#was the coochie that good? lmfao

[callmerosiie]

Ayo why this 🥷🏾 i used to mess with got one of his to stalk me 😂

[teamjacobthot]

rereading nyctophobia by teamjacobthot on ao3 like-

[themuseofbaroque]

astro obvs. & notes #1 - general

author’s note - this is for entertainment purposes only, none of this is fact. these are simply my own opinions!

- neptune 1H 🤝 pisces rising, noticing their eyes first. the water influence to these placements adds something that draws you in like a current, no pun intended. i used to work with a pisces rising, and she literally looked like a pretty fish (lmfao) big, shiny eyes. either of these placements can find it incredibly easy to appear sensual or seductive.

- speaking of water placements! i’ve also noticed pisces placements tend to take a lot of pictures around water. beaches, hot tubs, rivers.

- this can also be said for air signs (esp. libra) but with things they enjoy! i’m always seeing personal interest posts from libras, aquarians and geminis. music, video games, political causes, shows they’re watching, food, celebrities, etc. anything they like, they post. anything.

- i’ve never laughed harder than when i’m with people who have heavy gemini, capricorn, sagittarius and leo placements

- in my personal opinion and experience, capricorn risings are what people think scorpio rising is. i’ve only met one scorpio rising irl (that i know of) and she did not fit martian/plutonian ruling at all. celebrity examples ⬇️

kim hongjoong of ateez. the intimidation factor, the style, sex appeal, the interest in piercings/tattoos. he’s a capricorn rising, with his chart ruler, saturn, in the sign of aries so we see a lot of red/martian influence from him as well.

megan fox. she’s been a little fuckin weird ever since she dated mgk (that man makes me physically ill to look at much less read about) but! she had her bad bitch moments! being known primarily for her sex appeal + starring in jennifer’s body (a gothic treasure btw) i feel is very scorpio coded however she herself is a capricorn rising, with a sagittarius saturn in the 11h, more fire influence from her as well just like with hongjoong.

joan jett. THEE female guitarist of the 80s. her whole career was surrounded by sex, scandals, drugs, all the darker themes of rock n roll in general. she’s another fire ruled capricorn rising and a sagittarius saturn in the 11h like megan. her style and even her personality has an edge to it, much more fitting for scorpio/plutonian stereotypes rather the capricorn ones. imo.

- actors who’ve done major/recognizable roles in horror usually have a capricorn neptune. neptune is imagination and capricorn is ruled by the devil card in tarot. combine the two and you have quite literally = dark imagination. celebrity examples ⬇️

mia goth staring in the X series as the main face of the trilogy

bill skarsgard being the main face of the IT remake as pennywise

evan peters as tate langdon in AHS, he also played jeffery dahmer recently for netflix.

- capricorn actually shows up quite a bit in the horror genre, esp. gore and paranormal. both actors and writers.

- sagittarius too, oddly enough. a lot of well known faces of horror have major sagittarius placements/stelliums/jupiter dominance.

- underdeveloped cancer placements are more manipulative and two faced than geminis. i see so much gem slander on here, and don’t get me wrong, i love both cancer and gemini placements! however i’ve met and befriended quite a few of both, and cancers by far have been the common denominator in issues around them more than once. stirring the pot then turning around and playing the victim when people are frustrated, lying, playing both sides to better their own situation, and even playing people against each other. i’ve never seen such hateful behaviors from the geminis i know irl.

- aries men are much shyer compared to the women

- taurus women i’ve met irl get pregnant very easily. venus? good coochie? idk

- grand trines are some of the most beautiful people i’ve ever seen (a grand trine is when someone’s big 3, so sun/moon/rising, are in the same element but in all 3 different signs. ex: virgo sun, taurus moon, capricorn rising)

- queer individuals with pisces placements can pass as straight pretty easily if they wanted to. most of them are chameleons

- aries risings i’m so sorry for the household you had growing up. i see martian childhoods usually being the ones who dealt with screaming matches, toxic parents, poverty and underlying issues with siblings that last into adulthood

- i’m not surprised at all when libra placements tell me they’re in college for a general studies degree because they can’t figure out what they wanna do yet

- a lot of fan favorite female characters in video games are canonically cancers

- if you think your rising sign doesn’t suit you very well, try looking at whatever planet correlates with your gender identity. masculine: sun and mars, feminine: venus and moon. the houses and signs of these should help you out a little bit

- libra placements absolutely get favoritism at least once in their life, jobs/family dynamics especially

- sagittarius women usually have rough love lives, at least in the beginning. a lot of them try to save and help partners who don’t deserve it and they get hurt badly in the process. same goes with pisces women

- virgo venus is not that bad of a placement as stereotypes make it out to be. clean freaks? yes. perfectionists? usually, yes. loyal? yes. remember the small things? yes. romantic? no. at least not in a cheesy way. sensual? yes.

- lilith aspects to any of the big 3 is a bad bitch placement. honorable mention is venus/lilith aspects as well

- air signs like spicy food just as much as fire signs

- a lot of rappers have heavy mercurial placements (virgo and gemini) (3h and 6h)

- mc aspecting venus in anyway is usually the person who fools around with coworkers/may even cheat on a partner with someone they work with. most people with this placement have definitely had a partner at one point or another worried about someone they work with. may be the type to have a “work wife”/“work husband”

- 6h chiron is the person who’s life has been majorly impacted by their own or someone else’s health. disabilities, chronic illnesses, stds, limb amputation, skin grafts, etc.

- aries moon and mercury combo = bad potty mouth, cursing is an almost unbreakable habit

- speaking of aries! aries and aquarius placements together in any of these ➡️ moon, venus, mars, lilith, pluto ➡️ usually have a tendency to jump around from partner to partner very quickly, including falling back into exes. their thoughts and opinions on people and things change SO quickly that they usually are the kind of people who have rosters (unintentionally). they are upfront, they don’t lie or drag anyone along but they do seem to be restless when it comes to romance. even if they don’t physically date a lot, they may often THINK of it, their minds going a million miles a minute

- geminis do not get the rep they deserve for being freaks. not only does the sign traditionally rule the throat/lungs/hands/nervous system, (choking, breath play, hickies, hand fetish/fingering, blindfolding and sub/dom dynamics) but it’s also ruled by the lovers card in tarot 👁️👁️

- fixed signs 🤝 tattoos

- sagittarius/capricorn/pisces/libra placements usually have issues with religion/spirituality growing up. either they were forced into one as kids and they have an unhealthy relationship with their god now as an adult or they simply struggle to find something that feels true to them. this is just my experience but every single friend i’ve had who’s left the christian church, had an interest in paganism/buddhism, joined the satanic temple, grew up as strict catholics, etc, have had these placements. religion is a revolving door for them and it’s a common subject of struggle in their life

- women with pisces placements tend fall into unhealthy relationships very easily, especially if they’re heterosexual and dating men. they fall in love with the idea of love before the actual person presenting it. they are bossed around very easy and usually don’t like confrontation. honorable mentions for this as well: pisces stellium, cancer stellium/mercury/saturn, 7h saturn

- cheesy hallmark movies make me think of taurus/libra venus placements, 7h venus as well

- 5h cancer/moon/venus, cancer rising/moon dom, 5h/8h synastry aspects please be wary of accidental pregnancies! wrap it before you tap it cause y’all extra fertile 💀

- most well known streamers/youtubers have 10h stelliums, including their venus. a lot of them will end up dating another social media presence/someone who shares a platform/job with them

yay first post! pardon any spelling errors i’m proof reading this half asleep ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ

[amazingmsme]

What kind of teases/tickle tactics do you think would work the best on the gods? (Hermes would definitely crumble and trip over his works if asked questions while being wrecked LMFAO).

I hope you and your tickletober prompts are going well!!

Thank you, this one was a lot of fun! Again, it got a little long cause there’s just so many, so it’ll be under the cut. The fics are going well, & I’m slowly finishing them!

Aeolus: honestly a bit shameless, she’s surprisingly hard to fluster. But if you point out how her powers are going crazy, she will get embarrassed & tell you to shut up. Fast pokes get her all worked up, it’s so cute

Circe: embarrassed by the mere fact she’s getting tickled, so most teases get to her even if she tries to play it off or acts angry. Stuff like “what do we have here?” “Oh, is this a good spot?” “I would’ve never expected you to be so ticklish!” gets to her real bad

Calypso: any teases that compliment her laugh or saying she’s cute makes her get really flustered & giggly. Light tickling works best on her

Dionysus: teases like “coochie coochie coo” or just saying the word tickle really gets to him. Probably because he’s the youngest & all the older siblings would use those teases

Hermes: pretty bold & hard to fluster, but get at the right spot, or start mocking his laughter/how ticklish he is, he will get embarrassed & kinda huffy. He’ll try & hide behind his head wings, & that’s how you know you got him good. Fast, rougher tickles tend to work best on him, & raspberries literally kill him

Athena: basically any teasing gets her worked up cause tickling in general embarrasses her & she tries to pretend it’s beneath her. Specifically things that comment on her usual strength & how she’s not even trying to stop them, or how out of character it seems for her to be so sensitive

Apollo: can’t stand hearing people talk about how ticklish he is. Anticipation is very effective. Poking & squeezing works best on him

Hephaestus: he acts like it’s not getting to him, but he’s dying on the inside. Teases that point this out, like “I know you wanna laugh” “just let it out!” & that sort of thing

Aphrodite: another one who doesn’t get all that embarrassed, but wiggling your fingers above her & faking attacks is the best way to get her all giddy & panicked

Ares: gets so pissed off & defensive as soon as anyone teases him about anything, so he gets particularly worked up if you’re teasing him about being ticklish. The ones that work best on him are things like “aw look how cute you are!” “You’re not so tough now!” “So this is your weakness?” etc.

Hera: you have to build up the anticipation before teasing starts to work on her. Cooing, playful teases get to her more than others because she lowkey thinks it’s condescending

Zeus: manages to deflect teasing pretty easily, but if you can manage to pin him down, his whole demeanor changes. Taunting kind of teases like “oh how the mighty have fallen” “is this really all it takes to bring you down?” “I don’t believe it! THE Zeus is this ticklish?” Or if you comment on how much thunder & lightning is happening while he’s getting wrecked. Normally he’s proud of his power display, but not when he’s not even in control of it!

Poseidon: because he’s so defensive about being ticklish, most teases seem to get under his skin. If you say anything about his laughter or mention his fins/other fishy traits he gets more flustered. More traditional teases tend to just make him angry & dead set on revenge

Hades: he literally just tries to ignore whatever you’re saying. If he needs to, he’ll just plug his ears. That said, the ones that affect him are things like compliments & cooing. Anticipation & fake attacks work pretty well on him

[leelesbo]

so this may be a bit of an odd request lol. im not personally into tickeling, but my partner is. i find it really attractive how into it he is, and am super willing to participate for him, but as hes into the lee and ler sides of it, sometimes when im taking the ler role, i sort of run out of ideas on what to say and do LOL. it doesnt come naturally to me like you all who actually Do have the fetish. i basically just picked your blog randomly cause we're the same age and you seem to have experience with it and i dont think he follows you already, but i was hoping you could offer some advice or ideas on good things to say and do that may not be obvious? i'd ask him but he gets so flustered over it that its basically impossible HDFJKGKDFHGL

this is the cutest sweetest ask omfg i would LOVE to help out. i love yapping about tickling you came to the right person (this turned out to be really long so it’s all under the cut LMFAO)

so for teasing, a lot of the times it really depends on Who you’re teasing!! for instance, im not personally a huge fan of the whole “coochie coochie coo” “tickle tickle tickle” thing bc its just Way too babyish and infantile for me, but ive found a lot of people in this community really like it and it flusters them a lot!!! if youre unsure, typical teases like that couldn’t hurt to try!

ok i said “tickle tickle tickle” didnt work on me but Actually in the right context that absolutely could work bc the simple act of Hearing The Word is insanely flustering. fr, if you just keep repeating how ticklish he is, asking if something tickles, maybe even figure out a way to force Him to say the word it should work. there’s smth about knismos where our brain overloads hearing that word and it’s even so hard to say, it’s extremely flustering being forced to say it!!

also, focusing on spots and Talking about how that particular spot is affecting them is killer. if you’re tickling his ribs and it’s making him giggle more than belly-laugh, point that out!!! “oh you really like the ribs, don’t you? you’re giggling so much you can’t even talk! try! go on, tell me how much it tickles!” for me and a lot of other knismos, tickling is a lot about feeling Analyzed. experiment with specific spots and see how differently it affects him. verbally take notes on the differences!

also, emphasize how much he’s enjoying it even if/when he’s Begging for you to stop or move spots. knismos love to pretend we hate it, it adds to the fun of the whole thing. but don’t ONLY emphasize that he’s enjoying it, also throw in how horrible it must be!! how he’s too ticklish to take it, how it must be so bad if he’s screaming for mercy.

(i literally keep thinking of new things to add this is going to be so long sorry)

AND AND AND!!! POINT OUT HOW FLUSTERED HE IS!! how red his face has gotten, how he keeps repeating the same thing over and over bc his brain is fuzzy and he can’t Speak Properly, maybe he can’t figure out what to do with his hands, or he keeps trying to hide his face! LET HIM KNOW U CAN SEE EVERY LITTLE REACTION!!! it’s about the attention to detail babyyyy

tickle teasing can also go beyond the actual Act of tickling. tease him when you aren’t even tickling him!! wiggle your fingers his way, throw the word in casual conversation (“what you said earlier really tickled me”), poke him when ur out in public!! little things :3

when you Are tickling him, make him tell you what spots tickle more. make him help you! maybe choose two spots at a time, tickle one spot and then the other, and make him tell you which was worse (this ofc will take Many trials and retests juuuust to be sure he was right the first time 😌). use different methods and make him choose which is worse! hands or teeth? feathers or raspberries? the list can go on and on and you’ll both be sure to have a lot of fun testing out the varieties of the game lol

okay so i could literally keep going FOREVER but ill stop here for now bc ive already written a fucking essay!!! if you want more i’d be elated to go again, my brain is constantly on Tickle Mode so im always happy to yap about it!!

anyway, hope this helped!! hope you guys have fun, im happy to be of service :3

[celestie0]

so are ihm gojo and kickoff gojo buff asf like post prison realm gojo or are they built like him pre prison realm cause if it’s post CHAIN ME DOWN NOWW

honestly when i both read and write for gojo i only ever picture buff gojo in post prison realm 😅 i just like guys that have nice arms (beefy biceps n strong arms in general w pretty veins <3 are literally the hottest thing ever to me) if you ever wonder “huh ellie really mentions gojo’s arms a lot in her writing 🤔” please excuse me my coochie was drenched picturing how his arms would look in the scene and i ended up subconsciously including the description in the writing

i’m not all too crazy for abs but like nice thicc arms n thighs 😫🤌🏼 and broad shoulders but a lean waist 🙈 sorry idk why i started fiending while answering this ask HAHAH

i have been sent a lot of incredible fanart that my readers have said reminded them of kickoff gojo n ihm gojo n a lot of them are really accurate to how i picture them while writing but i never saved them 🥲 so i just quickly found some pics/fanart that i think kinda represent them 😭 LOL i ended up getting a lil too into this haha sorry

yea kickoff gojo is basically cheeky post prison realm gojo w the slutty tiny waist n the athletic build n he just has that really boyish attitude all the time hahah:

his moodboard that i made for him is also how i picture him!! and then some fanart i think kinda reminds me of him is these:

1: @/_3aem on twt; 2: @/momoya348 on twt

pls he’s literally just black compression shirt gojo i guess HAHAHAH

for ihm gojo i think his drip n vibe is kinda similar to gojo in the baseball episode 😭 just woozy easy going suburban dad that’s just there to have a good time n can never tell when people are annoyed by him LMFAO but also he can be pretty serious mostly when he’s mad or concerned or inconvenienced (like shibuya arc gojo when he locked tf in…without the feral mania tho 💀)

n yea some fanart on how i picture him overall:

1: @/_3aem on twt; 2: @/tiyu0710 on twt

pls im sorry bb i know your question was such a simple one but then i just took it n RAN haha i think maybe bc i realized i’ve never actually shared how i picture them as the author?? lol so i figured i’d use your ask as an opportunity to!! hope this answers 🤣💕 much love from me!!

[gh0stsp1d3r]

I get what you mean about describing characteristics of the reader (blushing and whatnot). But on the flip side I can’t read a fic that doesn’t have all that detail so I’m kinda in between on how I feel about that

I can understand that, description paints a picture. It’s imagery. It’s one of the most important parts of a story. Could you imagine reading Frankenstein without any descriptions of the monster?

But In an x reader work, a reader wants to read about themselves. Like, A black reader don’t wanna read abt themselves, but then when they read it, have characteristics that they psychically don’t have (skin color, pin straight hair, blue eyes, blushing, the list goes on)

And, if you’re a good writer, you should be able to describe something in so many different ways.

For example, the blushing thing can easily be solved by saying “your cheeks warmed up,”

Everyone can relate to that feeling. It’s not psychical, what you look like, type description.

And for the coochie one I was talking abt earlier, you don’t need to use “pink” to describe it. Just use any other word and avoid mentioning color. It’s that easy to avoid and not use, yet I keep seeing it.

And I don’t wanna hear none of yall yt mfs in my comments like “oh, but black people have black!readers” okay? You can have a white!reader but just put that in the description/warnings so I know to avoid it lmfao

yes im tagging it again IDGAF

[thehotgrandparent]

More TNMN quotes that I heard from my 7th hour class

————

Steven: “I inhaled your hair noises”

————

D.D.D Personnel: “Summon a demon from the floor”

———

Anastacha: “There’s a volcano erupting in your coochie”

————

Angus: I’m becoming part wolf”

————

Izaack: “He’s going to grow a tail”

————

Selenne: “…The animal over there…”

————

Angus: “I said I’m becoming part wolf”

————

Angus: “The infection is spreading”

Elenois: “…The wolf infection?”

————

Nacha: “That’s all in the canine stuff”

————

Angus: “*trips*”

Mia: “You doing ok?”

————

Dr. W. Afton: “Uhh, that tastes salty”

————

Angus: “Claim me rn… CLAIM ME”

————

Francis: “Nothing’s happened, yet I already feel m*l*sted”

————

Izaack: “Sorry guys, I’m in heat”

————

Izaack: “We’re going to have an ogry”

————

Some student: “GET THAT MIDGET OUT OF MY CLASS”

Anastacha: “I’M NOT A MIDGET”

————

Mia: “You realize I have ears, right?”

————

Anastacha: “Are you Sigma or are you Jitlyang?”

————

Margarette: “When did Superman have a g*n?”

————

Angus: “Tonight is the night we will fall for you”

————

Mclooy: “I’m probably bald, man”

————

Mia: “I’m not a pimp”

Anastacha: “My mom was a pimp”

————

Anastacha: “Listen Margarette, you only get good things if you steal”

————

Margarette: “I glued my eyelashes shut doing fake eyelashes”

————

A/N: That’s it for now 😋

I hope you like this because this is honestly hilarious, lmfao. A good chunk of the “wolf” stuff was from the same kid in class, lmao. Like the ones mainly by Angus. I just thought it fit 💀

[screampied]

MY QUEEENNNNN😫😫 here's the update from the reading sesh earlier; -it was definitely quite the sesh -i squirted like it was the first time i ever squirted -i feel pregnant LMFAO -bf is spaced out but wants and will def do a pt. 2 of our reading sesh if i told him -we tried including ice cubes😋 -last and the saddest(?), i started my period towards the end🥲can the ground just swallow me whole bc it's the first time this happened and i felt and still feel so embarrassed.... p.s. i tapped out first bc i wanted to make sure that it was a false alarm and that maybe bf went a little too hard ykwim but alas😞satan decided to pay me a visit one week earlier update after reading the 1st entry of your kinktober: EXCUSE ME?? VAMPS CHOSOKUNA??? I NEVER KNEW I NEEDED?? WHAT??? esp the parts where choso gets pouty abt getting a turn and kuna being greedy but still letting him get a taste while reader just lays there as if she's not there??? the dynamics between the characters??? hello??? work of art??? masterpiece??? museum worthy??? my coochie twitches every time i open your blog, bye- -reading sesh anon♡ and sleepy feral bf anon :p

NONNIEEEEE 😞😞😞

omgggg congrats !!!! squirting supremacy <3 once u get used to it it feels amaaaazing. ice cubs oooh. awh i’m sorry :( that’s gotta be the worst, i’m expecting mine soon n i’m so not ready ✋ my cycle always comes at the worst times like girl no one asked you to be here 😒 ITLL BE OVER SOON ML !!!

hehehe yessss the thought came to me so randomly bc i wanted to write a vampire!au and thought those two would be so good 🙂‍↕️. been a hot min since i wrote a threesome so i pray i did okaaaaay. YEAAAAH choso was my fav to write he’s such a pouty baby <3 oh to have them both fight over me 🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️.

but thank u sm for reading :(((( I ADORE YOUUU MY SWEET, and have a lovely day / night !!! 💋

[blkkizzat]

KALI WHAT HOW DID THE CONVO WITH THE TAXI DRIVER GOOO I WANNA KNOW LIKE

aashi, 🧠 ,nonny, lmfaooo ok ok y'all wanna know i see y'all LOL!

I was so unbelievably fucked up. okay hoe story time i guess fikadfjvzdkf..... 1 of 2 cause i did hookup with someone else the first night.

I had been drinking since like 1pm that day, went to this outdoor ski club with friends got a table with champagne guns, went to dinner drank margs, drank more back at the airbnb, drank at the club then drank whiskey and took an edible at the tinder hookups place. he could get hard worth a damn and his dick was tiny, had to be like 4 inches max and was a total disappointment!!! I didn't even put on my body suit, just my bra and leggings leaving the place just threw my pufferjacket on over LOL.

But I remember getting in the car and the taxi driver trying to make conversation (it had to be like 2am in the morning? i think?) being like "oh is that your friend" and then i think i said something like "no thats my tinder date" and then them noticing my face was like stank about it then was like "oh did it not go well?"

girl.... SIS, please tell me why i straight up told this man "no, he couldnt stay hard" LJKFLKSRJBFKJ HELLO!?!? WHAT IS WRONG WITH MEEEE??? I couldn't lie!? Like that edible had hit and it was just pure honesty lmfao, just zero common sense. im already a pretty upfront person but like yeah i just said that.

then he was like "well do u still wanna fuck? cause ill show you a good time and i thnk ur hot as fuck." he was like my place isnt far from here. and i was like "okay, lets go." LOL!

i dont remember much of the convo after that. i dont even remember this mans name. but we did have sex, he didnt last very long but ate decent coochie lol. he like apologized ajdfvskjd he didnt fuck me as hard as he said he would but he was literally like daddy age like 45-50? he was cute tho! it was weird cause he had all these engines in his living room and he said something about auto parts but i dont remember (which is kinda serial killer coded ngljksdbcfakzjd). the ride back i dont really remember cause i think i passed out somehow gave him my address. (im such a mess no one do what i did cause you could get kidnapped but all my friends have my iphone locationand they actually were checking lol)

lol side note, he drove be back to the townhome airbnb me and my friends rented. i had him drop me off at the wrong one and ended up walking through 2 backyards to find the right one (literally could have gotten eaten by a bear cause theres hella bears in whistler, like there were bear tracks around hdasdbhjcasb). came inside was so fucked up i fell flat on my face and laid there for a while but then decided i could not have my friends find me in the literal entryway and got up, laid in the shower for like 10 mins then crawled into bed with my friend. thank GOD we both shared the master king at the bottom cause i wouldnt have been able to make it up the stairs.

and yeah. lol.

[hopelesshaidys]

.・。.・゜✭・.✫・゜・。.

.・。.・゜✭・.✫・゜・。.

call it what you want

ATTENTION MY DEAREST READERS!!!! the character Jordan is NOT my original character, but an oc of the one and only @kotoprincesa !!! thought it would be fun to have a cutsy oc, so thank you koto!! i love ur oc🫶🫶

.ೃ࿐

THIS EP WAS SO FUN TO WRITE OMGGGGGG and the next couple chapters are a complete 360 from this so…enjoy it while u can

i hope everyone is still enjoying, i promise the next chapter is gonna be JUICY i alr have the title and UGH i’m so excited for the pain

as always i’m here if you have any questions or just random thoughts! i’m very easily entertained

also stream Hozier’s new song Unknown / Nth okay byeeeeeee

fun facts! ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

- toshi and denks are so gay your honor

- shopping hauls are a REGULAR in this chapter

- iida was very patient with ko

- in fact he’s an amazing shopper like he’s so chill but he also takes it so seriously

- (i like to head cannon he mellowed out after high school/college lmfao)

- ko has a new job!!! be proud of her!!! clap!!! she’s working with children!!!!

- everything is a race/competition in their friend group it’s so funny😭😭

- that’s honestly how sero got the guts to ask out Jordan bc denks beat him so he had to make sure bkg didn’t win

- obvs mina and kiri won

- I LOVE THOSE SPIDER-MAN MEMES HELP

- #Tenyafanclub

- i cannot imagine what queer photographers and model are going thru rn dear lord

- URANUS

- katsuki is such a good person to rage rant with, so much so yn called him later that night after their hang out and raged some more (he was smiling the whole time)

- KATS SAYING GOOD GIRL. i may be nonbinary but LAWRD help me

- i was this🤏 close to having yn post a meme that said “my coochie is tingling” but i didn’t want another “community labels threat” 🙄🙄🙄

- sero is living and i’m here for it

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[maxtermind]

I already don’t take this sport seriously, but if OF actually becomes alpines sponsor, I might have to bow out for good. I can’t tell people, “oh you know the team Patrick mahomes, Travis Kielce, and Ryan Reynolds are investors in? Yeah, the main sponsor is Only Fans, the porn site” I won’t be taken seriously, think of the optics! Andretti couldn’t join due to not being prestige but now we have a coochie and cock sponsor on the grid. Do the drivers get free memberships? I’m so confused.

lmfao the end ashdjhdj

made me laugh out loud fr

[cinamun]

Mercy stressing me out and I'm already stressed out lol just give some to Sean so you can stop giving some to bishop. sad you have to get under a new nigga to get over and old one but at this point she just week and it's annoying... she needs to test drive it that's all. Cause we remember Sean had Indya up a wall, so he knows what he's doing... Not only that him and Mercy chemistry is def different. So, the smashing I feel would be immaculate.

Immaculate smashing, let us put that into the universe for the good sis Mercy.

And think about the fact that she was working on letting go of her late husband when she met Bishop so her frame of reference for getting over men is .... getting a man. This makes your "get under a new nigga" logic make perfect sense my good sis LMFAO!

Listen, Mercy is a whole struggle and while she is exhausting to write sometimes, i'm seeing now, in this last update that Bishop really only has her by the coochie. He doesn't really have her mind anymore like he used to which is a VERY interesting development to me.

But I just be guessing...

[sunlightandsuffering]

Just read a fic where this happens but it could fit very well in the size queen au or multiple au's tbh. But I love Mikasa having a very pure and innocent air around her, the good girl at school with perfect grades who stays away from drama and boy troubles. All her friends see her as the responsible friend who doesn't get blackout drunk or have random flings with men like some of them do.

Until one day when she's hanging out with them and her phone gets a notification and one of her friends picks it up for her and they're greeted with an absolutely filthy photo of Mikasa. Whether it's Mikasa with Eren's massive cock resting on her face like that other ask mentioned. Or Mikasa's face covered in cum after he gave her a facial, or her mouth wide open and full with cum before he gave her permission to swallow. The possibilities for dirty pics are endless but I think Eren is def the type to take pics as a point of pride and also to use when she's not around and sends them to her as a way of convincing her to come over when he's horny.

But Mikasa is mortified when her friends see this. Quickly snatching her phone back and turning bright red as her friends excitedly tease her about it and try to get details out of her. They never knew their precious lil Mikasa was even seeing a guy let alone fucking around with a hunk with such a massive cock. Teasing that they never expected her to be the type of girl who's a size queen and into bigger men in every sense of the world.

The whole time Mikasa is just squirming and trying to change the subject. Next time she sees Eren she's super pouty and grumpy with him, hitting him a lot and he has to give her lots of cuddles and eat her out before she's willing to forgive him for the embarrassment.

K help I kinda love it!!! I just love innocent to kinky cool girl Mika tho lmfao, like her having this secret double life ! YES "Miks, your phone is buzzing," Sasha tells her from the couch where she's lounging while Mikasa plays the new Zelda game, running around the open world aimlessly. She hums from her perch at the bottom fo the couch, "Who is it?"

She hears the tell-tale click of her phone unlocking, and awaits Sasha's answer but all she hears is a shocked gasp from her friend. After a moment of no response, Mikasa finishes killing an enemy skulltula and turns to Sasha impatiently, "Who is it?" Sasha has gone bright red, her eyes avoiding her own, her only answer to hold the phone up to expose a rather explicit photo of Mikasa.

A hot wave of embarrassment overcomes her as she snatches the phone from her friend, her cheeks heating up rapidly because it really is an explicit photo. She's mortified, she never thought her friend would see this picture, out of all of the ones he could have sent it had to be this one?? It's her, smiling up at the camera dopily, covered in thick white lines of cum Eren's dick stretched across her face, it's her boyfriend's most prized photo and Mikasa winces as she looks back up to Sasha. "Umm, so you gonna tell me who Eren is?" Mikasa chokes on a laugh, "I umm, that's my boyfriend, he's kind of a perv." "WHAT?"

Mikasa sighs, so much for keeping him secret.

As Sasha marvels over the fact that she is not in fact single MIkasa sends him an angry text, there will be no coochie for him today! She is not going over to his place to re-enact the picture after Sasha's gone.

Eren responds with sad face emojis and an eggplant and Mikasa is left to explain to Sasha that in her downtime she moonlights in Eren's words as his 'dirty little whore' and that yes, she has in fact taken the monster shlong in the picture inside of her, does it regularly actually.

[bottomvalerius]

actually i want to write more trans HC with my blorbos specifically so rapid-fire thoughts let's go:

Damien doesn't get top surgery yet, but eventually when he does he doesn't get nipple graphs and instead tattoos little heart nipples instead (probably a funky color like green or purple to really lean into the 'living dead boy' theme lmfao)

Most of Donna's body hair is natural; their goatee was the only thing they use magic to keep up, and part of it came from Asra daring them to do it and they both agreed they should keep it lmfao

Asra probably would have been the one to crack Donna's egg too tbh LOL like they've never FELT like a girl, they just didn't really know what else to call themself until Asra got them baked and told them about how gender isn't real in the magic realms and it all clicked

Sam's family is actually extremely accepting of him in a "tell me your pronouns so I can insult you properly" sorta way LMFAO Sam's younger sibling Roshni is nonbinary and he has a trans niece that he supports financially as well. Sam is just an asshole LMFAO

Sam didn't know what the fuck was going on with himself for quite a while, and it wasn't until he got really deep into the scene and met other queer folk that things really began cementing for him. like he genuinely believed he was a cis het woman for a good chunk of his young adulthood who just happened to fuck everyone and their mother and also hated being referred to as a woman LMFAO

I've mentioned before that Sam plays around with his body hair a lot. he prefers a more clean-shaven look as he thinks it makes him more snake-y in appearance, but sometimes he will just suddenly be covered head to toe in hair because that's just how he's feeling for the month

Damien gets a hairy butt after some time on T and he fucking loves it LMFAO (this is on the list of things to draw); he really leans into the woodland creature the hairier he gets lmfao

Donna truly doesn't have many preferences for themself in terms of their sex and presentation; they really just enjoy manipulating how their body looks with magic when the mood strikes. Sometimes it's a big tit day, sometimes it's a no titty day, if it's raining it's time for a glittery dick, but if it's sunny the coochie is coming out. they contain multitudes lmfao

[chloeangelic]

Long overdue, I’m finally giving Vic one of my High Effort Reblogs and I thought it would be for TCC but I have to do it for At The Restaurant and then I can suck her off even more in my TCC reblog cause I have more to say.

Here’s the thing, I wasn’t really that into Din until I read TCC. I watched the show, I liked the character, but I just… Didn’t wanna fuck him, like, I just didn’t have much of a fascination with the man under there, so I think seeing him through Vic’s eyes was what I needed to do in order to get it and now I GET IT!!!!! I rewatched the show after reading TCC and I see him in a completely different light now, it’s wild. As dramatic as it sounds, I never really saw him as human until I read her portrayal, I couldn’t look past the armor somehow. I have never read a Din AU before this so I had no idea what to expect but I am IN LOVE with this Din, truly - more on that later. 

Spoiler related stuff and me being a simp under the cut cause this is gonna be long !!! 

I think everyone can agree that Vic is a phenomenal writer, and I’m terrible at formulating my thoughts about writing cause I have zero technical knowledge, so all I can offer is that her writing makes me cry and also cream my panties because she embeds so much emotion into her words, her descriptions of people and places and situations are so vivid that I can see them crystal clear in my head, and everything just feels so god damn real. Fics hit different when you can tell that the writer has a love for their characters and their stories. Vic never wastes words, ever. She has this absolutely insane range - every fic has a different tone and yet it’s still so clearly her writing, you know? I think it’s difficult to create a well fleshed-out dynamic in a one shot and capture a couple’s spectrum of emotion and experiences with each other in a such a short fic, without doing all kinds of logistical explanations, but then fics like At The Restaurant happen and it’s just this perfectly succinct story weaved into the action itself, and you’re fed their history as you go along and it’s all just so smooth and PERFECT ugh 

Vic’s descriptions of a man’s physicality will always be 10/10, no matter who it’s about. I will be on my knees, in love, mouth AGAPE for any Pedro boy she writes cause their characterizations are always so amazing. 

Sorry, my big smut speech will have to come with another RB cause this shit is gonna be too long lmfao. I also think the relationship and Din himself in this story just fucking got me more than anything, like.. hardcore got me. Don’t get me wrong, I absolutely want to fuck and suck with this Din for 24 hrs straight, and I felt it in my coochie when he said “Now” so obviously he owns me but I have debased myself enough to Vic, telling her about getting a massive nut off to her fics so I’m gonna cool it this time ok 

Grogu and The Mandalorian being worked into this was absolute fucking GOLD. Legit my fav part. It was cute and creative and funny and such an amazing use of canon material, GOD BLESS !!!!! The focus, going into it, is easily gonna be on Din being a fuckboy, so I think the portrayal of him as a brother was so fantastic that no more convincing was needed that he’s actually a good guy, and that’s what makes me as the reader look back on the MC’s narrative and be like okay, maybe I judged him too quick. Learning about his parents/his family constellation in general is the point where 1) your stomach hurts, and 2) you’re like oh shit okay everything makes sense, and even so, it was still portrayed in a way that wasn’t oversimplified. 

I was feeling all demonic and hihi haha until the end and basically I feel like I got chewed up and spit out cause now I want to be a whiny part 2 commenter, begging for a crumb of them together. 

Ok that’s it for now love u bye 

Actual footage of me thinking I knew where it was going and then getting thrown by the end

At the Restaurant

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader

Summary: It’s three days til Christmas, and you’ve never known want like this, and his eyes are glossy with emotion and everything he won’t ever let himself tell you or anyone else, and you so badly want to tell him that it’s only that it’s hard to be casual when your favorite bra lives in his dresser, and also that you’re in love with him.

-OR-

the Christmas situationship AU

Rating: Explicit 18+

Content Warnings: Modern AU; Christmas fic; Angst; Fluff; Miscommunication; Emotionally unavailable idiots; But also idiots in love; Toxic relaationships; Situationship; There is nothing well adjusted about any of this pls don’t come into this house if that’s what you’re looking for; Trigger warning for man with an avoidant attachment style; Condolences to all my fellow victims of The Situationship; Unprotected Sex; Creampie; Oral Sex (F!Receiving); Frankly some pretty pathetic behavior; Girl stand UP; Fuckboy Din; Plan B and Delusion as a form of birth control; Pull and pray baby pull and pray; Possessive Behavior; Jealousy; Insecurity; Trigger warning for Right Where You Left Me by Taylor Swift references

A/N: Hello and welcome to my contribution to the holiday fic pool! This is not at all what I was planning as my holiday piece, but I woke up a few mornings ago and was just completely taken hold by this. Much love and thanks and gratitude and all the kisses in the world to my friend @f0rlornmyths for all the help on the idea and brainstorming and for the gorgeous edits she made for this little story. Mai baby, this is all for you, and I know it's not the Christmas gift I promised you, but I swear, one day that too will get written.

I’m wishing you all the happiest and most relaxing of holiday seasons. I think of you all constantly and wish you all the best always, and I hope you’re taking care of yourselves during this time ❣️🎄✨

Word Count: 8.2K

Read on AO3

He gets this sparkle in his eyes when the bar’s extra busy, cheeks flushed and curls damp with sweat and this shine that speaks; that tells of all the things he does that make a woman belong to him whenever he’s giving her his singular attention. Eyes that laugh and crinkle at the edges with happiness. Eyes that tell you how much he does or does not want you at that specific moment. And he’ll laugh and blind the room into seduction under the Christmas lights, and then he’ll turn, suddenly remembering you’re here for him, and look at you all serious-like, while you sip on your tequila soda, with two limes always because he knows that’s how you like it, and it’ll be a serious, cool look for just a second before it blooms into the best smile anyone’s surely ever had in all history, and you love him. 

It’s three days til Christmas, and you’ve never known want like this. You’ve never practiced restraint of this kind either. A restraint that suffocates and kills and could probably be taken as a form of self harm were you in a righter, more clear mind, but it’s the only thing you have left against him. Din. A control over yourself that falsely feeds you the illusion of power. You never call him. Never. Any interaction, any late night fuck, any time he comes over and comes inside you, it’s always, always because he calls you, he looks for you. You never beg, not with words at least, and you never text first and you never ask him if you can see him, and it’s the only way you tell yourself you maintain even a semblance of control. And at night, when you’re alone and it’s dark and you’ve only got the cat for some sad company, or you’re crying in bed because he hasn’t called, and you know he’s not at work and he’s obviously not at home, so he’s somewhere you don’t want him to be, that false sense of control that says you’re never the one reaching out, it’s always him coming around so surely that must mean something… it’s all you have at the end of it. 

He’s not your boyfriend. He never has been. And there’s always been that excuse you use to soothe yourself with of, well, we’ve never really talked about it, and he’s not really my boyfriend, so it doesn’t really matter. Does it? Doesn’t it? You’re sure you don’t know anymore. And you tell yourself, lie to yourself, comfort yourself, whatever it is your tired heart needs in that moment, because it truly is so tired, the push and pull is the most exhausting game in the world, that if he’s coming to you it’s because Din’s choosing you. Even if just for a night, even if just for now, even if tomorrow he’ll be with someone else, he chose you for tonight, and so surely that must mean something. It’s the worst thing you do to yourself, but it feels so good in the moment. You just can’t help yourself. 

“Another one?” He calls over his shoulder with a smile.

 You’d had a little bit of a… well, you don’t really know what to call it. A falling out, perhaps, because the two of you never have fights. You never fight, you never discuss the things the two of you should discuss, like feelings or anger or resentment or boundaries and wants and needs. Nothing. Nothing that indicates anything that might define what it is the two of you’ve been doing for two years with each other now. Fights are something couples do, and you two are not a couple. But up until three days ago, you’d not heard from him for two weeks. Two weeks of nothing, of hearing from your friends that they’d seen him out with his friends and other girls who you know probably mean nothing, even less than you do, but still. It’d made you insane. A little bit irrational, and so when you and your friends had gone out over the weekend, picked up a group of guys at the new bar you’d chosen for the night, since Din’s bar was off limits at the moment, and brought them back to your apartment at your roommate, Bo’s, insistence, well, you’d thought you’d give him a taste of his own medicine. After a slightly tipsy, teary eyed rant, explaining to your new friend for the night, a one Toro Calican, who had a very nice smile and very pretty eyes and not at all bad arms, all about your terrible situation with this man who you were not really in a relationship with, but who you have sex with, and only with him, regularly, unprotected, enthusiastically, but who is still not your boyfriend and not even anything close, he’d arranged himself very nice and cozy-looking in your bed with your twinkly lights sparkling in the background and your pink pig stuffy which Din loved to make fun of you for, and you’d taken a very tasteful, in your opinion, picture of him for your Instagram story. Again, a taste of his own medicine. 

Din had been at your front door forty five minutes later, angry. Angrier than you’d ever seen him before, and not at all trying to hide it. Pushing past you and into your apartment all tall and broad and wearing your favorite dark blue hoodie he knows you love, curls mused as if he’d been pulling his fingers through them in agitation. There’d been a sneaky, smarmy little devil inside of you doing a happy dance at that moment, and his eyes when he’d turned to glare at you after giving poor, Toro – casual, entirely unbothered, Toro with his big smile stretched across his handsome face as he’d looped an arm over Bo’s shoulders where he’d been sitting beside her on the couch – a look that said Din had half a mind to take him outside and wipe the floor with him. But your new friend had laughed him off, taking Din’s terribly cocky onceover, the sort he liked to set people down with, in stride. All arrogance and the sort of self assuredness only a man who knew what he was made of and how to take care of himself could possess. He was too hot for his, or your, own good. 

And when he’d turned and pushed you into your bedroom, a little tipsy, a lot desperate and pleased and wet, because yes, finally you were getting exactly what you wanted, exactly as you’d asked for it, and he’d flipped your skirt up and ripped your panties down and buried his face in your cunt from behind, all: this pussy’s mine, what the fuck was another dude doing in your bedroom? You’d been nothing but pleased giggles and hiccupy little moans as you’d come on his tongue just as he’d demanded of you. 

It was wrong. The two of you were wrong and maybe even bad for each other, but also, and this was only your own personal, fanciful discernment, addicted. A mutual addiction. The way he fucked you, hard and deep and possessive, like you belonged to him. Tugging you up by the hips and pulling you back onto his hard cock, the wet slap of your pussy dripping for him so that it surely echoed through the thin door of your shitty little apartment for the man who’d threatened what Din saw as rightfully his could hear exactly what was happening in here. You should have cared more about this ridiculous display of a pissing contest. You should have been bothered by it. You absolutely were not. And when he’d gone harder than stone, shoved deeper than you could comfortably take him so that you were coming around his cock one last time from the stretch and sting of it, and he’d filled you to leaking without even asking, you’d not even blinked at it, had been nothing but contented sighs.

It was all wrong, wrong, wrong.

Even worse, you’d never been on birth control. It made you sick, tired, moody, and the two of you worked around it… sometimes… kind of. Condoms when you remembered, usually ripped off mid fuck, pulling out… also sometimes. Never very responsible or dedicated to the practice of safe sex and level headedness, more focused on how fucking good it always felt when he was inside of you like this all bare and wet and hot and his. And if he fucked other girls, well, you tried not to think about that. Got tested, told yourself you were the only one he didn’t use protection with because you were special when they were not. And if there was, that last horribly misguided whisper that said, well, if he’s taking this risk with you, then obviously that means something too, right? Then so be it.

Again, like you’d said, bad for each other. 

But he always gave you so many reasons to be stupid, delusional, like the way he’d kissed you before he’d gone the morning after, while you were still sleepy and warm and a little sweaty from where you’d been pressed together so close through the night, wet and sticky between your legs from his come. He’d wrapped his arms around you and pressed you so, so close to his chest, nipples bare and tight against hard muscle and wispy hair. The musky sleep smell of him as he’d started at your shoulder, mouth slow and damp, kissed and nibbled his way up your collarbone, your throat, your jaw, settled at your ear to taste that soft place behind, pressed his tongue there to feel the echo of your pulse moving through your whole body, the flutter of his long lashes against your skin because he’s just that close. Your toes had curled and spasmed, little and cold, bracing against his hairy shins and big feet, hard cock nestled between the warmth of your thighs. And he always makes the best sounds, you know, deep and rumbly and all man. Familiar sounds that you’re able to replay again and again in your mind afterwards when he’s gone, sounds that make it easy for you to pretend he’s yours because you know them so well, and you want to keep him so bad it makes your stomach hurt. Gotta go get the kid, he’d said, by way of explanation for why he wasn’t pushing up into your come soaked cunt and having you one more time again, but he’d stayed and kissed you. And when he’d finally found his way to your mouth, sipping on you, tasting behind your teeth, along the wet of your tongue, that was all that really mattered anyway. 

Sometimes, he kisses you like he loves you, and it makes you hate him. 

He hadn’t called in the three days since then, but he’d been kind enough to DoorDash you a Plan B and a bag of your favorite Dove dark chocolate bites, and you want to hate him and maybe even run him over with you car, you really do, but then tonight, out of nowhere while you’d been at home telling yourself you weren’t going to cry, tired and sweaty from lying under your duvet for too long, fingers slippery between cunt and cotton, too many unsatisfying orgasms and a tear worthy film already chosen as your excuse for later, he’d sent a: come to the bar tonight, baby, I want to see you. And well, he’d come looking for you, right? He’d texted first. So really, this was all him wanting you and choosing you.

You need help, electroshock therapy, a lobotomy, anything. But you’d gotten your butt up and dressed, begged Bo to come out with you, and now here the two of you sit, good friend that she is, waiting for him to finally come over and say more than three stringed together words to you. Shaved, lotioned, perfumed, pathetic little ass sitting at the end of his bar in a too sticky, too uncomfortable stool waiting for him. Always waiting for him.

You shake your head no at him and his proffered next round. No you don’t want another fucking drink. What you want is his attention. 

And the worst part is, probably the worst, for there are so many bad parts to this, is that you don’t truly think he’s a terrible person, Din. He’s just so… he’s just– you don’t know. Sad, busy, exhausted, selfish, overwhelmed, so many things. But not bad, not actually a bad person. You’re sure of it. And it might look so differently from the outside, like you’re nothing, like he uses you, and sure, in ways, he does. You’re not so stupid or naive to not see this for what it is, because if there is one thing that is crystal clear here, it’s that you’ve always known what this is and what it is not. But you also see him. You also know him, as hard as he’s tried to keep you at arms length, to not let you see, to not let you in, you’ve weaseled your way inside anyways, or, better said, and something you don’t let yourself dwell on too much for the things it makes your stupid brain and heart feel, he has never been very good at not letting you see him. Because despite all the truths of how this thing between the two of you is, or is not, there is also something, as small as it may be, that is real here. 

So no, Din is not bad, or not all bad. And it’s easy to call them excuses, but you’re not so sure that’s the only thing they are, the ways in which you justify his behavior or yours. Because there is also context to him, and his life, and the things that drag his attention away from you when you so desperately need and want it, why you know he won’t commit to one single thing because he knows how easily lost a good thing can be. 

You take a pull from your straw, paper, and it’s already coming apart in wet flakes on your tongue because this dumb bar he works at pretends to be swanky, and paper straws are obviously a signifier that it’s not the cheap, shitty dump it actually is. Mean, but you’re in a bad mood tonight. Peli, the owner, had him string up multicolored lights and decorations everywhere for the holiday season, and it sort of looks like Santa threw up in here, but it’s also nice. Cozy or comfortable or welcoming, something happy and cheerful about the crowd surrounded by the sparkle of the holiday and loose from the heavily poured liquor. Or maybe it’s just that you know he put up the decorations. That he’d been good and patient and helpful as the older woman, eccentric and curly haired and a little stern and potty mouthed as she is, but always kind to him, had directed him as she pleased. Giving orders so that the bar could look as lovely and warm and cheerful as it does now. He always looks at her with such care and warmth, and you alway see it, as much as he tries to hide it. 

He’d added a splash of sweet grenadine and a maraschino cherry into your drink tonight, and called it your slutty Shirley Temple, said you looked like you needed something sweet followed by one of those cocky little winks he thinks make him look hot, they do, but you tell him only make him look like an asshole. All of which you know is only his way of telling you, without actually telling you, that he’s going to be shoving his cock down your throat later tonight. Something sweet… yeah, sure. There’s nothing sweet about him. 

He always tells you so many things neither of you want the other to know with his eyes. The stupid things, the silly things, the real things, it doesn’t really matter. He can’t ever help it. 

The first time he’d told you about his parents, you’d thought: this is it, this is something real. The come down had been a singular type of devastating you don't think you’d recovered from to this day. They’d died in a home invasion, a robbery gone terribly, terribly wrong, when he’d been two months shy of eighteen; left him with too much responsibility and too much grief for a boy of seventeen to bear, to ever be able to grow into without growing a little bit skewed in the process. When he’d introduced you to his little brother, the first time, you’d been better prepared, better in control of yourself and your expectations. But still, still you’d let a small, small part of you let it mean something. Grogu, Greg, but they used to watch this cartoon together about this man, a warrior, a space cowboy of sorts, who finds a little green baby, more frog looking than baby looking, called Grogu and takes him in as his own, bringing him along on all his adventures through the big, wide galaxy. They’d always joked that Greg looked like the frog baby, and so, Grogu. 

The first time he’d asked you to come over, you’d forced yourself to not throw up as you’d seen the text come in, had to force away thoughts of this has to mean something, please, please, let this mean something more. And the kid had been asleep already anyways when he’d smuggled you inside, quick and quiet, locking the door to his bedroom behind you, messy and lived in and Din, Din, Din everywhere, pressed you into his rumpled mattress, and fucked you til you’d cried and bit your tongue until you’d tasted blood to keep in all the things you had inside to tell him. And in the morning, when he’d made you a cup of coffee and oh, isn’t he nice for that? The kid had stumbled out of his bedroom, dinosaur pj’s and sleep rumpled curls the same warm mahogany shade as his older brother’s turned pseudo father, and he’d had his waffles while you’d sat there between the two of them as Din’d clucked around making lunches, sipping from your mug trying as best you could to be a good girl and not whip around and scream at the man that this has to mean something more, please. 

The kid had eyed you skeptically, as if you’d had two heads, little fuzzy brow cocked high up towards his curl covered hairline while he chomped loudly on his waffles. More syrup than bread, but who were you to judge? 

“Are you Din’s girlfriend?”

And rather than drop dead on the spot or bear the devastation of hearing the refusal come out of his older brother’s mouth, the second you’d seen Din’s own eyebrows shoot up towards his hairline, mouth falling open to probably tell him no, absolutely not, she’s nothing even close to being my girlfriend, you’d said as easy as you could manage, “No, we’re just friends.” Even added in a fake, tepid smile as you’d said the words. And now, as time’s passed since then, when you think back on the memory, you tell yourself that you’d imagined the frown and scowl that’d pulled Din’s face down into something that looked a little like annoyance or anger or confusion. He’d never done anything to make you think you were anything otherwise, and so what good did it do to dwell on the maybe false memory of his look of disappointment at your words? None at all, surely. 

But you’re pretty sure you’re the only girl that’s ever been let into their space like that.

He’s at the other end of the bar now, engrossed in a conversation with someone who’s too sparkly and too pretty and too blonde to be anything but trouble for you. His tall, deceptively lanky form that you know beneath the dark baggy, long sleeved tee he’s wearing is strong and muscled and warm as a furnace, curved over the lip of the bar to lean further towards her. They’ve been talking for about five minutes now, yes, you’ve been counting, and your heart is doing that horrible thing it does where it hurts so bad it feels like it’s ripping in half all on its own. You want to look away, especially as you watch the long, gorgeous form of his hand, big, strong hands that you know exactly what they feel like wrapped around your throat, clutching your breasts, lift slowly towards the glowing Christmas lights necklace the girl’s got hanging around her neck, the cheery red and green lights nestled deep in her cleavage. He plucks at the necklace, giving it a little tug and says something to her that has her throwing her head back, and she sparkles, she really does, with those sort of laughs that tinkle like bells or something equally fucking ridiculous.

“We should just go, babe,” Bo says from beside you, glaring down at him so intensely you’re shocked he hasn’t keeled over dead at this point. 

“Just a little bit longer, Bo, please.” 

“God, I can’t watch this shit anymore.” She pushes up and out of her stool with a roll of her eyes, but passes a loving hand down the back of your hair as she goes. “I’m gonna go try and pick up that red head sitting in the back. She’s been eyeing me all night,” she smirks at you. 

“You cannot date another ginger. That is too much ginger for one household.”

“Oh, shut up. You’re in love with the devil, I can do whatever I want. And I can’t watch him anymore, I don’t have the stomach for it.”

You try and protest as she walks away from you, tell her that you’re not in love with him, that he’s not the devil, that you don’t have the stomach for it either, but she’s gone before you can muster your lies. When you turn back towards the bar he’s abandoned his Christmas lights blonde and is pouring drinks for a group of frat guys, checking I.D.s and making easy, charming conversation. He’s strange in that way, quiet and reserved by nature, which you know now because you know him, but he puts on a face in here, in Peli’s bar in front of the customers and the pretty girls and the people expecting him to perform for them, making nice and pleasant. It’s just one more thing that feeds your delusion, the fact that you see his smile for what it is, the too handsome, too shiny version you know isn’t the real one. 

You know that despite the fact that Bo loves you, she also thinks you’re a little sad, a lot weak, when it comes to him. Maybe even, and you know she’d never say this because she’s a good and loving friend, but maybe even a little pathetic or desperate. And maybe you are, or definitely, you don’t really care about the details of it at this point, but maybe there’s also something about him that’s slightly desperate too. Desperate for love or attention or companionship. Maybe that’s why he always feels the need to search for it in so many different places. Maybe he wants it so bad he’s scared of it. Or maybe he’s just easy. Maybe he’s just a whore. 

You don’t know if the why’s of it all really matter anymore. 

He serves the group their shots and beers, all of them clinking their glasses together loudly, hooting and wishing each other a Merry Christmas, and you want to snap that it’s not Christmas yet, it’s still the twenty third, it’s a special day that should be remembered, but you turn away. Try to swallow the heat in your face and throat, take deep breaths. Bo’s right, the two of you should go, but when you turn to search for her, she’s deep in conversation with the red head, gorgeous, strong and tall and just her type. Their two heads huddled closely together beneath the red lights that turn their hair both brighter shades of auburn. And you know you can’t interrupt. At least one of you should have a good night tonight. But when you turn back around, ready to join the frat bros in on their shots, he’s there. 

You swivel in your stool, catching yourself on the lip of the bar, digging your nails into the wood grain until it hurts, staring at him in silence. 

“What?” he asks with that slightly provoking smile he forces on you when he knows you’re bothered and refuse to open your stubborn mouth and just speak up. 

“Nothing.” Stubborn, sullen. Terrible.

He hums, laughter dancing in his eyes that pisses you off. He knows you’re bothered, knows you won’t say anything about it either. “Want another?”

“Sure.” You might as well get drunk if you’re going to have to watch him be a jackass all night long. 

He starts to move about, gathering the things for your cocktail. “You like the grenadine I added?”

“Yeah, it’s good.”

He looks at you with a half smile and a cocked brow as he measures the shot. He never makes your drinks as heavy handed as the others, says you’re a bad drunk. Whatever. “Yeah? You like the Christmas decorations?”

“They’re nice.” He hums again at your sullen tone. And you want to be nicer, happier, peppier, whatever it is that would be enough to make this all right and better between the two of you, inside of you, but you just can’t. You can’t force yourself into a shape that’s okay with being without him, and it’s getting harder and harder to pretend it’s something you’re capable of. 

He adds your two limes and tops the drink off with a Santa printed mini umbrella Peli had gotten an order of in bulk, pushing the glass into your hand. He braces his hands against the bar edge, watching you as you bring the drink up to taste, peering over the edge to keep your eyes on him. The lights twinkle over head, washing him in a glow of greens and reds and warmth, and his eyes do that terrible sparkle you hate in return. 

Sometimes you think he likes it when you’re pissy. Turns him on or something which sickly, stupidly, in turn, riles you up, knowing he’s turned on by your anger. 

You take a long pull of the fizzy, mildly sweet drink, licking your lips of the tang and bubbles when you pull it away, and watch as his eyes go a little hazy, glassed over as he watches the wet of your tongue peek out to lick up the drops of sweet liquor. You watch a swallow pass through the strong column of his throat, and his gaze is still on your mouth when he cocks his head at you. “C’mere,” he murmurs, eyes shifting to take in the crowd, the customers and the status of their drinks before he’s tugging at your hand over the bar, drawing you out of your seat and along the length of it from the other side. 

“To where?” You whisper at him, nerves of excitement, of want, fluttering in your belly and throat all fizzy and sweet. He tips his chin at the cracked open door of the stock room, the warm glow from within peering out, and then back again once over at the crowd before you’re at the end of the bar, and he’s tugging you inside after him. You tip your chin over your shoulder just before he kicks the door shut behind you, taking in Peli’s knowing look and the laughing shake of her head, and then it’s just the two of you. Hungry and hurried as he’s pulling you into himself, big hands immediately cupping your ass to tug you up into him with a cracked groan. “Want to fucking kiss you so bad,” he licks into your mouth, tasting like the coffee he drinks too much of and the cinnamon gum you know he’s always chewing. 

“Din–” and you’re about to protest, say that everyone’ll have seen the two of you come in here, Peli, the blonde Christmas light girl, that the whole bar is going to think he brought you in here for a quick fuck, but you and he both know you don’t really care if anyone thinks that. That probably, if you’re really honest, you’d be glad for everyone to think you’re his that way. So you kiss him back. Arms looping around his neck to hang off of him, fingers twining in the thick curls at the nape of his neck, the hair there so silky smooth, cool at the ends but warm and damp at the roots. And this is what you were talking about, when he kisses you like he loves you which makes you hate him. All tongue and teeth and desperation. His mouth sliding against yours, spit slick and heat heavy. Big hands kneading at your ass, clutching at the short skirt of your dress, pulling it up so he can shove his palm between the nylon of your tights and your warm skin and cup you over the wet mound of your cunt. 

“Fucking warm and soft for me, baby.” He kisses his way down your neck, licking at your cleavage, tugging at your ear. “You smell so good,” and he squeezes you against himself, dragging his palm back and forth over your pussy as best as the constricting tights let him. “I can’t wait to fuck you later.”

“Me either, Din,” you say because there’s nothing else to say besides, I love you. Please, love me back. He groans into your mouth, pressing you back into a little arc hooked over his arm, something frenzied and a little sloppy about the way he kisses you like he wants you so much he can’t control himself. And when the two of you stumble out a few minutes later, hair tousled and flushed with heat, the shine of your lipgloss transferred onto his own lips and those sparkly eyes of his cranked up to blinding so that the whole bar can see what it is the two of you have been up to in the stock room, there’s nothing but sweet, fizzy pleasure suffusing your belly. Even if it isn’t real, everyone else thinks it is, maybe for tonight that can be enough. 

-

“The tree’s really cute,” you say as he helps you out of your coat, unwrapping the scarf from around your neck, round and round until he lets it slither from his hand onto the messy floor of his bedroom. 

“Yeah, well, G wanted a real one so… my ass went out and got him a real one.” 

You reach up to card your fingers through the floppy curls falling over his forehead, pushing them back to twist in your fingers and pull his head down towards yours. “Good brother,” you murmur against his mouth. You want to ask him if he remembers what tonight is; wanted to ask him all night but kept your mouth shut for fear of that utterly vacant look in his eyes when he’d have no idea what you were talking about. 

He settles into your kiss, knees bent to come down to your level, sighing deep and long as he licks at you slowly, sucks on your bottom lips, a gentle nip. “Looked so pretty for me tonight,” he says, and he’s such a good kisser, and all you can say is a breathless thank you, trying to swallow the immediate lump in your throat back down because the only other thing to say would be you’re right, it’s all for you, or I hate it when you say these things to me, I hate it when you’re nice to me and then turn around and act like I’m a stranger, like I’ve never meant anything to you at all. You press up higher, insistent, on your tiptoes, trying to get closer, more of him. He runs his hands up the length of your spine, one arm banding around your waist, the other coming up to twist in your hair, tugging your head back sharply and pulling your mouth from his. 

“What do you want, sweet girl?”

And what a cruel, terrible question. You, is what you should say. Ruin the moment or the false magic, glass shattered on the white cloth. And so, “Fuck me,” is all you say instead because that’s all this is anyway. He peers down at you, fathomless look on his face, no more bright sparkle in his eyes, something more like an ember. You think you like this look better, it’s more for you, and there's something satisfying about that. 

“Okay, baby. Whatever you want.”

He pulls your clothes from you slowly, and he can be so tender sometimes, slow and precise in the things he does, the way he moves. Sometimes he fucks you hard and fast and sloppy. But not always. Other times he does it in a way that is much, much worse. Slow and deep and intentional. He lays you out across his messy bed and spreads you open for himself. Starts at your feet, kissing the soles and the creases and marks over the arches and around your ankles from your tights and boots. Up the slope of your calf, teeth dragging sharply, a little too hard over the muscle. He kisses the backs of your knees, a place only he has ever thought to kiss, and you won’t cry, but you’d like to. His tongue along the soft of your thighs, stubble chafing and tickling, and when he finally gets to your cunt, soaking wet, glossy with your slick for him, his tongue drags up your slit slow and teasing one second, deep, fucking inside of you the next. He makes you come on his face twice before he even thinks of being nice and letting up. Sucking on your clit, taking each soft lip gentle, gentle between the edge of his teeth and tugging so soft you almost don’t feel it. He licks and licks and slurps up your wet, and you know he enjoys this because of his own sounds. When he rips his t-shirt over his head because he’s steaming with sweat and want, the zip of his jeans ringing so that he can get his fist around his cock and jack himself while he licks up the splash of your second orgasm. 

He kisses you everywhere when he’s had his fill, twists and turns you this way and that, groping and kneading and taking every inch of you in so that no spot of skin is left uninspected or untasted. Pulls you up and under his arm so he can peer down at you from behind, lemme look at that little asshole now, he says all nasty the way he gets sometimes, and spreads your cheeks apart. You brace yourself against the column of his throat and hold on to the bulge of his bicep and try and breathe through your mouth and pray for control and temperance and the will to not spill all your truths to him. Difficult, when he manhandles you like this, when he pets and licks and kisses you all over and tells you how pretty all your holes are for him. 

His cock is so hard when he finally settles on his knees between your spread thighs, on your back again so that you can see his pulse in the tiny, subtle beat of his erection as it stands up, curving towards his flat belly. No condom, and you want to say thank you for letting you feel him like this. 

He pushes your knees wide and grips his cock, twisting his fist around the sticky glossed head, flushed red almost purple. You love it when he’s this hard, when you know it’s all for you, when you know you’re the only one in this moment that can fix it for him. 

“Get it wet for me,” he nods his head at your slick cunt, parted and bared to him just like he likes. You dip your fingers into the well of wetness, play in it, watch the shiny string of slick stretch between your pussy and fingers, and no one makes you as wet or as desperate as he does, and like he can read your mind he tells you, no one makes me as hard as you do, and you do not tell him that that isn’t something you want to hear, that that isn’t something that makes you feel good. The reminder that there are others. 

You wrap your slippery fingers around his cock, coating him in yourself and when you pull him towards you, notching him at the mouth of your cunt, and finally – finally, I’ve been waiting for this all night, and you can’t even tell who says it – it’s so fucking good that all the rest of it is worth it for this singular feeling right here. 

He pushes in, in, in, heavy balls pressed against the wet curve of your bottom, and you’re so soaked it’s slid down between your ass, marked his sheets with you, swings his hips back all smooth and wet and shoves back inside. His mouth is at your tits, folded over you, caging you in, biting and sucking on bare, tight nipples he tells you belong to him, cunt he fucks hard and deep he tells you also belongs to him.

He pulls an ankle up over his shoulder, changes the angle and drills into you hard and fast, other knee hooked over his elbow so you’re pressed and folded and presented to him just how he likes and needs, and he makes you say his name over and over, tells you exactly how he wants you to come on his cock just for him. His pelvis bumps your clit on every push forward, too thick cock wedged inside your cunt so that you’re stretched around him and no matter how many times you do this, it always hurts just a little. Like everything else the two of you do together. 

“You feel so fucking good,” he groans. “You take it so fucking good. Don’t come yet– don’t come. With me– wait for me. I want it together.” And you do cry at that, when he changes the angle once more and shoves in hard against your g-spot, the fat tip of his cock punching against it over and over so that there’s heat pooling at the base of your spine, stars flashing behind your closed lids, your breasts going hot and heavy and tight, stomach clenching with the effort to stave off your orgasm and do as he asks. He breathes into your mouth, and it’s all hot and damp skin and your sweaty limbs sliding against each other, open mouth to open mouth. 

“Now,” he says, pulls you onto him deeper with a tight grip on your ass, long fingers wrapped over the curve so that he can feel the wet, stretched place where he takes you, makes you his. “Take the whole fucking thing,” he whispers against your lips, and as your cunt goes tight as a knot, painful in that way that only he can make it, that’s so good, that way that always keeps you coming back for more, you finally start to cry real tears. Not just from his cock but from the whole of him, from everything he does to you. Your heart beats fast, fast, fast, and you count the days in the month til your period, the little game you like to play with yourself when the two of you are bad like this, and then decide you don’t really give a fuck as he starts to fill you with the heat of his come.

He stays inside of you for too long after the last throb of his cock. Rubbing his lips all over your neck and shoulders and tits, tasting you and giving you too much time to memorize the pattern and cadence of his breathing. And when he pulls out and pulls back to look at the slick, puffy sight of your cunt full of his come, he bends to lick you clean like he always does. Gives you one more orgasm, the last nail in the coffin or your heart. 

Sated and spent, you glance at the clock, and it’s officially Christmas Eve. You know he goes all out for Grogu, milk and cookies for Santa, stockings and gifts, the works. He is an exceptionally good brother, all a child could need in a father figure, and there had never really been any chance of you doing anything else besides loving him. 

When you pull the gift from your bag, heart in your throat and halfway to regret but more resolve than you’ve ever had in his presence, you tell yourself that if this brings on the end of everything, that you’ll find a way to be okay with it. If you’ve gone too far, done too much, you’ll accept it, count your losses, and what great losses they’ll surely be, but you’ll move on as best you can. 

You’d picked some pretty, baby blue paper with little red robins on it, a soft gold ribbon tied around the package. The sight of it makes you want to cry. You’d tried so hard, you really had. 

He’s quiet when you put it into his hands, staring down at it like it’ll reach out and bite his head off if he blinks even once. Swallowing several times before he says, “You didn’t have to get me anything.”

“I know. It’s– it’s for the both of you, kind of.” Him and his little brother.

“I didn’t get you anything.”

“No– that’s okay. I know. You didn’t have to.” Your voice comes out all breathless and full of nerves. You should’ve put your clothes on before you did this, made for a quicker, easier get away if necessary. 

He pulls the wrapping apart slowly, gently untying your ribbon, long fingers carefully picking at the little pieces of tape at each end so that he doesn’t tear the paper and disturb the robins. 

“Where did you get this?” He says when he’s finally unwrapped it, his voice telling you instantly that you’ve made a terrible mistake. 

“It– it was in your drawer. I–”

“You went through my stuff?” He says, eyes snapping up to yours, finally looking away from the photograph you’d copied and framed for him. A picture of him and Grogu and his parents. Grogu, a baby, Din, a boy of maybe eight, gap toothed, cheesy grin and messy curls between his smiling parents. They looked, very much, like a deliriously happy family, and you’d thought it such a shame it was stuffed in his sock drawer when you’d found it, left to be forgotten. You’d only wanted to do something nice for him. 

“N–no. I mean… not intentionally. I was looking for my extra clothes – the ones you told me to leave here – and I–” your lashes flutter, overwhelmed. He suddenly looks so angry. “I saw it in your drawer. I didn’t mean– I didn’t mean to… I’m sorry, I–” You don’t know what to say. All of your falsely held control in tatters at your feet and tears in your eyes as you take in the horrible look on his face. Shocked, angry, hurt, but his gaze leaves the photograph again, shifts back to your face at the crack in your voice. 

He presses forward, as if to reach for you, realizing you’re about to cry. “It’s fine.” I’m sorry, Din, you murmur again. “It’s just–” He shakes his head, a frustrated noise in his throat, his voice all graveled and cracked like yours. He seems so much like a boy in this moment. A child confronted by a past he was too young to lose when he did, forced into the shape of a man too soon. “You know that this–we–” He motions between the two of you.

“Yes. I do,” you cut him off quickly. Assuming what he’s going to cut down here between the two of you before he gets the words out. He doesn’t need to say it, not out loud. He doesn’t need to be that cruel. The strength it takes the both of you to bite your tongues in that moment, as you take each other in, swells to a near painful pressure, and there is something so sick here between the two of you. His eyes are glossy with emotion and everything he won’t ever let himself tell you or anyone else, and you so badly want to tell him that it’s only that it’s hard to be casual when your favorite bra lives in his dresser, and also that you’re in love with him. 

“Thank you,” he finally says quietly, and you can’t answer, looking away out at the dark night through his murky paneled window. It looks like it’s about to snow, all the ingredients for a perfect Christmas at play. The room is so warm and his bed is so comfortable, and you feel so full of fragile and soft things inside. “You’re going to see your family tomorrow?” He still has the picture frame in his hands, fingers smoothing methodically over the edges, thumb swiping gently over the happy faces inside. 

You clear your throat, “Yeah, tonight. I’m going to my parents house, spending the night there.” And it’s on the tip of your tongue to invite the both of them to come too. You know your parents would love to have them, you would love to have them there, him, but the words stick in your throat with the fear of his rejection, and the two of you fizzle awkwardly into a heavy silence. 

You look out at the window again, too much of a coward to look into those bright eyes, but you can feel his gaze on you, singing the side of your face, and suddenly you feel him scoot over towards you. Deep sigh, dragging the duvet with him, wrapped around his bare shoulders all messy hair and flushed cheeks still steaming from your sex. No one should look like he does. No one. It’s the most unfair thing that’s ever happened to you in your whole life. He grips you around the bend of your bare knee, pulls you halfway into his lap, and your eyes are still fixated out on the night, the dark much safer than anything that lives inside this room.

“You remember when we met?” He says. The tears are back. “It was tonight.” Two years ago.

You tip your chin at the window. “At the restaurant…”

“...Down on eighty seventh street. Two years ago.”

“Yes.” You finally look at him. “I remember,” you whisper. Your mouth feels so dry, your heart so flinty.  

“The place had all those string lights put up, and we sat at that table outside in the back behind that group having their Christmas work party. You remember?” Of course you do. You only can't believe he remembers. He’d been wearing an olive green half zip sweater, and he’d smelled of laundry detergent and whiskey and cinnamon gum when he’d kissed you for the first time. 

“I had the best old fashioned I’ve ever had at that place. We should go back. And it was so cold, you remember? You never stopped shivering.”

“Yes, Din. I remember.”

“That was a good night.”

“Sure it was,” and it comes out with a bite you can’t help, for so many reasons you can and cannot explain. 

He gives one of those non committal hums he loves to provoke you with, that little glint back in his eyes. “Sure it was? What?”

“Nothing.”

“Is there something you wanna talk about?” The white elephant in the room, come to ruin everything, shatter all the glass, disturb the dust in your hair and break your heart. 

He tips your head back by your chin, two fingers holding you there, never letting you go. You shake your head at him caught up in his grasp like that. “No. I don’t want to talk about anything.”

And he gives you the strangest look, and for one second you wonder suddenly if that look you’ve always taken as provoking is not so much teasing, but more pleading, more knowing. “No…” he says, chews on his thoughts, strong, scruffy jaw with the heart shaped patch moving side to side. “I know you don’t,” and leans forward to press one single soft, chaste kiss to your open mouth. “You know what you are?” He says then, and the look is now entirely unknowable, confusing. 

Your eyes flick back to the window. “What?” Back to him again, breathless. 

“You’re my girl.” And out of the corner of your eye, you can see that there, finally, is the Christmas snow.

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