#like actually- no- you don’t understand what it’s like to be yelled at on the bus by a racist and then feel fear when he follows you off

[letstalkaboutshtufff]

A Love that Burns

Marcus Acacius x f!reader

A/n: You don’t understand the chokehold this man has on me ughhhhh. Anyway I hope you guys enjoy, I wrote this very fast!

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x wife character (I usually do x reader but I really like the name Aurelia so I used that!)

Warnings: fluff, angst, arranged marriage, Curse words, mention of fire, minor injuries, burns. A bit of suicidal ideation. Allusion to smut hehe. 18+ to be safe please. No minors!!

Summary: General Marcus Acacius’s new bride is troublesome, he doesn’t seem to mind though. After an incident occurs she pulls away from him and he can’t figure out why.

****************************************************

“He’s going to be furious…”

“Such a shame…do you think he’ll throw her out?”

“He might… we always knew she was trouble but this time she’s gone too far…”

“Poor dear, I doubt even her father will take her back…”

The roaring flames had long since died down, leaving now only crackling embers and dark clouds of smoke. How much time had passed you didn’t know. You hadn’t moved from the ground, knees planted on the hard stone, eyes glued to the scene before you.

What was once a grand structure, beautifully carved and molded for someone equally as impressive was now nothing more than a pile on the ground and it was completely your fault.

How had wanting to get a book out of your husband’s study and lighting a candle to see had gone so wrong?

You should’ve listened to your conscious, it told you that you shouldn’t go into your husbands private building but you knew he had an extensive selection and while you were newly married, barely even a few months he was your husband and you didn’t really think he would mind.

In the short time you were married the general had been accommodating and civil, more than civil actually, he had been doing his best to make you feel comfortable. That being said you did barely see him at times due to his duties and when you did it seemed all you did was cause him trouble.

Like that time you accidentally visited the animals one early morning when you were bored and didn’t shut the door behind you. Acacius had been abruptly woken up by the clucking of chickens ascending the staircase and running around the halls like it was a party. You had been redder than a pomegranate when you realized your mistake.

Or that time you lost your wedding necklace and spent hours wading in the lake where the laundry was washed thinking it fell there. You’d never forget the feeling when Acacius strode through the gates in tow with fellow commanders for a meeting but everyone froze seeing the comical sight of you, a highborn lady dress pulled up and soaking wet. That time made you want to drown yourself right then and there.

Oh and how could you forget the time you wanted to show your appreciation by baking his favorite dessert according to the maids and thought adding some cinnamon you’d bought in town was a good idea. Not even bothering to wonder why the kitchens didn’t have cinnamon in the first place… turns out the reason was a good one, the general had an allergy.

This time it was his face that was redder than yours… you didn’t face him for days after that..

There were so many moments like that but somehow each time he didn’t get angry like you expected. He didn’t yell or scold you.

When you bit your fingers nervously watching the servants try to catch the chickens he slowly walked out, surveyed the scene in what you could guess was mild disbelief and perhaps a bit of amusement, looked at you then turned back to go back to sleep.

When you were soaked in the lake he quickly regained the men’s attention, led them inside then a few minutes later reappeared with some haste. You didn’t get a chance to protest when he stepped in and pulled you out by your arm. Still he didn’t yell, he did start to scold a bit though because you were shivering, but when you suddenly yelped and squirmed reaching in your dress and pulled revealing a flopping fish with your necklace around it he lost all his words. You celebrated while he just started in disbelief.

And when you literally poisoned him you sobbed beside him as the healer frantically gave him several mixtures and an injection of some sort. You apologized over and over like a parrot. When he could finally breathe again, he closed his eyes exhausted but said, “Don’t cry, it tasted great..”

All those times he was so kind, unlike any other man you’d met before. To think you had been so afraid of the arranged marriage and now all you could think was how he deserved someone so much better.

He was older and saw you as a child you were sure of it. You wished you could act like the other wives, but you just couldn’t.

Your eyes glazed watched the flickers before you as if in a trance.

You’d burned his favorite place in the villa. A building constructed years ago that served as his study, his place of comfort, his safe space. He’d showed it to you when you first got married. You’d been amazed at how beautiful it was on the inside.

You could see on his face how this place made him relaxed compared to the rest of the villa.

And now it was gone..

The whispers of the servants were muffled around you but you caught them all the same.

You couldn’t find the strength to move, maybe you should have at least moved back, away from the falling ash and debris but you couldn’t.

You ruined everything, just like always…

There was some more muffling amongst the crackling, some sounds you didn’t register, couldn’t register… then a sharp yell. A tone you didn’t recognize.

“Why is she-!”

There was pressure on your shoulders but still you couldn’t look away.

All gone… all your fault…

You think you heard something loud but couldn’t understand it.

The pressure increased… so did the shouting but still you couldn’t look away.

It wasn’t until you saw the burnt pile get smaller that you realized you were being pulled- no carried away.

You felt so disoriented, everything in your vision jerking and you realized whoever was moving you was running.

The scene was still in view but further away, your eyes not daring to look away. You did however register that you abruptly stopped moving and were sat on something upright. The pressure returned to your head then arms then body.

Yelling, someone was yelling in your ear but it wasn’t until the pressure reached your face and you were forced to look away from the scene.

Eyes, wide and frantic, searched yours. Lips opened and shouted something you still could not understand. But the face you knew all too well. The one you wronged, the one you did a horrible misdeed to. Acacius.

You inhaled loudly, more of a gasp then coughed. Suddenly you felt everything crash into you at once, from when you were numb a moment ago now you burned in pain, lungs on fire, skin itchy and stinging, eyes feeling like the sun itself were upon them. You coughed and sputtered uncontrollably, breathing a foreign concept to you.

His strong hands at your back and arm. Almost cradling you was a strong contrast to his shouts that you could now hear louder than ever.

“Breathe, easy, easy- Dammit why did no one move her! Call the healer now!” He barked behind him.

Angry he was angry. Of course he was, even gentle and kind men like him had limits, limits that you’d crossed by battlefields.

Hot tears came, still you coughed, you wondered how long you could continue like that before losing consciousness, there were already spots in your vision. The sobbing now made it worse.

“Shh shh breathe it’s alright, just breathe for me wife, all is well, shh look I’m here, you’re safe” he pulled you into his lap holding you firmly in the hopes you’d calm down. He kept whispering to you, pleading and eventually the coughing stopped. You wondered how much more smoke it would’ve taken to kill you…

“That’s it, you’re safe, shh just breathe, I’m here” more tears emerged as you registered his words for the first time. How horrible you felt to have this angel of a man cradling you and comforting you when you just burned down his sanctuary.

It would have been easier on your heart had he yelled and thrown you aside.

“The healer is here!” Someone called out, your eyes were closed on his chest but you heard everything around you.

Swiftly you were lifted in his arms and carried to his chambers. The healer immediately got to work peeling back the fabric you only now noticed was dark as ash and singed in many places. Acacius stood behind her as close as he could without getting in her way. You watched as his eyes scanned your form, concern etched as he took in all the burns and scrapes. Your heart couldn’t handle it, he deserved a woman 100times better than you. You shut your eyes of the heartache ignoring the healer telling you to stay awake, moments later you were unconscious.

**************************************************

Stinging pain roused you, you wanted to cry out because your body was screaming at you. You were alone in the room, but by the moonlight shining through and how exausted you felt you didn’t think you had been unconscious long. Fresh tears escaped and you didn’t bother to wipe them.

You sat up in raw agony realizing just how many injures you sustained. Your skin was covered in loose bandages and shiny from salve. Sitting so close at the time you didn’t feel anything but clearly you were affected.

Shouting from below had your head whipping to the window.

With great effort and pain you stood on shaky legs and approached the opening peeking your head outside, you squinted and saw figured in the yard.

You choked out a sob when you realized what was happening. Acacius was yelling… yelling at the servants and guards for not moving you. Yes they put out most of the fire but didn’t bother with you. You hardly blamed them, you were a burden, an embarrassment of a lady to the great house hold. Perhaps they wanted you to die, actually it would have been easier if you did.

You couldn’t bare to listen to it anymore, guilt eating you alive. For some reason you had to see it again. To confirm what you had done…

You ignored all the pain and like a ghost descended the staircase.

When you reached the bottom you sucked in a breathe before walking forward where the smell of smoke was still heavy and thick.

And there it was, like a brand on your heart the scene of your crime. There were no more embers, just wood and ash. You walked closer until you stepped on something.

You moved your sandal revealing a silver medal covered in soot. You remembered how proudly it hung on one of the walls. And now it was beneath rubble and dirt.

Two hands found your mouth as you let out a cry.

“Heavens What have I done?” The strangled voice sounded stranger to you.

“What have I done, what have I done” you whispered achingly.

“Aurelia!”

You choked again hearing his voice, you couldn’t bring your self to look just yet.

“Aurelia what are you doing!? Why are you up!?” He rounded you hands finding your shoulders.

Acacius waited for your answer but you had none, only fresh tears. He barely hesitated before reaching down and scooping you up.

“I can walk-“ you tried to say but it was unintelligible through your tears, you didn’t want to burden this man ever again, not for anything.

He glanced at you for a moment but continued his quick pace to the bedroom. He laid you gently on the bed, his concern growing at the endless tears.

“Are you in pain? Let me call the healer back-“ he was already halfway out again.

“No-! no I’m fine I’m fine don’t call I’m fine!” You cried out but tried to collect yourself to not worry him more. The truth is your body was on fire but you would never burden this man again.

He hesitated but listened and approached you again, “Then what is it? Are you afraid? Everything’s alright now, your safe”.

You bit your lip to keep in the cry. How could he be so kind?

“Aurelia? Tell me please, what is it?” He kneeled beside you a helpless expression on his face.

“I-I I’m so- im so sorry, I’m sorry- I don’t know how- I was in there for a b-book and lit some candles I don’t even know how it h-happened I-I-“

Your breathing was becoming erratic again but once you started apologizing you couldn’t stop

“I’m so s-sorry Acacius I’m so sorry” you buried your face in your hands.

“Aurelia shh it’s alright, don’t cry, it’s nothing that can’t be replaced, don’t apologize, you need to breathe alright?”

You barely heard him, but you needed him to know how sorry you were, even if you didn’t deserve forgiveness.

“I’m so sorry, I’m sorry” you continued.

“Aurelia-“

“I’m s-sorry”

“Aurelia stop you’ll hurt yourself more!” He kneeled on the bed pulling you closer to him, worried that if you didn’t calm down you would go into another coughing fit.

“Shh it’s alright, I’m not angry, all that matters is you’re safe. Please calm down, can you breathe slowly for me? Look, follow my breathe…”

“That’s it, breathe in and out just like that, good girl…” he held you close and you felt your eyes begin to droop, exhaustion taking its toll. He sighed when your last words were a whispered apology.

***************************************************

The next day you were miserable, the burns although mostly shallow still caused great pain. Mentally you were a wreck, replaying the events over and over.

The healer told you you needed to rest for several days so that’s what Acacius made sure you did. He visited often but you couldn’t bring yourself to speak hardly a thing out of shame. Most times you just pretended you were asleep.

A week passed and you were allowed to get up as normal just to take it easy. Acacius had gone out for some business luckily because you didn’t think you had the strength to face him.

As you descended the stairs you tried to ignore the whispers of the servants. They all thought the same thing you were repeating in your mind.

Burden

Shameful

Useless

You sighed shakily nearing the now cleaned land where the structure once stood. His kindness made you feel horrible. You wish he would yell and scream at you, for you deserved all the bad words

You spent the day aimlessly wandering and thinking until you tired yourself out and retired to your chambers.

A jar of salve was left by your bed from the healer for the pain but you didn’t open it. You deserved every single sting and ache.

The next day you hardly felt like getting up so you didn’t. Food was brought, you didn’t bother eating it, instead you gave it to the birds outside the window.

In your solitude you came to a resolve. You would resist every urge, every inkling of your old reckless self. Acacius deserved someone who was 100 times the woman you were but since you were bound all you could do was at least not give him any more trouble. Another week passed, Acacius had been gone for some military business and it was easier that way.

It had been a whole nother week when Acacius finally arrived back to the villa. He dismounted his horse with a sigh. He did not want to be gone so long but he could hardly deny the emperors requests.

Tiredly he walked through the gates, scanning for signs of you. It was unusual to not see you flitting about.

A servant approached and helped him remove his cape.

“The Lady, how is she?”

The servant frowned a bit, “My Lady has been… resting these past weeks. We’ve not seen much of her.”

He frowned at that. Her wounds were not so terrible to have her bedridden so long. So what was wrong with his wife?

He nodded to the servant and made way directly to her chambers.

He knocked on the door listening for her voice.

“Come in” you called expecting a servant with food.

You were sat on the bench by the window staring out.

“My Lady..” he said almost hesitant.

Your head whipped to the side, eyes widened seeing your husband.

“A-Acacius… I didn’t know you were back…”

He walked inside and shut the door behind him.

“Are you well? The servants tell me you haven’t left the room much..” he stepped closer taking you in. Your sunken face, the way your eyes weren’t lit up with that sparkle he loved.

“I’m alright, thank you..” he frowned, not quite satisfied with the answer.

“Your wounds are healed?”

You nodded quickly.

He nodded then cleared his throat in the awkward silence that followed, “Then why haven’t you been out?”

You thought of what to say for a moment, “I… no reason, just resting I suppose”

Another answer that didn’t satisfy him but he decided not to pry. If you didn’t want to speak he wouldn’t make you uncomfortable.

“Well I’ll be in my chambers should you need anything…”

“Thank you..” and with that he left shutting the door behind him. You bit your lip forcing the tears not to come. How dare you cry when he’s the one who should be upset. Get it together.

Several more days pass and Acacius was growing frustrated. You barely left the room, choosing to take your meals inside even when he was home. He only caught glimpses of you here or there on the occasional walk around the garden but even that was becoming rare. Where was his wife who was always flitting around singing something off tune or getting into trouble. He recalled the time he awoke to clucking outside his door, and the time he found you skirts tied comically splashing in the lake, then of course when you so happily baked for him flour marks on your face. He smiled fondly at the memories, then frowned.

Why had you suddenly changed so much? Had he done something? He knew the fire shook you up but perhaps he said something unintentional? Did you overhear him yelling at the staff and resented him for it? He was going mad.

It took another few days before his patience finally ran out and he all but burst into your room.

“A-Acacius?! What-“ you startled dropping the book in your hands.

“Tell me what it is” he demanded a bit out of breathe.

“W-what?”

“Tell me what’s wrong or what I’ve done to upset you into seclusion”

“Acacius you’ve done nothing wrong I swear…”

“Then what is it? Why have you been avoiding me? What has upset you so much that you’ve locked yourself away?”

You didn’t expect this, so you really didn’t know what to say.

“I… I think it’s better this way…”

His eyebrows furrowed a bit trying to make sense of what you just said. “I don’t understand, what’s better?”

You fiddled with your hands and had a hard time making eye contact so you chose a lovely spot on the floor instead.

“It’s better that I don’t…. cause problems..” heavens was that a lot harder to say out loud than you thought.

This definitely took him aback.

“What?”

Oh no was he upset now? He surely looked it.. maybe you should have explained better.

“I-I mean… I’m always causing you trouble and getting into situations that I shouldn’t… I figured it would be better if I spent more time here….”

He was quiet for a while, his face undeniably confused and upset.

“And you decided this all on your own?” He said in a tone that you were a bit nervous about. Calm but hidden anger.

“I-I… yes..”

“So your plan is to live out the rest of your days between these four walls?” He couldn’t hold back a scoff. His annoyance seeping through his usually calm demeanor with you.

“….It’s better-”

He clicked his tongue in annoyance “Better? Better for who exactly?”

“Acacius all I do is cause you trouble! I’ve been embarrassing you since we wed, the entire household thinks I’m a burden and they’re right, I cannot-I will not burden you anymore especially after-…” you couldn’t bring yourself to mention the fire. With a shakey breath you gathered yourself and continued.

“I just don’t want to upset you anymore…” you confessed.

The silence was deafening, your heart squeezing so much you were afraid it was going to burst.

“You know out of everything that’s happened between us I think this is the only time I’ve been truly upset.”

You eyed him swallowing dryly taking in his clenched jaw and crossed arms.

“Acacius…”

“You don’t get to decide this all on your own, and you especially don’t get to decide how I feel.”

“…”

“Have I ever been cross with you? Made you feel as if you’ve shamed me?”

“Well no but-“

“Then why?” In two strides he was upon you looking down.

“Why did you suddenly decide that I would like it more if you hid yourself away?”

“Because if I’m here not causing you problems then wouldn’t it be easier for you…?” You wrung your hands together, anxiety heightening with every moment.

“Fuck that”

You jumped a bit startled that those words came out of his mouth.

“W-what?”

“Cause me problems”

“Acacius-“

“Break things, scream shout, bring the whole villa down if you wish it but you will not lock yourself up like a prisoner. You’re my wife, I’d like to actually have you around.”

“You… you’re just saying that because you’re too kind Acacius… but my heart can’t take it anymore. I did something so awful and I know you must be upset…”

“Is this about the fire then?”

“…”

“Things can be replaced, nothing that burned cannot be bought again or rebuilt.”

“B-but you loved that place. It was your sanctuary”

“I did love it, but it’s gone now and I hardly think about it, it’ll be rebuilt soon enough not that it really matters. What matters is that you’re safe and sound.”

“How can you be so kind? So patient so-so perfect” he scoffed at the last one in mild amusement.

“Acacius it’s true! I’ve never met someone so gentle and sweet”

“Gentle and sweet..I’ll be sure to add that to my title right after general or Rome”

“You joke but it’s the truth…” you look down at your sandals.

He sighed before lifting your chin up with his warm fingers then caressing your face, wiping away your tears with his thumb.

“Tell me something wife, have you seen me act that way with anyone else?”

“Well…” you thought about it. He was civil with everyone.. stern a lot, with servants and his men and well everyone else…

“And why do you think that is hm?”

“Well… I assume it’s because you see me more as a child…”

“A child.” He repeated.

You nodded.

“Aurelia you are never allowed to assume anything ever again”

“What?”

“You truly think that’s how I see you? That I treat you kindly because I pity you?”

“Well…then why?” You asked genuinely confused.

“Why treat my wife with care? Why worry for her? Why speak gentle words? Why shower her with gifts? Tell me Aurelia why does a man do those things for a woman?”

“I… I assumed-um well I believed that you were just..”

“Just what? Doing that out of duty? Is it so impossible to imagine that I love my wife and want her to be happy?”

“….” Your eyes widened larger than the sun. You hardly believed the words. So you asked him in a whisper.

“W-what did you s-say?”

Instead of answering he leaned forward closing the distance with a soft kiss.

“Does that answer your question?” He breathed in the few inches between your lips.

You shook your head no and leaned in. You felt the smirk against his lips. After several moments you pulled back to regard him.

“I never imagined you’d feel the same way…I still don’t think I believe it…”

“Like I said, you’re forbidden to assume things from now on wife”

“I… I’m sorry…” his hands settled at your waist, his smell flooding your senses.

“Make it up to me…”

You felt the heat rise in your cheeks but didn’t want to disappoint. You wrapped your arms around him pulling him into a deeper kiss full of emotion.

“Never allow such thoughts in your mind again, and you’re wrong, you’re not a burden. Yes I’ll admit you have a habit of getting into unique situations but I don’t mind, in fact I look forward to what surprises await me each day.”

“Do you really mean it? Even if I do awful things…? “

“Yes I mean it.. although I will draw the line at one thing, never do anything to put yourself in danger. When I saw you by the flames I-“ he paused sucking in a breathe.

And that moment you heart finally caught up with your head because no man could fake the emotions on his face like that.

You hugged him whispering an apology into his shoulder.

“You’ve apologized enough for a lifetime, come, dine with me, you’ve lost weight…” you nod letting him pull you by the hand out the door.

You heard some voices and frowned, anxiety creeping up again.

Ever the perfect man he caught on immediately.

“What is it?”

“The servants… it’s been hard to be around them… you might accept me for who I am but they haven’t…”

“I wouldn’t worry about it”

You cocked your head a bit at his amused tone, “why?”

“Because I fired them all”.

“Acacius!”

“Don’t protest, it’s done. I blame myself for not realizing what heartless people resided in my home. Besides I think you’ll like the new staff a lot better..”

You descended the staircase still confused why he seemed so smug until you heard voices you hadn’t heard in months.

“My Lady!”

“My Lady we’re here!”

“Oh how we’ve missed you!”

You couldn’t contain the loud gasp when your eyes landed on the familiar faces below. The staff that practically raised you was beaming up at you with joy.

“Oh my- Marika! Cicero! Diana! Felix! Ahh you’re all here!” You practically jumped from the staircase onto the group of your favorite people in the world.

Acacius couldn’t help but chuckle as the group enveloped you pulling you in, hugging and kissing you. Hardly the kind of servants he was used to but now he understood why you were so saddened to leave them behind. After your embraces you pulled back.

“What are you doing here? Is Father here?”

“You mean you don’t know?” The words would have worried you had everyone not been smiling ear to ear.

“Know what?” The general has employed us all here.

“W-what?!” You snapped your head to your grinning husband.

“B-but how did you- father must’ve been- h-how!?”

He laughed and descended the last couple steps, “I can be very persuasive if I need to be dear wife.”

“Oh- oh I don’t believe this!” you couldn’t contain your joy and parted from the group to jump on your husband who stumbled a bit but caught you of course. You kissed him then and there not caring who was watching- well in fact you didn’t care because everyone in the room were people you loved and felt safe with.

He was a bit surprised but when you pulled back his face was quickly morphed into fondness and satisfaction that the gleam in your eye was back.

“There she is..” you sighed happily hugging him once more then ran back to the awaiting group.

Well actually you made it halfway before pausing, turning around with an unsure look, and walking slowly back to him.

He tilted his head curious, “Acacius… will you… will you allow me to properly thank you… tonight? If that’s- if that’s something you’d like… or-“ your face that lovely shade of red he’d come to admire.

“Something I’d like?” He scoffed and for a moment you were afraid until you saw the expression in his eyes.

“Well I didn’t want to assume… you’ve forbidden it remember.” He smirked leaning down by your ear so only you could hear him.

“Listen well wife. This is the only exception you may always assume...” You shivered feeling his breathe caress your ear.

Gentle and sweet and now you had a new word to add, although you couldn’t quite find the right one just yet. But oh were you ever so eager to find out…

***************************************************

Is it getting hot in here guys?? No? Just me? Anywayyyy hope you enjoyed. I threw this up in one sitting so forgive all the mistakes. I finally saw the movie and wow, who knew they could fit so many hot men on one screen.

Also can anyone think of a better title lol😅

[katsu28]

operation mistletoe

pairing: oscar piastri x reader

summary: all it takes is one meddling lando norris and some mistletoe at the mclaren holiday party for oscar and yourself to admit your true feelings for each other. (2.2k)

a/n: day two with osc! enjoy <3

“I don’t know why you won’t just tell him.” 

Lando is currently laying spread eagle on your kitchen floor, tossing a padel ball above his head while you shove a packet of popcorn into the microwave for your movie night. 

His question is out of the blue, but you know what he's talking about. Lando is wondering why you won’t tell a certain Aussie you both work with that you have feelings for him.

He’s been wondering for a while now, bordering on a year since you’d accidentally let it slip to him—almost half the time said Aussie has been part of McLaren. 

You scoff. “Have you sent it into the barriers too many times? That’s literally the worst idea I’ve ever heard.”

“But why?” He presses, sounding exasperated. You can’t see him around the island counter, but you can imagine that squinty eyed, scrunchy nosed look he always gets when he doesn’t understand something. You’ve seen it almost overwhelmingly often in the few years you’ve been friends. 

“First of all, we work together. If I tell Oscar that I like him and he doesn’t like me back, I’d never be able to show my face at MTC ever again,” You reason, searching for a bowl to put the popcorn in once it's done. 

It’s actually something you’ve put quite a bit of thought into when weighing the pros and cons of telling Oscar about your feelings. 

“I’d have to find a new job, but that might take forever, so I’d have to move back in with my parents until I find one—if I find one—and I’m pretty sure my mum turned my bedroom into a yoga space the moment I’d left for uni, so I’d have to move into the basement. And then the job I find might not even be around here, so I’d have to move back out of my parents’ place and find another place to live, and you know how expensive things are in some cities! I’d have to find roommates, and I don’t really fancy living with strangers somewhere I don’t know.” 

Lando has taken a seat at the counter when you turn back around with the bowl in your hands, staring at you with the most unimpressed look you’ve ever seen gracing his dumb face. 

“I reckon you’re overthinking things just a smidge,” He says flatly. He thinks you’re being dramatic. You’d call it brainstorming possible worst scenarios. 

You scowl, dumping the freshly popped kernels into said bowl before shoving it towards him. “You don’t know that.” 

He shovels a mouthful of it into his mouth on your way to the couch, sprawling out the length of it with his socked feet in your lap. “I’m pretty sure he fancies you too.” 

“Did he tell you that?” You raise a brow, swatting his feet off you. 

“Well, no, but I’m very perceptive.” 

“I saw you once say excuse me to a mannequin in a race suit at MTC because you weren’t paying attention to where you were going.” 

“Oi, fuck you!” Lando huffs, donkey kicking you lightly in the thigh. “You promised you’d never bring that up again. All I’m saying is that you should just man up and tell him flat out.” 

“I should what?” 

“Shit, I mean—well. Woman up? I guess?” He wonders, squinting one eye shut. “I dunno, really, but still. You never know how he’ll react. Could turn out mint.” 

“Can we not talk about it anymore? Please?” You groan, letting your head tip back against the cushions. “I just feel a little pathetic right now.” You feel Lando pat your head. 

“You’re not pathetic. Love just sucks,” He says sympathetically. “But sure, we don’t have to talk about it right now.” 

-------

True to his word, Lando doesn’t bring it up for weeks. In hindsight, you should’ve taken it as a sign of him planning something, but you’ve been busy with other things. 

Nothing happens until the McLaren holiday party, right after the FIA awards in Rwanda. Someone yells your name from afar as you’re going for a second drink, and when you turn to see who it is, you spot Lando waving wildly at you, gesturing for you to come over. 

Before you can even say anything when you approach, he grabs your hand, dragging you down the corridor. He walks and walks and walks, still not saying a word despite your constant badgering. 

Finally, he stops and takes you by the shoulders, maneuvering you a few steps to one side, forward a few steps. Then he nods once, backing up with his hands out in front of him. “Do me a favor, just wait right here for a second.” 

“What? Lando, what’re you—”

“No, no, no, this is important, I promise. Just stay there. Maybe close your eyes too if you could, that’d be mint.” 

Despite your confusion, you oblige, squeezing your eyes shut. You hear his footsteps retreat, but then nothing for a suspiciously long time. Had he just stuck you here and run off like an absolute wanker? 

A shoulder bumps yours before you can jump to any more conclusions, and it startles you. 

“What the hell is going on?” You question, frowning. Nothing but silence. “Lando? Are you there?” 

“Erm, nope. Not Lando.” 

Fuck. You know that voice. That voice makes your heart do a stupid tap dance against your rib cage every time you hear it.

Your eyes fly open to meet an extremely familiar pair of brown ones. Oscar’s eyes. Oscar is standing right in front of you, looking just as confused as you feel. 

“Oscar!” You exclaim, feeling your face flame hot. 

You can’t help the surprise seeping into your voice. To see him there isn’t something you were expecting at all, and it certainly doesn’t help that he looks extremely handsome, almost glowing with happiness fresh off the end of a successful season for the team. The blue suit he has on clings to him in just the right ways, and his cheeks have a pink flush to them.

“Hi,” He says awkwardly. You aren’t quite certain what to do at the moment, or what even is happening right now. “Do you know what’s going on?” 

“I don’t, actually. Lando just told me to stay here and that he’d be right back,” You admit.

Oscar lets out a noise of acknowledgement from the back of his throat. “Yeah, same, he told me it was something important. I’m not sure where he went, though.” 

He brings up a good point. Where had Lando gone?

Your phone buzzes in your hand at that moment, Lando’s name flashing across the screen when you glance at it. “Hang on, he’s just texted me,” You inform Oscar, angling your phone towards him as if whatever the message says will explain everything. 

Lando: Look up. 

Both of you look up at the same time, and what you see makes your heart drop into your ass. 

A sprig of mistletoe dangles from a haphazardly tied piece of string attached to the beam above. 

That fucker. You’re going to kill him. You’re actually going to kill Lando Norris. 

“Is that—that’s not mistletoe, is it?” Oscar squints up at the tiny plant, tilting his head. 

“It is,” You sigh, fighting the urge to go find Lando and strangle him with your bare hands. “I want you to know I’ve had absolutely nothing to do with this. It was all your idiot teammate.” 

Oscar laughs a little bit, shoulders shaking. “No, I know it’s all him. He thinks he’s hilarious.” 

“He sure does.” 

“I don’t think anyone’s ever told him he’s not,” He replies. Then he shifts on his feet, reaching up to run a nervous hand through his hair. “You look really nice, by the way. Been meaning to tell you that all night, but there’s so many people here I couldn’t find you. Until now, it seems.” 

All night. Oscar has been looking for you all night, just to tell you that you look nice. He’s making it really hard not to fall for him a little bit more. 

“Thank you, Oscar. You clean up well too.” 

He looks down at himself, rocking back and forth on his heels a little. “You think so? I didn’t know if the two shades of blue were too much.” 

“No, they look great. Really.” 

A sudden silence blankets the two of you, and you hate it. You wish you were better at holding conversation, but with Oscar, all your thoughts seem to go right out the window. 

“We should go—” 

“D’you want to—” 

“Sorry, sorry, you first,” You insist, pressing your lips together. 

“Sure, yeah. I was just, uh, asking if you’d maybe want to…y’know.” He glances up at the mistletoe, then back to you, and if you aren’t mistaken, he looks a little hopeful. “We don’t have to if you don’t want to, of course. I’m not—I wouldn’t force you or anything. I just…yeah, we could, if that’s something you’d be into.” 

“Oh!” You blink at him owlishly, completely caught off guard by his suggestion. Oscar wants to kiss you. Is this real life, or has Lando just played the ultimate cruelest prank on you?

“Tradition-wise, and all. I heard you’re cursed with bad luck for years if you break it,” He adds hastily, rubbing at the back of his neck. 

“Definitely wouldn’t want that.” 

“Definitely not,” He echoes, bobbing his head. What comes out of his mouth next is entirely out of the blue. “Did you know the word mistletoe comes from two Anglo Saxon words? Mistel, which means dung, and tan, which basically means branch.” 

“No, I did not know that! That’s…very interesting,” You say enthusiastically, teeth digging into your bottom lip to quell the laugh threatening to spill out. If it were anyone else, you’d think it was quite weird, but Oscar’s word vomit is strangely endearing. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t know why I said that. It’s disgusting, and you didn’t ask. Erm, wow, I’m—” 

“Oscar.” 

“Yeah?” He squeaks, pale cheeks rosy with embarrassment. 

You push forward instead of saying anything else, pressing your lips against his briefly. It’s a split second kiss, but it’s all you can manage without feeling like you’re doing something monumentally stupid. Still, it’s enough to send a zip of something thrilling through your veins. 

When you pull back, Oscar’s eyes are wide, and immediately you think you’ve made a mistake. You open your mouth to blurt an excuse, an apology, anything, but he speaks before you can.

“Will you go out with me?” You falter at the sudden question, totally caught off guard, and it seems to make him panic. “Oh. Oh no. Did I get this completely wrong?” 

“No! No, you didn’t,” You say quickly, reaching out to take his hand. His shoulders slump in relief, fingers already tightening around yours. “I’d love to go out with you, Osc.” 

“Thank god, or this would’ve been really awkward,” He sighs. “Looks like Lando did something right today.” 

“For the first time in his life, probably.” 

“In all fairness, I don’t think I would’ve had the balls to ask you out otherwise,” Oscar admits sheepishly. You hum your agreement. It turns out Lando being a nosy meddler of a friend has its benefits sometimes. “Think we should thank him or something?” 

“Definitely not. His ego would get way too big.” 

Lando looks entirely too smug when the two of you return to the party, eyes immediately zeroing in on your joined hands. “I take it the mistletoe went over well?” 

“I dunno what you’re talking about.” You shrug casually, glancing over at Oscar to see him do the same. 

“Alright, fine. Be like that. You’re welcome, by the way. I expect a mad good Christmas present from both of you this year, I hope you know that.”

Oscar blinks. “But I already got you a set of tea towels.” 

“Ugh, spoiler!” Lando huffs, shoulders slumping. “Also, what are we—fifty? I mean, tea towels! Really, Osc?” 

“You said yours were ugly!” 

You make an offended noise from the back of your throat, furrowing your eyebrows. “I got you those towels for secret santa two years ago, you asshole.” 

“You did? Jesus, you two really are meant for each other,” Lando snorts, shaking his head. 

Oscar just grins over at you, giving a little tilt of his head as if to say great minds think alike. 

“By the way, we’ve got to get onstage soon, so if you’d stop making goo goo eyes at each other so we could get a move on, that’d be great.” 

“Oh. Alright.” Oscar’s smile fades as his gaze flicks back to you, seemingly displeased that he has to leave you so soon. “D’you mind if I…” 

“Go on, bring out the trophy. I’ll be right here,” You assure him, stepping in to drop a chaste kiss to his cheek.

Once they’re onstage little while later, Oscar’s already found you in the crowd, and as they lift the impressive trophy high in the air, he’s only looking at you, beaming so unbelievably bright it might just rival the sun. You smile right back at him, the pride you have both for this team and the two boys onstage just barely contained. 

This night marks the start of new beginnings, both for McLaren and for your relationship with a certain Aussie. And just like the 2025 season, you’re excited to see what next year will hold. 

follow @katsu-library to be notified when i post new writing :)

[solxamber]

At first, I like and support the most of your work. It's well written and in a style I like. But of course, I have a little request. Diasomnia, 4, Fluff (Comedy)

You can pick on your own, if it has to be Fluff or Comedy. I am fine with the both of them.

thank you so much!

You: 1, Gargoyles: 0 || Malleus Draconia

For the Holiday Event! || Prompt: "I'm NOT jealous" ; Genre: Comedy

You loved Malleus. Truly. But there was only so much gargoyle trivia a person could endure before losing their mind.

Currently, he was waxing poetic about the symmetry of a gargoyle he'd seen in the Valley of Thorns, his eyes sparkling like he was confessing his first love.

“…and the way its wings curve? Utterly sublime. A craftsmanship that transcends time. Wouldn’t you agree?”

So then, in a fit of mischief, you said it. The words that would send your entire week spiraling into chaos:

“Sometimes I think you love gargoyles more than me.”

Silence.

The air grew thick. The moon dimmed. Somewhere, Sebek probably sneezed dramatically in the distance.

Malleus turned to you slowly, his expression one of deep betrayal. “What did you just say?”

“It’s a joke, Malleus,” you said, already regretting everything.

But he ignored you, his brows furrowing in the way that meant your next week was about to get very strange. “You think I love gargoyles more than you?”

“I don’t! That’s why it’s a joke!” you said quickly, waving your hands for emphasis.

But he wasn’t listening. Oh no, the great Prince of the Briar Valley had entered “dramatic spiral” mode.

“This cannot stand,” he said, already pacing like he was strategizing for war. “You must understand the depth of my affection. Gargoyles are… significant, yes. But you… you are far more important.”

“That’s nice, Malleus, but—”

“No! You must be convinced.”

The next morning, you woke up to chaos. Your dorm was… infested.

Stone gargoyles. Everywhere.

On your desk. Perched on your windowsill. One was even sitting in your chair, looking smug.

“MALLEUS!” you screeched, running out into the hallway only to find him waiting there, arms crossed, looking far too pleased with himself.

“Do you see?” he said, gesturing proudly at the invasion. “I have brought my gargoyle collection to you. I share my deepest loves only with those who matter most. Surely now you understand your place in my heart.”

You pointed wildly at the stone monstrosities. “HOW DOES THIS PROVE ANYTHING?!”

Malleus blinked, tilting his head. “You said I love gargoyles more than you, so I have shared them with you. This is logical."

“This is UNHINGED.”

“And yet,” he countered smoothly, “you are still more radiant than they.”

You were so stunned by his sincerity that you almost forgot you were still yelling. Almost.

It got worse.

Malleus started comparing you to gargoyles.

“Your posture rivals that of the Archguard Protector in Thornmere Castle,” he mused as you sat at lunch.

“I don’t even know what that means!”

“And your smile,” he continued dreamily, “could put the Stone Warden’s eternal vigil to shame.”

You buried your face in your hands, debating your life choices.

The next day, you walked into Ramshackle dorm only to find your living room covered in… gargoyle carvings?

“Malleus, what—”

“These,” he announced grandly, stepping forward with a flourish, “are gifts. I carved them myself to show you how much I cherish you. Each one represents a moment that I value in our time together.”

You stared at the gargoyle army invading your living space, unsure whether to laugh, cry, or faint. “You realize this still doesn’t actually prove anything, right?”

He frowned. “But you said—”

“I was joking!”

Malleus tilted his head, confused. “So… you are not jealous of the gargoyles?”

You groaned, dragging a hand down your face. “No, I’m not jealous of the gargoyles! I was making a joke!”

His eyes narrowed slightly, as if he wasn’t entirely convinced. “You seemed very sincere.”

“I wasn’t!”

“But you—”

“I wasn’t!”

Malleus sighed, looking truly distressed. “Then how am I to express my feelings for you if not through grand gestures? Do you not like the gargoyles I made?”

Your heart softened at his genuine concern, but you couldn’t let this go on. “Malleus, I don’t need you to prove anything. I know you like me. You could have just said so.”

“But actions speak louder than words,” he replied solemnly.

You burst out laughing, and Malleus looked at you as if you’d grown a second head.

“You are losing your mind,” he muttered, crossing his arms.

“Oh, I’m the one losing my mind?” you said through giggles.

Malleus nodded. “Clearly. Perhaps you have spent too much time with Lilia.”

That only made you laugh harder, and eventually, Malleus joined in, though he still looked confused about what, exactly, was so funny.

In the end, you kept one of the gargoyle carvings—the smallest one—as a memento. The rest? They mysteriously vanished overnight. You didn’t ask questions.

But the next time Malleus started talking about gargoyles, you kept your jokes to yourself.

Masterlist

[pippin-katz]

Voices We Don’t Hear

I was thinking about the scene in the cell down in Hell and wondering why it makes my heart clench so much even after having watched it so many times at this point, and I figured it out! It also led me noticing something in another scene that sticks out when it shows up. It’s the scene in the forest with Edwin and the Cat King.

It’s two lines of dialogue that I’m referring to: “This is all you are. Do you understand?” - Edwin from Ep. 6 “Hey, hey… let’s get you out of here.” - Charles from Ep. 7

These two lines have rare emotional tones for each of them. That sentence is a really bad way to say it, but I'll try to explain it.

We don't hear Charles speak in a soft voice often. He whispers down there in Hell and in Esther's kitchen, but I can't think of any other moments where Charles actually whispers. And there's something different about his voice in that line specifically. Because even though he's whispering, his voice is very clear and not breathy. With full whispering, the person's voice gets mostly obscured by that weird static-like/screen-filter that comes from talking that quietly, like Edwin's voice. (I have no idea how to describe what I'm talking about, but hopefully that's enough for you to understand lol)

So, even when Charles is speaking softly, it's not as quietly as he can. That line in particular is right after Edwin tells him what the demon does to him, and it's softer than all the others. And it's obvious why.

This is without a doubt the first time Charles has ever seen him like this: crying, small, scared, and so unlike himself. It's already heartbreaking. Then Edwin tells him about his torture, and he breaks down crying after managing to keep his most of his composure before.

If you look closely, Charles blinks a few times fast before he turns and cups Edwin's face. It's so dark and the lighting is so strange, but his eyes are shinier than they were previously. He forces himself to keep his focus on the task and being strong for Edwin, but he looks like he wants to cry.

Then he says that line so gently, so delicately while looking directly into his eyes while he holds his head between his hands. Charles voice is softer and a tiny bit strained from keeping his emotions in check.

It's the softest, most loving, and gentle moment of Charles in the entire show.

On the flipside, the line Edwin says to the Cat King is similar. Edwin definitely gets angry, frustrated, etc. and shouts and yells. But all of the people he yells at are people he has personal connections with, and the root of his distress comes from himself.

He yells at Crystal because he's having an anxiety attack after all the rapid changes to their routine, and bickers back and forth with her, but it's never truly malicious. He’s angry, but more importantly, he’s hurt. Crystal’s seeming lack of understanding of the weight of the importance is reminding him of how little people care. He snaps at Simon in Hell, but within minutes he calms down, recognizing how genuinely remorseful and ignorant Simon had been. He yells at Charles in a sort of angry-loving way on the staircase in Hell; he's not actually angry with him.

But in the forest, Edwin finds out that the boy he's been seeing and making friends with has been the familiar of the witch who wants to destroy them in disguise, and was pretending for at least some of their relationship. He also learns of all this because the Cat King exposes him rather than Monty confessing. He's hurt and angry, and then the Cat King pulls the "you owe me card" to try and get Edwin to kiss him even after all of the times he's rejected him.

He tells him off and goes to leave, but the comment the Cat King makes about dismissing him makes him turn around immediately. The way Edwin gets close to him, invading his space like he's done to him multiple times, and shoves the bracelet in front of his face.

There's real venom in his voice when he says the line. It's rough, gravelly, and it's obvious that Edwin has truly run out of patience for the Cat King's antics.

It is truly the angriest we see him in the show, at least from a standpoint of genuine anger toward someone he considers an adversary of some kind.

Edwin has no real relationship with the Cat King; he's basically his warden, the person who has trapped him in this town, and then treats him like he owns him. Given that it was a matter of diplomacy and caused by an error he made, he allowed the Cat King to have his fun to some extent, but in that forest, when he's just found out his new friend is actually a crow and there's a massive, ghost-eating mushroom monster threatening his and Charles' existence, he could not give less of a fuck about playing nice. He's frustrated and upset and stressed about so many different things all at once, and then this smug cat guy, who seems to think they're something more than a captor and his captive, has the audacity to say that Edwin owes him? Yeah, bye bitch! He is done.

I want to hear more of both of these versions of the two of them. I want to hear Edwin rip into an enemy, voice dripping with malice. I want to hear Charles comfort and reassure him (or anyone, but preferably Edwin) with that soft voice that is cherishing and gentle, treating him like something delicate that deserves to be handled with care after the universe has quite literally ripped him apart and crushed him.

(ko-fi)

[33max]

I was thinking about a little fic set when Spyke dies ☹️ so tw pet death. ft the comforting presence of Gianpiero Lambiase

Max isn’t there when Spyke dies. He doesn't actually know that Spyke is sick. His Dad calls him one morning, on New Years Eve, and tells him they have had to have Spyke put down. Jos tells him that Spyke-, his legs had-, that he was was not going to make it.

So Max doesn't get a chance to say goodbye. One minute he’s oblivious, thinking his best pal is probably snuggled up with his little sister, and the next minute his best boy of 11 years is gone.

He blinks.

He blinks.

He can't cry on the phone to Jos. That's not what they do. His Dad will tut at him, tell him Spyke was just a dog. But Spyke wasn't just a dog. He was-

Max’s best friend.

So, he hangs up the phone and lets himself cry.

He looks through pictures of Spyke. Some from a recent trip home, some from when he still lived at home, and others of Spyke as a messy little puppy. Moustache overgrown and ears too big for his body.

Without thinking too much about it, he sends one of the puppy pictures to GP. Along with a broken heart emoji. Because he doesn't have the words, but he needs someone to know that he's- his world isn’t the same anymore.

The message gets marked as read, but instead of the three dots to indicate that GP is replying, Max’s phone starts vibrating in his hand. A call.

Before GP even asks, Max is sobbing down the phone. Hard. Trying to tell GP that he didn’t get to say goodbye. But between the bad connection and the tears, he’s not sure if GP even understands what he’s saying.

“I’m sorry Max, I’m so sorry, I know how much he meant to you.”

“It’s ok to cry.”

And it is ok to cry in front of GP. Because GP has never once told him to grow up, to care less. Never rolled his eyes at Max for being emotional. Always stood with him, listened, and been a comforting presence. And this is no different.

It’s the winter break, so they’re not scheduled to see each other until at least early March.

But it’s 31st December, fucking New Years Eve, and Max is supposed to be going out with his friends tonight. But no. He can’t. Not tonight. Not anymore.

And GP seems to sense that Max might end up spending midnight by himself, alone in Monaco, after losing his best friend. So he says “Hey, Maxy, why don't you come over here? We’re going to play some board games, watch the fireworks, and have a family night. You're family. Join us.”

So Max flys to Milton Keynes, and instead of going to the factory, he gets a cab to GP’s family townhouse.

When GP opens the door he cries a little into GP’s shoulder before wiping his eyes and greeting the rest of the family. They know him well. He’s been coming here since he was freshly eighteen.

And when they sit down that evening GP’s collie, Ella, jumps into Max’s lap. She noses at his hand until he runs his fingers through her fur, and then encourages him to press his head against hers.

“She knows, Max,” GP tells him. “She’s good like that.”

“He was a good boy, Ella,” Max tells her, quietly.

She looks up at him with big brown eyes, before softly bumping her nose against his cheek. I know.

“Thanks for having me, GP,” Max says, “I don’t know what I would have done if I hadn’t come here.”

“You’re always welcome here, Max.” GP says.

“You’re family!” GP’s little girl yells, it’s past her bedtime and she’s so excited to be staying up with the adults.

“Can I get you a gin and tonic, Max?” GPs wife, Marie, adds. “You’re not driving after all!”

Spyke might not be here. But he feels at home.

maxverstappen1: My little friend is no more… rest in peace Spyke ❤️ 11 years I won’t forget… 😞❤️

[tiredyke]

every time queer discourse surges on this site everyone is so quick to jump to “it was actually the evil lesbians who divided us” because y’all heard the term “political lesbian” and never bothered to figure out what that meant

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

JoJo Siwa doesn’t deserve all the hate (and homophobia) she’s getting for her style and music; but she does deserve scrutiny for defending Colleen Ballinger and being both active and complicit in abuse that happened on her TV show. Like the girl has been under the public eye in unhealthy environments all her life; cut her some slack — not too much; she’s still a responsible adult — but if you’re going to dogpile her, then at least dogpile her for the right reasons. Jesus Fucking Christ.

[krbkss]

mha 395

has anyone brought this up yet </3

[crossbackpoke-check]

about to be sooo nosy so. my apologies. but. morgan frost? girlfriend? do share (or don’t! again this is so nosy i’m sorry)

for legal purposes i can neither confirm nor deny anything about morgan and his girlfriend but afaik i think he’s single right now? at one point (within the past four years 😭) he did for sure have a girlfriend and that is the extent of my wag knowledge

[ahalliance]

i don’t get how people can complain about the writing “doing Martha dirty” when that same writing gives her an ending that addresses her treatement over the course of the season, allows her to finally put her to foot down, to establish her self-worth as an individual and to air out her grievances, and gives her the most respectful and satisfying exit from the TARDIS we’d yet seen in the show . like it’s one thing to dislike the direction the writing team took with her arc and to criticise it (perfectly fine) and another to somehow miss it entirely lmao . the ‘martha feels out of place, second best, and like a rebound’ is an intentional piece of writing that gets resolved by the end of the season . like that wasn’t smth they threw in for shits and giggles, it had in-story repercussions

[milflewis]

hello. today i am going insane over bill telling joel he hates him. that he doesn’t even like him. but then telling frank. the person he loves most. to go to joel if he died. that joel would take care of him and —

[just-rogi]

I’m moving out in five weeks and last night I snapped at my roommate who had been a dick to me all year (for something reasonable and justifiable) and ik I shouldn’t feel bad but I totally do lol

All year has been the oppression Olympics any time any of us is upset about anything and like.. I reminded him last night that he isn’t the only minority in the apartment and he was pissed

[satorena]

( P*SSY GOT ) P☆WER !?

bad ☆ summary. converting a loser into a munch wasn’t on your yearly bingo card ( or was it ? )

content ★ warnings. explicit content. mdni. foul language. situationship!gojo. college au. cunningulus. frōtting. premature ejaculātion. fīngering. eventual smut. gojo pines for like 99% of the fic. he also studies in pornology. reader is kinda bratty. mention of death lightheartedly. a lot of italicized words. lowkey gojo centric? 6.4k words (bye).

rena’s ☆ note. SATORENA COMEBACK … sorta (・・?)

“gimme a kiss.”

your face scrunches before the words can express your distaste. with your hand on the handle of his car’s door, your fingers tighten around the metal bar, half tempted to leave the man at your left— rosy lips puckered into an obnoxious smooch.

his eyelids are shut tight as his brows furrow to the centre of his forehead, face leaned in. you chuckle at his theatrics, lifting your free hand to press your digits at his pucker. his eyelids open as his brows now loosen, “gojo, bye.”

you feel his hands wrap around your wrist, gently lifting your hand off his mouth, though your fingers hover over his lips still, “girl.” he tilts his head to the side, emitting an aura of sass you’ve yet to understand, “it’s satoru to you— i can’t even have a little one? haven’t i been good all day?”

you click your tongue, “you been runnin’ your mouth all day long actually,” and before your mind can even process your following words, you focus on the way his plump lips fall into another one of his childish pouts. cute. however he chooses to take your invitation is all up to him. your eyes dart to the rosy flesh as you hum, “mhm, if only you ate pussy as good as you talk shit.”

you feel the hold on your wrist drop, as his frown switches to a blank stare. you cock a brow, watching as the hand his steering wheel tightens.

he gulps, eyes narrowing before glancing over to the leather wheel, “i, uh, don’t eat pussy.”

oh. . . oh.

the slam of the car door speaks the rest for you.

“woah— hey!” gojo yells after you, though your figure seems to get smaller with the steps you take. in your hold is your purse, bouquet of flowers he’d bought earlier and house keys. “baby, hold on— this damn window,” he cusses, removing the barrier between you and him angrily. you hadn’t even hesitated to exit the car, as if he’d said the world’s most vile comment.

you’re not listening, and for some reason gojo feels his heart sink to the bottom of his stomach. what the fuck had he said that made you all upset with him?

he watches helplessly as you insert your key into the hole. the chiming sounds of your keys serve as a reminder that he was definitely in trouble. that and he wasn’t getting his damn goodbye kiss.

he sighs instead, albeit defeatedly. “am i at least gonna see you soon?”

the front door opens and you look back over your shoulder, and god— he really thought he had it. his lips threaten to pull into a smile, ready for your little mood to be over with.

you grin and as does he. you even give him a cute wave, thank fuck, “have yourself a nice life, baby.”

and the front door closes. damn.

☆ ☆

“you said what?!”

gojo groans into the phone, sprawling himself on his king sized mattress that suddenly feels way to big for him alone. where were you when he needed you? oh that’s right, “she ghosted me! i’m blocked on all socials— can you believe that?”

he tried reaching out to you through texts to make sure you were feeling okay, but the shade of green told him everything he needed to know— especially as an apple user. he then proceeded to go through your social media, to double check his suspicions and there it was, user not found.

“uh, duh?” geto is as judgemental as ever, and gojo doesn’t try to suppress the roll of his eyes. “bro, you just told the girl you’re talkin’ to that you don’t give head. the fuck d’you think was gonna happen?”

“it’s not even a big deal!” he argues because his pride in on the line, and he ignores the groan geto gives him across the phone. rude. his fingers pinch at the top of his nose bridge, “was it really necessary to block me? literally just tell me to kill myself at this point.”

“pretty sure that’s what she blocked you for.” geto snickers, and gojo realizes he’s lucky they aren’t in person because he would have blocked him. instead he whines, pressing the speaker button before stuffing his face in his pillow. he’s probably insane but he swears there’s a hint of your scent there, and now he’s whining louder.

“quit bitchin’. you brought this upon yourself,” and out of spite, gojo whines louder. if his legs kick against his mattress childishly, it’s nobody’s business but his own. the love of his life just walked out of his life— give him a break. “and dude, no shade but do you really not eat pussy? are you gay or somethin’?”

“i am not—” he cuts himself off once the sound of his own voice echoes loudly in his lonely room. geto winces and gojo bites down on his tongue before sighing. “i’m not gay. i love women only. seriously. how does not eating pussy make me gay?”

the line goes quiet, and gojo can tell geto’s making that face he makes whenever he’s finding the right words to say without offending gojo. it ticks him off. “alright, lemme counter that question with one of my own. why don’t you eat pussy?”

gojo pauses. he tightens his fingers around his pillow as the question ponders. he thinks about having received head in the back of his car once, the other time in the bathroom of some frat party, and another in some girl’s bedroom. from all memories, he draws a similar conclusion— they always come onto him first.

“i dunno.” his lips fall into a pout, tracing patterns into his pillowcase with his index. “they never really ask, so i never bothered. that can’t be weird, right? all of my hookups have consisted of them pulling my pants down. why would i refuse? i get my nut and that’s that.”

and because geto is genuinely never on his side, “satoru . . . eugh.” some kind of best friend is he.

“what?!” he hisses in retaliation, glaring at his phone as if it would solve his issues. there’s nothing he hates more than feeling judged. “you fucking asked!”

“calm the fuck down,” he hears geto rolling his eyes. the white haired man huffs, the blow of air pushing his bangs up before they fall back down. okay, maybe he should calm down. whatever. “so essentially what you’re saying is you’ve never been put in a position where you could eat pussy?”

something like that, “sure.” gojo nods, and he doesn’t understand why geto sighs.

“why do i even bother?” though the answer is clear, he’s pretty sure geto was talking to himself. gojo clicks his tongue, ready to bark back but geto beats him to it. “so tell her just that— it’s not that you won’t give head, it’s just that you haven’t given head. which still blows me, but whatever.”

“how? remember she blocked me on everything?” the thought makes gojo whine again, throwing his limbs all over his bed. he hits his phone, then opts to grab it. “is that not entitlement? i have to bend my back all over the damn place just to get her to talk to me again?”

“satoru, you’ve literally done the same thing. don’t act like you’re above it,” geto chuckles and gojo hears shuffling in the background. the ravenette sighs in relief, and he assumes he’s now in his own bed. “besides, you fuckin’ love women who give you challenges.”

and fuck, he’s really not wrong. “yeahhh, you know me so well.” he wipes a fake tear from his eye. he rolls over onto his back, “welp, i’m gonna log into your insta to stalk her account. i miss her so much i’m literally gonna die.”

“satoru.” geto warns him, but gojo is quicker than that. he’s already typing your name into the search bar, username memorized as if it were his cellphone number.“i swear to god if you accidentally like her shit—”

“thanks bestie, love ya lots!” and he hangs up the phone. and with a shit eating grin, he giggles, “time to start lurking.”

☆ ☆

so it’s been months (read: four days) since he last seen you. he’s thankful you’re at least in two of his courses, so he has some sort of opportunity to reach you. he’d spent the last months (hours) stalking your page, viewing your stories to see if there’d been any indicator that you missed him as badly as he missed you.

and all he’s gotten so far is that you spent friday out to dinner (with him) (it was just a mirror pic of your outfit but an outfit you wore on a date with him) (you love him so bad), you had a girls’ night on saturday with shoko and utahime (he barely registered they were in the selfie) and sunday was a study sesh you had at the cafe across the college. he had to screenshot and zoom in to ensure there were no signs of living souls in the same booth as you.

he was still in the clear. whew.

and so monday morning falls, and he’s actually rushing to get to class for once (late but as expected). the one of two classes he shares with you. he hopes he’ll find you sitting in your habitual seat, not too far up close yet not too far back, and he might pull the fire alarm if he spots anybody next to you.

he’s a man on a mission— he’s going to talk to you today. he needs to be back in your good graces. there were many things he wanted to yap to you about, many places he thought of taking you over the weekend, many moments he wanted your soft lips back on his and your gentle hand back in his own.

he misses you, damn it.

there you sit, in all your glory, shining so bright in the middle of this depressing ass psychology course in the early hours of the butt fuck morning. he sees you twirling your pen in between your fingers, your cheek leaned into the palm of your hand— and nobody by your side.

if he rushes and trips over his feet momentarily to get to you in time, it’s nobody’s business but his own (and the girl who’s backpack laid useless on the floor. hazard much.)

he so much as plops into the seat as he does actually sit in it, and he watches as you jerk in surprise. though, the look of surprise is quickly replaced by aloofness. you feel different— not entirely closed off but not as welcoming as you usually are. you’re probably still done with him.

well it’s too damn bad he’s not done with you, “good morning, princess.”

you blink at him, before nodding your head curtly. “morning, gojo.” and you turn your focus back onto the professor. just like that, you shut down another conversation.

he doesn’t like that, and so he pokes at your side and chews at his strawberry gum. “you blocked me on everything.”

“i did.” you answer shortly, though your eyes never leave the professor. he cannot be that interesting, who actually gives a fuck about cognitive dissonance?

“seen this new bakery shop down the street.” he tries again. “wanted to take you but that was impossible because somebody blocked me.”

“i mean, you know where i live.” you shrug, writing whatever the fuck the professor had mentioned in your notebook. wait, what? you turn your head to see him gaping at you in confusion, and you smirk at his silence.

“cat got your tongue?” you quip, amused by his stillness. your eyes sparkle mischievously, though your smile isn’t entirely full. don’t tell him, you’ve been— “too bad it’s not mine, though.”

ohhh, you cheeky brat.

“so. . . you were never really mad at me?” gojo blinks, his mind running miles a second. nothing was adding up, he was positively certain you were cutting ties with him. “this whole time. you weren’t mad about the pussy eating comment?”

“don’t get it twisted,” you raise a brow, crossing your arms over your chest. you lift a finger in the air before pointing at him, “you,” and then pointing at yourself “and i are done. we can still be cool but i’m not wasting my time with no bitch—respectfully.”

“so you are mad?” he asks again, disregarding the bitch comment. he knows what he’s supposed to say— to clarify the situation, to make it known that it’s not like he’s repulsed by the idea of giving head— but you make it so hard to stay on track when you’re acting defiant.

suguru was right— he does love a challenge.

“mad?” you giggle, and gojo leans back in his seat. damn, you’re confusing. stone cold one minute but all giggly the next. it’s cool, he’ll figure you out. “i ain’t trippin’ baby— if you don’t wanna eat it then don’t. another man definitely will.”

huh, “oh?” his eyes narrow just slightly, though the smirk on his lips never falter. he ignores the way his stomach just dropped to his ass at your implication— there is no way in hell is he letting another man have you. not when he’s still alive and breathing. “if you think i’m letting that happen, you’ve got another thing comin’.”

“everything seems to be coming but me,” you bat your lashes, and damn he fell right into that one. you drop your pen down, giving him one last smile before redirecting your focus to the professor before you. “the real question is what do you plan on doing ‘bout that?”

you give him no time to respond, and it’s not like he thinks he would be able to, as you begin to pack your belongings into your tote bag. you’re leaving and he barely got to say what he’d been memorizing all weekend. oh well, at least he now knows you haven’t entirely cut him off.

if he doesn’t knows better, it feels like you want him to chase after you.

god, he thinks he’s in love.

☆ ☆

gojo satoru is amazing at everything. there truly isn’t something he can do that won’t come out spectacular. he’s gifted, that he knows much, and it’s difficult to stay humble when he’s constantly reminded of so.

“i can easily do this shit.” he mumbles to himself, cerulean eyes narrowing into focus at the bright lit screen of his ipad. his airpods are in, and he’s gonna be completely honest— the pornstar’s screaming is starting to get on his nerve. however, he’s always been an exceptional student and when it’s time to lock in, it’s time to lock in.

his legs feel as though they’ve fallen asleep in the criss-cross position he’s been sat in on his bed for the past two hours. irrelevant, he decides as he picks at his bottom lip with his fingers. his device is running hot with how long it’s been since it last caught a break, but he had bigger issues to worry about. so, basically all he has to do is spread open her lips and go to town until she squirts? sounds simple enough.

he watches as the guy begins motorboating into the girl’s pussy and— “damn, that looks like it hurts.” a grimace creeps onto his face as the guy repeatedly goes ham on swollen red lips. he’s got half a mind telling him that the moans the girl’s letting out are entirely out of agony and not pleasure.

“aaaalrighty,” gojo speaks up, though to himself. “next video, that shit was ass. pussy hurts just thinkin’ bout it, eugh.”

he finds an amateur video, and the thumbnail seemed intimate enough. after an agonizing ad of ‘want a quick break from the ads?’, the video begins. the upper half of the woman’s body is cut out of frame, but she’s laid onto her side, her backside in view. her top leg lifted just slightly, the man lays on his stomach and spreads them apart further and begins to lick.

he dives his tongue inside her cunt, not too sloppy, and gently works his way in. his thumb is caressing at her puckered forbidden zone, always gently, as his tongue glides up and down her labia.

gojo gulps. the girl makes soft sounds, hand coming down to play her the man’s hair, and he proceeds eat her out skillfully. her back arches, she whines and begs for more, and he never loses control. at some point, the hand that focused on her asshole moves up to grip at her cheeks, thus spreading her pussy lips further. she’s already wet from a mixture of fluids, and the sound it creates is so damn obscene.

gojo gulps again, and his sweats feel tight.

before his mind can even allow it, he’s thinking of you. he thinks of you on your side, legs spread open for his disposition as he brings you this same pleasure. as he lays himself on his stomach, munching at your pussy in ways that’ll have you squirming all over his bed, squeezing your plush thighs around his head and begging for him to give you more.

he thinks of how good you’d smell— how good you’d taste. he thinks of how nice you smell whenever you wrap your arms around his neck and he follows suit around your waist. he thinks of how sweet your lips taste when you’re straddling his thighs and slipping your tongue in his mouth.

pheromones are a crazy thing. your scent lingering in his car alone drives him insane. he’s so prone to boners around you, it’s like he’s a dog you’ve trained.

and now he’s thinking he wants you in this very bed at this very instance, ipad be damned, pussy spread open so he can feast. so he can relish the sounds you make as you call out his name, enamoured by the way his tongue would flick at your clit and break open that dam of water right onto his face.

“shit.” he chucks his ipad onto the floor, cradling his head into the palms of his hands. how had he not ever wanted to do this before?

☆ ☆

he doesn’t expect you to pick up. it’s far past two in the morning on a thursday night, and he’s missing you. badly. he misses you and your sweet smile. he misses you and your smart mouth. he misses you and the way your lips move so fluidly against his own, as if they were made for one another.

he really doesn’t expect you to pick up.

it’s around the fifth ring that he hears your honeyed voice, “hi.” his eyes widen as he sits up from his bed in a hurry. talk about a damn surprise.

“hey.” he says back lamely, because of course he does. he feels the corner of his lips tugging into a smile and his heart is beating wildly against his rib cage. “didn’t think you’d answer.”

“mhm. so what’d you call me for?” you sound tired, and he wonders if you’d been sleeping when he called. somehow, the thought makes his stomach churn at the implication you cut off hours of sleep for him.

“just wanted to hear your voice.” gojo answers as honestly as he can, leaning down to rest his back back into the mattress of his bed. he shuts his eyes and imagines his arm falling asleep underneath your head, using him as a pillow. “been missin’ you.”

“you literally see me every other day at school,” he’s graced with the harmonious sounds of your giggles, and he can already picture the way your shoulders shake as dimples curve into your cheeks. “y’re so fuckin’ clingy.”

he supposes he is, can’t even find it in him to disagree. you’ve been plaguing his mind since you cut him off (question mark) last week. he wasn’t sure what kind of ban you were putting on him, but he’s been tiptoeing around his relationship with you for too long. the absence of your presence in the way he craves is driving him nuts. he misses you, damn it.

a longing sigh rips from his throat, “can’t help that i miss that ass,” he jokes instead because talking about feelings and vulnerability is wrong. “you still owe me a goodbye kiss, y’know? just left a poor guy hangin’, rude.”

“hmm,” you hum lazily and he isn’t sure what to expect. he’s just talking out of his ass, wants to restore that playful banter you guys had prior to this whole pussy eating mess— which he’d gladly now get on his knees and rock your fucking world. “like i said already, you know where i live.”

“you got one more time to say that before i show up at your doorstep for real,” gojo tests the waters, and swings his legs off his bed. he’s waiting for a sign, confirmation, anything to ensure you were being serious. late night be damned, he will show up to your door and flip your shit right then and there.

“the fuck i gotta repeat myself for?” you sigh, and gojo’s slipping his shoes on. he’s wasting no more time, he wants you right now. “if you really missed me you would have been come see me. you’re all talk.”

“so when i yell at your doorstep to lemme eat it, don’t start lookin’ at me crazy—i’m warning ya.” and with that he hangs up. he’s not leaving any more room for debates, enough’s enough. and shit, when the fuck had he gotten bricked?

he grabs his keys and slams his door close.

☆ ☆

you’re looking at him like he grew an extra head on his shoulders overnight. he’s looking at you like the tee you have on your body decimated his entire bloodline. there’s a heavy silence between you both, as if either one of you are expecting the other to make the first move.

“you actually came.” you blink in mild shock, neck craning up to look him dead in the eye. he’s panting heavily, he might’ve ran here the second he could, but how could he not have?

“enough games, baby.” gojo answers instead and takes a step into your apartment. you back up in retaliation, and he takes another close step. you stay still this time. his hands sneak below the hem of your shirt and slide up to your bare waist, grabbing onto the plush flesh. you feel jolts of electricity imbedded into your skin with every lingering touch. “lemme eat it, come on. please?”

“oh?” you cock an eyebrow, raising a hand to press your palm flat against the plane of his chest. you feel his heartbeat thudding wildly. “and here i thought you were too good to stoop as low as giving women head.”

gojo clicks his tongue and tightens his hold on you. “i never said that.”

“you basically did.” you bite back, tilting your head to the side. you see his nostrils flare a bit, “or does that rule apply with just me?”

“if it did, would i be here at three in the morning begging to eat your pussy?” gojo rolls his eyes. you open your mouth but snap it back shut and gojo decides you conceded. he lifts you from the ground and places you on his shoulder, ignoring your ‘put me down!’ and opts to shut you up with a firm slap on your ass.

your cheeks jiggle from the impact, and his dick twitches in his briefs. as he suspected, you’ve got no bottoms on— just a cute pair of pink lace panties he wants to tear apart with his teeth. animalistic is what you make him.

“so. . . which one is your room?” he finds himself in the corridor, arm wrapped around the back of your knees. you fall limp in his hold, defeatedly as your arm lifts to point at the door at the end of the hall. he smirks and rubs at your booty, “atta girl. look at ya bein’ all obedient and shit.”

“shut up.” you huff, and he would bet a million dollars you’ve got that adorable pout on your lips. the one you make whenever you don’t get something done the way you planned.

your bedroom is everything he expected from you, fits your personality just about right. but—respectfully, fuck your bedroom. he’s got bigger issues to address, and that can only be done with your panties on the floor and a mouth full of your cunt. his dick is twitching uncontrollably at the thought of it alone.

“if you drop me on this bed, i swear i’m gonna kill you.” tilting your head, you warn him once he stands next to the edge of your bed frame. though a moot point, because if you know gojo as well as you think you do, you’re about to meet your duvets face first.

“mhm, what was that?” cupping a hand behind his ear, he pretends innocence then proceeds to do exactly what you warned him not to do. him and his long ass limbs, manhandling you all over the damn place as if its in his birthright. and no, it does not make your cunt clench, despite your thighs rubbing one against another. “sorry shortie, think i missed what you said.”

when you’re finally able to gain composure, you sit up on your elbows and furrow your brows in the nastiest scowl you can muster. he stands right above you, his frame so large it both annoys and turns you on. “gojo, you stupid fucking—”

you want to slap the smile off his face. “yeah, yeah.” he cuts you off, before leaning down to hover over you. his arms are pinned at your side, upper body pressing against yours. you feel the weight of his hips pressing into your legs, and so you widen the space. he fits in just as perfectly as you’d imagined he would. the tip of his nose brushes yours, biceps flexing in your peripherals. you feel his breath fanning at your cupid’s bow, warm yet it leaves shivers creeping at your spine.

“think you owe me somethin’, princess.” his voice comes out in a low growl, from the depths of his chest. his presence is so dominating— his bulge pressed right up against your aching cunt, the feel of his heartbeat right against yours. it all feels dizzying, the scent of his cologne filling up your nostrils and clouding any better sense of judgement.

he’s teasing you— leans in, brushes his soft lips against yours and watches as you lean forward to capture them but pulls away just in nick of time. he loves every one of your facial expressions, especially that adorable scowl of yours. he can’t wait to see the faces you make when you’re in absolute bliss.

he tilts his head just slightly, practically mouthing the words into your parted mouth. and with a low chuckle, he speaks, “if you want it, take it.”

you might’ve folded first, but he kisses you back just as eagerly, lips moulding into one another. you feel him sigh into your mouth, as if you’d relieved him of all stresses weighing on his shoulders. you lift a hand to cup at the back of his neck, fingernails scratching at the undercut at his nape.

gojo shudders beneath your touch, rolling his hips deeper into yours and relishes in the way you moan softly into his mouth. he wants to drink up every single sound you make, wants to discover your body’s sensitive spots and maneuver them into making a mess out of you.

your neck soon begins to ache, and almost as if he can read your mind, pushing deeper into you as you fall back onto your bed. he never takes his lips off of yours— not when the hold in his hair lowers in favour to grip at his biceps or stroke his back, not even when your legs wrap tightly at his waist. at a particular grind, you moan louder than any other sound you’d made all night, and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth.

“gojo,” you whine into his mouth, fingers clawing at his compression tee. he continues to roll his bulge into your clothed cunt, aiming at that spot that has you arching your back off the bed and into him. he grips a hand tightly at your plush thigh, his hold so hard you’re certain he’ll leave bruises. “you said y-you’d eat it. be a man of your, ngh, word.”

“yeah, that’s right,” he pulls away finally, a thin string of saliva connecting both your lips. he pecks at your kiss bitten lips, the dazed look in your eyes igniting a fire deep in his gut. “gotta keep my promise— can’t keep my baby waitin’ too long,” you feel his lips trail from the corner of your lips to the slope of your jaw, “she gets all cranky an’ pissy.” from the column on your neck to your collarbone, “starts gettin’ all mean with me.”

“oh my gosh, shut up!” you complain, though your hold on him tightens. you feel the vibrations of his chuckles at your jugular, followed by a deep plunge on his teeth at the thin layer of skin and another agonizingly slow grind against your clit. “fuckin’— shit— hurry up already!”

“tsk, see what i mean?” gojo tuts, hands sliding down the curves at your torso. you feel his large fingers play with the material of your panties, rolling the lace between forefingers. the contrast of the coolness of his rings against your heated skin adds a strange stimulation to your senses. “so mouthy, ‘m gonna have to do somethin’ about that.”

“i’m mouthy?” you squawk, watching as he lifts your tee up from your body. he taps wordlessly at your waist and you understand to remove the article of clothing. you chuck the tee across the room, before redirecting your focus on the man peppering wet kisses all over your stomach. it leaves butterflies rattling inside. “you literally cannot shut the fuck up— what’s the hold up? awe, don’t tell me you can’t walk the talk?”

he pauses for a bit. he doesn’t let himself fall bait for your words. you’re just being bratty— all hot and bothered and can’t properly ask for what you need. you don’t have to worry, he’s here entirely for your pleasure. he isn’t even thinking about the way his cock throbs painfully in his boxers, doesn’t even attempt to relieve it at all.

and so, he kneels at the edge of the bed. with two large hands cupping at your hips, he pulls you closer to him and rests your thighs on his shoulders. he watches as your chest rises up and down, and you prop yourself back onto your elbows.

your eyes are misty, your lips swollen and wet, your hair a mess and your neck littered in marks that scream gojo. you already look fucked out and he hadn’t done shit. god, he can’t wait to stuff his face between your thighs.

“i got you baby,” he drags his index finger right in the center of your cunt. he can both feel and see the material dampen with your arousal, your hips squirming as you chase for more. he licks his lips as he narrows in on the treasure, he swears he hears his stomach growling. “promise i do. just relax for me, yeah?”

“whatever.” you mumble, and comply to his order. he calls you a good girl, before stroking at your clit some more. the reactions you give will forever be imprinted in his mind, fleeting touches already granting him the opportunity to hear your delicate voice once more. you may be impatient but gojo is worse, and he decides that he wants to see your cunt now. he pushes your panties to the side, and the sight he’s rewarded with nearly— nearly, had him cumming right on two knees.

gojo gulps. “holy shit,” he feels his voice waver in excitement, eyes widened as he stares dead on. your cunt clenches around nothing from the switch of temperature, oozing more of your arousal down to your sheets. your pussy lips are puffy, clit sitting atop so prettily and damn, he wants to hump something.

he isn’t sure why but you try to close your thighs together, rude much, though gojo is much stronger. he keeps them spread wide, and shoots you a look. “do not.”

“tsk.” you click your tongue, looking away. and, oh, are you shy? “stop staring, you fuckin’ weirdo.”

he’s too far enamoured by the slick dribbling from your tiny hole down the crack of your ass. it trickles so tauntingly, that he finds himself nearly jealous. he wishes he could be there— oh wait, “just appreciatin’ my meal before i eat, sue me.”

the pad of his thumb collects your juices before popping it into his mouth. “wow,” he mumbles, more so to himself, at your taste bursting onto his taste buds. it’s so undoubtedly you, a raw and truthful you, and he gives you no warning before diving right in.

“fuckkk,” you throw your head back, hand flying to grab at the nearest thing in your vicinity— which so happens to be tousled, fluffy hair.

so, first time for everything right? but gojo maneuvers his way into your pussy as if he’d done this before. he starts off with kitten licks, teasing you some more before flattening his tongue and dragging it up and down your lips. he swallows and moans into your cunt, fingers digging deep into the back of your thighs.

he’s practically making out with your pussy. he doesn’t neglect any area, not even the clit surprisingly, as he latches his lips to the bundle of nerves and lightly nibbles. now that has your back arching and pushing his head deeper into you. if there was a way to go in life, he’d gladly take this death.

he��s so painfully hard it hurts, unable to control the way his hips grind against the bed frame. your scent is driving him feral, the way you tug on his hair harshly has his balls tightening and the way you cry out his name makes him want to imprint his name inside of you.

“s-satoru!” oh god, you’ve done it. you finally said his first name and he’s this close to painting his briefs white in shame. he continues to flick his tongue inside your hole and similar strokes to his humping. “you’re doin’ s’gooddd baby, shit!”

keep praising him and he’s gonna bust. he lifts himself away from your pussy, eyeing the gooey center almost offensively, “why the fuck do you taste so good?” he lands a wad of spit down, as he brings two digits to properly rub his saliva into your essence. the sounds it produces are so wet, it’s damn near filthy. he clicks his tongue, “seriously. ‘s makin’ me mad almost.” he slaps at your cunt twice, watching how your spray down his wrist.

“you s-sure this is your first, hnng, time?” you accuse, to the best of your abilities, as you feel him slip a finger in. you’re so lubricated, the slip inside was easy. pushing past that first ring of muscle, he’s pumping in and out of your cunt with precision, curling his digit as if he’s aiming to find a specific area. “y’know too much— mmph, fuckin’ liar.”

when he thrusts into a specific angle, your thighs tremble terribly around his head. he smirks, found it. “watched a lotta porn.” and he isn’t lying, he thinks back to how he studied the arts of cunningulus, and recalls the double combo. he has to try it, so he’s back to sucking and nibbling at your clit while adding an extra finger inside.

“oh my goddd,” you whine, feeling your limbs liquify in heat from every extremity. he pushes your knee further into your chest, and so you grab ahold of both your thighs. he hums approvingly, dragging his free hand along the soft skin of your legs. “don’t— don’t stop, please don’t stop,”

your toes are curled, back off the mattress and the pain in his scalp is shooting straight down to his cock. he’s rutting and rutting into the wooden frame, the flat surface painfully teasing though it does do the job. or maybe he has you to blame.

he feels saliva dripping down his chin, the way his tongue slides into your folds and feels his knuckles in there. his fingers move in scissoring motions, rotating circles, in and out— all the while repeatedly attacking your golden spot.

you severely underestimated him, and can barely process the orgasm that rips through you when he presses a hand onto your lower belly, “‘m cumming, fuck, ngh, don’t stop—” and you wail, fingernails clawing intensely into his tresses, torn between pushing him away and pulling him in closer. he decides to make that decision for you, stuffing himself as deep as possible to not miss a single drop, and your thighs clench against his ears.

so, gojo satoru is a shameless man. as you flood into his mouth and onto his face, grinding out your orgasm and using him as nothing but a toy for your own high— somewhere along the lines, he feels his briefs are sticky. he moans sluttily into your pussy, hips twitching incessantly as his cock shoots loads of nut into his boxers.

it feels like an eternity yet simultaneously a second when you’ve come down from your high, body twitching as gojo slows down his movements, his finger pumps gradually lessening in intensity and the kitten licks on your abused clit coming to a halt.

his face is soaked. his skin feels moist and damp, a thick air of humidity beginning to grow in the room, but he genuinely couldn’t care less. his eyes are stuck on you, limbs sprawled out limply against your bed, your chest heaving, tiny breaths coming out of your mouth.

he slides out his aching fingers, and pops them back in his mouth, tongue wrapping around his digits so eagerly, basking in your taste once more. absolutely divine,

“christ, i’d make a nasty pornstar.”

gojo won the poll. . . everybody act surprised (°_°)

[cathnospam]

Content Warning: College MHA AU, Reader is….weird(ish), Bakugo is somewhat clueless

You don’t know why, but your boyfriend being a crash out is hot.

Maybe it’s the toxicity in you, maybe you’re a sadomasochist, whatever the case may be, but Bakugo getting riled up is probably the top 5 hottest things you’ve seen.

Nobody understands why you like it so much, Mina thinks you’ve been brainwashed, Kiri tries not to judge, but calls you weird, Denki thinks it’s scary and you might be in danger, and Sero finds it hilarious.

Even Deku, he was the first to notice how you smirk and get all giggly when Bakugo is cursing someone out on the field and straight up blasting his heart out when he’s sparring with the poor bastard he’s against.

“Are you smiling?”

“What?”

“You’re smiling, a lot. When Kacchan blasted that wall down unnecessarily you started to smile—“

“Don’t worry about it, Izuku.”

Everybody notices it, but him.

He does notice how much clingier you are after a fight, or after he finishes yelling at someone, or even when he’s mad you’re just there stealing glances and grinning . It’s not that big of a deal to him, but he doesn’t know WHY you do it.

He’s always like this. He’s always been a hot head, that was your first impression of him.

But being a relationship with him made you see in him a new light.

He’s yelled at you plenty of times before, he still does, but it’s not similar to how he does Kaminari or even Deku. It’s usually just passive aggressive comments, mixed with grumbling.

Today was no different he was already annoyed Todoroki got the highest score during the exams and he had to spar with Monoma so of course that plus his taunt really had Bakugo in a mood.

You loved it.

Seeing him blast through walls, his fangs more prominent when he yells, the way his veins pop out of his shoulders and neck. You’re so sick in the head for liking it.

You watched, looking as dazed as you usually are when you see your Blondie fight around. You nearly began to bite your lip until Bakugo caught you.

His brows furrowed for a split second, before dodging Monoma’s move. You had to straight up.

Later that evening Bakugo began to watch you with a thoughtful look. In the common area he walked past you before saying, “Meet me outside. Now.”

“Alright what the hell is your problem. You have been staring at me all day like a fucking piece of meat. You horny…..~”

“No you dick.” You slap his arm, sitting beside him on the bench, “You just looked really good today.”

“I always look good—“

“You look AIIGHT?….You just….I like how you look when you’re fighting. And yelling. And mad—“

“You’re a damn masochist.”

“No I’m not!” You scoff making him break into a chuckle, he figured you liked SOMETHING he was doing he just couldn’t put him finger on it. He smirks at you, “Is that why you like pissing me off huh?” He playfully states while he wraps his arm around your neck and nudges you forehead with his knuckles, “Always fucking annoying the shit out me? Like seeing me mad?”

You share a laugh with him and push him off, “Maybe!..SO!? Who cares I’m complimenting you you bastard.”

“Right…” Bakugo ponders, studying your face as you both sit on the bench outside, “You’re a weird ass, is this your way of telling me I should yell at you more?”

“…” You side eye him and he immediately starts pointing at you in fake disbelief, as if he were about to insult you, “I’m kidding! I don’t want you GENUINELY angry at me.”

The blonde smirks, throwing his arm over your shoulder, he couldn’t ever be actually angry at you. He does however like to know that his outburst don’t annoy you as much as he thought they did.

[the-sunflower-room]

scared half to death

🌪️tyler owens x fem!reader 

☆ genre: angst, fluff, friends to lovers

☆ wc: 2.7k

☆ summary: tyler owens is not easily angered, but when the love of his life runs into an incoming tornado without a second thought, his emotions get the better of him.

☆ warnings: a very upset tyler, yelling, language

note: so i watched twisters and it was actually everything to me! the brainrot is bad and i’ve been wanting to write for tyler ever since i saw it, so here it is! this is very much the idiots in love trope because it’s one of my favorites. enjoy! :)

“Where is she?”

Tyler isn’t sure if he’s ever felt this angry before. He considers himself a fairly easy going man, always quick to make light of a situation and put everyone in the room at ease with his charming, joking nature.

But this was different. This had his heart pounding, his ears ringing. His face is flushed red and he feels like he can hardly breathe.

All because of her.

He slams the door of his truck, approaching his crew in the gas station parking lot with a look on his face that’s so completely un-Tyler that it makes them all shift uneasily.

“Where’s…who?” Boone tries weakly, unsuccessful in his attempt to play dumb. Lily rolls her eyes and elbows him in the ribs, shooting him a glare.

Tyler clenches his jaw, for once not in the mood for his friends’ antics. “You know damn well who I’m talking about.”

They all exchange glances, his uncharacteristic demeanor both surprising and concerning. This isn’t the calm, charismatic frontman of the Tornado Wranglers they’re used to.

“She’s in the RV, but I don’t think-” Dani begins, but he’s already beelining for the camper before they can finish. He can hear his heartbeat pulsing in his ears as he nearly bursts through the door, finding her sitting at the small table in the back with her head in her hands.

Her gaze snaps up at the sound of his entrance into the RV, and her face immediately drops when she sees him practically fuming. “Tyler-” she says urgently, instantly on her feet as he approaches as if she’s about to defend herself. But he isn’t having any of it.

“You wanna tell me what the hell you were thinking out there?” He seethes, suddenly towering over her with his jaw clenched and hands on his hips. She swallows thickly, nervous around this version of him. Terrified to have upset him, disappointed him.

“Tyler, I promise, I was just trying to do the right thing-” she starts again, her tone practically pleading, but he just scoffs. 

“The right thing?” He questions in disbelief, cutting her off with a shake of his head. “You call nearly getting yourself killed in the field ‘doing the right thing’?”

She squeezes her eyes shut at the reminder of what she’d done, at the venom in his voice that’s ordinarily so gentle when directed at her. Memories of what had transpired nearly 20 minutes ago flood her mind and she feels a lump forming in her throat.

“I couldn’t let our data get lost,” she whispers weakly, her gaze glued to the floor in shame. “Bullshit,” he mutters, jaw clenched as his breath picks up. His eyes search her face, grasping to understand why the hell she had risked her life the way she had.

“You don’t run into the path of an incoming EF3 to recover some stupid equipment for our disruption research,” he practically spits, his voice growing louder, more emotional.

“That equipment is completely replaceable. You sure as hell aren’t. So I want to know why on god’s green earth you thought it was a good idea to run headfirst into danger like that.”

Her breath hitches, her eyes welling up with unshed tears at the reminder of her brashness. She feels ashamed and almost embarrassed as Tyler practically berates her.

They were best friends, a pair that the rest of the team liked to call the “dynamic duo.” With a shared passion for tornadoes and a taste for danger, they had instantly clicked from the moment they met during a chase a few years ago, becoming inseparable. Which is why Tyler’s harsh reminder of her stupidity stung so painfully.

She wasn’t used to hearing him so upset, so emotional in the worst way. With her, his tone was always soft, teasing, sometimes so overtly flirty that it would leave her heart pounding and her cheeks flushed.

But this was different. Now his gaze was harsh, curses unnaturally tumbling from his lips as she struggled to explain herself. And she hated every moment of his scrutinizing stare.

“You’ve worked so hard on putting together the equipment for the disruption research. I didn’t want you to have to start from scratch…not after all the effort you went through,” she explains pathetically, her voice cracking slightly as her emotions begin to shine through.

Tyler shakes his head, stepping even closer into her space. “And you thought it was worth risking your life for?” He grits out, his furrowed brow and downturned lips looking so unnatural on his normally smiling face.

Another shuddering breath escapes her as she catches herself from revealing the true reason she’d been so careless, from baring her soul and telling him that she’d run into the path of an incoming tornado because she loved him more than anything. That the thought of his disappointed face, his devastation over months of work lost to an unpredictably large tornado, hurt her so much that she would have done anything to save that equipment.

Anything to make him happy, to be the hero that he was to her.

“I- I didn’t get hurt, I knew I had time to get at least some of it-” she stammers, but she can’t get the words out.

“You didn’t have time!” He practically yells, gripping her shoulders and giving her a gentle shake. His eyes are wide, his gaze burning as he stares down at her.

“If Boone hadn’t been close by with his truck, you could’ve easily not made it. You could’ve died,” he chokes out, his grip on her tightening. His eyes are watering now, his anger fizzling out into something more desperate, more panicked.

Tyler still remembers the pure, unadulterated fear he’d felt as she slipped out of the safety of his truck before he could stop her, sprinting out into the open field where the winds and torrential rain were getting worse by the second.

He remembers the devastated scream of her name that had ripped itself from his chest, lost to the howling winds.

He sure as hell can’t forget the feeling of overwhelming fear and helplessness that overtook him when the rain became so intense that he could not longer see her, no longer assure himself that she hadn’t been sucked up into the raging funnel or hurt by the flying debris.

It was only when he got radio confirmation from Boone five minutes later, stating that she was safe in their truck with some of the equipment intact, that he even knew she was alive.

It had been the most hopeless, terrifying five minutes of his life.

“Don’t you understand what you mean to everyone? What you mean to me?” He rasps, his voice quieter now, more broken. “Some stupid equipment for an experiment isn’t worth your life, Y/N. Not in the least.”

His eyes are tender now as they rake over her face, scanning the scrapes and cuts littering her cheeks, the patch of dried blood clinging to her temple. His heart aches at the thought of her getting hurt, even if the injuries are small.

She notices that nearly all of his anger has left his body, replaced by the emotion that had truly been brewing beneath the surface: crippling fear at the possibility of losing her.

A silent tear runs down her face at his softer, more vulnerable words, her heart breaking as she realizes the effect her thoughtless actions have had on the man she loves. He’s quick to gently wipe it away with the pad of his thumb, his touch lingering on her cheek as he gazes at her.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, her voice breaking as she chokes back a sob. In an instant, he’s enveloping her in his tight, comforting hold, cradling her head to his chest and pulling her so close to him that their bodies are practically molded together.

“Shhh…it’s alright, sweetheart,” he gently hushes, his hand stroking through her hair as she cries softly against him. He’s back to himself now, all anger and frustration long abandoned in favor of his naturally calm, caring demeanor. Through her tears, she feels herself flushing slightly at his term of endearment.

“I’m the sorry one. I shouldn’t have yelled at ya, you didn’t deserve it,” he murmurs into her ear, his arms tightening around her.

He internally berates himself for defaulting to anger when she had also probably been scared and upset. But thinking she had died in that tornado just for attempting to recover his equipment had struck something so deep within him that his brain had reacted irrationally.

He stews in his remorse for a moment longer before admitting a truth that might be a little too vulnerable, a little too revealing of his deep and unwavering love for her, but he has to get it off his chest.

“…You just scared me half to death, darlin’. I can’t lose you...I can’t. It would tear me apart worse than a damn tornado ever could.” His whispered words are so raw and tinged with devastation that her breath hitches against his chest.

Slowly, she peels herself away from his comforting embrace to get a good look at him, and what she finds makes her heart clench in her chest. 

His eyes are red and glassy, obvious signs that he’d been crying. His muscles are taught with anxiety, like every fiber in his body had been tense ever since she fled his truck. His hair is slightly tousled and she instantly knows he’d been running his hand through it the way he does when he’s stressed.

The thought that she could cause him this much worry, this much pain, sucks the breath from her lungs and makes her feel dizzy.

“I only tried to save the equipment because I knew how important the research was to you,” she whispers, her voice still shaky but full of sincerity.

“I know how much it means to you, finding a way to keep these tornadoes from causing so much damage to innocent lives. I just- I wanted to do something brave and selfless for you, the way you always have for me,” she admits softly, swallowing as she meets his gaze.

His lips part slightly at her admission, the reverence in her words staggering. Hearing that she cares for him, finds him brave and selfless, wants to return the way he makes her feel, fills his heart with a love so deep he feels like he’s drowning in it.

“Y/N, you’re-” he rasps, pausing to clear his throat when he hears how raw and weak his voice sounds.

“You’re so damn sweet. Your heart is so big. That’s what I love about you. But please, don’t be as stupid as me. I throw myself headfirst into danger so much because I don’t think first…my judgement gets clouded by the thought of helping someone and I get tunnel vision. Which has put me in one too many potentially life-ending scenarios,” he murmurs, his hands squeezing her slightly as they rest on her shoulders.

“I can’t- I won’t let you be that careless. You mean too much to me.”

Her eyes widen at the tenderness in his voice, the affection and worry dripping from every word. It feels like their conversation is breaching on something deeper, something much more vulnerable and terrifying.

Her mind is hung up on his soft that’s what I love about you. Even hearing the word love directed at her from the mouth of Tyler Owens makes her head spin and her face heat up, and she’s unsure if she’s even breathing anymore.

“Tyler…” she manages, her voice threatening to break with the overwhelming swirl of emotions running through her. She can’t help herself, knows that she’s finally going to put it out there, tell him how she feels no matter how scary it might be.

“I love-” his lips are on hers before she can even finish. The sensation of Tyler kissing her is unlike anything she’s ever felt, and she’s damn sure she never wants him to stop.

His large hand tenderly cups her cheek while the other snakes into her hair, tangling his fingers through the strands as he pulls her even closer. She gasps softly as his grip tightens, his lips moving against her own with an almost feral desperation.

The salt from her tears mixes with his sweet taste – something like honey and peppermint – and she melts further into him and his warmth. She can feel him pour every ounce of his turbulent, pent-up emotions into the kiss, and it leaves her completely breathless.

He’s waited for this moment for so long, and after thinking he’d lost her today, he’d be content to just kiss her like this for the rest of time. Reassuring himself that’s she’s still there, that she’s his. Showing her what she means to him.

Finally getting a grip on his emotions, Tyler pulls away for a moment, wanting to make sure he hasn’t misread the signs, misinterpreted what he’d felt brewing between them for so long.

But a wide, disbelieving grin spreads across her face as she fights to catch her breath, and he suddenly has no doubt that she’s been his all along.

“I’ve been waiting for that for- well, I don’t even know how long,” she laughs breathlessly, slightly woozy from his intoxicating taste.

He huffs a laugh in return, his eyes shining with an overwhelming adoration for the woman before him. “Yeah…I think Boone might owe Dexter and Lily some money,” he jokes softly, his thumb gently brushing her rain-soaked hair away from her face.

His eyes roam over her, taking in every inch of her muddy clothes, her scraped up hands, the shallow cut on her temple. Regret courses through him at the way he’d raised his voice at her, even if it had been out of fear of losing her.

“Are you sure you weren’t hurt?” He murmurs, his voice lower and more serious than before. She gently nods, her hand moving to rest on top of his own as it cups her face.

“I’m ok, promise. It’s just a little scrape from slipping in the mud,” she reassures him, sensing his lingering gaze on her slightly bloodied face. She can practically feel the apprehension in his stare, his constant worry for her well-being so endearing that she just wants to kiss him again and again.

“I promise, Ty. And I swear, I won’t do anything like that again. I just got lost in the moment and didn’t think before acting.” He nods slowly, letting the sincerity in her voice wash over her and comfort his racing mind. 

“You’d better not,” he teases softly, a ghost of a smile pulling at his lips. “If we’re doing this thing, no more running headfirst into tornadoes, you hear? Can’t have my girl acting like an irrational daredevil like me. I’ve been told she’s smarter than that.”

She feels herself blushing as he calls her his girl, the title rolling off his tongue so naturally that it makes her heart skip a beat. Tyler watches as a hearty laugh escapes her and she leans into his touch, his own smile growing wider.

Suddenly nothing else has ever mattered beyond this moment of her in his arms, blushing and laughing like he’s the funniest damn man in the world.

“Ok, alright,” she giggles with feigned exasperation. “No more running into tornado paths, I swear. Wrangler’s honor. But you have to swear it too. You’re an adrenaline junkie and a trouble maker, even more than I am.”

He chuckles at her playful jab, his body feeling lighter than it has all day as he finally lets the tension within him fade. She’s safe, he tells himself over and over. She’s alive, she’s teasing him like she always does, and she’s got him smiling like a damn fool.

“Baby,” he mutters with that teasing glint in his eye, “you need to get my head checked if I ever run away from you and into a tornado. No man in his right mind would leave a gorgeous thing like you for some wind.”

Before she can reply to his ridiculous comment, he captures her lips once more with his own, relishing in the way she smiles against him as he pulls her closer.

This is all Tyler’s ever wanted - all he’s ever needed. Just her, safe and sound, loving him in all his flaws and worry for her.

If her running into that damn field led to this moment, this reality where she’s finally his, then so be it. He’s never been more grateful for a tornado.

[demi-queen]

What? I— what?

Okay, so technically I think I probably already knew this, but this reminded me of something that happened when I was in 1st grade.

So when I was in 1st grade I went to a Montessori school (if you don’t know what that is, don’t worry it’s not important to the story), and had this teacher that I Strongly Disliked for several reasons.

Now, as a reminder, 1st graders are typically 6 or 7. I have fall birthday, so I had a weird situation where I was actually about 5 or 6, depending on the time of year. I actually got held back and repeated 1st grade for several reasons, one of them being the age thing, another being that my older brother was also being held back and my parents didn’t think it was a good idea for us to be in the same grade (also, something I learned later, but apparently my parents didn’t think I was socially mature enough, and thought this would help for some reason). Anywhomst, my story takes place my first round of doing 1st grade, as I had a different teacher for my second round of 1st grade, so I was about 5 or 6.

Now, this happened several times, but I would often get reprimanded for “rolling my eyes.” Now, I’m smol and have always been smol (I’m currently 5’2” on a good day and have long since passed the period of my life where I had any hope of getting any taller. All my siblings will one day be taller than me, and I’m the 2nd oldest of 6 kids), so in order to look at a teacher, who was much taller than me, and was also not crouching down to reach my eye-level (likely due to age— as a 5/6 yr old I thought this teacher was about grandma-age, even if she wasn’t grandma-tempered), I would obviously have to look up. Now, I’m not great with eye contact as is, so this isn’t actually what usually got perceived as “rolling my eyes” but you’d think she’d at least try and factor in the height issue when reprimanding me. As it stands, I am someone who tends to look up when trying to solve or think over something in my head. This is what often got perceived as rolling my eyes. And this confused me greatly, because I didn’t even roll them! I just looked up! And, of course, since I wasn’t rolling my eyes, I thought it important to try and explain that I hadn’t, because I didn’t want any Authority Figure to think I was disrespecting them. Often, before I could even finish explaining, I would then get reprimanded for “talking back”. This, as you can probably imagine, was very frustrating. No matter what I did or said I would get in trouble (I don’t think I ever got any actual disciplinary action taken against me, but being reprimanded is still getting in trouble). And I still tend to look up when I’m thinking something over in my head, but I’ve since learned that if someone wants to interpret a facial expression in a specific way, even if you had no intention of conveying whatever they think they’re reading off of your face, it’s easier to just go along with it. Nothing you do or say is going to convince them that they read you wrong, or they’ll just get embarrassed for reading your expression wrong and then everything is awkward for everyone and you’ll wish you hadn’t said something anyways. The only time I can ever get away with explaining that someone read my expression wrong is when I get to explain to people that I have a “resting sad face.”

At least now I know why people think I’m rolling my eyes even though I’m just thinking.