#did they know it was aro visibility day?

[frizzy-frizz-frizz]

arospec bisexuals allison reynolds and kevin day showing up in matching aro themed outfits send post

[mic-check-stims]

Oh btw here's the slightly modified version of the aroace yami icon from that one post I've been using. For aro visibility day. It looks a bit better from a distance methinks

[cherubfae]

Hello! I love your writing, it's so cute! Here's an Idea bouncing around in my head: Reader is a shy and easily flustered individual who's developed a crush on Alastor. However they try to keep their distance as they know he's Aro/Ace and doesn't want to overstep boundaries. They go to Lucifer a (somewhat) expert on romance and feelings of longing to vent, also developing a crush on Lucifer- (Reader is a hopeless romantic lol)

Anyway, hope you have a nice day and remember to drink water!

𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔭𝔯𝔦𝔠𝔢 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔢 || {𝔞𝔩𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔬𝔯, 𝔩𝔲𝔠𝔦𝔣𝔢𝔯}

tags: gn!sinner!reader, fluff, hurt/comfort, love triangle, miscommunication, blood/injuries, mild nudity mention, divorced!Luci, I had to make it a bit comical, I made this too angsty for my own liking now I'm sad 😭, protective bois

This is a one shot. I won't be writing a part two. Thank you! :)

A dreamy sigh echoes from your lips, swirling down the empty hallway. You're sitting on your bed with your knees pulled to your chest with a clawed hand over your heart. Sometimes you miss the thrum of your heartbeat against your fingers. With all of the people occupying Hell, you didn't expect to feel quite this lonely.

You stare down at the pocket watch in your hands. Such a tiny device cost quite a fortune, but it was a true antique having been manufactured in the 1920s. Your intention was to give it to Alastor. Yet, you never did.

Despite everything in your being wanting you to give him the simple gift, a token of your love and your friendship, you just couldn't. You were already internally setting yourself up for a failure that may not even come. You weren't sure Alastor would ever be into someone, let alone you. So, allowing these thoughts to fester you withdrew yourself from him. Forcing smiles when around him and the others, faking laughter; all of which Alastor could see right through. Every time he tried to seek you out, to confront you, you were already engaged with someone else or another task for the hotel.

You were actively allowing your depression to swallow you whole all the whole not realizing that if you had only asked, Alastor's feelings are the same as yours. He just didn't know how to approach you and Rosie thought it best to let you come to him; yet you never did. Even Alastor was finding it a bit hard to keep that smile on his face. Why won't you just approach him? He...He can't do it. Please.

A dreary day in Hell with violent lightning and thunderclouds and acidic rain brought you into the company of Lucifer Morningstar himself. He could smell your sadness from miles away and like clockwork, he instantly pulls you under his wings.

"Now then, sweetling, what brings you to see the Big Boss Man Himself?" Lucifer grins, crossing his leg over his knee nursing an apple martini with an apple slice hanging off the sugar-dusted edge. He serves you whatever drink you may like, alcoholic or non-alcoholic.

"I'm in love with Alastor and I don't know what to do! I'm scared to get too close to him because I'm not even sure he's into me like that and I don't want to get hurt!" You sob, the words come pooling out of your mouth like a waterfall and so do the tears.

Lucifer visibly bristles at the mention of his rival, almost choking on his drink. With a snap of his fingers, his martini glass vanishes with a poof! His full attention now on you. Gently, he takes your hand in his gloved one.

Softly, he begins. "Getting hurt is unfortunately part of the risk of being in love. It lets you know what you feel is or was real. It's not the end of the world, not by a long shot. Everyone who we meet and who we love crosses our paths for a reason. To teach us something, either for a short chapter or they'll be lifelong companions. Even in the afterlife, there are still people worth risking the hurt for." Smiling wobbly, Lucifer embraces you close. "Take a few deep breaths. If this is truly how you feel, talk to him about it. We may be magic down here in Hell but not all of us are mind-readers, darlin'."

For the first time in a long while, you smile too. Embracing him again with a laugh.

Standing to leave, you turn to your friend. "May I see you again?"

Lucifer let out a tiny gasp, a slight pink hue coating his cheeks. "I'd like that a lot!" He jumps up. "I can show you how to paint rubber ducks!"

When you finally return from your outing, you're in a much more visibly happy mood. With eyebrows raised, Alastor watches from the shadows as you whistle a happy little tune and make your way up the stairs and veer to the left towards your bedroom. A familiar scent clings to your own, one that makes his lips curl back in a vicious snarl. Lucifer.

"Now darling, I think it's time that we have a talk--" Alastor materializes from the shadows, fully manifesting into your bedroom. You shriek in surprise.

Immediately, you snap. "Alastor, what the fuck! OUT."

Alastor, who has been turned away from you, spins to face you aghast that you'd speak to him in such a manner as you never have before, only to quickly cover his eyes. You were standing in the privacy of your bedroom, almost entirely naked except for those flimsy bottoms you called your underwear. Alastor swallows thickly at the sight of your bare skin, even when you wrap your blanket around your body. He feels lightheaded.

"My apologies, dearest. Ta-ta!" In a plume of smoke, Alastor fades out of the room. By the time he returns to his radio tower, he's gasping with his palm covering his face which was now nearly as red as his hair. He's ashamed he hadn't shown more decorum and instead witnessed you in such a state. Even when angry with him, you had never looked more alluring.

Lucifer swung by the hotel rather unexpectedly, surprising Charlie with a new plant for her bedroom and crushing Maggie into a huge hug! The place was really coming along, he had to admit. There was a more inviting atmosphere to the hotel now since it was rebuilt. It almost felt cozy.

"Dad, what brings you by?" Charlie smiles, carefully handing the plant over to Vaggie.

Lucifer smiles. "I'm here to pick up a friend for a little coffee date and I figured I'd say hi to my favorite daughter and my favorite soon-to-be daughter-in-law!" He coos, squishing Charlie's cheeks between his gloved hands.

On queue, you're walking down the stairs into the foyer. "Lucifer!" You beam, a large smile crossing your cheeks. His tummy flutters at the sight. The outfit you had on was darling, suiting you to a T.

A crackle of static explodes into the front lobby, the Radio Demon taking form between you and the Morningstars. Alastor's eyes immediately narrowing at the unwelcomed guest, at least in his mind.

Laughing nervously, Charlie wedges herself between her father and friend. The air rippled with electricity as the two stared the other down.

"Okay, you two, calm down. Let's not start anything, ok?" She glances at Vaggie for help who simply shrugs her shoulders; setting Charlie's new plant baby aside. Approaching slowly you stand by Lucifer's side. Placing a hand on the King's shoulder, Alastor nearly explodes with radio feedback. An eerie green glow consuming his form.

Static voice dripping with malice spits out, "You're going out with him." It wasn't a question.

Casting a look over your shoulder, you nod at Alastor. "We're going out for coffee."

The Radio Demon is practically seething with venomous rage--not at you, but at the puny little shortstack of a King who thinks he can meddle with those in his life. "You don't deserve their attention, Morningstar."

Lucifer balks. "You had your chance, pal! You snooze, you lose." Alastor's expression turns to one of confusion.

"What do you mean?" The radio filter is gone from his voice.

Snarling, Lucifer glowers at him. "They were in love with you! And now I'm here to pick up the pieces-- oh, fuck, you didn't tell him did you, sweetling?" His gaze is gentle as he regards you. You're begging for the ground to swallow you up.

Fighting back tears, you fidget on the spot. You're looking everywhere but at the two men who have held your heart captive. There was the love you held for Alastor, pure and genuine. How you got together like pieces of a puzzle. And then there was your love for Lucifer, intimate and loving. He was able to teach a part of you that you'd long forgotten. He helped you smile again.

Alastor shoves Lucifer out of the way, his clawed hands cupping your face. He wipes away those tiny tears with a gentleness no one in the hotel had seen. "Je t'aime tellement, mon cour."

Lucifer, now in his Full Demon form, shoves Alastor aside and grasps your arm. You let out a cry of pain, making the two males jump. With the appearance of his full form his claws had accidentally sunk too deep into your skin. Red leaked from the four deep gashes slashed across your skin, staining the sleeve of your lovely shirt. Your pretty eyes pooling with tears.

Like a true beast, Alastor explodes into his demonic form, arms outstretched to shield you behind him. Lucifer can only fixate on the blood dripping down your arm. Vaggie and Charlie are tugging you away while Husk prepares the First-Aid kit.

Lucifer is only able to stare at the tiny pool of blood you had left behind and the pain in his eyes. And then there was Alastor, ever the gentleman, always the one fighting for your honor, looking damn well ready to devour the entire fucking Earth for you.

And Lucifer felt he deserved whatever he had coming to him. His own words echo in his head: "Getting hurt is unfortunately part of the risk of being in love. It lets you know what you feel is or was real."

|| ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʀᴇᴘᴏꜱᴛ, ʀᴇᴜꜱᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴇᴅɪᴛ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ɪɴ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴀʏ! ɪ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ɢɪᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪꜱꜱɪᴏɴ. ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ ɪꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏɴʟʏ ꜱɪᴛᴇ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ɪ ᴘᴏꜱᴛ. ᴀʟʟ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ ʙᴇʟᴏɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ʀɪɢʜᴛꜰᴜʟ ᴏᴡɴᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ʙᴇʟᴏɴɢꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ © ᴄʜᴇʀᴜʙꜰᴀᴇ 2024 ||

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

More Than Flirting

Santiago Pope Garcia x gn!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • Kinktober 2024 Masterlist • Kinktober 2023 Masterlist • Day 11: Seduction

Summary: Santi's got a new haircut.

A/N: This was meant to be for kinktober 2023 (I'm so sorry). Thank you so much @thexsanctuaryx for betaing!

Warnings: this is basically just fluff, swearing, please let me know if I have missed a warning!

Word Count: 549

Santiago preens a little in front of you. 

“You got a haircut?” You smile, knowing full well that he did. 

“It’s good right?” He gives you that practised smile, the ‘oh so casual and charming’. The one you’re sure he’s perfected by looking in the mirror. 

“It’s nice.” You nod. Benny had sent you a grand total of seven million messages, and two photos, about Santi’s new hair. 

B: Pope has a new haircut.

B: He’s literally fixing it in the mirror before he goes to ‘run into you’ by accident. 

B: Please fuckigg tell him you like it. Please.

You: fuckigg?

B: Don’t. 

B: Tell him you like it.

You: Don’t tell him I like it?

B: DON’T DO THIS TO ME. I KNOW USUALLY I’D LOVE THIS SHIT. BUT I CAN’T DEAL WITH HIM BEING ALL SAPPY OVER YOU ANYMORE.

B: FUCKING TELL HIM YOU LIKE HIS HAIR. 

B: PLEASE.

B: FOR THE LOVE OF GOD. 

Benny sent you a selfie, he looks so fed up. In the background, Santi is looking at himself in the mirror, adjusting his hair and oblivious to Benny. 

B: He’s still fixing his hair. 

You: You know he doesn’t actually like me right? Maybe he just really likes this cut?

B: Are you fucking stupid? 

B: I didn’t know you were this fucking stupid. 

You: I love you too.

B: Tell him you like his hair. Or hate it. I don’t give a fuck.

B: Please tell him you like it. 

“You wanna touch it?” Santi leans forward, tilting his head towards you and then pauses. You can see the cogs in his brain whirling. “Um… I’m not sure why I…”

“Sure.” You smile, taking pity on him and you lightly touch the side of his head. His hair is soft, thick and a little slick with product. “Your hair's really nice, what do you use in it?” 

“Nothing,” he shrugs like it’s nothing, “All natural.”

“Uh huh.” You smirk.

“I mean,” he fidgets a little. “Family secret.”

You snort. “Okay.” 

He pauses, chewing lightly at his bottom lip. “I, um…” his shoulders sink a little as he visibly deflates. “This isn’t going how I wanted.” He mutters. 

“How you wanted?” 

He shakes his head for a second, and you can see the pattern of thoughts cross his mind. First instinct is to ignore, deny, say nothing. Second is to lie, to brush it off. 

He goes with the third. 

“It never goes how I want with you, you make me lose all my moves.” He sighs.

“Moves?” You can’t help but smile.

“Yeah,” he grins when he sees your expression, his eyes lighting up. “I forget everything about the art of seduction.” He leans closer as he says the last bit, putting on a mock husky voice that makes you giggle. 

“You trying to seduce me?” 

“For months.” 

The honesty in his voice makes you pause. Swallow. “Really?” 

He nods, “Sorry I’ve been so shit at it.” 

“No, it’s… endearing… and also, I’m a bit,” you tap your head for emphasis, “I don’t notice when anyone’s flirting with me, ever.”

“I’ve been trying to do more than flirting,” Santi smirks. “Go out with me? On a date date?”

“A date date?”

“Yeah,” he grins, already knowing your answer.

You nod.

Thank you for reading!

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[fogwitchoftheevermore]

@mcyt-aro-week day 3: solidarity / hobbies

It's a quiet day in Pixandria, all things considered, which is nice and rare these days. That is, until Pix hears the telltale sounds of rockets and someone skidding to a halt in the sand outside his storage room.

Pix closes the chest he was rummaging through with a sigh and walks outside to figure out which of his friends has appeared on his metaphorical front lawn. As he pokes his head out the door, he catches a flash of bright green- Jimmy, then, so this will probably be a relatively normal conversation, all things considered.

"Jimmy, hey, what's up?"

Jimmy turns around, frowning, and pulls his codboy hat lower than it's supposed to go so it covers his eyes- bad day, then.

Jimmy sighs, "Pix, can I talk to you about something?"

"Sure, sure, come on in," Pix ushers the man into the top area of the storage room and leans against one of the walls. "What's going on?"

Jimmy buries is head in his hands even further somehow and groans for a second before he starts talking. Very bad day, then.

"Well, I just left Rivendell cause Scott invited me to some sort of alliance meeting, except it wasn't really an alliance meeting, it was a date, and it was really clearly a date cause he had this tunnel of love thing going on and a picnic and it was really nice but I don't- I wasn't prepared and I don't know if I even like him- or anyone- like that but I didn't know how to tell him that in the middle of a date, so I pretended that I didn't know it was one, except it was so obviously a date so now he either thinks I'm even more of an idiot than he already did or that I was, I don't know, playing hard to get or something? I don't know how people think about these things, I just-"

Jimmy, who had been pacing and gesturing wildly the whole time he spoke, stops short, digs his palms into his eyes, and shouts a bit before stopping and looking up at Pix desperately.

"Help?"

Pix nods slowly. "Yeah, ok, that's... that's bad. So, first things first, the thing about not being sure if you like him, or anyone like that?"

Jimmy takes a deep breath and shakes out his hands a bit. "Yeah, I don't know, I think I've had like, one crush ever? And I don't even really know if that was a crush? And I like Scott, I do, even though he's kind of a jerk sometimes, but I don't think it's like that? I'm not sure."

"Ok, well, do you want to be in a relationship with Scott?"

Jimmy pauses, visibly considering. "I... have no idea."

"Ok, so, first step is, despite what you might think, not figuring that part out, because that's going to take forever. First step is getting on the same page with Scott.”

“Does it have to be? Can’t I just figure out what my deal is and then everything is fine forever?”

Pix chuckles. “If only it were that easy.”

“It’s just-!” Jimmy walks over to where Pix is leaning and joins him for about two seconds before sliding down the wall to sit on the floor. “I don’t know. I don’t know how any of this is supposed to feel, I don’t know how I’m meant to know if I like someone like that or not if I want to be in a relationship with them or what and I don’t know how everyone seems to have it so figured out!”

“I mean, I don’t think everyone else does, to be totally honest. But even if they do, well, it probably felt a lot more like… something for them.” Pix joins Jimmy on the floor, staring straight ahead as he tries to think. “Because in my experience, sometimes it feels like nothing because it is nothing, but sometimes it feels like nothing because it’s something but not with this person, but other times it feels like something even when it’s nothing-“ Pix has no idea what he’s talking about, at this point. He’s not equipped for these things, and he says as much. “Why did you come to me for this, I’m not-? Your sister’s married to your best friend, I feel like they’re much better equipped to answer the question of ‘How do you know when you want to be in a relationship with someone?’”

“I mean, probably,” Jimmy says, finally letting his codboy hat go enough that Pix can see his eyes again. “But, well… you’re you. We’re us, y’know?”

Pix does know. He knows that Lizzie is Jimmy’s sister, but Pix was the first person to see Jimmy without the Codfather head on. He knows that Joel is Jimmy’s best friend, but Pix is the one he asked to build the cod statue in his base. He knows that he’s Jimmy’s… something, and this is what they do. And that, however unfortunately, he probably is the best person to ask about this type of thing, even if he doesn’t feel like he knows what he’s talking about half the time.

Pix reaches out and puts his arm around Jimmy’s shoulders, and Jimmy instinctively moves to lay his head on Pix’s shoulder. Well, they’ll figure it out eventually.

[aroacesafeplaceforall]

Hello there!

Mod team:

I’m Jamie but I also go by Jay! I’m gender queer and use any pronouns but I am masc leaning (he/him), don’t be afraid to ask! I’m aegosexual-pansexual and a romance repulsed aromantic! I am neurotypical and the OG owner of this blog!

Hey people, my names Noah and I use they/them pronouns :) I have a long list of labels cause I'm a complicated human being lol. I'm non binary, lesbian oriented aroace, with a handful of microlabels (quoiromantic, apothiromantic, aegoromantic, apothisexual and aegosexual). I also experience platonic, aesthetic and sensual attraction B) I have diagnosed adhd and I'm an infp :D

My name is Ray! I go by any pronouns and I’m a Agender Cogirl. I am cupioromantic and aegosexual (and many other things, just ask if you want to know!). I also have diagnosed autism and I’m an ISFP

Carl D, all pronouns, allergic to garlic, aroace

We’re here for all your Questions, Rants, Vents and Confessions!

Ask box is always open and we’re always here for your asks!

We are here to educate, explain and help with anyone who needs it!

Stay safe, remember you are valid and its your box!

LOVE U ALL U ARE VALID

Commonly asked questions!

Link to my Aro-spec post

Link to a post containing most Ace Spec identities

Asexual Wiki, Aromantic Wiki,

the Asexual Visibility and Education Network -Asexual resource

AUREA - the Aromantic-spectrum Union for Recognition, Education, and Advocacy

List of Aroace Spectrum resources

Connect to the community - aces and aros

The Battle of the Phobics Link to link post

The comments section link to a helpful article on how to educate/beat the acephobes

Ask box Days!

Sunday: sex stories Sunday, for aro and/or ace specs! Block the tag “aroace explicit” to avoid!

Mondays: free day

Tuesday: rant and vents! Everything goes but everything answered with a ‘.’ Thing

Wednesday: free day

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please feel free to ask me first, if I don’t provide a good answer or you want more you can ask again or go to one of these blogs! Please tag more blogs I should add to this list!!

@asexualadvice - asexual advice! (Read blog but helpful info!)

@aegosexual-moments - the aegosexual blog of all time (excluding myself /j)

@aromantic-diaries - Very cool aro person!

(Yes I know my profile pic is off center, suffer, its still off centre, suffer more)

(It’s seperate because aroace is unfortunately usually viewed as one identity, ace and aro are separated spectrums)

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The Blogs

blogs that are kinda fan accounts???? wtf????

@aroaceplaceforsome they’re the neutral party here, they use pronouns

@throwawaysoiwontgeteatenbyjamie a whore

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[delopsia]

Blow Your Mind | Bob x Reader x Rhett

Word Count: 7,900 Cross Posted on AO3 Warnings & Notes: 18+, AFAB!Reader, who does briefly wear a skirt, aphrodisiac chocolates, oral sex, unprotected sex with two different men, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, anal sex (Rhett riding Bob), there is absolutely no plot to this one.

"They're just chocolates!"

"It says 'sex chocolates' right on the fucking packaging!" 

Rhett's not lying, either. Right on the front of the box, scrawled in hardly-legible cursive, lie the words 'Sex Chocolates,' with an even harder-to-read slogan of, 'they'll blow your mind.' 

Next to you, Bob shifts his weight, fingers tapping on the box of deceptively sweet box of chocolates that you've all just had a bite of. Sweet, tiny little things that disguised themselves as a run-of-the-mill assortment of chocolates until you'd caught a glance at the lid. Who would have thought bite-sized candies could be so devious?

They've already deceived the original attendees of Perry's so-called house party before it had gotten out of hand. When there were just fifteen people and not over fifty. When the house wasn't so packed that walking into another room was easy as breathing. The good old days, when Rhett and Perry's bickering wasn't drowned out by the worst choice of music you've ever heard.

"One little piece can't hurt us, right?" Bob murmurs, barely audible, over the thumping of the speakers. "We don't even know if it works." 

Shaking your head, "The serving size is half a chocolate per person." If only you'd seen this before you'd eaten the entire piece. When you still had the chance to decide if you wanted to play with aphrodisiacs or not. 

"Half?" His glasses are the only thing that can stop his eyes from bugging out of his head. "Rhett had more than one!"

And they've evidently made Rhett invisible, too, because he's completely disappeared from the kitchen. Leaving you and Bob alone with a kitchen full of strangers and the one and only Perry Abbott. The beloved son who absolutely will not get in trouble for raising his foot and kicking a hole into the drywall.

"Rhett?" You say it as if he can hear you; Bob can't even hear what you've said, and he's barely a foot away. 

He couldn't have gone far, not that quick. This house had might as well be a can of sardines, with how packed it is, but as you twist and turn, straining your neck to get a better look, you can't find him. Not with this crowd.

You'd jump if you weren't worried about your skirt catching on the air vent behind you. 

Leaning towards Bob, you raise your voice a little, struggling to be heard over the music. "Did you see him leave?" 

But Bob shakes his head, light bouncing off of his glasses as he does so, "I'll check and see if he went outside again."

"And I'll..." Your words die in your throat as you look out into the living room. 

You won't be finishing that sentence. 

There's no point; you can hardly even hear your own thoughts as you worm your way through the crowd. Between the raised voices and the obnoxiously loud music, it's a wonder that you don't develop a migraine during the time it takes you to walk from the kitchen to the couch. Or, at least, what used to be a couch. 

The cushions are missing; Cecelia's delicate decorative pillows lie in a heap in front of it, crushed beneath the sharp heels of a woman you've never seen before. You wonder what she'll be more upset about, those beloved pillows or the visible crack in the middle of the couch's frame, bowing inward. 

"Hey, girlie!" 

You don't recognize that voice, hardly even know which direction it's coming from, until an unfamiliar hand curls around your shoulder. 

Don't roll your eyes, don't roll your eyes, don't roll your—

"Hi, Maria." And you'll pretend you know the names of the two Tillerson brothers standing behind her. Wyatt and Luke or something. You hardly recognized the names Perry invited, but you know for a fact that these three were never invited. 

"I was hoping you'd seen Rhett around?" Twisting freshly manicured fingers through a lock of her hair, "he and I have some catching up to do." 

"Haven't seen him," brushing her cold hand from your shoulder, "you should try asking Perry."

Her eyebrows raise, "Perry? You want me to ask the one man Rhett doesn't like?" Here we go. "Do you even know Rhett?"

You know Rhett well enough to understand that his feelings about Perry aren't as black and white as one would think. Just like you also know him well enough to recall that he's got a birthmark on the underside of his cock, but that doesn't contribute much to this conversation, now does it?

"Who cares if they know Rhett or not," the older of the two brothers says, and you're pretty sure that this one is Luke Tillerson, "what I care about is getting to know them a little better."

"You don't look like you're from around here," the youngest speaks overtop of Maria, and you can't say you're upset that you missed out on what she had to say, "where you from?"

Fighting the urge to sound surprised. "What gave it away?"

"You're too pretty to be from around these parts." He says it so quickly that you almost wonder if he's been planning that for some time now. Bold, straight to the point, no if's and's or buts about it.

Even from a few feet away, you can smell the alcohol on his breath, something strong that has you fighting the urge to wrinkle your nose and put more distance between the two of you. "I'm sorry, I don't—"

"Rhett!" Maria's eyes light up like a goddamn disco ball, absolutely sparkling. 

Your only indication that Rhett's behind you is the hot breath tickling the back of your neck and the nose that bumps into your head in the way that it always does. Hands appear on either side of your waist, gently urging you to step away from this conversation you've been roped into.

Maria's talking, mouth moving a million miles an hour, but Rhett can't hear it. Her dwindlings about how she hasn't seen him in oh so long do nothing but illicit the laziest 'uhuh' you've ever heard from your cowboy. 

You know that high school crushes tend to die hard, but damn, you don't think he even smiles at her as he carts you away. One arm loops around your waist, just about crushing you into his side as he forces his way through the unwelcome crowd. 

"Rhett?" You chirp, stumbling as you fight to keep up with his pace. 

No dice.

Maybe something's happened because Rhett doesn't seem to hear you either; just keeps marching along like a soldier headed into battle. Right for the stairs, damn near knocks a guy over in his quest to head up them. 

He doesn't acknowledge the profanities that man spews as he passes by, either. 

Nobody is upstairs, much to your surprise. You'd really expected someone to have snuck off to one of the many bedrooms up here, but the doors are all wide open, seemingly untouched. If Rhett wasn't practically dragging you down the hallway, maybe you'd be able to tell for sure. 

"Rhett!" You try again, heels digging into the hardwood floor. That little protest should have been enough to at least cause his stride to falter. 

It does nothing. 

Rhett damn near hauls you into his bedroom, protest unacknowledged as he points towards his bed, "Sit." Then, pausing, "Please." A little softer now, starkly different from how he kicks the door closed.

Your feet move on their own, carrying you over to his soft, plush bed. Such a shame that Royal and Cecelia bought him a new one after he moved out. The moment you've settled on the bed, Rhett takes two steps forward and drops. 

Knees hit the floor with a painful thunk that you're certain the guests downstairs heard, but you can't pay it any worry. Not when there are hands running up your thighs, familiar eyes peering up at you from between your legs. 

"Rhett?" Trying once more. "Are you alright?"

His curls bounce as he nods his head, "uhuh." And he'd probably say more if he weren't kissing on the inside of your knee. A soft pressure that tickles all the way up your thighs. Adds fuel to the fire already kindling in your core. Up, up, up, tongue leaving a wet trail that catches in the dull lighting of his bedroom. 

The blunt tip of his nose bumps into your panties, and almost instantaneously, those eyebrows raise, "You got wet for me pretty fast, doll." 

Abnormally fast. You don't remember a time when you've ever been squirming so quick—

oh. 

Wait. 

"Chocolates," you breathe, voice barely there, "it was those fucking chocolates."

A hot tongue laves across the front of your panties, darkened blues peering up at you, "So it's not just me then, hm?" Rhett's always been eager, but he's never been so eager that his idea of foreplay shortens to nothing but a few kisses and licks. You don't think he's ever bypassed an opportunity to steal kisses. 

And if that singular chocolate really did affect you...

"Rhett," it's the only thing that'll get his attention again, and even then, it doesn't stop him from hooking his fingers under your waistband, "...how many did you have?"

Pause, just long enough for a single thought to cross his pretty little mind. "Three." And then down come your panties, skirt left snug around your hips because he's developed an obsession with how it moves when you squirm.

He doesn't even have the patience to get the garment past both your feet, letting them dangle from your left ankle in exchange for leaning back in quicker. Downright diving between your legs, hot tongue licking a fat stripe up your cunt like a man starved.

"Rhett—!"

Those eyes flutter shut, the hem of your skirt bunching up against his nose as he spreads you open with a rumbling hum. Doesn't seem to hear you repeat his name, only hums again when you curl your fingers in his messy hair and tug. 

"Taste so good," speaking directly into your sex, deep voice rattling up your spine, "'m s'prised I could wait to get you upstairs."

There's a soft pressure at your entrance, delicately opening you up with that wet muscle, just enough to feel you involuntarily squeeze around him. Then up, up, up, until he can swirl around that rapidly swelling bud that he loves to abuse, yanks a gasp out of your throat when he wraps his lips around it. 

"You're gonna suffocate yourself," struggling to keep your balance when big palms settle on the backs of your thighs, lifting them until they're hooked over those wonderfully broad shoulders. "Rhett."

A familiar belt buckle jingles, "Keep whinin' my name like that 'n I'm gonna cum, doll."

That zipper of his goes down in tune with his tongue, and that shaky gasp into your cunt is all you need to know that he's grasped himself through the thin material of his boxers. Those eyes of his open, downright black as he falls back into his rhythm, stroking himself in perfect synchrony with his devilish tongue. 

Surprise suction on your clit has your thighs clamping around his face, "Rhett." Repeating his name like it's the only word in the dictionary. Shit, if you don't loosen your legs—

"Don't you dare," and even though he drags your legs right back to where they were, you get the feeling that it's not enough for him. Not until he can drown himself in you. 

He's leaning forward, downright drooling as he hungrily laps at you, has you bringing a hand up to cover your mouth. There are people in this house, people who can hear right through these paper-thin walls. The whole damn house can probably hear how his belt chimes as he strokes his leaking cock, breathing heavily into your pussy because he can't breathe but is too addicted to quit now.

Footsteps thump outside the door.

The very unlocked door. 

But before you can fight off a whimper and get a word out, the knob begins to twist. Stuns you into silence while Rhett laps noisily at your entrance, unbothered by the slowly opening door behind him. One look at the frame creeping inside is all it takes for your shoulders to drop, tension rushing out just as quickly as it appeared. 

Bob holds a finger to his lips, locking the door behind him.

"Fuck," your body jolts as Rhett's tongue pumps into you once more, "just like that." Words just loud enough to conceal the creaking of hardwood as Bob settles behind Rhett, something devious flashing through his soft features. He's reaching forward, around Rhett's hip...

"Ah!" Poor cowboy damn near comes out of his skin, just about jumps out from between your legs like he's been burned. 

One firm arm barricades over Rhett's heaving chest, anchoring him down; between his legs, Bob's hand remains firm, grasping the base of that pretty, flushed cock. Before Rhett can start fussing, though, Bob's talented hand begins to move in such a way that all it takes is one stroke before Rhett's hips are squirming, chasing after the feeling. 

Bob's chin hooks over Rhett's shoulder, glasses glinting in the light, "surely you didn't think I wouldn't find you, sugar."

Rhett huffs, loud and exaggerated, "Wasn't tryin' to avoid—hah!" Even from here, you can see the whites of Bob's knuckles, hand firmly squeezing the base of Rhett's cock. "Figured you'd...figured you'd know where we went."

"Is that it?" Bob's hand doesn't move; if anything, you think he's squeezing a little tighter, "and it's got nothing to do with your crippling impatience?"

Eyelashes flutter, gaze dropping. "...'m sorry." Adam's apple bobbing as Bob's teeth tease the shell of a very, very red ear. "Couldn't wait for you to come back inside." 

There it is. 

Slowly, Bob's hand loosens, gives an experimental stroke that sends Rhett gasping so sharply it echoes. He's squirming, head tilting back to rest against Bob's firm shoulder, mouth agape as Bob messes with him. Can't seem to see how dark those pale blue eyes have become, how they threaten to swallow you whole without a second thought. 

"Y'gonna listen to me, sugar?" There's a twinge of that old accent in Bob's words, fighting to come out and remind you of his Texas roots. 

Licking his lips, Rhett nods his head. His lips move, but nothing quite comes out. 

Just like that, Bob's attention flickers back up to you, briefly catching on the wetness between your legs. "Still wantin' both of us to fuck you, peaches?" He's not even halfway through his question before you're nodding your head. "On your back."

Classic. If given the opportunity, you could have predicted he'd say exactly that. Already know that he's about to settle behind you, resting his back against the headboard because he's got an unofficial thing for watching you fall apart and then having his way with you. But even as Bob does just that, creeping up behind you like it's the first time he's ever done it, Rhett doesn't move from the floor. 

"What happened, cowboy?" Bob's smile evident in his tone, "Afraid of what'll happen if you cum first?" 

All of a sudden, Rhett's moving, rising up from the floor and crawling onto the foot of the bed without so much as a ghost of a complaint. One of his hands disappears into a back pocket, returning with a familiar packet of lubricant that he tears open with his teeth. Must get some on his tongue because his nose wrinkles at the taste.

"How's that taste?" Behind you, Bob chuckles while his hands move on their own accord. Fingers stroking past your shoulders and down to the thin shirt concealing your breasts from his greedy gaze, nothing more than a tickling touch for the time being. 

You can hear how Rhett strokes the lubricant over himself, wet little noises accented by his inward gasp, "like shit." The last thing you expect is two wet fingers nudging at your entrance, gently pushing in. Completely unnecessary; you can tell by how easily those thick fingers push inside that you don't need it. That and...

"Do you not remember this morning?" Huffing when those wandering digits intentionally avoid a particular spot, "or last night? When you fools used spit for lube?" 

Lips press against your temple. Is that stubble you're feeling on Bob's chin? "You were limpin' all mornin'." 

You'd be asking more questions if you weren't distracted by the new development on Mr.I-Don't-Get-Stubble's face. 

Just as quickly as those fingers pushed into you, they're pulling out in favor of two big hands pushing your legs up, a familiar frame settling between your thighs. On its own, Rhett's heavy cock smacks against your dripping core, sends your body jolting. 

A giggle ripples out of you, cut short by the sensation of a plush cockhead beginning to press into you. It's only been eight or so hours since your shower escapades, but you can already feel the uncomfortable stretch as that obnoxiously thick cock of his opens you back up. Did those chocolates make him bigger? Because fuck, you think he's gotten bigger.

One of Bob's hands slips beneath your shirt, spanning out over your chest, "breathe, sweetie." 

Rhett's hands on your hips are the only thing preventing you from squirming away completely, anchoring you down while he splits you wide. You can hardly recall when you closed your eyes, but you're afraid to open them and see how much of this cowboy you have left to take. 

The cold metal of his belt buckle presses against your inner thigh, and finally, finally, you feel him bottom out. Even now, you're afraid to open your eyes, fearing there's still more of him you haven't taken yet. It takes a moment for you to pry them open. And when you do. 

It's been a while since the last time you saw Rhett's face so flushed, unusually pink in the cheeks, sweat already beading at his forehead. Involuntarily, your muscles clench down around him, and he shudders.

Laughter bubbles out of you. "Am I that good, or is it just the aphrodisiac getting to you?" 

It's the aphrodisiac. You know it's the aphrodisiac, but when he shyly admits that you're the cause of his unraveling, you can't help but find yourself believing him. Higher thought process be damned. 

One more involuntary clench and those hips begin to move on their own accord; short, choppy thrusts that rock your body up and down the mattress more than anything. But hell, does it send microscopic tingles rippling up your core, dancing all the way up to where Bob's wandering hands have begun toying with your breasts. Thumbs feather-light as they toy with your nipples, barely there. 

"Rhett, if you don't—"

"'m sorry," those hips drawback, far enough for you to catch how the base of him is downright dripping from your cunt, before pushing back inside with a dizzyingly loud squelch. Practically covers up the gasp he punches from you. 

One of Bob's hands leaves your chest, running down your belly and not stopping until two fingers can drag themselves through the wetness between your legs. Splaying out around Rhett's gradually quickening cock, feeling the thin ring of muscle that can barely accommodate your hung cowboy. 

"Jesus, sweetheart," Bob's lips tickle the side of your head as he speaks, "drippin' like a damn faucet, ain't you?"

The big hands on your hips drag you down into the next thrust, skin audibly smacking against skin. Sends your eyes rolling back into your head, unable to come down even as Rhett withdraws again. 

"Grippin' me like a fuckin' vice," he gasps in between his devilish motions, angle shifting, searching for—

Your back rises up from the bed, sparkles twinging the edges of your vision. Whatever noise brewing in your throat becomes lodged, not a sound coming out of your parted lips. Even when Rhett lets go of your hips in favor of leaning back and bracing himself against the mattress, smooth thrusts pummeling into that tingling bundle of nerves over and over and over.

"Is that the spot, sweetie?" Bob murmurs directly into your ear, "Or is there another part of you needin' some love, too?" 

As if to feed into his point, his fingers rise, ghosting over your neglected, swollen clit. Barely there, a taunting whisper of what could be. Rhett's got your legs too far apart for you to gain any leverage on the bed, can't buck up into his teasing touch in the way you want to. Stuck taking whatever they choose to give you. 

And when you do find the strength to rise up into his touch, it vanishes completely. Has you grumbling and unintentionally clamping down on the cock pumping in and out of you with its devilishly wonderful rhythm.

Rhett's eyes roll back into his head, eyelashes fluttering, "g'nna make me cum if you keep doin' that, doll." Just the thought has you spasming around him again, draws a whine right out of his throat. The thick head of his cock hits the gooey spot inside your cunt just a little harder, a little quicker. Enough to have you gasping. Not enough to fuel the fire burning in your lower belly. 

You haven't given Bob his answer, but his fingers return, close enough for your clit to brush against them every time Rhett fucks into you. Still holding out. Waiting on a response to a question you've already forgotten.

"Please," strained, barely spilling off your tangled tongue. 

That's all it takes for the pad of Bob's thick index finger to kiss that little button. Drenched in an instant, swirling in tune with those shaky thrusts. Something warm blossoms between your legs. Familiar, racing up your spine and up into your face. Strangles you of whatever oxygen you have left, has your breath quickening for something you can't quite catch. 

Rhett's hands return to your hips, barely capable of holding onto you as he fights to maintain those twitchy movements, crumbling right before your very eyes. Curls hang low in his flushed face, bouncing back and forth. "'m gonna cum, fuck, 'm gonna, 'm gonna—"

All of a sudden, he's drawing back. Just about out of you when Bob's hand flies off your clit. Tangles in Rhett's hair and yanks.  

Your vision whites.

Don't know if it's triggered by the wickedly sharp thrust that hammers into your trembling body. Or if it's the strangled cry that rips out of your cowboy. All you know is that your lungs are burning. Body going taut as you cum around Rhett's spasming cock. Mouth falling open with a noise you can't hear. 

The mattress has never felt so soft beneath your aching back. Maybe that's because you're finally laying flat against it and not against...

"Bob?" Your own voice feels foreign to your still-ringing ears. 

"I'm right here, sweetie," it doesn't occur to you that you've closed your eyes until after he surprises you into opening them. You don't recall feeling him slip out from behind you, but he's now standing by the side of the bed, stroking his hand through Rhett's tangled, messy hair. 

Rhett's yet to pull out of you, too focused on catching his breath, but an involuntary spasming of muscles has him hissing, squirming back until he can slip out of your spent pussy. His eyes narrow, darting up to the man petting his head, "Did ya have to pull my hair that fuckin' hard, flyboy?"

Bob's eyebrows raise. But he doesn't have to say a single word because Rhett's already muttering an apology, gaze falling into his lap. The hand in Rhett's hair runs down to take hold of that stumbled chin, manually tilting his head up. 

"You want to get on your knees for me?"

Even from where you lay, you can see the way Rhett's eyes light up at Bob's words, brighter than the lamp shining next to your head. Nothing needs to be said. He's already halfway to the floor, wood creaking beneath him as he kneels. 

"Sometimes I wonder if you've got an addiction to me," Bob muses, settling onto the side of the bed, attention flickering back to you, "that goes for you too."

Your foot kicks out, bumping him in the thigh, "me?"

There's a hidden deviousness in Bob's smile, the one that crinkles the corners of his eyes. "You two literally flipped a coin to settle who got to suck me off first."

If that hadn't happened just last night, maybe you'd be able to defend yourself. 

Alas, the dull, barely there ache in your jaw keeps you quiet. Choosing instead to watch Rhett fumble with Bob's zipper, too shaky to get ahold of it for more than half a second until Bob caves and helps him. One hand disappears into his slacks, the other lands on the back of Rhett's head. 

The room may be dimly lit, but even the poor lighting cannot hide the angry red of Bob's plush tip as he finally draws himself out. Neither can it hide how Rhett practically drools as he parts his thin lips, too impatient to wait as he wraps them around Bob's length. A shiver visibly rattles up Bob's spine, head tilting back with what you can only identify as a silent moan.

"Do you think..." running his hand up your ankle, seeking something to hold onto, keep him from floating away, "do you think you can handle one more round?"

Despite his mouth being full of Bob's cock, Rhett's eyes tell you that he has no problem finishing this soft-spoken WSO off if you're not feeling up to the task. Reflex tells you that you probably aren't up to it, not with how you haven't been able to keep your hands off each other all weekend. The aphrodisiac still coursing through your system suggests that one more round is easy.

"I think so," licking your lips, "gotta see if these chocolates really work, right?"

They must be doing quite the number on Rhett because he's skipped foreplay again, forgoing the teasing kisses and licks, opting instead to dive right into bobbing his head. Taking a little more each time, he takes Bob's cock into his mouth, so utterly invested that his eyes have shut.

Bob's body jolts in that tell-tale way it always does when his cock hits the back of a plush, hot throat, "easy, boy," tightening his fingers in Rhett's hair, "don't choke yourself."

But Rhett's stubborn, defying that gently-worded order by hollowing his cheeks and pushing forward. Downright forces Bob's cock into his throat, visibly fighting his gag reflex as he holds him there. Just like that, Bob's once stoic demeanor crumbles, head dropping, hands flying up to brace his weight on Rhett's broad shoulders. 

On their own, the corners of your lips rise, a barely there smile that has Bob fighting the deep-rooted urge to close his eyes.

"Quit," his own words cut off by a loud gasp, jaw flexing with the effort it takes to fight off his own involuntary noises, "quit lookin' at me like that." 

"Why?" The exhaustion twinging at the edges of your psyche isn't strong enough to keep your mouth shut. "Afraid to admit that those little chocolates are getting to you?"

You can already hear that stuttered denial, and he hasn't even gotten the words out of his mouth yet. Words that you're sure would do nothing but dig him an even deeper grave to lie in. 

But he doesn't get to say them because Rhett finally plays his ace. 

Draws his head all the way back. Until he can open his mouth and let Bob's heavy cockhead rest against his tongue. Long enough to give the impression that he's catching his breath. Then dropping back down. Taking him as far as he possibly can. Nose just barely able to reach the fabric of Bob's slacks before he's being yanked back by the hand twisted in his hair. 

Bob cannot make a sound.

Cock spasming in the open air. Twitching. Teetering dangerously close to the edge of something he can't come back from. Nearly jumps away when Rhett's swollen lips wrap around him once more.

"Fuck," that whimpered word sounds so strange when it's coming from Robby, "hold...don't wanna cum yet." 

On the floor, Rhett grins. Doesn't say a word. Just grins. Too proud of his little stunt to do much else.

"Up here," Bob's hand idly pats the fraction of empty space next to you, a subconscious thing that he never realizes he does, "off the floor." 

It's hard telling if Rhett's huff is from the actual effort of dragging himself off the floor or if he's returned to his usual post-orgasm melodramatics, but he does as he's told. "Maybe I wanted to watch from the floor."

"Maybe I don't want you hobbling around tomorrow morning because you upset your knee again," Bob's watchful gaze is already fixated on that left knee. The one that swells when Rhett's been on it for too long and sits a little differently compared to his right one. One of many, many free bull riding trophies. 

While Rhett's settling down beside you, Bob's careful hands take hold of your hips, guiding you to roll over and drag your jelly-filled limbs up until you're on your hands and knees. Such a strange feeling, being crammed up on this full-size bed, Rhett looking up at you while Bob fumbles around from behind.

A cock smacks against your oversensitive clit, audible, wet little noises that seem to bounce off the walls. Over and over until you're squirming away from the assault of it. You'd probably wriggle halfway up the bed if it weren't for Rhett reaching up and planting a big hand on your shoulder, steadying you. 

Even now, with his hair splayed out beneath his head like a halo and his eyes clouded with something you can't yet identify, he still manages to look up at you like you're his entire world. You'd get to think more about it if there weren't a familiar pressure blossoming between your legs. 

And maybe you'd get to speak if you weren't silenced by an obscene squelch as Robby's cock slips into your exhausted cunt. Rhett's sheepish smile suggests that it's not just your own wetness creating such a sound, either. It hasn't been more than five minutes since Rhett was in you, and Bob's not that much bigger, but your aching walls are already stretching again, unable to do more than take what you're given. 

"Breathe, sweetie," Bob's fingers trail down your spine, tickling until you gasp, "just a little more."

Little by little, it becomes harder to breathe. Lungs burning for a full breath as inch by dizzying inch pushes into you; until your head is too heavy to hold up and your legs tremble with the effort to take him. Rhett's hand rises to stroke your cheek, a futile distraction from how you can just barely take Bobby's cock.

Until finally, fucking finally, his hips are flush against yours, nothing left for you to take. Teetering on the border of too much and just enough. 

Bob's fingers dance across your skin, stroking circles into your trembling hips, "how are you feeling, sweetheart?" 

"Full," it's hard to speak, words cut short by desperate gasps for air, "thank god those chocolates didn't make you bigger than you already are." 

"Careful," Rhett's chuckling before he even gets to the rest of his sentence, "Some say he's got a button in his thigh that'll make his dick longer than it already is." 

A yelp cuts through the air. 

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" Babbling, his frantic hands smacking away the palm that's wrapped around his oversensitive cock. Body writhing, squirming further up the bed until Bob is forced to quit squeezing him. 

If you weren't in this position, you're sure you'd be able to lock eyes on the red birthmark hidden on Bobby's left thigh. Strawberry in color and concealed in the sensitive space of his inner thigh, so perfectly round that it almost looks like a button.

There's a comment brewing on your tongue. Teasing, meant to add fuel to the fire that Rhett's lit. But a careful roll of hips into yours has your thoughts going blank; unable to focus on anything other than the gentle drag of Bob's cock, shallow motions that do nothing but emphasize how fucking full you are. 

But just as quickly as he began moving, Bob freezes. "Did that hurt?" 

"No," pushing yourself backward until your hips are flush with his once more, "just move."

You can't see it, but you know that his cheeks pinken at that, has the audacity to blush as he pulls that big cock of his halfway out of you and push back in just a little quicker. Bashful to the core, even when his heavy balls audibly smack against your cunt. His hips twist, angle shifting every so slightly and—

"Fuck." 

And it's about the worst thing you could have ever done because now that Bobby's found it, he's not letting it go. 

Each snap of his hips rubs against that little bundle of nerves, punches a noise out of your throat. So sensitive that you can't keep yourself quiet anymore, the party raging downstairs long forgotten as your arms crumble, vision blurring. Head landing on Rhett's soft belly, clutching weakly at his shirt, thighs trembling, sliding out from beneath you.

"Those boys downstairs are lookin' for ya, Peaches." Bob's voice has dropped so deep that you can hardly recognize it, almost mistake him for Rhett. Only figure it out when he pulls you up by your hips, and you catch a glimpse of Rhett's unmoving mouth, "ain't got a damn clue you've got two different men mountin' this cute little pussy of yours." 

Your only response is to bury your face in Rhett's stomach, something, anything, to muffle yourself. 

Rhett's calloused fingers brush against the side of your face, drawing you to look up at him, "are those good tears, doll?" And the best you can do is nod your head, unable to stop the sniffle he wrings out of you when he cradles your cheek. 

One of Bob's hands falls off your hip, dropping down to wrap around Rhett's cock again. Gentler, this time, loose as it strokes up his half-hard length. Elecits a pitchy gasp from him that has you fluttering like a damn butterfly around Bobby's positioning cock.

"Can't tell which of you liked that more," Bob muses, chest brushing against your back as he curls around you. Closer, faster, quicker. Plush cockhead dragging against that sweet spot of yours with every fucking motion. Gives you no time to recover before he's hitting it again. Fuck, fuck, fuck, you can't think.

"Bobby," Rhett's trembling voice wavers through the air, "don't you—fuck, don't you fuckin' rile me up again." 

But it falls on deaf ears. Even your barely open eyes can see how that hand quickens. Perfectly matches the short, choppy thrusts that plow into you. You can't hear the noises tumbling off your drooling tongue. Too busy drowning in the melodic whimpers being ripped out of the cowboy beneath you. Familiar heat blossoms in your belly once more. Rekindled by his whined beggings. 

Rhett's voice is barely strong enough to babble your name once. Twice. And then, "Make him stop, please, fuck, fuck—"

Without warning, your body goes taut. Muscles tremoring. Head spinning. Orgasm washing over you for the second time this hour. Don't know if it's tears that make your vision blurry. Or if you've gone cross-eyed. A loud ringing blossoms in your ears. For a moment, your head floats off your shoulders and up into the clouds. Weightless.

It feels like it takes hours for you to return to your exhausted body. Like waking up after a nap became a full night of uninterrupted sleep. 

And you almost wonder if you did fall asleep because you've entirely moved. 

Cuddled up to Rhett's now naked side while someone runs a frigid wipe between your legs, a futile attempt to clean up the sticky mess your boyfriends have so lovingly created. Only a long shower can fully wash it away, but you can't complain when the cold feels like heaven against your burning skin.

Rhett's right bicep flexes before your very eyes, busy with something between his legs. Messy hair clings to his sweaty forehead, lips bitten and swollen, gasping for a breath he can't quite catch. But his dripping cock lays neglected against his belly, angry red in color, bordering purple. 

Deep blue eyes flicker over to you, almost surprised to find you staring back, "Hey, darlin'," his voice shakes with the efforts of whatever is going on between his thighs, "you okay?" 

Smiling, borderline dopey, "very."

There's not enough room for Bob to sit next to you, and there's just barely enough space for him to sit on the other side of Rhett by his feet, but he manages all the same. His attention flickers up to you for a lingering moment, but wet little noises have him looking back to what Rhett's doing. What even is he...

oh.

Oh.

"Didn't you just cum?" 

Rhett nods, "Uhuh." Leg rising, then flunking back against the mattress, can't find the position he wants. "'n I keep fuckin' gettin' hard again." 

Your body begs you not to move, but you're pushing yourself up anyway. Too hungry for a familiar sight that you can't be bothered to pay attention to anything else. Rhett's legs part for you lets you catch a glance of the three thick fingers frantically pumping into his hole. Desperate, needy for something more. 

"It's a shame we didn't think to pack the strap-on," Bob mumbles, running his fingers up Rhett's pale, milky-white thigh. "And to think we almost didn't pack lube, either."

"I tried to pack it," Rhett twists, trying and failing to kick him, "you said we wouldn't need it." 

Admittedly, you three were only meant to be gone for a weekend. Not a whole damn week. But visits to Wabang never go according to plan, and yet, none of you ever think to pack according to past travel histories. 

"Actually, you know what?" Your cowboy's pulling his fingers out of himself, already beginning to sit up before they're even fully out, "you're the asshole who caused this. You're helping me out."

"Well, if you lay back and let me lube up my fingers..." Bob's idea of helping out must not be the same idea as Rhett's.

Because in one smooth motion, Rhett grabs him by the forearms and practically shoves him onto the bed. Can't even be bothered to wait for Bob to lay back before he's crawling into his lap, pouring another packet of lube in his hand and diving down to seize his oversensitive cock. Stroking, leaving him so wet that he shimmers.  

"Rhett!" Bobby fusses. "My refractory isn't...I just—I just came!"

"I warned you not to rile me up again," and that's all Rhett has to say before he's lining himself up and sinking down on that big, half-hard cock of Bobby's. His fingers weren't near enough prep for it, but it's hard to prep for that.

Bobby's already whimpering,  shaking palms pressing against Rhett's belly as he tries to push him off. But Rhett's got the upper hand, even when his mouth falls open in a silent gasp as he gradually pushes himself down, further and further. Bob's back hits the bed so hard that it jostles you and Rhett, surrendering to this problem he's caused. 

"You can't..." he pants, head thrashing back and forth, "you...you can't..." 

Sleep may be calling your name, but you're too distracted to answer it. Laying back on your side, running your hand up Rhett's heaving chest, just for a feel of those flexing muscles. Bob catches it on its way back down, practically disappears when he clutches it in his big palm. 

Rhett's barely even halfway down when he has to brace himself against Bob's chest, head dropping, broad shoulders shivering with the effort of taking Bob's cock. 

"Bite off more than you can chew?" Bobby teases as if the right joke will save him from the inevitable. "Hm?" Before Rhett can try to respond, Bob's squirming, rocking his body from side to side as he tries to shake the cowboy right off of him. 

The muscles of Rhett's thighs flex, squeezing Bob much like he would one of those fifteen-hundred-pound bucking bulls; hasn't ridden in over a year, but damn, has he not lost that talent. Hardly even sways, despite the efforts below him. 

Just as quickly as he'd started, Bob gives up, instead pawing at Rhett's forearm, unable to decide what he wants and if he wants it at all. All the while, Rhett's panting grows louder, trembling as he sinks further and further and further. You don't realize you've been holding your breath until Rhett's hips come flush with Bob's. 

This room doesn't have enough oxygen for the three of you.

"Too much," Bob's voice strained, "it's too...I can't..." You're not sure if he's aware of how he grinds up into Rhett's ass in those teasing little circles. The same ones that make your mind go blank.

Rhett's knees dig into the soft mattress, and slowly, his hips rise by an inch or so, then drop back down. Testing the waters, gradually working himself up to a lazy rhythm, eyebrows knitting with the effort of figuring out what he likes. Doesn't seem to hear how Bob babbles beneath him, letting go of your hand, over-sensitive. Fussing for him to stop, but hasn't broken out that trusty safeword yet. 

"Liar," Rhett huffs, the bed beginning to squeak, "can feel you gettin' hard in me."

Like a live wire, his body jolts; finally found his prostate. Chases it but can't quite handle it when he hits it again, arms crumbling out from under him. Hardly able to catch himself before his head knocks into Bobby's. 

For the briefest moment, their mouths meet, sloppy, panting too hard to properly lock their lips together. As soon as it breaks, Rhett's leaning over to you, steals a kiss before you've even realized what he's doing. Likewise, it's not until your hand has wrapped around his weeping cock that he realizes what you were reaching for. Grinds his movements to a screeching halt.

"No," there's a firmness to Bob's voice that wasn't there before, his knees rising as he plants his heels into the bed, "you're not stopping now, cowboy."

Despite it all, it's Bob who takes hold of Rhett's hips and pulls him up by a couple of inches, holding him there as he snaps his hips up. Skin smacking against skin, jerky, unpredictably quick thrusts that have Rhett crumbling.

"There," he sputters, hair bouncing with Bob's movements, "there, there, there."

Tightening your hand on his cock, stroking properly now. So close, already, mouth hanging open, once deep voice now a shadow of what it once was as Bob fucks into him with an inch of his life.

 It takes a moment to find your voice, but when you do, "You gonna cum, cowboy?" That pretty head nods, unable to give more than a meek "uhuh."

"Cum for me, Rhett," Bob gasps, words punctuated by every slam of his hips into Rhett's ass, "cum around my cock."  

Rhett's head tilts back, shimmering eyes rolling into the back of his head. White paints your hand, hardly enough to make a mess, cock spasming, twitching in your grasp. Beneath him, Bob goes still, absolutely silent. The fluttering of his eyes is your only indication that he didn't pass out. 

The only lucid one in this room, you reach over with your clean hand, wiping the stray tear out from under Rhett's eye, letting him lean into it. You don't know when the sniffles started, but now that they've started, it'll be a while before they stop.

"I know we agreed to spend the night over here," Bob croaks; it's a question of whether his mouth even moves or not, "but I think tonight is one of those nights where we would be better off in a hotel."

Rhett nips at your fingers as they drift away from his cheek, "I bet now you're glad I was too damn lazy to carry our luggage in."

Every ounce of your body would rather play a night of Tetris and try to squeeze all three of your frames into this old, full-size bed. Uncaring of the rowdy guests downstairs and of what could happen if the wrong person kicked in Rhett's old, questionably sturdy bedroom door. 

Alas, Bob is the word of reason, and you find yourself leaning into Rhett's side as you waddle back downstairs. An ache between your legs and Rhett with a hell of a limp; Bob is the only one of you remotely sane, even has the forethought to shove the bed comforter in the wash before stumbling out to the car to join you and Rhett.

You vividly recall the sight of Bobby crawling into the driver's seat because that's when Rhett leaned over and kissed your cheek first, just to get a rise out of your WSO. But the next time you open your eyes, you're lying in an unfamiliar hotel bed, surrounded by two very, very familiar bodies, whilst unidentified vehicles drive on your naked belly. Wheels tickle your skin as they venture further, vaulting over your breasts; Rhett crashes at your waistband, and Bob sticks a landing on Rhett's ass.

"Ow!" 

"That's what you get for riding me without enough prep."

"It wouldn't have been an issue if you weren't hung like a goddamn..." Rhett falls silent, suddenly aware that you're awake. Like a switch has flipped, his features soften, "good morning, baby doll."

Next to you, Bob's wracked with an earth-shattering yawn, "You feeling okay, peaches?" His nose is so cold that it almost distracts from the kiss he presses to your shoulder. Almost. "I don't think you even so much as stirred when I carried you in last night."

Last night...good lord. 

"Was last night real?" You're sure it was, but...wow. It feels like recalling a fever dream.

"The pain in my ass says yes," Rhett murmurs, fumbling with his toy car, "'m never touchin' chocolate again."

Bob parks his car on Rhett's ass in favor of draping his arm over you, "I'd still like to have a few words with Perry."

You have half the mind to take over for the now-abandoned toy, but you can't bring yourself to move even a muscle. Not sure if you even have the strength, actually. "What's stopping you?"

"Don't wanna..." another yawn overtakes him, "move."

Now it's Rhett's turn to yawn, squirming closer to you until he's able to throw his leg over top of yours. In a few hours, you're sure he'll have something more to say, hell to raise with Perry, a destroyed childhood home to fix, but for now, he's perfectly content to simply snuggle up. Driving his toy car up and down your belly until your conversation with Bob unravels into sleepy-eyed silence as well.

You really should move the toys before you fall asleep. Someone is inevitably going to roll overtop of one and wake up to a painful hunk of metal digging into their side. But that's going to be a problem that will be dealt with down the road when it happens. 

And maybe, just maybe, you'll make a well-informed chocolate purchase later in the afternoon. 

[jamneuromain]

Jam, in honor to the song I was just listening I propose a battle for our reader.

😠 + 😉 with Andy VS Steve. Steve was your first love, Andy is your current amazing love. Fight fight fight (not physical obviously lol🥊!

hmmm.... It's such a tough call! But since Andy is your current amazing love, I rule for-

Ugh I hate ex-bf being all gloating and smug when you meet again

Not Him

Previous Steve Rogers x You; Andy Barber x You

Warning: Ex-Steve, Reader is in her late 20s, Andy a few years older than reader (but not mentioned specifically). None?

Summary: You met someone unexpected, your ex, Steve, on your way to your class. What's the worst that could happen? Answer: Andy happened.

A/N: Hiya! Sorry it took so long to get it out :( I've been clearing my draftbox as best as I can.

Someone called out your name behind your back, and you instinctively snapped your head in that direction.

Blonde, built, and that smile-

"Oh, Steve. Hi." You instantly recognized the man from your past.

You met Steve when you attended high school. While he was the famous football quarterback for the school team, you were practically nobody, and if it weren't for a class you shared, you wouldn't even know each other in your separate lives.

One thing led to another, and you became high school sweethearts, before breaking up a few months later.

"Hey." He jogged up to you. That sunshine-dazzling smile nearly splitting his face in two, "It's been... what, ten years? Wow..." He exclaims, carefully observing you from head to toe.

"Yeah, I mean, I haven't seen you since ... the prom?" You casually switched the pile in your hand to the other, smoothing your T-shirt.

Oh yes, the high school prom where you had two dances before he spent the whole night with the pretty British girl with a posh accent. What's her name? Petra? Penny? Next day, your phone was blasted with Instagram notifications telling you from all aspects and angles how they kissed as Prom King and Queen. Not that you didn't know it already, when you were there, under the stage.

"You-uh heading somewhere?" He pointed at your stack of papers, teasing ever so slightly, "I've seen you still not giving up on studying, huh?"

"Well, I-"

"I'm working as a coach now," He interrupted before you could finish your sentence, flashing his team jacket before your eyes, even tapping on the chest where the team name is visible to any man within eight feet if they weren't complete blind.

"Wow." You nodded, playing along, "Uni team, impressive."

Too bad you were never a decent sports fan that could share Steve's enthusiasm as to which legendary figure saved the day with a ball in their hands - nor did you find being a coach "impressive" ... or intrigued, for that matter, because being in front of glamouring Steve fucking Rogers made you shrink back to your high school self-image again: a small, inconspicuous, socially unidentifiable shadow of a being that you could barely recognize. And yet, the contrast between Steve and you reminded you every single time, that you do not belong to a world of his, a world where books and glasses are symbols of "nerds" or "geeks" and are perfectly fine to make fun of, a world where if you don't like sports - or not being a potential athlete, you should be eliminated in every social context.

"Yup." He popped the "p" with his full lips, "If you want the tickets next season-" Steve pointed towards himself with both thumbs, the lop-sided smile made him look smug as ever, "This guy is your go-to-guy."

More like your never-go-to guy. You scoffed, adjusting your expression to a small smile as soon as he turned his focus on you, "Sorry, I think I need to head to my next class."

"C'mon-" Steve dragged his tone almost annoyingly, "Skip it. Don't you have some time for me, for old time's sake?"

You could have ten more minutes for him before the next class. But you didn't want to. Which was the point.

"Hey, honey." Came a voice behind your back, startling you just a little. An arm draped around your shoulders, squishing you into a familiar embrace, "I've been calling."

You let out a sigh of relief. More so when the owner of this familiar voice took the stack of papers from your arms into his own, and rubbed your sore arm for having to hold the pile for quite a while.

"Sorry." You apologized to your beloved boyfriend Andy, "I must've silenced my phone during the class."

" 's okay." Andy pressed a kiss to your temple, whispering, "Wanted to ask you about lunch anyway. Nothing important." Andy slowly moved his eyes away from yours, and acted as if he had just seen Steve, a 6-foot man who appeared out of nowhere, "Who do we have here? Honey, would you mind introducing?"

"Sure. This is my ex, Steve, from high school. Steve, this is Andy, my boyfriend."

The moment the word "ex" escaped from your lips, you became aware instantly that your boyfriend had entered his suit mode, every available muscle tensing up in his body, and like a good huntsman, ready to strike when he sees the glimpse of a failure of his opponent. Where you hoped that "high school" from your introduction would calm his nerves, it certainly achieved the opposite when you heard your boyfriend say: "Oh..." in a thoughtful way, "the quarterback-captain, am I right?" as he extended his hand to shake Steve's.

Yup. It definitely made Andy slightly on edge.

"I'm part of the coaching team on campus, actually." Steve flashed his identity proudly before Andy, shaking Andy's hand in an equally firm grip, "Go Falcons."

"Oh..." said Andy again, more thoughtfully, "I'm a professor here in the Law School - You wouldn't happen to be the coach assistant of Karl?"

This just turned more competitive than you would think. Yet, it did bring a tinge of amusement when Andy confirmed your suspicion that Steve was too young to be made a coach, while the position of coach assistant was for brainless jocks who did all the dirty work coaches didn't want to, the heavy-lifting and paperworks, for instance.

"Well," Steve sneered, "I thought dating a student was improper conduct, Professor."

"Excuse me?" Andy raised his brows. So did you.

"You heard me." Steve nodded towards you, "Her, a student, obviously. It would be a great unfortunate if the dean might hear about such a rumour somewhere, wouldn't it?"

He said almost challengingly.

Wow. Typical Steve as ever. The girl he dated after prom, the British girl, was rumoured to have had a bad break-up previously. According to gossip that ran in the school bathroom, the British girl was told that her ex was cheating - which turned out to be a false alarm, but they broke up anyway.

Now you guessed you knew who was the little birdie that shared the false information with that poor girl.

Andy snorted out laughter. The corner of his lips could barely contain themselves as he struggled to keep a straight face, "Marvelous." Andy clapped - more like tapping his palm with the other hand, before asking for your permission, "Should you do this or should I?"

You scoffed. Really scoffed in front of the glorious quarterback that you liked a decade ago, "For your information, Steve, I'm working as a lecturer at this university. So, go start your devious little plan elsewhere. If you don't mind, I have a class to teach - C'mon, Andy."

You dragged Andy by his arm and led him out of the battlefield.

"Nice." Andy commented, not bothering to look back at his opponent, with a pleasing grin that was probably going to mold on his face for all eternity. "Did you see the look on that guy's face? Spectacular. So proud of you, Honey."

"Yeah, not my best moment having to face a dickhead-ex." You huffed out, "Jesus, why didn't I know he was that big of a jerk when I started dating him?"

"I know," Andy said, sympathetically, "Don't worry though, I noticed that your choice of man has had a significant change for the better."

You shot him a dirty glare, which Andy took, feigning he just got hit on the chest.

"Sorry, no joking, got it." Andy made a pained face which caused you to involuntarily grin. Quickly abandoning the idea of the ex in his mind, Andy finally returned to the topic for which he came to find you, "What's for lunch again? Cafeteria?"

Find Jammy's 500 Follower's Celebration here 👈

Questions? Comments? Requests? 👉Send them to my inbox 👂

[iobsessoverfictionalmen]

Midnight Roses (2)

This fic contains canon-typical violence and behaviours, manipulation, mentions of death, murder, orphans, pain, blood, blood drinking, torture, memory manipulation, prison, and criminals.

Chapter 2

The relief on Aro’s face as you stepped into the throne room was visible for everyone to see.

“Our family is whole again.”  He purred, “Welcome home (Name).”

You grinned, “I apologise for the delay in my return.  There were a few pests I needed to deal with.”

“And have they been?” Alabaster inquired.

You shook your head and gazed at your friend with a touch of annoyance, “If they weren’t dealt with, I wouldn’t be standing here right now.”

“Just checking.  Claymore told me to say hello.”

“Please give my regards to him.”  You replied before greeting Sulpicia, Athenodora, Felix, Jane, and Alec.

Moments later, you climbed the dais and Aro held out his hand.  Without hesitation, you placed your hand in his.  Aro’s eyes glazed over as he viewed your memories.

“You did well,” he praised, releasing your hand.

You greeted Caius with a nod which he returned and after promising to sit down with him for a game of chess, you made your way over to Marcus’ throne.  When you were close enough, the King rested his elbow on the arm of his throne and you linked your fingers with his.

Had you not had visitors, Marcus would have pulled you onto his lap and held you close.  You felt a brief stab of resentment that that wasn’t the case.

“You’re Marcus’ mate!” A golden-eyed, auburn vampire cried.

“And you’re rude.”  Alabaster snapped back. 

“Edward, control yourself.”  Aro chided.

“So, you’re the mind-reader Aro told me about,” you fixed the young-looking vampire with a glare.

“Indeed he is.”  Aro allowed.  “Permit me to introduce you to the Cullens.”

Quickly Aro introduced you to each member of the Cullen family.  Aro introduced Bella last, as she was the youngest of the family, and you focused on her as Caius spoke.

“To further prove that your relationship with Edward is not a good one, can you explain why you were okay with Edward climbing into your room at night to watch you sleep repeatedly?”

“That crosses so many lines,” you spoke before Bella could.�� “At the very least, it’s breaking and entering.”

Bella winced, “He said it was soothing.”

“I’m noticing a pattern here,” Jane remarked.  “Everything seems to come down to Edward’s wants and desires.  I believe that is called manipulation and it has no part in a meaningful relationship.”

“I agree,” Rosalie spoke.  Had you met her when you were at Camp before you met the Volturi and found out that you were Marcus’ mate, you would have asked her for styling tips.  There was a casual elegance to her that you found yourself admiring.

“Rest assured, we will definitely be bringing this to Carlisle and Esme’s attention,” she continued.

“There’s no need for that.”  Edward protested, “I was there to protect Bella from harm.  Yes, I did find it soothing but my main intention was to protect Bella.”

“I find that very hard to believe,” Alabaster leant forwards.  “Despite the liberties that some immortals take in our world,” each member of the Volturi knew that he was referencing the Greek gods and not the vampires around the globe, “there are lines that even they do not cross.  Well, except for one immortal.”

“Yes, but he’s never been very good with self-control.”

Alabaster immediately understood who you were referring to.

“What happens now?” Jasper inquired.  There was an undertone in his voice similar to the one Sulpicia had when she spoke.  Like Sulpicia, the undertone in Jasper’s voice suggested that he was much older than he appeared to be but you doubted that he was as old as Sulpicia who had been the last Roman demigod born before Rome fell.

“That is part of our dilemma,” Aro admitted.  “The last time that you visited us, you were permitted to leave under the condition that you were changed into a vampire in the near future as we believed that you were truly Edward’s mate.  Knowing what we do now,” Aro gazed stonily at Edward.  “I do not believe that it would be in any of our best interests if you were to leave here with Edward and resume your relationship as if nothing had occurred.”

“You’re going to force me to stay here?!” The volume of Bella’s voice and the outrage in her tone had the Volturi guard snarling.

“NO!”  Edward roared before going rigid.

“Perhaps then, you would prefer my second suggestion.”  Aro continued as if there had been no interruption. 

“I’m not listening to anything you have to say until she” Bella shot a venomous look at Jane, “stops hurting him.”

“And the gods thought I was petulant,” Alabaster muttered.  You did your best to stifle a snort of amusement.

Edward remained immobile on the floor.

“Jane, you’ve had your fun.”  Aro chided.  “While some of us have eternity to wait until Edward learns manners, others do not.”

Clearly disappointed, Jane released Edward from her control and the young vampire laid on the floor panting unnecessarily.

“My second suggestion is that members of the Volturi guard and perhaps a King,” Aro looked at Marcus from the corner of his eye, “journey with you to Forks.  There we will monitor your relationship with Edward and should we deem it necessary, permanently dissolve the relationship.”

“You have that much power?” Bella gasped.

Demetri smiled mockingly, “And more.”

Marcus’ thumb rubbed reassuringly across your knuckles as he tried to ease your mind.  You knew that he wasn’t fond of leaving Volterra and would not do so unless he absolutely had to.  You forced down the desire to complain.  You had just returned to your mate and now Aro wanted to send him on a mission despite his clear reluctance?  It wasn’t fair.

“You know why he would suggest Marcus over Caius.”  The more rational side of your brain whispered, “Marcus is known for his skills throughout the vampiric world as a diplomat while Caius is known as the ‘blood-thirsty one.’  If a situation were to break out in Forks, Marcus would diffuse it unless it threatened your safety or the Volturi’s.  Then he could be even blood-thirstier than Caius.”

“May I propose a third option, Aro?”

Startled, you gazed at Alabaster who was regarding the Vampire King with a contemplative expression.  Aro’s lips twitched and you realised that Aro had planned this.  The Cullens had acted exactly the way that he knew they would.

Silently and with an amused lilt to his lips, Aro gave Alabaster permission to voice his option.

“I propose that I cast a time distortion spell which will allow Bella and the Cullens to remain in Italy for a week.  Then based on the observations we have made with our own eyes; we shall pass judgement and decide upon our next course of action.”

Emmett stepped forward, “If we spend a week here, how much time will pass in Forks?”

“One hour.”  Alabaster replied.

Emmett grinned, “His proposal sounds reasonable.”

“EMMETT!” Alice shrieked in betrayal.

Rosalie’s jaw locked as she glared at her ‘sister.’  “Be careful how you address my mate.”  She warned threateningly, “Emmett speaks the truth.”

“I agree,” Jasper drawled. 

“Even if Alice and Edward disagree with Alabaster’s proposal, like I think they’re going to, there’s one more opinion to consider.  It’s Bella’s.  The question is: will she agree with Alabaster’s proposal?  Or will she try and maintain her standing in the Cullen family by siding with Edward and Alice?”

“Will the magic have different effects on the different residents of Forks?”  Bella questioned.

Alabaster arched a critical brow, “No.  My magic does not discriminate between what some might call the mythological beings of the world.  One hour for a human will be one hour for a vampire.”

“In that case,” Bella chewed her bottom lip for a few moments before coming to a decision.  “Your proposal makes sense.”

“Splendid!” Aro crowed triumphantly, “Then we shall proceed with Alabaster’s plan.  Cast the spell if you would, Alabaster.”  The delight on his face was visible for everyone in the throne room to see.  Caius, Athenadora and Sulpicia, as well as the guard, had cottoned on to the fact that Aro had manipulated the visitors and it had turned out exactly as he planned.  There were varying degrees of amusement, admiration, and victory on the faces of the vampires in the room. 

Said demigod climbed to his feet and stood at his impressive height of six feet and two inches and focused on his jeans brushing some imaginary dirt off of them.  When his head snapped back up, the varied gasps from the Cullens told you that his green eyes were glowing with the power that he had inherited from his mother.

“Incantare: tardus tempus!” He boomed.

The air around Alabaster flashed green for the tiniest second before the air around the demigod flattened itself out like a wave and pushed forwards rising and accelerating at a rapid, increasing speed.  It passed over the Cullens and Bella.  You had the oddest feeling that the magical wave knew exactly who its intended target was.  Knowing Alabaster as well as you did, you wouldn’t be surprised if the demigod had focused on the destination and beings prior to releasing his magic.

“Now that that has been resolved,” Aro stated smoothly when he was certain that Alabaster’s spell had left Volterra, “perhaps we should show our guests to the rooms that they will be using for the duration of their stay?”

[aro-absol]

Aro Ring Guide for closeted folk

How to justify your specific ring choices without coming out

If you still live with your parents and can not buy an aro ring without them knowing, they might ask you why exactly it has to be a white ring on the left middle finger. Also works for friends and acquaintances that you cannot or do not want to come out to.

This is what I did when I bought my aro ring and my parents started asking questions.

Just because it worked for me doesn't mean there's a guarantee it'll work for you as well. You know your situation better than me. Be safe!

Why a ring?

This will probably be easier if you're a girl (or your parents think you are), as it is more socially acceptable for women to accessorize than it is for men. However, throughout history it was common for powerful men to wear rings as a symbolism for power and wealth. It also can be a great way for self-expression.

Why the left hand?

If you're right-handed: The left hand is your non-dominant hand. You could say it makes you uncomfortable to wear a ring on your dominant hand because it can be hindering in day to day tasks such as holding a pen.

If you're left-handed: You can say that you like wearing a ring on your dominant hand better because it is more visible. You use your dominant hand more often and therefore more people will notice your ring. Alternatively, if you're wearing a watch (which is typically worn on the non dominant side), you can say you want a more balanced out look so you wear the ring on the opposite hand. This is what many style guides literally recommend when it comes to wearing rings.

Why white?

If you have light skin: You can say that you prefer a ring color that doesn't clash so much with your skin. You want a ring but you like to keep it more subtle. Admittedly, this works better if you're not wearing any other rings. If they ask you why you didn't choose a colorful ring, you can say that you want to be able to wear it with any outfit and don't want to worry about the colors of your clothes clashing with the color of the ring.

If you have dark skin: You can say you want a ring that stands out to your skin. Because if you buy a ring and wear it, you want people to notice. And white is more obvious on your skin than black or a dark metal. If they ask you why you didn't choose a colorful ring, you can say that you want to be able to wear it with any outfit and don't want to worry about the colors of your clothes clashing with the color of the ring.

And if you're somewhere in between, you can always say that you want some contrast to your skin but not too much.

Why the middle finger?

According to some websites I found (x/x/x/x), a ring on the middle finger doesn't really have an assigned meaning. Rings on the middle finger are mostly a fashion statement, apparently. Although a ring on the middle finger might symbolize power, balance and stability. But all in all, nothing that'll make your parents suspicious. I do not know how reliable those sources actually are but they are the first things to come up when you search for the meaning of rings on the middle finger online.

However, googling "white ring left middle finger" leads to aro rings! If you think your parents might google that, be careful!

Other search engines might not give you aro ring results in the top results. (For example, Ecosia does not.)

I hope this helps some of y'all!

[drop-dead-dropout]

NEW USERNAME local-queer-disappointment -> drop-dead-dropout

unpinning my other post because i want to talk a little about me and this space that i've created! hi i'm alex and i dropped out of high school twice lol

i think a dni is stupid because people never listen anyways, which is why i haven't had one, but i still see the value in at least telling people who this little corner is for.

also YELL AT ME ON DISCORD I'M woahits_alex.mp3 IF U ASK ME ABOUT FIC RECS FOR MY FANDOMS I'LL CRY WITH HAPPINESS

anyways opinion stuff under the cut. you don't have to read it, and you don't even have to listen if you do, but i might argue with you (<- serial arguer) so if you want to avoid the Discourse here ya go.

you are welcome here:

- ALL queers. trans men, trans women, nonbinary, intersex, poc queers, xenogender, "contradictory" labels like mspec gays/lesbians lesboys/turigirls/sapphileans (omg it's me!!), slur reclaims, detransitioners (who are not transphobic), mspec lesbians, aro/ace and all variations thereupon, unlabeled, questioning, etc. i love all of you. i love the community that we share. we are family, whether or not some of us want to be, and exclusionism is Not Funky Fresh!!

- pro Palestine!! i don't always rb posts as much as i used to (i am scared of spreading misinformation) but i think i'll start doing that again! (don't forget your daily click guys)

- jewish people. i am specifically adding this one to say that because of the shitty Everything, i've seen a lot of concerning antisemitic stuff recently so i'm just, yk, putting this out there.

- disabilities/cluster b disorders/systems/AAC users. i am not any of these things so if i say/do something out of line please tell me! but i love you guys and you're absolutely welcome here.

- proshippers (if this bothers you block and move on)

- furries. not personally one of y'all but i think you're neat and you make cool art :]

- literally, like, anyone, as long as you're not a dick

you are not welcome here:

- terfs, transphobes, exclusionists, anti-mspec, anti-lesboy, and people who think transandrophobia is "fake" or whatever. go away i don't like you (or at least be prepared to be blocked or yelled at)

- similarly to last, anyone who starts queer infighting or hates on less visible queers/strangers who don't "look" queer, the whole "bi girl's straight bf" nonsense (i don't care if you think someone is cishet. you have no way of knowing that. let's stop hating people for immutable characteristics and start having thoughtful criticisms of people's actions thanks)

- ZIONISTS. BYE BYE

- (but also antisemites because come on now let's notttt. judiasm ≠ zionism)

- ableists, fatphobia, racists/bigots, general dickheads

- antishippers (again, you can either leave now or expect to be argued with)

other general stuff:

- i accept anonymous asks! and also non anonymous ones. ask me shit idk

- i am autistic and VERY gullible. if i reblog a "bait" post, or something that's clearly fake or a joke with a genuine reaction, i'm probably not playing some 5d irony chess i'm probably just stupid. sorry y'all i'm trying :\

- i don't rb nsfw. not as, like, a rule, i just don't see the value in doing so lol. if i ever did i'd tag it and probably update this

UPDATE: thought i should clarify, i don't rb nsfw but i do rb nsfw humor, like dick jokes and stuff. hope there's no confusion

- i argue with people!! i enjoy arguing with people!! usually it's in replies and not reblogs but still. if you are allergic to stuff like that maybe don't follow me? i also rb "discourse" posts, mostly transmasc support stuff and callouts of transandrophobia, general solidarity stuff with the trans community or lgbt community as a whole, proship stuff, politics, current events, that kinda thing.

- this is, shockingly, supposed to be a fandom blog! (i got carried away; i always do.) current fandoms include: ace attorney (the one this blog was supposed to be about), doctor who (childhood hyperfixation come back to bite my ass), and splatoon (no excuse). also mha is basically my abusive boyfriend stockholm syndroming me to stay at this point but i'm trying to get better (not). you can find the records of my failing recovery at @alex-is-losing-sleep-over-krbk /hj (i also sometimes shamelessly rb this blog's posts over there lol)

and i guess since i'm mentioning fandoms, here are my fav ships: wrightworth, klapollo, franmaya, thoschei, pearlina, agent 24, & cuttletavio.

anyways, that's about it. love you all :]

[buryam-soul]

Hey, it's aro visibility day so I thought I'd ask, if you're comfortable sharing, how did you realize that you're aro? 

-PSA

Oh hey I forgot that that's today! Thanks for reminding me ^^

Personally, I didn't have a singular aro moment. Instead it went more like this:

Early primary school: "Ugh, getting married to a boy sounds so tiring. I know I'll have to do it when I grow up, but still...."

Late primary school to middle school: "Hm. Girls are pretty. Oh, but girls marrying girls is illegal here. What a hassle. Guess I won't get married after all." (doesn't get all that torn up about it)

Early high school: "Wait. Some boys look good actually. But getting married still seems like such a chore. Oh, wow, some people mentioned in history/religion classes got 'so busy with their [thing] that they never married'? So cool! I wanna be like that."

Mid high school: (reading something on the internet) "Huh? Asexuality? I guess that fits? Some of these people are ace and something else so they date and marry still, but I'm definitely not one of those. I can still use this, right?"

Maybe like a month or two after the above: (more internet reading) "Oh! There's a separate word for not dating! Aromantic! Cool! Yeah, that fits 100%, guess I'm aroace!" (<- guy who would have a separate bisexual awakening years later)

Additional Context: The focus on marriage rather than dating was just me being a "good" Muslim girl. I have much the same feelings about dating and marriage nowadays -- glad it makes people happy, please keep me out of it.

So, yeah! It's less of a realization, more of a "I pretty much knew my whole life and just needed a word for it" kind of deal.

[nrc-asteryn-crew]

[ The video starts with a greeting.

"Aros~!!!" Pomefiores Cameraman calls out, filming the corridor. "Wait shit— don't tell vil said that." The camera is fumbled with, grumbling can be heard.

The view turns to the window, and a sleek glove and black arm are seen opening the window. The camera zooms in on two students, chasing a third and fighting each other on the way.

The chasers, nor recognisable, were Scarabias Tiger and Octavinelles Great Shark. The chased, the Mouse of Heartslabyul.

"Geez, I wonder what he did today."

The video ends with a wave to the camera. ]

And here I was, trying to make a super cool video for you, Aros. My crew is very fight happy. It has me concerned even!

Have a great day you all~

— Pomefiores Cameraman, the crew @nrc-extras

Edit; concerned? Don't make me laugh. You threw your glove at me.

— Scarabias Tiger, the crew @nrc-extras

You have recieved (1) Notification from Aros Clairze-Allaine , @nrc-asteryn-crew ]

[ There is a slight pause, for a couple of the seconds, while the camera is propped up on what seemed to be a specially made stand, proper lighting coming through the back, just as one would expect from a celebrity like Aros was.

The phone's camera was positioned so that Aros' upper torso and face were visible and centered in the camera, much like one would present themselves in a typical video call.

"Hello, Ah- ...Raven? Is- it alright to call you that? I'll assume so, for now, however please feel free to correct me if there is another term you'd rather me use."

He greeted, with a small, polite nod.

"It is certainly... a change of pace to have a video such as this in my inbox. Your 'super cool video' has been received with amusement. Your crew seem like a lively bunch, as is the 'crew' I too find myself in. They are... very, 'fight happy', as well.

"My my, I am no such thing! Your words truly wound me, Aros."

Another voice chimed in, sounding to be farther away from the camera than Aros was. Aros stepped back, and turned his head around, for a brief moment, solidifying this belief, scoffing, though fondly.

"Would it kill you to not eavesdrop for once in your life, Crimson?"

Aros spoke exasperatedly, bringing his attention back to the camera after he had glared half-heartedly at Crimson, and spun the phone into a landscape position instead, the camera now capturing more of his room behind him, featuring Crimson sprawled out onto his bed, messing up what was otherwise quite a neat area.

"Who knows! I certainly wouldn't want to try it. Who knows what would happen!"

Crimson responded, with an exaggerated, yet obviously fake gasp, his tone filled with cheek and sarcasm alike.

Aros rolled his eyes at Crimson's antics, before addressing the camera again.

"I shan't drag this on too much longer, though I do send my well wishes to... uhm- was that... Mouse, perhaps? And Tiger and Shark. I hope they haven't gotten themselves into... too much trouble."

He spoke, with a slight chuckle, while Crimson can be seen grinning amusedly at Aros as he spoke, sitting on the edge of his bed now.

"If there's anything you need, Raven, even if trivial, feel free to keep reaching out."

"Say Hi to Shark-ie for me, whoever's watching! Hm... I do wonder which traits of theirs are more shark-like. Ehe~"

Crimson piped up, having suddenly popped up behind Aros, in a tone that sounded equal parts teasing, and serious, throwing up finger guns at the camera, accompanied by a playful wink.

"Sure. And that, I suppose."

Aros tagged on, about to give the camera a wave when-

"Oh oh! If you find out what Mouse-y did to get chased by the others, I'd be very amused to kno-ww~!"

Crimson continued, in a singsong voice, giving the camera finger hearts, seeming very content to be messing with Aros, as well as the people who would inevitably be watching the video later, all at once.

"As long as you're not planning on using it for blackmail, or some kind of business leverage..."

Aros responded with a sigh, raising an eyebrow at Crimson, who only giggled in response, blowing Aros a kiss with teasing grin.

Aros just sighed, and turned back to (finally) give a polite wave to the camera, Crimson giving a much bigger wave in the back, before the video abruptly ends. ]

- Aros (and Crimson)

[askanaroace]

This year, after realizing there was no Aro Day, a team of aromantic warriors decided to organize the first Aromantic Spectrum Visibility Day on August 25th!

In celebration of the first Aromantic Spectrum Visibility Day, the Carnival of Aros would like to hear about your experiences! To participate, write a blog post or create content related to the theme – any platform is acceptable as long as it is public and has a link. We have provided some prompts below, but you can write about anything you want surrounding aromantic visibility/ASVD. Then, submit the link in the comments below or through an email to carnivalofaros@gmail.com.

If you don’t have a way to host your submission, email it to carnivalofaros@gmail.com, and we’ll take care of it for you. Submissions are due August 31, 2023 end of day whatever your timezone. A round up post with all of the submissions we receive will be posted after that.

The Prompts:

Did you mark this day? How so?

What kind of expectations do you have for our new holiday?

What would you like to see done for future ASVD celebrations?

What does it mean to you to have an Aromantic Spectrum Visibility Day?

How do you think you might have been impacted if there was an Arospec Day when you were questioning or noticing you were different from your peers?

What ideas do you have to spread awareness and increase visibility of ASVD?

What gives you pride about being aromantic that you want others to know?

What’s something about aromanticism you would like to teach others in honor of Aromantic Spectrum Visibility Day?

We’re looking forward to seeing everyone’s thoughts! Hope everyone had a fantastic Aromantic Spectrum Visibility Day!

Further ASVD points of contact can be found across the web:

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/aromanticspectrumday/ Twitter: https://twitter.com/arospectrumday/ Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/aromanticspectrumday/ Profile: https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100084223555690

[ilovedthestars]

it's the first aro visibility day, ever! It's also my first pride month where I consider myself to be part of the aro community. there's something about that that I find very satisfying, almost comforting. this is new for me, but in some ways it's new for all of us. it's nice to feel like i'm not figuring myself out all alone.

i already did questioning round 1, back in middle and early high school, and came to the conclusion that I was queer (i used queer to describe myself more often than gay or lesbian, but that was the kind of queer that i meant.) i figured out that i thought girls were really pretty, and couldn't really see myself ending up with a guy, and could sort of see myself dating a girl someday, and once I got that figured out I thought I was mostly done. orientation solved, check! just in time to join the high school QSA and wear rainbows during june and joke with my friends about how everyone we knew was queer.

in retrospect, i definitely sort of knew that there was more going on, even when i went thru that first round of questioning. i learned about aspec identities in middle school, via the internet. i distinctly remember a late-night text conversation with a friend in which i told her I thought I might be demisexual (i think my own sexual and romantic orientations were tied together in my mind at the time, and still sort of are, although it's more complicated now.) I was maybe twelve years old, and had never had a crush, and had stumbled upon some words that maybe explained why I wasn't even sure what a crush would feel like. My friend pointed out that lots of people don't have crushes until they're older, and it didn't necessarily have to mean i was aspec. I don't begrudge her this--at the time it was comforting to hear. I think I sort of put the idea away on a "more data required" basis, and didn't think hard about it for years.

it wasn't until within the last six months or so that I started seriously thinking about the possibility that i might be aspec again. i found a fandom community that was full of proud aspec people, and conversations with them started to ring some bells. I read Angela Chen's Ace, which also described some experiences that clicked with me. it occurred to me that while girls are pretty, and the abstract idea of a romantic relationship sounds like it could be fun, i still have yet to actually think "i want to date this specific person." it's always been a pure hypothetical, maybe-one-day thing. i started to think--okay, so maybe i might be some kind of aro or ace. possibly. perhaps.

so now i'm still deep in the quagmire of questioning round 2, trying to fit together "girls are pretty" and "i think would hypothetically date someone" and "i don't actually know if i've ever felt romantic attraction in my life" into something that I can understand. i still feel weird about calling myself aro--i don't feel like I'm certain yet. i think i'm just starting to get to a place where i feel comfortable saying that i'm somewhere on the a-spectrums. but i'm really grateful have found a community where I feel like I can be uncertain and still be included. thanks to the people who have helped me down this road so far--you know who you are, and i love you.

happy aromantic visibility day, and happy pride, to all the aros (and possibly-aros, and maybe??? aros, and i-think-i-might-be-aro-but-i'm-not-sures) out there 💜

[volterran-wine]

After going through your tumblr, I have a question. We know Marcus knows what Aro did. We know he's planning something. In the AU where Aro meet his mate after Didyme is already dead, would Marcus gets revenge on Aro by hurting his new mate or would he prefers to not hurt someone that has nothing to do with the demise of Didyme even if he himself do not care for that person on a personal level? I feel like as he has known Sulspicia for millenia, the situation isn't the same as the one where someone foreign enter the equation. Would you mind sharing your thoughts about that if you feel so inclined? Thank you.

• — 𝐁𝐞𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐮𝐬

Marcus’ inclinations to harm anyone Aro cares about heavily depends on what sort of historical events has occurred and when it happens in the timeline.

As an example, if Aro felt another mate pull right after Marcus found out I would wager that he would harm them, if he met them today he probably would not; instead he would use them as a pawn in the greater game he is playing by himself. Marcus is quite different from what he was like about two thousand years ago.

Sulpicia he would not hurt because he views her as a sister of sorts, and he could very visibly see how much Didyme’s death affected her. In his eyes that is not a fair trade because it would harm others besides Aro. Marcus’ grudge lies solely with his brother and he will therefore not harm her.

When Carlisle showed up to Volterra things changed however, Aro was paranoid about wether Marcus would do something. To this day he is. At this point in time Aro has accepted that Marcus will do something, at some point; and that is the type of psychological warfare Aro hates the most. He is simply waiting for whatever his brother has in store.

There’s a reason why I always say beware of Marcus.