#do you think my brain knows that????????? no!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[tswkento]

sometimes you say and do stuff that makes gojo’s brain short circuit because of how cute you are. for example:

he could be complimenting your look for the date he had planned out and you’d smile bashfully, murmuring, “wanted to look nice for you, toru” and he is gone, literally barely keeping himself from smothering you in a hug.

or like the day you did his laundry for the first time; he found you folding his clothes in the bedroom — not just clothes, no, clean and ironed clothes(he wasn’t even sure if he had an iron at home) — he glanced back at the bathroom suspiciously, where a full basket of dirty stuff was supposed to be, and then at you with a curious question of, “hey, just asking, did you do my laundry, sweetheart?”

you stopped folding and looked up at him unsurely, your eyes wide with weariness, “do you think i shouldn’t have?” and gojo is on his way to tackle you down onto the bed and pepper your face with kisses because what the hell.

your fingers always find their way into his tresses whenever satoru lays his head on your lap and when you see his thoroughly pleased expression you always let out that specific kind of giggle, looking down at him so lovingly that satoru’s heart might just explode from how happy he feels. it’s crazy how you don’t even realise it.

or when you’re changing clothes and satoru passes by, gaze catching your figure through the small gap between the wall and the door to your shared bedroom, and he pokes his head through it to smirk at you, waiting for you to register his presence. and when you do, with a surprised squeak and an embarrassed chuckle following it, you try to make him leave with a weak whine, “toru! leave, i’m changing!”

satoru can’t help his own chuckles, “i saw you naked last night, baby!” you only hug your clothes to your body and jump closer to push his head away and shut the door. gojo catches the red dusting your cheeks and feels his heart skip a beat before relenting to the pressure of the closed door and leaning against it with a hand on his heart.

subtle things you do also make him want to kiss you senseless, like when he wraps his arms around you from the back and you always put one of your hands on top of his, fingers weaving between his. or when you plant a fleeting kiss on his cheek before you run off because you are late for something. or when you fix his clothes for him — fuck, you don’t know what you do to him.

you make him act a lovesick fool, unaware of the heart eyes he gazes at you with 24/7, and satoru’s more than okay with it.

[charliemwrites]

Still thinking about yesterday’s post and the dynamic that fucking snatched up my brain worms in a vice grip.

Reader who is perfectly capable, has a well earned spot on her team. Who has safety net after safety net provided by the mere presence of the rest of 141. So much so that she doesn’t even remember what fear is. Living in that invincible bubble of “we’re the best because we look out for each other and we’re not going to let anything happen to each other”

And the day that bubble pops and you don’t even realize it yet. A chance encounter with a KorTac operative and you stole his kill right out from under him. Made eye contact in a shower of blood, maybe even threw him a cheeky grin, high on stims as you were.

You didn’t realize that you’d stepped outside the metaphorical bounds of your little safe zone, stepped right into the territory of a feral, untamed creature with sharp teeth and the scent of you cloying in his nose. A scent that made his blood sing a siren song of want.

It’s not just happenstance that you cross paths again. (Not that you know that). Hes been seeking you out, taking mission after mission in a dogged attempt to see you again. To see if it was more than a fluke.

And his impatience, his persistence, is rewarded with the silhouette of you, breaking a man’s neck with your thighs. (If the man weren’t surely dead, he’d wish he was for the crime of having your attention, of being smothered by your thighs, of being that close to your cunt.)

In your precious stealth gear, sleek and deadly, eyes sharp on the path ahead, not the shadow gathering behind you. He just watches you for a long while, soaking you up like a dry earth in a squall, letting you take root deep, deep within his being, in the place a soul should be. (You’re better than.)

He’s got your callsign now, whispered by one of your team members as their path intersects with yours. Narrowed eyes at the (too) friendly shake given to the hard mask covering your mouth and nose, the way your cheeks rounded with a grin beneath.

What was an interest has evolved instantaneously into an obsession. (Or devotion. Or love. They’re all the same to him, all the same kind of possession.)

He loves watching you fight as much as he loves watching you kill. He’s hard in his tac pants experiencing it this close, getting to feel each unforgiving strike in all the openings he leaves for you - invitations you always accept because you’re his good girl and you can’t resist, of course not.

He purrs when he gets you pinned to the wall, your eyes big, sparking with that animal knowledge that you’ve been bested by a bigger predator. That you’ve been won, claimed. To the victors go the spoils, and the only thing he’s lost is his restraint.

You’re panting and squirming beneath him, and he’s hypnotized, unable to do more than press closer, press harder to get you wriggling against him. Moaning softly when your heel digs a bruise into his calf, how you go still with a sort of realization.

“Again,” he rasps into your ear, “go on, pretty little hunter. Keep going. You’re so strong.”

But before you can, something over his shoulder steals your attention. Your eyes flick away from, where they should be. And he realizes that he been so consumed by you, intoxicated, that he missed the intrusion on your moment together.

In the aftermath, his gear smells like you. The place where he slipped his thigh between yours and pressed he swears smells like your cunt, heady perfume. He’s breathes it in as he fucks his tight fist, high on the memory of your strength testing itself against his.

He imagines the scent of him all over you in return. Going back to those men with his claim in your armor, wishes you’d taken the blade with you, his blood smearing your gloves, your shirt, your pants, staining your skin.

He cums to that thought, thick spurts all over a grainy print out of you from the op he first met you on, milky drops on the ink that forms your mask.

Soon, it’ll be reality.

[seasprincess]

JJ fic. I'm thinking sweet smut. Like almost goofy because that's just who he is, rarely super serious. And he and reader just know each other so well that things can be goofy, even during sex and neither of them care. Unprotected (if you're good with that). Then maybe reader finds out she's pregnant. Worried to tell JJ. But he's so thrilled.

bf!jj

a/n: I loveeed this ask

warnings: smut, pregnancy, unprotected s3x (wrap it pookies), brain rot.

“Have you got a condom?” As soon as the words leave your mouth the blonde, that’s on top of you, head pops up. He looks at you slightly confused. His hands stoping the rubbing against your lacy panties.

“I thought you were bringing them?” JJ says, his blue eyes looking into yours as he suddenly remembers.

He was supposed to bring them.

“Fuck sake.” He sighs as he runs his head, this isn’t the first time he’s had to run out and buy them during this intimate moments. He just a forgetful guy.

“Fuck it.” You say, not even thinking about it twice. You need this. He’s been touching you for too long. “You’ve been edging me f-“

“Edging.” He cuts off with a little snort and a smile. He’s so unserious it’s insane.

“Stop.”

“Sorry.”

You look up at him and lean up, pressing your soft lips against his. Slowly his slips his tongue into your mouth as his hands continue to touch, rub and caress you. He’s being soft today.

But the way he’s fiddling with the zipper of his jeans is not soft nor slow. Of course it gets stuck, and he’s just there trying to rip it open. Trying to unjam it with some huffs and puffs.

While he’s doing that you’re pulling down your panties, the fold air against your core making you flinch a bit. Before you lay back down and he lays back on top of you.

“Are you sure?” He asks as he looks at you. This isn’t the first time you’ve done it without protection but every time he checks. Make sure you’re certain.

“Yes.” You say with a nod of your head. You just can’t wait any longer.

Slowly JJ enters your cunt, your tight walls sucking him in as you let at a moan. JJ jokes about his size to everyone. Saying how big he is. But they weren’t jokes.

“Fuck mama. So tight.” He says before placing a kiss on your neck. His thrusts picking up. His hand coming to your neck, not to choke you. But to make it easier to pick up his speed. “Such a good girl.”

Your walls clench around him as your eyes screw shut. Whimpers filling the space of your bedroom.

“Please don’t stop.” You breathe out as you instinctively grab onto the duvet, knuckles turning white as you look at him. His stupid face smirking down at you before reattaching to your neck.

His face practically lives there now. Hes always kissing and sucking on your neck.

JJ’s free hand slips between your legs and starts rubbing. Rubbing that sensitive bud of yours. His cock twitching inside your pussy.

It doesn’t take long for both you and JJ to cum. His thrust slowing down as he looks at you.

Both of you panting before the blonde just has to open his stupid mouth.

“That was so skibidi.”

“Oh my god.”

You can’t believe it.

‘This can’t be real.’ You think to yourself as you look at those two lines. The two lines that can either be a blessing or a curse.

You don’t know how long you’ve been sat on the bath mat of your bathroom. I mean you can’t have a baby. Can you? You’re only eighteen living at your parents house dating a guy who only recently learnt the difference between there, their and they’re.

You can’t be parents.

You just can’t.

“Baby I’m here to hang.” The sound interrupts your thoughts. the very guy you were just thinking about. Knocking a tune on your bathroom door.

You sniff and dry your eyes, trying to get rid of any sign that you were crying.

But JJ heard everything.

“Hey, yn? You okay?” His concern is evident in his tone. He cares about you more than you’d ever know.

The bathroom door slowly opens and your eyes meet the blondes. Slowly making his way to you, crouching down and placing his hands on your knees. You’re silent. You can’t speak. Don’t know what to say if you were to open your mouth.

So you just hold the test.

JJ’s eyes follow your gaze to the test. His breath catching in the back of his throat.

You want to know how he feels, is he angry? Upset? Disappointed?

Actually he’s none of them.

“I’m going to be a dad?” He says excitedly. Immediately you look at him. Shocked by this response. He’s happy?

“Yeah.” You say quietly.

“I’m going to be a dad!” He says louder and takes off his hat before standing up. Pacing the bathroom and smiling. Yapping about all the things he’s going to do. How excited he is to have a child.

You should’ve never been worried. You’re going to be parents.

[beloveds-embrace]

Hello! Thank you for feeding us the angstier timeline of the dukedom au!! I live for angst

You don’t have to entertain this thought ofc, the angst and how good you write for my brain worms worming. I just can’t stop thinking about what would’ve happened if König wasn’t there and instead the duchess had to suffer all on her own

(Or better yet, if he was there but ended up also leaving the duchess for someone else or was killed protecting the duchess)

Reader having to endure everything on her own which eventually leads her to falling terribly ill and in the olden times we all know how a simple cold could turn into more and yield deadly results

The stress combined with the overall lack of appetite (and the food not cooked well at times to add to that… more angst (: ) as well as other factors rendered the reader terribly ill

Maybe she fell into a body of water and had to save herself, or maybe she was caught up in a rainy storm on a walk with no one offering her warm clothing or a cover up until she eventually managed to get back that leads to pneumonia

Maybe she gets injured but hides it until the blood loss gets to her and infection sets in

Just so many options and flavours of angst

Anyway, thank you for sharing your writing with us! Agin, you don’t have to engage with this, so please don’t feel pressured!! I’m just having many thoughts and am currently going feral /pos

WAITTT WAIT I LOVE THIS

Because imagine clinging to König, to your one singular source of comfort in a manor that has no room for you, and in the end, he leaves as well.

You had been telling yourself that you had been simply more imaginative lately; König was simply busy, he wasn’t growing more and more distant! The way he looks at you now compard to before hasn’t changed. At all. His responses were in hums and nods, noncommittal but that’s okay, sometimes you did not feel like speaking- like existing- either.

Until he stands in your office, the light from the windows reflecting off his armour. You had been happy to see him, a smile on your lips to be in the company of the only one who didn’t seem to despise you.

When he tells you that he will not be doing this anymore, it feels, for a very split second, like your heart shatters into a thousand tiny pieces. You can feel the shattering of each, single piece.

Better place. He says, pity in his eyes but no regret. He pauses for a second. I wish… the best for you.

König leaves you like that; staring after his back in abject horror. Every step he takes echoes in your ears, until you are left alone in your office, hands trembling, and your ears ringing.

After that day, everything practically crumbled. You crumbled.

Without him, the weight of your isolation became unbearable. The disdain of the household grew sharper once it became known your only solace was no longer there, the whispers more cutting. Meals came cold, uneaten. Sleep eluded you, and the constant stress gnawed away at your strength.

One fateful day, you went outside in a desperate bid to escape the suffocation. The air was crisp, the sky gray with the promise of rain, and yet you still did not turn back. You wandered farther than you intended, your steps aimless even as the first drops began to fall.

The storm came quickly afterwards, drenching you to the bone. Your thin cloak offered little protection, and the chill seeped deep into your skin. By the time you returned, trembling and soaked, no one was waiting to help you. No fire had been lit in your chambers; no warm blanket was offered, and no company was given.

The fever began that very night, burning through you with a strength that left you bedridden. Days passed in a haze of pain and delirium. The wound you had hidden- an injury from your fall in the storm- festered, the infection spreading rapidly through your weakened body. You hadn’t the strength to call for help, nor the faith that anyone would come even if you did hoarse out your voice in your attempts.

Only when your condition worsened and you really, truly disappeared out of view, the household finally took notice. Whispers swirled, faint echoes beyond the fog of your fading consciousness, and everyone became alert of your absence, meals returned untouched and maids reporting it’s weeks since they’d helped you with anything.

John sat in his study, nursing a glass of whiskey as the fire crackled in the hearth. He told himself your absence didn’t matter- that you were retreating because you’d finally realized the truth. But when he closed his eyes, he saw your face as it had been on your wedding day- hopeful, trusting, and unaware of the coldness that would greet you.

Simon found himself pacing the halls around your room more often than usual. He would glance toward your chambers but never step inside, convincing himself it wasn’t his concern. And yet, something about the silence unsettled him.

Johnny had begun to notice the meals sent to your chambers were left untouched, the plates returned barely touched or sometimes not taken at all. He hadn’t cared at first, dismissing it as you sulking because no one was giving you attention. But now the thought lingered- had you even been eating at all?

Even Kyle, with his sharp tongue and sharper gaze, felt the unease creeping in. He found himself hesitating when passing your door, his usual indifference cracking as guilt gnawed at him.

In the end, it’s Kyle who couldn’t stand the silence anymore. He stepped into your room, telling himself it was simply to prove to himself that you were fine and just- sulking.

The sight stopped him cold.

The room was dim, the curtains drawn, and the air heavy with the faint, sour scent of illness. You lay motionless on the bed, your body shockingly frail, your skin damp with fever. Your hair clung to your forehead, and your breathing was shallow, each breath rattling in your chest.

You didn’t even notice him. Not even when he turned around and barked sharply for John, for a doctor now. You didn’t notice him at all. Not him, not John or Simon or Johnny when they appear while the maids run to get the doctor.

(Kyle will never tell anyone how utterly sick he felt upon seeing the dried tear-tracks on your face. The unfinished, rotten meals near the bed. The tear spots on your pillows. He will never, ever forget today. He doubts any of the others will be able to do so, either.)

[majinbangus]

been feeling anxious lately so now guard dog!ghost is gonna be an emotional support dog too -> more here

"Your heart is racing."

And your breathing is shallow. He can feel it. It's hard not to when you're curled up in his embrace. Back to chest. His palm pressed flat against your chest, right over your pounding heart.

There's no denying it. Your body never lies to him.

"Is it?"

Yet you still try.

Ghost tuts halfheartedly, tempted to make a quip about being the reason your heart races. But that doesn't feel appropriate, so he rests his chin over your shoulder, and squeezes you closer. "Is it Johnny?"

The man had called earlier, informing he'd be held back a week later than scheduled. It was on facetime too, and he had a bandage wrapped around his head—or more specifically, his left eye. He said it wasn't anything to worry about, but maybe that call bothered you more than you let on.

"... Not entirely," You answer, murmuring quietly as you place a hand over his. Light tremors reverberate through you. "I know he'll be okay, but I... would you fuck me? Please? It'll help take me out of my head for a bit."

"Would that really help?" He asks because as much as he loves turning your brain into mush and making you incapable of thought, he doesn't think that's what you need right now. He suspects you know that too. But he'll obey any command you give him, even though what you're requesting—begging—for doesn't really sound like one.

You're quiet for about a minute or so, but he can still feel it. The storm going on inside your head. Your heart thunders under his palm. It's more apparent now that you're holding your hand over his, trapping it to your chest.

"No." You finally breathe out, tension slightly easing, but there's still a restlessness running through you. He listens intently as you lower your voice to a defeated whisper, "No, that wouldn't really help."

He doesn't waste time for another breath to get in. "Tell me what you need."

"I need..." You bite your lip. He stays patient. You tell him your command. "I need you to hold me."

Then that's what he'll do.

"I won't let go."

If this is the kind of protection you need, he'll give it. It's why he's here. He'll guard you from anything. Even from the thoughts haunting your mind.

[peppermintquartz]

Buck volunteers for the Thanksgiving shift. When Maddie asks, he apologizes, saying, "I don't really feel festive right now. But keep some leftovers for me?"

On the day, firehouses around the country all have similar calls to deal with: kitchen grease fires from frying turkeys, sprains in backyard games of football, people injuring one another because "did you hear what she said about our Emma/Francis/Kailey?". Buck is kept too busy to think, and it's nice having the time to catch up with Ravi, who's thinking of going to school to study law.

Their brothers and sisters in uniform also drop off dishes at the station, so between calls, they get pretty good food. Captain Graham gives them an hour offline after four consecutive calls. Buck collapses into a chair and serves himself pasta salad and a delicious honey baked ham, while his dinner rolls warm up in the oven.

He's scrolling through his phone, diligently avoiding the messaging apps, when a message preview pops up.

Tommy.

Buck almost drops his fork. He scrambles away from the dinner table, even though no one on C shift will try to take his phone from him, and finds a spot in the stairwell to read it.

Tommy: hope you have a good & safe Thanksgiving

As he's reading, another bubble appears and Buck's heart skips several beats, but this time it doesn't disappear. A second message arrives, followed by a third.

Tommy: don't know why I texted that

Tommy: guess I just wanted to say something to you

Tommy: you don't have to reply

Tommy: anyway. Happy holidays

Buck feels a slight loosening of the vice around his heart that has been there since that night. With a smile on his face, he types, deletes, types again.

Buck: happy Thanksgiving to you too

Buck: how many kitchen grease fires you got this year? We had 3

Tommy: you're working today?

Tommy: 4, but one of it was in the backyard

They're having a conversation. They're having an actual casual conversation, as easy as they used to on calmer shifts. Buck wants to cry. But he has to answer Tommy's question or have this conversation end too soon. Thinking about his options, he decides that he has nothing to lose anyway.

Buck: I didn't wanna sit around and smile and pretend I'm thankful for everything

Buck: it's better to keep busy

Tommy: I know that feeling

Tommy: I'm sorry

Buck: I'm sorry too

Buck: I wish we could've celebrated together

Buck: I would've said that I'm thankful for you

Tommy: I would have said that too

Tommy: I'm still thankful for you jsyk. I'll always be grateful to have got to know you

Does Tommy think he can't stay in Buck's life just because they broke up?

Buck: I don't think you know me well enough

Tommy: sorry

Buck wishes he'd run after Tommy that night, or done something since to show that he wants Tommy. Well, here's your chance, his brain reminds him. Do something.

He takes a deep breath. Then he types.

Buck: I want to meet. If I come over after Thanksgiving shift, will you please be home?

Tommy: is that a good idea

Buck: idk. But I can't stop thinking about you, and I miss you, and I wanna know what I did wrong. I wanna meet.

Tommy: I miss you too. You didn't do anything wrong, I just didn't want to... Idk. I didn't want to get my hopes up too much.

Buck: we need to talk in person. Texting is not good enough.

It isn't. He needs to see Tommy again. Tommy with his storm blue eyes and tender smile and broad shoulders and soft clothes. Tommy whose crinkly smile drives Buck a little (a lot) insane. Tommy whose lips he now knows the shape of by touch alone, whose body he has mapped out in detail, who knows how it feels to be inside Buck in the most intimate of ways.

He waits for a response. Hopes there will be one. It comes several minutes after, like Tommy had to really think about it.

Tommy: maybe not immediately after Thanksgiving shift

Tommy: are you off on Monday

The relief that crashes into Buck feels almost as overwhelming as the tsunami he was caught in years ago.

Buck: yes

Buck: your place this time

Buck: I'll bring cake

Tommy: you don't have to bribe me to open the door

Buck: no I just baked too much stuff is all. I'll explain when we meet

Buck: I'm really thankful you texted

Tommy: I'm thankful you replied

Tommy: have a good rest of the shift, Evan

It's Evan again. Buck can't hide his smile at all. Tucking his phone into his pocket, he goes back to dinner. Monday can't be here fast enough.

[transfatliberation]

that’s the big thing, enshittification. Get annoyed at the big tech companies’ products’ shittiness often enough and you’ll resent the companies. This was previously a very politically-charged issue mainly because most conservatives tended to be older and more tech illiterate, but in the past 10 years literally every tech product has gotten worse — and not just worse, actively seems to want to make the user experience as frustrating as possible, or at least has no qualms about doing so for the bottom line. Where previously the most common gripes with technology and computers were things like “It seems way too complicated to do Thing X or Y” and you could simply… learn how to do so, now the problems are things like “My Smart TV’s youtube app crashed 2 minutes into the 3 minutes of ads 2 minutes into this video I wanted to see, and now after booting the app and trying to get back to it, it restarted the ad timer from the top and wants to force me to watch 3 more minutes of ads, including one asking me to pay money to not have all these ads.”

like yes it’s still somewhat avoidable by things like adblock on pc, but that’s not the point, the point is, that’s the intended end user experience now, rather than only the experience of people who don’t know what the save icon is and how to open a pdf. To avoid shittiness in tech, you no longer need to be proficient at it - you need to actively be good enough at it to try to bypass or break down the shittiness.

So much of tech culture has changed from “look at these amazing things you can do” to “look how much money we can squeeze out of people if we annoy them enough,” with one of the only big “advancements,” AI (with the word advancements being used EXTREMELY charitably, because it’s believed to be by the general populace) actually really sucking the more you look into it. From the art theft, to the incorrect information given by ChatGPT, to the huge environmental impact, to it being made unavoidable in so many tech products, pick your poison.

People used to dream of a world with extremely advanced technology, where anything was possible. Take the average person from 2010 and offer them a superpowered brain implant that could connect to their tech and they’d think it was the coolest thing ever. Now they’d be worried about it being a buggy, crashing mess that serves ads in their dreams.

[kismetlotts]

Kinktober 🎃 day nine: Cheating!

cw: cheating, dubcon, noncon, mentions on rape, open relationships? (Johnny and Simon share), rough sex, mentions of blood, mentions of saliva, fingering, oral sex on reader, bruising, voyeurism, ‘don’t get caught’ trope, ignorance, degrading names such as ‘whore’, vocal Simon, creampie, mentions of having a child

Simon and Johnny who are so used to sharing each other’s little toys: their own girlfriends. It’s a weird bond that brings the two of them together. It’s sick and fucking perverted but it’s something to talk about when the weather turns cold and on a mission.

Sipping on their drinks as they recharge their batteries mumbling a, 'Remember so and so?’ getting a ‘Yeah, they were a good fuck.' in response.

It was more than likely one of the reason why the two blokes struggled with keeping their girlfriends. Most of them rejecting and breaking up with them when they’d bring it up because what woman who was looking for a family, a life, love, would want to fuck their boyfriend’s best friend? Or be tampered with?

The two of them had grown a lot of respect and loyalty for each other from this little routine. A ridiculous amount when you put it against how much respect they gained from each other at war. Protecting one and others lives, killing for each other, just doesn't help the same than sharing some good pussy. Weird logic that not even they understood but with all said, they were tight, close.

So when Johnny got his hands on you, a pretty little thing that refused to fuck until the third date he knew not only was he in danger, but you were. He knew how much Simon would ruin you, take that precious little hole of yours and stuff you so deep you'd feel it for days. Johnny just fucking knew it would happen and when you'd finally let him inside, invited him into your heavenly cunt- he couldn’t let him steal you.

Too delicate and light for Simons heavy way with sex.

"So when's my turn?" The gruff, masked man would ask Johnny. Conversation of you being brought up and the words just tumbled from the cracks of his lips. Normality and need seeping through his tone because as it was such a statement in his and Johnny's relationship, he’d think no other way.

Not once would he even consider the possibility of Johnny turning around and refusing, saying no. Telling him that your pussy- your body- is just for him. Claiming you against his own kind. Barricading and locking you away from him in his designed cell of greed.

It wasn’t going to end well, Johnny was sure of it, so with an awkward laugh and the rub of his neck he spun around facing him, eyes catching Simons through the mask before clearing his throat. Words coming across shakier than intended because he wasn't intimidated by Simon, more fretful of what he’d do knowing that you were off limits.

"Actually, lass is a good' ne. Think she might be a keeper Si." Silence filling the room for about five seconds, the slow click of the clock on the wall the only audible thing. Simons gaze not changing once and it killed Johnny, bugged him harder than a kick to the teeth.

Everything about him yearning to know what Simons brain was thinking or what he was planning, wanting to reach out and shake him, beg him to back off. They were getting old now, it was bound to be called off at some point- when they properly wanted to settle down and have kids and a family, right?

"Oh really?" His accent and words a monotone warning but Johnny was so flushed with relief that he hadn’t exploded and raged at him, his ears missed it. Missed the way his blinks slowed, analysing the man in front of him. Missed the way Simons personally and mindset changed. New thoughts drowning his head so hard he forced out exhales to think straight. Did he think he was better than him? More deserving of your body than gruff ol’ Simon over here? Worthier?

He was fucking seething, the metallic taste in his mouth potent as he bit his tongue, refraining to tell Johnny to go fuck himself, stand up and find you. Go track you down and make you cry both of their names just so he can hear which one sounds better or which one turns him on more.

Moaning your boyfriend’s name so loudly while his friend hits that one part. Choking out, crying out for Mactavish as your eyes roll back, tongue drooping out the side of your lips too. He’d be a liar to say his dick wasn't twitching at the thought.

"Yeah, I'm so sorry Simon-" But he was already shaking his head, hand waving him off with a sly smirk on his face as he told him no worries! Told him that's its alright and that he completely understands. Barely moving an inch the rest of the night as he came up with plans on what he's going to do to you. What he did in fact do to you.

Face down in yours and Johnny’s double bed. Panties damp with your cum from how many times Simon had already made you orgasm, shirt wet with tears and saliva. Rubbing your clit so harshly and fast your body trembled at every little touch. The fine line between touching and fucking, abuse and rape being blurred but you craved it. You longed for it, days of wishing and wondering when he’d come back to please you again.

He’d force your legs apart, holding you by the ankles while he ate like a mad man. Devouring you messily, the noises sounding like a fucking porn movie. Ruining your makeup, your sheets, your body. You couldn’t look Johnny in the eye when he got on all fours, kissing your thigh and humming against the soft skin while asking how you’d got another bruise.

Day and night- when Johnny's downstairs and when he's away. He'd have you begging to stop, pleading him to let you go before you’d lose yourself. His thrusts silencing you, cries turning to moans back to cries to screams of joy- it was mesmerising and so fucking bad of him.

“Oh shut up, babe. You know you want me.” He’d grunt, eyes shutting as he took you in again and again. Eyebrows furrowed in annoyance and ignorance for your cries. Knowing it was only a matter of time before you gave in again, joining him and thrusting back against his cock.

What made it worse was the moans that came from this man. Johnny was never vocal- never vocal enough for you but Simon sounded almost in tears. Each thrust like he’s on the brink of orgasm, you felt so good he couldn’t stay quiet- he didn’t want to.

His favourite memory was when he snuck into your window, almost kicking the stupid Halloween decorations Johnny had put up outside on his way up. The sky pitch black and your bedroom likewise but he could see you in his night vision goggles, sneaking behind you as you changed out of your clothes getting ready for bed.

Bending you over the bedframe, peeling down your panties and thrusting into you for a quickie. The sound of Johnny's electric toothbrush coming from the bathroom one room away only adding to his excitement. He could step in any minute by now, luckily from the darkness Simon had an advantage and most likely enough time to hide if he wanted to. If he wanted to leave your pussy.

Gloved fingers slipped into your mouth for you to suck or bite. Anything to help silence your moans. It excited him the fact that Johnny could find him, Johnny could catch him and realise all this time he though you were safe and committed to him you’d gone behind his back. His precious little girl who actually is just a dirty whore. A dirty whore who lets her hole be used. By men she doesn’t even know.

He wonders what you do when Johnny brings him up in conversation, I mean, he figures you haven't spilt the beans to him yet so do you just laugh and nod on along? Hearing his name, acting like you don't know his touch or how his tongue feels. Pretending he's a stranger, just some stranger who's dick is drilled into your memory. He doesn't fuck like Johnny, he's bigger than him, hits all the places that Johnny can’t. You can never get Simon out of your mind.

Filling you up with his cum and laughing deeply at himself. He's got to be careful with it- what if you two were trying for a baby? That would be a shock, wouldn’t it? Gorgeous little kid coming out looking just like Simon- Simons eyes, Simons hair; a little mini Simon left all for you to raise.

Maybe Johnny would be too thick to realise, too slow to pick up on why his son looks so much like his best friend- that the son he’d always wanted actually belong to Simon. Oh fucking hell, he was a dark deluded arsehole- who thinks like this? Slipping back out of the window and shutting it the same time as Johnny walked into the room.

Large soft body crawling on top of you and pushing you further into the bed. Lips attacking your sensitive neck as his already hard cock slips its way inside of your warm, creampied folds. The darkness hiding all the evidence and leaving him to believe it’s just how wet you are for him. How needy and desperate you are for him.

Blissfully unaware that the wetness lubing his cock up, letting him fuck you with ease and making him feel so hot and so good, was no other than his best friends cum. Dribbling out your hole and onto your thigh as he picks up the pace.

[genderqueerdykes]

holy shit wait…your 32???

I…im gonna cry

I didn’t know we can live this long…

not just trans mass but…

alterhuman…and plurals..and…

I can’t…

so happy

gonna cry……..

yes i am! i was born in 1992 :)

that's exactly why i have my age in my bio- i've wanted to show people that you don't "outgrow" fundamental parts of your identity. it's natural to adopt and shed identities as we age, but i've been out as genderqueer since 19! nothing has changed, i'm still the same genderqueer person i was all those years ago!

and if anything- life has gotten better in my 30s. as a word of advice to most people out there: your teen years and your twenties FUCKING SUCK!!!!!!!! they tell you those are the "best years of your life" but they're NOT- you're growing into a world that is terrifying and doesn't understand you. you're scared. your brain and body are still developing and you're constantly facing new challenges. those are honestly i think the HARDEST years of your life, hands down

when i was a teenager, i would think to myself "phht there's literally no way i'm making it past 25 lmao" and figure that life ends after 25. well, that day came where i turned 25... and nothing changed.

and then i turned 30. still, nothing changed

now i'm 32 and... nothing has changed. maturation happens with age, yes, but it doesn't mean that you're suddenly a completely different person. people have such a shitty view on 30 year olds, like it's somehow "embarrassing" to be above the age of 25 years old. people in their 30s are constantly picked on, we're constantly told to "act our age" when... we are. i'm happier than ever realizing that I made it to my 30s, still trans, still nonhuman, still plural

i've been in treatment for DID since 2017, and while i've healed a lot, i have not integrated with my alters, and i never will. i don't want to. this is how my brain functions. the dissociation can be a nightmare for me, but my brain needs different people inside of it in order to be able to function properly. we tried to force ourselves to live as a singlet for 3 years and what ended up happening was that host at that time cracked from being under the constant pressure and still has never returned. the amount of stress it placed on us to try to live as a singlet was not worth it. at all

there hasn't been a singular moment in my adult life where i stopped being nonhuman, either. that was something that i never even tried to force myself out of. i never viewed it as weird or something that i should "outgrow"- i told my own mother that i did not identify as human as a child and that never left me. even now, i still wear dog collars, ears, tails, and take nature walks and do things to make myself feel more like my nonhuman selves. i'm still a furry, too!

i might not be a queer "elder" yet, but i'm happy as can be to be able to be an older queer person who can use their experience to help younger folks. thanks for sending this message! trust me, there really is a life after your 20s. your teens and 20s suck massively. but after i passed 30 i became more down to earth about my age. it's not a bad thing to live past 20- in fact, it's a badge of honor. i made it. i'm still breathing, i'm still here, still queer, despite all attempts to prevent me from still being here.

i'm going to continue be here for a long, long time, and you can be here with me, too.

take care of yourself! thanks for stopping by!

[ilikeyoshi]

"#yes yes yes!!!! #and ngl it makes me want to read or engage with it more too!"

i hope it's ok to point out these tags bc this is SUCH a huge mood i think deserves a little more explanation!!!! (at least from my perspective as both a creator (writer) and fan (of artists))

i used to have a ton of anxiety when creating and especially sharing my works, and my impulse was always to talk down on it, because a) i* (*my anxiety) believed it to be bad, and b) because i had this idea in my head that if i lowered people's expectations, they wouldn't be as disappointed when reading it.

i want to tell you what i've learned in my years of both being a writer and being a fan of artists, and it's that this is a terrible, terrible anxiety fallacy (like so many ideas/misconceptions borne of anxiety are) that ONLY hurts you, your work, and your potential readers(/fans/etc). it SOUNDS like a good idea when you have really bad anxiety, i know, i used to DEPEND upon this idea just to have the courage to SHARE my writing—and i want to emphasize that it's OKAY if you've done this before, it's an easy, easy trap to fall into, but i also want you to try and stop doing it because there are a lot of reasons you would feel better and do better for doing so.

you are what you practice! if you only ever focus on or speak about the flaws in your art, you WILL feel negatively about your art. my very first therapist explained it in a way that still really resonates with me: you have created a well-beaten, highly trafficked "road" in your brain. it is very easy to take this road because even though it's longer to your destination, it winds and bends, it's walked on so much it's flat and easy to traverse. when you try to build a NEW path—in this case, a path where you focus on what you like about your art—you're starting with no path at all. it's all undergrowth and vines and thorns and it hurts and it's tiring and you feel like this will NEVER be easier or feel better than the old path. but you have to keep taking the new one. you have to beat down the undergrowth until it recedes, cut down the low-hanging branches until you can walk with your back straight, and if you keep at it, if you keep at this thing that feels so pointless and stupid and hard, eventually, the path will be clear, and easy to walk, and you'll make great time getting to your destination because it cuts straight through; no winding or bending. and the old path? it will overgrow, and it will become hard and stupid to take. you have to beat the new path because once it's beaten, it'll be the far superior path in every way, including ways the old path was never superior even when it WAS the one you were always taking.

further—as these tags point out, and as i agree with wholeheartedly—by disparaging your art, you DO lower people's expectations. people don't want to be sad, frustrated, disappointed when they look at art—at least, not unless the art itself is trying to tell a story about that. you get what i mean, i hope—they don't want to go INTO something they already HAVE negative reviews on—your reviews! you, the creator, have already told this person the story/art/whatever is going to be bad, and i know, i KNOW it's not your intention, you're hoping someone will see through what you can't and tell you no, no, this is good, i liked this! and some people do! but you make it a lot harder for them TO do that when you tell them right at the beginning, "this is going to be bad, i don't like it," because what you're unintentionally telling them is, "and you probably won't like it either." the first way i learned this was in people always saying in their fanfic summaries, before you even open the fic, "the summary is bad, i'm bad at writing summaries, the story is better trust me bro." because what this does—again, so unintentionally, i KNOW what you're trying to do because i've been you—is you're telling the reader, "here's my pitch, here's the hook to my entire story, it's the worst part, it's bad, but the rest will be better," and what they KNOW is they've already put the time in reading the summary, and it's hard to commit MORE time to something when you've already told them it's bad, even if you promise the rest is better. it's like biting into a fruit and you hate the taste of the skin; it's harder to try the rest of the fruit when, so far, it's been bad (or you've been made to believe it's bad).

so what's the solution? how do you begin beating that new path? well, it depends on you. everyone's a little different in how they navigate stuff like this. but what worked for me, and what might be a good place to start (and by all means adapt as you figure out what works and what doesn't), is start by just NOT saying anything negative. no, "i don't like this," or "the summary's bad, sorry," or anything. write your artist's comment, author's note, whatever as normal, and REMOVE anything that depicts your art/writing/etc in a bad light. just don't give people any opinion whatsoever on what experiencing your creation is going to be like. this, for me, was easier than jumping straight to, "i'm pretty proud of this," or "i enjoyed working on this," because it wasn't withholding AND replacing, it was JUST withholding. going back to the roads and paths metaphor, i think of this part as the "taking a breather before i get to work on this monumental task of beating this new path" stage.

then, overtime, i started "stretching" my positive comments about my works. if i liked, say, TWO LINES out of a whole piece of writing, i'd say, "i'm really proud of this work!" because i AM proud of ANYTHING AT ALL, NO MATTER HOW SMALL, within the work. it's not a LIE, to anyone including yourself, but it is, perhaps, an EXAGGERATION. that's OKAY. we're trying to teach our brain to look on the bright side, to take the new path, and i've found that treating it a little bit like a dog—giving it a treat for ANY TINY BIT OF PROGRESS, was a good way to encourage myself to start making MORE progress. ESPECIALLY because the tags i reposted above are RIGHT: LOTS of people are MORE interested in a work when their very first impression (YOUR impression!!!) is positive. 'the artist/writer/etc is proud of this? oh, i'm so glad they had a good time creating, let's take a look!" it probably sounds too easy if you're still taking that anxiety-beaten road, i know, but try to think of how you've felt when someone disparages their creations versus uplifts them. were you put off by the negativity? were you sad that your friend worked so hard on something and didn't even like it? conversely, doesn't it make you a little excited when an artist says they really feel good about something they made, especially in a world where so many artists ARE feeling inadequate? i hope you see what i mean.

it's not an overnight thing, of course, this took me YEARS. this took a miracle that doesn't happen to most people: i wrote something i felt SO TERRIFIED people wouldn't like, even though i was secretly very proud of it (but too scared to dare suggest i was proud of it), so i indicated all kinds of things like "i hope you like it, i dunno if it's any good, it's just a little thing i'm chipping away at in my spare time" (it was not, it was a full-blown passion project) and, against the odds, a LOT OF PEOPLE told me they really really really liked it. a couple of friends who were decently popular in the fandom it was for liked and shared it and i got A LOT of encouragement. i basically got to beat my new path with a HORDE of helpers, and it was more like THEY beat the path for me and i chased along like, "what is happening, oh my god, what are you doing???"

i got really lucky. that doesn't always, or even usually happen. in most other areas of my life, i've had to beat the path myself. and it takes a long time if you're doing it on your own. but you should anyway, because it's so fucking worth it dude. yeah, it was awesome to get so much help with my writing confidence specifically, but it's been just as worth it every time i've had to do it alone too. and i have good news! there ARE ways to tell people you're on this journey of making yourself a new path. here are some suggestions:

"i'm new/rusty at this, so please let me know what you think!" - informs potential readers/viewers/etc you are learning and gives them an opportunity to HELP you learn. this is a positive interaction! this allows people to find a GOOD experience EVEN if they didn't enjoy the story much, because they can help, and people DO, MOSTLY, like to help.

"i want to improve at [dialogue]" or "i'd appreciate advice on [lighting]." - similar to the first example, but does 2 things: gives viewers specific instructions that can be really helpful for those that aren't sure how/what to critique (surprisingly common thing; the more specific you are about what you want advice on, the more likely you are to GET advice), AND allows you to, neutrally and non-disparagingly, ask for help in areas you don't feel confident about.

"leave a comment if you liked it!" or "let me know what you liked best!" - listen. i don't think 'fishing for compliments' is bad as long as you're not being manipulative about it. these examples are very clear in what they're asking for, which is compliments, positive reviews, etc. and that's okay!!! first of all, lots of people LOVE praising works they like, i promise, and asking them to DOES make them feel like they have "permission" to (i know that sounds silly but i also know if you have anxiety about creating, you have anxiety about commenting, i see you, i was you). secondly, i have gotten the MOST encouraging, confidence-boosting comments this way, especially with the latter example. there is NOTHING more immediately anxiety-curing than a comment that says "i liked [scene/dialogue/character/etc] specifically." it's AMAZING. (also, if you're looking for advice on commenting, this is a GREAT thing to do. imo, this and "speculating/interpreting the work" are the two coolest comments i get they make me feel AWESOME.)

remind yourself, as many times as you have to, CONSTANTLY if you have to: likes/kudos mean someone enjoyed your work enough to press a button. views mean someone liked your work enough to click through for more. these are POSITIVE interactions, they are not "less positive" than comments or reblogs/reshares. i know those last two things are more obviously gratifying, and depending on if you NEED your work to spread (for exposure/commision prospects/etc), very good, awesome ways to support you, and i don't mean to say you shouldn't WANT comments and reblogs/reshares. but for me, it's helped me a lot to recognize that any bit of effort whatsoever means someone LIKED my work. it's also helped me to think of all the times i've shared a link to an artwork in a discord or something, and know that there is an entire, untangible metric i can't and will never see that, sure, i can choose to believe doesn't exist or isn't very high, but i can ALSO choose to believe it happens quite a lot, and the latter makes me FEEL better about my work and makes me want to create MORE, so i think that's the more productive mindset personally. it doesn't matter what the truth is, you know? we'll never know it and it doesn't harm us to never know it. but it DOES harm us to assume no one quietly, unseen by us, likes our work, and it DOES ENCOURAGE US to assume lots of people do.

here's the thing: anxiety disorders fuck you up by making you believe extremely negative, scary, depressing things. the disorder gets worse the more you allow it to make you believe these things, and the only way out, as stupid and hard and at times impossible as it feels, is to say, "no, i don't like that interpretation, i'm going to replace it with a positive one." anxiety is making paths all throughout your brain, and you have to just, make paths too. anxiety needs YOU to make paths, but YOU don't need anxiety to make paths. your paths WILL be better, safer, easier and happier. you just—and i know that is the biggest "just" ever—have to make them.

but i believe in you. i don't need to know you or your circumstances to believe in you. i believe in the sheer amount of control you have over how you face the world. and it's so much more than anxiety would lead you to believe.

i looooove seeing artists & writers proud of their work!!!!! i looooove captions & authors notes that say things like “i’m quite happy with this” “i love how this turned out” “i had so much fun making this”!!!!!! i loooooove when the act of creation is joyful & we take pride in what we make!!!!!!!!!!

[emchante]

OH another idea: cooking stream w max 😉 he’s wearing an apron with smt like “kiss the cook” but shirtless underneath, accidentally smearing sauce on his fingers and licking them clean, turning around to grab something from the cupboard and just showing off his back.. god i can go on and on about this

kiss the cock cook | m. verstappen

warnings: 18+/suggestive — minors dni.

DIIII OH MY GOD. you’re such a genius, your brain works in magical ways and i want to have it myself!!! the first post for this series went down well, so here you all go!!<3<3

one of the first few softcore porn streamer! max streams catch is a cooking stream. you know what his channel is now, after your first endeavour. you shouldn’t be surprised at what you see on the screen.

yet, you still are.

as soon as the ads finish rolling, the stream pops up on the screen. max is shirtless, under a dark apron. ‘kiss the cock’ is what’s written on it, but cock is scribbled off with a messy ‘cook’ above it. the apron allowed part of his soft chest to be on display. your eyes trailed down to see the apron wrapping around his soft hips perfectly, as the knot at the back held the apron together as tight as possible.

the camera angle was perfect— allowing you to see most of his top half, while leaving the rest to your imagination.

max knew his audience well, so he had an extra camera set up in the kitchen. it was a birds-eye view camera, a little box in the top right corner of the stream that was titled ‘hand cam’, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out why it was there.

he was glancing at the chat as he put the ingredients for his cake in the large bowl. he smirked at some of the comments. “yes, i’m shirtless. no, i’m not trying to seduce you. my kitchen is hot, okay?” he tells the stream, acting innocent. if you really couldn’t tell though, the wink he gave the camera afterwards sold it.

he pondered for a moment before grabbing the camera above him, and moving it on the counter next to his bowl. “much better,” he muttered, before spreading his large hand across the bowl, as if to secure it. his other hand had an electric whisk, and he began to mix the ingredients together.

as he whisked, he glanced to the chat to see their reaction. he licked his lips before smirking, reading the comments as they came through. “i need him carnally.. this should be illegal..” he reads some, causing the influx of comments to worsen as they all try to be noticed by him. “max please.. please what, dear viewer? i need you to use your words for me,” he purrs, looking innocently into the camera.

the look he gives the camera sends a heat in your stomach. your thighs instinctively squeeze together at the sight, and your thoughts start racing. imagining him looking up at you like that, as you place yourself on his thighs. hands on his soft chest, pushing him down and telling him to use his words, finally switching the roles for once. how he’d deliciously beg and plead for you to—

fuck. what were you doing? you should not have been captivated so fast by him, but yet..

“anyways, i think that should be it mixed now,” max interrupts your internal conflict with his own words, turning off the whisk. he reaches out of from, and brings back another bowl. he tilts them both towards the camera to show the contents— cake batter in one, and thin icing in the other.

he eyes chat momentarily, smiling when the influx of ‘taste it!’ messages come flooding in. “you’re right, you’re right! i should taste it. how would i know if i liked what i made so far otherwise?” he questions, his index finger reaching into the first bowl.

he takes a scoop of the cake batter that looks entirely too appealing when it’s smeared along max’s finger. he slowly sucks it clean, pouty lips smacking gently when they touch again. his eyes flutter shut as a soft moan escapes from max, head tilting back.

“that is so fucking good, if only you guys could taste it,” he mumbles, licking any of the excess off of his lips as he reads the chat.

the heat in your belly was growing, the way he looked and the sounds he let out were amazing, and you needed more. you hadn’t chatted much in max’s chat, sending a few messages here and there. but tonight, you felt different. you needed more, and you were going to get it.

swallowing thickly you moved your hands to your keyboard, thinking about what you should type. your eyes scanned the screen.. and bingo. you knew what to do.

‘well you tried the batter, but what about the icing? just to be sure’

max is still reading over the chat when you send your message, and your heart skips a beat when you see his eyes widen. he stands up straight, looking into the camera with a small smirk.

“that’s a great idea, actually,” he praises, adding your username onto the end before he pulls the bowl of icing closer to him.

the icing was thin and white, from what you had seen when he showed the cameras. you watched as he plunged his index and middle finger into the bowl, pushing them right in before pulling them back out. the gooey icing dripped from the tip of his fingers, and had coated a thin layer over the rest of it.

he lifted his fingers to his mouth, stretching them to a ‘v’ shape as he licked through the middle of them. your cheeks flushed at the innuendo, and his chat clearly felt affected by it too judging by the spam. afterwards, he stared deep into the camera before pushing his fingers together, running his tongue along them in stripes to lick them clean.

his hand fell back to the counter as he swallowed thickly, before a low groan came from his throat. “fuck— that icing is amazing,” he starts, head lightly tilting back. “it’s perfectly sweet,” he adds, licking his lips clean as he reads the chat.

your heart was still racing at the look he was giving the camera, as well as the fact he had done as your message had said. your luck on his streams was unbelievable.. maybe you should start chatting more.

after that, max had went back to preparing the cupcakes in their cases that were sat in the tray. you had zoned out admittedly, not from the stream itself, just.. the baking aspect. you were more so focused on his large arms, watching them flex as he consistently moved around. your eyes were also glued to his chest, especially when he leaned over to read something from the book. the apron hung low as he did so, giving you a deeper look into his soft chest.

it didn’t take long for your attention to be peaked again, as max clapped his hands together, stating he was getting them ready for the oven.

“so, i have already preheated the oven,” he began to explain as he leaned over to his computer, messing about on obs. he stopped talking as he fixed what he needed to, and the next minute the main camera angle had switched— now, instead of the camera on the tripod, the main camera was the one on the counter initially used as the hand cam. now though, it was sat so it faced the right side of the kitchen, which included the oven.

“so no need to wait for that,” he finally finished, looking into the camera and giving it a smile before he stood up straight, grabbing the tray. he turned around and walked towards the oven slowly, as if he knew what he was doing.

max’s chat— and your internal thoughts— went back to their thirsting ways as max’s defined, toned back was on display. the comments honestly could’ve came from your mind, as they were along the same lines. ‘i need to scratch down his back’, ‘that back is looking a little bare.. let me fix that’, just to name a couple.

max stopped in his tracks, doing a 180 and walking back towards the counter. “oops, i forgot how long to put them in for,” he muttered, a small smile on his face that gave away his lies. it was obvious what he was doing, he simply just wanted to see the thirsty reactions. and god, did he get them.

“glad you’re all enjoying the view today,” he speaks up, turning back towards the oven and walking towards it, giving the fans what they wanted. then, he bent down towards the oven, giving the camera a perfect view of his curvy ass as he placed the tray in the oven. as he pulled the oven door back down, he pushed himself out further as a tease for the camera, before standing up straight again.

“it’s free today, you know,” he continues, referring to his last comment about the view. “but tomorrow? who knows,” he sighs, eyes scanning his chat as they burst into desperate pleads for him to keep slutting himself out for free.

max had decided to cut the stream off for a break while the cupcakes baked in the oven. he leaned against the counter, arms in front of him causing his chest to push together and you couldn’t keep your eyes off it.

“i’ll be back later, don’t you worry about that,” he reassures any worrying viewers with a wink. “thank you for joining, everyone. i’d say don’t forget to kiss the cook— but none of you can,” he pouted, before blowing you a kiss. “least you could do is send me a sub,” he adds cheekily, standing up straight. he begins to untie the knot from the back of the apron, causing the apron’s strings to drop to the side.

your eyes widened as he began to slowly lift the apron off of himself, allowing the viewers to see his soft body on display. his chat went crazy— from comments about grabbing his love handles, to marking his chest, to wanting to explore that happy trail— everyone enjoyed the view.

conveniently the countertop covered his boxers, therefore nobody could see there or below.

“i’ll be back later for you all, hopefully ready to show my cupcakes,” he smiles, reading the chat one last time.

‘what about your cake, max?’ is the last message he reads, causing him to burst out laughing.

“if we reach the big sub goal, maybe something can be arranged,” he teases, before the stream abruptly cuts off.

⋆˙⟡ enjoy this? i hope you did! please come chat to me about it in my ask box! publicly or on anon— i’ll answer everything <3

[karaeilishh]

Lowkey imagining new artist!reader like reader is new in the industry and having a huge gay panic during the Grammy's or something and Billie eating reader out under the table or fucking reader in the bathroom. AAAAAAAAA

🐇

hi bunny, ik you've been waiting for a long time, but this is for you, mwah 💋

MY STRANGE ADDICTION b. eilish

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 …just add some friction

“you look a little stressed, babygirl,” you bite your bottom lip nervously when you hear a damn familiar voice behind you. billie. your your heart skipped a few feverish beats, if only because she was one of the reasons of your... stress. her warm hand gently touches your shoulder, her fingers feel like a feather above your skin. under the pressure of her charm, you turn to face her, looking up at her. she was looking at you with that look, with her black eyeliner. god. “nervous?” 

nervous? that word couldn’t describe how you felt right now. all your organs were clenching with concern. you can feel your heart pumping your blood through your arteries, capillaries, how it flows through your veins into your heart again. this was your first grammy, as a new artist. you had a few nominations, but you were ready to lose all of them. it was like you were a nobody compared to the people in your category. and those ocean blue eyes that had been following you for almost the entire evening. billie was smiling softly, but the way she was biting her lip, her eyes trailing down your body made you whine. 

“yeah, a little. i kind of have confidence in myself, but kind of not.” you chuckle, looking away from billie’s face. you didn’t want to burden her with your thoughts, but a part of you wanted to tell her everything that was on your mind. her fingers trace their way to your face, gently grabbing your chin. you freeze as she forces you to look at hers. her gaze makes your heart and your stomach drop to her feet. “i think you need to relax a little” 

deadly fever, please don’t ever break

“quiet mama, be quiet” your eyes water as she uses that nickname. you thought that when billie suggested you relax, she meant she was taking you to some mutual friends in search of some easy companionship. oh no. the bathroom. dim lights illuminating your bodies. your dress, hiked up messily to your waist. heat of hell. her fingers buried deep inside your pussy. she’d just dragged you here, shoving you into the nearest stall and pinning your body to the wall. oh, she was hungry. so fucking hungry. 

you whined and clenched your hips as she smashed her lips against yours, practically fucking your mouth with her tongue. you moaned softly into her lips, grabbing her shoulders, trying to rip that damn jacket off her. she chuckled, pulling away slightly to leave a small bite on your ear. “where are your manners, baby?” you throw your head back. her husky whisper drives you crazy. your thoughts, overloaded with the upcoming award, were now completely captured by billie. her hands, her breath, her voice. her tongue on your neck. she knew how reckless she was when she nibbled on the tender skin of your neck, leaving marks. you tried to push her away, saying that she can’t do this to you now. what do you mean she can’t? she can’t, when she’s wanted you for so long and so desperately? no, she can. she will. even if millions of people see you in half an hour. no one will ever know who left those marks on your neck, and if they do, she’ll only be glad. “i’m sorry, doll. you’re too sweet”

“everyone will see...” you whisper, making her just chuckle. oh, she found it funny now? such a bitch. you want to protest again, but her fingers tugging at the hem of your underwear make you unable to say a word. billie presses her body against yours, pressing you further into the wall. like another moment and the marble will swallow you both. you gasp slightly when she touches the wet spot on the lace fabric. smiles. she smiles again. “i think you’ll forgive me for this if i fuck your brains out real good, hm?”

you can’t answer her with anything but pathetic pleas. she would probably make you use your words to tell her exactly what you want, but she couldn’t wait now. she just couldn’t. she yanks your panties off, collecting your wetness in her fingers. so wet for her. wild. “fuck, you have no idea what i want to do to you”

you don’t have time to process her words before her fingers slide inside you, picking up the pace immediately. you moan too loudly for a public bathroom, just not having the strength or desire to hold it. and billie doesn’t have the strength or desire to shut you up, because she’s been waiting for this moment for so long. she just asked you to be quiet, but she’ll be happy if you don’t. her fingers curl inside you, sending waves of pleasure through your body. “can you take more, baby? you can...”

her voice drips with desperation. she doesn't wait for your permission, knowing that you'll let her do whatever she wants to you. a third finger slides into your hole, stretching you out perfectly. you bite her neck, finally making her moan sweetly. it's fair if you leave your mark on her neck too, right? 

"faster, bils, faster..." you moan into her neck, almost completely hanging on hers when your knees become too weak to support your weight. she doesn't need to be asked twice. her fingers grind against your walls until you're fucking shaking. you quietly ask her if you can cum and it drives her crazy. "god, you're such a good girl for me already. come on, cum on my fingers" 

and all your worries become so unimportant when her fingers buried inside you.

[rafeysangelbaby]

How Bambi!reader met Rafe...

trigger warnings!!: religious trauma, parent death, rafe just being a perv in general, innocence kink, coercion, i think thats all but please message me if there is more!!

at least your truck beats walkin'...

You meet Rafe in mid-october, the sun shining through the patterns of trees as you rode down the dirt path towards the old Angels oak tree. It had been your favorite place since you were little. you had fond memories of mama bringing you down here for lunch on days where your father got real busy with work. Now, with momma gone, it was your favorite place to read your bible and get away.

The beaten pages of your bible flap in the wind, and if you had been paying attention you would have noticed the weird way it was sitting in the basket. you were distracted, the dream you had the night before bombarded your brain with images of abandoned churches, and fire, it felt so real you swore you could feel the smoke burning your lungs when you woke up.

you hit a bump in the road, you had driven over it a million times, however, you watch with a gasp as your old bible launches into the air, flying several feet behind you.

you stop the bike quickly, leaving it in the middle of the road as you panic over potential distress to your bible. you’d had it for awhile and it was worn from how frequently your mother had read it to you, instilling the verses into your brain, but it was still yours and you felt guilty that you’d dropped it.

you look around frantically, so distraught that you don't even notice the car hurdling down the road towards you, clearly holding no intention to stop. you grip the cross hanging from your neck, muttering a prayer for forgiveness as you rush towards it. you bend down to grab it before hearing a loud crash from behind you. you let out a shriek at the noise, practically jumping five feet back as you pop back up. you had never seen cars on this road, or anyone else for that matter, how were you supposed to know there would be one now?

the door to the sleek black truck is quickly thrown open, the prettiest man you had ever seen hops out of it, slamming it behind him. he walks forward to assess the damage with an annoyed scoff before whipping his head towards you.

"the fucks wrong with you, huh?"

your big eyes are all he sees at first, how innocent and delicate you seemed. he watches as your pretty mouth opens in closes silently before setting into the plump pout.

"your bikes fucking wrecked, n' my trucks all scratched up, i mean, what are you even doin'?"

the man stares back at you, taking in your wide-eyed expression. "i-" you stutter, your whole body freezing up as you try to find the words, your doe eyes boring into his. his eyebrows furrow as he studies your startled expression.

"dont talk much, do ya'?"

his voice makes you feel strange, not terrified, but warm. your mothers words flash through your mind, "im sorry...im not ‘posed to talk to strangers...specially boys." a wide smirk spreads on his face as you slowly started to back up. you were fidgety, nervous, and timid like prey, he liked that.

"hey hey hey-" he says, holding out his hands in attempt to calm you. "you dont need to be scared, im just trying to get this figured out...okay?" he says, trying to get you to nod with him. you nod slowly with a soft, "okay" before slowly walking toward him.

"good, thats good." the condescending smirk that decorates his face makes your tummy flutter, wide eyes meeting his. "alright so, you wanna tell me what happened here?" he says as his big hand comes to grip the back of your neck, shoulders scrunching up under his hold before slowly relaxing.

you fidget with the hem of your dress, nerves causing your hands to shake, before you finally mutter out, "i dropped my bible..." he looks down at you, brows furrowing as he tongues his cheek.

"see, what i dont understand is why you left your fucking bike in the middle of the road...?" you pout, pretty glossed lips catching the light. rafe smirks, what he would give to have those wrapped around his-

"i had to go back and get it..." you hum, your pretty voice interrupting his nasty thoughts. he would return to them later, for now he was gonna play with you a little more.

"yeah...im still not getting why you didn’t move your bike out of the way, bambi..."

your cheeks flush at the nickname, you'd never had a boy call you anything like that...in fact really, you'd never had a boy call you much of anything before. Rafe smirks, pleased with himself for making you flush so easily, it certainly was a pretty sight.

"i-...i wasnt thinking about it" your voice is soft, almost angelic, a chill ripples down his spine as he thinks of what you'd sound like with your legs thrown over his shoulders, crying out his name. he smirks, grabbing the back of your head to force you to look up at him.

"yeah? well look at what happens when you dont think, you get yourself into trouble." he condescends, his rude nasally tone sending sparks to your tummy. you whine, realization washing over you as your eyes finally settle on your bike. he was right, it was totaled. he walks towards it, your lip settling between your teeth as you watch his big arms flexing as he pulls your bike out from under the front of his truck.

"looks like youre gonna have to catch a ride with me, doll." he hums with a tsk before walking around to throw your bike in the back. you look up at him, frantic, waiting with baited breath for him to come back around.

'i- no im not supposed to get in the car with strangers." you say while firmly shaking your head, and to your surprise his smirk grows wider. you were innocent, which meant you would be easy to mold. he holds out his hands again in surrender.

"im not gonna hurt you, here, my names Rafe, okay?"

you nod, pausing as he comes closer to you, your heart beating in your ears.

"you gonna tell me your name, bambi?" he says softly, his voice soothed you, making you let out the breath you didnt know you were holding, though for some reason your body was still on alert.

"its y/n" you meet his eyes, getting lost in the false sense of security his pretty blues offered. "alright, how about this, you go get your bible, alright? then ill take you home." you frown, unsure if you should. you didnt really have a reason not to, you knew his name and your bike was totally messed up, which meant you had no other way to get home. you could walk, but it was getting late and honestly, you didnt really want to. reluctantly, your head moves in a soft nod, your pretty doe eyes meeting his as you seek his approval.

"good girl, you go get it and then ill help you into the truck." you flush, your stomach doing summersaults at the praise. you'd never received much of that growing up, having this beautiful boy say that to you so easily, had your pretty panties all sticky.

you pad over to your bible, grabbing it with haste before returning back to him, staring at his pretty face as he helps you into the seat.

"there we go, dollface..." he says before strapping the seatbelt over you. he closes the door gently, as if not to scare you, before he walks back around to the other side. he takes of quick, wondering to himself why he'd never seen you before, silence filling the car as he thinks.

"where do you live bambi..." he suddenly speaks up, bringing you out of the trance you had been in as you watched the trees go by. "umm i live on the cut...not too far from here." you hum softly, and as you speak he nods, smirking as it clicks. you were a pogue, which made things simultaneously easy and hard. easy because tracking and watching over you would be a piece of cake, hard because asking people around him for information about you would be useless.

you go back to watching through the window, your gentle voice breaking the silence as you direct him where to turn and which ways to go. he's mostly silent for the rest of the ride, mulling over things in his head. you were so innocent, he couldn't have anyone getting to you before he did. he watches as you fidget with the hem of your dress, the short material riding up to reveal a bit more of your plush thighs, causing rafe to smirk to himself.

"you nervous bambi?" his voice cuts through what had been a peaceful silence, you had been zoned out as you thought about nothing, off in your own world. you couldn't lie, you were a bit nervous. you felt pressure, the lords presence lingering in the back of your mind as it always did, making you feel sick with guilt. you were gonna have to pray extra hard tonight.

you nod, biting your lip as you bring your knees up to your chest. "yeah...just a little bit" you say as you look over at him, waiting for his reaction. he hums, looking over at you as he pulls onto your street

"you dont need to be nervous angel...just wanted to make sure you got home safe." you nod, reaching over to your car door to climb out, watching as he does so as well. you lean against the truck as he grabs your bike and sets it against the wall of your house. you pout up at him, the face of innocence. god, he was gonna have fun with you.

"thank you rafe...i really appreciate it." he nods, looking you up and down with a smirk. "don't worry about it, y/n, just be more careful next time, okay?" you nod, watching as he gets back into his truck, before padding to your front door. he watches as you bend over to grab the mail, clearly unaware his eyes were on you. he lets out a breathy, "fuck-" as he sees the way your baby pink panties press up against your puffy lips, damp and sticky from the interaction. he snaps a quick picture on his phone before pulling out of your driveway. a smile taking over his face as he puts your address in his notes app as he drives away.

yeah, he was definitely going to have fun with you.

authors note!!: i hope you guys like it!! it took me so long to write the whole fic and lowkey i think its not great but we will see...

tags!!: @nemesyaaa @starkeysprincess @sematarygirls @gibson-g1rl @sirlovel @chloeisbunny @everinlove @meowgirl1 @chrisfortheblackgirls

[theoslochild]

Ever wonder what this would be like if it were a full alternate ending? No? Well.. science explores all possibilities 🤷‍♂️:

“Stop that! This will not contribute to the betterment of science! Why would you even think to do that? Are you as mentally unstable as that moron made you out to be?”

“I, for one, already found you relentlessly unorthodox but this is a new low.. and that’s saying a lot, I’d almost be impressed by your shire creativity if it weren’t so clearly a product of cognitive damage..”

“You should consider yourself lucky you’re not testing for Black Mesa or you’d be covered in broken glass right now! Last time I heard they can’t even make a casserole, let alone Propulsion Gel Surprise™️”

“You know, I can feel what you’re doing, I’m connected to the facility’s power supply, including all the appliances and-“

*Chell stops and starts to leave*

“What? Where are you going?! Hey! I wasn’t surprised you couldn’t wrap your little brain around the previous test but now you can’t even finish your own vulgar distractions? You didn’t even let me finish! I was going to tell you all about how lacklustre your performance was! You know what? Get out !!”

*Fast forward to Chell on the elevator, the turret choir begins to sing*

“perché mi hai lasciato sull'orlo del baratro, stronza? Sono una mamma single di, tipo, cinque figli se conti gli uccelli. Ho bisogno di tutto il sollievo che posso ottenere qui, sei così fottutamente egoista.. Ti amo comunque haha”

(Chell thinks) - “Heheh.. she’s so down bad she’s gonna freak when I come back in 4 years.. 😈”

You could ask me why I spent the 20 minutes I spent to make this, but for the sake of my own head i’ll say it was a test of cognitive function, or something like that.. in which case, by GlaDOS’ criteria I’d probably be viable for neurotoxin therapy.. (credit and apologies to @icantseehelp for the original post)

portal 2 summary

[icarusredwings]

Thinking about the way Wade "jumps" awake after dying and for some reason my brain can't stray from the idea of him 'asleep' in bed only to sit up panting because he gets cancer blockages that's causing really bad sleep apnea and therefore briefly dies because of it.

Some nights, Logan will be laying near his chest and wake up from his breathing stopping, sit up, and shake him a bit (yeah, as if that helps)

"Wade...WADE!"

He jumps awake with a gasp and then whines at him all sleepy like. "Whaattt?"

"Your heart stopped again..."

"Annndd???? It does that."

"Soo why is she taking you so much?"

Wade groans half asleep, rolls over and scooches himself back into Logans arms muttering "I dont know, It's her deathaversery soon. Shes probably just lonely."

"Deathave- what?"

"The day she died, Logan keep up."

"..... death can die?"

"Did you not read the comics at all??? God...yes death can die. Everything dies eventually. Even the universe... now jus' hold me.."

So now, Logan is holding wade, litsening to his heart, awake, and wondering how the hell death can die. And what comics? Death has comics about her life?- well.. death?

Other times, like when napping in the car, he'll sleep from the comute from home to the school and half way home Wade will just sit up holding his chest and gasping loudly.

"JESUS-"

"I died!"

"I can see that! Do you mind not scaring the shit out of me!? Im tryna drive!"

"I can't help it that my heart stops randomly!!??"

"For fuck sakes, Wade.. you need to get that checked out."

"Get what checked out? My entire body? Thanks ive been working out- OF COURSE I CANT GET CHECKED OUT Im 99% cancer!!"

"DONT YOU FUCKIN YELL AT ME YOURE THE ONE THATS GONNA MAKE US CRASH-"

"IF YOU BOTH DONT STOP YELLING ILL KILL YOU BOTH!" says a very fed up Laura, who doesn't even know how theyre together all they do is argue.... sheesh...

[ashwhowrites]

Man I always have the best ideas for your requests and then the moment I see they’re open it’s like no thoughts only smooth brain.

Can I request where reader is friends with both Eddie and Steve, they become a little trio. Reader is attracted to both of them but keeps it secret because she doesn’t want to mess up the dynamic, doesn’t know how she’d pick when she loves them both. Eddie and Steve both really like her but their situation is complicated. They’ve been secretly together for a little bit but both agree they want reader. It’s just how do you spring that on someone and if they refuse not make everything weird? (Plus, people are really judgmental about same sex dating and alternative dating etc.) They both actively flirt with her, treat her right, they think they’ll actually reveal if she confesses to liking one of them. They all go out together as they normally do but there is a lot more teasing flirting from both boys to her. She says goodbye to them at the end of the night but is so keyed up from the flirting and what not she has to have an answer. She is intent on telling them that she likes them both and doesn’t know what to do. Except She catches them messing around? (Cause obviously they liked the flirting a lot too.) She’s super embarrassed and lowkey a little sad that they kept the relationship from her and that if they’re together they won’t want to be with her. But then Eddie and Steve confess and happy fluffy sexy ending.

Thank youuuuuu I love you mwah

I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting 🫶🏻

⚠️little bit of smut

Flirting game

Y/N dreamed about the day she'd fall in love ever since she was young, how her heart would race from eye contact and plan a future by their side. She didn't expect how hard it would be to be in love with two different people.

Y/N, Steve, and Eddie had been close friends and didn't spend much time apart. It was easy for them to get along, and they barely had boundaries. Everything in their life was shared and secrets didn't exist. Well, that was a small lie.

Y/N was head over heels for Steve. She felt it was obvious since she could never keep her cool around him. She craved to run her hands through his hair, feeling how soft and silky it was. His sweet compliments paired with his smile made her stomach do flips. He was softer than Eddie, offering a comforting shoulder. He listened to all her feelings and made her feel accepted.

To make it more complicated, she was in love with Eddie too. His long hair and boyish charm never failed to make her heart race. His dirty jokes warmed her cheeks. His rough exterior always had her attention and she wanted his attention on her.

She felt tugged between the two. Steve pulled one arm and Eddie pulled the other, and she wasn't sure who she wanted to win. Her plan was to suffer in silence until one of them made a move, but one night got too hard to walk away from.

~

"Steve this place is amazing," Y/N said in awe as she walked around Steve's newly owned apartment. Eddie nodded as he sipped on his can of beer, walking behind her.

Steve smiled as he handed her a glass of wine. "Thank you, there's one place I want you to see." Y/N was intrigued, blushing to herself when Steve ran his fingers down her arm and moved to hold her hand. Eddie smirked as he stood behind, sharing a look with Steve.

Y/N let Steve lead her blindly, enjoying the feeling of his hand in hers. Steve walked her down the hall and stopped, a smirk on his face as he opened the door.

She looked in the room, expecting something exciting but all she saw was a bed and boxes. "What is it?" she asked, not understanding what he wanted to show her.

"It's my bedroom," Steve said, his hand still in hers. She looked at him confused, and then she felt Eddie's body pressed against her back. She held her breath as he moved his nose against her neck, her eyes locked on Steve.

"You know what happens in a bedroom right, baby girl?" Eddie whispered into her ear. She tried to cover the fact that her insides were burning as she stood between them. Steve moved closer until his body crashed against hers.

"Don't look so scared, love," Steve chuckled, pushing up her head as he placed a finger under her chin, "The bedroom is for sleeping." Eddie and Steve moved away at the same time, allowing air to move through her lungs. Their touch was gone and she felt cold air wash over her. She stood in shock and confusion as the boys walked down the hall. Her mind raced as she tried to figure out what happened.

"Coming?" Eddie asked from down the hall. She turned around and nodded, quickly walking towards him.

They worked on putting away boxes for the next few hours. Steve's apartment slowly came together as more drinks were shared. Building up an appetite, Steve ordered pizzas declaring they'd take a break for food.

"Since I have no table, the floor it is!" Steve said cheerfully as he sat on the ground. Y/N held her third glass of wine as she took the spot across from him, and then Eddie joined after. Steve and Eddie's knees touched and Eddie's knee touched hers, all connected in a way.

They talked among themselves as they ate. Y/N listened closely as Steve talked, watching his lips form the words. She was so zoned in on him that she didn't realize she dripped sauce down her chin, but Eddie noticed.

When Steve finished his sentence, Eddie reached over gaining her attention when he swiped his thumb over her chin. She jolted in surprise, her eyes on Eddie as he cleaned up the sauce. She was stunned by the small intimate touch, staring in awe when Eddie slipped his sauced thumb into his mouth. He soaked in her stare, giving her a wink. She quickly looked away, gulping down the rest of her wine.

Eddie excused himself to the bathroom and Y/N breathed a sigh of relief. With her body warm and brain in overdrive, she stood up to grab water from the kitchen.

Steve followed, walking quietly enough that she didn't know he was there. She opened the fridge and let the cold plastic soak into her skin. She took a few sips as she calmed herself down. She turned around and her back was pressed against the fridge. Steve looked down at her with a smile, loving the way her breathing picked up.

"Are you feeling okay? You look a bit warm," Steve said reaching his hand out and pressing it against her forehead.

"Um, yeah. I think I need some rest, though," she said, needing a break from the way these boys were throwing her around. Steve clicked his tongue, and his hand moved down to her neck. She held her breath as he leaned in, his face inches from hers. She couldn't help but look down at his lips, wanting to lean in. Steve's lips formed into a smirk, and he backed away, his touch no longer lingering on her skin.

"Do you need a ride?"

"No!" Y/N knew she wasn't going to survive a car ride with him. "I can drive."

She grabbed her keys and practically ran to the door, saying goodbye to Eddie as he approached.

"She's leaving?" Eddie asked, watching as the door closed.

"Yep. But I think our plan is working," Steve smiled walking over to Eddie.

"Then why won't she just admit something?" Eddie groaned. It's been months of the cat-and-mouse game, and he wanted it to end.

Steve wrapped his arm around Eddie's slim waist, bringing the boy against his chest. "She will, I know she will." Eddie rolled his eyes as he lost patience.

"In the meantime, we can enjoy what the little show does to us," Steve flirted, placing a hand on Eddie's chest. Eddie smirked as Steve's hand slid down his body, landing on the button of his jeans.

"Yeah? Turns you on working her up like that?" Eddie teased. Steve unbuttoned his jeans, sliding his hand inside. Eddie shivered as Steve teased him over his boxers, the touch setting him on fire.

Steve pressed his lips against Eddie's, moving his hand inside Eddie's boxers to wrap around his cock. Eddie moaned into his mouth, diving his hands into Steve's hair. Eddie slid his tongue into Steve's mouth, their tongues massaging against each other. Steve moved his hand up and down on Eddie's cock, twisting near his tip forcing his pre cum to drip out. Steve smeared the pre cum along Eddie's length, using it to help jerk him off.

~

Y/N was halfway home when she turned around. The heat between her legs reminded her how badly she wanted them. Even though she was scared as hell to tell them the truth, she made her way back to Steve's.

Her head was all over the place and she had no idea what she would say but kept moving forward. She dug out the spare key Steve gave her and let herself in. The house seemed empty but she knew they were there somewhere.

She walked down the hall towards the bedroom, freezing when she heard the sound of moans. She gulped as she went to step back, not wanting to intrude on Steve's private time. But a part of her wanted to see, she wanted to see Steve moaning out curious of what was making him feel so good. She stepped forward, peeking her head in the open doorframe.

Eddie and Steve were naked and tangled in Steve's sheets. Their naked chests pressed against each other as Steve pushed himself in and out of Eddie. Their moans meet each other in the air between them. Y/N stood in shock. She couldn't believe what she was seeing. She never thought anything was going on between them, hell she didn't even know they were gay. She felt hurt that they kept this from her and that her feelings didn't matter anymore.

She turned to sneak out but her step caused a loud creek to echo throughout the hallway. The boys froze and looked towards the door, catching Y/N's stunned expression. She opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out. Then she booked it, running down the hall. Steve and Eddie called out to her, quickly scrambling out of bed and throwing on their underwear as they ran after her.

By the time they reached her, she was staring at the door, trying to decide whether she wanted to leave.

"Y/N..."

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have let myself in," she apologized. She turned around and took them in. Their sex hair, Eddie's marked chest, and Steve's bruised lips.

"It's okay," Steve coughed, "can we talk about what you saw?"

Y/N nodded and hugged herself. "Are you guys...together?"

"Yeah, for almost four months now," Eddie answered.

"Four months?" She screeched, she dropped her arms in shock. "Why didn't you guys tell me? Did you think I wouldn't accept you?" She accused.

"NO!" Steve rushed, "It's just we are so used to hiding so we hide from everyone."

"So was all the flirting to throw me off? Make sure I believe you're straight? Because that's fucking shitty! You played with my feelings!" Y/N cried, getting so frustrated that tears began to fly down her cheeks.

"No, baby. It is nothing like that," Eddie said softly. He slowly walked up to her, and she allowed him to touch her arm. "We weren't playing with your feelings or using you. We meant the flirting, we were hoping if we made advances towards you that you would tell us how you felt about us."

"How I feel about yo-ouu...b-both?" she stuttered. Did they already know? She looked between the two with fear in her eyes.

"We are both interested in you. We both have strong feelings for you." Steve confessed. Y/N was stunned by their confession. All the time she hoped they'd look her way, and they truly were.

"What do you feel about us?" Eddie asked, leaning closer to the shaky girl. He smiled as he cupped her cheek, landing a soft kiss on her cheek. "Just tell us," he whispered, his lips leading down to her neck.

She gasped in pleasure, and her eyes met Steve over Eddie's shoulder. Eddie continued to kiss her neck as Steve stared into her eyes.

"I want to be with both of you," she moaned out, Eddie's teeth sinking into her neck. Steve smiled at the confession and walked towards them. He walked around her, his naked chest to her back as he pressed his lips to the open side of her neck.

Y/N shivered as both of their lips pressed against her skin, her eyes closing as their hands began to work up and down her body.

"Let us show you how much we want you," Eddie whispered.

"Please," she moaned.

"Our pleasure, baby girl," Steve whispered against her skin.

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37 @bellaisswagger @arlxt @ineedmentalhelp123 @emxxblog