#even those who are angry and hate me probably

[taelortot]

The sun and the moon part zero

Walk with me for a second, yeah? So I was thinking, which is always a bad idea (according to my mother).

College student Megumi and his bimbo girlfriend would be a perfect match. At first It definitely threw his friends and passerby’s through a loop. He’s wearing all black with his little scene haircut, resting bitch face, looking angry at the world. While his dressed in all pink, short skirt, crop top, 5 inch heels girlfriend holds his hand, skipping down the campus sidewalk. She’s talking his ear off in that high pitched voice, a voice that megumi refuses to say he’s in love with. She giggles and bounces, making her tits nearly pop out of her top. She would smack her bubblegum and blow obnoxiously large bubbles just because she can. Begging her boyfriend for iced coffee with a “pleeaaseee gumiiiii” a small pout on her lips “I neeeed it” and who is he to say no to that cute little face? Those glossy pouty lips that he loves to kiss, tasting her cherry flavored lipgloss.

And he would never ever admit it, but god he nearly melts like a popsicle on a summer day when she calls him “Gumi”. He wouldn’t even make a noise as he nod his head, pulling out his wallet and paying for her daily coffee. A slight upturn to one side of his lips as he listens to her squeal with excitement.

The attitude was a different story. Megumi had his own way of dealing with her attitude, and y/n would love it. Always pushing his buttons to see how much she could get away with. Megumi didn’t mind it as much as his friends thought he would. Simply giving a a single look would put her in her place. A look that said “shut the fuck up before I make you”. A single look that y/n knew, she knew if she didn’t stop whatever she was doing, there would be a punishment waiting for her when they got back home. And as much as y/n loves punishments, she loved to be praised more. But!!!! On the off day that she was feeling a little risky, she would ignore Megumis look. Pushing his buttons, doing anything she could to get a reaction from him.

But our dear gumi would didn’t care who was watching, not one bit. Taking his thick, large hand and wrapping it around his small girlfriend’s pretty little neck. Giving her enough of a squeeze, along with a deadly look in his eyes, to stop whatever antagonizing behavior his little girl was doing. “You want to continue, baby?” He would ask, his voice low and full of threats he would most definitely follow through with. A small whimper would fall from those pretty little lips, testing every little bit of control the man has. A small shake to her head was enough to appease him, tightening his grip for just a second before releasing her. He would turn back to whatever he was doing as if he just didn’t do the most dominating thing he could to his girlfriend right in front of his friends.

It would leave y/n a little pouty (and a little damp), but that wasn’t anything megumi couldn’t fix with a chaste kiss to her lips… and her other pretty little lips.

“Where’s that attitude now, baby? Huh?” He would ask in a teasing voice, hands kneading the delicious fat of her thighs. “M’sorry gumi” she would whine, pushing her hips up, trying to get him where she needed him. But the action would earn her pretty little clit a slap. Two maybe.

“I don’t think you’re that sorry, pretty girl.” “M’sorry m’sorrryy pleaseee please gumi” he knew she was sorry, he knows his baby hates punishments. Always wanting him to worship the ground she walks on, which he does most days.

“Good girl, now lay back and let me do my thing, yeah baby?” His eyes locked with hers, waiting for that desperate little nod she does when she is begging for him to please her. Which he does, devouring her pussy like it’s his last meal. Growling into her as he tastes that sweet little cunt. It’s probably his favorite thing to do, getting on his knees, letting his tongue fuck her cute little hole. Sucking gently on her clit, because his girl is sensitive. Listening to her cute pathetic whines as she pulls his black hair, guiding him. Which he lets her do, allowing her to take all the control she thinks she has. It would be so sloppy, his tongue making lazy, languid circles around her tiny clit. Juices coating his face, nose to chin. Spit mixing with her arousal as he moans into her pussy, because this is also a treat for him. The pad of his fingers playing with her puckered hole, because one day “m’gonna stretch this pretty little ass.”

But don’t get it twisted, Megumi Fushiguro, is absolutely whipped for his pretty little bimbo girlfriend. Kissing the ground where she walks, carrying her favorite bubblegum around just in case she forgets hers. And he would never have an issue with all the guys on campus ogling his girl. Only because he’s heard y/n say “my boyfriends gonna kick your ass” to several guys who hit on her, which he does do. Megumi knows for a fact that his pretty girlfriend is so in love with him, so he has no insecurities when it comes to her. Grabbing a handful of tits when he sees a frat dude looking at her chest. Sitting her in his lap to makeout in the library when she’s supposed to be studying. Being so in love with this girl he didn’t even know a year ago.

He thanks his friend Satoru Gojo for fumbling this bad bitch, every single day. It’s not really gojo fault though, he tried to hit on her… but y/n likes the silently cocky bad boys. And Megumi is just that.

But Megumi would absolutely die if anyone found out he paints her toenails for her, giving soft kisses to the tops of her feet when he’s done. Only to hear that pretty little giggle he loves so much.

I want to write a whole fic about this. Something you’ll learn about me is that I LOVE LOVE LOVE to write y/n as a dumb bimbo. And that I shall do :)

Taglist

@vellichor01 @loveyislost

[yuuchama]

Asking Lilia Vanrouge to tutor you in history sounds like a great idea, doesn't it? He seems to know a lot about historical events due to living through them and there's even a picture resembling him in your textbook. History is his best subject. What could go wrong?

You leave the tutoring session more confused than before. Lilia's knack for history is no joke, though his knowledge is all over the place.

Hardly any of what he says gets covered in class. It's probably not going to be on the test. He brings up the names of random people, common folk with no impact on the grand scheme of things. He drones on about these people for longer than necessary. He rambles about insignificant bits of their daily lives like an old man reminiscing about old friends and you don't know how to stop him.

"Patricia really hated when they implemented the new calendar system, khee hee hee! Said it made her miss a date with this lad she fancied, but it all worked out in the end. He came to find her after a while and they went steady. Never met him. Heard he was a paper boy. The kind that makes paper, mind you. Word has it that he made fine paper but I never much cared about the quality of paper."

Lilia starts floating off his chair as he becomes immersed in his own tale. He crosses his arms in thought. You stare at his exposed forehead as he turns upside-down, your pen hand at the ready in case he says anything actually useful.

"Ezekiel, though? He was a lad who was mad about paper. Oho. This was, oh, roughly 350 years ago. He penned a letter to the Shaftlands government to petition for lower taxes. About a decade after that blight incident that wiped out their food reserves. More than half their crops were being taxed and it was a brutally cold winter, he could barely afford firewood, but he still used the best parchment he could find. Said it made a stronger point to those in power. Oh, and his daughter was so angry about it!"

Lilia laughs. Three hours pass in this manner. He wafts through the air absentmindedly and bumps against your shoulder, sending him floating back in the other direction. When he drifts too far, he magically pops into another spot and makes you jump. He has a smile on his face, this is genuine fun for him.

You manage to fill in half a page with notes that seem kind of useful. You don't know how you'd source them in an essay, though, aside from "Lilia told me." You ask if he knows anything about the legendary Queendom of Roses Revolt and he launches into another unrelated story that happened around the same time about some really good chicken he once ate.

When you've had enough and the study session is over, Lilia thanks you. He gives you a piece of hard candy, its wrapper somewhat disheveled like it was in his pocket for a week. "It's important for kids like you to study hard," he says with a thumbs up. He pats you on the back before leaving. You consider asking Riddle for help the next time you have questions.

[cedar-scars]

part of me will know deep down that I am pretty cool

the part of me that knows I never cared for being cool

[littlefankingdom]

Oh my goddesses, I hate Rose Wilson.

Maybe it's just her Future State personality, but I fucking hate her. She has a cop mentality, killing people whoever they are because "they break the law", just following order without question, see herself as superior to everyone else and so can choose to kill them if she wants to... She kills an innocent guy who was mind-controlled, and she doesn't give a fuck. Maybe the politic situation in France is just making that kind of behavior unbearable to me. Maybe it's because it's the anniversary of that French teenager who was killed by the cops for breaking the law. I just cannot stand people like this, I hate her.

And I cannot express the disgust I feel about the fact that Jason is dating her. How the fuck is Jason Todd, a guy who was homeless as a kid and had to steal to survive, dating someone with a cop mentality, "if they didn't want to die, they shouldn't have done the crime"? How the fuck is he dating someone that kills people without a care about who they are, who kills innocents without a care, who proudly tells him she could have kill these guys starting a fight at the bar but didn't? Wouah, we are killing drunk people now, not just rapists and traffickers, I guess. I thought Jason had some morals, but I guess not? Yes, the dialogue implies that he disagrees with her way, but he is still dating her! He is not stopping her! Apart from a little "Rose!", nothing. Who the fuck dates a cold blooded killer with no morals? Mister "I whine because Daddy didn't kill the Joker for me but I'm gonna date someone who care as little as my own killer about others' life, and hang out with her dad, the man who nearly killed my brother. (Because they go on a vacation to her father's and yes, Deathstroke did nearly killed Dick in the past) Yeah, so much better than Batman, am I right?"

[shorlinesorrows]

just got the time to start the sunshine court and I'm Vibrating out of my skin

[iwonderwh0]

I'm so tired of seeing it

It feels like among those who prefer father/son interpretation alarming amount of people (not all ofc, but what feels like majority) are not aware that they can enjoy what they enjoy without necessarily hating on ship interpretations and calling people names. It feels like for most of them it's not even so much about PRO-father/son but rather ANTI-hankcon and this thing is just toxic as fuck

Like in most father/son posts that I encountered it's like people MUST express hate at least in the tags or they'll combust or something, it's almost rare to see this interpretation on its own without hate attached to it. Quite funny how shippers are more often be like "you can interpret it both ways however platonic or romantic you prefer", and on the other side is "if you see them as anything but familial go kys"

[merrilark]

hm.

// world news for ts

[sherlock-is-ace]

.

[multific]

The Lady Who Was Promised

Emperor Geta x Reader

Summary: Ever since he was little he had everything at his fingertips. So, when his parents promised him a lady, he had to have her no matter what.

As a young man, Geta understood that one day he and his brother would be Emperors. He knew what that meant, power.

When his father came up to him one day, telling him that he would have a wife one day, a lady who was promised to him, Geta hated the idea.

He didn't want a wife.

But then, as the years passed, Caracalla and he became Emperors, and he suddenly realized, he wanted this lady.

She was his after all.

She was promised to him.

And he liked to keep the things he had.

And so, word was sent out, soldiers were sent out to find the bride of the Emperor.

You were raised to be the perfect wife.

You were meant to be the wife of a Lord or King.

So, it came as no surprise when your father announced that you were promised to the new Emperors.

At the time he wasn't sure which one of the twins.

But later you learned his name, Geta.

You even saw him one time although he didn't notice you in the crowd.

He looked tall and handsome.

But he was insane.

You only heard one sentence from his mouth and you already knew, he was a cruel man.

You did not wish to be his wife.

But you had no other choice.

You knew that.

As the years passed, you found it strange you didn't hear about your marriage anymore.

The Emperors soon came into power.

You assumed the Emperor might have forgotten about you.

Then one day, three guards knocked on your door.

Your parents passed away a few months ago due to illness, you were alone.

"The Emperors requested your presence." there it was. Your past coming back to haunt you.

With no other choice, you were taken to the palace.

You were dressed in a wedding gown and soon, you stood by Emperor Geta vowing your life to him.

---

Your marriage with the Emperor became a clear desire for possession.

He wanted to have you, had to have you.

And so he did.

You were a pretty thing on his arm. That is all you were.

And somehow, you were okay with that.

It could be worse because even if your husband didn't like you, and only spoke to you in words instead of sentences, at the end of the day, you were still the Empress.

You could live in your old home, alone and cold.

This was at least interesting.

Parties and gladiator games.

You enjoyed most of those, even if you weren't a huge fan of blood.

And at least your husband was handsome.

You could have worse things to look at during dinner.

Caracalla on the other hand was rather chatty with you. He constantly keeps you entertained with his silly theories.

You knew of his sickness.

You felt truly bad for him, probably it was why you were nice to him.

Seeing how he behaved like a child, you had an instinct in you.

"You seem to enjoy my brother's company more than mine," Geta said to you one evening when he happened to have a cup more than he should have.

"He simply talks more with me." you replied and you watched his eyes. He got angry. "I wish you would talk more with me, Emperor Geta." you quickly said with a sad voice.

Now that changed everything.

His anger dissolved in seconds. You offered him a smile.

"I wish I could be your wife instead of an accessory." you added quickly before standing up. "Good night." you nodded your head and headed back to your room.

Little did you know what you had just done.

Your words stuck with the Emperor so much, that he was unable to sleep. He kept thinking.

You weren't a statue, vase or jewellery. Not a sword.

You were a lady.

His lady.

His wife.

The realization hit him like a cold shower.

The next morning he barged out of his room, scaring the servants.

"Where's my wife?" he asked.

"In the garden, she is on her daily walk." one of the servants replied.

Daily?

Geta didn't even know you took daily walks.

He quickly walked to the garden and there you were, alone, looking at the flowers and butterflies.

"Wife?" he called for you and you turned around rather surprised to see him. He usually slept until late after parties.

"Emperor." you bowed your head and he stopped close to you. He opened and closed his mouth.

He looked rather awkward.

As if he was unsure of what to say or do. Which was weird for him.

Seeing him like that reminded you of something your teachers told you.

"Men are usually clueless. You must lead them. But don't let them figure out you are leading them."

So, you took a deep breath.

"Hope you are doing well this morning."

"I didn't sleep. Your words kept me up all night."

"I'm sorry, it wasn't my intention to hurt you."

"But you were right. You are my wife, I should be spending time with you. So, here I am." he looked around. "Which one is your favourite?" you blinked once, twice.

"I quite enjoy the roses." you ended up saying. "The white ones specifically."

"Oh, which one would be... the rose?"

You let out a small laugh at his expression. Geta smiled. Seeing you laugh, he hoped it was a good sign.

---

Geta and you grew closer and closer with each passing day.

You would go as far as to say you fell in love with him.

You might also know when it happened.

Probably it was the time when he made the gardens only have white roses for you.

"It is your favourite after all," he said with a smile as you looked around confused.

Or when he personally made sure the cooks prepared the food you liked the most.

"How dare you! You know well she doesn't like that kind of food! Cook her something else! Right now!"

Or when he had new clothes made for you along with beautiful jewellery made of gorgeous gems.

"This one has sapphires in it." he said as he held up a beautiful bracelet. "I'm told ladies enjoy this due to its beautiful colour." you looked at the blue gem.

"It is truly beautiful."

"Maybe, but your beauty will never be overshadowed by gems and clothes."

It could have also been when you were cold one evening. You couldn't sleep and walked around the palace, hoping to warm up.

You ran into him.

"What's wrong? You should be asleep."

"I'm cold." you replied with a small voice. He grabbed your hand and followed you back to your room.

He put a blanket over the two of you and pulled you close. You fell asleep to the voice of his heartbeat.

But it was possibly the time when he kissed you so sweetly under the moonlight.

"My beautiful wife." he whispered as his finger ran down your cheek with such love and care.

He slowly leaned in and sealed your lips in a kiss.

You finally felt like his wife.

And that is exactly who you were, his beloved wife.

The Empress who was promised.

Gladiator II Collection

Taglist: 

@castellandiangelo @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @manduse @jacalineiscomingforyou 

@mandoloriancookie @deliciousfestsalad @lilliumrorum @asgards-princess-of-mischief 

@fallout-girl219 @dracaryxzs @snowtargaryen 

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

/YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE, TO STEAL OR TO REUPLOAD ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[ravenslvt]

imagine best friend leon comforts you after a break up but it turns south 🤔🤔🤔😛, soft sex is what he gives you

☆ bsf! leon x female!reader ☆

bestfriend! leon comforting you after a break up

☆ content warnings: smut , mentions of alcohol, mentions of cheating ☆

leon groans as he hears a knock at his door. the clock read 12:53am. who was coming over this late?

he stands up out of bed, not bothering to put a shirt on. he opens his front door, yawning.

all his annoyance completley dissipates when he sees you all teary eyed on his doorstep.

he says your name in concern, you just look up with the saddest look on your face. it sent a pang to his heart to see you like this.

he immediately figured it was your (asshole) boyfriend who was constantly flaking on you and (he assumed) was probably even cheating.

“sorry, i wasn’t sure if you were awake and i didn’t wanna call and-“ you start to ramble. he sighs, bringing you in to hug his bare chest. you didn’t mind, you’d seen him shirtless before. you’ve been bestfriends for almost four years.

“it’s ok, you don’t have to say anything.” he shushes you. he finally brings you into his messy apartment you’d been in countless times, but this time felt different.

“i just feel so fucking stupid. it was so obvious the whole time he was a dick i just was so delusional.” you’re on your second glass of wine now that leon had brought out for you two. he figured it would be nice to talk about your feelings and vent to him. you sit facing eachother on the couch in his living room.

you’d been with your (now) ex-boyfriend for only eight months. but leon always fucking hated the guy. he would always get mad when you would hangout with leon, thinking he had a crush on you or something, which he totally did.

you stopped crying now, you were just angry for wasting so much of your time with such a joke of a man. leon didn’t blame you. he let you rant.

“god, it didn’t help he fucking sucked at sex too. seriously he lasted like two pumps then knocked out. for EIGHT months!” you weren’t lying.

“you’re joking” he laughs, shifting in his seat on the couch. he never even bothered to put a shirt back on since you got here, still only in his baggy grey sweatpants.

“i’m serious. never made me cum once. he never even ate me out, said it was ‘too gross’ ” you scoffed, remembering how it was always about his pleasure and not yours. you felt leon’s eyes on you.

his eyes darkened.

his thoughts raced. that asshole never even ate you out? he’d kill to even touch you like that.

you noticed him go silent, one of his hands resting on his own thigh and the other arm was resting around the top of the couch.

“leon-“

“fuck that guy. seriously. any guy would be so lucky to even be allowed to be with you, to touch you.” leon’s voice is quieter than usual, but loud enough for you to hear. it felt like he was holding something back.

maybe it was the wine, or maybe it was the supressed feelings for your bestfriend, but your eyes scanned him, suddenly consious of his shirtless state. how good his bare chest looked. how firm his muscled stomach was. how good his waist looked in those pants. his fucking arms.

and the way you could fully see the outline of his cock in his sweatpants.

your eyes shot back up to his face. only to see him staring at you.

“like… you?” you gulped, awaiting his response. you could see him thinking, practically hearing the gears turn in his head. he sighs your name, looking away.

“i-i can’t. not when your in this state.” he rubs his face with his hands. god his hands were big.

“leon i-“

“no, i like you way too fucking much to mess this up” he looks back at you, a genuine soft look in his eye.

you smile, he’s too sweet for his own good sometimes. you sit up straight, scooting closer to him.

“leon. i promise you, i want you.” you bring a gentle hand to cup his strong jaw.

his hands reach for your face, he uses one to brush a stray hair out of your face. he brings his forehead to yours.

“do you know how badly i want you? how long i’ve been waiting for you? you fucking kill me everyday i have to go without you.” he speaks lowly.

he leans in slowly, giving you a chance to pull away. but you don’t. your eyes flutter shut as your lips connect.

he starts the kiss out paced, allowing your lips to adjust to eachother. your hands go straight to his shoulders for support. you were afraid you’d fall over onto his carpeted floor.

“leon…” you panted his name between kisses, giving him an opportunity to greet his tounge in your mouth.

“what is it pretty girl?” he never pulled back as you two spoke, addicted to your lips.

“want you… need you, please” you practically whined into his mouth. he just smirked, giving you one last kiss before pulling away. you pouted for a second before he started to kiss down your neck slowly. exploring and biting until you showed him your sweet spot.

he bit your pulse point, making you softly yelp.

your hand automatically goes to the waistband of his sweats, but he stops you, swatting your hand.

“no, this is about you. ignore me” he warns.

“but-“ you pout

“no.” he sternly says, pushing you so your back was against the couch cushion, he was now on his knees between your thighs. you were going to argue, but seeing him like this brought no complaint from you. you were never used to this. but god were you excited.

he teasingly removes your shorts, leaving kisses in their wake. you gasped from the feeling, being left in your black panties. they had a little rose at the top center, making him smile.

“cute” his thumb goes over the rose, then moves over your clothed clit. you softly gasp and your hips automatically buck up to meet his touch.

he scrunches your shirt up, kissing your pelvis, then your stomach, and pushing your bra up to bring a nipple into his mouth. you squirm under him, already so needy for him. he pulls away with a pop.

he slowly reaches his hand into your already soaked panties, a look of suprise on his face.

“this all for me?” he nudged your sensitive clit with his knuckle. you suck in a breath, nodding.

he chuckles, using his free hand to pull your panties down while he continues rubbing your clit, rolling it between his fingers.

once they’re off, he stares down at your bare pussy, absolutely entranced.

“s-sorry. he only liked it when i was shaved” you looked away from him, a bit self conscious. you try clamping your thighs together.

he scoffs “what a fucking weirdo” he says before forcing your thighs to stay open with his strength. you always forgot how strong he was since he was always so gentle around you.

he moves his head to hover over your needy cunt, your thighs now around his shoulders. he looks up at you “is this ok?”

you nod.

“yes” you say. he moves in an instant, his hot mouth devouring you.

“fuck, leon!” you moan, covering your mouth with your hand. the other one gripped his dirty blonde hair.

his lustful eyes look up at you as his tounge works expertly against you. he studied your reactions, repeating the actions that made you squirm the most.

your thighs squeezed against his head, but he didn’t mind. he fucking loved that he was making you feel like this. his dick was raging in his pants, but he ignored it. tonight was about you. he’d make it about you everynight if he could.

he thrusted his long tounge into your hole, pumping it as he circled your clit with his nose. you almost screamed, his grip on your thighs getting tighter by the second. he shakes his head in a motion, teetering your orgasm.

you started to shake, almost drowning him in your wetness.

“i think i’m gonna-“ your thighs were so tight around him he swore you were crushing his skull. he quickens his mouth, the most pornographic noises coming from your pussy.

you let out the most delectable moans as you cum all over his face. he keeps licking and sucking until your shaking stops and you’re just panting, trying to push him off from overstimulation.

“s’too much” you pant, grabbing at leons hair. he finally pulls away, wiping his mouth and chin with the back of his hand. your face was completley flushed and eyes lidded. he smiled, leaning in to kiss you. you moan as soon as you taste yourself on his tounge. (your ex was wrong, you tasted fucking great)

you feel his hard buldge against your thigh, your brows furrow and a heat fills your gut. you reach out your hand to rub him through his pants. he lets out a needy groan, rutting into your hand. a wet patch growing in the front of the grey sweats.

“f-fuck. keep doing that and i’ll have to keep going, baby” he warns, but you didn’t stop. you keep eye contact as you rub the head of his cock through his sweats, the fabric adding extra stimulation. it twitched in your hand and he grabbed your wrisy, stopping you, though he didn’t want you to stop.

“i don’t wanna take advantage-“ he starts, but you cut him off before he can finish, rolling your eyes.

“leon stop. do you know how many dreams i’ve had of you fucking me? we’ve already gotten this far, so if you don’t fuck me right now i’m gonna walk out that door and-“ this time he cuts you off with a kiss, you smile into the kiss. you feel him smile back.

after a minute or two of sweet kissing, the moment gets heavy again. the kiss gets deeper and more messy.

you couldn’t help it, you slide his loose sweatpants off his figure and have to look down.

oh fuck. he was big.

he noticed your eyes widen and cheeks flush, his ego inflating a little.

“that’s not gonna fit, leon” you look back up at him, absolutely in awe of the man’s gorgeous cock. the tip was a raging pink color, it was curved upward like it was begging to be touched. precum sparkling at the edges.

he chuckles, kissing you on the cheek.

“oh yes it will”

he sits back up on his knees, dragging your legs twords him and grabbing one of the pillows from the couch, patting your hip to tell you to lift it so he can slide it under.

he gives himself a few more pumps, even spitting on his cock for extra lubricant, though you were already so wet he could probably slide in easily.

he lines himself up, looking up at you for one last chance for you to back away, but you just shimmy your hips to try and get him to put it in already. he takes that as a sign and slowly slides in.

you tense up as soon as the tip is in. he leans down, giving you a peck on the lips before rubbing your hips.

“relax, pretty” he sooths. a few more seconds and hes sinking in a little more, little by little he brings himself to a point where he can’t push in anymore. he was balls deep in your sopping pussy.

he waited a few moments until you were moving your own hips for some more stimulation.

“there you go, look at you.” he teases, pulling out almost all the way, only leaving his raging tip in before thrusting it back in. your back arched off the couch and he gripped your hips tigher. you felt heavenly.

all you could think about was how good his big cock felt inside of you. gently slamming in and out and in and out and in and out.

“more” you plead, looking down to where you two meet, there was a noticable buldge indented in your stomach from where his cock was in you, making you whine.

“of course” he whispers, leaning down to cage you in his elbows, throwing the pillow from under you somewhere across the room and instead using his strength to slam into you. your arms held him around his neck, one pulling at his hair unconsciously. your legs wrapped around his hips, encouraging him to go faster.

you’re both panting as you lean up to kiss him again. it wasn’t anything like your first kiss with him. it was all tounge and saliva and mess. but it was perfect for the moment.

you could feel him so deep, it felt like he was growing even bigger inside of you. you felt a familiar build up in your belly, the need of release. you pull away from the kiss to breathe. he lowers his head to suck your tits in his mouth, alternating between them and occasionally biting them gently.

“leonnn!” you moaned his name over and over as his pace got faster and faster.

he was holding back his own orgasm just so he could feel you clench around him.

“fuck, i wanted this for so fucking long, baby. you’re so-fuck- so perfect.” leon was losing his composure more and more by every thrust inside of you. your walls started to clench around him, making his face scrunch up.

you came around him, squeezing him, your nails dragging down his strong arms, leaving redish pink marks in their wake.

he just chanted your name mixed with compliments-how perfect you are around him, how pretty you are, how you were made for him.

“w-where can i-“

“inside, leon, please!” you whine, all you can think of is his cock dragging in and out of you.

he spills inside you with a groan, hips sputtering. he lays on top of you, holding himself up so he doesn’t crush you.

“s-shit are you…?” the realization hits him that he just came inside you.

“i’m on the pill” you assure, softly smile at him, both of you breathing heavily at this point.

he smiles back, kissing you and slowly pulling out, making you whine, he tucks himself back into his sweatpants, an obvious stain on the front of his pants.

he gently pulls your shirt back over your tits, but not before giving them a soft kiss each. you giggle at him.

“are you feeling ok? do you need anything?” he asks, stroking your head and fixing your loose hairs. acting like he wasn’t just fucking your brains out.

you nod, giving him another peck on the lips, this time he pouts when you pull away.

safe to say, you were over your ex.

a/n: raven try to write soft smut challenge: impossible. lowkey got carried away but i hope u like it!!

thank u for the request i lovedddd writing this mwuah <3

[nereidprinc3ss]

do you believe me now? | 9

in which we find out how the morning after went for fem!reader. you finally share with spencer after unanticipated anxieties come up. you're continually shocked by his affection for you.

series masterlist

this series is 18+ (angst, fluff) warnings/tags: (preface none of the bad stuff is done by spencer) sexual harassment, slut shaming, non consensual voyeurism of sorts, blood + pain from losing virginity, talk of rape (nothing like that actually happens), implied nonspecific age gap (someone says he looks slightly older than you) non sexual nudity, showering together, intimacy, ewww being in love is embarrassing a/n: I honestly was not gonna post this today but I decided to bc it's just Tumblr its not that deep also you can probably tell I am just creating problems bc I don't wanna let go of them...... ik this is supposed to be a smutty series btw and trust good things come to those who wait!!!but anyways idk what I'm doing and I kinda hate this!! lolol!!!

Friday morning

The air is thick when you wake up—the angle of the sun through the window is lower than usual, and the binding weight of your limbs as you struggle to stretch in place all suggest that you’ve slept in. 

But you don’t check the time quite yet—for a moment, you simply lie there, studying the pattern on your ceiling, downloading the events of the previous night. 

Flashes of skin on skin, lips, breaths, whispers, promises. Phantom sensations. 

Was it even real?

Your apartment is deafeningly silent, you realize. And you have that sinking sense, which you can’t quite explain but know to be true—that you are alone. Spencer is gone. You can’t feel him like you’d be able to if he were simply on the couch or in the kitchen. He’s definitely not in bed with you, and the sheets have long gone cold. 

The truth of it renders about as slowly as your sluggish consciousness does, and you frown, not quite sure what to do with that information. Should you be angry? Should you cry?

Mostly you’re confused. 

As soon as you sit up, sore thighs and abs and a strange ache between your legs confirm that last night was not a dream nor a figment of your imagination. You’ll figure out what to do about your twinging body in a moment—for now you rub your eyes and blindly reach for the bedside table, knocking several things to the ground in your quest for your phone. 

It’s not there, you realize, once you actually try to use your eyes. It’s not in bed with you either as you pat the sheets, and it doesn’t materialize as you sit on your knees and shake out the comforter. 

From this venture, however, you learn two things. First, Spencer must’ve taken it upon himself to get you dressed last night, which you have no recollection of, but you doubt you sleepwalked your way into underwear and a big t-shirt; and second—you bled. 

It wasn’t something you were thinking about in the moment, but now, faced with all the evidence and none of the pleasure of last night’s activities, it’s jarring. A stark, unforgiving archipelago of red on a pristine sea of white. 

People say, at its best, sex brings couples closer. Spencer once told you it could facilitate feelings of deeper connection. But here you are, no longer a virgin, and what do you have to show for it? A stronger bond with your boyfriend? He’s not even here. 

All you have is this glaring red stain marring perfectly good sheets. It mocks you, like something you’ve dropped and can’t pick back up. You can’t think looking at it, and you need to think, and so in a fit of frustration you’re pulling the comforter onto the floor, leaning over your mattress and yanking the fitted sheet free. You ball it up in your hands, breathing heavily—and realize you bled through to the mattress. 

Wonderful. 

Spencer’s just at work, you tell yourself, grabbing the first pair of shorts you see and pulling them on before gathering the ruined sheet once more and stomping on aching legs through your apartment to the hallway, not even bothering with shoes. He can’t just play hooky because his clingy girlfriend lost her virginity and needs to be comforted like some previously celibate high school cheerleader.

But you miss him so much it’s making you angry, so much your eyes are stinging and welling with tears of frustration as you shove your bed linens down the trash chute at the end of your floor’s hallway. You’re supposed to be independent. That’s how you’ve always been. Since when does it bother you to wake up alone? It’s just sex. It’s not as big a deal for him as it is for you. Or for anyone. You’re the one overreacting, you’re the one who expects too much. He works for the FBI, for god’s sake. There are people dying, and here you are—

“What’chya got there?”

The gruff voice makes you jump, and you turn around just as the bundle is disappearing down into the hole in the wall. It’s your neighbor, Jerry—the one in the unit right next to you. You’re not happy to see him, especially like this. He’s got a blue 5 o’clock shadow despite the hour, and is clad in ill-fitting gray sweats and a pair of ratty slippers. His distended belly strains at the confines of an oil-stained white shirt, tied with a dingy checkered robe. You barely meet his drooping eyes before looking longingly back at your cracked door down the hall. 

“Just… garbage.” You shift your weight, hiding a wince as you try to find a comfortable position to stand in. Jerry notices this, and you wish his eyes wouldn’t linger on your bare legs like that. 

“Huh. Looks like someone had a late night.”

“Sorry?”

“It’s just noon and you’re still in your PJ’s.”

Disgusting. And who the fuck is he to judge? At least your pajamas are clean. 

You shrug. “Yeah.”

He scratches his bald head. 

“So that boy tired you out pretty good, huh?”

Your stomach drops. Your brain freezes. 

When you don’t reply, he takes the liberty of continuing on. 

“Saw him sneaking out of your apartment in the middle of the night. He looked a little older ’n you. You like ’em older?” His laugh is a cruel bark. “Yeah… He’s a lucky man. You know, it’s natural for a man to like a younger girl. Fresh meat, ’n all.” You try to speak and can only swallow a gag. Jerry adjusts his stance, hands in pockets like he’s telling you a local news story. “Heard some of it. Sounded like you were putting on quite the show. And sure, a young pretty thing like you? Hell, I would if I could. But I’ll tell you right now, you don’t wanna end up like my daughter. She wasn’t as pretty as you, but still—three kids with three men by the time she was 24. She should'a kept her damn legs closed. You know, she loved to cry rape, but you gotta ask yourself, if your legs are open all the damn time, what do you expect? Back in the day we all knew girls like that—” he bats the air dismissively. “Guess you can’t call ’em sluts anymore—they get what they’re asking for one way or another. See, I think everyone still knows it and they’re just too afraid to say it. So my advice: don’t let yourself get used up, you hear me? Not by men who are gonna ride you hard and put you away wet. So to speak. Men can smell a girl like that from a mile away, and they’ll take it as an open invitation. It’s just human nature.”

When he finally stops talking, the hallway fills with a vacuous silence. It makes your ears ring. Several moments pass, but you’re frozen. Your whole body feels intolerably hot but your blood is freezing. How are you supposed to react? 

“Hello?” He says, voice loud enough to hurt your ears as it echoes. 

Get out of here, your more rational self says to the rest of you, and you mumble something, you don’t even know what, excusing yourself to hurry on stiff legs back down the hall to your door. 

Once inside, you do up every lock on your door, and face your apartment, shoulders tensed practically to your ears and fists clenched so tight your arms are trembling. On autopilot you look around for something to do, but there’s nothing. More importantly, nobody.

I’ll call Spencer. He’ll know what to do. 

No, you won’t, your higher self reminds you. You lost your phone. And besides, it’s clearly not like he wanted to stick around last night. Maybe he doesn’t even like you anymore. 

So you’re stuck here. Stranded. Sharks can smell blood. 

Processing that information, you walk back to your bedroom and close the door behind you—before promptly sinking to the ground and burying your face in the duvet with a deep, silent sob.  

That goes on for a few minutes until you realize you’re too achy and you can’t breathe and you’re forced onto your side, curling up in your blanket on the floor like it’s a nest and not a burial plot. 

You shouldn’t get ahead of yourself. A relationship can’t implode twice in 24 hours.  You don’t have your phone. Maybe he’s texted you. 

But is that really all you’re worth? A text sent after the fact? He couldn’t sacrifice a few hours to sleep by your side? Couldn’t even wake you up to say goodbye? You think about the sweet things he’d said afterward—the way he held you, fingers dancing down your spine. Promises he made when you were half asleep in his arms, so sure he’d be there when you woke up. 

Even fucking Jerry the neighbor—who you think might have just sexually harassed you in the hallway—said Spencer should’ve stuck around. 

Fuck. 

No, don’t think about that. It doesn’t even matter. They were just words. 

Heard some of it. Sounded like you put on quite the show. 

Your skin crawls and your stomach turns as you hold yourself tighter. Something that was supposed to be private and special—and some random man not only had a front row seat to your deflowering but felt comfortable talking about it with you. It feels like a violation. Like he crashed a really important party. If you had known you had an audience last night, you never would’ve done it. 

The way he looked at you, tracing your legs with his eyes like he was touching you—

You scramble up from the floor and walk heavily on your knees to the dresser, digging up a pair of pajama pants and a hoodie. You should be showering, but you don’t want to deal with your body right now. You just want to hide. 

Friday evening—present

After your conversation, Spencer seems eager to make sure the car ride to his apartment is not reminiscent of the car ride to yours last night—he holds your hand, resting in your lap, bringing your knuckles to his lips at a red light. Every few moments he glances over at you, maybe to appreciate the view (though you doubt it’s especially scenic at the moment) or perhaps to gauge your mood. The further away you get from your apartment building the better you feel, and you try to focus on that. Sure—maybe you had a shit day, but Spencer’s here now, and he didn’t leave you after all. In fact, since finding your phone, you’ve seen the series of very sweet and highly concerned messages he sent over the course of a few hours. They almost make your stomach hurt. It would’ve been really nice to have those earlier. 

He doesn’t ask you any more of the hard questions, but you sense an inquisition in the works and getting closer with every curious glance he gives you. It’s like he’s unwrapping you, layer by layer, using his impressive cognitive faculties to drill through your skull into your brain and deeper still into your soul. 

Back in his apartment you sit awkwardly on the bed. Last time you’d been here, things hadn’t gone so well for you. 

The shower starts in the adjoined bathroom, and Spencer comes out a moment later, warm light seeping into the darkened bedroom. Purple and dark blue mixing with yellow, like a bruise. 

“Hey. Water’s warm.”

You hum, smoothing the material of his neatly made bed with your palm and watching the way it flattens. That had been your doing. You may have thought he was on the verge of breaking up with you last time you slept here, but you didn’t want to leave his home a mess. Didn’t want to leave any evidence of your having been here. 

A moment passes. You thumb at a thread and don’t look up. 

Spencer crosses the space without a word and crouches in front of you, hands coming up to cup the back of your legs, running knee to ankle and up again. 

“Can you tell me what’s going on? Please?” He asks softly. His voice wrings your heart out. Now that you’re in a completely different space, and you’re not so alone anymore, you’re struggling to sort out your feelings. It should be fine. You’re with Spencer. Presumably he still loves you. 

And you still feel terrible. 

“I don’t really want to talk about it,” you whisper. 

“I know,” he says, just as quietly. 

Spencer doesn’t say anything else. I know you don’t want to—and yet. Your lips twist to the side. He’s persistent. Even in his kindness. It’s not the kind of care that falters or buckles when you try turning it away. 

“My neighbor said he c—” 

You’re forced to stop, frowning by how overcome you are. It shouldn’t be such a big deal. Worse things have happened to you. 

“He said he could hear us. Last night.”

Spencer’s hands stop on your legs. You can’t meet his eyes. You’re afraid whatever you find there won’t be the right thing. 

“He’s in the unit next to you?”

You nod. “We share a wall.”

There’s a moment’s hesitation and your stomach sinks. He doesn’t understand. 

“What did he say?”

“Just… dumb shit,” you scoff, fiercely wiping away a stray tear. “He said he listened and it sounded like I was putting on quite the show. And then he—and then he told me not to let you… use me up, whatever that means. He called me fresh meat, and said I shouldn’t let you ride me hard and put me away wet, and bad things happen to sluts who can’t keep their legs closed.”

You finish with a sharp inhale, briefly leaning down and covering your face with your hands when you realize how upset you really are. You want to hide it. 

A fraught moment passes. Spencer reaches for your hands, no doubt to try and pull them away from your face. You spare him the trouble, sitting up with a cavalier sniff before he can touch you and brushing your hair behind your ears.  

His voice is uncomfortably quiet. You can’t look at him. “Baby…”

“Don’t. It’s fine. I only told you because you asked.”

It’s not his fault, but you’re mad at him anyway, and so you avoid eye-contact like it’s the plague. Maybe it’s just safe to be mad at him. Maybe he knows that. 

Regardless, you’re not in the mood for coddling. It’s borderline repulsive—like trying to mix oil and water. Anything good slides right off of you because maybe you’re not designed to be able to absorb good things.

Nothing changes for a minute—and then he’s standing, offering you a moment alone as he goes to crank the shower off. 

As soon as he’s gone all the air is vacuumed from your lungs and you crumple, heaving it back in silently as your head spins and your heart races. It’s like your mind is split in two—half is primal, overwhelming panic, and the other a cold observatory eye, full of disdain and scorn for what it deems a severe overreaction to a few nasty comments made hours ago. You’re so tangled up as you curl in on yourself on your side that you can’t even cry. You’re just trying to remember how to breathe, ignoring the crawling feeling up your spine and the tingling heat at the back of your neck. The shower stops on the downbeat of your staggered breath, and then it’s silent. He’ll come back at any minute and see what a mess you’ve become. 

You’ve ruined everything. If only you could’ve kept it to yourself. 

When Spencer reappears in the doorway, and sees you collapsed and curling like paper burnt at the edges, he’s quick to return to you. 

“I’m sorry,” you manage, trying and failing to brush away hair from your cheek, which is wet—so you were crying—and Spencer shushes you, pushing it away for you as he kneels. 

“Why are you apologizing?”

“I’m being dramatic, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

Of course, at the end of that declaration, a sob wrenches its way from the depths of you, so bright and cleaving you half expect the smell of ozone to follow. You follow it with a blisteringly self-deprecating laugh.

“Don’t—don’t do that. Don’t minimize it.”

His hand is warm where it rests over your cheek, affectionate, but he sounds frustrated. You frown and sniffle. 

“What am I supposed to do?”

“Tell me his name.” 

It’s a quiet request, made as gently as his hand cards through the hair at your temple like it’s woven with fragile threads of gold.

“No, Spencer,” you beg, anxiety pooling in your gut and rising in your throat, “please, I don’t want to make it a thing, I don’t want you to talk to him. You’ll just make it worse, it’s fine.”

You look at him imploringly, eyes wide and still welling, hoping to god the gravity of your plead will sink in. His are a bed of coals—somewhere between furious and sympathetic, and you try to appeal to the sympathy. 

“It is not fine. Saying sluts get what’s coming to them is not fine, that is a threat, and I’m not going to talk to him. I’m going to have him fucking arrested.”

You scoff. 

“For talking to me? Yeah, good luck with that. Cops are really known for being helpful when it comes to sexual harassment.”

“Baby. Men who are comfortable violating your boundaries like that are exponentially more likely to commit an actual violent crime. That is not a safe person for you to be around.”

“He’s not gonna rape me, Spencer! He’s just a gross old man! This is why I didn’t want to tell you, because I knew you’d make it a bigger deal than it is! You did it last night and you’re doing it now—you think everyone is out to get me!”

To his credit, he doesn’t so much as raise his voice. 

“Of course it’s a big deal. You’re upset.”

“Yeah, well, it’s my own fault.”

Maybe it’s the wrong thing to say. Spencer goes silent for a moment. 

“It’s your fault?”

“Yes. It’s my fault because… because now everyone knows that I’m…”

His voice goes impossibly soft again. “Knows that you’re what?”

“I mean, what did I expect?” You sniffle. “It’s an apartment. If I didn’t want to deal with the consequences, I shouldn’t’ve done it.”

He says your name like it’s a ring he twists around his finger as he tries to think—to gather the right words. 

“The consequences for having sex do not involve punishment or sexual harassment.”

“It’s the result of my actions, so—”

“No, it’s the result of your neighbor being disgusting. I don’t care what he heard, he doesn’t get to talk to you like that.”

“He—”

“If you heard something you weren’t supposed to hear would you bring it up to the person the next day?”

“Stop interrupting me,” you plead. Spencer looks like he has something to say to that, too, but he swallows it. You close your eyes and take a deep breath. “I… understand that he shouldn’t have said those things to me. But that doesn’t change the fact that he did, and it was really, really uncomfortable and I don’t wanna—I don’t wanna go back now. Maybe that’s dramatic, but…”

You trail off, studying the ceiling as a fresh wash of tears dampen your cheeks. Spencer’s hand slides down your waist as you wipe your face. “I don’t regret the fact that we slept together. I just regret everything that’s happened since, and if I didn’t do it last night, none of this would’ve happened. I feel like he ruined everything.”

The words end on another cry and you put your hand over your eyes like you could stop it all from coming out. You sniffle. Spencer is quiet for a moment. 

“I’m sorry,” he eventually whispers, his own voice threaded with emotion. “I…”

He sighs. You push your hair back and look at him. 

“What?”

He studies you, chewing on his lip like a nervous tick you’ve never seen before. You sit up again, feet balanced on the edge of the bed frame. Spencer’s eyes remain stuck on you. Again, you ask, “What?”

“I didn’t think about it until you brought it up earlier, but—I did see someone. Him, I think, when I went out to my car to get my bag. He was smoking when I came out, and when I got back into the lobby he was waiting for the elevator. We took it up together, he—he said something to me, so I know he saw me going back to you. I don’t know why he made it sound like I left.”

You frown. “What did he say?”

Spencer hesitates. 

“He asked if I had a long night. He was obviously commenting on the fact that I was basically half-dressed and getting an overnight bag from my car at one in the morning, so he could probably gather from context what was going on, but… my point is, he knew I came back and it seems like he was almost trying to make you think I didn’t. So for whatever reason, maybe he was lying about being able to hear you, too. Maybe he just wanted to make you uncomfortable.”

“That’s a long shot, Spencer.”

“I know, but… it’s not that long. He obviously gets off on it—and besides, he said you were putting on a show, but you weren’t… you weren’t loud, last night.”

Heats blossoms in your cheeks and you look down at your lap. “Thin walls.”

“Have you ever heard your neighbors before?”

You have to seriously think about it. 

“I’ve heard them yelling…”

“Nothing else?”

Again, you consider it. The answer comes as a surprise. 

“No.”

“Okay, so… does that maybe help a little bit? I really, really don’t want you to feel like last night was a mistake in any way, or let anyone ruin it for you.”

You breathe deeply. “I know. It… it kinda helps, yeah.”

His hands come to the top of your legs. There’s so much genuine care and concern in his eyes. “Yeah?”

Only when you nod does he relax some. His hands skim your thighs, and you set yours on top of his own. For a few breaths, it’s quiet. And then you laugh. 

“What?” Spencer asks, a tentative smile curling his own lips like he doesn’t know if he should be concerned or participate in your mirth. 

“I—I don’t know how to say it without being cheesy,” you admit, sniffling the last of your tears away and smiling softly down at him. 

“I think you should say it.”

You link your fingers with his on your lap, watching the way they twine like it’s what they were meant to do. 

“I was just thinking about how I had, like, the worst day ever. And how much worse it would’ve gotten if you didn’t show up when you did—I would’ve completely spiraled. But you did show up. And how easy it is to kind of compartmentalize, because I have you, and when I’m with you… nothing feels as hard. You make the bad things feel smaller, I guess.”

By the end, it got a lot more real than you’d intended, and your face feels warm, and your stomach is sort of floaty—but you don’t look away from Spencer. You hold his gaze, though it makes you a little nervous, because you want him to know you mean it. 

He inhales, like he’s going to say something, but he doesn’t—only looks at you, like you’re beautiful and impossible and a defiance of everything he thought he knew, which was almost everything. To him, you’re expansive. A gorgeous anomaly.

And then he stands, holding his hands out for you. Without question you take them, and he pulls you to your feet, absorbing the momentum that threatens to topple you, and he wraps his arms around you tightly. So tight you have to laugh. 

“I love you,” he says against your shoulder, one hand coming to cradle the back of your head. 

Your humor softens, but doesn’t become inflexible—still tinges your words with the perfect amount of euphoria and relief. “I love you.”

“Thanks,” he mumbles, and your laughter flares again. 

“You don’t have to thank me.”

“But I’m grateful. I… I feel lucky.”

Always so earnest, so vulnerable, when you’re least expecting it—which should be always, you’re learning. You pull back to look up at him. You don’t want that concession to go unrewarded. 

“Me too,” you say softly. He’s doing that fond thing with his eyes, where they’re all soft and it’s like he’s trying to take in every millimeter of your face. This time when he goes to touch your hair, you have the wherewithal to dodge it. 

“You’re really brave for trying to touch my hair right now.”

“Why?” He asks, utterly bewildered, and the softness of the moment falls away easily, but not without leaving everything smudged and fuzzy around the edges. Everything is still okay. It’s still good. 

“Because it’s dirty,” you laugh, dodging him again and eventually ducking from the circle of his arms entirely. 

“Oh, your hair is dirty? Should we breakup?”

“Hm. I don’t really like when you take on that tone with me.” You’re still half-laughing, dipping and weaving past him toward the bathroom as he tries to get you in his arms again. And then you stop, toes just short of the tile. 

“What is it?” He asks after another moment. You blink, looking at the shower head as it drips. 

“Um—would it be okay if I had a five minute headstart in the shower?”

“Sure. Is everything okay?”

“It’s fine. I just… I need a minute.”

His hand skims your waist as he passes by you through the open door. “Okay. Why don’t you grab your stuff and I’ll get the water going again?”

Soon enough, you’re remembering how much better his water pressure is than yours as you stand under the torrent, eyes closed as if in prayer. You definitely could’ve stood to shower earlier in the day. But you had other concerns, earlier, and besides—you were afraid of what you might find. 

And you were right to be. The sex was nice. The aftermath isn’t quite as pretty. 

When Spencer taps on the bathroom door, you’re nervous. 

“You can come in,” you call. 

“You sure? If you want it all to yourself, that’s okay too.”

“No, no. It’s fine.”

The door creaks open, and gently clicks into place again, and fabric rustles as he undresses, and soon the shower curtain is sliding aside and he’s stepping in. Unsurprisingly, the space feels smaller with him in it—but not small in a bad way. It feels warmer. Again you’re awash in that safe feeling, which you didn’t realize you’d been missing so much today. 

“Hi,” he smiles, a teasing sliver of what you know to be the most brilliant light in the world, and stunning like the rest of him as you watch the water begin to darken his hair. 

“Hello.”

His smile flickers briefly wider like you’re his favorite thing and he just can’t contain his joy, and then it’s easing again, giving you a moment to catch your breath. 

“Is it okay if I touch you?”

In this alien context the idea has your heart pounding—you don’t really understand the concept of casual nudity yet, but you know he’ll respect your earlier wishes to keep it chaste and so you nod. 

Spencer doesn’t take you immediately in his arms like you’d expected—instead his hands find a rest at your collarbones and carefully push your wet hair back over your shoulders—but his eyes aren’t cast quite low enough to be indecent. They connect dots over your chest and neck, and he thumbs at one just over your pulse point. 

“Oh, man,” he laughs, and you think you detect a hint of self-deprecation. “That’s… wow, I didn’t realize I… sorry. They don’t hurt, do they?”

It’s your turn to smile as he’s suddenly over-concerned. 

“No, they don’t hurt.”

“Good.” He looks relieved, but it doesn’t last as his eyes trace lower—though you don’t sense any hunger in it. He’s just taking you in. “How about everywhere else?”

“Um… it’s not bad. Kind of, like… I don’t know. Sore. But it’s not bad.”

“Still?” He frowns, clearly unfazed by your evident embarrassment on the subject. You shrug and avert your eyes. 

“It’s fine. it was worse earlier, so.”

That does not have the calming effect you’d intended. 

“Worse? 1-10, how—”

“Spencer, it’s fine, I promise. It’s only when I—when I move certain ways, I notice. Honestly the… blood… was way more disconcerting to me.”

“Yeah, I saw your bed… sorry for ruining your sheets. I’ll buy you new ones.”

You shrug, watching the water run in rivulets down your arm and branch off into tributaries and waterfalls from your fingers. “You don’t have to do that. It was a collaborative effort.”

Normally this conversation would have you melting into an embarrassed puddle, but something about the tile cocoon of the shower, the humid fog, the proximity, feels safe. The white noise of water on porcelain, the warmth. You go to him at the same time as he comes to you—his arms around your waist, yours slung over his shoulders. Your eyes flutter shut. Falling asleep standing up has never seemed so plausible until now. 

He presses a kiss to your head. You sigh. 

“Ugh. I don’t want to deal with washing my hair.”

“I can do it,” Spencer immediately offers. You frown. 

“I was—you don’t have to. I didn’t mean to make it sound like I was asking.”

“I know you didn’t.”

“It’s a process.”

“I understand.”

“You would have to do it exactly how I say.”

“I am willing to learn. I like taking care of you.”

You’re glad for the hot water, then, and as he washes your hair. You’re not sure if you’re crying at the tenderness of his touch, or the way he loves you like you’re easy to love. You’re too tired to explain it. 

He doesn’t push you, because he never pushes you. 

He just washes your hair. 

-

part ten

[morlock-holmes]

The Conspiratorial Mindset

So, I've always had a bit of an interest in scams and hokum, and what people call "Cults".

One of the common refrains when you talk about religious Cults is, "If you think about it all religions have beliefs that seem odd to outsiders" and this is true, but as I read more about cults I started to think,

"Wait, a lot of these groups aren't united just by having unusual religious or supernatural views; a lot of them also seem to have matching patterns of behaviors that have nothing to do with belief in psychic space aliens"

I'm talking about things like,

Having a leadership structure which is absolute, where the top leaders cannot be disciplined or even openly criticized by lower members;

Exerting tremendous control over the dress and behavior of adherents;

Telling adherents that outsiders are untrustworthy and that contact with outsiders should be strictly limited and heavily monitored by organizational leadership;

The extensive and common use of shunning and reprogramming in response to violation of any of the above rules.

In some groups, failing to adhere to the dress code and spending a lot of time with outsiders is, at worst, the subject of a few little jabs at family gatherings. In other groups, those same behaviors are treated as Defcon one crises and become the central issue of the adherent's relationship with everybody else in the organization until they can be bullied back into doing the organization's bidding.

It was gratifying to learn that other people have noticed these patterns (Some people prefer the term "High Control Group" to "Cult" because it highlights what the actual problem is)

I am starting to notice similar dynamics in what are commonly called "Conspiracy theories".

The thing about conspiracy theories is... Well, conspiracies exist, and sometimes groups of powerful people get together to do something in secret which would get them in big trouble if they were to do it openly.

But I am starting to notice a particular, I don't know, a particular way of conceptualizing the organization and purpose of conspiracies which is unique to some people and which characterizes the kind of conspiracy theorist who takes Alex Jones seriously.

I kind of think of it as a "Witch-Hunting mentality".

For certain people in more primitive times and places, if they, say, slipped off a ladder and hurt themselves, their first thought would be, "That must have happened because a witch cursed me. We need to find and punish the witch who cursed me."

And this isn't just the attribution of malice that characterizes this idea:

One malicious conspiracy that might make you fall off a ladder is a manufacturer who doesn't care about safety ratings. Imagine that the manufacturer is really deliberately malicious here. A subordinate comes to him and says, "Our ladders can't reliably hold the weight of a person and a lot of them will probably break and cause people to fall and hurt themselves." and he says, "I know that but who cares, by the time people figure it out it'll be too late to get their money back."

That's a malicious conspiracy, but, importantly, if Bob buys a faulty ladder and falls off, the conspiracy wasn't trying to hurt Bob; it merely didn't care whether Bob got hurt.

Now, this distinction doesn't take away the malice and hostility towards Bob, but if you go to the ladder manufacturer and say, "Hey boss, Bob bought one of our faulty ladders, but he's really skinny so the ladder didn't break" the manufacturer will go, "Who the fuck is Bob? And good, that's one less angry person."

Whereas imagine Bob's ladder has been cursed to break by a witch. The witch did it because she hates Bob, and wants him to fall, and if she finds out he didn't fall, she'll go, "Curses, I'll have to find some other way to hurt Bob."

Conspiracy theorists, it seems to me, are far more inclined to conceptualize conspiracies as acts of deliberate malice aimed at them rather than acts of negligent malice.

@loving-n0t-heyting posted this article from the New York Post which contains a good example of what I mean:

“I thought I was on the cutting edge of promoting rights for gay people,” Yang said. “But then I started looking deeper into where this was coming from and who was paying for it, and I started to get very disillusioned...

I assume the people paying for it are LGBT advocacy groups? Did you, uh, not know that the people you were working for were paying you to work for them?

“When you really dig down you can see how much of this comes from documents and plans at the United Nations,” Yang said, referring in part to the UN’s “Gender Equality” initiative. “It’s part of a global agenda to restructure society, re-structure our social norms and the economy,” Yang claimed. “They are undermining the sexually dimorphic nature of reality and breaking down the differences between the sexes to break down our identity. They are constructing identities for us and they want us to adopt them.”

Oh, I see.

This is exactly what I mean. LGBT rights efforts make Yang and others feel disoriented, like society is being restructured and that they are being left behind, like they aren't quite in control of social norms and that stable identity categories can't be relied on anymore.

Now, one kind of conservative might look at that and say, "These are bad second order effects of LGBT people trying to assert their lifestyle in public and that's why we should oppose them."

But another kind says, "These changes make me feel unstable. Therefore, the main purpose of the changes is to make me feel unstable. In order to understand these changes, I need to figure out who wants me to feel unstable and what they would gain from making me feel unstable."

The idea that Yang's feeling of instability is simply a side effect of a series of efforts mainly focused on LGBT rights is incomprehensible. Instead, she believes that there is a series of efforts focused mainly on making her feel unstable, with LGBT rights as a kind of side effect to the main goal of making her feel unstable.

This kind of thing is, to me, a big red flag that indicates that we are starting to float away from reasonable conspiracy thinking into crazy town.

I am particularly curious if folks can recommend any writers or researchers who have noticed this dynamic.

[hederasgarden]

Like Oil and Water

Summary: Your office power struggle with Scott comes to a head. Paring: Scott (Twisters) x F!Scientist!Reader Word Count: 2.1K Rating: Mature, 18+ only. Enemies to lovers trope, PIV sex, fingering, and dirty talk. Slight angst.  A/N: The story is based on this ask I received. I know there are like…five Scott fans out there besides me so I hope y’all like this. I have no explanation for this fic except I’m horny for Scott. I had an alternative ending to this story but whoops feelings crept in. Thank you to @ryebecca, @whatblogisthis216 and @a-reader-and-a-writer for looking this over. The snazzy summary is courtesy of @writercole.

Please comment or reblog if you enjoyed this and want to see more. Or scream at me in my inbox. That always makes my day. 

David Corenswet Characters Masterlist

“I’m never picking up your coffee order again,” Javi swears, handing the Starbucks cup to you. “Whatever happened to coffee with a little bit of cream?”

“Capitalism,” you reply, taking a sip. It wasn’t exactly how you liked it, missing that deep caramel flavor, but you appreciate Javi’s effort. “Thanks again.”

He nods, drinking from his cup as you make your way down to the labs, discussing the results from the latest test. 

“We will need to adjust the relays, but other than that, I think we’re in good shape,” you tell him. “I’ll let the techs know we need those changes made this week.”

“Sounds good. I gotta make a quick call, but I’ll join you after,” Javi promises, disappearing into his office while you make your way down the hall.

You hear the low timber of Scott's voice before you spot him in conversation with one of the female techs. You loathe to admit it but he looks good, his tanned forearms on display with the sleeves of his white company shirt rolled up. The baseball cap tucked into his back pocket and dusty boots let you know he probably came straight from the field. 

"We need to fix the relays. They failed the test. Again. That's unacceptable," he begins, gearing up for another one of his infamous lectures. "Back when I was at MIT, this type of calibration was the first thing we were taught."

Scott may have been one of the smartest guys on Javi’s team but he was also a smug asshole. From the moment you met him, he irritated you, reminding you of every man who thought he was smarter and better than you just because of his gender. Everyone expected engineers to be difficult to work with, but Scott took it to another level. Who could blame you for taking him down a peg or two when you had the chance?

"So you went to MIT. Big whoop," you begin, delighted to see Scott tense up at the sound of your voice. When he turns to face you, the tech is quick to scurry away. "Call me when you have a PhD from a real school, like Caltech, Scotty."

He hates it when you call him that but today it's your jab about MIT that strikes a nerve. A muscle in his jaw jumps, and he exhales harshly. God, that angry look in his eye really did something for you. Too bad his looks couldn’t make up for how much of a dick he could be. 

Scott practically spits your first name out, stepping into your space to loom over you. His broad shoulders and muscular build block your view of the lab. You tilt your head to look at him, fighting the urge to smile. "You really should address me as ‘doctor,’" you calmly remind him, tapping your name badge. 

You arch a brow, waiting for his response but his mouth snaps shut, attention moving to something behind you. 

It’s Javi.

"Come on guys," he sighs. "Play nice."

You glance over your shoulder, smiling sweetly. "I'm always nice.”

"Why are you even in the labs today?" Scott questions, glancing down at your heels. 

You smooth a hand down your dress and smile. "I'm the Vice President of R&D for Storm Par. These are my labs. I belong here.”

"Dressed like that?" He scoffs. 

"What, you don't like it?" You ask, turning in a slow circle. 

"We had a meeting with some new investors," Javi supplies, trying to cut off the start of another fight between the two of you. 

Scott turns away and you can practically hear his teeth grinding together. He still hasn’t forgiven you for talking Javi out of letting his uncle invest in the company. It would have been easy money but you never liked the business plan. It was best to stick with government grants and investors without any personal connections. 

Javi touches your arm. “Come on, we gotta finish that grant.”

You hum in agreement, trailing behind him to the doorway. Pausing, you glance back and catch Scott watching you, his lips pressed into a thin line. With a grin, you wiggle your fingers at him, amused to see the furrow in his brow deepen even further.

The rest of your day is blessedly Scott-free and you spend your time buried in meetings and wading through needlessly complicated grant submissions. Javi employed some of the smartest people you’ve ever had the privilege of working with but they were terrible when it came to making the science digestible to investors. You sigh, rubbing your temples. It was going to be a long night.

You work uninterrupted, buried in the complexities of the grant, until Scott storms into your office, slamming the door behind him. “Did you tell the techs they could go home early?” he demands.

“Please, do come in,” you deadpan, setting aside the papers you’re holding.

“Did you send them home?” He repeats, rounding your desk and invading your personal space. At his side, his hands are clenched into fists, the veins in his neck standing out.

“I did.” You rise to your full height but even in heels, he dwarfs you. 

“That wasn’t your call.”

“You do remember my job title, right?”

“I’m VP of Operations,” he reminds you. “I say when they go home, especially when we’re on a deadline.”

“They report to me, and you’ve had them working long hours,” you fire back.

He shakes his head, crossing his arms tightly across his chest, as he gives you an unimpressed look. “You’re too soft on them. I told Javi you weren’t right for this job. This isn’t academia. We work hard here.” 

You bristle at his words, clenching your fist so tightly that your nails dig into the soft skin of your palm. He has no idea what it took for you to get here, the challenges you faced, or the men like him you had to prove yourself to.

“Go fuck yourself, Scott.” 

You glare up at him, chest rising and falling rapidly. You wait, ready for whatever asshole comment is sure to come but he just stares at you. Then, to your surprise, his gaze drops to your mouth. You freeze, electricity zipping up your spine when you realize you’re close enough for your chest to brush his as you exhale. Looking back, you won't remember the impulse that led you to tilt your head and press your lips to his, only that you did.

The kiss only lasts a second before you pull away, heart pounding in your chest. For a moment, neither of you moves, but then suddenly he surges forward, his large hand grasping the side of your face. His lips crash into yours roughly. A hand at your hip urges you back until you bump your desk but he doesn’t stop until he’s practically dragged you on top of it. He presses in close, eating up what little space remains. You groan, grasping at his shirt as you push your hips into his. 

“Fuck,” he pants, resting his forehead against yours as his warm breath fans across your face. For one terrible second, you think he might stop or say something stupid to ruin the moment but then he’s kissing you again. He forces a hand between your bodies and roughly pulls your underwear aside so his fingers can drag through your folds. You’d be shocked by how fast it’s all happening but any higher thought fizzles out once his thumb circles your clit and his tongue breaks the seam of your lips to taste you. 

You’re breathless when he pulls away, back arching in response to his talented fingers. Through your lashes you see him smirk down at you. “No smart comebacks now?” He questions.

Before you can retort he adds a second finger. You moan, rolling your hips to seek more of him. “Knew you’d be fucking greedy,” he whispers.

He watches you fuck yourself on his hand with a hungry glint in his eyes until your pace slows. He glanced at your face. You rise up on your elbows, brow raised. “Am I going to do all the work here?” 

“Shut up,” he growls, withdrawing his fingers.

A witty comeback is on the tip of your tongue but it dies when Scott brings his fingers to his mouth. He stares down at you while he sucks them clean, his Adam's apple bobbing. Your stomach clenches hard at the sight. 

“That’s better,” he comments, unbuckling his belt. “Nice and quiet.” 

He takes a condom from his wallet and rolls it on his thick length. If there was ever a time to stop, it’s now. You look at Scott, his dark gaze swimming with desire and push the thought away, rising up to kiss him. The blunt head of his cock nudges your entrance and you lift your hips. You relish the way he looks, dark hair curling over his sweaty forehead and his body straining for you. Knowing you’ve done this to him sends a rush of want through you. 

Scott pushes inside slowly, hissing as your wet heat envelopes him until he’s halfway in and then he snaps his hips forward unexpectedly. Your breath leaves your lungs in a rush. He falls forward and the weight of him is electrifying. You’d be embarrassed at the desperate little sounds his mouth swallows up if he didn’t feel so damn good. 

He fucks with an intense kind of precision you’ve seen him bring to his work, reaching deep inside you to hit all the right places. You bury your fingers in his dark hair and pull, eliciting a needy moan from the irritatingly talented man above you. 

“You gonna come for me?” He asks, breathless. 

A desperate little, please, slips past your lips without your permission, spurring him on. He hooks a hand under your knee and forces your leg into your chest as he keeps up his frantic pace. The new angle takes him even deeper and pleasure ripples through your stomach. He feels unbelievably good and you practically sob when he pulls back and rises to his full height, afraid he’s going to stop. But he doesn’t, grasping your hips with both hands and forcing you to meet his thrusts. 

You’re tantalizing close and, without thinking, you reach down to help yourself along but Scott is quick to slap your hand away, replacing it with his own. 

“That’s mine,” he growls, the rough pad of his thumb catching on the sensitive skin. He watches with rapt attention as his cock and fingers work in tandem to drive you over the edge. You come with his name on your lips. 

“Fuck, just like that,” he gasps. 

Before you can recover your breath, he leans down and kisses you, his weight pressing you into the desk as his hips move relentlessly. Then he shoves himself deep inside and stills, groaning. Your ears ring and your body buzzes with the aftershocks of your own orgasm. The two of you stay like that, intertwined and panting until, finally, Scott moves. 

Cool air rushes between your bodies and you stare up at him. You can see him thinking in real time, his clever gaze searching your face as he continues to process what happened. What could either of you possibly say after this? Nothing good you realize. 

“Don’t,” you whisper, finger pressed to his lips. “Don’t ruin it.” 

Scott closes his eyes and swallows hard. Then he's moving, slipping out of you with a grunt. He turns away from you, redressing. The clink of his belt buckle is loud in the quiet office. Pressing your fingers to your swollen lips, you take a moment to let yourself feel everything before pushing it aside and standing on unsteady legs.

You fix your appearance the best you can and busy yourself with shuffling the mess of papers strewn everywhere. It might be cowardly, but you keep your gaze fixed on your desk when you hear the door creak open. You wait, the minutes dragging by until you know it’s safe to look up, only to find Scott still there.

He lingers in the doorway, his gaze fixed on you. 

Then you blink and he’s gone. 

♡

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[melminli]

BANG BANG BANG lll

summery - thanos was always just such an easy person to argue with. you really hated the guy and that was something that was never going to change, even if your life was on the line and it fucking was.

pairing: (thanos) choi su-bong x fem. reader

word count: 2.8k

contains: violence, drug use and addiction, dark content - just usual squid game stuff really

a/n: many wished for a part 3, so here you go!

prev. | masterlist.

Money, money, money - must be funny, in the rich man's world? And you know what, it probably was. Though, it wasn't as if a single fucking person in this room would know that. Otherwise, you all wouldn't be here in the first place, would you now?

There were a few among you who couldn't shake off the desire to understand those lyrics, even if it meant risking your lives for it. Well, and by a few you meant more than half of the people around here. You would bet that they would put even more on the line if they had anything else, but no - your own life was all you had and maybe well, the life of the others around you.

All it took was stuffing a few banknotes into a golden piggy to make all the other pigs hope that it could be them up there - that they could be the lucky person that got the money. It seemed to be true, you could take people's lives but not their stupid hope. The one thing that would still be the demise of many, it had to. The prize money wouldn't increase without their sacrifice, after all.

Everyone knows how stories like that ended. You know, the ones where desperate people fight against each other for a chance? Watching all the glowing faces when the prize money was announced after the first game ended, was like watching a beaten-up dog that someone put outside - only to lure it back into the house with a bowl of food. It was just sick. Well, at least it made you sick.

Your lower lip wouldn't stop quivering and you tried to stop it by biting it, but to no avail. You were sweating while still freezing simultaneously and you were very much familiar with the signals your body was trying to send you. However, you tried to ignore them as best as you could, just like you did with everything else right now.

“Hey, you're really not going to talk to me? What if I die in the next game and the last thing you did was ignoring me?” Thanos' incredibly annoying voice spouted some bullshit again as he leaned against your bed while standing up. He had been trying to get your attention for a while now but you were stubborn and continued to show him your back. He raised an eyebrow questioningly as he nudged you with his hand. “Do you really want this on your conscience? Hey, are you serious? I thought that -”

Thanos stopped what he was saying when you turned aggressively to face him with a rather angry look on your face. He slowly brought his hand back to him as your eyes continued to glance at him with that look. “No, you don't think and that's the problem.” you spat out the words full of venom and tried to control yourself when your eyes shifted to the blue label with the circle on his chest. “Why should I care if you die in the next game, huh? You obviously want to keep playing, you -” and you searched for a word to curse him out, but there just wasn't one that could wrap up your feelings at this moment.

It happened again - he took another chance away from you to just live your life. Maybe it wasn't entirely fair of you to blame him when it was a whole group of people who had voted to stay here, but you stopped caring about what was fair a long time ago. “Whatever, nothing matters anymore anyway.” you laughed out in exasperation as you ran your shaky hand over your face. “I'm going to die next round anyway, but I guess that suits you pretty well, huh? You know, since that means that another 100 million won goes into your pretty piggy bank?”

It was a large sum of money, no question, but - was your life really only worth that much?

Thanos grabbed your arm in annoyance as he shook his head in disbelief at what you were saying. You weren't just a sum of money to him and he didn't understand why you would think that. Yes, he admitted that he fucked up all the time and he had never been the best friend to you, but - if there was one thing, one person that he could care about - that would be you, no questions asked. He still did after all these years, even if he didn't say it, even if he did it in his own twisted way. “Are you crazy? Stop talking stupid shit, you're not going to die!” He exclaimed angrily, not even considering that as an option. “If you'd just stop being so fucking stubborn and join my team, you'd know that too.”

You laughed. “What team? You and your little boyfriend back there?” you asked him as you looked at the guy a little further behind you. He seemed like a good tag-along waiting for his boss. How cute, you were about to throw up. “I doubt you two idiots are going to increase my chances of staying alive.”

Thanos looked at you offensively. “Nam-su is not my boyfriend, okay? And we may still be few, but that will change soon. Can't you just - please trust me? Please?” he just straight up started begging and to be honest, you didn't have much energy left for any arguing at this point.

You wish you had the privilege of being able to say that everything was easier back when you two were kids, but your life was exhausting even then. Your mother had too many children with a deadbeat man like your father and after you were born, they put all their hope in you for some reason - to get them out of their miserable poor lives. You weren't some hero, not then and not now. “Do you know why I have so much debt?” you finally asked Thanos tiredly and he just looked at you silently before shaking his head.

You nodded. Of course, he didn't know, you had never told him since you preferred to cut him off. “Because I lost my scholarship at university after they found out I was a fucking crackhead,” you answered him with a depressed smile. “And it doesn't really help much to be smart or anything if you don't have any money. That was my only chance to pay my way through to not end up like this but now I have to figure out how to pay for all that without working myself to death at a fucking minimum wage job,” you told him.

You thought you could finally get rid of some of the stress - try again with the money you would earn here. Simply giving up your studies wasn't an option, since that would mean that you had to work shitty jobs which didn't pay much for your entire life and not just while studying. You refused to face the same fate as your mother - dropping out after she found out that she was pregnant with you was the first mistake that led to many more.

But of course, you would never complain ever again - hell, you would much rather prefer working every night shift in the world if that would mean that you could get out of here. “And you know what I've been thinking ever since? That if I had never asked you as a stupid kid if I could play with your Iron Man figure, none of this would have ever happened to me.”

This is just fucking great. Fucking bullshit. Thanos angrily smacked himself on the head, knowing he deserved all of this. Yeah, you probably even made the right decision by cutting him out of your life back then, but he still couldn't help but continue to be selfish and want you. He wanted you in his life even if he was the worst thing that ever happened to you because you know what? It didn't change the fact that you were still the best thing that would ever happen to him.

He had been a selfish asshole his whole life and that wouldn't change now, so he couldn't just let you go. “Look, it's just one more game. The money we would have gotten if we quit wouldn't even be enough to buy a Lamborghini and I have to afford at least…” he had to strain his head a little and count with his fingers. “…four of them to pay off my debts. Hell, maybe enough people will die in the next round and there'll be even some left over. I'll also give you back all the money I owe you, I promise! And I'll give you even more if you need it. I want to help you, I really do,” he tried to explain, knowing that he would have more than enough once he took Myung-gi's share too.

He just doesn't understand. You sighed tiredly. “Whatever, I don't really care anymore,” you said and finally gave in. “Okay, sure, I'll join your stupid loser team. Just stop bugging me.”

Thanos smiled broadly and didn't stop himself from pulling you into a weird hug. “You won't regret this! I'll take care of you, okay?” he clarified, and even though he claimed the opposite, you couldn't help but feel like you'd regret it - you always did. “We're going to get out of here and everything will go back to the way it was before, okay?”

You just looked at him and said nothing more as Thanos continued to hold you, finally noticing your slightly poor physical condition. He knew how to solve the problem as well as you did, but even in his current befuddled state, he wasn't sure if he should offer you a pill. “Oh, um - I know this probably isn't the right time for this, but it still feels like I should ask…” he spoke up, looking down at his cross necklace.

You tried to hold back. At least for now. “Ehm, no, I'm fine -” you declined with a slight shake and nodded. “Yes, I'm fine, I'll just go to sleep - exactly.”

You could already tell that this night wasn't going to be an easy one, but as you watched Thanos and that Nam-su guy shoo a few other people out of their beds around your area, so that they could take their place, you knew for sure. How embarrassing, you thought to yourself as you pulled the blanket over your body and hoped that the lights would go out soon.

“Welcome to your second game. We will begin shortly, and this game will be played in teams. Please divide into teams of five in the next ten minutes. Let me repeat -”

I guess we won't be playing Dalgona, after all. You didn't really blame the previous winner of the games, too much. After all, he was in the same shoes as all of you.

“So, we need two more people,” Nam-gyu stated correctly as Thanos confidently slapped him on the back, not doubting picking the best from the pool of players. “Yeah, let's see who we can find. Preferably someone with a lot of muscle and strength,” he said, although you weren't sure what the point of that was since you would be playing children's games. Although, on second thought, the strong kids always managed to win the easiest back then, too…

Thanos looked at you as he pointed his index finger at the ground. “You, wait here. We won't take long,” he commanded you as if you were his pet and you felt your eyebrows twitch slightly at the audacity while you silently watched the two guys go away.

Of course, you didn't listen to what he said and just looked around the crowd yourself when you saw how most of the players had already formed groups. I don't want to be in a team with four idiots, you thought to yourself as you saw two people who seemed to be talking to each other. They seemed to be around your age which made you a bit more comfortable when approaching them. “Excuse me…” you said shyly when you met them because talking to strangers still was something that made you a little nervous. “Would you mind if I joined you?”

The players with the numbers 380 and 125 on their chests looked slightly surprised in your direction. The woman looked at your figure briefly before crossing her arms in front of her. “We are only two, so far.” she clarified before your own number seemed to catch her attention. “Hey, aren't you the one who's always hanging out with that crazy purple-haired guy? I would have expected you to be on a team with him?”

You stroked your hair, slightly uncomfortable. "Did you really notice that? Shit, now everyone probably thinks I'm friends with this guy, how embarrassing,” you mumbled to yourself, and the girl just grinned slightly at your appearance while the shy boy looked at you in confusion. “He's like an annoying tick. He just won't leave me alone. Otherwise, I really wouldn't bother with him! You have to trust me!” you begged her, trying to salvage whatever was left of your image.

And speaking of the devil, it didn't take much longer for Thanos to shout out your name after you said that. “Hey! I told you to stay there, what's so fucking hard to understand?!” he spits out annoyed as he grabs you by the shoulders to shake your body before you can even think of hiding from him. Finally, he noticed the other two next to you. “Who are they?” he asked you as you pushed his hands away.

“I want to be on their team,” you announced.

He looked unbelieving and betrayed. “But you promised me you'd be on Team Thanos!”

“Well, I was clearly lying. So, you'd stop bugging me.”

Thanos looked at you with narrowed eyes before glancing at the two other guys he had recruited along with Nam-guy. “You two - go find another team. Now,” he said simply as he copied your posture and made a counter announcement. “Because we're going to unite our teams. You can't get rid of me so easily, you're staying with me.”

Of course. The player with the number 380 on her chest threw an arm around your shoulder as she looked challengingly at your annoying friend. “And who says that we would want to do that?” she posed the question.

Nam-gyu already knew he didn't like this one. “Hey, who do you think you're talking to -” he started to threaten her, but Thanos put his arm out in front of him before he could go after her.

There was a brief, strange silence as the rapper shifted his gaze between you and the other girl next to you. This girl doesn't look straight, is she interested in…?

Thanos narrowed his eyes as his gaze met yours again and he could feel his muscles tense at the things that were running through his head right now. Number 380 was provoking him with her actions. This shit makes me fucking angry, man. But it only took him maybe a few seconds of imagining the whole thing between you two a bit further to change his mind. Never mind, that's actually pretty hot.

“You're safe as long as the great Thanos protects you, eh? Besides, I doubt you'll find anyone better, there are only two minutes left.” he suddenly spoke out and none of you wanted to know what went on in his head in the short time that he was silent. “Come on, this is going to be fun! Who's the little guy behind you?” he asked and you and number 380 looked at each other reluctantly for a moment before revealing your hidden member.

Nam-guy let out a heavy sigh as his eyes met the loser in front of him but Thanos didn't seem to care much about that. “What's your name?” he asked, watching as the guy looked up at him a little anxiously. “Oh, my name is Min-su…”

Even his name sounds pathetic, Nam-gyu thought to himself and couldn't stop himself from voicing his dissatisfaction. “This guy honestly gives me mad loser vibes, dude…” he complained, but Thanos paid him no mind as he walked towards the member. “Nah, this is perfect - we're the perfect team! Right Nim-su?” he asked the little guy while hugging him more tightly from the side and laughing when he saw his shy reaction. “I like you, you're cute.”

Seeing the two of them together was a really weird view, you honestly felt sorry for Min-su. “I'm sorry about that…” you whispered a little awkwardly to player 380 but she just patted you on the shoulder reassuringly. “Don't worry, how those two behave is not your responsibility. I suppose we're in this thing together now.” she laughed, not sure exactly what to make of this all herself.

You smiled at her before your eyes went to the watch on the wall which showed that you all only had half a minute left before the next game would start. “I mean, I guess so…”

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[bookishdreamer28]

₊˚‧︵‿꒰୨ 𝑨𝒍𝒘𝒂𝒚𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖 ୧꒱‿︵‧˚₊

You couldn't see a thing. Your eyes were covered with a blindfold and all you could sense was the dark and cold energy that was radiating in the room they kept you in. It all happened too fast to remember anything right now.

"You can't keep me here forever! If you want to loo for something or someone, I'm not the person who can help you!" You loudly said so they could hear me from the other side of the closed door. Heavy footsteps approached the room you were in and you held your breath, as you waited for what was going to happen next. Once the door opened, the steps kept walking and stepped right in front of you.

The person in front of me kneeled down. He hooks my chin with the knuckle of his pointer finger and thumb.

"Why do you keep lying sweetheart?" The heavy voice of this man gave goosebumps to your whole body. It was so familiar...

"I'm not lying! You caught the wrong person and it's so frustrating that you don't even have the courtesy to explain why-"

"Ssh" His gloved fingers touched your lips and a burned sensation appeared in your stomach.

Then you felt him standing up and walked away.

He opened the door and talked to one of his guards you assume, but you was too deep in thought to bother hearong what they were saying. All you heard was that he was going to keep you company for the night.

When he closed the door, you heard his footsteps halting in front of you.

Then his hands were unwrapping the blindfold and it took you a second to get used to the bright light in the room, before your eyes fell on the figure staring down at you.

Your eyes widened as watched your best friend crouching down to your level, a worrying expression painted on his face.

"Are you ok? Are- are you hurt?"

You were speechless for a moment before your shocked expression turned into an angry one.

"Are yoy kidding me Caleb? I- I thought you were...and now you-.. what the fuck is going on?" Your eyes were stinging as tears made their way down to your cheek. The sight broke Caleb's heart into tiny pieces and all he wanted to do was to hold you in his arms. But he knew better than crossing boundaries right now.

"Love...I know you probably hate me so much right now and it pains me so much. But I had to do what I did. They were after you and-"

"I can't believe that our...friendship was based on lies." Calbed turned pale. He was scared that now he was going to lose you for good. He knew that he had hurt you with his actions but he felt like it would've been better than seing your hurt in the hands of the people who were after him. He promised to himself that he will never let anyone or anything hurt you, and he was going to keep it that way.

"Love what we had, and what I hope we still have, was never based on lies. My feelings for you are true. You mean the world to me. I had to act cold and distant now because the rest of my team was watching. I had to somehow keep you safw by showing them you're not important to me."

"Well, apparently I'm not."

"Listen to me please!" Caleb softly grabbed your forearms.

"You are my world, you are my best friend and damn it I- I wish I was more... I want to be more because I-"

His words never left his mouth, because all he could was just staring at you. Your eyes, your hair, your nose and your...lips. Those lips that he had never got the chance to kiss them and dreamed for so long.

"Caleb?" You whispered, defeated with this fight already. You knew him. Deep down you wanted to believe that what he did was actually for your own good.

"Please..." He exhaled as his face came closer to yours.

"What?" Your eyes fell on his lips.

"Kiss me. Please kiss me love." His voice trembled with emotion and you gulped down your own sobs.

This whole situation made you realize just how much you truly meant to each other. And since it has been so long aince the last time you talked, now it was time that no more words should be exchanged. But for actions to finally speak.

Your hands cupped his cheeks and you kissed him like he was going to disappear any time soon. Like you were watching a dream and you were scared that your time was limited. You needed this as much as he did.

He moaned as he wrapped his arms around your waist, tugging you close to his warm and strong body. But Caleb interrupted your kiss by pulling away for a moment and amde you whined.

"Caleb as much as I want to talk about how stupid your decision was to keep secrets from me, now's not the time."

"I'm sorry love I just need to know if you truly want this-" you answered by kissing him more.

As you were going at it, Caleb picked you up and placed on the small office on the other side of the room. He just couldn't hold back.

When you finally pulled back, Caleb was unable to open his eyes for a few moments. It was so quiet and all you could hear was the sound of you trying catch your own breath. Caleb cupped your cheek in his palm, his thumb brushing lightly over your soft skin.

"It was you, who kept me going. You were leaving in my thoughts the whole time I was trapped in nothing but darkness. I'm not deserving of your forgiveness and I'm willing to grovel for you my love. But nothing, and I mean nothing, will ever stop this heart" he softly grabbed your hand and placed on top of where his heart beats "beating for you."

Your glassy eyes knly stared at him for a moment and then a soft smile appeared on your face, making Caleb smiled widely at the sight.

"Always you." You said as you omce again kissed him, pouring all the love you had in you into it. Even thought you spent so much time away from each other, one thing for sure is that your souls were connected. And there will never be nothing to break this connection.

I got so excited when his trailer dropped that I HAD to post something ASAP!!!!!

[martian-astro10]

Astrology observations - Part 3 (use whole signs)

🎀 For a lot of people with moon in 7th house, their mother had a huge impact on their personality (in a good or bad way). They'll either admire her a lot and try to be more like her or, do their best to not be like her. Their mother usually has a lot of say in who they marry. If the ascendant lord is not strong, then these people completely change after marriage and start to behave in a way in which their spouse would like them to.

🐈‍⬛Saturn in 9th house people can be really good when it comes to their career, they end up getting promoted earlier than others, but I've noticed that they prefer to work alone. It's like, they create something, but they would like someone else to market and sell it since communication is not their strong suit. Can be very introverted, not the best at taking initiatives, are very prone to undermining themselves.

🎀 moon in 11th house people have a really good relationship with their kids (unless it's debilitated). It doesn't matter if you're a guy or a girl, it's the same for both. They're the parents who have a very "chill" relationship with their kids, their kids trust them a lot, treat them as a friend. All my friends who have a great and healthy relationship with their parents, 85% of those parents had moon in 11th.

🐈‍⬛ Mars in 5th house people have such an "interesting" dating life; love triangles, friends with benefits, they've (or will) experienced it all. The people to say "it's complicated" when you ask them about their love life. But I've also seen that these people are very accepting of other people's dating preferences, this is one of the things that I really admire about them, this can result in them having a very diverse group of friends.

🎀 Jupiter aspecting ascendant/midheaven is one of the best placements that you could possibly have. I was going through celebrities' charts and I noticed that the ones who were exceptionally popular or rich had this like 90% of the time. With opposition and square it can indicate that people hate you at first, but then some info comes out and suddenly everyone loves you, but you gotta go through the hate first. Conjunction can go either way depending on the sign.

🐈‍⬛ Saturn in 4th house women have my full respect, like, these people go through so much shit in their life and yet they're so hardworking and never give up. Their mother was probably their worst enemy growing up. If you know someone who has this, give them a hug, they're carrying so much burden, and yet they never show it. You'll never hear these people complaining about life, have a very, "it's okay, problems come and go, you can't be sad all the time" mentality.

🎀 Sun in 1st house people make me so angry, I don't get along with them. They have such a shitty personality, and always wanna fight for absolutely no reason. Start a beef out of nowhere, but they are so fucking good at their job, that's actually what makes me hate them more. My class representative has this, and she's such a bitch, but she's so responsible, it breaks my fucking heart, can't even complain 😔

🐈‍⬛ Mercury in 11th house people have unmatched Rizz, will charm the pants off you (unless it's debilitated). I'm so jealous of people who have this. I know people with this, who are not conventionally attractive but their charm is what makes people like them. I never knew what it meant to be attracted to someone's personality until I met someone who had this. (I know this sounds like a backhanded compliment, but it's really not)

🎀 I have never in my life met a moon in 8th house person who was like....okay. these people will have a mental breakdown almost every week. Can't take criticism AT ALL. I have seen that people with this have a tendency to date whoever they see once they break up, just to show their ex how "wanted" they are, and it's not healthy because a lot of their hook ups have bad intentions. Have a habit of playing the victim "everyone bullies me 🥺" "I have the hardest life" and blah blah. On a positive note, they can handle fame really well because of their ability to manipulate people, once you get in their trap and start liking them, you'll never be able to hate them.

🐈‍⬛ I never see people talking about how smart Venus in 3rd house people are. I'm always so amazed by the way they carry conversations. A lot of women who have won beauty paegents have this because of how nice their answers were. A lot of young politicians have this as well. Their juniors often look up to them.

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