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#LOVESHARD is a selective multi-muse / multi-verse indie roleplay blog that focuses on queer muses. slice of life, supernatural, fantasy, horror, crime themes and dead dove content warning applies. triggering content will be present / tagged. mun does not equal muse. written by china. 21+ writers only.
GUIDELINES. MUSES. OPEN STARTERS. WANTED PLOTLINES. ASK MEMES.
Saying that Logan had been moaning Chance's name earlier was an understatement. It had been loud, he was certain of it. Chance was the only one who could get him in such a state, which was why he was more than happy to piss off his neighbours. "Mmm, if you plan on doing that maybe we should practice first," he said with a wicked grin. "Be sure you're fully prepare for that powerpoint." Anything to keep Chance in his bed. "Why do I deserve to keep my apartment?" he asked as his lips brushed Chance's collarbone.
The simple question, paired with Logan’s touch, almost made Chance lose track of his own thoughts. His grin didn’t falter, only got cockier as Logan’s mouth ghosted over his collarbone. That mouth, damn, it was gonna be the reason he got absolutely nothing done today and probably tomorrow, and honestly? Worth it. "Mmm," he drawled, eyes lidding as Logan’s lips grazed his collarbone, "you askin’ ‘cause you forgot, or ‘cause you wanna hear me say it again real slow?" he continued, considering their query. "I mean, I could say it’s ‘cause you’re sweet as hell. You just let me in your bed without askin’ if I’m stayin’ the night. That’s either real stupid or real trusting, babe," Chance went on, fingers wrapping around the nape of Logan’s neck, gently guiding his head back up so he could meet Logan’s eyes. "Or you got a real talented mouth. Real considerate of the neighbors, the way you scream my name instead of just, y’know, screaming." He leaned in, nose brushing Logan’s cheek, his lips barely grazing the shell of his ear now. "But let’s be real, baby… You deserve to keep your apartment because, well… I say you do," he teased. "And if I’m being honest, I don’t think anyone else can make that noise you did earlier. I couldn’t even get enough of it. So yeah, you’re definitely keeping your apartment. And you’re gonna keep me here too." He chuckled. "But, if you really want me to practice for that PowerPoint..." Chance slid his free hand down Logan’s back, pressing their bodies closer. "I'm thinkin' we might need several. Gotta make sure my presentation is thorough. Detailed. Persuasive I'm all about preparation, y'know."
"don’t test me. don't even think about those thirst traps unless you wanna see just how possessive i can get." sage’s brows lifted slightly — not because she was surprised he told his dad, but because, deep down, she liked it more than she wanted to admit. she didn’t pull away when his forehead touched hers, just stayed there, close enough to feel every breath between them. "your dad asked about me?" her voice was softer now, curved with a smile. "yeah, that’s okay. family doesn’t count." her fingers moved gently up the back of his neck, a quiet kind of affection in the touch."if it means something to you, i’d love to meet your family. i wanna be part of your life, dev. i just don’t want all the internet craziness to mess with what we have." she leaned in, brushing her lips lightly against his cheek. "this... you... matters too much to risk."
"oh, you're threatening me now? now i have no choice, i gotta see how this plays out. and i want to be there and see your face when i hit post." devon's smirk appeared in full-force, cheek buzzing from the ghost of her kiss, and he didn’t move. he couldn't move except to lean in, not when her fingers were on him and her voice was soft like that, honest in a way that stripped him bare. god, she means it, he thought. and that was terrifying. and kind of the best thing he'd ever heard. he closed his eyes for a second, forehead still pressed against hers, just breathing her in. "yeah, he did. then pops practically interrogated me once he found out," devon admitted after a pause. "i didn’t even mean to say anything. it just… came out. like i couldn’t not talk about you." and wasn’t that the problem? he’d been trying so hard to keep this a secret—to protect it, protect her—but it was like trying to bottle up the sun. she was everywhere in his life now. should probably stop trying to shield them from the inevitable, considering how nosy his family was. "look, you don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for," devon added, his hands resting at their waist, pulling back to look in their eyes properly. "but i want you there. with them. with me. you're already a part of my life, babe. i'm not hiding how i feel about you from the people who matter. that's literally impossible."
Gabriel squinted up at the voice, stumbling back a step as the window creaked open and a very not his ex face stared down at him. “Wait…” he slurred, brows knitting together in confusion. “Jasmine?” He blinked a few times, trying to focus. “No… No, you’re definitely not Jasmine.” He rubbed his eyes like that might somehow fix the error, but nope. Still not Jasmine. Fuck. He groaned, dragging a hand down his face, the cold air finally sobering him up. At least a little. “God, I’m an idiot,” Gabe muttered under his breath, shaking his head. “I threw rocks at the wrong damn window.” Looking up again, he gave the unnamed person an awkward, sheepish smile—one that would’ve been charming if he didn’t look like a sad puppy who’d just been kicked twice and then left out in the rain. “Hey… Uh… Sorry about the whole… Rock thing,” he mumbled, scratching the back of his neck. “And the ‘baby’ thing. That—yeah, that wasn’t for you. Obviously.” Gabriel sighed, letting out a self-deprecating laugh. “This night’s going great, huh?” He looked like he was about to say more, then stopped, just staring up at her with that kind of soft, lost look people wore when the hurt crept in past the liquor. “You ever get dumped so hard you end up accidentally confessing to a stranger’s window?” He half-laughed again. “No? Just me?”
Jasmine? A giggle threatened to bubble up in Willow's throat. The sheer absurdity was delicious. Oh honey, you are so lost right now. Despite the bizarre intrusion, she had a feeling that her night was about to get a whole lot more interesting. She watched, amused, as the stranger blinked rapidly, as if trying to clear his vision. Her free hand adjusted the neckline of her robe slightly; not out of modesty, but for framing. If she was gonna be involved in some sad-boy spectacle, she was gonna look cute in the footage. "Gotta say, Casanova, aiming pebbles at a window is definitely a bold approach to a late night rendezvous. Ever heard of DMs?" she called out, tilting her head. "Negative on the dumped experience personally, but hey," she shrugged dramatically, "major points for originality and commitment to the bit! Who knew my window was a confessional?" They were cute—Almost like how a sick dog was cute in its misery, she thought, annoyance warring with pity as she squinted down at the clearly inebriated stranger, witnessing their downspiral in real time. "At least you didn’t throw rocks at someone’s car, I guess, then we'd really be in the weeds, wouldn’t we?" she teased, leaning further out, elbows on the sill. "You got a name, Romeo?" she asked, voice softening just a touch. "Or do I keep referring to you as ‘sad guy with decent bone structure and no sense of direction’ in my recording notes?"
continued from amir's open starter (@bvrningdcwn)
Amir glanced at the fresh streak across the edge of the rug again. Goddammit. It really was vintage. Like, actual vintage. Bought it from an estate sale in rural Vermont, where the widow claimed her husband died in his sleep, but Amir was no fool and knew better. Still, the rug? A total score. They sighed, long and full of frustration, raking a gloved hand through their thick, unkempt hair. "Yeah, yeah, whatever," they muttered, already moving into action, reaching into his worn backpack and pulling out a first-aid kit that was half-organized, half-chaos. It wasn't perfect or overly stocked, but it kept them and whoever else in his circle relatively in one piece. They found a thick gauze pad, something vaguely sterile, and a half-full bottle of antiseptic. Good enough. "Just hold still," they grumbled, though his tone softened, not waiting for a yes before approaching to inspect the extent of their injury. They'd patched up worse. Hell, they'd been worse. This didn't even crack the top twenty disasters, but the sight of Anike bleeding out was just a little too much for comfort. "I've got you."
“only girls you talk on tinder to for what, a few hours?” monica’s eyebrows raised and her voice lost it’s sometimes rather flat tone in exchange for amusement. maybe it was a bit of a compliment; clearly she’d done something to make a good impression. or winter was desperate. she didn’t seem like the kind of person that would be, though. she was certainly beautiful enough and seemed… sure enough in herself that it was a surprise she resorted to tinder for hookups. however, whatever was convenient, monica didn’t judge. out loud. “huh — can you tell i don’t get out much, then?” too consumed by her job to go out to find someone and apparently too inept with dating apps to not think to confirm which kind of date that she was going on. maybe it would be nice, though. not what she’d had in mind but an evening off good company might scratch an itch. she took the glass and her eyebrows raised, a short laugh coming from her. “i’m glad you think so. i’m never out of leggings and work polos so believe it or not, this is effort.” it had actually been quite nice for the chance to spend an afternoon pampering herself. didn’t remember when she last had the time or energy to soak in the bathtub. she was glad she had taken that time. just in case the evening progressed the way winter originally envisaged. she sipped from the glass and let the taste sit in her mouth for a moment, mulling over how they could tackle the miscommunication. “why don’t we just… see how we get on, then? chat a bit and then…” her eyes slipped over winter, “whatever happens happens?”
winter raised her chin, pointing a crimson-tipped finger at monica with mock indignation. "well, it is vintage silk from tokyo. i do talk to other girls in it, but don’t let that cheapen your moment," she informed her date, supplying a sly smirk. "you’re the first one i offered wine to, though. so. make of that what you will." their hands briefly brushed against each other through passing, and winter's eyes raked over monica's form with undisguised appreciation once again. "and i must say, you certainly clean up nice. who knew there was such a smoke show hiding beneath all those polo shirts and leggings?" she swirled the wine in her glass, leaning against her countertop and taking in monica's suggestion with a raised eyebrow. "so you want to talk first, then maybe hook up?" she clarified before hiding before the drink by taking a sip. "i can work with that," she finally decided, gesturing toward her living room. "though fair warning, i'm much better at the second part than the first." as she sat down on the pristine white couch, she found herself strangely nervous. talking wasn't usually part of her tinder playbook. neither was someone like monica, generally dealing with trust fund brats or aspiring politicians hoping to get their foot in the door. her date was a breath of fresh air that she was cautiously optimistic to try. "so tell me, monica, what's your poison? besides me, of course."
thomas knew how desperate he must've looked and sounded, half out of his mind while trying to get enough coordination to bring xavier's cock out with the denial and shift in their position igniting a pleading whimper that he knew he'd never be able to live down. ‘ but ... ’ starts as he's hiked into a position that knocks the wind from him, stopping his beg to be able to touch xavier in kind. trying and failing to state that he wanted him to feel as good as he did, barely being able to draw in enough breaths to himself coherent let alone hold a conversation. thomas didn't recognize the noise that punched out of his chest, fingers digging hard into the sheets as his body jack knifed without his conscious control. could feel his knees turning to jelly with the added vibrations and pressure against his walls, half curled over as if it would stop the sudden onslaught of pleasure zipping up his spine that seemed all encompassing. any thoughts of responding to his boyfriend lost in the tail dive ; feeling like he'd been spun upside down and seeing stars with nothing to grip to keep him tethered to what was happening. just desperate moans that rose in pitch as his thighs started to shake and each new sensation had him hurtling closer to the edge. ‘ stop, stop i'm gonna cum. xavier, please. ’ sure he was blathering nonsense at this point, so sensitive that even the lightest touch against his dick had him feeling like he was going to combust or pass out if xavier kept teasing him. much as he'd have liked for his boyfriend to be inside of him he wasn't sure that he wouldn't shoot off like a shaken bottle immediately, whatever teasing words were forming on xavier's lips lost in his hazy pleasure and sounding garbled like they were underwater.
"are you begging?" xavier asked, utterly enamored by how thoroughly he'd unraveled his boyfriend. he liked him like that, needy and overflowing with obscene noises. preferred it, even. "because it sure sounds like begging to me." for all selfish purposes, he wanted to see those legs tremble just a bit longer against his sheets, push him until he was wrecked beyond words yet still begging for more because christ, look at him—ready and able to take whatever's offered. all his. "didn't realize you were such a quitter, baby." savoring the string of control, xavier dialed the intensity down a notch. he eased up just enough to keep it from being too much, letting thomas linger on the brink—taunting him with the low hum of vibrations as his stroking hand loosened. "we haven’t even started yet." power dug claws into his gut as his fingertips traced lazy circles over thomas’s leaking cockhead; reward and punishment fused into one torturous touch. "c’mon," xavier taunted, rolling his own hips just enough for thomas to feel his cock straining through fabric, the neglected arousal a throbbing ache between them. "prove to me you can take it." he pressed harder against thomas’ back, sweat-slick skin catching fire where they touched, pressing a soft kiss on the nape of their neck. "trust me, you don’t want this over yet," he lied sweetly into sweat-damp skin, finally releasing their cock to snake a greedy hand under his sweatpants instead.
wanted to share i found an online + free remove multiple spaces tool!!
muse: amir aali (they/he), early 40s, panromantic pansexual, videographer & paranormal investigator of the mystery inc. crew
"you’re getting blood on the carpet." amir didn’t do emotional check-ins, not directly. they just insult your bleeding habits and hope you understand that meant 'please don’t die on my floor'. "that rug’s vintage. be hurt, but be respectful."
Late August, Early September (1998)
Maybe it was because of his work in shady nightclubs that Noel doubted someone like Xavier. He has seen so many men with big mouths that he couldn't trust anyone's word anymore. His free hand cupped Xavier's cheek as soon as the handsome man turned to him. Meanwhile, his free hand tugged the zipper of Xavier's pants down. Noel slipped his fingers under the fabric, at the same time his hand on Xavier's cheek moved to curl around his neck. ❝You clearly met the wrong crowd so far. I'm not just talk.❞ Impudently, his fingers traced over the other's length first before they wrapped around the base. ❝ You just have to do me a favor and don't moan too loudly. Can you do that for me?❞
Xavier wasn’t sure what this was. Wasn’t sure if it was flirting or foreplay or something in between, trying to dig its claws in. All he could do was allow their hands to fall where they wanted and hold their tongue, suppressing what he truly wanted to say. "Funny. Most people beg me to make more noise." But even as the playful words left his mouth, he felt an unfamiliar vulnerability. This wasn't following his script. Noel wasn't following his script. There was supposed to be the chase, the conquest, the inevitable ghosting—All on Xavier's terms. Instead, he found himself responding to commands rather than giving them, and the novelty was as unsettling as it was arousing. "But for you? I'll play along. Just to see what you’ll do next," he said into their ear, hand resting on Noel's hip, reassuring. And just like that, he gave in, and only because he chose to. Or at least, that’s what he’d tell himself later.
