#air pressure and elevation

[bigtreefest]

Biscoff Cookies and the Effects of Airplanes on Food Taste

Posting this bc I promised @krirebr I would. I hope y’all love your weekly dosage of science I’ve gathered in the tidbit below. I also just wanna say, one of my least favorite words is ‘umami.’ It’s been used increasingly in recent decades to describe a certain savory flavor profile amongst scientists and culinarians alike, and tbh, I just don’t like it. Be that as it may, its use is essential for this mini informative post, but I just want you guys to know the inner turmoil I faced every time I had to use that word. 🙄

Ok, so we’re answering three questions here:

1. Why does stuff on planes taste so bad? 2. Why do they serve Biscoff on planes? 3. What is my opinion on biscoff?

Let’s get it:

1. Why does stuff on planes taste so bad?

Well, does it taste bad, or just different? Airplane food is universally known as the butt of the jokes of bad comedians, whether or not they’re telling the truth. Let’s start with the explanation of what happens to our perceptions of food when we get into the air. The higher you climb in elevation, the lower the air pressure. To explain it simply, it’s because there are less molecules on top of you, pushing down, and therefore less pressure. The same effect is seen in how deeper waters have higher pressure, because the weight of the water molecules above adds up the deeper you go. Although most flights reach above 30,000 ft (~10,000m) in elevation, air plane cabins (where you sit) are pressurized to somewhere around the density of air at ~5,000ft (~1,600m). Even at this change in pressure/elevation, there are many changes the body goes through (I went to science camp for 2 weeks to study some of these effects. Ask me about that some other time.). You breathe faster since oxygen does not reach your lungs as easily from the decreased pressure. Essentially, the molecules are not being shoved as forcefully into your body, so they don’t attach and aren’t sensed as readily. The same thing happens with your senses of smell and taste (which are associated). Most of the taste profiles, including spicy, sweet, sour, salty, and bitter, are decreased by the increase in elevation and decrease in air pressure. In contrast, the one flavor profile that is increased is umami/savory. HOWEVER, this can sometimes be difficult to sense if there is a lack of salt (seasoning things with salt makes them taste more like themselves. That’s food science, baby). These considerations go into the preparation of food for planes, where extra spices and salt are added in their preparation so they taste more similar to something you would experience on the ground. A normal meal would lose a lot of flavor, and I’m sure airplane-intended food tastes much better on the ground. But also, at the end of a day, it’s a prepared meal, served in a mobile metal tube, designed to be reheated, so it’s not going to be really phenomenal anyway.

2. Why do they serve Biscoff on planes?

Now, if you ask Kris, she’ll say ‘captive audience’ (and my college roommate agrees), but there could be a few other factors to it. Biscoff has been branded as a staple for several airlines, especially Delta. They come in small packages, which is ideal for serving many passengers while dealing with very little space in the plane refreshment areas. They can be eaten easily out of small packages and easily cleaned up (unless they crumble everywhere, which I have to say, they have a pension for. That’s something I don’t like.). They also have an incredibly long shelf life (likely due to their dryness, along with other ingredients), making them ideal for something on-the-go and to ward off health code violations. And also also, if you think about it, the cookies are highly spiced in cinnamon, allowing their flavor to come through in the higher elevations, which may be pleasant for many. They’ve also been dubbed as the snack equivalent of drinking ginger ale on planes, which is hilariously common. What does surprise me, though, is that to me, they seem like a bit of a luxury snack cookie, so I’m sure they get a great bulk deal from the company with humble family beginnings.

3. What is my opinion on Biscoff?

Yeah, I think they’re pretty good. My first experience eating them was loopy off knee surgery (ask me about that later, too, if you want) and I remember asking for more because I thought they were so good. I’ve been given them a handful of times on planes, but I commonly don’t eat them. They just get shoved in my backpack and never touched because I have to be in the right mood to eat them. I think they’re alright, but they’re far from a first choice. Their grandma-like nature makes me feel like they’re healthier? Yes, the cookies are dry, but they’re not drying to my mouth. Plus I love the spice of the cinnamon. Something about the paste they form in my mouth, too, is nice. Comforting, somewhat. Would enjoy with a glass of tea, but I can see how others wouldn’t like them. Plus, I feel like when they’re put into cookie butter or something, they lose a little character. 5.5/10. But I’ve already spoken about how Ransom doesn’t have the greatest taste. Plus, I’m sure he was eating them because they were what was around. Like I said, grandma food.

I think that’s all I have to say. I will be taking questions. It was nice to research something fun for a change.

References (links bc I know you guys def don’t want APA citation format):

Why does food taste bland on planes? (WONG Tak-kan, 2018)

The reasons airplane food tastes so different than on the ground (Jade Tungul, 2021)

Why does food taste different on planes? (Katie Moskvitch, 2015)

Why Are Biscoff Cookies Such A Popular Inflight Snack? (Matthew Austin Ryan, 2023)

How Biscoff Became the Cookie of the Skies (Lillian Stone, 2022)

How Biscoff Cookies Became the Snack We Crave on Planes (Kaitlin Menza, 2020)

[naomiknight-17]

I am at the eye doctor

I dragged my ass out of bed and made it to the dang eye doctor on time

The hardest part of my day is done

[nopizzaaftermidnight]

[quaranmine]

gods i fucking wish i could do that for ashes au but since its a fantasy world i opted to research japanese and indian geta for two days before writing my chapter instead

L

no but really it is sort of nice for once to have actual concrete things to research! like, my questions have...answers? real answers? that i can just look up? i'm used to doing similar to you. i always have a desire to make things scientifically accurate and omg that just does NOT play well with minecraft sometimes. [stares at moon big]

so. shakes your hand. but it's still fun to try to borrow from real-world cultures and things and try to reimagine them into canon or a fantasy environment. it's like a puzzle...that requires a LOT of thought. i've been there with empires worldbuilding before, i was looking up all kinds of stuff for the cod empire regarding wetland construction, water pollution, etc. i also end up looking at a slightly disproportionate number of NASA JPL webpages sometimes...mcyt fic taught me about the roche limit ldjsfklsfjslfj

[written-in-starlight]

Ok not necessarily gravity but pressure does play a part in states of matter which may be what those two were on about

how fucked up would the spell "liquify calcium" be. honestly

[gayarograce]

Honestly, if the boiling point of water at sea level isn't even a clean 100 °C, then what the hell is even the point of arguing?

[sayangrafayel]

LADS react to you fainting (often, like, often often)

This was a request! How would they react if you often faint? Do they have their own methods to deal with it?

Sylus, Xavier, Rafayel, Zayne, Caleb.

Sylus

When he found out about this, he always send either one of the twins or Mephisto to accompany you anywhere if he can't be present himself.

It's just so you won't be alone (he's worried you might pass out in dangerous positions or places).

Every time you'd pass out, he'd be so worried like it's the first time all over again... :(

Xavier

He's always with you or waiting to see you, so you'll be good hands.

You both turn on location sharing, so if you're not with him and you start feeling like you're about to pass out, you send a code word to him and he immediately teleports to wherever you are.

The first time this happened, he got so nervous and thought you worked too hard on the job. Until now, he still helps you to fill your quota so you won't be too tired or overwhelmed.

Rafayel

Oh. He's the one who gets worried the most.

Honestly, the first time this happened he would probably pass out too because his blood pressure became too much for him to handle. 😭 oh my sweetheart.

Because of your bond, he can probably sense everything you're sensing. So when you're about to pass out he'll immediately do what needs to be done.

Zayne

As he is your primary care physician, he's probably the best to have for this situation.

He knows all the step. Give you fresh air, elevate your legs, loosen your clothing, helps you lie down.

He just needs to look in your eyes for a second to see you're about to pass out and immediately do his own protocol.

Caleb

HE GETS SO WORRIED. But he knows how to handle it 100%.

Gets you a medical therapy dog to help monitor your vitals (along with his gadgets too).

He also knows what to do, makes sure not to panic too much because if he panics then you'll panic too... so he has to stay strong for the both of you. He's your rock after all. You can always lean on him.

[nasa]

What We Learned from Flying a Helicopter on Mars

The Ingenuity Mars Helicopter made history – not only as the first aircraft to perform powered, controlled flight on another world – but also for exceeding expectations, pushing the limits, and setting the stage for future NASA aerial exploration of other worlds.

Built as a technology demonstration designed to perform up to five experimental test flights over 30 days, Ingenuity performed flight operations from the Martian surface for almost three years. The helicopter ended its mission on Jan. 25, 2024, after sustaining damage to its rotor blades during its 72nd flight.

So, what did we learn from this small but mighty helicopter?

We can fly rotorcraft in the thin atmosphere of other planets.

Ingenuity proved that powered, controlled flight is possible on other worlds when it took to the Martian skies for the first time on April 19, 2021.

Flying on planets like Mars is no easy feat: The Red Planet has a significantly lower gravity – one-third that of Earth’s – and an extremely thin atmosphere, with only 1% the pressure at the surface compared to our planet. This means there are relatively few air molecules with which Ingenuity’s two 4-foot-wide (1.2-meter-wide) rotor blades can interact to achieve flight.

Ingenuity performed several flights dedicated to understanding key aerodynamic effects and how they interact with the structure and control system of the helicopter, providing us with a treasure-trove of data on how aircraft fly in the Martian atmosphere.

Now, we can use this knowledge to directly improve performance and reduce risk on future planetary aerial vehicles.

Creative solutions and “ingenuity” kept the helicopter flying longer than expected.

Over an extended mission that lasted for almost 1,000 Martian days (more than 33 times longer than originally planned), Ingenuity was upgraded with the ability to autonomously choose landing sites in treacherous terrain, dealt with a dead sensor, dusted itself off after dust storms, operated from 48 different airfields, performed three emergency landings, and survived a frigid Martian winter.

Fun fact: To keep costs low, the helicopter contained many off-the-shelf-commercial parts from the smartphone industry - parts that had never been tested in deep space. Those parts also surpassed expectations, proving durable throughout Ingenuity’s extended mission, and can inform future budget-conscious hardware solutions.

There is value in adding an aerial dimension to interplanetary surface missions.

Ingenuity traveled to Mars on the belly of the Perseverance rover, which served as the communications relay for Ingenuity and, therefore, was its constant companion. The helicopter also proved itself a helpful scout to the rover.

After its initial five flights in 2021, Ingenuity transitioned to an “operations demonstration,” serving as Perseverance’s eyes in the sky as it scouted science targets, potential rover routes, and inaccessible features, while also capturing stereo images for digital elevation maps.

Airborne assets like Ingenuity unlock a new dimension of exploration on Mars that we did not yet have – providing more pixels per meter of resolution for imaging than an orbiter and exploring locations a rover cannot reach.

Tech demos can pay off big time.

Ingenuity was flown as a technology demonstration payload on the Mars 2020 mission, and was a high risk, high reward, low-cost endeavor that paid off big. The data collected by the helicopter will be analyzed for years to come and will benefit future Mars and other planetary missions.

Just as the Sojourner rover led to the MER-class (Spirit and Opportunity) rovers, and the MSL-class (Curiosity and Perseverance) rovers, the team believes Ingenuity’s success will lead to future fleets of aircraft at Mars.

In general, NASA’s Technology Demonstration Missions test and advance new technologies, and then transition those capabilities to NASA missions, industry, and other government agencies. Chosen technologies are thoroughly ground- and flight-tested in relevant operating environments — reducing risks to future flight missions, gaining operational heritage and continuing NASA’s long history as a technological leader.

You can fall in love with robots on another planet.

Following in the tracks of beloved Martian rovers, the Ingenuity Mars Helicopter built up a worldwide fanbase. The Ingenuity team and public awaited every single flight with anticipation, awe, humor, and hope.

Check out #ThanksIngenuity on social media to see what’s been said about the helicopter’s accomplishments.

Learn more about Ingenuity’s accomplishments here. And make sure to follow us on Tumblr for your regular dose of space!

[st4rbwrry]

   𝐹𝐸𝐸𝐿 𝒮𝒪𝑀𝐸𝒯𝐻𝐼𝒩𝒢.

꒰ eren’s really sore from football practice and you give bby a massage. ꒱

𐀔 . . . 3.1k, fem!reader, lowercase intended, body betrayal, submissive eren + whimpers a lot, established consent aka cnc, dry humping, pain kink, eren’s pathetic fr, oral ꒰ m + f ꒱, handjob, love bites, choking, ‘daddy’ said once, creampie, rennie’s embarrassed :( , minors aren’t welcomed! comments + reblogs are appreciated!

꒰ 𝑚𝑜𝑐ℎ𝑎’𝑠 𝑛𝑜𝑡𝑒 ꒱ . . . listened to the nastiest, filthiest sub va audio and babyyyyy, woooo! never been so turned on in my life.

“ughhhhhhh!”

you can hear the painful groans a mile away erupting from the bathroom, eyes peaked over your glasses after you spun around to investigate the suspicious sound. you’re perched up into your soft pink swivel chair where you sat cross legged and comfortably zoned out into an intense mission of call of duty, trying your best not to drool over ghost and konig. the curved monitor in front of your face brightly lit, feminine colors fading in and out from the lights planted around your pc set up. kawaii kitten headphones covering your ears muffling your surroundings.

knocking them off of your ears, you’re able to hear the shower running loudly, the noise cancellation blocking out any movement around you. there’s only one person who could be in your shower right now, and he revealed himself before you could come to the thought. steam flows towards the ceiling as the bathroom door swings ajar, your boyfriend’s sandalwood soap illuminating the room while steam levitates off of his tanned, tatted skin. a pout seeps into your expression when you see the softness in his face, every step he takes towards your bed shoots excruciating discomfort through his muscles.

“baby!” you stand to your feet, the warmth in your chest to see his presence heightening, but the worry in your eyes overtaking all. “what’s wrong, ‘ren?”

“mhmmmm,” he only groans, a towel around his neck and his skin only covered by basketball shorts as he flops face forward onto your bed, hissing from the aches and spasms. accidentally shoving your plushies out of his face and onto the floor from clear irritation.

sometimes forgetting he had a key to your apartment, you’re reminded of him telling you he was coming to see you after practice, overworking himself to the brink of death these past few weeks considering draft season was up and coming. eren needed to make a good impression, and him being an overachiever, it caused his body to slowly deteriorate. waking up at the break of dawn to gulp down green juices and muscle powder before he’s running around his neighborhood for two hours. then he’s going to the field after classes for extreme training with coaches who considered him a son. people who are in his ear constantly worshiping his achievements, including his family — pressuring him to be great. to be something.

the air in the room is cold, and it’s a serenade to his body, like icy hot. he releases a heavy sigh from his pillowed lips as he rests on his stomach in agony.

“i’m so sore, baby!” eren practically whines, the muscles on his toned back shifting as he reaches for a pillow to elevate his head. any small movement is like absolute hell. “fuck, i fucked up.”

“awee, ‘ren. i told you that you needed to slow down.”

sitting beside him on the bed, your knees sink into the memory foam, looming over his figure, putting on your motherly face. relaxing your shoulders, you bury your hands between your thighs, observing him to see what he needed.

“you’ll be limping to the ceremony if you keep this up. there’s only one more game, love.”

“yeah, and it has to count. they’ll be looking at my highlights and shit, and i need to be in their top list,” eren turns his face to look in your direction, his brown hair tied into the back of his head, slightly damp. “once i’m drafted i’ll take a break.”

“okay,” you leave it at that, knowing he’ll pursue a whole rant if you pressed any harder. it kills you to see him hurt, but you know in the end it’ll pay off. you didn’t have faith in him for nothing. “want me to massage you?”

“ooh, yea baby, please,” eren wants to clap to show his appreciation, but can barely move his upper body. he’s clutching a pillow tight to his cheek, lashes kissing his cheekbones with his pretty verdurous irises shield behind lids. lips upturned and his bushy eyebrows furrowed when your hands apply pressure to the back of his calves, kneading the skin with your thumbs gently. “thank you.”

a soft smile tugs on your full lips, glasses slipping down the bridge of your nose as you focus on making him feel better. “you’re welcome, sweetheart.”

“coach had me doing fucking agility courses today, it feels like my entire body is boiling with lava.”

“how’d you even make it up the stairs?”

the warmth of your palms soothed his body, aside from the horrible pain running through him from every touch, you made it a little better. eren whimpers softly the higher your hands go, reaching his lower back now, leaning over him some more to reach his tough spots. he nearly forgets to answer, his knuckles turning white and the veins on his hands leading up to his forearm protrude the harder he grips onto the pillow before him.

“nng, fuck,” he gasps out, muffling his sounds slightly by the cotton stuffed fabric, shifting his hips the deeper the pads of your thumbs sink into his hips, dainty fingers feathering along his skin, blood unbeknownst to you, rushing to his dick. those happened to be his sweet spots. “higher baby, please.”

he says it mostly out of panic, and you oblige, smoothing your hands flat on his back to rub there, beauty marks littered on the canvas. “you didn’t answer me.”

“sorry,” he groans when your hands come to his shoulders, applying pressure with the carpal bone of your hand, dragging straight down to his forearms with your stomach laying on his back. smelling your aroma and feeling the softness of your inner thighs. he blushes, hating his body for reacting the way it is currently. “i-i climbed up the stairs. was hunched over the entire walk to the door.”

“flip over for me.”

“shit. m’so weak right now,” eren mumbles frustratingly, trying his very best to turn his full frame, reaching out for your hand to help. you interlink your arms with his, as if giving him a hug, chest on his to flip him onto his back and position him comfortably. it felt like you were his damn caretaker.

“your knees hurt, baby? have you been wearing your knee pads?”

“mhm hmm, yea. i try to stretch a little before i run in the mornings. sometimes i . . . forget,” the salvia in his mouth glides down his throat as he swallows, seeing your spine arched and the darkly inked butterfly tattoo on your lower back as you focus on rubbing on his knees, and up his quadriceps. “unh, shit.”

“right there?” your tone is soft when you speak, doe eyes attentive when you look up at him and it makes his dick grow semi-hard.

“yes, it’s good, mama.” goddamit. he isn’t trying to sound like it’s obvious he’s turned on right now. he’s literally in too much pain to do anything to you, at least the way he wants.

you hike his shorts up for further access, massaging into the tissue to alleviate the discomfort, eren’s head knocking back as he hisses and grips onto the sheets. you watch him deliriously, trying to ignore the throb of your clit from the visual before you. but he’s making it impossible from the noises he makes. it’s not new, you’ve heard him whimper and moan before when he’s fucking you, but it’s rare when it sounds this . . pathetic. his pain shouldn’t arouse you, but it does.

your face is dangerously close to his dick, your black prescription glasses slipping even further as you try to block out the sounds he’s making by working your hands into his frail muscles. you make it back to his hips which stutter from your delicate touch, trying to hide your smirk when he whines helplessly. he’s breathing heavily, biting down on his lip as he covers his eyes with his right forearm, trying to hide his embarrassment. you’re pawing at his chest now, throwing your leg over his waist and sitting on his abdomen, feeling his dick on your ass cheek.

“fuck, what are you doing?” eren stares at you immediately, brows furrowed as you knead at his biceps, smoothing your hands up to his wrists you grip and eventually pin down to the bed above his head.

“making you feel better,” you pout, lifting your lower body to scoot your ass back and foment your pussy onto him, the subtle gasp leaving his mouth like a symphony. “you’re hard.”

“wait, baby,” eren whines again, struggling to fight the entrapment that you have on his wrists, too weak and sensitive to fight you on it. “i can’t right now. i’m too sore.”

“just lay there,” you tell him, gyrating your hips and rubbing yourself over the fabric of his shorts, barricaded by your silk black ones. his eyes glower at you, mouth going ajar and out comes another desperate whimper. “i need it. you sound too pretty.”

“baby, please. this is so embarrassing,” he goes to shimmy free, but whines from any sharp pain hitting him, entwining your fingers to hold hands as you arch over him, leaving a delicate kiss to his lips.

“you don’t want me?” you ask, batting your lashes as you roll your hips a little faster, humping your clit onto the swell of his dick. you moan, burying your face within the crook of his neck to slick your tongue over his flesh, the slow dragging making his dick pulsate.

“i-it’s not that, god,” he’s heaving now, afraid he’s going to break under you. physically, not possible. but mentally? yeah. he’s not usually the submissive one, so this was a bit out of character. “stop grinding your . . pussy on me.”

now his voice is really breaking, his moans growing high pitched and his whines dragged out and subby. you felt a high you never felt before, being the one to dominate is a rarity. it was a small conversation the two of you had briefly, but never did you think he’d actually let you pursue it. taking the lead felt too good.

“but i w’na grind my pussy on you,” you’re moaning in his ear now, eren’s turning his head to the opposite side to let you sink your teeth into his neck, leaving love bites while he groans. he couldn’t keep his composure with you. “you need to be in pain more. you sound too good. i’m so horny now.”

“you have issues,” he shakes his head, gasping when you nip at his adams apple before kissing it. licking your lips and humming, beginning to hear the squelch of your pussy in the silent room.

“you gave them to me.”

eren doesn’t even realize that his arms are free now, laying limp beside his head as he watches you crawl down his thighs to pull his dick free from his shorts, wrapping your hand around his dick that practically stretches over the shape of your face. it’s leaking precum, and you waste not a drop of it, slapping the head of his dick on your tongue. his fingers are grasping the sheets again, stationed beside his waist and watching you swallow half of him into your mouth.

“baby — damn,” his stomach caves in when he hits the back of your throat, esophagus forcing itself to laminate his dick with more saliva. he’s completely devoted to you, staying still and letting you work. if he had the strength he’d lift his hips and fuck your throat till you’re gagging. “shit. shit, i love being in your mouth.”

you moan around him, twisting your wrist at the base while sucking on what you could, his dick fat and blowing up your cheeks. his eyes fall shut to listen to how you take him, pink lips parting with his eyes drooped in pleasure. you get him wet enough for extra lubricant, popping your mouth free and removing your shorts. he licks his lips at your glistening entrance, your white toes touching his leg as you spread your legs next him to finger yourself open. pretty hair cascading over your features in dark curls, slurping up saliva in your mouth as you stare darkly at him while you grind sensually onto your two fingers.

“c’mon, baby. don’t be mean,” eren groans, hand reaching for your ankle to use whatever strength he gained to drag you closer. “lemme see. c’mere.”

whimpering yourself, you scoot closer to his face, gripping at the edge of the bed as he clutches your ankle, the good bracelet with his initial on it swinging. everything else in his body hurt, even his dick ached now and it was your fault for being so fucking sexy. one thing he could use to his full ability was his mouth, and as soon as your folds are spread wider by your fingers, that’s when he’s kissing at your clit. puckered lips sucking and pulling at her with fervor, jaw widening and clenching as his tongue dips into your hole and he begins bobbing his head, the lewd, downright filthy sounds of your pussy creaming on his tongue.

“ooh, eren,” a squeak lets out, your eyes almost falling shut and drowning your vision. the moans from the both of you are guttural, flowing in sync nearly. he’s sucking on your clit like it’s a pacifier, cocking his head back to spit on her before grunting and flicking vigorously. savoring your taste on his tongue.

your hand goes to wrap back around his dick, spitting in your hand after a prolonged moan and jerking him off, the wet sounds ricocheting off the walls.

“ahh, fuck. oh my . . god,” the moans only grow louder from you, face screwed up the faster his mouth moves. jaw shifting even quicker and you match his pace with your hand, making sure to stay near the tip to watch his hips twitch and hear him moan. “i’m g’na cum, ‘ren.”

“unt unt, sit on my dick, baby,” he immediately removes his mouth, licking his lips and laying on his back again. “you wanna tease me, so fuck me.”

your legs tremble as you crawl above him, knees indenting the bed on either side of his waist, looking behind yourself to hold his dick still and slowly slid yourself down. the stretch is always good, adjusting by now after extensive training, aka eren literally making you lay there and take it inch by inch until it fit and felt right. his dick fully sinks into you, your knees buckling instantly from the fullness, hoisting yourself up by clutching onto his legs behind you.

“f-fuck!” it vibrates through your body, that euphoric wave that he’s sucked into your own. sexual chemistry, soul tie if you will. your knees interfere, making your pussy squeeze tight and eren can do nothing but clasp onto his own angelic hair, his tatted forearm with a cuban link on his wrist killing your clit. hair long fallen out of it’s tie.

“she looks so pretty like this,” eren hums, sucking on his lip before spanking the outside of your thigh hard, trying to coax you into moving. “lemme see her suck me in and out.”

rolling your lips inward, you moan as you raise and drop your ass down, skin interacting loudly with his own. eren hisses with rouse, drinking in the view of your juices coating his cock, dripping in fact. the visual evidence of him splitting you open as you rock on him to fuck yourself makes his brain explode, unable to choke his moans down. tossing your head back, he studies the art of contour. your neck, chin, and nose. the curves, the area of fat on your tummy . . . you are beauty divine. and you’re so damn hot.

“you’re so damn hot,” it’s spoken the same way he thought it, perhaps with more vigor.

you feel yourself getting close, so you lean yourself forward and get ahold of his wrists again, that red tint coming back to his cheekbones. your body is flat to his, and you listen to your wet pussy glide up and down as you drop your ass back heavily, his strong thighs hitting it. you’re breathing into his mouth when he goes to kiss you, your pace getting harder and you hear him whimper again and again. the pain and pleasure mixing. that soreness in his body fucking with him, but serenading you.

“fuckin’ get it,” eren grunts in a hushed tone, his words persuading you to bounce harder, making it sloppy and incredulously loud. “get it, baby. make a mess. f-fuckk . . unh.”

“oh my god,” the noise you make is a mixture of disbelief and arousal, shaking above him while he throws his head back into the pillow exposing his gorgeous neck, silver chain sprawled intricately within the contours of his neckline. he’s driving you absolutely insane. “keep moaning like that, baby. it’s so good. i can’t.”

“you g’na fuck it till it hurt, too? you like hearing me in pain that bad?” he locks eyes with you again, body trembling with pathetic whines leaving his throat.

“y-yess, love it,” you admitted, swirling your ass and riding him faster, tears brimming your sockets. “you’re so pretty, daddy. you’re hitting my spot.”

he watches as you keep yourself where you want, his dick curved into that sweet part making your eyes gloss white, grinding harder while digging your nails into his wrist, mouth agape and precious broken moans escaping. that pressure in your tummy bursts, and you’re cumming while still fucking him, squealing and crying as you drench his pelvis. that sends eren to overdrive, muttering a stream of expletives before he’s nearing his orgasm not long after.

“ooh, shit. get up, get up. i’m finna cum.”

“n-no,” you add more of your strength to overpower him, keeping him flat to the bed as you lean up and roll your hips. he looks up at you with warning, your gushy walls sucking him in the more you clench and cum. batting your lashes as his hands wriggle in your grasp, upper body shifting from being overwhelmed with ecstasy. “fill me up.”

“awe, fuck me, baby. fuck, fuck, fuck!”

whimpers, shaky moans, and whines. they’re all playing a part in how he releases and makes you cum again as he’s cumming, screaming in the air as he fights through his aching body to spank your ass fervently. filling you up like you cried for. his noises are dry, like they’re fighting to get out. coming out in weak, fucked out, high pitched grumbles and keens. almost like he’s in goddamn heat. it’s all so hot. he hates his body for the ultimate betrayal of submission. but also, hates to admit he fucking loved it. excruciating pain aside.

“get off me,” eren heaves, swallowing from a dry mouth and his excessive moaning. “please, baby. i can’t take it. i’m sore. i’m asking nicely.”

smiling, you wrap your hand around his neck before sticking your tongue out to glide over his lips, tasting him and begging for entrance, giving him a nasty, overjoyed kiss.

“i’ll give you another massage, sexy.”

© 𝑠𝑡4𝑟𝑏𝑤𝑟𝑟𝑦 . all rights reserved. please do not repost, steal, or modify my work simply because it is mine. stealing isn't cute. i'll ruin your life.♡

[luveline]

helloooo, how are you? i’ve been rewatching criminal minds and i finally got to the post-prison part, so i’m really missing shy!r and post prison spencer <33 if you’re felling up to writing something for them again, i would love to see it!! maybe when they kiss for the first time or something else (completely up to you, i would love anything that you write hahah) but if you’re not really feeling it at the moment, please don’t worry about it, it’s so understandable 🩷 have the best day!!

ty for your request I love first kisses <3

Spencer takes you for a walk and explains a couple of courting rituals. shy fem!reader, 1.5k

Profiling is still very hard, but seven months into your new job at the BAU, you’ve become proficient in Spencer Reid. You can tell when he’s eager to work, when he’s down about something, when he’s feeling good. He holds himself differently on his good days, he takes care to coil his hair and wears a clean pair of shoes. 

In the bullpen, he’s sitting at his desk beside yours, craned over a desk covered in loose papers, books, and files. You attempt to hide your approach, lest he startle. 

“Good morning,” he says. 

“Good morning.” Can’t hide anything. He’s been an agent for ninety percent of his adult life. “What are you doing?” 

“Just reading.” 

You sit at your desk, clearing a space for your bag among your own mess of files and books. Your monitor turns on with a nudge of the mouse. Your screen is filled swiftly by notifications and Outlook, then the FBI messaging system, and then the ‘filing cabinet’ Garcia built to help you understand the insanity that is the BAU online system. It submerges you every morning regardless. 

“What are you reading about?” you ask. Your emails can’t wait, but you don’t want to read them, so you won’t for another ten minutes. 

He stumbles over a breath. 

“Spencer?” 

“It’s courtship rituals.” 

You regret asking. Whenever you and Spencer talk about feelings, or love, or romance, you end up hot as a kettle on a stovetop, steam billowing from your ears. You choked on a mouthful of lukewarm tea a few days ago when he’d mentioned America's developing hook-up culture. 

He doesn’t tell you any more, which is unlike him. Spencer Reid loves to talk, or loves to share what he’s learned. You looked it up —it’s called info-dumping, and it’s usually because the person telling you is so deeply fascinated by the topic they’re investigating that they can’t contain it. It’s a common symptom of ADHD, or autism, or both. Spencer’s done it since the day you met, which is nice. You feel like he trusts you. 

And so you’re wondering now if you’ve done something to make him think he can’t do it today. Or maybe he’s not feeling well. 

You prop your face in his hand and watch him. 

He doesn’t look upset, only focused. 

You hate quiet. You love not talking, but gaps of silence have you overthinking things. Maybe he’s mad. Maybe you’ve finally pissed him off. 

It’s scary because he’s amazingly kind. Overwhelmingly nice. He’s lovely and good looking but it’s his heart that shocks you every time, how he’s looked after you, defended you.

“Spencer, are you okay?” you ask. 

He blinks to attention. “What?” 

“You’re not talking.” 

He grins. “I’m thinking.” 

His smile when he looks like he’s about to laugh is everything. 

“Don’t think too much,” you say as you play with a button on your coat. “Isn’t that what you always tell me?” 

“Don’t think too much because you think about things you don’t need to,” he amends. “You worry about everything.” 

“Well, so do you.” 

“Exactly. I’ll worry enough for you, too.” Spencer gives you a smile you don’t understand. “Will you come to the archive with me? I want to talk to you about something.” 

“Spencer…” He just acknowledged that you worry about everything. 

“Sorry,” he laughs. “Something with no pressure. I’ll explain it as we walk.” 

You shed your coat and walk together out of the BAU offices down a long hallway. You take the elevator down to the ground level, spring air in the hallways, early morning sunshine lapping at your shoes where it’s settled golden against the marble floor. Spencer professes that it’s nothing to worry about again, but he doesn’t elaborate, and your heart begins to pulse too quickly. 

You can’t look at him. 

“I’ve been reading about these courtship rituals and… looking at which ones are the best. There are thousands of them, but contemporary courting isn’t easy. It confuses me. With my last, my only girlfriend, we wrote each other letters. But I wanted this time to be different, because– because love is different?” He grimaces. 

“Love is different,” you agree. You’re not sure who he means, your chest panging in two different beats. Is he… talking about you? “It’s different every time.” 

“I was looking for the more subtle rituals. I kept thinking I’d find the right one, and that I’d know it when I saw it, but I can’t find anything suitable and I might need your help. Um, if you even want to help me.” 

“Of course I do.” 

Spencer slows just outside of the archive’s door. “Everything I read about feels like it would just embarrass you. I picture buying you flowers and I feel like you’d just– just explode.” He says it with affection and apology alike. “I wrote you a poem. Emily told me not to give it to you, though.” 

“You wrote me a poem?” 

“I made you a love spoon, too, but I can’t whittle, and it looks terrible. I even cut my hand, and if you rejected me you’d have to give the spoon back and I think that would make it worse.” 

You turn completely still. The last thing you expected that morning was for Spencer to confess. And he is confessing, a small smile on his face, patience, nervousness, close enough to feel the heat of him beside you. You short circuit in an attempt to compute the magnitude of it; Spencer wants to court you, and you can’t handle it. 

Your exhale shudders out of you. Goosebumps attack your arms. 

“Sorry,” he says quietly, “are you okay?” 

“Spencer, I don’t think you could ever find a way to tell me that wouldn’t make me feel like this.” 

“How do you feel?” 

“How am I supposed to feel?” 

Spencer’s smile fades a touch. “I don’t know. You can feel how you want to feel, it isn’t up to me. But I have feelings for you. I thought you knew.” 

It’s like knowing that the lottery numbers were chosen specifically to match your ticket. The thing he’s talking about doesn’t make sense. 

“Are you kidding around?” you ask. 

“What? No.” He holds your wrist gently. “Of course not.” 

You swallow a lump and try not to overreact, though you’re already doing that. This is a good thing, it is, but he’s him and you’re you and every time he touches you it’s like fireworks are bursting warm and tingly over your skin. You smile at his chest, cheeks dimpling from how wide it stretches. 

“You don’t have to court me, um. Not in any way like that. I’m just like every other girl, you know? I like flowers. I,” —your cheek lists down toward your shoulder bashfully— “probably would feel a little embarrassed, but I like flowers. I can get you flowers.” 

Spencer really laughs. “You want to get me flowers?” 

“Maybe?” 

He laughs again. His eyes lock onto you and his open hand closes on the opposite arm, putting you face to face. “It was my idea,” he says, playfully argumentative. 

“Okay.” 

“You want to hear the poem?” he asks, quietening again. 

You nod slowly. “N’I wanna see the spoon.” 

“Can I please kiss you?” He takes a breath, like he’s been running. “I know this isn’t the right place, but I didn’t expect to want it this badly.” 

“I don’t think there’s a wrong place…” 

“So I can?” he asks, lifting a hand to your cheek, to hold you with care. 

You nod into his approach, find yourself kissed and held tightly in a split-second of warmth and warm smells. His nose touches yours in a kiss of their own, his lips part lightly before pressing in again. Two kisses lend to a third, but then he pulls away to look at you. As quickly as it started, it’s over. 

“You're overheating already,” he says, thumb rubbing a sweet path under your cheek. 

You don’t know what to say. He ducks his head just that little bit to make sure you’re okay. Understanding flows between you both. His hand falls behind your back to pull you in for a hug. 

“I’ve never been the confident one in any of my relationships,” he admits. 

“I usually am.” 

Your deadpan lights him up. His hug turns strong armed, and he walks you back, giggling, arms a comforting vice around you. “You can be the shy one this time,” he says, seemingly unaware of how his using the word ‘relationship’ has thrown you for another loop. 

You’re hot as a furnace all morning. Spencer makes excuses for you, but Emily’s amazing at her job. 

“Jesus, Spence, you didn’t read her the poem? I told you it was too much.” 

[cmaidaartworkblog]

This video showcases my Blender model of the planet that the Scud aliens call home, the fourth and final world I've mapped out for @jayrockin's "Runaway to the Stars" project. A *lot* of maps were created in service of this final render, and also in service of presenting the special qualities of this planet. I intend to show you as many of these as I can under the cut, and also in subsequent posts focusing on some of the more interstitial, ancillary maps and figures that played a part in producing the primary maps you'll see in this main post.

Before I show the first maps I made for this project, what you see below are the satellite-style maps for the Equinoxes and Solstices, in order of (Northern) Spring, Summer, Fall, and Winter, the latter serving as the texture for the Blender object you saw in the video.

__________

With that matter covered, our next focus is this project's foundation: Geology. While I didn't spin as elaborate a tectonic history for this planet as I did for the Ayrum commission, I did work out as much detail as I could for the more recent geological activity, to set the stage for the elevation data - including a narrower focus on the coastal shallows that host the Scud populations.

__________

Once I could move on to climate, my first step was finding this planet's relative Insolation, which I managed thanks to @reversedumbrella's code and coaching. With an obliquity of only 16 degrees, this planet's yearly maximum Insolation levels stick close to the equator, compared to pole-to-pole oscillation we see on Earth

__________

Having a rough sense of where heat would concentrate seasonally and how the landmasses would deflect water in light of the planet's retrograde spin, I was able to set down the bi-annual ocean currents (Northern Summer above and Northern Winter below), then the monthly water temperatures pushed around by said currents, and finally -after factoring in many other considerations- the monthly land temperatures as well (combined in the second gif)

__________

Next came the seasonal air pressure maps and subsequent wind patterns (my first time creating those from scratch), which later factored into the precipitation maps. The incredible temperatures at the largest continent's interior make a desert of most of it, and the other interiors are fairly dry too, but all that heat on the equatorial ocean generates a *lot* of evaporation which ends up coming down elsewhere.

__________

With temperatures and precipitation mapped out for each month, I was able to find how the accumulation and melt of ice and snow played out, too. Given such a hot equator it's surprising to see freezing temperatures hold out in some places, but low obliquity and high elevation shield what areas they can, it seems.

__________

All this monthly data was then painstakingly combined and compared and plugged into equations to produce maps of discrete climate zones, using both the Köppen (left) and Trewartha (right) classification systems. The higher latitudes see some overlap with Earth's conditions, but the Tropics...

__________

I never really finished the map I wanted to make with my own loosely customized classification system, but I *did* get as far as this breakdown of the areas that sometimes surpass 56.7 degrees Celsius, Earth's record for highest surface temperature ever directly measured. And as you can see, that earthly record is broken by a *significant* fraction of this planet's surface, and far exceeded by the equatorial continent's deep interior

__________

The final phase of this project dealt with creating satellite maps of this planet's surface (which you saw at the top of this post), which started with a map of dry and submerged substrate, then a density map of the vegetation that sits atop it, then the colors of that vegetation under annual average conditions (demonstrating how they would appear in-person, rather than the area's appearance from orbit), and finally plant colors under seasonal conditions (same conceit as previous). In concert with the seasonal ice and snow maps, it was the four maps in the last sequence which were overlaid on the Substrate map, using the plant density map as raster masks, to produce the final Satellite-Style maps.

__________

This planet's sophonts being a marine species, it was then worth focusing on the conditions underwater, which included monthly seafloor temperatures (first gif), annual discharge of sediment from rivers (magenta in the 2nd gif), and seasonal upwelling of nutrients from deeper water (blue in the 2nd gif).

The creation of all my maps seen in this post was possible thanks to Photopea, which has been my go-to for several years now. The resolution kinda got crunched when I uploaded these here, so when I share them on Reddit later I'll add those links under this. These have also already been posted on Twitter, which you can see here if you like. Thanks for scrolling all the way down here!

[anantaru]

DAY 17 — VIRGINITY LOSS

kinktober 2023. — masterlist | ao3

𖧡 — including — neuvillette, heizou, wriothesley

𖧡 — warnings — fem! reader, first time, virgin! reader, taking your v card, soft & passionate, pussy drunk genshin men

𖧡 — NEUVILLETTE

neuvillette was always tender-hearted and caring with you— nonetheless, this specific night, he was burning up through his entire nervous system— only a minimal glance of your body was able to drag him into such brimming state with sweat spouting down his back while only inches away from feeling your skin on his hands— just the whisper of your soft words scurrying at the head of his sinful imaginations.

at the present moment in time, there were no thoughts other than doing this correctly, no focus other than the one centered on your angelic frame— a crucial need, as much as air and water, sewed up within the pain of anticipation simmering over his psyche.

you can feel how his fingers silently curve over the flesh of your thighs before he inches you closer to his bare body, "voice any discomfort to me—," he pauses before coughing out, barely breathing as his heart thuds hard against his chest from how tight your legs were wrapped around his hips, "—immediately."

you nod in compliance, and you rest your head against his broad shoulder before feeling neuvillette's complete weight shift, soon after caging you beneath him as he towers on top with a new perception prodding at your wet core, his cock gently resting between your silken pussy lips— it's unique to any other feeling you have ever experienced before and your thighs instantly clamp around his hips harder, your ragged breathing tottering over his neck and shoulder.

you try to relax yourself, letting your hips fall into the mattress before suddenly trembling at an increasing pressure on your cunt— you hear a whimper as neuvillette rests his forehead on yours, holding his gaze on your eyes, the force of the increasing press precise and cautious as your hole parts around the intrusion.

it seems to be everywhere, all at once trapping your body and you suddenly feel so hot inside, then cold, then hot again, the way it manifested so quickly in you like a spumming inferno that imprisoned your body before your mind floats in the air, above clouds— again, it's hot and cold, hot and cold, the pressure in your lower area penetrant and heavy, and you're becoming dizzy by just focusing on how his shaft was stretching you out as neuvillette fills your cunt to the hilt.

neuvillette notices an immediate reaction from his elevated senses, in the way a strong current of oversensitivity stung along his thick, sheathed shaft like a bee stinging their victims— nullifying his pace as his hips stutter before coming to a hold, reveling himself into the warm hug of a wet, gushing pussy enveloping him.

it's just too much right now, for the both of you— or how your body was beginning to smell just like him, your pussy shaping over his length and casted all around it— as if the both of you, had claimed each other entirely.

𖧡 — HEIZOU

"squeeze my hand if it's too much or uncomfortable,"

regardless of heizou's confident and soothing sentences towards you, before smirking down and giving you the feeling that he had it all figured out a long time ago— was in reality, a helpless attempt to hide his genuine panic deafening his inner spirit, and even though the detective believed he did a good job at concealing it from you, the way he'd awkwardly scrunch his brows together or stumble over his own words aired his self parading nervousness spotless for you to see.

despite that, it's a heavenly sight to have you splayed underneath him, bare and exposed— untouched, so hot that it has you clench around his waist as he first slips himself in, his cock immediately showering your warm walls with love. your heart was racing and so was his, yet it was impressive, his self control, slowly pushing in and out of your little hole and leaning his head down to plant a soft, tender kiss on your lips.

"you're so beautiful," heizou praises as you part your lips, "you're mine," and wait for heizou to slip his eager tongue deep into the warm cavern of your mouth, your mind lost in a swirl of senselessness by his gradually fastening thrusts and the mild pain accompanying them— yet such, didn't matter in this moment, because your thoughts travelled up the soul-deep river over emotions unlocking deep inside that bonded your bodies in a new sense of awareness.

𖧡 — WRIOTHESLEY

watching you smile filled wriothesley with a love he never thought he was capable of feeling— and it's warm, as he believed love should always be perceived as, with your bodies moving unitedly, ugh, archons, he was obsessed with this intoxicating feeling.

“f-fuck, fuck, princess, fuck," he stumbles over his wet trembles, his mouth parted and forehead bedding a film of sweat as wriothesley persistently grinds into your sensitivity, his voice raspier than usual and for once he wasn't cracking occasional jokes, instead he hold your gaze forevermore, groaning out a shaky heave as you mewl out from the deep-rooted press on your core— it's a little uncomfortable you won't lie, and wriothesley being above average wasn't aiding you in that particular battle.

despite that you welcome him completely, no matter the circumstances you keep your legs pressed around his thighs when he tirelessly embeds himself so far inside your cunt that you're nothing but a babbling mess, hardly capable to breathe nor voice your pleasure due to the lingering compression on your slit being penetrated for the first time by a large, thick length, so perfectly shaped and harboring a soft pink on the bulbous tip.

he didn't believe he'd ever become so devoted towards another human being and utterly revel inside pleasing you for the first time, through your body and your soul and ugh— that you wanted him to be your first and no one else, how such reason alone was growing the addiction inside of him, his hips grinding inside your warm hole as his lower abs constrict at the pleasure.

wriothesley licks into your mouth in desperation, and each moment he pulls his hips back only to slip inside again, it’s so much better and it seemed like there wasn't a chance for it to subside, the sensation was growing between both your bodies rubbing over each other, his hips twitching with the sudden thud of vibrations due to your creamy walls clamping down on him.

your soft frame squeezes underneath his rough one, hot walls and wet taste, your slit gripping him just the right way and swallowing him till overcrowded with his heavy length, stimulating the veins sloped over his shaft like you were made to do this with him and only him.

truly, there was no comparison to this, nothing would make him get bored of doing this with you.

©2023 anantaru's kinktober do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[moonlightrafe]

So It Goes…

summary: A stressful premiere and alcohol lead to you hooking up with Drew for the first time.

pairing: Drew Starkey x Actress!Reader

word count: 1.4k

warnings: Explicit smut, alcohol consumption, mention of social anxiety, brief Odessa mention:/, p in v sex, creampie 18+ MDNI

You imagine this is how animals feel at the zoo, put on display to be gawked at all day. Anxiety grips at your chest as the eyes of strangers feel like laser beams, dissecting every flaw, as if they’re waiting for you to mess up. As if they want you to.

You were the only one of Drew’s costars to attend the premiere for his new movie ‘Queer’ and the thought of the online rumors was enough to make your blood pressure go through the roof.

Drew is staying at a hotel nearby for the night, out of convenience— and you are over the moon when he invites you back for a drink. To sit and have a drink. Debrief. That’s all, nothing else.

The ride up in the elevator feels endless, your heart pounding in the small, confined space. Neither of you speaks, but the silence crackles with something unspoken, the faint scent of his cologne wrapping around you like a tether.

When the door to his room clicks shut behind you, your pulse spikes. He gestures to the small table near the window, where two glasses and a bottle of something amber sit waiting. You take a seat, trying to act casual, but your hands tremble as you reach for the glass he pours for you.

The conversation starts light—work, the evening’s events—but there’s an edge to it now, a pull that grows stronger with every glance he sends your way. His knee brushes against yours under the table, and you swear he doesn’t move it. The air feels heavier, charged, like a storm about to break.

Drew leans back in his chair, his eyes holding yours for a beat too long.

“I really appreciate you coming out tonight. You look beautiful,” he says softly, his voice carrying an honesty that sends a shiver through you.

Your laugh is nervous, an attempt to break the tension, “you’re just saying that.”

“I’m not,” he replies, leaning forward now, his forearms resting on the table, his face impossibly close, “I mean it.”

“And what about Odessa?” You question, raising an eyebrow at him as your lips threaten to curve into a smirk.

“There’s nothing going on there. Come on, don’t act like the girls online.”

You giggle, slightly embarrassed as your breath catches, your gaze dropping to his lips before you can stop yourself. His eyes darken, catching the flicker of movement, and the space between you feels like it’s shrinking by the second.

“This is… dangerous,” you murmur, but you don’t move away.

“Yeah,” he agrees, his voice low, almost a whisper.

“It is.”

Could it be possible he has feelings for you, too?

And then his hand brushes yours, tentative at first, testing. The electricity is undeniable. His fingers close over yours, and for a moment, the world outside his hotel room ceases to exist.

Drew grabs your hand and guides you over to the large bed. One hand is wraps around the back of your neck while the other slaps down against the swell of your ass, causing you to yelp.

“Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me in this dress?” He rasps, his voice a low growl. He massages the stinging skin through the thin fabric of your dress before pushing you back, quickly holding up your leg to unfasten the buckle on your shoe.

"Just tell me what you want, baby, and I'll do it."

"I just want you," you whisper, your voice trembling with vulnerability, as he places a quick kiss to your ankle.

His lips linger there for a beat, warm and soft against your skin, sending a shockwave up your spine. He looks up at you then, his eyes molten with intent, and the air between you feels like it might ignite.

Slowly, deliberately, his fingers trail up your calf, his touch light enough to leave goosebumps in its wake.

"You really have no idea what you're doing to me," Drew murmurs, his voice low and rough, like he's barely holding himself back.

Your breath hitches, your heart hammering as he leans closer, his hands steadying while your shoe finally drops to the floor with a soft thud. The world narrows to just the two of you, every rational thought dissolving in the heat of the moment.

His hand slides to your thigh, anchoring you as his lips skim upward, following a path that makes your pulse race. The tension coils tighter.

"Say it again," he breathes against your skin, his lips hovering just above your knee now, teasing, tempting.

"I want you," you repeat, your voice steadier this time, each word carrying the weight of your desire, “wanted you for so long…”

Drew takes no time to hike your dress up over your waist, practically ripping your underwear off of you. He smells good, like expensive cologne and nicotine. His lips find their way to your neck, sending shivers of pleasure down your spine as his ring-clad fingers ghost down your body, leaving a trail of heat in their wake.

You arch into him, wanting more as he helps you remove your dress entirely, discarding onto the floor.

Drew continues to move at an agonizingly slow pace, taking his time with you as his lips make their way from your throat down to your chest.

Your breath hitches once his tongue finally comes in contact with your nipple, taking your flesh into his mouth, gently suckling, careful not to apply too much pressure.

Your mind is going hazy as arousal leaks from your core, grinding down harder on him.

Drew continues to suck at your breast, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bud as he grinds against you with ease. His eyes are closed, his mind completely lost to the sensation of you in his mouth. Your body trembles against him and he feels it, your small whimpers and moans sending waves urging him on.

He pulls away slowly, and you wince at the loss of contact. His lips leave a trail of wet kisses across your skin as he looks up at you with glassy eyes.

You lean back, positioning yourself so that you have access to the button of his slacks.

“Can I?” you ask.

He nods his head eagerly, unbuttoning them for you and yanking the zipper down with quickness.

You wrap your hand around his length, tugging gently as your free hand flies to the back of his head, pulling at the hair at the nape of his neck.

You lean down to cup and squeeze his balls as he sucks at your right breast.

Drew pulls back again and grips at your hips before he flips you onto your stomach.

His large frame towers over you as he spreads your legs open, pumping his cock a few times before he enters you mercilessly. Every inch of his thick, veiny length making you whimper pathetically as he fills you.

Drew lets out a low hiss at how tight you feel around him. He watches as your eyes roll back, your jaw slackening as he buries himself inside you. He hooks your legs around his hips, splitting you open on his cock as he begins to rut against you.

“You’re even more perfect than I imagined, fuck… squeezing me so well.”

His words barely even register, the feeling of him moving in and out of you, filling you so perfectly, the fat head of his cock hitting your sweet spot with every thrust rendering you speechless.

He lets go of your breast to grab your throat, squeezing hard enough that your vision begins to blur, “fuckin’ made for me.”

He glances downward and sees the way his cock pushes against your stomach, the bulge visible against your skin every time he thrusts. He presses down on it, the sensation making you let out a squeal as he fucks into you even harder, deeper.

“You gonna cum for me, sweetheart? Make a mess on my cock?” He asks as his opposite hand trails down to rub figure eights on your clit.

“Fuck, yes. I’m gonna cum! Please, please, Drew...” you chant as he picks up the pace.

Before you know it, you’re gushing onto his length, threatening to pull his own release from him.

“You want me to cum inside you? Huh, baby? Fill this pretty pussy up?”

“Yes, please, fill me up, need you so bad….”

Within seconds Drew is shooting hot, pearly, ropes inside you, causing you to moan loudly.

He pulls out and collapses next to you on the bed.

“Fuck.”

[jinniejjam]

Lonely Wine

✎ Mean Neighbor!Lee Know x Lonely Afab!Reader

✎ Christmas AU, Emotional, Enemies to Lovers, Slow Burn, 18+ MDNI! NSFW, Mutual Pining, Smut, Mistletoe Trope, Romantic Ending.

✎ 3.4k

✎ Synopsis: you find yourself feeling alone and distant, lost in your own thoughts. Your annoying neighbor, Lee Minho, crosses your path, and the exchange between you is far from pleasant. But then, to your surprise, he apologizes. As the holiday season continues, the walls between you begin to crumble, and you start to realize that even the most unexpected neighbors can bring warmth and connection when you least expect it.

A/n : hii y'all! I bring the christmas fanfic for today, hope you enjoy the story and also Merry Christmas! I hope warmth found u^^

—Bae

The air was cold, sharp against your skin as you leaned on the edge of your window, a half-empty glass of wine in your hand. Christmas Eve had always been a hollow affair for you, a reminder of what you didn’t have.

Your family wasn’t just complicated—it was fractured, splintered beyond repair. Your parents had divorced years ago, both quickly moving on to build new families, leaving you somewhere in the middle. No one outright abandoned you, but no one fought for you either. Holidays became a game of polite invitations and shallow smiles, and eventually, you stopped trying to belong anywhere.

You finished the wine faster than you intended, the warmth in your chest doing little to ease the ache. The sound of distant laughter and carols drifted in through the window, each note a cruel reminder of what this night was supposed to be.

When you realized your stock of wine was gone, you sighed and grabbed your coat. A trip to the store would be better than sitting alone with your thoughts.

The grocery store was mostly empty, its fluorescent lights buzzing softly. You wandered the aisles, the sight of festive decorations and holiday discounts doing nothing to lift your spirits. Three bottles of wine went into your basket—too much for one night, maybe, but you didn’t care.

By the time you returned to your building, your arms were aching from the weight of the bottles. You stepped into the elevator, letting out a breath as the doors closed.

But they didn’t close fast enough.

“Hold it!” a familiar voice called, and your stomach dropped as Lee Minho slid in just before the doors shut.

Of course. Out of all the people in this building, it had to be him.

Lee Minho, your annoying salty neighbor who had been a thorn of your peacefull life in this building, you're not sure how and when it started, but every encounter with him always feels like a war somehow, well its maybe begin from the very first you moved in to this building.

Flashback

The new apartment smelled like fresh paint and floor polish. You sat on your worn couch, staring at the boxes still stacked in chaotic clusters, a sigh escaping your lips. Starting over wasn’t easy. The stress of work and the pressures of life had already begun weighing down on you, but you were determined to make this new chapter as bright as possible.

After a long debate, you decided to bake cookies for your neighbors as a peace offering—a way to establish yourself in the building. A sense of community might help ease the loneliness. Armed with a plate of warm cookies, you stepped out of your door, knocking at the unit beside yours.

It swung open sharply.

The man who stood before you was breathtakingly gorgeous, but his expression was nothing short of murderous. His dark, sharp eyes narrowed in annoyance, his jawline so sharp you could swear it could cut glass.

“Yes?” His voice was flat, unwelcoming.

“Oh, hi! I just moved in next door. I made cookies and thought I’d introduce myself!” you said, holding the plate out with a smile.

He stared at the cookies like they were contaminated.

“Thanks, but no thanks.” His tone was curt. Without another word, he shut the door.

You blinked, stunned. What the hell was that?

Or that one time when he complained, saying that you're being loud just 3 days right after you moved in.

The next few days after moving in filled with unpacking, arranging furniture, and trying to settle into your new place. It was exhausting, and by the weekend, you decided to reward yourself with a relaxing night—some wine, your favorite playlist, and a bubble bath.

The music was soft, barely above a whisper, but as you swayed along while unpacking some remaining boxes, a sudden knock startled you. It wasn’t just a polite tap; it was loud, deliberate, and aggressive.

You frowned as you opened the door, only to find yourself face-to-face with your grumpy neighbor. Lee Minho stood there, arms crossed, his dark eyes glaring down at you like you were the source of all his problems.

“Seriously?” he snapped.

“What?” you asked, taken aback.

“The music,” he said. “Some of us are trying to sleep, and your constant noise is making it impossible.”

You raised an eyebrow. “It’s barely 9 PM.”

“And? Some people have early mornings,” he replied. “Unlike you, apparently.”

You folded your arms. “Excuse me, but I’m not exactly throwing a party over here. The music is quiet enough that I can barely hear it myself. Maybe the problem isn’t me; maybe it’s you.”

His jaw tightened. “Oh, so now I’m the problem?”

“Kind of, yeah,” you shot back. “Maybe you should consider moving to a remote cabin in the woods if you hate hearing other people so much.”

The tension between you crackled like static. He exhaled sharply, clearly deciding you weren’t worth more of his time.

“Whatever,” he muttered. “Just keep it down.”

With that, he turned on his heel and stalked back to his apartment, leaving you fuming in the doorway.

You think that was the moment the gloves came off. From then on, the two of you clashed at every opportunity—snarky comments in the elevator, icy glares in the hallway, and a mounting frustration that turned into outright hostility.

Back to present time, he leaned casually against the cold wall of the elevator, his sharp eyes scanning the bottles in your arms. His smirk was almost immediate.

“Three bottles?” he quipped, tilting his head. “For one person? What is this, a pity party?”

You didn’t respond, staring straight ahead and hoping he’d shut up.

But Minho wasn’t done. “What? Are you that lonely? Not even a family to spend Christmas with?”

His words hit like a gut punch, sharp and uncalled for. Your fingers tightened around the bag handles as you turned to glare at him.

“Yeah, keep talking, Lee. I’m sure your perfect little life makes all of this just so much better,” you shot back, your voice trembling but laced with bitterness.

Minho blinked, taken aback. He had expected you to snap back, to fight him with the same sarcastic edge you always did. Instead, he saw the hurt in your eyes, the raw emotion you’d been trying so hard to hide. His stomach twisted in regret, realizing too late that he had pushed the wrong button this time. The smug expression he wore faltered, guilt creeping in as he watched you turn away right after the elevator door opened.

Once inside your apartment, the weight of his words finally crashed down on you. You set the bottles on the counter, your hands trembling.

Not even a family.

It wasn’t just an insult—it was the truth. Your parents had their own lives, their own families, and you were nothing more than a reminder of their failed marriage. Christmas had become a painful routine: fake smiles, awkward dinners, and feeling like an outsider in both of their homes. This year, you hadn’t even bothered to show up.

Tears welled in your eyes as you uncorked one of the bottles. The first sip burned your throat, but you didn’t stop. With each gulp, you tried to drown the ache, to silence the doubts and regrets swirling in your mind.

But the wine didn’t help. Instead, it magnified everything.

The tears spilled over, hot and relentless, as the weight of the night pressed harder on you. You sank onto the couch, clutching the bottle like it was your lifeline. The sound of distant carols and laughter seeped in through the thin walls, each note a cruel reminder of what you didn’t have.

A knock at the door made you freeze.

“Who’s there?” you called, your voice hoarse.

“It’s me.”

Minho.

Your chest tightened. The last person you wanted to see right now was him.

“Go away!” you shouted, wiping at your tear-streaked face.

But he didn’t leave.

“I need to apologize,” he said, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it.

You clenched your jaw, anger and humiliation swirling inside you. “I don’t need your pity, Minho. Just leave me alone.”

But his voice came again, insistent. “Please. I shouldn’t have said that. It was out of line.”

Something about the raw sincerity in his tone gave you pause. Slowly, you stood and walked to the door, hesitating before unlocking it.

When you opened it, Minho was leaning against the frame, his usual smirk replaced by something almost apologetic. His eyes flickered to your puffy, tear-streaked face, and his jaw tightened.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

You crossed your arms, trying to keep your voice steady. “Why do you care?”

Minho hesitated, his gaze softening. “Because I know what it’s like to be alone on Christmas.”

The admission caught you off guard, and for a moment, you just stared at him.

“I’m serious,” he added, his voice quieter now. “I shouldn’t have said what I did. I was being an ass, and—"

The sincerity in his voice made your chest ache. Before you knew it, you were crying again, the weight of the evening too much to hold back.

Minho stepped closer, his movements slow and deliberate. “—Hey,” he murmured. “It’s okay.”

Before you could stop yourself, you leaned into him. He hesitated for only a moment before wrapping his arms around you, holding you tightly. The warmth of his embrace broke something inside you, and you clung to him as if he were the only thing keeping you afloat.

Minho held you close, his arms steady and sure, like he was the only anchor keeping you from falling apart. The quiet between you was heavy but not uncomfortable; his presence alone was enough to steady your trembling breaths. His hand moved gently up and down your back, offering a kind of comfort you hadn’t realized you craved.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered into his chest, your voice muffled.

“For what?” His voice was soft, almost a whisper.

“For being a mess.”

He pulled back slightly, just enough to tilt your chin up so you had no choice but to meet his gaze. His eyes softened as they searched yours, and for the first time, you saw something other than irritation or smugness—something tender.

“You’re not a mess,” he murmured. “You’re human.”

The sincerity in his voice made your throat tighten, and before you could think twice, you leaned forward, pressing your forehead to his shoulder, inhaling the faint scent of his cologne.

“Come on,” he said gently, his hands steadying you as he guided you toward the couch. “Sit down. Let me help.”

He left briefly, and you heard the soft clink of glasses. When he returned, he handed you a glass of water and a blanket, sitting beside you with a closeness that felt intentional.

“You didn’t have to do this,” you said, your voice still fragile.

“I wanted to.” His reply was simple, but his tone carried weight.

The room was quiet as you sipped the water, his eyes never leaving you. The soft glow of the Christmas lights from your small tree cast warm shadows across his face, making him look softer, more vulnerable.

“You’re different tonight,” you said softly, daring to glance at him.

His lips twitched, the ghost of a smile playing at the corners. “So are you.”

The silence stretched again, but this time it was charged, buzzing with something unspoken.

“Minho,” you began, your voice hesitant, but he interrupted you by reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering for just a moment too long, making heat creeping to your cheeks, redish hue appear within a second.

“You deserve better than this,” he said quietly.

You blinked at him, startled. “What do you mean?”

“This.” He gestured vaguely at your apartment, the wine bottles on the counter, the loneliness hanging in the air. “Being alone on Christmas. Feeling like you don’t have anyone. You deserve someone who cares.”

The vulnerability in his voice stunned you.

“Do you?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “Care, I mean?”

His eyes darkened slightly as they locked onto yours. “More than I should.”

Your breath hitched, and for a moment, neither of you moved. The space between you seemed to shrink as the tension thickened. He reached out, his hand cupping your cheek with a tenderness that made your heart ache.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmured, his voice low, his gaze flickering to your lips.

But you didn’t want him to stop.

Instead of answering, you leaned forward, closing the gap between you. Your lips met his in a kiss that was hesitant at first, testing the waters, but quickly deepened as you both gave in to the pull that had been simmering between you for weeks.

Minho’s hands moved to your waist, pulling you closer as you shifted onto his lap. His lips were soft but insistent, exploring yours with a passion that sent a shiver down your spine. Your fingers tangled in his hair, eliciting a low sound from him that made your stomach flip.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his breath warm against your lips as he pulled back slightly, his eyes searching yours.

You nodded, your heart pounding. “Yes.”

He kissed you again, this time slower, more deliberate, as if he wanted to savor every second. He stood, carrying you effortlessly toward your bedroom, his movements careful and intentional.

Once inside, he laid you gently on the bed, his hands brushing over your skin like he was memorizing every inch of you. The way he looked at you—like you were something precious—made your chest tighten.

His touch was both tender and consuming, each kiss and caress unraveling the stress and pain that had been weighing you down for so long. The intimacy of it all made your heart ache in the best way.

It wasn’t just about the physical connection—it was about the way he held you, the way he whispered your name like it was sacred, the way he made you feel seen, cherished.

His lips moved to your neck, his breath hot against your skin. You shivered, your body responding to his touch even before you could think. Minho’s hands caressed the curves of your body, each movement slow, deliberate, like he was savoring every inch of you. His touch sent shivers down your spine, igniting something inside of you that had been dormant for far too long.

"Minho..." You whispered his name, your voice trembling as your fingers slid to the waistband of his pants, grabing his clothed cock making him groan from the contact.

"Fuck, Princess."

He kissed you again, his lips claiming yours with a hunger that made your pulse spike. You felt his body pressing against yours, his muscles flexing as he leaned into you. His lips moved from your mouth to your neck, his hands sliding down your sides, pulling you closer to him until you could feel the heat of his body, hands trailing to tug on your sweater, getting rid of it in a swift motion, leaving you in your black lacy bra.

When he pulled away for just a second, his dark eyes searched yours, his chest rising and falling with each breath. "You're so beautiful” he said, his voice low and raspy, full of an almost dangerous edge.

He squeze your tits from outside of your bra, your body aching for him in a way you couldn’t deny. "Minh, please.”

With a growl, he kissed you again, his hands rough as they worked quickly to remove the last remnants of your clothes. You felt the heat of his skin against yours, his fingertips trailing down the curve of your spine before they slid to your hips, pulling you closer as his mouth moved over your collarbone, his kisses becoming more desperate.

Every kiss he gave, every movement of his hands, felt like it was igniting something inside of you, a need that you hadn’t realized had been building up for so long. You moaned softly, your hands running over his chest, feeling the taut muscles beneath your fingertips.

He responded with a groan of his own, his mouth returning to yours in a fierce, possessive kiss. The air between you grew thick with desire, the tension so palpable you could hardly breathe. His hands moved to your back, gently pushing you back onto the bed, his body following you, never breaking the connection.

As he hovered over you, his lips brushing against your ear, he whispered, “I want you, all of you.”

You felt the heat rush to your cheeks as his words sank in, the meaning behind them making your heart race even faster. “Then take me,” you responded, your voice low and demanding, feeling a surge of confidence you hadn’t known you had.

Without another word, Minho moved over you, his hands and lips tracing the line of your body with a sense of urgency, like he couldn’t wait any longer. He drag his waist band You felt the pressure of his body against yours, he run his heavy cock along your folds, squelching sound coming from the contact signing how wet you are already, "Holly fuck baby, do you hear that? Mmh all wet for me" he said, still teasing your drench cunt. The heat between you both becoming almost unbearable.

Minho finally align his tip to your enterance, pushing it in to your clenching hole, earning a trail of moan from both of you.

"Ahh minhh," Your fingers dug into his back, urging him on as you kissed him with the same urgency, your body moving against his in rhythm.

His movements grew faster, more desperate, as he sought to claim you in the way that only he could. You could feel every inch of him as he slid deeper, the sensation of him filling you making you gasp with pleasure. Your hands moved to his shoulders, gripping him tightly as your body trembled beneath him.

"Minho mmh," his name slipped from your lips in a soft, breathless cry, and the sound of it seemed to drive him wild. He growled low in his throat, his hips snapping against yours with a relentless intensity. You met him with every thrust, your body responding to him in ways you couldn’t control, the pleasure building, escalating with each movement.

"Minho... fuckh you're gonna make me cumhh," you gasped, the heat of your bodies colliding with an intensity that took your breath away.

He groaned, his name slipping from your lips in a way that made his pulse quicken. The sound of your voice, the way you were calling out for him, drove him to the edge. He leaned down, kissing you deeply, his tongue claiming yours in a dance that matched the rhythm of your bodies.

"Cum for me kitten, cum" he said, hips pistoning to hit the certain spot that makes you see the stars.

As the pleasure built to an unbearable peak, you felt the tension inside of you snap, "Minhh ahh FUCK," your body convulsing in waves of ecstasy.

"Fuck, fuck fuck shit baby s'goodh mmhh" Minho followed you over the edge, his body trembling as he gave in to the moment, his own release consuming him.

You both lay there, breathless and tangled in each other's arms, your bodies still pressed together, the warmth of his skin against yours grounding you in the reality of the moment. His chest rose and fell with each breath, and you could feel the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingertips.

Minho’s hand moved to your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek as he leaned down to kiss you gently, the softness of the kiss in stark contrast to the fiery intensity of what had just happened.

“I care about you,” he murmured, his lips brushing over yours once more. “More than you know.”

You looked up at him, the vulnerability in your chest now replaced with something deeper, something stronger. You smiled softly, your hands running over his back, feeling the warmth of his body against yours.

"I care about you too," you whispered, your voice full of quiet certainty.

And as the two of you lay together, tangled in the aftermath, you realized that this wasn’t just a night of passion. It was a turning point—one that would change everything between you. It was the beginning of something real, something lasting, and for the first time in a long time, you felt at home.

Make a brief synopsis for this story

[skarpetaspodnapleta]

Without limits, without pauses, without mercy, from dusk till dawn, from dawn till dusk. From the kitchen to the garage, from the countertop where dishes topple over, to the cold tiles of the bathroom floor, where every tremor echoes in the walls. From the walls bouncing back the moans, to the cabinets trembling from the rhythm of hips, from the bedroom mirror reflecting every tense muscle and every trace of fingers, to the shower where water mixes with sweat and saliva, soaking every surface—bodies, walls, and souls alike.

In every position, in every corner. Missionary with nails digging into your back, on top with hands gripping a throat, reverse cowgirl where the view alone drives you insane, doggy style with hips raised high, backwards, forwards, sideways, on the floor, on the table, pressed against the wall, on the couch where pillows are thrown to the ground. On the dining table that creaks under the weight, on the washing machine vibrating in sync with the movements, on the stairs where every thrust resonates like an echo.

Outside, where the cold air bites but the body burns. In the car, where windows fog up, and the sounds are muffled by honking horns. On the motorcycle, where balance is a challenge, on the back of a truck where every move feels forbidden. In the airplane, where silent desperation and tension rise, in the train where the sound of wheels merges with shallow, gasping breaths. In a tent, where the fabric trembles under the pressure of the rhythm, in a cave where every moan is amplified by the echo.

Every inch of skin, every curve, every nerve pushed to its limit. Fingers sliding across sweaty flesh, teeth sinking into lips, bite marks left on necks, shoulders, hips. Backs arching into impossible shapes, legs trembling from the tension, toes curling with every surge of pleasure. Breath quickened, shallow, broken by screams and moans that seem endless.

Moisture—on the sheets, on the floor, on bodies, on hands moving with reckless abandon. Saliva dripping, bodies shaking, tears streaming from overstimulation. Skin pulsating under touch, muscles tense to breaking, knees buckling under the weight of ecstasy. The walls shake with sound, the floor vibrates with energy, the air thick, electrified, so dense it feels like breathing is a challenge.

From walls to mirrors, from balconies to floors. Legs spread, hands tied, bodies synchronized in a rhythm that speeds up, slows down, explodes. Standing, lying, sideways, on the back, on the stomach, kneeling, with hips raised, with a hand tightening around a throat, with nails leaving trails on your back. By the window, where the outside world becomes an uninvited voyeur, in the elevator, where every sound reverberates, on the beach, where sand invades every crevice.

To the edge, to the point of losing all sense of reality. Moans so loud they seem to tear through the silence of the universe. Orgasms so deep they make you lose connection with the ground. Trembling legs, ringing ears, a pulsing heart that feels like it’s about to explode. The world blurs into a whirlwind of emotions and sensations, every muscle giving out, every nerve vibrating, every breath an effort. And then again—and again. Until the very end, until everything inside you shatters into pieces, only to be reborn anew.

[knoepfl]

Can you do Legoshi from Beastars with an extremely pessimistic, cynical, introverted, and antisocial fem! black cat reader of very few words who he meets when she's scouted as the new head writer since the President of the Drama was extremely impressed by her near-perfect grades?

Shadows and Stars

Characters:

1. Legoshi: A shy, introspective gray wolf in the drama club, empathetic but socially awkward.

2. Black Cat (Head Writer): A reserved, sharp-tongued new member with a guarded yet intense demeanor.

3. Louis: The confident, demanding red deer president of the drama club.

---

Trigger Warnings:

1. Social Anxiety: Depictions of awkward and tense interactions. 2. Loneliness: Themes of isolation and guarded behavior. 3. Stress: Characters under creative and interpersonal pressure. 4. Emotional Tension: Subtle, intense dynamics between characters.

Masterlist

Words: 1535

--- The morning light trickled through the half-open windows of the drama clubroom. Legoshi shifted uncomfortably as he adjusted a prop tree, his mind preoccupied with a myriad of thoughts. The sudden announcement from Louis the previous week had taken everyone by surprise—a new head writer had been chosen.

She had arrived earlier that day, slipping into the room with all the presence of a shadow. Legoshi watched her from the corner of his eye as she sat, barely speaking, her sharp gaze fixed on the scattered scripts before her. A black cat with an air of indifference, she radiated a quiet intensity that made even the most confident club members uneasy.

“Her grades are unmatched,” Louis had explained with his usual brisk tone. “She’s exactly what we need to elevate this production.”

Legoshi’s tail flicked nervously as he approached her.

“Uh... hi. I’m Legoshi,” he murmured, his voice softer than usual.

The cat glanced up briefly, her green eyes narrowing slightly before she returned to her work. “Okay.”

It wasn’t rude, but it wasn’t warm either. It was… curt, like she had decided he wasn’t worth more than a single syllable. He shifted awkwardly.

“So… um, you’re the new writer?” he tried again, his ears twitching as the silence stretched uncomfortably.

“Yes.”

Another sharp, clipped answer. Legoshi’s tail drooped. He wasn’t good at conversations on the best of days, but this was like trying to talk to a brick wall. Still, there was something about her that intrigued him—something about the way she seemed to carry a world of thoughts behind those short answers.

“Is there… anything you need help with?” he asked, trying to be helpful.

The cat finally put down her pen and looked at him fully. Her expression was unreadable, but her voice was calm and measured. “No. I’m used to doing things myself.”

Legoshi nodded, unsure if that was a dismissal. “Okay… I’ll just, uh, be over here then.”

She didn’t reply, her attention already back on the papers in front of her. He slunk back to his corner, silently berating himself for his awkwardness. But as the hours passed, he couldn’t help but watch her work.

Her movements were precise, her focus unyielding. She scribbled notes in the margins of the script, her handwriting neat and deliberate. Occasionally, she would pause to glance around the room, her sharp eyes missing nothing.

It was Louis who finally broke the ice—if only unintentionally.

“Legoshi, stop lurking and make yourself useful!” the deer snapped, gesturing toward the new head writer. “She needs the last script drafts from the archives. Take her.”

Legoshi’s ears flattened, but he obeyed. He shuffled over to her, mumbling, “Uh, we need to get the drafts. I can show you where they are.”

She stood without a word, gathering her things before following him.

The walk to the archives was silent. Legoshi felt like he should say something, but every time he glanced at her, she seemed lost in thought, her expression unreadable.

When they reached the dusty shelves of the archives, she finally broke the silence.

“This must be exhausting for you,” she said, her voice low but unexpectedly soft.

Legoshi blinked. “What do you mean?”

“All this social interaction,” she replied, glancing at him sideways. “It seems... draining.”

He hesitated. “It can be,” he admitted, “but I like helping people.”

She gave a small, almost imperceptible nod, as though she understood. They worked in silence for a while, sorting through the papers.

“You’re... different,” she said suddenly, her voice so quiet he almost didn’t hear it.

“Different how?”

She didn’t answer right away, her eyes focused on the script in her hands. Finally, she murmured, “Most people talk too much.”

Legoshi chuckled softly, a genuine smile tugging at his lips. “I guess I’m not most people then.”

For the first time, her lips twitched, almost forming a smile. It was brief, but it was there.

Maybe, Legoshi thought, as they continued to work together, she wasn’t as unreachable as she seemed.

---

The warm glow of the afternoon sun cast soft streaks across the dusty floorboards of the drama club’s archive room. Legoshi’s ears twitched nervously as he glanced at the black cat beside him. She was leaning against one of the towering shelves, her sleek frame almost melding into the shadows, her sharp green eyes scanning the scripts she had pulled from the stacks.

The air felt heavy. Legoshi shuffled his feet, his large claws scraping lightly against the floor. He wanted to speak, to break the suffocating silence, but her rigid posture and piercing gaze kept him rooted in place.

“Legoshi,” she said suddenly, her voice low and deliberate.

He flinched, startled. “Y-Yes?”

“You’re breathing too loud.” She didn’t look up, her tail swishing once before curling tightly around her.

“Oh. S-Sorry.” He ducked his head, his ears flattening as he tried to stifle the deep, instinctive breaths his body demanded.

For a moment, she said nothing, her expression blank as her eyes flicked between the pages of the script. Then, with a sigh, she set the stack down and turned to him fully, her hands resting loosely in her pockets.

“You’re... not what I expected,” she murmured, her tone unreadable.

Legoshi blinked, his tail curling awkwardly behind him. “What do you mean?”

“Most people are loud. Obnoxious.” She tilted her head slightly, her gaze narrowing as she studied him. “You’re... quiet. And you don’t stare.”

Legoshi rubbed the back of his neck, his claws grazing the fur there. “I-I mean, it’s rude to stare. And I don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable…” His voice trailed off, his body hunching slightly under her scrutiny.

Her lips twitched—a movement so subtle it might have been missed entirely. “Not bad,” she muttered, almost to herself.

“Uh… thanks?” Legoshi offered hesitantly, his hands fidgeting with the hem of his shirt.

She turned back to the scripts, her movements fluid and deliberate. The air between them settled into a tense quiet, though it felt less sharp than before.

---

Later, back in the drama clubroom, Louis was barking orders at the cast, his voice sharp and commanding as he directed a rehearsal. Legoshi lingered near the edge of the room, holding a box of props. His eyes darted to the black cat, who had returned to her corner with the same detached grace, her pen scratching lightly against the pages of her notebook.

Legoshi couldn’t help but watch her, his large, gray ears twitching slightly. There was something captivating about her—how still she was, like a predator lying in wait. She wrote with an intensity that made the rest of the bustling room feel irrelevant.

A loud clatter jolted him from his thoughts.

“Legoshi!” Louis barked, his sharp amber eyes boring into him. “Stop staring and do something useful.”

“S-Sorry!” Legoshi stammered, his claws fumbling with the box as he scrambled to set it down. His tail curled tightly around his leg as he ducked his head, trying to make himself smaller.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the black cat glance up, her green eyes briefly flicking to Louis before returning to her work.

---

Later that day, as the club emptied out, Legoshi found himself walking beside her again. She didn’t speak, her footsteps soft and deliberate against the pavement.

“I, uh, hope today wasn’t too stressful,” Legoshi offered, his voice barely above a murmur.

She glanced at him, her expression unreadable. “Why do you care?”

Legoshi hesitated, his shoulders hunching as he struggled to find the right words. “I… I just want to make sure you’re okay. That’s all.”

Her ears flicked back, and she looked away. “I’m used to stress. It’s not a big deal.”

He nodded slowly, his claws tapping lightly against his thighs as they walked. “I guess… but you don’t have to handle everything alone. Sometimes it’s okay to let people help.”

She stopped suddenly, turning to face him. Her gaze was sharp, her tail flicking behind her. “Why? Why does it matter to you?”

Legoshi froze, his ears flattening as he struggled under her intense stare. “B-Because…” He swallowed, his large hands fidgeting nervously. “I know what it’s like to feel like you don’t fit in. And… I think it’s nice to have someone who understands.”

Her eyes widened slightly, the smallest crack in her composed demeanor. But just as quickly, she looked away, her shoulders tensing.

“I don’t need anyone to understand,” she said flatly, though her voice was quieter than before.

Legoshi tilted his head, his tail swishing gently behind him. “Maybe not,” he said softly, “but it’s okay if you do.”

For a moment, neither of them moved. The fading light of the evening painted the campus in warm hues, and the air between them felt heavy with unspoken words.

Finally, she sighed, her shoulders relaxing slightly. “You’re strange, Legoshi.”

He blinked. “I-I am?”

“Yes,” she said simply, her lips twitching again in that almost-smile. “But it’s not the worst thing.”

Legoshi couldn’t stop the small wag of his tail as he followed her back to the dorms, the faintest hint of hope blooming in his chest.

Maybe, he thought, some connections didn’t need words—they just needed time.

---