#forever in one another’s orbit

[thelesbianthespianposts]

They’re friends

[dykrophone]

that feeling when a book is relatable in such a weirdly hyperspecific way with respect to something that's so disturbingly prudent to my life and I thought no one understood will always be my favourite thing about reading

[elians-terrarium]

the joy of fandoms you join as a child: you never really leave them

[deep-space-netwerk]

What do you mean by Venus floating cities?

I'm hoping to write a science fiction story about visiting Venus as part of the space race and I would love your input

Alright so the thing with Venus is that we're all very familiar with her horrible hell-death clouds and 900°F surface temperatures. We all understand the surface of Venus is not a fun place for humans to be.

But, nobody ever talks about the fact that ABOVE the hell-death clouds, Venus is a paradise. The most Earth-like environment we know of in the solar system, beyond Earth itself, is actually in the skies of Venus.

About 30 miles above the surface, the pressure is ~1 atmosphere, and the temperature ranges from 30 - 100°F, which is Happy Human™ standard pressure and temperature.

What's more, a breathable mix of oxygen and nitrogen provides over 60% the lifting power on Venus that helium does on Earth. In other words, a balloon full of human-breathable air would float to the habitable range of Venus's atmosphere. We could float a ship with the very air we breathe.

The other great thing about this is that it avoids one of the big problems with Mars colonization. On Mars, any habitat on the surface full of breathable air is vulnerable to leaks and explosive decompression, a la the Martian.

Floating on Venus, a balloon full of breathable air doesn't have a significant pressure difference between the inside and the outside. Which means, any leaks or tears would be very slow and manageable. You could fix that shit with duct tape!

Similarly, because the environment outside the balloon is so Earth-like, humans living there wouldn't need any big fancy pressurized suits for extravehicular work. We'd need air to breathe, maybe some heat protection, and protection against the acid rain. That's it. 

Venus also provides the tools to keep us fed! It's atmosphere is made primarily of carbon dioxide, even above the dense horrible clouds. What likes carbon dioxide? Plants from Earth!! Lets grow FOOD on FLOATING PLATFORMS in the SKIES of VENUS.

This whole idea actually came out of a NASA effort exploring potential Venus colonization. The program was called HAVOC - the High Altitude Venus Operational Concept.

It hasn't really gone anywhere, and as far as I know there are no real plans to revisit it. Unfortunately, from a practicality standpoint, Mars is a much more viable target for human colonization. Not only is it better poised for outer solar system exploration, being farther away from the sun, but living on Venus would come with too many complicated contingencies. In the event of a major failure on Venus, you'd need to fly to another base, or fuck off all the way to orbit. I understand why people aren't really in a hurry to live somewhere where landing on the surface means certain death.

But that doesn't mean I won't be forever and always enamored by the skies of Venus. Here's one of the artist concepts to come out of HAVOC.

I want to be there.

[all-pacas]

incredible pompeii book fact that i will think about forever:

Garum, a sort of Roman fish sauce, was everywhere in Rome and apparently Pompeii was particularly famous for their garum industry. There’s lots of sources both in and outside Pompeii, and several different manufacturers and sellers have been found in the city.

The part that I can’t stop thinking about: jars of garum have been found with labels advertising it as kosher.

I mean, of course you hear about the conflicts between the Romans and Jews. They were very much in one another’s orbits. But still, the fact that there was apparently enough of a market in Pompeii to specifically create and sell kosher fish sauce… you know?

[solarmorrigan]

It’s Eddie’s own fault, really, that things turned out this way (he says, as if he’s in any way displeased with the outcome).

It’s just that once they’d started dating, once Steve had realized that his touch was invited and welcomed, he’d become so open with his affection, whenever and wherever he could be.

He holds Eddie’s hand, he hugs him “hello,” he kisses him “goodbye” (and, frankly, any other time he thinks he can get away with it), he’s always pulling Eddie up close to him when they sit (or pulling Eddie right into his lap, or, once he’s been assured that he’s not that heavy, sitting himself on Eddie’s lap), he’s forever orbiting in Eddie’s space, and Eddie is living for it.

He’s never had anyone love him so openly before, so proudly. It’s fucking marvelous.

Naturally, Eddie starts looking for ways to return the favor; little ways to let Steve know that he’s just as loved.

And it starts with his car keys.

He asks Steve to grab them for him because they’re still on the counter and Eddie’s already halfway out the door. When Steve hands them over, Eddie makes sure to take a moment to lean in and peck him on the cheek with a quick, “Thanks, babe.”

And after catching the pleased, pink flush that spreads over Steve’s cheeks at that, there’s no way Eddie isn’t going to do it again.

After Steve brings him a beer the next time they’re watching a movie together, Eddie gives him a quick kiss on the cheek and tells him, “Thanks, angel.”

After Steve pays for dinner on date night (they take turns, no complaints, no skipping, no matter how much one or the other might argue I can get it this time), Eddie takes a furtive glance around the empty restaurant parking lot before pressing his lips to Steve’s cheek with a quiet, “Thank you, baby.”

After Steve brings him the towel he’d left inside the next time the kids are over to use the pool, he gets a big kiss on the cheek and a saccharine, “Thank you, sweetheart” (at which most of the kids groan and boo about PDA, which results in Eddie flipping them off while Steve kisses him full on the mouth, because they are mature adults).

If Eddie had stopped to think about it, he might have recognized it as a sort of (benign!) conditioning. He doesn’t actually stop to think about it, however, until one afternoon when Steve brings him lunch while he’s working on a campaign.

“Thanks, Steve,” Eddie mumbles, barely glancing up from his notebook.

It takes him almost a full minute to realize that Steve hasn’t moved – and only then because Steve pointedly clears his throat.

Pulled from his plotting stupor, Eddie blinks up at Steve, who is staring right back at him. “What?”

“Forgetting something?” Steve asks, glancing down at the sandwich and chips he’d brought in.

Eddie frowns, thinking back. “I said thank you.”

Steve raises his brows, clearly unimpressed that Eddie is still missing some kind of point, and then he tilts his head just slightly up and to the left, baring the side of his face.

Eddie stares, uncomprehending, for moment longer before– “Oh, shit, right!”

He pops up out of his chair and presses a kiss to Steve’s cheek, then another, and another, until Steve’s smiling at him and trying not to laugh.

“Sorry, darlin’,” Eddie murmurs against his skin. “Won’t happen again.”

“Better not,” Steve chides, but from the way his arms wind over Eddie’s shoulders, pulling him closer as he turns his head to catch him in a proper kiss, Eddie can tell that he’s far from displeased.

[Prompt: Cheek kisses]

[runa-falls]

cocktails

gif from @pirateherokillian

pairing: jake lockley x shy!reader

summary: you finally gain enough courage to make a move on your best friend

cw: explicit (18+), dub-con (reader is tipsy), afab!reader, dry humping to piv pipeline, fingering, multiple orgasms, longing/pining losers, love (?), push-over!jake, needy!reader, 'just the tip' is never just the tip, alcohol consumption, pet names, daddy kink, creampie, fluff :3 -- not beta-read

wc: 5.1k

a/n: pls, it was never supposed to be this long. i'm sorry for taking FOREVER to write this. anyways, this is based off my blabbering in discord -- i dedicate this to my whores (affectionate) <3

mk masterlist | main masterlist

----

You don’t drink. 

At least not in front of Jake. 

Alcohol makes you…indulgent, to say the least, and that’s a side you’ve been holding back from your best friend. 

Yes, you’ve had a drink or two at some group hangouts in the past, but this, you, Jake, and a few bottles of gifted wine, surprisingly has never happened in the past. You’ve made sure of it.

What almost makes it worse is that Jake’s always been a sweetheart about your choices to avoid drinking around him. After your first few bouts of excuses and timid declines, he doesn’t pressure you to keep up with him when he’s knocking back shots or drinking pitchers of beer. 

Whenever your other friends press another drink into your hand, he subtly takes it for you, drinking it in large gulps before returning the glass from your hand. And when he pulls away, his fingers always find a way to graze against yours. Thankfully the bars are usually dimly lit so he can’t see the blush heating at your cheeks. 

He doesn’t realize it’s because of him. He’s the reason bartenders give you weird looks when you ask for watered-down vodka cranberries or why you’re always the last one standing in your friend group whenever you go out. This restraint around alcohol has gone on for years all because you harbor an intense attraction for your best friend. 

It didn’t start that way. He crashed into your quiet life and obliterated the dynamics of your friend group. When you first met him, you thought his cocky and blasé attitude was overcompensating for something.

He’s always been a natural sweet talker, not afraid to approach people and get what he wants, but it seemed too good to be true. He’s too charismatic, too interested in the dull life you live, how did he dig out a hole and place himself so easily in your life?

Easily, too easily, you fell for his sweet words, words that would inevitably draw you into his orbit and leave you hanging off of every syllable. 

You learned that no matter what he says, or does, he’s just being friendly. He’s just like that with everyone. It means nothing when he gives you a cheeky grin from across the bar or when he consistently insists on walking you home at night. Sure, he might stick closer to your side than anyone else's, but it’s just because you’re best friends. Right?

Of course, girls have tried and failed to lock down your best friend, misinterpreting his outgoing personality as him propositioning them. And they always come to you – whining over his lack of interest, the sudden and unexpected rejection of their advances, and grappling for any advice from his girl best friend. 

“He’s single, isn’t he?” The words are said over the thin rim of a martini glass. She glances over at you with hopeful eyes framed by beautifully dark lashes. 

You barely knew the girl’s name, but she offered to buy you a drink (a shirley temple) so you stayed for the conversation, however, you weren’t expecting the topic to circle back to Jake. But after watching her down a couple of martinis, gushing more and more about the man you’ve been pining after for an eon, you felt too bad to leave her. 

“Um…as far as I know.” It’s a little uncomfortable, talking about Jake like you’re his keeper.

“Then – then why won’t he go out – or even hook up with me?” Her voice has gotten louder with the exasperation of her inquiries. You look around at the bar, hoping she can keep it together before you’re kicked out for causing a ruckus. 

“Look, I don’t know if I’m the best –”

“But you’re his best friend, right?”

“Yes, but –”

“What’s his type?”

His type?

God, you wish you knew. It would make things a lot easier for yourself (and the world). But you genuinely don’t know. You’ve never seen him with a girl. Sure, he could be hooking up on the side, but why would he tell you?

You look down at your glass. All that’s left is ice, melting into an amalgam of pink-tinted liquid around the one maraschino cherry you refuse to eat. 

“I don’t know.” You mumble.

—

You’re already through a bottle and a half, lounging comfortably on the overstuffed couch in your living room. Something is playing on the TV but it’s all a blur behind the feeling of his thigh pressing against yours. 

Jake has never been afraid of showing his affection through physical means, whether it’s greeting ladies with a friendly peck on the cheek or ruffling one of the guy’s hair when he goes by. It’s natural to him. Casual.

But with you, he’s mostly hands-off. 

It’s not that you deign to feel his touch, to feel the scratchiness of his whiskers rub against the edge of your hairline, or lower against the sensitive skin of your throat, you just can’t control your reactions when he does it. Even the light touch of his hand against your lower back when he guides you has you standing straighter. 

He noticed your strong reactions to him and backed off, assuming you were uncomfortable or unused to friendly touches. And it was fine until you would do anything to feel him against you again, just one more time. It’s desperate, really, but you don’t really care when he looks at you with those cocoa-butter eyes. 

And now, he’s closer than ever but still hands-off. He politely sits next to you, one arm slung over the back of the couch and the other in his lap. But not touching you. 

He’s been making commentary about the dumb hallmark movie you impulsively rented, pointing out all the unrealistic plot conveniences and bright red flags that the main character blatantly ignores. He seems relaxed. 

You aren’t.

Two stained wine glasses sit on the coffee table, dangerously close to the edge, still holding a sip of liquid. You can barely make out the intricate print of his lips on the edge of the cup, highlighted by the brightness of the hallmark snow scene. 

You want so badly to steal the glass away and lick up the residual bitter-sweetness of the wine that’s touched his lips. To taste him, even indirectly. Or directly. Lick the sweetness straight from the source, tongue intermingling with him as he takes just as much from you. You feel yourself pulse from that image alone.

“Bunny?” Heat prickles against the back of your neck as you realize how far away your brain is, thinking such filthy and depraved thoughts of the man who is sitting right next to you. 

He dotes on you like a person would their favorite pet cat. He calls you pet names, ones that make you bite your tongue and hide your face in your hands. Bunny was the first one and the one he uses the most. 

It came out of nowhere, really. You were both at a small house party and Jake convinced you to join his team in a game of beer pong. You were still a bit nervous around him, still surprised when he’d seek you out for a conversation or to get your opinion on something entirely irrelevant. 

You told him upfront that your hand-eye coordination leaves much to be desired, but he was determined to teach you. The first few throws were pitiful, so pitiful, in fact, that the other team gave you a freebie to make up for it. 

“Here, lemme give you a hand.” You couldn’t even react before he was sidled behind you, his chest nearly flush against your shoulder as his hand wrapped around your wrist. Your body is frozen, soaking in the overwhelming closeness.

You can barely decipher the individual cups of beer with his voice low behind your ear as he directs you, “Keep it right….there” He lets go of your arm and you already miss his touch, “and put a little more power into your throw.” 

He steps back, giving you space to take a breath and refocus. 

You throw it, more mechanical than you would’ve liked, but it – miraculously – goes in. 

Immediately you turn around to get his reaction, the praise that you secretly crave from a man you barely know. 

He grins down at you, “You’re a natural, bunny.” 

And the nickname stuck.

You look over at him, lazily blinking up to meet his fond gaze, “Hm?” You feel all fuzzy inside, overexcited yet pinned down by the unexplainable need to stay close to him. 

He smirks down at you, arm subtly lowering to barely touch the back of your head, “What’cha thinkin’ about, sweetheart?” You try to lean into the feeling of his arm, hoping that if you ease into it, he won’t notice. “You had this… faraway look in your eyes for a moment.”

Oh, he noticed. But there’s no way he knows what you were thinking, right? A flash of embarrassment stings hot in your cheeks. You don’t think when you shyly nuzzle your face into his bicep to avoid his curious eyes, “I think I just zoned out or something.”

He hums, “You tired?” You turn your face to look at him, cheek resting against him. God, he smells so good. You never want to move from this spot. “Want me to tuck you in?” His voice coos teasingly, but you soak in the sweetness of it. He can be so soft sometimes.

Scrambled words echo in your mind: But if you go to bed, you’ll leave. You’ll take your arm out from under me and leave me here to think about you, all alone. Why can’t you just – Your thoughts quickly dissipate when he pulls you closer to him, hand at your waist to press your body against his.

Your hand presses delicately against his chest in surprise and you can barely feel the soft thrum of his heartbeat underneath the firmness of his muscles.

You softly shake your head, “Not tired.”

“Sure, baby.” 

Baby. 

That’s new. 

Your thighs involuntarily press together with how good it sounds coming from his lips. Directed at you. Somehow, even with all the pet names he’s given you throughout the span of your friendship, this one hits home.

He says it with the casualness of a boyfriend and tenderness of a lover. You can almost feel him panting it against the crook of your neck as he pushes inside of you, hand clutching yours as his hips roll perfectly against yours. 

You don’t even realize your legs are rubbing together like a cricket at dusk until a warm hand wraps around the top of your thigh. He pulls them apart, spreading your legs like you’ve always dreamed he would. Despite the suggestive position, you still whine at the loss of friction, thoughtlessly fighting against the insisting tug of his hand.

He hushes you gently, a soft tone barely easing your frustration. You latch your fingers onto his wrist, attempting to guide him to the spot that you really need him to touch, but he barely budges. His grip on your thigh tightens when his name drips brokenly from your lips. 

“J-Jake…” 

“Sweetheart, stop.”

“But –”

“Please.” Jake looks down at you with a pained expression, all past chivalry betrayed by the darkness pooled in his eyes.

You look up at him with misty eyes and flushed skin, innocence in the palm of his hand. “I need you.” You bite your lip at your admission, stained red from the wine, and he can’t take his eyes off of you. You pull at him again and this time he lets you. Both of you look down as his hand cups you over your shorts.

“You’re too drunk right now.” The whispered attempt of resistance falls on deaf ears as you arch your hips into his touch. Neither of you notice that the movie ended, leaving you in a silence where only the exchange of breathless pants can be heard. 

“Touch me.” You whine, desperate for anything. Desperate just to be accepted by him.

His gaze briefly flicks up from where he’s touching to regard your eagerness with half-lidded eyes. He shakes his head and looks away like he’s looking for answers on the blank wall next to him. “I…shouldn’t.” 

You start to panic when you feel his hand pull away. It can’t end like this. You hold onto his wrist when a particularly needy idea pops into your mind. If he doesn’t want to ‘defile’ you, then fine. You’ll do it yourself.

“I…c-could i just rub myself against you?” You berate yourself for sounding so meek, so unsure, but you’ve never done anything like this before, never had to take control of the situation. “Like, if you don’t want to…um, touch me.” He looks at you wordlessly, gorgeous lips parted at your suggestion.

His tongue brushes over his bottom lip, “I– Okay, sure…” 

With his permission, you push up against the couch to get up and straddle over him. Clearly, he wasn’t expecting it with how his hands barely hover over your body like he’s unsure whether he wants to pull you closer or shove you off his lap. “Is this okay?” 

“Yeah.” He sounds strained, “But just for a little bit, alright?” 

“Ok.” You promise though you’re sure that once you get a taste, you’ll never want to stop. You have to make this good for him so he’ll want you back.

You settle against him, body thrumming with anticipation when your clothed cunt meets the prominent hardness under his jeans. So he does want it. His hands clasp onto your waist when you start to move over him, hips experimentally rolling against his.

Jake watches you move over him with a look of deep hunger and awe. It’s endearing how shy you are, even now grinding on his lap. Your movements are clumsy – unpracticed as you desperately try to chase that spark that’ll satisfy the heat buried deep down inside of you. 

“That good, baby?” 

You nod, mewling quietly as the seam of his jeans drags perfectly against your clit. Pleasure pools in your stomach, nudging you closer and closer to the edge. You hold onto his shoulders as you work yourself over him, panting from your effort. He starts to cant his hips upwards to meet your thrusts, pressing his erection roughly against your core to show you just how much he wants you. 

All you can think of is how good it would feel to have him bare against you, skin to skin. When you meet your peak, body hot and trembling as you rub against him, the end never comes. It’s not enough. You’re just left teetering at the top with no drop in sight.

You huff, “Jake, can I – just…please.” You let your hands drop from his shoulders to start working on his belt.

“What is it bunny, what do you need?” He looks so good under you with his wrinkled shirt unbuttoned just so to give you a peak of his collarbone and the newly open belt hanging from the loops in his tight jeans. You undo the button, fingers briefly fumbling as your knuckle brushes against his bulge.

“Just need to feel you.” You paw at the waist of his pants, trying to subtly indicate that you need his help to take them off. But he sits there and smiles sweetly at your frustrated huffs. 

“And what about me?” He says in a teasing drawl. He drags you closer to him and cups your face until your lips nearly meet yours. He’s so close that you can make out the light dusting of freckles that grace his nose and cheeks. Amber eyes bore into yours as he whispers, “You’re using my body and haven’t even given me a kiss yet.”

“Oh.” Your gaze drops to his lips, “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, baby.” He leans in, “just kiss me.” Your eyes flutter close when you meet the softness of his lips. You immediately melt into the gentle caress of his hand on your jaw with a sigh as he desperately keeps you close. 

Jake groans, drinking in the sweetness of your lips, a taste of pure heaven melting on the tip of his tongue, before hungrily deepening the kiss. He licks against the seam of your mouth, begging you to open yourself up to him. You surrender yourself to him, letting him slide in and taste you from the inside out. 

Your hands move up from his shoulders to his soft curls, tugging eagerly in an attempt to hear the soft groan that rumbles in his chest. He nips at your bottom lip, suckling it until it’s pink and tender, wanting to leave a mark so you’ll always think of him. He can’t help but press against you when you whimper for him, grinding eagerly against your center, wishing he was inside of you instead.  

“Just the tip.” You mumble it against his lips. He’s too far gone to clearly hear what you said, lost in a thick fog of awe, lust, and…love. At his silence, you pull away to look at him, scared you’re asking for too much. “Jake.” He nods thoughtlessly, chasing your lips, already missing your taste. He almost whines when you pull away from his touch, but quickly comes back to reality when he sees the way you’re nervously looking at him. 

He squeezes your waist comfortingly, “Anything you want, bunny.” You smile at the pet name and gratefully peck his lips. He tries to deepen the kiss, hand already pressing against the back of your head, but you cheekily pull away before he gets too far. You stand up, ignoring his objections and clingy touches as you get off of his lap. 

You fluidly slip your shirt over your head before carelessly dropping it to the floor behind you. There’s fire in his eyes as he sits back on the couch and watches you reveal the cute bra that cups you so perfectly. You tease the edge of your waistband as you look down at him, “Off, please.” You gesture at his jeans. He follows your directions, quickly shimmying his pants off, eyes on you the whole time.

You follow him, tugging your shorts off to show him the matching panties. You squeak when warm hands abruptly pull you to the couch, eagerly wandering over your waist and hips as he buries his face against your neck. 

“Can’t help it, baby,” His touch drifts up to cup the underside of your tits, trailing carefully over the curve to memorize the shape of you. “You’re just so fucking pretty.” He groans hot and heavy against your neck as he squeezes your softness. 

You’re back on top of him, naked thighs draped over his, skin against skin, and now, you can feel all of him. He’s pressed so deliciously against your core, pulsing with pure desire and heat. The only thing separating the two of you is fading self-control and a pair of thin panties.

His mustache tickles against your throat as his lips drift over your pulse point. He presses heady kisses against the edge of your jaw, gauging where your most tender spots are. 

“Oh–!” Your thighs clench around him when he touches a particularly delicate area near your ear. He gently nips at the spot, holding you tighter when you moan at the feeling.

Jake lets out a broken groan when you reach between your bodies and take him into your hand. He tries to continue giving your body loving attention with his lips, but his kisses get messy, dragging lazily over your shoulder and collarbone, with how distracted he is by your touch. He has to pull away for a breather and hold himself back from thrusting into your fist when you squeeze him teasingly at the base. 

“Bunny…” You both look down and watch as your smaller hand slowly strokes him. His cock is flush with need, leaking so prettily as you try your hardest to make it good for him. You slip your other hand under his shirt, running your fingers against his coarse happy trail to his rippling muscles. The couch groans next to you as he harshly grips the arm, barely holding himself back with white knuckles. “Oh, f-fuck.” His body stiffens under you as you brush your thumb against the sensitive underside of the tip. 

You tenderly massage the spot, watching in awe as he continues to spill over your fingers, making a mess that drips onto your inner thighs and the edge of his shirt. He groans at the sight, his cock throbbing desperately in your hold.

As beads of white paint your fingers, your mouth waters just thinking about how he tastes. You feel ravenous to see him cum, to watch how easily you can ruin him. “H-hold on, cariño. Give me a second.” Jake chokes out. His hips stutter under you before he pulls your hand away.

"Whyy." You whine, pouting up at him with starry eyes. You reach for him again with the hand he isn’t holding onto, brushing your fingers against his sensitive cock. He shudders for you with a broken groan. 

“I'm close-- just – stop for a moment –” Both hands are pinned to your side as Jake’s chest heaves under his shirt. He rests his head back against the couch, eyes closed as he struggles to hold himself back. 

“But…I want you to.”

“I know, baby,” He lifts his head, dark eyes boring into yours, and pulls your hands behind you. You squirm in his lap, back arching at the position, suddenly remembering your own desperation. It feels good to be bound by his hands, to let him do whatever he wants to your body. “But I don’t wanna finish if it isn’t in you.” 

Your face heats in embarrassment. “Oh.” 

Jake picks up on your sudden shyness immediately. 

“You like that, don’t you, bunny?” He smirks, “The thought of me filling you up, then dripping out of you?”

You bite your lip, “A little bit.”

“A little, hm?” He ponders, “Well why don’t we try it out and see.” Your thighs clench around him at the idea.

“Ok.”

“Sit up, let me see how wet you are.” He helps you raise yourself on your knees so you’re hovering over his lap. Letting go of your wrists, he drags his thumb against your clothed cunt; The fabric has a darkened splotch along your opening, teasing him with evidence of your lust. “Aw, sweetheart, you’re soaked…” He nudges your panties to the side, slipping his fingers against your wet opening. “Gonna ruin these pretty little panties, hm?” You nod wordlessly, hips desperately pushing against his touch.

He gently slides against your dripping entrance, making a mess of your cunt with teasing circling motions. Wet, decadent sounds fill the limited space between you as his fingers prod ever so slightly against the spot where you need him most.  A helpless sound is pushed out of you when he finally eases two fingers inside of you.

“Is that good, bunny?” He coos as he slowly fucks his fingers into you. It’s only his fingers, but he’s already filling you up so deliciously. His dark eyes are hungrily locked on how he fills you up over and over again, slick dripping down his knuckles and over his palm. “Hm?” 

You nod again, brain foggy with pleasure. “Yes, J–” You can barely get a word out when he curls his fingers up, pressing so sweetly and deep against the sensitive walls of your cunt. You have to stop yourself from wrapping your legs around his wrist, it feels so good. “Uh–!” You almost fall over and have to hold onto his shoulders for support as he begins to speed up. 

“That’s it, baby…” Your grip on his shoulders tightens as he rapidly presses against your g-spot. You’re already hurdling towards the edge and he can feel it with how you start to clench around his fingers. “Make a mess of my hand..” Within a handful of thrusts, you’re gasping out with pleasure, your thighs shaking over him. He takes his hand away and holds you against him to keep you sitting upright as your body is overtaken with euphoria. You pant against his shoulder, trying to gather your senses. 

You can feel him under you, hard and wanting, throbbing as you whimper and arch against him, letting the pleasure work through your body. Even when you’re barely coming down from an orgasm, you’re still longing to be filled with something more. But he ignores his own needs, instead focusing on you, softly pecking the top of your head and rubbing comforting circles against your arms. 

You lift your head from his chest to look at him, taking in his flushed cheeks and dark eyes. Jake stares right back, unabashedly, in awe. “You’re so good to me, bunny.” You shiver at the praise. At the comfort. You shyly divert your eyes to stare at the marks you’ve left on his shoulders. 

“Only for you, Jake.” You don’t see it, but his lips lift into a small smile at your words. 

His hands drift down from your arms to hold you by the waist. “Only for me.” He echos, solidifying the statement. 

You gasp when he suddenly presses you down against his cock. Looking back up at him, he meets your wide eyes with a mischievous grin, hips rolling teasingly against yours. “And I’m all yours.” You position yourself over him all while keeping eye contact, wanting to drink in every microexpression on his face. 

“Yes.” You both sigh as he barely brushes against your wet opening. He takes a deep breath, clutching your hips as you begin your descent.

Your body slowly manages to swallow the first inch of him. And – oh – it’s so much better than you expected. He stretches you so fully, even barely inside of you, filling you exactly how you need him to. 

You let out a strained whimper from the back of your throat as you slowly lower yourself onto his lap. You whine as your body desperately clenches and stretches to accommodate him inside of you. His hold on your hips tightens as your thighs meet his, now fully impaled by his hard cock.  

“I thought it was ‘just the tip’.” Jake tries to tease, his deep voice gravelly with lust, but it comes out as more of a groan than a taunt.

You slowly shake your head, body trembling as you get used to the feeling of him inside of you. 

“You said you’re all mine, daddy.” The words practically melt from your lips, lethargic with heat. It catches him off guard. You moan, hips slowly moving over him to feel him deeper inside. “M-mine,” You repeat with a pant, so lost in desperation that you don’t even notice the way he’s looking at you, frozen in place. 

“I-I did say that, didn’t I?” He doesn’t know what else to say, brain overheating from your ministrations. You’ve never called him a pet name before, let alone used the word ‘daddy’ anywhere near him. You’ve always been a shy little bunny around him, always preciously out of reach, a tease to fantasize about, but now you’re wrapped around him, moaning beautifully destructive words. 

What really surprises him is the way he’s eagerly throbbing inside of you from that word. Desperate thoughts float in his mind: She wants me to take care of her, she needs me.

“Fuck me.” He groans to himself, willing his body to hold back from cumming inside of you right then and there. 

“P-please.” You beg with a broken voice, thinking he’s talking to you. Jake just nods understandingly and holds you closer with an arm wrapped around your torso, wanting to feel your whole body against his. He starts off slow, pressing up into your kneeling body with measured thrusts as he dots kisses along your neck and shoulders. You sigh something wistful before meeting his movements, eagerly lifting your hips against him. 

“God, bunny, you feel so good.” He can't help it, you’re all-encompassing like this, with your pretty little sighs and panted breaths, it’s everything he’s ever wanted, so he starts to speed up, projecting his desperation into his actions. Your back arches at the change of pace as he pumps into you, and it only makes him feel deeper. “So tight around me.” He pushes against your front wall on every thrust and you swear it makes you see stars. 

Your clit inevitably rubs against him as your bodies move with each other and it takes your pleasure to another level. You’re sure the sounds you’re making verge on embarrassing, but he seems to eat them up anyway. “Ah, right there--! Jake –”

“No, bunny,” He grits out, “It’s daddy.”

You whimper, “Daddy – ” He feels you flutter deliciously around him as your head begins to lull backward. He groans as your cunt sucks him deep inside, desperately milking his cock as you’re seized by ecstasy.

“Fucking take it, sweetheart.” 

“I-I think m’gonna…” Your eyes roll back before you can finish your sentence and white fills your vision. You let out a keening sound as you gush over him, thighs clenched around his as your second high moves through you. 

His eyes squeeze shut as he gives in and starts fucking you at a punishing pace. Your mouth drops open around an empty moan. You can only hold onto him as he takes what he wants from your body, intensifying your orgasm with sloppy thrusts. With a few more upward pushes, he lets out a breathy grunt and finishes inside of you, painting your walls with his warmth. 

You both stay in this position for a little longer. 

You can feel Jake’s heart beat rapidly against your chest as you cuddle against him. He’s still recovering from the onslaught of sensations and emotions. Both of you are sticky with sweat and slick, but neither of you care. His cock is still inside of you, keeping his cum locked inside as you dutifully warm him with your cunt. 

“Such a pretty girl…” He croons, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. He looks down at you with such sincerity in his eyes, that it’s almost overwhelming. You bite your lip nervously at the compliment and attempt to look away, but before you can, he’s tilting your face up with the light touch of a finger, “Really? You’re gonna act all shy with my cock still in you?”

His words only make you squirm on top of him. He nearly chokes at the accidental stimulation. 

“You can’t just say stuff like that.” Your voice is small and cute.

“Then how am I supposed to fluster my girl?” 

Your eyes widen. His girl? 

“Your girl?”

“My girl.” He hums with a small smile before placing a soft kiss on your lips.

[cal-1maf]

Before we get into black holes, there are a few myths about them that deserve to be addressed.

First off, they don’t “suck stuff in.” They exert gravity on objects the same as anything else with mass. In fact, if our sun were to be magically replaced, instantly, with a black hole of equal mass, our orbit around it wouldn’t change at all! 

Second, that they’re black because their gravitational pull is so large that not even light can escape. This one’s more complicated. Around the singularity, there is a region of space where an observer cannot see “in”, which is called the event horizon. If you’re curious, this region’s size is defined by the black hole’s “Schwarzchild Radius” (Rs), which is defined by the equation Rs = 2GM / (c^2) where G is the gravitational constant, M is the mass of the black hole, and c is the speed of light.

In simple terms, let’s say we send an astronaut into the black hole. As they approach the event horizon, they experience time passing normally. From their perspective, they fall toward the black hole, through the event horizon, and observe whatever is happening beyond it. But from our perspective as an observer, the astronaut appears to slow down. Gravity affects spacetime, and the farther down a gravity well one goes, the slower time moves. This is actually something that GPS satellites need to account for, because this difference is observably present even for Earth’s gravity!

So as observers, the astronaut’s progress continues to slow as they approach the event horizon, to the point that their progress appears to just stop when they arrive at the edge of it. This is where the astronaut will appear to be, forever…if we could still see them. Light is also affected: it appears to slow down too and its frequency decreases. This decrease of its frequency is called redshift, and as the light approaches the event horizon it redshifts out of observable frequencies. So the astronaut, and the light with which we’d observe them, disappear without ever passing the event horizon from our perspective as observers. Remember, from the astronaut’s perspective they’re moving as normal and they pass through the event horizon just fine. So while, yes light can’t escape the event horizon, we’d never see it pass into it in the first place, and that’s why black holes appear black.

The last misconception, which I’m guilty of spreading in my last post, is that all black holes are infinitely dense. This is true in some cases, but supermassive black holes can actually have very low density! When I can find a satisfying answer as to why, I will be sure to share it lol.

This has become another one of my Very Long Posts, so if you would rather absorb this information in video or audio format, PBS Space Time has an excellent video here which I found very helpful in my understanding. All the material I’ve covered in this post is in this video, actually.

[anonymityisfunwriter]

To Know Him Is To Love Him

summary: to know steve rogers is to love him. to know him is to keep handing over your heart over and over again. to know him is to be broken by him.

pairing: steve rogers x reader

an: quick someone give this to a boy to read and ask him what steve did wrong. it's for science.

Anon's 1K Celebration

to know him is to love him.

to know him is to stand by him.

to know him is to allow him to break your heart over and over again.

to know him is to hope that one day he'll finally see.

to know him is to be broken by him.

you can't count how many times he put you here, put in this situation. and worse, you can't count how many times you've let him put you in this situation.

three months ago...

you fix steve's tie, patting his shoulder to send him off on yet another date - after he invited himself into your apartment to get him ready for his date. you hated this feeling, the feeling of unrequited love.

you can't blame him, he doesn't know. at least, you think he doesn't know. in fact, you're sure he doesn't, he would never hurt you like that.

"i swear if this date doesn't go well, i'm swearing off women for good."

"does that mean i'm out a friend?" you tease.

"no, of course not," steve laughs. "you're my best friend. you don't count."

your smile falls at the words fall out of his mouth with ease. you don't count. you're not even a consideration. "i don't count as a woman?"

"you know what i meant. you're my friend."

you don't know what he meant. not in the slightest.

"right," you clear your throat, shaking your head with furrowed brows. "good luck on your date."

two months ago...

"i would tell him, but he's just - he's confusing," you admit. "i get a lot of mixed signals."

"men are just idiots," nat offers in consolation. "someday, he'll see. you're perfect for each other."

"thanks." you smile, walking back to your table with a fresh round of drinks. "what are you guys talking about?"

"about steve's terrible dating record," sam jokes.

"ah," you hum, you settle in the booth beside him, leaving plenty of room between the two of you.

steve frowns at you, reaching behind you and gripping your waist. without a word, he slides you until you're pressed against his thigh.

sam humorously snorts, "i don't get you two. you're attached at the hip. you're both attractive singles. make it official already."

you look to steve's reaction for any indication of what he's feeling. steve leans over, kissing your temple, "she knows she's my other half, my soulmate. we don't need labels."

"soulmate?" sam teases.

you shift uncomfortably. he never asked you that, never asked you if you wanted a label. he's never even asked you on a real date, but now he's declaring that he's your soulmate.

how blind can he be?

one month ago...

"please, i miss you, sweetheart." you squeeze your eyes shut. the term of endearment rolls so easily off his tongue. "i feel like i haven't seen you in forever."

it's intentional. you're trying to get over him. to move past these feelings. he doesn't make it easy. "i know, i've just been busy."

"how about dinner tonight? my place at 8?"

you chew on the inside of your cheek, hesitant to accept his dinner invite, "i don't know, steve."

"please, i need you."

putting distance between you and steve rogers didn't work. not when he so dutifully sought you out. not when he told you over and over again that he missed you. that he didn't know how to be without you.

his words toy with your head just enough to convince that it's a good idea to enter his gravitational orbit again.

you're not strong enough to resist the pull. you're not strong enough to to say no. you never have been.

you decide that you can't do this. you're going to tell him. you'll tell him. you'll tell him that you want to count. you'll tell him that you want him to see you.

to know him is to love him, you remember. the moment you see him, you crumble. that smile that makes it feel like your life is worthwhile. the eyes that send your rational mind into a haze. to know him is to love him.

he doesn't make it easy for you or your heart. he greets you at the door with a beaming grin, his eyes lighting up. it makes you feel like this is more than just a dinner. it feels like you're finally coming home to him.

you falter as his fingers graze your skin to take off your jacket. the apartment isn't his usual scene either. it feels like so much more than just a normal hangout. it feels... romantic. music spinning on his record player, marvin gaye, you recognize. candles lit in the center of the table. the smell of a home cooked meal simmering over the stove.

you turn to him with a nervous smile, "i thought you we were ordering pizza or something."

"i wanted to do something nice for my best girl."

his best girl.

he spends the whole dinner fawning over you. his hand rests on your leg. the other occasionally grazing the back of your hand. he asks you all about your work, about your love life.

"i missed you so much."

you're so entranced by him that your carefully thought out speech is gone, replaced by a soft whisper, "i love you."

"i love you, too." he smiles down at him. his eyes shining bright and blue. it doesn't even occur to him that you're professing your love for him. "i can't imagine my life without you."

you shake your head, reminding yourself that you had to tell him. you needed to move forward, one way or another. "no, steve, i - i'm in love with you."

an anxious chuckle leaves his mouth. his hand drops from your thigh, leaving you feeling cold, hollow, and abandoned. "what?"

you know a rejection when you see one. at least you can move on now. your heart can begin to heal. maybe in time, you could be friends again. "i just had to tell you. just once."

"i don't -" he licks his lips. "i'm sorry, i don't feel the same."

"i understand."

2 weeks ago...

you sigh at yourself, hearing the familiar ding of another voicemail on your phone.

each one chips away at your resolve, each one shatters your broken heart even more.

you told him you understood. you told him that it was okay. you spent the night consoling him. you soothed his fears that he would lose you.

in return, he made you promise to always be in his life. with a broken heart and wounded pride, you weren't strong enough to say no. you simply asked for time and a little space.

time and space that steve had no interest in giving you.

you made it easy for him. you retreated from mutual friends. from social spaces you occupied. you no longer texted or called first. you just needed time.

still, he sought you out.

you've gained enough strength to stop answering his every call and text. you've stuck to your boundaries, at least, the ones steve doesn't seem intent on steamrolling past.

you clutch your kitchen counter with your head hung low. with a couple deep breaths and reminders that he doesn't feel the same for you, you're slowly glad you didn't answer. you're proud of yourself for being strong and doing what's best for you.

at least, you're glad until there's a banging at your door.

your mending heart regrets the moment you answer.

"steve?"

"you weren't answering," he pants, clutching the frame of your doorway, "i wanted to hear your voice."

"steve..." you sputter. "this isn't - it's-"

"i just miss you," he cuts you off. he looks so heartbroken, so sincere. he misses you. you try to not make anything more of it, but then he says it again, "i miss you so much."

you stand to the side, allowing him to pass, "come in."

"thank you," he sighs in relief.

"what happened?"

"the worst date of my life."

you swear you can feel your heart fracturing. the air feels like its being squeezed out of your lungs.

and still, you stand before him trying to look as unaffected as possible. you don't know how effective it is. you don't think he sees you enough to notice either way. "you were on a date?"

"it was awful. she was vapid and boring and - and pretentious - and - and she wasn't you."

you suck in a breath, "steve..."

these were words from a man who did not love you, from a man that did not count you. they sounded an awful lot like the love he claimed he didn't feel.

suddenly, he cups your face, standing too close to you. this wasn't what friends did. this isn't how friends treated each other. you know that.

and then he kisses you. soft and tenderly. his lips mold against yours perfectly. you swear it's a sigh of relief that leaves his mouth when you don't pull away.

you smile against his lips. a sense of rightness overtakes you. he overwhelms you. he consumes you. he grips your waist tightly. the other hand caressing your cheek.

"steve.." you sigh against his lips.

and he freezes. his hands drop as though you burned him. his lips slightly swollen and shining from the kiss. he wipes his mouth, "i should go."

you shake your head. you don't want to believe that this is happening right now. this is steve. the person you loved with every fiber of your being. your friend. you trusted him. you believed in him. he wouldn't hurt you like that. even if he didn't love you, even as just a friend, he wouldn't take advantage of your love for him like that. "what?"

"i should go."

and he leaves without another word.

your heart isn't just broken anymore, it's crumbled into a million little pieces. you're not sure you'll ever be able to fix it.

1 week ago...

he's blown past all your defenses. he's drained every ounce of strength from you. he's taken everything except your broken heart and your love for him. that's all that's left of you.

to know him is to love him. to know him is to be broken by him.

he calls and this time, you answer. you fear him coming back to your apartment like he did before. your heart couldn't take it anymore.

"hi, steve." your voice is so gravelly and hollow, a shell of the fullness and life it used to contain.

you noticed everything about him. his likes, his dislikes. you could tell the day he was having by the way he said hi, by the sort of smile he gave you. you're not sure why you just realized that it's not reciprocated at all. he once told you he loved the sound of your voice, how could he not hear the broken tone? if he notices, which you're sure he doesn't, he doesn't ask.

you can hear the smile in his voice, "i'm so glad you answered."

you're not even sure that he realizes you've put the phone down. after all, you're just his space filler.

now...

you don't know why you're surprised he showed up at your door again. you're not surprised that you opened the door. you're not surprised that you let him back into your home. you're not even surprised that he's talking to you like everything is normal.

the only thing that takes you by surprise is your unwillingness to hear about the misadventures of his dating life.

"steve," you try to interrupt.

"and all i want -"

"steve."

"is for someone to really hear me, to see -"

"steve." you're surprised by the harshness in your own voice. his eyes flash over to you, widened slightly in shock. "you - you have to go now."

his brow furrow, he's taken aback. it occurs to you that he has no idea what he's done wrong. "why?"

"you know why," you spit at him.

"no, you said you understood. you said we could still be friends."

"friends?" you bitterly chuckle. "friends don't hurt their friends over and over again."

"i don't understand."

"that's the problem, steve. you don't get it. you don't get that i don't want to hear about the girls you date. you don't get that it hurts hearing you talk about what you're looking for in a woman. it hurts when call me at the end of the night because you want to hear my voice."

"they why do you answer the phone?"

"because i love you!" you hopelessly exclaim. "because i’ll do anything for you. i’ll do anything you say. and i think you know that."

"am i just supposed to know that you didn’t want to hear about them?"

"no girl wants that," you whisper. "no one wants to hear about everything they don’t have."

"i don't understand what's happening here. you promised me that you would always be in my life!" his accusing tone offends you far more than it should.

a tear slips down your cheek. "that was before."

"before? before what?"

each word hurts. he really doesn't know. he doesn't think about you at all. not as a consideration. not as a woman. not even as just a friend. he doesn't see you at all. "i can do this anymore. it’s too hard. i can - i can’t keep letting you break my heart."

"i told you that i didn’t feel the same. you knew i wasn’t in a space to - to reciprocate."

"and then you kissed me!"

he stiffens at the kiss that he refused to mention. all those nights he spent on the phone with you, talking to you. it was the one thing he never spoke about. "i - i know that wasn’t right. and i’m sorry, okay? i’m sorry i did that. i was hurting."

"you were hurting?" your breaths come out in fragments, with each heave of your chest you can hear the whistle of emptiness where your heart used to reside. "you - you knew how i felt and you knew you didn’t feel the same and you kissed me anyway."

"it was a mistake. i'm sorry."

your hands ball up in frustration, tear burn at the corners of your eyes. "it’s not just about the kiss. it’s - it’s everything. it’s you. you won’t let me go. let me move on. please."

steve staggers back, "i don’t- i'm not trying to hold on to you."

"why did you call me the other night?"

"because you’re my friend. you’re the person i wanted to talk to. you understand. you always understand."

"i don’t. i don’t understand. it crushed me."

he reaches out for your hand. hurt flashes in his eyes when you snatch it out of his reach. you can't let him blind you this time. "you’re always there for me. even when no one else is, you are."

you snort, "you don’t even know what you did wrong, do you?"

"you’re my best friend. i just - i wanted you hear your voice."

"you see? you keep messing with my head. you tell me that i'm the person you want to talk to at the end of the night. you tell people that i'm your soulmate. you tell me that you don’t feel the same. i tell you i want to move on. you kiss me. then you go on a date with another girl. when it doesn’t work out, you call me. i'm done. i can’t do this anymore. loving you is breaking me far beyond repair."

"i do love you."

you fervently shake your head over and over again, "you don’t mean that."

"i love you and i know it’s not in the same way but maybe - just give me time."

"time isn’t going to fix this. you don’t love me. you love the way i make you feel. you love being loved."

he scoffs, shooting a glare at you, "that’s not fair."

"no, it’s not," you agree. "and it’s not fair that you know how i feel and yet you just keep hurting me. you do it over and over again. and i keep letting you."

steve reaches for you again, "we can fix this."

you shake him off, striding to your door, opening it for him, "you should go."

"please," steve begs.

"goodbye, steve."

you don't know how you gather the strength to close the door on the man you love more than anything, let alone the man begging to stay in your life. the door clicks shut behind him.

a choked sob escapes your mouth as tears freely fall.

to know him is to love him, and you don't want to know a thing about steve rogers anymore.

AnonymityIsFun Masterlist Anon's 1K Celebration

As always, let me know what you think! Reblogs and comments are always appreciated! 💛

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[emryses]

been thinking a lot of charles' immediate, "great. love you too" to edwin in ep 7. he really did not skip a beat. is 'i love you' something that they have said to each other before? because with what we see of the two of them struggling to really talk about their feelings throughout the season, i am hesitant to think that the words have actually been spoken out loud. but of course they love each other! edwin literally never misses an opportunity to praise charles when he does something he thinks is brilliant. charles is literally always there to hand edwin the exact thing he needs, and to take it off his hands when he's done with it. their relationship is all very symbiotic, two organisms rubbing their cell walls together or something. i wonder if loving each other became a sort of Unspoken But Known thing. charles died and left behind his life to be with edwin. edwin escaped Hell and had to start all over again, and he got to do that with charles. they built their afterlives together in a way where they will forever orbit around one another, solely because of their own desire and wish to. so i wonder, even though edwin may have never said the words "i love you" to charles, that when he heard them his first thought was: duh. of course you love me. i love you, too. i came to hell for you. of course i love you.

[theminecraftbee]

Here is how to slowly, completely, and irrevocably fall into having someone know your soul as well as you do theirs:

First, be enemies, but of circumstance. Neither of you were really on opposite sides so much as connected to them. You think he loved them, though, that side that was only your enemy by virtue of not being your ally. He loved them, even if he didn't spend as much time with them. You mock him for this. For calling their leader 'king'. (Later, you'll hold onto mockery like it's all you have. You know it's not a game and you know he was really king, but without your ability to make fun of what's happening, you won't be much at all.)

You have a best friend then. This, too, is almost an accident, although to explain all the ways it's also on purpose will take longer than you have to explain. He's wonderful, and loyal, and going to die. So you die fast and young first, before him. You die in front of your friend. You die in front of him.

You don't regret it, the dying young, because it means you die before anyone else can die for you.

Second, watch your best friend fall in love with him, although that phrase feels both too pedestrian and too much like it's overstating the thing that really happens. You have your own drama for too long to really understand how it happens, of course. You're too busy facing a betrayal that will scrape the inside of your soul forever. (To tell the truth, you've already forgiven him for it, but there's something easy about being each other's enemies, so you keep going, orbiting around each other in betrayal betrayal betrayal. But that's someone else who knows your soul, another story.)

Then your best friend dies, as does nearly everyone else. You sit around a campfire with him. You tell him that your best friend trusts him; you'll trust him too. He stands by your side near the end, the two of you running together, another man's memories on your lips.

You're not sure what you regret, then, but you know there's something that won't undo that's a part of you now.

Third, learn the value of choices, as the universe tries its best to take yours from you. In this one, the people you're by the side of is at once familiar and strange. The finalists who'd protected you last time are now an ugly mix of your chosen soulmate and your enemy by making that choice; you attempt to hold on to your ability to choose even as blood makes it clear you can't. (The universe tried to pick someone who would fit you well, you realize later. More people who know your soul that this story isn't actually about. You care for him too, is the thing; you care for choosing more.)

You don't see him much, this time. You respect each other, though. It's hard not to respect each other after everything that's happened. Still, you don't see him, and he doesn't see you. Instead, you see the end of the game. You nearly hold it in your fingers.

You regret. You regret deeply. You are so tired of watching people die, you think, and you regret more than anything else that you couldn't stop it.

Fourth, become enemies, but this time intentionally. Enemies, maybe, is a strong word; you're assigned co-parents, except bad, divorced ones. There's something hysterical about the whole thing, in both the comedic sense of the word and in the original, more concerning sense, especially given the way you all have thought about your best friend-now-son in the past. (Family ties are a thing you'll come to value; it's just that what the names are don't count, really, not when you do this again and again and again. Plus, it's nice to be able to have an excuse to yell.)

It's almost fun again. Maybe it's almost fun. You trade barbs with each other, and try to kill each other, and this time the consequences are light enough that you try to help each other, too. You see each other a lot. You're enemies, of course, but you see each other a lot, as you are: scared, and tired, and not as frightening as you appear, and happy, despite it all.

You don't regret much. You die fast and young, alongside your allies. You see his face before you do though, and you think he's the one with regrets.

Fifth, trip over him as you run across the first session of a new game. You don't know yet what this one will be, if it will be betrayals, or more stolen choices, or family, or fun, or anything else, but you look him in the eyes and make a choice. You will be friends this time instead of enemies. And it's nice. He and you fit together oddly now, but well, despite the oddities. You've had time to learn to, from a distance, and then closer and closer. (People seem baffled you're friends now. You wish you could explain that that's how these stories go sometimes.)

You're pretty certain he'll leave you when the time comes. He says he's a runner, and not a protector, and yet, when the time comes to betray you, you both know he won't hurt you, and you're both surprised anyway.

"You might regret this," you tell him quietly. You both have scars.

"You might regret this," he agrees. But you also both have choices.

"Okay," you say. "Have you ever fallen in love?"

"Cleo," he says, brushing your hair aside, and he doesn't answer.

"I don't think I have," you say honestly. "I think it's something else. Have you ever accidentally given someone a piece of your soul?"

"All the time," he says, and that's that.

The end is coming soon. You'll find out if you regret it.

[beegomess]

T.R. || Do you know her? 'Cause I'm addicted

Summary: An enigmatic friendship between you and Tom evolves into an intense and dangerous romance, leading you both to explore dark magic and gain followers, while the weight of guilt and a dark destiny unfolds for those who aided you. Warnings: None

A/N: This imagine can be related to the chapter 'Loving You Forever,' serving as a sort of origin story, or it can be read independently.

Requests are open!

There were those who believed that you had been completely consumed by love, that your vision was clouded by passion. The professors viewed you with a mix of pity and curiosity, and the other students thought you were just another victim enchanted by the web woven by Tom Riddle. To many, you were the typical young woman captivated by the beauty and charm of a boy shrouded in mystery—an innocent girl who, fascinated by his enigmatic aura, had let her own feelings drag her into his orbit.

But this view did not do justice to your true essence. If you were merely a young woman attracted by Tom’s allure, you would never have approached him with the determination you showed. Tom had always been an enigma, a mystery that inspired adoration from many but rarely unconditional loyalty. Girls dazzled by his magnetism offered to follow his dark paths, some even willing to commit to their own shadows to gain his favor.

What few understood was that, in truth, Tom was drawn to your own inner darkness. In you, he saw an even deeper reflection of his own complexity. Your ability to project a seemingly innocent façade, combined with a hidden depth, made Tom fascinated by something he could not fully illuminate himself. While Dumbledore struggled to understand the dark layers of Tom, you seemed to possess an even more impenetrable darkness, a latent force that you revealed only when you wished.

When Tom first saw you in the Restricted Section of the Hogwarts library, his initial impulse was one of alert and defense. You were surrounded by an aura of mystery that defied any attempt to categorize you easily. Your presence was a break from expectation in a space Tom considered his absolute domain. He entered the Restricted Section with the confidence of one who holds all secrets and mysteries within reach, but you, with your almost challenging indifference, immediately destabilized that balance.

Initially, Tom saw you as an imminent threat. Your carefree posture, your eyes that shone with an almost provocative intensity, and the way you moved with a grace that mixed disregard and challenge were enough to make him feel unsettled. The way you handled the books, the way your presence seemed to fill the environment with a palpable tension—this was a direct challenge to the control he so carefully maintained over his life and interests.

The initial irritation gave way to a growing frustration. Tom began to feel an unsettling sense that you were not only defying his authority but seemed to evade his attempts at manipulation. Your ability to remain aloof from his advances provoked a mix of growing frustration and fascination. What began as an irritating intruder soon became a captivating enigma.

As the days passed, Tom started to notice your presence with an unexpected frequency. In corridors where he had never seen you before, in moments of quiet where he expected to find you—you seemed to be always there, like a shadow moving with disturbing precision. It was as if you were aware of his intentions, or perhaps even provoking him deliberately. This constant feeling of being watched, of every step he took being followed, began to turn into a disturbing obsession.

Then, on a particularly quiet night, Tom decided to follow you. His instincts told him there was something important to be discovered. He trailed you through the castle’s shadows, alert to every movement you made. With almost predatory precision, he watched as you walked with deliberate calm towards the Black Lake, a place Tom knew to be a refuge of tranquility and mystery.

Upon reaching the lake’s edge, Tom hid behind a tree, his gaze fixed on you. He prepared to wait patiently, determined to understand what you might be planning. However, instead of being surprised by some secret plot, you simply waited for him at the lake, as if you had been expecting him all along.

The moon’s silvery light illuminated the lake and reflected in your eyes as you slowly turned towards Tom’s hiding place. An enigmatic smile formed on your lips as you spoke, your voice soft and direct cutting through the night’s silence.

— You know, Tom, you’re not very subtle for someone who prides himself on his cunning. — Your voice was a mix of challenge and knowledge, as if there was an intimacy between you that only you could understand.

Tom emerged from the shadows, his face a mask of curiosity and a touch of frustration.

— And I expected you to be occupied with something more... significant — he replied, the irony in his tone hiding a spark of frustration.

You laughed, a soft and almost melodious laugh that echoed in the quiet night.

— There’s nothing more significant than what is already happening, Tom. You follow me with a disconcerting frequency. It’s almost as if you’re searching for something you don’t know you’re looking for.

Tom looked at you with a piercing gaze, his mind boiling with a mix of emotions. Your presence, which had once irritated him, had now become a central focus of his attention, a mystery he felt an urgent need to solve. The feeling of being observed, the sense that you were always a step ahead—this all contributed to a growing obsession that began to shape his perception and actions.

As your friendship with Tom Riddle solidified, it developed into an intriguing complexity, marked by an aura of mutual distrust. Initially, your relationship was characterized by cautious respect and incessant curiosity. Tom, with his reserved nature and sharp mind, kept a calculated distance, while you, with your intelligence and charm, projected an aura of mystery that was not easily penetrated.

Frequent meetings in the library, surrounded by piles of books and ancient tomes, were the main setting for the evolution of your relationship. The interaction between you was full of subtle provocations and exchanges of looks laden with unspoken meanings. Even when working together to unravel complex spells and enchantments, there was a palpable tension that always lingered. Tom seemed always on the verge of revealing something deeper, while you remained a step ahead, your presence challenging and enigmatic.

One particularly quiet night, after a long and exhausting study session with Professor Slughorn, the dynamics between you shifted significantly. The library was enveloped in a tranquil twilight, illuminated only by the soft light of candles and moonlight filtering through the windows. You were alone, surrounded by open books and scattered notes, immersed in a discussion about a complex spell you had studied.

It was in this intimate setting that the tension between you finally found a more concrete expression. Tom, with an expression that combined curiosity and desire, approached you. His normally calculating and distant eyes were now filled with an intensity that could not be ignored. Without a word, he leaned in, and his lips touched yours in a kiss that began softly and hesitantly but soon transformed into something deeper and more passionate. The kiss was a milestone, a silent acknowledgment of the feelings that had built up between you, a confirmation of a connection that went beyond friendship and academic admiration.

After this moment, your relationship transformed into something more intense and romantic. The physical and emotional closeness that developed between you began to shape a complex dynamic. The bond you shared deepened further with the introduction of Professor Slughorn, who became a crucial mentor in your magical explorations. Slughorn’s guidance was essential for developing your skills but also became a starting point for a growing curiosity about advanced and eventually dark magic.

You and Tom began seeking Slughorn’s help more frequently, drawn by his vast experience and knowledge. Slughorn, enchanted by the potential both of you displayed, agreed to mentor you, providing access to rare tomes and teaching complex spells. However, this mentorship began to focus on darker aspects of magic. Your dedication and enthusiasm for these studies were apparent, and Slughorn started to notice that your interests were veering towards darker practices.

As you and Tom delved deeper into these studies, Slughorn’s influence, though initially beneficial, began to show its consequences. The professor started to feel the weight of his responsibility. The guidance he had provided, combined with your ambition and curiosity, led to deeper involvement with dark magic. Slughorn found himself regretting his role, realizing that his mentorship had somehow facilitated your inclination towards dangerous practices. The guilt of having contributed to this dark path became a heavy burden on his conscience.

Your presence, now marked by an intense romance and a joint quest for dark knowledge, did not go unnoticed by the other students and the faculty. Gossip began to spread through the school like wildfire. Girls, many of whom had watched you with a mix of envy and admiration, now whispered about your relationship with Tom. Your transformation from a popular and kind figure into someone involved in a tumultuous romance with an equally intriguing figure caused a frenzy among the students.

The buzz about your relationship and increasingly dark studies began to attract the attention of the professors. Dumbledore, with his perceptive gaze and constant concern for the students, began to watch you with caution. Other professors also started to keep a close eye, worried about the influence that your intelligence and fascination with dark magic could have on Hogwarts' balance.

As time went on, the future awaiting you and Tom Riddle began to unfold with disturbing clarity. The intense relationship and the pursuit of dark magic you fueled were set to trigger a series of events that would forever alter the fate of Hogwarts and beyond. The growing influence of Tom, now accompanied by rumors of followers emerging in a sinister manner, indicated the beginning of a dark and dangerous movement. The weight of guilt fell on those like Slughorn, who had contributed to this trajectory, lamenting the influence they had wielded and the consequences now unfolding. Your transformation from enigmatic students to leaders of a dark cause not only defied established norms but also signaled a future full of conflict and challenges, where past choices and mistakes would become integral to an increasingly dark and unpredictable destiny.

____________________________

masterlist

xoxo, bee🫶🏼✨

[rinnstars]

third’s times the charm!

in which you try to confess three times before rin finally understands your feelings

itoshi rin x reader : mainly just fluff, a bit of angst of readers part, no proofreading + likes n reblogs r rlly appreciate ily <3

rin has always been an enigma, as if hes from another world - an alien like figure on your life yet a constant, like an orbit from another galaxy orbiting around you. slowly, youve grown fond of him and suddenly, its no longer just a friendahip - your heart is pumping weirdly, your palms are sweaty, your throat goes dry the second youre beside him (which is most of the time but hey!) maybe its part of growing up, you tell yourself, but deep down this is the “love” you’ve seen in storybooks, manga, movies. denial is always the first thing, avoiding rin during break times, opting to go with your other class friends. eventually, you fall back to the same routine, beside him for lunch in class, stealing the candies he brought (specially for you, he wants to confess but he doesnt.) and of course with love, the next step should be confession as all fourteen year olds rationalise, and thus began your attempt at rizzing confessing to itoshi rin who has become your star.

#1 —VALENTINE CHOCOLATE?!

as all mangas and love story dictates: a gift during valentine practically screams a love confession, if not already hinted by the hearts clumsily pasted onto the heart-shaped box containing your own hand-made chocolates. of course, it comes with a sort of insecurity - what if he doesnt like it? what if he doesnt see me that way? what if our friendship forever changes? what ifs? yet, you held on tightly to the chocolate, walking into class to rin. until you see your own desk beside his flooded with valentine chocolates addressed to rin himself where all of the sudden, you wished to run away far away, you wished to live just in solitude by the ocean, you wish to pretend to be sick and go back home and cry again and again. its stupid, you think, youre just another person in love, youre nothing special. yet, when rin looks at you with sparkling eyes at your chocolates unlike anyone else, you feel as though youre at the top of the war, youre like diamond amongst the rest, that maybe rin sees you differently.

“is that for me?” if he didnt looked so expectant, so hopeful, you might have just not given it to him, simply from the pile of chocolates (that you hope hell pass to you after valentines, and he does.) on the desks. you nodded, passing it to him with a awkward smile. he doesnt get the hint you think, as he opens it without hesitation to eat one - his usual grimace that melted into a small smile changed into a grin, chewing happily onto the overly sweet chocolate you made. you want to be mad, that youll always be in competition with everyone, but when he smiles like that, youve got no choice but to look at him like hes built the very world for you, like hes your star in the dark, like hes your own galaxy.

its now or never. whats the worst that can happen? - that your friendship is forever broken, that your heart is shattered by his own hands, that youll never ever see him the same way again And he’ll never see you again?! “i.. i like you..!” courage, right, thats what those mangas would call it, but deep down it was just an impulse, as if you were born to say it to him, born to love him, like you were soulmates. he doesnt even blink, replying back with about the worst thing someone can hear when they confess : “i hope so? we’re friends.” with the most deadpan voice that had you question everything. nothing like this happens in those romance mangas - he should have either said yes or no! not an in-between?! this doesnt match up to any calculations, not by your friends, not by romance mangas, not by any youtube videos could have prepared you for that response.

nonetheless, you went home with a plastic bag with all of itoshi’s confession chocolates. thats a win? sort of. but its clear that you need a more straightforward approach to get your romantic intention, NOT platonic intention across.

#2 — CONGRATULATIONAL FLOWERS?!

after long months of cringing at the first failure attempt at confessing, and long days of rereading cheesy love mangas to gather ideas, it was finally time for round 2. this time not because of simply encouragement, but from the bursting butterflies in your heart. ever since that, your lovesickness have only gotten worst - if hanahaki was real, no doubt flowers would be pouring out of your lungs from the amount of love that has grown roots into your heart. every moment felt like straight from a k-drama through rose tinted lenses, every action of his felt like a confession, every second with him felt like heaven. and enough was this barrier called embarrassment, fear, cowardice to stop you from pursuing. another year had passed and now each second is like diamond - counting down every second to when lunch starts, to a free period, to after school, to after club - anytime where you can maybe, just maybe spot rin even if he ocassionally runs off for football training that had only lasted longer until the sun sets after the argument with his brother.

deep down, even though youve never met sae, you wished you did just to punch him - for now rin has only grown more distant, whilst your feelings had grown more deeper. like oil and water, you no longer merge together as one, and perhaps this is the last chance to confess before he eventually disappears. growing up is hard, but maybe losing him would be the scariest and hardest part. yet, here you are, still attending all his football matches, waiting for him in the air-conditioned library until the clock ticks to when the school gates closes to find him, waiting for him to come back to you.

flowers. longing and yearning - cameilia and carnation replied back all those cliche love mangas. and so, you saved up for weeks just to buy an overly expensive bouquet - one that seemed out of place with your bags or rin’s everexpanding confession gifts. would it be a rejection, a success? a repeat of the previous year, another retry of last year’s failed confession, just that this time he might just get the idea? hiding the flowers in a separate bag, because certainly this could count as romantic, and youd rather do away with gossips or talks. yet of course, fate strikes again.

“thanks..? its alright to not get gifts for my football matches win though, its nothing major anyways.” and suddenly you take it back. you rather he just thanked you for it platonically. in what world do friends get romantic flowers with ribbons and all sort of decorations for a simple congratulations for a no-name match?! perhaps you two were never meant to be, and this had to be a sign from the gods or something, you concluded. you blinked and laughed it off, your mind spinning with all sort of thoughts - was this his way of rejecting you?! was he truly this clueless or is he trying to let me down?! suddenly all the fantasies and daydreams had fallen flat - this is real life. there is no true school romance, that rhese are feelings left better unsaid as your parents and adults in your life say. teenage love never last, they say - but in this case, they dont work, or at least for you. maybe, your teenage life would be the same mundane, boring ones - filled with just waiting for rin, doing homework, talking with friends, one that is filled with love and normalacy but never the exciting and romantic films you see on tv.

and maybe, just maybe, youve given up on pursuing itoshi rin romantically for the time being. but thats alright, as long as you were friends, youd stay together forever right?

#3 — CONFESSION FOR YOU UNSAID?!

youve lived the rest of your mundane life, completing routines after routines as if its a time loop. maybe, that failure had affected you, brushing off datdreams quickly. growing up meant to be logical, to not blush like a teenage kid, to not linger on hopeless love and dreams - you tell yourself. and rin is still here, like the sun to the earth, always orbiting around you. as long as the world continues to hold you two together as though connected by red strings, itd be alright.

yet, it stings when he tells you about blue lock. its evil, its bitter, its jealousy, its anger that pumps through your very veins. just as rin and you were falling back to back then, where you guys were connected by the hips, to when you had first been enchanted by his star-like eyes. you want to blame the world, the universe for being so cruel. you want to lock yourself, trap yourself in your room, throwing away the key. yet, theres only limited days with itoshi rin, and youd rather die than not be with him until the very end. even if its to the end of your friendship, your dream, your life with you and him together. whether that is to bring him to old arcades where tou two once played, bring him to the old now run-down convenience store where you and him went after school to get lunch, bring him to the mall to take your final photos and lucky charms with him. each moment now even more precipus than previous ones - and suddenly you understand the saying ‘distance makes the heart grow fonder’. its love. you know its love, you knew since you were 14 when you gave him the chocolates, you knew since you were 15 when yoi presented him a bouquet, and you know now that youre 16 about to send him off to another world you can never reach.

its selfish when you blurt it out as he was half-way out of your door after your last sleepover. its out of desperation, out of feelings youve kept hidden in an bottle that is now exploding. its impulsive, its unconscious - the way youve just confessed to him that you loved him. “i love you” theres no way to misinterpret that. maybe he’ll tell you theres bo need to be sentimental, that hell be back (you were convinced he wouldnt.), that its cringe. yet, its silence that fills the room and all you wished to do was to run back to your room, to cry into the pillows, to read all those hopeful love mangas.

“.. i hope you meant it.. i love you too.” its anticlimatic, theres no dramatic scene of profession of love the way mangas portray it, yet you think that theres nothing more than you need. its the most itoshi rin (though youve never thought hed ever say love in a context outside of horror movies and games) and yet, its the words that you longed and yearned for for years by now, its the dream youve been daydreaming in class and in bed, its the life yoive envisioned as you look at him from the stands. and perhaps the world has finally answered your prayers, your musings, your complaints.

third’s the charm they say - and you for once agree with those stupid sayings because on your third attempt of confession did you finally get to be with itoshi rin.

[nouvxllev]

be my baby, t.r.

Pairing: Jenna Ortega x Fem!Reader

Summary: in which you show your love for jenna in your own way

Words: 1.2k

Warnings: fluff hooray!

a/n: heard this line from my headphones while i was scanning my notes and immediately went for my drafts. just a drabble if you may

masterlist.

When people think of a sacred place, they'd think of something related to religion of some sort. A place of worship and compassion to another, maybe a deity. Or they'd think of something they cherished, the place that they hope one day see in their life after death and see the wonderful memories they'd have.

You were none of the ordinary.

Your sacred place was Jenna. Her soul was everything you wanted. She was everything you needed.

Everyday, she would see through you. Your pride, your anger, your selfishness, and how she accepts you for who you are even for your flaws. How your happiness often shined so bright whenever you were with her. How the stars would shine just for her to be in the spotlight, be the center of everything. Oh, how you were so devoted to her was something beyond you.

Hence why your favorite time of the day is waking up beside her, sliding your arm in between her body, and hugging her as if she were being taken away from you if not for your arms grounding her.

You shifted your weight towards her, your legs going in between hers as you hugged her even tighter. She always smelled like home and the subtle scent of her favorite perfume with a hint of yours, you noticed.

The faint music from Jenna's headphones filled the air, feeling your eyes slowly getting heavy as you nudged your head onto her nape, closing your eyes in full bliss but never slept.

Ever since you moved to her apartment, you saw how Jenna always slept with headphones on, only for it to be way too tangled and off her ears when she wakes up.

Your hands found Jenna's, intertwining them as you looked over her shoulder, the action being reciprocated when you felt her fingers close around your hand. Even when she was asleep, she always held you back as if you were a distant star coming to earth.

The morning sun always complimented Jenna so well, the warmth of the sun casting a gentle glow on her features, how her brown eyes are all what you wish to see, showing you everything there is to true beauty. It is as if she was another celestial object far from a mere mortal with how your world orbited around her very being, how effortlessly she could make every living and dying poet forever ink her name in their pages.

You were about to fall asleep until you heard a quiet groan and her body stirring awake. As Jenna shifted beside you, your arms were still wrapped around her body, loosening as she turned to face you.

"Hey." She whispered. Her fingers tracing patterns across your own hand as she blinked away her drowsiness, a loopy smile gracing her lips. "I thought you'd be up by now."

"I am." You gave her a soft smile while she gave you an unimpressed look, but her smile never wavered.

"I meant off the bed and do whatever you normally do."

"You know I'll always wait for you," you replied in a hushed tone, your hand coming close to her face as you brushed a stray strand of hair away, your thumb gently caressing her freckles.

"I know," she whispered as she nodded, her morning voice always something so familiar to you. "Just thought you'd have a change of heart."

"I'd be a fool to." You met Jenna's eyes with a smile, your gaze going back and forth from her eyes to her lips. Your hand resting on her face traveled to her back, pulling her in closer.

Jenna let out a soft sigh, "Aren't you the smooth talker," she murmured. Her hand finding its way to your cheek, her touch gentle and reassuring as your heart swelled with the sight and love that was Jenna.

You raised your eyebrow, "I'm serious about it."

Jenna laughed. She laughed. Oh, how it made your heart instantly recognize the pattern of her laughter.

"I can tell, don't worry." She said, looking into your eyes with the same expression you had. It was a small gesture, waiting for your lover to wake up in the morning, but it was everything to you. And maybe even to Jenna if not a lot more. She leaned in, pecking you on the lips, "And I love you for it."

You can feel your eyes soften, the subtle rise and fall of Jenna's chest against yours as the warmth of her hand rests on your cheek.

You allowed your eyes to drop down to her lips before leaning in and planting a gentle kiss to her soft lips. The very faint scent of her chapstick from yesterday still lingered as you held Jenna's hand on your face, tracing her knuckles with your thumb.

You pulled away before leaning in and placing another kiss to her lips. "I love you too."

Your hand pulled hers away from your face, intertwining them before kissing her yet again. "I love you more."

"I love you most." You whispered softly as your mind captured the look on Jenna's face that was adorned with pure love. Both of your hands reached to cup her face, kissing her once more, feeling the warmth of her breath against yours.

You can feel Jenna smile against your lips, the gesture driving you to insanity with devotion for this girl.

The both of you pulled away from the kiss, your eyes meeting Jenna's as your heart raptured with laughter as she laughed alongside it. The sound itself making you want to record it deep inside your soul forever.

"What was that about?" She chuckled.

"For every kiss you give me, I'll give you three. The Ronettes." You quoted, a smirk gracing your lips as the faint sounds of her playlist started to play all over again.

Ever since Jenna introduced you to her music taste, you were blasting it non-stop. Though it wasn't exactly the music Jenna would listen to, it was like the one of the many music that you found in her taste in genre and you loved it as much as you loved her presence.

"You liked it?" She mumbled, a hopeful tune in her voice. Another thing you noticed about Jenna is that she loved recommending her own interests to other people and you came to adore that so much.

"Who am I to deny my talented girlfriend with her music taste?"

She chuckled, sitting up straight as she pulled you up towards her, wrapping her arms around your body. "Flattery gets you nowhere."

"Then how come I'm right here in your arms?" You looked up at her, a small smile playing on your lips that seemed to never go away whenever you were with her.

"I don't know," she shrugged nonchalantly, "you tell me."

Jenna's arms around you felt like home, a sacred place you'd always come here after a day or even a decade. It was a place where you belonged to, the embrace that would last along with the faint music that was still playing in the background. In her arms, peace is never a fleeting moment but rather something that'll always keep your heart warm.

Another thing is for sure: you were her one and only, and you'd adore her till eternity.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

a/n: feel like im slowly getting the motivation to write more

[sweetlikeyou]

baby, you get me so (so soaked) ✧₊

❦︎ sum. satoru had always liked to collect shiny things ever since he was a little boy, and over the years the habit had only grown and festered until it wasn't just a habit but an obsession. an obsession for him to not just simply collect the things he considered pretty and be done with it, but instead keep it close to him forever, selfishly, never to be shared with another. he was constantly buzzing with the need to find a more shinier, more prettier thing to add to his collection and make his. always searching for something more marvelous in its beauty than his previous possession, that was until he found you. the prettiest thing he had ever laid eyes on.

pairing: gojo satoru x fem!reader

warnings: nsfw content, clothed sex (somewhat lol the reader has her titties out but otherwise everything is clothed), unprotected sex, implied height difference, professor-student relationship (but it's not the main focus it's more like just there), breeding kink, creampie, age gap (reader is 19 while gojo is 29), dry humping, semi-public setting, fingering (f! recieving), implied obsessive behavior, implied stalking, light possessive behavior, daddy kink, light choking, pet names (bunny, angel, doll, princess, baby), degradation (but not really lol), light praise, orgasm denial/delay, passing out, oh also like gojo leaves a WHOLE lot of hickies so yeah

song to listen to while reading: soaked (slowed + reverb)

w/c: 3.8k+ words (i wanted it to be shorter😭)

read ︎it on ao3 here

satoru had always liked pretty things. ever since he was a little boy, his mom and dad would bring him the prettiest, most expensive things they could find for the child prodigy, till the point he got obsessed. obsessed with the idea of wanting all the prettiest things just to himself, not to be shared even with his closest of friends.

but still it wasn't simply enough for him to just collect a few things he considered pretty and be done with it, no, he always buzzed with the need to find a more shinier, more prettier thing to add to his collection and make his. that was until he found you.

you were the prettiest thing he had ever laid eyes on in his twenty-nine years of life filled with extravagance and beauty. he had seen and possessed many things that made others green with envy and want yet none of the things in the past compared to you.

he was obsessed from the glance. he couldn't stop his mind from wandering into the familiar thoughts of your face, your smile, your body, oh god, your body. the most sinful of things that could make even the devil blush with lust. ample curves that strained against the tight fabric of your top, thick thighs that were always bared due to the skirts you always like to be donned in, elegant neck that would look so pretty with satoru's hand wrapped around them to leave a ghost of bruises behind their wake, an innocent smile on your face that made your eyes shine with wonder and awe until satoru thought his heart might burst just from seeing you.

he loved everything about you. he loved the way you would furrow your brows in concentration when solving a particularly hard question – you never were the brightest after all – and how when you – by some miracle – solved it the most dazzling of smiles would adorn your face. he loved the way you wobbled in your high heels, still not used to it even after wearing it for quite some time but still not abandoning them even after stumbling in it too many times for you to count. he loved the way you blushed oh-so-prettily when reading those dirty novels, thinking no one was watching you but satoru always did.

it had become a habit of sorts, watching you.

satoru watched you, luring men in into your orbit with those short pink and white skirts, heavenly smile and an innocent smile on your face. he watched you, completely oblivious to the effect you had on the opposite sex, the effect you had on him. he watched you darting from one place to another in the café you worked at to make some spare cash, while your skirt swished back and forth over your ass, making every pair of eyes in the room follow your movements. he watched you...until he couldn't hold himself back and had to claim you as his.

the sky was pink and hazy just like your little outfit when you came out of the café you worked at, your pretty little head too observed in your phone to notice him walking towards you. you frowned at something at your phone with a soft pink blush covering your face that satoru could see even from a few meters away. huffing, you typed something on your phone and red-faced kept it away in your pocked muttering something all the while. satoru smirked when he saw you this flustered but soon the smirk slipped off like the sun in the sky above when he realized it wasn't him causing that blush. before he could even process what he was about to do he was in front of you.

startled you looked up and your eyes widened, a blush spreading over your cheeks. satoru stifled another smirk that threatened to slip on his smirk.

"pro-professor?" you stuttered too flustered to even talk properly in front of him after all it must be quite surprising seeing him in front of you, outside the class. oh, his poor little bunny...

"my my! what a surprise to see you like this! what a coincidence huh? small world am i right?" satoru said with a grin. small world indeed.

"huh?" you said still recovering from seeing satoru in front of you, then you nodded a little slowly, as if his words just now trickled into your brain, "oh yeah! it's so nice to see you though, professor!" you said with a pretty blush and shy smile adorning your face.

"is it now?" satoru said in a tone which was so unlike the tone he used with you so mean and cold and mocking but before you could think more about it, he turned his head up, no longer looking down to meet your eyes.

he was the most beautiful man you had ever seen with eyes a million shades of blue. blue that was present in the ocean, reflecting sunlight onto the sky above. blue that was present in the sky with light clouds hovering in it. blue that was present in water, always rippling and never resting.

his eyes truly were all the blues that was present in all kind of shades in the universe all coming together to form the most mesmerizing shade of blue in the form of satoru gojo's eyes. it was a shame truly he kept them covered with those sunglasses he seemed to fancy even when the sun was truly well beyond its horizon.

as for his face it was truly a work of art, one that even the most prettiest of models would covet and the most brilliant of artists would want as their muse, with soft-looking white hair as light as snow that fell just perfectly over his even more perfect face. simply just looking at the sheer perfection of the man hurt.

satoru smirked noticing your staring and unbidden your eyes went to his lips as pink as the sky above. they looked as soft as the clouds that hovered over them. so inviting and so very...warm. what would they feel like if he touched his lips to yours? would his kisses be as sweet and languid as honey or would they be rough and demanding and all consuming until you forget your own name? what would his lips feel like against your skin? tracing sinful places on your body until you could do nothing but whine and writhe under him hoping he would get the hint and touch you. what would his lips look wrapped around your clit, fucking you with his tongue until you saw stars and–

"princess?" satoru's smug voice brought you back to the present. you looked up to see him grinning down at you – or rather it was something between a smirk and a grin as if the man was too overjoyed by something to properly smirk. he had a teasing lilt to his voice when he said the word. you blushed profusely, hearing exactly what he said once you were back in the present and not inside your own lewd fantasies.

you wanted him. you always had, from the first moment you saw him he was all you thought about. he was the thought that plagued your mind when your hand was rubbing your cunt furiously at night, trying to get some relief but your traitorous mind unhelpfully supplied that it wasn't his hand that touched you, but instead your own finger that would never be enough to extinguish the flame that saturo gojo lit in you.

suddenly feeling too hot under your own skin, the clothes you wore itched your skin, a pleasant hum of arousal humming under your skin.

"what happened? you look hot...do you need water?" satoru asked amusement clear under his tone. his poor little baby, she must be so confused to see him outside the little bubble of his class and if that wasn't enough satoru just had to go and call him 'princess'. it all was going too fast he should be more careful so as to not scare you.

"y-yeah! it's just weird you calling me 'princess' that's all!" you said with a nervous giggle. "do you say that to all of your students professor?" you asked trying to joke and pass the situation as a joke not wanting him to know just how much that little word had affected you.

satoru's eyes darkened, taking a step closer, leaning in he said, "no, only you, baby...why you jealous? hmm? is that it? would my pretty little doll, only want me for yourself? just ask angel and it's yours. i'm yours."

"pro-professor?"

"hmm?" he said against your lips.

"i–"

"you what, baby?"

"i-oh!" you gasped as he leaned close enough that you could smell his sweet breath, almost feel the ghost of his lips against yours. close enough that if you moved even an inch you would be kissing.

satoru smirked against your lips and whispered with his voice rough around the edges, "tell me to stop, princess. tell me to stop, because once i get a taste of you...i'm never letting you go."

his voice and his proximity made you shiver, an involuntary whimper escaping your lips. just the sound of his voice made you shiver, sickly sweet and hot arousal coursed through your body and made you clench your thighs. satoru watched the movement with dark eyes, the black of his pupil taking over the blues of his eyes until his eyes were not the sparkling blue shade of diamonds but rather the blue of the ocean before a storm.

before you could get a word out, his lips clashed into your in a frenzy, a low and harsh growl slipping past his lips. he kissed you, no, devoured you, his lips moving harsh and hungry against your lips. his grip bruising on your jaw tilting your face upwards, harsh enough to leave bruises. his lips moved against you as seamlessly like a well-practiced waltz making you moan shamelessly and clutch his shirt hard enough for your knuckles to go white with the impact.

"mine," he growled, biting your lip harshly, hard enough to draw blood – but not quite. he broke off the kiss making you whine underneath him, begging for the warmth of his lips. "say you're mine, princess." he murmured harshly as his lips moved towards your neck, sucking roughly, until there was no doubt that it would bruise and until there was no further doubt that you were his. it would leave dark and angry red and violet bruises on your pretty neck for the whole world to see and know that you were his and only his.

you whimpered as he kissed a particularly sensitive spot on the side of your collarbone, your hand going to his head of soft white hair and it felt like the most exquisite of experiences one could go through in their life. his hair was softer than anything you had ever touched. wanting more and more and more, you tugged harshly on his softer than feather hair making satoru smirk against your skin and instead of getting the hint he pulled off you completely.

"princess is getting more needy hmm? such a little slut for me. begging for me hmm?" satoru said smirking, peppering light kisses all over your face. you whined, wanting him nearer.

"want yo-oh!" you broke off into a low and needy whine as saturo bit your earlobe between his teeth.

"want me?" you nodded, helpless. "only me?" he asked, with a desperation and intensity that might have scared you if you weren't too drunk on his kisses.

"just you–oh god just you! please please please! professor! oh goooodd!" you whined as he kissed feather light kisses on your jaw, teasing you.

"my my, such a cock hungry whore i have got for myself here, begging me like this in the middle of somewhere anyone could walk in and witness the pathetic mess you are right now." gojo taunted. you blinked, suddenly coming aware of your surroundings and the road you were standing on, albeit it was abandoned the danger of someone walking in was still there. but you were too far gone to care for them, let them watch, you thought, let them watch the way he will make you his and let them go green with envy.

"oh, you don't care, do you now, doll? too far gone aren't you baby? didn't even touch you and yet look at you. such a pretty little thing you are, god. so perfect for me." he groaned before lifting you up making you squeak in surprise and wrap your legs around his waist on instinct. before you could question him any further, he slammed you against a wall of a secluded alleyway, going back to worshiping your neck with kisses and bruises, making you arch your back, pushing your breasts into his chest.

"god such a needy little whore for me." satoru murmured against your neck, leaving breaths of hot air over the newly formed bruises. "only me, no?"

"yes! yo–ohh–godd!" you screamed as he sucked particularly hard on the spot just above your collarbone.

"such a good little whore for me." satoru crooned. "c'mere baby." he said softly as if you were a delicate thing to be treasured, the behavior so different from the way he was acting moments before, leaving bruises on your neck left and right like a madman.

he propped you on his thigh, making your pussy flutter with need by the slight friction it provided.

"now be a good fucking girl for me and ride my thigh, baby." he said, lowly, watching you through hooded eyes. and you did just that.

you rolled your hips gently, a broken sob escaping your lips just from the sweet friction. clutching his shoulder harshly with your fingertips you rolled and moved your hips along the rough material of his jeans until your panties soaked through leaving a spot on his thigh in its wake. slowly, quickening your pace you rolled your eyes letting out a high and needy whine making satoru smirk and resume his brutal assault on your neck.

"go-od!!" you moaned, his mouth against your neck and the constant rubbing of your cotton clad cunt against the rough material of his jeans creating the most delicious of friction.

"are you praying to me, angel?" satoru said a little smugly but you paid no heed to his words to far lost in your own selfish pleasure. you whined feeling the brink of your sweet sweet release just on the brink of the high you were riding now. grinding down harder, you sank your fingers on his back, resting your cheek against his shoulder your breath came out faster and faster, your cheeks reddened into an lust drunk hue of pure want.

"satoruuuu!" you moaned, biting your lip to stifle the sound in case anyone passing by heard you.

you cried just from the pleasure seeping into your bones from the friction, just a little more and–

"my god such a needy little slut i have here, so selfish, no?" he said, lifting you up from his thigh as if you weighed nothing, as if you were nothing but just a mere ceramic doll that he decided to place from one place to another. you hovered in the air with him holding you with hand under your shoulders, the cold air brushing against your clothed cunt that was now dripping with slick down your thighs.

you could feel the hot angry tears of betrayal clouding your vision. "satoru please!" you cried out, you couldn't even care about the pathetic display you probably made in front of him with your tear filled eyes and red face. but satoru payed no attention to you merely tsking and putting you back on your feet – which was a terrible idea really considering the way they wobbled and you stumbled forward into his arms, making you bury your face on the side of his chest.

"please," you pleaded, clutching his arms that caught you tightly, so that he could never let you go, "satoru please!"

you paused when there was no reaction and then, "daddy please!" you whined before you could even think about it. beneath you satoru stiffened.

breathing harshly, he yanked you by your arms harshly making you cry out. leaning in, he growled lowly in a harsh tone, so unlike himself, "you stupid little slut. do you have any fucking idea what you said just now or are you truly that cock-hungry that you can't even think straight?" if his eyes before were the dark blue of an ocean before a storm now they were the dark blue of the sky during a storm, thundering with a want so violent it made you scared.

"come here now," he said his voice so hoarse it was barely recognizable and before you could even speak he connected your lips to his. he sucked on your bottom lip and bit down on it and before you could think his tongue was in your mouth and you couldn't think because it was now gliding so smoothly against your own that you had no choice but to groan into his mouth, making him swallow the sound into his mouth.

suddenly his hand was at the top of your white lace blouse and without breaking of the kiss he ripped through it, exposing your pretty pink lace bra with a bow to hold it together. pulling off his lips from yours he moved towards your jaw, then your neck and then finally his mouth hovered over your bra and–you screamed as he yanked the flimsy material down and sucked one stiff nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue over it and biting just hard enough for the pain and pleasure to mix into a pleasant hue. one hand went over to your other boob, squeezing it until you moaned.

the other hand trailed down to your thighs and then slowly to your upper inner thighs. he circled the slick sensitive part of the inner skin of your thighs, just below your panties, with his thumb making you cry out.

"daddy!" suddenly the thin sopping material of your panties was pushed aside and before you could even register the movement he slipped two fingers at once inside you making you scream out at the sudden intrusive.

"oh my god," you cried out as pain gave way to pleasure as he rubbed the soft spot inside you and rubbed your clit with his thumb. you were so wound up that just one more stroke of your clit made you cry out and–

he retracted the fingers from your pussy completely and you cried out, sobbing before him, "please, please, please daddy!"

"oh princess, look at you, i wish i could torture you any further but i am no masochist...seeing you like this, fuck, baby it's messing with me. now, open your legs for me like the good whore that you are, baby."

you did just that as gojo unzipped his pants taking his cock out and stroking it leisurely by the sight of you. his cock was so hard that it looked painful even to you, the tip an angry red with veins protruding along the shaft making you drool imaging it inside you but oh god, at the same time...

"daddy," you whined in distress, "it won't fit."

"we'll make it fit, princess." he said pressing a chaste kiss against your lips. lifting you up, you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist, while your back was pressed against the wall to give you support.

spreading your legs, satoru took his cock in his hand, pumping it, he slowly brought it to your cunt rubbing it against the wet material of the lace of your panties.

"daddy please!" you whined and satoru looked into your eyes with lust-drunk eyes.

"anything for my angel."

he yanked the material aside and slowly pushed the tip inside. you moaned out loud, the stretch so delicious you couldn't help but rock your hips against his, seeking more.

"such a greedy little slut." satoru said smirking and before you could reply back, he pushed all the way in making you cry out in pain that blurred so fast into pleasure as he hit your g-spot that your eyes watered up and suddenly you couldn't breathe.

"breathe princess," he said placing a soft kiss on your hair, allowing you to get used to the feeling of him inside you. you breathed in and out gently until you didn't feel like you might just pass out from the overwhelming onslaught of emotions.

"daddy– please move," you said once you had calmed down 'cause him staying still inside you was so so painful when all your body needed was to feel him pounding inside you until you finally got your long-awaited pleasure.

"whatever my angel says," satoru said before pulling out and then immediately pounding into you making you cry out. he started a brutal pace of his dick inside you, the lewdness of the scene only increasing from the sound the wetness inside you made and the slapping of skin against skin.

he wrapped his hand around your dainty neck and squeezed gently making you moan.

"like that don't you baby, hm?" he said squeezing a bit harder than before.

you nodded, your head too drunk on his cock to reply with anything coherent.

"gonna cum–ahh!" you moaned as he hit another deep spot inside you that made a fresh new wave of arousal roll inside you.

"cum for me, baby" he groaned. "i'm gonna come inside you too now 'k?"

"would you like that, princess? would like for me to come inside you? would you like me putting my babies into you? hmm? fuck, you would look so pretty knocked up like that..."

the words washed over you and suddenly you were coming around his cock. you pussy spasmed around his cock. the pleasure made you see spots of white in your vision and it was like falling off a cliff with no end visible. but even then, satoru didn't stop, he continued his assault, somehow going even faster and harder and pressing his thumb against your clit until you felt another orgasm approaching too fast for you to even catch your breath.

"fuck baby–" satoru said as his hips stuttered and soon he was coming, coming inside of you. but he still didn't stop, it was as if he wanted to fuck his seed deeper and deeper into you and it was that thought alone that made you cum with a loud cry around his cock once again until you felt the darkness wash you ashore as you passed out. the last thing you felt was satoru's arms catching you and a gentle kiss pressed tenderly to your forehead.

[fawnnpaws]

need childhood best friend!patrick to originally brush you off, not take what you have seriously and take you for granted. you’ve been friends for basically your entire lives. you spent summers at his mansion by the beach, he spent winters skiing in the alps with your family. somewhere in your young adulthood the lines started to blur. now you’re basically doing everything a girlfriend does but he won’t put a label on it. he’s on tour and you’re starting your career, so you only see him when he shows up unannounced at your door.

it would be easier if he didn’t tell you how much he missed you every time. if he didn’t eat you out like he’s starved for you and you alone. if he didn’t hold you in bed afterwards and wake you up with soft kisses all over your face. if he didn’t treat you like he loved you. a dirty word neither of you dare to ever say out loud.

because after all that, you know he’s seeing other people on tour. you know because the world is small and you’ll get texts from friends in far away places that say “i saw patrick leaving a club with some girl, are you guys not a thing anymore??” and you have no words to explain that you were technically never a thing in the first place.

you think you’re okay with it, that you can live with expecting nothing more than physical satisfaction from one another if it means patrick zweig is still in your orbit, but resentment starts to build. you start to fight more and eventually it all comes crashing down with him shouting “you’re not my fucking girlfriend! stop acting like you’re in love with me or something!” at you and watching in sort of horror as you go cold and just say, “okay.” and leave.

need him to agonize about it for weeks, waiting for you to break and talk to him first like you always do when you two fight. but it never comes. he’s left alone with a gaping hole in his chest that you used to fill. and what’s even worse? he’s left alone with nothing but himself to blame.

he can’t pin this on you. he didn’t realize how good you were to him, how much he’d miss talking with you and making you laugh, how much he relied on calling you and hearing your voice. not to mention, it feels like you’ve ruined pussy for him forever. he tries to fuck other people, but he can only get off if he’s thinking about you.

so, he caves. he has to, he’s fucking losing his mind without you. he practically bangs down your door with flowers in hand, wilted and abused from being shaken around while he ran to your apartment. you crack the door open an inch and he barges in, not letting you get a word in before he’s giving you a speech about how he fucked up and he wants— no needs to be with you. need you to take him back. he’s worked himself up to nearly hyperventilating by the end of it before you stop him and say, “patrick, i forgave you at the flowers, but it was really nice to hear you say all that.”

the thing is, you were seconds away from breaking when he showed up at your door. you’d never iced him out for that long and as much as you wished you had the strength to cut him off, you knew you never could.

you love him. and you tell him so. you let the words you’d been guarding since he kissed you for the first time when you were 18 spill from your lips. it feels different than you expected. every scenario you’d run in your head before this ended in him telling you he doesn’t feel the same way. but when you look at him now, with his rumpled flowers and tearful eyes, you know he does. and to your absolute delight, he tells you so.