#blushing is a physiological response

[blkkizzat]

random, and i don't know who needs to hear this, but black girls can visibly blush too. -signed a black girl who can visibly blush and who gets a big fat blochy red mark on her face when she cries. 😘

[violetbarbarian]

finally watched the bear and so of course i turned to ao3 afterwards. and it’s amazing but if i have to read ‘if it were possible for her to blush’ ONE MORE TIME. black people can blush!! it’s just not as noticeable on us if you don’t know what you’re looking for! we have the same physiological responses- for god’s sake, there are other ways to convey the fact that someone’s blush isn’t noticeable that don’t imply they can’t do it at all!

[yerimbrit]

[flufftober day 31, wc: 1k] - trick or treat! : i saw a ghost! with MC kkura

“THIS IS PROBABLY THE MOST UNSERIOUS THING WE’VE DONE,” sakura mutters, pulling the modified bed sheet-turned-ghost costume over your head. you stop her midway so she can see your wide grin, and she only shakes her head fondly at you.

you let the sheet fall down over the rest of your face, and then point to yourself—although your arms are also covered with the sheet, so it just looks like a nub of the ghost is sticking out. “but it fits, kkura, i’m a ghost because i was a ghost, and you’re a ghostbuster! except we’re in love. hey, do you think that counts as forbidden love?”

“no comment,” sakura answers, spinning you around to see the rest of your look. she’s thinking of adding sunglasses, but she’s also afraid you’re gonna fall over because it’s so dark, so… maybe she’ll take it with her just in case.

because of her response (or lack thereof) you start sulking, sometimes sakura chooses not to humor you and it’s annoying. maybe if you died again she would treat you specially again. such a mean lover, but you love her regardless and you know she does too. there were some struggles and certain circumstances before and after you became human again, some that you can’t really explain in detail at the moment.

sakura sees your sulking state and sighs, grabbing the beanie she crocheted for you and fitting it snugly on your head, over the sheet. you hum in approval and kiss her cheek through the costume, effectively growing a blush across her face. “shall we go?”

“this is a rich looking neighborhood,” you note, holding sakura’s hand tightly in yours, the fabric bunching up at your wrist. you’re holding a pumpkin bucket with the other hand. “you should make this on your animal crossing island.”

the girl thinks it over, pursing her lips. “i could, but do i really want to do all of that work?”

you shrug, “you’ve done it before, in your stardew valley farm.”

“touché.”

as expected from a “rich looking neighborhood” the two of you rack up some king-sized candy bars and other trinkets that you don’t really pay attention to, with your unoriginal (but inside joke heavy) costumes. apparently, an old classmate of yours lived in one of the houses you visited and said that the ghost’s voice sounded familiar, so you had to hurry to get out of there.

(“huh,” sooyoung frowns, “you kind of sound familiar, miss ghost. like someone i used to know…”

a bead of sweat forms on both you and sakura’s faces. you chuckle nervously, “what a coincidence, right?”

sooyoung drops two fun sized kit kats into your pumpkin bucket, nodding in suspicion. “happy halloween.”

you two turn back, scurrying off to the sidewalk. “she’s scary,” you whine, nearly tripping over yourself, “she’s always been scary!”)

a dead woman could not trick-or-treat, she could only trick. and haunt. and get resurrected by her human lover. 

some have looked at you weirdly, or did a double-take when they heard your voice behind the costume, but you pay it no mind. people you knew might recognize you, but you’re a changed person, at least different from the y/n they knew. perhaps that is the effect of being a ghost for more than three years. you’re happy now, though, with sakura—you’ve been accepted at her university, your classes are fun and challenging, and you’re planning on majoring in physiology. you’ve also picked poetry back up.

but one thing for sure, one thing you’ll be eternally grateful for: being able to taste honey butter chips again. and going trick-or-treating for the first time in probably ten years.

oh, and also, chaewon lives on this street. the two of you came to her house earlier, ringing the doorbell and expecting regular old chaewon to answer, but you were greeted with yunjin in a striking red wildcats jersey.

(“oh hey kkura-unnie, and y/n—wait, hahahaha! that’s so funny, ‘cause you were, hahaha!” yunjin doubles over, holding her stomach from laughing so hard.

“can i have my candy?” you ask impatiently, holding out the bucket. “what are you supposed to be?”

the american smiles widely, pulling chaewon over who is dressed in a dumb inflatable red blood drop costume. “i’m troy bolton,” she points to herself.

“and i’m hemoglobin!” chaewon finishes, before the embarrassment kicks in and she dumps a whole bag of twix into your bucket. “pretend you never saw that.”

sakura snickers and fidgets with the ghost sucker in her hand. “i can’t promise anything.”)

your bucket is nearly filled to the brim, so you agree to make the next house the last stop of the day before returning to sakura’s car. on the outside, the house has some white and orange fairy lights, with very nicely designed and carved pumpkins on the porch. there’s also a slightly deflated santa inflatable in the back, but you don’t think that’s part of the halloween festivities.

“i’m getting a vibe from this place,” you say as you approach the front door, trying not to spill your candy.

the ghostbuster tilts her head. “what vibes?”

“i don’t know, just vibes.”

you ring the doorbell. and the most familiar face answers the door. 

“oh, are you trick or treating?”

“s… se-seulgi,” you blink rapidly, utterly shocked. the artist raises her eyebrows, then furrows them. 

“y/n…? is that you? oh, my god.”

so yeah, turns out the vibe was the whole best friend that graduated and caused your death of loneliness. fun! no, really—fun, because you haven’t seen her since she left.

the three of you end up chatting for a bit, you and seulgi exchanging sincere apologies and also phone numbers, and you also get to meet her two cats, lulu and lala, who treat you like their love at first sight. 

seulgi ran out of candy (someone stole the entire bowl she set outside) so she offered to draw a portrait of you and sakura in your halloween costumes, which you gladly take. as expected, it turns out like it should belong in a museum. this is definitely getting stuck on the fridge.

“i'll talk to you later, okay?” the artist waves goodbye, patting you on the head (or the top of the beanie) and giving a real, genuine eye smile. 

“later,” you grin.

it turns out later might not come because you may or may not have overdosed on more than 20 packs of smarties.

flufftober masterlist

a/n : and that marks the end of flufftober! thank you to all who stuck around until the very last day, im actually rlly surprised i finished it LOL

[freesia-writes]

Ch 36: Clarification

Master List ~~ Previous Chapter ~~ WC: 2k

Hunter watched as the ship disappeared into the clouds, feeling its jump to hyperspace as he stared after it in utter disbelief. He couldn’t get to Tech’s fast enough, mind racing the entire way. 

“That is a most fascinating series of events,” Tech observed after Hunter had filled him in on the tumult of the last few days. 

“That’s one way to put it,” Hunter grumbled, taking a long drink from his cup of caf. “So, she wasn’t lying?”

“I did not detect a single trace of deception. Considering your apparent affinity for attracting supernatural activity on this island, it will likely be a fruitless search for concrete scientific answers.”

“I’m not looking for this supernatural stuff.”

“I know.” Tech skimmed through the data the scanner had recorded, reviewing and confirming what he’d surmised. “Her mind seems entirely convinced of the story she told. There are some odd physiological markers in the parts of her brain responsible for memory. It would appear that she has somehow been reverted to a past state, with absolutely no recollection of any of the events you shared together. It is a neurobiological phenomenon called autobiographical amnesia.”

“You’re sure?”

“There is no other possibility. If there were, I would likely have some inkling and would be able to follow the trail to a solid conclusion. But, as it stands, the semi-sentient island seems to have freed you entirely from any potential repercussions or further concerns.”

“I don’t believe it…”

“Hunter,” Tech said, slightly exasperated now. “It is not the first time we have seen inexplicably mystical occurrences, both here and in the galaxy at large. I would advise that you consider it a wonderfully fortuitous part of your narrative and proceed as usual.” 

“Better than any of the alternatives,” he said darkly, having considered every possible way to neutralize the threat that she represented, some of which were decidedly more gruesome than he felt comfortable with.

“Indeed. It is wildly convenient. This island seems to be quite useful in your story.”

“Guess so.”

“The only additional matter at hand is any remaining interaction between you and Lyra.”

Hunter took a deep breath, his rich brown eyes fixed in a distant gaze out the window.

* * * 

The door swung open shortly after the gentle knock, and Lyra beamed when she saw Hunter, then quickly adjusted it into a smaller, more acceptable smile. She ushered him in, having dressed in her usual attire – a loose, beige dress made of linen and a knitted cardigan over it, although this time the sweater was a blush pink color that gave her a more feminine look. A litany of drool-worthy smells filled his nose as they arrived in the kitchen, the counters strewn with nearly every cooking tool she owned, and she rested her backside against the counter, regarding him meekly. 

“Apparently I like to cook when I’m stressed,” she confessed with a self-effacing chuckle. “You hungry?”

“I wasn’t before I walked in,” he rumbled, gaze moving from the baked goods cooling on a rack near the window to the large pan on the stove with a savory scramble steaming in it. She smiled, moving at once to put a kettle on and fetch some plates. 

“So uh… What the heck happened?” She couldn’t wait a moment longer to hear the rest of the story. 

“Tech is absolutely positive that she somehow reverted to her life a few years ago. She’s completely convinced that she was here on vacation, never met us before, has no idea who we are, and was content to go back to her freelance journalist job based out of Coruscant. Apparently she still has an apartment there, and GNN allows her to come and go instead of requiring a steady presence, so it will be unbelievably effortless for her to just slip back into life there.”

“I don’t believe it,” she said softly, stirring a splash of cream into his caf the way she remembered he liked it. 

“Me neither, to be honest. But Tech was sure.”

“How would it–” She was interrupted by the chime of Hunter’s commlink, and he pulled it from a pocket and clicked a button. 

“Yeah?”

“I have some additional information for you and Lyra,” Tech’s distorted voice reported. 

“Great,” Hunter said, not sure how many more complications he could take. 

“I was further piecing together all of the events that have transpired from the very start and corroborating them with any and all evidence I could locate. A recent news development may prove to be reassuring to both of you.”

“Alright, let’s hear it,” he said. Lyra stepped closer to listen, brushing her arm against his before pulling away self-consciously. 

“Am I correct in assuming that Vuxpasian Trawley is Lyra’s former boss, the one that has been seeking to have her either incarcerated or disposed of?”

“Yes,” she answered, and Hunter felt the tension grip her entire body. 

“Excellent. He is dead.”

“Very straightforward, Tech. Thank you,” Hunter said, voice laced with affection for his brother’s unique style of communicating as Lyra gasped softly beside him, both hands racing to her mouth.

“I also have some additional information,” Crosshair drawled. Apparently everyone was on the same comm frequency today.

“I am not finished–” Tech protested.

“Too bad. This is important,” Crosshair insisted, not waiting for a reply. “Hunter… A Bantha sent a message. He wants to know why you stole his hairstyle.”

The guffaw that burst out of Lyra’s mouth made her immediately clap a hand over it, her cheeks flushed with immediate embarrassment as she looked apologetically at Hunter, whose lips were pressed together.

“Sorry,” she mouthed.

Tech continued, sparing not a single moment for Crosshair’s ridiculousness. “Anyway, while not directly stated in the official documents, it is more than obvious that it was none other than Emperor Palpatine who saw him dead. Trawley was reported to have been conducting his own research in the field of cloning, which as we know, is of utmost importance to Palpatine. By reading between the lines, I was able to deduce that he tried to blackmail the Empire by threatening to sabotage their own work in the field if they did not give him a position of esteem. Needless to say, it did not end well for him. So he, and anyone else who would have cared about the evidence possessed by Lyra and her daughter, have been… neutralized, to put it more gently for the apparently sensitive ears.”

Lyra stared at the comm, a myriad of expressions dancing across her face as she shook her head slowly, reeling from just how much had changed in a single twenty-four hour period. A deep, shaky breath was her best attempt at calm, and she pulled out a wooden chair to settle herself at the table. 

“The two of you may benefit from some time to process all of this. It is downright astonishing how every single factor that would stand in the way of a peaceful, happy future without fear of outside threats seems to have been taken care of. If I believed in fate, I would posit that it is in your favor. Anyway, see you at family dinner on Benduday.”

“And maybe try to put that mess into a ponytail,” Crosshair added, followed by Wrecker’s laugh and a deep inhale. Hunter clicked the comm off before he could finish whatever he was about to say.

He sank into the seat beside Lyra, rubbing his forehead with one hand before resting them both on the table. They both faced the wall, staring at the endless array of knick knacks and nature collections that summed up her delight with the simple things in life, and lost themselves in thought. 

“So… We’re just free to live happily ever after?” she finally asked, her skepticism laced with a depth of yearning that she didn’t want to admit. 

His distant stare dropped to the table, following the gnarled pattern of the wood grain that flowed and spiraled beneath his hands. The self-imposed yoke of doubt that rested heavily across his shoulders reminded him of the improbability, and yet that cynical voice of disbelief now had a competitor: a tiny, wistful flicker of hope.

“Want to eat?” Lyra broke the silence with her timid question. The delicious scents of her kitchen frolicked back into his consciousness, and he nodded, bringing himself back to the present. She fetched a couple of mismatched plates, one dark blue and handmade, the other more elaborate with a delicately woven vine along the edges, and piled each one high with a scramble, croissant, chopped potatoes, and fruit. Hunter couldn’t help but chuckle as she set the single-plate feast in front of him, and he quickly clarified as her face revealed insecurity.

“No, this is great,” he said quickly. “It’s just enough to make Wrecker feel full… for at least an hour.” 

She laughed self-consciously, fingers toying with the messy braid resting over her shoulder, and shrugged. “I’ll tell you what I told Breslin as a child – eat what you want and leave the rest.” Her expression deepened as the memories surfaced, and Hunter found himself with a strong desire to be privy to her internal thoughts. 

“You were pretty young yourself, yeah?”

“Yeah,” she sighed, stabbing a potato with her fork. “Young and dumb,” she smiled. “But I’ve always been an old lady at heart, no matter my actual age.” Her little snicker warmed his heart, and then she became suddenly serious, eyes distant and full of thought. 

Hunter waited.

“If we really are safe… I wonder if Breslin could come live here… Although she had a pretty good setup on Keytoll, so I don’t know if she’d even want to. But gods, I’ve missed her.”

“How old is she?” 

“Twenty-four.”

“So you had her when you were–”

“Eighteen. It wasn’t ideal by any means, and there’s never been a father in the picture. She was the consequence… turned into a gift… of some foolish choices.” She reflected for a moment, slowly swallowing another bite of potato, then studied him intently, a question on her lips that she seemed to be holding back. 

“What?” he prompted, catching her gaze. 

“You’re… twenty-eight?” The barely-restrained cringe on her face spoke volumes, and he felt his heart sink a little. 

“Yeah… But…” The truth of his engineering hung over him like a shameful dark cloud. “We were created with an accelerated aging process. So we age at twice the rate of… real people.” The pain in his voice at the last two words was unmistakable, and Lyra’s face deepened with compassion. 

“You are a real person,” she whispered, eyes glistening with emotion. 

“I guess so.”

“So…” she mulled it over. “In ten years, I’ll be fifty-two, and you’ll be…”

“Forty-eight,” he muttered. 

“And in fifteen years, you’ll be beating me by a year… fifty-eight when I’m fifty-seven…And so on and so forth,” she continued, doing the math in her head. 

“Yup.”

Silence rested between them for a moment.

“What’s it like?” Her question surprised him, and he tilted his head, resting his fork and knife on the edges of his plate as his hands loosely clasped them. 

“What?”

“Growing so quickly?” 

“I don’t know… Never known anything else. Honestly, I don’t think any of us really thought we would make it past the war. It was pointless to think that way. We’re… disposable.”

“Hunter,” she said softly, hand twitching toward his before pulling back. 

“No,” he said suddenly, setting down his eating utensils and slowly rising to his feet. A tornado of thoughts was tearing through his mind, and he was beginning to spiral along with it, utterly exhausted from the last twenty-four hours. “I can’t… I can’t do this right now.”

“This?” Her voice quavered. 

He looked at her, wrought with conflict, insecurity, regret, frustration, then with a small shake of his head, turned for the front door, pausing as he twisted the handle, then continued out with slumped shoulders.

.

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[your-subby-creature]

I'm not really into petplay [yet?] but I love observing it, ya'll are such cute puppies <3 You guys deserve all the chin scratches and chew toys you can get 🥰

Plus it's really fueling my experimentation/scientist kink of studying your guys's behaviour. Recording which pups are naturally more dominant in the pack and who willingly submits to avoid fights. Throwing in toys, blankets, and/or pillows into the enclosure to see how it affects the overall happiness levels. Of course, it should go without saying that everyone would get a custom-made collar that tracks heart rate, hormone levels, vocal activity, ect. with a matching leash for walks.

This way I can know what I need to add to the individual training sessions! After all, a good dog needs to learn how to obey, isn't that right Creature?

HELLO???? HNNGGH??? You can't just drop this in my askbox and not expect me to absolutely lose it, this is the hottest thing I've read in a *while*. It combines petplay, training, and experimentation my *beloved*. (You are literally free to experiment on me anytime oh my GODS)

Picturing you just watching us, my custom collar tight around my neck as I'm bit and fucked and mounted by all the other puppies, knowing that you can see every bit of pleasure I'm getting, every whine, every physiological response on your monitor. Knowing that you don't even have to see my blush as you hand me a pillow to bite as I'm mounted and knotted *again*, seeing the overall happiness level rise as this addition makes me present my holes further.

Seeing the way I'm needy even in my sleep, curled up in a nest of blankets and pillows, whining quietly until another puppy tiredly fills me, watching my heartrate slow as I cockwarm them and fall back asleep.

I wonder what you'd put in my training program? I already like to think I'm a pretty obedient little mutt, but I always want to be trained to be better, and I'd love for your careful observations to make me into the good puppy I want so badly to be!

Thank you *so* much for this ask, I'm actively walking to go hump my pillow because of how needy this made me so...have a nice day!!

-your Creature

[mommyashtoreth]

general gomens biology hcs or something

Hello mommyashtoreth nation. Tryingggg to motivate myself to write more so while I work on that I figured I'd post some of my gomens biology headcanons so I can keep them consistent across all my writing and so all, like, five of my adoring fans can get a glimpse inside my twisted mind. Slight nsfw but nothing super explicit.

Gomens biology headcanons GO!

General biology (both Az and Crowley):

Both can "project" strong feelings outwards and they can feel each other's feelings this way. Can be feelings like love, arousal, shame, or pain

Both have supernatural strength, although Aziraphale is a bit stronger (angels tend to be stronger + she's physically bigger)

Both have little feathery wing spots on their backs

Almost all physiological responses happen automatically, like breathing, swallowing, mouths watering or going dry, blushing or flushing, sweating, and sexual arousal (including shaking, muscle spasms, etc). They can both stop these responses if they really really try, but it's more comfortable to let the body function ost adjacently to how a human body would (The only exception to this is in Crowley, who does not automatically blink. She can close her eyes and closes them to sleep, but she has to consciously choose to blink or she won't otherwise)

They don't scar, bruise, or bleed like humans do. They CAN hurt each other, but it takes a great deal of effort. Acts like biting, scratching, spanking, etc. typically do not leave marks, unless a session is VERY intense and/or specialized implements are used (items that have been blessed, washed in holy water, etc for Crowley, items that have been cursed, hexed, used for witchcraft, etc for Aziraphale)

Crowley's biology:

Forked tongue that she uses to smell, therefore smells are described as being in her mouth rather than in her nose

Sharp teth

Scales on the tops of her feet

Able to say words like God/Lord/Jesus/Christ/etc. but they can hurt her mouth to say

Physically recoils when she hears Bible verses, but she's only pretending to be hurt

Cold-blooded/bad circulation, often cool to the touch

Natural "smoky" sort of smell, like wood smoke rather than sulfur (it's a hellish smell)

Red body hair

Aziraphale's biology:

Golden stretch marks, which she has all over

Very faint golden freckles on her nose and under her eyes, you have to be very very close to her to see them

Very warm to the touch, has the ability to warm other people up by touching them (not always on purpose)

Not actually physically harmed by swearing, although she pretends to be

Faint but pleasant almost floral natural smell, which she enhances with human perfume or cologne ("odor of sanctity" in Catholic tradition)

White body hair, slightly iridescent. Has an almost feathery quality to it

[jjkeremika]

Just like I dreamt it

description: eren sees him and mikasa fucking in the future and then it happens

pairing: eremika, eren x mikasa

warnings/disclaimers?: uh i called the titan armor material gemstone bc like... idk what its called; eren has the hot post-titan face markings; spanking; fingering; penetration

The cool breeze felt divine on the hot bare skin of their backs, blowing the sweaty droplets off and cooling the naked skin left behind. The wooden box rocked back and forth with each forceful shove of his hips, the wood splintering underneath his grip as he stared at where her hips anchored against the edge, as it trailed to where her spine curved into her clean shoulders, covered sporadically by silky strands of her dark hair.

Her song carried in the wind, straight to his ears and through his blood to his cock, a pleading melody begging for more, asking for harder and faster movements that risked breaking the box beneath her.

Eren jumped up from his spot on the makeshift bed, sweat dripping down his face and his chest heaving as his lungs ached to catch his breath.

He looked to his right and saw Armin fast asleep, curled up having taken both his and Eren's blanket. Eren shrugged—he could keep it—as he turned to his left, his heart rate speeding up and his cheeks turning bright red as he checked on the second sleeping soul.

He couldn’t help the physiological response: the vessel dilation, the heat rising in his chest, the pink blush on his cheeks, the butterflies in his stomach, the growing ache near his pelvis.

He felt the jolt of electricity when he brushed the messy strands from her face, exposing her pale expression and pink cheeks and soft lips and my god Eren needed to look away.

It was hard to sleep after that, even with his back to her body. The dream replayed in his mind like reruns of his favorite show in the late night, the content making his hand want to inch closer to provide painfully tempting relief.

The morning was rough. Eren didn’t end up sleeping at all. Kicking the fantasy out of his mind left the door wide open for residence, letting thought after thought tour the inside and torment him for hours.

The worst being the knowledge that lately, all of his dreams never stopped there. After a certain point, the topics of them changed and the dreams started happening, like eerie premonitions grounded in future truth. It crept him out, knowing the future before it happened, and attempts at changing the inevitable were futile. The outcome always remained the same, and his picturesque sleep descended into unpredictable cascades and guessing games.

His visions were never like this, though. They were never of unsavory or naughty actions or thoughts or feelings towards someone else. Mostly he deemed them insignificant happenstances, events he just so happened to witness before they occurred. Even with the slightest changes within his control, the end result always played out the same.

Did he tell anyone? No. Of course not. Hey, guys, I think I can see the future. Nothing significant, just things like Jean falling and Levi’s punishments and titan attacks and oh, right, me fucking Mikasa. Yeah, like that’ll happen.

He definitely couldn’t share that last one. And after Armin confronted him, he knew it wouldn’t be fair to tell Mikasa either. Armin told him she was into him and he was oblivious to it, but, that’s exactly the thing, he wasn’t oblivious to it at all. Sure, he acted like it, he tried really fucking hard to, so give him an award. He only had a limited number of years, he felt he couldn’t condemn her to a short paradise with him and an eternal hell without him. The thought of leaving her after having everything with her was tortuous, so he decided it was better to never have and haunt her at all.

Until this dream, that is. That was it. That was all it could be. It had to be. Some were visions and some were dreams. That had to be it. He just didn’t understand the power enough to decipher the difference yet.

Eren was still convincing himself of that when it was just the two of them voyaging into the forest to set up the final titan trap. He desperately ignored that they were surrounded by this very forest last night, with this very breeze giving him these same goosebumps, performing the very same task.

“Eren, are you okay?” Mikasa dragged him away from his thoughts as she forcibly took the heavy case from his arms. “It’s not good to zone out carrying heavy stuff like this. You’ll hurt yourself.”

She’d removed the weight before he could process the scene, having already turned around and moved the box to its place on the side when he came to. Eren forcibly lifted his widened eyes to the back of her head after they drifted to the tasteful curve between her ass and her spine. “I’m fine,” he responded argumentatively, defensively, taking a step forward and fighting the urge to look down at her, “stop acting like you’re stronger than me.”

Mikasa bit back the laugh, smiling at the irritated look on his face. “But I am stronger than you.” She turned around and brushed by him, heading for another wooden box. “And I never said it was safe for me to zone out either.”

She turned around instead of picking up the next box. “That’s why I’m not doing it,” she taunted, winking, leaning against its top edge. Eren ignored that he noticed how the wood compressed into her plushy ass just the same as last night, but his body didn’t, and he felt the hot blood flood to his extremities.

Eren’s hand clenched into a tight fist to distract himself. He closed his eyes; he could hear the next line rattling in his skull. Besides, this is a two person job and you’re half a person when you’re in your head.

Mikasa exhaled deeply, calmly, and stood away from the crate. She spoke like she was reading the script, like it was plastered on his face. “Besides, this is a two person job and you’re a half a person when you’re in your head.”

“Oh, the strongest can’t—” do it herself? He cut himself off. It was a dream. He can’t be influenced by a dream.

She crossed her arms over her chest, a motion identical to the one from last night. “What? Can’t do it herself?” she finished for him, raising her eyebrow curiously. Eren gulped, fighting the urge to watch how her breasts responded to the push of her arms, to see if that was the same too. “Honestly, Eren, it probably would be faster to do it myself.”

She turned around and started walking away, towards a different set of wooden crates. “Don’t treat me like I’m useless,” Eren barked, following behind her like a dog, the adrenaline and blood rush making it difficult to ignore the script already finishing in his head.

Eren grabbed her wrist and pulled, forcing her to spin around. He took a step forward, pushing her into the familiar wooden crate, and effectively used his body to block her from moving.

“Then make yourself useful,” she whispered quietly, the weakness in her volume darkly contrasting the strength of her tone, hitting him with the weight of the past and the future. He knew what happened next: she tried to push him away, he turned her around, he bent her over.

She stared intently at him as she pressed her hand flat to his chest. The hot breath they shared set his lungs on fire, and he held onto the air until he'd exhausted it of oxygen. He exhaled as she slowly pushed him away, eying him like she knew he'd deviated from destiny.

She mumbled something as she brushed by him, but he couldn't hear her over the blood pounding in his ears and the loud thudding in his chest.

"Eren," Mikasa started slowly, softly yet firmly, not even turning around to address him, "Let me go."

He twisted his body to face her, to say he wasn't even stopping her from leaving, when he noticed his ironclad grip on her wrist and a gemstone titan hand protruding from the ground tightly holding her other one.

He let go as she wriggled herself out of it, her heart beating faster at the surprise. Mikasa's eyes caught on the newly-formed, familiar markings around his eyes, and she felt the familiar tingle between her legs the past few times he had them.

The once pink, now bright red blush on his cheeks screamed his embarrassment, but she couldn't take her eyes off the marks, couldn't take her mind off the fact that he even tried to restrain her with that.

She gifted him with ignorance, with the option of pretending it never happened as she walked by him again back to the crates, wanting to finish soon so she could take a bath.

"I... Mikasa... I..." He turned around and chased after her, stumbling over a loose root exposed by all their movement. He fell into her from behind, his hands reaching out and landing against the crate edge to catch his fall, his crotch pushing against her ass as her hips colliding into the crate, her wrists breaking her fall against the top.

"Mikasa, I," he sighed breathlessly, resting his forehead against the nubs of her spine. He started chuckling, which took her by surprise. "I didn't mean to grab you like that." He nuzzled his cheek into her back. "Honestly I didn't know I..." And suddenly the script flashed in his mind. "...could do that."

It's okay. She shifted to move upright, pushed her hips back into his front. I can take it. He wondered if she felt the erection he'd been hiding.

"It's okay," she started, turning her torso to somewhat see him, pushing her ass even deeper into his crotch, "I can take it."

Eren pulled away slightly, angled himself differently, meanwhile Mikasa slowly started to peel herself away from the cart, only to be pushed right back into it with a swift and harsh smack to her ass. Eren knew if he smacked her again he'd hear her shout his name in some delightful mix of surprise and desire, and he was tired of pretending he didn't want to hear it.

"Eren!" Mikasa coyly moaned, embarrassed from how she was actually enjoying the repeated slaps.

"What?" he asked innocently as he placed three more smacks to each cheek, smiling at how she barely rocked her hips to extend the contact. "You can take it."

Eren smacked her again, watching the way her body followed the motion, listening to the noise echo in the empty woods. He lifted her shirt and started kissing the sensitive, forgotten skin on her back

He pressed his crotch against her to keep her from moving as he crept his hands to her pants, unbuttoning and pulling them to her knees.

His lips followed, pressing kiss after kiss from her knee to her thigh, then spanking her panty-clad ass twice before mouthing and lipping over the stinging skin, turning high-pitched squeaks into incoherent moans. He clawed and grabbed and licked and bit at her bum like he were wild and starving and she were the only nutritious source around.

He slicked one finger in her fluid and tucked it inside, smiling as he kissed her thigh when she moaned loudly and encouragingly. Eren dipped a second finger in and pressed in eagerly and exploratorily, pressing and stretching the spongy, velvety tissue.

Eren kissed up her spine underneath her shirt, dragging it up with him until enough buttons had popped and he could pull it over her head. He smirked when her back was bare beneath him and she was never wearing a bra, when he realized that dream was never a dream at all.

He pulled his own shirt off, listening to her morose sigh as he pulled his fingers away, and actually felt the cool breeze, already knew it would come in handy for the sweat they'd eventually perspire. Mikasa caught his attention; she was calling his name again, asking for his touch again.

He lowered his own pants to halfway down his thighs, quickly glancing over his shoulders even though he knew they'd continue uninterrupted. He fingered her briefly, stretching his fingers inside her before wiping the liquid against his own cock.

He slid inside her, carefully at first but impatiently pushed deeper, burying himself snugly inside her, both of them adjusting to the euphoric pressure against their stimulated genitalia. Eren kept one hand anchored on her hip and let the other run down the curve of her spine, stopping between her shoulder blades.

Mikasa was already moaning as he slowly pulled out, and Eren was biting the inside of his lip and wondering how he survived as long as he did in his vision. The view of the dip in her spine, of her bare ass with white and red hand-prints, of his cock slipping back inside her.

He closed his eyes and moaned deeply before rocking his hips in and out faster, picking up speed and strength with each harsh shove in and teasing pull out.

"Can you still take it for me, Mikasa?" he asked when her movements became sloppier, less coordinated. "C'mon, baby, take it like the good strong soldier you are. Like the good girl you've always been for me." The words spilled out of his mouth as he dropped his hands to the crate and thrusted his cock into her with a strength and a desire he couldn't name.

The cool breeze felt divine on his hot bare skin, evaporating the sweaty droplets and cooling the naked skin left behind. "Eren, harder, please, so much harder. I can take it, I promise, I swear," she pleaded, rocking her hips back with each of his thrusts, the obscene sound of skin against skin echoing off the trees and the nearby crates. "I'll be so, so good for you, I promise."

The wooden box rocked back and forth with each forceful shove of his hips, the wood splintering beneath his grip as he concentrated on where her hips scraped against the edge, where her spine curved into her clean shoulders and dark hair silky with sweat.

She arched her back a little more, presented her ass to his face a little more, and he smacked her once more before hovering over her, pressing his elbow into her back and shoving into her deeper than before, harder than before.

With one leg on the crate and her back held down, Eren pistoned his hips in and out until she was curling her toes and scraping into the box and spilling out high-pitched noises and moans and cries of his name. Her song carried in the wind, straight to his ears, into his blood and to his cock; a pleading melody begging for more, asking for harder and faster movements that risked breaking the box beneath them.

He grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled on it as he shoved inside her one last time, switching to a fistful of her ass-cheek as he buried his cock deep inside her before cumming and collapsing on top of her, pressing weary kisses to her face and neck and finally kissing her lips.

"So, so good for me," Eren mumbled, staring at her with all the emotions he usually suppressed, the titan markings still faintly visible. He brushed a strand of hair from her eyes, smiling as it fell right back into place. "Just like I dreamt it."

[nametakensff]

Steve and Eddie- 💦🤬⛈

Thank you for the prompt, anon! ❤️ Here's just over 6k of these dumb guys being in love

E/ddie is in a grumpy mood and hoping that his date with S/teve will cheer him up - but a sudden rainstorm and bout of insecurity might get in the way of that

(I kind of based this after this fic and before all my others where they've been together for a while - I still need to write a fic about them getting together in this sort of AU I've gradually created - but you don't need to read anything else though, it's ultimately just snz porn 😅)

~~~~~~

Content: M/M, Established (but relatively new) relationship, both S/teve and E/ddie have the fetish, E/ddie gets off to his own sneezing, pollen allergies, a LOT of mess (not too graphic but just in case!), blow jobs, cumming in pants, little bit of humiliation, just guys being dudes

CW: Just in case, characters feeling insecure about the fetish momentarily

NSFW, minors dni etc etc etc

“Heh-ENGXtchh!! NGXtchhh!! IGXT’chieww!! Ehdt’TCHIEWW!! FUCK, man…”

Eddie swiped under his nose for what felt like the fiftieth time since the start of this latest Corroded Coffin jam session. Gareth had closed the garage door for him in an attempt to fend off the offending pollen, but the damage had already been done – long before he’d even arrived, if he was being honest. These fucking allergies.

He pointedly ignored the somewhat wary round of blessings his bandmates offered. He was embarrassed as hell, normally able to stifle his hay fever into submission quite successfully if need be. He didn’t care so much about Gareth seeing him this way, not when he’d seen much, much worse over the years – but he didn’t feel like having a full-on allergy attack in front of anyone who wasn’t Steve right now, and even that was debatable. He cleared his throat and stood tall.

“Okay, second chorus, from the top!”

His voice broke slightly mid-sentence and he almost ground his teeth in frustration. This was a bad fucking allergy day. Normally he would have called band practice off with some half-assed excuse to avoid the aggravation. He should have learned about trying to suppress his sneezing for too long, especially after the recent humiliating debacle where he had what could only be described as a semi-nuclear allergic reaction at Steve’s house, in front of all his new friends. That everyone had been super cool about it, and that the discovery of his and Steve’s mutual fetish from that night had urged him to pursue the younger man, was irrelevant. He liked attention, craved it, but only if it was the kind that he cultivated willingly for himself.

Luckily, the sheer grumpiness he was experiencing today was somewhat working to curtail the inconvenient physiological response he was prone to after a consistent bout of sneezing. His cock was cowering away from him, not unlike the rest of Corroded Coffin, for which he was entirely grateful. Being in a bad mood still sucked - he took no pleasure in this moodiness. Tyranny was only fun if he was in complete control of his own emotions.

Gareth counted them in and they started up again. For about twenty minutes Eddie was able to forget his allergies and play for all he was worth. He’d been working on his vocals, trying his best to project from his diaphragm rather than screaming his throat sore, and he was thrilled to find that it was actually making a difference. He didn’t have that long to appreciate it, however, spinning away from his friends mid-song with a sudden wrenching gasp, falling into a fit of violent sneezes.

“IGT’TCHiewww!! Ehh’NGXTT’Chieww!! DZZ’Shieww!! HAGT’TCHieww!!”

They tickled so much his eyes swam with tears. They were also, to his chagrin, particularly high-pitched and desperate sounding. His cock twitched minutely for a moment in his pants and he blushed, hiding in his hair as much as he was able whilst his body spasmed under the assault. This was no good, no good at all. He reared back for the definitive sneeze of the fit, massive inhale stretching his chest to capacity.

“HEHH-ENGXTCHH’tsiewww!!!”

Holy fuck, that had been big. Not only that, it had been messy. He clapped a hand to his face to conceal the productive results, blush burning his cheeks. Still angled away from his bandmates, he fumbled for his bandana, cursing when he came up empty. Just his fucking luck. He sniffled reflexively, cringing at the thick crackling sound of it.

“Gross, dude…”

He span round immediately, anger and humiliation pulsing through him in waves.

“Why don’t you fuck off, Tim!” He spat, trying his best to look intimidating behind the hand clamped to his face.

“Oookay, guys, let’s take five, yeah?” Jeff sighed, placing his guitar neatly up against an amp before making his way into Gareth’s house. He slapped Tim on the shoulder, urging him to follow. Tim gave Eddie one last pointed glare before taking the hint and skulking off through the garage door. Eddie watched him leave, snuffling into his hand.

Gareth, who had silently watched the whole thing unfold from behind his drum kit, made his way over to a stack of shelves in the corner, retrieving a half empty box of tissues. He would never tell Eddie that he’d left it there specifically for him and that nobody had used it before or since the last time he’d been suffering with nasal difficulties at his house. He walked back over to his friend, punching him gently on the arm and pushing the box of tissues into his free hand.

“If I say ‘god bless you’, will you bite my head off?”

Eddie grumbled something that Gareth didn’t quite catch before turning around, balancing the box on his guitar and yanking a bundle of tissues out as best he could with one hand. The drummer gave him some privacy, mindlessly tinkering with the cymbals of his kit and trying his best not to wince at the incredibly thick nose blows that pierced the otherwise companionable silence.

The older man finished clearing out his sinuses as best he could and groaned. He hated losing his temper like that. Tim was right, of course – this was objectively gross, even if he would subjectively love to see Steve in the same state he was currently in. He leaned against the wall with his eyes closed, willing himself to lighten up.

“Bad allergy day?”

Eddie cracked open an eye and peered at Gareth, who was smiling with faux innocence back at him.

“Whadt tipped you off, Nandcy Drew?” He sniped, cringing only slightly at the additional Ds his swollen sinuses sprinkled into the sentence.

Gareth put his hands up in wordless surrender, smiling softly and deciding to leave it. Eddie was aware he was being handled like a recalcitrant beast with a thorn in its paw, and if it had been anyone other than the drummer he would have lashed out in response to the overcautious mollycoddling. But it was Gareth, so he merely closed his eyes again and listened as the drummer fucked around with various drum fills. He muffled another fit of itchy sneezes into a tissue, acknowledging the blessing from his friend with a nod.

“You seeing Steve today?” He heard Gareth ask after a beat.

“…Yeah. Unfortunately. I mean – because I’m – y’know.” Eddie gestured at his face.

“It’s no big deal, dude. He doesn’t seem like the type to care.”

Eddie knew that was an understatement. Steve fucking loved seeing him like this, and normally the metalhead would welcome the undivided attention and subsequent orgasms. But they were still so new, the pair of them – neither had been with a guy before (not that Eddie had really had much more experience with girls than a few drunken hand jobs at the senior parties he used to crash), and they were trying to take things slow. They hadn’t even formally named their relationship out loud, though it was obvious to the both of them this was far more than a mutual crush.

It wasn’t so much that Eddie wished they didn’t have this – shared interest, in sneezing. It was that he was painfully aware of how distracting he was being when he hung out with Steve. Sometimes he wanted to carry out a full conversation without sneezing himself breathless and leaving the younger man with a raging boner, driving himself wild in the process. Not that he could blame him – he’d just about lost his mind the first time Steve had sneezed against his neck, coming into the younger man’s hand in an embarrassingly short amount of time.

This allergy season had been so much worse than any other he could remember, and wondered if it had something to do with his stint in the upside down. It would be just his luck if all those nasty spores and particles had exacerbated his already impressive reactions to pollen. Even if it had been the catalyst to hooking up with Steve, even if he combusted with pleasure every time it earned him a blessing from the object of his desire, it was getting old, fast.

“Yeah, I know. But Tim is right, man – I’m gross. Sick of it.”

“Kid’s, like, not all there. I love the guy but he’s more than a little direct. You can’t take it to heart, man.”

Eddie nodded. He knew he was right. Tim was a socially awkward weirdo, the reason why they had all basically become friends in the first place. He was blunt, that was just the fact of the matter.

“Thanks, Gare. I just don’t want to fuck this up.”

“You won’t. I’ve seen the way Harrington looks at you – now that’s fucking gross. You googly eyed bastards eye-fucking each other, constantly. Yeah, don’t worry, he���s going nowhere.”

Eddie hurled a balled-up wad of tissues at him, laughing as he managed to hit the younger man square in the forehead and earning himself a disgusted shriek in response. He loved this stupid kid – he always seemed to know just what to say to cheer him up. He resolved to keep his temper for the rest of their jam sesh, nervously counting down the time to his date with Steve.

~~~~

He had to admit his low mood had at least been temporarily assuaged by the sight of Steve opening his door, a radiant smile on his face and visibly excited to see Eddie standing there. He drove the two of them out into a particularly scenic clearing he’d found in the woods – nobody else went out there anymore – and nervously laid out a ratty old picnic blanket and the food he brought with him. He felt pretty unoriginal, maybe kind of predictable, but Steve seemed thrilled all the same. Eddie’s cheeks hurt from smiling more in the past couple of months getting to know the younger man than he could remember ever before in his life. Maybe Gareth was right – they were googly eyed bastards. But no one else was around to see, so Eddie happily let Steve lay him down on the blanketed ground and suck a pattern of hickeys onto the column of his neck.

So far, his allergies were giving him minimal trouble. In the couple of hours after he’d woken up at noon (band practice was only at 1pm, so sue him), he’d been at his worst and taken a second round of allergy medication – probably just under the amount it would take him to get loopy off of the stuff. It had worked though, to a certain extent. He was still having little semi-regular fits of four or five, much to Steve’s appreciation, but it was just enough that he didn’t feel like a total mess.

He moaned as Steve sucked particularly hard at the junction of his neck and shoulder, vaguely aware of a creeping tickle lurking just beneath the surface. He sniffled and gripped harder at the fabric stretched over Steve’s muscular back, pressing his hips up against the thigh the younger man had lodged firmly between his legs. He continued to lean into the pleasure until the tickle proved too much –  it felt even stronger than before, buzzing insistently and with malicious intent. Fuck, yeah, he was definitely going to –

“S-Steve, mm’gonna-!! HDDZ’tschh!! Higxtt!! Heh’ENGXTCH’ieww! ‘Tssieww!!”

He rocked upwards with the force of them, attempting to suppress them as much as he was able. He aimed them over Steve’s shoulder, delicate clouds of spray misting the thin fabric of his t-shirt. His cock throbbed against the younger man’s thigh as his own legs reflexively squeezed around it, forcing a gasp out of him. Steve tensed before moaning against him, redoubling his efforts and sucking even harder.

“Bless you, Eds. You’re so allergic.”

Eddie felt his face pinken. It was everything he’d been fantasising about months – being with Steve, Steve getting off on him, getting off to his sneezes – but somehow, in this moment, he felt more insecure than he had since his gnarly allergic meltdown months prior. It was so stupid – that whole thing had more than proven to him that Steve didn’t find him disgusting, that he could actually be perceived as attractive even at his absolute worst. He should be fine. Why wasn’t he fine?

The confusion and discomfort brought back his sour mood in an instant, and he gently pushed at Steve. To his credit, the younger man immediately backed off, helping Eddie sit up, a broad hand supporting his back.

“What’s wrong, dude? I didn’t – I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“No, no, you’re good. It’s just-“

“Allergies bothering you?”

Eddie looked at Steve, saw the genuine concern on his face, but also the way his eyes lit up over the mention of his allergies. His stomach flipped. God, what was wrong with him?

“It’s – it’s not that. I mean, yes, but it’s – it’s-“

He groaned in frustration, gripping his head in hands and leaning forward so that his long tresses fell over his face. Steve sat back, giving him a moment to collect his thoughts. Eddie could practically feel the anxious energy radiating off of him in waves. He had to fix this. He couldn’t let Steve think he was the problem. But god, was he? He opened his mouth to speak, not knowing quite what would come out but willing to give it a try.

“I feel like – and this is gonna sound so strange – but like – maybe you like my – my sneezing, more than you like me? And don’t get me wrong, I get it, man, I’m into the same shit – fuck, you know that. I just – can’t be sure, when I’m having these – reactions, that you’re, you know, with me because you actually like – well, me. Umm…”

He trailed off, letting the meaning of his well-intentioned rambling sink in. It sounded ridiculous, and he cringed waiting for Steve’s reprobation. Instead, he felt Steve gently tilting his head towards his own, forcing him to look into his eyes. He looked painfully sad. Eddie opened and closed his mouth, his vocal tenacity leaving him as quickly as it had come.

“Do I really make you feel that way?” Steve asked in a small voice.

He looked so crestfallen that Eddie had the distinct realisation that this must be what it felt like to kick a puppy.

“Steve, I’m sorry – just ignore what I said, man, it’s cool.”

He watched as the younger man shook his head.

“No. I can’t ignore it. Oh, man,”

Eddie watched him run a hand through his perfect hair, a distinctly anxious gesture.

“I’m not good at this, dude. I’m not good at making people happy. I’m always fucking up but I’m never sure why, and then it blindsides me.”

Eddie shook his head. He opened his mouth, wanting to reassure Steve that he made him happier than anyone he’d ever met before, but paused when the younger man raised a hand softly, signalling to let him finish.

“I try my best to do what I think I should be doing, but no matter what, I’m always waaay off the mark. I know how to hook up with people, but actually getting them to stay is something I just seem to be incapable of.”

He looked at Eddie and smiled. It looked so weary that his heart skipped a beat.

“If I came across, like, overly enthusiastic about the f-fetish stuff,” He faltered slightly, starting to blush. “I’m so sorry. I’ve never been in this position before, and I thought since you liked it too, I didn’t need to hold back. What I mean to say is – I’m good with sex, that’s what I know best. But clearly I’ve done a terrible job of making you realise how much I like you. Because I do like you, man – haven’t felt this way since anyone but Nance, and even then – this is just – it’s a lot.”

Eddie nodded, watching him intently. Steve ran his hand through his hair again.

“Anyway, I just wanted to let you know I’m sorry. For making you feel like I was using you just for sex or to scratch some perverted itch. I’m not very smart. I mean, everyone knows that.”

“Steve.”

“And I’m not sure how to make you see that I’m pretty much crazy about you. I thought maybe if I just – showed you in the way I know best-“

“Steve.”

Eddie reached out for him and pulled him into a fierce hug. Steve practically melted in his arms, the emotional spiral Eddie had sensed building up blessedly abating under his touch.

“I like you too. A stupid amount. And I don’t think I did a very good job of letting you know, either.”

He pulled back to look Steve in the eyes.

“I mean, what gives, man? It sounded like you thought I wanted to stop seeing you, or something.”

When Steve gave an awkward shrug, Eddie’s jaw dropped open.

“Harrington, you cannot be serious. Tell me you didn’t genuinely think I wanted to end things with you over that pathetic little monologue of mine?”

“Like I said, man. I’m dumb.”

“Ughh, Steve, you need to stop with this low self-esteem shit, honey,” The pet name slipped out before he could help it, but it didn’t seem to bother the younger man, who snuggled even closer to him.

“How about this? I stop ragging on myself when you actually let yourself believe that I want to be with you for more than a gratuitous lay, alright?” Steve said, jabbing him in the chest with an outstretched finger.

“Ooh, big word.”

“Fuck off!”

Steve wrestled him to the ground, pinning Eddie onto his back whilst the metalhead laughed with raucous abandon. Steve silenced him with a kiss.

“I’m serious, Munson. Wanna be with you. And I’ll back off with the – the sneezing stuff, if you want.”

Eddie smirked up at him.

“Jesus, you’re cute when you’re flustered. And god no, please don’t stop! You’ve convinced me. You like me, I like you, grass is green. We’re both not very good at this. I think we should kiss over it.”

Steve smiled down at him and leaned in to resume their making out when Eddie felt the familiar plip of a droplet of moisture bursting against his cheek. He thought Steve might have actually drooled on him for a split second, when there was another small splash against his forehead. And another. And another.

He craned his neck back to peer up at the sky. Clear and serenely blue only minutes earlier, it was now brimming with chubby, grey rainclouds.

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me!”

And with that, the heavens opened up.

~~~~

Eddie was pissed. No, that was an understatement – he was livid. He hadn’t had the foresight to expect rain – a summer storm, a typical occurrence in Hawkins, and yet. He’d been so set on taking Steve on a traditional, normal date that he had effectively mentally eliminated any alternative outcomes to their outing other than a romantic little picnic in the afternoon sun, followed by cuddling and sex. Maybe escalating beyond the hand jobs they’d been trading, if they were feeling a little braver.

“God DAMMIT-!” He cursed as the rain seemed to pound down even harder. Luckily, they’d been able to locate a sheltered area on the edge of the clearing and duck into it before it really started to pour, escaping with minimal dampness. And it was warm, so at least they wouldn’t freeze. However, they’d abandoned the blanket and food in their single-minded urgency, realising only after they’d scurried well out of sight from them. His irritation at this mindless fuck up was only further stoked by the physical discomfort he was currently enduring. The way his wet bangs clung to his forehead felt disgusting; his sneakers were damp and his jeans clung to ankles. Alone, these sensations and gripes were inconsequential – but combined, they were a lethal mood killer.

He felt Steve reach out and squeeze his shoulder in consolation. When Eddie didn’t respond, staring moodily down at his own knees as he sat hugging them to his chest, Steve reached out and pulled him into a clumsy side-hug. The older man grunted, not thrilled about feeling even more wet fabric pressed up against his own sopping clothes, but enjoying the physical closeness nonetheless.

“You’re such a grump. A cute little grump.”

Steve murmured in his ear, sending shivers down his spine. Eddie knew he could feel the responsive trembling, lips curling into a smile against the shell of his ear.

“Come on, Eds. Compared to what we’ve both been through? This is nothing.”

Eddie sighed, finding that although his bitterness persisted, Steve’s presence was a welcoming distraction.

“Somehow, Stevie, that doesn’t really make me feel any better.”

“Want me to sing you a song? I do a really good Phil Collins.”

The metalhead snorted and butted Steve’s cheek gently with his own.

“You do not. I was present for that Karaoke fiasco, Harrington. Leave it to the professionals.” He jabbed at his own chest with a thumb.

“Whatever, man. You liiiked it.” Steve sing-songed against his jawline.

Eddie meant to respond, but was stopped dead in his tracks by the familiar but daunting sensation of an intensely allergic tickle beginning to culminate. He moaned, reaching up with a fist and roughly mashing his nose around, hoping to bully the urge into submission, but no cigar. He could hear the damp squishing noise his sinuses made, worrying his nostrils pink with the effort. He had forgotten temporarily that if anything seemed to aggravate his allergies even more, it was rain.

He glanced at Steve, already feeling his eyelids fluttering in preparation for the release.

“Hh-Hh!! Steve, really gonnnnaa-hah..!! Hh, Start sneezing in a minute, fuck….”

He took in the hungry expression on Steve’s face, the way his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. He managed a little smirk at the way Steve’s eyes flitted about his face, taking in his flaring nostrils one moment, his furrowed brow the next. He sniffled, more to watch how Steve would react, but then realising he was a lot stuffier than he had originally thought.

“Ugh, I’m probably gonna….make a hh-HH!! Hahh mess….”

He heard the soft sound the younger man made in the back of his throat, felt the way the arm slung around his shoulders pulled him incrementally closer.

“That’s ok, Eds. I don’t mind.”

“Mmm, I’m sure you don’t, big boy…Hh!!”

Steve blushed and shot him a bashful little smile. It was probably one of the cutest things Eddie had ever seen, and he suddenly felt just as shy as Steve looked.

“Can I…keep holding you? While you sneeze? Is that ok?”

Eddie pressed a pair of fingers under his flaring nostrils, temporarily abating the building tickle just enough to respond.

“M-more than okaayyy-HH!! Wanted that f-for-! Months, now!! Ohhh, Steve, Mm’gonna-!! Need’ta-!!”

“I’ve got you, baby.”

Eddie’s head swam at the sudden pet name, feeling as if he’d hurtled over the peak of the world’s tallest roller coaster. For a moment, the butterflies and giddiness threatened to overwhelm the need to sneeze, but as always, the tickle in his nose reigned supreme. He sucked in one final choppy breath before he was sent sprawling forward, helpless as the pollen teased him breathless.

“Hh-HHDT!! DZZSSHH’IEWW!! H’ENGXT’TCHIEEWW!! IGSSCH!! GXXT’Shieww!!”

He felt Steve pulling him closer, turning him effortlessly towards him so that he was halfway into his lap and sneezing towards his chest. Each sneeze felt as if they only exacerbated the tickle, leaving him gasping, tears starting to spill down his cheeks.

“HIGG’Shiewww!! EhhHDT’Tchieww!! IGXXT’tsieww!! HHhohh my godddDXXSH’Ieww!! Hahh!”

Everywhere Steve touched him, he burned in exquisite agony. His nostrils flared in and out as the tickle toyed with him, breath hitching dramatically. He knew he was making a scene; knowing that Steve was hanging on to his every gasp and sigh made the experience all the more pleasurable. His cock throbbed in his jeans.

“EHH’GXXTT’SHIieww!! HGSHHH!! GSHHH’ieww!! EHH’NGXTTtchhh!!”

His nose was running down to his top lip now, dangerously close to overflowing. He reached up with a shaky hand, intending to cover, but felt Steve grasp him by the wrist and gently lower it again. By this point, the younger man had shifted him to sit completely in his lap, and as Eddie hitched towards another round of impossibly tickly sneezes, Steve gently pressed his head down to lean against his shoulder. Eddie gripped frantically at the cotton of Steve’s shirt, grounding himself, before sneezing violently down and across the younger man’s chest. He could hear Steve mumbling reassuringly to him throughout.

“Holy shit, Munson, Bless you – Bless you! So tickly…It’s okay, I’ve got you. You sound so good, Eds. So hot. Fuckkk….Bless you, bless you!”

Eddie’s face was burning, both with the effort of the overwhelming reaction to the pollen and the intoxicating pleasure his own sneezes sent pulsing through his body. He would rather someone else sneeze, but damn if his own didn’t get him going when they rendered him a helpless mess like this. His cock twitched with every expulsion, the releases that burst out of him sending pleasant shivers rippling from the base of his skull to the tips of his fingers and toes. Steve’s breathless encouragement only intensified the experience for him.

“hh-HH-HDDT-!! HIGGG’TSHHIEWW!! TSSHIEWW!! EHHSHHH’IEWww!! ENGGXTCHHH!!!”

He felt mess burst from his flared nostrils with that last body-crunching sneeze, sending twin tendrils hanging over his lips. He felt Steve wipe most of it away with his bare fingers, and the kinkiness of the gesture made his hips buck. And still he sneezed.

“GGGSSHH’IIEWW!! Hh, HEH!! Heh’EGXTT’SHieww!! HNGXTCHH!! GXXXTT’Shiewww!!”

Finally, it felt like the tickle was cresting into a definitive, final explosion. He moaned, not sure if he could handle something of the magnitude the building sensation promised, but all the same he was gasping, head jogging against Steve’s shoulder, back expanding within Steve’s embrace. He hitched once, twice, three times before the sneeze held him on the edge in a silent grimace – and then he was lurching forward, almost sending the pair of them sprawling backwards onto the forest floor with the force of it.

“HEEEIHHHH’DZZZTSHHIEWWW!!! Hahhh-!”

He panted, nuzzling his nose against Steve’s shoulder and wrapping his arms round his waist. Dizzy and exhausted, he slumped against the solid weight of the younger man, luxuriating in the aftermath of that all-encompassing fit. He was painfully hard now. He felt Steve stroking his hair and rubbing his back with broad, open-palmed strokes. He opened his bleary eyes for the first time since his fit had begun, previously unable to do so under the persistent assault.

“Jesus Christ…”

He muttered under his breath, taking in the extent of the damage he’d caused. Steve’s baby blue shirt was almost transparent where it clung to his chest, saturated with the result of Eddie’s impressive allergies as it was. There was further mess dripping slowly downwards, gluing the shirt to his abdomen as it sunk into the fabric. He tentatively looked up at Steve, not quite knowing if he had crossed over the delicate line of sexy to disgusting. One quick glance at the former jock’s ruined expression was all it took to reassure him that he was still very much securely in the sexy camp. He smiled coyly.

“Told you I’d make a mess.” He sniffled for emphasis and rubbed his runny nose against Steve’s shoulder until it sported twin damp patches.

Steve kissed into his hair, and Eddie noticed that he was panting too.

“That was – amazing. Holy shit. I mean – wow!!”

Eddie laughed fondly at how winded the other man sounded, more than a little pleased with himself. It felt so good to sneeze as hard as his body desired, and to know that he was turning King Steve on by being a sloppy, allergic mess was more than a little erotic. He felt like he’d come with just a few brisk jerks of his cock.

“Mm’glad you liked it.” He giggled shyly, a little loopy in the aftermath of it all.

Steve lifted his head up gently by the chin, scanning his face with eyes full of emotion.

“Are you okay?? Fuck, that was so intense. Your allergies, man….”

Eddie nodded.

“Yeah, I’m okay. I mean, you heard me – before, at your place. It can get a little – ridiculous, if I’m not on top of medication. Or when I’m outside in the elements. Or when it rains – god, especially when it rains!”

Steve laughed.               

“Yeah, man, I see that now.” He reached down to touch the slick fabric of his shirt. Eddie didn’t miss the way his breath caught as his fingers slipped over it.

Emboldened, he wiped his nose roughly along the back of his hand and a little further up his arm, grateful to be wearing a sleeveless shirt, before gripping Steve by the collar and pulling his head close.

“Want me to get you off, Harrington? Want me to make you come all over the forest floor?” He murmured against Steve’s lips.

Eddie was expecting a moan of some kind, but not the half-strangled groan that Steve emitted, reaching up to cover his burning face with a broad, tan hand. Confused, the metalhead reached down to grip Steve’s erection – finding a distinctly soft cock and a huge wet patch spread across the mouth-wateringly tight Levi’s that the younger man favoured. He gaped, eyes round in surprise, and stared at Steve in a look of silent amazement. Steve peered at him through the protective cage of his fingers and moaned again.

“I – it’s because – you were so-! And I-!”

As Steve flailed and spluttered, a grin spread wider and wider across Eddie’s face. Holy shit. He had made Steve motherfucking Harrington come in has pants, untouched. He had done that. Holy shit.

“Stevie, did you jizz in your pants for little old me?” He drawled, delighting in the deepening blush that spread all the way to the tips of the younger man’s ears. He leaned forward and gently bit one, feeling the heat of the blood radiating from the delicate skin.

“…Yes. I did. I swear, I’m not-! This hasn’t happened before. You’re just…so hot,” Steve admitted, leaning into the tiny kisses that Eddie pressed along the bridge of his nose and the apples of his cheeks.

“So sensitive, Stevie. I like that.”

He kissed Steve firmly on the mouth, both of them moaning at the sensation of Eddie’s slick nostrils and cupid’s bow pressing up against Steve’s own nose. The older man gasped at the sudden grip of Steve’s palm cupping him through his jeans, thrusting into it instinctively. He was about several pumps away from coming into his pants himself when Steve released his hold. Eddie whined, his hips chasing the receding hand in vain. He looked up at the younger man impatiently.

“Can I suck you off?”

Eddie’s mouth dropped open. He hadn’t been expecting that. But the answer was an absolute, resounding yes.

“Please,” he whined against Steve’s mouth, feeling the younger man smile before starting to push him back onto the soft grass and up against the roots of a tree. It wasn’t the most comfortable position in the world, but the desire he felt for Steve eclipsed the minor discomfort. He watched as Steve eagerly unzipped his jeans and pulled out his cock, pumping it softly but firmly enough that Eddie’s head knocked back against the tree trunk with a gentle thunk. Steve paused for a moment.

“I should, uh, say – neither of us have been with guys before, so – this is my first time giving head. Sucking cock, I mean. I’m sorry if I’m not all that good after talking such a big game about sex before.”

Eddie let him finish, nodding his head.

“Well, Steve, rest assured that no matter what you do to me, you and your mouth have the unprecedented honour of taking my oral virginity. So go wild, honey.”

Steve blinked at him.

“Really?! You’ve never gotten a blow job before, not even once?”

Eddie rolled his eyes.

“Now I know it may come as a total shocker to the likes of you, pretty boy, but being the leader of the Hellfire Club and resident freak didn’t exactly leave me swimming in pussy. You’re my first almost everything, basically – or the only person that ever mattered.”

Steve started to jerk him off again.

“Aww, Eds…”

“Don’t patronise me, Harrington, I swear to god.”

“Sorry. Let me make it up to you.”

And with that, Steve took his cock into his mouth and sucked hard. Eddie groaned, reaching forward to grip gently at Steve’s hair but stopping just short, hands hovering in question. Steve peered up at him before guiding his hands to rest on his scalp.

“Just don’t pull hard, okay?”

“ohhh-kayy-ee!!” Eddie whimpered as Steve began to suck and lick him in a punishing rhythm, using one hand to jerk the rest of his cock he couldn’t fit in his mouth. The older man’s eyes rolled back into his head, once again thunking gently against the tree. Steve was a god damn natural. It felt just as good to have a mouth round his cock as he had imagined, moreso, even.

He panted, expression twisted in ecstasy, and looked down the length of his body to watch Steve work. They locked eyes, Eddie unable to look away as Steve’s head bobbed rhythmically, looking prettier than anyone had any right to as their cheek bulged with cock. He wouldn’t last – it was so good, too good, and he was already so on edge.

“God, Stevie, think you're gonna make me come already…! Oh god, oh fuck-!!”

Steve moaned, the vibrations travelling down Eddie’s cock and wrenching a keening wail from him. His eyes scrunched shut, mind replaying the intense sensations of his sneezing fit, the way Steve had held him, the way Steve had actually come in his pants over Eddie spraying him with snot – these pleasurable thoughts combined with a particularly strong suck against the head of his cock pushed him over the edge, coming with a wordless groan. The pleasure was intense, his strongest orgasm in a while, leaving his toes curling in his sneakers. When it finally subsided, he could only moan stupidly, fingers flexing in Steve’s hair.

He felt Steve pulling off of him, and watched as he spat a mouthful of cum onto the ground beside them. Eddie grinned goofily at him, endorphins overloading his system and making this sight far funnier than it should otherwise be.

“You’ll let me snot all over your chest, but you won’t swallow my cum?”

Steve shot him an overly dramatic look of disgust.

“You need to work on your diet.”

Eddie kicked at him feebly. Steve gently tucked him back into his pants and zipped them up.

“So…was I any good?” He grinned in a way that showed he knew just how well he’d done.

“You know you were, asshole. Are you sure that’s the first cock you sucked?”

“Well….I managed to reach the tip of my own with my tongue, one time.” Steve said nonchalantly, pulling Eddie upwards into a sitting position.

“Ha! Better than I managed. Almost threw my back out, and for what?” They both laughed at that.

“Hey, rain’s stopped!” Steve blurted out so suddenly Eddie nearly jumped.

“Shit, finally!”

Eddie made his way to his feet, shaking slightly as his legs were still a little wobbly in the aftermath of his first blow job ever. Steve stood up beside him and slapped him on the back in that distinctive fashion that all jocks and former jocks would continue to do for the rest of their lives.

“Let’s go find the stuff and then we can head to m-my place…Hh!!”

Eddie’s ears perked up immediately. He spun round and watched in delight as Steve barrelled forward with a sudden harsh triple, aimed haphazardly into an upraised elbow.

“HARRESSSHHIEWW!! AESSSHHHUU!! HHRRRSHHH’UU!! Ugh, god…’scuse me.” He sniffled and gently swiped under his nose with a crooked finger.

Even though he was still practically reeling in the aftermath of the orgasm he’d had not minutes earlier, Eddie’s spent cock gave an appreciative little twitch at the spraying sound of those powerful sneezes.

“Bless you, Stevie. Your timing is a little off, but I’ll take it.”

Steve laughed and nudged him gently with his shoulder, looking even more pleased with himself.

“The damp’s getting to me a little. Come home with me? It’s warm and we can…clean up.” He gestured towards his ruined t-shirt.

“Yeah. I’d like that. And Steve?” Eddie said as they made their way towards the clearing.

“Mmhm?”

“I think I want you to come in my mouth next.”

Steve yanked him forward by the wrist, breaking out into a half-run and slipping haphazardly on the wet grass, and Eddie laughed until tears pricked at the corner of his eyes.

~~~~~~

(Idk why I always write Steve cumming in his pants lmao.....he just looks like he would to me😤)

[severinageto]

Unexplainable - one shot

A door slamming. The sound of bottles clinking, a window opening and cigarette smoke. Miguel smiled and got ready to leave his room. It was always the same when Suguru came back from his monthly "meetings," and lately, his outbursts upon arriving home were becoming increasingly violent, as if something inside him changed every time he saw him.

Because Sugu-chan didn’t usually bang on doors or curse while pouring himself a glass of wine. No, he only did that when something had gone wrong. Specifically, when something had gone wrong with Gojo Satoru.

Miguel stepped out onto the terrace where Suguru usually sat to enjoy the summer breeze. He was shaking his left leg frantically and biting his lips, a full glass of wine in his right hand and his phone in his left.

Suddenly, he let out a growl and threw the smartphone into the bushes.

“What? Do I have something on my face?” he asked angrily.

Miguel responded with a kind smile. He liked being the sole witness to Geto-sama's outbursts. It spoke of a trust he didn’t have with almost anyone. Almost. Because obviously the strongest sorcerer saw that and much, much more. And surely, Sugu-chan's attitude toward him was also much, much worse.

He sat down next to him and poured himself a glass of wine.

“Geto-sama, there's something I've wanted to ask you for a while.”

“Yeah?”

Miguel took a long sip.

“What do you see in Gojo Satoru?”

Suguru blushed. He didn’t expect that. He quickly reached for his pack and lit a cigarette. Even though he didn’t feel like answering, his mind started to think of a response.

What did he see in him? Wow. He let out a sigh. The night before, he had watched him sleep. He was lying on his back, cheek pressed against the pillow. His breathing was rhythmic and deep, serene like the spring breeze that comes at the end of winter. However, there was always a moment when it became quick and shallow; his thick violet lashes started to move frantically, and his long fingers clenched the pillow. It was Satoru’s REM state, the moment when his brain really started to work and process whatever he had experienced. Geto smiled. That magnificent brain, without which that wonderful mind couldn’t function. Who knows what was going on in there at those moments? It was a mystery, impossible to unravel even for the scientific sorcerers who liked to delve into Satoru’s physiology.

“One thing’s for sure: his neural activity is higher when he’s spent the day with you,” Shoko had told him once. Suguru didn’t know what to say. The almost irrefutable proof of Satoru’s love always left him stunned, as if it were some kind of competition to show who loved the other more.

And the truth was that Suguru could have replied that he was absolutely confident his own neural activity was higher than his on those days. The albino’s mind fascinated him. Sure, he could talk to other people about Heidegger or Schrödinger’s cat, but who else made him wonder why rain had no taste or who invented the exclamation mark? No one. Only he could take his mind down amazing rabbit holes he didn’t want to escape from because only he owned that singular way of thinking. Only Satoru.

That’s why he loved watching him rest. It was like witnessing the universe itself in suspension. The moment when the Milky Way stopped expanding coincided with the sound of his exhalation, and it only resumed its infinite growth when the albino opened his eyes and, almost purring, whispered, “Hey, what’s for breakfast?” followed by a tender smile.

And his smile. There was no way to explain to Miguel all the ways those adorable corners of his mouth filled his days. He remembered the first time they fought together. Suguru had swallowed a powerful curse and noticed the albino looking at him curiously.

“What’s up?” the curse manipulator asked.

“Is that how your technique works?”

“Yes,” he replied, embarrassed.

“Will you show me your curse’s Pokédex?” he asked, giving him the first of thousands of smiles he would dedicate to him. Maybe it was at that moment, when he felt truly seen and valued by a true equal, that Suguru let himself be enchanted by his particular charms, or maybe it was one of the millions that followed. It didn’t matter the color of the day, even if it was the grayest, he always welcomed him with some stupid comment, carefully thought out just for him, followed by that amazing smile. Resisting was simply futile.

What did he see in Gojo Satoru? Suguru thought maybe Miguel was an idiot or had lived under a rock for the past ten years because he didn’t understand how he could ask that. Or maybe he did. It was easy for people to overlook the albino’s charms by focusing on his flaws because the latter, to people like him, overshadowed the former.

But not to Suguru. To him, his flaws paradoxically made him perfect. Unique. Inimitable. And he loved him as if he had no choice. Only him. He felt that devotion from no one else. Satoru would fight epic battles for him; he was as sure of that as he was that day followed night.

Did he really have to explain it?

He took the last drag of the cigarette. He put it out on the ground and stomped on it slowly.

“Nothing,” he lied.

The truth was, just like always when he was apart from him, he couldn’t wait to see him again. After all, his love for Satoru was as unique as Satoru himself.

And he didn’t plan to share it with anyone.

—————————————————————-

Images: https://x.com/strs2_1207

[fieldsofwriting]

For blushing, darker skinned people still blush it's just harder to see so I usually say something describing the physiological response (in a more poetic way lmao)

That makes a lot of sense!! I’ve been trying to say that they can feel the heat rise in thier cheeks or something like that

[clone-lover]

Paranoia on Umbara pt.3

Tech x fem reader

This one is a little longer and I put some fluff in but I low-key hate this on 😭 but hey y'all seem to like it so I'll keep it up. It's a slow burn until I can figure out my ending but we have some long awaited touch 😫

Pt.1

pt.2

Pt.3

Master List

"Get back!" Tech snapped the gun in the direction of the door. His eyes were blood shot from fear and all of his monitoring gear was laying on the floor.

"Ok, Tech, you win." You sat down and placed your palms face up on your crossed knees. Crosshair stood over you with his hands up. Tech's tension released.

Hunter and Wrecker where still in the cockpit, hopefully, planning a de-escalation. A small metal ball is launched from the cockpit into the cabin. Once the ball lands, smoke pours out of it. Following that, chaos ensues as tech releases aimless bolts into the smoke. Crosshair topples you over, in an attempt to keep you from the line of fire. He reached for the blaster on his hip but you stop him, "Dont hurt him."

"I know what I'm doing." Crosshair shoves your hand away and fired into the smoke. The chaos was silenced.

You stared into the smoke with tears flooding your eyes. There was a couple reasons for the tears. Mostly the smoke but you also worried a great deal about Tech. The unannounced feelings revealing themselves in emotions.

"Don't worry I stunned him." Crosshair jabs as he lifts you from the floor. Grunts and huffs came from Techs location.

"He's still awake." Hunter calls.

"Wrecker! Grab him" you order. Following this order, Wrecker pulls the clone into a bear hug. He started thrashing and screaming. "Get off me you separatist scum."

You slowly approached the startled man, "It's ok, Tech. I'm not going to hurt you. I just need to ask some questions."

"I'll never talk!"

"Don't worry, It's not about the republic." This seemed to put his mind at ease. "What types of plants on Umbara cause physiological affects on humans?"

He looks at a data pad by his bed side before snapping his attention back to you. "Why do you need to know," he spat.

"Because I care about you, Tech." You placed a hand on his cheek. At first he pulled away but settled into it after some time. "I believe it is affecting you, dear." His widen eyes settled and his pupils returned to normal.

"You are correct, the man eating plant releases a potent neuro stimulant that causes increased paranoia and heightens fight or flight responses. However there is an antidote on Kamino or courasant. Although many just sleep off the affects." The man you knew was back.

Hearing his soft, matter-of-fact voice brought tears to your eyes. Or perhaps it was the smoke that was still in the air. "Thank you, Tech." You removed your hand steer the ship towards Kamino. In doing so, he sparked back up.

"Small particles in space could chip away at our heat protection, blowing a hole in our ship and sucking us into the void at light speed."

Wrecker was visibly shaking by this statement, "we can what?"

"He is out of it wrecker don't worry about it." You tried to comfort the man but Tech began to scream.

"You don't believe me! None of you do!" That was the last cry from Tech until after arriving on Kamino. All because crosshair stunned him... Again.

(time jump)

After waiting a long time for the antidote to take it's affects a clone medic allows you to see Tech. "I'll leave you two be." The medic left the medbay.

"I'm sorry." Tech rubs his eyes.

"Could have been worse." You tried to snap the tension and guilt with humor. "Besides I have always wanted to call you 'dear.'" He blushed at your words.

"I fail to understand." He put it so blankly you clammed up. It was like he didn't care. He noticed you actions and discomfort. "I liked it but I don't understand why you would want to call me that." You rolled you eyes In a way to hide your embarrassment. You stood up to leave because you couldn't stand the pressure anymore, "I didn't mean anything."

He grabbed your hand and stopped you, "I like the name."

You turned to face him. "Ugh kiss me, you nerd." He choked and turned bright red before you slammed your lips into his. Once you pulled away he smiled.

"I liked that too." His grin got wider and he pulled you on top of him.

[madam-melon-meow]

The Good, The Bad, and The Alternative: a homestuck fanfiction. Chapter 28, an excerpt

“Take a cup, both of you. Someone brought the top shellf stuff- please tell me we can toast Vriska not being dragged back to her cell?” Feferi raised her brow inquisitively.

“Fuck yeah!” Vriska enthused, grabbing a cup from the stack and letting Feferi pour her a generous helping of Belvedere . “As long as nobody tells the Hunter, he has no reason to crash the party. Karkat has nothing to worry about.” Her words were supposedly reassuring, but he found himself scowling as visions of all the ways it could go wrong flashed before his eyes.

“Good!” Feferi exclaimed, and shoved the stack of cups in his direction. “Karcrab, if you don’t take a shot with me, I have the feeling you aren’t going to relax at all.” He reluctantly brought his hand to the stack, slowly pulling a cup free.

“Vodka tastes like ass, no matter what shelf you pull it from. And my power to catastrophize is stronger than any spirit.” He grumbled, but only halfheartedly, allowing Feferi to pour him an equally generous helping, which felt more like three shots than one. He figured she was right about one thing- he really was taking the evening off. He ought to act like it.

“We’ll see about that,” Feferi proclaimed with a grin, shoving the stack of cups against her body and fishing her own cup from her cleavage. “Bottoms up!”

The three slammed their “shots”, which had about as much enjoyment as chugging a cup of gasoline. Feferi whooped in exuberance, while he bore the burn stonily. His quarterly meeting with the Dwarven guild always ended with Earlenor Ironbrow passing around the Dwarven liquor, which made this taste like kiddy shit by comparison. Vriska, however, immediately gagged, coughing and sputtering, her eyes watering with a shimmer of blood.

“Oh, that is awful. Is there anything we can take shots of that doesn’t taste like paint thinner?” She asked, pulling a face. Feferi gasped in response.

“Oh my glub, was that your first shot ever ?”

Vriska blushed, looking sheepish. “...Maybe.”

“Whale, let me find you something sweeter for a chaser. Back in a splash!” Feferi bounded away, all giggles and glitter.

A new song began playing, the music seeming to vibrate through the air and resonate in his bones. Vriska seemed to be feeling the music as well, as she began swaying in time with the beat, grinning at him.

“You gonna just stand there, orrrrrrrr?” She challenged him, shifting closer. The flush to her face remained, and her movement had a new fluidity to it.

“Or,” he declared, eliciting a startled laughter from her. He smiled back, allowing himself to give in- to be in the moment. It was a quirk of his physiology that left the vodka as a single large bead of liquid, his mind controlling its surface tension with barely a thought. He could choose to leave it that way, to continue the party stone cold sober. But he wanted to relax with the feeling of his inhibitions lowering, so he envisioned the bubble as his own stress, allowing it to pop. He felt the peculiar burn of the vodka literally sinking through his body, the alcohol sharp as it absorbed and sent his head spinning, and began to dance with his friend, joining her in laughter.

Everyone’s having fun at this party! Read on to see more!

[woodsteingirl]

blushing worst physiological response ever btw it’s so bad (<- she probably has rosacea)

[yourgamemasterthewhiterabbit]

For me the problem is I learned to unconsciously ignore pain, not because I internalized that they were correct, but because I internalized that nothing could or would be done about it [some combo of it's a common thing people experience and also I can't trust them or their judgement, because even if it's a common issue and I am sensitive idk I don't think people should just accept being left to suffer because it's common? Like very much a combination of I cannot ignore the pain but I have to shut up and take it anyway and this is wrong but I am powerless and I don't want what is on the other side of misbehaving]. Point being it doesn't require internalizing anything emotionally, or about your value or function, to just become desensitized to discomfort enough to not notice there hasn't been blood in your foot for 20 minutes or that your shoulder is probably really swollen or that your bladder is about to tear.

It also didn't help that my step mother would really actively punish me for any reaction to pain or discomfort at all. If I cried she said it was a manipulation, and I got grounded once because I winced and pulled away the second before something actually landed on my foot...

So now not only do I not notice discomfort until it is really extreme, but I still haven't figured out how to tell doctors or friends that something is really distressing or really hurting/harming me in a way they'll take seriously, there's this attitude of "well if it was REALLY a problem I could expect -this- reaction" When I have explained to them multiple times that I no longer have the physiological capacity for that reaction. If I do get upset or angry, it seems so out of place for me that they jump straight to me exaggerating, being dramatic, or not being rational about it anymore.

Calmly explaining that something hurts or why and that you need it to stop isn't taken with any weight, and actual crying or raising my tone is treated like I am throwing some kind of adult temper tantrum that shouldn't be dignified with a response, so that leaves me with what? "trying to casually play-act out my emotions in a way they can recognize on a regular basis"?, and uh... No. It would seem so forced and fake and would even feel to me like a manipulation even if I was only trying to communicate the truth. I would develop impostor syndrome about my own feelings and pain so fast. Also it just wouldn't be convincing, and it would be used as evidence there was something deeply wrong with me or that i -was- being manipulative after all.

The two modes I have are "stoically ignore the pain, and explain yourself calmly, so you don't get punished [or so crying doesn't make the inside of your face swell in a way that seems medically significant]" and "pushed to complete meltdown" [where I have to yell or I can't force words out past the tension clamping my throat shut, this doesn't fly as an adult of even 5'8"] there is no in between. But there's also no internalized emotional or psychological aspect to it that I 'still believe' that can be addressed. I knew what was wrong with the situation on some level while this was being done to me, and my expectations of people's behaviour aligns with their actual behaviour, at this point the problem is a physiological one that I don't think any amount of therapy can treat. My nervous system has really delayed responses to things now so I can't 'read my body' in the moment, because I'm not going to cry, or blush, or have a physiological reaction over it until I am safe and alone. Very occasionally I'll feel the inside of my chest start shaking and I'll know that later I'm in for having some kind of complete meltdown the moment I am in private, but I cannot physically make it happen in the moment, even if bursting out in tears would actually have the other person realize what they are doing.

Even when I explain this to people and explain the subtle signs of me being in that kind of distress, they just ignore it every time and plow ahead anyway, they'll even admit later it's because they felt like it and knew they had plausible deniability, in some cases. Even if I explain to avoid certain subjects because I know I won't be able to tell how they are impacting me until I am alone later, they just don't take it seriously. Even the people you really expect would, because outwardly I seem convincingly fine.

All I can do is train myself into checking in on my physical+ state periodically, consciously, and addressing what I can, when I can. I don't think I'll ever be able to fix the whole "doesn't emote discomfort properly" problem. It was conditioned into me while my body was developing and now it seems to be how I am hardwired in a way that changing or validating beliefs and core attitudes just hasn't impacted.

So much of my childhood and teen-hood was 'You are wrong and this is wrong and you are being terrible, but I have no power in this situation regardless' and foot dragging obedience and biding my time till I could get out. But that still did this to me. The fact that other people cannot read my emotional reactions, and so assume I have none, is an ongoing punishment for not making faces properly. The fact that I have chronic pain problems and multiple disorders to manage is *not* helped by being slow to notice when there is a *problem* and this problem was not helped by years spent holding a job and having to pretend to be normal.

[lunaprincipessa]

ENTRY 376

Just for once, I would like to be able to take a compliment without blushing.

I understand that it's an involuntary, physiological response that gets triggered by the nervous system when one feels a sense of appeasement or embarrassment and still I question why I do it at all.

I noticed friends my age don't blush the same way I do, regardless of it being a natural thing. Then, why doesn't every female my age blush like this? I was hoping it would stop by now but it looks like something I will deal with for the rest of my days. Oh well. More thoughts later.

[reasonmustbemytruenorth]

Shran/Soval fic

Amicable Relations. Rated T. Summary: Soval comes to Shran with an unorthodox proposal for resolving their differences. Shran has some creative dispute resolution ideas of his own. [Or: we never got a reunion scene at the end of the show for these two. They went through a lot and have things to resolve!]

Shran grinned and stalked closer to Soval. “It’s a shame your species doesn’t blush so easily.”

“I imagine that physiological response would only invite further attempts at teasing.”

“Attempts?” Shran repeated, his antennae tilting forward interestedly. “I suppose I’ll have to up my game if I’ve grown rusty at pushing your buttons, Soval.”

Read more on ao3.