#i see something like that and it feels like one of those things that unfairly paints neanderthals as brutish

[libraryspectre]

Yep for whatever reason couples that were a Neanderthal man x sapiens woman had an easier time producing viable offspring than couples who were a Neanderthal woman x sapiens man

So if anything it's where modern humans get their taste for short stocky kings. Like me, so that's nice

Do we have data on whether the earliest modern human x neanderthal crosses were more commonly produced by a neanderthal man and sapiens sapiens woman, or vice versa?

Do we have some neanderthal woman to blame for the species' apparent instinct to see a weirdly long lanky skinny frail man and instantly get the urge to mount him?

[tonycries]

Isn't That Sweet? (I Guess So) - G.S.

Synopsis. Oh no! Why do your pantíes keep disappearing? Well, maybe your hot roommate knows the answer…

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, pànty-stealer! roommate! Gojo, annoyances-to-lovers, he’s REALLY down bad, vírgin! Gojo, oraI (fem receiving), màle màsturbation, pining, face-sítting, jealousy (his side), fírst times, unprotected, creampíe, teary Gojo, pànty-gagging, HEINOUS things, pet names, aIcohol mentions, swearing.

Word count. 8.6k (whoopsies)

A/N. Hope y’all have a lovely week hehe <3

“Damn…” you sigh at the glaringly empty drawer, rubbing your eyes as if that would make a difference - maybe even magically materialize a fresh pair of panties in front of you. “It’s the second time this month.”

Or was it the third?

But, alas, standing around in your bedroom on a Sunday night does not give you the answers. Or any extra underwear.

Which is why you find yourself making a beeline for the bathroom - teeth gritted, stomach flipping at how very, very exposed you felt underneath the thin fabric of your shorts. Cursing everything from the building’s rundown old washing machine to Gojo’s stupid smile when he took away your laundry basket.

You could’ve sworn you saw your last pair perched right on top of your pile of old clothes, all flimsy and an obscene red that stood out amongst everything else. 

Seriously, how hard would it have been to lose that thing? Maybe you could bother him into buying a new washing machine for-

“Woah there-” Before you know it, you’re crashing face-first into a wall? Pillows? Gojo - unfairly shirtless. “Now, what’s got your panties in a twist, sweetheart?”

The lack thereof. 

Maybe because you can’t say that, maybe because of what looks - feels - like miles upon miles of milky, sculpted skin, you’re instead settling for an extremely eloquent, “Nothing I uh-” But whatever excuse catches in your chest as you raise your face - still smushed between two large pecs - up, up, up and-

Oh. 

It’s not like you’re seeing something new - far from it, actually, unfortunately for your poor heart.

And at first, you’d thought it was some strange habit - hell, maybe the guy just didn’t like t-shirts. But it was around the fourth or fifth time he’d forgone one that you realized Gojo Satoru was just a tease. A no-good, insufferably smug tease that just loved to catch you ogling him. 

But, well, at least the rent was cheap.

Though, you weren’t exactly complaining about the view either…

Because lo and behold stood the infamous campus sweetheart - you knew about fourteen people who’d kill to see this exact sight. Gojo’s cloudy hair tousled, tiny droplets of water twinkling like diamonds against the bathroom light. Bouncing off his rippling abs, his strong arms circling your waist to stop you from falling backwards. Holding you too fucking close against the white towel slung low on his hips. His skin damp, smelling so delicious-

“Gojo, did you use my body lotion?” 

“Awww–” he whines, finally releasing his grip on you. “You were supposed to admire me some more.”

You scoff, eyes darting over broad shoulders - partially to search for your laundry basket, partially because you really couldn’t handle looking right at a shirtless Gojo Satoru any longer. “As if. Get out if you’re done.”

“Damn, woman. Feisty.” Gojo lets out a deep chuckle - smooth and cocky - when you’re hastily shoving him away from the doorframe. “If you wanted to put your hands on me that bad then you jus’ hafta ask, y’know~”

It was way too late for this. 

“Hilarious.” you deadpan, though you let go of where you were gripping Gojo’s arm like it burned. Immediately stepping behind the bathroom door before he could make you lose whatever’s left of your sanity, “Next time you hog the bathroom m’gonna smash those ugly new sunglasses of yours.”

He’s pressing his foot between that gap in the door to stop you from closing it, “Oi, don’t think I don’t see that glint in your eyes, sweetheart.” Yeah, the glint in your eyes that told you if looks could kill then Gojo would be six feet under already. Which only makes him grin wider, “You’re telling me you really weren’t checkin’ out the most sought-after man on campus jus’ now?”

Huffing in frustration, you cross your arms, “I don’t see Geto Suguru anywhere.”

“...you take that back right now. I’m the pretty best friend.”

“Am not.”

“Am too.”

“Am not. Isn’t that why you’re still single?”

“Th-that’s not- fuckin’ Suguru? Really? Most people would kill for a look of this-” Gojo gestures at his bare torso, and once more you’re reminded that those absolutely awful protein shakes he makes every morning aren’t just for show. “-and you’re getting it daily.”

You reach out a hand, Gojo chest hot underneath your touch. He seizes up instantly, ears tinging red as you muse, “Yeah.” Only to push him fully out the doorway, “I just wish you’d shut up daily, too.”

With that, you’re shutting the door with a resounding slam! Feeling only slightly guilty until you hear Gojo’s squawks of protest from outside, “I really don’t know what’s got your panties in a twist.”

Right. Panties.

Something just a tad more important than recounting exactly how many abs Gojo Satoru had.

You let out a shuddering breath, clamoring to find that spare laundry basket you’d forgotten in here earlier today. Shuffling through through the soft clothes, hoping, praying to find-

Nothing. Absolutely nothing. 

Fuck. 

Somehow, you’re hiding away your body lotion that night.

---

“Now, listen here, sweetheart. I know you look fuckin’ gorgeous in everything but-”

“Satoru.”

“But that-” he whirls around, pointing a long finger accusingly at the boxers you’d improvised into sleep shorts. Spitting venomously, “-that I cannot allow.”

You’re rolling your eyes at your roommate’s theatrics, forking through your pancakes while he monologues to himself more than you. “Why does it even matter? It was just for yesterday.” you mutter. “I didn’t have any clean uh- panties for the night n’ this worked.”

Thankfully, since the fresh laundry this morning, you’d found two more of your panties - courtesy of a very smug Gojo handing off your clothes. Ah, it felt like the universe itself was smiling down on you.

But oh if you thought the great Gojo Satoru was having a breakdown before then you weren’t prepared for when you lifted your gaze off the kitchen table. Only to meet his - eyes wide, a pretty pink blush coloring his cheeks, lips gawking and stuttering around what looked like a silent, “P-panties-”

You raise a brow, “What’s got you this worked up, Gojo?”

“Nothing.” he clears his throat, “Absolutely nothing at all. Panties? I love- er, wait no-”

“B-besides-” you bristle at the way his heavy gaze was now turning to flit between your face and down below. Dangerously. “They’re not even yours so I don’t know why it matters.”

This seems to snap him out of his little reverie, and he’s immediately standing up straighter, brows furrowing. He continues, in a much more serious tone than before, “They’re his?” 

You stab your breakfast with a bit too much vitriol than necessary, looking at Gojo with narrowed eyes, “If you mean the one my ex left behind then yes. Who else?”

Your ex wasn’t good for much - and Gojo seemed especially hostile towards him because of his distaste for your little living situation. But, hey, at least the guy was helping you out at this time. Albeit unknowingly. 

He’s raising his hands in mock-surrender, shuffling back into the kitchen to work on the rest of those “world famous” Gojo pancakes. “Nothing nothing.” he hums, and maybe it was how sleep-deprived you were - running on a few too many assignments due today and a few too little panties - but you think Gojo’s voice has a bit more bite to it than usual. Jaw clenching as he plows on, “Of course that fucker- in my- our apartment, too. Fuck-”

A spatula is suddenly mere inches from your face, Gojo brandishing it in front of you like a weapon as he declares, “We’re going panty-shopping after Yaga’s lecture today.”

“Gojo, I-”

“We-” he cuts you off, delicately placing another pancake on your plate - a little truce. So close now that it reminds you of last night - you could feel his minty breath on your face, count every long, sultry eyelash of his. “-are going panty-shopping after Yaga’s lecture n’ I’m paying. That’s final.”

And of course, in true Gojo fashion, you can barely get a word out before he’d immediately ducking out of the kitchen. You almost let your lips curl into a smile, hit with a sudden wave of endearment as you hear Gojo’s long legs padding urgently down the hallway to God-knows-where. Maybe he did know when to be-

Smack!

You jolt as you’re hit with a pair of boxers - fresh ones, thankfully, that you recognized from all the clothes you’d rummaged through last night - plopped unceremoniously onto your lap. Jaw dropping in disbelief when you look up to meet Gojo’s devilish grin. 

“Next time-” he winks, motioning at the fabric you were poking in concern now. “-wear mine.”

The talk of Yaga’s lecture hall that morning was of a pair of burned boxers found right outside your building, everyone speculating what the poor guy had done to have his presumed girlfriend make an example of it like that. 

For you, however, the only thing running through your mind was whether or not you could count properly.

Because surely you remembered it correctly when you counted two new underwear this morning - that gauzy black one and the deep red? Two. Definitely not the singular, sad piece of red fabric laying on your bed after breakfast today? Two. The only one you could find even after scouring through your whole bedroom. 

So where the fuck had that other one gone?

---

(8+ new messages)

Do not answer (roomie)🧿🧿: Hurry up ive been lurking inside that lingerie shop ya told me you liked n’ now the old ladies here look like they wanna eat me alive ＼(º □ º l|l)/

im boooored, gonna stand still n’ start blending in with these mannequins if you dont hurry up istg

Hurry

HURRY

HURRY THEY THINK IM SUSPICIOUS

PLEASE THEYRE GONNA ESCORT ME OUT

┬┴┬┴┤･ω･)ﾉ i literally SEE YOU outside 

BITCH STOP LAUGHING-

No sooner are you letting out a cackle at Gojo’s rapid-fire texts, you’re looking up to see the man himself being walked outside by two security guards. Squabbling heatedly in a way that had them heaving out long sighs - which, honestly, you felt a stab of relatable empathy for.

“-I swear I’m not a creep I’m jus’-” Gojo’s bickering dies on his tongue as he catches the sight of you walking closer to the commotion. Closer. Taking your sweet sweet time, eyes just barely glazing over him before- you’re walking away. “Hey!” he calls out, stopping you in your tracks. “Now, don’t you dare-” Before turning back to his wary escorts, “I’m with her.”

They exchange a look between each other, and no matter how much you’d like to pretend the scene had absolutely nothing to do with you - you’d rather Gojo doesn’t get banned from the mall altogether. 

“He’s right.” you drone out, one hand grabbing Gojo’s, the other forcing his head into an apologetic bow. Hissing to the side so that only he would hear, “Unfortunately.”

The two security guards now seem more amused than anything at your strange dynamic. One of them raises a brow, muttering, “Well…this one’s certainly a handful.” Turning around to head back to their stations, “Ya better keep a tight leash on your boyfriend.”

You sputter, eyes wide, “Oh- he’s not-”

But it’s too late - they’re both swiftly out of earshot, most likely more than happy to hand over the public nuisance off to you. And Gojo’s looking to you with a smug smirk, voice dropping about an octave deeper as he breathes against your ear, “So, gonna take your boyfriend to help out with lingerie shopping, sweetheart?”

Oh. God. 

This was going to be one long day.

“I’m only here because another one of mine disappeared, y’know.” you hiss, rifling through all the options before you. “Which really has me wondering why-”

“H-hey! How about this one?” Gojo interrupts, shoving a lacy set right in front of your face, his voice just a bit louder than what was appropriate. 

You sigh, catching the eyes of a few disapproving older women around you. “No this is-” But running a thumb over the fabric makes you bite back an insult. And for all how brash Gojo was, maybe his panty selection wasn’t awful. It was a flimsy little thing, gauzy and light blue - the type you’d typically wear on a night out. You meet his boyish grin, admitting, “...not bad.”

“See?” he laughs - eyes glinting with delight as he piles on a few more in your basket. “N’ if you’re impressed with that then you’re gonna be proposing to me when you realize it’s exactly your size-”

You quirk a brow, “How do you know my size, Gojo?”

And this makes his body stiffen, large shoulders squaring up, throat bobbing as he answers,“Uh? Experience?”

Oh, right. You’re rolling your eyes, fighting off a weird little stab of irritation. This probably isn’t the first time he’s come here with a girl, anyway. 

And yet, despite however much of an alleged “catch” Gojo was, he’d - perhaps mercifully - never brought anyone over. You don’t know why, but you didn’t really want to question it.

“A-anyway.” Gojo’s airy voice cuts through your thoughts. And he’s plucking up a few more sets of lingerie for you to sort through, “Can’t let these one, two, three- six lovely lil’ things go to waste now, can we?” At your look of confusion, he chuckles, guiding the two of you to the counter now. “Suguru’s holding a party at his place tonight, how would you like to do the honors of being my cute plus one?”

“I’d rather go with Yaga.”

Though, you really can’t say no - not when Gojo’s flashing you that black card as he pays for everything in an instant. Not when all he can prattle about on the way home  is how gorgeous you’d look together at Geto’s party - how you’ll have to beat everyone off of him with a stick (to which you reply that you’d no sooner do that than beat him with a stick.)

Not when he sits outside your bedroom door as you get ready later that night. Insisting on keeping you company even as you slip out of your towel. Looking over your shoulder to make sure he wasn’t peeking in before eagerly turning to grab at one of your new set of silky white panties- only, they weren’t there.

Strange. 

“Hey, Gojo…” you call out, looking underneath your blankets for where you might’ve thrown them about after trying them on. Under your bed, in your drawers, anywhere. “-didn’t we buy six sets?”

“Huh? Dunno, I didn’t count. Just wear the blue one.” he whines, ushering you to hurry up from outside. Face burning because shit, this was you and you were inside - still wrapped up in only that sinful little towel. Oh, would the painful death really be worth it if he happened to accidentally look around? “S’pretty and y’know what else?”

Your voice was muffled as you hastily put on your clothes, “What?”

“It matches my eyes.”

Really strange.

---

Thankfully for Gojo, you didn’t go with Yaga to the party - nor did you find your lost pair of panties, sadly, but that wasn’t too much of a concern for him. 

And here he was - one hurried Uber ride and about several billion death threats from you later. Wishing that you’d actually just acted on one of them because fuck at least then he wouldn’t have to be watching from across the room as some bastard from the university basketball team tried to chat you up.

Gojo can’t even hear the way the girls surrounding him were giggling about something or the other, alcohol making his tongue a little heavier, eyes a bit glassier. 

Nothing like the way that other man was drinking in that polite smile on your face. Tilting your head to face forwards and- God, why won’t you just look at him instead?

Would that guy still look at you that way if he knew you were wearing lingerie matching his eyes right now?

“Not gonna entertain your fans?” Geto’s voice rings through his whirlwind thoughts, eyeing down the forgotten crowd in amusement.

“When have I ever?” Gojo runs a hand through his hair in frustration. 

He lets out a knowing laugh, “Yeah, you little vir-” Turning into a coughing fit when Gojo elbows his best friend straight in his stomach. “Anyways.” Geto gestures with his drink in your direction, as if Gojo hadn’t seen - as if it wasn’t the only thing on his mind right now. “Well, your lil’ roomie there seems to be popular, too, huh? Star player of the basketball team n’ all. 

He clicks his tongue, slumping further against the thumping wall. “So? I’m taller, and more handsome.”

“Are you sure ‘bout that?”

“Y-yeah?” he sputters. 

“Well then why aren’t you over there with her?” Geto hums, lips curling. “Looks t’me like even she doesn’t like him that much so why’re you being a pussy over here? Always sneaking around stealing her-” 

“Shut up-” And Gojo knows he’s riling him up, he knows that Geto wants to see a little drama - maybe finally shut up his pining over the one girl he’s wanted for the past year - and couldn’t have. It’s a trap. But Gojo can’t stop his head from snapping between you and his best friend’s sly smirk. Slurring indignantly, “Of course I’m fuckin’ handsome, n’ taller. I’d make a better boyfriend too and-” He trails off at the sight of that loser leaning in - but more importantly that tiny furrow in your brows, your hands on his chest softly keeping him at bay. “-and m’gonna go over there n’ prove it.”

“Ah, that loser’s gonna thank me later.”

And, hell, Gojo could barely even walk. Barely even think straight as he’s parting the stuffy living room, ignoring whatever whispers and titters were following him. 

“I said no-”

“Hey, sweetheart.” you jump when someone - Gojo - creeps up from behind you. Large build hanging off your own when he nuzzles his face into your neck. And you could feel his toothy grin on your skin, “Missed me?”

Your face burns, “I uh-” Angling your face as dignifiedly as possible to face your roommate, “Gojo, are you drunk?”

“Drunk on you, yes.”

“What the-”

The man in front of you pipes up - shuffling uncomfortably on his feet. “Didn’t realize you were taken. My bad.” Looking like he’d rather be anywhere but under the scrutiny of Gojo Satoru. His big arms tightening around your middle - when did they even get there? “I’ll just uh- get out of your way, man.”

“Mhm, by the way,” Gojo puffs up his chest a bit, clearly towering over the other man - ha, take that Suguru. “Nice loss against Kyoto last week, real knee-jerker.” 

You smack Gojo’s chest at his rudeness, to which he only smiles wider. Watching the other man being swiftly handled away by another apologetic member of the basketball team.

“Gojo.”

And before you can react, Gojo’s dragging his pretty plump lips along where that light blue band of your bra was just peeking out, murmuring lowly, “Love it when you scold me like that.” Still refusing to let go of you despite the jealous looks thrown your way, “Let’s go home, my girl.”

Oh, the look on your face was priceless. 

He just wished he could fish out his phone and record, or maybe even tell Geto to take a picture - help him make it his wallpaper. And he did - over fifteen times, in fact, as the two of you helped drag him away from the thrumming party. Geto doesn’t listen, of course, and you neither do you - grumbling out a slew of profanities underneath your breath that makes the Uber driver look at the two of you weird.

And yet, Gojo’s biggest issue right now was trying to climb up these fucking stairs - not when they were trying to run away from him. 

“I swear to God, Gojo-” you huff, chest heaving under the weight of walking - well, more like dragging - your roommate up to your apartment. Knees wobbly - maybe at the intensity of his cologne, maybe at the way his biceps were flexing on your shoulders, probably at how fucking useless he was. Damn lightweight. “You better cover my rent for the next year for this.”

“Of course I will~” his hot breath tickles your ear, “Anything for m’girl. I’ll take care of us forever, don't you worry your pretty lil’ head.”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t deny the way your heart clenches - just a little bit. And if you’re slamming open Gojo’s bedroom door with a little more force than necessary, well, at least he’s a bit too impaired to nag at you about it.

He bounces lightly when you throw him on his plush mattress, giggling softly, “You should just join me, y’know. Have a little sleepover.”

“Drop dead.” you monotone, not even daring to look back at him while you shuffle through Gojo’s shirts. Throwing one over your shoulder at him, “N’ wear this, I just know you’ll complain about messing up your favorite button-up tomorrow morning.”

“Aww, you always take care of me so well, my girl~”

That familiar little nickname makes a shiver run down your spine, and it’s all you can do to concentrate on shuffling through Gojo’s drawers in search of his shorts. Absent-mindedly reaching for the lowest drawer and-

“Wait!” 

You jump, whirling around to catch Gojo sitting up ram-rod straight on the bed, eyes wide, hand reaching out as if to stop you. Swallowing thickly, you ask. “Gojo?”

And he jolts - like the very sound of your voice is sending electricity zapping through his veins. Abruptly scrambling off the bed before resting two hands on your shoulders, gently guiding you away from the drawer. “My shorts are uh- in my wardrobe, heh. Sorry about that.”

Furrowing your brows at the sudden twist, you squirm in his grasp to look at the drawer again. Failing - when Gojo keeps his grip steadfast, “Why’re you acting so-” 

“How about we order take out? My treat?”

And that night, tucking yourself into bed, you should be falling asleep as soon as your head hits the pillow. You should be caring less about that strange little outburst of Gojo’s inside his room. You should have realized sooner - those light blue panties you’d worn tonight were gone. No longer in your hamper of old clothes.

And there was only one thing to do. 

---

Gojo thinks he shouldn’t - fuck he knows he shouldn’t. He doesn’t even want to- well, that last bit was a lie.

Gojo Satoru first met you about a year ago, when you’d come knocking at his door asking about his ad for a roommate. It was more because he was bored inside this big apartment by himself than anything, really, but here you were all gorgeous and sweet, flashing him a smile that was burned into his mind for the rest of the week, at the very minimum. How could he ever say no?

And when you’d taken to walking around the apartment in those slutty lil’ shorts as a way to get back at his perpetual shirtless-ness? Thin panties just peeping out of the low hem? 

God, it was everything he could do to not run to the bathroom with each little glimpse. He was fucked, so very embarrassingly fucked. 

He just never thought it would get to this point - the first time had been an accident, honestly. When your laundry had gotten mixed up with his. Surely he didn’t remember having such a cute pair of pink panties in his closet? And surely it didn’t mean anything if he just-so-happened to stash them away, right?

At least, that’s what Gojo told himself the first time. And the second. And the third. And shit, it was a bit of an addiction now, and within a year of rooming with you, he’d accumulated a drawer stuffed guiltily with exactly what he shouldn’t be having. 

Gojo Satoru - insufferable campus sweetheart, the dreamy first place on everyone’s To-Fuck list - had been hoarding away your pretty panties. Like the pathetic virgin he pretends he isn’t. 

And so here he was - that dirty little drawer flung open, pants pulled down just enough, one hand flat on the flat surface to steady himself, while the other fisted desperately around his swollen cock - and one of your panties. 

“F-fuck, sweetheart.” he’s hissing, body shuddering in lewd little tremors at that torturous drag of fabric down his length. Squeezing at his thick base, moving fast - filthy up, up, up to thumb along the end of his sopping slit. “Feels s’good- too fucking good hngh-”

Such a pretty, wet gasp escapes him when your soaked, absolutely ruined underwear catches on his veins, tangling around his sensitive shaft. And he’s biting his lip, trying not to make a noise when he threads through the mess down below. 

“Oh fuck, yer killin’ me even when you’re ngh- not here.” he breathes unsteadily, weaving the sticky fabric around his long fingers. Tight - just how he knew you would. “S’like you know what you do t’me with these.”

They were your blue ones, this time - the ones from just last night. The ones you were wearing not even a full day ago. And Gojo has them wrapped daintily around his rock-hard cock, stark against the blushing red at his fat head. Already so drenched in precum as he fucks his fist. 

“Y’looked so p-pretty with these, sweetheart.” he groans over the wet fwip! fwip! fwip! Eyes rolling to the back of his head with each long, feverish stroke. “So pretty being mine. Ngh- so pretty in my- fuck.” 

Slam!

He’s hitting his palm facedown on the wood, knees buckling, eyes scrunching shut with pleasure. 

And that ruined, utterly depraved part of Gojo wonders whether next time he should steal your bras too? Have the full set of you proudly wearing his color like some secret little slut for him. 

He’s letting out a ragged little laugh, oh how cute you’d look all confused. Nipples hard through your flimsy excuse of a t-shirt while you looked around for them. While you asked him for help. 

Oh, just the thought of that has Gojo’s red, furious cock beading glossy drops of precum at his tip. Leaking a sinful, slippery sheen down his wrist. “Ah.” he lets out a guttural groan when his angry dick twitches in his hand, falling onto his elbow on the drawer. Not having the strength - or the sanity - to keep himself up anymore. “Look what you’ve-” Gojo’s eyes catch sight of a flash of red inside, sounding so wrecked. “Look what you’ve done.”

And those obscene red panties are snatched up by his free hand in a second, not even a second wasted before Gojo’s bringing them up to his face. 

Fuck. 

“Look what you’ve done. Look how ngh- filthy you’ve made me.” he whines, muffled. Hips fucking up in quick, uncontrollable little thrusts into his closed fist. Voice a pitch higher as he spits out embarrassing little accusations, “How pathetic. Gettin’ fuck- gettin’ off to this? Me of all hah- people like this? Can’t imagine how f-fucking mad you’d be.”  

Would you figure out it was him? Would you look in his drawer again? Teach him a lesson or two about being such a pathetic little pervert for his roommate. 

Maybe - just maybe - if Gojo plays his cards right, gets on his knees and begs for mercy, then you’d let him keep his little treasure. 

He throws his head back in a humorless little laugh when his aching hand slows down to languid, unforgivable tugs. He had time, anyway, your classes ended late today. Torturous - exactly the way he imagines you’d drive him mad. “Heh- wish this was you.”

You’d be so much meaner, pressing down on that little divot at his tip, flicking teasingly like you were trying to fuck out something delicious. You’d be running your nails down his achy veins, running your soft palms around his painful balls. 

You’d whisper, “This all you got, Toru?”

“Oh fuck!” Gojo moans, raspy little sounds of what sounds like your name filtering through the crevices of his fingers, your panties. “Fuck fuck fuck- gonna cum.” he whines. Heavy balls smacking back into his thighs with each thrust into your imaginary hand. How he wished you were here. He’s managing to wrench his eyes open to spy down at his sloppy cock - needing to see how your cute lil’ panties would look painted all white for him. How he wished you- “Gonna-”

Oh. Fuck. 

You. 

“Aw, why stop now, Gojo?”

You’re leaning against Gojo’s open bedroom door, flashing him such a sultry little smirk. Your voice almost a purr when you echo, “I said…” Before taking two long steps to where he stood frozen, “Why stop now?”

Gojo lets the damp fabric held up to his face drop in guilt - yet the other stays firmly wrapped around that hand cock of his still in hand. 

“S-sweetheart what are you- why-” And perhaps for the first time in the twenty-something years that Gojo Satoru has terrorized this planet, he’s speechless. Worry-bitten lips sagging open stupidly, “I- this is-”

You cut him off, “So you’re the panty thief.” So close now that Gojo’s dick was throbbing at each heave of your chest, the way you were squeezing your thighs together. Eyes sliding down his body to rest at the mangled mess of your all-new panties around his painfully hard cock. “I knew it.”

“I can explain-”

“All those times pretending to help me?” you bat your lashes in a way that makes him gulp. Words dripping with the same tease he’d imagined in daydreams just like this. “When you were the pervert stealing my panties? Are you even ashamed?”

Gojo flushes an innocent pink, excuses tumbling out of those pretty lips immediately. But they sound like lies even to him.

“This- ngh-” he’s rolling his hips forward when you slide a smaller finger down his arm, between his pecs, almost the way down to those tufts of white. “Fuuuck- y-you’re not mad? Are ya the devil herself cuz you’re gonna- ngh- kill me this way.”

Humming, “Class was canceled, but of course - don’t hah- stop on my account, Gojo.”

“Toru.” he’s gasping out, a low moan wrenching out of him when he’s bowing his body into his fist again. Squeezing - almost warningly - at his hilt. “C-call me Toru. Please.”

And fuck he could’ve cum right then and there at that devilish little smile you give him, biting down on your lower lip - inches from his that it felt like you were biting down on his. Maybe you were, shit Gojo didn’t even know right now. 

“Toru.”

That’s all it takes for Gojo’s lips to be crashing onto yours. Biting back a little whimper at the messy clash of teeth, of spit, because one taste of your candied lips and he was already so addicted. 

“Mmpf-” Gojo gasps, chasing hotly after your lips. Eyes half-lidded to watch the snapping of those delicate strings of saliva, “You’re- you’re so-” And he’s way too impatient to get out his words, licking heatedly at the slit of your mouth. Over and over and over-  “As bad as me- ngh-”

“Are ya sure about that?” you grin, cunt clenching at your roommate’s pained grunt when you pull away. “Because look-”

And the both of you are stuck on the way Gojo’s moving again, hips fucking up in jagged, mindless little grinds. Like he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. Like he didn’t even feel the way his leaky tip was smearing along the front of your sinfully short skirt. 

“Can’t help it.” he whines, kissing down your neck. Hips urging forwards to slip up the thigh-length fabric, and when you don’t pull away, Gojo drags your skirt up, up, up with his pulsing length, “You don’t know what you do to me- fuck.”

His jaw falls slack, ogling at the sight of your pretty pussy on full display for him. Already so glossy with your sweet sweet juices, needy between your restless thighs. Bare. 

And this might be the first time he’s seen a cunt in real life but Gojo already knows - he already feels - that she’s gonna be the death of him. 

Sharp teeth nip at your bottom lip, tugging. “What the fuck-” Gojo breathes - more to himself than anything. “What the fuck what the-” Bringing down his free hand to run the pads of his long fingers along your puffy folds, as if to confirm whether this was real. “-fuck! Going out like this? You’re even dirtier than me, huh?.” 

“What can I do?” Sliding your arms around his broad shoulders, palms running along the heated skin. Back arching to grind down on his hand, “Someone stole all my panties.”

Your words fall on deaf ears, because Gojo doesn’t hesitate for even a second before he’s bringing his dripping wet fingers up to his lips. Smoldering eyes looking right into yours when he pops them in his mouth. Sucking them dry. 

“Oh fuck, sweetheart.”

In a split second, you’re being splayed out on Gojo’s king-sized bed like such a slut. Bouncing at the sheer force of the throw. And it happens so fast that you almost think you’re seeing things - but, no, the way you’re bouncing against the silky sheets was real. Your skirt bunching up at your waist was real. 

Gojo’s hazy gaze getting stuck right at the spot between your legs was real. 

“Shiiiit.” he murmurs, low and gravelly, like he’s moving through molasses. Stalking towards your trembling figure as if hypnotized, “Oh, she looks even prettier this way.”

You shuffle in embarrassment, pressing your thighs together, “Toru-”

But he doesn’t hear you, instantly scrambling onto the bed. “No- no no no no no-” Just wrenching your legs apart with his hands. “No, you don’t get to hide th-this from me, you don’ know how long I’ve waited for this. How much I’ve imagined-”

You’re gasping when he runs the tip of his index between your sopping wet slit, coating his fingers in your juices once more. Teasing. “N’ so wet. This all f’me? God, can’t even- ngh-”

“So eager.” you mumble, fingers threading through Gojo’s soft locks to pull him in so close. To drag him towards where you needed him the most. “Why don’t you jus’ shut up- N’ put that big mouth of yours into use somewhere else?”

His eyes widen, words a whisper, “C-can I?” He doesn’t wait for your response before flipping the two of you so easily. Having you toppling precariously on his lap now, “Can I really? Never done this before.”

Never?

It’s not before he lets out a shy huff, that you realize that you said that out loud. “So what? S’that bad?” Two large hands groping and kneading your ass to keep you in place, “Ya didn’t actually ngh- believe all those stories on campus, did ya?”

Squirming at the feeling of his massive girth rubbing up against your swollen folds, “D-doesn’t matter.” You grit out, “You can…”

And no sooner are you seeing Gojo’s megawatt smile, you’re already feeling it between your thighs. Being wrestled up like some glorified ragdoll, dragging your sloppy cunt all the way up to straddle Gojo’s pretty face. 

“So, this is what she ngh- looks like.” he whines, hot breath lapping at your quivering pussy. “Shit, she’s so wet I could almost-” You’re gasping when the man below you simply sticks his awaiting tongue out, admiring your pussy while letting your syrupy sweet slick drip! drip! drip! down his throat. “This all f’me?” 

The only thing you can give him right now is a needy little whine - which makes Gojo kiss the fat of your ass with a sharp smack! Biting his lip at the way it jiggles against his hand, “Tell me, where did my feisty girl go?”

That lewd little nickname has you scoffing in pathetic frustration, your grip searing on his scalp when you force his obscene mouth closer. “Y-you seriously need to-” Pulling, “-shut up, Toru.”

And oh, you’d played right into Gojo’s devilish hands. This was exactly what he wanted - to have his face stuffed between your limp legs, ready mouth meshing messily with the folds of your dripping cunt. “There she is.” he moans, the tip of his tongue slurping up the sloppy dredges of your slick. Carding between your pussy lips, “Oh- fuck there she is. Yeah use me like that- use me.”

He’s running his mouth a mile a minute and you wonder how. Because Gojo was lapping at your cunt so feverishly, everywhere - from your inner thighs, to your folds, to just around the circles of your sloppy entrance like he wanted to taste it all. And couldn’t decide where to go first. 

“T-Toru.” you let out a honey sweet mewl of his name when the tip of his nose is rubbing against your clit. “There. Right there-”

Eyes rolling to the back of his head when he easily locates your sensitive nub. Wrapping those ruby lips around your clit to give an experimental suck. 

Shit, he could almost pass out from how heavenly you look on top guiding him. Your entire body jolting with each roll of his hot tongue, giving him such a pretty view of your tits up your silky shirt. Just dragging your sloppy cunt all into his mouth when he toys with your pulsing clit. 

“Oh fuck!” your hips are darting away with each zap of electricity sent down your spine. 

Which, for Gojo - who’s only ever dared to dream up this moment on those lonely nights - isn’t enough. 

“Know m’new to this, sweetheart, but stop bein’ nice n’ fuckin-” He’s pulling on the crease of your waist, dragging you to rest your entire weight on his face - his mouth. “-sit.” You’re keening when Gojo forces you to collapse on his soft tongue, bullying past your puffy folds and into that sloppy ring of muscle. Jus’ barely dipping past the resistance, “I said use me so fuckin’ use me. Don’ care if I can’t breathe - if I fucking suffocate- ngh- m’gonna die if you don’t just sit.”

“Fine.” You cry out when the curve of his tongue is molding into your gummy walls, pushing recklessly past. Not even fucking easing you into it before he’s fucking you on his tongue. Calculated, mean little thrusts in search of all your sweet spots. “No half-assing then, m’kay?”

Though, you had the feeling that he would do anything but. 

“Good, now keep still.” he’s scolding, one hand starting up again in those slow, satisfied tugs on his length. “Please keep still.” And the other dancing between your legs to push a finger inside your snug cunt. “Mmm it’s a tight fit, can feel ya clenching around me. Ngh- always wondered how it’d feel- where that would be.”

Blinking away the haze in your eyes, you look down at where Gojo was already locked on you, “Th-that?”

“That.” he breathes into your cunt, voice reverent as he speeds up. “S’your pussy gonna tell me where your good spot is? Gonna help me ngh- learn?”

And to your embarrassment - and Gojo’s smug satisfaction, it only takes a few more hurried strokes of his tongue before he’s nudging against your g-spot. Both the texture of his tongue and his long, cold fingers curling to assault the poor bundle of nerves. 

Your body bows deeper as if on auto-pilot, “Oh- fuck! You fucking- hngh”

He’s snickering at the way you’re so responsive, cock hard - and only swelling girthier in his fist with each adorable moan falling from your lips. 

“Oh yeah? There? Ya like this?” he moans, “Ya like shutting up the ngh- p-pervert that steals your panties with your cunt?” 

Getting faster. More attuned to his feral need. 

Lips smacking in tempo with those obscene squelches, you can’t tear your eyes away from the way his cheeks hollow. Fingers still so rapid, moving to make out and toy so messily with you clit - untimed, sloppy but fuck did you love it. 

“Y-yes.” you’re shoving his mouth guiltlessly deeper. Letting his long tongue explore every crevice and inch of you. Sloppier. So, so filthy. “Love it- fuck- you’re such a fast fucking learner.”

“I know.”

There was that cocky Gojo Satoru you were used to, lips curling into a strawberry pink smile around your clit - all glossy and sweet with a sheen of your slick. Making such a mess of the lower half of his face, his chin, shit, all the way down to his jaw. 

“M’close-” you choke out at the sight, “M’so fuckin’ close- gonna- gonna cum on your tongue, Toru.”

“Look at you ruining me.” his words hit you hard on your sensitive cunt, sending shockwaves up your arched spine. Obscene little smacks of his lips following your barely-lucid mewls.“Absolutely defiling me. Are ya proud of nghhh fuck- yourself?”

It’s all you can do to manage out a strained, “Yes! Yes yes yes yes- God, m’so close, Toru/ Gonna cum m’gonna-”

You don’t even realize it when you’re cumming at first, just that you’re riding Gojo’s unfairly pretty face in harsh grinds - just the way he liked it. Jaw grinding against your cunt, chin hitting you with each slutty jerk of your hips, letting you use him all you want to ride through your high. 

And his fingers are digging into your hips, stopping you from pulling away even when you were snow. Even when you’re sobbing in oversensitivity. So painfully good. 

“Ngh- T-Toru–” you’re slurring out, his name thick on your tongue. “M’not gonna cum on your dick if you k-keep hah- acting this way.”

Only then does a pussydrunk Gojo Satoru raise his bleary eyes back up at you. Giving you a strained little grunt of acceptance, before parting ways with your pussy with a lingering, wet kiss on your clit. Barely-audible as he whispers, “Gonna see ya soon.”

You don’t have the time to think about his newfound addiction. Because in all of three seconds, he’s plopping you back down so prettily on his lap. Purposefully feeding your sopping wet slit his weeping red tip. 

“Please.” Gojo’s usually-arrogant grin has fallen into such a pretty pout with one graze of his length sandwiched between your folds. “I did good, right? Please ngh- so I th-think if I made you cum then I get to hah- fuck you how I want.”

And it’s not that you didn’t appreciate it before - but looking at his thick tip pushing up against your cunt right now has you recognizing that shit, Gojo is massive. 

Fat head blushing a pretty reddish, leaking so messily down, down, down those glistening veins at his side and to the creamy ring at his base - from when he’d cum, just from eating you out, you realize with a jolt. His girth so intimidatingly thick, long enough that you know you won’t be walking for a week straight, at least. All throbbing and angry with every second he isn’t buried to the hilt inside your cunt. 

Gojo Satoru is massive. 

“Like what ya see?” he echoes your thoughts, a soaked thumb coming down to pry apart your glossy folds. Grinning at the way your hole was already so needy and clenching around nothing. “Think m’the ngh- perfect size for this pretty pussy?”

Through it all, you find it in yourself to muse, “Only one way to find out. Gonna let me be your first, Toru?”

And then he’s pushing in, shallow, high little gasps bursting from his lips with each inch being bullied into your plush cunt. 

“O-oh fuck-” Gojo can’t stop himself from taking a good look at the way your pussy lips are bulging around him. Jaw dropping at the way your greedy entrance is only sucking him up more and more - trying to bite off more than you can chew with the way he was in so deep but barely even halfway in yet. “S’too good- oh my god- fuck I think m’gonna die. Is it s’pposed to feel th-this good?”

You’re running a hand gingerly through Gojo’s mussed-up hair, smoothing down the sides sticking up where you’d been pulling on it. “S’alright, Toru.” you soothe, letting him grind up into you. Trying to fit more - all of it. “You’ve got it- you’ve hah-”

You let out a pathetic little whine when his tip kisses your cervix, legs flexing around his toned waist. 

“Oh- ohhh fuck-” he’s barely able to string together coherent sentences now. Eyes falling till their half-lidded, body moving before his mind when he pulls yours stuck to his. “S-soo good n’ I haven’t even- oh!” His voice goes a few octaves higher when Gojo finally starts moving. “How can- it feel this good, hng-”

And shit for being inexperienced, he was fucking up into you so mean. Just in short little thrusts up like he was trying to fuck you even deeper - trying to squeeze inside more of himself impossibly. 

“Some- ah- some more, Toru-” 

He listens, and the stretch - fuck. Gojo wasn’t even trying yet, but his girth was already massaging your gummy walls so dizzyingly good. 

“Y-you’re so- ngh-” you graze your lips across his in what can barely be called a kiss. Too messy. Too depraved. “-so deep.” Sliding a hand about midway down your stomach to press down, “Can feel you all the way in here.”

Your words are sticking to Gojo like a second skin, driving him so fucking mad. Hips smacking up into you deep until his heavy balls were slapping your ass, sculpted pelvis crashing into yours.

“Stop talking.“ he spits, “Stop talking stop talking stop- talking.” Each word is punctuated by a desperate, messy stroke. Pushing you further and further up Gojo’s body from the obscene impact. “Stop hah- talking or m’gonna cum.”

He wasn’t lying - you could already feel the twitch of Gojo’ length rubbing up against your hidden sweet spots. The furious throbbing of his veins stretching out your elastic walls. 

And yet you’re still wailing stubbornly, “B-but Toru it feels so good.” Partially truth, partially because when the fuck do you get to see him so utterly wrecked like this. Sanity dancing away from him with each syrupy moan leaving your mouth, “Your cock is too good- ngh- feels-”

“Shut up.”

Gojo can only take that much of your nonsense before he’s stuffing your mean mouth full with a flimsy piece of fabric from somewhere on the bed- no. A strangely familiar pair of panties. 

“Heh, s’much ohhh fuck- better.” he beams with pride when you’re gagging and tearing up so adorably around the light blue fabric. Ramming his cock up harder - stronger, as if daring you to make a little comment about it. “Should’ve ah fuck- known you wouldn’t make it easy f’me.”

As if to prove his point, he gives your ravaged clit a little smack! before teasing and rolling his thumb exactly the way you’d taught him to with his tongue.

And he’s scrambling to sit up, carrying your boneless body with him. 

The new angle has Gojo seeing stars, penetrating your gummy walls deeper, hitting that familiar g-spot he’s mapped out by now. “Here?” he manages to cackle, a big arm wrapping around your waist. “Right here? S’my cock hitting th-that ngh- good spot? Yer pussy is fuuuck so much easier to u-understand than I ah- thought.”

Reeling back to bounce you on his thick cock. Crashing into it again. And again and again and-

Since you can’t snap back - or even beg for more - you only let out muffled little moans through the gag in your mouth. Thighs burning as you push back in pathetic little thrusts to somehow meet Gojo’s mindless cadence.

“Oh yeah?” he drags, leaning back to help you ride him properly. “Yeah yeah do i-it hah- like that. Do it juuuust like that.” A harsh thumb rolls into your clit, making you stutter and grind yourself down messily. “Fuck- Yeah ruin me- ngh- just like that.”

His words were jagged - uneven. Spitting out of his plump lips like he didn’t even know they were every time Gojo’s fat, leaky tip was gliding across your cervix, your g-spot. Leaving possessive little bruises to claim you from the inside out. 

“C-close.” you slur out, not even sure if he could hear over the dull slap of his balls on your ass, and the greedy squelches of your cunt. “More, Toru.”

Yet your sinful, sickly sweet noises have him freezing - if only for a split-second. Pussydrunk eyes going wide, jaw falling slack in such awe. 

But before you can fully appreciate this sight, he’s starting back his depraved thrusts again. Bouncing you harder - faster. Just dragging you along every ridge and bump of his swollen cock. Fingers just a needy blur toying with your poor clit. 

“M-more?” he whines into the crook of your neck, voice breaking at the end. “More. More?” He speaks up, like a mantra. Each word sending you spiraling down Gojo’s merciless cock, Panting, “Ever since you fuck- started rooming w’me, wanted this- wanted you to hah- be my first.” Holding you in such a vice-like grip as he splits you apart on his aching cock. Harder. “You’ve ruined me-” he spits against your lips, big fat tears rolling down his cheeks. “Don’ know how many times I’ve cum to your pretty panties. Ruined me- ruined me- fuck m’so close- ruined me.” Violent, even. 

So it only makes sense that your orgasm was the same. 

And it’s only taking a few more unsteady jabs into your g-spot before a wave of euphoria is crashing over you. “Hngh-” you spasm in Gojo’s arms, his eyes going wide in wonder when your cunt squeezes him so fucking tight- only to-

“F-fuck!” he whines, connecting your lips to his. Kissing you even with your panties still stuffed into your mouth. And Gojo’s cumming and cumming so hard he doesn’t even think he’s breathing. Intertwining his tongue with yours to muffle his overstimulated moans, wrapping around your sweet slick-soaked panties in the middle. The contrast of his soft tongue with the lazy fabric of your panties only making you milk his poor cock harder. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck- fuck- Take it. Take it, my girl.”

You moan incoherently, going insane at the way he was filling you up with long, thick ropes of cum. Fucking deeper and deeper up into you to paint your plushy walls from the inside. 

“S’all I’ve- ngh wanted.” he murmurs throatily, such a fucking mess now. Face flushed, eyes glassy with tears, drool dripping down the corner of his mouth with the way he was sucking lewdly on your tongue. “You’re all I-I’ve ever wanted.”

Shit, he hasn’t cum this hard in his life.

Finally having had enough of shutting up your smart mouth, Gojo slows down to deep little grinds - still moving. Still trying to hold back his moans at that creamy ring around his hilt, at the globs of seed trickling out of your poor overfilled pussy. 

“Hah- Toru-” you whine when he pries away the fabric in your mouth. Shuddering with the swipe of his finger along your clit, “C-could almost ngh- forgive you…”

“The blue one.”

“What?” you’re staring at him in confusion, and Gojo’s fucked-out grin only spreads wider. 

“That was for the b-blue one.” you gasp when his balls suddenly squeeze so painfully underneath you. Cock jerking in interest, “Y’gonna have me make up for that whole drawer full of panties, sweetheart?”

A/N. VIRGIN GOJO BRAIN ROT GOES BRRRRRRRR

Plagiarism not authorized.

[mywritersmind]

CURB FLIRTING - LN4

summary : In which Lando finds a girl crying on the side of the road and decides to help her a bit.

listen up : this is the cutest thing i’ve ever written. no pt.2‼️

word count : 1438

⋆｡‧˚⋆

Tears stream down my face, I try to control my breathing but I'm still in shock. Even though I'm sobbing, I want to laugh.

I’m sitting on a curb outside of a club, it’s gross and there’s cigarette butts by my feet. I can only smell alcohol and the scent of my vanilla perfume.

I want to rip it off my body. I try to take a deep breath but my chest hurts and I start coughing. People around me ask if I'm okay but when I nod they leave.

Until a man’s shoes appear in front of me, “Are you alright?” I look up, breathing heavily still before nodding and looking back down at his shoes. I like them.

He sits next to me, “You sure?” He has an accent. British, I think.

“No.” I laugh as he cracks a smile.

“I’m Lando.” He holds out his hand for me to shake, so I do. His ring is cold against my burning skin. When I meet his eyes again, I realize they’re green and unfairly stunning.

In fact, his whole face is stunning. He’s got curly hair, dark and mullet-ish, his clothes are light and his jewelry is nice.

“I’m Y/n.” I sniffle, wiping a tear from my face, “I like your shoes.”

He smiles again, “Thank you. I like your dress.” I glance down to my bare legs, hot and uncomfortable with the icy air. He seems to notice my body language and shrugs off his jacket, laying it over my legs.

I frown, crying more, “Hey- I didn’t mean to make it worse.” He looks genuinely worried.

“You didn’t. I’m just- Thank you.” He nods, “I’m kinda embarrassed.”

“No need. Plenty of strangers have seen me cry.” He shrugs, eyeing my hair and earrings, “You don’t need to worry though, you’re a pretty crier.”

I let out a laugh, something I haven’t done for a few hours, “I doubt you aren’t.” His presence is oddly comforting yet also awkward because I was bawling in front of him.

His smile is kind and soft while his body looks sharp and hard. “You flatter me, Y/n.” I like the way he says my name. But that could just be because of my tears.

“What’s your deal, Mr. Lando no last name?” My eyes are still wet but my tears are no longer falling, “Are those your friends?”

We both look over to the group on the other side of the road, three men staring. Lando eyes them but quickly looks back at me, “Uh, yeah.”

“Do they think a twenty four year old woman is going to hurt you?” I look at them again, “Because they sure are protective.”

He laughs, “Protective is a good word for it. Where are your friends?” This makes me frown and he sees it instantly, “Are you visiting Monaco?”

I nod, “Yeah. Are you?”

He shakes his head, “I live here.” My eyes instinctively widen at this. He looks young. I mean, he could be studying here I guess but still.

“How old are you?”

“Twenty five.” This makes my brows pull together, he laughs at this.

“Are you… rich?” I whisper it as if it’s illegal.

He leans it a bit close, “Sort of.”

I hum, “How…?”

“I’ll tell you if you come and sit in my car with me.” I raise a brow at this, crossing my arms, “I promise it’s just because I'm worried you’re gonna catch a cold.” I look at him skeptically too, “You can hold my keys if it makes you feel better.”

I stand, holding his jacket close to me as he drops his keys into my hand. I stare down at them, blink. “A McLaren?” I roll my eyes.

“An eye roll is not the usual reaction I get for that!” He starts walking and I follow him.

“Oh, so you bring all the girls you find crying in the street into your car?” He eyes me, a slight smirk on his face.

“Only the pretty ones.”

I roll my eyes, “You’re going to let a stranger take the keys to your McLaren?” He just shrugs.

“I know your name. You know mine.”

He lets me sit in the driver's seat, he turns the car on and Mamma Mia starts blasting. “Shit.” He mumbles, turning it down quickly as I giggle.

“A musical fan…?” His face is serious and definitely embarrassed. I can’t help but laugh more, “Okay, Okay. How are you, Mr. very mysterious Lando no last name, rich?”

He stretches his arms up, grinning but staying silent. Oh god. He’s fit as hell.

“Oh no.” I feel doom approaching me.

“What?” he asks.

“Don’t tell me you’re a footballer.”

He looks horrified, “An american footballer?” I did forget about that one little difference between us. “Why would I be an American footballer?”

“Well you’re-” He raises a brow as I groan, “You clearly work out.” He laughs at me. “Lando! I’m serious, you’re an athlete aren’t you? Oh god I don’t want to know. Do you play soccer? You’ve got the height for it.”

His jaw is dropped at this point, “Calling me hot then calling me short is insane!”

“I did not say, ‘hot’!” I scoff, turning towards him, “Tell me what you really do then. Are you in the Mafia?”

He sighs, leaning his head against the glass of his car. I hadn't realized before, but I'm much more comfortable here. Well, I suppose a McLaren has got to be more comfortable than a street corner.

It’s quieter and definitely warmer. Plus, I do feel safe with Lando which is a bit odd because I just met the guy.

“I’m a formula 1 driver.”

Oh?

“Oh.” I nod. I don’t know anything about motorsport so I'm a bit lost, but I guess I got my answer, “So you drive cars?”

He looks happy at my answer, his smile making my cheeks heat, “Yeah… Yeah I drive cars.”

Lando Norris.

An interesting name for an interesting man. We stay in his car for another… hour? I don’t know. I lose track of time when Lando starts telling me about everywhere he’s traveled.

He lets me rant or stay silent, something I've been waiting for all night. Or maybe all my life.

He leaves me for five minutes alone, in which I peek around his car, finding absolutely nothing but a golf ball and a bag of chips. He comes back with a smile on his face and an ask.

I move to the passenger seat, saying hi to his friends. He said that he wanted me to feel safe and after the conversation with his friends, I really do. I don’t think I've ever laughed harder at a man’s friend group.

He plays ‘Thank you for the music’ on low while I look out the window, my hair blowing in the wind.

“Hey uh-” he clears his throat, “Could I get your number? Just to check in tomorrow.” I bite my lip as he hands me his phone, smiling to myself as I type in my number.

“Dont abuse it.” I joke as he taps his finger against the wheel.

He's grinning again, “Can’t promise anything.”

I sigh, watching the city pass by me, some of the boats on the water quiet and some bright and loud. I like it here. Even if me crying had to get me in such a good mood.

“Thanks for driving me.”

“Of course, I hope to do it again, one day.”

“You know we're probably not going to see eachother again, right?” I see the corner of his mouth quirk downwards, “I’m going home tomorrow.”

“And I have access to private planes.” He shrugs as I scoff.

“Lando. I just met you. What if I was some crazy stalker?” Does this man not know stranger danger?

He eyes me, “Well, are you?”

“No…”

“So,” he glances at me, a curl falling into his face, “I'll see you soon.”

Sadly, my hotel isn’t far and when he pulls up to the front, I get an odd sensation of sadness washing over me. “Want me to walk you up?”

I shake my head, “You’ve done enough for me.” I lean over the middle console and press a soft kiss to his cheek, “Have a good night, Lando.”

“You too, Y/n.” I grab my bag, and slip out the expensive car, looking back one last time to see Lando watching me. His eyes are meaningful and something I have a feeling I won’t be forgetting anytime soon.

[lilreidgirl]

Perfect

Summary: You`re insecure and your boyfriend, Spencer, thinks the absolute world of you, he trys everything to make you see what he sees.

Warnings: fem!reader, insecure reader, bad body image, comparing to fictional charecters, kissing, hurt/comfort?, not proof read, if i forgot anything; let me know, English is not my first language

WC: ~1k

A/N: I won`t be posting for about the next two weeks cause i have three exams, once exam season finally ends, Ill be able to post my many ideas that just seem to keep on coming. Until then, here`s a short Spence hurt/comfort fic MWAH

Perfect.

A word that feels as foreign to me as an alien language. It’s something I’m definitely not. No one is perfect, of course. But I feel like I’m standing several miles farther from it than most.

Spencer calls me a lot of things: beautiful, pretty, cute, smart, hot, exquisite, funny, tantalizing, sexy, insatiable. The list is endless. If it’s complimentary, he’s said it at some point.

Except perfect.

Spencer is a man of science and logic, and logic dictates that perfection doesn’t exist. It’s an unattainable ideal, a concept too flawless to have a place in a messy world like ours. And yet, standing next to him—this near-perfect person—I feel the ache of falling so much shorter than the mark.

There are people, though, who seem to come dangerously close.

One of the many things I love about Spencer is his love for books. He reads endlessly, often with the same devotion he gives to solving puzzles or understanding the human mind. He’ll bury himself in stories until his eyes droop, refusing to let fatigue stop him from finishing just one more chapter. And I know the women in those books, how they’re described: Silky hair, impossibly soft skin, hypnotic eyes, lips meant to be kissed, figures sculpted to perfection, and smiles bright enough to light up the darkest corners.

That’s what perfection looks like, isn’t it?

It’s certainly not me.

I see myself every day in the mirror. No silky hair here—just strands that seem to have their own rebellious personality, refusing to fall in place no matter what I do. My skin? Far from flawless. My eyes? Ordinary, nothing mesmerizing about them. My lips are… lips. Not the kind poets write about. My body? Just a body. Functional. Unremarkable. My smile doesn’t light up rooms; at most, it’s enough to convey, Hi, I’m friendly, please don’t ask me for directions.

Yet somehow, here I am, dating Spencer Reid—a man who feels carved by the hands of something divine. It’s almost painful, how unfairly beautiful he is. I’ve searched for his flaws, scoured every inch of his personality, his quirks, his habits. Nothing. If they’re there, they’re too small for me to see. He’s just… him. Perfect in all the ways that I’m not.

Two soft knocks on the door break me out of my spiraling thoughts. They’re gentle yet deliberate, spaced so perfectly it feels like they were timed with precision. Of course, they were. This is Spencer we’re talking about. Even his knocks are perfect.

I drag myself toward the door, feeling the weight of my imperfections in every step. My fingers fidget with the hem of my sweater as I go. It’s oversized and rumpled, the fabric hanging well past my wrists. My sweatpants cling stubbornly to my thighs but sag around my ankles. I’m a mess, right down to the fluffy socks that glide across the floor I haven’t bothered to clean in three weeks.

When I open the door, the sight of him steals my breath as it always does. Spencer.

His hair is perfectly disheveled, a chaotic tumble of curls that somehow looks intentional. His features are sharp, striking, and utterly unfair. His eyes hold the kind of depth that makes you feel like he sees every part of you, even the parts you’d rather keep hidden.

“Hi,” he says, his voice soft and warm, and that smile—the one that makes me feel like I’m standing in the sun—graces his lips.

“Hey,” I manage, though my voice feels embarrassingly small in comparison.

“I missed you so much,” he says, stepping inside before I can respond. His arms wrap around my waist, pulling me into a hug that feels like home. He lifts me slightly, spinning us in a slow circle, and I can’t help but laugh softly at the gesture.

“Me too,” I whisper, the words barely audible as my lips brush against his neck. When he sets me down, I press a kiss to his lips. It’s brief but firm, enough to feel the spark between us ignite.

He pulls back just enough to look at me, his dark eyes roaming my face. His pupils are wide, the dim light of my apartment making them expand until they almost swallow the brown of his irises. He looks at me like I’m something precious, something worth studying and memorizing.

“God,” he breathes, his voice low and filled with something I can’t quite name. “You’re perfect.”

The air leaves my lungs. For a moment, it feels like the world has tilted on its axis. I open my mouth to respond, but the words won’t come. My thoughts are spinning, but all I can focus on is him, standing here, calling me perfect.

Could perfection exist after all? Maybe it does. Maybe it’s right here in front of me, holding me, looking at me like I’m something extraordinary.

Or maybe perfection isn’t about appearances. Maybe it’s about this feeling—this warmth that spreads through me whenever Spencer is near. Maybe it’s about the way he sees me, flaws and all, and still calls me something I never thought I could be.

Perfect. That’s him.

Perfect. The word he used to describe me.

Perfect. The way I feel, despite my imperfections, whenever I’m with him.

I blink back the tears threatening to spill, a soft laugh escaping my lips as I finally find my voice. “Mm… so are you,” I whisper, leaning into him as his arms tighten around me.

And in that moment, I believe it. I believe that maybe, just maybe, perfection isn’t about being flawless. Maybe it’s about being loved by someone who makes you feel like you are.

@emma-e-a

[wttcsms]

i wanna brag about it (i wanna tie the knot) ; choso.

pairing choso x f!reader word count 2.6k synopsis overworked, stressed, and in need of relief, choso comes home to the sight of you looking all pretty and sweet. it's been a long time coming, and tonight is the night where choso finally gives in to his deepest desire: fucking a baby into you. content contains babysitter!au (babysitter!reader), ceo!choso, half-brothers!choso & yuuji, toddler!yuuji, implied age gap, breeding kink, obsessive + possessive!choso, housewife kink, misogynistic ideals, wet n messy, size kink, belly bulge, bro is literally so in love with you and dreams abt starting a family with you

Choso could use a drink right about now.

He’s rummaging through his fridge, more than happy to grab one of the many bottles in the back (he doesn’t want Yuuji accidentally grabbing one by accident — not that it would happen, thanks to your supervision), but he startles away from the fridge when a voice fills the silence of the kitchen.

“Late night?” You tease, giving him that sweet smile of yours that has the stresses from today lifting from his body, easing the weight on his otherwise tense shoulders. 

Fuck. 

Proof that today was a major shitshow is evident in the fact that Choso has forgotten all about you. Staring at your body clad in nothing more than one of those skimpy cropped-cami-and-boyshorts matching sets you always favor, he finds it hard to believe that he could ever forget about you. The refrigerator light bathes you, envelopes you, casts a warm glow on your soft skin and makes it look like you’re an angel radiating some bright aura. A subtle glance at your entire body allows him a glimpse of two, tiny peaks poking through the thin material of your top. You like keeping the house cold. He swallows hard, finding the willpower to focus on your face.

Not like staring at your face is enough to stop his cock from twitching in his work trousers. In fact, he probably gets even harder looking at you, especially when he can tell you’ve probably just finished your very sacred and meticulous nighttime skincare routine, your face glowing. Seeing you all clean and fresh, savoring the domesticity of you washing your face in the same bathroom he brushes his teeth in, salivating over the way you look standing in his kitchen (it could be yours, too, if you would let him give you everything he wants to) wearing nothing but your pajamas — it all makes his hindbrain want to take over. He’s spent the last fourteen hours stuffed in a boardroom or his office, and your simple existence is enough to soothe his soul and send him spiraling, all at the same time.

Choso could really, really use a drink right about now.

“Sorry, I meant to call to tell you—”

“Don’t worry about it.” You smile at him goodnaturedly, like you’re not still in college with much better things to do on a Friday night than wait for him to come home. 

He should be thankful that you’re so sweet to him, but just the idea that you did have plans tonight makes a hot coil of jealousy tighten in his stomach. 

Choso knows that he shouldn’t be feeling this way; he shouldn’t even notice you as much as he does. It starts out with the little things, first, like making sure his assistant gets your favorite snacks restocked during his usual weekly grocery delivery. He asks you about your schoolwork, and then finds himself filing away people he knows in your major’s industry. It’s good to have connections, he tells you, giving you the number to a good business acquaintance of his who’s looking for an intern in the near future. And of course, he’s hyper aware of the fact that you are a very beautiful girl. Unfairly so, with the curve of your lips and the slope of your nose; every time he sees you, he plays a game with himself. Tries to notice something new about you, a beauty mark, a new haircut. If he had the time, he’d probably try to get an exact count of your eyelashes. 

And now, he’s noticing too much of you. The way the fabric of your tiny matching set seems to accentuate every aspect of your body. How he can smell the sweet scent of your body wash and lotion. The way you’re staring at him, so innocently, completely unaware of the lewd thoughts that run rampant in his mind every time you have him cornered like this. 

Some nights, it’s almost too much to bear. 

It’s been a tough day, though. Week. Month. Endless meetings, negotiations that never result in any firm solutions, just more addendums to contracts. He hasn’t seen much of anything besides his office and the boardroom; what’s the point of having an office with a skyline view if he’s too busy staring at spreadsheets and emails to even enjoy it? 

Tonight, Choso realizes, is the night where he snaps. 

He says your name in such a low register, you almost don’t pick up on it. You’re in the middle of telling him a cute story about what Yuuji did during recess with his pre-k class, but you pause.

Maybe it’s all in your head, but it feels like something in the air has shifted. The way your tummy’s butterflies seem to be in overdrive is only proof of this. 

You’re used to the perpetual tension between you and Choso. Filthy rich, successful, always in a nice, tailored suit — looking purely on the outside, who wouldn’t want to get fucked by him? The more time you spend with him, the more time you fill the role of mother over just babysitter for little Yuuji, which gives way to deeper observation of Choso. He works incredibly long hours, but still has time to stay updated on all of Yuuji’s comings and goings, accomplishments and awards. He doesn’t have to; it’s not like he’s obligated. After all, Yuuji is his half-brother, a byproduct of his father’s mistress. He didn’t have to take him in, love him with his entire being, but he does, and this makes you fall for him only more. 

Then, there’s the fact of how he makes you feel. Every time his hands will brush gently against yours, innocently and so quickly, you swear you’re being electrified. The way he says your name, the way he tells you anything, in that low voice of his is enough to get you squeezing your thighs together. But most of all, it’s the way he looks at you. At first, you thought it was because of your crush, but the longer you work for him, the more you realize that Choso will occasionally stare at you when he thinks you won’t notice. 

But how could you not? How could you not detect the feel of his dark eyes scanning your figure, taking in your features? How could you not detect the way his eyes will darken over in lust when he watches you lick sweet cream off your fingers from an explosive can of whipped cream? How could you not catch the barest trace of a smile as he watches you interact with Yuuji at a park, willing to get your hands dirty to appease the toddler while Choso watches over the two of you from his seat on the bench? 

How could you not fall deeper and deeper into his spell when the threads of lust continue to spool, tightening over your body, practically choking you with desire. 

You don’t even realize how big Choso is until he’s standing so close to you, towering over you. So much bigger than you to the point where if you look straight ahead, all you can see is the rise and fall of his chest through his white button down (the one you ironed for him this morning). 

His hands curl into fists, like he’s restraining himself. “Tell me now,” he breathes out, words coming out tight, like speaking to you civilly is proving to be a strenuous task for him. “Tell me that I shouldn’t fuck you tonight. That I can’t.”

Is he joking, or are you dreaming? You’re hyper aware of your breathing now, of the way you reflexively lick your lips, of the way your nipples are pressed taut against the thin, cotton fabric of your cami. You’re also way too aware of him, with the lustful expression in his eyes that give way to something more, as if this request of his means something more. Most men his age and in his powerful position have a wife or a girlfriend by now. As long as you’ve known him, Choso hasn’t been with anybody. 

The stress, the agitation, that annoying, persistent feeling of constantly being pent up — all of it has been building up inside of him. Whoever is going to be on the receiving end of it will be lucky if they’re able to walk the morning after.

“But you can.” You say softly, almost scared that this is some elaborate trick, a means to see if his brother’s babysitter is to be trusted. “You can do whatever you want to me.”

There’s something animalistic in the way he takes you. When he kisses you, it’s hungry. Open-mouthed. Sloppy. It would be invasive if you weren’t so eager to let him, to allow his tongue to hit the roof of your mouth, to swap saliva in the messiest manner possible.

But there’s something gentle there, too. The way his hands cup your face, or travel to rest on your waist. He’s sweet, taking his time to help you slip out of your pajamas, and sweeter still — he lets out an appreciative hum as he takes in the sight of you bare, naked in the kitchen. Fuck a drink, Choso thinks as he takes in your nude body. You’re the only stress relief he needs. 

He whispers the nastiest things to you as he gets you to sit on the kitchen island. He asks you to please spread your legs so he can see that pretty pussy of yours, and when you comply, he takes in a sharp breath before running a single, cold finger against your wet folds. He makes a crude, appreciative comment, asking you are you really this wet, baby? All of this because of me? For me? 

You can’t answer him, of course. Talking is hard when he’s using two fingers to fuck you open, get you ready to take his cock. He’s knuckles deep, and when he curls his fingers right there, the only thing you’re capable of saying is a squeal of his name. Your juices are pooling into a puddle on the counter, the same counter where you served him breakfast so many hours ago. 

He loves watching you. Choso could watch you every second for the rest of his life and still never get his fill of you. He only catches you during particularly chaste moments, moments where you’re humming in the kitchen or playing with Yuuji. He loves those scenes; it feeds the archaic, masculine ego inside of him that tells him he needs to make life easier for you. That you shouldn’t have to worry about school or work, about money or other frivolous things he has an abundance of. He wants to take care of you. 

Seeing the way you lose control of yourself from the work of his own hand has him getting unbearably hard in his work slacks. He loves watching you, and he knows he’s going to love watching you get all depraved and drunk on his cock. 

When Choso first tries to ease just the tip in, you have to curl your fingers over the edge of the counter, trying to steel yourself. With how wet and willing you are, it should be an easy enough task, but it’s made difficult by the fact that he’s just too thick. 

Tip red and angry, leaking with pre, wide — just the sight of Choso’s cock is enough to get you even wetter, more pliant for him, but even the first stretch still has you hissing. 

“S’okay, baby.” He groans, one hand on your waist, trying to steady you, keep you still so he can keep on pushing himself deeper. “You’re doing so good for me.” 

You certainly don’t feel like you’re doing much of anything. It’s hard, when you can’t stop your walls from clamping down on his cock, making it harder for him to move or even think. When he fully enters you, your mind is already too dizzy with pleasure to think straight. You think he says something, but you’re not sure what, and you try to focus on his words, you really do, but then he starts thrusting, and you think it’s powerful enough to tilt the axis of the earth. 

Oh, so this is what sex is supposed to feel like. He redefines everything you thought you knew about it. The feeling of his cock sliding in and out of you, the way the slickness and heat of your pussy seems to keep motivating him to go harder, the way if you look down, you can spot a tiny bulge every time he hits as deep as he can go — all of this combined marks the height of pleasure for you.

“You’re so perfect.” He grunts out, relishing in the way you tighten up at his words. Your eyes are a bit glazed, almost like you’re struggling to focus on what’s in front of you. He doesn’t mind one bit. In fact, there’s pride settling inside his gut as he realizes that he’s the one fucking all the sense out of you. “Let’s do this every night, baby. Do you like the sound of that? Of being my stress relief?” 

He knows that you’re too far gone, too deep in the haze of pleasure, to process his words, to answer him. 

“I wanna fuck you forever, baby. Make you my pretty, little wife and have you waitin’ at home for me. How does that sound?”

He assumes when your pussy tightens up that that’s a yes. 

His hand finds your own, and he interlinks your fingers together. He might be fucking you all messy on the kitchen counter, but he still holds an overwhelming amount of affection for you. Of course he would want to hold your hand. 

He traces your ring finger, feels the familiar sensation of his release building up. So close, he thinks to himself. He’s so close to getting everything he wants.

“I’m gonna cum, sweetheart. I’m gonna cum right. In. Your. Fucking. Pussy.” Each word is emphasized with a particularly hard thrust, and this — him saying that — is what your sex-addled mind registers. You’re vaguely aware that this could be a bad idea, but you’re too addicted to chasing after your high that you don’t put a stop to it. “Gonna give you a baby.”

“Please.” You moan out, the word coming out ragged and strained. Speaking is difficult, so so difficult. He’s happy to hear your beautiful voice, nonetheless.

“Atta girl. I knew you would understand.” 

As if confirming to him that the two of you are meant to be, you both cum at the same time. You feel weightless and drowsy, too out of it to even process how sloppy and wet the mess in between your legs is right now. If Choso pulls out, his cum and your juices would make the counter even more slippery. 

But Choso doesn’t pull out. His cock stays nestled in your wet heat, and he admires your fucked out form. You look a bit different from the fresh and clean girl who greeted him when he came home, but that’s okay. He loves you for you, every iteration you have to offer. He’ll carry you to the bedroom, where he can fuck you nicely, sweetly. Maybe he’ll try his hardest to not go too hard when he has you in a mating press. And after getting his fill of you, after the stresses of work disappear from his mind completely, then he’ll take you to the bathroom and get you all nice and clean. 

He’ll even be a gentleman, showcase what a great husband he’ll be, by letting you sleep in while he cooks the family breakfast.

[luveline]

hi honey, i love you so so much!!

what about stripper!reader with derek morgan?? he's on a case where strippers are being murdered, and while hotch is driving morgan calls you and tells you not to go into work because of what's going on, and emily is listening in on the conversation from the backseat and they tease him

thank youu!! love you!

ty for requesting lovely!! ilysm ♡

"I know you don't like listening to me, but could you do me a favour? Just this once?" 

Emily leans over in her seat so Spencer can see her side eye. "Who's Morgan talking to?" 

"Stay home tonight. No, this isn't a jealousy thing, you vixen–" 

Spencer shrugs. "No idea. But–" 

"But," Emily agrees. They've just left a crime scene with a specific victim, and now Morgan's on the phone asking someone to stay home. That someone would have reason to visit said crime scene's location, and the word vixen suggests female rather than male, which means, "Morgan has a secret stripper girlfriend." 

Spencer's entire face takes his frown, eyebrows pinched, mouth quirked into a telling line. "I like the implausible," he murmurs, "but that feels illogical. Where would they have met?"

"Uh," Emily says, widening her eyes at him. "Where do you think, Spence?" 

"Morgan doesn't need to go to a strip club." 

Emily understands what Spencer's saying. There are lots of reasons that people frequent strip clubs or gentlemen's clubs and none of those reasons apply to Derek. It's possible he could go socially, but it's just so unlike him, it doesn't add up. 

"I'm telling you the truth. I can't give you more detail than that, I just need you to stay home tonight." Derek pauses, laughs. "Alright," —his voice takes on a mechanical rendition, clearly having been fed a line he has to repeat aloud— "I, Derek Morgan, am an ignorant, jealous man, who can't cope with the fact that you don't want me, and am making up sad and childish lies to get you to stay home from your job. Is that what you wanted? Yeah, laugh it up." 

Emily laughs and grabs the headrest as he hangs up on you, pulling herself forward to taunt him as is required. "Care to explain yourself?" 

Derek sighs. "This is why I didn't tell you guys." 

"What!" Spencer says, though his smile is more audible than his incredulity. 

"So you have something to tell us?" Emily asks. 

Derek knows he can't weasel his way out of telling them, and he doesn't really want to. "I don't have a secret stripper girlfriend," he says, rolling his eyes, "she's not my girlfriend. She is an exotic dancer at one of the clubs downtown, and I met her at Home Depot." 

Emily isn't perturbed that Derek heard their gossiping. She's shameless. She doesn't even care that Hotch is frowning behind the wheel. "What was an exotic dancer doing at Home Depot?"

"Weirdly, Emily, she has a home. She wanted help finding renter friendly flooring." 

"Can we meet her?" 

"Never," Derek says with a smile. Emily couldn't know this, but he really likes you. You're sweet, super funny, and yes, you're a stripper. You work hard. Pole dancing is as physically demanding as any manual labour and you're damn good at it. "Ever." 

Spencer interjects the ensuing argument with a statistical analysis of strippers who are homeowners (unfairly few), but Morgan doesn't answer, trying to read a new text from you discretely. 

Sorry if I embarrassed you at work :( is it really not safe to go ?? Maybe u can come and be my bodyguard. I won't even make u tip me 4:10PM

He sends back, Really not safe. Stay home for me, relax for a few days. Call you tonight even if nothing changes 4:11PM

My hero <3 I trust u, but be careful OK ? and pls if it isn't too much trouble can u bring back some of those weird candies again? thank u thank u <3<3<3 4:14PM

Hotch makes a quiet sound of approval, eyes on the road. "The same girl you were with at Docklands? Rossi said she was cute." 

"She is." 

"Rossi met her?" Emily asks. "Oh, you're the worst."

[021894s]

— 02 the invite [1.5k]

MASTERLIST | PREV | NEXT

PAIRING: brothers bsf!sunghoon x f!reader

WARNINGS: mentions of heartbreak, mentions of throwing up, cussing

AUTHORS NOTE: babies!! this is my first ever written piece!! it’s not perfect but I hope you guys enjoy nonetheless. i’m excited for this storyline to begin to unfold. love you, thank you for reading <3

Sunlight streams through the curtains, and your eyes snap open. Panic sets in as you realize you're not in your own bed. Scrambling to check the time, the memory of last night's chaos comes flooding back – Jungwon, in a lot worse condition thanks to Jake's encouragement, making it so you had to play caretaker after the countless shots and rounds of beer pong.

You leap out of bed, heart racing. Class starts in twenty minutes, and your professor isn't known for leniency. Grabbing your things and getting dressed in some clothes you had left behind, you rush downstairs, only to nearly collide with Sunghoon, who's looking unfairly good with his tousled hair and that deep, just-woke-up voice.

"What’s the rush?" he asks, an eyebrow raised in amusement.

You're momentarily distracted by his disheveled charm, but the urgency of the moment snaps you back to reality. "I'm late for class," you blurt out, then remember Jungwon, still knocked out in the guest room. "Can you keep an eye on Jungwon? He had a rough night."

Sunghoon nods, a smirk playing on his lips. "Sure thing. you should go before you’re even more late."

Grateful, you offer him a quick smile, glancing around only to see niki and sunoo slumped on the living room couch. you turn back to sunghoon ,giving him a knowing look and bolt out the door, hoping you can make it in time.

You rush through the crowded hallways of your university, heart pounding in your chest. The sound of your footsteps echoes, matching the frantic beat of your thoughts. As you finally reach your classroom, you take a deep breath to steady yourself before pushing open the door.The professor pauses mid-lecture, giving you a stern look. "Late again, Y/N?"

You offer a sheepish smile, quickly finding an empty seat. "Sorry, sir. it won't happen again."

as if your morning couldn’t have gotten worse you feel your phone buzz with a new message. Glancing down, you see it's a forwarded email – a formal wedding invitation from your ex. Your heart skips a beat as you read the elegant script, announcing their upcoming marriage. It's a surreal moment, one that brings a mix of emotions swirling through you.

You're not sure how to react. Part of you is happy for them, genuinely wishing them the best, but there's also that tiny, complicated twinge of... something. It's not exactly sadness, not exactly jealousy, just a poignant reminder of the past.

Leaning back in your chair, you can't help but let your mind wander to Jeno. he was your first everything. Your first love, your first heartbreak, the first person who made you feel like you were truly alive. You remember the way he used to hold your hand, the way he smiled just before he kissed you, and the way he made you laugh until your sides hurt.

Heeseung had always been wary of Jeno. He'd seen the signs, warned you about his antics, and tried to protect you like he always has, naturally, being your older brother, but you don't regret a single moment. Despite the warnings, you plunged headfirst into the relationship. You got to experience love—the highs, the lows, and everything in between.

Even now, with the wedding invitation in hand, you can't bring yourself to feel bitter. Heeseung might give you that 'I told you so' look, but you'll just shrug it off, because to you, love, even when it ends, is something to cherish. It taught you, shaped you, and you wouldn't trade those memories for anything.

Class finally ends, and you make your way back to your brother's house. Opening the door, you find everyone except jay, saerom and jake in the living room, engaged in a random conversations about the previous night.

As you step into the living room, the change in your expression doesn't go unnoticed by Heeseung, his brow furrowing with concern. "What's up?" he asks, his voice tinged with brotherly caution.

You hesitate for a moment, feeling the weight of your phone in your pocket. Sighing, you pull it out and hand it to him. "It's Jeno's wedding invite," you admit, watching his eyes scan over the elegant script, capturing the attention of your friends in the room. Heeseung's protective instincts kick in immediately. "You're not thinking of going, are you?" He hands back your phone, his gaze steady on yours.

You meet his look with a resolve that surprises even you. "I think I need to," you say firmly. "For closure." Heeseung doesn't look convinced, but he knows better than to argue when your mind is made up. "Just... be careful, okay?" he says, and you can tell he's trying to understand. You nod, grateful for his concern but knowing this is something you have to do for yourself.

Niki, always the joker, jumps into the conversation, trying to lighten the mood. . "I never liked Jeno anyway, you were too pretty for him, and he’s the clumsiest person to literally ever exist”. You can't help but laugh at Niki's attempt to make you smile. "Thanks, Niki," you say, playfully rolling your eyes. "But let's not get too carried away with the ego boost, okay?"

you glance over at jungwon, who clearly has not made a full recovery and is still very much regretting letting jake feed him shot after shot. it’s then you realize that you have no idea about saeroms whereabouts. that probably makes you the worst best friend known to man but in your defense, you had a pretty hectic morning. iyou catch sight of her walking out of jake’s room. confusion spreads across your face. why would she be in his room?

looking a little disheveled, she freezes as she notices everyone's eyes on her. The not-so-secret secret is out, and her cheeks turn a shade of pink.

"Guys, it's not what it looks like," Saerom stammers, but the knowing smiles and snickers from heeseung and sunghoon tell a different story.

You raise an eyebrow playfully. "you and jake? when did that happen?” Saerom bites her lip, trying to suppress a smile. "Okay, okay, maybe it's a little bit like what it looks like, and i’m sorry i didn’t tell you. i was afraid you’d be upset since yknow jake is heeseung’s friend and all" she admits. “trust me im more worried about you catching something from jake than him being my brothers friend” you tell her.

heeseung smiles, “trust me jake’s ONLY been sleeping with her”. you snap your head, giving her an offended look, “my BROTHER knew about this before me? ok now im hurt”. Sunghoon laughs, “it was kind of hard not to find out when they both clearly have a thing for exhibitionism”.

“ ok i think im gonna throw up now” jungwon says causing everyone to let out a laugh”.

niki gasps, “SO THIS is why you’ve been wanting to come to every ksana party??? i knew you were still a boring bitch”. “ok who invited him” saerom rolls her eyes. the sudden commotion in the room wakes sunoo, who had still be deep asleep on the couch next to niki. “what’s going on” he says in a groggy tone. “you don’t wanna know” sunghoon tells him.

you turn to him. Once again admiring his look, now put together as opposed to his disheveled state you encountered when you ran into him this morning. you made a mental note to thank him later for keeping an eye out for jungwon.

You can't help but feel grateful for your friends, even in the midst of reminiscing about your past. With their humor and love, you know you'll be able to face whatever comes your way.

later on back at your place, you catch Saerom up to speed on all the details. “that dick invited you his wedding???, what the fuck is his problem” saerom states with a tone of disgust. “i found it odd too but I think it’s what I need in order to finally close that chapter in my life” you say, assuring her.

“you now what this means right?” she presses. “no?” you ask, a bit confused as to what she has up her sleeve. “you need a date!” “yeah no” you quickly reply. “come on babes you can’t show up alone. you need to show him that you’ve moved on too and don’t care that he wasn’t the one for you”. you ponder her idea. it wouldn’t be so bad. it’d save you from the internal embarrassment of showing up to your ex’s wedding all alone, looking like some pathetic loser who came to drown in her sorrows at the sight of her first love being wedded away to a different woman. after more careful consideration, you reluctantly agree. saerom claps her hands in excitement. “where in the world am i going to find someone that’ll agree to being my date within 2 weeks?” you weren’t exactly the popular type around campus, despite being heeseungs little sister.

“i can ask jake, maybe he’ll know someone?” saerom suggests. you’re hesitant and take a moment to really think about your plan here. “we need to find someone you can be comfortable with. you’ll need to hold hands and do couple shit to make it beliveable”. Saerom tells you, a little to excited about the whole ordeal. you swallow, oh boy are you in for a ride.

taglist: @cornenhapovs @myjaeyuns @magssu @leeknowsgfsblog @luminouskalopsia @jentlecoeur @heeslut4life @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @jaeyungxrl @rapmonie2047 @anormieee @nishislcve @leesura @en-happiness @kimsunoops @heelariously @rikiwaify-blog @ihrtgyuuu @purennn @hoonharem @g0niki @hearts4itoshi @yongbokified @shuichi-sama @xiaoderrrr @hongshuaknow @skylaly @yzzyhee @jwnghyuns @heelovesmeknot @kookify

[jwhitewolfbarnes]

You just wanted to rile him up. Make him ache a little, stop giving in so easily. Show him that his pouty face with those baby blues isn’t all powerful like he thinks it is. You’re starting to regret that a tiny bit.

“Right there, John,” you breathe out as he pumps his hips into yours at a steady pace. His reaction is immediate; his hand comes up to grasp at your throat- applying firm, delicious pressure. He forces you to look in his eyes, “Stop fucking calling me that.” Each word punctuated with a sharp, brutal thrust as he moves your legs higher up on his hips. Your mouth drops open in reaction to his bed-shaking movements. “C’mon pretty girl, ya know what I want to hear. Say it, c’mon baby,” he pants out, staring right into your wide eyed face.

Regret may have started to set in, but it hasn’t fully won you over. Another approach, maybe?

“ah fuck Johnny, feels so good,” you manage to stutter out as he continues his punishing pace. His eyes flash with something and you think you might have won this round… until he stops. He moves to pull out, but you snap your legs around his waist before he can make it out all the way. “no, no, no! please Johnny, I’m so close. Please don’t stop baby.”

He chuckles as he drops his hand from your throat and leans down to press his body almost completely against yours. He kisses you, such a filthy and desperate display. “oh, I’m sorry baby… ya close?” His voice is sickeningly sweet as he mocks you, “if ya knew how to act right, I’d give ya exactly what this pussy needs. but yer being a fuckin brat. I just want one thing from ya, thas it. Ya need ma cock so bad, yeah? Say it an I’ll give ‘im back.” He pulls back, pushing your legs off of his waist with an ounce of his obvious strength. His dick slips all the way out as he grits his teeth and you whine. He maneuvers your legs up, hooking one into the crook of his elbow and stretching it outwards. Those fucking blue eyes, clouded over with lust, roam over your entire body. He smacks the tip of his dick on your clit a few times, before smiling cruelly up at you.

“One word an I’ll fill ya up just like ya need. Only good girls get ta cum, wan’ be a good girl? What’s ma name?” Tears are slipping from your eyes from where you’ve been forced away from the cliff of your orgasm. This is decision time, give in to that pretty face and get fucked within an inch of your life? Or say nothing and be forced to watch him jerk off on your stomach before leaving you without orgasm? Pride be damned.

You take in a shuddering breath, reaching up to card your fingers through his shaggy mohawk. You drag him close enough to kiss, and he comes willingly because he knows the battle is over, victory is his. He grins devilishly, knowing his prize is right on the horizon. You brush your lips against his before locking eyes with him and practically purr out the magic words.

“Please make me cum, daddy.” Before you can even blink, he’s fully sheathed inside you. He’s gripping the fat of your thigh and stomach by the handful. Nonsensical praise and filthy dirty talk pour out of him as he watches every last jiggle of your body’s reaction to him fucking you. He may think he’s won this battle, and sure the round may be a point for John, but you also got exactly what you wanted.

Later after he’s thoroughly fucked you, and himself, into exhaustion, you lie there tucked into his side contemplating the best method of revenge. John is blissfully ignorant to your scheming mind as he runs his fingers delicately along the ridges and rolls of your back. He presses loving kisses into your hairline, content to spend the rest of his night tucked impossibly close to your plush body. Glancing up at his unfairly attractive face, an idea forms as your eyes roam the column of his love-bitten neck… seems it might be time to see how potent John’s power is when he’s finally put on a short leash…

a/n: sorry for the poor attempt at a scottish accent :/

[bouncybongfairy]

I loved your fics with zuko, so I wanted to ask you if you could do another one? They were like training together and then he has her in a grip amd heavy smut ? You can change things if you want

🫶🏻

Hot and Heavy

Prince Zuko x Fem Reader Smut

Summary: After complaining about not feeling challenged enough in class, your teacher brings in Zuko for you to spar. He wins, not without throwing a couple of unnecessary jabs. Feelings bad, he finds you later for a rematch. Once he gets his hands on you for the second time, he finds it hard to let go.

Word Count: 1.0k+

TW: Smut.

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

Yesterday you’d complained to the bending instructor that things were too easy. That you didn’t feel challenged enough during class. You regretted this because it meant unknowingly sparing Zuko. There was something about him you couldn’t stand. Perhaps it was how cocky he could be or his uncontrollable anger. Whatever it was, it made your heart race whenever he was in your eyeline. The two of you were standing side by side in front of your teacher. 

“Since you’re wanting more of a challenge, Zuko is one of the best benders that’s your age,” he said. 

“Trust me if she was feeling invincible before this, she won’t after,” he said, looking you up and down before getting ready. 

Rolling your eyes before walking to your starting position. That little jab he made shook your nerves a bit, you trying to shake it off. Without waiting for the teacher to properly start the match, he just lunged. You jumped to the side and thought of a counter attack. The fire he was throwing towards you was so hot it burned your cheeks when it got close enough. He was trying his hardest to prove a point. That you didn’t have the physical merit to win. Dust and smoke were flying in the air, making it increasingly harder to see. No longer being able to see him, you were backing up trying to get distance. It wasn’t long before he shoved you onto the ground, pinning your body under him. You tried fighting back for a few moments but went limp after realizing there was no hope. 

“Challenged enough y/n?” your instructor asked as Zuko got off of you. Feeling embarrassed and prideful you dusted yourself off and walked away, saying nothing. 

“You’re welcome!” he called out to you aggressively. 

This comment stopped you in your tracks. Wanting to turn around and correct his arrogance but instead continuing home. Having enough confrontation for one day and not wanting to take on the daunting task of dealing with his anger issues. The walk home made you feel a bit better, the fresh air calming you down. Finally making it home and going to your room. Laying on your back and thinking about what happened; how you felt about it. Of course you were upset but the anger felt surface level. You knew he had a softer side because when he took you to the ground, he put his hand on the back of your head, in case it hit the pavement. There was something about that action that made your stomach twist and burn. Falling asleep while tossing these emotions around in your head. 

“Wake up! WAKE UP! The prince is here to see you, I don’t know why but get up and do your hair. He’s waiting, hurry!” your mother shook you awake. It didn’t register who was at the door as you sat half asleep fixing your hair. Your mom follows behind you, whispering things like ‘have good posture’ or ‘don’t bite your nails’ into your ear while approaching the door. 

“Hey, I was wondering if maybe we could talk?” Zuko asked. 

“About?” you asked, not sure where this was going. 

“Well, I just feel like I was a little too aggressive during our spar. I know how it feels to be unfairly overpowered. I shouldn’t have made those comments, I could have helped instead of just tearing you down. So I thought maybe I could show you a few corrections, if that’s okay… maybe,” he said nervously, which made you laugh a little. Staring at him for a couple moments to see if he was serious or not before responding,

“Do you wanna come in? Or did you have a place in mind?” you asked, trying to dull the grin on your face. 

He accepted your invitation in, complementing your mother on how well furnished the home was. She was on her way out to work, you were grateful for this. The last thing you needed was her watching from the window. He was standing before, in the exact same stance as from earlier. Your knees almost buckled from eye contact. He came at you slowly, walking you through how to block a certain attack. You weren’t really paying attention, he was grabbing your arms and showing where to put your hands. You were so flustered and this showed when he pinned you. 

“I’m starting to get the feeling you just want me on top of you,” he joked, tightening his grip on your wrists. While he was distracted, you flipped the two of you over. 

“So what if I do?” you asked, now straddling your hips. 

The tension was thick; so much adrenaline was running through your body, making your blood feel like it was buzzing. He grabbed you by the waist and brought you back to the ground. Pinning you to the pavement, grabbing your wrists so tight they started tingling. You were trying your best to free yourself but there was no escape. He was holding you down like you were about to evaporate into thin air. You press your lips against his which makes him loosen his grip.  

“Do you wanna go to my room?” you ask, both of you panting against each other's lips. 

He doesn’t verbally respond, instead he picks you up and has you navigate him to your room. Even as the two of you crawl onto the bed, he never lets go of you. Keeping at least one arm wrapped around you, pressing your body against his. Now starting to aggressively take the clothes off each other. Seeing how well defined his arms and stomach are was making your core melt. Looking down at you with such lush and need as your chest was exposed. He sits up on his knees and pulls his bottoms down. An involuntary moan escapes your mouth as you watch his length spring up against his stomach. 

“I’m gonna ride it,” you say, changing positions. 

“Not even a please?” he teased, pressing his back into your mattress. 

“I need it now,” you groan, climbing on top of him and sinking down. 

At first, stretching yourself around his cock caused a slight stinging. However being on top and being able to control the pace and depth made you feel more comfortable. Zuko was struggling to control himself, having to apologize every time his hips jerked on their own. As you started rocking your hips faster, he pressed kisses all over your face. Praising you for how well you worked himself on his cock. He wrapped his arms around your waist and held you against him. Your stomach was pressed against his, he took over and started frantically bucking hip. Pounding into you hard enough to make cum, clenching and tightening around his member. Grinding your hips down, trying to press his cock as deep as possible. Him following shortly after, jerking into you as your walls milked his cock. After the two of you rode out the oxytocin highs, he had to get back to the palace. Not giving you a quick peck and scheduling another ‘training session’ for tomorrow.

[dropthedemiurge]

Love for Love's Sake | Things you didn't notice (probably)

Finally, I am watching a good K-BL and can enjoy multi-layered meanings within language, culture and translated subs altogether (unlike with Thai series where I need to learn a new language again xD)

So I'll be pointing out some fun things that I noticed for fellow foreign viewers =) Beware of a long post!

Disclaimer: I'm not fluent in Korean, but I've been learning and using it for years + lived and studied in Korea for a while so I'm offering my perspective and knowledge but it might not be the Ultimate Truth

Episode 1

«I prefer lonely supporting characters instead of happy protagonists. Cha Yeowoon is still unhappy. ... - Where are you going? - To see my main (최애). I mean, Cha Yeowoon.»

The word Tae Myungha used to described Cha Yeowoon, as I heard, was actually 최애 (choe-ae). It's a slang that can be translated as "my favourite" and typically is used for K-pop group members, meaning "my bias" (think One True Pairing but One True Person instead). Then, as his fellow classmate gets confused, hearing such word referring to a popular student in their school, Tae Myungha changes to "I mean, Cha Yeowoon", and it works because the word and the name sound similar.

Myungha uses this word because in the intro he stated that Yeowoon is his favourite character in the book out of all. So basically, his first reaction was "- Where are you going? - I'm gonna run to find my blorbo&lt;3", which is so admirable. I'd also get obsessed with making happy my fav side character that was treated unfairly by creators :D

«Kids like chocolate, right? ... (Yeowoon grabs an icecream, Myungha grabs the same, adding with surprise:) Didn't see that coming. Bi-Bi-Big (비비빅)? You eat like an old man.»

What surprised Myungha there? That Yeowoon chose this icecream->

It's a traditional icecream that is made out of red beans. This taste is usually associated with older people (because typically kids like sweet things and older people like less sweet/bland tastes), also red beans or read bean paste is used in many traditional desserts in Korea. Yeah, who would've thought that a high schooler would choose this icecream out of all options?

Later, Myungha gets the message "You can compare Bi-Bi-Big to big Ba-Bum-Bar (another icecream with "old man taste" from chestnuts), why the hell would you eat it?" and gets confused as the message seems missent. I am confused as well, because Myungha wasn't the one choosing this icecream and Yeowoon wasn't typing in his phone. Considering that the phone number is unknown, I can guess that it might be a commentary from the book's author who's watching Myungha playing his story game? Let's figure it out in the next episodes!

«- You eat like an old man. - Do you play sports? - No. - Weird. You're a whiner like I've always heard. - Kids these days have no manners.»

My quick translation->

«- You eat like an old man. - Sunbae, do you play sports? - No. - Strange. You sound like one of those older jerks (꼰대). - Kids these days have no manners.»

More on the differences between Tae Myungha and Cha Yeowoon:

Myungha tried to poke Yeowoon about his "old man tastes", and Yeowoon called him out for his conservative/stereotypical thinking.

Yeowoon keeps calling Myungha sunbae (because he knows MH's a senior in their school so he must be polite), and Myungha REALLY TALKS LIKE AN OLD MAN to him ("Kids these days" in the subs does translate this style of speech correctly! I'm glad). We all know he's much older before he was thrown into high school times (~25-30yo?), but his words and intonations really make you feel like he's 50-60yo or something xD

Yeowoon doesn't like this at all, though, so he calls Myungha a sort of derogatory term 꼰대 (kkondae), which is used to described old conservative people who are set in their ways and keep nagging and scolding young people for not behaving properly. And, as a runner, he implies that there are senior sportsmen that are hazing or nagging younger sportsmen like this as well, that's who Myungha reminds him of. No wonder the affection stats fell down in the minus zone so hard!

There you go, guys, these are my comments on the first episode of Love for Love's sake! It is filmed so well, I like the idea, and I really enjoyed it (if this one gets really popular just like Semantic Error, we might get more BLs about gamers or gamedevs and I WILL LOVE IT I am so here for it, hehe)

Stay tuned for more as I watch next episodes :]

[bogleech]

Guess I have to make a main thread about this. Someone decided to fight with me in the notes on this post just yesterday about Gaza and made select responses of mine into a callout thread here, where they say my anger towards the IDF is all a cover for antisemitism. This didn't make any sense, because they said they were also against the IDF killing civilians, and I repeatedly said that Jewish people aren't to blame for the IDF or represented by the IDF in any way, putting us supposedly both on the exact same page. What gerry leaves out of their own screenshots, and I'd actually forgotten, is that at first they came at me from an angle that I was disrespecting the victims in Gaza.

So this implies they feel gaza is being subjected to a genocide, and a pretty big one, since they're upset my language made it sound "smaller and tamer." When it becomes obvious that I do in fact consider it a serious genocide, that's when they switch over to saying that my criticism of Netanyahu or the IDF is inherently an attack on Jewish people.

Notice I never actually said "zionists" in this screenshot, even, but that I defined "regular humans" as humans who don't want to kill innocent families. That would automatically include Jewish people since they overall do not wish to kill anyone, but have in fact spent quite a lot more time trying not to get killed. I believe there may be entire books about this fact! I think there's even whole museums about it, if I'm not mistaken?!

So then they pivot to saying I'm an antisemite because I said the IDF and its supporters can "burn in hell," and they say "invoking hell" is an antisemitic dogwhistle, which is definitely news to me?!

So I tried to clarify, again, that I'm only angry at the people who are themselves killing civilians and the "pro-genocide maniacs" who defend the killing of civilians, which they responded to as if I had "lumped them in" with those. You can just see right there that I didn't make any assumption that they were a part of that at all. Thanks to their earlier comments I still thought I was speaking to someone 100% against the IDF's actions, but every time I said that the killers and their advocates alone are bad, they've framed it in some new way as me just not liking anyone Jewish. So now that you have that context:

...In a response to an ask, they finally just say they hated me to begin with and set out with the intention to "bait and sealion" me (their own words!!) into saying something they hoped would be antisemitic, which they believe was successful despite me never saying anything about Jews other than "this isn't their fault." They saw what they admittedly wanted to, so strongly, that they show me saying "this isn't the fault of Jews" as evidence that I blame Jews. But speaking of people "going mask off"

In multiple more recent posts and asks, this person appears to say that they simply do not believe the IDF is really targeting children or ambulances or relief aid, that "none of those are true," and the deliberate targeting of any children is supposedly just a conspiracy theory??? So I guess they did successfully troll me and I feel like a real gullible dumbass, because the only reason I continued responding to this person in the first place was that they said they were in fact against the ongoing massacre. Instead, these comments sound like they think the IDF is being unfairly vilified by dishonest propagandists, and that's why they hated me enough to try and fish for callout fuel. That's the nastiest fucking thing anyone's yet pulled on me about this and it's not one that I'm just going to ignore. I should have smelled a troll early on and just blocked them, but it's SO hard for me to suspect ulterior motives. I always go in thinking people mean well, and that there's just a miscommunication we can work out. I almost feel like this individual noticed that and tried to exploit it?!? Unfortunately I'm sure this kind of thing will happen again simply because I don't intend to obediently shut up about what's being done to Gaza. It's not logistically possible for the death and destruction to all just be accidental collateral damage. Don't let anybody ever fool you into thinking the IDF is the face of the Jewish community or vice-versa, just as you can't let anyone fool you into thinking Hamas represents all Palestinians. Especially don't engage this person, stop doing so if you have been, and block them.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Can I request Luke castellan dating head canons where reader is the child of hades who is pretty shy, hates confrontation, but is super artistic

Luke loves being relied upon, especially by you, and would reassure you on several occasions that he would come running should you even whisper his name in a plea for help.

He loves being of help to you and will take advantage of all the times where he got to bring a little sense of peace into your life, knowing that he had a hand in bringing you back from the edge whenever you needed him to be that voice of reason, telling you that everything will be okay.

Luke is protective over you.

Everyone in camp half blood were more then aware of how protective Luke is over you and it’s made even more evident whenever someone -ares children specifically- tried to back you into a corner and dupe you into a position where you’d have to physically fight back against them in order for them to leave you alone.

Luke knew that most of camp wouldn’t intervene for one of two reasons;

a) they were still very much on edge with you being a forbidden child of the big three, Hades no less, and they were terrified of the consequences of their actions should they do something.

B) no one wants to get into the crosshairs of a temperamental ares kid. It was an unspoken rule in camp to never be in the line of sights of an ares kid itching for a fight.

So Luke is the only soul brave enough to step in between you and the Ares kid and defuse the situation with a few choice words and a humiliating fast ass whooping; Needless to say Luke didn’t take too kindly to others engaging in unnecessary confrontations with you, knowing damn well it’ll be one sided on your end as you took great care to reframe from engaging in conflicts of any kind.

Luke knows he’s a well liked and respected guy at camp and will reap those benefits without a second thought for your comfort at every opportunity given to him. For whatever you wished to have, Luke would give it to you in abundance, no hesitation.

Your shyness only fuels Luke’s protective nature as he would more often then not act as your voice in situations where you didn’t feel as though you could access your own voice. Ie: asking for help, making appointments, ordering food/drink, setting up and reinforcing your boundaries when they’re being unfairly crossed, etc.

He’s your biggest supporter and will offer silent encouragement or reminders that he’s with you every step of the way by different methods meant to calm and ground you in reality with him such as;

Taking in soft hush tones in instances where you felt overwhelmed by everything.

Holding hands/tracing your palm to bring your focus onto one thing.

Slinging his arm over your shoulder to make you aware of his close proximity.

or just staying incredibly close to you so that you’d feel his presence nearby and be reminded that you weren’t alone and would never be alone knowing that he was always in your corner. No matter what; He’s loyal like that.

Anything and everything he did was to ease the stress upon your shoulders and make you focus on him rather than the thing that was causing you such internal distress. He doesn’t want you to face anything unsavoury alone and will do anything and everything to prove that with him nearby, everything was going to be okay and that you didn’t need to hurt yourself to feel or act normal in everyday circumstances.

His response to anyone who asked why he was with you, he’d always responded with;

‘They shine. Not brightly, not loudly and whilst you might not see it at first but they do indeed shine in a softer way, as though they were cast within a watercolour painting. They smile soft, laugh quietly and keep to themselves but to me, y/n couldn’t be shinning more brighter in those tender, slower moments and that’s what makes them so unique and enticing that I couldn’t stop loving them even if I tried.’

You defiantly overheard this once by pure coincidence and have never forgotten as a smile was permanently stuck on your lips for the rest of the day.

Quality time in the Hades cabin! Luke often jokes about how gothic and borderline vampiric it felt and one day you replied with;

‘It’s like living in Dracula’s expensively furnished dungeon more so than a windowless cabin meant for the children of Hades.’ Needless to say that Luke loved the moments where he could see you act like your truest self, even if it was within the confines of your cabin, but Luke was more then willing to take what he could get. He thrived off of being quite possibly being the only person in camp who got the honour is seeing you speak above a mutter and see you making dry jokes about your fellow campers.

He loved seeing the you he always knew was there for he only ever saw you for you and never the ever so feared child of Hades. He knows how much you hate the stigmatism that came with such a burden but that didn’t meant you weren’t any less proud of who you were and your god given talents.

Talking about talents, your one talent didn’t derive from your godly father and more so from copious amounts of practice and dedication to the craft of art and its multiple forms and styles.

Luke discovered this hidden talent of yours by mistake but upon seeing the level of detail you put into each art piece along with your seemingly effortless ability to execute beautiful pieces no matter what your style of choice was; which was proven especially true when he first looked upon a landscape drawing of the strawberry fields, made entirely in charcoal.

‘It’s not that great.’ You said once.

‘Not that great?! Babe!’ Luke exclaimed as he took in how you added the Satyrs and their reed pipes alongside the children of Demeter using their magic in making the strawberries grow. It was so detailed that Luke thought he was looking out of a window and out onto the very same strawberry fields. You even went as far as to capture the gleaming lake and the canoes skimming across its surface, even adding a group of Naiads weaving their wicker baskets in harmony. Hell you even managed to draw in the Big House for fucks sake!

‘This is fantastic! You’re so talented sweetheart!’ Luke praised as he swamped you in kisses all across your face, hands and wherever else he could, causing you to smile dopey as you melted into your boyfriend’s never ending affection.

‘Do you have anymore that I can see?’ He asked, not wanting to pressure you into letting him see more of your art if you weren’t comfortable with it, but instead you beamed and left to grab several sketchbooks that were filled to the brim with your other sketches dating back before your arrival to camp, which meant Luke seeing endless amount of the sketches you had of him participating in activities.

Luke saw this and immeditly resorted to teasing you as he nudged your side. ‘I must be quite the muse if I make up half of your sketchbook. Or someone has a crush on me.’ He practically sang as you smack his arm lightly.

‘Pack it in, we’re already dating.’

‘Still I think it’s cute that I had such an effect on you because at least I can rest easy knowing that our liking towards the other was always mutual.’ Luke replied, pressing a kiss to your head as he brought you closer as you both looked over your other sketches of camp and its inhabitants.

He might ask to keep a few sketches that he could look at whenever he needed something to feel closer to you. Or to look at before going to sleep in his cabin at night.

He might try to get you to each him how to draw but whether or not he’s good at it is up for debate.

However creating art together makes for phenomenal date nights.

All in all, Luke is just proving himself to being a caring, sweet and charming boyfriend who will always be in your corner.

[roanofarcc]

WING-MAN

pairing. pete martino x ghost!reader

summary. (requested) in an attempt to help pete woo alberta, you realize your feelings for him may stretch a bit beyond friendship. 

warnings. dead!reader, gender-neutral reader, slightly awkward reader, miscommunication, idiots in love.

word count. 2k || masterlist

“I think you’re overthinking this.” 

“I overthink everything!” Pete groaned, hiding his face in his hands. A part of you found his fretting endearing, showcasing how much he cared about every single detail of his plan. But the other part of you felt sourness encroach into the pit of your stomach, unfairly so. It had started happening more and more those days, a bitterness twisted uncomfortably where fondness had once sat. If you had been alive, you would have blamed it on a bad meal or a shift in the weather, but your death ruled out both of those options. The root of the issue was unknown, kind of; it was more unacknowledged by you. 

And you’d continue to ignore it because it was the right thing to do, you believed. Instead, you shifted all of your focus onto your friend and his ongoing crisis and crush on Alberta. 

“Come on, Pete,” you said softly, coaxing him out of his fit. “This’ll work. It’s a long game you’ve got to play, but if she feels the same, she’ll realize it sooner or later.” 

“And if she doesn’t?” he asked, a frown pulled on his lips. 

You sighed. You hated seeing him like that, down on himself. He certainly didn’t have the most confidence in himself, but you wished he had more. Pete was sweet, sickeningly so. And you knew that wasn’t exactly Alberta’s cup of tea, but people changed their minds all of the time, especially in death. Maybe all she needed was to see how much Pete cared about her, then perhaps she’d give him a real chance. 

“You’ve gotta have some faith in yourself, okay? Do you want me to talk to her first? I can butter her up and talk you up.” 

“You’d do that for me?” he asked like he didn’t know you’d do just about anything for him. 

You stood up from your seat with a soft smile as you crossed the room. “Of course, Pete,” you said before you slipped out of the room and set your sights on Alberta during her daily ‘Alexa’ time, listening to music in solitude until Sam or Jay needed to use the odd little robot for their questions or to play music that wasn’t old jazz tunes. 

“Knock knock,” you said, peeking your head into the room. Alberta turned around with furrowed brows. She didn’t look as annoyed when she realized it was you, but she still huffed and told Alexa to turn down the music. “Hi.” 

“Hi,” she said. “What do ya’ need?” 

You hesitated, unsure of how to subtly bring up Pete. Maybe the point was to stop being subtle and dancing around the idea of Alberta and Pete. Maybe they just needed to get things out in the open and it was your job to get the ball rolling, for the sake of your friends. 

“Can we talk for a minute?” you asked her, twisting your hands in front of you in a nervous habit. She looked confused but nodded anyway. “It’s about you and Pete.” 

Alberta sighed deeply and rolled her eyes out of habit. “Honey, there is no me and Pete.” 

“But there could be,” you stressed. “I know you used to date people different than him, but you won’t even give him a chance. How do you know he’s not the one for you if you won’t even hear him out?” 

Alberta studied you for a long moment, long enough to make you feel scrutinized under her gaze. Maybe you overstepped, but it was growing tiresome listening to Pete’s longing. You could only handle so much more of it. If he and Alberta just got together, then maybe the sour pit in your stomach would give up trying to poison the rest of you and you’d resort to pouring all of your feelings onto something or someone else inside the mansion. 

“Sit,” she instructed, gesturing to the couch. You obliged, taking a seat before she followed suit. “Have you ever been in love before?” 

Your eyes widened at the question, unsure of why she’d ask such a thing when you were trying to talk about her love life, not yours. “I don’t know,” you admitted. It had been a while since you were alive. The idea of love used to scare you, but you always thought you’d have some understanding of it before you died. Sure, you had crushes in your lifetime and a couple of partners but nothing that ever stuck. Love was a big word with a lot packed into it.

“Well, I have,” she said, a found but sad smile on her lips. “I like Pete. He is sweet but he’s not somethin’ I’m looking for, not when it comes to love. And you can’t force these things. Like or love, it’s not something you can talk yourself or someone into. Pete is a good guy, one of the best, but he’s not the one for me and I’m not the one for him. Sooner or later he’s gotta realize that.” 

You don’t know why you felt relieved at her words. Pete was going to be crushed. You should have been too because all you wanted was to see him happy. But instead, all you felt was a breath of fresh enter your lungs, knocking back the bitter feeling slightly. Did that make you a bad friend? 

She must’ve caught the conflicted set of emotions that shined in your eyes because she reached out, holding your hands with a gentle squeeze. “If I did like Pete, I would tell him. That’s all you can do.” 

“But you don’t,” you said, and she nodded, clarifying once more for you. 

“And you?” 

You blinked, pulling your hands away with an uncomfortable laugh. “And me what?” 

“Come on,” she groaned. “Don’t tell me you’re doing all of this for him because you’re just a good friend? I know when someone’s lovesick. And you’ve got one of the worst cases I’ve ever seen.” 

You scoffed; your gut twisted. “I-I do not!” you protested, shooting up from your seat. “I am his friend. This is what friends do-” 

“Nah-uh. Friends tell friends when they’re pursuin’ the wrong person. If you were just his friend, you would’ve told him a long time ago that I am not the person for him. But you’re so blind and sick with your feelings, that you’d do anything for him. That includes helping him try to win me over when you’re the one crushin’ on him. You’re deflecting, too scared to admit that you like him.” 

You felt exposed, open like a wound in front of Alberta. You crossed your arms over your chest, your skin hot and your stomach in knots. “I-I…” You couldn’t fight back because she looked right through you. All it took was a final, knowing gaze from her to make you crumble. You fell back onto the couch and buried your head in your hands. 

She placed a hand on your back, rubbing soft circles in an attempt to soothe you, but you weren’t sure you could be soothed. That was not supposed to happen. You were supposed to help Pete with the person he actually liked. How were you supposed to face him and tell him not only did Alberta not return his affection but instead you had a stupid, unrequited crush on him that would probably ruin your friendship? You wanted to cry. 

“Hey, look at me,” Alberta instructed and you forced yourself to peer out from behind your hands. She smiled softly at you. “No matter what, you’re going to be just fine. But speak your mind, tell him how you feel. Okay?” 

You felt like you were facing down the inevitable. One way or another, while stuck in eternity at Woodstone, you wouldn’t be able to hide your feelings forever. But you didn’t anticipate having to spill them so soon. 

Walking about the room, maybe you would have garnered enough confidence to broach the subject if you had till the following day; maybe if you had a chance to sleep on it, the idea would have become less daunting. But you didn’t make it but one step out of the room before you came face to face with Pete who was standing stuck in place right on the other side of the door. To say you were mortified was an understatement. 

Your mouth hung open as you two simply stared at each other for a long moment. Finally, you broke through your surprise at his appearance and cleared your throat. “Pete,” you breathed out. “What’re you doing?” 

He too shook himself out of his daze and flickered his eyes between the closed door and you. “You were taking a while and I just…” he trailed off. 

Your face felt hot as embarrassment crept up your spine. “How much of that did you hear?” 

He rolled his lips into his mouth, something he did right before he was going to lie, but he stopped himself and shook his head. “How much did you want me to hear?” 

“None of it.” 

“Oh, right, well…” He answered your question without actually answering it. You wanted to run away, maybe start a new ghost life with the basement ghosts to avoid a rejection you thought was coming. 

“I’m sorry!” you blurted out. “That wasn’t…you weren’t…oh boy.” 

“You like me?” Pete said after a beat, his voice soft and quiet in the middle of the hall. You were sure Alberta was listening from the other side of the room, ready to grab you if you tried to make a break for it. Your silence was his answer. “For how long?” 

Ducking your head, you blew some air from your cheeks. “A while.” Somewhere along the way, your friendship with Pete had turned into a crush that you thought you would get over. But it stayed, lingering in your mind as you tried to push it out because he so obviously liked Alberta. 

A let out a breathy laugh of disbelief. “You’re kiddin’ me?” Regret bubbled up in your stomach. Pete was a nice guy and he’d never say something to outright make you feel bad, but you still feared the worst for a moment. 

“But you like Alberta and I didn’t want-” he cut you off before you could fully explain. 

“I thought you were pushing me to talk to Alberta because you didn’t like me!” 

You sputtered for a response; your mouth failing to find the words within the swirling questions inside your head. “What?” was all you could get out. 

“If I would have known you…” Pete trailed off with a heavy sigh. 

With a shake of your head, you recalled when you found out Pete liked Alberta. You had overheard him talking to Sass about it. Since then, you thought your chance was completely gone because someone else held his affection, which was why you tried so hard to help him. You thought you’d been doing him a favor, hiding your feelings and helping him try to win over Alberta. 

“You told Sass years ago that you had feelings for someone in the house: Alberta. You told me yourself after you caught me eavesdropping.” 

Pete’s eyes widened. “I lied! I was worried you overheard me talking to Sass about my feelings for you. So I panicked and said I had been talking about Alberta.” 

“So this whole time you liked me and I liked you but we-”

“-thought the other didn’t feel the same.” he finished your thought, rounding off the sentence with a laugh full of disbelief and frustration. How did that even happen? How did two people who spent nearly every moment with each other become completely oblivious to the feelings of the other? It must have been some cruel joke the universe played on two ghosts already dealt not the best deck of cards. Or maybe and more likely, you’d both been so blinded by your want to remain friends that you completely pushed off the idea the other reciprocated feelings. 

“Oh.”

“Oh…” 

“Oh, my god.” Alberta’s voice appeared as she stuck her head through the door, peering between you and Pete with raised brows. “And now what are you two gonna do about it, huh?” 

You and Pete shared a look, both a little unsure but it was overshadowed by a creeping smile that couldn’t stay hidden. Pete cleared his throat and wiped his hands off on his shorts. “Would you want to go on a walk, maybe?” 

Your smile shined even brighter as you nodded. “I would love to.” 

[celestialtarot11]

How to Turn Your Situation Into Something Positive 🍵💗

Hi friends! Welcome to another PAC reading where we’ll be looking at how to transform any current situations you’re in! Keep in mind there are many different groups here and there will be messages which you won’t resonate with, just leave it for someone else 😊❤️ Please like, comment and reblog to share the love ☮️

Pile 1 🌟- Hi there pile 1’s! Someone definitely did ya’ll dirty in a situation and it left you feeling sad and lonely. A loss was created because someone handled a situation unfairly, and you’ve been feeling very down. This situation felt like it was weighing on your chest, and possibly there was a misunderstanding of feelings, or someone took something the wrong way and blew up here. And I feel like you took the brunt of the situation for a long time. I feel like this is something that was happening for a long time, and you’ve been wanting justice to come to this situation, or karma to hit that person to show them where they went wrong. Its also very possible for some of you this person reached out and reignited those triggers and you’re finding it difficult to be compassionate towards them. Your anger is understandable and so are your triggers, I feel like spirit is saying it’s important to know your boundaries in this situation and have your back. Look after you first. There are/were people who benefitted from you having no boundaries because they liked the feeling of power, and that needs to change. There’s this feeling of stepping up or no longer accepting their bullshit, which I’m so proud of you pile 1! Know your worth and value. Thats how you turn this situation into a positive one. Knowing your true worth and value will help you walk away from anything that is less than what you want. This person could be bread-crumbing you and as of now you’re done with that energy! Im also hearing whilst its very understandable you’d wish someone their own karma, spend your time wishing yourself the blessings you’ve always wanted instead. Feed yourself empowerment and start thinking “how can I support myself now?” be there for yourself pile 1, and also once you heal you begin to see a lot of things that you didn’t before. Within yourself and everyone else. Happy healing pile 1 💗🌟 Wishing you the best! Please like comment and reblog to support this blog ✨

Pile 2 ☮️- Hi there pile 2! ❤️🌟 Welcome to your reading. For you I see you need to distance yourself from a community or situation here and really really focus on your self confidence. Your esteem, body, and health. There’s something about getting your life in order and no longer letting external factors or people tell you what to do. Become your own boss in this situation. Some of you need to take an active role in this situation as well and know you’re the shit! 💗 like speaking up, setting boundaries, deciding what YOU’ll do, not focusing on them. You’re everything anyone could ever want, and some of you may have forgotten that. Your true power is meant to come out in this situation. What would help as well is remaining unbothered by this person or situation. I’m hearing it’s a silly situation, for some of you. Like petty high school drama. There could be someone trying to compete with you and show they are the best, but truthfully insecurities are loud, confidence is quiet. I’m hearing from spirit let them make a fool out of themselves because they are responsible for themselves only! What they say and what they do is on them. Continue working on yourself because I feel like whoever this is, is trying to undermine your confidence or skill, and you won’t stand for it and shouldn’t! 😤 I also feel like spirit will be giving you messages in your dreams about this situation so definitely sleep with amethyst, clear quartz or lavender herb under your pillow. If not allergic, drink lavender and chamomile before you bed ✨either way I feel like your presence is truly amazing and its like royalty, and what you need to know is that don’t give those haters your attention. Focusing on yourself is literally the best outcome here. Thank you pile 2’s! Please like comment and reblog to spread the love 💗🌹

Pile 3 ⌛️- Hi there pile 3’s! First of all I just want to ask if ya’ll are okay? 🥹❤️ Ya’ll seem to be going through it. Either a relationship with someone got unhealthy and controlling, or there has been a loss and you’re struggling to cope with it. Spirit is offering a lot of support and healing right now, and although you may not see it or feel it, spirit is protecting you heavily now. There’s a veil around you. I also feel that this ending was necessary because it was getting toxic, controlling and brought out the worse. I think someone here had to make a decision to choose themselves over toxicity. And it’s okay to hurt by that too. Honor and acknowledge your loss without shaming yourself for making the healthy choice 💗 I received the Queen Of Cups so I feel like there’s something about focusing on your growth and healing now. “Let growth be your mission. Let healing be your reward. Let freedom be your goal.” I love this quote and I go by it. Spirit wanted me to share it with ya’ll. I feel like ya’ll have been working on your healing for a long time and revisited something of the past, and its been tough processing it. In a way, its allowing this new version of you to come through and grow every time 💗🥹 This new version of you has a lot of emotional abundance and knowledge, and is definitely patient and caring. I feel like your higher self is coming through to also say it’s important to feed yourself kind words. If harsh words worked it would’ve worked a long time ago is what I heard too. Call yourself the names you wish to be called, like nicknames, talk gently, and use respectful words to yourself the way you would with anyone else ✨💗 I feel like you guys used to give everyone your secret wisdom, or the things you’ve healed from like all of that information, and now you are being asked to remain private and selective about it. This will help you a lot in this situation to focus on yourself. Thank you for being here pile 3 and I sincerely hope this helped you ❤️🌟 Please like comment and reblog to help this blog grow 🌟😊

Thank ya’ll for stopping by! Its highly appreciated and I really hope this PAC got ya’ll the clarity you needed ❤️🥹 Thank ya’ll for being here always.

Paid Readings 💗✨

[mmso-notlikethat]

well i read @a-mel0n tags here , and this happened

Do i believe Buck speaks like this? Not really. Do i still want him to? Mhmm, so I'm making him say it 🙂‍↕️

the soft glow of the floor lamp, its light pooling over the couch where Tommy sat, a book resting in his hands. His reading glasses perched neatly on his nose as his eyes scanned the pages with quiet focus.

Buck, sprawled on the other end of the couch, had been pretending to scroll through his phone, but his attention had drifted. Instead, he found himself watching Tommy.

The way the light hit Tommy’s face, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw and the faint crow’s feet around his eyes, his eyes that were sparkling with every subtle motion, made Buck’s chest flutter. The reading glasses only added to the effect, making him look unfairly handsome and yet... softer.

“You know,” Buck said suddenly, breaking the silence, “you look way too good in those glasses.”

Tommy didn’t look up from his book. “Distracting you?” he asked, his voice tinged with amusement.

“Obviously,” Buck replied, sitting up. With a grin that promised trouble, he pushed himself off the couch and walked over. Before Tommy could react, Buck slid onto his lap, straddling him as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

Tommy blinked, startled but amused. “Evan,” he said, his hands instinctively settling on Buck’s hips. “What are you doing?”

“Making sure I have your full attention,” Buck teased.

“You always have my attention,” Tommy said softly.

“Not when you’ve got these on,” Buck countered, plucking Tommy’s reading glasses off and placing them carefully on the coffee table. He leaned in closer, his face close enough that Tommy could feel his breath, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief and affection. “There. Now I can see you properly.”

Tommy’s ears turned pink, a blush creeping up his neck. “You’re staring,” he muttered.

“I am,” Buck admitted, leaning in closer. “Because your eyes? They’re incredible, Tommy.”

His breath hitched, but he didn’t look away. Buck’s voice was soft, filled with a kind of affection that made Tommy’s heart stutter.

“Your right eye,” Buck began, his thumb brushing lightly over Tommy’s cheekbone, “is this perfect, clear metallic blue—like polished water under sunlight. It’s so vibrant, so alive, like it’s holding a spark of light specifically for me. And the way it catches the light—it’s stunning, Tommy. Like polished steel touched by sunlight.”

Tommy blinked, his breath catching, unsure how to respond to the words catching him off guard, sinking in too quickly. But Buck wasn’t finished.

“But your left eye?” Buck continued, shifting slightly so their faces were closer, his gaze locking onto it. “It’s something else entirely. The way the green swirls with the blue, and that soft hazel threaded through—it’s like the colors can’t decide who gets to shine, so they just work together. It’s stunning, like a masterpiece hidden just for me to find.”

Tommy’s breath hitched, his heart thudding wildly in his chest. “No one’s ever noticed that before,” he admitted quietly, his voice almost a whisper.

“Well,” Buck said softly, grinning widely, “then they weren’t really looking. It’s impossible to miss if you’re paying attention.” His grin softened, full of quiet affection “How could I not? It’s subtle, but it’s there. Like a secret hidden in plain sight, something you’d only catch if you took the time to really look. And I’ve looked, Tommy. Believe me, I’ve looked.”

Buck smiled, tilting his head as he studied Tommy’s eyes further, his voice dropping into an awestruck murmur. “When you move, it changes. The blue catches the light, but the green—it shifts, like moss under running water. It’s not just the color, though. It’s the way your eyes hold so much. Like they’ve seen the whole world, every heartbreak, every laugh, every quiet moment, and they’re still so full of life. It’s mesmerizing.”

“And,” Buck added, his thumb lightly tracing the edge of Tommy’s cheekbone, “it’s the way they soften when you smile. The way they crinkle just here—” his thumb brushed over the faint lines at the corner of Tommy’s eye, “like they’re carrying all your joy. You can’t hide anything from me when I look at them. They tell me everything, Tommy.”

“These little lines? They’re my favorite. They show every laugh, every grin, every bit of joy. They make you... you.”

Tommy’s breath hitched, smiling faintly his blush deepening as Buck’s words sank in. Buck leaned closer, his lips just a breath away, and added in a quiet, almost reverent tone, “Your eyes... they’re the most extraordinary thing I’ve ever seen.”

Without waiting for a response, Buck leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of Tommy’s right eye. He lingered for a moment before kissing the corner of the left, the touch feather-light.

Not done yet, Buck’s lips brushed the faint lines at the corners of Tommy’s eyes, his kisses deliberate, as if sealing his words into the very skin they touched. Finally, he kissed Tommy’s lips, slow and tender, pouring every ounce of his affection into the gesture.

Tommy opened his eyes, his gaze meeting Buck’s. He was speechless, utterly overwhelmed by the depth of Buck’s tenderness.

When Buck pulled back, his grin was warm, teasing. “There,” he said, his voice light, though his gaze remained earnest. “Now I’ve properly appreciated them.”

Tommy stared at him for a long moment, flushed, but a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “You’re amazing,” he muttered, his voice shaky but full of fondness.

“And you’re blushing,” Buck teased, grinning wider.

Tommy shook his head with a quiet laugh, then, without warning, he shifted and tackled Buck onto the couch, pinning him down as a burst of laughter escaped.

“Hey!” Buck protested, laughing as Tommy hovered over him, his knees bracketing Buck’s sides.

“You think you can just get away with that?” Tommy teased, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Before Buck could respond, Tommy leaned down and began peppering his face with kisses—his forehead, his cheeks, his jaw. Buck’s laughter filled the room, loud and unrestrained, as he tried—and failed—to squirm away.

“Tommy! Stop!” Buck cried, his voice full of laughter.

“Not a chance,” Tommy replied, grinning as he kissed the tip of Buck’s nose.

Finally, Tommy stopped his assault, collapsing onto Buck’s chest with a satisfied sigh. Buck wrapped his arms around him, still laughing, his heart pounding with happiness.

“You’re insane,” Buck said breathlessly, his grin wide.

“Good thing I love you, or you’d be in so much trouble,” Tommy shot back, his voice muffled against Buck’s shoulder.

Buck’s laughter softened into a warm smile. “Lucky for both of us, you do,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to Tommy’s temple.

The eyes in question:

[violinist-rachel]

Fluster

It’s the end of the day and the sun is starting to set. Karl is leaning against a wooden support beam, somberly looking outside.

Karl: "Hm. Time passes unfairly quickly when you're here..."

He turns to Rachel. Karl: "I suppose you have to go soon?"

Rachel: "Yes... It appears so..."

Rachel looks down at the inside of her violin case. She tucks away her instrument and its bow so that they remain in place within their molds. A question pesters her, causing her to fidget nervously while Karl continues to quietly look at the sunset.

Finally, Rachel breaks the silence.

---

Rachel: "Karl?"

Karl: "?"

Rachel: "Forgive me if this is a rude question, but can you really not feel anything?"

He gives her a skeptical look. Karl: "I don't know… This conversation's starting to feel a little painful, if you ask me."

Rachel: "O-oh... I'm sorry... I shouldn't have said anything..."

Karl (waving his hands): "I'm kidding! I'm kidding. But last I've checked, statues don't have any nerve endings."

"Why do you ask?"

Rachel looks down at Karl's foot. Rachel: "Well... You almost lost your leg from those crocodiles that one time... But even if you did, would it have hurt? In any way at all?"

“That’s what she’s worried about?” He thinks to himself, bemused.

Karl: "I can feel things, but probably not in the sense you're thinking of."

"I can 'feel' the tugging and impact of forces hitting me, and I can 'feel' my limbs in the sense that I can still move them, even when they're detached. But I have to admit, I barely have an idea of what you humans consider 'pain'..."

He pauses.

"Not that I'm envious. It doesn't look like a good time."

---

Rachel: "Does that mean you can sense if something's on you?"

Karl grins wryly. Karl: "I'll always be able to tell if it's you, but we can test that if you're curious..."

Rachel blushes lightly and pushes Karl playfully by his shoulder. Rachel: "Karl-! Do you even know what you're saying..?!"

Karl (clapping): "Haha! Your reaction's really all I need to know! You're so cute when you're flustered."

Rachel (flustered): "Y-You…! Ahh!! Stop teasing me-!!"

Karl laughs at her again.

Karl: "But to answer your question, it depends on the object. If it were something light, like a bug, then probably not."

Rachel: "Let's say you were to balance a heavy book on your head. Would you feel it?"

Karl: "An odd thing to put on your head, but I might be able to feel its weight. Heavy can be relative, after all."

Rachel: "What about water? Do you feel damp when you're drenched?"

Karl: "Thankfully, my resin coating makes it glide right off me, like water off a duck's back! So… no."

Rachel: "How about temperature? Do you feel bothered by hot or cold weather?"

Karl: "Not particularly. Though, I can feel the effects of it; the cold makes me more rigid, so I feel myself using more energy to move around"

Rachel: "I see..."

---

Karl eyes her curiously. Karl: "Why the sudden interest, though?"

Rachel: "Hm?"

Karl: "Gasp! Could it be?" Karl: "Are you, perhaps, interested in learning about my body more... intimately?"

Rachel (amused): "Karl..."

Karl (coyly): "Because if you want, I can teach you everything you want to know, and more."

Rachel scoffs and rolls her eyes at him. She ponders a bit before her eyes light up and suddenly, her expression turns mischievous.

Rachel: "And what if I take you up on that offer?"

Karl raises an eyebrow. Karl: "Oh?"

---

Rachel starts advancing closer to him.

Rachel: "I've always been curious about you, Karl. And I've been wondering how you'd feel if you were put in... certain situations..."

Rachel doesn't break eye contact, gazing at him as she closes the distance with an expression that makes him nervous, and yet, excited at the same time.

Karl: "For example...?"

Rachel: "For example..."

She puts her hand on his chest, pushing against him with just enough force to make him lean against the wooden support.

Rachel: "Would you be able to feel my weight if I sat on top of you?"

Rachel rests her other hand against the support and brings her hand up to lightly caress his lips with her fingertips.

Rachel: "Would you be able to feel the moisture of my lips if I were to press them against yours?"

She moves her hand onto Karl's shoulder and leans forward, her face inches away from his face.

Rachel: "Would you be able to feel the heat radiating from me if you were close enough to hear my heart beat?"

She gazes at him intently. Rachel: "I'm just so curious, Karl..."

Karl looks back at her, speechless and baffled by this sudden shift. His eyes scans her face as he desperately tries to process a cryptic expression that he’s never seen from her before. Tense with anticipation, he waits to see what she’ll do next.

---

A moment passes, and Rachel sighs wistfully, backing away from Karl with faux disappointment.

Rachel: "Based on your answers, though, it doesn't sound like any of those would do much for you."

"...Right?"

Karl snaps back to reality, realizing it's his turn to answer.

Karl: "...!" Karl: "Ahah…" Karl: "Ahaha!!" Karl: "Well!" Karl: "M-Maybe in theory...!"

Karl relaxes a little, though still shaken from the residual fluster. He tries to laugh it off, hoping she hasn’t noticed his lost composure.

Karl: "But you never know unless you try... right?"

Rachel smiles teasingly. She walks over to where her violin rests and picks it up.

Rachel: "It's getting late, Karl. I think should get going before it gets too dark."

Karl deflates a little. Karl: "Ah yes… Of course…" Time really does pass unfairly quickly when she's with him.

Karl: "Let me walk you to the bridge, at least."

Rachel: "Please."

---

The two walk over to their usual parting spot outside.

As usual, Rachel's stayed a little longer than she should've tonight. Not that she's ever minded, but she feels bad about worrying her poor mother back home. She'll have to do something to make up for it later.

Rachel: "Alright then. I'll see you around, Karl."

Karl: "I'll be here..."

Rachel smiles. Rachel: "Take care."

Karl watched Rachel as she walked away.

He wished she didn't have to go. She usually visits him once or twice every week, but he's never truly sure when he'll see her again, whether it's due to an upcoming event, or simply because she's not feeling well. She tries to keep him updated, but there's been times when he wasn't able to see her for weeks, without any warning. Sometimes even months.

Karl: "Rachel!"

Rachel turns around.

Karl (grinning): "Made you look!"

Rachel laughs and shakes her head. She waves at him before turning back around.

He always hated sad good-byes.