

“I— I don’t know.”

Max chuckles that damn chuckle, all full of himself. But this time, it’s her. You know it is, now. As crazy as it sounds, it’s the only thing that makes sense. This is your Max. 

“Why don’t you take it for a test drive? If you don’t like it, I’ll change you back.”

You gape at him. It’s all clicking. This is your Max, and they’ve listened to you and done something so fucking weird but so fucking sweet. You don’t know how, and you honestly are starting to care less and less the longer Max keeps staring at you like he’s proud. Of you or himself, you’re not so sure, but it’s working. 

“It’s— it’s you, isn’t it?” 

“I told you so.”

“Fuck,” you sigh, “where have you been? I came back. Every weekend.” 

Max hums. 

“I was a little caught up. Got into a bit of trouble, as I do. But I’m back, and I wanted to see you. I’m glad you came.”

“Are you— I mean… you look a lot different?” 

He shrugs. 

“Do you still think I’m hot? I can change back—”

“No! No, sorry, I don’t mean to be rude. I was just confused. You’re still—”

“Incredible?” 

You huff a laugh, and finally relax for the first time since you got into that elevator. 

“Yeah. Incredible.”

His cocky demeanor falls to the wayside to make room for something more sincere. He takes a few steps until you’re face to face with him, and places a suspiciously cold hand on the back of your heated neck. 

“I missed you,” he mumbles. 

“I— I missed you too. That night… I’ve thought about it so much.”

“Mmm, yeah? Me too.”

You kiss the stupid smirk off of his face. 

He tastes the same as you remember before, like champagne and sweet mint and her. His teeth are just as sharp, scraping your tongue as it explores every bit of his mouth. 

His free hand grabs your hip and pulls you even closer to him and fuck, that feels better than it has any right to. Your cock stirs in your pants and you buck your hips again, fiending for this new type of friction. 

“Come to bed with me?” 

All you can do is nod and follow. 

The bedroom looks just the same as it did last time, but the lack of sunlight makes everything feel quieter tonight— slower, more serene. 

He turns down the covers slowly, and you stand at the foot of the bed, extremely uncertain about what happens next, even though your dick throbs with anticipation. 

“You still into this?” 

Max’s voice startles you out of your own head. 

“Yeah, sorry. Nerves.”

He hums and steps closer to you. 

“Nothing to be nervous about, handsome.”

You nod and let your eyes trace up and down his body, noting his broad shoulders in that crisp white dress shirt and his thick thighs under the satiny sheen of his slacks. He’s still just as gorgeous in this masculine form, and it’s as irritating as it is enticing.

“Do you wanna fuck me?” 

“Shit.” 

His words go straight to your cock, and you’re unashamed to palm it in your hand and press and curse at the completely new sensation. 

“I’m assuming that’s a yes,” he chuckles. “Do you want my ass or my pussy?” 

Your hand on yourself stills. 

“You— you have a pussy?”

“I can.”

And it shouldn’t surprise you, after everything else that’s happened in the last ten minutes, but it still does. Your breath stutters in your chest and your dick fills out even more against your hand and you distantly wonder how big Max made it, if it’s exactly what he wants. 

“Can I— Will you show me your pussy?” 

He leers at you when you ask, and it only turns you on even more. 

“I was hoping you’d go for that.”

He starts unbuttoning his shirt, but this whole mad situation has you feeling much more comfortable, in a fuck it kind of way. You step into his space and work the buttons free, and follow with your mouth. His skin is cold under the heat of your lips, and by the time his shirt hangs free from his shoulders you’ve made it your personal mission to warm up every inch of him. 

It’s easy to work his belt open, undo his fly and watch it open to a thick thatch of pubic hair. You pause to press your lips to his again, to reach around to cup his pert asscheeks as his slacks fall to the floor. 

You can’t stop grinding against him, even as you press him back and down onto the bed. You just follow, fully clothed, hesitant to deny yourself this new heady feeling of pressure to your cock. 

It’s only when he suckles your top lip and reaches down to palm you that you realize you’re teetering on the edge of embarrassing yourself. 

Your hips jolt away from him and it hurts a bit when you rip your lip out between his teeth, but all the better to take your mind off the intense, heavy arousal in your gut. 

“Okay?” 

He asks it with a smirk, like he already knows the answer, so you don’t give him one. You just stare down past your heaving chest to see the damp spot on your pants and start to unfasten them to relieve some of the pressure. 

“You’re gonna want to chill out. Refractory periods are annoying with those things,” he warns. 

You huff. 

“That’s kind of you,” you joke. 

It’s better, just in the thin fabric of your underwear, less resistant. You want to take them off too, but you’re afraid that the euphoria from seeing yourself with a dick will really conflate the issue at hand. 

So you shuffle down the bed a bit, and press your lips to Max’s flat chest, to his nipples that are half the size they were last time. They pebble quickly under your attention, and you bite down on one when you accidentally drag your cock along the mattress. 

He groans and arches into you, goads you on with a hand on the back of your neck. 

“Are you as good at eating pussy as you are at sucking dick?” 

It’s almost comical, the way he applies pressure to urge you further down his body. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

You nip at his sparse happy trail as he pushes you down with his large hand on your shoulder and delight in the way his muscles twitch under your mouth. 

“Some time this century, yeah.”

You hum, nose at the wiry curls on his mound and grab the wrist of his hand that’s still pressing on you. 

“You’re not very gentlemanly,” you tease.

He laughs as he stares down at you with his dark eyes. His hand moves to cup your jaw and you let it, let him trace your bottom lip with his thumb. 

“Is that what you want? A gentleman?”

You suck his thumb into your mouth as you shake your head, grinning around his knuckle. You bite down a little harder than you mean to and he hisses. He yanks his hand from your mouth to grab the back of your head and tug until your face is buried between his thighs. 

You relent, breathing in the scent of him, bypassing any preamble to shove your tongue inside of him. The way his hips buck into your face makes you smirk into his folds and dig your nails into the skin of his thighs. 

He still makes the most beautiful noises, when you get down to it. Desperate, hungry, eager. For as cocky as he is, he sure writhes against you like a shameless whore as he whispers curses into the dark room. 

You savor the taste of him, the warmth and tightness of him around your fingers, the scratchy feeling of his bush tickling your nose. The way his strong thighs tense and relax under your grasp makes you want to feel them do the same around your waist. 

You look up when he starts clenching around your fingers like a vice, and the thought of that feeling around your new dick makes you whimper into his pussy. You focus even more on the way you suckle and flick his clit, to try and set the arousal aside so you don’t come before you can even slip into him. 

He’s got his head thrown back, his eyes squeezed tightly shut, his back arched off the bed when he finally shudders and comes. You work him through it, lapping at his dripping hole, letting him grind against your tongue until he’s squirming away from your touch. 

You’re dragging this out. Stalling. You press little biting kisses to his thighs and his mound as he’s coming down. Maybe if you just worked him through one more, you’ll be calm enough to—

“C’mere already.”

You roll your eyes at him as he tugs on you, but you go willingly to hover over him and let him lick his taste from your mouth. His hums are lower and more subdued in the aftermath and they rumble deep in your chest as you try your hardest not to grind into him. 

It doesn’t matter. 

His free hand wraps around your cock and the feeling turns you on so much that you almost feel nauseous. You can feel all five of his fingers there, even with how big his hands are. He’s around you, and the familiar sensation on the inside mixed with the foreign sensation against your skin is a bit confusing but so hot. He squeezes and you jolt, bite down hard on his lip, but it only makes him chuckle. 

“That good, huh?” 

You groan into the crook of his neck in answer, completely at a loss for words. 

“I’d like to say the novelty wears off, but I haven’t found that it does.”

You feel like you’re on fire, honestly, like you’re trapped in a burning building with no way out. It’s hard to speak or breathe or think with his hand wrapped around you over your underwear. You can’t even begin to imagine how good his skin is going to feel against yours. 

“C’mon, handsome, lie back for me.”

You do, with his help, reclined back against his decorative pillows. Your breathing is ragged as he takes his time getting your shirt off and pressing surprisingly sweet kisses to everything revealed to him. 

You ground yourself by petting his hair, coarse and a little sticky from hair gel but thick enough to be extremely satisfying to card through. For a moment you’re able to focus on the feeling of it slipping between your fingers instead of the throbbing of your prick. 

But then his thick fingers find the elastic waistband and creep underneath. It shocks you out of your false sense of security. When your panicked eyes meet his, they’re so warm and soft you think you could maybe cry a little about it. But he speaks up instead. 

“Are you still okay with everything going on?”

And you are, even though you’re hanging by a thread and preemptively embarrassed by what’s about to go down; you want it so bad. 

So you nod. 

“Words, handsome.”

You huff. 

“Yes, Max. Please.”

He hums and smiles. 

“Good boy.”

You’re engulfed by embarrassment when your cock jumps dramatically at his words, right beneath his hovering face. You feel even hotter when he huffs out a laugh.

But then he’s pulling your underwear, and it’s there, in plain sight, a gorgeous cock. It’s perfect, it’s how you’ve always imagined yours would look if you had one. Like Max knew, somehow, was inside your brain and could see the same fantasies that you could. 

It jerks again in the cool air. You can feel the blood rushing there, a powerful gush that makes it twitch when you think about how it’s your dick, on your body. He hasn’t even touched you yet and you can feel pre-cum dripping down your shaft. 

“Can I taste?” He asks. 

You nod, then remember your words. 

“Please.”

You can’t produce more than a whisper as you watch him lean forward, like slow motion, with his tongue hanging out dramatically and his eyes locked on yours. 

The first touch of his tongue against your skin has your hips flying off the mattress at a speed that you’re sure defies laws of physics. 

He just looks so fucking gorgeous with your prick eclipsing the middle of his face. Your prick looks so gorgeous. God, you’re starting to understand where cis men get their audacity from. 

You tighten your grip on his hair for no other reason than you need something to hang onto or you might just float off into space. He teases you with more kitten licks, up one side, then the other, and you watch in awe. You can’t take your eyes off it, even though it may delay the inevitable if you could. 

He kisses the head of it, and his tongue does something wicked right underneath it that makes you tug his head back by his gelled locks. 

“Too much?” He asks, even as he winces at your tugging. 

“You’re teasing, and all that’s going to lead to is disappointment on your end.”

God, why do you sound like you’ve just run a marathon?

“I’ll never be disappointed by making you come, handsome.”

He’s so fucking annoying. You want to fuck his face just to shut him up, but you know that would only last about ten and a half seconds. 

You curse and close your eyes and dig your head back into the pillows. He must take it as a signal to continue, because bright, staticky stars burst behind your eyelids when he takes you into his mouth for the first time. 

Fuck. You’re inside him. It feels hot and wet, kind of squishy, but so tight when he sucks and sinks his mouth down even farther. 

You yell. The dramatic noise is ripped from your vocal chords without your consent, and your eyes fly open to look down at him. Those plush fucking lips look so goddamn good wrapped around you, all wet and red and swollen. You squeeze his hair in your hand. You’re so torn between wanting to chase the warmth of his mouth and wanting to arch away from it. 

Then you feel it, that familiar twisting deep and low in your gut, only it’s ten times as intense as it usually is. You start to panic. 

“Max! Max, please, I’m—!”

He pulls off quickly, and squeezes the base of your jerking dick. It kind of hurts, and you hiss and watch in horror and wait for something to come out. But it doesn’t. It’s so weird, the way he’s manually shut down your orgasm with one touch. Completely different than the way you would have had to hold back without this new dick. 

“That’s—”

“Incredible, right?” 

You huff in the midst of catching your breath. You still feel like a hair trigger, but without someone’s finger hovering over it now. 

“Oh my god,” you sigh. 

He laughs and lets go of you. You watch him wipe the corners of his pretty mouth and distantly think that you can’t wait until you get used to this, so you can make him gag and watch his drool and your cum seep from it. 

Your dick jerks at the thought, and it’s strange to have the evidence of your arousal be so obvious. It’s like a damn car alarm. 

“Wanna fuck me now?” 

You laugh, delirious. 

“My new nickname’s gonna be One Pump Chump.”

He slithers up the bed to lie beside you. 

“It’s totally understandable. Normal, even.”

You raise your eyebrow at him. 

“How big is the sample size?”

He shrugs and smirks but his eyes focus on the bedsheets between you. 

“I know I seem like a douchebag, but I really just wanna help.”

You pout at him, but fix your face before he looks back up at you. You run your hand through his hair, gently this time, and something about this whole situation is making your heart feel all gooey. 

“You only seem like a little bit of a douchebag.”

He grumbles at you but smiles. 

“Besides, there’s like, a billion things you’re gonna want to try with that thing. You’ll get practice.” 

That thing suddenly doesn’t feel as pressing anymore. You’re still hard as rock, but it finally feels like it would take a little more than a gentle breeze to make you spill. 

“Let me fuck you, then.”

“Yeah?”

You nod and smile; and some of that eagerness comes back to light up his devious eyes. He reaches for the condoms in the bedside table and you admire all of the taut muscles under his tan skin. 

“You want help with this?” 

You roll your eyes, but it’s kinda sweet. You’ve never actually put one on at this angle before. So you get between his thighs when he lies back and let him roll it on you. 

“You can definitely get someone pregnant with this too, so… be warned. Don’t sue me about it, it won’t go over well in court.”

Your dick bobs in his grasp as you laugh. It feels so weird and fascinating.  

“Noted, thank you for the disclaimer. And sorry about the lawsuit?” 

He squeezes your prick around the condom and smiles up at you. 

“No worries, that was decades ago.”

You laugh until the words catch up with you. But you don’t have time to question it much, because he’s lying back and spreading his thighs for you, getting a pillow under his hips so his glistening pussy is tilted perfectly. Your mouth waters at the sight of him so aroused and ready for you, and at the thought of how much more wet and tight and hot it’s going to feel compared to his mouth. 

You sigh and play with his little clit, still wet from your saliva. He keens and seeks out more friction and you have to fuck him. His pussy is even more enticing now, knowing you can slide your prick inside. 

You shuffle closer and try to remind yourself to take your time. You purposefully glide your hands up his thighs, feeling the way the hair gets more sparse and fine the further up you go. You’re delighted by the little goosebumps that form under your fingertips and the way he sounds so relaxed when he sighs. 

Shuffling even further now, you settle those thick thighs over your own and let your knees cage his slim hips. When you look up, he’s watching you through hooded eyes with his bottom lip between his teeth.

“You really are gorgeous,” you tell him, softly, afraid to disturb what’s becoming a very peaceful calm before the storm. 

His breath hitches a little and you see it as it ripples his chest. 

“You really are handsome,” he winks back. 

Your hand wanders up higher, across his ribs, and your thumb presses against his stiff nipple and rolls it. You feel the small noise he makes under your palm and smile. 

Your other hand grabs the base of your cock, sure to keep the base of the condom from slipping down. The subtle move kind of makes you feel like a pro, and you’d snicker about it if the euphoria that flooded through your body didn’t overwhelm you. 

It’s kind of like an out of body experience. But you’re also painfully aware of your body and this new appendage and the way the feeling of it is wreaking havoc on your entire being. 

You slide your cock through his wet folds and even just this feels incredible, the way every bit of him feels rubbing against your sensitive cockhead. You can’t drag it out any longer, you know. 

“Are you ready?” You ask him hesitantly. 

“Are you ready?” 

You snort and roll your eyes and pinch his nipple. His back arches and the movement makes your dick slip down, press just barely against his opening. You suck in a breath and it takes every ounce of willpower not to shove yourself inside to chase that wet heat. 

“Okay, okay, I’m ready. Just fuck me already. Gonna feel so good.”

For him or for you, you’re not sure which he means, but it doesn’t matter. 

You try to take your time. You really do. But as soon as the head of your prick slips in it’s like you have no self control. 

You chase the warmth, plunge all the way into him, and stay. 

Oh my god. 

“Oh my god.”

Max chuckles at you and you can feel it. You’re so fucking wrapped up in him. Every little move, shift, clench, it surrounds you and overwhelms you. 

“You feel so fucking good, Max.”

You’re sure you look absolutely wild. Your jaw is permanently dropped, eyes wide as you try with all of your might to hang on. 

“Ditto,” he breathes. 

His eyes look dark and intense, when your eyes can finally focus in. 

“Do you— did you make it exactly how you like?” 

It’s so stupid to be asking questions right now but it’s the only thing you have to keep you somewhat composed. 

“Yeah,” he admits, a little breathless. 

“You get off on that?”

You know he does before he answers, can feel him clench and contract around you. You muster up the dexterity to find his clit with your thumb and press. 

“I do! I do, fuck.”

You finally start to inch out of him, slowly, afraid that too much friction will send you over the edge. 

“Are you using me like a toy?” 

He whimpers, and the sound alone makes you snap your hips back into him. 

“No, no, that’s not it.”

Your brows rise up in question, and you pull out again as you wait for him to explain. 

“It’s— I dunno. I like that you… hah, shit, like that, don’t stop.”

You feel smug that you’ve derailed his thoughts by starting to fuck him with a slow rhythm, if only because he’s derailed yours a million times in the two nights you’ve shared. 

You circle his clit and groan at the way his pussy squeezes you. It’s hard to even pull out of him, it’s like he’s sucking you right back in. 

“You were saying?”

And it doesn’t sound smooth coming from your mouth, your breathing labored and your voice strained. 

“I like that you’ll think of me when you fuck. I like knowing I made you like this for me even if others get to enjoy it. I like knowing— shit— I like knowing I’m the one that makes you feel good.”

You balk at his confession. Such a beautiful explanation for something so possessive. From anyone else it would sound so objectifying. But with this strange relationship the two of you have, it makes your entire body burn. 

You collapse on top of him once the words really sink in. You hide your face in his sweaty neck and begin to rut into him with the knowledge that you’ll probably crumble far too quickly, but you don’t quite care. 

“You do, you make me feel so good,” you tell him. 

He whines and works his hips against yours to meet your frantic thrusts. You grab his hair again and bite faint marks into his neck that make him writhe and squirm against you. 

“You do too— harder, please, fuck me harder.”

Man, your hips are starting to ache, just like with your strap, but this time the sensation of feeling him wrapped around your very real cock keeps the discomfort at bay and it’s just pure bliss. 

So you double down, raise back up to put more of your back into it. Your sweaty hands slip against his skin as you try to grab his hips for leverage. 

“You gotta touch yourself for me,” you pant. 

The way he scrambles to comply just turns you on even more, gives you one more tick in the ‘power tripping’ column. He looks so fucking beautiful under you, back all arched in pleasure, his face scrunched up in concentration. His bicep is bulging as he slides three fingers back and forth across his clit, so frantic but so practiced. 

You fuck him and try to think about anything other than how good he feels. You’re plunging into the world’s softest, warmest hole and he’s moaning for you, you’re making him feel just as good as you do, and you’re going to lose it. 

“Gonna come, Max. I can’t—”

“Do it, come for me. Wanna be the first.”

Your hips stutter as the wave finally, finally crashes over you. You try so hard to fuck through it, try to make him come again, but as the first shock of your orgasm spikes up your spine, you can’t think to do anything but try to bury yourself as far as you can into his tight cunt. 

You know he’s saying something encouraging by the tone of his voice, but his words go in one ear and out the other as you grind into him and rest your sweaty forehead in the middle of his chest. It feels so good you could cry. 

Your fingertips dig into the flesh of his hips as you ride it out, and your chest starts to burn and your throat starts to ache and your eyes start to burn.

You are crying. 

“Shit.”

It comes out as a broken sob, muffled into his chest, and he starts at the sound. 

“Hey, it’s okay. Just breathe.”

You shake your head against him. 

“I’m fine.”

“I know, just breathe though.”

The breaths you suck in are all shuddery and stilted, and there’s snot, and it’s so embarrassing but comforting all at once. 

He urges you to slip out, and he even holds the condom for you, pulls it off, and ties it while you try to reel yourself in.

You don’t, not right away at least, because once you get over the crazy rush of endorphins and serotonin and dopamine or whatever that’s flooded your body, you start feeling extremely self conscious about the whole sobbing during sex thing, and the fact that he didn’t get off, and—

“Come snuggle?” 

You’re not sure when he got up, but he’s holding up a robe for you in one hand, and cradling your head in the other, and ushering you out into the living room. His fireplace is on now, and there’s a tall, snobby glass bottle of water on his end table. 

You’re tired, now. Like, bone-deep exhaustion. You slump into him where he’s sprawled out on his leather couch and close your watery eyes. 

“I’m sorry.”

He shushes you gently, pets your head that’s on his chest that definitely has your dried snot on it still. 

“Don’t be sorry. As long as you feel good, I feel good.”

You nod, and taking a deep breath comes easier to you this time. You brave a look up at him, and his eyes are warmer than ever as they reflect the orange-yellow flames.

“Thank you.”

He smirks then, and you feel the tension in the room shift. 

“So how was it?”

You grin and hide it in his pecs. You’re hyper aware of your spent dick lying soft and sticky on your thigh. You’re so much more tired than you ever usually are after an orgasm. It was all so different, every little bit of it. And there’s this calmness you feel now, after all the commotion, and it hits you all at once that it all feels right. 

There’s no cleaning your strap, putting away your toys, no sliding on your underwear to hide the thing that just gave you pleasure. There’s no awkward dissonance. It’s just… normal. Normal in a way it’s never been before. Effortless bliss, like a sensory deprivation tank. Nothing. 

“It was everything.”

-

Author's Note: I wanted to share a bit about what really resonated with me as I learned more about Loki. The one thing that stuck with me throughout this writing challenge is that Loki is not a bad guy. I will be honest, the only thing I knew about Loki before this was from the MCU, which to me seems like an oversimplification of the norse god from everything I've learned about him. Erin provided me with this very thorough video that analyzes Loki and his myths. To me, he seems like someone who liked to 'stir the shit' for the sake of curiosity. I didn't find much ill will at all in these tellings of his trickery, just a guy who wanted to fuck around and find out about things, someone who did more than just wonder what would happen.

Second, Erin said he's Like a fun older brother. Very playful and mischievous. Very straight-forward. Protector of outcasts; lgbtq+ folks, disabled people, neurodivergent people, etc. This was another driving force behind this fic. It wasn't a coincidence that Max met reader their first night at the club, they founded the club for the sole purpose of creating a safe space for queer people and takes an active role in making sure their patrons feel like they belong.

Lastly, Erin said their pick for me would be Max / Loki because of the gender fuckery, which excited me as much as it made me feel honored. When watching the aforementioned video, I learned about Loki turning himself and Thor into a bridesmaid and a bride, respectively. Loki himself was unrecognizable and was the exact image of a woman. However, Thor pretty much just looked like himself in a dress (this is paraphrasing.) I loved the idea that Loki's shapeshifting could not only be directed toward other people, but could vary in vagueness. These undefined rules for Loki’s gender felt like how I personally view gender in general, as well as how I relate it to my own identity, and I really took that idea and ran with it.

Anyway, thank you again @perotovar for this writing challenge and the piece of yourself you shared with all of us. I love you so much! <3