#are his prickly genitals

[clubdionysus]

[BAD DECISION #17] Jeon Jungkook

warnings: WELL WELL WELL. mentions of the red witch. post-gym kook. questionable conversations that shouldn't happen between friends, totally normal touching of genitals to prove points in aforementioned conversations, kitchen escapades, whiny koo <3 titty worship, spanking, titty sucking, fingering, a lil mutual masturbation, cockwarming (or at least an attempt!), unprotected sex, jk on top, the starluvrs are bad at maths!, multiple positions (prone bone my beloved <3), he finishes on her back, lovely stuff!! just friendly tho!

a/n: the header image is another lost relic, but this time i can't even remember the base photo </3

soundtrack: just a little bit - enhypen

wc: 11.2k

bd total wc: 540k (ongoing)

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

The soft cotton duvet cover on Jeongguk's bed welcomes you back far more warmly than it really should do; like a 'hi, honey, welcome home' , or an 'I've missed you'.  

It's fitting that the inanimate objects of his room carry such benevolence, when he himself is an open log fire on a winter's night. Warm, warm, warm is Jeon Jeongguk, and you've been cold, cold, cold for so long that the sudden heat is almost jarring.

That's how you justify the obscure feeling in the pit of your stomach when Jeongguk starts talking about blind dates, and how he always wanted to go on one when he was younger.

He reckons that the only reason that he hadn't was because he's 'a simple man of simple pleasures'.  

The hoops he needed to jump through to get a blind date - quite simply just asking someone to set it up for him - had been too challenging. You've alleviated that stress for him.

"See," you smile, folding his bird back up and tossing it over to him. You're both on his bed, staring up at the flock of birds still soaring above you, just out of reach. "We're fulfilling a childhood dream. You are getting something out of this whole deal."

You don't look at him, but you know he rolls his eyes and smiles when he does so. "Never said I wasn't, Disco Ball."

He's met with silence as you glance over at him. It's not an unwelcome nickname, but it's one he doesn't use too often these days. Always calls you Byeol.

"What?" he asks and he turns to face you when you don't reply, but you say nothing.

The more you let it simmer, the worse it gets. He's not called you Disco Ball in so long. Part of you thinks he's reducing your friendship. Addressing you like he did when he didn't know you too well. Creating distance. Forming space on a featherdown quilt that draws you both in like quicksand. He'll have to try harder if a wider margin is what he's after.

It's stupid, 'cause you know the name comes from a place of affection, but it makes you feel insecure.

"We'll still be friends, right?" You ask a little quietly. Jeongguk's brows grow taut, a slight frown forming on his features. Doesn't understand where such a question has come from. "If you get a girlfriend, I mean? We can still be friends?"

Jeongguk's skin is hot. Prickly. An automatic response to discomfort - but then his lips soften into a kind smile. Despite the offence that could be taken from you asking such a question - thinking so little of him - he's not naive to the way in which you work. He understands. People you've loved have left when things got inconvenient for them. He's been through it, too.

And so the walls that want to come up in defence are kept at bay. He doesn't let them rise. Instead, he meets you at the shores.

"Yoongi invited you to dinner," he nudges your shoulder. "Tae is practically in love with you for all the help you've given him. Dionysus relies on you drinking the bar dry every other weekend to keep it afloat. We couldn't stop being friends even if we tried."

His answer should satisfy you, yet your mind is marred by the same thought repeating over and over: Hayun probably used to get invited to dinner, too.

You aren't naive. You know his friends are just as kind as he is. They'd have welcomed anyone Jeongguk deemed important into their social circle.

"What about Hayun?"

Jeongguk frowns. "What about her?"

"Well," you say slowly, looking back up towards the birds, not wanting to watch his reaction unfold on his features like a letter of commiseration.

Before you can even articulate a reply, Jeongguk stops you.

"Don't. It's not the same. Hayun... That situation was different. Things were different. Plus, she's still my friend. Our friend. All of us. She just lives in a different city, that's all. The only reason she isn't around is because of proximity. We're still friends. Just like you and me are still gonna be friends. We've no reason not to be."

The situation is different. You're well aware of this. You've known Jeongguk for all of five minutes; she was a much more permanent fixture in his life. They had a history that you wouldn't even be able to comprehend; private jokes, and stolen moments when they thought their friends wouldn't notice. Their friends. Not just Jeongguk's.

She'd been as much a part of the friendship group as Jeongguk had been; the only difference was that she'd moved away. If she hadn't, would there even be space for you in their lives? Would Seoyeon be desperate for there to be another girl around? Would Jeongguk have felt just as fondly towards you? Would he have noticed your disco ball eyes in the dark of Dionysus or would he have been too busy searching for her in a crowded room?

Or would the time spent on you be spent on her instead?

The thought is unpleasant. It weaves its way through your bloodstream like a needle with dark red string threaded through its loop. It scratches and stabs at your insides until it breaks through the flesh of your bottom lip. Sews your mouth shut. Stops you from talking; from screaming how unfair you think it is that you're being equated to someone who destroyed him.

You don't think she deserves to be thought fondly of, but if Jeongguk knew that, you'd be the one he thinks negatively of. He leapt to her defence without you even starting an attack.

"Friends don't hurt their friends," you say quietly.

Life doesn't work that way. People hurt the ones they care about all the time - or at least you use that reasoning to comfort yourself whenever Seokjin shows up just to let you down.

"She didn't mean to," he replies. "I'm the one who caught feelings. I'm the one who misread things. She stayed the same. My hurt? It's on me, Byeol."

There's a sincerity to his voice that absolves her of blame; makes her innocent in whatever transpired between the pair of them. You know that you only have Jeongguk's side of the story, and even that is sparse and limited due to his reluctance to talk about it in any great depth, but you feel like you don't need to hear her side. He got hurt. That's enough. Your mind is made up.

Hearing him defend her so freely unnerves you. The feeling crawls beneath your skin and gnaws at your flesh. Reduces you to skin and bone.

You're silent, because you know that anything you do say will come across as mean, or as if you dislike a girl you've never met. It'd only make Jeongguk defend her more and like you less. You don't want that - as if Jeongguk wouldn't rip Seokjin to shreds at any given opportunity.

Trouble is, you can't blame him. Jeongguk has seen the impact first-hand. Wiped away tears caused by the man himself.

Hayun is just an enigma; a name rarely said, but often felt.

"What's gotten into you?" Jeongguk smiles, trying to downplay the heaviness of the atmosphere that's engulfing you both. "You're forgetting how annoying I am. You'd probably be thankful if we stopped being friends."

Though he's just teasing, you're worried that he does think that of himself. You don't want to be soppy though, so instead, you use one of his most often said phrases against him.

"I think if we stopped being friends I would simply die."

It earns a laugh. He nudges your shoulder. Tells you that you really gotta stop stealing his catchphrases and the things he does.

"Oh fuck off," you laugh. "What else have I stolen?"

A whole host of things.

"The mirror thing," is all he says, noticing your confusion immediately. He reaches over and tenderly clasps your chin. Doesn't notice the tiny gasp that gets caught in your throat - or if he does, he doesn't mention it. Turns your head, so that you're looking at him, and says " 'watch'. "

You close your eyes and smile. Nod. "Ah. That. The mirror thing. "

"See," he smirks, not that you can see. Your eyes are still closed and they'll remain that way until you decide you're no longer embarrassed. "Told you that you copy me."

"I don't copy," you smirk right back, despite your firmly shut eyes. Jeongguk likes the glitter you're wearing today. It's golden-hued. "Just a fast learner."

"Oh yeah?" he says, a laugh catching in his throat. "Watcha learnt about me?"

You whisper now, a little smug. "That you really like mirrors."

"Yeah," he concedes far more quickly than you expected him to. He turns his focus back to the birds on his ceiling, though you think he's gotten a little closer to you. "Yeah, you're right about that - but you know why I like them?"

"Pray tell," you grin, vaguely aware of the fact the conversation feels far more flirty than it really should.

"You do this thing," Jeongguk says, as a hand rests by his crotch. He's not hard, but he is a little firmer than he should be.

It's just cause he's thinking about sex. Thinking about the sound of it. The sound of you . The sight of it. Of you . The scent of it. You . Not the taste, 'cause you've not given him the luxury of that yet. He doesn't really register the fact he's pressing down on himself. Gripping. Feeling .

"It's that first look," he continues, voice dulcet. "It's like you can't register what you're seeing. Your eyes go all wide, and you look at me as if you're too nervous to look anywhere else. Dunno. Lets me know how much you like what I do. Bit of a power trip, I guess. Always gets me."

"Gets you what?"

"Hard."

The declaration is so brash that you can't help but giggle. "You hard now?"

"Thinking about it isn't the same as seeing it," Jeongguk admits, turning his head towards you - but your eyes are still closed, a smile plastered all over your face. He finds himself smiling, too. 

"But I mean..." He toys with your hand. Draws it to the top of his thighs. Gives you the chance to pull away. You don't. "Feel for yourself."

You whisper his name. 

He whispers right back. "What?"

"You know what," you tell him, as if your palm isn't right where he left it, and as if your grip isn't as firm as his cock. 

"What?" he teases again, feigning indifference - and then he fucking tenses. Moves his hips. Pushes up into your palm. "It's just anatomy, B. Nothing new."

Maybe not, but that nickname? That feels new. Feels like the opposite of him calling you disco ball earlier. Makes your breath hitch. Has him smirking as he looks at your lips. Bites down on his own. Knows this is trouble, but thinks he'd quite like to get in some.

See, you're the determined type. Once you set your mind to things, you do them. He's witnessed it first-hand multiple times. The second he mentioned the art cafe to Tae, he knew you'd make it happen. It's what you do.

And so he knows that you're setting him up that blind date whether he likes it or not. He knows you're gonna choose well for him. He knows, come this time next week, there'll probably be a moral complex that comes with the birds hanging above the pair of you.

But he's not ready for that. Not yet. 

There's so much to do. 

So many birds that haven't been set free.

A pleasant little hum vibrates in his throat as you palm the firmness beneath his sweats. His hips pulse. You daren't open your eyes - especially not as your thumb brushes against the waistband of his trousers. He hums again. Pushes his shoulders down into his mattress. Adjusts his body. Edges closer to you. Says nothing as your thumb sinks beneath the elastic of his sweats.

It doesn't go anywhere. You wait. His hips pulse.

"Swear you get off on torture," he purrs. 

"You're the one who started this," you murmur, trying to feign indifference, knowing full well that if he mirrors your hand position, he'll feel just how easily he gets you all riled up. "You're a sadist."

He just smiles. Tells you he's no such thing. 

And so you tell him to keep his eyes closed. Reach for his hand. Say, "Let's compare."

"Compare?" He husks, as if he doesn't know what you're doing. 

"Mhmm," you hum, bringing his hand dangerously close to your pussy. "Compare. You're getting off on torture. Maybe I am, too."

"We shouldn't be doing this," Jeongguk says, and yet as you loosen your grip, he's the one who lets his hand trail up your thigh. He's the one who strokes at the fabric of your sweats. He's the one who cups your pussy with his hand.

The top you're wearing has risen up a little, a small sliver of your stomach exposed - and then his thumb is caressing against it. 

His touch is warm, but the little gasp he does? The stutter of his breath? Oh, it's hot . So fucking hot.

"We're not doing anything," you say so sweetly that he'd believe it - or at least he would if it wasn't his own damn hand slipping into trousers. A breath hitches in your throat, and you can hear the ethereal way a laugh stutters in his throat.

"Just friendly, yeah?"

You nod. Whimper a pathetic confirmation - and then he's pressing against your underwear. Is slow as he rubs a single circular motion against you. 

"The birds are judging us," he tells you. 

"Nah," you shake your head. Take a shallow breath as he circles against you once more. "This is just revision."

"Revision?"

"Making sure we've learned from them. As long as - fuck ."

"You good there?" he teases, as if he didn't just up the speed for a moment. 

You ignore his question and continue the point that was so rudely interrupted by his pacing. "As long as we only do things the birds have already told us to do, then I think it's okay."

The pair of you are silent save for your tepid breaths. Jeongguk's fingers caress against the lace of your underwear while you palm at his excruciatingly hard cock. 

It's all rather juvenile, the way you're just touching each other up - and yet it's got your heartbeat racing. Perhaps it's because it's something so simple. Feels like there's so much more that could come of it. The great unknown: will you make Jeongguk cum? Or will you just blue ball him instead?

He really fucking hopes you'll choose the first option.

"Y'know," he says quietly. "I kinda need a shower."

It's not a lie. He freshened up at the gym, but didn't have a proper shower - didn't think he'd be taking such a long detour home.

"You wanna go shower?"

He nods. "Please."

It's laughable, really, the way neither of you says a word as he guides you to the bathroom. It's a regular occurrence at this point. 

You glance across the open-plan living room as you make your way to the bathroom, and smile at the painting hanging up beside the television. Jeongguk follows your gaze and smirks. 

"Think a future girlfriend would have an issue with that being up on the wall?"

"Maybe," you shrug. "You never have to tell her what is it, mind you. Never have to say it's... yanno."

"No I don't know, Byeol," he teases. Grips onto your shoulders to stop you from walking, and turns you to face it. Walks you both a little further into the sitting room area. Tilts his head, and you realise there's another bloody mirror in the corner of the room. You've never noticed it before. Wonder if he placed it there deliberately. "What is it?"

You narrow your eyes in the mirror. A smirk rests on his pretty lips and you can't help but bite down on yours when one of his hands creeps up your shirt. The bra you're wearing is lace; underwired but with unstructured cups. He squeezes. Fucking groans. "Shit."

"We shouldn't be doing this here," you tell him, well aware that Jimin could come home at any minute. Even going for a shower together is a risk. 

Jeongguk shrugs. "Doesn't matter."

"What if Jimin-"

"If he comes home, he comes home," Jeongguk cuts you off as he continues playing with you beneath your shirt. He wants it off. Takes it off. Faces no opposition from you. Both of his hands cup at your chest, the black lace sin beneath his hands. Your heartbeat heaves in your chest, and it's only made worse when Jeongguk nudges his nose against your hair and whispers, "maybe I'll just show him how to make you cum."

You tell him he's mean. He squeezes harder. Makes you whimper. Tells you he can be mean if you really want him to be.

But you shake your head. "Play nicely."

It's not that you don't like things a little rough and tumble - it's just that if this is the last time, you know it needs to be intimate. How else will you be able to face your fears with other people if you never even let him?

One of his hands trails to the back of your bra, and gently unsnaps the clasp, before ridding you of the lace. As much as he liked it, he likes you bare better. Likes the way your pillowy breasts frame your nipples perfectly. Likes that the soft flesh spills through the gaps in his fingers. Likes how easy it is to get you whimpering as he rolls your nipples between his thumb and forefinger.

"Nice enough?" He husks.

"Nice," you nod, eyes closed, crown of your head tipping back to rest against the top of his chest. "God, Gguk. Think I'm obsessed with the way your hands feel."

The compliment makes his heart fucking race .

He watches in the mirror. Studies the way your lips part as he toys with you. Wants to kiss you so badly. Knows he can't. Fuck . Maybe he does get off on a little torture, but this is just inhumane to him. You can feel how hard he is as he presses into the small of your back. The curse and blessing of sweatpants. 

You reach behind yourself to palm at his crotch, and are met with a nod of his head against yours. 

"Fuck, B," he whines as you toy with the outline of his cock. "I gotta - fuck - I gotta do something with my mouth. Wanna kiss you too fuckin' bad."

He doesn't even mean to admit it, but now that he has, he feels a little shameless. If he can admit that, he can admit anything. 

Maybe he'll tell you about the wet dream he had a few nights ago, and how he'd woken up to damp sheets and a ruined orgasm all because you'd made an unexpected appearance in his dream. 

Maybe he'll tell you about the fact he hasn't watched porn in weeks. Just thinks of you, instead.

Maybe he'll tell you about the fleshlight hidden in the back of his bedside cabinet drawer, and how he can't use it anymore, 'cause it doesn't look like you do.

Doesn't look like you, doesn't feel like you, doesn't smell like you. Doesn't get him cumming like you do. 

Actually, maybe he won't tell you about that last one - but he wants you to know. 

Wants you to understand just how fucking sexy he thinks you are. Wants you to acknowledge that if he can get this wrecked over you, then there must be hundreds of other men out there just the same as him. You don't need to linger for so long on your ex. 

There'll be another guy out there for you who doesn't make you feel like shit; who only ever wants to make you feel good. So good. So, so-

"Oh God, yeah," he whines as you finally slip your fingers beneath his waistband and into his trousers. His hips pulse, wanting more, more, more of you. "So fucking good."

"My lips," you husk as his fingers dig into your soft chest. The grip is tight. Needy. "They're off limits."

"Lips," he nods. Clenches his jaw as he tries to control his breathing. Swallows his nerves down. "And the rest of you?"

You open your eyes to find his already on you in the mirror. He's hungry. Wanting. Salivating. He looks fucking primal, as if he's fighting every instinct he has just to keep your boundaries respected. Makes you wanna break every single one of them down.

Turning your head ever so slightly, just so your nose can nudge against his, you realign your faces. His lips are pouty. Pink. Pretty. Perfectly out of reach. Yet when you nod, they brush against yours tenderly. You don't let it happen again. "Be specific."

God, his cock is too fucking hard to be playing games like this. He wants to curse you out. Wants to be fucking mean. Wants to tell you to stop being a little bitch and just let him have his way with you - but he promised he'd play nicely. 

"Every inch of your skin," he says, 'cause he is actually a little too nervous to ask so politely for what he really wants.

Has been wanting it for weeks.

It's something new, to him. Something he's only ever asked for once, and it was in the heat of the moment. A moment quite a lot like this.

You smile. You know what he really wants. "That's not specific."

"But it's the truth."

Jeongguk always gets a little like this when he's riled up. A little needy. Whiney. You'd be a liar if you said you didn't enjoy it, but you know that sometimes he misspeaks. Says things he never would do if he wasn't desperately after a release. 

You never think he's lying, but you do think what he wants in the heat of the moment isn't always what he wants with a clear mind. This is one of those moments.

You purr, a little satisfied with how easy it is to get him like this. Feels like you're in control - so Jeongguk rolls your nipples between his fingers again to get you moaning. Realigns a sense of power. It's endless with the pair of you; a back-and-forth of control. It works well. Too well.

But he's feeling brazen, now. Feeling bold. Isn't nervous to tell you what he wants anymore, because the way your body reacts to his touch lets him know that you'll like it.

"Your tits, Byeol," he says. Your eyes fall to his in the mirror. He's looking directly at you. Notices the way your chest begins to heave a little heavier. Smirks. "If this is my last chance to..." he pauses. Is almost ashamed of what he wants.

"Last chance to what?" You flirt.

You bitch. You're teasing him just because you can. It makes him throb. The motion of your hand stroking above his underwear is making his cock all fat and leaky. There's a damp patch on the front of his briefs. He's ready to fuck. Wants to fuck.

But before that? Before he can even consider sinking himself into you? 

He (regretfully) pulls one of his hands away from you, bringing it to meet your hand in his trousers. He (even more regretfully) pulls you away. You pout. He smiles. 

"C'mon," he says, pulling on the hand he's just removed, leading you into the kitchen area. Will clarify it for you later.

The boys have an island that acts as a divider between the two spaces, which is exactly where he's taking you. The clothes he took off you are left by the sofa, his mind focused on one thing and one thing only: leveraging you into a better position.

You yelp a little as he dips to pick you up, gripping the back of his neck without hesitation. 

"Don't be a pussy," he grins, popping you down on the island counter. "Although now I come to think of it -" he lifts you again, getting to your feet. The way his mind darts from thought to thought, and how his body acts upon them without warning, makes you laugh. He sinks his finger into the waistband of your sweats. Pings it again your skin. "Off."

"Say please," you demand, just to be a little difficult. 

"Please."

"Please what?"

"Please," he says, eyes dark as he towers over you, his hands coming to cup your chest once more. The man's obsessed, you think. If he could read your mind, he'd tell you that you're correct. He is. "Take your trousers off."

"Why?"

God, he hates that shit-eating grin of yours. Hates that he can't kiss it away. 

And so he decides he's not gonna entertain it any longer. He grabs your hips. Spins you around. Bends you over the island, a single hand gripping the top of your thigh, the other pressing down between your shoulder blades. 

"What's the word, Byeol?" He asks, checking that you're on the same page.

"Chess," you reply a little breathlessly. This lack of control is something you're used to with him. He's never overtly dominant, always looking out for your needs first and foremost, but this feels... yeah this feels different. This is about him. 

And it makes you far more excited than you ever realised it would.

His hand trails down your back. Strokes at the line of your spine. He admires you. Takes note of the dimples just above your ass. Knows he's in trouble the second he starts squeezing at one of your cheeks. Still an ass guy.

He yanks the material of your sweats down past your ass. Fucking groans when he sees the black lace thong that sits prettily over your ass. Glances over to the bra by his sofa. Groans yet again. Yep . A matching fucking set. 

"Fuckin' vixen," he mumbles to himself, not really intending for you to hear it. Isn't sure if you had planned on getting laid today, but you're definitely dressed for it. As he grapples with the flesh of your ass, he notices just how smooth your skin is. Well moisturised. Coconutty. 

Maybe you had taken extra care in the shower that morning. Maybe you had shaved your entire body. Maybe you had been wearing a new two-piece.

That doesn't mean you were planning on letting him see. Just means your self-care routine is coming along fabulously. Well done you.

There's a bruise on the top of your hip. Jeongguk's thumb brushes against it. Doesn't apply any pressure. A small noise chirps from his throat, questioning it. 

"Pole," you remind him a little breathlessly. "Gentle with my legs, they're covered in bruises."

He nods to himself, and says, "Use 'chess' okay? Hey, look at me a sec - 'chess'. Okay? Even if it's just your legs. Don't wanna hurt you."

You're looking at him over your shoulder with a smile. His sincerity is sweet, but entirely misplaced. You want him to hurt you.

"Notice how there are no bruises on my ass?" you ask, to which he nods. You face away from him again, and sink back into the position he originally had you in, chest pressed to the counter. "Good. Change that."

He thinks he might cream his pants right there and then. 

"You're gonna fuckin' kill me."

"Oh no," you pout, voice all soft and sweet. "Wouldn't that be a shame?"

Jeongguk grapples with your ass. Caresses it. Knows you're not done talking, so is buying time. Wants to hear how you'll tease him. See how riled up it''ll get him. 

"If you die, I'll just have to fuck Jimin again."

The crack of his palm against your ass is electric. 

Your body jolts forward, Jeongguk's grip on your hip to keep you stable no match for the impact of his flat palm. Skin on fire, chest heaving, you giggle. That's all he's got?

"Y'know," you tease, and Jeongguk is pleased that you sound a little breathless. He strokes at the skin he impacted, soothing the sting. Likes that goosebumps are already forming. "He took me from behind, a lot like thi-"

He doesn't even let you finish this time before the sting of his spank is delivered. It's harder than the first one, but his hand is also far quicker to soothe this time around. 

"Yeah," he husks. "I fuckin' know."

You can hear his breathing, now. You're both panting a little. 

"Does it bother you?" you ask as he tenderly cares for your reddening skin. 

"Be specific," he speaks boldly, a little unlike himself, and you're starting to understand why he's an ass guy. Your tits make him weak. This? The way he's got control of your body? Makes him strong. 

"That I fucked Ji-"

The way he cuts you off with another domineering slap to your ass gives you his answer - but so does the way he not only soothes the skin immediately afterwards, but also how his other hand comes to rub the bottom of your spine, following the path of its curve. He's cherishing. Worshipping. 

He leans forward as his hand trails up your spine so he can reach your neck, and tenderly clasps it to he pull you back up. Turns you around. Is gentle as he lifts you back into position on the counter. 

Brushes your hair out of your face. Looks you directly in the eye. Uses this thumb to collect a rogue chunk of glitter from your cheek. Rubs it on his arm. Stains himself in you.

"It doesn't bother me," he says - not for any male sense of bravado, or acting 'chill' - but because he needs you to know it isn't a big deal. You've enough complexes as it is. He doesn't want you to ever feel shame for the things you've done. "Bothers me that he doesn't realise how lucky he was to get a pussy as good as yours. Bothers me he didn't finish the job. Bothers me that he actually got to fuck you," he grins. You grin right back. "But it doesn't bother me that it happened."

"Mm, so you won't share towels with him, but you'll share girls?" You tease. His hands toy with your chest again. Secretly, you think you like him better like this. Like it when he's weak.

"Am I sharing you?"

It's a loaded question, you think.

"Not right now," you whisper, reaching to his waistband, nose nudging against his. "Take these off."

"Say please," he whispers right back. One of your hands tangles in his hair. Pulls him away. Gets him looking into your eyes.

"Please."

How can he refuse? It's like you put him in a trance whenever he sees your disco-ball eyes. He'll do whatever you ask of him.

He takes his trousers off first, then says "shirt?"

You nod. He takes that off, too. Leaves them crumpled in a pile on the floor. Doesn't care for them at the moment. Only cares for you.

"I still need a shower," he says, as he closes the gap between you, your legs wrapping around his waist. 

"We can still get one," you tell him. Honestly, you don't really mind what you do with him. Just know that you wanna make it last. Want this feeling of safety and security for a little while longer.

His arms rest on your shoulders. Just a little taller than you in height when you're sitting like this, Jeongguk likes looking at you from this angle. Likes seeing the variations in your glitter; the small chunks and slightly bigger flakes that make you seem cosmic. He likes noticing the flecks caught on your lashes, and how he never realised quite how long they are. He doesn't think you're wearing mascara. 

You're not - but you did get your lashes done the week before. He wouldn't give a shit even if he knew. Would think it was cool, probably.

"So about that whole no-kissing thing-"

"Nope," you laugh, swatting at his clammy chest. He smirks. Presses his lips together. Shakes his head. 

And then he whines. "It's so unfair."

"If you even try, I'm yelling chess."

"Really?"

"Oh, yeah," you assure him - only for him to edge a little closer.

He's not actually going to kiss you. 

Although... if you let him, he might. 

"Chess!"

"Ughhhh," he whines again, pulling away. "So mean, disco ball."

"What if I promise to make you cum?"

He narrows his eyes. "Fine."

One of his hands drops to your chest again. Keeps on coming back. Can't resist. Ass guy? Yeah right.

The other drops to your underwear. Toys with the lace. 

"Bird revision, right?" Jeongguk asks. "So we can only do things we've already done?

You nod. 

"Okay," he whispers, before pulling away from you. "Hold that thought."

You watch as he walks around to the kitchen sink, his thick cock tenting in his underwear, desperate for something. Anything . 

And yet your birds? 

All focus on you. You've no idea how the fuck you're gonna get him cumming. Sure, there was the mutual masturbation one, but you'd promised that you'd be the one making him come. Maybe there's room for loopholes.

It wouldn't be the first time the pair of you have skirted the truth of what a bird could entail. A bird, a plane. Whatever.

Hands under the water, Jeongguk's focus is only on cleaning himself. He preens you so often, fixes your hair, your glitter, that it's nice seeing him in the same capacity but for himself. Realistically, it's all for you, still. 

He glances up. Looks a little bashful. 

The distance reduces the pair of you to your natural states; just Jeongguk and his Stargirl. He gazes at you often, but it's different when he's blinded by the light. With a little space, he's reminded of the fact you belong on this earth, too. 

It's like the pair of you are tangled up in a Jekyll and Hyde situation, instead, it's who you are when your clothes are on, versus when your clothes are off. He likes both of them. Doesn't think they can coexist though. 

"What?" he asks when you smile at him. You just shrug and shake your head.

"Weird isn't it?" 

He comes to stand in front of you again. Your legs don't wrap around him, but he does put his palms on the top of your thighs. Looks pensive as he asks, "What is?" 

He's grinning, too, though. His skin is getting all prickly again. Can smell your arousal. Wants to fucking drink it. 

"You 'n' me," you shrug, letting your arms snake around his neck. You're sat up straight, and the gap between your chests closes. "Like, I was maybe 15 seconds away from kissing you." The admission makes Jeongguk want to die. "But then when you were washing your hands..."

"I was just Jeongguk again, right?" He assumes. You nod. "Same for me. Like we're two different people: who we are when we're horny and who we are when we're 'normal'."

"So fucking weird," you laugh, deciding that it solidifies what a great friendship you have. Convince yourself it's gonna make it so much easier when he starts dating. If you can separate the Jeongguk you mess about with and the Jeongguk you're friends with, then there's no reason the friendship should be lost.

"Too weird to pick back up where we left off?" He says quietly. Nudges his nose against yours. Strokes his hands up your back. Pulls his chest away so he can sneak his hands to your tits once more. Squeezes. Makes you moan.

You shake your head. "Do it again."

He does. 

Is firm, as he does so, his large hands cupping your chest so delicately that you almost want him to be rougher - but you like it when he's gentle. Like how well he takes care of you. His thumbs stroke across your hardened nipples, toying at them, getting you all hot and bothered. 

You moan so subtly that Jeongguk thinks it might be his favourite sound in the whole entire world. 

"You wanted specifics earlier," Jeongguk says under his breath. "I can give you a specific."

You nod. Trail along his bottom lip with your thumb. Let him press his lips down against it. 

"Show me," you tell him. He squeezes at your chest. You know exactly what he wants. You also know he's never done it before. "My tits, huh? You wanna suck on them?"

He swallows harshly. Rests his forehead against yours. Nods. Can feel his cock throb. 

"Big boy words," you whisper, and are met with a slight grunt from Jeongguk. He's used to being the one in your position. Used to setting the pace, setting the tone. You switching it back around on him? Fuck. He might just die. Or cum in his pants. One of the two. Death would be preferable. "Tell me what you want."

He rests his head on your shoulder. Looks at your tits as he plays with them. 

"Not much of a teller. More of a doer."

He's just trying to weasel his way out of it. It's like the birds all over again.

"So do it."

And to your surprise, he does.

His lips are firm as he presses a kiss around your nipple. Once, twice. A third time. Poutier and poutier with each kiss. He's delicate. Sincere. Doesn't wanna get it wrong.

"Feels good," you tell him, knowing he needs the reassurance. 

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," you smile. Tease at his hair as his lips wrap around you again. The way his lashes splay on his cheeks is art, you decide. "You've no idea how much I like this."

His lips kiss and kiss. It takes a little encouragement - "use your tongue a little. Yeah. Yeah, like that. It feels so good when you do that. Suck a little- oh fuck. Yes." - but it doesn't take long for him to gain confidence. Be a little bolder. He focuses on your reactions. Notices when your breath hitches everytime he runs his tongue around your nipple. When he kitten licks, too. But when he sucks? That's when the jackpot hits. 

Your body leans into his touch, hand resting on the back of his head. His name escapes your lips half a dozen times. When he switches to your other nipple? Half a dozen more.

His lips are direct and purposeful and they tug your nipple into his mouth, his moans vibrating around you.  Pulling away, Jeongguk wastes no time. Has your other nipple in his mouth almost immediately. Squeezes your tits together, nipples almost touching so he can swipe fast licks across them. Gets you mewling. Whining. Begging for more. 

And how can he refuse? 

His hand dips to your pussy. Toys with you over the lace, which is sodden with your arousal. He slides your underwear to the side, and says nothing, just continues sucking on your tits as he sinks a finger into you.

"Shit," you curse. The angle you're sitting at means he can't get too deep. Means he's hitting you in just the right spot, straight off the bat. He mumbles something, but you can't work it out. Just know there's no possible way he's an ass guy. Hasn't spent more than a second away from your tits since he first started peppering them in kisses. "Just like that."

Your head lulls back, and Jeongguk finally pulls away. "You good?"

He's met with the most satisfied laugh he thinks he's ever heard. "Is water wet?"

"Dunno," he grins. "But you are. Fuckin' soaked. God," he stares down at your pussy, stuffed with two of his fingers. "I fuckin' love this cunt."

You smirk. Roll your hips as well as you can in the position. He watches, transfixed by the way he's stretching you out even with just two fingers.

"My bed," he rasps. "Can we? I know I need to shower, but - fuck - I just gotta have you in my bed, B."

Truthfully, you're glad. There's something about post-gym Jeongguk that just really gets to you. You think it's the pheromones. Don't care to google it because you enjoy the mystery. 

You nod. "Probably for the best. You have to eat off of here."

He smirks. Withdraws from you. Says, "So?"

And then he licks his fucking fingers clean. Eyes on yours. One of his brows tweaks. Challenges you. 

"You underestimate how much I like eating pussy," he says, as he walks away, leaving you in a state of shock.

You think his departure is for dramatic effect. In reality, it's just so you don't see the Cheshire cat grin on his face, pleased with himself for what he just did. He knows it was hot - but he's smiling because he can't get over the way you taste. Fucking delicious.

That thing about torturing himself? Yeah. You might be right. 

Eating pussy isn't on the birds. He knows he can't have it - and yet when you arrive at his door, mouth still ajar, both smug and surprised in the same expression, he thinks it might not be unfathomable. 

"What?" he feigns innocence - but he's got a grin that tells the tale of a valiant hero. He's so pleased with himself that you almost slip back into your 'normal' selves again - but then you crawl onto his bed. All fours. Ass a little red from his hands earlier, but no bruises. Just that barely there thong he thinks belongs in a museum, and evidence of just how turned on you are showing between your thighs.

The smile of his? Replaced with a stare so hard it rivals his cock. 

"What?" you feign innocence now, as you flop down onto his bed - and then he gets the luxury of seeing your tits and - fuck. It's all too much. 

He walks over to the bed. Takes off his underwear. You do the same.

"I'm gonna die," he tells you with absolute certainty. He's so ridiculous that you can't help but smile all fondly at him. The way he jokes and banters with you comes so easily, that part of you doesn't even realise he's naked. Part of you does, though. Mainly your eyes, given the fact they seem to be transfixed on his cock. "If we don't do something about this-" he gestures down to his cock, as if you need any direction "- then I absolutely will just die. Is that what you want? Huh?" 

"Mhmm," you hum, finishing it with a small giggle and a nod, reaching for his hand to pull him onto his bed. He lets you. Follows your lead, cause he hopes it's leading him somewhere good. "I want you dying a very little death."

The innuendo dances off your tongue and into his ear as you sit on his lap. His hands automatically find your chest. He decides he'll miss them. Encourages your body down. Positions you just right so that he can take your tits in his mouth again. He's a changed man.

"Don't think there'll be any little about it," he mumbles as he switches sides, kitten licking now so that he can finish his sentence. "Think it's gonna be a very big death, actually."

"Shit," you whisper as he gets reacquainted with your body. He decides all rather quickly that tits are a gift from God and he's been blind for his entire life up until he met you. How had he not been utterly obsessed before? He'll never admit it. Never. Will prevail as an ass guy - but fuck, he hopes whoever you set him up with has a good pair of tits.

But then there's an uncomfortable awareness of how fleeting this all is. By the time you've both finished, it'll all be over. 

He manoeuvres you both over. Kisses your chest, now. Works his way up to your collarbone. Your neck. Bites down ever so gently. Kisses again. Tells you once more how your no-kissing rule 'will kill' him. 

"Better leave me something nice in your will," you tease as he finally pulls away from dappling your skin in pretty kisses that you wished could have been on your lips instead. Either pair. 

He sits back on his heels. Strokes his cock as he looks at you. Tilts his head, a smirk rising on one side as you cup your tits. 

"Pussy," he encourages, pulling a little tighter on his cock. "Play with your pussy."

You give him a quizzical look, but do as you're told. Slide your fingers between your slick folds. Spread yourself for him. Watch as he almost fucking hisses. The pace he's wanking himself off increases. His breathing shallows. You think it stops completely when you sink two fingers into your entrance.

He curses. Tilts his head back. Ruts his hips upwards. Forces his cock through the tight grip of his hand. There's a sheen to his tip, precum leaking so delicately that you find yourself salivating at the sight of it. The muscles in his lower abdomen tense. He's edging himself. 

"How many birds do we have left?" Jeongguk rasps, eyes opening to find yours again. The way he speaks, all breathless and needy, has you wanting more. "Mutal masturbation's done. I can't... Shit. I can't. I'll cum if I carry on. Tits are done. Fingers, done. What else?"

"Shower," you say, then follow it up with. "Do that last. Water gets in the way. Wanna watch you cum."

"Shit, don't say shit like that," he mewls as he sinks down on top of you. His body is warm, the chain around his neck catching on your throat, pooling between your collarbones. Has you determined to make him finish on your chest. Wanna replace his chain with his cum. 

In a normal scenario, he'd kiss you right now - but he can't. Instead, he averts his desire. Grips his cock. Presses it against your folds. Spreads your slickness. Covers himself in it. Dips down a little too far. Curses. Gets you whining. 

"You know," he husks against your neck. "We could..."

"Cockwarm?" You simper. "Don't believe that one was my bird?"

The crown of his cock presses against you. Jeongguk holds it as the base, and runs it down your folds, then back again. He repeats. Lets his grip get even tighter when he lines up with your entrance. He waits for you to move your hips.

And you do. Just for a moment. Just a tad. Just enough.

"Wasn't it?" He hums, knowing perfectly well it was one of his.

"Don't even think it was a bird," you whisper a little breathlessly as he presses a little deeper against you. He adjusts his hips. Lines himself up a little better. Your breath hitches.

"So you don't want to?" He asks, and you can just tell he's got one of those smiles on his lips. The one that makes you think maybe kissing him wouldn't be so bad. "'Cause I wanna."

"Gguk," you whisper. He shakes his head.

"Not an answer."

"Shit," you whimper, rolling your hips ever so gently to encourage his tepid ruts against you. "Condom?"

"Birth control?" he chances. He knows you're on it. Think if he's gonna get his cock in you, then he's gonna at least try for it raw.

You know you should, and yet - "Are you clean?"

He nods. Asks the same back. You nod. Haven't hooked up with anyone but him since your last test.

Everything is out in the open. There's nothing to lose - just the knowledge that you'll maybe never get this ever again. It only serves to make you want him raw even more.

"You get a minute."

He pauses. "A minute?"

"Sixty seconds," you nod. "Cockwarming. That's all you get."

It's ridiculous, 'cause all you want is for Jeongguk to fuck you senseless. Think it's embarrassing admitting that, though. What if he doesn't actually want to fuck you? What if it's just for the birds?

"Who's counting?" He husks. Realigns himself. Presses the tip of his cock against your entrance. Plugs it but doesn't push forward. Makes you wanna die. Too good. Too fuckin' good.

"You are," you whimper, knowing you won't be able to keep count when he's inside you.

He nods. Reminds you that 'chess' is always an option.

His cock sinks into you slowly. It's thick and wide, angled just right to hit your sweetest spots. Jeongguk groans. Finds himself seeking out your tits with his mouth as he bottoms out. Sucks gently, until he's reminded by you that he needs to be keeping count.

He grins. Nibbles your nipple ever so gently, then nods. "You're right, you're right. Sorry. Shit. One. Two..."

Jeongguk finds solace in the crook of your neck as your legs wrap around him. The position has him thinking you've no right to ever complain about intimacy again. This is about as fucking intimate as it gets. And when your arms wrap around his neck? Dainty fingers start toying with his hair? Only amplifies it.

Your hips move ever so tenderly, and he loses count. Finds himself swearing again. You're tight and warm around him, just how he wanted it. Torture. Fucking torture. He likes this so much he fears you ruined actual sex for him.

"Shit," he mumbles against you. "Never been good at maths."

The way you giggle? Torture. Again. 

"You're a liar, Jeon Jeongguk," you whisper tenderly, tensing around him just cause you liked the way it made him whine.

He pouts and shakes his head, which is still buried in the crook of your neck. His voice is muffled as he asks, "What comes after 32?"

And because you're just as into it as he is, you decide lying is okay for the time being. "11."

"Yeah," he whines. "Thought so. Eleven... Twelve... What's next?"

"Dunno," you whimper breathlessly. It's getting a bit too much for you, too. "Maybe ten?"

"Ten," he echoes. Decides he wants to spend eternity inside you. "Eleven..."

He pauses just long enough for you to know exactly where he's going with this - so you beat him to it.

"Maybe it would be easier if you had a rhythm going?" you simper. 

"A rhythm?" He hums. He was just gonna pretend he couldn't do maths again.

"Like..." you pull your hips back a little, burying yourself deeper into the mattress and away from him - but then you push them back up. Jeongguk fucking whines. "One." 

You pull back, again. Jeongguk whines, again. Sinks himself back into you. "Shit. Two."

"I'm not good at multitasking," he says. Not a lie, admittedly. Gets distracted too easily. If you don't keep count, he'll just fuck you forever or something stupid like that. Doesn't think he'd mind it, to be honest. "Maybe you should keep count."

"Mhmm? You want me to count for you?"

"Yeah," he nods. "Count for me, B. Make sure I don't go over sixty."

"I'll count backwards," you tell him, thinking it will somehow take longer, because apparently all sense of sanity is evading you. Unsurprising. All you can think about is Jeongguk's fat cock and how it's keeping you spread open nice and wide for him. "Countdown." 

"60-0?" He clarifies, to which you nod. "Mhm. Do that. Count backwards. Use that pretty little head of yours."

"Sixty..."

The way he pulls out of you is maddeningly slow. He's deliberating taking his time. Overindulging. Making this last. He's even slower as he pushes back in, filling you up as deep as he possibly can.

You're barely able to get the next number out.

"Fifty-nine," you eventually manage as he bottoms out. "Fuck."

He's lethargic in the way he moves. Slow as he withdraws, and even slower still as he fucks himself into you.

"Fifty-eight..."

Jeongguk's skin is hot. He sticks to you like glue. Only his hips move - but so do yours. 

You're fucking. 

You. Are. Fucking.

And, God, you know you shouldn't. You know that it's a recipe for disaster, but Jeongguk's aftershave smells like safety and his bed feels like home, so the prospect isn't scary. 

"...Forty-two... Forty-one..."

Your whines are getting louder. So are his grunts. You grip onto his biceps, and begin to realise Jeon Jeongguk is not a man. He simply cannot be. Not when he is built like a Greek God, and looks like one too. Crafted from marble, there's no possibility he's real. 

And even if he is real, you think there's no way he'd actually be fucking himself into you like he is. 

Sex, at its very basic fundamental value, is all about survival of the fittest. Anatomy. Breeding. Shit like that; things you can't quite recall when he's balls deep inside you. It's about fucking for the survival of the human race, and out of everyone on the planet, you can't wrap your head around the fact he'd choose to do that with you. His basic anatomy would choose you . 

Jeongguk isn't thinking as intensely as you are. 

Fucking. Nice feeling. Cum. Nice. Inside her. Nice. Fucking. Real nice. Glitter. Nice. Tits. Suck. Nice. More. Fuck. Nice. Again? Nice.

But he is also thinking about spilling himself into you, and how fucking unreal it would feel. 

So maybe your brains are working in tandem. Different process. Same end goal. He just can believe he'd choose you, 'cause, well... he already has.

Eventually, you hit thirty-three, then thirty-two, and then -

"Shit," you whine. "That damn thirty-two."

"What about it?" He asks a little curiously. Pauses his hips until he gets the go-ahead from you again.

"I've forgotten what comes after it."

"Shit," he grins, playing along with you. "Start again?"

"Maybe," you nod. "But this time, maybe go faster? Might jog my memory?"

Jeongguk smirks. Sits up on his heels, cock still buried inside you, knees on either side of your ass. He grips your waist. Spanks one of your tits, then softly caresses it as an apology for letting the intrusive thought win. His hips pulse gently. 

He's fucking you. 

Jeongguk is fucking you. 

He lets the hand that was playing with your chest trail down your torso until it reaches your pussy. It's swollen and needy, just as much blood rushing to your clit as there is to his cock. His thumb presses down right when it needs to. Rubs in tiny circles as he gently thrusts into you slowly.

"Faster?"

You nod.

"Okay," he rasps. "Let's jog that memory of yours. You're so smart, Byeol. Look at you, and your pretty little head. So smart. So fucking smart when my cock's inside you."

This time you don't count. He grips your waist. Rams himself into you like a man possessed, lips resting ajar as his brows knit together all prettily like they did when he was eating brunch. So incredibly focused, and yet there's not a single thought up in that gorgeous head of his, just that he's fucking you so hard his neighbour will definitely be able to hear his bedframe hitting the wall. Good .

The noises he makes are lewd. You think he'd make bank with an only fans. Know that you'd pay good money for it. With a cock as pretty as his? A body like a marble statue? Gorgeous little whimpers when his cock is all needy for you? Yeah, bitches would go wild for him. 

Funny, how you refer to them as bitches, almost like you're jealous over imaginary women who'd find him sexy. Very strange, indeed. 

After all? You're just friends.

His pace eventually eases, and you pretend like you were counting the entire time. "Two... One... Times up."

Jeongguk sinks back down, hooking one of your legs over his elbow as he does so, opening you up even further. He wants to be deeper. As deep as he possibly can be. Wants to press down on your cute little tummy and feel himself inside you.

"Whoever fucks you next better worship your pussy," he mumbles, pressing kisses up your neck. "So fucking good. Shit. If you dare fuck another guy who doesn't make you cum like you know you deserve to cum-"

"You'll what?" you tease, a smile plastered all over your face. "Die?"

He laughs. Shakes his head. You know him so well. "What use would that be? Nah..."

Jeongguk pulls away from you again. Withdraws himself fully for the first time. Watches your pussy as your arousal seeps from your tight cunt and onto his sheets. Wants to lick it all up. Doesn't think he's allowed to, though.

Instead, he moves your legs, finally noticing the extra bruises from pole. You were right. They do look like watercolour bruises. 

He squeezes your thighs together and uses his gentle hands to twist your hips, so that your legs are curled to the side, but keeps your back flat against his bed. He lines himself up with you again. Grunts as he sinks into you. You're tighter now, like this. He thinks it's gonna make him cum. He has to go slow.

"I'd get you like this," he says, holding onto your hip and pushing deeper, deeper into you. He nods over to his desk and smirks. "And that chair over there? That's where they'd be. And they'd have to watch me fuck you how you like it."

He doesn't mean to, but he finds himself fixated on the fact you routinely have sex and don't finish. He can't wrap his head around it. He'd had the luxury of witnessing you cum a handful of times. Had felt it once. Knows first-hand how fucking good it is. Thinks about it as he fucks into you, now, then lets the intrusive thoughts win again as he begins to ramble.

"Can't believe how many people you've let get away without making you cum. You know how good that shit is? Fuck. You feel like heaven. They wouldn't even deserve to watch it - but I'd do it. I'd make them fuckin' watch - 'cause not being funny, B, but you should see yourself right now. So fucking hot I might die. Hopefully then if they fucked you again, they'd know what to do."

"Never realised you were such a good teacher, Mr Jeon," you tease.

He stills his cock inside you. Smirks. Shakes his head. Picks up the pace again.

You know what ' Jeon ' does to him. The ' Mr ' ahead of it? Yeah. Gets him.

And so gives you a friendly threat, as he fucks his cock a little deeper into your tight, warm cunt. "I will fuck you so hard my bed breaks if you don't shut the fuck up."

"Oh?" You grin, trying not to moan and failing miserably. "Would you prefer Sir ?"

"Final warning," he growls, his hips slowing but deepening. He's close. You know it's not gonna take much. 

"Whatcha gonna do? Give me a detention?"

"If you get to call me stupid fuckin' names, then I get to kiss you."

"Kissing isn't very friendly, is it?"

"Byeol, my cock is inside you."

"Yeah? Just a friendly fuck."

He knows you're joking, but Jeongguk doesn't think there's anything friendly about this.

He doesn't insist on kissing you any further.

"You're unbelievable," he smiles, easing slightly before reaching for your hand. "C'mon, let's make you cum."

"Oh? You want this to be over?" You flash a grin, as if you haven't been fucking him for God knows how long by this point, knowing full well he could have cum in 10 seconds flat at any given opportunity. He repeatedly edged himself for you.

"No, but if I don't cum soon, Byeol, I'll d-"

"Die, yeah yeah," you grin. "Alright. Put yourself out of your misery."

He laughs. Looks at you with such fondness that you think you'd quite like to orgasm on his cock for him like a good friend should. "You make me sound like such an asshole."

"I don't," you promise sweetly - before you also decide to let the intrusive thoughts win. "Also, just on the subject of assholes, thoughts on pegging?"

"Literally what the fuck is wrong with you," he laughs, rolling his hips to remind you of the more pressing things at hand. You moan a little, but all you wanna do is banter with him. You enjoy it. Like it when he's all hard and needy and impatient, and you're winding him up. You like frustrating him. 

"You've got a nice ass," you shrug, shoulders pressed deep down into his white sheets. You look angelic, he thinks, hair haloing around your head, chest flushed, tits covered in teeny tiny hickies from his mouth.

"Well, maybe if you'd have picked a different plane..." he teases. "You'd know by now."

Holy shit.

"Wait. You wanna get peg-"

Jeongguk covers your mouth with his hand, a subtle grin on his pretty little face, dewy nose scrunching just for you.

"As much as I enjoy your chitchat, Byeol, I'm gonna fuck you so hard you can't talk at all. That good?"

You laugh. Twist your torso over to reposition yourself on your front. He gives you a playful spank straight off the bat, and it makes you roll your eyes - as if you hadn't turned over just to give him a view of your ass. You'd known what you were getting yourself in for.

Adjusting you slightly, Jeongguk pulls one of his spare pillows over, and lifts your hips to scoot it beneath you. It's his favourite position. Every last part of it. The way he can pull on hair and spank asses? The muffled moans into his pillows? Fuck . 

You love it just as much. Always helps to have your body weight adding to the pressure of your fingers massaging against your cunt. As Jeongguk pushes into you, he watches your hand slip beneath your body, and curses. 

"That's it, B," he husks. "That's a good girl."

He fucks himself into you - slow, deep, hard - and picks up the pace with every pathetic moan that escapes your lips. Tells you how good you sound, how much he wants to hear you come undone - and then you are.

The pleasure waves through you like an electrical current, Jeongguk's thick cock unrelenting as he fucks into you and drags your high even further than you thought possible. There's a numbness to your body, save for the overwhelming pleasure that pulses around his cock. It's all you can feel. Everything else is void. For a moment, the only important thing in your life is Jeongguk's dick and the way it fills you like nothing else ever has.

"Shit," he husks. "B, where?"

"Back," you just say, unable to move because your body is still fucking shaking. You don't even get the chance to mourn the loss of his cock inside of you, because he has to pull out so quickly.

His hand grips his cock and wanks faster than the speed of light. The pressure in his balls builds and builds and then it can build no more.

He squeezes your ass and whines as thick, creamy spurts of cum begin to paint your back.

The sound of his grunting makes you moan with every new rope of cum emptied onto your skin, and Jeongguk's pretty sure nothing in Taehyung's 'passion' collection could even come close to the sight in front of him. 

The final drops are wasted on your ass cheek as Jeongguk holds it to the peachy flesh, watching the way he stains your skin. Holding his cock by its base, he spanks it against your ass once, twice. Smirks. Takes a moment to squeeze your ass just because he can. 

He fucked you. He knows he should be concerned about the friendship, but he's not reached post-nut clarity yet.

Eventually, he flops down beside you.

"You know," you mumble, eyes closed, a smile on your lips. Jeongguk's grin is so serene that it's a good job your eyes aren't open. You might accidentally get your feelings confused if you saw him look that pretty. "I actually think it's a bit mean setting these poor girls up with you."

"What? Why?"

He sounds genuinely affronted. You just smile harder.

"Well, it's a bit cruel, isn't it? Us pretending like they'll be dating some great guy, only for them to later find out you're really average in bed."

He knows you're joking. Knows that a fuck like that could never be described as average. Plays up to your teasing just because he finds it funny.

" Average ?!" He exclaims. You can hear his smile in his tone of voice. "Nah, you're chatting shit just to piss me off, Byeol. What is it, huh? Want me to fuck you again? Want me to remind you exactly how average I can be?"

"Maybe."

He grunts. "Call me when you can walk straight."

"Pass me my phone."

"Fuck off."

The afternoon descends into casual chaos. You shower together, and bicker over who gets to stand beneath the water for longer, then battle it out for Jeongguk's fluffy towel in the aftermath. In the end, he lets you have it - only 'cause he likes the way you oogle at him when he's naked. 

You dry your hair, and style Jeongguk's into pretty little French braids. Tell him that he has to keep it like that. He says he will. By the time Jimin gets home, you're just sitting on the sofa watching shite TV. He's none the wiser you were naked on his kitchen counter a few hours earlier. Probably is best he never finds out about that part.

He studies Jeongguk's hair for a moment, then shrugs. "Suits you. What have you guys been up to?"

Good fucking question. 

"Not much," Jeongguk hums. "Gym this morning. Met this one -" he pokes you with his foot, earning a grimace from you. "- Afterwards for coffee. Been stuck to me like a bad smell ever since."

Jimin laughs. Shakes he his head as he comes to sit by you both with a box of dry cereal that he's eating straight from the bag. 

"You've got the most sensitive nose known to man," Jimin teases. "If you've kept her around, it's cause she smells good."

"Nah," he begs to differ. "Just gone nose blind."

"Prick," you laugh, then ask Jimin about his day. 

Conversation takes place of the shitty TV show, the three of you easily finding a million different topics to talk about.

It's times like this you regret ever fucking Jimin. Part of you fears you'll always just be 'the girl Jimin fucked that one time'. No identity within Jeongguk's friendship group beyond the fact you shagged his mate.

It's stupid. They barely remember Jimin even so much as looked in your direction. You're Jeongguk's friend. Jeongguk's.

Funny how you don't seem to mind being reduced to no identity outside of the confines of Jeongguk. Did you really heal after Seokjin? Or are you just making even worse decisions than you used to?

Thing is, Jeongguk's friends would be right in thinking that of you. 

You are his friend. 

As you head off into town the next morning to arrange his blind date, you know that's all you'll ever be.

And somehow, you think you're okay with that. 

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

[vandalizedheart]

❝ So like— I know almost every other Sonic and Shadow across the multiverse have their lips permanently stitched to each other's genitals, in some weird, eternal sixty-nine. But I don't get how. ❞

❝ Like— You mean to tell me other variants of Shadow don't scream at their Sonic because they failed treatment from their fancy-pants, G.U.N provided therapists? Even after all you've done for him? Like digging his prickly ass out of the rubble after he fell from space? Or sitting in the ICU with him everyday, helping him get his memories back, because he was amnesiac after the fall? ❞

[starlightsuffered]

Christmas Retreat (part 6)

Info - hot tub, mention of lust, cock blocking, intimate moment, mentions of genitals

Timothée sighed once we were in his room. He plopped down on his bed and stared at the ceiling. His room wasn’t as tidy as I’d expected. It seemed he wasn’t a neat freak. Jumpers and pants were strewn on the floor, there was a mug with cooling tea inside.

“I’m glad we’re away from them,” Timothée sighed. “We don’t actually need to go to the hot tub, don’t worry.”

It warmed me a bit to know that he could read me so well that he knew I was very uncomfortable with the idea of being in a swimsuit in public.

He patted the bed, indicating that I should sit next to him. I made my way over slowly and cautious again. I gingerly sat down.

“I’m really sorry about all that,” Timothée said, running a hand through his curls. “I’ll admit I wanted to watch the movie with just you.”

“Y-you did?” I asked.

“Yeah, but then Reginald-“

“Do you know him?” I asked without thinking. To my surprise, Timmy’s cheeks went pink. He stopped looking at me.

“We’ve met before,” he mumbled.

I was going to ask more but then there was a banging on the door. Meredith was on the other side demanding that Timothée come out. He sighed and ran a hand down his face.

“Shiiiiiiit,” Timothée groaned. He went to one of his suitcases and was digging around. He pulled out the one piece and tossed the black suit at me.

“You’ll have to pull on the strings, since you’re thin,” Timothée said in a monotone. Before I could say anything else Timmy went in his bathroom. When he came out he was topless and wearing the swimming shorts. I had to force myself not to search for a dick print.

I was as timid as a mouse as I entered his bathroom. In another life I would use this time to smell some things, maybe rub the boxers on the floor over my face, but I had to be quick. I knew I was much more perverted than I seemed, but I knew I wouldn’t get many chances around a sexy man like this.

I slipped on the swim suit. I yanked on the draw strings so they didn’t slide down. At least my ass was plump so I filled out that area fine.

I came out, arms wrapped around my body. I couldn’t meet the green eyes of Timothée. I felt hot and prickly with shame. I had never been a fan of my body.

“Your skin looks really soft, how do you get it that way?” Timmy asked me. Suddenly, his hand was sliding down me. He landed on the small of my back, my breath hitched.

“T-Timmy.”

My eyes flitted up to his. He was so close to me. I didn’t think I could handle it. I was going to melt. I was going to kiss him.

“Can you make sure,” he whispered, in a voice that sounded so intimate. “You sit next to me in the hot tub? I don’t want to sit with Meredith or Reginald.”

Just the idea of our bare skin touching was heady. I nodded with a gulp. I couldn’t trust my voice right now. I also couldn’t trust my body. I was wet already.

“TIMOTHÉE!” Came the screech of Meredith. He rolled his eyes and the moment was broken. He flung open the door in a huff.

“Oh wow, you look ammmmmmazing,” Meredith purred. She trailed a manicured finger down his abdomen muscles. He grabbed her hand and removed it politely. He handled her like he was touching a rat.

“Come on y/n,” Timothée said, taking my hand. His was warm and soft in mine. My heart was hammering. For once, I felt claimed in the most wonderful way. Meredith was glaring at me as the three of us walked down the hall towards the hot tub.

“You know Timmy you can call me Minnie,” Meredith crooned.

“I’ll stick with Meredith, thanks, and please don’t call me Timmy,” Timothée said.

Meredith glared daggers at me. As if she thought her and Timothée had been so close before this.

When we reached the hot tub, Reginald was waiting. His bony arms were crossed. I had an inkling that he had a crush on Timothée but I always faltered when I looked in his eyes. They didn’t hold a lick of affection for the younger man. I knew mine must look like melted chocolate when I was looking at Timmy.

Timothée walked right past Reginald with a tight jaw and slipped into the water. It was quite mesmerizing to watch the water sluice down his form.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Reginald lurching forward. Time seemed to slow. I had to be confident. I’d promised Timmy I’d sit next to him. I practically dove into the water. I was faster than the older man.

I was right where I needed to be. I sat snug up against Timothée. He was against a wall so he was safe.

Meredith and Reginald slunk into the hot tub. Both of them were glaring at me. Under the water, Timothée squeezed my thigh. I went bright red and felt myself go further molten.

“It'd be nice if we could play spin the bottle,” Meredith drawled.

“Why, there’s hardly any of us.”

“You don’t want a chance to kiss a pretty lady?” Reginald asked.

“I wouldn’t mind the chance to kiss a pretty person,” Timothée countered.

These words seemed loaded with double meanings. Timothée’s eyes were narrowed at the older man.

“Some people have responsibilities, and should feel so lucky to kiss a lovely woman,” Reginald growled.

I felt awkward and strange. I could tell there was more history than them meeting a couple times.

“What has been your favourite activity so far?” I asked. I didn’t want Timmy to feel bad. He seemed to relax beside me as Meredith launched into a story about how good she was at skiing.

“Thanks,” Timothée murmured in my ear. His lips brushed my lobe and I nearly thought I’d pass out.

@pmak2002 @softhecreator @plutoispurplw @sp1deyyf4ngz @seungcheol17daddy @jesschalamet @vvsdreaming @lovelyrocker @therealbeabodoobee

[ladytauria]

ohohoho... In a hoarse whisper, “Fuck, you’re killing me here.” jaydick yeaaaaboiiii

iiii went a little overboard on this 😂it ended up over 7k, so i won't b posting the whole thing here, but have a preview ;)

(editing to add as a warning/heads up: jason is trans here, and i use both male (cock/dick for clit) and female (cunt) terms for his genitals <3)

>> six little deaths <<

“Fuck, little wing, you’re killing me here.” Dick’s hoarse whisper makes Jason smirk. He settles back against Dick’s chest, popping another kernel of popcorn in his mouth, making sure to wiggle his hips a little as he does.

The hot, hard length of Dick’s cock presses into Jason’s ass through his thin, cotton shorts. It makes a thrill rise in Jason’s belly, knowing he has such an effect on Dick.

Cook, suave, charming Dick. Everyone wants him. But—right now at least—he wants Jason.

The thrill is sweeter knowing Dick won’t do anything. Can’t, not with Bruce sitting in a recliner half a couch away.

He feels Dick’s slow, hissing breath. Smirks to himself, and then raises his fingers, sticking them in his mouth to clean the butter and salt from them.

Dick grips his hips tight enough to bruise.

Jason chances looking at him, fingers still in his mouth, and finds those normally electric blue eyes dark and stormy. His thighs clench.

Dick grabs his wrist. Jason doesn’t resist as Dick pulls his fingers from his mouth. The look on his face— Jason half expects him to kiss him, Bruce be damned. His pulse is a staccato beat in his chest.

Dick doesn’t kiss him. Instead, his lips brush Jason’s ear, and in a voice thick with promise, he whispers, “You’re going to pay for this later.”

Jason shudders, head to toe, skin going tight and prickly. Fuck, yes, please. Dick is always the perfect amount of mean—that’s half of why Jason likes working him up so much.

The other half is being at the center of his attention.

Jason rocks his hips, relishing in the shocked, almost pained gasp he gets. “I’m counting on it.”

Dick growls. Under the blanket, he grinds the heel of his palm over Jason’s groin, and Jason gasps before he can help himself, bucking up into that hand as sparks light up his veins.

“Boys.” Bruce’s deep, commanding voice makes Jason shudder again; red staining his cheeks. For half a moment, he thinks they’ve gotten caught, but then Bruce just says, “Don’t make me separate you. You can get through a movie without fighting.”

“Sorry, Bruce,” Dick says. He doesn’t sound very sorry at all. “We’ll be good.”

He splays his hand over Jason’s belly—a possessive, proprietary move that already has Jason trembling—and presses, a steady, even pressure that makes him want to squirm.

Conscious of Bruce’s attention though, he doesn’t. Instead, he just takes it; breaths getting faster, deeper, until he’s nearly panting. Dick’s hot length against his ass is starting to feel less funny and more taunting.

How much longer is left in the movie? Jason stopped paying attention somewhere around the first fifteen minutes. He tries to focus on it now, ignoring the way his underwear has grown sticky with his arousal. It’s hard to focus, but—based on the music, the snippets of dialogue… they’ve got to be getting close to the end, right?

Dick rubs his belly a little—Jason bites his lip to trap his moan. A little of it sneaks it out anyway, a soft, “Nnn,” that makes Dick shiver under him, and press a smile against Jason’s shoulder.

It would be an asshole move to excuse himself to the bathroom, wouldn’t it? He wouldn’t like, touch himself or anything—it’s tempting, but. Dick can be kind of a sadist, and that’s fun, but he’s already in enough trouble for starting this shit in the first place. Getting himself off without Dick’s permission is just asking for worse, and Jason’s got stuff to do tomorrow.

But he would like to step away for a second. Just a second, so he can catch his breath and not give up the game before they’ve even gotten started. If he leaves, though, then all Dick will have is a blanket to protect his bulge from Bruce’s eye…

‘Course, that’ll be a problem either way, won’t it? They’ll have to get up and go to bed eventually, so. That would at least give Dick a chance to figure something out. So really Jason would be doing him a favor, right?

Right.

Jason squirms a little, and then says, “I gotta pee.”

“Do you want me to pause the movie?” Bruce asks.

“Um. No, I won’t be gone that long, and uh. I’ve seen this one before.” He hasn’t. Dick lets him go, although the brief look they exchange before Jason scampers out of the room tells him Dick is more than aware of Jason’s fib.

Jason’s little wink probably didn’t help matters, but. Oh well.

In the bathroom, Jason washes his face with cool water before sitting on the closed toilet and getting his phone out. He checks his email—some review bloggers he follows have posted new reviews, there’s an author newsletter, and oh! One of his favorite fic authors posted something new. He opens that to read later—tomorrow, probably, although it’s short enough…

No.

He’s already pushing. Don’t borrow trouble, Mama used to say, and while Jason may not follow her advice to the letter… he at least tries not to borrow more than he’s prepared to handle.

Jason clears the spam from his email, unsubscribes from some things he’s been meaning to for a while, and then stands, stretching. He splashes a little more water on his face—and turns, ready to go back, only to bump into a hard, warm chest.

It startled a squeak from him, all that color flooding back into his face.

“Hello, little wing,” Dick purrs, crowding him against the sink. “That was a neat little escape you made.”

Jason’s heart beats rabbit quick in his chest. “I don’t know what you mean,” he says. “I had to piss. Didn’t figure you’d appreciate me going all over your lap, is all.”

Dick snorts. “You had to go get yourself off, you mean.”

“I didn’t get off!” Jason scowls. “I know better.”

Jason has to tilt his head back in order to meet his eyes. He can feel his knees trembling. The ache in his groin pulses, slow and steady like a heartbeat, the crotch of his underwear uncomfortably damp.

“Like you knew better than to start something in front of B?” Dick raises an eyebrow. “Y’know he lectured me about making you uncomfortable?”

Jason’s face burns. “I…” He draws up his chin. “Maybe you shouldn’t be such an asshole all the time, then.”

Dick scoffs. “See, and that’s why I don’t believe you.” He pats Jason’s cheek—the condescension in it makes Jason shudder. “That’s alright, little wing. I’ll just have to check.” He pinches Jason’s cheek, then, making him whimper, hole clenching both at the promise and the way Dick’s voice drops when he says it. It’s not quite Nightwing register, but it’s close, and—

Jason shudders again.

He wants.

“Take your shorts off, Jason,” Dick murmurs, and Jason hooks his thumbs in them without hesitation, letting them slip off of his hips and fall to his ankles.

“Good.” Dick pats his cheek again. “Turn around. Hands on the sink.”

Jason feels like he’s on fire. He turns slowly, spreading his legs until his thighs no longer touch. Dick guides him backwards, Jason shuffling his feet to keep from getting caught in his shorts. His crotch is soaked.

Dick traces the hem of his panties. “Would you look at these,” he purrs, snapping the band.

The back of Jason’s neck burns.

When he bought them, he’d thought it would be funny. Oh, ha-ha, a pair of panties designed to look like the bottom half of the Robin uniform. It’s less funny now.

Jason’s grip tightens on the edge of the sink as Dick pulls them down to bunch around his mid thigh. The bathroom air is cool against his slit, and he swears he can feel every droplet of slick gathered there. He bites his lip.

Mistake.

Dick spreads his folds—Jason bites so hard he tastes blood, feels it bead on his lip. Can’t help but look at himself in the mirror; the way his curls halo around in his head in perfect dishevelment, his face blotchy red, bottom lip fat and swollen.

He looks like a fucking slut.

“You’re so wet, little wing.” Dick’s tone is almost scolding.

Jason wants to cry. Jason wants to raise his hips in offering, rise onto his tip-toes and beg for Dick’s cock.

Stop being so fucking easy, he scolds himself. Can’t play too hard to get, either, but he also needs to stop damn-near creaming his pants any time Dick gets a little intense. Dick’s attention is heady. Addictive. Jason doesn’t want to give it up if he can help it, and that means keeping a careful balance.

Luckily, Jason is used to giving men people what they want.

He swallows down the urge. “Whose fucking fault is that?” he grits out, letting his eyes drop again; staring at the marbled sink instead.

Jason yelps when Dick swats him. It’s not hard, he’s taken worse, but the unexpectedness of it…  The threat of it… It makes him swallow.

“You know damn well whose fault it is,” Dick says, voice low and vaguely threatening. It makes Jason shiver, cunt fluttering. “But we’ll be talking about your behavior later. For now…” Dick probes a finger inside of him. Jason’s cunt welcomes it, swallowing him greedily. His middle finger finds Jason’s t-dick, stroking small circles around it.

Jason whines helplessly, legs quivering as he fights to stay still. He’s so— He’s so sensitive.

Dick teases him, giving him only the barest stimulation, moving so fucking slowly it’s almost agonizing. Jason is panting by the time he’s done, sweat beading at his temples. His fingers ache, knuckles white.

“Hm. Looks like you were telling the truth,” Dick says. He takes his hand away, and Jason can’t help the way he whimpers, meeting Dick’s eyes in the mirror.

There’s a thin sheen of tears in his own now; the sclera red. Dick looks unaffected—save for his eyes, crackling electric blue that cut Jason to the core.

“Clean yourself up, little wing,” he says, wiping his fingers on Jason’s thigh before patting Jason’s ass. “I told Bruce I’d check on you and apologize before going to bed. You should go say goodnight to him.”

>> continue reading <<

[delightingintragedy]

Mars Correspondences

From Christian Astrology by William Lilly

(It is mostly word for word. I tried to format it to fit into a nice correspondence list, but the information itself is untouched.)

Zodiac: Aries is his Day-house, Scorpio is his Night-house. Exhaulted in Capricorn, Depressed in Cancer, Detriment in Libra and Taurus.

Nature: Masculine, Nocturnal Planet, in nature hot and dry, choleric and fiery, the lesser Infortune, author of Quarrels, Strifes, and Contentions.

Profession: Princes Ruling by Tyranny and Oppression, or Tyrants, Usurpers, new Conquerors. Generals in Armies, Colonels, Captains, or any Soldiers having command in Armies, all manner of Soldiers, Physicians, Apothecaries, Surgeons, Alchemists, Gunners, Butchers, Marshals, Sergeants, Bailiffs, Hangmen, Thieves, Smiths, Bakers, Armourers, Watchmakers, Botchers, Tailors, Cutlers of Swords and Knives, Barbers, Dyers, Cooks, Carpenters, Gamesters, Bear-wards, Tanners, Curriers.

Diseases: The Gall, the left Ear, tertian Fevers, pestilent burning Fevers, Migraines in the Head, Carbuncles, the Plague and all Plague-sores, Burnings, Ringworm, Blisters, Frenzies, mad sudden distempers in the Head, Yellow-jaundice, Bloodyflux, Fistulas, all Wounds and Diseases in men's Genitals, the Stone both in Reins and Bladder, Scars or small Pox in the Face, all hurts by Iron, the Shingles, and such other Diseases as arise by abundance of too much Choler, Anger or Passion.

Colour: Red colour, or Yellow, fiery and shining like Saffron.

Savour: Those which are bitter, sharp and burn the Tongue.

Herbs: The Herbs which we attribute to Mars are such as come near to redness, whose leaves are pointed and sharp, whose taste is caustic and burning, love to grow on dry places, are corrosive, and penetrating the Flesh and Bone with a most subtle heat: They are as follows: The Nettle, all manner of Thistles, Restharrow or Cammock, Devils-milk or Petty spurge, the white and red Brambles, the white called vulgarly by the Herbalists Ramme, Lingwort, Onions, Scammony, Garlic, Mustard-seed, Pepper, Ginger, Leeks, Dittander, Horehound, Hemlock, red Sanders, Tamarinds, all Herbs attracting or drawing choler by Sympathy, Radish, Castoreum, Aresmart, Assarum, Carduus Benedictus, Cantharides.

Trees: All Trees which are prickly, as a Thorn, Chestnut.

Beasts: Panther, Tiger, Mastiff, Vulture, Fox; of living creatures, those that are Warlike, Ravenous and Bold, the Castor, Horse, Mule, Ostrich, the Goat, the Wolf, the Leopard, the wild Ass, the Gnats, Flies, Lapwing, Cockatrice, the Griffin, Bear.

Fishes, etc: The Pike, the Shark, the Barbel, the Fork-fish, all stinking Worms, Scorpions.

Birds, etc: The Hawk, the Vulture, the Kite or Glead, (all ravenous Fowl), the Raven, Cormorant, the Owl, (some say the Eagle), the Crow, the Pye.

Places: Smith's Shops, Furnaces, Slaughterhouses, places where Bricks or Charcoal are burned or have been burned, Chimneys, Forges.

Minerals: Iron, Antimony, Arsenic, Brimstone, Ochre.

Stones: Adamant, Loadstone, Bloodstone, Jasper, the many coloured Amethyst, the Touchstone, red Lead or Vermilion.

Weather: Red Clouds, Thunder, Lightning, Fiery impressions, and pestilent Airs, which usually appear after a long time of dryness and fair Weather, by improper and unwholesome Mists.

Winds: Western Winds

Angel: Samael

Planetary Alliances: His Friends are only Venus; Enemies all the other planets.

Week Day: Tuesday

Correspondence posts for the other planets: [Sun] [Moon] [Mercury] [Venus] [Jupiter] [Saturn]

[sevensity]

Me, finding this blog: wow I love this blog Me, finding V's cactus dick: WOW I LOVE THIS BLOG

V’s cactus dick is what brings everyone to the yard

[anotherkilroy]

Disclosure

Disclosure was just plain annoying. No, it wasn’t dangerous, but that didn’t change the fact that people were ignorant. Going online seemed like the better option, except all the mainstream dating apps asked “M or F” at the very beginning, and the queer ones that didn’t had nice folks about two hundred miles north of where they lived. So they sat at the bar, wondering if they would get the luxury of fucking someone they didn’t have to explain all of gender theory to.

Only once had they tried not saying anything. They’d gotten pretty far–naked, the guy thrusting erratically, before putting his hand on their chest and asking, “Who’s a good girl?” Their genitals went straight from lux aloe vera to a prickly, unyielding desert cactus. 

So it was better to just speak up and weed them out before anyone got naked. Occasionally they were slutty and desperate enough to try and convince the guy that it wouldn’t make him gay: good pussy is good pussy. This strategy worked best when the guy was also slutty and desperate. The sex was usually quick, a little awkward, but at least it was something.

They sometimes wished they didn’t like sex so much. Then they wouldn’t have to put up with this shit. But, despite their best efforts, they did, and in all the ways they felt they shouldn’t, too. They liked hands groping their breasts and warm, wet lips on their nipples. They liked the sting of initial entry, and the way cocks felt when they reached deep inside. No dysphoria. They knew all the straight men who fucked them just saw a woman, and it wasn’t worth the trouble to change that.

They nursed their beer. Maybe they should just go home. Dildos weren’t the same as a warm body on top of them, but at least they’d do the job without explanation.

Their eyes flitted when they heard the stool scrape the cement floor. The man swallowed and clasped his hands together on the counter. His lips moved, but Jude heard nothing: then the bartender put whiskey in front of him.

Jude instantly felt less alone. They weren’t the only one who’d gone straight from work to the bar. They had almost gone home to change, maybe increase their chances by putting on something more femme or at least neutral, but then the thought had made them sick. What happened to pride? They had fought to wear this to work; they might as well wear it to get laid. 

They tried to think of what they wanted to say to him. Compliment his clothes? No, men don’t respond well to that. Ask him if he just got off work. There. They cleared their throat.

“I like your tie.”

They blinked and looked over. “Oh. Thank you.”

He nodded. “You just get off work?”

He’d stolen their line. They cleared their throat again. “Yeah. I’m a paralegal… you?”

“I sell water coolers.” He sipped his drink, his fingers tapping the glass restlessly. “What kind of legal stuff?”

“Car accident settlements, mostly.”

“You like it?”

They shrugged. 

He snickered. “Makes money?”

“Yeah. I like that about it.”

“I bet.” He sipped his drink in the smallest increment. Jude waited for him to say something creepy. Instead: “Money can’t buy happiness, but it sure buys security.”

They raised their eyebrows. “That’s the truth.” They scanned his fingers, and found no wedding band.

“Does it ever get sad? Working with car accidents?”

They thought about the toddler who had died a month ago. “...sometimes.” They wanted to ask about his work, but couldn’t find a good question to ask about water coolers.

“That sucks.” The gravity of his question seemed to hit him. He switched topics. “What’s your tie pin?”

It was the non-binary flag. They wore it for visibility’s sake: for the off chance that someone would see it, recognize it, and know that they weren’t alone. The non-binary flag was a good choice, because it was less known than the trans flag, so the only people who recognized it were either allies or non-binary themselves. Besides, trans made people resort to using “he”, so the non-binary flag it was. People didn’t usually ask about it; just assumed it was queer and that Jude was a lesbian. So much for visibility.

Jude bit their lower lip and silently exhaled through their nose. “...I’m non-binary. I’m not a man or a woman.”

He blinked at them. Jude waited for him to politely excuse himself to the restroom, then not come back for the rest of the night. He seemed like the type.

“Oh. Interesting.”

Jude felt a vague annoyance at the word interesting, like they were a neat little science fact one could read from a listicle online. They bit the inside of their cheek. “...So I use they/them pronouns.”

“Alright. What do you do in your spare time?”

They blinked, unsure if he had heard them. Jude was used to this: to people nodding along like they knew, unhearing and uncaring, and so not thinking twice about the inevitable she.

“...Not much. I read a lot.”

“I play a mean banjo.” 

“You… what?”

“Thinking about starting a one man band. Or a Britney Spears cover band.”

“A what now?” They couldn’t stop from grinning, delight and confusion winning over. Did they just hear him right?

They had. “Toxic was always a country song.” 

They rolled their eyes. “Oh my god. No!” 

He laughed. He had a good laugh: childish, unashamed of his own joy. They grinned back at him. He wasn’t exactly hot, but they weren’t exactly picky, either. ...

If he wasn’t going to say anything about the body hair or the binder, he was at least going to say something about their cock. They had forgotten about it. They’d never worn it to a hookup before, but there it was, brushing against his thigh while they made out. 

They pulled away, trying to decide if they should explain it to him. The binder had been taken off without comment, although he had watched with bright, curious eyes. He grabbed their chin and kissed their neck, their bare chests pressing into each other. They settled on not saying anything, determined not to apologize for it, to keep their dignity.

He surprised them by getting down on his knees. He kissed the bulge, smiling up at them as he fiddled with their belt. The dick fell to the floor with the rest of their clothes. They spread their legs.

And for a brief second they considered asking. They didn’t mind words like cunt or pussy, but maybe, via request, he could also call it their dick, something they called it themselves but never heard from anyone else. 

His mouth latched on, his tongue slicking through their folds. He moaned, enjoying himself. They gasped, their fingers twisting through his hair, and all words and requests fell away. 

...

“What was that word you used?”

Their head was full of dopamine. They giggled, curled into his shoulder. “What word?” Some Adult Swim show played on TV, the animation crude but colorful.

“That flag you had on your tie.”

“Oh.” They wrapped an arm around him, curling onto his chest. “Non-binary?”

“Yeah. Not a man or a woman.” He nodded. “I can dig it, I can dig it.”

“Groovy.” They chuckled.

“Funky.” He offered. They closed their eyes. He smelled so clean. His chest hair tickled their cheek. “Are there a lot?”

“A lot of what?” They’d cum so much they felt worn out and sleepy. Damn, he was good in bed. They had to get his number to do this again.

“A lot of you. Apparently there’s a whole word for it, so…”

They lazily opened their eyes. “Yeah. Well, no one really looks for us, so we’re kind of invisible, but yeah, there’s a lot of us out there. More than you’d think.”

“Cool.” They felt him nod. “Groovy. I can dig it.”

They didn’t laugh, so he went quiet. A character cursed on the screen. Jude wasn’t finding the excessive use of fuck funny. They rested against him, their eyelids heavy.

“Have you always known?”

They forced their eyes open. “...I’m not sure how to answer that.”

“Sorry, sorry. I just… I just wanna know, like, how would you know?”

They looked up at him. His face was earnest, honest. “Everything just kinda… falls into place.”

“Oh.” His eyes darted away, then turned back to them. “So you’d know, like, instantly?”

“I mean,” they shifted, propping their back up against the bed frame, “it took me some time to figure it out, I guess. Play with it a bit until it felt right.”

He nodded, adamantly. “Oh. Okay.” Then his eyes darted back to the wall, and he shivered, despite being underneath the blanket and despite the warm body curled against him. He bit his lower lip. “...Can I show you something?”

“Um.”

“I’m sorry. It’s dumb. It’s really dumb. Let’s… I can get you an uber home, if you want. I’m sorry for making it weird.”

They blinked several times at him. “You can go ahead and show me.” They hoped they wouldn’t regret this sentence. Maybe he was going to show them something creepy, like a jar of human teeth. Or maybe he had a poop fetish. Wait, what if he had a wife or girlfriend or something? 

He lifted a finger, then ran out the room. They sat on the bed, secretly planning an escape route, until he came back less than a minute later with a plastic bag.

“I… I’ve never used it… I don’t know how.” 

They gazed up at his outstretched hand, and reluctantly take the bag. It was going to be teeth, after all. They looked inside, prepared for the worst. They saw a case and a black tube. Confused, they took it out and laid it on the bed. 

Realization shot through them. It was makeup–cheap, dollar store makeup. They looked up at him, and he bit his lower lip.

“I haven’t… looked at any of the tutorials… I, you know, I thought maybe this was just a weird fetish, or something, because I…” he scratched through his hair, “I know I don’t wanna be a woman, like I even looked up what estrogen does and I just… knew it wasn’t… like I didn’t want to… but then I felt weird, because why would I even look something like that up in the first place, it didn’t make any sense… I’m sorry.”

It’s an awkward array of things. Foundation that looks a shade too light for him. Eyeshadow with a brush too big. Bright red lipstick, the hardest shade to pull off well. Even nail polish, but there’s no clear coat. 

They feel the words spilling out of their lips before they’re really aware of it. “Do you want me to do your makeup?”

He looks down at the bed, at the various cosmetics, and back at them. He gives a small nod, then creeps into the bed like it isn’t his.

“Alright… stay still. Close your eyes, but don’t scrunch them. I’ll…” they look around, “do you have any cotton swabs?”

He shook his head. “...sorry.”

“We’ll see if my finger works.” At that moment they’re overly aware that the two of them are still completely naked. It must be nearly midnight by now. They dab their fingerprint into the eyeshadow, and gingerly try to press it into his eyelid. It half works. They suddenly feel pressure to do a good job and to make him look pretty. Maybe it’ll encourage him.

He clears his throat and shivers again. “...and can you do me a favor?” He digs his teeth into his lower lip, and tries to hide his shame. “...can you… can you just try and call me… they…?”

They think of all the people who don’t see the tie pin, and of all the people that they have to overexplain everything to, and of all the men who’ve fucked them and only saw a woman on the sheets. 

They smile. “I’m doing their makeup right now. They’re going to look so beautiful when I’m done.”

Jude watches their face light up, and somehow, it all feels worthwhile. 

[ao3feed-dadzawa]

Prickly, Patchy, Perfect

Prickly, Patchy, Perfect by Poppyseeds Or Poppy

Aizawa Shouta's facial hair may have been objectively patchy, but it was his. He didn't need anything more than that. No one, absolutely no one, would be able to convince him otherwise --- BNHA Gender Euphoria Week 2022 - Prompt 6 - Pride, Physical Changes ---

Words: 986, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 7 of Blossoming: BNHA Gender Euphoria Week 2022

Fandoms: 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead, Yamada Hizashi | Present Mic, Sero Hanta, Shirakumo Oboro, U.A. Faculty

Relationships: Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead/Yamada Hizashi | Present Mic, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead & Yamada Hizashi | Present Mic, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead & Shirakumo Oboro, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead & Sero Hanta

Additional Tags: gender euphoria, Facial Hair, Parental Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead, Protective Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead, Married Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead/Yamada Hizashi | Present Mic, Shouta Aizawa's Shitty Beard, But it actually means a lot to him, Shitty beards get rights too, Growing Facial Hair For The First Time, Mention of/allusion to genital piercings

Read Here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/38697924

[yanderesmythos]

🎼Yandere! Apollo(General) Headcanon⚕:

Tw: Violence, implied dub-con, delusions, mention of flaying, slight nsfw, toxic relationship, curses.

Ah, Apollo is known to be attracted to those that represent beauty. So when he got the gist of rumor spreading through the island of Kythira, that a young maiden has a mellifluous voice and an equally divine figure. He declared that he had to investigate, to make sure the rumours are true.

Thus, the blond god decided to pay a visit to meet the cryptic maiden; that had lit the flames of his curiosity as if it was the flames of Olympus* itself!

Before he descends to the village, Apollo disguised himself as man in his mid-thirties that have a flowing chocolate locks for tresses and stubbles beneath his chin. ' Now, to find the μούσα* of this village.'

The first thing that came to his mind, is that to search for her in the fields of flowers. Alas, he didn't find her which made him the more so frustrated. Were those rumours a mockery, just to taunt him for every lover he had met a tragic end?* If so, how dare they!

Yet, a kind gentlemen has came his way and saw the impatient expression painting Apollo's face. 'χαῖρε*, friend! I saw you were troubled, that's why I am here to help. As far as I am concerned, you're here to meet the allegedly fair maiden of our village. If you want to her, then head to the south east of chora. You'll find her humming a hymn and playing with animals, and Ὑγιαίνε!*'.

Before, he could give his blessing and gratitude to the man. The individual vanished into thin air as if he never existed. Nonetheless a smile tore Apollo's face, as he began heading to the place that stranger told him to go.

When he arrived to the location, his breath was hitched by not the beauty of place. But, with the woman in a flowy white dress who was singing her heart out. His heart was thumping so hard, that he feared that it may stop thanks to the woman in a simple village dress. It seems that the rumours were not an empty gossip, after all. Oh, did he finally 'meet' his muse and he won't let what occured to his past lovers happen to you!

Apollo is obsessive, clingy, delusional, and overwhelming-ly overprotective to the point of being overbearing. But, that's understandable when most of your lovers either wind up dead or turned into some kind of plant!

Apollo adores you immensely, so much that he will go as far as to defying you to his worshippers. Any mockery of you is akin of insulting him, which will steer his wrath. And his wrath isn't something to be taken so lightly, especially if his darling is involved.

It's a guarantee that Apollo will write poems, hymns*, and songs of praise for you. As well as, ensuring one of his devoted servants to sculpt you in the most pristine form and to be spread all through Greece. Then, he'll get rid of them* because he is the only one who has the right to appreciate s/o naked figure. 'What a fair woman you are, my μούσα. How fortunate, for the sisters of fate had decided to bind us together. So, let's take advantage of it and create the masterpiece of our deathless love.'

In fear of your death, the first thing Apollo will do is to force the ambrosia* upon you. Whether be it you're willing, or kicking and screaming to be let go. He simply will ignore it, as he believes those are 'signals' indicating that you desire him as much as he desires you. 'Shhh, μούσα. No need to be afraid, after all we will be together forever. Aww, those tears of happiness has blessed my day. Now, let me return the favour in our private chamber.'

If you're were to be taken away from Apollo, or worse injured significantly. Then, those imbeciles must be prepared to accept their fates. Oh dear, it has been itching him for a while to use his bow and arrow! Or, maybe flay them for their discretion of his sacred beloved.

Plus, he may or may not consider cursing their homeland with a terminal illness to make an example out of any mortal who has any ill intention toward s/o.

On another notice, rejecting or escaping him won't effect the outcome. As he'll accumulate you one way or another, in addition you'll be punished severely for 'breaking' his fragile heart. But don't worry, he won't hurt you....that much.

If you happened to escape on your own accord, not only will you make Apollo upset but also Artemis for upsetting her twin brother. (In which case, I believe from this scenario Artemis would've developed platonic obsession. Mainly, that you make her brother happy and that you haven't been dead yet. And, for that she promised to protect you until her last breath. Not only for her brother, but for herself as it has been a while since she met a kind mortal.)

Then, you'll become the prey of both Apollo and Artemis hunting game. If Artemis was the one to catch you, then you'll be handed to the lovesick god as he begin to drown you in his hold. However, if Apollo was the one to catch her then the s/o must be in for an intense 'love' session. In both scenarios, you'll be handed to him. It's just his reaction, that will differ.

Oh, also don't even attempt to break Apollo's delusions of you. As he will become a horrendous individual to meddle with, if he ever become lucid. And, the punishments will be amped to mind-shattering level. So try not to tread on his delusions, and you'll be safe for the most part. The more you escape, the more he'll be aware. Thus, he'll slowly become lucid. Oh, and just because he's lucid doesn't mean that he'll give up his beloved. NO! he'll be more persistent and bitter in his approach than his deluded state which is more softer and sweeter than any honey.

Anyways, one of his favored hobbies is to enact your and his fantasies with you. He can't help, but gushes at your flushed and drooling visage as he overstimulates your genital. 'Ahh, you're so.... dazzling especially with that flustered expression upon your face. Oh? You want more? Ask and you shall receive. No need to be shy with me, my βασίλισσα*.'

Anyways, as long as you play your cards right you might escape with your wits and sanity intact. But.....at the cost of either becoming the most dreaded immortal or cursed so no one can love you, but Apollo himself.

In which case, the isolation and ostracizion from the mortals will most likely drive you to return to him. 'Ah looks like you've learnt your lesson, κακῶς κόρην*. I forgive you now, so come into my warm embrace.'

Notes:

* Flame of Olympus: Here, I was referencing the myth of the first flame that Prometheus gave to humanity. Leading him, to be punished by Zeus.

* μούσα: Muse in greek.

* Tragic end: Poor Apollo. Each time he loves someone, they die or turn to plants. First, Daphne(turned into a Laurel tree) then Hyacinth(turned into Larkspur flower) then Cassandra(cursed for the rest of her life with the misfortune of no one believing her oracles). The last one, was a prickly act from Apollo ngl. But, then again there is no one right in the mythos. Everyone must've done something shitty for petty reasons with few exclusions (hestia/hades).

*χαῖρε: Hello in ancient greek.

*Ὑγιαίνε: Good luck in ancient greek.

*Hymns: are songs of praises towards a deity.

*then he'll get rid of them: you'll ask why would he spread sculptures of you around Greece, yet will punish anyone who worships it. Simply, because that's called hypocrisy and boy there is alot of it in the mythology. *Cough* Zeus *Cough*

*Ambrosia: Called 'the food of the gods', it is guaranteed to make any mortal into immortal.

* βασίλισσα: Queen in ancient greek.

*The first one to answer this will get a cookie from me: Who was the mysterious man that spoke with Apollo?

A/n: I apologize for uploading late, as I am busy with studying for my finals. Lastly, I hope you enjoyed this and thanks for requesting! Take care!

[elliestormfound]

Ellie Ellie Ellie Ellie!! Can I respectfully ask for some slightly spicy Lambden? Maybe Aiden trying to seduce Lambert for the first time?

my dearest wolfie, you can and you shall receive! <3 

Thank you, it was fun to write!

This gets spicy at the end, so it is +18 (under the cut!) (nothing too detailed, but genitals are mentioned)

read on ao3

------------

“You’ve been travelling with a cat witcher?” Geralt asked Lambert with raised eyebrows, a tankard of ale in hand. 

They had met by chance in a dingy tavern in the middle of nowhere and spent the evening trading stories about their hunts and getting drunk on the piss-poor ale. 

“Fuck off,” Lambert replied, “he is a good person.” He shook his head before he let it fall back to drain his tankard.

“You of all people should know that a bad reputation must not be true,” Lambert continued, and because he felt particularly prickly he added, “butcher.”

Geralt huffed and kicked Lambert under the table. 

But Lambert was unimpressed and waved the barmaid over to refill their beer.

“What makes him such a good person?” Geralt wanted to know. 

“Oh, you know, he is a good friend, helped me out with a contract,” Lambert said, avoiding Geralt’s gaze. A knowing grin started to form on the older witcher’s face.

“So you like him,” Geralt said a moment later. This time Lambert kicked him under the table and mumbled, “it’s not like this.”

Geralt’s grin got even wider when he leaned forward and quietly said to the other witcher, “oh, you haven’t told him, have you?”

“Fuck you,” Lambert said, “you can talk with your decade long pinging for your bard.”

Geralt huffed but couldn’t stop grinning at the accidental affirmation that Lambert was indeed interested in the cat.

---------

Lambert stumbled to his room. He and Geralt had been drinking for another hour or two till both couldn’t stand straight and Geralt had staggered to his own room.

Lambert froze in the door frame as he noticed someone on his room but relaxed a second later when he made out Aiden. He was sitting on his bed, propped up against the headboard and reading.

“What the fuck are you doing here,” Lambert slurred and closed the door behind him.

Aiden put down the book and looked up with a wicked grin on his face. 

“Oh, you know, I picked up on your scent just on the outskirts of the village and followed it here.” He moved to the edge of the bed and put his feet on the floor, leaning forward on his elbows. 

Lambert furrowed his brows. “And you didn’t say hi, just went to my room, to do what? Read?”

“Ah, you see, I heard you talking with your brother and I didn’t want to interrupt that...interesting conversation.” His grin was nearly splitting his face now.

Lambert’s eyes went wide and his jaw dropped open. He took an involuntary step back till his back was pressed to the door.

“Ahm...what did you…” he stammered as his face heated up.

Aiden mustered him with what could only be described as a hungry glare. 

“That you find me irresistable,” Aiden said after another moment, licking his lips. 

“I...I never said that,” Lambert said, scratching the back of his neck, “and that was a private conversation.” His voice had gotten more quiet with every word.

“Maybe not in these exact words, but I heard you whisper to Geralt that I have the perfect ass.” 

Lambert turned around to storm out of the room, but Aiden was faster. He had walked over in quick strides and gripped his wrist.

“Stop right there,” he growled. 

Lambert pulled his arm out of his grasp.

“Now look at me, pup,” Aiden purred and lifted Lambert’s chin till they were eye to eye. He reached out for his hand again, but this time he pressed something into Lambert’s palm, something cold...a vial?

“What?...” Lambert began but was interrupted.

“White honey,” Aiden said, “drink it.” 

When Lambert frowned Aiden raised his eyebrows and said, “I want you sober when I suck your dick.”

“My what?” 

“Drink,” Aiden said again. 

Lambert blinked before he pulled out the cork and downed the potion in one gulp. It felt like something cold washed over his body. He swallowed and pressed his eyes closed for a moment before he opened them again, the alcohol cleared from his blood.

Aiden was still standing close, carefully watching his face till he was convinced that the other was sober. He took the empty vial out of Lambert's hand and a second later cupped his cheek with one of his hands. His eyes wandered from Lambert’s golden ones down to his lips and back up again.

“Now tell me again,” he purred as he leaned forward till his lips nearly met Lambert’s ear, “what you think about my butt.”

Lambert inhaled sharply.

“It’s perfect,” he whispered hoarsely, “and I really want to touch it.”

Aiden chuckled and said, “then do it.”

Lambert wrapped his arms around Aiden and pressed him close, just holding him for a moment. His hands wandered down his back and finally found the perfect curve of Aiden’s magnificent ass. He squeezed and gasped as Aiden bit his neck playfully. 

Lambert pulled Aiden desperately towards himself. The cat laughed against his neck and Lambert was sure that he had never heard something more beautiful. Aiden kissed the spot he had bitten and then along Lambert’s jaw till he pressed his lips to Lambert’s. The kiss got fierce and desperate, uncoordinated and with a bit too much teeth and tongue, but neither of them cared. 

When they came up for air both were panting, gaze linked with the other. 

“So,” Aiden began, “what do you think about my proposition from earlier?”

Lambert cocked his head and narrowed his eyes as he tried to remember anything that had happened before their kiss. “Proposition?”

Aiden bucked his hip forward and Lambert gasped as he felt Aidens hard cock through his trousers press against his.

“That I suck your dick.” Aiden was grinning broadly again. Lambert opened and closed his mouth a few times before he swallowed and said, “yes..ahm...I mean, please?” 

With a laugh the cat gave him a quick peck on the lips before he winked and dropped to his knees.

----------

Tag list: @jaskierswolf @geraskier-trashh @hailhailsatan @panerato @marvagon @x-anxious @moonysourenza @kaktusbambus @wildonewrites @dapandapod @honeysuckletook @thecomfortofoldstorries @electricrituals @broken-verses @vampire--dad @whenrainbowsend @geralt-of-riviass @sleepy-thief @artistsfuneral @hriive @stinastar @innocentbi-stander @darkangel91939 @in-love-with-writing002 @fandommagpie @fontegagrilledcheese @kozkaboi @nonegenderleftpain @veritasrose @havenoffandoms (let me know if I should put you on or remove you from my tag list)

[friend-me-harder]

@zombi-vomit​

Signless

Is shocked at how similar you both are in warmth. He’s used to being the warmest and there’s almost an immediate kinship from that alone.  IF you show him you’re blood is the same as his he’s going to trust and protect you with his life

Humans are always smaller than trolls and he can't help but find it cute how small you are and how that doesn't stop you from trying to go verbally toe-to-toe with other trolls. 

Kankri

Doesn’t see you as romantic at all at first, you’re fascinating as an alien but he finds it going deeper the longer you’re around and because he lets his guard down around you you let yours down and that’s when he starts to see you - no one lets their guard down around him.

Talks circles because once he likes you he’s terrified of offending you.  Sure Cronus says weird shit about humans but that’s not a reliable source! He takes so much time listening to you that he’s able to recall those little things you’ve told him, and when you smile at him after he does so he can’t help but start to purr

Karkat

We saw how much he seemed relieved (and then horrified) when he slashed reader open.  While he’s still prickly around you he’s also more relaxed with you than anyone else.  You know and share his secret and he is overwhelmed with a sense of not wanting to be away from you.  He likes that you’re the same temperature because you won’t complain about him being too hot or trying to leech his heat. 

He likes how your hair feels compared to his.  He needs special products he generally can’t afford to achieve the shine that most trolls find attractive but your hair is so different then troll hair that he sometimes finds himself mindlessly running his hands through it. 

Signless

Gets nervous about pailing, he doesn’t want his claws to hurt you and worries about his teeth.  That being said during he loves the feeling of your duller teeth and nails, they cause bruising but don’t break the skin and leaves him with a different sensation than he’s used to.

Spends so much time with his hands wandering your body, feeling how pliable your skin is and takes an agonizingly long time with his fingers on your genitals.  The look he gives as your back arches into his touch is almost reverent.   

Kankri

Turns out he has a voice kink!  Kankri loves listening to you whisper to him while your soft fingers are wrapped around his bulge.  Whimpers when you say his name, will cum when you tell him to and sometimes even around others if you talk in that certain way his bulge starts to unsheathe

Loves to grind his nook against your stomach.  He thinks your belly button is adorable and kind of hot and maybe the tip of his bulge presses against it while his nook rubs against your soft stomach skin.

Karkat

He would cry the first time.  He needs your soft touches and your openness and vulnerability that trolls don’t show so he can relax and really enjoy the moment.  it’s a long slow night and it takes time to build, there’s a lot of encouragement and experimental touches that help you both really understand the other’s body and what they want.

Give👏 this 👏 boy 👏 head 👏 Let his bulge slip past your lips and twist in your mouth and sink down your throat.  Run your tongue along his nook and dip the tip of it inside him.  Moan around the lips of his nook and leave hickies on his thighs.

[chaoticpanenergy]

Alright, Sanders Sides fandom (+ Six the Musical fandom). 

I watched this *ahem* neato slime tutorial about Six the Musical and then listened to the soundtrack on Spotify and then overanalyzed the lyrics on genius.com and I have a lot of emotions about this story. So what do I do? I make a Sanders Sides au/analysis for it, obviously, putting WAY too much thought into different interpretations of which side could be which queen. Let’s jump in.

Catherine of Aragon

Catherine in the golden-yellow and black costume. Catherine who knows when she is lied to. Catherine who puts herself first when it comes down to it. Catherine who deals with disrespect but knows her worth anyway. Catherine who “keeps her cool” and stays in control of herself. Catherine must be Janus, lord of the lies, self-preservation, whose calm facade has cracked so rarely.

But then again, Catherine is a leader. Catherine is concerned with loyalty, and what is right and wrong, and that is why she stands up against the divorce—it is wrong of Henry to divorce her, according to her morals. Catherine can swallow her pride, and Catherine seeks a solution to the last, giving Henry so many chances. Catherine handles her situation with grace. Catherine must be Patton, the Hufflepuff, Morality, loving and kind and endlessly forgiving, always trying to do what is right and guide others to do the same.

But then again, Catherine strives to “keep her cool.” To look at things with a level head. She speaks up and reasons with Henry, and in return asks for his own reasoning. She refuses to be made into a joke or looked down upon. Catherine is stubborn and verbose. Catherine must be Logan, the voice of reason, who does his best to keep a handle on his temper and appear as professional as possible, who explains and reasons and is logic above all, who is terrified of being seen as a joke, who is desperate to just be heard for once in his life.

Anne Boleyn

Anne in the green sleeves. Anne who has no filter whatsoever, Anne who says whatever comes into her head. Anne who makes jokes about her own beheading. Anne who says “don’t be bitter/cause I’m fitter/why hasn’t it hit her?/he doesn’t wanna bang you/somebody hang you.” Anne who is “sorry not sorry” about everything she says. Anne who is the most gleeful and up-front about “x-rated” content. Anne whose energy is boundless. Anne who is disliked and cast in a negative light by those around her. Anne must be Remus, the darkly creative, responsible for intrusive thoughts, who would never hide anything going through his head and sees no reason to regret this, the “evil twin.”

But then again, Anne who didn’t mean to hurt anyone.” Anne who desperately cries “what was I meant to do?” over and over again as every choice she makes has no good outcome for her. Anne whose comments are more harshly received than she sometimes means. Anne who does not take it well when she comes second to someone else. Anne must be Roman, the ego, stuck in a damned-if-I-do-damned-if-I-don’t situation towards Janus throughout the “Putting Others First” saga, who often lashes out instinctively only to immediately apologize, who strives to be Thomas’s hero.

But then again, Anne whose actions are surprisingly logical from her own point of view. Anne who uses phrases like “obviously” to describe what took place. Anne who gives back tit for tat and no more when she feels disrespected. Anne who is blunt, perhaps more so than is good for her. Anne must be Logan, who always does what makes the most sense to him, who considers what is fair and equal, who can come across as harsher than he means.

Jane Seymour

Jane who is patient. Jane who is steady. Jane who forgives over and over again and makes allowance for behavior she does not deserve to tolerate. Jane whose family is of the utmost importance to her. Jane is overlooked for her kindness and meekness but is so, so strong. Jane who makes puns about her own name. Jane must be Patton, who adores his family, the punster, who is established as the dad friend from day one, who gives and nurtures and forgives endlessly, who is resilient and strong and supportive.

But then again, Jane sticks with the positions she has chosen. Jane who is easily overlooked. Jane who acknowledges the often-sucky realities of life and does not let it bring her down. Jane who is strong as stone and unshakeable. Jane must be Logan, who will not back down, who can be relegated to the sidelines too easily, who is down to earth and who chooses to see the wonder in the ordinary despite all the bad.

But then again, Jane knows she could be rejected at a misstep. Jane who loves, and is loved, but believes that love could “disappear.” Jane who withstands hardships and heartbreak and fear. Jane who uses storm imagery constantly. Jane whose strength and love is akin to stone, something rarely used as a positive metaphor. Jane must be Virgil, who worries he will be rejected for his dark past, who withstood being shunned by those he “lo—cares for” in the past, who is prickly and can cause harm but has grown and matured, who will not be reduced to a single facet of himself even if that makes him more “complicated,” whose logo is a stormcloud.

Anna of Cleves

Anna who is bold. Anna who is unafraid to speak her mind and gets what she wants. Anna whose physical appearance led to her rejection. Anna who is the epitome of “me time” and “self care.” Anna who has no problem being sassy and gives as good as she gets. Anna must be Janus, who advocates for self care and putting oneself first, who is a drama queen, whose sarcasm is off the charts, who has been accused of trickery (sometimes justified, sometimes not), who thrives on attention, whose snake face led to instant distrust from everyone around him, who will go to any length to be heard.

But then again, Anna who demands attention. Anna who gives herself every luxury that occurs to her on a whim. Anna is the only character to openly curse, and gives it a double meaning. Anna who revels in the portrait that caused her rejection and takes pride in it. Anna is the first to make fun of Henry's genitals. Anna must be Remus, who revels in everything he is told not to, who is impulsive and whimsical and unfiltered, who calls Logan a dork and later reveals the inappropriate double meaning, who takes up space unashamedly.

But then again, Anna who constantly reminds us of her royal position. Anna who leans into the queenly activities and possessions. Anna who is flamboyant. Anna who dances when her jam comes on the lute. Anna who rejects criticism of herself. Anna who is “looking cute.” Anna must be Roman, the ego, who put “Flamboyant” by Dorian Electra on his playlist, who is creativity embodied and dances and sings and acts, who “has got to slay,” who reminds us constantly of his princely status.

Katherine Howard

Katherine who comes across at first as flirty and confident only to later reveal that she is insecure because she has only ever been valued for her appearance. Katherine who idealizes and daydreams about someone caring about her for herself and not her looks. Katherine who uses self-confident language to mask her insecurity. Katherine whose language is so flowery and filled with vivid descriptions. Katherine who desperately wants to be approved of and loved. Katherine must be Roman, whose confident facade hides insecurity, who is a hopeless romantic, who is a storyteller, whose language is filled with descriptors and metaphors, who desperately craves approval and validation, who is the romantic side.

But then again, Katherine gives others the benefit of the doubt. Katherine who looks for friends everywhere she goes. Katherine who constantly uses euphemisms and language that might be considered childish. Katherine who is sweet and sincere. Katherine must be Patton, who censors his language and can skirt around topics that are too unpleasant, who forgives and gives second chances, who is kind and soft, who makes friends almost as easily as breathing.

But then again, Katherine who has been let down over and over again. Katherine who tries again and again after every disappointment. Katherine who is anxious to be approved of. Katherine must be Virgil, who dealt with the “scorn” of those he admired for so long, who has persevered through everything, who deals with self-doubt, who always tries again.

But then again, Katherine who thinks she ought to know better, but never does. Katherine who is so, so tired of this same shit every time. Katherine who is too worldly and disillusioned. Katherine who hopes and tries again every time she gets let down. Katherine must be Janus, who put “You’re a Cad” on his playlist, who was rejected time and time again by Thomas and the others but kept trying, who went on a whole ramble about how society is out to get you and the only person you can really trust is yourself.

Catherine Parr

Catherine who brought all the queens together despite their differences and their fights. Catherine who was separated from the person she cared about before eventually reuniting with him. Catherine who uses her voice defiantly because she is tired of being silenced. Catherine who doesn’t need love to get by. Catherine who loves music. Catherine who sometimes loses hope, but keeps going anyway. Catherine must be Virgil, the bridge between “light” and “dark” sides, who cannot be silenced, always listening (to Thomas or to music), who cared about the “light” sides long before he was accepted as part of the group.

But then again, Catherine who prioritizes herself and her own story. Catherine who sings her song “for me.” Catherine who is a little bit cynical about love stories, which we’re normally taught to idealize. Catherine for whom the rules of society are a trap. catherine who demands control over herself. Catherine who rejects the rules of the queens’ competition when they restrict her. Catherine must be Janus, self-preservation and self-care, who feels restricted and endangered by the rules of society, who dismisses Patton’s urge to help those in need with a “yeah, sure, whatever, if that’s your thing,” who pushes Thomas to be true to himself.

But then again, Catherine who “built a future in her mind” with her love. Catherine who loves art in all its forms, and consumes and creates it with abandon. Catherine who wants to tell her story on her own terms after being silenced for so long. Catherine must be Roman, endlessly creative, romantic daydreamer, struggling with balancing his wants with Thomas's needs and feeling silenced because of it.

But then again, Catherine who writes, and is scholarly. Catherine who fights for equality and takes steps within her power to make specific differences. Catherine who champions education for women. Catherine who cannot stand being boxed in and made to be less than she truly is. Catherine who bottles up her rage at the unfairness of it all for as long as she can. Catherine whose feelings are pushed aside. Catherine must be Logan, the teacher, who pushes his emotions aside until he cannot hold them back anymore, who feels like he is not seen for who he is, who cares deeply about things being fair and equitable, who outlines action steps, who always asks more questions.

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The queens are each multi-faceted characters full of depth—they’re human, gorgeously and heartwrenchingly so. It makes sense that there are multiple Sides that could easily fit into each of their roles, and I haven’t even covered every possible interpretation. There are dozens of possible lineups to come up with here, each that I love to think about. What’s your favorite? I’d love to hear.