#fuck i neeed to reread it

[infintenonagon]

its called house of leaves cause everyone wants to get out of there

[saenora]

Imagine meeting your neighbor Yuuta in the apartment next yours. You were coming back home from another shitty date night. Cursing about how the guy just wanted to fuck you and didn’t even pay for the food. You were tired and tipsy and mostly angry, as your keys seem to be working against you, you tried twisting and turning the key multiple times in the keyhole to get inside your apartment. But it just wasn’t working, you let out a scream and bang your head against the door. Tears pricking at your eyes as you choked out sobs. You then hear the door turning and around the corner peeked a timid looking young man? Teen? He looked old enough not to be called a kid but his babyface made him seem really young. You blink at him thru unshed tears and jumped away from the door. “O-oh shit! This was your apartment! I am so fucking sorry, I thought this was my apartment, you see I’m not a crazy person, I swear! I just-I-fuck-I” You start babbling about your terrible date night to your confused and possibly scared neighbor you just met.

You couldn’t stop yourself though, like the tears, your words just kept on spilling out. Until your were a crying mess, your neighbor didn’t end up calling the cops on you though, he held you in his arms and soothes your cries until you were just whimpering. He listen to your words and said sweets words to you that made your heart melt and heat pool in your core. He invited you inside his apartment after you calmed down, saying “I hate to leave a pretty girl like you stained with tears all alone tonight…” He was so sweet and nice, and alluring.. your mind was a daze as you knew you shouldn’t trust a stranger but the way he held your hand and wiped away your tears… You joined him inside.

“Ah-Ah-mmm-hahh!” Now here you were, legs locked into a mating press by the boy that was just sweet talking you earlier. You were crying once again, but not from sadness this time, you were crying from the overstimulation, Yuuta was giving you on your spent pussy. “Yuuta! Yuu-ahhh, Yuuta, Yuuta!” You chanted his name like it was the only thing you knew how to say even though you barely learned it tonight. His hips slammed in yours with such force that the bed shake beneath you everytime, his thumb was rubbing circles on your puffy clit, the cum and juices leftover from the orgasms before made it quite easy for him to rub at you. “It’s your fault, you know.. hahh.. fuck.. banging on my door like that.. wearing this slutty dress..mmf.. like you were begging me to just fuck you then and there..”

You whined as you start to feel another orgasm building, however this time, Yuuta pulled out his thick cock and slapped it against your twitching clit. His arms still pressing your legs against your chest. "You want to come again...?"

"Hmm... tell me that won't go see those other men anymore and that this pussy.." He slaps his wrist this time against your pussy, causing you to try to buck your hips up, to no avail. "Belongs to me and only me... and then I'll give you what you been begging for.."

RAHHH YUUTA IM TIRED STOP INVADING MY BRAIN PLS

SOFTIEEEE I AHVE BEEN REREADING THIS OVWR AND OVER AGAINSHE TRYING TO FIND TEH RITE WORDS TO TYPE IN THE RESPONSE 😭😭😭 BUT I CANTSHDDJ FRFRFRFR… THIS YUUTA ISSS SUCHA. DREAM… NEED HIM TO RUTT AGAINST ME 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 HE IS SUCHA. NEEED AND I CAN BE SO NEEDY FOR H— BYE

#: @mrskenmakozume @kenruu @daikiiss

[leclsrc]

we need need neeed a charles variant of the media naranja fic :( just a multiple lives au even just a drabble or a headcanon auds audrey big a please only u do this shit justice

bec this has been rotting and i needed to practice writing :)

divine sense – cl16

Charles is always led back to you. title from this

“Your mole is nice,” he says, cutting himself off and thinking a bit more on his words. “It sits just there, on the corner of your eye.”

“Really? God.” You poke at it, rub over it even if it sits relatively flat and unassuming and a bit tiny. “I’ve always hated it. People mistake it for leftover eyeliner or mascara all the time, and it’s—whatever.”

“It’s pretty.” His gaze could light you on fire and water it down all at once. “It’s one of the first things I noticed about you. Granted, I thought it was a, uh, how you say? Mascara, yes, that flicked off your eye a bit, but now it’s just there. I like it.”

A slow smile creeps its way onto your lips and you bite it back, to no avail. “Thank you.”

“It’s the reason why you look so familiar to me.” My mole? You ask, your head turning to the side a bit. He nods. “I don’t know why, either. I mean, clearly we didn’t know each other then. But something about you—you’ve always felt familiar, I think.”

“I have?” 

The trees are greener in the spring, but they’re thin still, not yet too thick with leaves that will fade into orange and die and fall. It’s perfect, Charles thinks, because then the sun filters perfectly through the green of them and shines through the blinds and onto your face, smiling tenderly and warm and waiting. Your eyelashes cast a shadow across the rest of your face and he could stare forever.

“You have.”

—

“Did you get mascara on your eye?”

“What? Oh. Fuck, no. This—it’s a mole.” You turn quickly to the mirror. “I know, it looks a bit like it, yeah.”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude.” 

“It’s all good. So, Charles, right?” You reread the application sheet and stretch a hand forward to shake his. “My new roommate… taking up Architecture.”

“Yep.” He smiles proudly, the emblem of your university front and centre on his sweatshirt. “I hope this doesn’t sound weird, but have I met you before? You just look a little familiar. Mole and all.”

“Oh.” Instinctively, you reach up to touch the area on which it sits. “I don’t think so, sorry. Um, but in my Lit class, we did have a discussion about how… like… moles are places where you were kissed in your past life.”

“Oh?” 

“Yeah.” You smile up at him. The fall breeze filters through the open living room window, blowing tendrils of hair over your face that you’re quick to brush away. “Granted, I don’t know who would want to kiss an area like this.”

“You don’t?”

And maybe you’re a bit loopy from the drive, or hungry from waking up early, or maybe not at all. Maybe Charles the college roommate is messing with you, or maybe pulling a prank, or maybe not at all. The sunset today is beginning to tint the room and his pretty face a muted orange and you could stare forever.

“I don’t.”

—

Your first time in Italy is marked by a series of ugly firsts: first catcall, mistranslation, scam, blistered heel. But you make it, despite it all, to your foster family’s farm estate, all old vine-caked buildings and stables and lemon trees. You spot somebody poking their head out of the upstairs window but the mop of hair disappears just as quickly.

The door is answered by Pascale—the one you’d been corresponding with prior to today. With her is her husband, Hervé, and two sons, one of whom is somewhere in the house getting your room tidy, she says apologetically. You’re quick to quell her apology, sated by the ice water and bowl of fruit (Hervé says something about picking them all out himself; Arthur, the younger one, pulls you aside with a boyish smile and says it was actually him.)

“Lorenzo is off at university for summer classes,” Pascale explains when she’s putting the second spoonful of pasta on your plate. “So I am stuck with Arthur here, and Charles. He’s about your age, yes? Twenty-two in October.”

Charles descends into the kitchen talking in rapid Italian to his mom, that only tapers off when he sees you at the table. You smile, dopey, raising a careful hand to wave.

He stares. 

“Vieni a sederti,” Pascale says, pointing to the empty seat beside you. Shyly, he takes a seat and fills up his glass with water—then yours. 

“Oh,” you say. “Thank you.” Your gaze travels to him, and find he’s already looking—at the corner of your eye.

“It’s a mole,” you clarify with a quiet, pretty laugh. “Are you excited to take me around? Pascale says you’re my tour guide.”

“Sure, sure.” He laughs. “Where do you want to go?”

Hervé has played some Italian music on his vinyl, so it’s what scratchily plays through the dining area, accompanied by the scent of garlic and lemon and olive from the trees outside, blowing a gentle breeze through the archway of the house.

You turn away from his green eyes to answer one of Arthur’s questions, peppering chili flakes over your aglio olio to twirl and deposit into your mouth. One red flake stays on your lip and he imagines swiping it off with his thumb. Your eyes meet his again, gaze amused and gentle and Charles could stare forever.

“Anywhere, really.”

—

“Oh, honey,” you whine playfully, letting your husband crowd you against the counter of your kitchen, peppering kisses all over your face. “Missed me that much?”

“You know I did.” He parts from you, and even if he's taller his gaze seems to convey looking up at you, adoration and love crowding his green eyes. A hand caresses your jaw, cheek; his thumb rubs over the corner of your eye. The blank skin there, unmarked, unblemished.

He kisses it. His favorite spot. “I woke up this morning thinking about you,” he says fondly.

“About how I left you in charge of changing Mila while I slept in?” You tease lowly, forehead pressed to his.

“About how in love I am with you,” he says honestly. Your heart pulses. It was never a whirlwind of love for either of you. It was slow, warm, familiar. Hey, you.

Despite that, he means it, you know he does, he’s never failed to show just how much. When he wakes up early to change Mila, or when he takes charge of the stove when you’re sleepy. When he lets you walk him around the winding avenues of Manhattan to get cookies or a good coffee or a better beer. When he watches you sing karaoke tipsily, Billy Joel or The Smiths. The way he memorizes every part of you, the way he knows you. Any and all of the love Charles ever had and ever felt always answered to you. 

Lips meet the corner of your eye again. “You know that? I love you. You changed me. You know that, right?”

You could stay forever, in the dusk of the city, questions suspended in the air to be lovingly answered in the lifetimes to follow. They will come, though. You can stay for now—you’ve done your waiting for a love like this.

You smile. “Right.”

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

k i NEEED to get this out of my chest cuz i don’t think i’ve ever told anyone beside my closest friend. so i’m a med student k and the thing is whenever i need to revise the muscles (esp back and forearm ones) i kid u not i use atj’s pictures.

LIKE THAT MAN IS BUILT LIKE A????? IDFK????? BUT BRO U CAN C L E A R L Y SEE ALL THE SUPERFICIAL MUSCLES ITS SO????????? AND THE VEINS??????? R U FUCKING KIDDING MEEEEEEEEEEE???????? LIKE HELLAUUURRRR it makes me wanna poke my eyeballs and yank my hair out one by one i can’t do this anymore

n ways sharing it in case anyone needs motivation to study those kind of subjects cuz it’s a lifesaver lemme tell u✋🏻😔

- 🍪

IM PISSING TEARS😭😭😭😭😭 that makes me love you sm more idc

it’s such a funny thought and keep rereading it and I can’t stop giggling

YOURE SO RIGHT BUILT LIKE A. LIKE A. JUST THAT. HE’S JUST SO BUILT. SO WELL???? AND JUST BUILT! HE’S… YEAH. THE DEFINITION OF MUSCLES AND THE VEINS AND THE HANDS. I need to put myself to bed bc this is stepping into dangerous territory 😭

when I was uploading a fic of him earlier, I used the image specifically for his arm and hand and I couldn’t pull myself away from it, I kept staring at his arm (it real was bad)

im not a med student or in that field but that reminded me of some research I needed to do, so thanks for the reminder😌

ps I love the request!!!

[devilbunzz-moved]

I say this every fucking day but good GOHD I love 17776 so fucking much

[mingirn]

i want u to judge this mingyu fic I'm writing

also ignore the other pic lmao it's just for the picture size 😭🙏

me reading this hello what the fuck you are insane i’m gonna neeed this published as soon as possible i’m gonna cry reading it WTFFFFFFFF god i missed reading your stuff this is sooo good. im gonna reread your mark fic again now too

out of pocket with the size kink and manhandling hello /pos. that’s so hot.

also LMFAO this reminds me that i found out through a damn tiktok that i smell like jaehyun and changkyun bc they use the same perfume as me??