#casually talking to people and dealing with money

[the---hermit]

i am sadly one of those people who are super insicure of themselves after any social interaction, I go over and over again in my head and feel irrationally bad bc my brain tells me I was awkward, and probably came off as weird and so on. But you know what brain? I had the social interaction. I did it. I spoke out loud to people and had a conversation instead of freezing and feeling unable to talk. So fuck it if I came off as weird and awkward, I am weird and awkward and it's okay, because I did something that just a few years ago would have been even more of a struggle, and even earlier than that it would have been close to impossible.

[illegiblewords]

With these, 50 Aesthetics complete! These are Adventurecore, Spacecore, Bohemian, and Junglecore.

[singull]

for someone that seems to loathe and hate and detest fame, chappell certainly goes out of her way to accumulate more of it.

[screampied]

MONEY HONEY! — ☆ GOJO SATORU.

➤ popstar!gojo masterlist

headline. fucking your client wasn’t on your bucket list. the famous popstar 'toru' says he can’t perform because of issues he’s having with his voice. but he finds another way to warm up his vocal cords—it involves being between your legs.

word count. 4.2k

warnings. fem! reader, popstar!gojo, pwp, unprotected sex, modern au, he's a whiney brat, overstim, degradation, praise, semi public, impact play, cunnilingus, fingering.

an. lol this was fun 2 write !! ty @osaemu as always for beta'ing

“…nono, you don’t understand. i can’t go out there, i just…can’t—!” gojo mutters, and he’s pacing back and forth. talk about a drama queen. to think you had to deal with this every day, being the infamous satoru gojo’s personal assistant was never an easy task. his attire was…quite enthralling, to say the least. gojo was draped up in a sheeny black one-piece with rhinestones attached in a few places, he always had his outfits designed a certain way. not too tight, not too big.

you sat on the sofa, taking a sip of a latte he bought you as thanks for saving him to deal with the hoards of paparazzi that practically lived outside the stadium back-way entrance.

“satoru, you do this before every show,” you sigh, glancing at him. you couldn’t lie to yourself, he was strikingly handsome. gojo’s hair was a tad bit messy and ruffled. it was a slight v-cut towards his chest to show a bit of skin. his fangirls always went wild over the most minimal things such as that. “you do realize you’re supposed to be performing in front of 10,000 people? canceling right before a show isn’t a good l—”

“i know…i know,” he pouts, and he’s so unserious, you sort of found it hard to believe this was a millionaire pop star who’s such a household name. gojo lets off a loud sigh before walking towards you with a sheepish grin. “these cough drops you’ve been givinʼ me haven’t done shit.”

“really...” you deadpan, casually giving him nothing but a sly eye roll.

gojo sulks and he’s just a few feet apart from you now. “mhm…really,” he says, and the slight rasp in his voice catches your attention. his earpiece was still on, as well with his mic that hung just barely underneath his chin. “i did research though. about other methods that help with heh, um vocal fry..”

you stare up at the popstar, and he’s returning the gaze…as if he was trying to hide the smile that was already forming against his pink lips. you don’t give him an answer and this time, he’s the one to roll his eyes.

“…well since you asked so nicely,” he grumbles, the same pout going against his face before he pulls out his phone. gojo scrolls a thumb down against his bright screen before clearing his throat. “hm, according to this accurate article, it says… to fully recover from vocal fry, a guy must uh, receive a special treat within a woman’s—”

you blankly stare at him, already second-guessing his fake response. “just say you want to eat me out, satoru.”

“wha— where’d you get that impression?” he plays dumb, furrowing his eyebrows and cowardly looking around the room. a few seconds go by before he shrugs, speaking quickly, defeated. “….fine i wanna eat you out. hmph.”

you turn your head for a brief moment, hearing the defending roars of the crowd just a few areas down from the dressing room the two of you currently stayed in. “maybe after your show, they're chanting for y—”

“they can wait,” he frowns, and he turns you around, two hands softly holding onto your shoulders. gojo remained with a pout, bottom lip just slightly tucking underneath the top one. “i can’t.”

the both of you grow quiet for a long moment, and gojo seems serious—dramatic, but serious. you and him both exchanged sensual eye contact, and you were so close to gojo that you could practically smell the strong cinnamon scent of his intoxicating cologne. the popstar smooths his lips together before briefly shifting his eyes down at the floor and then back up at you. 

“five minutes…five minutes, that isn't too long is it?” he stammers, and the gaze the two of you made starts to get more and more intense. “i won’t get into too much trouble if it's just five minutes right?”

“you’re insufferable.” you mumble, letting off a soft sigh. “okay, five minutes. if you say this helps with your—vocal whatever.”

not much to your surprise, five minutes turned into half an hour. 

you held back a moan the sudden second you felt gojo’s warm tongue swiftly lap against your drenched folds. he made you wriggle against him, and you maintained a rough grip against the laid-back sofa.

“s-satoru,” you’d whimper out, gasping at how sloppy he was. you were prompt up in such a position to where you were bent over the arm part of the couch, skirt lifted, fishnets just barely pulled down, and the most vulgar expression. “oh my g-goddd, you're gonna make the others outside h-hear.”

“you’ll just have to be a little more quiet, assistant,” he whispers, cool breath fanning against your pussy. perhaps this was unprofessional, no it was very unprofessional. a plethora of following consequences started to race through your mind. “what time is it?”

you moaned, reaching near the wooden half table for his watch and read the time, “um.. quarter past eight.”

“aw man,” he sulks, softly licking the your tender pulsating numb with the very tip of his tongue. with a quick second, he maneuvers circles all over your clit to feel you squirm and jitter against him. “that much time passed? can’t stand rushing…”

as you cling onto the fluffed couch, your black pencil skirt that was just sluggishly raised, and yet, you continued to gnaw the inside of your lip from the feelings of his tongue, entirely sloppy.

the slurps that exited from his mouth had your bottom lip quivering in such desire. you craved more, the way he swirled and curved the length of his tongue throughout your pussy earned umpteen gasps and whines from you. 

“s—satoru,” you’d croak out, and he’s casually taking the time to make out with your folds. languidly, your slick race down his chin, and between breaks to breathe, he'd lap up his tongue before diving back in. “fuck, ‘m gonna cum again, think ‘m gonna cum..”

“wait a little longer, yeah?” he murmurs, grabbing the fat of your ass with two rough hands. you felt bundles of butterflies stir inside your stomach, feeling gojo’s nose swipe against your folds for a few jiffs. “let me eat, haven't had a good meal all fuckin’ day.”

you swallowed, not even facing him but you could practically see the grin stretching across his lips. “and…and who’s fault was that?”

he chuckles, warm breath fanning against your cunt. “okay, you have a point,” and your thighs feel feverish—you’re so hot, and not because of the sudden humidity wafting around the small dressing room.

the popstar lolls out his tongue, humming before you moan, feeling him lick your pussy in a straight direction. “mhm, this is better than anything else though.”

you were about to speak, but all that did was make you let out a shaky whine. the smooth pads of his thumbs graze against both parts of your ass as he continued to eat you out like a starved man. it was as if time stood still, your mouth grew exceedingly dry and your legs felt like they could barely stand up on their own. 

“sa..satoru,” you once more repeated, not knowing how long you could last. simply, his tongue was dangerous—god, it was just the way he moved it in every direction.

he knew where to lick, where to suck, and even nibble. gojo found himself tickling his tongue against your little nub before sucking on it. all to hear you cry out in desperation. cacophonies of whimpers depart from your glossed lips such as, ‘satoru,’ ‘please-please,’ and ‘m gonna c-cum.’

there was no denying, gojo had you an entire stammering mess. you found yourself even questioning how this became, the two of you were never intimate. although, there's always been steamy moments between the two of you. 

for instance, there was a moment where gojo took you with him to the hot springs while he was on tour…which non-surprisingly led to a hot make-out sesh. that was a few months ago, and the two of you decided to not think much of it. of course, though, there are always assumptions being made about the two of you—always from the nosy journalists and interviewers. 

each interview, it’d always be questions they’d ask about the precious little assistant that’s essentially attached by the hip to the famous gojo satoru.

“are you and that girl exclusive yet?”

“how long have you two seen each other?”

“please. describe to us. what’s she like in b—”

they’d get more perverted each time. alas, gojo always loathed it whenever the press referred to you as ‘that’ girl.

his jaw would always clench in sheer annoyance. perhaps he didn't have the right to feel that way, but he was somewhat protective over you. it wasn't like you were his bodyguard or anything clearly, but still. he always liked how you treated him just like you’d treat anyone else.

“satoru..” you'd cut him off from his deep thoughts. “your phone keeps beeping.”

“huuuuh?” he grouches, ears perking at the annoying screech of his device. gojo’s thumbs remain against both edges of your ass before he breaks off his lips, a long string of his saliva running down your slit. “oh, can you hand it to me?”

he's so nonchalant, and with your back still arched, you lightly fling his phone towards him.

he grumbles.

picking up the phone, typing in his twenty-one digit passcode of ‘sexymansexyspraycan69’ before with a click, it unlocks. gojo darts his eyes towards his phone and hums at the five messages left by his manager, kento nanami. 

‘Greetings. Where are you? Message me Ass.’

‘ASAP. Autocorrect.’

‘Your fans think your dead.’

‘Don’t tell me you're busy with that assistant of yours again.’

‘When your sales start going low, don't blame me.’

and many more unread, “blah blah yeah yeah,” gojo murmurs, skimming through the loads of unread gray bubbled messages. “nothing important. geez, can't have a single moment to myself.”

you were so close to orgasming and that's when gojo flips you over to face him—you're panting and he flashes you a soft smile, leaning in to kiss your forehead. “aw, waiting for me?” he whispers, bringing a gentle kiss towards the inner corner of your neck. his touch was immensely warm, something you just couldn't describe. “you wanna cum don't you, baby?

“m-mhmm.” was all you could manage out, wrapping your arms around him as he got right between you. gojo continues to trail kisses down your neck before chuckling. 

“use those words, c’mon. don't be shy. i wanna hear ya tell me what you want.”

the way he was such a tease, you couldn't stand him, then again you could. so annoying, gojo’s warmth of his performing outfit brushed against your skin. the perfectly knitted fabric of it dancing against your skin as he inched closer towards you. “tell me how much of a messy girl you wanna be.”

“i—” you started, and he took a moment to stare into your eyes. gojo looked so pretty, smug yes, but pretty. long lashes each time he blinked, fluttering against him. whenever he showcased that well-known cheeky smile of his, his dimples would poke right against his lips. “i-i wanna cum. please, lemme cum, ‘toru..”

“pretty girllll wants to cummmm,” he sings in a playful melodic tune. again, you couldn't stand him. singing right in the middle of something so intimate. gojo runs a hand down your buttoned-up shirt before chuckling. “hm, i suppose. go ahead, let go fʼr me.”

once you do, immediately your vision turns dizzy. all you saw was a few blotches of white, and it feels so good that the feelings have you biting down on your lip. gojo leans into your neck, whispering sweet nothings against you while giving your ass a soft caress.

“good girl, just let go…yeah,” he purrs, giving your collarbone a gentle suck. you taste so sweet to him. you're addicting, simple as that. like candy, he can't get enough of.

gojo satoru had a sweet tooth for you, there was no doubt about it. “fuck, i can just suck on you all day,” he utters in a low voice, and his warm hands part your thighs so he can get a bit more between you. “i need more…fuck the fans, i need you.”

“idiot, don’t say that..” you moan, and he's kissing all down the crevices of your neck again. gojo’s lips against your tender skin gave you chills. even still, you were so hot, from the neck down. it felt amazing, the feeling of him sucking and kissing against your skin to such a point that you're just throbbing. “t-they’re waiting for you.”

“they can keep waiting,” he smiles, leaning down to kiss near your chest, moving the exclusive backstage lanyard pass away with a slight grip. “damn, you don't know how hard i’ve been during rehearsal. i—i think about you, you know?”

you gawk up at him as his body towers over you, his costume glimmers in the light before he starts to peel it off carefully. you were taken by surprise so you mutter, “you…you do?”

“well yeah girl,” he rolls his eyes, such sass in his tone, following with the low rasp that hid underneath his voice. “you drive me crazy in the worst way.”

“the feeling’s mutual, popstar.” you utter, a glint in your eye.

“hmpf. now that i was nice enough to let you cum, you decide to be a brat, huh?” he raises a brow, using two fingers to brush his mic piece aside. 

a coyish grin goes against your lips. “sorry. are you gonna do anything about it?”

“…shut up..” he grumbles, and he does. 

pretty much, you then found yourself on your hands and knees on the couch, feeling gojo caress your ass briefly before meeting the mounds of your skin with a mean spank.

you suck in shortened breath. “ooh,” he says as you moan in unison with the light thwack. “you get off on spanks, huh?” he utters in a grouse, the feeling of his palm kissing against your skin making you continuously pulse. 

“n-no.” you spat. 

“liar,” he matches your snarky tone, and you let off a gasp once you feel him finally rub the tip of his dick against your folds. gojo grows abnormally quiet the minute your slick coats his length freely. “fuckkk,” he sighs, eyes closing for a short second. you teasingly wriggled your ass against him and he spanks you again. “you’re so impatient, wait.”

“do you even know how to fuck?” you slip out, and you held back a giggle. perhaps you shouldn't have said that, your thoughts did speak way more than they should anyway. 

gojo’s eyebrows curl into a furrow, and his voice genuinely sounds offended. “wha—?! of course i  do.”

“just asking.” you tease. 

“just asking,” he mocks your tone, completely butchering it purposely and gojo slowly starts to make his way inside of your tight pussy. he's gradually moving himself in, and you let off a moan before he continues, “yeah. shut the f-fuck up.”

a small grin stretches against your lips because you hear how gojo stutters whilst sinking inches into you. even while trying to be mean and degrading, he was so close to moaning himself. it was simply adorable. you maintained a mere pristine arch while biting the inside of your cheek once more. 

“you're s-so wet ‘n sloppy,” he huffs out a groan, and the squelches your pussy made against him were simply enticing. for a second, you grew mute once you gave your own body a listen. just the faint sounds of gojo’s jagged breathing, “f-fuck, ‘s good. keep facing that way, just like that. good.”

gojo’s touch against your spine was purely gossamer. 

he was soft, gentle, delicate.

yet the minute he started to create a pace with his rollicked hips, he couldn't contain himself. the way his dick probed throughout your walls, you kissed your teeth in longing—just for him to just hurry.

gojo was always such a tease, the fat plump head of his cock dabbing against your pussy. 

“s-stop playing and just put it in.” you moaned, growing impatient by the mile. 

“heh, you know what they say,” he mumbles, you pulse even more once you feel him slide in about a single inch or two…only to then go right back out. “patience is a virgin.”

“…it’s virtue.”

“that’s what i sai—”

“just fuck me.” you whined. 

gojo giggles, and finally, he starts up his slovenly pace again. he grips your hips before sighing. he takes note of the way you progressively suck him in.

you linger over the couch, the fabric of your pencil skirt just hovering over your waist before gojo starts to sway his hips. 

you had to stop yourself from being so noisy, executives were probably in the other room.

some kind of meeting perhaps occurring, yet here you were, happily entangled with your client. such thick inches he was dumping into you had nearly drooling. gojo’s base was rotund and fat, thwacking and thwacking against you to where you were so dizzy. 

“f-fuck, ‘toru.. ‘s good,” you whined, every few seconds he’d smack your ass to watch your ass jiggle with such recoil. it was one of his favorite moments to witness. as your lips stuck together, your thighs already felt weak and tremulous. 

“damn girl…didn't expect you to s-start throwin’ yourself back again me,” he sibilates, and for a concise moment, his head goes back. a groan flies past his glossed pink lips as your ass continued to thrash against him. “you're such a needy girl. tryna…f-fuck me back..”

the way his voice unintentionally got low whenever he was in such a trance had you throbbing, such convulses making you nearly weak in the knees.

to you, the feeling was indescribable. such pools of heat ran between your legs the more his thrusts picked up.

his dick reached every spot, so much so being precise—you felt the curve of his length analyze throughout your inner walls. it didn't miss a spot, he reached deep and you let off the cutest whimper. “god, r-right there. please, ‘toru. y-your curve, ‘s reaching me deep.”

“you f-flatter me,” he pants, trying to ignore his flusteredness. gojo’s right hand, the hand that had a half-cut open glitter glove that coordinated alongside his outfit ghosts against your ass. his lip quivers from his pace, and the way your pussy just sucks him dry, a few splotches of pre-cum cutely coated against the outer part of your ass. “fuck, dunno how much i can take with you movin’ your ass against me like that…shit, shit.”

“…s-satoru,” you breathed, biting down on your arm to suppress your moans a bit. not before long, he deepens the angle and you feel his sharped hips piston in utter contentment. “fuck, f-fuck. ‘s deep.”

gojo groans, swallowing the nonexistent lump in his throat before he feels himself coming close.

“think you’re gonna m-milk me dry,” he gasps, jerk after jerk his hips go against you at full throttle. the base of his dick, you hear the pap pap pap noises commence, and it’s so obscene. “shit, think ‘m in love,” and then you grow hot. it’s a long inelegant pause before he adds to his words, “…i-in love with your pussy.”

you were gonna comment on something, but you were too fucked dumb to comprehend anything. you’re being fucked stupid into the cushioned sofa. the cottony bristles of the fabric went against your skin as your body lurched forward each time. 

splaying at an almost animalistic pace, gojo’s ears, the very tips of them at least grow incredibly hot, you’re making his body heat up, scorching. the way your pussy tightly hugged around him like a vice, he was obsessed.

he just couldn’t get enough. to think this was the first time he’s been this intimate with you—oh, how he could only imagine what it’d be like for a second time, or a third time, or a…

“s-satoru, your phone’s ringing..”

he grunts, glancing down to see the bright-lit screen display, and this time it’s geto. with an eye roll, he ignores it, still gripping your hips, he’s attaining his peak before he lets off a husky groan. “f-fuck, ‘m gonna cum.. can i—?”

“y-yes, jus’ do it, ‘toru,” you spoke, not even letting him finish his sentence—you knew what he was gonna ask though if he could shoot inside. you were so drunk from his dick, thoughts on your mind were straight mush. 

“okay, okay,” he breathes, and even his moans were pretty. figures, gojo was a soprano, so he was bound to sound angelic, even while moaning his head off. it had the perfect pitch to it, such rasp in it, almost breathy. 

you feel gojo’s pelvic bone thrust a bit more at a quickened pace, accelerating just a bit more and his nerves were just going wild. “fuck, f-fuck..” he grunts, and he starts to grow a bit whiney, his sloppy hits against your rear made out to be a tad bit voluntary, rhythm a bit more expedite, and he clenched his jaw. 

once gojo came, it's so much.

thick ropes that seeped right into you. you moan, and he pauses his hips just to watch, feeling himself pouring all inside. velvety ropes of the popstar’s cum fills you up to the brim. you're panting, he's panting, and gojo was in love.

was it love? he didn't know, but his pupils were dilated for sure. 

his breath hitches once he pulls out, watching his cum slowly spill out between your folds and he lets off a moan. “made me fuck such a mess into you,” he spouts, running a thumb down your slit to watch you cutely jounce against his touch. 

“you ruined my panties,” you whined, turning over to face him—gojo leaned in for a kiss, and you returned the favor, tasting yourself once more on his lips. the sweetened taste of your slick that remained all over his tongue. 

“baby, it's not like you need them,” he rasps, grabbing ahold of you, and he positions you to get on his lap. “besides, i was gonna ask to keep them.”

“why?” you mumble, wrapping your arms around his neck, slipping off a moan at his already sensitive tip hovering against your entrance as you realigned yourself. 

timidly, he runs a hand down his neck. “y’know. for uh…good luck? was gonna keep them in my pocket or something.”

“you're so—”

“shhh.” he hums, interrupting your words for another tender kiss. your tongue slides against his, and he tastes minty.

as his breath collides against yours, you playfully bite down on his lip. gojo grunts, and he’s making your way inside again. gingerly, you sink against his thick base and he gives your ass a mean squeeze before spanking it once you start to move. 

“oh f-fuck…fuck, forgot how sensitive-” he hiccups, watching with half-lidded eyes at your hips rotating against him in an orderly fashion. you moan from his pleasure, taking a second to swallow before whimpering—softly, you kiss against his neck and he grunts. “you-you make me feel so good, baby.”

gojo’s almost at a loss for words, he’s had his fair share of women, but none could make him feel like this.

besides, he's never had the time. touring day in and day out was a hassle, and intimacy was a straight no due to his overly busy schedule. 

although, whilst the two of you were screwing around, making out and you're riding him, cowgirl, that’s right when the wooden creaky door bursts open.

not to anyone’s surprise, it's no one other than gojo’s best friend and bassist, suguru geto.

“you've got to be joking,” he utters with crossed arms, immediately darting his eyes away. “everyone’s been calling you, there's a search party, and—”

geto pauses, tilting his head. “…is that my clothes you're wearing, satoru?”

“suguru…hey man,” gojo gasps, nervous laughter following his tone—you jump in surprise, and he wraps an arm around your waist. “i’m… kinda busy here.”

“i don't give a fuck,” he grumbles. “by the way. your mic was on the entire time. you moan like a girl more than her.”

gojo’s eyes widen, reaching for the tiny button near the edge of his mic.

indeed, the switch was turned on and he awkwardly laughed, bringing the speaking part up to his lips.

“eheh…hey mic check?” and he could hear himself echo through the earpiece. embarrassing.

despite you still being inside, you just sat there—geto staring away, not even trying to comprehend what was happening before gojo coos out a subtle cheeky, “uh…i didn't know my mic was on. my bad.”

“you're so stupid...” you run a hand against your forehead in disbelief. an entire stadium practically heard the both of you. 

the heels of geto turned before gojo brought a finger against your lips to shush, and he pouts. “sugu wait,”

“what.” he mutters, turning back around. 

“wanna join…? don't think a few more minutes wouldn't hurt…r-right?”

“…….”

[starmaidengarden]

riddle : leona : azul : x gn!reader. no cw/tw. soft relationship headcanons. pt1!

riddle rosehearts ༉⋆｡˚

Dating Riddle Rosehearts feels like entering a loving rose garden—he is disciplined, considerate, and surprisingly affectionate once he learns to show his love.

Getting Together

completely clueless. at first, he confuses his attraction with mere admiration or frustration. he’d deny his crush for the longest time until trey or cater pointed it out. when ever they do he insists he’s " just concerned about your rule-breaking habits with the first years. "

when he finally realizes he likes you, he gets flustered over the smallest things. If you brush against his hand or compliment him, expect him to go red immediately.

his confession is formal and rehearsed—he probably paces back and forth before finally confessing.“Lately, my thoughts keep wandering back to you. Would you grant me the delightful opportunity to court you?”

In a Relationship

strict but caring: he expects you to follow the rules, but if you struggle, he’ll tutor you instead of scolding you (though he might lecture a little).

affection in private: riddle isn’t one for bold acts, but in private, he’s surprisingly soft—holding your hand, brushing your hair from your face, or even letting you rest your head on his shoulder while he reads.

tea dates: he’ll always invite you for afternoon tea. If you surprise him with a homemade tart, he might blush and mutter a flustered “thank you.”

loves studying together. he feels most comfortable expressing love through shared routines—helping you with homework, making tea for you, and ensuring you take care of yourself properly.

will correct your posture, eating habits, and etiquette—but only because he wants the best for you. If you call him out on being too strict, he’ll get embarrassed and promise to ease up.

absolutely adores it when you praise him. Tell him he’s amazing, and he’ll short-circuit before hiding his red face behind a teacup.

leona kingscholar ༉⋆｡˚

Dating Leona Kingscholar is a mix of lazy afternoons, protective gestures, and rare but deeply meaningful moments of vulnerability. He acts aloof and unbothered, but when he loves someone, it’s fierce, possessive, and completely devoted.

Getting Together

leona is slow to fall in love, but once he does, it’s obvious—at least to everyone except him. spending more time around you, teasing you—calling you “herbivore” in a smug tone of course, stealing your things to watch you get flustered and If you tease him back? he raises an eyebrow but secretly finds it really attractive. challenging you to little games just to see you pout when he wins. before he even realizes why.

subtle acts of favoritism—letting you sit next to him during lunch, giving you money whenever you need it, or scaring off people who bother you.

he doesn’t do confessions. Instead, he just starts acting like you’re his. If you call him out on it, he’ll smirk and say, “ Took you long enough. ” casual but undeniable. he just leans in close and murmurs, " You’re mine, got it? " like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

In a Relationship

super clingy—but lazy about it. He won’t actively chase after you, but the second you sit down, he’s got an arm around your waist, pulling you against him for a nap.

protective, but in a quiet way. He doesn’t hover or make a big deal out of it, He’ll glare at anyone who gets too close and say things like, " You got a problem? " but if anyone disrespects you, they’ll mysteriously stop showing up anywhere near you.

surprisingly thoughtful. acts like he doesn’t care, but he absolutely does. If he notices you are stressed or upset, he won’t ask directly, he’ll grumble about how annoying you are—while pulling you into his arms and forcing you to take a break.

prefers spending time in silence with you. He’s not one for constant talking, but if you’re quietly sitting together—maybe reading while he naps—he’s completely at peace.

azul ashengrotto ༉⋆｡˚

Dating Azul Ashengrotto is like being in a business contract that slowly turns into the most devoted and soft romance ever. He starts off as his usual smooth and calculating self, but once he genuinely falls for you, he becomes flustered, protective, and completely devoted to your happiness.

Getting Together

overthinks every interaction. he is convinced he needs to earn your affection—he’ll plan elaborate strategies to get close to you, only to flub them when you smile at him.

denial. painfully aware of his feelings, He tries to suppress his crush by treating you like a business deal—offering favors, calling you “Valued Customer,” until Jade or Floyd casually say something like, “Boss, you should just confess already.”

flirting? Oh, absolutely. He’s always throwing in charming lines like, “Ah, what a pleasure to see you again, angelfish. Are you here to make my heart race once more?” (He’s dying inside, but you don’t need to know that.)

his confession is a total mess. He plans out an elegant speech but ends up stammering, blushing. He’ll invite you to Monstro Lounge, offer you a custom-made drink, and very nervously say, “Would you be interested in signing a… I mean, um, going on a date with me?”

In a Relationship

a total gentleman. He insists on opening doors for you, pulling out your chair, and walking on the side of the road closest to traffic. It’s all very formal—at first.

surprisingly clingy. When he gets comfortable, he loves holding your hand under the table or linking pinkies when he’s feeling extra bold.

spoils you in secret. If you mention liking something, expect it to magically appear on your desk the next day. compliment a dessert at the lounge? It’s now your permanent menu item. Fancy meals, VIP treatment, and custom-made gifts.

acts smooth but is secretly flustered. He’ll brush your hand casually but will internally scream if you grab his in return. If you kiss him first? Immediate overheating.

[oblique-lane]

Spy tf2 and his identity

Character analysis (or at least my vision on him, if you believe my reasoning)

What do we know about Spy? He's a disguise mastermind. He can pretend to be anyone in order to infiltrate into the scene to do his job - quite literally, stab people on the back. But when he's not in the battle, what is he to his teammates? A suave Frenchman, a gentleman with taste, somewhat a leader.

At least, that's the persona he prefers to show. But is he really..?

What if I tell you that this person never drops his disguise?

For a man who always wears a mask and who's identity being secret is a sacred part of his role in this job, isn't this persona too much to show if it is real? Frenchman, rich, ladykiller... Wouldn't it be too easy to decipher his identity with so much clues provided? Wouldn't it be dangerous?

While Miss Pauling and the Administrator definitely know Spy's real identity, hiding it is a major thing for whatever reason. One could assume it might be because of Scout (obvious guess) but I doubt he's a sole reason. Spy very much enjoys being the Spy all by himself. Do what's the deal?

Let's start from the beginning.

Why did Spy join Mann Co. in the first place?

Let's take this assumption as a fact: people come here out of desperation. They are professionals in their field, yet in their past/casual life there is a pattern of them having difficulties that push them into joining this service. I don't see why Spy would be an exception.

The reason for joining is usually money. Some people question why Spy, a wealthy man from higher society, would join Mann Co. if he has it all already.

Well, probably because he really does not.

Have you ever met an aristocrat? Wealthy people don't get so protective about their expensive suits, they can afford cleaning or a new one. Regardless, rich people don't usually get stingy about material goods, especially if they're mass produced.

At least, not those who were born into wealth.

Spy's defensiveness about his "wealthy stuff", his pomp-ness, disgust and arrogance towards "plebs" gives off a man who knows what it means to live in poverty and who doesn't want to be associated with it ever again.

(Not even talking about his own filthy habits such as not washing his mask and pissing on walls? Jesus Christ)

Dare I even guess that he might be not French at all? His French is so broken. (Although, so is Medic's German, but at least he uses his language much more frequently and in more complex sentences, while Spy only uses French to say some basic expressions, occasionally confusing them with other languages). Definitely not a native.

If anything, he's not giving "rich man" at all, he's giving con man. And that fits my picture perfectly.

So, poor upbringing. How old is Spy? If he's Scout's father (and he was young when he was conceived), I'd say he's no less than 20 years older than him. I'd give him a few more years actually. So, approximately Spy is around 50 at the events of the game (1968-1972). Let's assume he was born somewhere in the 1910s.

Even if he's not French, I still agree that he's probably European. Hmm, what was happening in Europe at the time Spy was a kid?

Oh yeah. The Great Depression.

See my picture: imagine, a child from a lower class family during the Great Depression, his parents were most likely to not take good care about him (both because of the economical situation AND as an echo to Spy's struggles with his own fatherhood). He has to run away from home early and start to make money. Any way possible.

Unavoidably, it leads to crime.

Petty theft, blackmail, scams. Changing identities. Selling low quality products and services. Changing identities again. When older, seducing rich women to stay at their homes overnight, be fed and supported. Running away from the police. Walking into a trap of the mafia, and then joining them as their goon.

In this nightmare of a life he just had to keep pretending to be someone else, someone better and stronger, in order to his ego to not completely shutter. He had to imagine he was an invincible mastermind trickster of some sort, not just a poor boo-hoo victim of poverty who has never knew normal life and care.

And if you pretend for long enough, you become your role eventually... Right?

His true self was long lost forgotten under many layers of new identities. Worse, his true self was never known. And he didn't want it to be known in its ugly and disgusting vulnerability. Narcissism became his lifeline.

It's so much better to be Spy. To be rich and elegant and respected. His ego rebuilt.

[dragoneyelashart]

drug dealer! billie hcs ★⋆˙

smut/angst/fluff ୨ৎ warnings: mention of gunplay, spit kink, use of drugs

drug dealer! billie who calls you her favorite customer, always giving you discounts

drug dealer! billie who when you forget to pay makes you suck her dick in compensation 

drug dealer! billie who wears her strap to parties just incase

drug dealer! billie who has girls all over her, but when she sees you she’s moving to make space for you, patting the empty space on her lap so you can sit.

drug dealer! billie who purposely moves around when you’re sat in her lap so you can feel her strap pushing into you

drug dealer! billie who is big on fucking you from behind

drug dealer! billie who always calls you ‘baby’,  ‘mama’ and especially ‘her girl’

drug dealer! billie who makes you gag on her strap and swears she can feel how good your mouth is on her

drug dealer! billie who always praises you for taking her so deep

drug dealer! billie who’s staring you down at a party when she see’s you flirting with anyone else

drug dealer! billie who keeps a gun in the waist band of her pants

drug dealer! billie who would threaten anyone flirting with you with that gun, then later have you on your knees while she trailed the gun down your body

drug dealer! billie who loves when you leave marks on her neck 

“yo billie, who gave you that mark”  “my girl did” she says winking 

drug dealer! billie who licks the drugs off your body, placing it on your tits, thighs and stomach

drug dealer! billie who spoils you with her money

drug dealer! billie who comes to you after a fight + fucks you when she's angry

"you gonna let me take my anger out on you, mama?" she'll say as you're waiting patiently on your knees for her

drug dealer! billie who spits in your mouth before she kisses you like it's a routine.

drug dealer! billie who says "good girl" every time you bring her a lighter, her phone, her gun — doesn’t matter what it is.

drug dealer! billie who has your name tattooed on her thigh, right where only you get to see it.

drug dealer! billie who keeps one of your panties in her glovebox like it’s a good luck charm.

drug dealer! billie who lets you sit on her lap while she counts money, her hand casually gripping your thigh while she multitasks.

drug dealer! billie who only sells to people she likes, and if someone she doesn’t like asks, she just points to you and goes, “ask my girl, maybe she’ll be nicer than me.”

drug dealer! billie who brings you a bag of your favorite snacks every time she drops something off “can’t have my baby starving while she’s getting high.”

drug dealer! billie who makes you ride her strap with her glock on the nightstand.

drug dealer! billie who tells people you’re her wife even though you're not married — yet.

drug dealer! billie who pulls you by the collar and growls, “don’t ever talk to that punk again,” then kisses you like she owns you.

drug dealer! billie who smells like weed, gunpowder, and your perfume, she says she wears it to remember what home smells like.

drug dealer! billie who sends you selfies mid-deal, shirtless in her car, captioned “thinking about you with my dick out lol”

drug dealer! billie who gets into a fight and when you ask “did you win?” she smirks, bruised knuckles and all, “you should see the other bitch… actually, don’t. just look at me.”

drug dealer! billie who tells everyone “this pussy's prescription only,” and you’re the only one with the refill card.

drug dealer! billie who lets you weigh the product on her lap like she’s testing how well you can handle pressure.

drug dealer! billie who tells you, “don’t cum till I say,” then takes her sweet time fingering you, loving the way you beg and whine for her.

drug dealer! billie who’ll have you in the backseat of her car, legs over her shoulders, strap buried deep.

drug dealer! billie who’ll make you choke on her strap with one hand in your hair, the other still texting a client. “keep going, mama — i’m multitasking.”

drug dealer! billie who fucks you with her silver chain wrapped around your throat like a leash, pulling every time you moan too loud.

drug dealer! billie who loves when you wear nothing under her oversized hoodies/ shirts and only finds out when your sat on her lap or she grabs your ass  — “such a slut for me, huh?”

drug dealer! billie who’ll finger you under the table during a deal, whispering, “be quiet, baby, i’m working,” while you’re shaking in her lap.

drug dealer! billie who records you crying on her dick and plays it back when she’s alone, cocky smirk on her lips as she listens to how ruined she made you.

drug dealer! billie who’ll edge you all night then finally fuck you in the morning, saying “only good girls get to cum on my strap.”

drug dealer! billie who won’t tell you where she disappears to some nights, just comes back with bruised knuckles and haunted eyes, muttering “don’t ask, baby, please.”

drug dealer! billie who pushes you away when she’s scared, when things get too good, she starts fights just to convince herself you’ll leave before she gets too attached.

drug dealer! billie who almost gets caught in a raid and calls you from a burner phone, breathless and frantic, “i don’t know if i’ll make it out… just know i love you, alright?”

drug dealer! billie who refuses to sleep next to you after a deal goes bad because she doesn't want to bleed on your sheets — “i’m dirty, baby. you deserve better.”

drug dealer! billie who goes dead silent when you cry in front of her for the first time, then holds your face and whispers, “you know I’d kill anyone who made you feel like this... even if it’s me.”

drug dealer! billie who gets so used to giving everything away,money, product, sex, that when you love her without asking for anything, it breaks her.

drug dealer! billie who makes you promise that if she ever disappears, you’ll leave town and never look for her  “i can’t have you getting hurt just because you love me.”

drug dealer! billie who sneaks into your apartment just to cook breakfast in your kitchen,  eggs burnt, toast uneven, but she’s so proud. “i feed you and fuck you? wife me.”

drug dealer! billie who gets high and gets soft, lays with her head in your lap and lets you play with her hair while she hums whatever song’s in her head.

drug dealer! billie who keeps a stash of your favorite snacks in her glove compartment. “my girl’s gotta eat between rounds.”

drug dealer! billie who rolls joints with pink rolling paper because “you like cute shit,” and always kisses you before lighting up.

drug dealer! billie who lets you wear her hoodie and hat, then posts you on her private story with the caption “mine mine mine.”

drug dealer! billie who always calls you to “come crash at mine” after a long night, she sleeps better when she can feel your heartbeat against her back.

drug dealer! billie who secretly keeps every love note, polaroid, and silly doodle you’ve ever given her, stashed in a shoebox under her bed.

drug dealer! billie who never says “be careful” — just “text me when you get home” — but she means “if anything ever happened to you I’d burn this whole city down.”

taglist: @amara-eilish @bilswifee @iamnicoke @jayjaywetforbils @bittersuitekim @bxllxebxtch @bitchesbrokenpromises @ijustlovemaths @ilovealiceosemann @bilssturns @peytonneilish @chrissv4mp @too-sapphic-to-function @thebluediner @aka-persephone @vijaxx | send an ask or comment if you want to be added to my taglist!

[rafecameronsslut4ever]

CASUAL pt.2— lando norris (angst)

pairing; fem!reader x lando norris summary: it took lando too long to realise it wasn't just 'casual'. warnings: a LOT of angst, toxic relationship, sexual implication, not proofread a/n: casual part 2 was not really a part of the plan but the audience had demands 🦧also i think this was too long lmao. AND IM SO SORRY FOR THE LONG DELAY OMG

part 1 - casual

miami grand prix: the biggest pr nightmare for every driver—especially lando norris.

the media had been all over him that weekend, going to the lengths of literally calling him 'the hottest catch on the single market'. hollywood stars and instagram models were so desperate to marry him and have his kids that they didn't catch on the fact that he was a 23-year-old racing driver who couldn't give a fuck about them.

because he was stuck on you.

for weeks, he'd waited—hoping you’d reach out, or at the very least, watch his instagram stories. he posted shirtless photos, sun-kissed photos—hell, he even threw out a thirst trap just for you. But you didn’t take the bait. you didn't take the fucking bait.

you hadn't texted him or spoken to him since the moment you walked out of that hotel room weeks ago, so he didn't try to reach out either. "would've been a blow to my ego," he'd told sainz.

but now, he didn't give a shit about his ego. he was tired of waiting.

his eyes darted across the packed club, friends and guests scattered all around. he couldn't wait to get out of there.

he hadn't been drinking. didn't really feel like it. truth be told, he hadn’t been feeling much of anything at all.

pool parties, clubs, yachts, champagne and girls.

he was tired of the glitz and glam of his life, and you were the only escape from it.

but you were gone.

his mind wandered to that morning, when you had kissed him and the two of you had ordered room service. when he had held you for the last time.

he hated how the only thing on his mind was you. how it was the only thing on his mind all through the celebrations, as hookers danced around him and people tried to pour drinks into his mouth.

for fuck's sake, he had won a grand prix for the first time in his life, and yet he was unhappy.

how did he get here?

he looked up, eyes falling on a group of men in the VIP section, the lights illuminating their faces.

everyone could tell something was off with lando. he didn't want to do any of this.

all he wanted was you. you, you, you.

the girl who had left without an explanation.

why had you left, anyway? no calls, no texts. your friends avoided him, and you avoided his friends. it was like the two of you were nothing.

lando norris was many things, but he was not a fool. he could recognise when something was wrong, or when a situation had escalated beyond his control.

he knew that there was a reason why you left, but the reason never clicked in that thick brain of his. what had he done wrong? where had he gone wrong?

"i'm not feeling too well, mate." he muttered, handing the beer bottle back to the guy standing next to him.

okay, maybe not admitting his feelings for you had fucked things up. but, what could you expect? he didn't have the time to give you what you deserved.

not right now, at least.

"what are you waiting for, then?" the other man asked, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"what?"

"just call her, bro. i know it's about a girl because there's no way any sane man would say no to expensive beers and a million hot hookers."

did lando even know this man? probably not.

"i can't call her. she doesn't want to talk to me. trust me, i've tried."

"have you?"

he didn't know how to deal with rejection. not like this, not with you. you weren't supposed to leave.

"judging by your sulkiness, i doubt you're going to find a girl like her again. and you'll never have her if you're here."

lando didn't have a heart of stone, as much as his social media persona might suggest. he didn't care for any of this. the women, the money, the fame.

he wanted to hold you again. kiss you, tell you he loves you. he wanted to hold your hand. he wanted to be near you, and only you.

so, when his feet hit the floor and he found himself walking towards the exit, he wasn't surprised.

yeah, it was foolish of him to leave a party full of women who were celebrating him (literally) for a girl who had ghosted him, but the need was stronger than his pride.

out of the yacht, he was dialling the only number he'd ever memorised. the phone rang, and then it rang again.

would she be wearing his clothes, or would she have gotten rid of everything related to him?

maybe she'd found another man, finally realising that lando was a bad investment.

as the phone rang, you were hidden in your apartment with blankets wrapped around you and a youtube video playing in the background.

it had been months since you'd heard the word 'casual' leave his mouth. months since you had fled london and monaco to move to miami.

at first, his words had echoed in your mind constantly, and you'd cried yourself to sleep a few times more than you'd like to admit.

but just like every heartbroken poet in history, the hurt faded and the pain slowly morphed into hatred. and anger.

you wanted to slam your head against a wall. scratch that, you wanted to slam his head against a wall.

it was so stupid, and you hated yourself for believing he'd been genuine.

it was just sex. that's all it ever was. it truly was just casual.

the phone was still ringing. your finger hesitated over the answer button. you weren't going to answer it.

it wasn't worth it. you didn't want to hear his voice. didn't want him to have the satisfaction of knowing that his words had hurt you. you didn't want to know if he was sleeping around, if his girlfriends were prettier than you.

so the line went dead.

lando stood by the harbour, watching as yachts and ships sailed past him. the air was humid and his t-shirt clung to his body, the heat almost unbearable. the sound of waves, the distant laughter and music, and the sound of his ragged breaths.

he ran his fingers through his hair, looking around. where was his car?

he had to find his way back to his hotel. he was a mess, and his clothes were sticking to his skin. he needed to fix his appearance, buy a bouquet a flowers.

he checked the time on his watch, and cursed as he saw the numbers. it was almost 3 am. he wouldn't find flowers anywhere at 3 am.

"fuck it." he said, running over to his car. the drive was quiet, save for the low hum of music and his occasional swearing when someone drove a little bit slower than he'd like.

lando norris had the world on his fingertips. he could have any girl he wanted. anyone, really. but he only wanted you. he was a hopeless romantic, and you were his muse.

when he pulled up outside the apartment, his nerves were going haywire. he ran a hand through his hair and took a deep breath before getting out of the car.

he knocked twice on the door and when it opened, his eyes lit up.

you stared back at him, sleepiness in your eyes and confusion etched on your face.

and god, did you look gorgeous.

he loved you, he realised. he had to cross his hands behind his back to stop them from reaching out and holding you close.

"lando?" you breathed out.

he had grown a slight stubble since you last saw him. his hair were still the same, except a little bit longer. his blue eyes were wide as he looked at you.

"hey," his voice was shaky.

"what the fuck are you doing here?"

he wanted to say so many things. ask you why you left, where it went wrong, why you moved to miami. he wanted to declare his love for you, press his lips to yours, hold you by the waist. he wanted to hear you say that you loved him too.

he was so in love with you, and you had no idea.

"lando? why are you here?" you asked again.

he was at a loss of words. what could he say? he couldn't exactly just stand there and say nothing.

"because," his voice cracked, "i miss you."

your throat went dry. he could not just say that.

it had been weeks. weeks of him not contacting you, weeks of you not speaking to him. the phone calls had stopped, the text messages had stopped, the late night chats had stopped. everything was just gone.

and now, he missed you?

tears welled up in your eyes, a lump forming in your throat. you shook your head, pushing back the tears, "go away."

"what? no, wait. wait. don't do this." he pleaded, his voice fragile and desperate, like a child trying to avoid bedtime.

"lando-"

he interrupted you, voice louder than before. "can we please talk about this?"

"what is there to talk about?" you were raising your voice. you hated him. how could he act like this after all that happened?

"everything. just—please, can i come in?" he sounded so pathetic. he felt so pathetic. his hands were slightly hovering over the door, ready to push it open and walk in.

the request took you by surprise. "i-no."

you missed him. there was no denying that.

you wanted him to tell you it was okay. wanted to go back to that night in his mclaren, the night he told you he liked you. wanted the weekends spent in london with his family. you wanted him, all of him.

his curly hair wrapped around your fingers, blue eyes staring at you, soft lips kissing you. his cold hands grabbing yours, and his voice saying your name. you wanted it to not be casual.

"i just want to talk to you."

he was drunk. there was no other way he would've showed up here, let alone begged to talk to you. the fact that he needed to be drunk to have this conversation made your blood boil.

"do you still have my jacket?"

of course, you still had his stupid jacket. the one that had his smell embedded into the fabric. it was an exclusive print mclaren had given him, and he had swung it around your shoulders after the night you had first made love to each other.

but he didn't care about the jacket, and neither did you. it was just a reminder.

you were silent for a while, taking in the sight of each other. it was his breath mingling with yours.

"i love you." he whispered.

your breath hitched in your throat, the tears finally falling out of your eyes as you sighed.

"i love you," he repeated to himself. "yes, i do. and i've known that since the day i met you."

you choked back sobs as you shook your head, "you're drunk, lando."

"i'm not," he chuckled, "maybe a little, but not enough."

then, he added, "i mean it. i love you." his voice was steady. he truly meant every word. but he didn't know what would happen now.

"what do you want me to say, lando?"

he sighed, "anything."

you laughed bitterly. anything, he said.

anything would've been better than what had happened.

"i don't think i can do this, lando."

"we can take it slow."

"you've never done slow."

he fell silent again because you were right. he'd never done slow. he didn't know how to take things slow. he was a fucking formula 1 driver, after all. slow wasn't something he did. he'd always lived life like it was the last day. and that's how he had lost you.

"i'm sorry," he began, his voice breaking. "i should've been a better person. i'm sorry for everything i did. i should've given you more, i-i should've loved you more, because you deserve so much more. i'm so, so, sorry."

"lando," you whispered, "it's not—"

"don't make excuses for me, please. i love you, i really do. and if i have to spend the rest of my life proving that, i will." and he meant every word. "i just want you back."

your mind was racing, a million thoughts running through it. it was like a movie. his blue eyes, his voice, the desperation in his tone, the way he stood before you.

"okay," you muttered.

"wait, okay? does that mean—"

"you're gonna have to work for this," you said.

"i know, and i will. i promise."

you sighed, rubbing your temple. this wasn't a good idea. "get in."

lando's face lit up, and before you could change your mind, he had walked into the apartment. he hadn't really been here before, considering you moved here after the two of you had stopped talking. but the apartment was lovely, homely. everything you.

you closed the door behind him, watching him look around the living room.

"how'd you know where i live?"

he chuckled, turning to face you. "i'm a famous driver. i have my sources."

"i'm sure." a tense silence followed, neither of you knowing what to say.

"i'm not letting this happen again," he blurted, "i'm not. i don't know how, but i won't."

"i don't believe you." you scoffed.

"fuck, baby, what do i have to do for you to believe me?" he stepped towards you, closing the distance.

"stop calling me that."

"you are my baby." he tried to joke.

"lando, i'm not joking."

"i'm serious too," his voice was sincere, "i love you, and i'll do whatever it takes for you to believe me."

you had been through a lot together. the highs, the lows. you had seen him at his best, and at his worst. the good and the bad.

he moved closer, reaching a hand out to hold yours. you didn't know why, but the moment his hand touched yours, it was like a switch had flipped inside of you.

you let his hand wander over yours like a ghost, his calloused fingertips tracing over your knuckles. he intertwined your fingers together, eyes casted down.

"i've never cared about anyone the way i care about you." he admitted in a soft voice.

and then he pressed his lips to yours. his other hand wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

and god, did he taste the same. lando had a way with his lips. it was a talent. he kissed you like he needed your lips to survive. he was desperate for your touch as if he had been starving without it.

you were so lost in the feeling that you hadn't realised how far you had pushed him until the back of his knees hit the couch, and he fell on top of it.

his eyes were wide, mouth hanging open. his shirt was halfway unbuttoned, exposing his chest and toned abs.

the two of you stared at each other, eyes searching the other's.

"i love you." he murmured for what seemed like the hundredth time that night.

maybe it was the way his blue eyes bore into yours, or the way his lips quivered, or maybe it was the fact that he had driven across the city to say this.

but for the first time that night, you believed him. and suddenly, the anger was gone. it was all gone.

"i love you, too." you whispered.

it was the only thing the two of you needed. the confirmation, the reassurance. the love.

you leaned down and connected your lips once more, hand reaching up to his curls and tugging lightly. he moaned into the kiss, pulling you on top of him.

your tongue entered his mouth, the taste of him making you lightheaded. his hands roamed over your body, the feeling of his skin against yours.

"baby," he whispered between kisses, "i want you so bad. i've waited so long."

his lips trailed along your jaw and down your neck, sucking marks into the sensitive skin.

"i want you," he murmured against the crook of your neck, "so fucking bad."

but he pulled away, flipping the two of you over so he was on top of you. he took off his shirt, and rested his head on your chest. he cleared his throat, "i should've asked this question earlier, but are you single?"

"yeah." you chuckled, running a hand through his curls.

"so, can i be your boyfriend?"

"lando norris," you hummed, "did you finally get the guts to ask me out?"

"yes," he smiled, lifting his head up to look at you, "yes, i did. will you be my girlfriend?"

"you're a dork."

"that's not an answer."

"yes," you laughed, "yes, i'll be your girlfriend."

lando grinned, and you grinned back.

yeah, it wasn't casual anymore.

(u guys im so sorry if i've tagged someone who doesnt want to be tagged i just had no idea how to let non-followers know part 2 is out bcs tumblr is not letting me reply to comments😭if anyone wants their tag removed, feel free to dm me!! i hope u liked this) @oscarpiassrri @meglouise00 @f1fantasys @technicallypleasanttree @ggaslyp1 @obxstiles @nataliambc @prudyhoo @idkwtdwml123 @ushygushybaby @emilyroxy @yootvi @fishingarden @pillowprincess4him @herexpertcollector

[formulaonecrumbs]

could you write a Lando x reader where the reader comes from a low-income family and her childhood and teenage years were deeply affected by that? Her life started to improve a little when she began creating content on tiktok and instagram, but it still wasn't anything too surprising or luxurious. Lando came across her profile by accident, got interested in her, and they started talking. After a few weeks of chatting, they planned to meet in person, and Lando picked her up for their date. they went to an extremely fancy restaurant, completely out of the reader’s reality, which made her feel a bit uncomfortable especially because Lando acted like it was just a regular place, even unintentionally being a little rude to the waiter. she felt embarrassed to order food and ended up choosing the cheapest options (which were still very expensive). as the dinner went on, she started realizing that Lando was kind of snobbish, and pretty much everything he talked about involved a lot of money. that made her feel uneasy, especially because of the huge difference between the realities they grew up in

not used to this 🥂

Lando Norris x middle-class!reader

summary: lando takes reader to a restaurant way out of her comfort zone

warnings: rich boy trying his best, writer (me) not doing as the request says 🤗

A/N: thank u anon!!! i wrote this when u sent the request in and reading it back, i’m realising now that i didn’t really make him snobbish 😭 MY BAD. i can rewrite it if u want, all u gotta do is ask. i hope u enjoy it regardless. again it is unedited. love uuuuuu 💋

୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ

she didn’t grow up with much. not in the sad, movie-montage way—just in the real way. money was tight. bills came in stacks. school trips were “maybe next time,” and birthdays were handmade cards and discount cake. she never blamed her parents. they gave her everything they could. love, mostly. and that mattered. but still, it made her grow up early. taught her not to ask for too much.

by the time she turned nineteen, things had started shifting. not drastically. but enough. she’d built something on tiktok—honest, messy, creative little videos that made people laugh or feel less alone. her following wasn’t massive, but it helped. brand deals, a bit of income, enough to finally buy her own clothes, to take her mum out for lunch every now and then. it was progress. not luxury. but she was proud of it.

and then lando norris followed her.

she thought it was a joke at first. but no—it was him. real, verified, f1 superstar lando norris. and he didn’t just follow—he messaged. funny stuff, casual. asking questions. responding to her stories. talking like she was just another person, not some online profile.

weeks passed. they started calling each other. laughing for hours, sending stupid memes, talking about childhood, music, food. he made her feel like she wasn’t just from a different world.

until they met in person.

he picked her up in a sleek car that probably cost more than her entire life. he didn’t flaunt it—he just drove it, casual, like he didn’t even think twice. he wore simple clothes, but she could tell they were expensive. he grinned when he saw her, told her she looked amazing, even held the car door open.

the restaurant was… a whole other planet. chandeliers. glass walls. the kind of place where you feel like whispering. lando smiled like it was nothing. like this was just dinner.

“hope this place’s alright,” he said, pulling out her chair.

“yeah,” she said, heart pounding. “it’s beautiful.”

she meant it, but also… it wasn’t her. not even close.

the menu was in french. she didn’t even recognize half the dishes. she scanned the prices, eyes wide.

“order whatever you want,” lando said. “seriously. they do this wagyu something something that’s unreal.”

she gave a small laugh. “i think i’ll just get the soup.”

he tilted his head. “just soup? you sure?”

she nodded. “yeah, i’m not super hungry.”

he looked at her for a second too long. not questioning her, just… noticing. something in her voice maybe. or the way she kept folding her napkin over and over.

as the waiter came by, he asked, “still or sparkling?”

“sparkling,” lando said easily, then caught her eye. “wait—do you want still?”

she blinked. “yeah, i usually do.”

he gave the waiter a sheepish smile. “sorry—still water, please.”

a small thing. but she noticed. he noticed.

as the meal went on, he talked about racing, about travel, about how weird fame can feel. sometimes money slipped into the conversation—a fancy hotel, a car he tested—but not like he was bragging. just like it was his version of normal.

but even still, she felt it. the space between them. how far apart their worlds had been.

and somehow… he started to feel it too.

he leaned forward after a moment of quiet. “this place might’ve been a bit much, huh?”

she smiled softly. “a little.”

he scratched the back of his neck. “i just wanted tonight to be nice. special. didn’t really think about how… intense it might feel.”

“it’s not bad,” she said quickly. “just… different.”

lando nodded. “you can tell me if you’re uncomfortable. i don’t want you to feel weird around me.”

she looked at him, really looked, and saw the sincerity in his face. not pity. not guilt. just a boy who cared. who was trying.

“i don’t feel weird around you,” she said. “just… here.”

he smiled. “then next time, we’ll go somewhere with chips and ketchup packets.”

she laughed, and the tension in her shoulders finally softened. “perfect.”

“good,” he said, reaching across the table to gently squeeze her hand. “because i really like you. and i want to get this right.”

she squeezed back. “you already are.”

THE END :>

[incognit0slut]

MASTER OF PERSUASION

Part 4 of kinktober | main masterlist

meandom!Spencer/Hotch x fem!reader; Threesome, creampie, dumbification, degradation, brat taming, abuse of power, edging, dubcon

Your involvement in a heinous crime was questioned by the two FBI agents who were eager to do anything to get you to talk.

Words: 6802

a/n: This one is dedicated to my nasty, touch-starved btches who secretly wants to be manhandled by two older men. Enjoy this pure filth🫶

YOU WERE FAR FROM BEING A GOOD PERSON. From the surface, you seemed like a normal, typical woman, just one of the countless faces within the crowd. But when the doors shut behind you, you find yourself involved in endeavors you should never have pursued in the first place.

You knew too much. You were acutely aware of how many crimes happening in your vicinity. The number of deaths resulting from these heinous acts should be enough to terrify you, but it didn't, because unbeknownst to your peers, you were one of the reasons why they happened.

Although you never played the role of the perpetrator, you were the person these criminals came to for information. You were good with technology, you could hack into any secure system in the blink of an eye. It was almost as if you were a deity of the dark web, a mastermind whose mere presence served as a godsend to those carrying out these crimes.

It was easy money; you gave what they wanted, received what they paid you, and most importantly, you made sure to never look back. You always wiped everything out after each job was done, but somehow, after working on so many deals, your luck finally struck out.

Somebody hacked into your system—no, somebody good hacked into your system. This person knew what they were doing. They managed to hack through your firewall and retrieve a few of your data while also discovering your identity.

You honestly wanted to praise whoever was on the other side because you had never encountered someone who could match, if not surpass, your own skill. But it wasn't until you heard the loud banging on your front door, followed by people in uniformed vests rushing in and pointing their guns at you, that you finally realized who had breached your system.

It was the FBI.

So that was how you found yourself sitting inside an interrogation room hours later with two agents across from you. A very tall, intimidating man stood at the corner, his arms crossed as he watched you silently. Dr. Spencer Reid was how he introduced himself, and the way he emphasized the title in front of his name, you were certain he was the type of person who took extreme pride in his intelligence.

He seemed a little too cocky.

Special Agent Aaron Hotchner, on the other hand, was hard to decipher. The older man appeared somewhat guarded as if his job had forced him to put on a facade devoid of genuine emotions. Maybe it did. He was, after all, a federal agent. Both of them were. These men were probably taught to master the art of maintaining an inscrutable poker face.

Nevertheless, they were both intimidating, and you wondered to yourself, was good cop bad cop not a thing anymore? Because as far as this was going, none of them seemed inclined to make things easy for you.

The man in front of you cleared his throat, his voice was a well-practiced blend of authority and curiosity. "You've been quite elusive, haven't you, Miss Y/L/N?"

You leaned back, studying him through half-lidded eyes, your fingers tracing the edges of the table with a cool, almost casual detachment. "Elusiveness is a matter of perspective, Agent Hotchner. I prefer to think of it as adaptability."

"Adaptability?" He leaned in closer, his sharp gaze never wavering. "You've made quite a name for yourself. You've infiltrated government agencies, stolen classified data, and even orchestrated financial heists... Impressive, I must say."

A faint smile danced upon your lips, revealing just a glimmer of amusement. "I simply explore the hidden avenues of the World Wide Web. It's not about the thrill; it's about the knowledge."

His eyes narrowed. "But your actions have consequences. You've caused quite a chaos, don't you think?"

"Consequences are a part of every action, whether in the digital realm or the physical world. As for chaos..." You met his gaze with unwavering confidence. "Well, sometimes chaos is necessary for evolution."

He leaned back, his expression unyielding. "Evolution or anarchy?"

"As I said, everything is a matter of perspective, even anarchy," you replied, your voice smooth as silk. "In the grand scheme of things, I'm just a catalyst. Society's flaws were there long before I came along."

The man in the corner took a step forward. His eyes bore into you with resolve as if he had grown weary of the ongoing debate. "You've had your say," he interjected with a steely tone. "You know why you're here. Our victim's files were found on your computer, we need to know who requested them."

You met his gaze with a mixture of defiance and amusement, unfazed by his direct approach. "Doctor Reid," you said, your voice laced with a hint of mock surprise. "Always chasing ghosts in the machine, aren't you?"

His expression remained composed, his intellect undeniably sharp. "We're not here to discuss my pursuits. We're here to talk about the life you've disrupted."

"Disrupted? I'd say I've merely revealed the cracks in the system. Your victim, as you call them, was a casualty of a much larger game."

"Games have rules, Miss Y/L/N. You seem to operate outside of them."

"Rules are made to be broken, Spencer," you retorted, your tone cutting like a blade through the air. "I can call you that, right? I hate having to speak with such formalities."

"It's Doctor Reid," he corrected. "Tell us who you're working for."

His unwavering determination was met with a subtle, knowing smile from you. You leaned forward, your eyes locking onto his with a hint of intrigue.

"I don't know, Spencer," you began, your tone slightly softer, as if you were letting him in on a secret, "The digital world is a labyrinth of information. Files come and go, they disappear and reappear... It's like trying to catch a shadow in the dark. It's useless."

He addressed you with a cold stare. "You're playing a dangerous game here."

You raised an eyebrow, your voice honeyed with allure. "Oh, I'm well aware of the game we're playing. But don't mistake my refusal to cooperate for arrogance. It's just that some secrets are meant to stay hidden."

The room seemed to contract, the air thick with unresolved tension. Aaron cleared his throat and your eyes fell back on him. "Miss Y/L/N, give us a name and we can make things easier for you. But if you don't cooperate..." His eyes traveled down along your body, the goosebumps rose on your skin in response to the heat of his gaze. "I'm afraid we have to resort to extreme measures."

A brief pause hung in the room. There was something in the way he was staring at you. He was looking at you with a profound determination that seemed very different from the way he assessed you before. Under the weight of his scrutiny, you felt your body growing hot. Your breath hitched, and a flush of warmth crept up your neck and tingled in your cheeks.

You regarded him for a moment before you finally spoke, your voice calm but tinged with a hint of defiance.

"If you think you can break me, Aaron, you're gravely mistaken. But if you're interested in the name..." you leaned back, crossing your arms. "I guess you'll have to earn it."

The tension in the room escalated as your words hung in the air. His jaw clenched, and when you thought you had won the upper hand over this battle of wits, he surprised you by waving his hand in the air, and Spencer came forward.

It was as if they had planned this. The way Aaron instructed his partner to move seemed rehearsed and calculated. Spencer walked over to you and before you could register what was happening, he grabbed onto your arm and wrenched you out of your chair with a force you didn't know he possessed.

Your voice carried a mix of anger and frustration as you protested, "What the hell are you doing?"

You suddenly felt him run his hands along your arms. "Checking for weapons."

The scoff you gave him was loud. "Oh, now you're treating me like a criminal?"

"It's a mere precaution."

And then you felt it, the way his touch lingered on your body. It was far from any normal search. His hands felt warm on your skin, even over the material of your shirt, as he continued to pat down your arms. There was a certain roughness in his movements as he slid his arms around your backside and you couldn't mistake the way he gripped your ass more than he should probably have.

"This is ridiculous," you muttered under your breath. "You won't find anything."

"I'll be the judge of that." He slightly shoved your shoulders. "Put your hands on the table."

You reluctantly did as you were told, silently gritting your teeth. His hands moved with purpose, and as much as you wanted to stop this questionable act, your body was reacting in a way that had you questioning yourself instead.

Why was your heart beating so fast as he stood behind you? Why was it getting so hard to breathe when his hands slipped around your waist? And why did it seem you were anticipating more when his palms slightly hovered over your breasts?

"Is this really necessary?" You asked quietly, trying to act as if his rough hands on you weren't affecting you. "This feels more like an attempt for intimidation."

You could practically hear the smugness in his voice as he asked, "Are you intimidated, Miss Y/L/N?"

You liked to think that you weren't, but honestly, you didn't know anymore. You had tried your best to put on a mask to avoid appearing weak, but as he started to squeeze your breasts in the palm of his hands, it finally dawned on you what was happening—You were finally caught, there was a high chance of you ending up in jail, and now a federal agent was touching you inappropriately, groping you in a crude form of patting you down.

And to your dismay, you actually liked it.

But you had too much of a pride, that was why you found yourself lying through your teeth. "No."

Spencer hummed a reply as if he didn't believe you. He squeezed your breasts through your shirt again, palming at them as he slightly felt your nipples stiffen through the material, and he couldn't resist rolling them as his touch continued lower. Your breath hitched as he mapped out your curves, one of his hands delving between your thighs before he stopped right at the center of your heat.

You let out a gasp.

"I-Is this even legal?"

Your mind went blurry as you felt his fingers touching you through the thin fabric of your pants. "Are you questioning how the law enforcement works?"

You couldn't answer him. Not because you didn't want to, but because you weren't able to form any coherent words as he continued to palm your sex, his fingers continuing to rub you. You were suddenly so focused on the way he was touching you, your head hanging low as you felt the sensation throughout your body, that you didn't even hear Aaron calling out your name.

It wasn't until Spencer retrieved his hand from between your thighs, and yanked your hair from behind, that you were forced to meet Aaron's gaze. "He called you," Spencer mocked, tightening his grip.

Aaron leaned forward, assessing the way you were arching your back with both of your hands planted on the table. "You have two options. One, we can play nicely, you give us a name and we'll go easy on you." His voice dropped lower as he continued, "Or two, you keep with this attitude and we might have to coax the answer out of you."

You locked eyes with him, a silent challenge burning in your gaze. Despite being in this vulnerable position, there was an undeniable strength in your stare, a refusal to surrender to their intimidation. Aaron met your gaze with a profound understanding.

"The hard way it is then." You saw him lean back in his chair as he crossed his arms, the subtle movement actuating his broad chest. "You know what to do, Reid."

There was nothing remotely gentle about the way Spencer handled you after those words. He shoved you, knocking the air out of your lungs as you gasped, your body pressed against the cool surface of the table. Somehow between your struggles, he managed to slide his hands around your waist, unbuttoning your pants before pushing them down your legs.

The air hit your bare skin, and even when you felt the cool breeze, your body was seething with fire, burning through your veins. The warmth spread along your cheeks as you realized you were wearing your skimpiest underwear, a flimsy material of dark lace that barely covered your sex. He gripped your ass with the palm of his hands, fingertips digging into the plush skin as he spread you apart.

"Well, aren't you a pretty thing?" You felt him shift behind you and you imagined him kneeling right in front of your heat. The moment his knuckles brushed along your wet patch, your hips bucked involuntarily. "She's wet, Hotch, I think she's getting a little too excited."

"I'm not surprised," the older man said. "She does seem like a slut."

Your head snapped at him. "I am not a slut."

"Oh, you are a slut." He leaned forward and reached out his hand, holding your chin in a vice grip, forcing you to look at him. "And we'll prove you how much of a whore you actually are."

Right on queue, a surprised gasp left your lips when Spencer's large palm burned your skin, giving your ass a harsh slap. The sound echoed in the room and he repeated the motion, watching in satisfaction the way your ass rippled for him. You fell into a false sense of security as he began to soothe his hand against your burning skin before pulling back to give another loud smack, and your mouth fell apart in pleasure.

"Not a fucking slut?" Aaron taunted, his thumb brushing on your lower lip. "That's the most farfetched lie you told us ever since you walked through that door."

You glared at him, but your defiance slowly shattered when you felt Spencer pulling down your panties over the curve of your ass, slipping them down your legs. The evidence of your arousal stuck onto the fabric and you felt your cheeks going warm in embarrassment. Spencer sucked in a gasp as he took in the sight of your lower half completely naked for him.

"Barely even touched you and you're soaking wet," he murmured, letting his thumb brush over your pussy, gauging your reaction. Your nose scrunched as you tried to bite back a moan that threatened to slip out. He started with gentle strokes, keeping his fingers only on the outer side, yet you could still feel his touch everywhere.

Each downstroke he made gave a light pull against your clit without giving any direct contact, and each time his fingers came back up, he slowly spread your folds open for him, briefly allowing your slickness to come in contact with the cold breeze of air.

Your mind became hazy, and just when you thought your body couldn't react more to his touch, he slipped a finger between your folds, feeling your slick against the dainty flesh. The motion caused your hips to buck erratically and your hands immediately reached up to grip onto the edge of the table.

He slipped deep inside you as your arousal coated him, circling your tight entrance as he felt the way your walls fluttered around the tip of his finger. He let out a low grunt as he felt how tight you were around him, curling at the knuckle while he began to drag his calloused pad against the soft spot inside you, making your body shake just from the mere contact.

The subtle reaction didn't go unnoticed by Aaron and he watched as your eyes glazed over. He couldn't stop himself from smirking, his features revealing a hint of amusement.

"You're enjoying this too much. I'm starting to think you're keeping your silence for the sake of this." You moved your head away from his grasp, only for him to grip your jaw harder. "Don't fucking move. Keep your eyes on me while he fucks your tight little pussy."

You never thought you'd be hearing such crude words from him, not with his stoic demeanor and polished facade, nor did you expect your body to react the way it did when those words filled your ears. You couldn't help it, your body betrayed your mind as your cunt continued to throb between your thighs. You could feel the desire building inside you, threatening to burst as you felt your body shake, and Spencer was well aware of this as he felt your walls clenching around his finger.

The laugh coming through his lips rang in your ears, sending shivers down your spine. "She liked that."

Aaron raised his eyebrows at you. "You like it when I talk like this?" He taunted. "You like it when I tell you how much of a slut you are taking his fingers so deep inside you?"

Your eyelids dropped lower at his words, and right at that moment, a lewd squelch filled the room as Spencer slowly slipped another finger into your dripping cunt, stretching you out as he began to thrust them inside you at a steady pace. Your body quivered as your breath quickened, and you found yourself grinding against his touch, desperately trying to get him to press the same spot inside you.

"Look at you fucking yourself on my fingers," Spencer cooed, his free hand smacking your bare ass again, and you found yourself arching your back. "You really are filthy."

Aaron laughed. "Acting like you didn't want it a second ago." He gripped your jaw tighter, forcing a gasp out of you at the subtle pain. He took advantage of your opened mouth by slipping his thumb inside. "Suck on my finger, Sweetheart."

You didn't know which one surprised you the most, his sudden term of endearment, or the order he gave you. You hesitated, because the moment you willingly sucked on his finger, you knew you would lose. The moment you followed through to his demand, he would have the upper hand and you would simply be the pawn in this game.

Aaron, as you realized, wasn't a patient man. His other hand reached for your hair and then, with a sharp and sudden yank, he tore at your hair. "Don't make me use more force than I already am."

Your roots tingled, your scalp throbbing, and a few tears welled up in your eyes. You blinked them away, not wanting to show any sign of weakness, and leveled your gaze at him.

He pulled your hair again. "Suck."

The pain was so much for you that you found yourself wavering. You swirled your tongue around his thumb before closing your lips and sucking with an approving hum. A husky moan was pulled from deep within him, overwhelmed by the feeling of your mouth on him, and, especially, the sight of you. "That's it," he praised you. "Suck on it as if you're sucking my cock."

Your walls clenched again. A sound of pleasure erupted from Spencer as he felt your cunt sucking in his fingers, and without warning, he pumped them into you with so much force you couldn't stop yourself from moaning this time. He laughed, as did Aaron, and your body shook as you felt that familiar sensation tightening along your body.

The room around you seemed to blur and melt away at the pleasure coursing in your veins. It started in the pit of your stomach, a warm, liquid sensation that spread like a slow-burning fire, radiating outwards in waves. Your hushed moan was muffled by Aaron's thumb in your mouth, but the sound of your pathetic whining didn't go unnoticed by both men.

You were so fucking close you could feel every nerve in your body on high alert. Your breaths came in ragged gasps, and your body quivered with the intensity of the sensation. Your eyes fell shut as the lewd sound of your arousal filled the room, and just when you were about to let go, Spencer suddenly pulled his fingers out of you, wrenching away that peak of pleasure you were desperately chasing.

Your eyes shot open, dilated pupils now wide with shock and confusion. Aaron met your gaze with amusement, a sadistic smile dancing on his lips as he pulled his thumb out of your mouth with a pop. "Stupid girl, thinking we'd actually let you cum."

The abrupt contrast between the heights of your pleasure and the stark void that followed was jarring. But before you could comprehend your disappointment, you heard a shuffle behind you followed by footsteps circling you. Spencer finally came back into your line of vision and with no one standing behind you, you tried to push yourself from the table, only to be shoved back down by Aaron.

"Fucking stay where you are," he commanded, his sharp voice piercing right through you. Your eyes were fixed on him, gaze unwavering as he slowly rose from his seat. And then suddenly he was the one behind you, and now Spencer stood right in front of you, looking down at you with amusement.

"You know," he started, his fingers trailing the side of your face. You moved your head away from his touch, but unlike Aaron, he didn't force you to look at him. He merely chuckled as he continued, "You wouldn't be in this position if you had given us the name."

Hearing this, you finally glanced up at him. The self-confidence he carried was starting to annoy you and you couldn't stop yourself from spitting venom, especially when he had ripped away the pleasure thrumming in your body. "I told you to fucking earn it."

The remaining air was knocked from your lungs when the palm of his hand collided with your cheek, your head jolting to the right from the force of the impact. Bright white stars danced behind your closed eyelids, and for a second you thought that you were dizzy from the shock. But then you felt it, the pressure that had been building in your core giving way, a wave of pleasure washing over you.

"Dirty girl," he taunted. "Here I was trying to shut you up and you actually liked that? You like being slapped around?"

You remained quiet, looking away from him.

"And don't worry, you will tell us by the end of this." You faintly hear the sound of metal ringing in your ears. Your eyes fell back on him and your heart sank when his hands moved down to his belt, unbuckling it as he let it hang around his hips.

His fingers moved to unbutton his pants before tugging down the fly. The sight of his hard cock tenting beneath his briefs had your cunt clenching in anticipation, as much as you hated to admit it. Then his thumbs dipped into the hem of his boxers, tugging the fabric down, and you looked up at him with wide eyes. He was bigger than you'd expected. He was thick and solid, veins danced along his length and the droplet of wetness on his tip was too mesmerizing you couldn't look away.

He wrapped a fist around his length, hissing in relief as he made his way towards you. "Now let's put that filthy mouth of yours to good use." He pressed the head of his cock against your lips, half-lidded eyes gazing down at you as he leaned forward. "Open."

The musky scent of him overwhelmed you as you breathed in and you involuntarily opened your mouth wide to accommodate his girth. The flat of your tongue pressed against the underside of his cock as he gave soft, shallow thrusts inside your warm mouth. His fingers held onto your face as he watched his length disappear inside you.

"God, look at you—" Spencer rasped, his voice sounding strained. "Good fucking girl."

Each roll of his hips has more of his thick cock slipping inside your mouth. His palm moved to the back of your head, holding you steady as he forced his length further down your throat, watching as your cheeks darkened and your eyes watered. Your hands moved up to push at his thighs as you struggled against his grip, the desire to breathe overwhelming as you tried to push him away.

You suddenly felt lightheaded from the lack of oxygen and you began to cough and splutter around him, your throat constricting as the sensation flowed directly through his cock. The sensation made him groan out in pleasure as he finally eased his grip on your head and leaned back, allowing you to breathe as you continued to splutter, drool dripping down your chin as you gulped for much-needed air.

Your head felt delirious. You were too focused on catching your breath when you unexpectedly felt something thick pushing into your cunt in one swift motion, knocking you over as you let out a scream.

"Hotch," Spencer laughed, tightening his grip on your hair while he positioned his cock back onto your lips again. "You shocked her."

Aaron merely grunted a reply as he held onto your hips and started to thrust his cock into you. His thickness sent a ripple of pain between your legs. He was definitely bigger than anyone you'd been with before, your breath coming out in soft, shallow pants as he drove more of himself inside your tightness. Your teeth bit down on your lower lip as a dull ache filled your body, trying to ignore the pain as he continued to stretch your tight heat.

There were no words after that, the room was hazy with desire as the heat built within the small space. The two men focused their attention on your body as you took them at the same time. It was filthy, depraved, and something you'd never done before. You never thought you would be in this position, nor did you think you'd actually enjoy being used like this.

Because you did, you really fucking did. Your entire body felt hot, a scorching fire flowing through your veins as you embraced the sensation, an indescribable pleasure taking over as Aaron's cock curved towards that delicious spot inside you with precision.

Your body was pressed against the table, sweaty and exhausted. It was torture, the way he was slamming his cock inside of you at the pace that left you breathless, it hurt and burned with pleasure at the same time. Each thrust had you hanging on the edge of release, unable to think straight as your mouth continued to mindlessly babble around Spencer's cock.

Every so often he'd hold the back of your head securely so you couldn't move away as he continued to bury himself in your throat. A pleased sound escaped his lips as you started to choke around his girth. It felt like you were starting to drown yourself as he shoved into you ruthlessly. Your lungs cried out for air as you began to feel woozy from the lack of oxygen, desperately trying to breathe through your nose.

"Fuck," he hissed, finally easing his hips back to give you relief. You spluttered as you gasped for air, a mixture of his arousal and your spit dribbled down your chin. "So fucking messy."

You tried to calm your breathing, but it didn't take long for your brain to turn into mush again because Aaron snapped his hips, pulling a moan from your lips as he started a harsh pace. Fingertips dug into your hips as he buried more of himself inside your tightness, your inner walls pulsing around him.

His thrusts were hard and you were certain you'd have marks on your skin from the way he was rutting against you, a dull ache panging inside your lower half. Your mouth fell open in a constant moan as you tried to hold your body up against the table. A throb coursed through you as you tried to hold onto the edge, your breath coming out in harsh pants. You were so desperate for your release, your body so close to coming undone.

"Fuck, Sweetheart, are you going to cum?"

You mumbled out a garbled reply as he continued thrusting into you relentlessly, your fingertips digging into the table as you felt his cock dragging against your inner walls. Aaron grunted at the sensation of you clenching around him. His eyes drifted down to where your bodies were connected and watched the way his cock slid in and out of your tight cunt.

He was on the edge of his release, you could tell by the way he thrust into you desperately. You prepared yourself for your own pleasure, your hips moving involuntarily, meeting his erratic movement, as you seek more friction from him. You whimpered, feeling his fingertips dig into your skin almost painfully and you felt the familiar sensation traveling along your body. Fuck. Fuck yes. You were finally going to—

A drawn-out whine left your lips when he pulled his cock out from your tight heat. The sudden emptiness had your body shaking violently. It wasn't until you felt a streak of wetness spluttering on your back that you realized he had reached his own high without letting you reach your own.

"Shit," he gasped, slapping your ass as he watched his own liquid seeping down the curve of your back. "That was incredible."

You groaned. Fucking selfish man.

"What was that?"

It then dawned on you that you actually mumbled those words out loud. You shook your head and he groaned at your lack of words. "That didn't sound like nothing."

And suddenly, as if you weighed nothing, he grabbed onto your body and turned you over, pushing you onto your back. You were too weak to even fight him as he shoved your pants off your feet before spreading your legs apart. You watched as he leaned down and a long string of clear liquid fell from his lips toward your cunt, letting it trickle down between your folds.

"Knew you were a slut," he hissed, before straightening himself and tucking his cock back in his pants. Your eyes drifted toward him. He was big, just as big as you felt him inside you. But it wasn't his sheer size that surprised you, it was Spencer standing by your feet that had your heart peaking up its pace. Aaron smirked as he stepped back and Spencer quickly took his place between your legs.

"Look at you still holding back," Aaron taunted, genuine curiosity lacing in his voice as he paced around the room. "You're worn out. You're filthy. Aren't you tired of playing this game?"

You looked over at him tiredly. Amidst the pulsing waves of pleasure coursing through your veins, you fought to maintain your focus. "Y- You haven't done anything m-much to earn—"

His laughter sent a chill through the room. "Oh, Sweetheart, you think you're winning, but you're not." He then locked his gaze on you. "Trust me, we already have you in the palm of our hands."

You tried retorting back but the once-sharp edges of your concentration began to blur when you felt Spencer's throbbing cock right between your pussy. Each pulse of pleasure sent tremors through your resolve as he eased his hips back to drag the thick, swollen head through your outer lips. His eyes focused on the way you spread for him as though inviting him inside.

"You're already fucked out," Spencer murmured, dragging the tip of his cock through your wetness, feeling it catch against your tight entrance. "Yet look at you swallowing me."

He let the underside of his cock split your folds open, resting it between them snugly as he let out a low groan at the heat radiating from your core. The sinful noise that left your lips had his cock throbbing painfully, the thick veins protruding from his length. He angled your body against him, pushing more of his thick girth inside your trembling body, feeling the way you squeezed around him as he stretched you out.

Spencer pressed his fingers into the curve of your hips as his gaze flickered between your face and his cock splitting you apart. You gasped, your breaths growing more erratic as he managed to push all of his length inside you. He ran his hand over your abdomen as he tried to feel his cock inside you, pressing against your pelvis as he pulsed at the sensation.

"Fuck, baby," he growled, "Taking me so well."

And then he slowly dragged his cock away from you, keeping just the tip in your entrance before plunging back inside in a harsh, jarring movement, jolting you in surprise. You arched your back and tipped your head back in pleasure, just to find Aaron towering above you, looking down at you with an eerie smile.

His fingers trailed down your shoulder blades before they hovered at the buttons on your shirt, slowly unbuttoning them. "I think it's time that you give us a name."

Your body writhed in response to the waves of sensation as you tried to ground yourself. But it was hard to keep thinking straight when he grabbed onto the underlayer of your bra and lifted it over your chest. The way your perky breasts spilled out from beneath the fabric made both men hum in satisfaction.

Calloused palms grabbed onto your breasts and your eyes rolled at the back of your head at the sensation. His thumb brushed against your soft nipple, watching as it began to rise to a stiff peak as he mimicked the action on your other breast, all the while as Spencer began thrusting into your cunt at a painfully slow pace.

"Come on, Sweetheart, don't you want to cum on his cock?"

"Fuck," Spencer grunted, feeling you clench around him. "Keep talking to her."

Aaron chuckled as he continued playing with your breasts. "It's torture, isn't it?" He closed his index finger and thumb around your nipples, pinching ever so gently. You let out a soft sigh and closed your eyes as arousal flushed through you. "Give us a name and we'll give you what you want."

And then you felt Spencer rocking his hips at a steady rhythm, burying himself deeper and deeper before he slowly began increasing his speed. Your body jerked wildly each time he pushed deep into you. Noticing this, his thumb moved to your clit as he pressed messy circles against the sensitive nub, twisting it beneath his calloused pad. It felt too good, so good that you could no longer hold back from moaning out loud.

Your cries of pleasure snapped him into action and his hands moved down to your ass, holding you up to him as he started pounding harder into you. Your head fell back, chest heaving up and down, and that was when you felt Aaron closing his lips around one of your nipples. You writhed, your body thrashing underneath both men. Your senses reeling, the warmth of multiple hands on your skin sent jolts of electricity down your spine, igniting a wildfire of pleasure within you.

Aaron pulled away from you and your eyes flickered open at the loss, only to be met with Spencer hovering above you. Your eyes swept over him, and you looked down where you were joined, watching how his hips moved in constant thrusts. He was enjoying this, you could tell by the way his fingers burned your skin and the occasional grunt escaping his lips.

At the sound of his voice, you looked up at his face, glistening with a sheen of sweat while his messy hair tousling over it. The moment your gazes met each other, something inside you snapped. The muscles in your core began to coil, tightening and constricting around him right as your climax slowly pushed through the fog inside your head. Spencer felt it too, and he suddenly slowed his pace, throwing you a cunning smile.

You felt your resistance starting to crumble. The intensity of your pleasure grew almost unbearable, and you could no longer deny it. Your eyes welled with tears at the overwhelming sensation, and the thought of having your orgasm ripped again from you seemed like another torture you didn't want to endure.

You were going to regret this. You definitely would. But you couldn't dwell on the consequences of your actions when desperation coursed through you like a fever, an all-consuming hunger that you couldn't deny. Your body ached for release and craved it with an intensity that was maddening. 

Your breath came in ragged gasps, and then your eyes, wide and filled with desperation, pleaded with him silently as you found yourself finally giving in, muttering a name you had tried to keep to yourself. A name involved in the crime these men had been pestering you for. A name that had Aaron smirking devilishly as he leaned over to you, brushing his knuckles on your cheek in a caress that was so foreign.

"Good girl," he mumbled, his voice lacing with satisfaction at the way you finally crumbled. He was right, you were already in the palms of their hands, it was simply a matter of time until you caved in. "Good fucking girl."

Once you surrendered, you couldn't stop the whine falling through your lips. Your desperate moan rang deeply in the room, snapping something primal inside Spencer, and he trusted his hips into you roughly. A gasp escaped your lips, legs falling open wider as he split you wider than you already were.

Your mind went absolutely numb with pleasure as he kept rutting up inside you, your body becoming nothing more than a mess, overtaken by a wave of sweat and erotic bliss. You felt yourself trembling, your breathing becoming more ragged as his thrusts became sloppier.

“Fucking hell,” he grunted, noticing the way your mouth fell open as pleasure engulfed you. "That's it, baby, let me fuck you dumb."

You cried out, babbling incoherent sentences as he thrust harder, grabbing your hips and tilting into you slightly, making him go even deeper as he moved with you.

"Go on, cum on my cock," he growled breathlessly through his rapid pounding. "Let me feel you."

“Fuck—” You cried out for him, your overstimulated body shaking beneath him. Wave after wave of pleasure came rushing through your body, erupting in the most intense way. He watched the way you convulsed beneath him in your release, watching the way a white, sticky liquid circled his cock every time his skin brushed your inner walls. His thumb was unrelenting against your clit and you tried to angle your body away from his touch, the pleasure too intense as your lower half throbbed around him.

You continued to clench around him between your bliss, your legs trembling from the position as he arched his back, focusing the power of his thrusts straight into your tightness. A shiver burst through you at the sensation. And with one final thrust, his whole body tensed. He pushed forward, burying his cock in your soft, warm cunt, spreading his warmth in much slower and shallow rolls of his hips.

You were breathing hard, trying to regain your composure, and a moan left your lips when he finally pulled out. Cringing at the fluid slowly leaking out of you, you tried to close your legs only to be stopped as he gripped the back of your thighs, spreading your legs apart to expose your body. You were so wonderfully disheveled, your cunt clenching around nothing, gleaming with your arousal and his own release.

“Look at the mess you made." Piercing eyes watched you as white liquid trickled down your ass. A feeble mewl left your lips as his thick fingers moved down to catch it, deliberately pressing against your folds as you wriggled in his grasp. A laugh left his lips as he dragged the string of wetness along your sex, pushing it back inside you.

"I think I ruined her."

Aaron's laughter filled the room, and just as you were about to push yourself off the table, you felt him grasping both of your hands, pushing them above your head. Your eyes widened in shock. "Wh-what are you doing?"

Then you felt it, the cool metal wrapped around your wrist, sinking into the flesh of your skin as you tried to move from his grip. An unexpected panic surged within you. "Sweetheart, we know you're involved in more than one crime." The soft click of the metal lock was loud in your ears. "You need to give us more names."

Your body, still tingling with the aftershocks of pleasure, now felt more exposed than ever. You looked up to find both men staring down at you, and at very moment, you realized, as you felt the handcuffs digging into your wrist, that you were going to be here for a very long time.

[fangirlfuel]

A Foolish Bet

Plot: What starts as a harmless bet between Lando and his friends turns into something much deeper but a careless mistake might ruin everything.

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Part 2 Part 3

___________________________________________

The London café buzzed with quiet energy, a warm hum of conversation, the soft hiss of the coffee machine, and the occasional clatter of cups. It was the kind of place Lando Norris and his friends often found themselves in when they weren’t busy racing or traveling. Tucked away in a corner booth, the group lounged lazily, half-listening to Max Fewtrell’s story about a particularly embarrassing moment during a sim race.

But Lando wasn’t paying attention. His focus had drifted to the far side of the café, where you sat alone by the window, engrossed in a book. The golden afternoon sunlight streamed through the glass, illuminating your features in a way that made you look like you belonged in a painting.

“Lando,” Max called, snapping his fingers in front of his friend’s face. “You’re zoning out, mate. What are you staring at?”

“Nothing,” Lando muttered, his ears turning pink.

“Doesn’t look like ‘nothing,’” Charles Leclerc chimed in, leaning over to follow Lando’s gaze. When his eyes landed on you, he smirked. “She’s gorgeous. Who is she?”

“No idea,” Lando admitted.

Max leaned back in his seat, mischief dancing in his eyes. “Alright, how about this? Let’s make things interesting. I bet you 300 dollars you can’t make her fall in love with you in five months.”

Lando’s jaw dropped. “Seriously? A bet?”

“Come on,” Max teased, nudging him. “It’s not like you need the money, but don’t tell me you’re scared to try.”

“I’m not scared,” Lando retorted, his competitive nature flaring up.

“Then prove it,” Charles added with a grin. “Five months. If you win, we each chip in 300 dollars. If you lose, you pay us. Deal?”

Lando hesitated, glancing at you again. He didn’t need the money, of course, he made more in a week than this bet was worth. But something about the challenge intrigued him. And maybe, just maybe, he wanted an excuse to talk to you.

“Fine,” he said, standing up. “You’re on.”

---

You were so absorbed in your book that you didn’t notice someone approaching until a shadow fell across your table. Glancing up, you saw a tall, curly-haired guy with a friendly smile and warm brown eyes.

“Hey,” he said, a hint of nervousness in his voice. “Sorry to bother you, but I couldn’t help noticing your book. It’s one of my favorites.”

Surprised, you tilted your head. “Really? Most people I know haven’t even heard of it.”

“Well, I’m not most people,” he replied with a playful grin. “Mind if I join you?”

For a moment, you hesitated. Strangers didn’t usually approach you like this, but something about his demeanor put you at ease. “Sure,” you said, gesturing to the chair across from you.

And just like that, the spark was ignited.

---

Over the next two months, Lando made it his mission to get to know you. He showed up at the café more often, “coincidentally” running into you and striking up conversations. He learned about your favorite books, your love of rainy days, and the way your eyes lit up when you talked about your passions.

Soon, casual coffee chats turned into proper dates. Dinners at cozy restaurants, late-night walks through the city, and lazy Sundays spent watching movies at his place. You found yourself drawn to his boyish charm, his sense of humor, and the way he always seemed to prioritize you, even when his schedule was packed.

By the end of the first month, you were inseparable. And by the end of the second, you were hopelessly in love.

---

Lando couldn’t believe how quickly you’d become the center of his world. What had started as a silly bet was now the most important part of his life. He’d completely forgotten about the deal with his friends. All he cared about was you the way your laughter filled his home, the way you fit so perfectly into his arms, and the way you looked at him like he was your whole world, too.

So much so that after just a month of dating, you moved in together. It was fast, sure, but neither of you could stand being apart. His once-bachelor pad was now filled with your little touches, your favorite candles, a growing collection of books, and even a blanket you insisted made his couch “cozier.”

Lando had never been happier.

---

One Friday night, you and Lando hosted a small gathering at your shared apartment. It was meant to be a chill evening with drinks, snacks, and a lot of laughter. Max, Charles, and a few others were there, all in high spirits.

Max, however, was a little too “spirited.” After a few beers, he leaned back in his chair, grinning at Lando. “Man, I still can’t believe you actually won the bet.”

The room fell silent.

Lando froze. His heart dropped into his stomach as the words registered.

“What bet?” you asked, your voice steady but laced with suspicion.

Max’s grin faltered as he realized his mistake. “Uh, nothing. Just...”

“Max,” you said firmly, turning to look at Lando. “What bet?”

Lando opened his mouth, but no words came out. He felt like the air had been knocked out of him.

“Lando?” you prompted, your expression unreadable.

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A/N

Hi, everyone! That’s the end of part one of this Lando x Reader story. I hope you enjoyed the build up and the tension! I’ll be working on part two soon, where we’ll see how the reader reacts to the revelation of the bet and what it means for their relationship.

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Side note: I have a math test coming up, and I’m absolutely terrible at math. If anyone has any tips for staying calm during exams, let me know! Also, don’t forget to reblog and like this post, it helps so much!🥹🫶🏻

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Stay tuned for more drama, and thanks for reading!

.

[joelsrose]

Harry Castillo was not a romantic man.

That kind of sentiment—tenderness, devotion, flowers in a vase and hands held in the dark—belonged to other people. Slower people. People with time to waste and hearts they hadn’t yet learned to bury. He didn’t believe in that sort of thing. Didn’t need it, didn’t want it.

Between back-to-back calls with global investors, restructuring a crumbling real estate portfolio in Madrid, and casually acquiring a hospitality group in Tokyo, he barely had time to breathe—let alone fall in love.

Romance, in Harry’s world, was a liability dressed in silk.

So when Simone—his brand manager-slash-strategic advisor-slash-occasional babysitter—slid into the leather booth across from him at Cipriani, her sleek iPad in hand and a pinched look between her brows, he already knew he wasn’t going to like what came next. She didn’t even bother with small talk. Just sighed and said, “Harry, they’re not buying it.”

He didn’t look up from his drink.

“They?”

“The Milan board. The family fund. The press. Take your pick.”

Harry finally raised his eyes, sharp and unreadable. “What aren’t they buying?”

Simone tapped the screen in front of her, flipping to a slide that showed his name in bold serif font, followed by the kind of clinical press buzzwords he hated—aggressive strategist, relentless closer, emotionally distant, unrelatable.

“Your image,” she said flatly. “They want values. Integrity. A personal narrative that feels... grounded.”

He snorted. “It’s private equity, Simone. I’m not auditioning for a Hallmark Christmas special.”

She didn’t laugh.

“This isn’t about Christmas. It’s about optics. You’re not just closing billion-euro deals anymore—you’re entering legacy circles. Old money. Philanthropists. They don’t want a stone-faced bachelor with a rotating door of models and no ties to anything but his profit margins.”

“So what,” Harry said, voice dry and razor-sharp, “I’m supposed to find God? Adopt a dog? Get a fiancée?”

Simone didn’t blink.

“Actually... yes. Something like that.”

He let the silence stretch between them like piano wire. Then, softly, like the thought bored him:

“You want me to find someone.”

“I want you to appear human,” she corrected. “Just for a little while. Just long enough to close Milan, ease the press cycle, and make people believe you’re not emotionally bankrupt.”

Harry swirled the amber in his glass, watching the light catch against the crystal like it might offer him an answer.

“And if I don’t?”

She shrugged one perfect shoulder. “Then you lose Milan. And probably Paris. And your seat on the Legacy Sustainability Board.”

He sighed, jaw clenching. The drink went untouched.

“Find someone,” he muttered. “Right. I’ll get right on that.”

୨♡୧

Simone sat across from him in his office, framed by the soft glow of the skyline bleeding in through glass walls that cost more than most people made in a year.

The space around them was sleek, minimal, intimidating—black marble floors polished to a mirror finish, matte leather furnishings that looked untouched, and shelves lined not with books, but with art pieces that whispered taste and capital in equal measure.

The air smelled faintly of oud and espresso, and outside the windows, Manhattan glittered like it belonged to him.

She was halfway through her third slide.

The woman on the screen was some up-and-coming socialite-slash-entrepreneur, smile manicured, hair glossy, bio packed with the kind of buzzwords you’d expect from someone who was born in the right zip code and never had to beg for relevance.

“Simone,” Harry said, glancing at the screen with the kind of disinterest usually reserved for corporate tax reports.

He checked his watch—Vacheron Constantin, silver, discreet, and brutally expensive. “This is ridiculous. I have a restructuring call with Zurich in fifteen, and I’m supposed to be in Tribeca for a closing by one. I don’t have time to audition fake girlfriends like it’s a casting call for a CW reboot.”

Simone didn’t flinch. She never did. She just raised an eyebrow and flicked to the next slide.

Harry sighed, leaned forward, elbows resting against the smoked-glass table, his voice dropping into something drier. “You said Milan wants legacy. Values. Family-oriented investment partnerships. These girls all look twenty years old and built for poolside brand deals. You think any of them screams stable, long-term commitment? They look like they still call their dads when they get parking tickets.”

Simone sighed, her perfectly lined eyes still fixed on the glowing tablet in her lap. “You’re right,” she said finally, flipping the screen closed with a dramatic little snap, her tone dry as gin.

“Fine. I’ll find uglier girls.” She stood with practiced grace, smoothing down her blazer, already mentally re-sorting her list of “acceptable human women to stand next to Harry Castillo and not look like paid PR.”

Harry chuckled, low and amused, the sound curling at the edges of his mouth as he leaned back in his chair, the faintest smirk playing at his lips. It wasn’t a laugh so much as an exhale laced with private amusement—the kind of sound that made people either fall in love with him or want to throw a drink in his face. Sometimes both.

As Simone turned to leave, she paused just before the door, fingers already tapping a reminder into her phone. “Oh—and don’t forget, you’ve got that charity art thing tonight.”

“What charity art thing?” he muttered, brow furrowing.

“The showcase. Big names. Private collectors. Bougie rich-people art and overpriced wine. You’re on the guest list and three donors specifically asked if you’d be attending.”

Harry groaned, pressing his fingers to his temple. “Fuck. Do I have to go to that?”

“Yes,” Simone said without turning around. “Because unfortunately, your reputation still depends on pretending you have taste and a soul.”

He sighed like it physically hurt him to care.

Harry Castillo was the kind of man who made Forbes lists before forty and never answered calls he didn’t initiate.

He wore bespoke suits like they were second skin and had a revolving door of romantic rumors without ever confirming a single one.

He was charm where it counted, cold when it didn’t, and entirely too busy turning collapsing portfolios into gold to bother with anything as trivial as attending art galas. But still—there was something about his presence that people craved, something that made rooms tilt just slightly when he walked into them.

He would go. He always did. He’d shake hands, sip something expensive, and pretend not to notice the cameras.

୨♡୧

You weren’t really meant to be here. Not in this world of glass flutes and gallery lighting, not among the crowd of socialites and billionaires pretending to care about postmodern sculpture just to have an excuse to sip overpriced champagne and discuss offshore accounts in hushed, knowing tones.

But your best friend Maddie ran the gallery—well, technically she managed it under some art foundation umbrella with a name that sounded more like a hedge fund than anything creative—and one of the servers had called in sick at the last minute.

So she called you, voice breathless and desperate, promising that you wouldn’t even have to smile, just walk around and hand out hors d’oeuvres and avoid eye contact with the guests unless absolutely necessary.

You were twenty-seven, broke, and running dangerously low on both rent and pride. You had exactly $114 in your checking account, your credit card had been declined at a bodega two nights ago, and the black flats you were wearing had a barely-there hole in the toe that you were praying no one noticed. Your dress wasn’t technically yours—it was a loan from Maddie’s closet, too tight at the bust and too loose at the hips, but it looked sleek enough under the gallery lights to pass.

The space was already buzzing by the time you arrived—wine glasses clinking, conversations murmured in that slow, affected tone of the elite, the kind where everyone sounded bored but somehow still competitive. The art on the walls looked like the kind of thing that could’ve been made with a blindfold and trauma, but people stared at it like it held the meaning of life.

You moved through the crowd with a silver tray balanced on one palm, offering truffle canapés and duck tartlets to people whose fake teeth probably cost more than your first car. A man in a velvet blazer took two and didn’t even look at you. A woman with a surgically perfect jawline asked if they were gluten-free and then scoffed before you could answer.

You didn’t belong here, not really—but you were good at pretending.

୨♡୧

After nearly an hour of weaving between white walls and sharper elbows, balancing a silver tray of wine and overpriced cheese, your feet ached in that dull, pulsing way that made you question every life decision that had led to this moment.

The gallery was crowded now, humming with the low, indulgent buzz of wealth disguised as sophistication—people discussing brushstrokes like they understood suffering, sipping champagne that probably cost more than your monthly rent, laughing politely at things that weren’t funny.

You turned on your heel, tray steady in your hand, and collided with someone—hard.

Nothing fell, thankfully, but the jolt sent a sharp sting through your wrist. You looked up quickly, already ready to mutter an apology, only to find that the man who’d bumped you hadn’t even paused. He was tall—taller than you expected—with broad shoulders framed by a suit so precisely tailored it had to be custom.

His jaw was sharp, his beard perfectly groomed, and set in a way that suggested he rarely, if ever, apologized for anything. Hair dark and curled at the nape, neatly swept back with just the right amount of effort, and his expression—flat, unreadable—didn’t shift as his eyes landed on you.

He didn’t say a word.

You blinked at him. “You could say excuse me, rich boy.”

He turned back to you, brows lifting slightly like he wasn’t sure he’d heard you correctly. “Excuse me?”

“There we go,” you said, giving him a tight, sarcastic smile as you adjusted the tray on your hand. “Wasn’t too hard, was it?”

For a moment, he just stared at you. Like you were some abstract painting he couldn’t quite make sense of. His gaze flicked down—not in the sleazy way you were used to from finance types at events like this, but in that calculating, assessing way that said he was categorizing you, fitting you into some quiet box in his mind.

He tilted his head. “Do you speak to all the guests that way?”

“Only the ones who think they’re too important to say sorry,” you replied, already stepping past him, voice airy. “Enjoy the cheese. It’s the only thing here worth what it costs.”

You didn’t look back. But if you had, you might’ve caught the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth. Not quite a smile. Not yet.

Harry Castillo didn’t usually get spoken to like that.

And suddenly, he wanted to know exactly who the hell you were.

[bouquetface]

Navamsa/D9 Observations 4

Accuracy influenced by ENTIRE d9 chart AND natal/langa.

For full accuracy, you MUST read alongside lagna. If not promised in lagna, it will not happen. Navamsa confirms and denies the strengths + lasting effects of lagna predictions

Jupiter in 12th

Husband may be from a different ethnicity, religion or country. OR it may be that they are simply from a different city/province or you meet far from the homeland.

You can spend a lot after marriage and/or later in life. You can desire luxury. Possible examples: First class flights not regular, expensive home, designer bags/watches, etc.

You can desire an intelligent spouse. You will not find an immature person attractive.

You can be generous with this placement. You may donate, volunteer, or simply tip big. You can bless people later in life without realizing it.

Moon in 12th

Strong intuition. You can pick up things that truly shock people. EX: Someone lies, you call them out and intuitively guess the truth, the person is shocked they believe someone else must have told you the truth, there is no way you could have known that.

You can deal with stomach or menstrual problems. You may become bloated easily.

You can have conflict in the workplace. You could find romance in the workplace. Or rumours that you are involved in romance in the workplace.

You can be very compassionate. Depending on sign, you may or may not express it. EX: Aqua moon, you will be empathetic but people may believe you are cold and unfeeling.

You can enjoy quiet alone activities - reading, writing, meditation, yoga, etc.

Your marriage will be deeply passionate. You can cry and feel overwhelmed due to your love for your partner. You are deeply connected and in love.

Sun in 12th

This is an indicator for having good support from your in-laws. However, you may leave behind your own family especially the father. This can be due to conflict or you move further away. You can fight with your father over money at some point in life too.

You are highly likely to live far away from homeland. This doesn't mean you're destined to live in like NYC or London. However, if you work for it that may be the case. But more likely, you simply move further away from homeland like across the country. If you do stay in homeland, you may experience poor mental health. Your soul desires to explore.

This placement is a BIG indicator of paying lots of money to the government. This can be for many reasons - possible examples: You move to a new country, you must pay for visas and fees. Or you become very wealthy, thus you will pay a lot in tax.

Bad manifestation, you pay fees or fines as you get in legal trouble. For more insight search which house is in Leo - ex: 4th H leo + Sun in 12th = You could pay high tax on the home. 6th Leo + Sun in 12th = Medical bills or Work visa or pets or buying expensive everyday products for the home.

Accuracy will depend on ENTIRE chart. This post isn't taking into consideration any aspects, where 12th H ruler is, and the most important the natal/langa.

One thing to be aware of is: Sun is the natural 5th House ruler, 5th H is romance. Sun in the 12th H indicates after marriage and/or later in life, one may feel romance is lost as 12th H deals with losses. To reactivate romance, you must move or travel together. Becoming routined and predictable is very likely but easy fix to that issue is try new things/explore new things.

Rahu in 3rd House

You or the spouse exaggerate in communication. For ex: You guys are watching shark tank, you casually say "I'm going to start a business" - however, you never do because truly your soul has no desire for it.

Or you exaggerate how great the spouse is to people. This doesn't mean the spouse isn't great but when talking to someone else you will only discuss the spouse's best traits. You want others to think you have the best life/marriage.

Rahu creates illusions. You can attempt to convince others or yourself the marriage/spouse is someone they're not. EX: You always wanted a spouse who would be spontaneous and adventurous. In reality, your spouse could be a homebody and rarely likes going out. You could drag the spouse out the house on your ideal adventure - maybe a roadtrip or hike or camping - the spouse hates it but you'll take a happy photo and/or tell people it was so fun and exciting.

The worst manifestation of this placement would be exaggerating so much you're lying. It could trouble the marriage. EX: You constantly take photos of yourself & the spouse for social media. This begins to irritate your spouse. They don't like how obsessed you are with proving you have a good life to your friends and family. This leads to conflict.

If harshly placed, you can find rumours about you, your spouse and unfortunately even your children. These rumours can be due to social media, your own aunts/uncles, siblings & friends.

If well placed, this shows furthering your education after marriage and/or later in life. You could go back to university, you could teach yourself how to play an instrument. You could become interested in an academic topic. There are many ways to become educated, these are a few examples.

That is simply an example. Accuracy will depend on entire chart and especially we have to consider the natal/langa for the full story.

Mercury in 4th House

These people tend to have library, studies and/or offices in their home.

Lots of movement when it comes to home. You can constantly be moving or constantly have people coming over. possible examples: you have many events/holidays at your home, you often invite in-laws or your own family to the home, you have pets, you workout from home.

You can become very good at managing in the home. You know when to rebuy things, you know when kids need to be picked up/dropped off. You can be in charge of controlling these types of tasks.

If afflicted, the spouse can reveal too much about the home life. ex: they tell their friends or family something you wish they'd kept private. The spouse isn't likely to be doing this to be mean, they may simply talk too much.

Venus in 11th House

People may really support your marriage. This can manifest as a joyful wedding party and/or love/support from both sides of family. If afflicted, this can change. for ex: if venus is conjunct sun in 11th navamsa - this can show courthouse marriage, no ceremony, not feeling the desire to do a traditional wedding, etc.

After marriage and/or later in life, you dislike working for other people. You may want to work for yourself. However, this is not the strongest indicator of business ownership.

You will make many friends after marriage. They can be very helpful to you. They are likely to be from different background than you - religion, ethnicity or country or even work/industries.

If you have an older sister, she may be helpful to you later in life. This could be a literal gift or advice. However, check aspects and signs, sometimes it may be conflict that occurs. EX: 11th H Ruler in 8th, your relationship is distant.

You can gain a lot, you can have a nice home, nice cars, nice clothing. However, see if venus is placed well, sometimes this is overspending.

Mars in 11th House

You can cut off friendships after marriage and/or later in life. You can become a social climber - only wanting friendship if it helps you gain status.

Sometimes when placed in connection to saturn (even though mars is exalted in cap), the person can become deeply selfish disregarding their family, their spouse - basically everyone is second to themselves. They prioritize money and gains. ex: getting an inheritance from a parent, you find a way to keep it for yourself even though you know it should be divided amongst your siblings.

On the bright side, your in-laws can be a good support to you. They can be kind and helpful to you. This is only one indicator tho. Check 8th House and 8th House ruler placement for more info on spouse's family.

Mars can want to fight for causes too. If not fighting with people you can fight FOR people. You can become interested in social movements, politics, charities, etc.

If exalted in cap and/or placed with benefic planets, this is an indicator for gaining through marriage. Later in life and/or after marriage, you can be motivated to work/increase income. EX: You can start a business, you can go back to school to advance career, you can become smarter with money/finances. This may be due to the spouse's expertise or simply you mature naturally.

Ketu in 9th House

Late marriage indicator. You can be very specific with what you want, you're attracted to very few people.

Disconnect with the father.

If harshly placed, you can be cheated out of inheritance due to family members.

Check entire chart d9 & natal for full accuracy.

11th Ruler in 8th House

Poor relationship with elder sibling is likely.

You keep friendships and social network secret. You may rarely post or discuss who you’re connected with socially. This can be due to many reasons depending on entire chart.

Your friends can be deep thinkers. They like to get to the root of the problem. They may discuss theories with you. They are not afraid to discuss the taboo.

You can gain through hidden things - ex: law work, psych or counselling work, earning through oil because it is literally hidden underground.

You may keep your gains hidden. ex: couple doesn’t tell family or anybody how much money they have. they don’t care to show off. they don’t want family to ask for help. this is just an example tho.

Depending on if the ruler is well placed in the 8th, you could experience ups and downs with your gains. You suddenly lose, you suddenly gain. Be cautious of gambling and other reckless money choices.

Ex: Saturn is ruler of 11th placed in 8th = This suggests a steady but slow rise. It’s less likely you experience ups and downs unless you try to rush or cheat saturn. A long life is likely.

Mercury in 8th House

The spouse isn’t likely to bring wealth into the marriage. However, they are an asset in making money together. They can be good at budgeting. They can be good at closing deals.

The couple will be secretive in communication. You won’t like to sharw what you’re talking about with anybody. Neither person goes repeating the convo to their family or friends. You keep your plans and secrets private.

However, this placement brings in gossip. People will have negative assumptions about you due to rumours. This is even more likely if Mercury is in scorpio 8th H. You guys are so private, people basically just stuff making stuff about you guys. Or you find out people are gossiping and then become private as a result.

You can have to interact with one another’s families a lot. You may be social and attend many events. You may genuinely enjoy spending time with families. You or spouse may feel forced as one person does enjoy it while the other does not. Your in-laws are not afraid to voice their opinions with this placement.

5th Ruler in 9th &/or Rahu in 9th

These are often in the charts of people who convert to a religion to marry their spouse.

This is not always the outcome. Entire d9 and marla needs to be taken into consideration.

Sun in 11th House

These people are very devoted to the spouse and children. They make sure spouse and kids are okay before thinking about themselves.

These people often end up the main provider for the family after marriage. They can make more than spouse. The spouse may stop working later in life. Or they have main control over money management - ex: you both work but you do the taxes. If you do not like supporting the spouse financially, this can lead to problems.

Another ex: Sun in Libra (debilitated) in 11th H navamsa - this person has many divorce indicators in D1 and D9. For them, they divorced and naturally spent the later half of their life as the sole provider for their household. This is another way being the breadwinner can manifest with sun in 11th navamsa placement.

You can have many friends later in life. However, some are likely to try to be snakes.

You can gain high status amongst your social circles and career. Depending on aspects and signs, people may be intimidated by your status and you will have a small circle.

Accuracy influenced on ENTIRE natal and d9. The d9 can’t be read without the natal.

Jupiter in 11th House

This suggests you will gain through your own mother after marriage and/or later in life.

This is an indicator for more sons than daughters.

You can have educated friends/social circle. Friends from many different backgrounds. You may have many friends. You can be fortunate in your friend group.

You can desire a big home. The children can add to your gains.

Rahu in 12th House

You will travel and experience a lot of different cultures after marriage and/or later in life.

When you are travelling, you are likely to have unique experiences. You will not have the casual tourist experience. You can meet people - not necessarily romantically - that are very interesting. 

You can gain popularity in foreign places. 

The negative side is this is one indicator of addiction issues. However, it is only one indicator so it will not always manifest as that. The positive manifestation of this is you could use that desire to escape to meditate, workout your body, get lost in your work, etc.

Rahu in 12th makes divorce unlikely imo. But if divorce was to occur, it would be very difficult to finalize. Examples I have seen: Spouse refuses to sign divorce papers, couple continues to go back and forth on whether they actually want divorce. 

Accuracy dependent on entire chart.

Venus in 12th House

Marrying someone from a different background is likely. This can be someone from a different religion, country or ethnicity.

Spouse is likely to become/or be religious. For men Venus is the wife, for woman Venus is you as a wife, so you can become religious.

Your or the spouse can have wasteful spending or eating habits. This doesn’t mean you’ll go broke due to bad money choices. EX: You or the spouse collect an item. You or the spouse buy an item you already like a sofa in a new style just because.

You can have many friends from different backgrounds. You can have a connection with the Middle East. You could have friends who are religious.

Venus conjunct Rahu in 12th

Rahu amplifies the sign and planets in touches. The description of Venus In 12th is amplified. There are pros and cons to this as rahu is a malific. 

Ascpects, sign and 12th H ruler can change the accuracy.

 Rahu is obsessive too. This can make someone very obsessed with Venus things such love, beauty, money. The negative of this is you can experience partners who have love affairs. The positive of this would be the spouse is devoted to the wife (Venus).

In 12th, you can be obsessed with foreign cultures/places. You can strongly desire moving to foreign land. Depending on how motivated a person is, moving to a foreign place is likely after marriage and/or later in life.

KEEP IN MIND FOR THESE PREDICTIONS:

When something isn’t promised in natal, it will not happen. The D1 shows the sky you were born under, no other chart has power over D1.

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

BEG!

Tags: Satoru x fem!Reader, nocurse!au, misogynistic!gojo, college!au, reader puts him in his place, CRACK do not take this fic seriously, enemies to lovers, suggestive, mdni

Synopsis: Satoru is a stupid alpha bro who’s misogynistic and a play boy in a fraternity at your college. He learns that he can’t walk all over you, and that turns him on.

An: Thank you to everyone who commented on that post and encouraged me to write this! I didn’t think you guys would eat it up like you did 😅 I thought this would be a smutty one-off, but I actually wanted to try and make it into something a little more meaningful; hence why it took a bit longer to post. This is only part one :)

The party. |

His house screamed wealth and overconsumption at every corner. Money was obviously frivolously spent with building and furnishing the Gojo fraternity house. It was sleek, modern, but still a devastating bachelor’s pad.

The Gojo fraternity held parties every day of the weekend, including Sunday. Women got in for free, and men had to pay 5 dollars to get in. Not that Satoru needed the money — he was disgustingly wealthy and a trust fund baby. He merely charged guys money that way no one below his standard could just waltz into his frat house.

Of course, he truly believed every other man in the frat house was below him in some way. He had the full package: smart, funny, rich, handsome, a dick that should be registered as a legal weapon.

It was no wonder that women was never an issue for him. He found flirting with them to be like child’s play. It’s just too fucking easy…. pun intended. He and Suguru once had a challenge to see who could pick up the most women in a single night. Satoru ended his night after fucking 9 women in a single night, and one of those events was actually a foursome between him and three girls at once.

Honestly, he could be so much worse. With a witty personality and a mouth that just won’t shut up, he could talk his way into or out of anything.

It’s a Sunday night, which usually isn’t a big turn out for the party at his house since everyone has class the next morning. Plus, all homework is due at 11:59pm on Sundays. But this turn out was just embarrassing, there was merely 10 people all sat in his living room.

Suguru already had a girl in his lap. Everyone was giggling about something. Satoru felt like he had a chip on his shoulder, he wasn’t the center of attention right now, so he had to fix that.

Plus, there was a pretty girl in the room who he wanted to impress.

Sitting down in front of you, Satoru grins and hands you a cup undoubtedly of liquor. “Here you go, sweetness. Have one more.” He encourages, knowing that it’d be easier to chat you up if you’re a little buzzed.

“Oh, thanks.” You smile politely, and you fake taking a drink out of it. You’ve heard the stories about Satoru, and there’s just no way in hell you’re drinking something he gives you.

“What are you all talking about?” Satoru asks with a casual grin, and he takes a sip of his own drink.

“Oh, just how dumb Andrew Tate is.” A nobody responds from within the group.

“What? He’s not dumb…” Satoru nearly pouts as his favorite starboy was being harshly criticized by his friends.

“Oh god, don’t tell me you like him.” You say with disgusted look on your face as you eye Satoru. Now, you’re definitely not drinking whatever he just gave you.

Satoru’s face twists in defense as you so boldly speak up about his interests. It’s clear to you that he’s offended, but he’s trying not to make a big deal out of it.

“Why? What do you think is so bad about him?” He retorts as he cocks an eyebrow, leaning back in his seat to try to appear as confident and collected as possible.

“How about how he treats women like shit?” You ask, raising your own eyebrow. Satoru has another thing coming if he thinks you’re just going to bow down and not argue with him because he’s rich.

“He doesn’t treat women like shit-? Where are you getting your facts from?” Satoru argues, and his jaw tightens a minuscule amount. It’s bad enough that he’s being challenged, but he’s being challenged by a woman.

“His literal interviews, and the video of him literally beating a woman?”

“That video was just a sex act without any context.” He dismisses, rolling his eyes and not dispelling any claims about the interviews.

“Bitch, is that what sex sounds like to you? Because you must not be doing it right if she sounds like that.”The room erupts into laughter, and Satoru’s face only makes it better. His pale skin is becoming a little flushed. His eyebrow is twitching slightly with anger.

He takes a breath before quickly recovering. He hasn’t forgotten his objective tonight is to sleep with you. His signature smile returns to his face, and he leans in slightly. “I don’t know. Why don’t you come teach me how to do it right?”

“As if. I’d rather grind my pussy against a cheese grater than fuck an Andrew Tate fan.” More laughter breaks out amongst the small group of people.

Satoru’s jaw drops as he looks at you with disbelief. You’d rather… grate your cunt than sleep with him? “Oh yeah? So, what kind of guy piques your interest then, princess? You probably like those woke emasculated guys. Suguru might be more up your alley.”

“Hey, what the fuck?” Suguru laughs, chunking an empty beer can at Satoru’s head. The girl in Suguru’s lap continues to mindlessly giggle and play with his hair.

“No, I like men who are calm and capable. Maybe a guy who can lead but also knows when to take the backseat.” You explain, eyes wandering over Satoru’s stature. “I like them funny and kind.”

“See? I’m just what you need, princess. I can do all those things and so much more.”

“Yeah? You’re going to take the backseat sometimes?” You challenge with a knowing smile on your face. You already know what type of guy Satoru is based off of this sole interaction — plus all of the horror stories of how he’s a modern-day Casanova.

“Princess, the only time you’ll need me to take a backseat is when you’re riding that pretty pussy against my face.” His cerulean eyes gleam against the LEDs in the room. He’s fully confident that will win you over.

Your face stays completely flat. You don’t even crack a small pity smile for him. “Oh sorry, was this meant to be the part where you’re funny?”

Satoru looks at you, and you see a small twitch in his eye. He’s never had someone match his wit or his sass before. You were the perfect challenge for him — his perfect match up.

He tips his red solo cup up until his finishes the rest of his drink. Fuck sleeping with you. He wants to make you beg for him to fuck you while he just laughs in disinterest. You’re his mission now.

“You’re cute, princess.” He finally comments before getting comfortable in his chair again. “You don’t have to act like you don’t want me. ‘s okay. No one here will blame you.”

Your arms cross over your chest, and your lips curl into a frown. As much as you want to pretend to be unbothered, your face can help but show the irritation you feel from him. He’s unwavering, thinking that he will just argue and flirt his way to winning you over.

He needs to be humbled real quick, and you’ve got nothing else better to do.

“Oh really? Thank god. I’ve been dying to get on my knees and suck the most mediocre dick of my life.”

“You have the wrong guy, sweetness. I’m anything but mediocre.” He retorts without missing a beat.

By this time, most of everyone has stopped paying attention to you two — used to Satoru’s antics by now. This is just another Sunday night for him — chasing pussy as per usual.

“Yeah? Any guy who constantly boasts about how good they are in bed usually isn’t good at all.” You respond with a small eye roll.

Satoru’s strong arms cross over his chest. He’s wearing a simple white shirt with some black pants. It’s overwhelming plain, but it compliments him so well since his appearance is striking enough as it is. “I never boasted, princess. I simply stated that I wasn’t mediocre.”

You let out a small scoff and shake your head. It was honestly arguing with a brick wall. “Semantics. Either way, I don’t want to fuck you.” You dump your liquor out into a potted plant that’s next to the couch.

Wondering why you even decided to come to this stupid party, you stand up, and Satoru follows suit. “Hey now, darling. Come on. Don’t leave now. The night’s still young.” He tries to smooth things over as he takes puts his hands up in surrender. “I promise I won’t call out the obvious sexual tension between us for the rest of the night.”

“I have more sexual tension with your fake houseplant that I dumped my liquor into.” You deadpan, gathering your things as you decide that a cozy night in would be better than this mess.

Walking outside the house after everyone wishes you goodbye, you let out an audible sigh as you hear the door open and shut once more behind you. You spin on your heel to find Satoru jogging up behind you.

“Did I ruin your mood that much?” He asks with a small smile, shoving his hands into his pockets as he falls in step beside you.

“Well, following me home is certainly not giving you any bonus points.” You retort, tugging your jacket a little bit closer to your body. “Besides, that’s not really my scene.”

Satoru glances over at you as the two of you walk. He finds himself hypnotized in the way your skin glows in the moonlight. He would be lying if he tried to convince himself that you weren’t pretty because you are. Gorgeous — in fact.

“Really?” His voice is a shade softer now that he doesn’t have everyone’s eyes on him. “You seemed like a natural in there.”

You shrug your shoulders, not offering up any more information about yourself to him. He’s just another misguided frat boy with no intentions to change who’s looking to hit.

Satoru hates silence almost as much as he hates not being the center of attention. He hates how you’re not giving in even the slightest for him

“We should go out to dinner together sometime. I think you’d be surprised on how well I can fit in to any scene.” He offers, not quite giving up on hope just yet. He’s determined to get you in his bed, genuinely deluding himself that it would be a favor to you and him.

“No thanks.” Your voice is blunt as you step toward the entrance of a girls’ dormitories. Satoru’s technically not allowed inside at this late of an hour, but he’d be amused to see who would try and stop him. His family is the top donor of the university. He practically owns this place.

He stands there baffled for a moment as you turn down his date invitation. Rejecting his sexual advances is one thing, but you won’t even give him the time of day.

“So, when can I see you?” He asks, eyebrows furrowed and lips curled into a small pout.

“You’ll unfortunately probably see me in class.” You respond, letting the door close behind you and checking to make sure it locked. Breathing a sigh of relief, you trudge your way up the steps to finally get away from that leech of a man.

Satoru stays at the door for a moment, contemplating following you inside — not for any nefarious reason. He just truly believes that you’d like him if you gave him the time of day. One of his many charming qualities is that he can talk anyone into enjoying his presence.

He had already made up his mind. You’re going to like him. You’re going to sleep with him too and like it, and he’s definitely not going to catch feelings for you so he can make you feel as embarrassed as he did tonight.

He’ll just have to set his plan in motion during class.

[writer-freak]

some little roommate Gojo headcanons that came to me

Roommate Gojo who wasn’t even supposed to be your roommate in the first place. You originally had another person lined up, someone normal, but at the last minute, they bailed, leaving you to find someone who could cover rent. Enter Gojo Satoru, who somehow found your listing and showed up one day with a smug grin and a duffel bag slung over his shoulder.

Roommate Gojo who made it painfully obvious from the get-go that he had money, taking Ubers everywhere like public transport was beneath him and always going out to eat at fancy places. When you asked why he didn’t just get his own place, he shrugged and said, “Wanted to try out the normal student experience y’know see what it’s like.” As if he wasn’t still spending more on sunglasses than you did on month’s worth of groceries.

Roommate Gojo who was equal parts the worst and best decision you ever made. On one hand, he was infuriating, hogging the bathroom for ages (despite claiming his good looks were 100% natural), leaving random expensive snacks on the kitchen counter that you definitely couldn’t afford, and never, ever sleeping in his bed at night. You’d hear the door open in the early morning, and without fail, a heavy sigh followed by the sound of him crashing onto his bed.

Roommate Gojo who, despite all that, was weirdly good company. He had a way of making conversation effortless, and unlike most people, he actually listened when you talked. He remembered the small things, how you liked your coffee, what shows you liked to binge on bad days, the stupid inside jokes you made in passing. And when he did cook (which was rare), he somehow managed to make everything taste gourmet.

Roommate Gojo who started going out less. At first, you didn’t question it. Maybe he was just tired of partying or finally realized that sleeping in his own bed was a good thing. But then you started noticing little shifts, how he’d wait up for you when you worked late, how he’d linger around the apartment more, how he always found some excuse to be in the same room as you, even if he was just laying upside-down on the couch scrolling through his phone.

Roommate Satoru who surprised you one night by showing up at your job just as you were about to leave. “Figured I’d walk you home,” he said like it was no big deal, like he hadn’t just made your heart do an embarrassing little flutter.

Roommate Satoru who cooked for you when you got sick, setting a steaming bowl of soup in front of you. He even went as far as pressing the back of his hand against your forehead, clicking his tongue like a doctor. “Tsk, tsk. All this because you refuse to admit you were cold.”

Roommate Satoru who was making it really, really hard not to fall for him. You told yourself it wouldn’t happen, you swore it wouldn’t the moment he moved in. But now? Now it was different. Now he felt less like a annoying roommate and more like someone you wanted to keep around.

Roommate Satoru who doesn’t know when it happened, but he totally fell for his roommate. Maybe it was the way you always saved the last piece of food for him, or how you’d nudge him with your foot when he was being annoying instead of telling him to shut up. Maybe it was the way you said his name. not “Gojo,” not “Roommate,” but “Satoru.”

Yeah. He was screwed.

Roommate Satoru who, now that he’s completely, hopelessly into you, finds himself in a dilemma. There’s this party, some of his frat bros are throwing it, and skipping isn’t exactly an option. Normally, he wouldn’t care, but he doesn’t really want to go alone. Scratch that, he doesn’t want to go if it means not spending time with you. So, he decides to shoot his shot.

Roommate Satoru who casually leans against the kitchen counter one evening, twirling his sunglasses between his fingers, before dropping, “Hey, you should come to this party with me.”

You blink at him from your spot on the couch. “A frat party?”

“A very exclusive frat party,” he corrects, grinning. “Free drinks, loud music, lots of people... it’ll be fun.”

“You told me you don't even enjoys these parties anymore” you point out.

“Yeah, but I’d like it if you were there” he says, and his own words make his stomach flip because wow, he really just threw that out there.

You raise an eyebrow, but there’s something amused in your expression. “Fine. I’ll go.”

Roommate Satoru who thinks he was prepared for you to actually say yes but realizes very quickly that he was, in fact, not prepared at all.

Roommate Satoru who, when you step out of your room dressed for the occasion, immediately realizes he’s fucked. Because you look good. Like, breathtakingly, mind-numbing, makes-him-want-to-call-the-party-off-so-he-can-keep-you-all-to-himself good.

Roommate Satoru swallows hard, shoving his hands into his pockets to keep himself from doing something reckless like grabbing your waist and telling you that maybe you should just stay in, actually, because he’s not sure he can handle seeing other people look at you tonight.

Instead, he clears his throat and forces out a lazy grin. “Damn. You’re really trying to impress me, huh?”

You roll your eyes, smirking. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

Too late. He already has.

Roommate Satoru who spends the entire night keeping a watchful eye on you, who somehow ends up sticking to your side like glue, who is torn between being thrilled that you agreed to come with him and miserable because God, he wants to kiss you so bad, and it’s not helping that you keep looking at him like that.

Roommate Satoru who walks home with you afterward, who lingers in the doorway of your room when you say goodnight, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets as he fights the urge to say something, anything, that would let you know just how bad he has it for you.

But he doesn’t.

And neither do you.

For now.

At least.

[towasdandelion]

Vagastrom and Jabberwock ghouls reacting to "Think fast I'm a random girl" text

Taking a break from the spicy series (still gonna finish it soon) cause this idea popped up in my head and I decided I have to try it! Let me know if you want to see the other ghouls (⁠人⁠ ⁠•͈⁠ᴗ⁠•͈⁠)

Leo definitely knows trends, so he is not caught by surprise. I'm pretty much convinced would pretty much talk to anyone as long as he gets money from it.. Morals? Nah not with him. Another scenario I see is him doing this just to piss you off. But well since you're his girlfriend he wouldn't take it too far. He just wants to enjoy you feeling possessive over him. Also, you appreciate the fact he spends his hard earned money on your favorite snacks!

Sho's eyebrow raises. He has a feeling it's probably some new trend you saw. He's going to go with it of course cause he almost never says no to you anyways (Unless you want to conduct experiments in lab room with Leo) but his answer is very straightforward. He wouldn't talk to the girl and would probably show you the message he got before blocking the number. He might get a bit smug joking how you should keep an eye on him just to see you get jealous though.

Alan doesn't know what's going on but since you want it, he goes along with it. You might as well end up waiting forever though. He won't reply at all. He literally doesn't care about getting attention if it's not from you. If the girl was persistent he'd block the number with no hesitation. Also there is a possibility he would see another girl trying to hit on him as a prank, because who in their right mind approaches him so casually? That's reserved for the people he's already close with, and the list is very short. Your name is the first one on it.

Ren rolls his eyes. Another stupid trend? He goes with it anyways, mostly because he knows that if he wouldn't, you'd pester him until he gave in. He would go with trying to scare the girl off, even going as far as lying about his orientation... Who cares as long as it works? Women are an alien race to him. To this day, he still doesn't know how he managed to make you his girlfriend. So yeah. He definitely wouldn't even want to deal with other girls. You're more than enough of a headache.

Haru thinks it's cute how you want to see his reaction to an imaginary situation. I see him as the kind of guy who would brag about you a lot to literally anyone, so naturally he would feel the need to let some random girl know as well, maybe even including a picture of you two together. He doesn't have that much time to begin with so he wouldn't waste it talking to some other girl when he already has the best girlfriend in the world.

Towa um.. I think you're better off not satisfying your curiosity like that. Anything, literally anything can set off his protective side. Unfortunately he's not joking, so you might actually want to take some time to explain to him how he shouldn't just.. deal with people like that. Back to the potential girl - no. He would not let anyone close to him. No one can even begin to compare to you. And he always makes sure you know that.