#A piece of shit and I like that in my characters

[bokutoko]

2/14

character: atsumu miya (timeskip!atsumu)

wc: 1.4k

cw: valentine’s day (barf), alcohol, cussing, kinda sorta uni!au (uni!reader x msby!atsumu), slight feelings of inadequacy (reader), they kith💋, atsumu thinks the L-word

pt. 2(ish?) to 7/11

Valentine's Day... also known as your least favorite day of the year (besides your birthday, but that’s a whole different story). The holiday made popular by monetizing the idea of setting aside only one day out of the year to show how much you love your partner, with all the godforsaken life-sized teddy bears and dozens of balloons, and all the mediocre chocolate and overpriced flowers. A cock of shit was what it was—someone should not be loved just one day out of the year. 

Of course, its only significance to you was being a milestone to remind yourself how painfully single you were.

But you weren't bitter. Not at all. Not. One. Bit.

The kicker, though? It almost felt like you didn't even want anybody. The mere idea of dating someone—a person you probably didn’t even know at the time and probably (not so) secretly a piece of shit—made you so nauseous that swearing relationships off altogether seemed more tempting as the days passed...

But alas, the small, hopeless romantic peeking through the rose-tinted lenses of your heart unfortunately held out for something beautiful one day... Maybe not for a prince, but a knight in shining armor. Maybe not a man to sweep you off your feet, but instead one willing to help you pick up the pieces when it felt like everything was falling apart at your feet. 

"Maybe I'll just die an old spinster.”

"C'mon, it can't be that bad," Atsumu's Kansai dialect filtered through your headphones as you walked across campus to your morning class. He’d called, asking if you had any fun plans for the night, fully knowing you didn’t.

“There’s carnations and balloons all over campus. It looks like one of those my little ponies took a dump all over the place."

"But ‘m sure them carnations are pretty. Maybe you'll get one from a guy or somethin’."

"I think I'd rather die," you gagged.

A laugh filled your ears, and everything felt okay–what a nice sound to hear. But after feeling your heart do the thing, you quickly shook it off.

It was strange how for years now, it sometimes made you feel all weirdly warm and tingly when Atsumu laughed with you (even sometimes when he laughed at you).

It was best to not even entertain that notion.

"Well, gotta go, 'm at class," you sighed loudly for dramatic effect, "Maybe I'll go bitch to 'Samu later about my woes and personal vendettas. y’know, since you hate me."

Atsumu found himself smiling at your childish whining. "You mean ‘cause I'll be at practice?"

"Same thing."

“Fuck you too,” he grumbled with a scoff, not an ounce of actual annoyance in his voice, “Bye, nerd.”

A small smile made its way onto your face at his jabs. That was how it always was with Atsumu, ever since you two were in high school together. The both of you always shat on each other, knowing there was never any heat in your malicious words. It was nice, being able to feel safe with someone, to feel comfortable enough to be yourself and unapologetically bully your best friend.

As you prepped for lecture, your mind wandered, constantly circling back to your partner in crime. With every moment that passed, you quickly came to realize that Atsumu always only judged you a little bit with your (sometimes questionable) decisions, keeping it real with you while ultimately supporting you and being one of your biggest cheerleaders. Because all he wanted was to see you succeed. All he wanted was to see you happy.

You felt your face heat up just from thinking about him. 

For fuck’s sake—

While it was nice to attempt to delude yourself into thinking something could ever happen, you were easily able to convince yourself that this strange… crush was most likely unrequited.

This was Atsumu. Your Atsumu. He deserved the world.

And yet, you were just… you.

Time seemed to pass as slow as humanly possible: all your classes droning on, your exam sucking the life out of you, your professors assigning loads of busywork for the weekend ahead. The walk back to your cramped, overpriced shithole apartment was bustling with people: couples going on dinner dates, partners buying last minute gifts, and the occasional groups of galentines. Thankfully, your roommates all had plans with loved ones or already left for the weekend, so you had the entire place to yourself to sulk!

Turning the key and walking inside, you were slapped in the face with color. The common room area was decorated with a couple red heart balloons and… a pink “happy birthday” balloon floating around?

Your eyes honed in on Atsumu standing in the middle of the living room, holding another pink happy birthday balloon.

“Happy Valentine’s Day. Y’have no idea how hard it is to find last minute stuff,” Atsumu sighed with a sheepish grin, "and I know it ain’t your birthday, but it was pink—a-and the color kinda matches, so…”

‘What was he talking about?’ he thought to himself, ‘oh god, please shut up.’

And the epiphany came crashing down upon you that maybe you never actually hated Valentine’s Day, you just wanted someone to love you every day, not just for one day of the year. You looked over to the chocolates on the counter and the flowers perched in a vase next to them—it was your favorite everything. On display before you was your favorite dessert, your favorite flowers, your favorite person—

“‘Tsumu…” you struggled to find the right words, “What is all this?”

He just shrugged, hiding the flush to his cheeks by scratching the back of his neck. “Ya’ve been all down in the dumps that you’re single ‘n shit, so i got some chocolates, some box wine, and ‘Samu’s hulu logged in so we can rot on the couch and watch anything ya want tonight.” 

Atsumu watched you break out in the biggest smile, almost splitting your face in two, and god, he knew he loved you.

You swiped a box of chocolates off the counter. “You know me too well.”

He returned your smile with one of his own, so handsomely crooked. “I know.”

As the hours passed, empty boxes of chocolates were scattered on the table, along with half-drank glasses from a second round of wine. The two of you devolved into sharing a blanket that was definitely too small for the both of you, resulting in you two occasionally tugging on it and grumbling, “gimme.”

“Woulda thought you’d have plans tonight,” you commented as an ad played on the TV, your voice attempting to sound as casual as possible.

He hummed, feigning nonchalance as well. “I do. I’m here, ain’t I?”

You actively couldn’t stop the snort that escaped you. “Be serious, ‘Tsumu.”

“What, can I not make my own kind of plans?” he huffed in reply.

“I meant a date, ‘Tsumu. Y’know, with a girl ya like.”

He hesitated, feeling slightly deflated by her response. “Yeah…?” His voice was uncharacteristically… soft. It may had just been the alcohol talking, but Atsumu wondered if the taste of your lips, now stained a soft pink, was any better than the vino you two shared.

The air in the room suddenly felt way too warm, and you could feel your face flush as you just silently stared at him, like you were some brainless neanderthal. You swallowed, only just now realizing how close the two of you were—no longer tugging on the blanket but practically cuddling. You felt the warmth of his thigh against your own, and you swore you could die right there on the spot, melting right into a puddle of goo. 

Clearing your throat, you mumbled, “Yeah.”

His eyes lazily bounced back and forth between yours, searching for something, and he let out a sigh. “Yer the smartest person I’ve ever known, but God, you can be so damn stupid sometimes.”

Before you had the chance to fire an insult back, you felt a pair of lips on yours, the movements gentle yet nervous. It was instinctual, bordering embarrassing, how fast you melted into the kiss. His tongue tasted of white chocolate truffles and red wine, the heady mixture causing you to let out the softest sigh in his mouth. Atsumu's hands gently cupped your jaw, his thumbs gently running along your cheekbones until his brain finally caught up to his actions.

He pulled away and watched you almost chase his lips, your eyes still fluttering with your skin bathed in the soft lamplight of the room. He quietly whispered, “Sorry, I–”

“Don’t you dare apologize, you dumbass. Just kiss me again.”

And you didn’t have to tell him twice. 

a/n: happy valentine’s day to all the happy couples and all the single people out there—single or not, here’s some atsumu to feed the delulu <33

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please do not copy, alter, or repost my work. ©bokutoko 2025.

[corroded-hellfire]

Counter-offer: You tell us what you think each JQ character's wildest or weirdest kink is. 😉

Bless you for feeding into my rabidness 😈

Gonna do one for every JQ character I have watched (I know Johnny hasn’t really been revealed yet but I am a life long Johnny Storm fangirl so I’m projecting lmao)

Putting it under the cut because I may have gotten carried away

Eddie (if you’ve read my work this will come as no surprise) has a massive breeding kink. Just the thought of everyone knowing you let the freak knock you up drives him wild. He wants to fill you up and watch your belly grow to stake his claim. You let him put his dick in you and he’s gonna make damn sure that the world knows it.

Geta loves to degrade you but in the filthiest ways. It’s always how you’re such a dirty slut for him and how you’re just a hole for him to use whenever and wherever he wants. How you’ll do any and all depraved acts that he commands you to, not just because he’s your emperor, but because you are such a desperate whore

Eric is the subbiest of subs and needs constant praise. The man will get a hard on if you tell him that you like the choice of radio station he put on. The most mundane things, doesn’t matter. You think he did well? He was a good boy? Did a good job? He’s putty in your hands and practically sobbing already

Johnny loves to put on a good show. The idea of people seeing him fucking you drives him insane. He’s in the public eye so it isn’t hard for him to come up with ways to publicly claim you. Whether it’s fucking up against the windows in the Baxter Building (yeah, it’s a tall building but someone has to be looking up, right?) or parading you around town with your skin marked up or excessive groping so everyone can see how he and only he is allowed to touch you

Ralph has a mommy kink. Absolutely calls you “mommy” when you’re making him feel so fucking good. He’s embarrassed by it at first but he stops caring and eventually pleads for his mommy to take care of him and make him feel good.

Michael has such a corruption kink. It doesn’t matter if you’re an angelic school girl or already have rough edges to you—Michael is going to make you worse. Michael is going to do things to you that make you blush just by hearing about them. The way he can make you squirm and feel filthy has him almost coming just by thinking about it.

Tom always has to fuck you in front of a mirror. He needs you to see yourself being utterly used by him. It’s an obsession to see how he looks pounding into you at different angles.

Paul is obsessed with breath play. So much of his shitty life is out of his control, but with you? You breathe when he says you can. He loves to choke you and watch your eyes glass over from lack of air. Then he decides when to loosen his grip and let you breathe again.

Enjolras has the unfortunate affliction of insomnia, which has led to his somnophilia. He sees you laying there, so still and calm; your chest lightly rising and falling as you sleep and Enjolras can’t help but touch you. You’re so responsive even in your sleep that it becomes Enjolras’s favorite playtime.

Koner wants to be humiliated. He’s got this big important job as a guard and likes to act all tough, but when you get in bed with him at the end of the day he just wants to hear what a fucking loser he is and how he’s pathetic. He wants you to threaten to tell all your friends how he’s a worthless piece of shit.

Arthur loves to have his senses deprived. Blindfold? Fuck yes. Handcuffs? Hell yeah. Definitely some bondage usage as well, but it’s mostly the just blindly (pun intended) trusting the person he’s with by cutting off one or more senses completely.

[witchofthemidlands]

this isn't a criticism at all because they're all ultimately derived of the same source materials, this is something i want to say in the hopes i can nudge someone towards a special interest of mine that invaded my brain & will never leave.

if you liked nosferatu (2024) wow, do i have the show for you! with the same content warnings as you'd receive for nosferatu may i offer upon you all: penny dreadful (2014-2016)

filled with some of the best ever adaptations of the characters from dracula, frankenstein, jekyll & hyde, the wolf man & the picture of dorian grey is (in my personal opinion) the most phenomenal gothic series i have ever seen in all my years of being a gothic literature fan, i have a degree in literature, a segment of it being in gothic literature, i have read these stories over & over again, dracula is my second favourite novel of all time, frankenstein is also in my top teen novels of all time & i love jekyll & hyde & i don’t think i have ever seen a loosely based adaptation get these characters so well. do you vibe with nosferatu's ellen hutter? let me tell you about the beautiful, the love of my life, vanessa ives! played by the ethereal eva green! vanessa is tragic, beautiful & literally possessed by a demon. she is brave & brilliant, not to be a lesbian but oh my god, i rarely cry at pieces of media but i have shed so many tears over her & been in awe of her existence, she is derivative of both lucy westenra & mina harker, the calibre of acting from eva green is like nothing i have ever seen, her possession moments is just a masterclass in acting & the pain & desperation… oh vanessa will ruin your life. harry treadaway must have been touched by some acting deity & i cannot believe he isn't a massive name in television & film because he is the best version of victor frankenstein i have ever seen in any adaptation of frankenstein & this isn't even about just the frankenstein story. harrytreadaway!victor is an absolute cringefail pathetic wet cat of a man (affectionate) who sits there looking like he's on ten different substances whilst sometimes going off on side quests with his best friend vanessa & often judges the rest of the squad nobody is matching his freak. he is THE version of victor frankenstein of all time. if there is anything else that man has done that anyone recommends send it my way because that is an actor. rory kinnear gives the emotionl performance of a lifetime as frankenstein's creature & explores so many aspects of that character in ways i have never seen before in all my years of watching adaptations of frankenstein. josh hartnett as ethan chandler… that man's story is a RIDE, he is a disaster & a gentleman. he is also openly bisexual & for no reasons why & in no way beneficial to the plot, has sexual relations with dorian gray & speaking of dorian gray. i have never liked that book, that story has never been for me but that beautiful singer reeve carney made me see so many different aspects of a character i have never liked & is just brilliant because his character is just there to have sexual relations & not really benefit the overall plot that much at all. there are new iterations of mina murray, her father malcolm murray, a grumpy old man played the same bloke who portrayed niles caulder from doom patrol & basically plays the same character, van helsing, a charmingly sinister iteration of dracula & an otherworldly brilliantly acted version of dr. henry jekyll who seems like he had a situationship with frankenstein.

ultimately vanessa, sembene, malcolm murray, ethan & frankenstein are forced found family, they are strays, they are disasters, they are frenemies, they're forced found family bound together, in the most dysfunctional manner, the only one with a braincell is sembene who's too good for their shit & of course my love, the brilliant & the gorgeous billie piper plays a phenomenal iteration of the bride of frankenstein in the most raw performance i have seen from her. i am absolutely in love with her, she is so beautiful & so talented & did something to my brain chemistry. there is heartbreak, humour, adventure, the gothic, the weird & the tragic. this series is something else & that's not even the half of it.

also broadway legend patti lupone plays a genderbent dr. seward from dracula & i want her to do unspeakable things to me.

[olderthannetfic]

Oh boy yumeshipper drama! Recently, I got into yumeshipping despite long-ingrained instincts that self-inserts are "cringe" and "the kind of thing only annoying and unskilled/inexperienced teenagers do". (I grew up in the days of things like deviantArt shaming and Mary Sue character drama, so even now it's still a hard instinct to overcome.)

But despite that I decided to play around and make a yume character to set up with some blorbos I liked in one of my fandoms, because the world is burning down and this is honestly a better way to cope with that than substance abuse. It's actually been really fun sprinkling bits of myself into a character and adapting it realistically to the specific setting that I'm playing around in (and it's also potentially been making me realize some things about myself with regards to some things like gender).

Even so, I don't *DARE* discuss this outside of the small circle of friends I know I can trust, because I have heard so many horror stories about other yumeshippers who get violently possessive of their blorbos and stir up shit. It sucks because I've actually been having so much fun and I want to share my good time with others-

(Personally I don't care about other selfshippers with my blorbos, because I am of the attitude that every person's interpretation and interaction with a piece of media will be different and anything can be possible if you spin it convincingly/in-character enough, and thus one version is no more "correct" than another, with some rare exceptions, obviously. So my version is different from your version, and that's okay! If I don't like it I also don't have to look at it! And that's also okay!)

-but I really don't want to invite the drama and potential blowups into my escapist space.

--

[mumbojumboshipbrackets]

REMEMBER THIS IS JUST THE CHARACTERS NOT THE CREATORS

Poly Boatem

Members: PearlescentMoon, GrianMC, GoodTimesWithScar, ImpulseSV, Mumbo Jumbo Submissions: 2 Reasons: - I just love to imagine boatem sleepovers; they’re all one big cuddle pile watching any Disney film and they do that to get the others to stop working to the point of exhaustion. Do you- do you see the

MumScarian

Includes: Grian, Scar, Mumbo Submissions: 9 Reasons: - Because Buttercups, my beloved. They fit each other like puzzle pieces. - Chaos gremlin giran, accident prone scar, and mumbo who has to deal with them - Mumbo and Grian are inseparable and in love, and very, very weird about each other. Mumbo and Scar are, in my controversial opinion, in love and very, very normal about each other. Together they make such an interesting dynamic, whether you go an angsty or fluffy route. Mumbo is fond of both Grian and Scar, who are both fond of him, and both fond of each other, and they just meld so wonderfully. Scar has paired Grian and Mumbo together multiple times, telling them to hold hands in season 9 and to stand on the same trap door in the season 8 finale. Grian made a scarecrow with Mumbos face and scars hat. Mumbo has his Scar and Grian armour stands right next to each other in his build. They want to see each other happy so bad and they care for each other so much! - have you seen them - weird soulmate shit idk man - My absolute fav trio, I love grumbo, (mumbo x scar) and scarian why not all three!

[maxdibert]

I wished lily wasn't the reason for Severus' loyalty. The revelation of his love for her (platonically or romantically) was truly important. You have the incident that kickstarted the prophecy. Severus' switch to the order. Voldemort giving Lily a chance to choose. Severus playing an important role in the second wizarding war. All because of a friendship of two people from spinner's end.

JKR should have developed it more. I understand that she went for the twist, but when the thrill of the discovery is gone there are so many questions that are unanswered.

first, I do not like Lily as a friend. She forgives the marauders for the years of bullying, see her 'best friend' being hanged upside down and threatened to have his genitals exposed. Who the fuck does that ? Also when Harry asked if his mother knew that James still bullying Severus in the seventh year, remus answered with "she did not know too much." so she knew something...

I do not like Lily as a sister, why did she not let James know that vernon probably doesn't know anything about the wizarding world before they went on dinner. I mean wth is Petunia supposed to say to Vernon ? "Oh yeah my sister is a witch and she went to this magical school". Not the best way to make a men fall in love with you. Is Petunia even allowed to tell Vernon all of this under the secrecy law? (I'm aware that restaurant scene is not canon, but that's what I thought when I read it on the website).

I don't like the way she uses her other friends opinion of Severus and their friendship, who clearly don't like Severus, as an argument to why Severus should stop hanging out with his Slytherin friends. Why are your friends even discussing Severus?

Also, I don't like the way she idolize Albus Dumbledore. Severus' got bullied for years, and Dumbledore did nothing. Severus was nearly killed by a werewolf and Dumbledore made Severus swear to never talk about it. What did he do, he made James head boy. Yeah if that happened to me and this man was the leader of the order, I might have asked for the death eater sign up too. Ridiculous.

By making his love for her so pure and selfless, it makes me wonder why he loves her so much. We know nothing, and the things we know just make me go "bruh really.... her ? .... she would not spare a thought for you if your funeral was announced in the papers".

Listen I was never part of the cool kids, so perhaps I don't understand her. But then again, for a Gryffindor, she really is a social coward.

It makes everything so bloody tragic. I sometimes wonder if I'd wished Severus stayed a death eater in the story but then one with guilt because he started caring about the professors and children through the years of working there.

It was honestly funny to read all of this because it feels like listening to myself when I was 16 or 17. I mean, even before I was a fan of Severus—because that came with time—I had a pretty neutral opinion of the character. I didn’t dislike him because I understood his motivations, but I wasn’t particularly a fan either. And if I wasn’t a fan, it was precisely because of everything you’re talking about.

A lot of people say Severus was an obsessive incel who spent 24/7 thinking about Lily, but I never saw it that way—I just thought he was an idiot. I thought, Wow, what an absolute moron. Like, did he really sacrifice his entire life for a woman who was actually kind of a piece of shit? Did he really give up everything to protect the son of his bully and the woman who married said bully? Could you be a bigger loser? No, seriously, could you be more pathetic? Because that woman not only let him be bullied for years, she almost smiled at his bully while he was publicly stripping him. She practically blamed him for her lack of popularity because she was seen with him, and somehow, he was supposed to be grateful. She gaslit him when he tried to tell her about what his abusers were doing to him. She literally told him he should be grateful to one of his abusers. Like, this woman was a piece of shit who was just looking to climb the social ladder. She loved being Gryffindor’s golden girl, just like she was the golden girl back home, and she hated that she had a weird, ugly, nerdy friend with questionable associations who tainted her image. On top of that, she loved having Gryffindor’s rich, pureblood king fawning over her because it was yet another symbol of status—but, of course, she had to play hard to get because good girls always resist bad boys.

That’s how I saw Lily Evans (and honestly, how I still see her), and it seemed absurd to me that Severus would have given so much for her when, honestly, I would have told her to fuck off. Like, if I were Severus, I would’ve dropped her the first time she gaslit me about my abusers. But if for some reason I had still stuck around after that, the moment I saw her almost smiling at my main abuser while he was stripping me in public, I would’ve beaten her so hard she’d have lost all her teeth.

That was my mindset when I was younger, before I learned a lot of things. Back then, I didn’t know what toxic friendships were or how easy it was to fall into them. I had no idea what codependency was, nor did I understand what an attachment figure was. At the time, I grasped some of these concepts vaguely, but over the years, I not only understood them more deeply but also experienced them—both personally and through people around me.

As I got older, I realized that the fact that Severus came from a home where he felt terribly unsafe, and that Lily represented his first safe place as a child, played a huge role in his cognitive development and psyche. In some way, he was always going to be grateful to her for probably being the only good thing in his childhood. And those childhood attachments are some of the strongest and hardest to break because they’re so deeply ingrained in a person. On top of that, Lily was his friend for years, during key developmental stages, and he probably didn’t see all of her flaws—he had her idealized. He grew up in a house where violence was the norm, and his classmates at Hogwarts also treated violence as normal. Lily was different, so he simply wasn’t capable of recognizing problematic behaviors that anyone with a healthy upbringing and healthy role models would have seen immediately. Because he didn’t have those things.

We’re not talking about a character who had examples of healthy behavior, affection, or attachments—we’re talking about someone who had the opposite. So, of course, he wasn’t capable of seeing anything bad in Lily. To him, she was the good in his environment. She was his moral compass, a kind of lighthouse to guide him when he wanted to know if he was heading in the right direction. It’s even possible that he never blamed her for marrying James, and instead, just thought it was normal that she gave in—because she was so good that she could see the good in even horrible people like James. Or maybe he believed James had somehow deceived her.

Severus’s attachment to Lily is kind of like a child who idolizes their mother and is completely unable to see her flaws—even when she acts like a complete asshole—because she’s their mother. And if she does something bad, well, it’s probably the fault of the people around her, not her. That’s exactly how Severus saw Lily.

When I understood all of this, I felt like I finally understood the character and his motivations better. I think it’s important to look at it not from our perspective as outsiders forming opinions, but from his perspective as someone inside the situation—someone who was emotionally dependent on her and either didn’t see the truth or didn’t want to see it.

Over the years, I’ve toned down my discourse about Lily, but my opinion of her hasn’t changed all that much from when I was a teenager. The only difference is that now I rationalize it better. But I still think she was a self-centered social climber. The only thing that’s changed is that before, I just thought she was a shallow, frivolous person—now I give her a little more credit and think her behavior was based on an inferiority complex stemming from her working-class background and her Muggle heritage.

But that doesn’t change the core of the issue. And honestly? I think she and James Potter were a perfect match—two absolute assholes who deserved each other. In fact, I’ve never been bothered by Jily because I’ve always thought they belonged together. Equally insufferable.

[scoutofmymind]

hold on is the bi fic coming today?! might cancel plans w friends im not kidding

À Trois — { Luigi x Reader x OMC }

Content: NSFW — MDNI Another Situationship, Luigi is canon techie, reader is a chef, interesting new French-Canadian techie chef hybrid enters the arena, m/m/f, anal fingering, all kinds of penetration, general filth!, original Male Character insert

Wc: 6,415

Notes: Chaos erupts on a packed Saturday night when your sous chef quits, forcing you to call in a favor. Enter a quick-witted, intriguing French-Canadian with a mop of curls and an eye for opportunity — a friend of a friend who might just turn disaster into something much more interesting.

Hi! So I should probably give some warnings before this but I kinda just want you to read it blindly hehe🐇

What I will say, is if this isn’t your thing, just don’t read it! I have plenty of other things to read on my Masterlist pinned on my blog and if you don’t wanna read my stuff, there’s other accounts and shit to read, hon!!

I liked writing this almost too much, and I think it’s because (as I’ve briefly mentioned before) m/m content is what I’ve written the majority of in my time as a writer, so this was a good introduction to dipping my toes deeper in the straight smut shores. This piece focuses on vulnerability, specifically involving Luigi, and very deep and sexual fantasies and desires.

Additionally, I would like to add I very recently watched We Live in Time after I started writing this and Almuts culinary ventures encouraged me to keep readers ambitions as a chef. Was very much envisioning the Bear vibes, too.

Also, anon! I hope you went out with your friends because Mama Scout is a very slow editor! I swear I went as quickly as possible, but that might mean I left some oopsies.

This is a Pinterest board to help you envision my version of Alex — but with that being said, please feel free to imagine him in whatever way resonates with you!

•

"I just want to die." You say dramatically, though your voice caught no wind of your unseriousness, sounding as if you truly had meant it from the bottom of your heart. "If I have to fill another puff pastry to be graded by that fucking wrinkle one more fucking ti-"

Luigi had interrupted you by nipping at your neck, gentle and soft but enough to snap you back into the moment, shared there on the couch in your apartment.

"I hate him," He whispers against the delicate and sensitive skin of your neck, the prickle of his growing facial hair making you shiver. "N'I never even met the guy." His tongue flattens below your earlobe, wet and hot, tasting your skin. His hands tighten possessively at your waist, and you can feel the tension in his fingers, the way they press into you like he's trying to leave marks deeper than skin.

You huff softly and hook your fingers into his sweater, pulling him closer. "Good." Your hips are eventually aligned with his, nestled into the spot in his lap that fit the shape of you so perfectly. "Isn't that what friends are for? Hating the same people."

You can feel him nodding, and in the back of both of your minds the sentiment echoes.

Friends

Friends

Friends

The word hangs between you like smoke, heavy and suffocating.

His fingers trace absent patterns on your hip, each touch sending sparks through your clothes, and you wonder if he can feel you trembling. You wonder if he knows that every time you refer to each other as friends, it feels like a beautiful lie, a comfortable cage you've both locked yourselves in.

Your foreheads are almost touching now, and you can count his eyelashes, dark against his cheeks when he blinks.

The room feels too warm, too small.

This had all started innocently enough, but had tumbled into something that felt cathartic, and as natural as drawing the next breath. Luigi knew just how to soothe you when you went on a tangent, wondering if culinary is even worth the hassle, and you'd convince him to rest after spending hours, staring at the same code and expecting it to unravel itself.

On the other side of the coin, he knew just the angle you liked it when you were on top, and you knew which buttons to push when he was getting close to the edge. His hands would always find your hips in the dark, steadying, grounding, like he was afraid you might disappear if he let go.

All of that had lead here, two years later, drowning in debt but doing it together.

Your tiny apartment, always filled with the smell of your latest baking experiments and the soft glow of his laptop screen at 3 AM.

His coffee mugs mixed with your measuring cups in the sink.

Your cookbooks scattered among his programming manuals.

Neither of you had planned this.

But the memory of how it started still makes you smile.

That first night when frustration over finals had turned into something else entirely. Him, cursing at Java errors until 2 AM; you, covered in flour and close to tears over a failed soufflé. Somehow you'd ended up tangled together on the bed, comfort turning to kisses, friendship morphing into something neither of you had dared to name.

Now here you are, his thumbs pressing into your hipbones like muscle memory, your fingers twisting into his sweater — the same dance you've been doing for years, but it never gets old.

"You're thinking too loud," Luigi murmurs against your neck, and you can feel his smile against your skin. He always knows, somehow, when you're getting lost in your head. His hands slide up your back, pulling you closer, bringing you back to the present moment, to him.

"I just don't know what all this is for." You grumble, and it's the same sentence you rattle on once a week — even Luigi is starting to wonder if maybe you're onto something, this feeling so persistent it's become its own shadow.

But beneath that doubt, he knows better.

He's witnessed your passion in the way your hands dance through prep work at 3 AM, seen your drive in the burns and scars you wear like medals, and more importantly, he's watched your fierce determination to carve your place in a world that keeps trying to push you out.

Every time you prove another condescending male chef wrong, he sees that fire in your eyes that reminds him exactly what all of this is for.

•

It's day two of restaurant week, you're already down two servers, and your sous chef just threw his apron at you and stormed out — all because you dared to suggest his sauce was breaking. The dining room is full, tickets are piling up, and you're seriously considering whether arson is a viable career move.

"Chef?" Lucas pokes his head into the kitchen, looking nervous. "I might have a solution. My friend Alex — he used to run a kitchen in Montreal before getting into tech. He's moved nearby. He- he could help."

You're about to say you don't need some tech bro's help when three tickets print simultaneously and your saucier drops a pan. Although the worst images of Luigi’s grad class flashes before your mind, you’re resisting your fight or flight, landing on an almost comical freeze.

"Fine.” Your stare is blank, watching as the tickets roll in. “But if he can't keep up-"

"He can keep up, chef.” Lucas promises, already texting.

Fifteen minutes later, a tall man with messy brown curls walks in, already tying an apron.

He takes one look at your ticket rail and starts rolling up his sleeves, his arms crossed over his chest as if he’s admiring an art piece in a museum. "Alexandre Dubois," he says quickly, the earlier mention of his home in Montreal evident in his accent. "Where do you need me?"

You point to the chaos of your saucier station. "Can you make a decent béarnaise?"

His smile is quick and confident. "In my sleep, Chef. Traditional? or are we playing with modernist techniques?"

Before you can answer, he's already moving, grabbing eggs with one hand while adjusting your immersion circulator with the other. The next six hours are a blur — a whirlwind of perfect sauces, synchronized plating, and Alex's voice cutting through the chaos in a mix of French and English.

In the end, you couldn't tell anyone the details even if you tried, and you do, sat in a booth in the vacant restaurant, Alex sitting across from you as you scrub your hands over your face.

"I don't remember anything," you whisper, sipping from the glass of wine in front of you, having gone behind the bar to pour it yourself.

Your hands are still shaking slightly — adrenaline crash, or maybe low blood sugar.

Who’s to say.

"I think that's a defense mechanism.” Luigi murmurs, only a hint of humor in his tone. He's tucked beside you, shoulder warm against yours, and you lean into it slightly. Turns out, he had known Alex from KubeCon just last month — some massive tech conference downtown where Alex had presented his restaurant management platform.

You think that's what Luigi said, anyway.

You genuinely couldn't hear anything besides the imaginary ticket printer still squawking in your mind.

"You did beautifully," Alex says quietly, finally reaching for his wine. "That kitchen — you’ve built something special there. I had fun.”

You make a noise that might be a laugh or a groan. "A kitchen that nearly became a funeral march tonight." But you're smiling a little now, the wine and the company slowly unwinding the tension in your shoulders.

"I still can't believe you were actually cooking," Luigi says to Alex, shaking his head. "When I saw your presentation at KubeCon about automating kitchen workflows, I just assumed-“

"That I was another tech bro like you who'd never worked a line?" Alex's grin is knowing. "Non, I did my time. Ten years at home in Montreal, then Paris. The software came after — I kept seeing problems that needed solving." He pauses, takes a sip. "Who better to make restaurant software than a chef? Though I admit, I haven't jumped into service like that in.. Two years? Three?"

"Could have fooled me," you murmur, and his eyes catch yours, something warm in them that makes your breath catch slightly.

"High praise, coming from you," he scrunches his nose, freckles becoming more prominent as the wine warms his cheeks. "Luke told me about your kitchen. About you. I may have been particularly interested in helping tonight."

Luigi shifts beside you, and you feel him exhale slowly. "Funny," he says, voice carefully neutral. "Lucas told me some interesting things, too."

The air changes subtly, charged with something you're too exhausted to properly analyze, or maybe you're just not ready to acknowledge the way Alex's gaze keeps moving between you and Luigi, the way Luigi's hand has settled on your knee under the table.

The heat bouncing off of each of you.

The silence shatters with the unmistakable growl of your stomach. Alex's posture snaps straight, professional instincts overriding everything else. "Chef," he breathes, voice caught between concern and disbelief. "Tell me that wasn't-“

"I haven't eaten since breakfast," you confess, heat rising to your cheeks. The day had spiraled in that way only restaurant life can — you'd meant to cobble together something from prep scraps between tasks, but then the lunch rush hit, followed by inventory, and suddenly it was dinner service with nothing but coffee and determination keeping you vertical.

Alex's expression shifts from desire to decisive action in an instant.

He glances from you to Luigi, then back again, shoulders squaring with newfound purpose. "My place is three blocks east on Clark," he says, keys already appearing in his hand. The invitation is casual, but the glint in his eye suggests he knows exactly how to seal the deal. "Been saving a special bottle for the right occasion — Chateau Latour."

Unlike your wide-eyed response, Luigi maintains his composure, but his attention is caught by the way you practically vibrate with excitement.h His expertise lies in absorbing your rants about reducing sauces rather than reducing wine lists — and your own sommelier ambitions had been temporarily shelved when the kitchen claimed you — he finds your enthusiasm infectious.

The elevator opens directly into the penthouse — the contrast almost laughable.

Here's Alex, dark ink creeping up his neck from beneath a worn Black Flag t-shirt, keys hooked through his belt loop like any other line cook, standing in the middle of what could be an Architectural Digest spread.

His blue beanie comes off, revealing that mess of hair he was pushing back during service, as he pads across heated marble floors in scuffed Vans.

The space is all clean lines and floor-to-ceiling windows, but there are hints of the real Alexandre from Montreal scattered throughout — a battered leather jacket tossed over a $10,000 armchair, a crystal ashtray on the balcony holding the remains of his American Spirits, dog-eared Bourdain paperbacks mixed in with leather-bound first editions on the shelves.

The wine wall is a thing of beauty, a temperature-controlled showcase spanning an entire wall, though you notice he keeps his everyday drinks in a mini-fridge by the couch — sparkling water, craft beers and the kind of natural wines that come with cartoon labels.

The kitchen is a chef's dream — yours, in particular — Gaggenau everything, knives worth more than first cars — but there's also a well-loved cast iron pan that's clearly his favorite, seasoned by years of late-night cooking.

Luigi whistles low, taking it all in. "Never would've guessed, Chef.” he says with a grin, the sentiment still strange on his tongue. He knew Alex as a techie. Not a chef.

"Yeah, well," Alex shrugs, already heading for the kitchen with that familiar kitchen-swagger that both of you take heavy mental note of, eyes following him like he’s on a stage. “money doesn't make food taste better." He stops to light a cigarette on his way to the wine wall, the flame catching the faded stick-and-poke tattoo on his knuckles.

Your glances shared with Luigi across the kitchen island grow more frequent as the night deepens, like two regulars sharing secrets at the chef's counter after closing.

Each look is a silent conversation about Alex — the way his hands move with practiced grace, how his voice drops when he's concentrating, the slight curl of his mouth when he catches one of you watching. For Luigi, it's rediscovering someone he thought he knew; for you, it's discovering someone you wish you'd known all along.

His hand finds yours under the counter, warm and grounding, but doubt still gnaws at the edges of this moment. Maybe you're both reading too much into Alex's invitation — perhaps this is just what he does, this tech wonder with a chef's soul, feeding strays past midnight in his penthouse kitchen.

Your phone buzzes, Luigi's message lighting up the screen.

I'm gonna say it

You huff quietly, fingers dancing across your phone screen while feigning interest in Alex's enthusiastic discourse on his Japanese steel collection. He's talking about the way his yanagiba catches the light, but all you can focus on is how his own eyes catch it instead, bright and alive with passion.

Go on then

Luigi seems lost in a trance, captivated by the cadence of Alex's voice as he demonstrates proper blade technique with his hands.

The notification sits unread for two long minutes before he finally tears his gaze away to unlock his phone.

He's hot

The crude simplicity of it makes you bite back a laugh — trust Luigi to distill this magnetic pull into two blunt words. But he's not wrong. There's something raw and electric about Alex, the way he commands the space without trying, how his tattoos peek out when he reaches for the top shelf, the slight rasp in his voice when he gets excited about something.

You watch him plate with the precision of a surgeon and the flair of an artist, and your next messages to Luigi is equally succinct.

I know

We're in trouble

I thought you'd never touch another man again huh?? What happened to THAT??

Luigi's eyes roll dramatically at his phone, though his lips twitch with amusement. You've heard his declarations countless times — "I'm bi, but men are exhausting" and "I'm done with the whole scene" — always accompanied by that same frustrated wave of his hand, as if trying to brush away his string of romantic disappointments.

Dude it’s pride month and this is how you're going to treat me?

Your playful shove lands harder than intended, sending Luigi slightly off-balance. Your shared laughter, too loud in the intimate kitchen space, draws Alex's attention like a magnet.

He turns, wooden spoon still in hand, one eyebrow arched in that way that makes your stomach flip. "What?" he asks, voice low and amused, glancing theatrically over his shoulder as if checking for projectiles. "Do I need to separate you two?"

"Well, I'd apologize," you manage, watching Alex pour more of the wine with deliberate slowness, "but something tells me you're not actually upset.”

The corner of his mouth lifts, and Luigi's grip on your thigh tightens reflexively. The air feels charged, like the moment before a storm breaks. You're acutely aware of every small movement — the way Alex's shoulders flex as he sets down the bottle, how Luigi's breath catches when those dark eyes find his.

"Upset? Non." Alex circles the counter with predatory grace. "Curious, though." He stops just close enough that you can smell his cologne, see the faint scattered burns on his forearms from years in professional kitchens, matching yours. “About what's got two of the brightest minds I’ve ever met acting like teenagers in my kitchen."

Luigi makes a sound that might be a laugh if it wasn't so breathless. "Would you believe we were discussing network architecture?"

"No," Alex says simply, and the authority in his voice makes both of you straighten instinctively. "I wouldn't." His hand comes to rest on the counter behind you, effectively caging you both in. "Want to try again?"

The hunter has you cornered, and somehow, that's exactly where you both want to be.

You blink instinctively at Alex, your fingers wrapped around Luigi’s that twitch with sudden anticipation — of what, he wasn’t even sure. And cat’s got both of your tongues, because Alex laughs at the beat of silence that falls between you again.

“What’s the story here, hm?” He gestures lazily at your interlocked fingers and the way you hold Luigi’s hand between your thighs like it’s meant to be there; you realize now you’re closer than ever to experiencing one of your most beloved fantasies, the one you’d told Luigi a million times about after finding out he was bisexual.

“I’d literally cut my tongue out of my mouth to see you get fucked.” You blurt it over your oatmeal, causing Luigi to freeze, a long, drawn out sigh deflating him.

“Well at least then you’d shut the fuck up about it.”

The air grows thick with unspoken tension as eyes dart between the three of you in an electric dance. When Alex's hands find your thighs, the touch is deliberately slow, possessive. "No need to play shy now." His voice drops to velvet. "Are you dating? Fucking?" His gaze slides from you to Luigi, hungry and knowing. "Please fucking don't tell me it's neither."

Luigi swallows hard, and you watch his throat work. "We've been- we’ve had-“ The words tangle in his mouth, caught somewhere between confession and confusion.

"Ah," Alex hums, a sound of pure satisfaction. He doesn't need Luigi to finish; the truth is written in the way you lean into each other, in years of shared glances and stolen moments. His thumb traces circles on your thigh as understanding dawns in his eyes. He imagines the desperate moments over your kitchen counter after brutal workdays, knows about the languid afternoons when Luigi worships between your thighs like a man finding religion. "I see.”

"And do you both want this?" Alex asks, his thumbs still tracing maddening circles. "Because I've imagined it. Every possible way." His voice drops lower, intimate. "The way Lui would look taking my cock while he's inside you.”

Luigi's breath catches sharply, and you feel him gravitate toward you as Alex's hand captures both your chins, tilting your faces together like he's arranging a masterpiece.

"Look at each other," he breathes, and the command sends electricity down your spine. When your eyes meet Luigi's, your heart stutters — his pupils are blown so wide the brown is nearly swallowed by black, his full lips parted and flushed deep rose. A beautiful flush stains his cheeks, and you've seen him like this countless times before — desperate, wanting, on the edge of losing control.

But this is different.

The weight of Alex's gaze transforms something familiar into something thrillingly new, dangerous and electric.

It's like seeing Luigi for the first time all over again.

Alex's thumb traces Luigi's bottom lip, and you watch, transfixed, as it parts beneath his touch. Your breath catches at the raw intimacy of the gesture, at how naturally Luigi yields to him despite barely knowing him.

His other hand slides up your thigh, stopping just short of where you're aching for touch. "Tell each other what you want," he commands softly. "Both of you."

Luigi swallows hard, and you watch his throat work. "I want-" he starts, then breaks off with a shaky exhale when Alex's thumb presses slightly into his mouth. "I want to see if you can keep up with both of us," he manages finally. "Wanna see if you’re as strong as you look."

The words send heat flooding through you, and Alex's grip on your chin tightens slightly. "And you?" he asks, dark eyes fixed on your profile as you stare at Luigi. "What do you want?"

Your voice comes out rougher than you expect. "Want to watch you fuck Lu," you breathe, feeling Luigi's fingers dig harder into your hip at your words. "Want to see him come undone for someone else.” Your fantasy uttered aloud almost makes you moan, so close you can taste it. “I’ve thought about it for years.”

"That can be arranged," Alex says softly, “Give him some love.” He directs you to kiss Luigi, and you do — all soft lips and delicious spit, again, something so normal, so written in your code feels so new and different.

You know Luigi must be aching for some sort of friction, his hips stuttering against the seam of his dickies as he pulls away. The two of you finally look to Alex again, like lambs before a wolf — willing sacrifices to his altar. "My room is just around that corner." He gestures to a room with sweeping views of the city lights, dominated by a luxurious king-sized bed. The decor grows more personal the deeper you look — still expensive, but uniquely Alex; rich leather accents, dark wood, carefully chosen art. "Attendez-moi, mes petits anges."

Despite years steeped in French cuisine and culture, you've never understood French the way you do in this moment.

You and Luigi stumble into his room in a tangle of limbs, falling onto the plush bed where you undress each other with trembling fingers and burning intent. "You're finally going to get what you've always wanted," Luigi teases, his clothes scattered across the hardwood floor, mingling with yours until there's nothing left between skin and silk sheets.

"Don't act like you haven't been dreaming of this too," you swat his chest playfully, taking a moment to drink in your surroundings. Then doubt creeps in, and you turn to face him, voice softening. "You do want this- want that- want him — right?"

Of course he does. You can see it in the way his pupils have swallowed the rich hazel in his eyes, the slight tremble in his fingers when they trace your skin. He's a leaf caught in a storm now, ready to be carried wherever this night leads.

But..

"Oh, Lu." You cradle his face between your palms, unable to suppress a fond smile as you drink him in. He's ethereal like this — flushed and wanting, a stray curl falling across his forehead, skin practically luminescent in the dim light. "Are you nervous?"

He blinks slowly before nodding, following it with an overdramatic sigh that's so quintessentially Luigi. "What if I-“ he trails off, and it's jarring to see this crack in his usual confidence. For all his natural sensuality, there's a new vulnerability in sharing this first time with you, in letting you see him completely undone. What if seeing him like that - seeing another man inside him — changes everything?

What if you can't look at him the same way?

"C'mon." You settle between his legs, hearing the distant clink of dishes from the kitchen where Alex tidies up. It's almost amusing how the day's hunger has transformed into something else entirely.

The soft tear of tinfoil drifts from the kitchen — dinner waiting patiently to be revisited.

Luigi lies before you like a Renaissance painting, all golden skin and flush-stained cheeks, dark curls falling across his forehead. His breath comes in gentle pants, chest rising and falling with anticipation, fingers twisted in the sheets beneath him, cock stood proudly against his belly, flushed pink and leaking little dribbles of excitement over his bellybutton.

You can't deny your own nerves, haunted by the same fears but in a different key. It had always been you and Luigi — this delicate dance of yours, this perfectly balanced equation. Until Alex came along with his sharp wit and gentle hands, his ability to speak six languages and still leave you both speechless.

"You have no idea, Lu." The words spill from you like a confession as you drag your tongue along the underside of his cock, feeling it pulse against your tongue. Your fingers dig into his thighs, grounding yourself in the moment, in the taste of him. "How beautiful you are when you really fall apart.”

And yes, you've witnessed Luigi's pleasure plenty before, seen him come undone beneath your touch — but there's always been this unspoken limit, this boundary you've never dared to cross. Your body, beautiful as it is, lacks certain equipment, and you've never found the courage to suggest alternatives, to ask him to trust you that deeply.

"Oh, petite étoile," Alex's voice carries from the doorway, rich as aged cognac. You don't stop your attention to Luigi, but you feel the shift in the air, the electric charge of being watched, and the familiar act becomes something new, something thrilling under Alex's appreciative gaze. "Making you feel good, hmm, mon coeur?" His accent wraps around the words like a spiders carefully weaved silk, and you feel Luigi shiver beneath your tongue.

He whines — a delicate sound he tries to swallow back, as if embarrassed by his own pleasure. You know better, know exactly how to unravel him. Your tongue swirls around his cockhead with deliberate precision, a dance you've perfected over countless nights, and his attempt at restraint crumbles like sugar in rain.

Another moan escapes him, deeper this time, as his gaze flickers between you and Alex who’s taking his time, each piece of clothing removed with maddening slowness, like unwrapping a gift he plans to savor. You arch your back, rise slightly on your knees — a subtle invitation.

It works.

You hear Alex's sharp intake of breath, feel the heat of his approach even before his hands find your hips.

And then he’s to his knees at the foot of the bed, his tongue eager to taste you, his fingers buried in your heat almost immediately. “Fuck,” you whisper, watching Luigi’s eyes light up with adoration, with love, with uncontainable lust.

You had thought this through in the last moment — the best way to ease his uncertainties would be to show him just how beautiful vulnerability can be.

"Ooh," Alex's groan resonates through you, his fingers working with practiced precision, curling just right as his thumb traces maddening circles against your clit. Each movement is deliberate, calculated to make you tremble. "You watching, Lu?" His voice drops to a velvet whisper as he tears his gaze from where his fingers disappear inside you, seeking out Luigi's face with an intensity that makes the air crackle.

"Take notes," you manage through a breathy giggle, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along Luigi's inner thighs. You feel them tighten beneath your lips as another wave of pleasure courses through him. But Alex, the choreographer of your shared desire, seems to have another act prepared — some new way to push your boundaries, to guide you and Luigi through uncharted waters just when you think you've found familiar shores.

"Get him ready for me," Alex commands, his hands spreading you open with reverent curiosity, watching as your arousal creates dark constellations on his bedspread. There's something almost scientific in his observation, mixed with raw hunger. "Lu, I don't want to assume but — out of practice with the boys, oui?" His words are careful, considerate, even as they drip with desire.

A moan escapes him then, pulled from deep within by nothing more than the tableau before him.

You, displayed and wanting, and Luigi, trembling with anticipation.

"Couldn't blame you of course," he adds in a whisper that carries layers of meaning — an acknowledgment of what you and Luigi share, a testament to your completeness as a pair, and wrapped within it all, his profound gratitude for being allowed into this sacred space between you.

Your cheeks flush crimson, heat blooming across your skin as you meet Luigi's gaze, finding in his eyes the same mix of shock and raw desire that must be evident in your own. Your glance darts to Alex, words stumbling as the full weight of his suggestion settles over you. "You- you mean-"

The small black tube rolls across the sheets toward you and Alex's confirmation comes in the form of a slow nod, punctuated by the teasing press of his cock against your entrance, making you gasp until the sound morphs into something more determined, more primal — a wordless promise that you're ready for whatever comes next. "Jesus," the word escapes you in a reverent whisper, heavy with the realization that tonight is becoming a dizzying sequence of fulfilled fantasies. "I guess we're making all my dreams come true in one night."

That simple phrase draws twin laughs from them both, your own joining the harmony as you return to your devoted attention between Luigi's thighs, pressing tender kisses against his heated skin.

Alex begins to ease himself inside you, a careful, measured claiming that ends with him fully seated, drawing a soft sound of pleasure from deep in his chest. "Mmm, my angels," he breathes, the endearment floating through the air like a dizzying, poisonous gas. From his position, he has the perfect view over your shoulders, watching Luigi's features contort in exquisite pleasure as you work a single, slick finger into him with careful precision. “So good to each other.”

The sensation is entirely new — sex has become something different, something more.

It's overwhelming in its intensity, but already you feel yourself becoming addicted to this heightened state of being; the one where your hips move in a gentle rhythm against Alex, who maintains his controlled pace, ensuring your careful ministrations to Luigi aren't disrupted, and between your thighs, Luigi trembles and shakes, his cheeks painted with twin flames of need and vulnerability.

The crimson flush spreads down his neck as he surrenders to this new experience, caught between desperate want and the sweet ache of exposure.

The vulnerability only heightens his arousal, his cock twitching against his stomach as his composure crumbles.

His jaw goes slack, lips glistening in the amber glow of city lights that filter through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Far below, the city hums its nighttime symphony, a distant urban lullaby that feels worlds away from here. "Fuck," the word drags out of him, long and desperate, "Gimme more, baby.”

You're eager to grant his wish, your chest swelling with an unexpected cocktail of emotions — fierce pride, profound tenderness, and pure awe at his trust in you. It's a strange and beautiful revelation, this moment of watching Luigi surrender to pleasure, to vulnerability, to you.

The pride that floods your chest now somehow eclipses even that sun-drenched day in when you watched him cross the stage in his graduation gown — a comparison that would be comical if it weren't so achingly true.

"Mm," your hum resonates through the heated air as you introduce another finger, watching in rapt fascination as Luigi's body responds. His back arches like a devotee at prayer, offering himself up completely on this altar of shared desire. In this moment, he's transcended simple partnership — he belongs to you wholly, and tonight, by some beautiful alchemy, to Alex as well. "Where have your manners gone?" The words barely leave your lips before Alex responds in kind, quickening his own pace inside you, a delicious reminder that in this dance, every action demands an equal reaction.

"M'sorry," Luigi's whisper comes ragged and desperate, his bottom lip caught in a vice between his teeth. The indentations left behind are deep enough to threaten blood, a physical manifestation of his struggle to maintain control. "Fuck — please," he begs, the words carrying both surrender and demand, need stripped bare of any pretense.

To quell the tremor in your hands, the rising panic, your mouth finds solace, purpose, on Luigi’s cock. Hard and slick with his need, it strains against your lips, a silent plea you answer with a fervent pull.

He tastes of himself, of salt and arousal, but tonight, a sweetness blooms somewhere in the back of your throat

Alex’s hands tighten on your hips, anchoring you as he sets a bruising pace. His eyes, dark with desire, flicker between you and Luigi, a connoisseur appreciating the interplay of flesh and longing, a masterpiece rendered in sweat and gasps.

Beautiful.

Shattering.

Luigi’s gaze is fixed on you, raw and unguarded as Alex’s hips slam against you, a friction that echoes the storm inside you both and you meet his look, swallowed by the vulnerability etched on his face, the pleasure that paints his features.

His breath hitches, a strangled sound that mirrors your own.

“Tell me,” Alex breathes, the words catching in his throat, his chest heaving, each inhale and exhale a testament to the shared precipice you’re all teetering on. “Tell me where you want it, darling.”

You don’t have to speak.

Your fingers and mouth are too preoccupied with their work on Luigi. You let your body do the talking — leaning back gently, pressing yourself against Alex’s groin, pushing him deeper inside, your body tensing around him to keep him there. And that’s enough.

He fills you with a familiar warmth, but one different from Luigi’s.

Welcomed, of course.

But different.

When he pulls away, a gasp tears from your throat. “Don’t worry,” he whispers, reading your mind. You haven’t finished, and that simply won’t do. “not done with you.”

Alex coaxes you onto your back beside Luigi, skin touching skin again. Your hand reaches out, cupping Luigi’s cheek, feeling the warmth radiating from him. “Think she’s done enough?” Alex asks, his gaze falling on Luigi, who nods slowly, nerves flickering in his eyes, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. “Yeah?” Alex coos, soft praise laced with understanding.

He’s packed with muscle, similar to Luigi, yet as Alex hovers over him, their bodies seem to fit together like perfect opposites. Luigi, usually all rigid edges and tough exterior, has softened into a vulnerability you’d only dreamt of witnessing — flushed cheeks, pupils dilated beneath a heavy-lidded gaze that finally finds yours.

He looks desperate for a kiss, for any type of comfort — and that’s precisely what he receives.

Your lips brush against his, soft and reassuring, while Alex's hands smooth over the taut muscles of his stomach. Alex then positions himself above Luigi, their bodies aligning, a symphony of muscle and limb, toned and intertwined, and you’re captivated by the exquisite beauty of the scene, the raw vulnerability on display, until a low groan is wrenched from Luigi's throat, a sound you’ve only heard once before, a sound that has echoed in your memory, a sound you've yearned to hear again.

It's a sound that speaks of pleasure bordering on pain, of surrender and release.

“That’s it,” Alex whispers, his voice a gentle caress, his touch even gentler as he moves slowly, deliberately, deciphering every nuance of expression that flickers across Luigi’s face, attuned to his every need, every shift in breath and muscle. He savors the moment, prolonging the anticipation, building the tension with each measured stroke. “Good boy.”

You can’t tear your gaze away.

The raw beauty of this moment, this unguarded version of Luigi you’ve fantasized about for years, captivates you. None of your imaginings, even the most intensely focused, had done him justice.

Perhaps some of those fantasies bordered on fetishization, but that intensity, that yearning for vulnerability, has always been at the core of your connection with him.

And this is it, you realize.

This is that vulnerability, unleashed in its most potent, breathtaking form.

You watch his face contort, muscles tensing, then relaxing as he rides each wave of pleasure. Finally, he surrenders to the riptide, a cascade of whispered moans and gasps escaping his lips as he seeks yours, then Alex’s, in fleeting, fervent kisses.

The sounds he makes are unmistakably Luigi – raw, rough, deep, and passionate; a symphony of raspy breaths, soft puffs, and pouty sighs. "I'm-“ he huffs, his damp curls, looser than usual, a messy halo of hazelnut brown. The scent of vanilla and tobacco mingles with the tang of arousal. "Fuck," he groans, tilting his head back, exposing his neck, an invitation for your wet kisses. “I’m gonna-“

"Up you get," Alex murmurs, gesturing for you to join them, creating space amidst the tangle of limbs. Muscle slides against muscle, a compelling juxtaposition of strength and softness. You settle over Luigi, guided by Alex's hand as he aligns Luigi’s cock with the slick remnants of himself still glistening on your thighs.

A chorus of moans follows the connection.

Somehow, improbably, this position works.

You rock your hips against Luigi, slow and gentle, a rhythm usually reserved for lazy Sunday mornings. Now, however, the languid pace isn't about leisurely pleasure, but about carefully navigating the edge of overstimulation, reluctant to let go of the exquisite sensation.

But even this tempered pace is overwhelming, a delicious overload of sensation.

He’d become a mess beneath you, torn between focusing on the sensation of Alex fucking into him, that little spot that made him feral nudged each time, and you — the ever so familiar warmth of all of you, and the wetness of the mess Alex had left for him to add onto.

Alex kissed gently down the sides of your neck when you sat up again, changing the angle in which Luigi had been seated inside of you, his perspective something he could have never dreamt up in a million years, but god, what a sight. “Fuck, Lu.” You whimper, reaching back to tug at Alex’s curls, similar to Luigi’s, but different in their own respects.

Alex’s hands roam your torso, they slide over your chest, one wrapping gently around your throat for a few moments before he uses them again to get better leverage with the position you’re in.

Breaths become synchronized, the crescendo building to a fever pitch, your half-squeal, Luigi’s muffled groan, and Alex’s breathless whine as the same warmth he’d imparted onto you had been shared with Luigi, and the sticky, delicious mess inside of you made messier.

“My little angels.” The sentiment leaves his lips again, and both you and Luigi have the same thought — you wouldn’t mind being his angel again. Whenever he wanted, so long as Luigi was by your side.

He watches as you collapse beside Luigi, your bodies tangled together as as you held each other through the last waves of pleasure, Alex arriving again eventually to feed you both, refusing to allow you to lift a finger, fed patiently from the same fork shared between the three of you.

[nqueso-emergency]

If I had a dollar for every time a buddie weaponized racism to cover up their shitty behavior...I'd have a lot of money to donate to a worthy cause. If they put a sliver of the effort into fundraising as they do on this cringe ass performative activism, they could actually do some good in the world.

I like Eddie. I love his relationship with his son. My go to video when I've had a terrible day is their morning routine montage because it's the cutest thing of all time. I'm from LA. I know exactly how important it is to have Hispanic rep on this show (especially a Mexican man), and having authentic rep of disability via such a wonderful character like Chris is huge.

That said. If both actors could move on to work they both loved (or whatever GM decides to do), then yes I would honestly be relieved if their characters left the show. If I never had to receive another piece of pedophilia fanfic (I'm up to 6 now)? If I never had to see another death threat against a real person used for lolz? If it meant no more ironic burning pride flags and straight up hate speech? If I didn't have to see another buddie claim that BT fans are just as terrible and then never, ever have a goddamn receipt? Then yes, for me it'd be worth it. Sure that makes me selfish, but what the fuck do you expect from someone who has been literally terrorized for 10 months?

So please. Spare me the faux outrage because ya'll sure as shit haven't cared before.

Honestly, I don't think that makes you selfish at all ❤️🫂

[xyxofspades]

Has anyone written a character study about Castiel and his predisposition to addiction yet?? Like I don’t mean just endverse!Cas- I mean aaaaaaall of Cas.

Yeah sure in endverse with the drugs and the sec and the etc etc but throughout the series Cas doesn’t seem to understand how to handle human luxuries and so when he’s at his lowest he indulges in really normal things like TV, but he does it so derangedly indulgently.

In S11 when he’s Casifer and we see him in his head when Crowley pops in there to try and pull him out he is glued to that little TV he’s got. He says Lucifer “mostly leaves him alone” and with the way he talks it sounds like he is literally not processing anything except what’s on that TV. He’s not processing Lucifer Rowena’s death, whatever the hell Lucifer was doing to Crowley that whole time, the attempts on the Winchester’s lives. Dude was not seeing any of it.

And that’s not the first time he’s done that either. In the season prior when Rowena had basically given him rabies, after he’d healed, he stuck himself to the TV in the bunker watching show after show on Netflix and trash cable. He’d seemed to develop a sort of agoraphobia and coped with it via television addiction.

Then there’s the scene in early season whatever number I can’t remember where the term “Team Free Will” was coined for the first time. Cas’s famous line of “I found a liquor store.” “And?” “And I drank it.” Cas seeing nothing but hopelessness in the face of the coming apocalypse decided to indulge himself in the human luxury of alcohol. This is the beginning of the timeline leading to the endverse but it still happens in the canon timeline.

Season 5(?) (same season?) (dude idk it’s been a while) around the time all those reapers were gathering Cas said something along the lines of “the world is ending, pick a vice and stick to it” and I cannot for the love of god remember what episode it’s in but if I find it I’ll edit this post.

And of course we all love Cas from that time he absolutely lost his shit and went around doing side quests like beekeeping- but Cas was doing all that as a coping mechanism for the guilt of releasing the leviathans. The sudden shift in personality, the listening to music in the car while Dean puts a lid on his exasperation, pondering the importance of lipstick, the boop he gives Kevin- all human things, or at least things he perceives to be human.

When Cas becomes human he throws himself into this little job at a gas station. He takes absurd, meticulous care of this gas station like he’s preening some sort of million dollar garden. It’s not about the job though, it’s about the humanity of the job. The human experience of working a garbage job for near nothing pay, that’s what he’s hooked into.

The bees, the TV, the minimum wage job, and of course the sex and drugs of the endverse- Every single time we see Castiel at a low point in the show, without fail, he throws himself into a new “humane” addiction. As much as I hate the finale I do think it’s fits his pattern for the last human vice he allows is to be Dean, himself.

There’s so much more little bits and pieces throughout the show I could bring up to touch on this, but these are just the ones off the top of my head. If anyone at all has a character study or a fic about this I would love to read it. The only fics I’ve found that ever touch on this are all about endverse and the sex and drugs thing- which is fine, but it goes so much further than that. If anyone else wants to add to this post please please please- there can be SO MUCH to be said about an angel of the lord with an addiction- honest to god addiction- to humanity.

[dragon-flies-72]

Look the one thing that personally makes Dr Stone better than all other animes in my eyes and one of my favourite things to ever exist is that is Senku and Byakuya relationship.

Like I have genuinely never cried as much to anything and I'm not a crier like very few media has actually made me break down in tears but in every goddamn season seeing the shit Byakuya has done to prepare for Senkus arrival, the utter fair he has in his son is incredible. The scene with them collecting the platinum, finding it amongst the gold the sheer amount of it, made me actually ball my eyes.

The set up to it was perfect the fact it was made known how rare it was to find one tiny piece and the way even that one piece they could work with but they didn't have to. The way he said it would take decades to find even one piece of it AND BYAKUYA DID IT. HE GOT DOWN ON HIS GODDAMN HANDS AND KNEES FOR DECADES FOR HIS SON, HE DEDICATED HIS LIFE TO GIVING SENKU THE BEST CHANCE POSSIBLE TO REVIVE HUMANITY. THE FAITH HE HAD IS HIS SON IS UNRIVALED.

From the moment he arrived back on earth to his death everything he did was for his son and that alone makes Dr Stone my favourite anime. It doesn't focus of Senku endless list of possible romantic interests, there is romance in the anime plenty of it but for Senku, despite being the main character, the show focuses on his relationship with his Dad and I can never thank the Riichiro Inagaki enough for making that choice.

[leafatlaw]

cocaine and Abel is actually the most Gerald song ever and no I will not be taking questions at this time

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Look what we've become.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[woah-its-al]

@zorangezest I uh I uerm I joined in on the fun and did a pannel re-draw of ur swapped starscream comic

<3<3<3

once again original comic by @zorangezest !!!! not my original work that credit is hers!!!

[giantkillerjack]

Me: hm, I want something to put on the TV as background noise... Huh. Looks like YouTube is recommending something called The Last Unicorn. That's perfect, it's probably some old shitty animation that has aged poorly! I can watch it ironically!

Me, 2 hours later as the credits roll: *crying, cheering, buying the book, composing the songs*

Me, 2 weeks later: So I have compiled all of the quotes from the book that I think could make good tattoos, and also, HOW HAVE I NEVER LEARNED ABOUT HOW THE LAST UNICORN FUCKING SLAPS??? This gay-ass little fairytale fed my soul! Watered my crops! Transed my gender! Can't believe I heard of this story from youtube recommendations, of all places!!

[sassypantsjaxon]

Sanji headcanons, from somebody who hasn't read that far in one piece yet, but who has been to culinary school

He may wear fancy prissy shoes, but I guarantee you those babies are Non Slip

Knife kit was a gift from Zeff when he was promoted to sous chef

He is every bit as weird about his knives as Zoro is about his swords

Don't talk to me about his 'prefect pristine' hands because he 'doesn't use them for fighting'. No.

I am begging. Give him some stupid scars on his hands and arms

I have said it before, I'll say it again. Kitchen. Voice.

He has absolutely scared the rest of the crew with his kitchen voice on a few occasions.

He has also used the fact that it scares them to his advantage on a few occasions.

He also has a customer service voice that's somehow even scarier

Contents of his pockets include: cigarettes and lighter (obviously), notepad and pencil, permanent marker, thermometer, and a spoon

(Luffy finds out about the spoon and wants to know why he can't have one too, so Sanji gives him an extra spoon because well. It won't hurt anything. Luffy loses it almost immediately but it shows up every so often in the most random places)

[wisasslocs]

I didnt now a show about goofy pirates could have so much homosexual undertones.