#i just feel like my life should be different | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sodxdrugz · 2 days ago

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𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋ I Wanna RIDE

Zayne x Fem!Reader. You tell Zayne you want to be on top. Explicit content of course. This was going to be a LADS reacting to you telling them you wanna ride, but my favourite stole all of my attention. Sorry chat. Not my best work.

ꪆৎ His lips twitch in amusement. It’s subtle, the way his eyes rake over you—nothing lustful or shallow, but appreciative, like he can’t get enough of you laid beneath him. Committing the sight to memory, he leans back on his heels and offers a small tilt of his head. For some reason, the action has you staring at him in turn. There’s a pause in his reaction, as if to make you believe he’s thinking long and hard on your declaration like it was some profound philosophy.

“Are you sure you can take it, honey? You’ve been complaining about your knees an awful lot lately.” His slow, sensual tone takes on a sarcastic undertone. You swat at his hands, but it’s not enough to remove his hands from your knees.

“Zayne!” You damn near squawk in disbelief, cheeks heating as you recall all the times you’ve complained to your loving and devoted husband. In all cases he responded by laying you down and working his hands into your muscles. What was supposed to be an innocent way of helping you relax turned into more.. explicit activities. It wasn’t your fault, your husband is just too tempting. “This is completely different.” You go on to say, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Is that so?” He hums, lips quirking up the tiniest bit. Zayne then sighs as if he’s given up something grand, but in reality, his heart spikes in anticipation. “Sit up, I’m going to need somewhere to lay down, aren’t I?”

You’ve never gotten off the bed so fast in your life.

If it was any other time, Zayne would have remarked that you should have the same enthusiasm when getting out of bed in the morning. Instead, he situates himself against the headboard, bladed green eyes peering up at you as you begin to take off your clothes.

You were hardly clothed before, but the tease in which you slide down your bra and snap the band of your underwear has him growing stiff. Zayne grunts, shifting his hips as his boxers grow tight. A cheeky grin spreads across your lips as you crawl up the bed and straddle his lap. You’ve left your underwear on, he dully notes.

Any thought slips away as you press your hips flush against his crotch. His breath hitches and a needy whine falls from parted lips. The motions of your hips are both firm and tender, causing pleasure to burst under his skin and prickle up his spine.

Your arms slink over his shoulders, your soft breasts pressing up against his chest and he couldn’t be anymore aroused than he is now. Your noises are a soft, warm breath against his cheek. His hips buck into you, desperate, so needy for something more.

All he can feel is you. The contrast between his cold body temperature to your blazing warmth is astonishing. He grips your hips tight, helping you rock into him at a steady pace. Zayne picks up on the way your breath hitches, the needy keens of pleasure you let out between tooth-bitten lips. It’s.. god it ruins him. The sight of you as desperate for him as he is for you.

You’re trying your hardest to concentrate and make every movement purposeful, but the slow descent to pleasure is almost maddening. Your thighs begin to ache. Zayne notices the sloppy buck of your hips and the way your moans come out a bit more pitched than before. Without a word, he tightens his grip on your waist and thrusts up into you. A mewl falls from your lips, and you stable yourself with your hands on his firm chest.

“Zayne,” you lean in close, and he does to. Your lips brush, so close yet so far. Pushing closer, Zayne feels your breasts against his chest and groans. He continues to hammer into your tight pussy, the sloppy sounds heightened in the quiet room. “Gods, you feel so good.” Instead of connecting your lips, you trail kisses down his jaw, biting and nipping at his neck in between noises of pleasure.

He whines. His hips stutter. You’re both so close. Teetering on the brink of bliss. A coil tightens in your stomach, pulling and pulling until you’re panting with frustration.

“Come on baby,” he pants. “Cum on me. Cum on my dick. Need to feel you tighten around me. Be good f’me and cum on my dick.”

Your nails bite into his chest and your orgasm comes toppling over you. It’s white hot pleasure that seizes your muscles and locks you into place as he slams into you, jerkily chasing his own pleasure as you try and reel yourself in. Your breath hitches. Something burns in your eyes and you’re whining. For him to stop or continue, you’re not sure.

Bursts of warmth fill your stomach and he slows his pace. He eases you both into stillness, smoothing his hands up your side and cradling you against his chest. The coolness melts into you, bringing you into a state of after-sex bliss.

Nestled deep, Zayne softens inside of you. He gently lifts your body to slip himself out—but you stop him.

“Baby?” His hand is tangled in your hair, tilting your head to meet your blissed out eyes.

“Can we just stay like this for a bit?” You ask, blinking up at him lazily.

He chuckles, it’s soft and amused. “I need to clean you up.”

A huff. “We can do that later.” And you yawn, loud and content. “I don’t want to get up.”

“Okay,” he relents. Though there wasn’t much to fight against. Zayne would never deny you. So, instead, he trails his hands up and down your sweaty skin, rubbing your thighs to soothe the ache he knows is there. “I liked this.” He says, bringing your hand up to kiss your knuckles.

He places one kiss over every bump, then trails the sweetest kisses into the palm of your hand until your heart is nearly beating out of your chest.

You peak up at him, watching the way he smiles against your palm. “My ideas are great, aren’t they?” His eyes flicker with amusement and his other hand massages the base of your neck, pinching to make you flinch.

You glare. He soothes the spot with gentle rubs.

“Yes, baby. They’re great.”

“Round two?”

That startles him. “Love of my life, I think you’re biting off more than you can chew here.”

A mischievous grin spreads across your face.

#love and deepspace #Love and deepspace x reader #lads x reader #lads Zayne x reader #lads zayne #love and deepspace zayne #Love and deepspace zayne x reader #lads zayne smut #lads x reader smut #lads smut #love and deepspace smut #x reader #x fem reader #fanfic #smut #smut fic #drabble

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tsunodaradio · 2 days ago

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unless you call tonight ⛐ 𝐋𝐍𝟒

THIS IS: FORMULA ONE, A MILESTONE EVENT 📀 lando falls for a busy woman and it ruins his life.

♫ starring: lando norris x pilot!reader. ♫ word count: 4.3k. ♫ includes: romance. suggestive content/off-screen smut, profanity. friends with benefits. @norrisradio requested busy woman by sabrina carpenter. ♫ commentary box: unfortunately, i will never be normal about anything tara asks of me. ever. all my lando's are hers and this is proof. 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Lando stares at his phone, his thumb hovering over the screen. The chat is open— your name at the top, a string of texts below. Nothing crazy, just a couple of messages exchanged over the past few weeks. Enough to keep the line open but not enough to call it anything solid.

He exhales sharply and locks his phone again, as if that will stop him from thinking about you. Spoiler alert: It doesn’t.

He unlocks his phone. Reopens the conversation. Scrolls up, reading over the last thing you sent. Been up since four. Dead on my feet. Talk soon.

That was two days ago.

Lando flops back onto the hotel bed with a huff. He should text you. It’s not like you’d ignore him. Every time he’s reached out, you’ve answered, even if it’s just a short reply before you’re off somewhere again.

But that’s the problem, isn’t it?

He already knows how this will go. You’ll take hours to reply, if you reply at all. Not because you’re uninterested— at least, he hopes not— but because you’re busy.

You live in the sky, chasing time zones while he chases apexes. He doesn’t even know where in the world you are right now.

You’d met briefly. One of those moments that should’ve been forgettable but wasn’t. He was waiting for his flight, slouched in an airport lounge, when you walked past in uniform, checking your watch. Someone had called your name, and you’d turned just enough for him to catch the hint of a smile.

He knew, then and there, that he had to at least try.

“Give me your number,” he had said, leaning against the airport counter, all charm and easy confidence. “So I can let you know when I land safely.”

You had laughed, shaking your head as you tapped your name and number into his phone. “Is that your way of saying you get nervous on flights?”

“No,” he’d grinned, locking the contact in. “It’s my way of making sure I see you again.”

“Don’t be boring,” you warned before handing him off to be handled by some attendant who had probably tried to flirt with him. He couldn’t be sure; he was so caught up with you that he couldn’t see past it.

Lando had planned on being anything but boring. And yet, here he is, stuck in his own head.

He drags a hand down his face, annoyed at himself, at the situation, at you for being so goddamn unavailable. Not in the emotional way. No, that would be easier. But in the literal, physical sense.

It’s ironic, really. He’s the one in a different country every weekend, but somehow, you’re still the one he can’t seem to pin down.

Maybe that’s what makes this feel different. He’s used to things being easy, casual, within reach.

You slip through his fingers before he can decide what to do with you.

He types out a message. u free?

Then he deletes it.

Tries a different approach. what country are u in now?

Lando deletes that, too.

His fingers dance across the screen as he jams out yet another thing he won’t send, typed out with the belief that simply putting it out into the world might suffice.

i miss being inside you, he types, and then he backspaces until it’s just i miss you, and then he just trashes the whole thing all together.

Lando rests his phone on his chest.

And waits. What for, he’s not sure.

It’s not like he’s asking for much. A conversation. A distraction. A sign that you might be thinking about him, too.

With a sigh, he locks his phone and sets it aside.

Not tonight.

The first time you slept together, Lando hadn’t really thought about what came after.

You’d been in the same city by coincidence. One of your flights aligning with his race weekend, just by sheer luck. The two of you had figured that out quickly enough, and from there, it had been easy.

A drink, a conversation that flowed too smoothly, a brush of your fingers against his when you took his empty glass from him. By the time you were both back at his hotel, neither of you had pretended it was anything but inevitable.

Lando had been more than happy to take his time with you, to let things build and stretch into the early hours of the morning. And, fuck, it had been good.

You were the kind of person who made everything feel easy, like you’d known each other longer than just the past handful of hours. Like you’d done this before, even though you hadn’t.

So he’d fallen asleep next to you, pleasantly exhausted, fully expecting to wake up to a warm body curled into his.

Instead, he had woken up to the rustling of sheets and the quiet clink of a zipper.

Blinking through his sleep-heavy haze, he had turned over to see you by the foot of the bed, pulling on your jacket. Your bag was already slung over one shoulder, your phone in your free hand. The bedside clock read something ridiculous— barely past five in the morning.

Lando frowned. “You’re leaving?”

You glanced at him. “Yeah. I’ve got a flight to catch.”

“Right now?”

You huffed a laugh and adjusted the strap of your bag. “That’s usually how flights work, yeah,” you had shot back.

He narrowed his eyes at you, still groggy, still trying to wrap his head around the fact that you were actually about to walk out the door like this. “So you’re just gonna disappear before the sun’s even up?”

“I’m not disappearing,” you corrected, “I’m saying goodbye.”

Lando scoffed, unimpressed with the technicality. “Right.”

A brief pause settled between you. He could still see the soft marks of his fingertips on your skin, the messy imprint of the night before. He thought, just for a second, that maybe you’d hesitate. That maybe you’d crawl back into bed, let the morning stretch a little longer.

But you just smiled instead, already halfway to the door. “Good luck on your race.”

And with that, you were gone.

Lando sat there for a long moment, listening to the faint click of the door shutting behind you.

He wasn’t used to being left behind.

He had finished on the podium that race. Everybody talked about his car, about strategy, but he knew he’d been fueled by spite and the glorious afterglow of a good fuck.

A part of him had wanted to reach out and ask if you’d seen him win. He didn’t, of course. He liked to think he had some dignity.

Tonight, though, Lando is convinced that all of his dignity will be damned.

He steps out of the bar, the night air cool against his flushed skin. The noise from inside spills onto the street— laughter, the bassline of some song he should probably recognize, the occasional burst of applause from a group in the corner. He exhales sharply, rolling his shoulders as he leans back against the brick wall, phone in hand.

He shouldn’t be checking his phone. Shouldn’t be waiting for anything.

But he is.

He flicks his thumb over the screen, unlocking it for the tenth time in as many minutes. No notifications. No messages.

No messages from you.

His jaw tightens. He shoves his free hand into his pocket, tilting his head back against the wall. It’s stupid. You have a life, a job that doesn’t leave you glued to your phone, a schedule that barely aligns with his. But it doesn’t stop the frustration from simmering under his skin.

Then, as if the Universe is sick and tired of his moping, his phone vibrates.

from: little ms. pilot ✈️ You good?

Lando exhales through his nose, half in disbelief, half in relief. He should let you wait, make you sit in silence the way he had. But he doesn’t. His fingers move before he can think better of it.

to: little ms. pilot ✈️ i was starting to think you forgot about me

The dots appear immediately.

from: little ms. pilot ✈️ Don’t be dramatic. Long flights, long days.

He runs his tongue over his teeth. Yeah, he knows. Doesn’t mean he likes it.

to: little ms. pilot ✈️ am i so easy to ignore, hm??

A bit too honest. But he lets it sit.

from: little ms. pilot ✈️ Poor baby. Want a kiss to make things better?

A sharp laugh escapes Lando. He glances back toward the bar, but the thought of going back in— of pretending he’s not the happiest he’s been in days— feels unappealing.

to: little ms. pilot ✈️ ure lucky i’m a forgiving man from: little ms. pilot ✈️ Oh, are you? to: little ms. pilot ✈️ wouldn’t be texting u rn if i weren’t from: little ms. pilot ✈️ And here I thought I was doing you a favor.

Lando scoffs, rolling his eyes at his screen.

to: little ms. pilot ✈️ by what? keeping me on my toes? from: little ms. pilot ✈️ By giving you something to look forward to.

He shakes his head. You’re good— he’ll give you that.

to: little ms. pilot ✈️ u make it sound like u’re doing charity work from: little ms. pilot ✈️ Aren’t I?

Lando’s stomach tightens at the way you always manage to flip things back on him, like you’re the one indulging him instead of the other way around.

to: little ms. pilot ✈️ u r a menace from: little ms. pilot ✈️ You like it.

He doesn’t answer right away. His fingers hover over the keyboard as he exhales, glancing back toward the bar. He should go inside, forget about this conversation before it pulls him in deeper.

Instead, he types:

to: little ms. pilot ✈️ i like a lot of things about u :)

A beat.

The dots appear. Disappear.

Reappear.

from: little ms. pilot ✈️ Careful, Norris. Sounds like dangerous territory.

He smirks. Gotcha.

to: little ms. pilot ✈️ only if u make it out to be

No immediate reply this time. He waits for a second, then two, before locking his phone and shoving it back into his pocket. If you want to keep playing this game, fine.

But he won’t be the only one chasing.

Lando sees your name light up his phone, and for the first time in a long time, he considers not answering.

It’s not that he doesn’t want to. The problem is that he does—badly. He wants to see you, wants to hear that teasing lilt in your voice when you make some offhand remark that he’ll spend hours thinking about later.

The phone buzzes again.

from: little ms. pilot ✈️ Layover in your city. Few hours to spare. Busy?

He stares at the screen, jaw ticking with impatience.

This is the moment where he should say no. He should have some fucking dignity, tell you he’s got better things to do than be at your beck and call.

But he doesn’t.

Because Lando’s never been good at resisting things that feel good in the moment, and right now, there’s nothing he wants more than you.

He barely remembers the drive over, only that his knee bounced the whole way, his mind running in circles around the same thought: He should’ve said no.

When you open the door, it’s as good as over for him.

You're fresh out of the shower, hair damp, hotel robe tied loosely around your waist. You smirk when you see him, leaning against the doorframe like you already know he was coming the second you hit send.

Lando tongues the inside of his cheek. “You’re trouble.”

“And yet you’re here.”

You step back, letting him inside. The door clicks shut behind him, sealing the two of you in. He watches as you cross the room, and there’s a fleeting moment where he wonders if this will be the time it finally breaks him. If this will be the time he won’t be able to pick himself back up when you leave.

Then you tug him forward by the front of his hoodie, pulling him into a kiss, and he stops thinking altogether.

Lando’s hands find their way to your waist, pulling you closer as if he’s trying to ground himself in the moment. His fingers press into the soft fabric of your robe, but it’s not enough. He’s desperate for more, for the feeling of your skin against his, the way you always seem to make him forget about everything else.

You laugh softly against his lips, a teasing sound that vibrates through him, and for a second, he thinks maybe you can hear the way his heart is pounding.

“Impatient,” you murmur, your voice low and smooth, as your hands slide under the hem of his hoodie, feeling the warmth of his skin underneath.

“You started it,” Lando replies, his voice rougher than he intended, his breath hitching when your fingers graze his chest.

You grin at him, and he can’t help but mirror the expression, even as he watches you slowly step back, eyes flicking between his and the space between you. It’s like you’re daring him to follow, to push this further— and God, does he want to.

Before he can take another step toward you, you pause, looking at him with a glint in your eye that makes him hesitate for a moment. “You’re sure you want this? You know how this goes, Norris.”

His throat closes up.

There’s that voice again, the one that whispers that he’s being a fool, that he’s walking right into the same trap he always does. The same trap you’ve set so many times before, and he’s willingly fallen for it each and every time.

“I’m not going to regret it,” he says, the words tumbling out more firmly than he feels.

His eyes are locked on yours, searching for any sign that you’re not on the same page. But you don’t look away. You’re not pulling back. You’re watching him with an intensity that almost feels like you’ve already made up your mind.

You nod, slow and deliberate, and then you’re moving toward him again, your lips meeting his in a searing kiss that makes his whole body hum.

There’s no talking after that. No hesitation.

The next thing he knows, he’s pulling at the knot of your robe, hands shaking as he exposes more of your skin, his mouth following the trail of fire you leave across his chest. You tug at his hoodie, almost impatient in the way you’re stripping him down, until he’s left standing in front of you in nothing but his jeans and the fast-fading remnants of his composure.

At this point, Lando’s not sure it matters. Not with you this close, not with your hands tracing the lines of his body, not with the heat between you building to a point where it feels like he can’t breathe without you.

And when you pull him into another kiss, your lips just as desperate as his own, it doesn’t matter anymore. There’s no more thinking, no more wondering. Just the feeling of you, here, with him.

Lando doesn’t think about tomorrow. Doesn’t think about the empty space he’ll wake up to or the way he’ll check his phone, hoping— pathetically— for a message that won’t be there.

For now, all that matters is the way your breath stutters when he kisses down your neck, the way your hands press against his skin like you need him just as badly.

For now, he lets himself believe that you do.

Patience has never been his strong suit, and he sure as hell doesn’t have any left when it comes to you. It’s been— what? Two weeks? Maybe three? Since the last time he saw you, since you last texted, since he last even felt like he existed in your world.

And fine, he gets it. You have a life. You have a job that keeps you moving, that pulls you across time zones and continents with no regard for whatever flimsy thing the two of you have going on.

But it’s starting to get to him.

He’s been staring at his phone for the past twenty minutes, scrolling through old texts, checking to see if maybe you had responded and he somehow missed it. (He hasn’t. You haven’t.)

Before he can talk himself out of it, he taps on your contact and hits FaceTime.

It rings. Once, twice— he’s already regretting it.

Then, you pick up.

You’re in some dimly lit hotel room, the glow from your laptop screen casting soft shadows over your face. You look tired. You blink at him like you weren’t expecting the call.

“Lando?” Your voice is thick with exhaustion.

“Hey,” he says, gripping the edge of his couch. He hadn’t exactly planned what he was going to say— just that he needed to see you, to hear your voice, to remind himself that he still exists to you. “Where are you?”

You sigh, rubbing at your temple. “Singapore. Just got in a couple of hours ago.”

He bites back the urge to apologize. Singapore. The other side of the world. Not that it should matter. Not that it ever has.

“You could’ve texted,” he says, and it comes out rougher than he means it to.

You frown. “I’ve been working.”

“For two weeks?”

You hesitate. It’s brief, but he catches it. “I meant to,” you say eventually. “I just— Lando, come on.”

“No, seriously,” he pushes, his grip tightening on his phone. “Do you even think about me when you’re gone?”

Your brows furrow. “Of course I do.”

“Yeah? Then why does it feel like I don’t exist as soon as you leave?”

That gives you pause. You glance away, like you’re searching for the right words. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

Lando laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “You could start with the truth.”

You inhale sharply, sitting up a little straighter. “Lando…” There’s something warning in your tone.

He shakes his head. “Forget it.”

A beat of silence stretches between you before you finally sigh. “I thought we were on the same page about this.”

There it is. The thing he didn’t want to hear, the thing he’s been trying to pretend doesn’t exist.

You’re not in a relationship.

You’ve made that clear from the beginning, in the way you never linger too long, in the way you leave before the sheets even cool, in the way you go weeks without speaking to him like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

But it’s not easy for him.

Lando swallows hard, forcing a tight smile. “Yeah,” he says. “We are.”

And then, because he can’t help himself, because frustration is curling hot and tight in his chest, because he wants you to hurt the way he does, he adds, “Must be nice, though.”

Your brows knit together. “What?”

“Not having to think about anyone but yourself.”

Your expression shifts instantly. “Excuse me?”

“I mean, it must be convenient,” he continues, his tone sharp. “Keeping me on standby for when it suits you, for when you’re not busy. Must be nice to just disappear whenever you want and not have to deal with the mess you leave behind.”

Your lips part slightly, disbelief flickering across your features. Then, just as quickly, your face hardens.

“Lando,” you say, voice steady, firm. “I’m not doing this with you.”

His jaw clenches. “Doing what?”

“This,” you snap. “Whatever this little tantrum is.”

Lando opens his mouth, but you don’t give him the chance.

“You don’t get to act like I’ve done something wrong just because I don’t orbit around you,” you say, and your words cut deep. “I told you what this was from the beginning. If you thought it was something else, that’s on you.”

He flinches, but you’re not done.

“And before you ask— no, I don’t have a flight to catch.” Your voice is like ice now. “I’m ending this call because I don’t feel like listening to your bullshit. I’m too busy for it.”

And then, just like that, his screen goes dark.

TWO DAYS AFTER.

to: little ms. pilot ✈️ yo

FIVE DAYS LATER.

to: little ms. pilot ✈️ look, i was an ass. i know that just... idk. lmk if i can make it up to u or something

ONE WEEK LATER.

to: little ms. pilot ✈️ u still mad? tbf i’d probably still be mad

to: little ms. pilot ✈️ sooo does that mean i shd wait longer before texting again

TEN DAYS LATER.

to: little ms. pilot ✈️ ok i’ve done some thinking. i’ve concluded i deserve to be ignored, but also i don’t like being ignored

to: little ms. pilot ✈️ i feel like i shd at least get points for self-awareness

TWELVE DAYS LATER.

to: little ms. pilot ✈️ just tell me u hate me so i can sleep at night

TWO WEEKS LATER.

to: little ms. pilot ✈️ alright. u win. won’t bother u anymore

to: little ms. pilot ✈️ unless u text first. then it’s fair game.

ONE MONTH LATER.

to: little ms. pilot ✈️ saw a plane today and thought of u

to: little ms. pilot ✈️ i feel like that should earn me AT LEAST a pity response

Lando tells himself he’s fine.

He throws himself into racing, into training, into anything that doesn’t involve picking up his phone and staring at a dead chat. He convinces himself that it’s better this way. He’s faster on track, more focused in meetings, less distracted.

At least, that’s the lie he repeats to himself.

But then, one afternoon in Monaco, he sees you at the grocery store. Every carefully constructed wall he’s built around himself crumbles in an instant.

You’re standing by the produce section, inspecting a bunch of grapes like they hold the answers to the universe. It’s almost laughably ordinary— no pilot uniform, no layover rush, just you in a sundress, vacationing like a normal person.

And for some reason, that stings.

He almost walks past you, pretends he hasn’t seen you. But then you turn, eyes meeting his, and there’s no escaping it now.

“Lando,” you say, like you’re surprised to see him. Which is ridiculous, because this is his city. His home.

He swallows hard, nodding. “Hey.”

An awkward pause stretches between you, filled only by the low hum of the store’s music and the distant chatter of other shoppers. Lando clears his throat, gripping the handle of his basket like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded.

“Didn’t know you were in Monaco.”

“I’m just here for a bit,” you say. “Taking some time off.”

“Right.” He lets out a breathy chuckle. “Guess you’ve been too busy to take a vacation before now.”

The words come out sharper than he intends. Your eyes narrow, just slightly. “That’s not fair.”

He wants to argue, to remind you of all the unanswered messages, of how he felt like a complete idiot waiting for a reply that never came. But what would be the point? You’ve made it clear before that this was never anything serious. That he wasn’t supposed to care like this.

“Yeah,” he exhales. “Maybe it’s not.”

Silence again. Then, you shift your basket higher on your arm. “I should go.”

Lando nods, watching as you turn on your heel and head for the checkout. That should be it. That should be the end of it.

But suddenly, he’s moving.

He doesn’t even think about it, just grabs the first bouquet of supermarket flowers he sees, throws some cash at the self-checkout, and jogs out the door after you.

You’re halfway down the street when he catches up. “Hey— wait.”

You pause, glancing at him over your shoulder. He’s out of breath, which is embarrassing, considering he’s a professional athlete. He thrusts the slightly-crumpled bouquet toward you.

“Are you busy today?”

You blink, staring at the flowers like they might explode. “Lando…”

“I just— I don’t know,” he rushes out. “If you’ve got time, maybe we could—” He hesitates. He doesn’t even know what he’s asking. To talk? To fix things? To ruin himself all over again?

You exhale softly, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. He watches you carefully, desperately, like a man on the edge of a decision he has no power over.

Lando lets out a breath, his grip tightening around the plastic-wrapped stems in his hands. “Look, I know I was out of line that night. And I know I’ve been acting like— like I don’t get what this is. But the thing is, I don’t think I know how to be casual about you.

“I’ve tried, and I’m fucking terrible at it. I want more, and I know that’s not what we do, but—” He shakes his head, his jaw working, like the words aren’t coming out right.

A passing car honks in the distance. The world moves on as if this isn’t the biggest thing happening in his universe.

“But I like you,” he says finally, voice quiet but firm. “I like you more than I should. And I know you’re busy, I know your job takes you everywhere, and maybe that means this doesn’t work. But if there’s even a small chance that it could—”

He looks at you like he’s never wanted anything more. “Just tell me if I should stop.”

Your lips press together, and for a long moment, you say nothing. Lando’s heart beats in his throat. He braces himself for rejection, for you to tell him this was a mistake, for you to hand the flowers back and walk away.

Instead, you take the bouquet from his hands, inspecting it like you’ve never seen supermarket daisies before. A smile tugs at the corner of your lips, small but real, and you shake your head just a little before looking up at him.

“You’re an idiot,” you murmur.

Lando’s stomach twists. “I know.”

You step closer, lifting onto the balls of your feet to press a kiss to his cheek. His skin burns where your lips touch, and he barely has time to register the warmth before you pull back, meeting his eyes.

“I might be busy,” you say, holding the flowers loosely in your hands. “But I think I have a little bit of time for you today.”

He’ll take it, he decides.

Today, tonight, tomorrow— for however long you’ll have him. ⛐

#lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris fic #lando norris imagine #f1 x reader #f1 x you #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 x you #f1 fic #f1 imagine #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 fic #⛐ ln4 #⛐ kae prix #⛐ event: this is f1 #this was supposed to be a cute little 1k word fic :(#how did we get here :(...

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moonwoodhollow · 3 days ago

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Koffieboon, Nordhaven

build diary and thoughts under the cut!

I finally started working on the Koffieboon lot as my 2nd to last lot for Nordhaven's Old Town and while I love the layout of the lot with the three connected houses I felt like they all needed a bit more details for the facades first. I ended up changing the windows, as I wanted all 3 houses to have a bit of a different distinctive feeling. For the orange house, I ended up using the Businesses&Hobbies windows, for the green house, I used ones from Lovestruck EP + CC and for the rosy house, I used Life&Death windows.

If there's also one thing I cannot live without when decorating older houses it's corner stones, they add so much to a building and make it seem more complete, at least in my opinion. The ones I used there are by Felix (Estate Orjanic) and Pierisim (Maison de ..).

When I read about the family and their business (café Koffieboon) I felt that the building and the backstory were somewhat disconnected. Obviously, the Loden family could have (at some point) renovated the café, but somehow I felt that the café should have more of an older interior, so I'll probably change that. I do like the current interior, but it fits better to Ivarstad and a hip bookshop.

Now, the layout/ floorplan of the apartment above the café was terrible. I don't understand how there wasn't a hallway and that the front door immediately leads to the kitchen?! Also, the placement of the bathroom was really not it...

Continuing to the bedrooms, those were actually quite tricky. I didn't like how small the children's bedrooms were and that there was a hallway leading from the living room to the bedrooms. I'm not 100% happy with my solution, but I think it's still better than the original.

I love the small extra apartment that the grandmother has, but in reality, she'd probably need a flat on the ground floor, because that poor woman has to climb 2 sets of stairs just to reach her flat, that's unacceptable. Here, I added a balcony because I just love balconies, and they add a bit of detail.

That's it so far for this lot. I will change up the café interior next and if I ever upload this build I'll remove the kitchen on the 2nd floor, but yeah this got long, hope it was interesting to read some building thoughts!

#yup some thoughts during building - got a little long #ts4 #the sims 4 #sims 4 #sims 4 screenshots #*mine #simblr #ts4 simblr #ts4 screenshots #ts4 interior #sims 4 interior #sims 4 build #ts4 build #sims community #ts4 community #berries build diaries

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snowysosturn · 2 days ago

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Fire & Desire - Matt Sturniolo Part 27

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27

Pairing: Y/n x Matt Sturniolo

Summary: Y/n has always clashed with Matt. Despite working for Chris’s clothing brand and being close with Nick, her relationship with Matt has always been tense at best. While being forced to be around each other more, their animosity turns into something deeper. Can they overcome their differences, or will their fiery emotions tear them apart?

Warnings: Angst, tension, mention of loss of appetite

After Chris drops me off, I make my way back up to my hotel room, kicking off my shoes the second I step inside. I don’t bother turning on the lights. Instead, I walk straight to the bed, sinking into the mattress with a deep sigh. I stare up at the ceiling, letting everything replay in my head - Hawaii, the beach, the club, Matt, Christina, the way everything crumbled so fast I barely had time to process it.

I’m relieved things are okay between me and Chris. At least that part of my life isn’t in ruins. But the conversation we had keeps looping in my mind. The way he said it so casually, like it wasn’t even a question.

"Matt slept on the couch when she stayed in the room. I may have been drunk, but I remember that well."

She lied.

Christina lied about sleeping with Matt in Vegas.

I sit up, rubbing my temples, trying to make sense of it.

Why would she say that? What did she gain from making me believe something that never happened? Was it to hurt me? To plant something in my head? Did she just want Matt to herself?

But then, I shake my head because none of it even matters. True or not, it doesn’t erase everything else that happened. It doesn’t erase the fact that Matt still brought her home that night.

I rake my brain over and over again, replaying every little detail, every moment where I should have seen it coming, should have stopped it before it spiraled. None of it changes anything, though. It all still happened.

With a sigh, I pull out my phone, my thumb hovering over the message Matt sent me. The one I never responded to. I debate back and forth, my fingers twitching like they want to type something, anything, but I know nothing good will come from it.

What could I even say?

That I miss him?

That I hate him?

That I don’t know how to feel anymore?

Instead, I lock my phone, but as if on cue, my stomach grumbles, pulling me out of my thoughts. I hadn't even realized how long it’s been since I last ate. Between everything happening, I’ve barely had an appetite. But now, hunger is getting to me, and I know I need to eat something.

I unlock my phone and open the Uber Eats app. Comfort food is a must right now. So I quickly decide on Raising Cane’s. Some chicken tenders, crinkle cut fries, and Cane’s sauce are more than justified right now.

I place my order and set my phone down, letting out a deep sigh as I sink further into the bed. I roll onto my side, pulling the blankets over me, wanting the minutes to pass faster. My order should be here soon, and maybe after I eat I can just easily fall asleep.

As I lay there, my stomach growls again, reminding me to check where the driver is. I glance at my phone, refreshing the Uber Eats tracking page, watching as the little car icon inches closer to my location.

Two minutes away.

I let out a breath and push myself off the bed, grabbing my key card and slipping on my shoes before heading downstairs.

The hotel lobby is empty for the most part, the odd one or two people checking in this late in the evening. I step outside into the cool night air, the slight chill giving me goosebumps.

A black car pulls up to the curb, and I recognize the make and model from the tracking page. I approach as the driver steps out of his car, I greet him with a polite smile before taking the bag from his hands.

"Thanks, have a good night" I say, my voice soft.

"You too!" he replies before driving off.

I shift the bag in my hands, inhaling the familiar, comforting scent of Raising Cane’s. Just as I turn to walk back toward the hotel entrance, I hear something.

A voice.

Calling my name.

Loud. Urgent. Familiar.

"Y/N!"

My body tenses, my breath catching in my throat. The way my name is said, the sharpness in the tone, makes my heart pound in my chest. My fingers tighten around the bag. I don’t turn immediately. A part of me doesn’t want to. A part of me knows exactly who it is.

Slowly, I turn around, and there he is.

Matt.

Standing a few feet away, looking right at me, like he can’t believe I’m real. His chest rises and falls with quick, uneven breaths. His hair is messier than usual, his hoodie slightly wrinkled like he threw it on in a hurry. But it’s his eyes that get me. They’re heavy, filled with something unreadable, something I’m not sure I want to unpack right now.

Suddenly, I’m not hungry anymore.

"Y/n.." His voice is softer this time, hesitant, like he doesn’t know if he has the right to speak to me. Like he’s waiting for permission.

I should walk away. I should ignore him, turn around, and disappear into the hotel. But I don’t. Because even after everything, even after the lies, the betrayal, the absolute mess that’s been left in the wake of it all, there’s a part of me that wants answers.

Matt takes a cautious step forward, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie like he’s trying to hold himself together. His jaw tenses, like he’s bracing for me to turn and leave, but I don’t.

Not yet.

"I’ve been trying to talk to you.." he says, voice low, almost pleading. "You haven’t answered me."

I exhale slowly, gripping the bag in my hand a little tighter. "I know."

He nods, like he expected that answer, like he’s already had this conversation in his head a hundred times. "Can we just..can we talk? Please?"

Everything in me screams that this is a bad idea, that nothing he says will change what happened. But I also know that if I don’t hear him out now, he’s just going to keep showing up, keep pushing until I finally break. And maybe, I need to hear what he has to say.

I glance toward the hotel entrance, debating.

"Fine.." I say, my voice barely above a whisper. "Come up."

The walk through the lobby is silent. I feel Matt’s presence beside me, but I don’t look at him. Not even when we step into the elevator. The doors slide shut, trapping us in the small space together, you could cut the tension with a knife.

The elevator dings, and we step out. I swipe my keycard and push open the door, stepping inside. Matt follows hesitantly, his eyes scanning the room.

He lets out a low breath, taking it all in. "Damn" he says, nodding to himself. "Chris made sure you’re taken care of."

I freeze mid step, my stomach twisting. I slowly turn to face him, my brows furrowed.

How did he know that?

"How did you know it was Chris?"

Matt looks at me, realizing what he just said. "The GPS.." he says simply, like it’s obvious. "I went to go for a drive and when I got in the car, the last route was set here. I put two and two together."

I exhale sharply, shaking my head. "So you just assumed?"

Matt tilts his head slightly. "Am I wrong?"

I don’t answer. Because no, he’s not wrong. Chris’s little mistake led Matt right to me.

Matt sighs, stepping further into the room. "Look, I didn’t come here to start something. I just.. I need you to hear me out."

I swallow hard, leaving the food down on the bed side table. "Then talk."

Matt swallows hard, running a hand through his hair. "I fucked up" he starts, shaking his head. "I know that. I know I hurt you, and I swear to God, Y/n, that was never what I wanted."

I scoff, shifting my weight. "You sure? Because it felt pretty fucking intentional."

His expression twists, like the words physically hurt. "It wasn’t. I-" He exhales, frustrated, like he doesn’t even know where to begin. "When you and Nate got up and went to the bar, I pulled Chris aside" He says, rubbing a hand down his face like he’s replaying it all in his head. "I asked him what the fuck he was thinking, why he would bring them out. But then I saw you leave with Nate, and I didn’t know if you were just stepping out for air or if you were gone for the night."

I stay quiet, waiting.

"So we went back to the table" he continues, "and after a while, Chris and Rachel decided to leave. I figured I’d get out of there too, but Nick was nowhere to be found, and Christina was.." He pauses, shaking his head. "She was a mess. Completely fucked up. She could barely stand, and when I told her it was time to go, she couldn’t even remember where she was staying."

I clench my jaw, a bitter taste in my mouth. I feel like I can already see where this is going, and I don’t like it.

"She got sick on the sidewalk and everything Y/n" Matt adds, sighing. "I had no other option but to bring her back to the villa. I couldn’t just leave her there."

I exhale sharply through my nose, looking away.

"I let her use my bed" he says, holding my gaze, his voice steady. "And I slept on the couch. Told her as soon as Rachel was awake, she could go."

Silence stretches between us, the only thing I can hear is my heartbeat in my ears. He’s saying all the right things, but it doesn’t erase the image burned into my mind, the sight of Christina in his bed the next morning.

“Do you have any idea what that morning did to me?” I whisper, my eyes to meeting his. “What it felt like to see her there?”

Matt’s expression shatters. “I do.” he admits. “And I hate myself for it. But I didn’t sleep with her" he says, softer now. "Nothing happened, Y/n. I swear to you."

I swallow hard, searching his face for any sign of a lie. But all I see is sincerity, frustration, exhaustion.

I press my lips together. I want to believe him. Maybe I even do. But it doesn’t erase the hurt, the betrayal I felt that morning, the way my heart shattered at the sight of them together.

Matt steps closer, his voice softer now, almost pleading. “Y/n.. please. Say something.”

I shake my head, letting out a bitter laugh. “What do you want me to say, Matt? That it’s fine? That none of it matters?” My voice rises, and I hate the way it cracks. “Because it does. It does matter.”

His jaw tightens. “I know it does. That’s why I’m here.”

I scoff, turning away from him, running a hand through my hair. “It’s too late for that.”

“No, it’s not.” He moves closer, hesitating before reaching for my arm. His touch is warm, familiar, almost comforting, and it makes my chest ache. “I know I fucked up, Y/n. I should’ve told you the second you walked in that morning. I should’ve-” He stops himself, exhaling sharply. “I should’ve fought harder for you.”

I pull away, my back hitting the edge of the bed as I shake my head. “You didn’t even try.”

Matt’s eyes darken with frustration. “That’s not true.”

“It isn’t?” I snap. “Because from where I was standing, you just stood there while I walked away.”

Matt shakes his head. “The second I found out you left, I booked the next flight home. I didn’t even think twice, Y/n. I just-” He stops, shaking his head. “I needed to find you.”

My heart stammers in my chest, but I don’t let it show. “You did?”

Matt lets out a bitter laugh, his eyes dark with frustration. “Yeah, I hoped I’d be able to speak to you when I got home, hoping that's where you'd be. I saw the yellow jumper on my bed. And for a second, I thought you were there. That you were home.” His voice cracks slightly, and he swallows hard. “I ran upstairs to talk to you, but then.. I saw that all of your things were gone.”

My breath catches in my throat.

“I freaked out” he admits, his gaze locking onto mine. “I tore through the whole place looking for something, anything, that told me where you went. I asked Nick. I asked Chris. Shit, even until today, I was still asking. But no one would tell me a thing.” His hands clench at his sides. “Do you know how that felt? Knowing you were gone but having no idea where? No way to find you?”

I don’t answer. I can’t. Because for the first time, I realise that while I was drowning in my own pain, Matt had been spiraling too.

He takes a step closer, his voice lower now, rough with emotion. “Y/n, I know I hurt you. And I know you probably hate me for it. But don’t ever think for a second that I didn’t care. That I wasn’t trying to fix this.”

Matt steps even closer, his voice barely above a whisper now. “I told you before, I wasn’t sure where I fit into your life.” He hesitates for a second, searching my face. “But I always knew where I wanted to.”

I feel my heart in my throat as he continues.

“I wanted to fit in it as your boyfriend, Y/n.” His voice is hoarse, almost pleading.

I stare at him, my breath catching. I don’t know what to say. I don’t even know what to feel.

I wanted this. God, I wanted this so badly before. But now? After everything?

“You’re telling me this now?” My voice cracks. “Now, after I had to leave? After I had to put myself back together on my own?”

Matt’s jaw clenches. “I never wanted you to leave. No one would ever let me get a word in when I tried to explain myself.”

I close my eyes for a brief second, just enough to stop the tears from threatening to fall. I know he’s right. I should say something. I should tell him I need time, or that I can’t do this, or that it’s too late.

"I love you, Y/n."

The words land like a punch to the gut. My heart stutters, my stomach tightens, and for a second, I forget how to breathe.

Matt takes a step closer, his voice softer now, but no less certain. "I’ve always loved you. Even when I was too stupid to show it the right way. Even when I was making all the wrong choices. But from the minute we made it known we had feelings for eachother, I would never ever do anything to jeopardise that. I love you, and I don’t think that’s ever gonna change."

I stare at him, my mind spinning, my throat tight.

I open my mouth, but nothing comes out.

Matt studies my face, searching for something, anything. But when I still don’t speak, he just nods to himself, lips pressing into a tight line.

"I should go" he says quietly, stepping back like he’s giving me space, heading toward the door and gripping the handle. But I could see it in his eyes, he’s terrified this is the moment he loses me for good.

And maybe it is.

Or maybe.. it isn’t.

I don’t know.

And that’s the scariest part.

a/n : 3 parts left..

taglist : @mattybearnard @sturn-33 @ncm9696 @yourfavsturniologirl @crazy4jewel @sodakid1234 @stupendoustreewinner @lovealwayssturniolos @matthewsturniolosss @m4ttsmunch @loveexxx @ilusa @starkeyszn @wonnieeluvvr @dylnblue @valxrieq @maggot3647 @cigarettecemetary @ribread03 @chrisstvrns @bandasaruswrx @noplaceissafeanymore @amexiass @witchofthehour @mattssgf @jetaimevous @v33angel @ivysturnss @urmom69lol @ashlishes @watercolorskyy @sturnioloshottiekay @amelia-sturniolo3 @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @pvssychicken @alizestvrnss @chrisstxrnsaxe @sophand4n4 @vickytaa @marrykisskilled @bxtchboy69 @yourfavsturniologirl @julisturn @sydneyylainn @sophia-77n @trevorsgodmother @sturnslutz @yourmother29 @girl24cherry @astronea @pinkdyit

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colourmeastonished · 2 days ago

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The above response about Brasil is so interesting to me because I think the reluctance of people to accept that tipping as a subsidiary to people's livelihood is inherently flawed is based on how we (service industry workers) would be so fucked if people just Stopped tipping one day. Which is the exact problem being pointed out in the first place!

In Scotland it's the same as the Brazilian system described here, with a legal minimum wage plus most businesses including optional service charge on tables, but like Aye points out, if minimum wage isn't enough to live on, relying on your tips to subsidise that IS a lottery system you are forced into. Your livelihood depends on the number of customers you get in a day, on the way your tips are split between staff, on people's generosity/understanding of how tipping affects your financial situation, on whether or not a customer is petty enough to deny you a tip because they don't ideologically believe you deserve them for 'just doing your job'.

It's forcing service workers to work on a fucked up kind of commission that relies on the whims of the customer.

I'm a bar manager with 12 years of hospitality experience, who is objectively highly qualified and skilled in my job, who still gets paid barely over minimum wage because the industry is poorly regulated and treated as "unskilled labour". I rely on my tips to pay my bills because I'm disabled (thanks to lack of sick pay in this industry and the way my dependency on my job was weaponised against me during the height of COVID) and I can only work part time. Even on full time wages, the tips make a HUGE difference in quality of life, or in many cases, even managing to pay your bills on time.

And getting rid of the tipping system ISN'T SAYING that service workers don't deserve that extra income, it's saying that we don't deserve to have that extra income tied to an unreliable merit system that often forces us to tolerate harassment and outright verbal abuse in order to increase our chances of being "rewarded" with a little extra income.

Women straight up sexualise themselves strategically in the hopes of attracting the extra income they need, not to mention feeling like they can't call out inappropriate behaviour because it might risk the extra income of everybody on shift with them. Men ALSO tolerate grabbing and touching and sexual harassment from hen parties and older women to not lose out on tips. I watch teenagers and young adults go from being horrified by how they are treated, to waving it off because at least they're getting tips out of it CONSTANTLY (and the waving it off doesn't mean it doesn't affect them anymore, it just pushes it down into complexes and trauma and alienation from their own bodies and sexuality, and it's horrifying to watch time and time again).

We should get that extra money WITHOUT those caveats. We shouldn't have to perform and pander to absurd and dangerous levels on top of being skilled and pleasant and efficient in our jobs just to increase our income above the barest minimum our employers can get away with paying us. We should be supported by our profession so that we can have successful careers in it, rather than treated as a tool to discard when we become too sick, mentally or physically, to keep up with the stresses of living this way.

Tipping being the system we rely upon to give us the extra income we deserve in service jobs allows our employers to devalue us more, and to offer promises of 'decent tips' as a "perk" of the job, rather than bonuses or pay rises, or the dignity of being supported by our employers because we are doing the job we have been employed to do, rather than being encouraged to fish for charity from customers if we're unsatisfied with our financial situation.

If you think service workers deserve their tips, PLEASE translate that energy into pushing for base pay and worker protections for people in this industry to be improved.

TL;DR: I understand why people find the concept of getting rid of tips unappealing. We think that service workers deserve the extra income. This is TRUE, but we deserve it All The Time because our jobs are hard and skilled and physical, not just because we perform elaborate begging rituals to get that extra income.

One of the biggest scams in the world is tipping culture. Business should be forced to pay folk a decent wage.

Service workers shouldn’t be relying on their customers to pay more just so they can eat and pay rent. It becomes a lottery every week with how much they earn.

#i promise i only intended to add a paragraph or two but this got away from me #thank u aye for bringing this up - guess i had that rant locked and loaded lol #anyway always tip your servers BUT also always push for better workplace conditions protections wages and benefits for service workers too #hospitality #my thoughts #if anybody tells me to work in a different industry I'll find you and I'll glass you #workers rights are human rights

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heroicn0nsense · 23 hours ago

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I guess I'm about to get real vulnerable on main here, but I saw some kinda "BookTok" disk horse cross my BlueSky feed, and it's got me thinking in a way I really can only discuss without a character limit. But it feels kind of relative to an over all trans creative experience. Maybe more specifically for us masc people, but. You know. Maybe the threads are different but the weave a similar picture. Anyway, this is kinda what my tumblr blog has become, and so here goes. Please note I also use 'queer' as an all encompassing term, as to me it is the most inclusive word I can use despite its dubious origins and history. Sorry if that upsets anyone.

The funniest thing about this whole conversation popping up was the fact that I had just been lamenting about finding the concept of 'romantasy' fun but what I'd give to find or read something with a transmasc protagonist paired with an opposite partner of any gender. Something my masc bisexual ass would love to see. Mostly because I see and support so many ones that are sapphic in nature, but hardly see any masculine. Maybe I'm not looking in the right places but Anyway. Just so happened that in the next hour I saw what I was looking for cross my Bsky feed, but with the author show casing the really nasty and negative comments he received on his concept. things like but not limited to:

"of course the transmasc character is a twink bottom" "just a girl who got a mastectomy" And other just Internalized Misogyny and Heteronormative things that affect a good portion of us transmasculine guys.

And idk, man it really struck a nerve with me.

If only because first and foremost, the author is writing something he wanted to see. Filling a niche and void he wanted to see realized, and like so many other authors' works, in a way that feels personal to him. And to attack it in such a way was pretty vile.

Queer stories and creations in of themselves are personal stories, because we write from our own experiences, and put them in our original works whether subtly or not so subtly. It's there, and you can't separate the queer experience from a queer work because by its very nature its queer. But also like, that experience isn't the same for everyone. And we shouldn't expect it to be. So, no, not every work is going to be what you want or associate with. But we should be uplifting all of it so that someone with an idea or concept that does speak to you will have the confidence to bring it to the table. And yeah. Unfortunately, that sometimes means that cliches are gonna happen. That twink ass transmasc might end up being a bottom 75% of the time.

But it also like, led me to associate my own struggle of accepting my own body and transness and some of my own preferences in the bedroom.

I'm not saying that all writers, artists, or creators are using their method of making art to explore their own hang ups with their gender and bodies, navigating this absolutely messy and strange world of norms and expectations while simultaneously seeming to want to turn them on their head. Gender is complex. Being trans is complex. And it gets weird, and sometimes we need outlets to work our way through it.

But also, most of us transmasc people have vaginas. It's just a fact of life. We've got a big ol' gaping axe wound of an organ sitting between our legs and for a lot of us, it still feels good to stick something in it, and we shouldn't be ashamed of that at all. And hell, a lot of us are short, considering our genetics are wired that way and no amount of HRT is going to change the fact some of us aren't going to get past 5'5". But sometimes, especially with what is expected to be masculine by gender norms, and the physical form of a cis male body, it can sometimes be really hard to reconcile that.

I know it was for me. To the point where I often struggled with my sexuality and my relationship with intimacy about it for a long time.

I made my character Akihiro while I was, and still am parsing through a lot of my own dysphoric issues, and paving my own way to acceptance. And that's made him a deeply personal character to me. And he has grown and changed as I project a lot of those issues on to him and his development. Akihiro has been an exploration of myself as much as he is an an original character that I role play. But not so much in the ways of personality, but more in the ways of the challenges with which he is presented and has to navigate himself.

Akihiro is a trans man in a world that is accepting of it. Society has progressed past these petty and arbitrary standards. But he becomes a cyborg at a time where the question is instead what it means to be human, and so...The aspect of depersonalization, dysphoria, and depersonalization he experiences at the hands of transhumanism is not so different than what I have and do experience in my own transition.

Akihiro wasn't always trans. That was honestly a pretty recent development and one that I did struggle with making. And I realized I was struggling with it because of those same dysphoric issues. And I just needed to let them go.

It was reflected in another recent development; the way that I had Akihiro handle his genitals when he was presented with the option to upgrade from none to a functioning set. And he chose to go with what he had been born with, the genitals he had when his body was mangled. He went with a vagina. Because he wanted to embrace the body he had taken for granted before he lost it, and not some idealized version of himself he could have obtained at any point prior.

And yeah. He 'bottoms' the majority of the time for his boyfriend because he enjoys it. But it doesn't stop him from topping him either, nor enjoying that. Nor had it stopped him previously from being intimate with other men and women. And that's his preference as a character.

And who are we to say it wasn't the same for this author? Where he is putting his feelings and acceptance of his own body and desires onto paper? And that is being met with such vitriol because it's not someone else's idea of what is masculine, or whatever. I don't know. Maybe they weren't. Maybe they did just wanna write some twink ass boy getting dicked down and like, that's fine too. Why do we have to be so mad about that?

And maybe this was just a lot of words to say that I think we get so wrapped up in words and labels for things that it completely erases the nuances of our own experiences and it turns right back around to being so queerphobic and limiting. And we don't give ourselves, much less other people, the grace to create the things they want to, and from a place of their own experience and desire. It's harmful.

#long post #azrael.txt #the transmasc struggle I guess #oh and booktok drama?#rambling about my OCs too #Akihiro is v important to me ok #holy shit this post got away from me.

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science-hoes · 15 hours ago

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Angel Kisses

Dr. Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x Reader

Warnings: graphic medical descriptions, needles

A/N: I thought this fic would be a little less fluffy and more spicy but I just can’t help it. Plus I love Noah Wyle’s barely there freckles. I feel like this isn’t my best work because I had severe writers block. Hope it’s good enough for yall tho 💕

My Ko-Fi :)

—

The Pittsburg Trauma Medical Center was rumored to be the 9th level of Hell. So when it was time for you to begin your schedule for trauma surgery, you prayed for a different hospital. Literally any other hospital.

But there you were, in the depths of the Pitt, working your fifth 12 hour shift of the rotation. Only 1pm, but you felt like someone had changed the clocks because there was no way that the day was only halfway done. You were reading a pediatric patient’s CBC results, getting ready to tell your senior attending for the day, Dr. Jack Abbott, that the child is anemic. But Dana’s voice distracted you:

“You can’t even stay away on your day off. Do you have a life besides the Pitt?” She said to someone out of your view.

“Trust me. This is a last resort.” You heard a man respond, the voice slightly familiar.

You turned around and saw Dr. Michael Robinavitch, the senior attending from your first four days of working here. He didn’t look too different out of his scrubs and navy hoodie that he wore at work. Black joggers and gray long sleeve athletic shirt that hugged his waist…really nicely.

“Last resort for what?” Dr. Frank Langdon called out from where he sat at his desk, charting his patient case.

“I fell of a ladder and tore up my back on the fence in my backyard.” Answered Dr. Robinav- Dr. Robby, you had to remind yourself. “I need stitches, but I can’t reach the cut.”

Langdon winced and leaned back in his chair. “Need me to stitch you up?” He asked.

Dr. Abbott walked up to the desk near Langdon and laughed. “No, he wants his friend to stitch him up. Right, Robby?” He joked, referring to himself.

Robby laughed and crossed his arms, biceps straining against the fabric of the athletic shirt. Damn. “Friend is a strong word. I don’t have friends.” He said with a smile.

Langdon scoffed. “We went fishing last weekend. What does that make me?” He asked.

“I prefer the term ‘coworker that I hang out with sometimes outside of work.’” Robby said, but you could see the teasing in the way his eyes crinkled.

Dana rolled her eyes. “You are all annoying me. Jack, go stitch him up so he can get out of here and rest.” She said before walking off to a patient room.

Robby shook his head. “No, no, just let a med student do it. Good learning opportunity.” He said.

“No med students today. Only interns.” Langdon mumbled as he continued typing on his computer.

Robby clasped his hands together and held them close to his chest. “Even better. I would love for my scar to be in a straight line.” He joked.

Abbott looked to you, who had been watching the group interact from a couple of desks over. Your face flushed slightly, realizing you probably look like an eavesdropper. He motioned with his head toward Robby. “Why don’t you take our patient to holding and fix him up? I’ll take the CBC results.” He said.

“Yes, sir.” You answered, almost a little too seriously. The Pitt was an intense environment, but these attendings did not have the same egos as the ones from your last several rotations.

Robby chuckled at your earnestness. “Hear that, Langdon? ‘Yes, sir.’ You should be taking notes.” He ordered facetiously, pointing his finger at the senior resident.

Langdon looked up from his desk as you began walking with Robby to the back of the Pitt where the holding rooms were. “You know, we tell all of our patients over 65 to be very careful when doing yard work.” He called out.

Robby shot him a bird without turning back around. You smiled at the banter, not used to the lax interactions between physicians of different ranks. Once you made it to the room, Robby sat on the bed, and you grabbed a standard suture kit.

“Is it on your back?” You asked, turned away from him.

“Yeah. I’d do it myself if I could reach it. I managed to cover it up though.” He said.

When you turned back around, his tight fitting shirt had been peeled off his upper body. Holy shit. In the last five days, you didn’t really give yourself time to fantasize about your attending. He was handsome for sure and charming when he wasn’t jumping down a resident’s throat (yet he still had the patience of a saint). His abdomen was well toned, and his chest was smooth. Not what you expected based off his hairy forearms and face.

You must have been staring too much because Robby’s shoulders hunched, as if trying to subtly cover his exposed body. “Let me just take a look at the cut.” You said, trying to come back to earth. You moved to the edge of the bed and removed the bandage that he had placed himself.

You could see the blood that had leaked through the dressing, but you were not prepared to see the extent of the cut stretch across the majority of his upper back. “Oh, shit.” You swore.

Robby chuckled. “That’s not a comforting thing to hear from your doctor.” He said, shifting uncomfortably as the cold air of the hospital struck the wound.

You shook your head in a panic. “Oh, no, I’m so sorry. I wouldn’t say that to a normal patient.” You covered for yourself.

Robby shook his head. “No, no. Listen. You’re taking everything a little too seriously. Just relax. Roll with the punches. That’s the only way you’ll survive down here.” He explained.

You nodded, taking in a stiff breath anyway. You disposed of the bandaging and picked up the lidocaine syringe. “Okay. I’m about to start injecting lidocaine around the cut. You’ll feel the burning more than the needle.” You said. You placed one gloved hand on his back, giving yourself a guide while you held the syringe in the other.

“90 degrees or 45?” He asked, making you freeze in place.

You paused for a moment, almost afraid to say your answer in fear of being incorrect. “90.” You answered.

“Why?”

At this point, the needle was hovering just an inch above your first injection site. “Recent studies show that patients report less pain with a 90 degree angle.” You said, confident in your sources.

Robby smiled, but you didn’t see it. “Very good.” Was all he said.

You injected the first round of lidocaine, and he hissed at the burning around the open wound. You kept moving around the cut, injecting small doses. “You’re doing great, Dr. Robby.” You praised, just as you would with any patient.

“Fuck, I say that to patients all the time. No wonder it makes no difference.” He grumbled.

You smiled slightly and injected the final dose. “All done.”

Robby let out a heavy breath, hanging his head as the skin slowly numbed where you worked. You began to open the suture kit and sort out its contents on the metal tray near the bed.

“What stitch?” He asked.

You grabbed some gauze and antiseptic from the drawer in the room before returning to his side. You cleaned the skin around the wound where the blood had dribbled down his back in a mix with sweat from working outside.

“Running stitch. The cut is long but not at risk of tension.” You answered. Robby nodded in approval. You carefully started on your first stitch, delicately inserting the curved needle into his skin. “So, you were on a ladder?” You asked.

Robby huffed in slight irritation. “Yeah. Trimming some branches that were reaching over the fence into the neighbors’ yard. I misstepped on the way down and lost my balance.” He explained.

You grimaced. “That sucks.” You said matter of factly.

“Yeah. Maybe Langdon is right. I’m getting too old for that kind of stuff.” He said with a chuckle.

Your hands carefully moved as they continued to sew. “You don’t look old.” You said.

Robby smiled to himself, not expecting you to respond at all. “You think so?”

“Yeah.” You said, glad he couldn’t see your involuntary blush. As you continued to stitch, you noticed all of the spots and marks that dusted his back and shoulders. “I like your freckles.” You noted.

Robby’s mind halted. It was a compliment he had never received. Your words went straight to his chest, and for the first time in a very long time, he felt flustered.

“My freckles?” He repeated.

You smiled and nodded. “Yeah. You got ‘em on your face too?” You asked.

Robby turned his head, not to present his face, but because he was still surprised and wanted to see if you were being genuine. And there they were. A light scattering of freckles across his cheeks and bridge of his nose.

“Yep. They’re precious.” You said after inspecting and returning back to your stitching. Robby’s face flushed, and you could especially see it in his ears as you worked. “You know, my mom used to tell me that freckles were angel kisses. Every time I got a new one, I thought an angel had kissed me. I went an embarrassingly long time into junior high before realizing it was just a tall tale.” You explained.

Robby smiled at the charming story, feeling an unusual feeling of comfort. “My grandmother used to say the same thing.” He said.

You grinned. “Looks like the angels couldn’t get enough of you then.” You teased.

Robby chuckled and ran a nervous hand across the back of his neck, careful not to pull against the skin as you worked. “How’s it looking back there?” He asked, trying to continue conversation.

“I need to run about five more stitches. Then you’ll be on your way.” You said.

He nodded and folded his hands in his lap. “Are you working tomorrow?” He asked.

You thought for a second, honestly not sure. “I don’t think so. My first off day since I started.” You replied. “Are you?”

“No. Seven on, seven off.” He said.

You pulled at the last suture and cut the remaining thread. “All right, Dr. Robby. You’re all cleaned up.” You announced.

“Great.” Robby hopped off the bed and stood up straight, popping a few kinks in his back from being hunched over. He towered above you, losing the intimacy that you temporarily had. “Take a picture and show me.” He said.

You pulled off your gloves slowly, unsure of how to respond. “Of the stitches?” You asked, afraid that he was going to grill you for sloppy suturing.

“Yeah, just to see the damage.” He responded.

You pulled your phone out and stood behind him. Fuck, even his back looked good. You snapped a picture and zoomed in to show him your work. Definitely saving that for later. “Does it look okay?” You asked timidly.

Robby nodded, impressed. “Actually yeah. Don’t think I could’ve done it better myself.” He complimented.

You laughed in relief. “Oh, good. I still need more practice on different suture patterns. I’m just lucky you were a simple case.” You said.

Robby looked down to you, letting his eyes linger as he watched you put your phone away. “If you aren’t busy tomorrow, maybe I can give you a masterclass. All ER docs have to know every suture.” He offered.

You looked up to him, suddenly very aware that he was still shirtless in front of you. You smirked and crossed your arms. “Sure. But only if you teach me just like this.” You said, looking him up and down. “You know, because you’ll need to let those stitches breathe.”

Robby grinned. “Wow. That was pretty smooth.” He admired.

You shrugged. “Just rolling with the punches.” You responded, repeating his quote from earlier. “Give me a call tomorrow.”

And you left. Robby stood there, smiling to himself. He pulled his shirt on and walked out to the desk hub. Langdon was still charting, but caught the attending before he snuck out. “What’s that goofy smile for?” He asked, even though he knew the answer.

Robby shrugged, hands in his pockets, unable to shake the smile off his face. “I don’t know.” He said before walking away to leave.

Abbott leaned against a desk near Langdon. “His ears are red.” He noted. “That motherfucker is in love.”

#the pitt #michael robinavitch #michael robinavitch x reader #noah wyle #dr robby #dr robby x reader #doctor robby #doctor robby x reader #dr jack abbott #jack abbott #frank langdon

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b3ach-bunn7 · 2 days ago

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STILL LOVE YOU PT 2

As promised, Gojo takes you back to his place to finish what you started in that storage room

VERY NSFW, a little plot, possessive Gojo

—————————————————————————

The moment might be gone.

You don’t know. Everything is kind of a blur right now. The room had delved into silence as Gojo texted someone to get you out, and then a girl with a short brown bob had let you out of the storage room, eyeing you two suspiciously as you all made your way back to the auditorium. You were nervous, nervous someone would smell the want that had been coming off you in waves in that storage room, and notice the fact that your clothes were definitely not in the same state they had been in when you left.

Gojo was calm, though. As calm as could be as he joked with the girl whose name you learnt was Shoko, and sat down on the squeaky auditorium seats when you got back. He smiles brightly and apologetically at Mrs Jones when she walks over to scold you once more, and even you believed his promise to her that the two of you had sorted out your differences, and should face no more problems in the future. His arm had curled around your shoulders, his fingers lightly rubbing back on forth, and you just nodded along to his sweet words.

Rehearsals run through quickly enough. Mrs Jones practises the choir songs and you act like you don’t care that his warm thigh presses into yours. His legs are long and he stretches them out in front of him, draping one arm on the back of your chair. When everyone starts packing to head home, he turns to you, giving you one last glimpse of bright blue eyes before he puts on his glasses.

“Meet me outside at my car.” He whispers.

Your brows furrow slightly. “What car?”

“The BMW. White and expensive looking, you won’t miss it.” He winks and you roll your eyes.

You watch him walk out the hall as you hoist your bag on top of your shoulder. You would ask why the two of you can’t just walk out together, but if someone asks why you’re both together you are sure Gojo is shameless enough to tell the truth.

Your eyes search around for Choso and you catch him talking to one of the other tech girls. You walk over and wait for their conversation to finish.

“So.” Choso asks after she walks off. “Where did you and Gojo get off to?”

“We just. He came up to me in the changing room and we just- You know, we just talked it out.”

Choso nods slowly at your slightly rambled response. “Right. Anyway, I have to stop at Target before I drop you home, Yuji says he needs cereal.”

You swallow. “About that. I actually don’t need to be dropped anymore.”

Choso pauses where he’s stuffing his hoodie into his bag. He straightens and peers at you curiously. “Really? So how are you getting home?”

You could lie. But Choso knows you well enough that he’d see right through it, so you decide to go for a half truth.

“Gojo is dropping me off.”

He barks a laugh, sudden and surprised. “Gojo? Who you’ve hated for like, your whole life.”

You certainly didn't hate him when he was unbuttoning your blouse twenty minutes ago. Your face heats a little at the memory and you wave him off. “I never said I hated him.”

“You did, actually. Many times.”

“Whatever!” You huff. “We’re just gonna practise some lines together then he’s going to drive me home.”

Choso hums under his breath. “Alright.” He smiles slightly. “Have fun.”

“I will.”

“And use protection.”

“Fuck off!”

Gojo’s car is expensive. If you couldn't tell from the glossy exterior, the warm, soft leather seats and too big screen on the dashboard is tell enough. He hums along to the Spotify playlist he had queued when you got into the car, a Steve lacy song you don’t recognise. It’s quiet other than that. The two of you aren’t talking but he seems so calm. Like he’s not driving you to his house so you two can fuck.

Your fingers trail over the seams of your skirt. You feel a little stupid still dressed like this. Gojo has ditched the leather coat in the backseat and you swallow roughly, staring out the window.

It’s a slow ten minute drive and Gojo pulls into a house that looks like a mansion compared to yours. He parks quickly and before you can say anything he’s pulling the keys out of the ignition and getting out. You stammer, quickly following him out, slamming the door shut behind you.

“Gojo, wait-”

You jog after his long strides. His key clinks against his keyrings as he makes quick work of unlocking the door and walking in. He leaves it open for you and you push it shut behind you. Gojo has not spoken a word since his cheery hello when you’d gotten into his car, and it is alarmingly unlike him to be quiet for longer than a minute.

Gojo’s house is big. Big and fancy and you feel terribly out of place. The living room and what you can see of the kitchen and dining room are spacious, filled with modern furniture and warm lighting that complements the big open windows that let in the remaining rays of sunlight.

Your sight seeing is stopped short when you realise Gojo is just staring at you. He’s a few short steps away from you. And he’s just watching you take in the room, quiet. You’re still standing near the front door, bag abandoned on the floor beside you. Your fiddle with the hem of your shirt. His silence does nothing to ease your nerves.

“Gojo. Is everything okay? Do you want me to leave?”

His eyes dart down to where you’re looping the fabric of your shirt around your finger. A beat of silence, and his face changes slightly, like he’s just made a decision. He stalks forward and you step back, a little scared by the sudden movement. Your back hits the front door and you feel a sense of deja vu, your brain flashing back to hours ago where you were in the exact same position.

But the difference here is that he’s not slow and teasing like he was before. No, Gojo looks at you with hunger and desperation and now, he wastes no time before his hands grip the sides of your face and he’s crashing his lips against yours.

You make a soft sound of surprise in the back of your throat as he pushes you further back, his lips moving with purpose against your own. Your eyes flutter shut and you grab his shoulder to brace yourself. It’s messy and wet, and you’re making noises that you’re ashamed of, but Gojo is just relentless. Tongue darting against yours, biting harshly on to your bottom lip. You don’t know where you start and he ends. He pulls back to suck in a breath and his lips are glossy with your spit.

“I thought I told you to call me Satoru.” He says, brushing a fallen strand of hair away from your face.

“Sorry, sorry.” His hands are travelling down your body, unbuttoning your shirt and pulling it away from your skin. The room is cold and your hands come up to cover yourself but he bats you away.

“Don’t get shy on me now. It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.” He teases.

“Go- Satoru, wait, what if your parents walk in?”

He snorts a laugh, pulling you back from the door to slip your shirt off completely. “My parents are never home. I have you all to myself.”

He grins wildly and you should be scared, but the slightly feral way he’s looking at you is, at the end of the day, all for you. Not MeiMei or any other girl in school that would die to be in your position right now. It’s for you.

You don’t know when your hatred for Gojo had turned into a mind numbing crush, but you guess it had sort of always been there. Choso teased you about it enough, and you were dreading the moment you’d have to prove him right.

Gojo taps your cheek and you blink. “Where are you dazing off to? Need you focused for this.”

He presses another heady kiss against your lips as he unclips your bra with one hand. You should probably question how easily he managed that, but he slips it down your arms and immediately kisses the soft skin of your breasts and all thoughts slip out of your mind. He takes handfuls of your chest and you gasp as he pinches your nipples.

“These tits. So gorgeous, baby.”

You whine as he licks one into his mouth, tongue dancing over the tip as you throw your head back. But he doesn't spend too long on them because he has other plans. You nearly miss the sight of him sinking to his knees, despite the cold, hard floor beneath you both, and pulling your skirt down roughly.

“Satoru-”

He hushes you and lets the material pool at your feet. Your underwear, pink to match your bra, is soaked through. You wish he wouldn’t notice but it’s Gojo. Those bright blue eyes don’t miss anything, certainly not an excuse to tease you. He peers up at you and coos, pressing kisses on the soft skin of your thighs.

“Look at you. You always this wet, or is this all for me?” He mumbles, pressing a kiss over your clothed cunt.

You shudder, hands bracing on his shoulders. “S-Shut up.”

His breath is hot against your skin, and he uses two big hands to push your legs apart and hoist one over his shoulder. He squeezes your ass, fingers teasing the hem of your underwear. He pulls them down and off, shoving them in his pocket.

It’s like you’re not even there. His focus is solely trained between your legs and you stifle another moan as he licks his lips.

“Can I taste you? That okay?” He murmurs, kissing closer and closer.

Your eager nod is not enough and he bites down on your thigh. “Use your words, baby.”

“Yes, yes, please.”

He hums, grateful. His tongue flattens against your cunt and licks a stripe up, flexing against your clit and you moan, legs twitching as he dips it inside. He groans, and begins eating you out like a man starved. His hand curves around your ass and pushes you further into him. Your hand curls in his hair, messy white strands that stick to his forehead as you twitch in his grasp. He presses a finger inside you and he pulls back just to awe at how easily it slides in.

“You see that? You’re fucking soaked, baby, fuck.” He drags out the syllables of his words and you moan as his teeth graze against your clit, sucking it into his mouth.

Your stomach coils and your thighs squeeze around his head. “M’close. I’m close, Satoru.” And you are, embarrassingly quickly, but he just works you so well.

He nods eagerly. “Good. You wanna come on my face?”

“Yes, Satoru.”

It only takes one more long, languid suck and the addition of another finger thrusting in and out of you for you to finish, moaning long and loud as he drags you through it. It’s only after you tug on his hair that he lets go, reluctant to stop licking against your overstimulated clit.

When he stands back up the bottom of his chin glistens with your mess and you’re slightly embarrassed and more turned on than you’d thought you’d be about that. Gojo wipes his face with the back of his hand, and you watch as he licks the two fingers that had just been inside you.

“You taste so good. Anybody ever tell you that?”

You shake your head, unsteady on still shaking knees.

“Shame. Not for me, though.”

He grabs your hand and starts leading you out the doorway of his house and up the stairs. You shiver against the cold, suddenly very aware of how naked you are.

“Why am I butt naked and you are still fully clothed?” You question and he waves you off.

“All in due time, Sandy.”

The room you two end up in his bedroom. You watch him kick old clothes he’s left on the floor under his bed, and your eyes take in what you can before the two of you get back to what you were doing. There’s band posters peeling off the walls and stacks of books all over the floor. His room is pretty bare, if you're being completely honest, but Gojo doesn’t give you much time to think about it.

Your legs hit the back of his bed as he pushes you onto it. Gojo’s hands are greedy as they travel over your body. You push yourself back onto his sheets, silk and expensive. They smell like him, his scent clinging to your skin as his knees come to rest besides your hips. He slips off his shirt, hands undoing his belt as he attacks your mouth once again. Your hands find purchase on his chest. His skin is so smooth, soft as you explore him eagerly. His body is strong, lean muscle that he hides beneath school uniform. They stretch and flex as he pulls his belt off and tosses that on the floor too. He watches your eyes follow his movement and he hums.

“Don’t worry. We’ll use that another time.”

He pulls off his jeans and tosses them to the floor. Your eyes travel down and fuck, he’s big. He still has his boxers on, black and tight against his skin, but you can see the outline of him and it makes arousal pool in your gut. He grins at your blatant ogling.

“Like what you see?” He purrs, squeezing the soft skin of your hips.

“Come on, Satoru. Stop teasing.” You huff and he rolls his eyes.

He reaches over to his desk and grabs a condom from his desk drawer. They are very easily accessible and you don’t dwell on that too much.

“You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for this.” He pries your legs apart gently and pulls off his boxers.

He’s long and thick and hard, and he pumps himself once. You watch a bead of precum drip onto his slender fingers and your hips buck. He tears into the condom with his teeth and rolls it on. Your eyes look away from the action to look at his face, the little sliver of concentration in the furrow of his eyebrows.

“What?” You ask. “You’ve been waiting for this?”

His eyes flit up to yours and he smiles, leaning down and kissing the tip of your nose. “Yes. I joined the show so I could get close to you. You think I give a shit about theatre?”

That stings a little, but you don’t linger on it too much because you’re confused. You tell him as much and he uses two fingers to spread you open.

“I knew it was the only way I could get you to talk to me. And then it turned out you hated me. Which kinda turned me on.”

He drags the tip of his cock over your clit and you twitch, legs spreading wider. He licks his lips greedily, eyes trained on the movement.

“But I didn’t give up. I knew deep down you wanted me too.” He says. “And I was right, wasn’t I? It’s you spread out on my bedsheets, isn't it?” He laughs, excited. “If all I needed to make you kiss me was to flirt with someone else I would've done it a long time ago.”

You can’t believe it. Of all the girls at your school, you? How did you even get on his radar? You want to question him and ask when he even noticed your existence but you can’t.

“You-”

Your words are cut off as he starts pushing inside you, slow and gentle. It stings in a good way, the stretch, and as he pushes in further and further you feel so full of him it makes you gasp. Gojo, you learn, is very loud with his pleasure, and as he bottoms out in you he moans, the sound rumbling in his chest and his head tilts back, bottom lip caught between his teeth. He’s panting already, mumbling how tight and warm and wet you are, and he leaves kisses on your neck, travelling up to your face.

“Can, fuck, can i move?” He breathes out, licking against your beating pulse.

You nod eagerly, legs coming to loop around his waist and that’s all he needs to begin to move.

Gojo’s relentless and steady as he pumps into you, his mouth a litany of praises and moans. He hits so deep, deeper than any of your exes or regrettable hookups. Tears threaten to fall from your eyelids and he grins, wild and dangerous as he thrusts into you harder, the smack of his hips against yours echoing around his room.

“Look at you, you take me so well.” He grunts, fingers bruising into your hip. “So wet and ready for me.”

“S-Shut up.” You struggle to speak and what's supposed to be a threat sounds much more pitiful and needy than you’d like.

He scoffs a laugh, suckign marks into your chest, red and purple. “You know you love the way my cock fills you up, baby, don’t lie.”

And you can’t hide the whimpers and moans that slip out your mouth as he brings a hand down to rub tight circles against your clit, groaning as you tighten around him. Your eyes squeeze shut and your nails dig into his arm.

“Where’s all that hatred gone, huh? That bratty little mouth?” He breathes a laugh. “Gonna fuck that attitude out of you.”

Whether that's a threat or a promise, you don't care, because you know it’s true. You feel so full and it only takes a few more seconds for the coil in your stomach to tighten and tighten.

“M’ gonna come, Satoru, i-”

“Come on baby, come all over my cock, yes yes.”

And you do. He stares at you so intently, blue eyes darting all over as your legs twitch and your back arches off his bed. He wants to memorise this, he tells you, never forget the sight of you spent and writhing all because of him.

But he doesn’t stop.

He just keeps thrusting, pressing so deep into you you think you can see his outline in your stomach. Your pleasure veers quickly into overstimulation and you push at his chest weakly.

“Come on, one more.” He pleads, dragging you closer

You whine, shaking your head. “I can’t, it’s too much.”

“You can.” And his voice is so stern and sure that you let him continue his ministrations.

“See? I knew it. Gonna fuck you so good you’ll feel me for days.” He hisses as you tighten once more, pleasure already coiling in your stomach again. “Ruin you for everyone else. Nobody can fuck this pussy like i can”

And he’s right. That’s the worse part. You’ve never been treated like this, like you’re something so precious and so desired. And you’ve never felt this good before either.

His cock throbs as he pounds into you and you watch as his eyes squeeze shut, pretty white lashes like snow dusted across his face. It’s like he’s got your whole body mapped out because when he tilts your hips up he hits a spot you didn’t know existed, and you’re nearly screaming.

“You close? I’m close, baby, want you to come with me.” He gasps out.

He kisses you once more and it’s full of want and need and longing, and maybe all that talk earlier was real. Maybe he really did want you, because the way he looks at you, hand finding yours and interlacing your fingers feels too real.

“Say my name. Who- Who’s making you feel like this?”

“You, Satoru.”

“That’s it. Good girl. So fucking good.” He moans.

He smiles, white hair falling in front of his eyes. It doesn’t take a lot more for him to finish and you get there with him, both of you gasping each other's names. His eyes slip shut and he lets his head hang. He braces his arms either side of your head and he breathes heavily.

You’re spent. Your body aches and your skin feels sticky with sweat. Your hand comes up and brushes the hair out of his face and he leans into your touch.

“That was so good, baby.” He sighs.

Your eyes shut. “I can’t believe I just had sex with you.”

Gojo pouts, dropping on the bed besides you. “Don’t say it like it’s such a bad thing.”

The room is hot and it smells like sex. Gojo lets his legs tangle between yours and he drops his head onto your shoulder. His hand slips down, curling around your waist.

But your mind is elsewhere. You’re still thinking about what he said before. You sit in silence for a few minutes before your curiosity outweighs your anxiety.

“So. Satoru.” His name still feels unfamiliar on your tongue, but you like it.

He just hums in reply. His fingers trail imaginary shapes on your hip.

“What you said before. About. About wanting to be close to me, and. All that. Was it true?” Your voice is quiet and nervous and Gojo props himself on one elbow.

He tilts his head, and messy hair from all your tugging falls across his face. “You just had the best sex of your life and that’s what you're thinking about?”

You scoff. “How do you know you’re the best sex of my life?”

“Aren’t i?”

He grins at your silence and you nudge his shoulder. “Of course it was true.”

Your eyes stare up at his ceiling. He’s got little glow in the dark stars plastered all over it and you wonder how long he’s had this room for. “Really?”

“Duh. I’m no liar. Why are you so shocked?”

You shrug. “I didn’t know you even knew who i was.” You murmur.

You should’ve been home by now. You should probably let your parents know where you are, but you don’t want to break this little moment.

“I saw you in the school play.”

You sit up and meet Gojo’s eyes. He’s staring at you with that soft look again.

“Really? Which one?”

He answers almost instantly. “Into the woods. You were playing Cinderella and I just thought you were so beautiful. But we had no mutual friends and I sat so far from you in all our classes. I figured the show was my best bet at getting to know you.”

You shake your head. “You are so obsessed with me.”

“Duh. Surprised it took you so long to find out.” He mutters and you smile.

He pushes you back down onto the sheets, and rolls himself over until he’s hovering above you. His forearms rest besides your head, and his body is warm against yours. He brings his face close enough that when he speaks, his lips brush ever so slightly against your own.

“So. I think I’m good to go again. You wanna go take a shower?”

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

guys im literally the biggest virgin ever.. this might be really innacurate btu IDGAFF

gojo is just so the obsessive type icl like he just likes someone and never stops thinking about them and i LOVE enemies to lovers where one is actually obsessed with the other

anywaysss hope u all enjoyed and i will try write some more soon!!

#b3ach bunn7 #oneshot #fluff #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo #gojou satoru x reader #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #gojo satoru x reader fluff #gojo x reader #jujutsu gojo #gojo smut #jujustu kaisen #satoru gojo x reader #jjk satoru

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sweetdispatch · 2 days ago

Text

Punish me - L. Hughes

v' bakery pairing: Luke Hughes x fem!reader summary: Luke decided to punish you after misbehaving the whole day long warning: NSFW, dom!luke, spanking note: the request disappeared from my inbox but it was next on the list! taglist: @bunbunbl0gs

The age difference had never been an issue between you and Luke. You were older than him with a different point of view on life but you two get along with each other very well. It always made you laugh that work was important for both of you and that’s why everything was working great between you two.

Despite the fact that you were the older one, Luke was the one who was dominating your dynamic in a relationship. People around you thought that it's the other way around but that was impossible when he was always towering over you. It was a natural thing between you and you didn’t see a problem in this.

For your friends you two acted normal but behind closed doors, you were totally dependent on Luke. He was always reminding you of everything and always needed to be sure that you’re alright. It was adorable for you that he’s taking care of you. But the biggest dominance was visible in your sex life.

Luke always needed to be on top of you. Even when he let you be on top, he was setting the pace. You were his personal sex doll. He was taking out of you his every frustration and was helping you relax with nonstop overstimulation. You two know each other's bodies perfectly, know how to make the best pleasure and limits. Yours and Luke’ sex life has never been better.

Sometimes, you enjoyed being a brat and seeing how hard you can push Luke to punish you. You feel like it’s refreshing when he’s in total control. He was dominant but he was always making sure you’re alright and fine with whatever he’s doing. Although when you were acting like a brat, he only cared about putting you in your place.

Today was one of those days where you were desperate for this kind of sex. You were misbehaving on purpose just to get his reaction. Luke was sending you looks which meant that you should drop the attitude but you didn’t do anything about it. You wanted his rough side or more like, you needed his rough side.

Whole morning you were ignoring him and his words. Luke knew you and knew that you wanted him to punish you. He didn’t want to let you win and tried to shrug it off but you were unbearable. When he left for training, you accidentally forgot to respond to his text messages and do what he asked you for before he went out.

Luke’s blood was boiling but he knew he needed to keep it calm because you had plans for later. You two were going out for dinner with Jack and girlfriend. You put on purpose the tight, red dress that was always driving him insane. During dinner, you were touching his thigh every time accidentally touching his crotch.

“Behave” Luke whispered into your ear and you giggled.

This didn’t stop you. Thankfully for him, you were just sitting by the table with his brother and girlfriend waiting for the bill. The minute Luke paid, he grabbed your hands and dragged you to the car so you could return home. He didn’t say a word to you, didn’t even spare you a look. You knew that you pushed him enough to get what you wanted.

When you walked into your shared apartment, you started going towards the bedroom to hang out the coat. Before you made another step, you heard Luke.

“Stop right there” You could tell that he’s furious at you. You turned around to face him. “What’s gotten into you and that little stunt today huh? We could have had a nice day but you decided to act like a bitch. Come here” Luke ordered you.

You obeyed and came closer to him. Luke quickly turned you around and bent you over the counter. He pulled over your dress and slipped your panties down. Your ass was bare naked in front of him. His big hand was caressing your ass cheek before the first slap landed.

“I know that you wanted me to break and fuck you roughly. You wanted me to punish you” Another slap landed on your ass. “I’ll give you what you wanted but not how you wanted this. I’ll spank your ass till it’s red. You’ll be begging me to stop but I won’t” Luke said and spanked you again.

His actions were repetitive. You could feel the tears escaping your eyes but you knew you put yourself in this position. You were moaning from the pain and pleasure that Luke was giving you. After a minute, he got a break and was caressing your ass.

“I know this will make you wet and desperate for my cock but that’s all you're gonna get. I won’t fuck you today or for the rest of the week. I need to teach you a lesson. You need to earn my cock in your greedy pussy” Luke whispered into your ear and you froze.

You didn’t predict this. You tried to apologise but Luke laughed at your desperation. He spanked you a couple more times until your ass was red like he promised. He grabbed your hair and pulled you up to face him.

“Next time if you want to act like a brat, remember how it feels” Luke kissed you and left you standing there alone and desperate.

#luke hughes #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes imagine #luke hughes fanfiction #luke hughes oneshot #nhl #nhl imagine #nhl fanfiction #new jersey devils #v' bakery

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erinwantstowrite · 1 day ago

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Please yap more about the Psych AU! I just started watching season 7!! Also, who is your favorite character from Psych?

Hmmm well i don't wanna spoil too much... So i guess i'll yap about some general premise stuff?

I should clarify that LoF peter and Psych peter are pretty different backstory wise. I kept the sameish design because i just like drawing peter, but they have some variations between them. Like: uncle ben died, aunt may didn't. she actually gets transported with peter to this alt universe, so she's very involved in this au. i just haven't drawn her yet.

I also chose harry osborn instead of ned because i didn't want every au to be the same. I would have loved writing ned in this au, but he gets a lot of chance to shine in LoF. harry is in more spider-man iterations as peter's best friend and i feel like he fit that shawn and gus dynamic more with peter. (I see them as platonic in most universes.) ((I also see shawn and gus as platonic). in this au, harry and peter met when they were pretty young, sometime after peter's parents died (which would still be when he was around four years old). Norman is a pretty good dad at this time so he helps peter get into a good school so he and harry can have classes together (and also cause he thinks peter deserves a good school too). But harry and norman, over time, end up with a terrible relationship. Mostly caused by Norman slowly slipping into the Green Goblin role. so, he spends a lot of time with the Parkers. After ben's death, harry vows to take care of peter and may both. he ends up being the reason they accidentally find themselves in an alternate universe, but no one is really mad at him about it because May and Peter hit hard times and were about to lose their house, etc. don't want to tell y'all too much because i wanna save it, but that's our basics with backstory and set up

currently, i'm not sure if i want them to start in metropolis and end up in gotham, or start in gotham and end up in metropolis. I kind of lean towards them living in gotham but having a lot of business in metropolis

And by business, i mean that Peter gets into the photography business. He captures photos of all kinds of heroes and vigilantes, and sells them to newspapers for the highest pay. As Peter becomes more sure of his spider powers, he also becomes spider-man but with way more of a journalist vibe. I want him catching crooks in the act and exposing them with the pictures, becoming a mysterious freelance writer/photographer as well as vigilante. You can imagine how Clark Kent and Lois Lane are going to react lmfao

But then you also have the actual premise of the fic itself: Psych. Peter and Harry are both investigating something when they run into someone (at this point in time, i'm thinking Superboy aka Kon-El), and to get out of saying what the real deal is, he pretends to be psychic. Harry is mortified but he decides to roll with it. So now Peter has to pretend to be psychic, and Harry starts up a whole business about it. That means we're getting both of these businesses at once, which will converge that Bats and the Supers both into the storyline.

Why are they putting all this effort in for money? Well, one reason being duh, they need money in this new world. But mostly because it's gonna help take care of May, and they'll also get to start a new life in this alt universe

Also, my favorite Psych character is Gus. I love him so much, he's so stupid and so smart at the same time. Have you heard about pluto?

#psych au #spider man #peter parker #harry osborn #may parker #batman #superman #batman and superman AND spiderman crossover #bats and supers and spiders oh my #batman and spiderman crossover #also dick is still richard parker #still peter's dad #i literally can't make myself separate them now #i will become physically ill #they're a pair you can't separate them

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randomfoggytiger · 2 days ago

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Guys, who gave 2001 Gillian the right to be this funny?

reelglad: Do you yourself play an instrument? Seeing such great performance always inspires me to learn, you?

gillian_anderson_live: You know, I played the violin when I was really little. For about 5 years. And I picked one up a couple of summers ago because my sister plays. And I should have been shot. It was just dreadful. It's not something you pick up after 20 years.

katherine_ds: Can you describe yourself with 3 words.Please!!!

gillian_anderson_live: No.

gillian_anderson_live: I can't.

gillian_anderson_live: To be really honest, it would take too long.

gillian_anderson_live: I don't know what to say ....

gillian_anderson_live: :)

sublimefreke: I am at a Web Cafe right now and let me tell you about thirty people are watching the screen right now and we all want to say: WE ALL LOVE YOU AND YOUR WORK MS. ANDERSON!!!

gillian_anderson_live: Awwwwww .....

gillian_anderson_live: Where's the cafe????

whydontihaveadesk: What's been making you happy lately

gillian_anderson_live: Solid protein bars.

gillian_anderson_live: S'mores flavor.

gillian_anderson_live: No, I'm joking.

gillian_anderson_live: I'm actually NOT joking.

sublimefreke: The Cafe is in Chicago Ms. Anderson

gillian_anderson_live: WHERE in Chicago???????????

gothiquefaery: What is your preference : theatre, film or television? and why?

gillian_anderson_live: Probably film. And then theatre.

gillian_anderson_live: I'd normally say theatre first, but it's pretty damn terrifying at the same time, and that cancels out some of the enjoyment.

gillian_anderson_live: Film with the right people. To work with an amazing script and amazing actors and an amazing director would be extraordinary.

gillian_anderson_live: And theatre is like nothing else.

gillian_anderson_live: But it's also absolutely terrifying.

sublimefreke: Ms. Anderson the cafe is called Info C@fe

gillian_anderson_live: But WHERE is it? What part of town?

moomoobog: I was wondering: after 8 looooooong years of playing Scully, have there been moments when you just wanted to smack her?

gillian_anderson_live: Oh, God ... yes.

gillian_anderson_live: Also, you know, there are times when you just get tired.

gillian_anderson_live: Just tired of doing the saaaaame thing over and over again.

gillian_anderson_live: You know, yesterday at work I gave birth.

gillian_anderson_live: For the entire day, I was pushing and pushing.

gillian_anderson_live: It's exhausting.

irresistable2mulder: Gillian, do you feel that your life has taken all the right paths, or is there anything you wish you wouldv'e done differently???

gillian_anderson_live: The only thing I wish I'd done differently is paid more attention in school.

gillian_anderson_live: But I'm starting to realize that I don't have memory.

gillian_anderson_live: I have to start looking into this.

gillian_anderson_live: I keep picking up these books that are short histories of people ... in history.

gillian_anderson_live: I'll read a chapter and then move on to the next ... and a few days later, I've forgotten what I've read about.

gillian_anderson_live: I have memory for certain things. Dialogue. And phone numbers. Incredible memory for phone numbers.

gillian_anderson_live: But I can't remember history! Facts about stuff!

gillian_anderson_live: I'm going to go to get tested somewhere to find out how truly delinquent I am.

gillian_anderson_live: :)

shelly_50158: GILLIAN-DId you have a good time on the DAILY SHOW with JON STEWART?

gillian_anderson_live: I never saw a tape of that!

gillian_anderson_live: it was so much fun when I was there and then suddenly I was done ...

weezy: Gillian, I think that you are a tremendous role model; Where do you see yourself in Five Years?

gillian_anderson_live: I try not to.

gillypeep: Hi Gillian, about those wmore protein bars, ::giggles::, What brand are they? Thanks! - Mary :)

gillian_anderson_live: Solid Protein.

gillian_anderson_live: They're in a white metallic wrapping.

snowwhite223: You seem to be more animated when talking about your work for charity than you are when you talk about acting - do you consider charity to be your life's work more than you do acting?

gillian_anderson_live: You're absolutely right.

gillian_anderson_live: Because usually when I have to talk about acting,

gillian_anderson_live: I have to be so careful to get the right information out.

gillian_anderson_live: Like the specific stuff that I'm supposed to say and not supposed to say ... I have to remember the details about one character from another.

gillian_anderson_live: It's just too damn much to remember!

gillian_anderson_live: So I end up getting very closed and serious and my brain knows that it has to stay on its particular track as opposed to just speaking from my heart.

y_chat_diva: plus you're sitting there for 9 hours

gillian_anderson_live: The other thing too, is like .... when I have to present.

gillian_anderson_live: It's the same thing. I get so serious.

gillian_anderson_live: It's more to do with nerves, of being in front of 50 million people. I'm much better when I get to adlib. I get to loosen up.

gillian_anderson_live: If I have to read what someone else has written, I turn into a piece of cardboard.

snowwhite223: Do you think that after you're long time of playing Scully that some of her charater has mixed with yours?

gillian_anderson_live: Oh, absolutely. I think Scully has become more me over the years.

gillian_anderson_live: At some point, I let the character go to the wayside more and let myself come in a bit more. It's more of a balance, I think.

gillian_anderson_live: And I've also tried to let her become a little different during the pregnancy. You know how when you're pregnant.... and you just change a little bit.

gillian_anderson_live: You're not quite yourself. You say things a little bit differently. You feel dumb. You drop things. You trip.

gillian_anderson_live: I tried to put some of that into the last episodes. You have to think of things to play with or you're just totally bored!!!!

anahawkman: light of "All Things," I, being a writer, was wondering if you ever write on your own, just for fun? --Meg

gillian_anderson_live: You know, I've been keeping journals ever since I was little .

gillian_anderson_live: That's mostly the writing that I do.

gillian_anderson_live: It's a challenge for me to even get creative in my journal writing as opposed to just writing down the facts because my time is so limited.

gillian_anderson_live: That's something I look forward to when this job is over, to write free-form. I used to write poetry a lot. Especially when I quit smoking ... man, I turned into a genius poet when I quit smoking. It was only a few days ...

kat_linton: I think it's absolutely amazing how you can work so hard and still have the energy for charity! Is there anything that you do just for yourself, to stay focused?

gillian_anderson_live: Yeah. I do yoga.

gillian_anderson_live: And ride a horse.

gillian_anderson_live: And ... that's about it.

gillian_anderson_live: That's all I have time for.

tamrapica: I work on the FOX Lot - down the street from your stages actually - and you've almost run over my assistant TWICE!!! Have you always driven fast :)

gillian_anderson_live: Oh My God!!!!! I'm so sorry! There are these stop signs all over the place ... stop signs get in the way ...

gillian_anderson_live: But I'm sorry.

jster13: Ever thought about doing stand-up? you are so funny on every talk show i see you on!! :)

gillian_anderson_live: I don't know ......

gillian_anderson_live: Someday?

gillian_anderson_live: It's nothing that can be planned.

gillian_anderson_live: I think it would suit me more to do comedy.

gillian_anderson_live: A comedy.

gillian_anderson_live: A movie comedy.

gillian_anderson_live: My humor only comes out in spontaneity

gillian_anderson_live: and if anything was planned for me to say, I'd probably get really stiff and terribly boring.

And lastly, some wholesome bits:

leolady19682001: Hi Gillian, how are you? when you're in London do you feel like you're coming home? or is living in London a distant memory?

gillian_anderson_live: I always feel like I'm coming home when I go to London. It's one of the places where I feel most at home. I hope to eventually live there, part-time, again.

cortbarracuda: Greeting from Woodstock ,On.It's great that you do charity workand I was just wondering is charity a way of letting go of the hollywood lifestyle and clensing yourself?

gillian_anderson_live: Yeah, in a sense.

gillian_anderson_live: That's actually a very good analogy.

gillian_anderson_live: Absolutely.

gillian_anderson_live: Maybe it just balances out all the icky other stuff. There's just so much icky about it. Even after press junkets ... when you come home ... after the 9 hours you've been sitting and talking about yourself. At the end of the day, you want to go out and feed homeless people.

gillian_anderson_live: In the daily job of acting, it's a lot of giving and of energy and self. But there's a lot of getting that takes place, so to be able to give in altruistic and charitable ways ... it helps it all balance out in the right way.

cool_queen_rose: Hi Gillian, I'm from Jordan, my name is Razan. I just want to say that I love you so much, and I want to thank you for saving my life everyday! I get my strength from your strength and your personality. You have no idea how your words in the "Girl Boss" book changed my life and inspired me to be a much better and stronger woman. I owe you much, so, thank you...Luv :)

gillian_anderson_live: Awwwww!

gillian_anderson_live: That's fantastic!

gillian_anderson_live: That's awesome!!!!

gillian_anderson_live: THANK YOU.

(Tagging @poangpals because you lot need to read this.)

#Gillian Anderson #GA #txf #but not #2001 #quotes #finally found a treasure trove of GA interviews!#(or I forgot this site existed... ah well)#really cool to get in her head space at that time #catchin up on old news #interview

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spicycinnabun · 3 days ago

Note

🐺🐺 pretty please!

800+ words of big wolfy buck losing his big bisexual mind. enjoy! haha

It was late afternoon when Buck woke. He sat up, running his hands through curls in severe disarray, a dumb smile plastered on his face. That was the best sleep he'd had since he'd been turned.

Maybe even the best sleep he'd had in forever.

The only thing that would have made it better was if there had been another heartbeat. Another warm body, or another warm wolf, curled up with him.

Buck's ears perked. Speaking of other wolves.

Buck heard Tommy outside, enhanced hearing picking up various tools clanking and deep grunts of exertion.

Of course, he had to check out what was going on.

Buck got out of bed, almost faceplanting from unsteadiness until he caught himself on the edge of a shelf. Guess he wasn't back to one hundred percent just yet. He tugged the corner of a blackout curtain aside, peeking out the window.

The sun was blazing down, and…

The Alpha was shirtless. Wearing only stained gloves, jeans, and muddy boots. Tommy wasn’t kidding about having chores. He was pushing a huge wheelbarrow filled with soil from an open shed towards a bountiful garden.

Buck's lips parted as he zeroed in on defined muscles straining taut and glistening with sweat. As werewolves, they were naturally very fit, but the Alpha was really something.

He didn’t know how long he’d been watching when Tommy suddenly glanced up and looked directly at Buck.

Buck ducked out of sight, though he didn't think he had been quick enough. His reflexes weren't as sharp as they normally were. He put his hand over his chest like an old lady clutching her pearls, unsure why he felt so goddamn breathless.

And now, Tommy probably thought he was a huge creep.

Ugh.

⏾

Buck was sitting on the bed again. He'd had another dizzy spell and figured it would be good if Tommy didn't have to scrape him off the floor. It sucked, though, because he wanted to check out the pictures and books and interesting things that were displayed around the room.

He wasn't prepared for the Alpha when he knocked on the doorframe. He was still shirtless but now had a towel slung over his shoulder.

“I’m going for a shower. You need anything before I do?”

Buck had the wild urge to say yes, how about you forget the shower and climb on top of me instead? I need you to rub yourself all over my body. He gulped. That was definitely his wolf talking. “N-no. I’m great! I would like to know your workout regimen, though?”

…What?

Why had he said that?

Awkward much.

Tommy crossed his arms. It made his pectorals and his arms and… yeah, Buck needed to keep his eyes… up. “Well, I have a lot of land to maintain, so manual labor. As you saw.”

That was pointed. Amused.

Buck flushed. “I-I’m sorry about that. I just heard some—some noises and got curious about what you were doing.”

“Mm, yes. Yard work is riveting stuff.” Tommy smirked, and Buck’s stomach erupted with confused butterflies. After a moment, Tommy shrugged. “Apart from that, I hunt and go on my monthly run, like you probably do.”

Buck fidgeted, nodding. He wondered if Tommy ran alone like he did. Maybe on the next full moon, they could run together?

He was getting ahead of himself.

“I use my home gym, too. I can show you my routine, once you’re feeling better. You don't look like you need help in that area.” Buck received a little once-over from Tommy that made his butterflies practically start having an orgy. “But if you’re really interested.”

“Yeah! That—that’d be so cool,” Buck said, feeling very uncool. “P-people have told me I need to work on my glutes.”

Oh, God. Why.

Why.

He was going to have to move to a different country and start a new life. Maybe Sweden. They had good meatballs.

“Important muscles,” Tommy agreed seriously. Maybe it was mock-seriously. Buck deserved to be laughed at, but it didn’t feel like Tommy was making fun of him in a mean way. So that helped. A bit. “You should drink that. Electrolytes."

Tommy pointed to the Gatorade on the nightstand. There was also a bag of what looked like homemade jerky. Deer, if Buck's nose was correct.

“I-I will,” Buck said. “Thank you.”

“No problem.”

Buck watched Tommy turn and walk down the hall, noticing his broadness and the subtle curves in the small of his back. Sweat had collected there and was starting to slide down his—

Buck's claws punctured the duvet. He made a noise, letting go and shaking his wrists until they were nails again. He would have to apologize for that, too.

Suddenly very dry-mouthed and thirsty, Buck grabbed the Gatorade, draining the whole thing.

⏾

tag list: @justahumblecabbagemerchant @loulou-land @harmonic-intervention @sweaters-and-silly @theallyandhisbeast @brassm-tagged @scuderiadebauchery @chococara25 @darkqueen458 @cinderellarhea @setmeatopthepyre @buffaluff @eliotwaughdeservesbetter @figuringitoutaloud @cannibalhellhound @i-dont-even-know-anymore976 @ambernotember @the-omniscient-narrator

#thanks!!#make me write #bt weewoof au #fic #911 #911 abc #evan buckley #tommy kinard #bucktommy #bucktommy au #bucktommy fic #tevan #kinley #werewolf au #🐺#this needs to be edited so much more #it's a mess #just like buck's composure

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heartavenue · 3 days ago

Text

Don't Be A Chop Ho.

The title of this post was inspired by @yoyoaizawa and the contents of this post directly come from @clickercouture I repeat this post was inspired by @clickercouture I simply wanted to add on to it!

"How are a loser in your own fantasies?" - a tweet that I saw please I've been trying to find op for DAYS

CW: This post may be a bit harsher, so if you do not like that, STOP READING RIGHT NOW!

"How are you a loser in your fantasies?" really clocked my tea and it should clock yours... But let's change fantasies to imagination. How are you a loser in your own imagination? Why would you willingly be a chop ho in your imagination? -@yoyoaizawa

I was on here scrolling through the shifting community on here and my lovely mutual said this,

Why I've Stopped Trying to Shift ★

"I'll get straight to the point. In my belief system, the 'shift' is in the mindset. Reality comes after that. Once I'm in the mindset of being wherever, and I can maintain that, then I've already shifted. I'm done. So, I don't try to shift, I just do. The narrative that we have to try to shift, in my opinion, is harmful. When you want to drink water, you do it. You don't try to. You just get up and drink the water without a second thought. Why should shifting be any different?" -@clickercouture

And that was so good I just had to make a post out of it! Read what they said, "once I'm in the mindset of being wherever, and I can maintain that, then I've already shifted. I'm done."

Exactly that my loves! All you have to do to shift IS shift. You don't have to try anything, shifting is innate. It is not something that you have to learn shifting is a part of you. So stop trying to shift, and just SHIFT. Make that assumption, that you are already in your desired reality and maintain that. I don't care what the physical shows you, just shift.

Now going back to the title, don't be a chop ho. You are omnipotent and omniscient, how are you pure consciousness but can't even shift realities....How do you let an illusionary source run you? How do you let an intrusive thought overtake you? Why would you assume that you will fail when you already succeeded?

Don't be a loser in your imagination, YOU run this! You are the author of your own life, you make the rules! If you want to get a million bucks in your bank account you can. If you want that sp, you GOT THEM! Take control because at the end of the day, it's all you and it's always ONLY going to be you.

Why would you sit up there and boohoo over things that YOU control? You shift your reality INSTANTLY! You manifest INSTANTLY! Why would you willingly hand over your power to someone else, you know who does that? LOSERS! And I don't know about y'all but I refuse to be a loser in my OWN life!

P.S: Although this was more of a harsh post I just want to say that everyone's feelings are valid and if you feel upset/frustrated/irrtaited/sad about anything that is perfectly fine and my dms are ALWAYS open if you need someone to vent to!

Tagging them one more time but please show some love to my follow mutuals who inspired me to make this post in the first place: @yoyoaizawa & @clickercouture

#desired reality #reality shifting #loassumption #shiftblr #shifting realities #manifesting #law of assumption #shifting motivation #I hope this wasn't too mean #I love you all #love's diary #love talks #don't be a chop ho

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your-sleeparalysisdem0n · 2 days ago

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Mr. Alpha? 🥺

HSR x reader, no nsfw. 1K words of pure cringe. Read at your own brainrot risk.

A/N: Guys, I swear I'm not a furry. This is just a phase. IGNORE THIS AND DO NOT MENTION THIS POST TO ME EVER AGAIN OR I'LL HAUNT YOUR WALLS. My friend keeps on saying that she's a sigma so I made this monstrosity. Enjoy!!! And to my lovely people who sacrificed their brain reading this, my apologies and ilysm. I never write first-pov so if this is the first time you're interacting with my blog and you see this? Then I swear I'm normal.

Tw: UwU cat reader, Brainrot, first person pov

'Grr Kitten you-you're not gonna want to make me angry🤬😡👿"

Mydei flexed his alpha muscles with the level 100000 gyatt he has. I as an omega🥺 trembled before the sheer alphaness of his skibidi. "My-Myddeiii you're- you're scwaring me😫😔😭 pwease stop my alpha??🥺"

Mydei's eyes softened as he started howling "AROOOO Kitten you make me so angry BARK BARK😡!" he sighed "But I'll stop if it makes my kitten feel sad." I cried tears of joy😥😛 at my alpha🐺 finally calming down, now I can hug my alpha again!!

"HEY, GRR🐺 BACK OFF MYDEI😡🤬👿 KITTEN IS MINE AWOOOOOOOOO." GASP! PHAINON THE ALPHA AND MY ALPHA BOYFRIEND ARE FIGHTING FO ME🥺👉👈 KYAAA I'M SO RIZZED UP RN ACK!

Phainonie bared his less sharp teeth at my alpha, he was so scary OMG! My puffy tail was trembling 🥺 fwom fwear😭 Mydei let out a growl from his throat, making me shriek and hide behind a near pedestrian. "You wanna go beta? fine, my kitten ONLY BELONGS TO ME👿🤬" As I hid behind a pedestrian's back and hid from the two scary wolfs, I smelled a nice fragrance. Warm... it made my omega self wanna bury my face in his hair UwU.

The male looked down at my omega self and just scowled. "Can you not cling onto me, it's giving major aura loss." A growl appeared from his chest, rumbling which made me scwared😫😳. "O-Oh! Okwey! UwU" I said as I twiddled my thumbs. Suddenly, Mydei sniffed the air and looked in our direction. "KITEN!!😱😡 WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH THAT ALPHA, YOU'RE MINE KITTEN AWOOO" "B-But Mydei-" "NO, BUTS GRRRRR WOF WOOF, STAY BEHIND ME KITTEN, THINGS ARE GONNA GET MESSY AWOO"

My alpha charged at the green-haired Alpha, who had a determined look on his face. "This kitten is mine. Don't come any closer!" He got into a fighting stance🤸‍♀️🤺🤺 and EEKKKK! CHARGED MY ALPHA! WHO DO I SAVE? WHO DO I PICK AHHHH. I clutched my hands together and yelled "Ya-YAMATE KUDASAIIII!!!"😳😰🥺 (like the audio, no offense to Japanese ppl)

Everybody stopped and THEY WERE ALL LOOKING AT ME EEEK!! I need to do my BEST motivational quote so that this stops!!!!! I fiddled with my thumbs and looked down at my toes "uhm... Alphas, Please stop✋😰🥶!!! we need to overcome our differences with the power of love💖🥰❤ and f-friendship🥺🥺🥺!!!" I skibidi yelled at those meanie alphas! They were all so mewing! I was 💩ing myself AHHHH!!

Mydei stopped, a surprised look on his mogging face. My alpha looked at phainon, then the green alpha and said "You're right kitten😳 we were mewing 🗿 so much that we lost sight👀 of what really matters. In the end, the real jujutsu kaisen was the friends🫂 we made along the way grrr."

Phainon-chan nodded his head. "You're right grrr we should get along like how Dora the Explorer taught us to skibidi." He whimpered, tail hanging from shame. "WOOF grr we're sorry 😔😟 kitten."

Xanaxagoras just scoffed and looked away like the emo🥶 edgy😎 bad alpha🐺 boi supreme he is. "You all are idiots🤓." He said, looking at you in particular.

You gasped, feeling UwU tears well up in your omega🐺 eyes👁👁. "M-MYDEI MY ALPHAAA CHAN!" You cried, running towards him for comfort😔.

Mydei alpha barked at xanaxagoras, suggesting a gacha life singing🪩 battle. Mydei challenged Anaxa to see WHO was the realest one of them all. The song? Your all time favorite- 'Thick of It' by KSI.🥶

My alpha🐺 sang first, his tail going up as he tried to MOG Xanaxa. "HOWLLLL I'M IN THE THICK OF IT🥶🥴 EVERYBODY KNOWS, THEY KNOW🧠 ME WHERE IT SNOWS ❄️ I SKID IN AND THEY FROZE🥶🥴" (This almost killed me)

They were trying to out-rizz eachother out fo-for me 🥺🥹 ACKK I WANT BOTH I CAN'T DECIDE OWO. As soon as I was gonna pull a Sakura Haruno however, Phai Phai swept me away 🥰 kya!

"You're mine kitten." He growled, his arms tightening around me as his alpha tail WHOOSHED fwom side-to-side, his blue eyes i-intimidating me 🥺. He used his alpha-ness to clutch me in his arms and leap over the cloth roofs of marmoreal market OwO.

I watched as Phainon barked at any other wolves🐺 daring to approach us, but it wasn't until golden strings came down from the night sky that I knew that my fav beta🐺 huzz was here.

"Grrr Phainon, what are you BARK doing with my Puppy? 👹" ACK!!! IT WAS M-MOMMY AGLAEA!🥺 before I could ask her for her MOG routine, my kidnapper Alpha snatched me away with a HOWLLLLLLLLLLL and ran away from ze golden sharp sticks.

I screamed as Phainon-alpha's movement started swowing down😢 not wanting the moment to end yet, I OwO'd at Phalpha, making his alpha heart♥️ go 🧨BOOM BOOM BAKUDAN!!!🧨 in the end, we both skibidied our way through the huzz with rizz and ended up walking into the sunset together with the power of friendship and love <3

OR SO ME AND MY BADDIE ALPHA THOUGHT BARK BARK BARK cause death and butterflies was here to make my UwU life un-UwU!!!!! She lost 1000000 aura points for that you huzz!!!! 😡🤬🤬👺 I'M TELLING MY MYDEI ALPHA YOU'RE BULLYING ME CASSIE OMEGA!!!!

My phai-phai growled and set me on the ground. I missed his stwong arms UwU. "Stay back kitten" he said, his voice low and in a hot snarl. "Things are about to get serious👺 and you do NOT *snarls* want to *scratch scratch* see my Darkside AWOOOOOOOOOOOOO."

I-it was so hot🥵 and so sigma that I 💩 my pants right then and there!!!! At phalpha's words, Casussy baka🦋 went and replied back "Grrrrrrrrrr who do you think you are to take MY kitten away from me? I'LL SKIN YOU ALIVE ALPHA!!!"

It was a flurry of the furries!!! For an Omega, Casussy baka fought with so much aura!!! She was logging Phalpha?!?! How!!

"HOWWWLLLLLL NOT SO FAST 👺👹" A familiar gruff voice was heard as my Mydei CHARGED straight for Casussy Baka and Phalpha?!?!🥺 OMG EEEKKKKKK HE'S SK SCARY BUT SO HOT UwU. Just as Myalpha was about to make contact with the two, a familiar green haired wolf also joined in!!! 'You all are idiots and I'm better than you!!' Is a weird battle cry, but hey we listen and we don't judge.

It seemed so bad AND IT ONLY GOT SKIBIDIER?!?!? Mommy came in whirling awound with her golden sticks and started growling "GRRRR WOOF WOOF WOOF KITTEN IS MINEE 👹" Aglaea lowkey kinda rizzing me up frfr.

The place was chaos!! I-I was so vewy scwared 🥺 so I sucked it up, put on my adult pants, and yelled "S-STOP ITTT!! W-WE SH-SHOULD OVERCOME THINGS WITH THE POWER OF FWENDSHIPPPP🥺!!!!!!"

My alpha's eyes widened as his tail drooped in shame. He looked down at his paws and whimpered "You-You're right kitten grrrrr... We should be filling this world with sunshine, rainbows and cheese. Not FIGHTING AWOOOOOOOO."

Phalpha also agreed, "Yes, y-you're right y/n! 😔 scratches ear grrrr, I'm so AWOOOO of what I've done😥 lets all be pookies guys."

They all agreed as yall walked into the sunset and ykyk.

A/N: WHY DID I WRITE THIS WHY DID I WRITE THIS WHY DID I WRITE THIS WHY DID I WRITE THIS WHY DID I WRITE THIS. Ahem, if you've made it this far, congratulations! You're officially immune to June-level cringe! Guys I swear my writing isn't THIS terrible, this is just something I thought of while doing that omegaverse quiz in the Stellaron Hunters server... Uhm yea, so... thx for reading 1k words of brainrot and uh I'll return with an actual fic soon. Bye... walks away quickly because she is too ashamed to show her face to anyone

Tagging @vxnuslogy, @m1ckeyb3rry, @wystiix in here bcs Vee helped me embrace my cringe, Mira said that we need more omegaverse in this server, and Wys because I wanted to torment her with this.

#honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail #hsr #juneedstostfu #x reader #hsr x you #amphoreus #mydei x reader #honkai starrail x reader #—stellaronhvnters.#mydei #mydeimos #hsr mydei #honkai star rail mydei #hsr phainon #phainon

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