#all that just to be resolved with one kiss???

[osamucide]

⊹ I KNOW

I WILL PRETEND THAT I DON’T KNOW OF YOUR SINS UNTIL YOU ARE READY TO CONFESS . . . ft. Osamu Dazai

wc: 2.1k

cw: gn!reader, implied/referenced dissociation+anxiety+self harm+scars+past suicide attempts, hurt/comfort but it's him so of course it's a little unhinged, mentions of dying and being dead, mentions of kidnapping but it's not serious, minor suicidal ideation but it's romantic i guess? non-sexual nudity/intimacy, showering together, lots of kisses, just unbandaging a fragile Dazai and covering him in kisses

reid: draft i been sittin on. how many times will i do an iteration of unwrap and clean him. idk. a million billion. i love him so bad

He’s looking down at his hands—or his wrists, or his fingers, or the spaces between his fingers; you’re not sure. But he’s looking down, emptily, when you nudge the cracked bathroom door further open.

He’s sitting on the lid of the closed toilet. He has no shirt on. His bandages are unraveling at each end of their respective reaches. It’s long past time they should be changed, long past time the flesh beneath them breathe and be washed.

Changing the bandages is just something that has to be done; he will not give them up, nor will he give up the habit evidenced beneath them, and you’ve been with him long enough to know this is how he survives. The bandages do the holding-together when you’re not there to, which is far more often than he’d like. Ideally, he’d be able to shrink you down and keep you in his pocket for safe-keeping and take you out whenever he needs, like a good luck charm; he’d be able to have you on his arm all day, every day, but that’s not possible when you’re an adult with a job and a life. Like him. Right? Right.  He’d shuck this skin sooner than the habit, anyway, so, like showering, it’s just something that has to be done.

He doesn’t particularly love when you watch him do it, or offer to do it for him, but you certainly drive off the impulses, hazes, and tremors that come with doing it alone. So, he lets you.

He didn’t always; he went out of his way, bent over backwards for a long time to make sure you never could, much less had to. Somewhere deep down, though, beneath that resolve and the facade stilted upon it, he knew he couldn’t hide his ugliness from you forever.

Despite the normality—the domestic intimacy that standing beneath the water with you suggests now, so much that he has to admit it stills the expansion of the ever-growing black hole inside him—he still always fears it’ll be the last time you want to look at it.

“Osamu?” you mumble from the doorframe. 

He does not move, does not look at you over the white noise of the shower running—if he’s noticed you’re here, he doesn't show it. You move to him, slowly, like approaching a skittish cat.

Before you touch him, you bend down—beneath the sink are the rolls of fresh bandages, the clean, new ones that make him look less like a mummy unearthed from Victorian times and more like what he understands himself to be in his purest form: a basket case of the modern era, the worst gift you unwrap every Christmas and birthday and have to pretend to fawn over until it’s safe to be rid of it. You’ll never be rid of him, he thinks regretfully while you shuffle next  to him; he’ll never get by without you now, and it almost makes him wish he never met you in the first place, just so he never could’ve inflicted himself upon you.

But you never send him back. Dazai can’t seem to understand, even with all that sharp intelligence of his, that you don’t ever plan to.

Four rolls. One for each of his legs, one for both of his arms, the rest for miscellaneous spots like around his neck or across his chest or wherever else he decides he needs them this time. That’s how many you set on the counter before you land in front of him, your hands pushing his hair back, your proximity forcing his cheek to lay tired against your stomach while those hands curl around the backs of your legs and pull you closer to stand between his.

You cradle Dazai’s head like you’re some sort of saint. To him, you might as well be.

Thumbs brushing his temple and the base of his skull, you speak again, just as quiet. “Come on, let’s wash.” Or, let me unwrap you and look at all that ugliness. He can’t help that he doesn’t move for a firm fifteen seconds; why would he want to, when you hold him so sweetly like this?

But eventually, he rises.

You don’t feed him formalities or those silly questions anymore when you do this. No more can I? Or, you’re gorgeous, or, is this okay? He doesn’t want those during this, you’ve come to find out; you’ll tell him you love him plenty in a few minutes, when he’s only marginally more ready to receive it, but right now you go to work like a tinker repairing a broken doll. Your touch is objective, but not cold or clinical. You treat him with a tenderness he couldn’t have fathomed until he knew you.

After he steps out of his slacks, you loosen the strips with one hand and twirl them around the other; they accumulate in a graying mass of two or more weeks worth of sweat, and you place them in the trash, softly, like you adore and respect those, too, as he skitters past you toward the water for a sense of cover. He knows you’ll be in right after him, but at least the light behind the shower curtain is dimmer. When he disappears, it’s as if he was never there. 

But he says, “I’m okay,” unprompted, as you step beneath the water. 

He is, really. It’s just jarring when it’s the focus.

The process of becoming accustomed to vulnerability is often more painful than the vulnerability itself, Dazai has learned. While the realization can be sudden, like the flipping of a switch, the vulnerability on its own can actually be quite nice. Peaceful. He knows this because you showed him—continue to show him.

He’s just a man in the shower with his beloved, so, now you’ll talk to him.

“I know,” you say. And you do, really. The hardest part is over, and he’s practically pranced through it this time. You crack a smile. 

And he mirrors your smile, not so bright and smug as under normal circumstances but soft and searching. Dazai reaches for your arms, your waist, and pulls you into him; the water hits your back—hot, how he likes it—and you tuck your head into his shoulder and wrap yourself around his middle, whispering I love yous into his shoulder.

It's peaceful. He sways you ever so subtly.

But in true Dazai fashion, he'll shatter the peace. Ever the disruptor.

“I'm sorry you have to love this part of me, too.”

The ugliness, he means. Not just the marred and keloided skin that maps out his history of self-destruction, but his resignation to it. The scabs that touch the small of your back are freshly healing and peeling. If you didn't have him beneath your watch right now they'd probably be scratched open, raw and bleeding again, but as previously mentioned, your presence staves off the itching need to do so.

The tips of his fingers squeeze you when you pull back to look up at him, sliding your hands up his shoulders and behind his neck to link.

“I love every part of you,” you murmur as his forehead dips to rest against yours. Your stunted slow-dance deepens as he sighs himself back into his body, back into the clearer image of you in his grasp. “Don’t be sorry about it. Wouldn’t do it if I didn’t want to.”

The demons snap at his ankles, though. “What if you change your mind one day?”

If he was a hair more insane, he might take you hostage. Keep you to himself forever, and never let you leave. But that would take the peace out of it, he thinks. Your volition makes it all sweeter. You want to be here. You want to love him.

He just doesn’t want that to change.

You hum patiently, although hating when he what ifs. That’s the plague of the ever-moving mind he keeps, you suppose; so intelligent, but so restless. “I don’t think I will.”

You don’t think you will, but that doesn’t settle the insecurity that’s settled in his stomach like a coiled snake. 

You don’t think you will, but you will. He knows you will, because that’s how it’s fated to unfold for him. 

Your short words don’t corral him away from the snake, but the less you treat him like he’s a gaping wound, the better. You see it. You don’t cry or gasp or lament or promise how you could never leave him, will never leave him; you don’t like to make promises that reach beyond your control.

The human existence is so strange and fluid, and while you’re confident you won’t tire of him, well, your reciprocated touches aren’t the only things stitching you together, you know; there’s a world, much larger than both of you, that you live in, and a universe even more incomprehensible and its whims are fickle—but they’re also serendipitous. Everything is a miracle, if you think about it. A big, beautiful mistake. You don’t know how much he buys into this, and you’d rather him not read into it as an excuse not to answer with a resounding I’ll never leave you, my love, so you just do what you always do best: spin it in a direction his troubled mind can find solace in, pair it with kisses that have all your soul for him to inhale, and promise what you can: your hope. 

You start with his lips. The best place, arguably; one of your hands tilts his chin toward yours and you kiss him softly, simply. Dazai responds hesitantly, still holding onto you tight. You kiss him for minutes, until he's humming, until his grip loosens comfortably and his shoulders untense and his palms rest on either of your hips.

You have a habit of kissing him silly, literally. Your lips move against his and he feels high. His head gets light, and his hands get restless, and between the short puffs of air he draws in through his nose he croons at the way your fingers push his hair back, trail down his neck. 

“I’m confident,” you say, sliding across his cheek to beneath his ear while he grabs at you in soft and absent-minded desperation, “that I’ll love you ‘til the end of my days.” 

“But what if the e—”

“I’m certain—” You cut him off, first with speech and then with a kiss before you begin pressing your lips into a necklace around his throat, “—that I want to get old with you.” On one side, you bite softly. “That I want to die with you.” You bite the other. “That I want to be buried next to you.” 

Osamu’s breath catches on the words buried next to you. Of course it’s crossed his mind before that if you were to go before him, he certainly wouldn’t be long after you. The thought that you want to live a full life with him before any of that can happen, however, makes his heart swell almost uncomfortably, like it’s no longer meant to fit inside his chest—like it wants to crawl up his throat and go home to yours. It will one day, you say, when you’re rotting next to each other. He wants to melt at the idea of it. 

“And then… I don’t know what, if anything, will happen after that. But it’s my purest hope—” You traverse from one shoulder, across his collarbones, stopping only above his sternum to finish, “—that I’ll be with you forever,” before making your way to the other. He’s a mistake you’d make again and again, given the opportunity. If reincarnation is real, you’re sure of it, more than anything—you will.

And you know not expect anything but speechlessness from Osamu until after you’ve kissed a circle around that heart of his that’s beating so frantically for you, until after you’ve brought his knuckles to your lips, all twenty-eight of them, until after you’ve made your way back up one arm just to kiss down the other, until you’ve bent to scatter kisses across his stomach, his hips, until you’ve knelt to descend the ladder marking each of his thighs, until you’ve sat at his feet with your arms looped around the backs of his knees with your head pressed against him like he’s the saint this time. You sit at the feet of a sinner and make him taste redemption. It tastes like the shower water that’s touched your skin and the dinner you both ate before wandering into this strange place between his disillusion and his sheer need. You kiss him back into his humanity.

When you stand, level with him again, he smiles that smile you love so much—not the cocky, performative smile nor the uneasy, misgiving one that wants to trust but has forgotten how to but the smile that’s altogether subtle and plain and sad and the most radiant thing you’ve ever known. Every time he falls apart, you just stitch him right back up what he’s always wanted to be: loved, held, loving and holding. 

Osamu touches your lips with his fingertips like you’re not quite real, like you’ve not just reminded every other inch of him that you very much are; he speaks, not a progenitor of pretty promises himself—but he owes you forever, he thinks, as long as it’s what you want. “Thank you.” 

You laugh once, breathy, in no need. “Thank you,” you echo, “for being the most wonderful thing to love.” 

Not the easiest, you both know—but it’s just something that has to be done, and there’s no law forbidding you from reminding him how beautiful he is in the process. Until you can be buried next to him. There’s hardly anything keeping forever from beginning right now. 

He holds you, and you hold him, and he feels clean. 

[writerfromshikahr]

A soft and fluffy one shot piece between Rook and Lucanis. He's a little unsure, she's madly in love and it's after the first time they have slept together. Generic Rook name. Fem Rook.

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A Promise of Pancakes - Lucanis X Rook

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Rook watched Lucanis move about her room, retrieving his scattered clothing. Their first evening together had been filled with awkward moments, quiet laughter, and a closeness she hadn’t realized she craved. They were officially together now, in every sense of the word.

Propped up on one arm, she let her gaze follow him, a soft smile tugging at her lips. “You know, you don’t have to sneak out of here,” she teased gently.

Lucanis glanced back at her, holding his shirt in his hands. “I know,” he said quietly, his voice steady but carrying a flicker of hesitation. “But… I don’t want the others to talk. Not yet. I want to hold onto this... just us... for a little longer.”

Rook chuckled softly, brushing her hair out of her face. “And you think they haven’t already been talking about us?”

A faint smirk ghosted across his face, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I know they have,” he admitted, his tone thoughtful. “But this… tonight… it’s new. It’s ours. I don’t want to ruin it by…” He trailed off, looking away as if searching for the right words.

“By being under the spotlight?” she finished for him, her voice kind.

Lucanis nodded, his lips twitching into a nervous smile. He pulled his shirt on and began buttoning it slowly. “I had an idea of what tonight was supposed to be,” he said, his voice softer now, “and I know I didn’t live up to it.”

“Lucanis,” Rook interrupted, sitting up straighter, “You were wonderful. We were wonderful.”

He didn’t look convinced. His eyes flickered with doubt as he rolled up his sleeves, his movements slow and deliberate. “You’re saying that to be kind.”

“No,” Rook said firmly, her voice gentle but steady. “I’m saying it because it’s true. We’ll figure it out together, it doesn’t have to be perfect or some grand romantic gesture. I lov—” She caught herself, cheeks warming, before finishing with, “I like being with you.”

Lucanis’s brow furrowed slightly as he caught her slip, but he didn’t press her on it. Instead, he focused on fastening his waistcoat, smoothing the creases with unnecessary precision.

“Hey,” Rook said softly, sliding off the couch and gathering the blanket around her as she crossed the room. She stopped in front of him, resting a hand on his arm. “You don’t have to carry all this doubt, you know. Last night, it meant everything to me... because it was with you.”

Lucanis finally met her gaze, his eyes searching hers. He swallowed hard, his voice low when he replied, “I just… I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

“You didn’t,” Rook assured him, her smile soft and sincere. “I promise, you didn’t.”

For a moment, they stood in comfortable silence, the outside world forgotten. Then, with a hesitant but genuine smile, Lucanis leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“Thank you,” he replied, his breath warm against her skin.

“Always,” she whispered in return.

He stepped back, his expression a mix of shyness and resolve. “I’ll see you at breakfast?"

“Do I get pancakes?” Rook asked, her lips curling into a playful grin.

Lucanis paused, narrowing his eyes thoughtfully. “That depends... do I get another kiss before I leave?”

“And here I thought I was the easily bribed one,” she teased, moving closer. He leaned slightly forward to meet her halfway. The kiss started soft, tentative even, but warmth quickly blossomed between them. That unmistakable passion of his, the kind she had only just begun to discover a few hours earlier, wrapped around them, pulling her deeper into the moment.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested lightly against hers, “You’ll get your pancakes, but only because you asked so nicely.”

She looked up at him with a playful glint in her eye. “It’s a date?”

“It’s a date,” he echoed softly, the words carrying more weight than the moment might have warranted.

He stepped back reluctantly, his gaze lingering on her for one last moment before he turned toward the door. As he slipped out, the faintest trace of a smile on his face. Rook flopped back onto the couch with a smile of her own.

Pancakes and Lucanis. Maker, she could get used to this.

[greengoblinswifey]

Irresistible—Nicholas Chavez x Fem!Reader

summary— Nicholas can't keep his composure when he sees you in a stunning sparkly dress to attend a Hollywood party. His resolve crumbles as his need for you takes over and he steals you away, unable to resist showing you exactly how much you affect him.

warnings— praise kink, L bombs, ass grabbing, grinding, exhibitionism, cunnilingus, fingering, unprotected sex, creampie.

a/n— trying to feed you guys but I’ve been so busy💔hope you enjoy this <3

Nicholas couldn’t take his eyes off you from the moment you stepped out of the bedroom. The shimmering dress hugged every curve perfectly, the way the fabric caught the light made you look like a celestial vision. The matching heels accentuated your feet, and the sultry confidence you exuded left him breathless.

“You’re going to be the death of me, you know that?” he murmured, his voice low as he approached you, his hands instinctively finding your waist. He pressed a kiss to your glossy lips, his gaze going down your body and back up, lingering.

“Behave, Nick,”you teased with a smirk, resting your palms on his chest to gently push him back. “We have to make an appearance tonight, and if you keep this up, neither of us is leaving this house.”

He let out a soft chuckle, his hand slipping to the small of your back as he pulled you closer, his lips brushing against your ear. “Fair point. But don’t think I’m letting this dress stay on you one minute longer than necessary when we get back.”

The drive to the party was a challenge in itself. Nicholas' hand rested firmly on your bare thigh, his fingers idly caressing the smooth skin where your dress ended. His thumb brushed dangerously close to the hem, inching higher to your thong.

“You’re driving me insane, baby,” he said with a soft laugh.

“Nicholas,” you warned, placing your hand over his to stop its slow ascent. “Behave. If the media catches wind of anything risqué, it’ll be all over tomorrow.”

“Fine,” he sighed dramatically, a grin tugging at his lips. “But I want you to know, this is torture.”

Arriving at the venue, you were met with the spectacle of a Hollywood red carpet, complete with flashing cameras and a Polaroid booth just inside. You walked hand in hand, Nicholas’ hand holding yours steady and possessive.

The cameras loved you two, and he couldn’t hide the way he looked at you, his expression full of admiration and barely veiled desire. In every picture, he was either watching you, his gaze soft but smoldering, or holding you close, like he couldn’t bear to let go.

Once inside, you sipped on red wine while Nicholas stayed by your side, sober and attentive. The music played loudly, the energy of the crowd pushing you to make your way to the dance floor.

You swayed to the music, laughing and turning to face him as you moved. His hands naturally found your waist, pulling you flush against him.

“You’re teasing me,” he whispered, his voice husky as he dipped his head closer to yours, his lips brushing the shell of your ear.

“I’m not doing anything,” you countered with a grin, as your hands rested lightly on his shoulders.

“You in that dress has my dick so fucking hard,” he murmured, his lips trailing briefly along your neck and his hand grabbing your ass under the dress.

“Nick,” you hissed, your cheeks warming as you glanced around. “We’re in public.”

“I don’t care,” he said simply, tightening his grip on your ass as he pulled you closer. “Let them talk. I’m in love with you.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, you forgot about the crowded room. You smiled up at him, your fingers brushing his cheek. “I love you too. But you still need to behave.”

“Noted,” he said with a grin, though the way his eyes lingered on you made it clear his thoughts hadn’t strayed far from the idea of getting you alone.

Nicholas held you close as you swayed to the music, your ass pressed against him. His hands roamed your sides, resting at the curve of your hips as you moved together. His breath was warm against your ear, and every once in a while, his lips brushed lightly against your temple.

You laughed softly, tilting your head to glance back at him. “You’re supposed to be behaving, remember?”

He smirked, shaking his head. “You’re making it impossible.”

As the music shifted into something slower, your movements became more intimate. You spun to face him, your hands sliding up to rest on the back of his neck. His eyes locked on yours, dark, and the way you looked at him seemed to break whatever resolve he had left.

“I can’t take this anymore,” he muttered, his voice low and rough with desire.

Before you could say anything, his lips crashed into yours, a deep and fervent kiss that left you breathless. He pulled back only briefly, his hand slipping to your waist as he guided you through the crowded party.

“Nick—” you began, glancing around nervously.

“Trust me,” he said softly, looking back at you with a smirk that was equal parts reassuring and mischievous.

He led you up the stairs, his pace quick and determined, until he found an empty room. It was a small bedroom, intimate and dimly lit. He shut the door behind you with a soft click, turning the lock before leaning against it.

His eyes roamed over you, taking in every detail of your glittering dress and warm cheeks. “Look at how beautiful you are,” he murmured, almost to himself. “You don’t know what you do to me.”

“Nick,” you warned gently, your tone unsure as you glanced at the door. “Someone could come in, or hear—”

“There’s no one here,” he cut you off, his voice firm. “And I need you.”

Before you could respond, he dropped to his knees in front of you. The suddenness of it made your breath hitch, and he looked up at you, his yet blazing and lust filled. His hands slid up your thighs, bunching the hem of your dress as he pushed it higher.

“You’re perfect,” he said, his fingers brushing over the delicate fabric of your thong before his lips curved into a smirk. “Absolutely perfect.”

Your heart raced as he leaned in, gripping the sides of your thong with his teeth and pulling it down in one smooth motion. You let out a soft gasp, and he looked up at you with a playful glint in his eyes.

“Nick,” you whispered, heat rushing to your cheeks.

“You’re incredible,” he murmured, his hands steadying you as he pressed you against the door. His lips moved lower, brushing against your brown skin. “And I’m going to show you just how much I mean that.”

As he kissed along your inner thighs, his praises filled the room, low and adoring. “You’re everything I could ever want. So beautiful, so perfect. I can’t believe you’re mine.”

You melted under his touch, your fingers threading through his hair as his tongue found your pussy, his voice and actions a perfect blend of passion and devotion.

His hands gripped your ass, pulling you into him as he lapped at your juices with such ferocity, your knees buckled.

“You taste so fucking good,” he groaned, sending shivers through you.

You gripped his hair even tighter, suddenly feeling two fingers slip inside you while his tongue focused on your clit. It was no use trying to contain your moans, he had you at his mercy, sucking on your swollen clit and curling his fingers inside you. As soon as his digits reached that sweet spot inside you, you cried out, feeling the impending orgasm.

“Now, you’re the one not behaving. So loud, princess,” he chuckled, looking up at you as his fingers thrusted.

You held back a moan, grabbing onto his hair as your back arched. “N-nick, I need to cum,” you said, softly.

“Then be a good girl and cum for me.”

His words, his tongue, his fingers and the way he looked up at you made you immediately come undone. Your pussy quivered and you squirted all over his mouth as he carried you through, his tongue slowly moving against you.

He stood up, holding you close as your knees gave out. “I need you, sweetheart. You look too fucking good,” he murmured.

You stared into his eyes, dazed. “We can’t. Someone will hear,” you whined.

“Well then, let them hear. Let them hear how good I fuck my girl.”

Nicholas turned you around, his hands firm as they ran along your sides, gathering the fabric of your dress again. He pushed the material higher, his breath warm against your ear. “You’re so fucking hot. I need you so bad,” he murmured, the need clear in his voice.

He pressed you against the cool surface of the door, a stark contrast to the heat radiating between the two of you. His lips brushed the sensitive curve of your neck, sending shivers down your spine as his hand cupped the back of your head, keeping you close.

“You have no idea how stunning you look,” he whispered, his voice trembling with both restraint and urgency. His hands roamed down your back, pausing just above the curve of your hips. “This dress.” He let out a low, throaty chuckle. “I swear you wore it to torture me.”

Your fingers gripped his shoulders for balance as you let out a soft gasp, feeling his hard cock thrust into you without warning. “Nick,” you moaned, your voice uneven as you tried to hold back.

He kissed the side of your neck, the sensation lingering as his teeth grazed your skin gently. “Let them hear baby, don’t hold back,” he said. “I don’t care. Let them know I’m the one fucking you.”

You couldn’t help the soft sound that escaped your lips, and he pulled back to lock eyes with you, his gaze full of affection and pure desire. “You’re beautiful,” he praised. “Every part of you, perfect.”

As he continued to hold you close, his cock slamming into you and hitting your g spot, his forehead rested against yours, and he asked, his voice dropping to a whisper, “Are you close, baby?”

Your breath hitched as you nodded, unable to form words as your pussy clenched around his thick cock. His smile was soft as he coaxed, “Cum on my cock baby, I know you want to.”

Your heart raced as you finally relaxed and came, overwhelmed by the moment and the overwhelming connection between you. His hold tightened as he murmured soothing words into your ear, grounding you as your body shook from your release. You felt his cum fill you up right after, the sensation making you cry out and he moaned in your ear.

When your high ended, Nicholas pressed a lingering kiss to your temple as he helped adjust your dress. “You’re amazing,” he whispered, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

You laughed softly, leaning into his touch. “You’re really going to be the death of me. You’re such a bad influence.”

He grinned, his charm fully on display. “Then I guess we’re even.”

Hand in hand, you left the room giggling and your legs wobbly. As you walked, you could feel his cum seep through your thong and drip down your thighs.

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿

Tags: @blackynsupremacy @hoffmansgirl @nicholaschavezslut69

[the-witty-pen-name]

When he realizes he's in love with you...

(Stranger Things Edition)

A/N: thank you @punkrockmlchael for bouncing ideas back and forth with me for this one! you are the best <3 please follow roz if you don't already she's the best

Warnings: substance use (smoking weed); fluff

Characters: Steve, Eddie, Gareth, Jonathan, Argyle & Billy

Steve: It's a really simple moment. You're with everyone just gathered at Steve's house for a movie night. Steve is sharing the couch with you, and he'd been doing a good job of ignoring that fact until your head rests on his shoulder with a gentle thud. You fell asleep and you curl up by his side. He's terrified to move, not wanting to disturb and risk ending this moment. He tries to remain completely still, except when he lifts his arm to wrap around your shoulder- of course you sleep through it. Having you so close to him, knowing you feel safe and comfortable enough around him to fall asleep- he's a goner.

Eddie: You match his energy, and you aren't afraid to argue with him. Heated debates about literally anything- usually something pointless. You don't stand down either, no matter how ridiculous it gets. He even just likes to get you riled up so he can get a reaction out of you- he loved seeing you so fired up. One night, the movie you both watching is paused because Eddie made a bogus claim the actor was in another movie- he wasn't. You're arguing, talking with your hands frantically to prove your point and you don't even catch on that he's stopped caring and he's just watching you with a smirk on his lips. He just loved you so much.

Gareth: You'd been dating for a couple of months. After dinner together, you end up walking into the record store. You're in the next row across from him- just mindlessly looking through the selection. He watches your eyes light up when you find a record you already own, but love- just happy to stumble across it out and about. It makes his heart skip, and he realizes that he wants you to share things you love with him all the time- for the rest of his life.

Jonathan: When you aren't paying attention, Jonathan loves to take candid photos of you. There's a time you're both at Lover's Lake and you're skipping rocks. Looking at you through his camera, it kind of just hits him all at once. You look over and smile for the photo and it's his favorite photo he's ever taken. After that, you can tell something changed between the two of you. He finally confesses his feelings after months of pining and you start dating immediately afterwards.

Argyle: You're sitting with him in the back of the delivery van after your shift. There's already a large cloud of smoke that has engulfed the two of you. Through the haze that has pleasantly taken over his brain, he watches you- your skillful hands rolling another joint for the two of you to share. His mouth hangs open slightly watching as you bring it to your lips, your mouth opening just enough to poke your tongue out so you can seal it. It's probably the hottest thing he's ever seen and he immediately just falls for you in that moment.

Billy: You're laying on your stomach on his unmade bed. You're flipping through one of your notebooks, trying to study. He's laying on his side, kissing your shoulder and rubbing your back- wanting your attention and pouting he needs to compete with your homework. He observes you read behind those beautiful lashes of his, and he loves the way you face looks when you're concentrating and focused. Despite that, he still wants to toss the book on the floor and kiss you stupid, but he'll wait because he knows it's important to you to do well on this test. His resolve doesn't last long, but he does try to be good- because he loves you.

TAGLIST: @sunshinepeachx @downbear @fanlifeaamt @exploding-bonbon @losingmygrasponreality @skiddypiddy @andvys @djodirt @moonlightsolo @kyga01 @sheisjoeschateau @melaninjhs @v3lv3tf0x @purpleeyeswithgoldensparkles @sunshine-mrk @danymunsonharrington @mrsjellymunson @fanficfantik @the-unforgivenn @punkrockmlchael @supersecretsamm

[orikixx]

Wrong Number, Right Recipe (8/?)

Pt. 8

<<pervious part

Featuring: Satoru Gojo

Warnings: smutty, reader is afab, wc- 1.5k

Summary: strangers to friends to lovers! An accidental text from the wrong number leads to the meeting of you and satoru gojo, a baker from the pastry shop down the street of your office.

Author’s note: hi guys! I hope this is alright, I haven’t actually written anything down in so long so I kinda struggled with this😓 next part will be a smau, and hopefully part 11 will finish the series as another written down version. Hope you guys like it nonetheless! 💕

Saturday, 10:23

You’re currently seated atop of satoru’s kitchen counter, patiently waiting for him to finish cutting up some fresh fruits to go with the breakfast you’ve brought. He insisted that you stay with him all day, selling it off as a way to help you get back on your feet, and you aren’t complaining.

The memories of the previous night were flooding satoru’s mind. That must be the reason he’s got his torso pressed up again the kitchen counter, trying to calm down his raging boner as you sit there, looking at him all wide eyed and sweet. He can’t stop thinking about you, the way your supple ass brushed against him as you cuddled while watching some movie, making him almost combust right on the spot.

He’s gripping that poor kiwi way too tightly for his own liking, the fruit almost exploding under his hold.

“Is there something wrong satoru?” Your voice brings him out of his daze, and he looks at you like a deer caught in headlights. Satoru shakes his head, trying to play it off cool as he gives you a casual smile. He finishes plating up the fruits, and you two sit down and eat the warm pastries and his wobbly-looking cut up kiwis and strawberries.

“I had this thought, you know?” You say teasingly, taking a bite of your croissant as satoru looks at you patiently. “What if.. I got a matching sonic onesie? I mean, a matching one, like knuckles or shadow..” the words spill out of your mouth, nervously rambling on and on. There’s very visible blush creeping up your cheeks, surprisingly embarrassed over such a simple interaction with your friend.

Satoru bursts out laughing, almost spitting out everything that’s in his mouth. “You’re so ridiculous” is what you expected him to say, only he didn’t. He pulled out his phone, and told you to order it using his card. You stared at him, shock written all over your face.

“Wait, are you serious?” “Yeah, why not? It’ll be hilarious,” satoru said with a grin, pushing his phone toward you. “Just pick one. It’s no big deal.” You sigh, eventually giving in and taking his phone. You lean over the table to show satoru the various options, yet all he’s capable of noticing is how perfectly your tits are squeezed against the wooden surface, and how close your face is to his as your fingers excitedly tap his phone.

His stare must’ve been too obvious, since you put his phone down, yet your face remain close to his as you examine him. Satoru almost gasps when your finger comes up to his cheek, gently wiping off a lingering chocolate smear. He thinks he might pass out, his face must be so red as he’s eye to eye with you, and you give him a soft smile when you’re satisfied with the way you’ve cleaned him up.

Satoru currently stares at you like some idiot, open mouthed and not a single thought behind his eyes as you gently clean him. Your mind however, is buzzing with excitement. He smells so good up close, although just getting out of bed. He smells like cedar wood and vanilla, making you stall for a moment longer than necessary.

In that second, satoru feels his resolve melting away, and he can’t help himself but kiss you. It’s sudden and uncomfortable, leaning over the table, but it’s also so warm and comforting, his lips fitting perfectly against yours. You gasp, and he realizes what he’s done. Leaning back, satoru feels his ears burning in embarrassment, blush creeping up his neck. “I’m so sorry oh my gosh, I shouldn’t have done that, I don’t know what came ov-“ and your lips are smashing against his again.

This time, he’s the one to gasp into the kiss, but he quickly leans into it. Satoru brings his hand to cup your cheek, and he breaks the kiss when you lean into his touch. “fuck YEAH”, he yells out, his heart almost exploding out of his chest. You’re panting, cheeks dusted pink, and the only sound you can hear is the thrumming of your heart in your chest.

Satoru stands up and quickly circles the table, easily picking you up in his arms as you squeal. “I’ve been wanting to do this for so long, you have no idea y/n,” “let me down!” “Not until I get another kiss”. You pout, and oh so reluctantly wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him again. Once he’s satisfied, he gently lets you back down onto the floor.

“Now that we’ve established that, are you finally going to order your onesie? My wallet is aching for you,” satoru says teasingly as he starts washing the dishes the both of you have used. You sigh and pick his phone back up, ordering yourself a matching shadow onesie.

It’s noon now, and you’re back in your pjs sprawled out on satoru’s couch. He sits beside you, gently stroking your hair as your head rests at his lap. “Satoru,” you mumble, eyes closed as you feel tiredness washing over you. “Yes sweets?” He answers, and you feel your lips curling up in a small smile at the nickname. “Can I get a kiss?” You almost whisper, too embarrassed to even look up at him. “Can’t hear you, pretty girl.” “I said, can I get a kiss?” You ask louder now, desperate, almost whining.

“Toru!” you yelp out, your heart skipping a bit as he easily repositions you, so now you’re straddling his lap. You bury your face in the crook of his neck, your ears burning in embarrassment at how easily he can handle you. “Wanted a kiss, didn’t you?” He asks rather rhetorically, his hands resting at your hips, grounding you down onto his torso. “Don’t be so shy around me y/n, I know you must’ve been dreaming about this just as much as I did”, he says teasingly, one of his fingers slipping under the hem of your shirt to stroke the bare skin. You scoff, yet finally kiss him. Your hands are cupping his cheeks, trying to pull him impossibly closer as his tongue enters your mouth.

You gasp, hands immediately finding purchase in his hair, tugging on the soft locks. Satoru moans into the kiss, his hands moving to squeeze your ass while he desperately grinds his growing erection into you. You quickly break the kiss, gasping for air, yet satoru won’t stop slowly grinding his hips against yours. His forehead is resting against your shoulder, and you let out a soft mewl when his erection rubs against your clit, the thin fabric of your shorts doing absolutely nothing to stop the friction.

“You’re driving me crazy y/n, you- fuck, you look so heavenly like this, just begging for me to worship you” satoru whimpers into your shoulder, his lips kissing a trail up to your neck. “T-toru!” You moan softly, fingers tugging on the white strands as he sucks that sweet spot on your neck, simultaneously thrusting up against you. You can feel the wetness soaking through your flimsy shorts, probably leaving a stain on his gray sweats. Suddenly his lips aren’t at your neck anymore, his head leaning back, resting against the couch as he breathes heavily.

“Are you sure you want to do this right now? You haven’t even slept all night”, satoru says worriedly. You can spot the genuine care in his eyes, yet his tone is so whiny, he’s actually so desperate for you and he can’t even hide it. You simply sit there for a moment, dumbfounded, until finally the adrenaline wears off, and the earlier wave of tiredness washes over you again. You groan and wiggle in his grip, until his stubborn hands finally let go of your ass. You stand up and reach out to him, offering him your hand so he can join you in bed.

He groans as well, taking your hand in his as he gets up. Satoru quickly rushes you to bed, pulling the covers on top of both of you. His long limbs wrap around you, not leaving you any space, but you’re okay with that, smiling and humming happily as he buries his face in your hair and sighs. Finally, the both of you can rest comfortably, or at least until your onesie arrives.

Divider credit: @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

Taglist: @thulhu @heiejdhdh @needtoloveoutloud @jurrasicpork @sorenflyinn @twinkling-moonlillie @realalpacorn @lastbreathtaken @zayuriluvs @logoleptic-since-06 @whore4dilfs0 @whozeurdaddy @fhfnejd @maddietries @s4ikooo1 @des-todoroki

[firstkanaphans]

Do we even know why EM were fighting? I never really paid attention but then that bts of mlc chicken came out with their shocked pikachu faces and ppl said they were on the outs and it's still THE funniest thing

I'm not even sure they know why they were fighting considering Mix thought they were in a fight for six months, but Earth only realized it after three. They explain it a bit in this interview. It seems like there was just a breakdown in communication somewhere and those feelings started to fester without ever getting resolved.

But yes, the fact that they filmed Moonlight Chicken during their divorce era will never not be funny to me. I remember that one BTS clip where P'Aof let them make out for like a full minute before calling cut and telling them they actually weren't supposed to kiss at all. Like you just know he did that on purpose.

[lost-in-fandoms]

putting vibes out there that there are not enough jealous/possessive!daniel fics in the maxiel canon https://www.tumblr.com/rb19/728566875373682688/f1-grand-prix-of-malaysia-october-01-2017?source=share

You are of course very correct and every time this moment gets brought up to me i go a little insane so i wrote this the other day in like. 2 seconds.

One thing that everyone says about Max is that he mellowed out with the years.

He came into F1 as a hot-headed teenager, aggressive on track, brash off it. Of course, people who really knew Max had always seen the shyer, softer, parts of him, the gentle smiles and the caring gestures, but as he had grown older he had let the harsher exterior crack a little, letting a bit of the squishier parts of him through.

People don't tend to say the same about Daniel.

The meaner voices called him washed, past his prime, the kinder ones called him more patient, more measured. But Max had known Daniel then and knows Daniel now, and he can say that between the two of them, Daniel is the one who mellowed out more.

Max remembers the fights they used to have, harsh words and harsher voices, all passionate pride and venomous jabs. He remembers the tense debriefs, the insults flying.

Of course, at the end of the day everything would get resolved, but the aggression was always there, just under the surface.

The same aggression that came out when they kissed, bites drawing blood, coppery taste blooming on hungry tongues. Hands leaving red imprints on skin, nails raising lines, fingertips pressing bruises.

It wasn't always like that, but it was like that often enough that it's most of what Max can remember about their thing back then.

Hazy memories of being pushed to his knees and choking on dick, of hands wrapping around his wrists to hold him still, of hot breaths against his ears, growling litanies of you're mine, only me, only this, mine mine mine.

Now, Daniel presses the words like kisses on the divots of his hips, brushes them feathery soft on his jaw, licks them against his rabbiting pulse point.

He's gentle when he opens Max up, loving and mellow, giving Max one, two, three, four fingers with languid patience, and their kisses don't taste like iron, but just like each other, intertwined and melted into each other as they have been for years.

Sometimes though, when Max has his face pressed against the pillow, burying wanting sounds in fabric that smells like home and not like a hotel, Daniel's hand will press against the back of his neck, fingers digging in just for one moment, and he will be thrown back to another place, another time, another life.

And Max will come, a Daniel from the past hissing in his ear is the accent enough to get you going then?

[jayhyunglover]

sneak peak into my new Caleb fic because I am losing will to finish it

warnings : smut under cut so MDNI , oral sex , slight exhibitionism

"What have you done to me Caleb?” You sighed as you leaned your head against your chair , your eyes looking up at the white ceiling as if it had the answers of your question but it didn't.  No one did . 

You let out another heavy sigh before discarding your tie on your desk to see if you'd finally breathe properly .

Just as you thought you might be getting some rest from this unbearable heat that have been creeping up on your body your door fled open revealing an angry Caleb 

The sight of him , especially mad made your whole body throb with an intensity that should be concerning but your mind was way out of it to care. 

He stepped closer to your desk , the clicking sounds of his boots along with your thumping heartbeat the only sounds registering in your mind. 

“What makes you think taking her on such a dangerous mission was a good idea ?” You heard him snap , his voice barely able to contain his anger. 

His words cut sharply through your daze , your eyes blinking back to focus on anything but the way his face looked so distractingly attractive 

“I didn't take her anywhere” you said,  your voice sounding way too calm and steady for someone who was literally burning in the inside “your pipsqueak boarded on that plane without permission like a grown up” you added earning a scoff from him 

“You expect me to believe she managed to pass all those security guards to board on a plane with you out of all people” he leaned in to rest his hands on your desk , his eyes shining with a possessive gleam that wasnt directed at you but got your heart rate spiking nonetheless 

“What ?” You tilted your head mockingly at him before raising from your seat to lean closer towards him “you expected me to put a gun on her temple to force her fly away with me on an wanderer infested island only to come back unscathed” you added in a heated whisper against his ear that had his jaw clenching 

“Think wisely Caleb” You scoffed before stepping away from him , attempting to put some distance between you , to quell down the hunger that burned inside you the more you inhaled the addictive scent of his cologne 

But Caleb wouldn't let you off the hook this easily . As you waked beside him to head to your office door , he pulled you towards him by wrapping his hand around your wrist. 

An embarrassing squeal left your parted lips as you felt your back hit the wooden material of your desk .

“Have I ever told you that jealousy looks awful on you , Lieutenant?” You felt the ghost of his lips against your heated skin as he whispered the words against your neck 

“T-this has nothing to do with jealousy” you heaved out , already panting while he hasn't even touched you yet .

“It doesn't hm?” He purred against the soft flesh of your neck before biting on it hard enough to have you clawing at the edge of the desk “then why have you been avoiding me?” 

The question made your eyes widen the suddenness of it too abrupt for your scrambled mind to process . 

“Tell me , lieutenant” he pressed,  his lips leaving a gentle kiss on the bruised skin he bit earlier . 

“You have your pipsqueak back our deal is supposed to be over” you managed to get out between feverish pants. 

The flash of disappointment you saw through his eyes had your resolve faltering but the fragment of memories you saw when you resonated with the hunter earlier flashed through your mind strengthened it further . 

Don't get caught up in illusions.  This man wasn't yours.  

The realization made a burst of anger spread throughout you , one that had you yanking his hair harshly until your lips crashed against his,  all teeth and tongue , drinking him in like a thirsty man in desert that finally found water. Because he was your water , your light , a light that was bound to left you . 

Caleb kissed you back with the same fervor,  his gloved hand wrapping lightly around your throat as his mouth devoured yours with a feral intensity. It was messy ,depraved and desperate.  

A small hushed plea left your mouth as he parted his lips from  yours to trail kisses down on your neck,  his hands nothing but tearing  your uniform shirt to shreds . 

Your hand reached out to unbuckle his belt but he stopped you halfway , his hand moving swiftly to bound your wrists with your own discarded tie. 

“No touching this time Lieutenant” he taunted,  cupping your chin to make you look up at him , the feral gleam in his purple  eyes making your cunt throb harder. 

“Today you're all mine” he whispered before capturing your mouth in another heated kiss. 

How you wished you could be his but this would never happen. You were just a sinner and he was your worst sin. The one who will drag you through the pit of hell. 

The small kiss he left on your nose was the last thing you felt before he slid down to his knees in front of you , his large hands spreading your legs apart as you tried to steady yourself on top of the desk despite your bound wrists. 

His fingers unzipped your pants before sliding them off you , leaving your legs  bare for him to admire 

How he has missed this view . 

“Still as beautiful as ever , Lieutenant” you heard him whisper in awe,  the compliment making you feel even dizzier while your cunt fluttered uncontrollably at his praises 

“Look at her” he looked up at you as he ran a gloved  thumb along your covered slit “so wet for me already” 

You could feel his infuriating smirk against your plush fold through the flimsy material of your panties . He was so close but so far away at the same time, it drove you wild. 

“Caleb” you whimpered out , your pleading  eyes looking down at him in an half hearted glare that made his cock twitch 

“What?” He smirked before peeking the drenched material of your panties in a way that had you throwing your head back 

“What do you need , darling?” The sound of him calling you darling made your hips buck against his face , the sinful moan escaping your lips sounding like music to his ear. 

“I need you” the words felt more like a confession than anything and if it wasn't for that weird wanderer based substance in your system you'd probably felt pathetic for baring your soul to him  like this but right now as his face was resting between your legs seconds away from feasting ,you didn't give a damn.  

The regrets and sermons would come later when you were  no longer aching and panting from him . 

The heat of Caleb's mouth pulled you out of your musings,  the overwhelming sensation making you cry out loud . He hasn't even bothered to take off your ruined panties , his mouth latching onto the flimsy material like he was starving. 

He was merciless,  the relentless pace making you squeal.  

“Oh fuck just like that” you moaned,  not even ashamed of the sounds you were making.  His tongue rolled  over your swollen bud over and over until you were practically in tears .

And when you felt like you'd finally reach heaven ,a knock to your door made him stop, his eyes looking up to take in your form. 

And shit. The sight of you spread out on your desk with your shirt half buttoned,  your skin flushed with heat , panting with tears clinging to your waterline almost had him cumming in his pants  

Such a sight to behold and all for him to see. 

Another knock on the door made him let out a small growl against you , clearly not pleased by being interrupted .

“Lieutenant” you heard a worried voice said from the other side “can I come in?” 

Commander Ash? Your ears perked up . 

Shit shit shit why is here ? 

You looked down at Caleb who  was already back to work , his fingers pulling your ruined panties to the side to suck , lick and nip at your sensitive flesh while you tried your best to stay quiet and gather your thoughts 

“Lieutenant” Ash knocked once again “are you alright in there?” his voice was growing somewhat more restless. 

“Respond darling” you felt Caleb's nip at your clit before looking up at you from where he was kneeling “it's so rude to leave someone hanging hm?” He spat right on your entrance before slurping down the mess. 

“ngh_” the sight of him looking so devilishly at you nearly had you cumming here and there on his face but he purposely slowed down his pace to maddening kitten licks so you would  focus on responding Ash. 

But that only made you more restless and frustrated . 

“I am fine” you snapped , voice laced with frustration while the man below faintly chuckled before rewarding you with a flick of his tongue that made you groan .

You fought against your restraints so at least you would cover your mouth to muffle your sounds but no matter how hard you tried the knot wouldn't loosen . 

Handsome bastard. 

“Are you sure?” you heard Ash said ,  the confusion note in his tone not escaping Caleb's ear. 

“You don't really sound well” the sound of the creaking handle made your heart rate pick up . your stomach curled into knots with a mixture of fear and arousal that has fresh waves of your beading juices gushing around Caleb's tongue 

You didn't lock the door and he could barge in at any moment 

“Dirty girl” he muttered faintly against your plush folds , sticking strands connecting his lips to your pussy . 

You bit down on your lips to not let out a loud moan , the squelching sounds of your cunt along with your barely concealed moans leaving no doubt of what was happening inside there . Thought one thing was clear , Ash was clearly wrestling with the handle that wouldn't budge Thanks to Caleb's evol. 

“I am fine truly” you attempted to spoke again but the way Caleb was making out with your lips below while his gloved hand rubbed tight circle around your clit made your words came out like breathy whimpers. “Just a bit busy” 

You really hoped Ash would get the memo and get the fuck out here before you combusted . 

“Ok then” he said, his tone sounding a tad disappointed “I'll see around then Lieutenant” 

Yeah you'll see her around now go . 

You felt a wave of relief wash over you as the sound of  Ash's eloigning footsteps finally disappeared leaving only you and the smirking man buried nose deep between your thighs. 

“You're such a dirty little thing , Lieutenant” he rasped out , flicking your clit one last time before raising to his full height . 

@gazelover666

[rouge-fauna]

In this discduo timeline pastebin i read, you can see tommy did care about dream for a very long time even while his friends were trying to convince him that dream was bad, he continued to praise dream and had plans to meet him irl. It wasnt until june july 2023 when tommy started believing the lies his friends and fans kept telling him and thays when he banned the words dream and discduo in his chat and said that he didnt wanna go all the way to florida. I think he genuinly thinks dream wronged him based on his body language in the podcast and how he dissocoates, like tommy now percieves all his past positive interactions with dream as a negative and jack, harry, and tommys fanbase fed into that, but he also is lying about dream with other things. And i mean he could be faking that body language to garner sympathy Im not entirely sure. Im just looking at the nuance here. He knows dream or at least he did. He used to check up on him all the time and he knew how bad dreams mental health was, but he still lies and claims dreams apathetic and thinks dream cant take accountability and thinks dream doesnt care about him when dream has always cared. I can send you that pastebin if u want, u can see the decline in where tommy starts turning against dream its aroundn the time where he and harry got closer. But before that, he saw dream as this brilliant helpful guy and referred to him as a friend, even in the past referred to him as closer than a brother. He cared for dream at some point for a long time, then ditched him and betrayed him. Also dream refers to tommy as emotional, and i can see how someone so sensitive can interpret a long dm as an attack, and apparently he did explain his issue to dream before but it never got resolved or tommys lying about that too. I dont doubt that he is doing a lot of this to get attention, but i do think some feelings could be genuine despite it logically not adding up. I can see how someone could interpret dreams dms in a stressful way. But the fact tommy even gave a shit about dream in the past to begin with makes this worse, because the way i see it, if someone close to me turned on me i would be a lot more hurt by that than if someone i was only colleagues with turned on me.

Was gonna chrck back on their past interactions to see if i can spot anything shady on tommys part if yk what i mean even if this is gonna make me sad. One of my co workers offered to do a watchparty💀

(I should preface this by saying I have not yet watched the podcast, because at the moment I’m little too triggered to even give a shit about what Tommy has to say to be honest. I don’t really see what defense or reasoning you could possibly have for calling anyone, nonetheless your past friend a “proper movie villain” while accusing him of things that aren’t true, knowing the consequences. I mean I just don’t think people have really let that fact truly sink he, Tommy publicly compared Dream to Darth Vader, Bane, The Joker, Voldemort…etc mass murderers. Just think about that for a second. That’s not okay. People are out there comparing him to Hitler and talking about brutal ways to kill him, a go fund me to kill Dream has started. I don’t think there is a damn thing Tommy can say Dream did to excuse that shit, he will get no sympathy from me. Even if Dream physically abused him, which ain’t true since they’ve never met, Dream still shouldn’t be compared to freaking Hannibal.)

Even so, as I have said in some of my past posts on the matter, I do think perhaps Tommy was hurt by something that happened with Dream in the past and in retrospect realized perhaps things weren’t as good as he thought. Which happens, sometimes we look back on things and are like - hey wait a minute that wasn’t okay and that hurt. But that doesn’t make that person a shit person.

The example I believe I previously talked about was my first kiss, but to give another example, a guy I was good friends with freshman year of college was very handsy and I didn’t really realize in the moment how I felt about it or that he was pushing boundaries he shouldn’t. At first I didn’t think much of it. I was naive and autistic and didn’t really know better, and he was too. He didn’t have sisters, hell he thought woman were always making milk lol. In other words, we were both dumb. And looking back he did a lot of things that really were not okay, but once I came to realize and set boundaries he respected them. In fact, we are still kinda friends today, we’re even roomates for a bit after I graduate back in 2023. So, suffice to say, sometimes people can do shitty things or even things that you realize later were not okay, or even things that traumatize you, but that doesn’t make that person shitty. Especially if you didn’t call it out in the moment. This is what I mean by giving Dream the benefit of the doubt, sure I could perceive my friend as manipulative and taking advantage of naivety or whatever, or I recognize that he really just doesn’t know better. Now when you tell someone to stop and then they continue (depending on what it is because ya know old habits die hard or like my adhd is gonna try my hardest but I will inevitably skews up pronouns - just like I screw up everyone’s pronouns) now you’ve entered into the malicious and intentional area.

Bringing it back to Dream, Tommy was upset and told him to stop texting his mother, so Dream apologized to both and stopped. It becomes harassment and malicious if Dream continued over and over to do it, but he didn’t. This is why Dream is frustrated because he doesn’t know what behavior is upsetting people, and in his heart that’s not what he wants to do, but if people don’t tell him how is he meant to improve. At the end of the day, he doesn’t want to offend anyone or hurt someone, that doesn’t mean he hasn’t done so though as these things happen, nobody is perfect.

So I think maybe Tommy was hurt, maybe it was in retrospect looking back, maybe it was friends pointing things out and were like - hey that’s fucked up that happened. Maybe some of that hurt is genuine. And maybe you could make the case that that hurt has spurred him to take revenge and ruin Dream in whatever way it takes. So the jokes and lies are just part of his lashing out because he feels wronged.

However, there is also a case to be made that given Tommy’s history as pointed out by Dream with Logan Paul, maybe it was all an act. Maybe he was using Dream from the start and Dream being the naive, good hearted, autistic guy made an easy target. Maybe he only pretended to be good friends, sure Dream doesn’t have anything to gain from being Tommy’s friend but that doesn’t go both ways. Tommy has a lot to gain from being Dream’s friend, but as the tides turned he had a lot to lose by being Dream’s friend and it was easier to switch sides not that there was no incentive, as Dream pointed out as the USMP fell through so did Tommy switch sides. Once he couldn’t gain clout for being on Dream’s side but being against Dream, he switches. Because a lot of his audience has always been against Dream, struggling to tell the difference between character and person and as is human nature, instinctively hating an autistic person. That has been the case for ages, Tommy could have given into his audience for ages but even during the allegations height he still did that dsmp finale and posted that picture on Twitter (which he got a lot of hate for)…

All I’m saying, is even the people who have wronged me, even the person who pushed me to almost kill myself, I wouldn’t wish death or harassment upon them. I wouldn’t do the shit Tommy has pulled, because there was a time when we were friends. There were times when they were good to me. And maybe that makes me an exception to the rule, that people would be so cruel to the people they once called friends, but I couldn’t and that’s what makes me question Tommy’s sincerity and capacity for empathy…

Though perhaps both can be true.

[windser]

lately around you, caleb had been careful. if it had been any point in the past, a moment in time when he could call you ‘his’ out loud,  he’d have an arm slung around you in an instant, grin nuzzled into the side of your neck while he mused your hair and kissed the outlines of your face. it’s not that he doesn’t want to show affection you - the two of you mutually agreed that you would attempt to try to be just friends again - but the doubt came from deep within. caleb knew you wouldn’t be able to just accept the regression, because he knew such an ask would be too much of himself.

but while he could grit his teeth and bare the shift, he was worried you would ricochet off him, curl your arms around yourself and stare up at him with eyes that questioned him and an expression that told him you weren’t quite ready yet. caleb was always too much.

always too possessive, too obsessive. 

he couldn’t go too fast or put you out of your element; he simply had to wait for you to be ready, the time when you relaxed into him and let him hold you again.

perhaps even in the moment you would realize that you really couldn’t be ‘just’ friends, and accept there was only one true ending for you both. 

of course, occasionally upon greeting one another in public the two of you would share a quick embrace, but it was only long enough to acknowledge the span of time apart. caleb had tried to get his arms completely around you before you had the chance to duck back and shy away, only to no prevail. you would give this tight little smile and ignore the fact your face was warm to the touch. you would wave at him before retreating with your friends. jaw tight, and hands cold, caleb stood there watching you leave. 

eventually you would remember what it was like to be his, the memory too much to fight the crave.

the first threads of resolve fraying showed its signs when caleb sat next to you on the sofa at another gathering, his thigh brushing yours in the most innocent of manners. the neck of a cold beer was pressed into his palm, and while he laughed with somone sitting on the armchair to his left, you shuffled closer until his leg was completely touching you. the action shocked him so much that beer sloshed down his thumb and dribbled down the curve of his hand. 

out of the corner of his eye, he watched you. you had your thigh connected to his thicker one, and without hesitation at all, he moved his beverage to his other hand and used the closest one as an anchor around the back of the couch. you leaned into his touch. he tried not to play with the ends of your hair and breathed in deeply before focusing on the conversation around him. 

the first time caleb properly got you back in his arms you didn’t count. you were sliding down the smooth surface of a wall near the outside of the stale gathering of hunters and the starfleet, an unidentified man rested his hand against the dip of your hip, and caleb was rounding the corner with a glare in his eyes. the abrasive demeanor dimmed only slightly when he finally found you. 

“hey,” he snapped, the weight of gravity slipping precariously around his fingers, “back off.” it would take nothing to bring this man crumbling to his knees. but instead caleb’s arm found its way in between the small amount of space you had acquired during the altercation. lightly, it wrapped around your waist, curling you in close until you could smell the cologne radiating off his throat. 

in silence, caleb watched the man retreat as his chin dug gently into your collarbone. he waited for a moment or two, a breath and a second, before pulling away gently and tucking his thumbs behind both of your ears. 

“caleb.” he was watching your mouth move; he didn’t like the way it crumbled around a word and cracked another. it made a little more since now, how you’d slipped from his gaze. he’d imagine one to many flutes had been pressed into your palm, leading you astray and vulnerable. 

“you’ve indulged a bit, huh?.” he wrinkled his nose when you giggled into the curve of his neck and breathed hotly on his shoulder. “bubbly.” his arm still tightened around you when you giggled and acted like everything was okay. “i’m going to take you home, okay?" 

neither of you had any lasting obligations to any members left at the gathering, no one with the authority to stop him from carrying you away. it had been his intention to insure you were safe and tucked away before making his own trek to his house. a place that always felt too far when in comparison to once sharing a home. 

yet his feet didn’t take him far because it had been you who had reached for him, lips unmoving but grip firm as you dragged him into the neatly arranged sheets. and while caleb had not indulged nearly as generously as you, he was only a man with a heart weighted full of you. 

when you woke up the next morning, it was the placement of your bodies that resonated first. caleb was respectfully lying on the opposite side of the bed, only thing connecting you being the insistentent curl of your fingers around his wrist. his dress shirt loose against his back. with your head throbbing and eyes glossing over from the dull ache, you shuffled forward until your forehead was pressed to one of his shoulder blades. 

you hadn’t realized he had been awake. " feeling sick?” he murmured, rolling his neck to the side in preparation to get up and fetch you a glass of water. 

you tested your tongue for fuzziness and shook your head against the strong planes of his body. “no." 

momentarily, caleb looked over his shoulder to gaze down at you. when you looked back up, squinting only because of the sunlight, he turned onto his side and enveloped you in an embrace. his warm breath washed over your jaw and cheek. 

"hold me?” your question was muffled against his chest.

a soft, comforting chuckle rumbled deep beneath his sternum. he gently kissed the top of your forehead, letting his mouth linger there for several minutes. he breathed you in while you exhaled. 

“yeah,” he finally replied, shifting you down into his arms until your head was more securely tucked underneath his chin, “always and forever."

thriving on the exbf! caleb trope

[481mclarg]

Scared to love you | AL65

★ I've never been good at telling people how I feel, but you make me want to try.

STLY       •       FANFIC + SMAU.

          • Arthur Leclerc x Male!Oc Driver

« K » Just want to say thank you for all the support. Every like, new follower, and reblogs. All the interactions w/this and any fanfic/smau is more than appreciated. <3

Warning: —

★          introduction. | one. | two. | three. | four. | five. | six.

          After finishing shopping, they left the store, with the brunette texting on the group chat the reason for their separation.

          —...Thank you. —Lombardi murmured as they walked on the way to the park that Paul indicated to them.

          —For what? —

          —I don't know... For everything. —He shrugged, somewhat shy. Embarrassed, praying that the heat on his face wasn't evident to the Monegasque, who had been looking at him so much lately.

          —I... You don't need to thank me for anything. —He placed his hand on the back of his neck, caressing his skin and the small curls that fell over it.

          The Italian finally turned around, fixing those eyes that Arthur was addicted to on him.

          —The people... —He murmured, worried, even though there were very few who passed by paying attention to them. The Monegasque lowered his hand down the boy's spine, guiding him with him to a nearby alley.

          The need to thank him again arose from him. He didn't know if for bothering to look for a less crowded place or for what. The words died in his throat, but the gratitude was expressed by kissing the brunette boy back.

          "How long will this last?" he wondered, fearing that it would have an end. Fearing to return home and with a cool head, everything will seem like a big mistake.

          Maybe worse, that only Arthur will find the wrong in all that.

          He was afraid that the idea of ​​going back to being just friends was inconceivable, that he would hate everything that happened enough not want to talk to him again. He didn't want to lose the relationship, nor did he need it to remain like the last few days. He didn't know what he wanted. He was afraid of the future.

          The ringtone of a cell phone startled them, causing them to separate quickly.

          Matteo was quick to take the device out of his pocket, feeling anxiety grow inside him.

          —Giancarlo? —Fear spread to Arthur, who debated between trying to listen to what the man was saying or giving the young man his space to answer the call.

          The dark-haired boy noticed the doubt in the Monegasque, managing to communicate with just his gaze that he didn't want to be left alone.

          He barely spoke, only nodding a few times, with his eyebrows furrowed in concern, murmuring vague assents or denials. The call ended a few minutes later, with a "See you later" from Matteo, who didn't seem to have received a response.

          —Is everything okay? —he asked, almost scared.

          —He found out about the trip, and he's not very happy... —he denied. —He wants me to go home as soon as possible. —Leclerc nodded. His eyebrows furrowed, really worried. Guilt was what he felt. —Don't worry; it'll probably just be a scolding for not letting him know. —

          —Are you sure? I can explain to him, tell him that I insisted on my birthday. —

          —No-. No. It's not necessary, Le. —he denied quickly. —I'll take care of this. —Arthur wanted to insist, but Matteo's phone vibrated again. —We have to hurry. The boys are asking for us. —He changed the subject, forcing the conversation to die there, to get out of that alley and hurry to get to the others.

          Leclerc followed him with concern.

          He understood that this was an issue Matteo wanted to resolve with Giancarlo alone, but he was afraid that he would take all the responsibility and get all the scolding for something that wasn't even his idea in the first place. At the same time, he hated knowing that Matteo could be scolded for things as common as taking a vacation or going out with friends.

          Yes, it was wrong of him to hide something like an international trip like this from his coach and manager, but he did it for a reason. Arthur knew that he wouldn't keep secrets from Giancarlo for nothing; he must have a good reason for deciding to keep quiet.

          Would Girotti be so severe for a young man's simple and almost silly idea of ​​spending a few days partying? Arthur was really worried. Not only because of what the man might do or say to him, but because of what the Italian himself would say to himself.

          Matteo, for the first time all weekend, was using the second bed in the room, and Arthur couldn't feel more strange about it.

          He regretted the loss of the Italian's warmth. He misses him. He didn't know he could miss something he had barely known so strongly. With a sadness he tried to believe was irrational, he looked at the boy who, lying down, turned his back on him from the other side of the room, apparently asleep.

          "I need time to think," he excused himself as soon as they returned to the room after dinner, knowing that it was a doubt they both had. What would they do that night? He didn't think about repeating what happened the previous nights, but he hoped perhaps to be able to talk about all that, about what they felt, and what they wanted.

          At least he would tell him that they were going to pretend that nothing happened and return to the almost formal relation, limiting themselves to the talks at the academy meetings.

          The boy didn't know he could feel that way about losing someone. Yes, he had lost very dear people before, but it was different. Maybe, because he knew that Matteo would still be there, carrying whatever he was holding in and the memory of what he had experienced.

          He knew he was going to miss that weekend. Miss the side of Matteo he had known, the person he allowed himself to be far from home and from anyone who conditioned his way of acting.

          Now that he knew that more carefree and relaxed side of Matteo, closer, he was afraid he wouldn't be able to forget it, to miss it. He was scared of how right it had felt to be embraced by the Italian's warmth, and how lost he imagined himself being without being able to experience it again.

          He was terrified to think that he was missing a warmth that he didn't want to share with him. Could Matteo hate him now? Maybe he hadn't enjoyed that weekend as much as he had.

          Maybe he had never wanted to do any of that, and only now dared to put on the brakes, to distance himself.

          Why had he acted on those stupid drunken ideas? He was still asking himself that question a week after the trip. He was already back in Monaco, and he assumed that Matteo was in Italy. He assumed, because the boy hadn't spoken to anyone after an "I'm home" message, sent hours after landing in France. An almost obligatory message, since Dennis and Paul insisted that he let them know when he arrived in his country.

          Lombardi didn't write to him, and he didn't try to either. He was… afraid? Afraid that he had ruined everything, that he would hate him, that he would never want to talk to him again. Or was it shame that he felt? For feeling so much and confusing desire with something more. Shame for having let himself go and given himself over to the heat of the night, letting himself be enveloped by the atmosphere of the clubs and bars, letting himself be influenced by silly games and his most primitive reactions.

          How could he face talking to Matteo again? He couldn't even think of what to say to him. Just say hello? Talk about the next race? Ask again about the future in Formula 1? Inquire into his feelings? Apologizes?

          Should he apologize?

          Did he feel guilty, and that's why he didn't want to talk to Matteo?

          Giancarlo was a volatile man, yes. Perhaps he overreacted when the driver neglected his image as a star athlete and behaved like the teenager he was, yes. But- if he hadn't invited him…

          If they hadn't insisted on going out, on drinking, on returning to the hotel before the rest, on repeating it a second night… If he hadn't done everything he did before thinking.

          How severe must Giancarlo have been?

          Maybe talking to him wasn't even possible. Maybe he had him incommunicado, punished like a child who is deprived of his phone and networks. Or maybe he just forbade him to talk to him? Has Matteo confessed everything that happened? Does Giancarlo know… how much does he knows about Matteo's life? Is there anyone who really knows about him? Is Matteo allowing himself to know himself?

          He tried to maintain a slight hope. The illusion that the trip had managed to awaken that young and rebellious part of the Italian. That he would let himself live, that he would allow himself to have a life apart from his professional career.

          He tried with all his strength, although inside, he was dying of uncertainty, fear, shame, and guilt.

[ 📲 ] Incoming call...

🔊          —Charles. —he calls his brother one night before dawn. He hates bothering him on a race week, but he needs advice.

          Talk to their older brother or their mother scared him, more than just talk to Charles. He also might be the only awake because of the different time zones. Anyways, he thought hundreds and hundreds of times what to say and what to not.

          He wasn't ready to "the talk" trying to explain if he now also likes boys or the kind of relationship that he had with Matteo. At some point, it would happen, he knew, but it wouldn't be that night. I preferred it to be later, as late as possible

          «¡Hey, Arthur!» he greeted happily. «What's up? Is everything okay at home?»

          —Yeah, all good... —nodded. —I'm calling you for advice. —

          «Oh? What kind?»

          "Hope not sound so stupid..." —Sometime you feel... nostalgic? Missing... not something, to someone —He was looking for the right words to express his doubt. —Missing a teammate so much and being afraid of losing your friendship. —

          «Oh...» he murmured on the other end of the line. The depth of the issue had caught him off guard. «Well, I miss Sebastian a lot, of course; and when Carlos leaves Ferrari, it will take time to adapt to his absence, but... I guess I always knew that Formula 1 was like that» Arthur nodded, although his brother couldn't see it. «Not because they retire or change teams, they stop being friends... and not all teammates are friends»

          —But, you know-. You spend a lot of time with Carlos, so many things, many important moments; don't you feel that you lost something now that he left? —Isn't it normal to feel that emptiness in his chest when he imagined that they would no longer share time together?

          «I don't know if it's that big of a deal, Arthur. I will continue to see him in the paddock» He scratched the back of his neck, beginning to doubt if his brother was really okay. «What are these questions? Whom are you missing?

          —Oh, well- Since I'm not going to continue in Formula next year... I don't know, I've been a bit thoughtful lately. You know, a little... sad. —

          «Oh, Arthur. Don't worry, other opportunities are going to come» He didn't believe that the main problem, now, was the lack of a seat for next year.

          The lack of a companion bothered him. The lack of Matteo.

          —Do you think I will lose my relationship with the others if I leave the category? —

          «Your friends? The ones that travel with you to Spain for your birthday?» he waited to the younger nod before continuing speaking «They would be idiots if they ruined a friendship and so much time together by not being in the same grid. If they do, they aren't worth your time»

          —But I don't want to lose him. —He immediately regretted it, cursing in his mind repeatedly for letting himself speak before thinking.

          «Uh...» he sputtered. Before the younger could retract it or add something to disguise the desperation of the comment, he responded: «Maybe you have to act and do something about it too. Relationships -all types of relationships- depend on the effort of both parties to preserve themselves, right?»

          —Yeah, I guess... —

          «Arth, if I don't go to the meeting, Fred is going to hang me from the Angel of Independence» He spoke a little more hurriedly, while complaints were heard in the background. «Then I want to know who all this was for, okay? See you! Kisses to mom! »

          —See you... —He stammered, barely getting to speak before he hung up the call.

[ 📲 ] ...Call ended.

481MCLARG | 21 . 01 . 2025 | CORREGIDO

[lvminisciel]

🤗🤗

ive just spent the last 6hrs goin thru every piece of media from 'the phantom of the opera' and all i can say is

WHY IS IT LIKE THATTT

why's the ending like that??? be it the one from broadway theatre dated back in 1988, or the musical in 1986, the movie from 2004, even in the original novel by Leroux himself, none of them ends with a closure of the phantom's acceptance..

i hvnt watch the 1925 silent film version tho; but so far i think i like the og novel version best

personally i spite the 2004 version so much as in tht one, christine clearly stated tht she's afraid of the phantom (as uttered in the song 'Twisted Every Way') while it's never been told that way in the novel/broadway/other versions

on the og novel tho, despite christine still married raoul in the end, he still returned to bury the phantom during his passing, the last thing phantom had asked before they parted. she fulfilled her promise, and put the ring(?) he gave her to be buried w/ him.. truly the best ending of all version me thinks

overall i loved the parallels of night & daylight imagery. of heaven & hell, beast & beauty. also the part where she said 'he sings inside my mind'? imo it can be interpreted in many ways

[spacedlexi]

the way the ericson group were at the outbreak just a bunch of troubled kids who made various mistakes or committed crimes and were judged by a system that punished and abandoned them instead of giving them the support and love they needed, are then nearly a decade later put into a situation where now they must judge a troubled child for the mistakes and crimes hes committed against them. and 5 to 3 vote them out 😭

[wildsaltair]

not enough words in the English language to explain how much I need him right this second

[dangaer]

shi.n's amnesia later route is such an out of character experience bc wdym someone this cute shows me all the love they have for me and i dont healthily communicate with him that im feeling overwhelmed by it.

[wayfinderships]

Everytime I see M.elia I get overwhelmed by how gorgeous she is👉👈 I love her hair and eyes! And her wings! Especially those! With permission, I'd love to gently touch them! I bet they're really soft!