#and then she asked what fanfiction i write

[thestrangepoet]

The Furrcinating Adventures of Champion, the Archives Cat | The Magnus Archives Fanfiction | Ch 4/?

Based on @ultramarinaa’s Cat!Martin AU 

CONTENT WARNINGS: None

DISCLAIMER: As per usual, this is an unedited first draft that I haven’t proofread. Forgive any typos and roughness around the edges – I tend not to go back over fanfics, as they’re just a bit of fun writing for me. (I am a full-time professional writer, and if I start telling myself I need to edit and proofread my fanfics, it’ll cease being fun for me.)

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Martin – no, Champion, for that was who he was now – crept through the institute, his ears flat against his head. 

How long had he been technically missing for now? At least a week, if not more. And no one had notified the police. Not Jon, not Tim, not Sasha. Not his own mother, despite the fact Martin would call her almost daily to check in on her. Not his neighbours nor his…well. He didn’t have any friends outside the institute. 

He didn’t have any friends inside the institute either, it seemed. 

Champion padded past the grand oak reception desk in the front lobby. Almost immediately, his paws left the ground, which drew a purr of surprise from him, his little blue eyes growing wide.

“Oh, Champion! You came to visit me, did you?” 

Rosie, Elias’ assistant, gathered Champion into her arms, her thin, angular face all smiles and framed with bouncing red curls. Everyone’s face was all smiles when Champion arrived. Champion, who did nothing at all to actually help the institute. He couldn’t read properly like this. He couldn’t research, staying up all hours of the night to finish reports. He couldn’t go investigate leads across the country, nor pitch theories for statements. He couldn’t even make a cup of tea like this. 

Martin could do all those things. And not once had he been given a genuine smile in return, not a single sparkle in someone’s eye to say they were actually happy to see him. But as Champion? 

All he had to do was walk on by. 

The first few days, that attention had overjoyed Martin. All he’d ever wanted. But now, it stung, jabbing him in the chest and reminding him that all this fuss wasn’t for him. Not really. 

That people liked him better as a useless cat than a man who tried too hard and apologised for existing. 

“Oh dear, little guy, why the sad ears?” Rosie continued, sitting down and depositing Champion onto the immaculate desk in front of her. “Was Jonathan a meanie to you? Do you want Rosie to accidentally misplace his expenses form this month?” She scratched behind Champion’s ear with a perfectly manicured nail, but he couldn’t even muster a false purr in response. 

Everyone liked him better as a cat. Hell, maybe he was better at being a cat? 

Maybe he should just…stay a cat. Let Martin Blackwood become just another missing person, lost behind a veil of barely asked questions. 

Something stirred under his skin at that thought, like a cold fog rippling through his blood, sending all his fur on end. Champion jolted in shock; all too easily, he had forgotten what he wrestled with here. Sure, being turned into a cat sounded silly enough, but the architect of all this had been a Leitner book. 

Something fed upon his lonely thoughts, caring not for the jovial packaging they came in. 

Champion, now dealing with an alarming amount of adrenaline, leapt from Rosie’s desk and scampered away. He dashed through the corridors, paw pads skidding on the hardwood flooring, his tiny heart hammering away. 

Something fed upon his lonely thoughts…

He practically slid across the Research Department, not stopping even when one of the researchers reached for a bag of cat treats. 

Something fed upon his lonely thoughts! What if it could see him or hear him or—

He bounded through the austere, silent library, not sure what he was running from or if anything was even truly chasing him. But instinct tore through his limbs, too aware now of the sense of some unspeakable shadow prowling after him and delighting in his isolation. 

When the panic finally subsided, Champion had to take a moment to look around the room he’d bolted into. The room loomed around him, gloomy save for one desk light working hard to chase it all away. 

His desk light. 

Champion padded through the archival assistants’ office, wandering past Tim’s empty desk and Sasha’s neglected chair. Was Tim at the station, weaving a story as to why they hadn’t reported their colleague missing sooner? Was Sasha in Elias’ office, distracting him from the whole affair? 

He hopped up onto his old chair at his own desk. He hadn’t been here since the day he’d read that damned book in the first place. Jon’s office took the place of his regular workspace, either curled up on Jon’s lap or snoozing under the radiator. 

Being a cat, admittedly, had been a lot more comfortable than being Martin Blackwood. The temptation to remain like this had, he realised, not been entirely out of spite and anger of the others not being too fussed about Martin’s disappearance. 

It had come from Martin’s own disregard for Martin’s disappearance. Like this, he couldn’t annoy people. He didn’t have to worry about messing up conversations or making a fool of himself. He could stay away from people in that way, yet reap all the benefits of getting affection and having his company be greeted with a smile. 

But…he also couldn’t offer Jon a cup of tea and get to see that momentary lessening of his scowl, the only time his frown eased up in the office. The silly little bloom of pride Martin got at being able to coax that out of him with a nice cup of tea – a silent victory, proof he’d done something right.

He couldn’t sneak out five minutes early for lunch with Tim on a Thursday, because they both loved Thursday special at the German kebab shop three blocks away and wanted to avoid the lunch rush queues.

He couldn’t buy a lemon and poppyseed muffin on a Monday to drop off at Rosie’s desk before she got in, earning him first dibs when she baked her amazing Malteser brownies during charity bake sales at work. She pretended she didn’t know Martin brought her breakfast every Monday, when he knew she ran late for work because she had to drop her father off at the physio, but somehow, a hearty slice of brownie would be wrapped in a napkin in the fridge with his name on it all the same. 

He couldn’t go to the little tea room five minutes from his house every Saturday and Wednesday, order the same cup of Earl Grey and the same ham-and-cheese toastie, and beam as the owner called him his favourite and most reliable customer.  

Maybe…Maybe Martin Blackwood did get noticed after all. Little nods, little appreciations. Maybe…that was enough? 

The cold retreated from his fluffy legs, though it didn’t fully subside. It loosened its grip on his tiny heart, but it didn’t uncoil. 

He had to completely undo this, Champion – no, Martin decided. He had to find the answer. And the best place to start had to be the book itself. 

Martin jumped down from his chair, flattening himself on the floor to scoot under the bookcase where he had bashed the book out of sight weeks before. 

A few cobwebs…a pen he’d lost months ago…some paper clips…a scrunched up ball of paper that stole all of Martin’s attention for five minutes or more as he bapped it between his paws in delight…but no book. 

Wriggling his way back out from under the furniture, he looked left and right. Where was it? 

Martin headed out of the archival assistants’ office and made his way towards Jon’s. Had Jon returned to the office to retrieve the book? Martin hadn’t noticed him doing so, nor had the book shown up on Jon’s desk lately. Given that desk doubled as one of Martin’s many napping spots, he was sure he would have spotted it if it had. 

Unless…he’d picked it up recently. Tim had just told Jon that there was no sign of Martin at all at his flat. Tim had done something incredibly important in that conversation, Martin realised in horror. 

He’d given Jon a mystery to unravel. He’d sparked his curiosity and given him a challenge – could he find Martin before a professional? 

Oh no. 

Martin scampered into Jon’s office at full speed, miaowing in a vain attempt to yell Jon’s name. But the room was empty. 

Panting, his head whipped this way and that. Where was he? It was 4:12pm – not a time that Jon would take a smoke break he thought no one knew about, nor a time he’d go for a tea or try to heavily hint for Martin to make one. He was always at his desk. Where was—

“Mrrrrowww…”

Martin blinked, his ears twitching. That…hadn’t come from him. “Miaow?”

A horrified pause stretched out across the office. And then, that same, low rumble of a miaow, sorrowful and irritated. 

“Mrrrrrooooowwww…”

Plucking up his courage, Martin followed the sound, his fur already sticking up on end. He tip-toed around the leg of Jon’s desk, already suspecting what had happened, yet praying it hadn’t.

There, beside Jon’s chair, was The Ninth Life, open on the last few pages. And on top of the book was the saddest, skinniest, scabbiest-looking black cat that Martin had ever seen in his life. Flecks of grey mottled his fur, which was missing in great clumps all over. Most of his right ear was missing, leaving a ragged edge in its wake. His eyes were far too big for his head, a brilliant green that somehow didn’t complement his black fur. Worst of all, the cat was sitting with its hind legs in front of it, as though determined to sit like a person. 

The black cat looked at Martin. 

Martin looked at the black cat. 

It scowled at him. Somehow, despite everything, the cat managed to scowl at him. 

The cat knew who he was, Martin realised. He knew he was Martin. 

…Jon? Is that you? Martin wondered, pacing slowly over to the scabby cat. He just wanted to get close enough to sniff him, to confirm that this was Jon and—

Bap! 

A paw plonked down squarely on Martin’s head, followed by a warning hiss. 

Bap! Bap bap bap! 

Yes, Martin realised, as he lay down on his front and tried to cover the top of his head with his own paws to shield himself. 

The scruffy cat before him was definitely Jonathan Sims.

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[poepoesstuff]

Satosugu x Reader Series - Part 1: Meeting Gojo & Geto

Notes: I’ve never written fanfiction before, so please don’t take it too seriously! I was just bored and thought about this idea because I love the concept of being in a poly relationship with Gojo and Geto—it seems like so much fun! I’m new to writing, so feedback, questions, or suggestions are totally welcome! I’m just having fun with it.

Tags:

#Satosugu #Gojo Satoru #Geto Suguru #Reader Insert #Jujutsu Kaisen #Satoru Gojo x Reader #Suguru Geto x Reader #Polyamory #Fanfiction #Jujutsu Kaisen Fanfic #Satoru Gojo x Suguru Geto #JJK Fanfiction #Gojo x Geto #Jujutsu High #Satosugu x Reader

-

You guys knew each other from high school. You came to Jujutsu High later but joined the same class as Gojo and Geto, though you were on a different team. The first person you noticed was Gojo Satoru from the Gojo Clan—a lineage you’d only heard of. His reputation and charm immediately intrigued you. However, it was Geto Suguru who ultimately stole your heart with his calm confidence.

You were introduced to the class about a year and a half before Geto’s path took a darker turn.

As Yaga steps into the class, he calls attention to you. You follow him in, and several surprised faces turn to look at you.

“This is Y/N. She’s a kunoichi from a remote village in Japan and will be attending as your classmate from now on. Y/N, introduce yourself.”

You take a breath, feeling the eyes on you, but stand confidently. “I am L/N Y/N, from the C/N Clan. As of today, I’m beginning my journey as a sorcerer at Jujutsu High. My family is known for preserving sorcery knowledge and secrets. As the new heir, I’ve come to study and hone my skills.”

You notice intrigued expressions, especially from a silver-haired boy with piercing blue eyes in the back. Shoko’s gaze also seems particularly curious. Once Yaga leaves, you take your seat and start your Jujutsu High journey. Quickly, you become friends with Shoko, who introduces you to both Gojo and Geto.

First Impressions

Gojo is thrilled to have you in class and wastes no time bringing you up with Geto.

“So,” Gojo nudges Geto with a grin, “what do you think of the new girl?”

Geto raises an eyebrow, already catching onto Gojo’s interest. “You mean Y/N? She has an interesting technique, definitely useful in a fight.”

Gojo laughs, shaking his head. “Come on, that’s not what I meant, and you know it.” He gives Geto a playful shove.

Geto smirks knowingly. “Well, if you’re asking… yes, she’s beautiful. Kinda reminds me of Erika Sawajiri.”

Gojo huffs, crossing his arms. “Right? I knew I had an eye for these things!”

Meanwhile, you feel lucky to be spending time with both of them. Missions become highlights of your training whenever you’re paired with Gojo, Geto, or both.

Gojo Satoru’s Approach to Win You Over

After Gojo admits he’s interested, he goes all out. Here’s how he tries to impress you:

1. Playful Teasing: Gojo loves to make you laugh. Expect playful remarks and witty comebacks whenever you’re around. His goal? To get you to blush.

2. Showing Off His Power: Gojo’s proud of his abilities, and he doesn’t hold back from showing off. From flashy demonstrations of his Limitless technique to skillful moves on missions, he always seems to be “casually” proving how powerful he is.

3. Grand Gestures: Gojo’s not one for small acts. If he learns about your favorite snack, he’ll buy a whole stash of it. If you’re stressed, he’ll invite you on a night adventure to see the city lights.

Continuing from where we left off with Gojo’s approach:

4. Constant Presence: Gojo wants to be around you as much as possible. He’ll always find a reason to sit next to you in class, join you on missions, or just “accidentally” bump into you between training sessions. He’s persistent and makes sure you notice him.

5. Playful Competition with Geto: Knowing Geto likes you too, Gojo can’t resist turning it into a friendly rivalry. He’ll challenge Geto to sparring matches, jokes, or even silly games to try and prove he’s the better choice for you, often with a smirk and a playful wink in your direction.

Geto Suguru’s Approach to Win You Over

Geto’s approach is more subtle, thoughtful, and grounded. Here’s how he tries to capture your heart:

1. Deep Conversations: Geto values getting to know you on a personal level. He’ll ask about your background, your clan, and your opinions on sorcery. These conversations make you feel like he genuinely cares about who you are beyond your technique.

2. Small, Thoughtful Gestures: Geto isn’t flashy but remembers the small details, like your favorite tea or if you’re having a hard day. He’ll quietly leave a comforting note or share a peaceful place he’s found on campus with you. His kindness is understated but leaves an impact.

3. Protective on Missions: Though both he and Gojo are strong, Geto takes a protective role. He’ll keep a watchful eye over you, subtly stepping in to ensure your safety without making it obvious. It’s his way of showing you’re important to him.

4. Respectful of Your Space: Unlike Gojo, Geto gives you space to make your own choices. He never pressures you to spend time with him, trusting that if you like him, you’ll come to him. This gives him a calm confidence, which contrasts with Gojo’s more in-your-face approach.

5. Gentle Rivalry with Gojo: Geto handles the “competition” in a reserved way, knowing Gojo’s personality. While Gojo’s approach is loud, Geto’s is quieter—he focuses on creating genuine moments with you that show his sincerity, confident that his authenticity will speak for itself.

Gojo and Geto were unbelievably close, and you helped them realize their feelings for each other and get together. They were six months into their relationship before they added you.

[ai-the-broccoli]

in which Light and Misa discuss Celebrity RPF

(based on this thought)

Misa: *holding her laptop* Hey, Light. Light: What? Misa: *cheerfully* So do you think RPF is okay, or should we start killing people for writing it? Light: ... What are you talking about? Misa: RPF! Real Person Fiction. It's like fanfiction of real people. Light: Oh. Well, that isn't a criminal activity. We don't need to kill people over fanfiction right now. It's still too early for that sort of thing. Misa: Oh, okay! *glances back to her laptop* --Wait! Why are there 5 shipping fics about YOU?! Light: Me? Oh, yes. People do seem to like to write wildly implausible fanfiction of all sorts about Kira. There are thousands of them online, you know. (Last time I checked, every single one that I could find was unbelievably horrible and out of character, and one of them even depicted me committing the illegal act of cannibalism, which is a crime and masterfully confirmed to me once again that the world is rotting and only I can save it. But now that I've confirmed the state of things for the time being, raising my blood pressure repeatedly for no purpose will not aid me in becoming the god of the new world, so I set a password to restrict my own access to the three fanfiction websites.) Misa: No! I mean, yes, duh, but that's old news. Of course I know thousands of Kira ship fics on every corner of the Internet. But these five are not fics about "Kira". They're tagged with "Light Yagami"! Light: ...What? Misa: Yeah. And-- Light: *frowning* Misa, hang on. Why are there 'RPF' fics about Light Yagami? Misa: That's what I was asking! And also-- Hey! I'm not shipped with you in any of them!! Why?! GRRRR this isn't fair! Light: Wait. You haven't told anyone about my relationship with you, have you? Misa: Of course not! Misa wouldn't forget about her promise to you! Light: Then it's just natural they wouldn't write about us. Misa: But I'm literally in this fic?! Yet you're dating-- wait-- EW! Him?! ALL him?! Light: ...Who? *finally turning around to look at Misa's screen* A-

Looking for the Golden Light: A Hideki Ryuga x Light Yagami fanfiction, by xoxo3gossipgirl we never go out of style: A Light Yagami x Hideki Ryuga fanfiction (ft. Misa-Misa), by xoxo3gossipgirl And I'll Write Your Name: A Light Yagami x Hideki Ryuga fanfiction (ft. Misa-Misa), by xoxo3gossipgirl Grave Repercussions: A Yagami Light x Ryuga Hideki fanfiction, by xanaxLOVE28 lightning strikes every time she moves: A F!Hideki Ryuga x F!Light Yagami fanfiction, by xoxo3gossipgirl

Light: *inhales sharply, horrified* HIDEKI RYUGA?! [Light Yagami takes -100 damage] Misa: Yeah! God, my new manager never stops trying to pair me with him. It's getting on my nerves! Light: ...What? Misa: I don't even understand why. I mean, everyone in the industry knows Ryuga swings that way! And I told her I got a boyfriend. Light: ....... Oh. Oh, yeah, uh, right. Yeah, of course. I knew those are all about that Hideki Ryuga. The popular actor. Right? Misa: Huh? Yeah. Of course? What other........ wait................OH. Ryuzaki -- L -- also used it as an alias one time, didn't he? Light: Exactly, Misa. Obviously, these fics had nothing to do with him, but I thought we should make sure for safety's sake. Just as I thought, all this is indeed about the actor. Misa: Huh... Well, yeah. *turns back to the screen* This is definitely about the actor... and this one too.... and-- Wait a second! *gasps* Why does this fic say that I'm a- a- Light: A what? Misa: Light! *inhales sharply, horrified* What is "l-l-lesbian Misa-Misa" supposed to mean here?! [Misa Amane takes -100 damage] Light: ...Huh. Hm. Misa: W-wait... *stares at the description* Misa is here in this fic because she's in a fake PR relationship with Hideki Ryuga here... and apparently we're doing it so we can both... *squints, incredulous* "pretend to be straight"... together??? Light: Oh? That's... ridiculous. Misa: RIGHT??? I mean, who would ever DO such a thing??? That's stupid. Light: ...............Misa, you said earlier that your new manager keeps trying to pair you up with Hideki Ryuga -- that actor Hideki Ryuga. And you say Ryuga -- I mean, the actor, the real Ryuga Hideki, not L -- he's known in your industry for being gay? Misa: Yeah- ...Wait. *gasps, horrified* My manager really thinks I'm a l-les... bian?! Because--I never told her who my boyfriend is?! What! *screaming* She can't be SERIOUS! [Misa Amane takes -100 more damage]

[bugbonz]

hggggggg

[choccy-milky]

sometimes you gotta lure your overly-studious ravenclaw gf into spending time with you 🥰 📚 ( from 'Every Teardrop is a Waterfall' by Kat_12739 on ao3, GO READ IT!!! the first story is about seb falling sick and still pushing himself/not admitting he's sick until he ends up in the hospital, the second story is about the birth of seb and clora's daughter and seb's reaction to clora almost dying in childbirth, and the third is about dealing with a fussy newborn lewis😭🥹THEY'RE SO GOOD AND SWEET AND SOMEWHAT SAD (not to mention beautifully written) so go check it out!!💖💖 )

[forlorn-crows]

for your consideration: transmasc Cirrus

i think these two shall combine nicely, @rrriver, dont you? been teasing @askingforthesun with this one for a few days now.

cirrus can be a boy, as a treat. and whats better than one transmasc ghoul? two transmasc ghouls.

2k of t4t aethe/cirrus goodness. author clearly has forgotten what ficlet means. but im combining two requests, so its fine, right? no one can complain to me about more smut.

clit/cunt/folds/cock/dick for both of the transmasc lads here. exactly what it says on the tin. enjoy xx

It’s a modest thing: plain red, slightly curved, average size and length. Cirrus rolls the weight of it around in his hand, back and forth, making the wide elastic straps rustle. The air ghoul is no stranger to strap-ons, this much is true; but this one is different, foreign by its very nature. A little something extra, Aether had promised. 

“Want me to show you?” he asks now. The quintessence ghoul slides his hand over Cirrus’, caressing along the back of it and along the shaft of the toy. Aether’s other hand comes up to grasp gently at the underside of his wrist, ultraviolet eyes soft yet dark. 

Cirrus nods, grin going lopsided as he bites his lip. “Yeah,” he breathes. 

Aether mirrors his grin. “Come on, then.” He tugs Cirrus down to the bed, letting him settle atop his lap. “Kiss me first, though, hm?”

He pulls him down into a languid kiss, blindly taking the strap from his hand and setting it aside for now. Cirrus melts easily into it, Aether’s warm arms wrapping around his waist and holding steady. The quintessence ghoul grinning against his mouth when Cirrus loops his own arms around his neck, fingers coming up to tangle in his hair. 

“Mm,” Aether hums appreciatively. “You know I like that.”

Cirrus rolls his hips, barely rubbing his folds over Aether’s fat little length. Earning a chuff when they each get a little friction. “You like that too?” he asks teasingly. 

Aether rumbles his assent and encourages the air ghoul to do it again. His breath hitches when he grinds more deliberately, the swollen ends of their clits nudging against one another. “Fuck, you know I do.”

“Can feel how hard you are,” Cirrus breathes. He tugs on the hairs at the back of his head, licking into his mouth when it drops open in a gasp. Relishing in the way Aether grips him tighter with strong hands, encouraging him to do as he pleases. 

“How can I not be, with—hah—such a handsome thing on my lap?”

“Wet, too?”

“Cir—”

Cirrus laughs and runs his hand down Aether’s chest. Tugging at those hairs there too before gliding further down, down, down. 

“Yeah, right there,” Aether breathes. Begs. He spreads his thighs underneath him, inviting his hand to dip between them and pet along his sex. Nimble pianist fingers swipe through slick and tug at his chubby clit as Cirrus leans in again for another messy kiss. 

“Oh fuck,” the quintessence ghoul groans. Cirrus’ agile tongue swipes along the back of his teeth with the same precision as he jerks his dick, so toe-clenchingly thorough that he gets lost in it easily and willingly. Cirrus can sense it, as he does with everything, smiling against Aether’s lips when he starts unconsciously bucking into his fingers. He withdraws them, dragging the wet digits through his happy trail and up to his chest. 

“Thought you were gonna show me something,” he says softly. Smooths his hands over Aether’s broad pecs and pulls back to find a very flushed and swollen-lipped ghoul gazing back. His responding smile is wide and goofy. He nods and gives the tops of Cirrus’ thighs a quick squeeze before grabbing the strap again. 

“Gotta put it on first.” Aether motions for Cirrus to stand, holding the gear by the hip straps so he can step in easily. He wriggles it up so it sits in its proper place, cinching the straps nice and snug. He pats his flank with a grin. “There’s a lad. Suits you nicely, I think.” 

The air ghoul hums and smooths his fingers around the o-ring, snuggling the back of the toy against his clit with a sigh. He gives the silicone a few strokes out of habit, brushing the short hair from his eyes as he watches Aether give him a long, approving look. It’s familiar—routine thus far. But there’s still that certain glint in his eyes that reminds Cirrus otherwise. He slips between Aether’s thighs and into his welcoming arms, letting his big hands roam over his ass, his back, his stomach. Solid, strong palms that never fail to light up his nerves wherever they go. 

“So,” Cirrus prompts, arching his back slightly and wiggling his hips to make the toy cock wag back and forth, “what’s the secret, starlight?”

Aether chuckles. “You’ll see. Close your eyes for me.”

Cirrus does as he’s told, taking a long, even breath. He can feel Aether’s smile even with his eyes closed. The quint ghoul puts one hand on his lower back and one, presumably, around the toy, judging by the slight shift in pressure on his clit. He bites back a gasp, stifles the urge to shift his feet; he feels like he isn’t supposed to move, lest he interrupt what Aether is doing. 

“Deep breath for me,” he breathes, splaying his fingers across the span of Cirrus’ lower back. As he breathes in, the familiar prickle of magick starts at the base of his spine and seeps into his pelvis, looping around his hips and warming him further between his thighs. Cirrus groans appreciatively at the sensation and feels himself get a little bit wetter. 

“That’s it,” Aether comments, rubbing his back and pulling at the harness some. “Just a little bit more.”

And all at once something clicks, like a part of him being reconnected. Aether makes a satisfied noise and pulls the hand on the strap away quickly, and the one on Cirrus’ back more slowly. He feels the magick settle and fade, that heat retreating back into his core.

“Can I open my eyes now?” Cirrus asks.

“Yeah. Try it out.” 

He blinks his eyes open and gives Aether a confused trill. “Like, you want me to—?” Cirrus moves to climb back on top of him, but the quint ghoul stops him with a hand to his chest. 

“No, no. Try it,” he says again with a coy look. His hand floats down Cirrus’ torso, grazing over his dark happy trail. “Just give it a little squeeze,” Aether breathes. His own fingers visibly itching to do just that. But he pulls away, watching the air ghoul eagerly. 

Cirrus gives him a suspicious yet amused look, rubbing back and forth over the harness straps. “Okay,” he lilts, lifting a hand and wiggling his fingers. He slowly wraps an elegant hand around the toy and squeezes lightly. 

And is wholly unprepared for the sensation that he’s met with—let alone the noise that comes out of his mouth. 

“F-fuck,” Cirrus hisses. His fingers spring away from the strap as if burned, shaking slightly as they stay hovering around the silicone. He felt it. Lucifer, he felt it. He felt the touch of his hand as if the toy cock were his own flesh, phantom nerves tingling and begging for more sensation. Hard and real in the palm of his hand. Just like that. Cirrus can’t resist touching again; just the pad of his finger this time, circling around the smooth head like he would do to his own. The groan he lets out is nothing short of indecent, and he has to grasp Aether’s shoulder to keep his knees from buckling.

“That feel good, Cir?” Aether asks huskily. He wraps his hand around his own, guiding it up and down the shaft. “Feels just right, doesn’t it?”

“Oh Belial, Aethe—” he cuts off with a groan when he makes him squeeze the base. “Fuck, ‘m so wet.”

“Yeah?” Aether reaches between his legs, and immediately the sound of his fingers running through his folds is wet, creamy. He groans along with Cirrus. “Gods, you are.” He coats the toy with the slick he’s gathered, and Cirrus thinks he might faint from the feeling. 

“Shit. Shit.” He can’t help when his hand speeds up, jerking the toy—himself—in earnest. He sinks lower onto his forearm, still resting on Aether’s shoulder, and presses his forehead to the bigger ghoul’s. Completely lost in it, breath fanning hot and heavy over the other’s face. 

He’s definitely not going to get even close to sticking it in. 

Aether hums and caresses his face sweetly. “That’s a good boy, so pretty like this,” he compliments. 

Cirrus lets out a pathetic uh huh and keeps stroking. It’s not coordinated in the slightest, but it feels good. Gliding over the full length, twisting his hand around, rubbing at the tip with just his palm, bucking his hips into his fist; every little movement goes straight to his core, and he fleetingly thinks he may be ruined for any sexual encounters after this. 

And it’s definitely some unholy miracle he’s not dripping onto the floor by now. 

Cirrus shakes his head against Aether’s as the heat starts to build, eyes screwed shut and mouth hanging open. “‘M gonna cum,” he half laughs, half wheezes. “Fuck, please—”

“It’s alright, go on and cum if you need to,” Aether tells him. “Just like that, come on.”

“Oh.” The air ghoul’s legs shake, and he throbs. His hand speeds up, focusing on the top half of the toy, yet pushing on it so the base of the strap presses right on his clit. The combination is what sends him over the edge, pleasure cresting and crashing so suddenly it nearly sends him to the ground in front of Aether’s feet when he cums. 

“I’ve got you,” he grunts, holding Cirrus up by the armpits as he bucks and groans. He may as well be shooting actual cum out of the thing, it feels that real—pleasure extending from his pelvis all the way through to the very tip, pulsing in time to the contractions of his cunt as if the two were truly connected. 

“Fuck, love, you must feel so good,” Aether says, equally proud and incredulous. Cirrus keens. He misses the hunger in his eyes, though, his own still shut tight as the spasms subside and he comes down from the toe-curling high. Cirrus is rarely one to feel uncomfortable in the vessel he was given, but Satanas, the induced feeling of having a cock to pull at is nothing short of euphoric. 

“Oh wow,” Cirrus finally gasps when he can breathe again. “Fuck, that was—” His legs finally buckle underneath him, but Aether’s got him, pulling him into his lap before he can hit the ground in a dizzy heap. 

“There we are, c’mere,” the quint ghoul soothes as Cirrus groans into his shoulder. “Feeling good?”

“Yeah,” he sighs, totally boneless. 

Aether hums. Tugs him minutely closer. “Loved watching you like that,” he breathes into his hairline. Carefully, he loosens the harness straps at Cirrus’ hips, slipping the elastic through the hardware so it separates and slides gently off his body. “Did so well.”

Cirrus makes a disappointed noise as he melts fully into Aether’s lap. “Didn’t get to use it, though,” he says quietly. 

“Hush,” the quint ghoul tuts. “Plenty more opportunity for that.” He rubs up and down his back, and pleasant goosebumps rise in the wake of his hands. Cirrus makes a sated mm-hmm in agreement, fully wrapping his limbs around Aether’s body and using his weight to make him fall back onto the mattress. 

“Argh,” Aether huffs as the air ghoul lands on top of him. He chuckles as Cirrus sprawls out, nuzzling into the curve of his neck. “What was that for?”

“Loved watching me like that, hm?” he mumbles. Despite the hazy cloud of pleasure that’s settled in his brain, his hands still find it within themselves to touch and squeeze down Aether’s torso. Cirrus places a sloppy kiss to the quintessence ghoul’s jawline and is rewarded with a soft, lovely sound. “How much?”

Aether lets out a shaky breath. “So much,” he breathes. Cirrus’ hands find their way to his hips and grab, fingers digging into the fat as he scoots further down. “Cir—”

The air ghoul shoves at him to move up the bed. Makes himself a home between his thick thighs. He shoves his arms under Aether’s legs and puts his face right above where that fat clit stands hard and needy between his folds. Aether groans. 

Cirrus smiles and whispers: “Lemme hear how much.”

[allastoredeer]

Every time I see a wildly OOC fic of Alastor I imagine Vox wrote it. Especially if it involves Radiostatic. XD

LMAO I can just imagine you scrolling through fics and finding a super OOC one and just

Vox thought we wouldn't notice, but we did. What else did you expect from someone with the username FuckAlastor4Life and their blog fuck-alastor-but-not-in-a-sexy-way.horny.com.org.gov.

[irenespring]

Why must the chronic chest pain be especially chronic and painful on my big Hilson fic writing day. I need to write the chapter but instead I must sit and try to focus on something other than "ouch."

There are two possible causes of the pain, acid reflux or anxiety. So I hereby declare the reflux is antisemitic because I'm Jewish and it is inconveniencing me, and the anxiety is homophobic because I'm a lesbian and it's inconveniencing me.

Either way, I am inconvenienced.

[clownjacket]

Okay my crack theory for Lucy’s god situation:

What if instead of dying Lucy’s god became an archfey and fucked off, forsaking all of their followers. I could see that as justifiable for a minor god—maybe you don’t want your personality and existence to be dependent on a group of people small enough for a really big hurricane to wipe them out. Maybe you want to try your hand at self actualization, which you can’t really do as a god. Whatever.

But that would still mean Lucy’s grades would be screwed for the year, and the whole group would be switched to pass/fail.

Whatever god they’re trying to bring back seems like they want to stay a god, but would also only have a single living cleric so their nature would be heavily influenced by who that cleric is, and could still be controlled. Bringing back an established dead god with living followers probably reduces the risk of the god immediately dying or completely sucking ass/not being powerful like what happened with YES!(?), and we know the Ratgrinders LOVE minimizing risk. And choosing a dead god that represents something Lucy is actually passionate about preaching and proselytizing would make her work as a cleric much easier for her emotionally than, say, switching to Helio and just going through the motions, and bringing back a god would probably look good on college resumes.

Idk, that’s just an alternative theory to Lucy’s god dying based on what’s been established this season.

[sexynetra]

WIP WEDNESDAY

Surprise bitch I’m alive (and making my editor work on this chapter under duress)

~~~~~~

Anetra slammed her sketchbook closed and whipped around in her seat to look at Marcia again. “Do you really think that’s helpful right now?” she asked coldly. “Like, I’m asking you for help so I don’t show my ass in this show and you’re here telling me I’m shit at it before it even starts. What the fuck is your problem?”

Marcia started. “I’m sorry… I didn’t think.”

“You never do.”

[propertyofkylar]

i have to delete bumble bff wdym im supposed to talk to these people that’s hard

[quietwingsinthesky]

It's Sunday my time now getting I'm early with vampire AU Kate/Ibrahim

vampire aus my beloved....

"I'm asking you again"—Kate's voice is as serious as Christofer's ever heard it.—"if you're sure. There is no going back from this." He tips his head to meet her golden gaze. It's no secret that Kate had no choice in what she is, that, embraced or not, a dhampir's fangs are an unavoidable inheritance.

"I am," he promises. It's a rare gift. Kate's coven is one of cast-offs, rarely ever turned by herself. She takes who she can get.

He knows it won't hurt. She's fed from him before, but never passed her own blood between their lips.

[amplexadversary]

Completely self indulgent post but here's one of the post-canon scenarios I have in my head for G Gundam.

Maybe skip this post if you don't like dark themes. Not all of what I've outlined is dark (most of it isn't), but I do cross the line past what appears in the show in regards to DG cells and abduction.

The shuffles all get roped into restoration projects on Earth between the 13th and 14th gundam fights, partially to have something to do alongside their training, partially out of inspiration by the common points of the Kasshus' and Master Asia's goals, and partially because netting their countries some decent publicity is likely to earn them favors during the Gundam Fight's off-years.

Sai is contacted by Kyral about an effort to clear out the infamous buildup of trash and cadavers on Everest; he wants Sai to leverage Neo China's help as something of a reparation kind of deal and Sai goes sure why not.

Sai recruits Argo because Bolt Gundam is built to withstand the cold, and he thinks Argo and Nastasha could help reverse engineer that quality to enable the use of their Gundams as both heavy work equipment and protection from the harsh environmental conditions that normally prevent this kind of operation.

George gets involved because someone he knows has a distant relative who died on the mountain a century ago, and they wanted him to check in with the forensics team on the project. This detail is important because eventually it becomes clear that there is a mystery to solve (that I myself haven't figured out all the details of yet but broadly know the setup and conclusion); DG-infected people are disappearing and not being investigated due to stigma. Our heroes are naturally going to be pissed about this, and will need an "in" with the field if they want to do anything about it.

First massively self-indulgent element: The forensics/body identification team inexplicably includes the real-world author Kathy Reichs, who somehow exists in this universe, and there's a little side bit about her having written a Bones book right before the 12th fight that featured a cooked cadaver found inside a gundam after entry into the Earth's atmosphere. There are a lot of weird coincidences in the book that parallel the DG incident, which creeps everyone out, but the similarities are merely born of the writer threading the needle of being believable and interesting in a way that became very true to life.

What does become relevant is when the Shuffles eventually meet up, she's able to explain the implications of a bunch of weird shit the fighters discovered (also Marie Louise read her book, and one of the in-universe liberties Reichs took writing about the gundams' black boxes that she explains in the afterword leads to ML realizing something important; that Neo Germany does not have its gundam's remains.)

While the Everest project is happening, Domon, Chibodee, and Allenby all want to continue their training somewhere on Earth, and receive a proposal from (an OC of mine who is) a historic preservationist (and an acquaintance of Allenby's): she has acquired the grounds of an abandoned castle in Europe* after submitting a plan to restore it, and needs to hire people to help with the labor.

*the castle is probably somewhere in Germany because I also want this pitch to have drama over Schwarz (pre-13th fight), Schwarz (Kyoji), and Schwarz (the next guy who was supposed to inherit the mask when the older ninja retired). Also Germany is fucking pretty.

In exchange for the help of the three gundam fighters, they and Rain get paid, plus room and board anywhere on the grounds, plus full access to the grounds and miles of sparsely-inhabited countryside for training purposes, and the privacy and ability to practice with their gundams that comes with being in the middle of fucking nowhere. Rain sets herself up to work a clinic in the next town over as well as practicing pro re nata wilderness medicine (I'm convinced every medic supporting the gundam fight would need to be able to do this.)

The group involved in the Castle project sticks around for a time, makes some good progress, and engage in occasional Shenanigans that come up when you put a bunch of weirdos in a Situation.

They aren't in town a lot save for Rain, but when they are they eventually start to pick up on gossip and news about the Mysterious Disappearances correlated with DG cell infection (as well as details that turn out to be important later). Eventually Rain brings this to Domon and Chibodees' attention and they decide that, yeah, this is tied to the DG, this is their problem, they should convene with the rest of the Shuffle Alliance about it.

Also of course Schwarz is involved because I'm the one writing this; the culprits' DG-tissue harvesting operation relies on having him captured and helpless, using cells from his body to "update" other victims' DG infections to a less aggressive strain. One thing I haven't decided is whether I want a reinstantiated Wong to head this shit, or make up my own morally bankrupt opportunistic asshole looking to twist the DG to their own benefits. I also need to decide where on the planet the center of all this insanity is, and it needs to be a place that isn't going to have any unfortunate implications (because that's a genuine risk with dark story elements)

... That's about as much as I have that is thought-out enough for me to explain. I return to thinking about this scenario a lot because it puts most of the characters way out of their element (and has a bunch of details that appeal to me specifically), and it kind of evolved into an incomplete plot outline that I don't currently have any plans to flesh out.

I think it's an interesting enough direction to go, because it follows through with a lot of the themes present in G, but takes advantage of the genre shift to avoid DBZ-crazy power scaling and adjusts the conflict more to a matter of where the main characters' prowess is most effective (Both in and out of the gundams. I'm assuming there are a ton of guys similar to Michelo's gang that just need fighting interspersed with everything else I described. In fact, kicking Some Group of Douchebags out of their protection racket is probably how team Castle even gets ahold of evidence related to missing persons.)

[rotisseries]

worst thing about getting into bsd rn is my trusted sources telling me that the fanfic fucking sucks like ok WHAT am I supposed to do when I finish this then

[acrazybayernfan]

heyyy bestie do you think you could pls write a lil something something for mullendowski mayhaps 😳😳

Heyyy omg of course yes, a hundred time yes !!! They are my main source of inspiration (sorry guys I'm not doing you any justice but you're my muses anyway).

So here we go !

I'm sorry for taking so much time but I'm always slow when write in english and I also got a bit carried away by my imagination (long post warning). Also i have to apologize for my english, it's so bad 🤦🏻‍♀️ However, I really hope that you'll enjoy this, it's a theme that have obsessed me for the last months so... I'm using you to free me from it : )

It was summer; the sun shinned in a perfectly blue sky, the air was hot and the ground dry. Robert was oppressed by the heat, he was barely able to breath and was suffering from a terrible headache, and yet he was letting his horse galop aimlessly in the prairies while tears were felling freely on his cheeks. Each stride of his grey stallion created a cloud of dust that enveloped them and dried his throat even more but he wouldn’t stop because all this was giving him the precious illusion of liberty. 

Was it a quarter of hour later, or only five minutes or an hour, he wasn’t able to say, but Robert entered into a wood and consequently slowed down the speed of his mount. The peace and the freshness of this world under the foliage, brought a certain to form calmness to his tormented heart and his tears of rage were replaced by soft tears of sadness, less violent but perhaps more hurtful. 

He wandered in this wood for some time, unable to see where he was going and not caring about it when, all of a sudden, his horse abruptly stopped. The shock almost making him fall but Robert was an excellent horse rider and he instinctively regained his balance. In front of him a young man was standing in the middle of a cow herd, he was tall and skinny with hair of the color of honey. 

At this moment he most unexpected thing happened, the cows suddenly bowed before Robert while his own mount was doing the same but for the attention of the young herdsman who- in front of this situation- let out a loud laugh and then slightly bowed himself but not enough to hide his amused face.

“May peace be with you, Prince Robert. What are you looking for in these remoted woods?” There was a hint of cheekiness in the young man’s voice who was manifestly pleased with the context and with himself.

Robert, on his side, was way too taken aback by all this to see the funny side of this strange encounter, so he only asked, surprised, “How do you know who I am?”

The herdsman smiled again and answered: “These cows are sacred animals of Veles’ temple, they would only react like that in front of the god or in front of one of his descendants, and the royal family members are sons of Veles, since the king only has one son then it had to be you. Plus, you do look like a prince. “

The stranger lifted up his eyes to study Robert more closely and suddenly his smile faded away, replaced by a concerned expression. The young prince had never seen such an expressive, frank and open face before; his eyes, his mouth, his cheeks…were the perfect reflect of the strong feelings of his heart and of the quickness of his wit, which gave them a unique and fascinating sort of beauty. The cowherd walked closer to the prince, still attentively observing him. “Your face is so pale, my lord. Are you unwell? You should stay here for a moment and get some rest.”

Robert hesitated, making conversation to strangers had never been one of his strong point, neither was he willing to let someone see his weakness and his sufferance, yet there was something in the look, the voice of this young man that made all resistance vain and Robert complied. He prepared himself to slide of his horse’s back when the herdsman offered him his hand to help him to get down. As the heir of the throne, he had been trained to horse riding since his childhood, he was perfectly able to get off his mount without any assistance but, nevertheless, he grabbed the other man’s hand. 

As soon as Robert’s feet were on the floor, the strange cowherd exclaimed himself: “Your hands are so cold my lord!”. And without asking for any permission he started to rub Robert’s hands between his, and to gently blow on them. The young prince could have told him that it was pointless, because he was not only a son of Veles but also, by his mother, a descendant of Marzanna, the winter goddess, and no amount of heat would ever be able to warm up his body, yet the sensation was too agreeable for him to do that. The stranger’s hands were hot, hotter than man’s hands usually are, but their hotness wasn’t aggressive, like the heat that made him suffocate, no it was soft and comforting.

After a few minutes, the handsome herdsman looked up at him with a childlike expression, almost pouting and he said, disappointed: “It’s not getting better, my lord…” Robert repressed a smile, and gently pulled back his hands. “It’s normal, no one can do anything about it, it’s the nature of my body to be cold.”

This sentence was scarcely over, that the young cowherd exclaimed himself, with the most genuine and naïve voice: “You have such beautiful eyes, my lord! They have the colour of an iced river in which the winter sky reflect itself… But why are they so red and wet? Were you crying? Why?” Since the end of his tender age, no one had ever showed so much concern for him, it was almost overwhelming, and all of a sudden, Robert felt a strong need to pour his heart out to this stranger. 

“My father wanted to beat me with his whip and then to lock me in the kitchen with a fire in the hearth to punish me and to train me, so that I will finally learn to resist to the heat, but I’m such a coward, I got scared, so I jumped on my horse and escaped.” Memories were coming back into Robert’s mind and tears appeared in his eyes again. “He was so enraged after me, so disappointed by me. I have lost a training fight…again… but the sun was so strong, my legs were shivering, I was barely able to stand on my feet, I couldn’t breathe and my head… Oh my head was hurting so much… I’m such a bad son, so useless and so we…” 

A sob stopped him. The herdsman kindly took him in his arms and forgetting all sort of etiquette, he said: “Robert you’re not weak, you lasted during the all fight even if you were sick. You’re not a coward for escaping an unfair and dangerous punishment, you just have common sense. And you’re not a bad son, he is a bad father.” The young prince let these words filled his heart like the consoling heat of the other man was filling his body. After a moment, Robert clutch his arms around the cowherd to get the strength to continue his confession. “I’m so lonely. I haven’t been able to see nor to speak to my mother since I’m eight years old. I have no friends because I don’t know to speak with men of my age. All the other persons at the castle, either despise me or are afraid of me and I… I’m so scared of my father! No matter what I do, no matter how much I try, he is never satisfied, never content, never proud of me. I’m a permanent disappointment for him.”

His companion let him weep freely for some time, then he pulled back a little and with his thumb he wiped the tears that were rolling on Robert’s cheeks. “You’re not alone anymore, I am here, I am your friend, hum?” The young prince nodded. “Look!” said the cowherd while he pointing to their surrounding “Look at how beautiful is all this. The smallest flower is already a piece of art. Look at the trees, look at the sky, look at the grass, listen to the birds… All this is a testimony that the gods are good and that life is beautiful.” The lyrism, the enthusiasm, the conviction in the young man’s voice were contagious. 

Robert took a deep breath and looked around him, he looked at all this beauty -never had the world appeared so enchanting to him- he looked at his new friend, even more beautiful than the rest, his face was enlightened by a rapturous expression and his eyes- similar to nature itself with their mix blue, and green and brown- were shining with admiration. At that moment the young prince was hit by the nobleness of the other man’s feature. “Who are you?” asked-he, speaking almost unconsciously.

“My name is Thomas, and just Thomas. I don’t have a surname, I don’t know what is my family, my clan, nor do I don’t know where do I come from. The priest of Veles’ temple, found me one day in this wood when I was a baby, and since then I have worked for him in the sanctuary.”

“Are you happy?” Robert would have been unable to explain why he asked that, perhaps was it because of the different between Thomas’ attitude and the sad story he had just tell. 

The beautiful herdsman smiled, a complex smile that Robert didn’t fully understood and then he turned himself toward the young prince, he looked at him in the eyes and said: “Today? Yes I am.” At that moment, the wind made the foliage dance above their heads and an unexcepted sunray landed on Thomas, making his messy hair shine like gold, encircling his face in a halo of light. It was an epiphany for Robert, he had seen that person before on tapestries and sculptures, he had even seen him in his dreams, this young man was Jaryło, or a son of Jaryło, god of spring and summer.

Robert smiled back at Thomas and he agreed to his friend words with a nod, now he was happy too, he was happy because now he knew that their fates were intertwined together and that no matter what -despite his father, despite the distance between them- they were going to meet each other again. 

[luna13e-blog]

Closer than you might believe

TW: Drugs, cigarettes, alcohol. 90's and early 2000's music. Weird (unrequited?) love and loveless sex.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You're gorgeous and smart and kind and I like you but..."

"But you won't fall in love with me."

"I wish I could."

"Guess that isn't something you can't decide on, Rosier, and also something I'm not asking you to do."

"I wish I could", he repeats.

"Loving me or stop loving them?"

He doesn't answer. The music coming from the speaker on the coffee table fills the room. I still hear you cry on my shoulder when it's not nice on what I give you tonight.

"Is that bad, uh?"

The other man lights a cigarette while waiting for an answer that never comes. "So it is bad."

"She's my friend, that's love enough for me. And she's... she is married and happy", he ignores the frequent look of surprise when he says she's married. Everyone wants to picture him in love with someone older. She isn't. She just decided too soon. "And expecting a child", he says quietly while reaching for the pack of cigarettes, "I came late into the picture. Years late."

"That's another fucked up level of ba-"

"It's not", he interrupts defensively. "She's happy."

"And you?"

"Does it matter?"

"Of course it matters!"

He shrugs. "I'm fine with it."

"Fine isn't happy."

"It's good enough for me."

"Does she know?"

He presses his lips together, thinking. "Probably", he finally says almost in a whisper.

"Have you tell her?"

"No. But she knows. She knows I'm there in any capacity and that's enough for me."

"Not sure", he can't help but squeeze Evan's knee. "You wouldn't sound so sad if it were enough."

He laughs. Wet and painful, a cry that found its way in a laugh. "It's fine".

"Tell me about her."

Evan looks at him surprised but half a smile creeps into his face. "She's amazing. She's soft but the strongest person I know, she can make anyone feel at home but will tear you a new one without blinking if you make her cross. She dances with her eyes closed", he sighs wistfully, "and when she looks at me she makes me feel..." he shuts up.

"Loved", the other man supplies.

"Yeah, loved."

"And when she isn't looking? When she's looking at the man she married?"

"She's happy", he repeats. It's a mantra.

"But...?", the man pushes the glass of vodka tonic closer to Evan's hand.

He takes it and gives a long gulp. His head spins already. It's probably the drugs and not the vodka what's making him weightless, what has allowed this man to fish the words he keeps hidden and locked. The sofa's leather feels sticky and uncomfortable on his naked back. Well if you break it all down, take a good look around you'll see that is closer than you might believe.

"But...?", he insists.

"But I wish I could kiss her. Wake her up on my bed", he bites the piercing on the corner of his mouth, "make her scream my name".

The man snorts, his hand on Evan's knee slowly making his way up his thigh. "You're really good at that, haven't you tried?"

Evan closes his eyes and let his head rest on the back of the sofa. He almost tried. Once. They were drunk enough, dancing close enough. Her boyfriend away God knows where. He could smell her jojoba shampoo and her hands kept touching the bare skin of his arms. But he didn't. He just couldn't do that to her. Do that to them.

I fell in love with a girl, I fell in love once and almost comple- Evan moves from his place on the sofa and shuffles the radio station. The chorus of Dreams by The Cranberries playing instead.

"I guess that's a no." The man shifts closer, their shoulders pressed together, their thighs touching. His hand is warm over Evan's jogggers.

"No."

"Well, you can try with me. Again." The man smacks the cigarette's bud on a forgotten can and moves his free hand to the rose tattoo on Evan's chest. "You already made me scream once, can always try twice".

Evan ends his vodka and lets his lit cigarette fall into the bottom, where it starts to die slowly. His muscles tense under the touch, his body reacting, his legs opening a bit further to allow the hand's travel up his thigh. "Do you want me to fuck you again after all I said?", he looks into the dark eyes, full blown pupils hazed and looking cockily at the tent in his joggers.

"Yes. I am not asking for a date and roses, Rosier", he leans closer, Evan can smell the cigarette and the alcohol in his breath, "you were the one that started apologizing, I told you I wasn't asking that from you. I'll do with another line and a couple orgasms."

Evan raises his eyebrow but doesn't pull away. He even leans closer. "Would you, really? 'Cause that I can do" The only thing he knows how to do and at the same time, the only thing he can't do with her.

The man licks up Evan's throat, making him groan, "then do".

The world I love, the trains I hop to be part of the wave, can't stop. Evan takes him clumsily by his jaw and forces his head up to be able to kiss him deeply, tongue burying down his throat. Smoke rings, I know you're gonna blow one, keeps blasting on the stereo. Evan pulls away and replaces his tongue with his thumb, pressing down into the warm wetness of his mouth. He lets him, his hand grasping tightly way up his thigh.

Evan bites the corner of his own mouth, playing with the piercing there and takes his finger out his mouth. He reaches towards the coffee table and grabs a tiny bag with white powder. "Lean back", he orders, he dips his thumb in the coke and rub his gums, licking it after while the dark eyes stay on his lips, his tongue. "Stay still", Evan says then leans down, letting a tiny mountain of powder fall on a valley between the man's abdominal muscles. "Don't move", he orders with his deep voice and bends down to snort it from there, to then lick the residue. The muscles contract under his tongue, moans spill around the room.

He straightens, smirking, pupils so dilated that only a rim of blue is there to be seen. He extends his hands and pours another tiny mountain in the valley between his thumb and index and offers it. The man snorts it and closes his eyes, letting his head fall against the leather.

"Get rid of your pants and into my lap", Evan's orders get through the haze of the drugs and the bass that's playing. He slides down his joggers down his hips onto his knees, not bothering to take it all the way off and just letting it slide. His erection settles on his stomach, he didn't put his boxers on the first time he dressed after. They should be somewhere on the floor.

The man complies and puts a knee on either side of Evan's thighs. They go into a frenetic kiss, hands all over each other.

"Are you going to think about her?", the man whispers hotly in Evan's ear.

He freezes for a second. "No", he grunts, he can't. That's not the way Lily comes to his head. That's not the spot he wants her in. For fantasies he has plenty.

"Fine", the man is nibbling his lobe, "best that way. Let's not think."

Please, Evan thinks.

Is the last thing he actually think in words. The rest is smells, and sounds, a hot mouth over him and the music making the floor vibrate. Oh baby, don't feel so down, oh it turned me off when I feel left out.

Soon Evan has manhandled him into lay on his chest, his arms on the armchair, the sofa creaking under the weight. He is kneeling between his legs, he leans down and bites between the man's shoulder blades, a whine bleeping in his ears. He spreads him open, big hands on his ass cheeks and enters him. It isn't slow, it isn't careful. The condom was a lucky thought because they were in hands reach. The man takes him easily, still dilated from the last round, but with the first thrust he is biting his forearm to muffle the loud moans. Evan shuts his eyes close, sweat pulling on his top lip and his clavicle. The smell of sex, cigarettes and alcohol surrounds him. He pounds harder, the sofa cracks more. He throws a hand under the man's waist and lifts him, the other hand finding his cock and stroking him. It's messy, it's feverish. The man comes first and a "Evan" is all that gets into Evan's brain for a moment before he moves his big hands to the man's hips, to keep him there, limp already but there until he comes with a last deep thrust.

"Fuck", the man pants, turning into his abdomen and resting his legs on Evan's lap. He is sprawled against the sofa, eyes looking at the ceiling. "With eyes so dilated, I've become your pupil", he sings slightly out of key for him before sighing. "Is there more vodka?" He asks. His hangover tomorrow is going to be legendary. But he can deal with it, as he deals with everything else.

From my mouth to yours

Tomorrow he has a lunch with her.

I like you

She's going to be pissed about him being hungover.

You, you, you.

He'll make her laugh. That's enough. He has always known how to make her laugh.

You, you, you.

Evan drifts away thinking that that's enough. This is enough.